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kimvvantae · 4 years

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puzzle; 7 (m)

➜ you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, a little bit of violence

rating: 18+

word count: 12k

A/N: sweet jesus it’s been so long but it’s finally here! this is the last but one chapter of the series. i genuinely hope you guys enjoy it and i reeeeally want to know your thoughts on it! feel free to leave a comment! if you feel i’m deserving of it lmao

enjoy!

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

[bby bear]: where are you???

[bby bear]: you'll get late for class

[you]: i knoww

[you]: the traffic is so heavy today 🤦🤦

[bby bear]: you should have come w me

[you]: i need to go to the bank

[you]: i told you

[bby bear]: i could have taken u theer

[bby bear]: there

[you]: 🥺🥺 next time i'll go w you i promise!!

[you]: but i'm close

[you]: i'll probably lose the first period tho

[bby bear]: 🤦

You shove the phone inside of your pocket when you notice the pedestrian sign is finally green. The crowd on both sides of the avenue rush, everyone on their fast pace as usual. You're even forced to push some people in order to walk by.

Getting to the other side of the street, you stop in front of the building.

Tall as fuck. That cool kind of building with mirrors all over it, where only cool people wearing cool suits walking around holding cups of coffee on one hand and phones on the other hand talking business language kind of people work at.

You certainly don't work here. You definitely don't have any stuff to do here. You surely are not close to the campus and you will lose much more than just the first period.

Seulgi will most definitely punch your face when she finds out where you are and what you're about to do.

You confidently walk inside the building, pushing through its glass doors into the pristine, modern and gigantic main hall. Your black boots contrast with the high heels all the other women wear around you. So does the rest of your outfit. Mini skirts and oversized hoodies are not part of the dress code here. You can almost hear their minds asking, what is this person doing here? The clanck clanck sound of their heels clicking against the marble floor is somehow pleasing, though.

You stop in front of the reception counter. A pretty girl opens a crystal white smile to you. Her hair is tied tightly, her uniform was ironed to perfection. "Good morning. How can I help you?" She chirps happily.

"Good morning. My name is Y/N. I'd like to talk to Irene."

The smile quickly falters.

The girl side eyes her colleague that sits by her side. "Hmm… unfortunately, Miss Irene does not receive visits," she says carefully, still trying to keep her smile. "You must be mistaken."

You can see this girl thinks you're crazy. You quickly realize that people usually don't come at the reception and simply say they want to talk to Irene. But, well, what else would you do? You have to announce your presence somehow.

"Irene is waiting for me. You can call her and ask if you want," you insist.

The receptionist looks pale for a moment.

Hesitantly, she takes the phone and dials a number. You can still see that the girl thinks you're lying; she's probably ready to call the security guards. During her quick talk on the phone, you notice she's not talking to Irene, but with her secretary.

You also see the moment her eyes widen.

She hangs up the phone and stands up, smiling widely again.

"Miss Y/N, Irene is waiting for your arrival," she says, and you notice the slight tone of panic in her voice. "Please, accompany me."

All the other visitors have to show their identifications and take a quick picture on the reception, you notice, but the girl simply ignores this procedure with you, guiding you to the elevator instead. She explains the situation to the security guard and he lets you in. The receptionist still looks slightly panicked. She's probably scared that you'll complain how the receptionist was rude to me directly to Irene, but you won't. Poor girl was just doing her job.

The elevator is big, too. It has a panoramic view of the city as it goes up to one of the highest floors.

You always thought Seulgi was overreacting when she said how bad she sometimes felt for dating Irene, but now you kind of understand her.

You knew Irene was rich. You can recognize a Gucci jacket when you see one, and you've seen Irene wearing plenty of these. But Irene always acted so normal. Sure, she was elegant - and sometimes even arrogant -, but she was still someone very pleasant to be around. She never looked disgusted to be in your tiny but comfy apartment, she never made faces when she'd sometimes wear some of Seulgi's or your clothes when she didn't bring any to spend the night, she never complained to eat the junk food you'd buy for dinner. She was just… chill.

Because of that, you'd forget that she's rich sometimes.

Being in this massive building where everyone acted as if she was a princess made you remember, though.

Irene is beyond rich. Your standard of "rich" used to be Joy: someone that has a cool, big house in a nice part of the city. Irene partially owns a fucking company. She's so chill that you never even bothered to Google the company's name; you did this today to get the address, and it only made you more shocked.

Seulgi must have felt overwhelmed many times in their relationship.

But you're sure she was much happier back then than she is now.

You're used to their drama. They were already dating when you first met Seulgi, and you saw this cycle repeating many times. This time, though, things are not happening as usual. Seulgi is the saddest you’ve ever seen in these almost three years of convivence. Right after they broke up, you thought she was just being dramatic as usual… now you see that it isn’t simple drama. She’s actually sad and has been in this state for months. She doesn’t go out anymore, stopped doing the things she liked… she even got tired of Netflix. That’s probably the most shocking fact of all.

Jungkook said you shouldn’t get involved in this, but you’re tired of seeing your friend being so sad all the time.

Their breakup was messy this time. They didn’t talk properly, didn’t make things clear. Seulgi is too stubborn to make a move (she’s totally lethargic at this point, both physically and spiritually), and Irene also seems too stubborn. Since none of them has the balls to do anything, you finally decided to step up and take action.

(Funny how you thought Jimin was annoying for trying to push you and Jungkook together, but you’re doing the exact same thing right now).

Well, look, you’re not exactly trying to push them into each other. First, you want to know Irene’s feelings and opinions on this situation. If you see that she has really moved on from Seulgi, then you’re ready to give your friend all the comfort and support in the world so she finally moves on. If Irene shows you that she still has feelings for Seulgi… well…

The speed in which she replied to your DM is a strong indicative of that.

The way her eyes glint with undeniable hope when the elevator doors open and she greets you is another indicative.

Irene looks gorgeous as always; she’s like a human version of Snow White. It’s kind of funny to meet her in her office like this. She’s almost like a female and hotter version of Christian Grey.

Her ways of greeting you are polite and… hesitant. You understand why. She probably doesn’t get what you’re doing here in the first place, what you want to talk about. Considering you’re Seulgi’s friend, she must think you’d be mad at her or something.

“Why didn’t you call me, Y/N? My guests never enter from the common hall.” she asked. Oh. Common hall is what that massive hall is called. Almost like peasants area.

“I didn’t know.” you simply say, shrugging.

“I’m sorry that we’re meeting here at my workplace. It feels too profissional, doesn’t it?” she smiles sheepishly.

Well… it does. You don’t even feel comfortable enough to move around her great office, afraid that you’d accidentally break anything (you’re sure that every little piece in this room is much more expensive than you’d be able to afford).

“Come on, let’s go to the cafeteria. I think it’ll be more comfortable to talk there.” she politely suggests, and you just agree with her.

Irene guides you around the halls. This floor is less crowded, since only Important People with Important Tasks work here - and she’s greeted by all of them as she passes by. Their eyes immediately float to you, and they were surely asking themselves why Princess Irene was being followed by this peasant.

The cafeteria in question is as pretty and neatly clean as the rest of the building. Soft music plays from the speakers. Irene chooses a more private table by the windows and asks if you want to have breakfast; you politely decline and both of you end up ordering simple cups of coffee.

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air.

"I… have to confess that I got surprised when I saw your DM," Irene speaks softly. Her eyes are glued on her cup of coffee. "It's been a while."

"Yeah."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine." a hundred different scenes pass on your head as she asks this, and you know that you feel anything but fine in the moment, but it's not as if you'll rant about your complicated love life right now. "But I'm sure you don't want to ask about me."

You see a shade of pink flush Irene's cheeks.

"Well… I don't think it would be right to ask about her." Irene says.

"Why not? It's not as if you didn't know I came here to talk about Seulgi."

"But she doesn't want to know about me."

You're left speechless for a few seconds.

It's funny to see the two sides of a breakup. Because of their stubborness, they became completely out of tune with each other. Irene thought that Seulgi didn't want to know about her, when you knew pretty damn well that Seulgi stalked her social media an unhealthy amount of times per day.

You cross your arms and lean your back on the chair. Irene looks hesitant, but you see she's eager to know whatever information you may have. That's not the behavior of someone that hates their ex.

"Can I ask you something?" you say. It's funny how Irene, the owner of pretty much everything around you, looks so cornered by you, her shoulders shrinking visibly. She nods softly. "Why did you guys break up? I mean, what's your side of the story?"

Irene sighs and passes her hand through her dark hair. She looks out the window. She doesn't seem irritated by your ask. She just seems… thoughtful.

It makes you realize that, perhaps, Seulgi's not the only one feeling broken here.

"We're… different." she starts quietly. "I have been trying to keep this relationship working for a long time, you know. Even though we argued a lot and disagreed about many things. But…" Irene sighs again. Sadness shadows her features. "It was getting hard. Seulgi never accepted my help. She knows that money is no problem for me, and I just wanted to help, but why did she act so angry every time I wanted to help you guys?"

Oh.

You don't miss the way she said "help you guys"; she must be talking about the times both of you were struggling to pay the rent. Oh God. You clearly see where their opinions diverge. Irene has always been rich; she saw money as something simple, giving money to others wasn't a big deal. Meanwhile, Seulgi must've felt dependent and it surely hurt her pride. Besides, there were enough people saying that Seulgi was only dating Irene to get money from her…

"And there's more." Irene's voice becomes quieter, more fragile. "My family, they're… very conservative. It was already hard enough for them to accept my sexuality. They never did, to be honest… but they particularly don't like Seulgi, because she's not, hm, on my "social level", as they like to say."

Ooh.

This is more complicated. Seulgi doesn't know what it feels like; her family is very open minded. She told you that, in the beginning, her parents were shocked when she told them that she also liked girls, but they slowly accepted it. Irene, on the other hand…

"They keep saying that my relationship with her will be bad for the company." She confesses. "They said they'd even accept my relationship, as long as we dated in secret."

"What?!" you gasp. "This is disgusting!"

"I know." Irene nods, eyes focused on the mug between her hands. You have the impression that you see tears welling up on her eyes, but she blinks rapidly to dissipate them. "I… I was willing to go against them, because if they don't accept my relationship, then they don't accept who I am. But… I don't know if it's worth doing this if I'm not sure if Seulgi feels the same about me."

Ouch.

You remembered the night when they broke up. Seulgi came to you, crying, and said that she was tired of being with someone that wasn't brave enough to accept her.

Seulgi, my dear… you know nothing.

You can see that to go against her parents isn't as simple as it sounds. To Irene, going against her family involves reputation, money, and the company itself. It's definitely a big deal. Seulgi didn't understand how serious it is.

And Irene is willing to take this big step for her.

It's your time to sigh.

"Irene." you lean closer, staring at her seriously. "Do you still love Seulgi?"

She blinks at your direct question. Irene looks down, gulps… and nods.

"I do love her."

You can't hear any hint of doubt on her voice.

That's what you wanted to hear.

"She's not okay." You blurt out the truth. Irene widens her eyes softly and looks at you. You see guilt on her eyes as she hears this. "I came here because I'm worried about her. She doesn't act like herself anymore. She even got tired of Netflix."

Irene widens her eyes in shock. "She stopped watching Netflix?!"

"Yes." You nod seriously. "And she still loves you, too."

Irene freezes when you say this.

Now, you're sure of the tears welling up on her eyes.

"I…" she stutters, unable to form a coherent sentence. "A-Are you sure?"

You can't help but giggle at her; Irene looks shy, almost like a teenager - scared and excited to know that her crush likes her back. You feel your own heart warming up at the sight.

"Of course I'm sure."

A smile wants to make its way up to her lips. "B-But what do I do? I can't just walk up to her like this. I don't want to start another fight…"

"Irene, believe me. Seulgi will listen to anything you have to say, as long as you're being honest. Tell her about the situation with your family. Prove to her that you're willing to stand for her. I mean, if you're still willing to…"

"I am!" Irene exclaims in a heartbeat. "I am. As long as she's with me, I feel like I can do anything."

You feel yourself smiling. Irene's eyes are shining like diamonds.

"But you also have to try to understand her." You say seriously. "Seulgi is not wrong for wanting to be independent. She's finishing her studies, she wants to build a career for herself, and she wants her own money. I know you're trying to help, but you have to respect her. Also, I'm sure she doesn't want to be a burden for you."

Irene nods vehemently. "Okay. You're right. I get it."

She doesn't hold her smile back anymore as a tear rolls down her cheek. She looks so immensely happy… it's a delightful sight. And you can't help but feel happy too, because right now, more than ever, you see that Seulgi found something rare and precious in this world.

True love.

And this fact itself is enough to make you feel that coming here was worth it - even though Seulgi might want to kill you afterwards.

"But hey, Irene," you call her seriously again. "I'm doing all this because both of you stupid asses couldn't, but if you make Seulgi cry again, I will kill you. I know where you work now."

Irene laughs at your very serious threat. She leans forward and holds both of your hands. "Y/N, thank you so much for telling me all this. I will forever be grateful. If you need anything- and I mean anything- I will help you, okay? Anything!"

"Alright, alright," you say, shrugging, the slight thought that a millionaire owns you a favor sounding nice. "Now, you better go talk to Seulgi. I can't stand her walking around the living room looking like a zombie anymore." Irene laughs softly. "And… I said I wasn't hungry, but now I kind of want that waffle."

Seulgi looks like a very grumpy zombie when you meet her in the corridor.

"Where the hell were you?!" Seulgi exclaims. "It's noon!"

"Yeah, I know." you shrug. "The bank was pretty crowded."

Seulgi narrows her eyes. Her hair looks messy even though it's tied up and she has bags underneath her eyes. She's wearing the top of her old orange pajamas. It has an old kitchen oil stain over the chest. Seulgi from months ago would rarely go out looking like this.

"What the hell did you need to do there anyway? I didn't even know people still go to banks." She whines. "I was getting worried, you know?"

You walk down the corridor with your hands behind your back. You're glad Seulgi is too grumpy to notice the sly smirk on your lips, the way you kind of bounce by her side in expectation.

"Always so thoughtful, Seul. You're so cute, did you know that?"

She side eyes you, the frown deepening. "Why are you complimenting me?"

"What's the problem with complimenting you?"

"Whenever you compliment me it means either you want something or you did something that you know will piss me off."

Sometimes you forget how well Seulgi knows you.

"Jesus, you're too stressed, girl. I'll pay you lunch, okay? Let's eat at that Italian restaurant you like."

"When you offer yourself to pay for stuff it also means that-"

Seulgi stops in her tracks, completely frozen.

"Irene?"

You step back silently and hold your breath.

This is the moment that might end your friendship with Seulgi if it goes bad.

Irene seems to be holding her breath as well, her eyes round - scared, hesitant, hopeful.

And they stand there, looking at each other. As if time has slowed down. As if there was no one else besides them in the busy corridor.

If this was a drama, you imagined that the romantic soundtrack would kick in now.

"Hi, Seulgi." Irene says softly. "It's… it's been a while."

It seems that Seulgi's brain is struggling to function. "What… what are you doing here?" the fact that she does not sound defensive or aggressive but genuinely surprised and confused relieves your chest.

"I came here to talk." Irene says. "Just… just talk. But if you want me to go…"

"No." Seulgi interrupts her embarrassingly too fast. "It's alright. We… we can talk. Just talk."

Their eyes are gleaming and the ghost of smiles appear on their lips.

Your chest fills with triumph as you silently walk back. Not that either of them would even notice you anyway.

You're too far to hear what they're saying now, their soft voices drowning in the middle of the many more people walking around the corridor, but you still kind of hide inside an empty classroom, half of your body peeking outside of the door to watch them. They're talking and smiling timidly. You feel tempted to take some photos, but it's better not to. You kind of feel like an intruder watching them, even if you're this far-

"What are you doing?"

You almost feel your spirit jumping out of your body when the male voice asks dangerously close to your ear, turning around in a jump to see the source.

Now you don't know if your heart is beating so ridiculously fast because of the scare of because of the view in front of you.

Jungkook looks down at you with a puzzled expression, his hands behind his back, his body slightly leaning on your direction. He's wearing a modern grey hanbok over a black t-shirt and slippers. His backpack hangs from one shoulder. His hair is half tied up in a small bun, curly bangs falling over his eyes. This is precisely what makes your heart almost fail. You've been wondering how he would look like with his hair tied up ever since he decided to let it grow…

He's got no business looking this good. No. Fucking. Business.

But you're a master of pretending you're unbothered, so you just point ahead at their direction with an excited smile. Jungkook's eyes look up to where you're pointing and his eyes widen.

"Oh!" Almost instantly, he kind of hides behind you as well. It's hard to ignore the warmth of his body on your back, even though he isn't close enough to touch you. "Did they make up? Are they dating again?"

"I hope they will." it's weird how you're both speaking so low, as if they could possibly hear you over the loud chatter.

"What if they start fighting?"

"Don't even say that! I put my friendship with Seulgi at risk to get these two to talk!"

You turn your head in time to see Jungkook's eyes frowning as he realizes what's going on.

"It was you?"

"Of course it was."

He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head slowly in disapproval. "You said you wouldn't get involved!"

"I never said I wasn't going to get involved." you bat your lashes prettily at him, trying to give your best innocent look (unsuccessfully).

"You damn gremlin."

You whack his chest. "Aw, come on! Just look at them and tell me it isn't working!"

Both of you look ahead again to see them smiling sweetly at each other as they talk. You bounce and giggle excitedly like a little kid. "Look, look! She's blushing!"

Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "But what about Jennie?"

"Oh, Irene and Jennie went out on dates, but it didn't work out in the end. They're just friends." you repeat the exact same words Irene told you earlier.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, if she cheats on Seulgi, I'll kill her."

You watch as they slowly start to walk away side by side, heading towards the exit.

You jump out of your "hideout" and open your arms in triumph. "I did great this time, didn't I?!"

Jungkook chuckles and leans on the doorway, arms crossed. "Whatever you say."

You're an expert at acting unbothered, but right now it's really hard to do so when he looks at you this way.

He has a pretty lazy smile on his lips. It makes you feel hot inside and your stomach jumps and your heart races. His gaze is intense… but not in the way you're used to. That look isn't his I want to fuck kind of look, it's… it's… shit, you don't know what that means, but it's pretty intense. Why is he looking at you like that?

You just hope he doesn't notice how your legs are wobbly.

It's the first time you see him in person since two days ago, when he slept at your house. Two days after you had sex even though you said you wouldn't. You didn't talk properly about what happened there. To be honest, your brain still didn't process that well.

Things are awkward between you two - but this time it's a different kind of awkward. A type of awkward that made your cheeks burn while you cleaned yourself and got dressed. A type of awkward that made you feel all fuzzy and warm inside, that made a silly smile grow on your lips every time your eyes crossed his from the other side of the living room, an awkwardness that forced you both to look away and try to pretend your cheeks weren't aching from the damn smile that didn't want to go away. A type of awkward that didn't let you talk about what happened - as if none of you wanted to talk about it, to just keep it engraved in your minds forever, as if talking about it would take all the magic of the moment away.

You don't hate this type of awkward.

It's not uncomfortable. Not like what has been happening for the past months. Yet, you feel that you need to talk about it - to sort things out clearly and straightforwardly this time… because if the way he's looking at you means anything, then maybe… just maybe…

"I've got good news." Jungkook says suddenly (because he noticed that you've been staring at each other for far too long to not be embarrassing anymore).

"What?" you fiddle with your own fingers, trying to ease the tension.

"Remember that director I told you about? Mr. Choi?" You nod. "He invited me to work with him."

Your jaw drops, your eyes widen. "What? Are you serious?!"

Jungkook nods excitedly. "Yeah. Well, I'll be like the assistant of the assistant, to be honest, but… he invited me to work with him on his next project. I'll gain some real experience, at least…"

"Are you kidding? This is great, Kook! What the fuck!"

You jump over to hug him, your arms dropping around his shoulders, and Jungkook quickly hugs you back. His low excited giggle right next to your ear makes goosebumps crawl on your skin.

"I'm so fucking proud of you!" And you couldn't be more honest. Jungkook has always been so hardworking; he deserves all the success and recognition in the world. You always thought so.

"Thank you," his voice is still low and excited.

He caresses your back. It makes yet more goosebumps crawl on your skin.

Oh, God. He still smells like baby powder. He always does. You feel tempted to sniff the crook of his neck, just to take a little bit more of his scent, but you hold yourself back. It's not like hugging Jungkook is something new to you. Fuck, after everything you've done, hugging should feel like nothing. But for some reason… hugging him right now feels like a lot.

Feels awkward.

So awkward that you have to remind yourself that you're in the middle of a corridor full of people, and that this hug is taking way too long, so you step back before your brain completely malfunctions.

"A-And," you clear your throat and put a strand of hair behind your ear, furiously avoiding his gaze. You never thought that Jungkook would make you feel shy like this. Shy and Y/N shouldn’t make sense in the same sentence. "When is this next project?"

"In two days. I think he decided to put me on the crew last minute."

"This means that he really trusts you."

Jungkook smiles sheepishly and massages the back of his neck. "I just hope I won't mess things up."

"You'll do great, Kook. You always do."

He lifts his gaze to you again.

That same look again.

You feel that everything is blurred except him again. No one else is in that corridor. No loud chatter. Just him and his starry eyes, looking back at you, eyes that smile as much as his lips.

God.

You need to sort things out.

You can't just stare at him with heart eyes like this anymore. You need to talk about what happened. This conversation feels awkward because you're both trying to act normal, pretending that there isn't a fucking elephant in the room - an elephant that makes you think of a mattress in the middle of your living room, of sunrays touching his exposed skin, of old pajamas being thrown around and sweat and soft kisses and salty tears dripping down your temples.

You need to know if he also felt that that morning was different. You need to know if he feels the same. Even if he doesn't - even if his heart lays with Yeri or Joy or whoever it might be - you need to know, and you don't care about what the outcome might be. You just can't torture yourself like this anymore.

So you inhale and gulp.

"Jungkook, I was thinking… are you busy after classes?" you ask timidly.

He presses his lips together. "Actually, I am. The boys and I are planning to celebrate the end of the semester tonight."

Mission abort! Mission abort!!

"Why?"

"Oh- it's nothing. I was just…" you can't think of any excuse. "It's not that important anyway. Forget it."

Jungkook looks at you with suspicion. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I'm sure. Nevermind."

He still stares at you for a while, frowning.

"You wanna come with us?"

"No!" you shake your hands dismissively. You're not having this super important conversation surrounded by all of his friends. "I'm just gonna bother you guys. It's fine, Jungkook. Enjoy your night."

Jungkook shrugs. He takes his phone from his back pocket for a moment. "Well, I gotta go. I promised I'd pay Jimin lunch."

"Alright."

You start to walk in opposite directions.

“But we can meet tomorrow, right?” You turn around way too fast when you hear Jungkook say, a few steps away from you. He looks hesitant, an awkward little smile on his lips. “I have some stuff to do, but we can see each other at night. After I finish preparing my stuff. We could meet, right?” He visibly starts to look more and more awkward as he speaks. As if his confidence started to vanish. It’s kind of adorable. “You could come to my place. O-Or I could go to yours, I don’t care- I mean, can I?”

Your heart is bouncing crazily inside of you. You don’t notice how you’re mirroring his awkward smile. “Of course, Kook. When did you ever need permission to go to my apartment?”

Jungkook frowns as if he just realized how stupid his ask was. “Guess you’re right. Or maybe we could go out somewhere, right? It’s been a while since we went out, the two of us.”

He’s right. All you’ve been doing for the past months is meet to have sex. You don’t even remember the last time you two did something that didn’t involve getting naked.

“Sure, let’s go out.”

You stare at each other for a few more awkward moments (awkward is a word you’ve been thinking a lot about lately). See, that’s not how things would go between you two back then. Neither of you ever needed to ask previously to go out. You’d just usually drag Jungkook out of his house by force when you deemed he hasn’t been taking enough sunlight (fucking Overwatch). Or Jungkook would call you at 3am because he was bored of playing Overwatch and just realized there was only expired milk and an empty box of cereal in the cabinets because the last time he and Jimin bought food was 2 weeks ago and he’d be like “hey, let’s go to Walmart” and you’d be like “what the fuck Jungkook it’s 3am” and he’d be like “but Jimin’s not home I need help” and you’d be like “fuck you” but twenty minutes later you’d both be on your pajamas pushing a cart inside of an empty Walmart as you barely register Jungkook ranting about how he thinks he’s lactose intolerant because he had diarrhea the last time he ate yogurt.

That’s kind of how things used to go back then.

At the same time you desperately want your relationship to go back to normal, you don’t really hate the way you’re feeling right now.

“Right, I gotta go.” Jungkook snaps out of it faster than you and nods. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

Again, you turn around and start to walk in opposite directions. Slowly. Hesitantly. Because both of you know you don't want to go. Both of you know you still have a lot to talk about.

But maybe later.

[bby bear]: i kinda want to kill you rn but

[bby bear]: thank u so fcking much

[bby bear]: ily

[bby bear]: bitch

You're smiling so hard that your cheeks might probably start to ache. If Seulgi texted you this, it means things went really well with Irene.

The chatter in the dining hall is nothing but background noise on your ears as you scroll down your boring Instagram feed, the plate just half eaten in front of you. You’re not really hungry. Maybe the stress of studying for finals messed your stomach. The hell’s finally over, at least, and you’re sure that your grades won’t be that bad (Seulgi didn’t want to do anything, but you at least convinced her to study with you. That’s the only thing that got her out of her bedroom. Her zombie state was kinda the reason why you studied so hard).

Some text notifications pop on your screen, but you just swipe them away since none of them are from the person you’re waiting for. All of your friends are planning to go out tonight and some of them are asking if you want to go. No, you don’t. Honestly, you’ve not been feeling yourself these days. Past you would always be up to a party. Past you wouldn’t be having lunch alone in the dining hall - honestly though, you don’t even mind being by yourself. Nothing would make you feel emptier right now than being surrounded by random people. Just one person matters at the moment-

“Hi.”

You almost drop the phone inside the plate when you look up to see who just sat in front of you.

Joy.

Your throat feels suddenly bitter. You have to gulp.

“Jesus, I didn’t even notice you come,” you inhale and chuckle. “How you doing, Joy?”

Joy smiles. “I’m fine.”

She’s lying.

There’s something in the way she looks at you and in the way her smile looks plastic-fake that makes you shiver.

It makes you think that she didn’t even want to be here.

Well, you don’t know about her, but you certainly feel uncomfortable right now. You can’t lie that you’ve been feeling kind of guilty these days because you’ve been fucking the guy she likes in secret, but a big fat load of guilt hit you especially after two days ago. Joy went on a date with Jungkook and barely a few hours later you had him inside of you. And, of course, you had rough sex with him inside of her bathroom. All the while you knew Joy liked him and encouraged her to be with him-

Wow, it’s getting hard to look at her right now.

You really are a bitch. In the beginning you didn’t feel bad because you stupidly assumed there weren’t feelings involved. It was just friends with benefits, right? You even agreed that you could have sex with other people. If Jungkook started dating Joy, of course you’d stop doing it. Also, there was nothing between you two. You didn’t even feel jealousy.

Things changed, though, and at some point you genuinely started to hate this poor girl for breathing around Jungkook. And now you feel guilty because you realized that you like the guy that she told you she had a crush on months ago.

I took a shower this morning, so why do I feel so dirty right now?

A shiver runs down your spine.

The way she’s looking at you… what if she knows-?

“I’m throwing a party tonight,” she says suddenly. “To celebrate the end of the semester. You wanna come?”

You’ve been fucking the guy she likes for months and there she is, being nice and inviting you to her party. You really are a fake ass bitch-

“O-Oh.” You rub the back of your neck. “I, uhm… thanks, Joy, but I’m not feeling very well today. I just feel like sleeping, to be honest.” You chuckle sheepishly again.

Joy nods. “Alright.”

She doesn’t insist. It looks like she doesn’t even care. As if she’s just being polite.

In fact, it kind of looks that she’s relieved that you said no-

“So, how was your date with Taehyung?” She changes the topic quickly. “We didn’t even talk about it.”

Right. She’s talking about the person you don’t even want to think about because there’s only so much guilt one person can feel at once.

“It was fun.” You say. “We had a lot of fun.”

It sounds stupid, the way you can’t even articulate your date with him. You’re not lying - you had fun… kind of.

“Are you dating him now?”

Okay, this is getting strange. Not the question, but the way she asked. You’re 100% sure she’s annoyed by something, and honestly looks uninterested in your current state with Taehyung right now, so why is she asking anyway?

“No, we’re not.” You admit.

Joy stares at you in silence as if she’s waiting for you to say something more, but you say nothing else. Joy then nods. This is getting very uncomfortable.

You feel that she’s about to leave, so you pick up the courage to speak again. She touched this topic anyway.

You know it’s wrong to ask. You shouldn’t. But you’re so curious that you can’t help.

“A-And, uhm… what about you and Jungkook? How was your date?” you try so hard to pretend you’re not dying curious to know.

Joy stares at you in silence again. She isn’t smiling.

“He didn’t tell you?”

What? Is there something to tell?!

“No. Jungkook’s kinda private about this type of thing,” you’re lying, of course, because even if Jungkook didn’t want to, you’d usually annoy him with questions about his dates so hard that he’d end up telling everything that happened.

Joy looks away and quirks one eyebrow. “Oh. I assumed he would have since you guys are so close.”

The way she says so close bothers you.

It’s her turn to rub the back of her neck, her eyes glued on the table - only she doesn’t look nervous. Yeah, she’s annoyed. Joy takes so long to talk that you’re about to repeat your question, but she finally speaks:

“We also had fun. Jungkook really is a sweet guy, right? He did nothing wrong. He’s so polite that it ended up annoying me, honestly. More polite than I would have wanted him to be…” Hah, so they didn’t fuck! Great! “Well, he dropped me home and I invited him to spend the night and all, but… He was very polite. He apologized a lot and said that he couldn’t stay…”

Joy licks her lips. Why the dramatic pause? Say it already, come on!

“He’s also a very honest guy, right?” She chuckled, but she clearly didn’t think it was funny. “He said that he thought I was an amazing person, but things wouldn’t go further than this because…”

For the first time, Joy lifts her gaze and looks at you.

“Because he already had feelings for someone else.”

You’re honestly not breathing anymore.

Joy is watching you very carefully. You’re as stiff as a board.

“Not a fun way to finish a date, right?” She says and chuckles, again, it’s clear she isn’t happy at all. “Anyways, I have to go now. Bye.”

She gets up and walks away before you can even say anything, as if this conversation was being unbearable for her.

Meanwhile, you just sit there. Frozen. Breathless.

He said things wouldn’t go further than this.

Your throat feels very dry out of sudden. Very, very dry and coarse, as if you’ve eaten sand.

Because…

You take the water bottle from over the table and drink it in one big, big gulp, until the bottle is empty and your shaking fingers crushed the fragile pet bottle.

He already had feelings for someone else.

You get up and take the tray so fast that you almost drop everything.

Your movements are fast as you walk out of the busy dining hall, your heart beating loudly on your ribcage, your breathing irregular and your mind working at 200 km/h.

He already had feelings for someone else.

He told Joy this. He dropped her home and told her the truth. He apologized. He… he said he already had feelings for someone else. Jesus Christ. Your heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

He- He-

He might be talking about Yeri, a little, hesitant voice inside your mind whispers. Well… sure. You’ve been suspecting it for a good while. But… after Jungkook dropped Joy home and said this he-

He went to your apartment.

He went to you.

You feel the need to stop walking and lean on the corridor’s wall. The world around you is blurred.

What is this feeling bubbling up in your chest? A feeling so strong that it’s almost spilling over? This thing that makes you open the widest smile you ever opened and makes you want to jump around the corridor like crazy?

He came to me. He came to me. He came to me. He came to me.

He came to me!

But-

But there’s still the Yeri possibility.

You need to know the truth. To hear him say it, and you can’t wait another day - not anymore.

You take your phone from your bag and type with shaking fingers.

[you]: hey

[you]: can we meet today?

[you]: i really need to talk to you

Jeon Jungkook is a simp.

He doesn’t like this word. He thinks it’s annoying how people would call a guy a simp just because he’s treating a girl with minimal decency.

But, like. He’s a simp. He knows he is. He took a long time to admit this, but lately his pride has been already so crushed and stepped on by a particular pair of feet that he can’t even bring himself to feel anything anymore.

Actually, no. He has been feeling like shit for a long time. It’s just the alcohol anesthetizing him right now.

That’s just his second bottle of beer and he already feels kind of dizzy. It’s been a while since he last drank alcohol, that’s probably why his resistance feels weak. He makes a mental reminder to not drink too much. Jungkook knows that he gets really talkative when he’s drunk and he always ends up saying stuff he shouldn’t - and today especially he can’t end up saying stuff he shouldn’t with that guy around.

If he knew Taehyung would be here too, Jungkook wouldn’t have come. Yes, he knows he’s being childish. He knows he’s angry at someone that didn’t do anything wrong, he knows that jealousy is bad, he knows that technically he is wrong because he’s been dicking down the girl that he knew his friend liked. He knows all that, alright?!

Jungkook throws his head back and sighs, passing his hand through his hair. A chilling night breeze touches his cheeks; since the inside of the bar was already full and they were too many, everyone decided to sit on the outside part of the bar. Jungkook hasn’t been paying attention to anything anyone around him was saying and neither was he interested. He thought that coming here would make him forget about the things that have been troubling him, but in the end he’s just thinking more about them.

I could excuse myself and go home. He thought. I have a lot of things to do anyway. I wouldn’t be lying.

He feels a hand rest on his shoulder and looks at Jimin, sitting on a chair by his side. The look on Jimin’s face already says everything. Jungkook sometimes thinks that Jimin has telepathic superpowers; how does he always know what’s going on before anyone even says anything?

“You alright?” Jimin asks in a low tone, careful not to call anyone’s attention. The younger one nods.

“Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook reassures.

Taehyung laughs loudly from across the table and both of them end up looking at him. Jimin looks back at Jungkook.

Jimin sighs. “You know you can go home if you want to.”

“Yeah.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

Jungkook looks at Jimin and sips a bit more of the beer slowly.

“Yeah.”

Jimin smacks his shoulder and goes back to his previous conversation with Hoseok.

How Jimin always seems to know what’s going on… it annoys Jungkook a lot. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. It’s not like Jungkook told him about his feelings, Jimin just… realized. They were doing grocery shopping one day and Jungkook mentioned how last time he went to Walmart you told him that the diarrhea he had wasn’t because he was lactose intolerant but because the yogurt was expired and then Jimin turned around and simply said:

“You like her, right?”

And Jungkook gasped.

Jimin smirked knowingly and just kept pushing the cart. He said nothing else - but it was as if Jungkook had just confessed his deepest feelings right there.

This happened a little bit after Jungkook and Yeri broke up and kind of made him feel offended. How could Jimin say he liked you? He hadn’t even gotten over Yeri, Jimin knew very well. However, it seems that Jimin is not only a telepath, he can also see the future, because he couldn’t be more right.

If Jungkook’s being honest with himself, some months ago he wasn’t really really sure about what he felt about you. As the “Yeri” scar started to heal he got more aware of his own feelings and actions towards you, but it was hard to sort things out because he was always in denial. That desire to hold you close and hug you and take care of you and not let anyone hurt you anymore? Well, that was just his protective side. You have always been one of his dearest people. Jungkook also knew that he had a little possessive side. He was sure that this feeling would eventually vanish.

Maybe he was also frightened because he knew it wasn’t reciprocal. You never even looked at him in a way that might mean you felt something else for him. He wasn’t going to confess something he wasn’t sure of to someone that definitely didn’t feel anything for him and destroy a life-long friendship.

But oh boy, how things have changed.

They changed the moment you hopped on his lap that night inside his car. Jesus, that first week was hell for Jungkook. He was trying so, so hard to forget the messy drunken memories of his night with you - especially because, the moment he woke up and saw the pure face of terror on your face when you realized what just happened, he thought of how much you regretted that and all of his hopes died right there - the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you could be more than friends.

Yet, he got to taste you again. Two times were all it took to get him addicted.

He couldn’t stop anymore - and it hurt him much more than he would like to admit. He felt that he was being used, even though he let you do it (and he enjoyed it every time, not gonna lie). He felt worthless, he felt angry at himself because he couldn’t stop and because you were so, so fucking stupid, so fucking blind, he felt sad because he watched as your friendship started to slowly die down, and now he feels jealous and guilty because he’s been seeing how Taehyung likes you - how Taehyung even asked him advice to ask you out - and he didn’t stop fucking you anyway.

That day at Joy’s house? It was ridiculous. Jungkook still doesn’t understand what the fuck happened to him, why he felt so angry. Perhaps he was finally getting tired of how dumb you are, how you can’t see what’s right in front of your face.

Just thinking about you hurts now. And Jungkook thinks about you a lot. There he is, surrounded by his friends, where he should be talking and having fun, but he’s too busy thinking about you. In two days he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, his first real job. He should be thinking about it. Not about you.

He can’t stop thinking about your flustered face.

You don’t look flustered that often. Especially not around him.

He thinks this is very intriguing.

What hurt him the most in all this - the thing that made him feel like a piece of shit more than anything - is that he knows you too damn well and he knew that it was never special to you. To you it was just sex, it was just fun; whenever your lips touched you never felt like you were being swept off your feet like he did, whenever you touched him you didn’t feel like just then, in that moment, everything was right - as if the Universe was only created for that specific moment to happen, as if the Universe was expectantly waiting for the moment his fingers ran on your skin freely since the very beginning.

He never felt like this with anyone else. No other pussy has ever made him feel this poetic.

The fact that Jungkook knew you didn’t feel the same was exactly why he couldn’t stop; this would be the closest he’d ever be from you in that sense - and honestly, after he tasted you, he didn’t want to go back to stage one. You were like a drug. You brought him comfort, you brought him bliss. Having sex with you became somehow of a escapist method. But, just like every drug, you started to make him feel sick… so sick that he couldn’t stand to be around you when you weren’t fucking.

He drifted away.

God, he even stupidly tried to move on, but Joy was a foolish try. Jungkook felt bad for using her like this - even though he never even kissed her, he felt that he was fooling her anyway. Going on that date with Joy made everything worse, because he was with that gorgeous, intelligent and lovely girl, but he couldn’t feel anything but fucking empty.

He also realized that you couldn’t be his drug anymore. You deserved much more than that. That’s why he drove all the way to your apartment like a magnet. He preferred to go back to stage one if necessary, if it meant that he could be around you without feeling like a worthless piece of shit anymore.

Of course - things didn’t work out that way.

But that morning- it was different.

Jungkook has to sip more of his beer just thinking about it.

It was different.

It was… quiet, very quiet. Much more quieter than he was used to. And much closer than he ever remembered.

All the times he had sex with you - his body was being pleased, but his soul felt hurt. This time, though, he felt that his whole self was being healed. You didn’t feel like a drug. You felt like a cure.

As if you were connected in somehow of a deeper way.

As if this time, it wasn’t one-sided on his part.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about it. His pessimistic side tried to convince him that he was being delusional or dramatic (he has this tendency to overthink anyways) and maybe he was, but, again… you don’t usually act flustered, especially not around him. And you’ve been looking flustered around him for quite some now, even before that morning. Sure, your friendship became uncomfortable at some point and he realized that none of you knew how to act around each other anymore, but still…

What about that time you saw a picture of Yeri on his computer?

You looked very, very awkward.

Or how you sometimes seemed bothered when Joy was around. You teased him a lot at that pool party. Jungkook knew you could get kinda kinky sometimes (he knew you liked the thrill of possibly being caught), but that felt like too much even for you.

His pessimistic side once again tried to convince him that he was seeing things. You wouldn’t be acting jealous. You were never jealous of him with any girl. Never. You even encouraged him to be with Joy, right?

What if… what if maybe, just maybe…?

Stop getting your hopes too high, his pessimistic side scolded. You look stupid.

I’ve been looking stupid for a goddamn long time, Jungkook thinks back. His pessimistic side looks back at him with disdain.

Jungkook frowns and looks at the bottle of beer on his hand. This is just regular beer, right? He surely isn’t so drunk that he’s already arguing with himself.

I should probably go home.

Or…

He could go to your home.

You wanted to talk to him earlier today. You looked very hesitant - again, very uncharacteristic of you. It felt like it was something important. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if he knocked on your door unannounced - wait, you never cared. At least when your relationship didn’t involve rough sex. I mean- you didn’t mind not even when you started fucking, to be honest.

Why do I feel so nervous? I’ve never felt nervous over such a stupid thing. I mean, she’s the same dumbass I’ve known my whole life.

You’re probably home doing nothing. That’s also very uncharacteristic of you. Normal you would be at some club or party right now, celebrating the end of the semester. Normal you would probably have tried to drag him along. Or you’d meet some time during the night when you’re both too drunk to be standing and then you’d end up at 5am at the usual Burger King because you’re both hungry, and the Burger King employees would be staring at you both with anger and disgust because you’re both laughing like stupid and talking too loud and they’ve been up all night and can’t stand two drunk costumers this early in the morning.

It sounds nice.

Jungkook remembers that Seulgi and Irene made up, which means that Seulgi most definitely isn’t home.

Which means you positively are home alone.

Home alone, huh.

Jungkook sips more beer.

This sounds nicer.

But, hey, it’s not like he’s being dirty minded (well, at least not entirely). He really wants to know what you wanted to talk about - and suddenly, he doesn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow. Maybe it’s the alcohol (maybe he really shouldn’t finish this beer), but he wants to see your face a lot right now. Your flustered face. And he kinda feels like holding your face with both hands and kissing you very slowly. And he kinda feels like going very very deep inside of-

You know what? Fuck it.

Jungkook puts the bottle over the table and is ready to get up. His excuse is ready. Nobody’s gonna think it’s strange anyway - Jungkook has actual stuff to do.

But he doesn’t have the chance to move when he notices a person approaching the tables where he’s sat.

He freezes.

It’s you.

You’re looking down at your phone before you lift your head and see the group of familiar faces a few meters away from you. You’re alone.

Jungkook’s heart starts to beat furiously inside his chest. A smile unconsciously increases on his lips. What are you doing here? He didn’t know you’d come. He’s also sure that he didn’t tell you which bar he would come to earlier today. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as a hundred ideas run on his mind in those few seconds; did you feel the need to see him as much as he wanted to see you? Did you have the same idea as him? Were you so eager to see him that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow-?

Your eyes finally cross his.

That’s when Jungkook notices something isn’t right.

You look surprised, then a second later you frown, then you slowly widen your eyes.

He knows you too damn well.

You didn’t know he’d be there, too. You’re surprised to see him. And it looks… it looks like you didn’t want to see Jungkook there.

“Y/N!”

A loud, excited, familiar male voice bursts out.

Jungkook watches frozen in place as Taehyung gets up in a swift movement, holds your face with both hands and kisses you.

Taehyung’s lips are warm against yours. They taste like toothpaste and beer.

The kiss is very brief. Taehyung breaks it alway soon, but still holds your face with his hands. He’s smiling widely.

“You're late, missy!" He says happily.

You're frozen in place.

This isn't happening.

"I-" you stutter. It seems that your brain went into complete malfunction. "I, uhm…"

Your eyes travel back to Jungkook.

He's just watching. Not moving a muscle. No.

No no no no no no.

This can't be happening.

Jungkook wasn't supposed to be here. You thought- you thought he was going to celebrate with his classmates, you didn't expect Taehyung would be here too. No, no. Just no.

You see the exact moment his features get as hard as stone. The way he clenches his jaw tight.

You can't breathe.

When you texted Taehyung earlier, you didn’t really like that he told you to meet him at a bar. A bar wasn’t the right place to have this type of conversation - you also felt bad that you’d probably ruin his end-of-semester celebrations - but you agreed anyway because you desperately needed to make things clear with Taehyung before you had that talk with Jungkook. You decided to do this because Jungkook was honest and fair with Joy; you needed to do the same. You left the worst of the impressions when you let Taehyung kiss you that day. You needed to tell him the truth, or else he’d just suffer more - and you couldn’t be a bitch enough to just dump him by text.

But fuck - you didn’t expect Taehyung would fucking kiss you in front of everyone the moment he saw you!

With the corner of your eye, you see Jimin looking from you to Taehyung to Jungkook very fast, his face going pale as he realizes what just happened. No one else notices that something’s wrong.

Jungkook breaks eye contact with you and gets up from his chair. Jimin looks at him, helpless. You know that expression. He’s angry and- and-

Hurt.

You step away from Taehyung, trying to get control over your body again. It feels like pure frost has filled your veins. “T-Taehyung, I…” Your mouth is very dry again. You clear your throat. “C-Can we talk somewhere else?”

You suddenly hate how oblivious Taehyung is and how touchy he is because it’s clear that he’s moving his arm to hold your hand. What the fuck?! We just kissed once, it’s not like we’re dating!

“Sure. Do you wanna get inside? Wanna get a drink?” He asks with the same happy smile.

You’re trying to think of something to say, but again, someone else behind him gets your attention.

“You’re going this early, Jungkook?” Hoseok whines, oblivious to the whole situation. Jungkook is putting his backpack over his shoulder. He’s looking down, jaw still very tight. Not a word said - yet you could see exactly how hurt he was.

“Yeah. I have a lot to do.” He simply says.

“Aw, come on, man!” Taehyung encourages. “You can stay a little longer!”

If Taehyung was a little less oblivious, he would have noticed the death glare sent in his direction.

“I can’t.”

A shiver crawls over your entire body as the death glare is now directed to you.

He’s so, so hurt.

Jungkook’s walking away.

Stop! You want to scream. You got it all wrong! Don’t go!

But you don’t have the chance to stop him, and Jungkook doesn’t have the chance to walk away, and Taehyung doesn’t have the chance to understand what’s going on.

Everyone turns their heads when they hear a boisterous, scandalous laughter, and the sound of someone clapping their hands dramatically.

Now you’re sure that your veins are frosted. You shiver again - yet this time, it’s pure fear.

It’s Mike.

A very, very drunk Mike.

He looks the worst you’ve ever seen him; his clothes are a mess, his hair has grown a lot, and he hasn’t been shaving lately. His eyes are widened, red and maniac. He stumbles as he walks closer, everyone on the table - and the people on the tables around - stopping to look as he still claps ironically.

“Oh, look at what we have here!” he’s loud. Very loud. “So interesting!”

You notice that Jungkook isn’t walking away anymore - in fact, he comes back a few steps, standing closer to you. His body language has changed. Jimin has also gotten up; it seems that Taehyung might be starting to understand what’s going on.

“This is the funniest shit I’ve seen in a looooong time,” Mike continues. God, he’s drooling. This isn’t happening. That’s not possible.

You watch as some guys come closer to Mike and recognize them as his friends. One of them holds Mike’s arm. “Come on, man. Don’t start a scene. It’s not worth it.” He says in a rather low voice, but you can still hear it.

Mike gets off his grip aggressively. “What do you mean? Of course it’s worth it!” Mike looks at you and grins like a madman. You feel another shiver run down your spine. “Hello, Y/N! It’s been a long time! How have you been?!”

“Your friend’s right.” Jungkook speaks up. “Get out of here.”

“Ooooooh,” Mike shakes his hands as if pretending to be scared. “Look who’s here, too! It’s the bestie! Jeon Jungkook, the best friend your girlfriend could ever have!”

Pretty much everyone on the outside part of the bar is paying attention to what’s going on. They whisper between themselves, looking at Mike, you and Jungkook. You feel so embarrassed that you might as well faint. You feel that you should have said something already, but your brain is still malfunctioning.

“Jeon Jungkook, the friend that will want to fuck your girl so bad, but he won’t because he’s a coward!” Mike screams and laughs like a maniac.

Jungkook steps up closer to Mike in a brusque movement, but Jimin’s fast enough to hold him back. At this point, all of his friends have already gotten up from the table, wanting to stop Jungkook from doing anything.

“Shut up, Mike! Let’s go!” Mike’s friends try to stop him as well, trying to drag him away, but even though he’s drunk, he’s still strong enough to stay in place.

“You think I didn’t know, huh, Jungkookie? You think I didn’t know that whenever I was balls deep inside of Y/N you wish it was you? You always wanted to make her scream like a bitch the way I did!”

At this moment, the fear and shame are overwhelmed by anger. Without realizing, you are the one stepping closer, you are the person who Taehyung has to grab the arm in order to stop. “Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!” You hear yourself yelling.

People on the tables around have gotten up - the noise of many chairs scraping the floor getting louder than the worried voices of the people trying to get away from this mess. You hear someone - a guard from the bar, maybe - threatening to call the police, but you can’t pay attention to him.

“Oh, but that’s exactly what you are! A whore!” Mike yells back. “You got so sad that I cheated on you, but haven’t you been doing the same to me?! You think I didn’t see you two inside the car that night?!”

That night… in the car…

Did he... ?

You freeze again when you see Mike pointing at Taehyung.

“Hm, you’re Taehyung, right? Are you dating her now? Well, be aware of her best friend right here, unless you like sharing your girl! But Jungkook likes leftovers, right, Jungk-?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Jimin isn’t strong enough to stop Jungkook from jumping over and landing a punch on Mike’s nose.

There’s yelling and the sound of tables turning as a whole lot of men try to stop the fight and glasses breaking and Jungkook screaming incomprehensible things as he holds Mike’s collar and punches once, twice, three times, and then Mike’s mouth and nose are bleeding, and Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung are trying to get Jungkook off Mike but it seems that not even the three would be enough to stop him.

You’ve never seen Jungkook so mad. It scares you because Mike is too drunk and can’t defend himself - but you’re not scared for Mike, that fucker can die -, you’re scared of what might happen to Jungkook.

So, when Jimin and the others drag Jungkook away as he still tries to free himself violently, you somehow squeeze yourself between them to hold Jungkook’s arm.

“Jungkook, stop!”

The black-haired man looks at you, his eyes red with rage in a way you’ve never seen before.

You didn’t notice that, in your despair, your eyes filled with tears. This is probably what makes Jungkook stop for a moment.

“Enough! I called the police! Everyone out of the bar!”

A siren can be heard from far.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Jimin yells.

Another mess as everyone grabs their things and to try and run out of the bar - even the people that weren’t involved. You see that Mike hasn’t fainted as his friends grab him out of the bar in a rush.

Jungkook has to get out of here, it’s the only thing on your mind. Jungkook thinks the same apparently, because he’s quick to take his bag from the floor and jump over the bar’s fence to the sidewalk. You assumed that he didn’t drive his way here because he knew he would drink - which means he had to run.

Your only instinct is to follow him.

You jump over the fence too, much more clumsily than him. Jungkook is already running down the street.

As you’re about to follow him, you hear someone call your name.

It’s Taehyung.

He’s standing on the sidewalk as customers run out of the bar. And the look on his face crushes your heart.

I am the worst person in the world.

“Y/N, what he said… is it- is it true?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth as if to say something, but nothing coherent comes out of it. The guilt rushes with adrenaline through your veins. You knew he would be hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Taehyung,” is the only thing you can stutter.

You don’t see what face he makes next - both because you can’t take it, and because you’re already turning around and running down the street after Jungkook.

Jungkook is the only thing on your mind.

You can’t let him go away like this.

You run through the busy streets full of bars. As usual, they’re crowded with people. Some of them look at you running like crazy when you pass by, but you can’t stop running because you can still hear the sirens.

Jungkook has some damn long legs. He runs much faster than you and doesn’t even look back. You can barely breathe and your stomach hurts as you unsuccessfully try to catch up to him. You keep running and running and running until you’re on less busier streets, until the bars are left behind and now you’re on a more residential part of the neighbourhood. As Jungkook crosses an almost empty square, you decided that your body can’t take it anymore. You stop gradually, feeling your entire body scream in pain.

“Jungk- Jungkook!” you yell.

The black-haired man finally looks behind his back and sees you; he widens his eyes in surprise and stops.

“Why are you-?”

He doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as the sound of the sirens get closer. You immediately start to run again and this time - instead of running in front of you - Jungkook waits until you get closer to grab your hand, forcing you to run faster. You two cross the square and run into a stair alley with houses on both sides. It’s quiet here. Jungkook crouches down behind a big trash bin, making you crouch down as well.

You both make as much silence as possible (considering you’re both panting heavily), both sweating, and wait until the sounds and lights of the police siren go away.

After maybe five minutes Jungkook gets up again, dropping his backpack on the floor. He cleans the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt; you rest your hands on your legs, trying to recover your breath. Your stomach hurts as if it has been stabbed. Maybe I should start working out.

You notice that Jungkook’s right hand is hurt; his knuckles are swollen and bleeding a little. He frowns in pain as he analyzes it. “You- you’re hurt.” you stupidly stutter. Jungkook shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He says in a low voice. “I said I would beat him up if I saw him…”

Out of instinct you step closer to him, worried, and lift your hands to hold his swollen one.

But Jungkook steps back before you can even touch him. He literally flinched away from you.

It feels like an arrow has just buried itself in your heart.

He’s not looking at you.

“Jungkook-”

“No.” He shakes his head again. He’s breathing heavily as if trying to calm himself down. “Don’t… don’t say anything. Please.”

It’s getting so difficult to breathe. Jungkook puts his hands on each side of his waist, staring at something on the floor - clearly avoiding your pleading gaze.

“But Jungkook, I… you didn’t…” why the hell can’t you speak a coherent sentence anymore? That’s why you followed him all the way. You must make things clear, but seeing his face right now makes you hesitate. Jungkook looks genuinely angry; you’ve never seen him like this, ever.

He throws his head back, looking at the sky, and lets a very dry chuckle past his lips. His expression tells you everything you need to know - he’s tipsy, not entirely drunk.

“You know, I don’t even understand why I’m angry.” You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or to himself. “There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.”

You feel yourself choking on your own words. What does he mean?

“Jungkook, you have to listen to me. I just wanted to talk to Taehyung-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Y/N!” He interrupts and finally gazes you back with bloodshot eyes. “We’re fuck buddies, right? It’s just for fun, right? No real feelings involved. It’s not like we’re supposed to care.”

Tears start to make your sight blurred. Each word of his sound more and more bitter, more sad, more hurt, and it feels like someone has buried the arrow in your heart deeper when you realize that his eyes are getting teary, too.

“Stop saying that. You know it’s not true. You’re the person I care about the most in this world-”

“If you start saying how I’m your best friend I’m leaving you right now.”

You frown and blink, trying to dissipate the tears. “B-But it’s true-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you! Stop acting like you don’t know that already!”

It feels like your brain and your limbs and your lungs stopped working all at once.

Did he… did he just…?

Jungkook exhales heavily. He looks so tired. He rests his back against the wall in front of you, once again avoiding your gaze.

Something tells you that this should have been a happy moment. Deep down, you feel the pure bliss and excitement and it feels like your heart will combust - because you finally heard the words you wanted to hear the most coming directly from his mouth, you finally understood everything; he felt the same, the fucking same.

Yet, all the happiness is being overwhelmed by worry.

You’re watching him intently. You know the man in front of you better than you know yourself. You’ve never seen this expression before - this mix of anger and hurt have never been directed towards you. You’re scared because you don’t know what it implies.

It’s his breaking point.

He might be giving up on you right now.

You don’t know what to say. For a long moment, you just stare at him as he tries to calm himself down - always avoiding your gaze. It seems that words won’t come out of your mouth no matter how hard you try.

“Since when?” is the only thing you can whisper after a long time.

Jungkook shakes his head and lets yet another lifeless chuckle. “I don’t know.” He says in a low, broken voice.

Your fingers are shaking as you close your hands in tight fists. He needs to hear the truth.

“Jungkook.” Yet again, you hesitantly step closer. Your voice is fragile, pleading. “You got it all wrong. Please, you have to listen to me. Today, I-”

“Yeah, I know I got it all wrong from the start.” He interrupts you again. Shut up!, you want to scream. Let me fucking speak!

However, you can’t speak anymore when you notice the tears dripping down his face.

Jungkook is crying.

It’s your fault.

He passes both hands over his face as quickly as the first tears started to fall and sighs heavily. He takes his bag from the floor and shoves it over his shoulder again, turning around before you can see his face again, before you have the chance to say anything.

“I’m going home. You should go home, too.”

And he starts to walk down the stairs way too fast.

Your body is moving before your mind registers and you try to catch up to him. “Jungkook, wait-”

“Don’t.”

Is the only thing he says without looking back.

This makes you stop.

You watch, frozen in place, as he walks down the stairs. You keep your eyes on him as he crosses the empty square again. He’s almost running.

He wants to get away from you as soon as possible.

You know Jungkook too well. You know that, even if you followed him, even if you insisted, he wouldn’t want to hear you anyway. He’d probably despise you even more. This is what made you freeze.

You suddenly feel your legs get weak and sit down on the stair steps. Not only your legs, actually. All of your limbs feel heavy.

You don’t remember the last time you cried like this. The unstoppable tears just coming and coming and the sobs barely let you breathe.

You’re crying because you’re ashamed of what just happened at the bar - how Mike made you feel humiliated in front of all those people. You’re guilty because you weren’t honest with Taehyung and now there’s no way back - you let him believe in whatever he wanted to believe instead of making things clear, and now he’s hurt.

And the worst of all.

You’ve been hurting Jungkook so bad for so long without realizing. You hurt the person you cared about the most.

All of it is your fault.

God, it hurts so much.

You know Jungkook too well. He’s the person that has been always there with you for better or for worse. You always knew you’d have each other’s backs no matter what happens; he’s a part of you, the most important, most precious part of you.

This time, you genuinely don’t know what will happen from now on.

This time... you don’t know if Jungkook will ever forgive you.

#btswriterscollective #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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sillysorcerer · 3 years

Text

A small flame dances in front of the three guards, the light dancing across their faces.

"It, it's a phantom. it has to be!"

A young, frail knight shakes in his armor. It is ill-fitting, and the three are clearly poorly funded.

"Shut up! it's the witch's trick. It has to be. She's around here somewhere," the large guard corrects his companion. He has a flat, bold face.

"What if it's a fae? or- or a sprite," the first guard asks. The larger guard inches closer to the flame, studying it. The heat is all too real on his face, and it still dances on the wind, hovering in front of him, taunting him. He is about to grab it when the small guard causes him to jump.

"It's a fairy! We're all going to be cursed just looking at it!"

"It's not! Shut up," he snaps back.

"What is it then," the third guard asks. "He might have a point. Fire doesn't just fly."

"F-fine. You have a point." The bulky guard backs away. "Let's just go. She can't have gone far." The three guards cower away, down the road.

The mage known as Rose Lalonde fades slowly back into view, casting off her invisibility now that her pusuers were gone. Fire plays around her fingertips.

Rose leans against the tree on her back. She sits on a waist-high stone wall, built to protect travelers along the road. It stretches further than anyone can see. Long ago it was clean and white, but now it is dusty and grey with time, even as the bright sun shines on it.

Rose extinguishes the flame with a snap of her fingers and heaves a long sigh. Her pointy hat flops slightly, matching her bored sideways glance. She only looks up after noticing the fanged face staring at her, hanging upsidedown from the tree. Whoever it is decended unnaturally quietly, but Rose refuses to give up any emotion.

"You don't seem very worried about the guards," the stranger smirks, grinning ear to ear. Her long black hair floats down a foot or so, a stark contrast to Rose's pale blonde hair. The woman's fangs poke ominously from her mouth.

"Please, these guards couldn't catch their own shadow," Rose responds. She meets the creatures eyes, and stares into a deep green abyss, darker than night.

"You don't seem very scared, human."

"That's probably because I'm not very scared," she replies, leaning back.

"You don't know who I am?"

"You mean you aren't a very strange dryad?"

The stranger is stuck for a moment, without an answer. Her guest laughs, and disolves into thick, black smoke, making the shade as dark as a moonless night. The blackness congeals into a very tall woman, her head resting just below the taller branches. She wears old, distinguished clothing, fitting some sort of noble. A large corset hugs her frame, and the dress under it is tight and ornate.

"Is this more satisfactory for you, before I drink you dry," The vampire asks.

"Much," is the only word Rose Lalonde offers. She still hasn't budged, and at this point, the vampire's curiosity is piqued.

"You are a wanted criminal are you," she asks, "Hiding from the silly guards?"

"It depends on who you ask. Everybody seems interested in the Lady Grimme," she gestures to herself with a flourish of her wrist.

"You must be pursued as well. You didn't show yourself until they left." Rose leaves the vampire with another charming smirk.

"Astute, little wizard-" Rose cuts her off with a sharp

"I am *not* a wizard." The vampire takes a step back, surprised by the sudden expression shown by the mage.

"Struck a nerve, have I, wizard?" She leans in close to rub it in.

"What makes you so different?"

"Everything. They dress like gaudy tyrants from a planet of harlequins, throwing their filthy beards around like unshowered would-be gods. They think magic can be tamed, controlled, and auctioned off. They have no respect for the danger sorcery can create. They believe the world is there to serve nothing other than their inflated intellects. They are fools pretending to be powerful."

"A deep nerve it seems," the vampire laughs. "I'll certainly enjoy draining it," she toys.

"That still doesn't explain why you are wanted."

"The wizards got what they deserved," Rose responds, ignoring the tall brooding woman's teases.

"Don't be so reticent, dear Lady Grimme." The fanged creature sits on the air, seemingly oblivious of gravity.

"Please do tell. Give me a taste of your life." Rose is silent, still smirking at the vampire. The tiny mage thinks she is the one in control here. The vampire is only playing with her, for now. Would they fight, Rose would be hopelessly outmatched by the tall, thin, creature of the night.

"You expect a lot from me when you haven't even told me your name."

"Ah, but names have power, don't you know, Rose Lalonde?" Rose doesn't move.

"Where did you get that name?" Rose feigns concern. She sits perfectly still, watching her fanged guest.

"We both have our secrets."

"But only one of us are any good at hiding them," Rose retorts. Behind her smirk is the ever so subtle presence of superiority.

"Hahahaha!," The black haired vampire has never seen such a bold face presented to her. She can't decide if she hates it, or enjoys it.

"You're a bold one, mage. No one has had such nerve to play games with me." The vampire licks her fangs, staring at this tiny mortal before her feast.

"Unlike the wizards, I can back up my prowess."

"Watch your choice of words, mortal. You can't move from my charm," she teases.

"And you have no way of hurting me even if you wanted to." The black-veiled vampire stands up to loom over Rose, growing closer as they continue their discourse. Rose is quite aware.

"Are you willing to bet on that?" The vampire freezes. Why is this puny mage so confident? She's fallen for every trap laid before her. Why does she still seem so smug? Suddenly, the tall vampire isn't so sure. She smiles, settling on a test for the human.

"Those charmed by my presence are only able to lie." She grins, waiting to see Rose's response.

"Clever. Either I play along, or reveal I am unaffected. And I assume you'll kill me if I don't, so I may as well." The little witch catches on fast, the vampire thinks. At least her meal is a smart one.

"Your death will be more fun this way, you'll see. So, let's begin. What are you really wanted for?"

"Wanton destruction of the kingdom, study of the dark arts, kidnapping, brainwashing, attempted treason, murder, arson, and tax evasion," Rose lists mindlessly off the top of her head as her eyes roll. She doesn't even try to hide her sarcasm. She's issuing a bet, a verbal puzzle, and it hasn't gone unnoticed.

"What of that was the truth," her fanged company frowns. No human could do so much.

"All of it." Rose gives that infuriating smirk again. It is a lie, but not one she can learn anything from. The vampire growls. Moments ago this wizard seemed worried about pitiful humans in thin metal plates, playing guard. Why now does she act so defiant?

"Would you call yourself powerful?"

"Only sometimes," Rose responds. It's impossible to garner the truth from her claims. Rose knows this. It's clear from her piercing, amethyst eyes, and that damned smug smile.

"Are you having fun with this," the vampire asks.

"I've never had this much fun." She responds, leaving loopholes like a genie.

"Will you tell me anything?"

"I'll tell you anything you ask," Rose teases.

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere in particular." Rose seems to be enjoying this far too much.

"Why aren't you worried?!"

"My mother told me to be a brave girl." The vampire laughs for only a second. It fuels back into her growing anger.

"Why did you act like you could beat me?"

"I was stupid." The vampire scowls, how DARE she LIE about that. She IS a fool for challenging me, the creature thinks.

"Lie or not, I'm getting hungry. Do you have any last words?"

"I do not."

"So bold. What will save you when I bleed you dry?"

"Vodka will save me." Rose has to try not to laugh at her own joke.

"Do you fear me?!?"

"Actually, I enjoy this talk." The vampire raises a claw, only a foot from Rose's face. Then she stops.

This smile is different. There is sincerity in Rose's face. Then she stands and bows... The vampire shifts, standing straight. In an instant, the tension fades, bewilderment taking it's place.

"How did you escape my charm? How are you not enthralled, frozen?" The vampire stoops slightly, studying the human so below her.

"Imagine your surprise when you find out." The tallest female looks irritated again.

"Do you ever tire of speaking in riddles?" The vampire is getting tired of waiting. As if Rose can sense her impatience, she responds.

"Fine. ask me anything. I will give you an honest answer." The vampire studies her, thinking hard. This question will end her little game.

"Why are you still here?"

"I wanted to see you in person." The vampire is frozen. No one, not a single human in ten centuries has ever been this bold in front of such an ancient and powerful being. who *is* she? The creature's thoughts are interrupted by a sudden gust of wind. A massive, four-eyed black dragon lands beside the tree. Rose climbs atop it's back.

"Come Mutini, I think our guest has had enough for today." How dare she! The vampire lunges, but it is too late. The massive dragon has taken off.

The vampire stands, still reeling from the interaction she's just had with this so called Lady Grimme. She was confused at the conflicting information, but more infuriated that her meal was interrupted. Good food doesn't run away. She will find Rose again, and when she does-

the vampire's thoughts are interrupted. She kneels, and picks up a book the witch must have dropped. What a fool.

It takes the vampire a minute to process what she sees. It is the Grimoire of the Zoologically Dubious, written by Abdul Alhazred. The dark arts- was this witch serious when she said she studied the dark arts? There is a bookmark inside, and the vampire opens the book to the marked page. Inside is an illustration of her own face. Kanaya Maryam, the Rainbow Drinker. Listed is her age, powers, and very nature, indiscernable to all but the most foolish humans who dare translate it's ancient text. Below it all, is the mage's signature, "RL".

The vampire realises Rose left this behind on purpose. She had everything planned the second they met, she may even have planned their meeting. She was prepared for every charm, every game, and for her eventual escape. Every answer was planned, every statement calculated, and every move was thought ahead of time. And the vampire fell for it.

She looks up at the fleeting shadow in the air. Never in her entire unnatual life had she met someone quite like Rose Lalonde. But now, she was thirsty for more.

@rosemarymonth2021 Here is my story for the Fantasy prompt

#rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #rosemary #rosemary month 2021 #fantasy #original stuff

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honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

find me in san francisco

ship: sam/bucky

warning: violence, cursing, apocalypse

summary:

Bucky looked over to Sam for a moment before speaking, "Las Vegas may have currency but it doesn't have you."

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes stumble upon each other once more at the aftermath of war.

—■—■—

Run. That’s what you do best anyway, isn’t it?

The view of a beachside stretches, the sand a murky grey with glasses and scraps of metal lining the boardwalk as if washed up against the rough and harsh soil, leaning against the ugly and crumbling brick wall where the actual boardwalk started up above at a level, and at a low tide the pitch-black ocean water lapped against the side at an increasingly frightening pace, as if it was always unsteady, always unnatural. Here on this sand, he ran, clad in a black ensemble, a matching WWII remnant design gas mask on his face, tubes attached to an oxygen tank he had in a backpack. He almost left no boot prints on the shore due to the dense debris that littered there. It was frightening what the last decade had given the earth — so terrible.

The man was running as fast as he could, biting down his tongue as he breathed at an interval of every three minutes – he had managed to breathe every five or six minutes when he was idle, and he has yet to learn to save his breath as he runs. He reaches the staircase that led to the boardwalk, hopping up the marble steps that cracked at every step he made, turning and twisting until he made his way out of the abandoned boardwalk, and was it just him when the stores and barest frames of buildings moaned in agony as the only life that passed through its once lively soul had left as soon as it arrived, or was it just the hunger that nipped at his guts?

He ended up by the road, and it was abandoned by cars and people, buildings just as decayed and bare as the ones in the boardwalk. He looked around for a moment, frantically—he has perfected the art of saving his breath, he’s been breathing for an interval of four minutes now, based on his watch. He took a right and ran as fast as his legs could go, which was a fast jog that could carry him for three hours at most without wasting his breath.

As the road ended up uphill, with him leaning forward against the heavy pull of gravity from below, there was a view of a clinic before the T-intersection. Our man didn’t falter in step and breath as he reached the clinic, breaking the glass door in one swing with his right elbow. The glass door cracked and shattered in a million diamonds, bouncing on the floor and sticking to his sleeves. He patted them off and entered through the door, invading the empty veterinarian’s clinic.

He went into a room, where the surgeries occur and found some more oxygen gas tanks. Out of all twenty of them only six had not been wasted. He took them all. His tank was still full, but he took them. No more for the strays who would try to salvage for oxygen, the only thing left for them is the decaying flesh and bones of animals in cages in the next room. He took them, placed them in his retractable wagon, and pulled north.

He hears the faintest sound, but he hasn't faltered. He walked slowly now, his breathing smooth as water as his ears tried to pick up the source of the sound. It rolled on the ground. Heavy. Faraway. It didn't change pace.

Our man, who used to go by Sam Wilson, had continued on his way, squaring his shoulders as his jaw clenched beneath the mask, and for once, he had let his guard down. He trusted his heart over his gut — he let his eyes wander towards the ground because it felt right to do so. God, when was the last time Sam had relaxed? Swinging his arms as he hummed a tune— When was the last time he could touch the sky and feel free?

It was a car. Some Mercedes. A dark shade of green. It had a pop of silver on the hood, what used to be a logo now scratched off, but there was definitely a wing in there.

The passenger window rolled down when the car had matched Sam's pace. Sam didn't want to look, didn't want to disappoint himself and get shot again. He didn't want to let his hopes wander towards the heavens just so it can fall so fast like what happened to Lucifer. He didn't want to die, to have that sliver of mercy turn into a knife.

The man in the car was covered top to bottom in a black ensemble, what they used to call the Winter Soldier armor due to the uniqueness and durability. Sam didn't want his hopes to get too high, so he assumed that the stranger wanted to steal his wagon of oxygen tanks. The atmosphere is thinning so fast, it's incomprehensible; everybody would do anything to live.

Sam whiplashed, pulled out his knife from his thigh holster, twirling it in his fingers before pulling his elbow back — it all happened too fast, next thing Sam knew, the stranger had leaned back into the driver's seat as soon as the knife had lodged itself into the driver seat window, barely an inch away from the man.

The man laughed for a moment as if it was the most adorable thing he had witnessed. His breath hitched and his arms were crossed over his chest as if he actually believed that was where Sam was aiming for.

"Nice car." Sam spoke, his words deeply muffled by his mask, it almost sounded like another language, "I'm taking it."

The man had no time to react because, by the time he had regained his stature, Sam had reached in and unlocked the passenger door, swinging it open. Holding onto the side and door of the car, Sam lifted himself and swung both his feet towards the man's chest, successfully knocking the air out of him.

As the man had choked, Sam swung himself inside and closed the door shut, leaving his wagon outside. He sat on the passenger's seat, looking over at the wheezing man. Grabbing the man's right arm and locking it under his arm, Sam elbowed the man to the chest, throat, and nose, feeling the satisfying ringing pain shooting through his skin. Sam had worn elbow pads, decorated it with silver spikes even — poor man.

Sam had twisted the man's right arm — the man grunted like a trapped animal — and forced him to duck, and with a spare hand, he grabbed the man by the collar, slamming his face into the wheel, earning several short honks, not loud and long enough for anyone in the radius to hear.

The man heaved as Sam pulled him back, even caressing the back of the man's neck, letting the stranger have a few breaths of air for a moment. What a saint Sam was. Sam abruptly squeezed the man's neck, earning a satisfying whine. As Sam was reaching over for the knife lodged in the window, the man had uppercut him in the stomach, earning an alarming wheeze from our man. With a final tug from Sam and a punch by the man, they found themselves overcome with adrenaline.

Sam pulled the knife out of the window with a grunt, pushing the knife through the man's thigh with a terrifying shringggg, eliciting a muffled scream from him.

Sam pushed the man away from him and slid against the passenger door, heaving heavily, already afraid of how much oxygen he lost in the fight. His head felt light, and there's a ringing pain in his abdomen, one that urged him to caress it with a gentleness which his gloves contrasted.

The driver's seat door suddenly swung open and an arm had stuck in and dragged the stranger out of the car, rolling on the ground with a gurgled grunt. The stranger tried standing up despite his injured leg but the man had pulled the knife out of his shin, eliciting a garbled line of a shriek as he collapsed on the asphalt road.

Sam rolled his eyes as he opened up his own door, pulling in the oxygen tanks one by one as the new man continued to clean up the scene, wiping the knife and pocketed it in his holster. Sam had retracted back his wagon and pocketed it as he closed the door, the new man taking the last man's seat in the car, his eyes blanketed by his dark goggles.

The new driver shifted gear and removed the handbrake, stepping on the gas quite slowly to avoid the roar of the engine or the screeching of tires. This man spoke, his words muffled deeply, signing as he said, "Run over?"

Sam waved a hand, shaking his head, and there's a glint in his eyes as he glanced over to the man wearing a black ensemble just like his, but there's a filter mask instead, more sleek and functional, something the Winter Soldier armor couldn't have, the actual original one that belonged to Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes had joy in them as he looked over to Sam. The car moved for a few feet away from the grunting stranger, then Bucky shifted the gear to reverse, looking over at the rearview mirror until he deeply injured the man's legs. Bucky took his time in shifting back to drive, the car jumping a bit as they continued on with stealing the car.

"I didn't think you'd come," Sam signed with one hand, leaning his head against the closed window, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You were on the way to Las Vegas."

Bucky looked over to Sam for a moment before speaking, "Las Vegas may have currency but it doesn't have you."

Sam had to take a moment before figuring out what the man was saying, and when he did, he smiled under his mask, closing his eyes as it reached them. Groaning, Sam shook his head at that, Bucky laughing at the side as he maneuvered the car through the throes of wrecked cars and metal of the San Francisco streets.

The wreckage of the road, of course, only stretched the more the car rolled down the disaster of a scene. The afternoon sky was dull and settling as the winds whistled a low tune, but even then it was merely a delusion, merely a fictitious ensemble, something more of a mirage, a ploy to the senses. Decorating the asphalt road were small fires that were either already burning or had suddenly combusted out of nowhere, and other than this, the afternoon harsh sun rays were bouncing off of the reflective surfaces of dismantled cars, almost disfiguring the two men’s sight from the windshield.

It's almost like an ode to the old world, a painting dedicated to the world before downfall played into fate, something of a music piece played for the masses disguised as the Trojan horse. Our two men had sat in silence as this scenery passed by them, but all they felt was tension and war in their veins, their gazes as strong as liquor and they despised that — despised how much they could've gotten if nothing ever happened in the first place.

Bucky reached over to Sam quiet hesitantly, grabbing his attention with a slight tap. Sam's eyes glanced at Bucky's hand, watching the way Bucky signed, slowly, as if wanting Sam to take it all in, I'm sorry.

Sam spoke, but his words were chopped and deeply muffled, barely comprehensible, but Bucky knew what he was trying to say with the way Sam's eyebrows hardened, the quick tick of his jaw, and the softness in his ocher eyes. Sam's nervous, forgiving, I was okay without you.

Bucky's eyebrows relaxed, and he wanted so badly to remove his goggles but he knew he shouldn't, so he nodded, cleared his throat, and said: "You were always okay without me."

Sam nodded. They both knew. Sam was always fine on his own, but he felt that need for a companion and he adored Bucky's like Apollo's Icarus — like a scar down one's spine, one made out of love, ambition, and yearning.

"I wanted to be human. I wanted someone," Sam spoke, only signing it when he had gathered himself. He had set his head against the window, his breath shuddering as he added one last bit, "I wanted it to be you."

There's heat rising in Bucky's chest and all he could think of was how much Sam was attracted to it, but he's afraid he'd burn the angel because people like Bucky only ever did was hurt the most beautiful things in the world, but damnit, Sam wasn't beautiful.

People like Sam were ugly to the bone because they don't truly believe in peace and beauty. They've fought tooth and nail to accept fate with stardust in their eyes and that journey alone was frightening, murderous intent for all.

It's scary to think someone like Sam wasn't able to love because he was just so full of it.

"I want to love you," Bucky speaks, and they were soon going down a steep road. He moves methodically to drive them quietly. "I want to be with you too."

Sam signs, furiously, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes had a sadness in them Bucky couldn't pinpoint. "Then why did you leave?"

Bucky's hand flew to the clasps of his goggles, but then he stopped, realized what he was doing, and slowly set his hand back down on the steering wheel. Sam was watching the man with wide eyes, silent and nervous as if they were going to suddenly combust at any moment, and maybe they were with the way flames lick their skin as if hungry peasants — maybe they were those hungry peasants.

"To survive. Didn't realize that's an empty wish if I didn't find companionship — you, when I was already so far away." Bucky replied, and his voice was clear, a little murky, but Sam heard it all, even the man's heartbeat laced around the words. "I didn't want to live greedily, I wanted to live loved and to love."

Sam turned back to face the road, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes caught sight of the hood of the car. There were a million thoughts that ran through his head at the speed of light, but he wasn't baffled when these thoughts turned to plans, survival plans, plans with Bucky Barnes. His lip squirmed under the mask and it hurts to even smirk, but Sam's heart is so full of emotions he never thought he could feel again and it's euphoric.

Sunlight dances on grass and Sam could feel himself breathe freely again as if he was alive before the war. He could feel Bucky's flesh hand in his and there are the softness and toughness of skin he craved after the war. There were too many feelings in Sam's chest that made him weep, but he stayed stoic, stared out the windshield, his jaw hurting as he tried his best to stop his smile.

They were on flat ground and Sam made a sound Bucky thinks was laughter. Bucky's chest fluttered just like the first time he heard that laugh — before the war.

Sam's gloved fingers find their way grazing Bucky's jaw, only a fleeting feeling none of them could feel, but there's warmth in their chests as Sam cupped another hand around the man's cheek, their hearts singing in octaves as Apollo fell instead of Icarus; all backward love, they'll make it worth it.

Sam leaned into Bucky's face and their masks made a clicking sound when they met. This was the closest they could get to kissing, but it's not truly a love story if lips had to prove it. Don't you hear the world still just for them?

Sam stared at the goggles, thinking he could see Bucky's eyes flutter close, fighting to keep them open. Sighing, Sam closed his eyes to take at the moment, the new normal they can have.

Letting go, Sam leaned back into his seat, saying, signing, "We just stole S.H.I.E.L.D. property."

There's a trace of a grin on Bucky's words when he said, "What bastards. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sam turned to Bucky, and they share a sound similar to a laugh.

"As always."

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #sam wilson sundays #france: writing #france: works

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lunewell · 3 years

Text

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Chapter 2

Can also be read on ao3 by clicking here

First part is here (:

Third part is here

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery

Chapter 2:

At 03:45 in the morning, under a night sky covered in a thick blanket of storm clouds, Zarifa was woken, not by any natural phenomena, or by her antique alarm clock, but by the sound of her phone screeching out what was effectively deafening trumpets. Though this had never happened before, Zarifa knew instantly what it was, and threw off her warm, cotton duvet immediately.

Grant, who frankly was the only one who had anything even close to technology related competence, had wired up an alarm system in the shop not too long ago, and connected it to Zarifa’s phone. He had also, of course, been the one to design the hideous sound. As she gripped her phone with a speed that almost made it go smashing to the ground, she turned it on to see that the alarm of Thorn’s Antiques had, in fact, just gone off.

She rubbed her temples, shivering slightly. Neither the room nor the outside world were particularly warm, with a chilly wind seeping on through the wall and around the room. Her bed was a haven of heat, and a place that could soothe the ever-growing, tired ache in her bones, and her entire body protested when she turned on her heels and began walking towards the closet, shuddering.

Zarifa threw on clothes at an impressive haste; a warm turtleneck and a pair of jeans that were just the slightest bit too small, then snatched her phone and purse, and put on her necklace, before rushing out the door.

She wasn’t all that worried about the robbery, not really. While they were an antique shop, they didn’t have anything really valuable, at least not that she was aware of.

Besides, if anything of value truly had been stolen, there was pretty much only one culprit, and lucky for them, Zarifa knew exactly where to go should that be the case.

No, her haste came not from a place of fear of the robber, or worry over the supply, but from Valour’s reaction. Valour, though usually apathetic, had an overprotectiveness of the shop, and any damage to it, might lead to the new rising of a mass murderer. The butterfly over her turtleneck saw one last glimpse of the light, before it was covered in a thick, black coat, and slipped outside into the shadowy night.

The breeze was particularly strong, fiery trees not so much swaying in the wind as almost being knocked down by it. Zarifa pulled her coat tighter, shivering as a cracking whip of gust slammed her face. The stars above, usually visible in the dimly lit dirt paths, were shielded behind towering, puffed-up storm clouds, almost menacing in their own way.

She walked onto the pavement, passing her small and worn car parked outside the small cottage. She debated on taking it, before deciding it really wasn’t worth it. Lunewell was so small anyway, and the shop hidden in the far corner was but a ten-minute walk. Though driving should technically have been faster, navigating her way around the roads and towards Lune Lake, where the shop lay, would take just as long as walking there. Even after living there for five years, Zarifa still found the roads and paths an absolute maze, like the village was purposefully trying to trap its inhabitants.

As she rounded a corner, and headed towards what had become a very small street of other local shops and one bar, a wave of newly baked pastries broke through the ozone-scented air, sending yet another hard hit of a gust that pushed her back ever so slightly. She didn’t mind the wind though, as her tight expression morphed into a delighted smile and her body became infinitely more aware of how long it has been since she’d eaten.

Zarifa relished in the smell for just a little longer, though she kept her pace up, before she froze in place at the edge of a lamppost light. Mr. and Mrs. Carr, both bundled up in striped, hand-knit scarves, were walking towards the bakery hand in hand, clearly preparing to open for the day. Zarifa stood almost inhumanly still in place, as though the Carrs were hunting predators and she was their prey, her breathing having grown shallower and tighter.

Taking a step back further into the shadows, she hoped the light was poor enough and their eyes old enough that she would slip under their senses. Or, at least, that was the plan, until her feet knocked against an empty can on the ground, sending a rattling sound that resonated through the street.

Their heads snapped up, landing first on the can that had rolled into the light, and then on Zarifa herself, who was still holding her breath, even her heartbeat muted. Mrs. Carr, who had never particularly liked Zarifa for whatever reason, gave a wave and a slightly tight smile as her greyed hair blew haphazardly around her head.

Her husband turned to see what she was looking at, lighting up when he saw Zarifa, who had edged herself into the event horizon of visibility. “Zarifa!” he greeted enthusiastically, but quietly, “Hello dear. What are you doing out here at this hour?”

Zarifa rubbed the back of her neck, shuffling further forward. “Good morning Mrs. Carr, Mr. Carr-”

“As I’ve said before, just Harold’s fine love.”

“Apologies,” Zarifa said, hands moving from her neck to the gold that hung around it. “I’m not in the best mindset right now,” Mr. Carr sounded an ‘Oh?’, as Mrs. Carr headed inside slightly huffy, “you see, the alarm for Thorn’s Antiques just went off.”

Mr. Carr’s eyebrows shot up in concern, wrinkles bunched on his ever-balding forehead. “That’s dreadful,” he exclaimed, “not the kind of thing you’d expect to happen ‘round here. You better be off, Lilly and I’ll drop by with some of the baked goods later in the day.”

“Oh, that’s very generous but you don’t have to,” Zarifa reassured in a slight panicky tone, “no point in dragging you two into this mess.”

“Nonsense,” he said, “everyone needs some baked goods in situations like this. Besides, I’m sure that young lad of yours with the glasses - Graham? Brant? - would be very appreciative.”

“If you’re positively sure it isn’t an inconvenience, that would be lovely,” Zarifa said, finishing it off with a warm if anxious smile. Any lingering silence was broken by the sound of Mrs. Carr calling for her husband and co-worker in a way fit for a dictator. Mr. Carr turned towards the door

“Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, back, a stark contrast to the gentle lull of his tone before. “I believe my wife needs me. We’ll stop by later. Good luck!”

Zarifa took off like a jetfighter, sprinting away with a wave and footsteps that bounced into the streets. At her speed, it wasn’t long before she was no longer landing on cobbled streets but on overgrown dirt paths covered in damp leaves. The shop, a small stoney thing with dirty windows that practically looked abandoned, came into view, and her eyes moved to the door, which was in fact left just the slightest bit open.

Sliding inside, she closed the door behind her, though the shop remained equally cold. It looked almost eerie at this time, the furniture remnant of old times, empty and abandoned, a few vases smashed on the floor from where someone had been in a rush, and a stillness so quiet that it was deafening to her ears.

Picking up a blue floral patterned shard, she continued onwards, keeping her footsteps as light as a ghost. Well, as light as a ghost that could not sneak past a deaf person, but she digressed. Pushing open the door to the back, wincing as the door hinges made a shrieking creek, reminiscent of a whining child, she made her way in.

The employees’ lounge looked, as she had expected, fine. Everything was exactly as they had left it, slightly disjointed, except for Bruin’s desk that had been organised meticulously. She began heading for the downstairs, to see if any of the inventory had been stolen, when she heard a muffled thud from upstairs, releasing the pressured silence in her ear and exchanging it with dread.

Thud, thud, thud , multiple slamming sounds, equally light, equally muffled, radiated from upstairs. She could track the being’s every movement from the sound alone, see the continuous patterns of thuds make their way through the upstairs rooms. Her eyes trailed them vigorously, pupils jumpy, as she tightened the grip on the shard. The fact that it dug into her hand, almost piercing through her thin bicoloured skin, didn’t register.

The shop yet again went quiet, though any illusion of silence was broken by Zarifa’s hammering heart. She glanced around the room, gaze going to the cellar where she could take her hiding, to the second exit, and back up to Valour’s personal floor. She looked up, waiting for any more signs of life, before snailing sneakily up the stairs with the shard held out in front of her.

The steps, normal stairs instead of the never ending spiral leading to the basement, stayed as silent as herself throughout the ascent, as though they themselves were afraid of the intruder above. Zarifa tipped-toed up them, the yellow stained walls that the stairs were encased in almost suffocatingly tight, and ever closing in.

At the top of the carpeted steps sat a black door crested in a slightly lighter shade, with a pair of Bobby pins stuck in the lock. It was the only entrance Zarifa had never taken in the shop, looming above her and guarding a floor that even so much as seeing would lead to great punishment.

It was too dark to peek into the room, and there was no sound but her own swallowing and the wind that had picked up outside. She took another step up, and reached for the handle as though it was shatterable glass. With a prayer directed more towards the cosmic force of luck rather than anything specific, she gave one push of the door.

Luck, it seemed, was on her side, as the hinges opened without the slightest squeak. She took the final stairs up, giving one last glance to where she came from, and stepped inside what was effectively Valour’s house.

Even through the fog of darkness, she could see the layer of dust, and the sheer amount of things thrown astray on the floor. Outlines of books with unreadable titles spilling over the carpet, sheets of aged papers crumbled into what she assumed had once been a paper bin, and antique knick-knacks placed in tall piles, disfigured by the low lighting.

At first glance, it seemed disorganised, but as her eyes adjusted more to the lightless room, it became clear that similar items were bundled together, and that there was some kind of system. She just hadn’t quite figured out what that system was.

Looking away from the silhouettes of mess that seemed ever-shifting, she turned her eyes downward, looking at where a path had been cleared. Whether it had always been there, or whether the dear intruder had made it, she was unsure about. She walked across it like a minefield, eyes trained on the ground and not looking at the piles which were getting higher as she went along and spilling further towards her.

She stopped at a hallway, leading in two different directions, which was deserted compared to the room she had just arrived in, only containing a painting, a few near empty shelves, and a drawer. Though equally riddled with swirling, sand-like dust, it felt cleaner, and had a little bit of light poking through a curtained roof window. It shone on the portrait hanging large and proud above the wooden desk, enough so that she could see the illuminated face of a younger Valour with colour still in her hair and a rather androgynous person she couldn’t quite recognise. They invoked the same familiar feeling she had felt yesterday, albei more distant.

She took a step closer, staring intently. The person, a sickly pale figure with light brown hair and odd, pink, heart shaped sunglasses, was almost entrancing, to the point she had barely realised just how close her hand was to the canvas.

The trance was broken not by the touch of the oil canvas, but by a sound that Zarifa, when asked at a later point, could only have described as bounding . It was the sound of a constrictor wrapping around its prey, of tight ropes encircling a wrist, of becoming trapped and helpless.

A flash of light blue light, ever so faint and ever so quick that one couldn’t be scolded for mistaking it with a hallucination, appeared in the corner of her eye. Her head snapped towards one of the doors, hair on her arms rising, as she made her ways towards the source.

From the outside door, she could hear whatever was making that sound wrap further, deeper, and for a second, her mind cleared. She considered walking out; walking safely home, telling Valour that she couldn’t find anything stolen, and not getting involved. Letting this, whatever this was, live its life or death peacefully.

After all, was that not why she had come to find herself here in the shop in the first place? Was that not why Grant, Bruin, or even to an extent Valour herself had found themselves in this antique shop? To escape a past of unexplainable events, whilst simultaneously saving others from having the same brush with the eldritch, the unexplainable? To, for even just a split second, live in the illusion of normalcy, the lie that nothing had ever been wrong?

Zarifa turned on her heels, sneaking past the portrait of Valour and Heart-Glasses, which almost seemed to be judging her choice. Valour wouldn’t have turned away, which perhaps explained the scars and bruises. She couldn’t, however, bring herself to care, as her ever growing frantic footsteps made their way down the hall.

Now, what must be understood for the following sequence of events to make sense, is that Zarifa, deep down, was one thing; caring. She sees her fellow employees as great friends, always up to help or let them take breaks, she handles her books with delicate strokes and gloves hands, and she is always up to help.

Whether Zarifa’s caring nature always outshined her cowardice and self preservation is debatable, and a subject she preferred not to dwell on. However, in the word always , lies a hidden, implied one; sometimes.

Like when Zarifa, halfway down the hallway, heard a cry and groan of pain that was so distinctly Lottie , that she would have recognised it even if her ears got chopped off. As though someone had a pressed a button, she turned right back around, sprinted with loud thuds, and pushed the door with a speed that almost broke a whole in the wall. She stood panting in the doorway, all fear evaporated into a feeling that was not quite protectiveness, not quite caring, not quite pity, and not quite anger, before the muddled emotion transformed back into fear as her eyes landed on the strawberry blonde.

Lottie sat on the floor, legs dug into by long vines dressed in a barrier of thorns, arms tightly pressed against her body in a twisted bend that no human should have been able to achieve, and a streaming, jet black smoke arising from the leaf engraved ornate box in front of her and travelling right into her deep green eyes. Zarifa moved towards her and the box without even thinking, making her jerk, digging the thorns even deeper into her skin. “Don’t… to-touch a thing,” Lottie commanded, voice unbelievably hoarse, as though she had been shouting for hours, and Scottish accent more intense.

“I can’t sit by and watch… whatever’s happening!” Zarifa shouted frantically, panic stirring in her. She crouched down to the floor, even as Lottie made a sound of protest. “How can I stop this?”

“Y-you can get the fuck out,” Lottie managed to gasp out meeting her eyes. Her brows were stern, but her expressive emerald eyes were scrunched and her face was in a grimace that drew at Zarifa’s heart strings like a wound bow. All the while, the black smoke from the box-

The box. Of course. If she just closed it, Lottie would, theoretically, be fine. She began reaching for the moonlight-reflecting gold leaf, one of the only items visible in the otherwise almost pitch black room. She stopped as she heard her name called desperately from beside her, followed by a string of curses.

“Don’t touch it!” Lottie pleaded with a tone laced in anger, voice teetering on the edge of death, “Just get out of here, butterfly!” And oh, if her heart didn’t skip at that slip-up, “Don’t want to…” she gasped again, not quite managing to bite down another whimper, “d-drag you into this shit again.”

Zarifa looked at Lottie, her pained glare, the arms that looked like they had been put on backwards, and the pierced legs. She took a breath; “I’m sorry,” she said, and before Lottie could say so much as a word, she snapped the lid shut with a snap that hit like an atom bomb.

As soon as the bomb landed, everything went quiet. Zarifa moved quickly, as Lottie fell limp into her chest like a stuffless ragdoll, arms clicking back into the place with an audible sound, and eyes fluttering open to give one last angered, intense stare before shutting. The smoke, escaping Lottie’s eyes in a violent manner, balled itself up into the center of the room, the thorns vanishing and joining it to create a rotating, black and dark green, spiral-patterned sphere.

Keeping a close eye on the orb, she scrambled further backwards, pulling Lottie along with her. Her mind raced as she scanned the thing, trying desperately to decipher what it was, what it could possibly be. Though she wanted to leave the room, to drag Lottie and herself outside and never enter again, her eyes were entranced in the beautiful, indescribable spiral. It was, Zarifa thought grimly, a bit like the train incident all over again. Or the summer camp, for that matter, but she preferred to keep a lock on those memories.

The orb continued spiralling, room still quiet except for Zarifa’s heavy breathing, and the wind outside. It was then that she saw something in the spirals, something beyond the mist of black. She squinted, though in the light and with the colour it was hard to see much of anything except the swirling pattern. She began leaning in ever closer, though recoiled almost instantly as soon as the orb came to life.

A hand, pink and fleshy and clearly human, pushed against the pattern, stretching the orb to translucency like a tight latex glove. It pushed against the swirls, followed by another, then three hands, then 10 hands, and then an uncountable number. Everywhere you looked where skin covered fingers, all trying to break the barrier that had slowly stopped swirling.

Though they pushed and pushed, hands clawing with the ferocity of a starving lion, pounding with all the force of a hurricane, the barrier refused to move, just stretching to expose the arms further up. It had gotten to the point where Zarifa could clearly see knobbly elbows bending robotically, aimlessly through the cover. She regarded the arms from where she sat, eyes trailing their every movement, before she turned over, head still on them, and took a single, crawling movement towards the door.

All the hands stopped pushing, falling limp into the orb as though their strings had been cut. They were dragged back jerkily into the core, pulled out of sight as quickly as they had appeared. Zarifa held her breath watching the orb move towards her and out of the moonlight, the colours fading to nothing but a monochrome silhouette, and the shape morphing into something reminiscent of a bald human, albeit with arms just the slightest bit too long. She could not see its face, or any details on its body, even as it took an unsteady tumble towards her.

When Zarifa was twenty-one, and visiting Lunewell for the first time since the train incident, a seventeen year old girl, younger than herself, but already the owner of a shop, named Valour Thorn had taught her a very important lesson; When faced with the unexplainable, always close your eyes. At that time, Zarifa had yet to see what that would do. After all, simply ignoring danger when it was so close seemed like a sure fire way to get yourself killed, but a method of saviour.

Now, however, faced with an ever-approaching, vaguely human-shaped blob, staggering towards her like a drunken man with a concussion, she realised that situations like this could only have two outcomes, and closed her eyes. She kept her breath and body stiff, even if she knew she had already been spotted by the sound of bagged, wet meat slapping against the ground. The sound stopped completely mere inches in front of her, and everything went quiet, on what could very well have been the last moment of her life.

A breath, muffled as though it was coming through fabric, though no less warm and moist than what would have expected, blew against her cheek. It sounded strained, as though it’s lungs were thick as needles, but the breathing was rhythmic and distinctly alive. The breath inched closer, warming by the second as she squeezed her deep brown eyes tighter, mind caught in a loop of prayers to all the gods she could think off.

Lottie, who had previously been nestled comfortably against Zarifa’s jacket, let out a slightly pained groan. Her heart stopped, as she felt the creature's breath pan over her face, and towards where the pigtailed girl rested. In a flurry of movements that made Zarifa flinch violently against the wall, she felt the weight of Lotie lifted off her in one sharp movement. A dazed whimper once again admitted it from her, but it sounded distant compared to the one that had been right against Zarifa’s ear.

She desperately wished to open her eyes, to see what was happening, to make even a singular heroic movement to save Lottie, but she stayed in her prey position; paralysed and blind. It was a grim but realistic reminder that she had and would never be a saviour, nor a survivor, just lucky. Regardless of prior experiences, she was no more competent or threatening than a shot deer.

The squishy sound returned, just as the warmth where the creature had poised left her neck. There was a distinct dragging sound on the floor, a sharp leather and zippers scrapping on wood, as the wet splotches rounded around her. She still didn’t dare open her eyes, until the footsteps and dragging vanished.

As the house and flat quiet, her eyes opened slowly, the lids still recovering from the glued fear. She glanced down to her hands, and realised that somewhere along the way, they had reached up to grip the necklace, which she squeezed as she took a shuddering, shallow breath. She reminded herself that both she and Lottie would be okay, that they’d both been through far worse, but the comfort only resonated on a surface level.

Looking around the dark room, she noticed the outline of a light switch right by the door, which stood more ajar than she had previously thought. With a final, semi-deep breath, she flicked it on. The room burst harshly into a bright yellow lamp, her eyes burning at the harsh contrast. She blinked rapidly, trying to blink away the tears that at first came from brightness, but as her vision cleared, came from a true realisation of what had just happened.

In the light, it became clear that this tiny room was a study. There was a dust laden desk with old, leather-bound journals, a desk light with a shattered bulb, and a computer just slightly more modern than the one downstairs, a corkboard with images connected by different coloured strings that looked like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream, and lots of shelves populated with antiques and books. However, Zarifa was not so much focusing on the small glimpse into Valour’s elusive personal life, as the floor where the encounter happened.

Splattered across the planks were puddles of a black, tar-like liquid, intertwined with small specks of blood. The ornate box itself had at some point been knocked over, tilted on its side, spreading a few small, thin sheets of ancient looking paper out. Zarifa gently made her way over, stepping past the puddles with a scrunched up nose, before reaching the papers. She didn’t pick it up, nor touch it, instead tilting her head to read what the dull, brown ink said.

To whom it may concern…

In this letter lies the seal, which I fear must not be opened till The Dawn. If the time is not right, you must close this box, and ignore this. Do not read onwards, or you will bring upon yourself the cruelest of fates.

In a worst case scenario, if the seal has been unsealed before The Dawn, if doors ideally locked stand open, you must be prepared to make a key.

A key is forged by fragments of Touched sanity eating a sight of one that Sees, dipped in water oh-so divine. Once the key has begun, the fragments must sew themselves between the fabric, letting all webbed light shine on them. As they are blessed by the minute, and after the final step of-

Zarifa’s eyes widened, turning the page frantically looking for the continuation of where the text had been ripped off. She glanced around the room, looked once again inside the box, only to find it an empty chasm. With a shaky breath, she wiped away her tears, determaimly, and pulled up her phone.

Zarifa furrowed her brows as the time, reading precisely 06:00, appeared onto the screen. Had it really been two hours already? Nevertheless, she decided to ignore it for now, opening up her contacts, and quickly clicking the one person who she knew would already be up at such an early hour.

“Hey Grant? I need you and Bruin to come in as soon as possible. We have a slight… situation on our hands.”

#original writing #bookblr #book excerpt #writeblr #horror books #The Lunewell Saga - Natura

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “On a Hill.”

Still working on my ability to write fluff. Hope I am getting better at it :) Hope you all have a great day.

Sunny marched down the hall with great purpose, the words of her brother ringing in her head, “You know Sunny, if you want to do something special for him, why not try doing something human. I mean fighting is all well and good for Drev, but I wonder if he gets tired of getting the crap kicked out of him on a normal basis.”

Her brother was right of course: Adam did sort of have a habit of catering to her needs and wants rather than his own. It did seem more than fair to give him what he wanted for a change.

So, she had done some research, going around the ship and asking the other humans about what they considered to be special. Of course she threw a lot of ideas out on principle because she knew Adam enough to know that he wasn’t going to be interested. It was, surprisingly, Maverick, dateless, lone-wolf Maverick that made the suggestion that caught Sunny’s attention.

“Come on, what better way to a man’s heart than through his stomach. Take him somewhere cool beside that and you’ve got him hook line and sinker.” Of course Sunny didn’t understand the metaphor, but she thought she understood the feeling of it.

So, with her plan all pulled together, she made her way up to the captain’s quarters and knocked lightly on the door.

There was a muffled yip from inside followed by a voice, “Oh Calm down. It’s nobody you don't know. COME IN, DOORS UNLOCKED!”

She pressed the panel to the side of the door, and it hissed open. She walked into the large room leaning down to pet waffles as she ran over tail wagging.

Adam was leaning back on his bed, UNSC issued grey shirt and grey camouflage ACU pants.

In his left hand he was holding a book, turning the pages with his right hand.

Sunny squinted at the cover slowly sounding out the words to the human alphabet.

War of the worlds

On the opposite wall, the TV was turned low with some sort of vintage zombie movie playing in the background.

“I thought you were a sci fi geek, not a fantasy nerd.” She said walking over to stand over him.” He set down his open book on the side table, “What is more sci-fi than zombies? Some sort of strange disease turns everyone into cannibals. Besides sci fi and fantasy are the same thing, the only difference between them is that sci fi attempts to explain its magic with logic and science, while fantasy creates completely new systems for the way it does things.”

She shrugged, “HAs it ever occurred to you that you are commanding a fleet of spaceships under the command of a galactic council of planets, and you're dating an alien. Does it really get more sci-fi than your life?”

“Leave my nostalgia alone, once upon a time I didn’t think any of that was going to happen…. Especially that last one.” His eyes dropped down from her face focusing in on the object she held in one of her right hands, “That’s a big ass ammo can, what are you doing with it?”

“You’ll see.” She said wryly. Walking over to his closet, pulling out an extra blanket tossing it to him.

He nearly fumbled it as he stood head tilted to the side with confusion, “What is all this?”

“You’ll see, now come on.”

She led him out of the room and down towards the docking bay where a shuttle had already been prepared for them.

“Do I need weapons?” He wondered nerouvly stepping into the shuttle.

“No weapons needed.”

“That is very unusual coming from you.”

“Just pilot the damn shuttle will you.” She said taking the copilot seat next to him and setting the large ammo canister down on the floor. He did as she ordered, sliding into his seat and pulling on a headset, hands flying through the preflight checklist without so much as a thought.

“So where are we going.”

“Just followed the pre programmed instructions.”

He glanced over at her, his eyebrow raised, “You make me nervous. You know that?”

She frowned and waved a hand, “Oh calm down, I promise it’s nothing big. You’ll like it.”

He shook his head, but finally followed her instructions, lifting the shuttle from the airlock bay and out through the opening airlock doors while lights blinked red over their heads. He followed the instructions to the letter, coming into low orbit with the nearby glowing planet.

They had gone and done a preliminary search of the planet only yesterday determining that it was more than habitable and rather temperate. Plants were already being put together for some kind of scientific colony in it’s northern hemisphere.

“Alright, alien planet is cool.” he said, dropping them into the atmosphere with a sudden rattling, and an eruption of flames out the front window.

That soon dissipated as he slowed the shuttle, and expertly landed them on the pinnacle of a tall spacious hill with a pretty awesome view if she did say so herself.

He shut off the shuttle and stepped outside allowing the warm air to wash over them with a hiss. Adam tilted his head back, nose raised as he took in a deep breath and sigh, “Wow.” he muttered.

Sunny didn’t have as good a sense of smell as Adam did, but even she could detect the clear crisp air and the slight tang of dewdrops on moist soil. The smell made her hungry as they walked a little further onto the top of the hill, where a strange tree waited for them.

The tree itself was not dissimilar to earth trees, maybe twenty feet tall with a narrow black trunk and spongy yellow blobs sticking to it’s branches blocking out a distant glowing sun. Together they turned to look at the view, and Sunny hummed with pleasure as the human stood open mouthed and gawking.

The ground they stood on was a light greyish blue in color with little yellow flowers poking up every now and again. The tree they stood next to was the only lone tree upon the hill which sloped down into a wide- rambling valley. Purple and blue plant matter made up much of the ground while yellow topped trees added a sharp contrast. The sky above them was a deep blue, almost too dark to be a morning sky, though the sun shone bright through its murky blue haze. And then there were the planet's rings appearing as Massive white arches in the sky which plunged down below the horizon. A crystal blue/purple lake glowed at the center of the valley, reflecting a mirror image of the sun and the rings in the sky above.

“Holy, shit, Adam muttered.”

“Nice view, huh.”

Adam rubbed his eyes and shook his head a few times as if he wasn’t believing what he was seeing, “No kidding.”

Leaving him to gawk for a few seconds, she grabbed the blanket from under his arm and then awkwardly worked to spread it out over the grass under the shade of their lone tree.

She was having trouble, but just managed to flatten the blanket out most of the way when Adam turned to look at her. He paused and raised an eyebrow again, smiling a little, “What are you doing?”

She smoothed out one last wrinkle and then took a seat on the blanket legs stretched out in front of her, “What does it look like.”

He walked over as she plopped the ammo can down between them.

He shook his head, “I’m still not entirely sure.”

Sunny reached out and flipped open the latches to the large canister popping open the lid. Adam peered inside and all at once began to laugh. The smile on his face was enough to tell that it wasn’t a mocking laugh or anything. He just seemed genuinely surprised.

He reached inside and pulled out a water bottle still laughing, “An Ammo can?”

She shrugged, “I am told a picnic basket is usually preferable, but we didn’ have one of those on the ship.”

Adam continued to laugh shaking his head in either disbelief delight or both, “What prompted all this.” He asked motion towards the ammo can, now picnic basket.

She shrugged, “I have been made aware that we do a lot of things that are very Drev, but not a lot of things that are particularly human, so I thought maybe I should do something human for you.”

He still had a smile on his face, but this time he shook his head resting one hand over hers, “Its thoughtful of you, Sunny, but I was ok with what we were doing.”

She shrugged, “I know you are, but you often let me have my way, so I thought it would be a good way to show you that I care, to do something that I have never done before.”

He smiled and lay back against the blanket a soft breeze tugging at his shirt, “Well consider mission accomplished. This was a pretty great idea.” He cracked his one good eye to look at her, “So, who did you ask?”

Sunny shrugged a bit sheepishly, “it was Maverick’s idea, but I DID go looking for her myself.”

“Maverick? That sly dog, I would never have pegged her as the type to come up with something like this.”

“Yeah she is….. Hmmm… how shall I say.”

“She should have been born Drev. I don’t think she has ever dated anyone but I’m pretty sure she would consider kicking the snot out of someone the perfect way to spend an afternoon.”

“She does have the heart of a Drev.” Sunny said nodding, leaning back on the blanket next to him to stare up at the great rings in the sky above.

Adam chuckled again after a few minutes of silence, “Ammo can.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed again and sat up on one elbow digging through the canister until he came up with a sandwich before sitting himself cross legged on the blanket and taking a bite.

Sunny reached in after him and pulled out an apple.

She liked human fruit, though with apples she had to be careful to avoid the seeds. Humans could probably handle them without too much issue, but she had learned from experience that accidentally ingesting an apple seed made her very, very sick.

Adam was about halfway through his sandwich, when a slight movement from the corner of her eye caught Sunny’s attention. She paused eating her apple mid crunch and turned to look towards the movement.

She paused, eyes widening a little.

“Adam…. Don’t look now, but we have company.”

He paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth and turned his head pausing and staring as she had done as a troop of fuzzy foot and a half tall- bird-ish things came waddling up the hill towards them.

Again at about a foot and a half tall, the creatures walked on two legs like a bird. They had very big fluffy bodies and little heads that sat atop their ample fluff. A short thick beak sat at the front of their faces.

“Stay very still.” Sunny muttered from the corner of her mouth as the little troop of about fifteen creatures waddled up the hill.

They didn’t seem scared of the two strange looking aliens as they approached. Adam, despite Sunny’s warning leaned over to get a better look as one of them moved closer, “what are these?”

The creature was now only a foot or so away from him, and as Sunny watched, it’s small head rose up from it’s fluffy body suspended on the end of it’s long furry neck as it extended and nibbled at Adam’s sandwich.

He let off an exclamation of indignation as he pulled his sandwich away, “Ack!”

As soon as the strange noise came out from his mouth a chorus of other voices followed, “ACK.” As the entire troop parreted the sound back at him.

He was surrounded now on all sides, and from his opposite side another fo the creature’s extended his neck in an attempt to take a bit from his sandwich.

“Hey!” he shouted leaning the other way and huddling closer around his sandwich.

Sunny laughed, watching as the strange troop of birds began curiously pecking at him.

Two of them were pecking at his bootlaces, another was tugging at his pant leg. One of them had crawled into his lap in search of the sandwich, while two others were busy plucking at strands of hair atop his head. He had his hand raised high over his head in order to protect his sandwich.

She continued to laugh as their curiosity led one to stick it’s head down the front of his shirt.

He yelped in surprise.

And the group chorused the sound.

Sunny couldn’t hold back the loud barking laugh that spilled from hier, and just like that the group of them scrambled in fear hiding behind Adam in an unruly mob.

Adam frowned, and turned to look over his shoulder, looking back at Sunny with a frown.

One of the birds poked its head out from behind Adam, and upon seeing her it parroted Adam’s yelp of alarm and hid again, “Why aren’t they all over you?” Adam protested

Sunny snorted, “They can sense the danger.”

Adam frowned, ‘i’m dangerous.”

That made sunny laugh again, “You! You’re a marshmallow and they can sense it!”

Two more heads poked out from around Adam’s back, and the birds slowly began to wadner forward. One of them crawled back onto his lap, while the others moved to their palace at his bootlaces again.

A couple of them wandered over to sunny where they stood in a semi straight line to just stare at her. She stared back

Adam huffed in frustration, and Sunny turned to look at him, holding his sandwich above his head again, “I could eat you for lunch if I wanted.” He pointed over at Sunny, “She’s a herbivore.”

They didn’t seem to care, and continued to peck at him.

Eventually he was forced to stand up just to eat his sandwich, while they parroted any noise he made that wasn’t speech.

Sunny stood after he was finished eating, walking a little ways down the hill with him. The troop followed in a line at Adam’s heels, keeping to his left, where Sunny was on his right.

“Leave it to you to immediately make new alien friends.”

He squeezed her hand, “You have to admit, I’m pretty good at it.” He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye, “You being exhibit A.”

“Hmmm, I think you were a bit too good when it comes to me.”

His mouth twitched slightly, “Yeah, I sort of didn’t intend to make you fall head over heels for me.” She smiled openly now, “But who could blame you. I am pretty irresistible.”

Sunny would later insist that she shoved him very lightly, and he was just off balance enough to fall over and go rolling halfway down the hill with a troop of birds squawking after him. She would also deny the fact that she laughed when a few of the birds lost their footing and went rolling down the hill after him.

Of course she could be seen awkwardly running down the hill after to see if he was ok, only to come to a stop laughing again when she found him sprawled on his back with one of the creatures sitting atop his chest and another one pecking at his ears. She carried him back up the hill when he proved unable to walk due to dizziness.

“I thought you were a fighter pilot immune to dizziness.” She said

He crossed his arms just over the bird who had refused to get off his chest, and was not receiving a ride back up the hill courtesy of Sunny, “I AM but only when given warning. Generally I am not launched into flight without my knowledge.”

She snorted as she turfed him down back on the blanket, The bird squawking indignantly,

He frowned at it, “What is this?”

After a few minutes, the others followed, returning to their curious adventuring in his clothes and hair. One of them stuck it’s head into his sleeve without warning pradding him in the armpit and forcing him to make another yelping noise which they soon parroted back at him.

Sunny sat pointing and laughing at him as he suffered, though it could hardly count as suffering considering he was smiling so much, and seemed to be more than enjoying it.

Her sides hurt with how much laughing she was doing as his expense and couldn’t help but take a few pictures of his predicament.

It would have seemed strange to an outsider,, if they had come around a few hours later.

A drev and a human lying atop a blanket. The human using the Drev as a pillow, while both of them were surrounded by strange sleeping birdlike creatures, one resting on top of the human while the others hunkered down around them.

Eyes still closed Sunny asked, “So, despite our…. Uninvited guests. Did I do good.:

Adam didn’t open his eyes either, “This is probably the best time Ive had in the past week ,and that’s saying something.” he paused, “You did good.”

She smiled, “I know, I’m pretty amazing.”

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agerefandom · 4 years

Text

> Dirk: Regress

Fandom: Homestuck

Characters: Dirk Strider, mentions of Roxy and Jake

Words: 2,750

Summary: Dirk is an age regressor. (It’s a rough day but it’s easier as a four-year-old.)

Warnings: Isolation, body dysmorphia/dysphoria (unspecified), self-sacrificing ideals, one cuss word, mention of storms.

(Note: I’ve had a few people notice that I usually write from caregiver perspectives for agere fanfiction! I struggle with putting my experience of regression into words, in a way that I don’t with my caregiver experiences. I still enjoy writing reader-insert fanfiction that deviates from my personal experience of regression, but this is my best attempt at communicating the way that I regress.)

> Dirk: Regress

Your name is Dirk Strider, and some days it’s not worth claiming that you aren’t lonely.

Filling the hours of a day is routine by this point: there’s reprogramming to be done, and new scripts to be written, and fanfiction that you absolutely don’t post online under miscellaneous pseudonyms. There are fights to win and fights to lose and moments when you just throw yourself into the water and let yourself float there until the sun is too bright against your eyelids.

But some days just refuse to pass. Nothing feels like it’s really happening, and none of your friends answer your messages, and you refuse to message again because that would be desperate. Even with four centuries’ worth of internet videos, it feels like there’s nothing to watch, and the walls are closing in with the endless ocean stretching outside. You should be able to fill this day because it’s only as empty as every other day on this abandoned planet, but somehow time seems incapable of passing.

Today seems to be one of those days, and you’ve retreated to the roof to sit and watch the waves. The sun is too warm, and you’ll probably end up with a painful sunburn, but it’s worth it to be away from the wires and screens that remind you of the work you aren’t doing and the friends who aren’t responding.

For some reason this view always seems to feel new, despite the hundreds of days you’ve spent pacing on this roof, fighting on this roof, bleeding on this roof. Something about the sky’s ever-shifting shades and the way the ocean rolls far beneath you. Something about the seagulls that flutter down from the sky to rest their wings, or maybe the wind in your hair and the way it ruffles your clothes, the closest thing you have to human touch.

You close your eyes and lean your chin on your knees, breathing in ocean air that tastes like salt and smoke. You’ve always assumed that the bad smell is an effect of whatever technology the Batterwitch used to flood the planet, but maybe the air on Earth has always been horrible.

The heat is heavy in the air today, which means there might be a storm brewing. The apartment is always the worst during storms, listening to the rusted supports groaning in the wind and wild waves. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll even make it to the fabled game, or if the ocean will just swallow you one day with none of your friends the wiser.

You feel ready to settle in for an afternoon of grade-A moping, but part of you doesn’t agree. Part of you feels like enjoying the sunlight, or going for a swim. That sounds nice, if you’re being honest, but you doubt that you could enjoy anything today. Part of your mind will always be thinking about the messages you’re waiting for, the hours you have to fill, and the fact that tomorrow will be exactly the same as today, and how will you be able to deal with that when today seems so endless?

That excited part of you is insistent, though. It really wants to run around and play, which is an instinct that seems foreign. You mentally inspect the desire, trying to decide if it’s a sign that you’re finally giving up your tenacious grasp on sanity. The more you pay attention to it, the more tempting it feels. Just let go for a while.

There’s an energy in the desire that moves into your body, replacing the lethargy of moping. Your limbs feel ready for climbing, for swimming, for exploring a ruined world stretching around you that you usually prefer to ignore. Maybe it would be nice, to let whatever off part of you this is take the helm for a while. It feels like it might be already happening, and you’re too tired to fight it off. You let the part of yourself that’s moping curl in on itself, finding a little corner of your mind to continue its lethargic musings.

And then you open your eyes and push yourself to your feet.

---->

Your name is Dirk Strider, you are approximately four years old, and the ocean looks incredibly blue.

You feel silly for all the moping you were doing before, and for wasting such a beautiful day. You really want to take off your clothes and get into the water, but a loud part of your brain won’t stop telling you that jumping from this high up is a really bad idea.

Your brain is stupid. You head down from the roof, slamming the door behind you to show that you’re upset about not getting to jump into the waves. Your shoes are discarded carelessly, shirt and sunglasses and pants dropped along the way. Your body is funny, not quite right and not quite wrong. It stops you for a second, and you poke your stomach, hold up your hands. The fingers are unfamiliar. This is your body, isn’t it? Why doesn’t it feel right?

You shrink away from the thoughts, but the part of your brain that’s enjoying its rest pushes you back into awareness before you can get away. Apparently you’re not allowed to stop being here, so you guess that you might as well enjoy it. Away with the body thoughts! You’re getting distracted from the real goal, which is to be in the nice cool water as soon as possible.

Once you’re free of uncomfortable clothes, you patter down a set of stairs where the walls give way to the rusted internal structure of the apartments that used to be below your home. The stairs stop at a metal platform that you remember constructing, the heat of the blowtorch and the glow of the sparks. The memory fits and it doesn’t fit, so you shrug it away as you swing over the platform onto a ladder that leads down to the water.

Halfway down the ladder you know that you’re close enough to the water that it won’t hurt to jump, so you push yourself away from the ladder and let yourself free-fall.

You hit the water feet-first and it envelops you. You can feel the air bubbles combing through your hair, rippling on the bottoms of your feet, the last bit of the above-water world clinging to you. You let yourself drift until there’s only you and the faint ocean currents pushing around you, peaceful and quiet. You wish you could stay here forever, but you can feel your lungs starting to hurt. You have to kick for a few seconds before you break the surface, sucking in a deep breath as soon as the air touches your face. The sun is too warm, and you stick your tongue out in its direction. Stupid sun.

You swim in the direction of one of the nearest buildings that sticks above the water, enjoying the sound of your legs kicking through the waves. The ocean is mostly calm today, and you can hear the seagulls crying up above you. You navigate your way through the familiar landmarks of rubble and ruin, switching from front crawl to elementary backstroke as your energy rises and falls. Your apartment towers above you, casting a shadow on the water. You think about painting something on the side of it, trying to liven up the plain grey concrete, but that seems like a thought for another day.

It takes a few minutes of swimming to reach the nearest neighboring apartment building, and you pull yourself out of the water onto a shore of concrete. There isn’t much interesting here, mostly crumbling bricks beginning to reveal the girders underneath. The roof has collapsed in on itself in slabs of concrete that you can pick your way across, avoiding the freshest evidence of seagull passerby. A plant has somehow made its home in one of the sections of brick, some kind of weed with jagged leaves and long tendrils seeking more dirt. One of the birds probably brought it from some faraway patch of land, high enough to avoid the flooding.

You stare at the bright green of its leaves, aware that it must be one of the only living things in the surrounding area. In the end, though, it’s impossible to resist picking it out of the wall, the tendrils clinging desperately to the rough bricks as you separate it from its home.

It’s rubbery in your hands, and you dig your fingernails into the leaves to watch the darker green show up in half-crescents where you tore the skin. You wrap the stem around your fingers, admiring the colour. You think about eating it, moving it towards your mouth, but there’s a mental feeling of someone smacking your hand and you drop the plant with a frown. Your brain is too busy and dumb.

You pick up the plant and move it into a patch of sunlight, hoping that it’ll get eaten by another passing bird. Then its seeds can go somewhere else, maybe even on the roof of your house.

You dive back into the water, daydreaming about having a jungle grow on the roof of your house, the roots becoming part of the apartment walls and the leaves changing colour like you’ve seen in TV shows.

---->

The afternoon passes in a delirious blur of sun and splashing, laughing at your own voice and trying to climb one of the supports of your apartment building before finding the metal too hot from the sun.

Eventually, you pull yourself out of the water and climb up the ladder one rung at a time. You take a last look at the rippling water as you open the door and step into the concrete stairwell up to your apartment.

The inside is dark and cool in contrast to the sun-heated world outside, and you begin to shiver as you make your way into your room. An old towel is in the laundry pile, so you scoop it up and use it to dry yourself off. It smells a little musty, but it does the job fine. The feeling of not-right-not-wrong hits you again as you dry off, and you push it aside more easily this time. Not your problem, and you’re starting to have the feeling that you won’t be here for long. It seems silly to worry about it with the little time you have left.

You get dressed in the nicest clothes you can find: there’s a shirt that seems way too big, and you pull it on before looking at what’s on the front. It’s a silly design with wobbly lines that you can’t put together from upside down, and the shirt hangs almost to your knees. It feels cozy, and you add a pair of boxers to the outfit before deciding it’s good enough for lazing around.

The bed is soft and springy and you settle onto it with a sigh, shoving a pillow into the corner to lean on. The day has been fun, but your shoulders are tired from the swimming and your head hurts from all the sunlight. You snag a pair of sunglasses from the table beside your bed, careful with the points as you fit them onto your face. The world gets darker and you relax, grabbing the nearest soft thing to hold. It’s Hella Jeff in his silly coloured onesie and you laugh at his big eyes, widening your own in an attempt to mimic his expression.

Your tablet is difficult to fish out from under the mattress while you’re sitting on it, and once you turn it on it makes a lot of loud noises at you until you exit the window that was open. My Little Pony is easy to find, and you pull up one of the early episodes before propping the tablet against your feet so that you can watch it while hugging your Hella Jeff plushie and maybe resting your eyes a bit.

You can feel the rest of your brain perking up as soon as the theme song comes on, but it’s your episode to enjoy, so you push everything to the back and sing along with Pinkie Pie, and if you fall asleep before the second episode is over, then there’s no one to tell you it’s too early to sleep and who cares about time anyways.

> Dirk: Wake Up.

You wake up in a tangle of blankets, with your shades half-off and poking into the pillow, and Hella Jeff’s ass in your face. You push him off grumpily and sit up in bed. It’s late, and you fell asleep with the light off, so your room is dark aside from the flashing lights from the various panels scattered on the desks.

You’re hungry, and still groggy from the unexpected nap, and the afternoon feels like a distant dream that could have happened to someone else. You try to prompt that same sense of excitement, the eager curiosity that had taken over for the day, but it feels utterly foreign to your mind. You physically poke yourself, as if that will make the mood re-emerge and take over, but it only makes you very aware that you’re wearing one of your old sleep shirts that you stopped wearing when you were about twelve. You pull it off with an irritated sound, and roll out of bed. Your pounding head demands food and water, and you haven’t checked your messages in seven hours.

The glasses you’re wearing don’t have build-in screens, so you swap them out for another pair once you’ve pulled on a t-shirt that actually fits and shoved some jeans over your boxers. Sure enough, Roxy has finally gotten back to you, and fairly recently.

You start responding to her message as you poke around the cupboards for something that you won’t have to cook. She’s messaged something benign, but you know that she knows that you know that she hasn’t been doing well or she would have messaged back sooner. Hopefully she’s feeling better, but you know from experience that she’s more likely messaging you to start an ill-conceived fight that she can use to rationalize her bad mood and self-isolation.

Having friends is exhausting. You find some packaged ramen and head back to your room, planning to just crush it up and eat it while you finish the episode that you fell asleep half-way through. Roxy is talking again, her words a blur of badly-spelled pink across your vision, and you already feel tired from the conversation. You miss Jake, and how easy he is to please. He won’t be back for another two days, out on some sort of island quest that takes him out of network range. You hope that he’s doing okay out there.

You settle into bed again, sparing a frown at your Hella Jeff plushie as if he was to blame for the entire situation. You hook up your tablet remotely to the TV so that you can properly hear it, and settle in to multitask for the night. This is what you wanted, something outside of yourself to focus on, someone else’s problems to solve, something to fill the hours for you.

But even as you start dissecting the things that Roxy isn’t saying, you find yourself craving that effortless enjoyment you’d felt that afternoon, the way your head had tilted up to the sunlight as if it was a second nature. You have a job to do, to keep everyone on track for a future that only you and Roxy know is waiting. But maybe one day, after everything was over and the game was won, you could take a longer break. Maybe there would be a new world for you to explore, and it would be better than the endless ocean of ruins.

For now, you wrap your arms around yourself and do your best to help Roxy communicate how she’s feeling. Your friends come first, and the future comes later.

#agere fanfiction #homestuck agere #homestuck regression #fandom agere #regression writing #sfw agere #my fics #american autocorrect is driving me crazy #let me be canadian in peace #for blacklist:#homestuck #dirk strider

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goldenworldsabound · 4 years

Text

Welcome Back

Golden returns to Galar to visit Kabu. This is her second time ever in Galar, and she and Kabu have been dating long distance for several months now. Some softness and fluff on their first day back together after many months apart.

Content warning: food. Word count: 3186

Finally, finally Golden was done with Customs. She was thoroughly exhausted from the long flight (which she hadn't been able to sleep on, because she never slept on a plane, unfortunately). Her backpack was starting to feel like a lead weight. And her suitcase felt like more of a pain that it ever had before. And she was tired of stale, cold airport air.

But at the end of all of this, Kabu would be there to greet her. That thought alone kept her going, even as the line for Customs had moved interminably slow and she felt her eyelids beginning to droop.

She passed through the last security checkpoint and the crowd began to disperse. Golden looked eagerly for Kabu, feeling her heart rate beginning to increase as she searched for him. She stood on tiptoes, looking around for him, finally feeling awake again at the prospect of seeing him. But where...?

"Hey." Kabu's voice from behind her made her spin around, a huge smile on her face. She must have walked past him, she thought for a moment, before she lost all of her train of thought as she met his gaze.

"Kabu!" Golden yelled, letting go of her suitcase to practically tackle Kabu with a hug. He laughed, hugging her back as best he could with her backpack still on. She pressed herself to him, unwilling to let go, face buried in his neck.

"It's good to see you, Golden." Kabu said, stroking her hair with one hand. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Golden replied, squeezing him tighter in response. Finally, she pulled back, still unable to stop smiling. Even Kabu, who tended to keep a stoic face, had a wide smile he couldn't hide. She was thrilled she could bring such a beautiful smile to his wonderful face. Fuck, she'd missed him so much.

They stood there a moment, staring into each others' eyes. Her gaze wandered to his lips, and suddenly the airport seemed to fade away. Should she...kiss him? She wanted to kiss him. But they had never...she swallowed, finally looking away, putting a hand on her suitcase, blushing.

She didn't realize it, but Kabu had been having similar thoughts. How badly he wanted to kiss her, after not seeing her for months. But he restrained himself. He didn't want to push her boundaries, didn't want to pressure her into anything. Despite his desire, he held back.

"Let me get that. You must be exhausted." Kabu said, putting his hand on top of Golden's on her suitcase handle.

"Oh, thank you...I am exhausted." Golden admitted, stretching her arms over her head for a moment.

"Your backpack too." He held out his other hand expectantly. She handed it over, thanking him again as he waved her off. With the backpack on, Kabu offered Golden his arm. With a giggle, she took his arm, blushing faintly. "It's just a 30 minute train ride back into Motostoke, and a short walk, and then you can rest."

"It's a much nicer trip with you here." Golden admitted, leaning her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. Her stomach growled suddenly.

"Oh, should we grab something before we get on the train?" Kabu asked with a serious expression.

"N-no, that's fine! I'd rather get back to Motostoke first." Golden protested.

"If you're sure." Kabu added. "I have some leftovers at home, if you don't mind day old champon."

"I don't think I've ever had your cooking before." Golden admitted, smiling slyly.

"I admit, I wouldn't have chosen to introduce it to you as leftovers." Kabu replied wryly. "I hope you find it to your taste despite this."

"I have no doubt!"

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

At first, Golden was talking animatedly with Kabu as they rode the train. But slowly, she became quieter, clearly fatigued from her travels. Her head was nodding a bit, brushing against Kabu's shoulder with the motion of the train.

"You should just rest." Kabu said softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she trailed off in the middle of yet another sentence.

"But...I haven't seen you in...in like more than 6 months..." Golden objected, despite laying her head on his shoulder more decisively, snuggling up against him.

"There's time." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"I...suppose..." Golden's eyes closed, and it wasn't much longer before she drifted to sleep. Kabu couldn't help but stare at her, noticing all the details he hadn't fully appreciated. Her long lashes curving over her cheeks, the way her hair fell in messy waves over her shoulders, the pink on her round cheeks, her small hands folded in her lap. She was beautiful in so many ways. Seeing her in person made it all the more obvious to him how absolutely smitten he was with her.

And how badly he had missed her.

He was content to enjoy this moment as the train raced along the sunset into Motostoke.

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

Golden marveled as they entered Kabu's home. It was on the top floor of one of the taller buildings, and it took up the entire floor. No neighbors for Kabu. The first thing she noticed was how minimalist it was. The walls and floor were predominantly whites and shades of blue-grey. There was a white brick fireplace with a television on the wall above it, and some furniture in dark, natural wood shades. It looked well taken care of, but old, and the style didn't seem to fit Galar. Perhaps it was brought over from Hoenn. There was a grey blue couch and loveseat in front of the fireplace, a patterned red rug on the floor in front of them. There were just a few things hanging on the walls. A large, Hoenn style fan, and some photos of Kabu and his Poke'mon, as well as what she assumed was his family back in Hoenn.

Most striking was that one of the walls was almost entirely a glass window. Even having only just entered the room, she could see that the view would be gorgeous. The last rays of the sun were shining through it, bathing the room in soft yellow light.

The kitchen and the living room seemed to share an open space, the carpet giving way to tile. The kitchen was sleek and modern, a contrast to the wooden end tables and other furniture that decorated the living room. An island counter aided in defining when the space changed from living room to kitchen. Golden also noticed 3 doors that led to other rooms, but she didn't have a chance to see where they went before Kabu drew her attention.

"I wasn't sure what you'd prefer," He started, looking away from her gaze for a moment, brushing a hand through his hair. "So I made up the guest bed. But you can also sleep in my room, with me, of course." His cheeks flushed. "No pressure, it's up to you."

Golden felt herself blush in response to the question. "Your room." She mumbled. Despite this exciting development and the awkwardness, she was still overwhelmed by her exhaustion, unable to spare the energy to be properly flustered.

Kabu nodded. "Great. In that case, why don't you unpack a little and get changed into your pajamas while I heat up the champon? You look like you might keel over at any moment." He teased.

"I'm...I'm totally awake." Golden grumbled, forcing her eyes fully open to pout at him. He was right, of course. But it was still so early, and she didn't want to waste any of the precious time she had with him.

He ruffled her hair with his hand, laughing a little. "Of course you are." He motioned for her to follow him, pushing open one of the doors. "This is my bedroom. You're welcome to unpack wherever, though I imagine you'll leave most of the unpacking for tomorrow, at this rate." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "I'll go work on that champon, you come out when you're ready."

Golden nodded her assent, and Kabu left, heading for the kitchen and closing the door behind him. She took a moment, looking around the room. A king sized bed, from the looks of things, a door that she assumed led to a bathroom, what looked like a closet door, a large black dresser...

Right, she could take a closer look later. For now...what the hell was she gonna change into...usually, she just slept in her panties. Just the thought of that turned her face crimson. Right, yeah, she'd packed some short shorts and some oversized t-shirts. After some digging around in her suitcase, she changed.

...of course, even this was making Golden's face warm. Sure, she'd dressed like this while they'd video chatted on numerous occasions, but in person...it felt immensely more intimate. She pressed her hands over her face, feeling the heat on her cheeks. Alright, deep breaths...and no doubt Kabu would find this look very cute, too...

She peeked out of the bedroom, pushing the door open tentatively, Her other hand reflexively rubbed at her eyes. She really was exhausted. Would she even make it through dinner?

"Oh, just in time!" Kabu called from the kitchen at the sound of the door opening. Centiskorch skittered up to her happily, while she could see Ninetales staring at her from the edge of the kitchen. Arcanine was absent, which surprised her. She pet the bug happily, cooing to it, noticing that Kabu hadn't yet turned around. With Centiskorch following at her side, she wandered shyly over to the dining table that was adjacent to the kitchen, holding the bottom of her shirt with both hands.

Having finished ladling out champon into two bowls, he grabbed them both and turned to walk to the table. For a moment Golden thought he was going to drop them as he noticed her. He cleared his throat awkwardly, cheeks as red as hers were, before carefully walking to the table and setting the bowls down.

"Um, please, have a seat." Kabu mumbled, as he did so himself. Golden sat across from him, shyly staring down into her bowl.

She picked up her spoon tentatively. It wasn't that she was worried about how she'd like the food or anything remotely like that. It was just that she felt so damn shy, which was really not helped by the fact that she could still feel Kabu's eyes on her. Surely he was wondering why she wasn't eating.

That wouldn't last long. Shy or not, she was hungry. Really hungry. And this smelled amazing. She started with the broth, sipping at the hot liquid. Her eyes lit up immediately.

"This is fantastic." Golden grabbed her chopsticks immediately, feeling herself salivating from the small taste she'd had. "You made this?!" She met his gaze, shyness gone at having tasted his delicious cooking.

Kabu laughed gently. "Yes, I did. I'm often making large batches of it. It's hearty, and easy for me to make."

"It's amazing." And just like that, Golden felt awake again, shoveling food into her face with enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you think so." Kabu replied with another laugh. He watched her eat for a moment, barely touching his own food. "I..." Kabu cleared his throat again. "I've seen you wear more or less that exact outfit, on video chat, so many times...but seeing you like that in person nearly gave me a heart attack." He admitted, blushing a bit.

Golden looked up in surprise at his words, a few noodles hanging out of her mouth. Blushing, she quickly slurped them up.

"I-in a good way or...no, heart attacks aren't good-" Golden found her travel-exhausted brain was ill equipped to handle his compliment at the moment.

"In a good way, Golden. You're very cute..." Kabu murmured, before finally picking up his own chopsticks and putting food in his mouth so he could avoid saying more.

"O-oh!" Golden blushed again. "Thank you..." She mumbled back, also opting to take the route of putting a large piece of meat in her mouth to avoid speaking. It was quiet for a bit, aside from their sounds of eating. As her stomach filled up, Golden found she was growing sleepy again. This time, it felt far heavier than it had earlier. She jolted upright, narrowly avoiding dunking her face into her bowl.

"I think it's time you got to sleep." Kabu observed, smiling almost smugly.

"You're clearly, right, but..." She pouted, leaving her eyes closed. "I don't wanna. I wanna spend time with you..."

Kabu got to his feet, picking up both of their bowls, which were more or less empty. "How about a compromise." He suggested, as he walked back to the kitchen to rinse them off.

Golden cracked an eye open and looked at him with a brow raised. "Yes?"

"I will get changed and get in bed with you. That way, you can spend time with me until the moment you fall asleep. Deal?" He slid the dishes into the dishwasher, closing it before turning to look at her, expression looking altogether too serious for such a light negotiation.

"Mm...I accept." Golden decided after pretending to debate the issue. That brought a smile to Kabu's face.

"Very good." Coming to stand next to her again, he offered his arm as he had at the airport. She took his arm, getting to her feet with a loud yawn.

"Don't say anything." She mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He raised his brows, but walked her over to his room nonetheless. Once there, he pulled back the covers on his bed, revealing a neatly folded set of red flannel pajamas, which he picked up.

"I'll be right back. Don't fall asleep while I'm gone." Kabu teased, enjoying the way she flushed and stammered at the remark.

"Hurry up then, geez!" She crossed her arms as he disappeared into the bathroom to change.

Before long, Golden found herself in bed snuggled up against Kabu. She had insisted on leaving the light on (she knew she'd pass out immediately if left in the dark for more than 5 seconds). Kabu was sitting up with his back against the headboard, and Golden was resting her head on his chest, her arm draped across him. Kabu's arm was wrapped around her shoulder. She was comfortable, despite how shy she felt. There hadn't been much time to be physically affectionate before she'd left. It had all felt so fast. But now, she was here, listening to his heartbeat in his chest...

Well, not for much longer. She could no longer keep her eyes open, and she was only barely aware of Kabu's thumb rubbing gently against her shoulder. But it was a losing battle. Despite the early hour in Galar, a mere 7 pm, she fell into a deep sleep not long after getting into bed.

Kabu smiled down at her as she finally gave in to sleep, her breathing shifting. He hesitated a moment, before pressing a loving kiss to the top of her head. He would be more than content to lie here reading a book with her nestled against him until he too fell to sleep's sweet embrace.

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

Golden woke up at an ungodly hour. The room was still dark. Kabu was snoring quietly. She tried to go back to sleep - but it was impossible. That was jetlag for you. She checked her watch, squinting as it's digital screen lit up her face. 4 am. Wow. Amazing. Well, she certainly didn't want to wake Kabu...

She looked around the room as her eyes adjusted. Centiskorch was easily visible on Kabu's other side. While it's flames were much reduced as it slept, they still glowed a faint yellow orange. It was curled up against Kabu's back.

Golden turned her attention to Ninetales, who slept at the foot of the bed. She was startled to see that Ninetales was staring at her. It wasn't an unfriendly stare, but it wasn't exactly friendly either. The Poke'mon was clearly appraising her, with a hint of curiosity in it's eyes. She imagined she had been too tired yesterday to notice this behavior. Ninetales had always appeared standoffish to her, since the moment she'd met Kabu, but it had never seemed to pay her much attention. Perhaps things were different now that she and Kabu were...closer. Now that she was here, invading the cherished space Kabu shared with his beloved teammates. Surely it would be an adjustment for them.

It was an adjustment for her. They were sharing a bed, yet they hadn't even kissed! But there was no way she would have stayed in a guest bedroom...not when they had just precious little time together. She'd been too tired the night before to do much other than be honest about the fact that she wanted to be in his bed with him, when he presented the choice. She may have blushed, but she hadn't had the energy to be flustered. Now she could feel her cheeks burning as she watched his peaceful expression as he slept, his chest rising and falling.

She wondered absent-mindedly how often Kabu brought people back here. Who was the last partner he'd had? Had Ninetales behaved the same way back then? Was she one in a long line of partners? Was it something Ninetales had been through before?

Golden sighed quietly to herself. There was little point in thinking about this. But Ninetales seemed...uncertain, to her. That made it likely that it wasn't a regular occurrence, at least. Slowly, careful not to disturb Kabu, she got out of bed. She could feel Ninetales' eyes following her as she made her way out of the bedroom, leaving the door cracked as she left.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It was nice to not feel the fox staring her down anymore. That was definitely judgement in Ninetales' gaze. Well, perhaps she'd make a nice cup of tea for herself. If she could find the tea. And the mugs. She didn't think Kabu would mind if she did that. If he did mind, she'd just have to apologize and find a way to make up for it. But, somehow she figured he'd be more bothered that he wasn't awake to make it for her...

With a mug in hand (it had a cute chibified Torchic on it), she waited for water to boil. When did Kabu normally wake up? She furrowed her brow, doing the mental math. By the time he was online he'd already done his morning workout, so that would be...she squeezed her eyes shut. 6 am. Alright. She looked at her watch. It was 4:30 am now. Okay. He'd be up in an hour and a half. That was reasonable.

She poured herself some tea and sat down on the couch. Well, she was sure there was some catching up she could do while she waited. She'd been traveling all day yesterday, after all. Hopefully Kabu wouldn't be too bothered that she'd gotten up without him...

#fic #golden flames #selfship #self ship #self shipping #selfshipping #self insert #nblm selfship #food mention #food tw #it's long but I hope some of you will read it

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 4 years

Note

Not to jump in on the kink discussion, but it's interesting that Frank uses Daddy to refer to himself? And it's supposed to be the in the gross sleazeball way. But it also ties into H2 with the whole that room was Frank's hell because he took and took from others, and now he can't. Esp. since there are so many guys like Frank out there who uses Daddy kink as a power trip. Which is at odds with the Cenobite ideal that you have to both give and receive (albeit in a fucked up way)

Having first watched Hellraiser in the years after Fifty Shades became part of popular culture, Frank feels like a very contemporary villain who is an answer to characters like Christian Grey.

I don’t view Frank as a dom or part of the kink community at all - he’s quite clearly a sexual predator. And I think he takes all of those trappings you might see from a dom and warps them in a directly predatory framework.

That said, I have always suspected that Frank’s behavior when it comes to the Cotton family is more specifically driven by a need to have what his brother has. Frank’s selfish, hedonistic lifestyle deprived him of the kind of life that Larry has. Frank wants the authority and (misogynistic in this case) ownership that the term daddy implies - but none of the nurturing, emotional connection, or responsibilities.

But there’s even more that you could discover when you dig deeper and look at all of the other male and female relationships of all dynamics function in the films:

Larry by contrast lacks all strength and authority in his role as father and head of his family’s household. This honestly has a huge impact on both Julia and Kirsty’s lives.

Julia cannot depend on Larry as her husband. If you actually view her as submissive (which I don’t, at least not in the way I understand it), he’s the worst possible partner for her and it’s not surprising that she resents him so deeply after years of marriage. For Julia, I suspect it’s mostly the fact that he bores her sexually and has no real connection to her desires. But for an actual submissive, I would imagine he would be a greatly emotionally unfulfilling partner.

I also feel like Larry’s lack of strength became a massive stressor in Kirsty’s life. He literally asks her to do the emotional labor for him in his marriage when he can’t figure out Julia’s problem. She wakes up from a prophetic nightmare frantic to reassure herself that he’s unharmed. When her undead uncle and literal hell demons threaten her family’s safety, she immediately takes the reigns on the situation without even questioning if Larry should be the one doing so.

Steve and Kyle are similar to Larry in that regard, ultimately too weak to let Kirsty just fucking rest.

In many ways, I feel that what Elliot/Pinhead did for Kirsty in H2 when he sacrificed himself was a much larger, more important thing than just being this moment of heroism or nobility. It was literally the first time in any of the films any man ever took total control of a situation on Kirsty’s behalf, with only her safety and well-being in mind. This to me is a huge part of why this moment feels so emotionally intense, and why it’s so important to my interpretations of the Pinsty dynamic and how I write it in my fics.

Like, every time I see that scene, the emotions you read on their faces are probably the most powerfully intimate feelings we ever see expressed in the entirety of the first two films. Nothing between Frank and Julia ever comes close. I’ve spoken before about how Doug Bradley conveyed so much in that one look he gives to her (the warmth, the understanding, the gratitude…) but the expression on Ashley’s face? Equally deep and complex. There’s sheer relief, catharsis, triumph, and quite possibly the most depth of emotional vulnerability we ever see her expressing. This is the one moment where after all of her terror and suffering, she is finally free.

Before he sacrificed himself, she was to the point of breaking down. Crying in Tiffany’s arms. Out of breath and fragile in her last ditch effort to defend herself with the photo of Elliot. She can’t even run that far when channard bursts into the room, she just huddles in a dark space with Tiffany, too tired to keep fighting.

Indeed, that moment may have even been the thing that gave her the strength to do all she did in the last few scenes of the film to defeat Channard and help Tiffany escape.

#discussion of kink #pinsty

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livayl · 4 years

Text

On a hazy autumn morning

This is a sneeze-/sick fic I wrote to introduce my two modern day OCs: Alexej who´s in his early thirties and a concert harpist and his husband Evan a former marine in his forties. :3 So no fantasy this time but a bad cold, sneezes and a bit of domestic fluff/care taking. :) Also a mess warning for the sneeze parts towards the end. (Never know how to actually classify this but nothing worse than in my “things I think of” stuff. It´s there but not very descriptive)

It was still early in the morning and relatively quiet. Peacefully so almost at least if one could ignore the unusual deep, breathless and congested snoring that resounded inside the small flat. Outside the chill autumn air was still hazy with mist and damp with frosted dew that had sprinkled the windows. The newly rising sun fought for supremacy with the seemingly ever present opaque shroud which could only be displaced temporarily these days. Bright rays of bronzed golden light illuminated the thick swirls of mist. They only managed thinning it enough to reveal an alley of old, widely branched maple trees whose leaves flashed auburn and rust red in an entity of white.

Evan watched from inside his cozy and warm apartment as a strong gust of wind made the big yet pliable branches wave and sway. His steel grey eyes followed the instantly loosened clouds of five-pointed leaves tinted in different layers of gleaming reds. They drifted and danced sluggishly through the fog, flashed their splendor until slowly gliding out of view. The sight was eerily pretty yet Evan would have preferred to indulge in it while dreaming instead of blurring it with tears created by a jaw-cracking yawn. Being up this early on a free day and after an almost sleepless night should have been rewarded with a bit more. He stifled another yawn against the rim of his mug and drowned its remains with a last stream of lukewarm coffee. The pleasantly bitter taste and aromatic smell managed to linger for a few moments longer.

Evan rubbed over his rather rugged, angular face, neatly buzzed head and full beard while pondering what would be more alluring: Another round of news reading followed by a nap on the small couch or a hot shower. The shower won the uneven match easily. Could have been a different outcome if it had rivaled with his big, comfortable bed. But Evans younger husband did strictly refuse sharing a sleeping place or other close quarters whenever he happened to fall ill- which was the case much more often than it should have been. Well, Evan unyielding insisted that his ill yet much smaller partner should sleep in the bed and NOT on the couch. So maybe they were even in stubbornness.

His back protested and ached while getting up which made him cringe. He´d only been a civilian for some years after a prolonged time of military service yet sometimes the amount of subjective effeminacy seemed to be hinting on a couple more.

A series of wheezing, crackling coughs made him turn on his heels and wide awake immediately as he hurried to swiftly open the bedroom door. The sight of his husband bent forward and shaking with forcefully suppressed, barking coughs alarmed him instantly as he crouched down next to the bed. “Alex? Do you need your inhalator?” He asked and pried away a slender, slightly trembling hand to place the small device into it´s palm. The gesture made Alexej look up despite the rattling spasms. When Evan had previously thought that he felt tired his husband clearly looked the part:

Alex skin, naturally very pallid, almost translucent with a faint dapple of freckles above his nose, high set cheekbones and lightly concave cheeks, was flushed and sweaty with fever. His deep set yet big bright eyes were dulled and glazed over. Now only resembling a fading cyani flower instead of their usual glowing bouquet of blossoming blue. They were also puffy and even more embedded into shadows created by too much worry, work and an irregular sleep pattern. The latest tour of long concerts had worn the already small and dainty, almost fragile built harpist out and probably paved ways for this recent illness. His beautifully curved yet small lips were devoid of color as well- a stark contrast to his straight, narrow nose which was tinted an angry red and chapped around the edges. Lingering exhaustion had deepened the fine, usually barely visible lines in his face and hopefully only marred it temporarily.

“Ndo….” Alexej managed to choke out after the small yet intense fit- voice almost inaudibly hoarse and slurred with heavy congestion. His fine and wavy, chin length wheat blonde hair was widely ruffled, damp with cold sweat and underlined with premature silver. Yet Evan loved gently combing it back behind a feverishly heated ear while he caressed the others delicate and long fingers with his much bigger and calloused hand. “I´m sorry if I woke you up.” Alex mumbled around a few futile tries to suck in a bit of air through his hopelessly clogged nose. “You didn’t, no worries. Can I bring you something?” Evan asked and had to restrain himself from kissing the others slightly parted mouth. He´d probably refuse which would leave him longing even more. “No tha-hah-nk youhh- hheh-hih-hold on-” Alexejs already unsteady breath had started to quaver mid sentence. Evan watched as his husbands red rimmed nostrils flared irritably while his breath hitched. They revealed tender yet angrily blushed insides and a septum already slightly wetted with shining fluid. Alex light blonde lashes fluttered feathery as he fought to keep his tearing eyes open while his free hand went on a frantic search for his box of tissues. Evans own did find it a bit earlier though and gathered a whole bunch of them right in time to gently cup them around his husbands gasping mouth. A small hand gripped his own with surprising force and pressed the protective barrier closer to his down turned lips and shaking nose as he surrendered: “hhh-heh-hhiih-PTZSSCH-hieh!- hheh-hah-TSSSCHHiuh!-AH´PTZSSCH-iiiew! unngh snfff" The sneezes had been unusually rough and tortuously teasing with their build ups that made Alex face scrunch and contort helplessly in rhythm of his frantically rising chest. They also were richly accompanied by moisture and spray worth of a restless night with congestion. It had not only been audible but also burst steamingly through the thin barrier and had managed to heat Evans skin.

Alex rather frail body had been at complete mercy of their exceptional force as he shook with each one and would have tumbled over if not steadied by his husband. He looked tired and teary eyed as he finally emerged from the sodden cluster of tissues. Still too dazed, feverish and breathless to feel shame or the traces of moisture still lingering around his nose and chin.

"Bless you, angel.” Evan simply replied while plucking a new bouquet of tissues.

“Ndoh- let me-” Alex tried but was shushed effectively by the cloudy fabric and even softer touch that gently cleaned his now deeply blushed face.

“Jesus… How did you get it on your cheek?” Evan could not help but snort a bit with amusement. It accomplished the impossible and made Alexejs fair skin turn into an even deeper shade of red.

“Don´t do that, I´m gross!” the younger man finally managed to say and gathered his remaining strength to pull away a still caressing hand.

Evan could not resist any longer and planted a gentle, soft kiss on Alex forehead. He tasted salt, bitter sweetly radiating warmth and that special, tingling aftertaste so delightfully unique to the other.

Alexej shivered with pleasure at his husbands surprisingly soft lips and coarse yet mellow rub of beard against his overheated skin.

He snuffled and tried rubbing the persistent tickle out of his nose that managed to squish and squelch wetly with the massaging motion.

“Don´t be stubborn. Let me stay and take care of you. I can´t sleep much outside anyways.”

“But you´ll get sick, too.” Alexej mumbled and bit his lower lip to give a contrast to the again rising tickle burning through his swollen sinuses.

Evan slowly, tenderly kissed the arch of his husbands delicately trimmed brows.

“I´ll be extra careful…” He breathed and let the tiny, soft hairs tickle his lips.

“But you-” Alexej really wanted to argue or at least revel in the sweet fondle and stroking breaths for a bit but could hardly concentrate as his own grew erratic again. The tickle had quickly grown big and urgent enough to crumble the last pieces of control while demanding his immediate attention.

“Hhhold on, I hah-ve tosneeze-” he gasped out as his eyes closed against his will once more and nostrils opened widely.

The harpist had barely time to avert his head and hide the snarling grimace behind a hastily raised forearm: “Hhh-hhiieh-IZZSSSCH-iieew! hhah-APTSSCHiieh! huh-heh-YISSSSCH-iuh!” Building faster, more easily this time but no less desperate and urgent the sneezes had left his shirt copiously wet and him slightly dizzy. Alexej could not help but cringe at the damp feeling tickling his skin and big wet spots distinctively visible on his light grey sweater.

“Here sweetheart. Bless you.” Evan said kindly, this time offering the tools for a much needed clean up instead of doing so himself.

“But I?” He then asked once Alex had finished off with an extensive and crackling nose blow.

“…. You made me sneeze at your hand. That´s not being careful.” He replied groggily and slumped back into a pile of propped up pillows. Those last outbursts seemed to have sapped the last bit of his much restricted strength.

“And you just did so all over yourself. Both of us can be washed.” Evan pecked a quick, teasing kiss on his husbands lips.

“Let me start with myself and come back with some tea, meds and breakfast. And then we´ll try to get some sleep.”

While left alone in the room all drowsy and floating with fever Alexej could not help but feel relieved and comforted knowing his love would return and this time also stay.

#my fic #my oc #Alexej #Evan #male #sneezing #snzfic #sickfic #coughing #and a bit of fluff ;)#I´m sorry if the formatting is still bad #had major issues with it for some reason :X #hope it turned out ok now

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for-bucks-sake · 5 years

Text

Old News.

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word count: 5.5K. Warnings: Angst, a lot of smut!! (Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), just a tiny bit of choking and cockwarming.) some fluff. Summary: Sometimes, even being Captain America isn’t enough. A/N: This one was requested by the lovely (and very patient) @fandomslut666, I like to think it’s somewhere between the area of catws and aou. Your comments and reblogs are so appreciated you don’t even know. Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoy! Btw, requests are open!

Gif’s not mine.

“Captain Rogers! Captain Rogers!” His name was thrown at him from every possible direction, repeated again and again like a mantra. Countless of eager eyes seeking his gaze, desperately enough to convince him they would do anything for just a moment of his undivided attention.

Steve wasn’t a regular at press conferences. Usually, it was more of a Stark territory, but once in a while he was forced to go; it’s good for PR, they said, the people love seeing their captain.

He only went because of her anyway.

In all honesty, Steve would rather fight on his own twice as many journalists than answer their questions. A man with a striped tie and a combed hair nearly pushed a microphone to his chest. Also, he thought, make them be ninjas.

“Please, everyone, let’s all stay calm and in time, The Captain will answer each and every one of your questions.” A woman with a neat hair pulled back smiled, adjusting her grey pantsuit when she spoke. The buzzing in the room gradually died down.

Steve knew who she was. Penelope was one of The Avengers representatives in the news and the media. She was very stern but not any less kind because of it. He assumed she was very good at her job.

His eyes bore into the crowd, his guts twisted in disappointment when he couldn’t locate her.

“Captain Rogers will only answer question regarding the body formerly known as SHIELD, as well as the latest mission of The Avengers and the new aiding initiative for helping PTSD suffering veterans recover.” Penelope glanced at Steve as he nodded, confirming what she said.

He was already debriefed an hour ago, but the woman knew who she was dealing with, and after the scandal of last time…he needed to be reminded he can’t be saying exactly what’s on his mind.

“Captain Rogers will not answer any further questions referencing political views nor personal life.” Penelope smiled, “use your time wisely. Thank you.”

In a brief second suited arms were raised as high as they could, it was like the were in a competition of who can speak louder and raise his hand higher. Steve adjusted in his seat, his suit widely uncomfortable and restricting;

“It makes you look professional.” Natasha said,

“Handsome.” Clint added,

“As long as it’s not your stealth suit or those god awful grey sweatpants…” Tony huffed and physically pushed his broad shoulders out the door, sending him to the jungle.

“Carl, go ahead.”

A man from the back row stood up and cleared his throat, smoothing down the wrinkles of his pants.

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honor to meet you again.” Steve nodded, not even the faintest smile on his lips, “what is your stance regarding the conflict in the middle east? Will you explain-“

“Let me stop your right there.” Penelope talked straight to the black microphone, “Really, Carl? I thought we were very clear with our instructions. He will not answer that. Next!” She announced, already scanning for a different journalist with her eyes. They fell on a young woman, so contrasted in that view of tired dark suits, her confidence refreshing and covering everything she lacks in experience.

“The LA Times, y/n.”

Steve’s eyes lit up when he saw her thin golden bracelet sliding down her wrist as she raised her hand up.

Despite the scuffs that filled the room, a satisfied grin decorated her features when her name was pronounced ceremonially, her stance straight and impressive.

“Captain Rogers.” Y/n smiled, not missing the way Steve’s eyes roamed over her body, he swallowed the gulp in his throat and smiled back.

“Will the initiative Mr. Wilson and you have come up with only be relevant to the citizens of New York? Or should we expect to see more branches soon?”

Her skirt was hugging her curves perfectly, light purple that ended just above the knees, enhancing her body’s already sinful shape, even when she was fully clothed.

Steve swallowed again, registering her question only by some miracle; “Sam Willson is the mind operating behind this incredible innovation,” he began.

Y/n exhaled, her mind already forming the words that soon will be written on her laptop; Captain Rogers, looking authoritative in a navy suit, humble as always, credits his fellow Avenger and good friend Sam Wilson for their conjoint hard work on the anticipated “VetsForVets.” project that will debut in two weeks.

On a second thought, maybe she should scratch that comment about the suit. He does look authoritative though, and if she may add, fucking hot.

He was uncomfortable, she could see that, the way he was fidgeting with his white collar even though he didn’t have a tie, his overly tensed back, the strain in his voice when he spoke, but mostly, because he told her.

“Apart from New York, we expect to open addition stations in Washington D.C. and Boston in the next three months.” The tight fabric of her white t-shirt clung to her breasts, showing just enough cleavage to drive him crazy but still be considered appropriate. How he managed to form a coherent answer, he didn’t know.

“We aim to expand to the midwest as well, and hopefully, in six months, we’d reach the west coast. Our main goal is to be where we’re needed. Anywhere that might be.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Y/n licked her lips and looked straight at his darkening eyes. The both of them knew exactly where they needed to be.

“Fuck, Steve.” Y/n whimpered, back crushed against the bathroom stall in full force, bones hitting the plastic in motions coordinated with the rapid slams of their hips.

He shushed her gently, bringing his fingers to her mouth in a gesture so delicate it clashed with his violent thrusts, “we don’t want to be heard, do we?”

She threw her head back, hitting the stall, eyes shut in pleasure. Accepting his fingers and sucking on them in a desperate attempt to be quiet.

Steve pulled his hips almost completely out, she opened her eyes just in time to see his lower abdomen contracted, sculpted abs shrinking and a devilish smirk on his lips before he pounded into her again, forcefully pressing his way into her pussy as she squeezed her eyes shut, mouth closing tighter around his digits and filling with her own salty flavor that lingered to his skin, evidence of her previous orgasm.

“Good girl.” He rasped when she only squeaked, visibly preventing herself from making any louder sound.

They still were in a building full of journalists, after all, and damn good ones. It would be too easy for them to connect the dots if they heard anything at all. And then, all hell breaks loose.

“Shit, you feel so good baby.” He groaned into the crock of her neck, adjusting his grip on her ass and squeezing her between his thighs. When he was sure he had her secure in place he lifted his palm from her body,

“FUCK!” She moaned when he spanked her, left hand hits back hard and unforgiving on her cheeks. The place when he landed his hand heated up, skin prickling and burning in an already red spot.

Steve renewed his grasp on her skin and lifted her body against his, his cock still inside her, its stretch more defined than always when he raised her up, easily finding a comfortable position to support her in the air just in the right angle, even with one arm only.

“Steve.” Y/n cried, tears forming in her eyes as her shoulders hit the stall again and Steve picked the pace of his thrusts. His hipbones brushed against the inside of her thighs, smoothly sliding in and out as shiny sleek leaked from her hole down to her ass. She was at his mercy again; one wrong move and she could meet the hard stone floor. If it was anyone else she might’ve been worried, but not with Steve.

His free hand slowly sank down to her throat, dragging over her red lips and her chin, leaving a wet trail of saliva. The grip was loose around her neck, heavy and felt on her hot skin.

Steve bit his already swollen lips and tightened his hold, using it to bring her mouth closer; He couldn’t help it. She looked so wrecked. And delicious.

To think that less than an hour ago she was still in her fancy little skirt, strutting around with a smirk on her flawless makeup covered face. So collected and pretty- now look at her;

Melting like jelly between his arms, so begging and desperate and even more beautiful than before, needy for his cock even when it was already inside her. The thought alone made him smirk just before he crushed their lips together, taking advantage of y/n’s gasp of surprise and sliding his tongue past her lips, stroking slowly the inside of her cheeks and her own tongue- moving against each other in a sloppy rhythm.

The heat in her lower belly ignited, threatening to combust as she felt it raise to her flushed cheeks, painting them in what he thought was the most beautiful shade of pink.

She moaned into his mouth, trembling so much he had to bring down his other hand, nearly covering her asscheeks with his palms, squeezing hard but holding her in place.

“Hold tight, doll.” Steve warned, picking up the speed of his movements, slamming into her boneless body in a vicious pace.

Her grip on his biceps tightened, breast moving up and down to her ragged breaths, muffled curses leaving pulp lips and getting lost in her own pleasure.

He jerked his hips, making her produce an utterly sinful sound, dripping erotism and lust; the fire in her stomach finally consuming all of her as she burst. Fingers clawing hard into Steve’s muscles, mouth open and thrown back along with her head, legs shaking so violently she thanked god she wasn’t standing on her feet.

Steve buried his face in the crook of her neck again, leaving an uneven trail of sloppy kisses as he rode his high with her, her walls clenching around him and milking every bit of his pleasure when he marked them with his cum.

“Ugh shit, the mess we’ve made.” Y/n stared in terror at the mix of juices leaking lazily down her thigh. She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and gathered the liquids in a somewhat awkward position.

“Do you need help?” Steve didn’t even bother to button his dress shirt. He laid on the closed toilet in blissful obliviousness, the expensive suit Tony got him was in a puddle on the floor. Oh wouldn’t he be furious if he ever found out.

He reached his hand and placed it on her hip, caressing the skin under her thin panties and smiling at her, she returned the smile but slowly zipped up her skirt, forcing Steve to remove his palm. He thought it would be the perfect time to ask her.

“Hey y-“

“I gotta go.” Y/n picked her phone from her purse before he could say anything, seemingly unaware of his attempt to speak. She had too many messages, and the governor of Georgia tweeted something completely scandalous again, she needed to see if someone has written about it…

“Already?” He was disappointed, voice higher than usual and sobered up from his post orgasm euphoria.

“Yeah, uh…sorry Steve.” She didn’t look up from her phone, blindly searching for her tight t-shirt, “next time, ok?”

Steve nodded but he wasn’t sure she could tell. He located the white fabric that was thrown near her legs and passed it to her. She mumbled a distracted thank you and kept typing, only stopping once when her head was stuck inside the collar.

Steve chuckled lightly when he watched her while buttoning his shirt, slowly, without any real effort. He thought that he can make time last forever by staying in there, in the last stall of the VIP rest room, and she would stay with him.

She slipped into her Louboutins swiftly, (they were her only pair, she wore them when she had to leave an impression, she once told him in a vulnerable moment of truth) waved goodbye, and just like that - she was gone.

Steve didn’t like how empty he felt, the feeling of bliss already out the door just like her, grounding him with sheer force and striping him of his joy.

He should really get used to that by now, he thought as he picked up the blue suit, the void in the pit of his stomach getting terrifyingly deep.

Steve held his fitted blazer above his shoulder and pushed the door open with a sigh, meeting his own face in the mirror. He couldn’t ignore the fragments of past expression that masked his features before it faded away.

The creases were rooted on his forehead, curved lines and loose corner of mouth, blue dim inside his orbs.

Something downed on him then. He looked sad.

Y/n waved her magnetic card in front of the small machine, waiting for the familiar beep to arrive. The glass doors opened automatically, letting her in the elegant looking lobby. She sent a hurried kiss in the air to Daniella, not even having the time to chat with her dear receptionist friend as she walked to the elevators with determination, nodding when Dani held her phone, and pantomimed texting, as to let her know she won’t get off that easily.

From there the way to her cubicle was short. It was small and unimpressive but for her it meant everything; at her young age she managed to score her position in the LA Times’ branch in New York. She was ambitious and persistent and unforgiving- people her age could only dream of what she does. Most of them are stuck as an underpaid interns, their names written on coffee cups instead of being on top of articles. She, on the other hand, just returned from interviewing Captain America.

Y/n didn’t need a fancy office with see through walls to know she was damn good at her job, she only had to look at what tasks she was given.

So yes, a shower would be incredible right now, but also meeting her deadline that was pretty much today.

“Y/n! The boss wants you in her office.” Ruth’s assistant lightly touched her back, bringing her attention to him as she was too concentrated into typing.

“What? Right now?” It wasn’t unusual her boss required a report after a big press conference, normally she would just mail it to her, though. Speaking to her directly was only reserved to special news. Or perhaps, a slap on the wrist. Or something way worse.

What if she somehow found out she was sleeping with Steve? This could be a disaster. Everything she previously wrote about him or with relations to him would be considered unreliable. All her work for nothing and she will never be worked with again. Unethical and stupid and-

“You coming?”

Y/n nodded slowly and got up in terror, steps heavy in her suddenly very uncomfortable heels.

Jamie the assistant opened the door for her and she thanked him weakly, shrinking when she stepped forward and met with the proud back of the stern woman.

“Do you have a dress?” The grey woman ask nonchalantly after what felt like an hour of silence.

“I’m sorry?” Y/n asked, confused, trying to hide her baffled face when Ruth turned around, patting one of her famous black pantsuits .

“Did the press con go well? Have you started your report and article yet?” The tall woman seem to ignore her own question, confusing washing over y/n even further.

“It went better than expected, got enough material for a great piece about Rogers and Wilson’s project. Both the article and the report will be at your desk by the end of the day, ma’am.”

“Very well.” Ruth nodded, “now do you have a dress? I have an invitation to the Gala Stark hosts in two weeks. I already confirmed going, but unfortunately something came up and I can’t go. Since we cannot afford missing it- every single paper in the city is going to be there- and you are already familiar with the story, I thought you were fit for the job. That brings me to my question- do you have a dress?”

Steve loved watching her falling apart beneath him. Her trembling thighs secure between his arms, face buried deep between her folds and her pleasure to him mercy.

It was so intimate, sometimes. How she would whisper his name like some kind of a secret, a soft hidden truth that was only known to them.

Y/n dug her nails into his scull, weaving her fingers through his hair and pulling him impossibly closer, tongue debouching her heat, his lips applying more pressure to her core.

His cock twitched in his pants when he looked up, just for a moment. He had to watch;

She looked like a work of art, his name leaving her nearly bloody lips again and again, thick lashes fluttering on her cheeks, hair spread on the pillow in a mess that almost seemed artificial.

“Fuck!” She yelped when Steve buried his head again, grazing his teeth against her clit and biting it gently, her body squirming as he pressed a kiss to it right afterwards.

Steve bucked his hips into the matters, his crotch desperate for some friction, the delicious noises she made and being surrounded by her sweet smell were almost too much.

Content it would last forever, he felt the desperate grind of y/n’s hips against his face, and the thrill of watching her cum overpowered the pleasure of prolonging the dwelling of her flavor on his lips.

Steve groaned into her center, flicking his tongue and squeezing her thigh hard, holding in place a handful of her body as he consumed her passionately.

Ignoring the shaking of her legs he continued, back arched above the sheets as bids of sweat formed on her temple, shutting and opening her eyes in hopelessness when she chased her high, feeling the warm liquid finding its way out of her hole and right into the Steve’s waiting tongue. The sensation of him licking every last drop astonishingly erotic, arousing all over again her sensitive clit.

Y/n exhaled and looked down, exhausted.

His satisfied grin was utterly unholy, jaw coated with her juices, the sensual licks of his tongue on his lips can’t cloak that cocky expression he didn’t dare to steer. Intense stare fixated on her swollen bit lips, as if he could actually devour her whole with his eyes only.

Y/n never shied away from him, not even once- but something in the way Steve watched her from between her legs, so focused and fascinated at the same time - raised her blush higher on her cheeks, the urge to close her thigh almost overpowering her.

He kissed her left inner thigh for the last time, sending shivers down her already shook spine. He cupped her sides, bringing himself up. One corner of his lips curved his smirk even wider as he captured y/n in a kiss, smearing her up with her own release and biting on her bottom lip before he pulled away.

The pout her mouth shaped into gave him the last drop of courage he needed to gather, her still erratic breath hot on his skin when he formed the words in his mind into a question.

“I was thinking…” He began, choosing his words carefully, the growing boner in his boxer doing nothing to clear his mind, “there’s this event next week. Tony…Tony Stark is hosting it. It’s for “VetsForVets”, and I thought,” he inhaled, for some reason her breaths not as close as before, “I thought that I would love it if you went with me. I mean…That I want you to come with me. I mean, only if you want to, because I want you. To come with me, I mean.” He kept stumbling over his words, making it even more of mess than it was. Steve knew it would be awkward, but this lame attempt had him fighting the burning desire to punch himself.

Y/n flinched back, moving backward and pressing herself against the headboard of her bed, her pout turning into a frown.

“I’m sorry if I, I just assumed-“ He found it difficult to create the sentence even more than before, “it’s a thing for the press, actually, I thought you’d wanna go, since you may know some people, uh, there.”

He watched her eyes losing any trace of previous lust when she spoke, “I’m going.”

“You’re going? With…with me?”

“No, I mean,” y/n said reluctantly, “I’m already going. I got an invitation from work.”

“Oh…” Steve said, visibly confused as to why she said it like it was a bad thing, “we can still go together, it would be even easier since you already got the clearance to-“

“I’m going alone.”

Steve exhaled sharply, his mind filling with silver fog he couldn’t find the source of, eyes closing and then opening wide again.

“You…Don’t want go with me?”

People seemed to forget who he was, once. Just a skinny kid from Brooklyn that was too short to reach any girl’s eyes and couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.

People seemed to forget, but he remembered. He remembered every woman that looked down on him, dismissing him over his looks. Every foot he stepped on, limbs too awkward to dance. He remembered, and he never blamed anyone but himself.

So when y/n’s gaze met his, apologetic and with a hint of pity, he remembered.

“Steve I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He was on his feet in no time, already pulling his shirt back up, feet searching for his boots.

She got up after him, her sex still bare with a small trace of her wetness that was there before.

“It’s okay, really.” And everything about him screamed it wasn’t, “I asked. You said no. What’s the big deal?” His t-shirt was half up, fabric too tight for his muscles, he already had one shoe on.

“Because, I don’t want you to be upset! It’s nothing about you. I just…can’t show up as your date. It’s unprofessional.” She tried to explain, laying a comforting hand on his forearm. She could feel the clenched muscle under it, flexing harder than it should.

His brain was beat, irrational with that screen of black smoke that made him even angrier, “I’m just a job to you, then?”

Steve spat his words at her, flinching away from him once again as he shook his shoulder to get her hand off.

“You’re not just- what are you even talking about? Steve, I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It sure don’t seem like it.”

“God,” she moaned in despair, “I can’t be seen with you. It can ruin my career, did you know that? I would definitely lose my job at the Times. Which I fucking love, by the way.” Steve opened his mouth to react, but she beat him to it.

“Everything I have ever wrote about you, which you should know, is a lot, would be considered biased. Invalid. Fake. Do you know what happens to journalists who publish fake new?”

“But it’s not fake.” He whispered.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know that.” Her throat was sore, her head was hammering with the pain of a sharp needle that was permanently stuck inside her temple. Her vision was blurry and kept losing its focus.

“Then tell them.” He knew the fight was already lost, “I’ll tell ‘em.”

“And you really think they’ll listen?”

Steve took one last look at her and fixed his laces, eyes stinging with tears he barely managed to blink away.

She was right. Of course she was. And he couldn’t afford being angry, but he was. He told himself it was at the situation and not at her, and it felt like a lie.

“See you around, I guess.” Steve adjusted his jeans, the uncomfortable stretch still there but not as irritating as before.

“Yeah,” y/n said, watching him leaving her room on his own, talking more to herself than to him, “see you around.”

Y/n didn’t stop throwing up all morning. The terrifying thought of pregnancy dug its way to her brain but it wasn’t it. She checked.

Might be because today is the day of the Gala. Biggest event she’s ever been to all alone. Must be performance issues. Excitement, maybe.

She didn’t even think about the fact Steve will be there. Who even Steve was, anyway?

It’s been almost two weeks since what was their impromptu breakup, separation, termination of relationship, Whatever that was. And when her temper cooled down, a couple of days after, y/n realized something.

She realized she missed him. She missed him so much.

Calling in sick wasn’t an option. She will not fuck up the first time she’s given that kind of opportunity, not even for a man. Not even for a man like Steve.

Her red dress was hung outside her closet, she could see it from the narrow space left open between the bathroom door and the wall.

Sharp pains hit her stomach again, nausea and disgust pulsing through as she emptied what was left in her into the toilet. She can go.

She is going.

Even Steve didn’t see anything quite as extravagant, and he’s known Tony for years. The ballroom was decorated with the colors of the American Flag; massive sheets of red velvet and silk descended from the artificially tampered ceiling, a technology Steve didn’t fully understand made it seem like they were looking at a sky colored with changing shades of blue. The marble floor was different as well, now indigo instead of stoney beige. As for the white- it was in everything else.

The chairs and the tables, even the bar. The walls and the donation and information stations, the odd one out being the small stage that looked like a hill raised from the floor, covered in a velvety royal blue fabric. Tony was pulling all the stops to promote “VetsForVets” even though it wasn’t his.

He didn’t seem to mind though, given Steve didn’t let him donate the entire amount they needed for all the branches in plan and even more, Tony wanted to help as much as Steve allowed him, and he did an amazing job at it.

Steve searched with his eyes for anyone familiar, catching Sam and Tony standing near the stage. He approached them quickly, press hasn’t arrived yet.

“Tony!” He called, “this is incredible, I don’t know how to thank you.”

Sam patted him back with a smack and nodded, “I tried it man,” Sam smiled, “he won’t accept any thank you but a thank you.”

“Enough about me now,” Tony adjusted his glasses, “it’s your night.” He motioned to the two of them and put his hands on their shoulders, furthering them from each other and creating a space to walk through between the two.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, nodding to the entrance as a new wave of people streamed past the door, cameras and microphones in hand.

The knots at the bottom of his stomach twisted, mouth dry as he hastily searched for the inevitable.

That’s when he saw her.

Her wine colored dress fit right in the background, like she was just another mesmerizing decoration. The silk hugged her body perfectly, embracing it down until the fabric reached her mid thigh, ending with a wrap.

His gaze followed her up, moving through her bare arms, modest cleavage, the thin straps that highlighted her collarbone, until they reached her face- lips painted outrageously red, rosy blush high on her cheeks that couldn’t obscure something was off. He wanted to approach, ask her what’s wrong, before he could move she locked eyes with him, watching him watching her. Y/n retreated back to the crowded area behind her, blending in with everyone else.

- She vowed not to drink, her stomach still not recovered from the rough morning it’s been through and the last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself in front of some of the most important people in the world. And him.

Yet for some reason, the combination of an open bar with the most exquisite cocktails she’s ever seen and the overwhelmingly good looks of one super soldier, made her reconsider her decision.

Now she was pleasantly tipsy, talking to a handsome stranger and circling her sparkly straw in her nearly empty glass, even between unnecessarily loud laughs and drawn out touches she was too aware of the side glances she was getting from a particular person across the room.

They kept calling them the men of the hour, then why did he feel like he was the smallest person in this room?

Steve muttered a distracted apology as he moved past the donors they were talking with, Sam looked at him questionably but Steve dismissed his worry, smiling wide and congratulating all of them a with a good night. Sam was charming them way better anyway.

Determined, he walked to the bar and ordered himself a useless whiskey. Once he got his order he turned around to lean on the high counter, sipping slowly from the amber liquid. He glimpsed quickly at the man y/n was speaking with, getting closer an inch with the wish to be noticed.

Steve downed his drink in one go, longing for how carefree it used to make him.

“Oh, excuse me just a minute.” Jacob cut her flow of words to look above her head, his eyes lighting up when Steve nodded at him.

Jacob ducked down abruptly, “this is Captain America!” He whispered loudly, sending unpleasant breaths in her direction.

Y/n jumped in her place, breath hitched in her throat. “Fuck me.”

“I’m sorry?”

She heard Steve’s breathy chuckle too close to her neck.

“You are Captain America, right?” The man that slowly revealed himself to be more and more disappointing asked.

“Steve Rogers.” He stuck his hand for a shake, smile lopsided, “nice to meet you. Y/n.” He acknowledged her by nodding to her direction.

“Oh, you two met?” Jacob’s eyes seemed like they’ve never shone brighter.

“Briefly.” Y/n answered sternly. The cosmopolitan she drank already on its way up.

“Oh, great. I’m Jacob. A big fan, Cap. Captain America. Can I call you Cap?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and kicked Steve’s foot not very subtly. His amused grin didn’t leave his face even then.

“Steve is fine, Jacob. Thanks for coming here today. It means a lot.” He managed to say through his smile, just before Jacob’s phone vibrated loudly.

“I gotta take this.” He mouthed and pointed to his phone, strolling away objectively to find a quieter spot.

Steve leaned against the white bar again, crossing his legs and watching a general spot in the distance, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Jacob. Really?”

“Shut up.”

“What? He seems like a nice guy.”

“We literally just met ten minutes ago. And even if he is - that’s none of your business.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The music filled the silence between them, ceiling somehow capturing the blue of Steve’s eyes the exact moment y/n looked up.

“I’m sorry. About the other day. I overreacted.” She said finally, breaking the static noise.

Steve place his empty glass on top of the counter and scratched his jaw, “no you didn’t. You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who needs to-“

“I’ve missed you.”

He raised his gaze to meet hers, eyes sincere, her mouth slightly open. Like it was inviting him to come in.

“I’ve missed you too.”

When Jacob finally returned from his call, they were no longer there.

Steve steadily moved up her body, his weight held by his forearms to her sides. It was slow, paced. So different than any sex they’ve had before.

Sensual and incredibly frustrating. Desperate pulls of fabric and skin seeking impossible proximity, wets sound of him sliding in and out, the smell of sweat and alcohol intoxicating in their noses.

Y/n walls squeezed Steve’s cock tight inside her, clenching and releasing and pulling him deeper inside. He let his fingers down to her clit, adding to her arousal as he circled it lazily, not breaking eye contact even once.

Steve came first. Having her in his arm more profound than the act itself.

She was a close second, waves of pleasure hitting her one after the other to the voice of Steve encouraging her to cum between his throaty groans, moaning loudly as he shot warm strips of cum inside her.

“Shit.” Y/n exhaled. He was still on top of her, his cock buried deep inside. She didn’t know what about that moment changed her mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Steve is worth losing some things so she could win new ones. Better ones.

“They’re probably looking for you.” She giggled breathily.

“Mmm, ‘think we can afford five more minutes. Can’t we? Unless you…unless you have to go?”

She thought about every time she left hastily after they finished. Grabbing her phone first thing and everything else next. Leaving him alone.

“Don’t worry.” She whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america #tony stark #sam wilson #Chris Evans #i write #ask

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reddeaddamnation · 5 years

Text

“To there and back...or not” - Thorin Oakenshield x reader [part 1]

Requested by @witch-of-letters

Of all the days, today was the worst for you. You hadn’t slept all night and kept almost falling asleep throughout the entire day and that caught the attention of your professors in the college you attended. They scolded you again and again and to make matters worse, the biggest bitch on campus started annoying you with both words and presence until you told her to get lost. She didn’t take this kindly and you two engaged in a verbal war. To make it even worse, on your way home someone almost hit your car, but only managed to bump into your left rear view mirror, but luckily it didn’t break.

All you wanted to do was to go home and indulge in a good book to make all your worries go away. The Hobbit was one you haven’t read in awhile. No matter how many times you re-read it, every time it felt like the first time. You just never get tired of the atmospheric, immersive story and felt somewhat of a nostalgia over the beautifully described places in the book. You longed to know what it would be like to live in a world such as that and often imagined yourself in it. You liked to see yourself of the dwarven race. There was something about their culture, tradition and behavior that appealed to you.

As you sat comfortably on your couch, finally in the safety of your own apartment, you opened the book in your lap and lost yourself among the pages. Chapter one, chapter two... It started feeling like you were there. The green trees, the golden meadows, the clear skies with not a single cloud. The sun was almost setting to make way for the moon and everything was tinted in a shade of reddish gold. In the distance you saw a river, the waters of which were so calm, they reflected the trees on the other side of it. It all looked so vivid... there was something that made you feel like this was where you belonged. Like there was nothing strange to be here.

When you turned around to look what was behind you, your breath caught in your throat. It was the Shire! Something you wanted to see since forever! It was even more beautiful than you imagined. The grass was so green, with spots of color from the flower gardens of the hobbits. You started walking towards the Shire like in a haze. Upon closer look, you noticed figures moving around, busy with their duties. Since it was almost night, you supposed the stalls in the marketplace were closing up and everyone was going home. You wondered if it was a good idea to go there.

Was this a dream? Surely you have fallen asleep on your couch. Deciding since this was probably a dream, it wouldn’t hurt to look around and made your way through the field towards the settlement. By the time you reached the main street it was already dark. There were still several hobbits outside in front of their houses, enjoying the evening, but many gave you strange looks, probably because of your clothes and how strange you looked overall. You wore a plain black t-shirt, an unzipped black and white hoodie above it, grey sweatpants and red sneakers, which contrasted strongly to the clothes of the people around you in their linen and leather clothes. Some even went as far as to go inside their houses at the sight of you! You noticed that hobbits were just a few centimeters shorter than you.

You paid them no mind as you curiously wandered the streets, intending to go to the only place you knew of. Just follow the main road and you will reach Bag’s End, where one of your favorite characters lived - Bilbo Baggins. This was just a dream, so why not visit him? You probably won’t get such a chance again anyway. When you finally reached your destination, you gently knocked on the door. You heard rather loud cheering and the clatter of kitchenware from inside, which almost immediately stopped when your knock was heard. A moment later, the door was opened and a weary, frustrated looking Bilbo came into view.

He stared at you expectantly. As did the two dwarves behind him. They looked young, judging by their youthful faces and short beards. One was blonde and the other - black haired. Those must be Fili and Kili. Under their intense gazes, all your words were lost, swallowed back. “Yes?” Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “Um...” you started, but didn’t know what to say. “Are you a dwarf?” The black haired dwarf - Kili asked. “You look like one if I say so myself.” Fili stated after his brother. “I, uh, yes.” you answered, going along “[Y/N] at your service.” you grinned awkwardly and bowed slightly, imitating how the dwarves had introduced themselves.

“Never heard of you.“ Kili shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but a slight amusement could be seen on his features. “Who are you?“ Fili asked “And what are you wearing? Where do you come from?“ he eyed your attire curiously, while showering you with questions. Should people in your dreams be asking this much questions? “I...I,“ you stuttered, wondering how to explain yourself “I come from another world, I suppose.“ was the first thing that came to mind. In the next moment, all three of them were staring at you with their mouths and eyes wide open. “What? What’s all the commotion about?“ a rather large dwarf with red hair came into view and joined his brethren in the confused stares as soon as he saw you. That must be Bombur. “I come from the real world.“ you stated, throwing them all into utter confusion. “Real world?!“ Kili slapped his forehead in shock “I thought this is the real world!“ Fili sighed loudly and scolded his brother “Of course it is!” then he turned to you “Tell us without playing with our minds, woman!“ You sighed in frustration “Alright.“ you said angrily “I come from another world. The distant future, if you may.“ They all gasped

“Could it be true?“ Fili whispered. “Well, I suppose.“ Kili answered “She does look the part.“ Fili raised an eyebrow at his brother “And how do you know what the future looks like?“ Kili shrugged his shoulders again “I’m only guessing. All I know is that the way she’s dressed surely isn’t from our time.“ Fili groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose “No, this must be some elvish trick. What else could it be?“ In such a moment, you felt uncomfortable enough, but it had to be Bombur who suddenly shouted “Bifur, Bofur! Hey, everyone! Come have a look!“ And that was the moment all the voices inside roared back to life, talking over each other and coming out the door to see what Bombur was talking about. You felt like an exhibit in a museum. Everyone’s eyes were on you curiously. Suddenly, a tall elderly man in a long grey robe and long white hairs and beard came from one of the rooms and made his way to the front of the crowd.

“What is going on?“ he asked. Gandalf. “Who are you?“ There was something intimidating about his presence now that you were seeing him in front of you. Thoughts filled your mind as you pondered what to do. This was just a dream, you repeated to yourself. This was a dream. You were going to wake up any moment now. You didn’t even realize that you were thinking out loud. “This is a dream.“ you repeated “I’m dreaming...“ Gandalf was the one to snap you back to reality. “I’m afraid this is very much real. Please, tell us who you are.“

You stared at him for several moments. “My name is [Y/N]...” you started but Kili cut you off “She claims to be from another world.” Fili added after him “And from another reality, if you will.” Bombur, who was present at the conversation from earlier joined in “From the future! I heard everything!” Gandalf’s eyes averted to each dwarf who was talking and then back to you “Future?” he repeated “Another reality... Interesting.” the last part, he muttered to himself mysteriously.

Someone suddenly cleared their throat behind you and everyone including you looked away from you to someone behind you. Another dwarf, this one quite older than Fili and Kili, but still younger than most dwarves inside Bilbo’s house. “Uncle!” Kili exclaimed. Oh, that must be Thorin! The Thorin Oakenshield in the flesh right in front of you! Or more likely behind you... If you had to be honest, he was your favorite character in the book and you always found him to be the perfect man. At least how you imagined him. And your imagination wasn’t far from what you saw in front of you.

You found yourself blushing red as a tomato and shifting in your place awkwardly as he watched you curiously, yet his eyes had a certain softness in them “Who is this?” he asked in a deep voice, which sent shivers down your spine. “This...” Gandalf started “Ah, she should tell you herself.” Thorin didn’t look away from you even for a moment. You felt his intense gaze even though you were too nervous to look at him yourself. “Are you a dwarf?.” he asked you softly. Finally, you gained enough courage to look him in the eyes innocently and simply nodded your head. “She claims to be from the future!” Kili exclaimed, earning a scolding look from his uncle. “Let her talk, Kili.” he cut him off and when he was sure his nephew wouldn’t interrupt anymore, looked at you again “What is your name?”

You cleared your throat, looking away from him again, but decided that wasn’t in your best interest so your eyes traveled to meet his again “[Y-Y/N]” you stuttered. “That is an unusual name for a dwarf...” Thorin thought for a moment “But what are you all standing at the door for?” he exclaimed, averting his gaze to the company, still craning their necks to look out the circular door “Let’s go inside and talk there. Away from curious ears and eyes.” And without waiting for an invitation, he allowed himself to walk inside, everyone making way for him in the process.

Once everyone was at the table, things didn’t become any better. Everyone stared inside their mugs with drink inside, while Bilbo was leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest and a look of suspicion visible on his face. As if all those dwarves weren’t enough to ruin his perfect evening and now a girl from the future was added into the mixture! Thorin was at the head of the table, his mouth opening to say something, but when no words came out, closed it again. You sat next to him, to his right, Fili and Kili sitting across from you and Bifur sitting next to you. Gandalf was watching you intently, as he smoked his pipe. The brothers threw you weird looks every so often, while you just stared at the table, shrinking in your seat and wondering when you are going to wake up from this dream. By now you were even wondering whether this was even a dream or not.

“So,“ Thorin started, clearing his throat again “What is this about the future? How did you end up here then?“ you looked at him with the same innocent look you gave him at the door. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember...“ you spoke in perfect Khuzdul making everyone suddenly cut you off with loud gasps “You even know our language?“ Bombur whispered. “What?“ you gave him a puzzled look. “You speak Khuzdul?“ Fili repeated “Where did you learn it from?“ You shrugged your shoulders “I don’t know. I feel like I have always known it.“ Thorin shook his head impatiently “Yes, yes. As you were saying?“ he urged. “As I was saying, the last thing I remember is reading The Hobbit on my couch at home. The next thing I remember is that I’m here.“ you explained. “The Hobbit?“ Bilbo exclaimed quietly, interest peaked up. You nodded “Yeah. It’s the story about you guys.“ you looked over the dwarves. “They write books about us in the future?“ Kili’s eyes sparkled with joy and a wide grin was stretched across his lips. “Why is it called ‘The Hobbit‘ then?“ Ori wondered. You sighed “It’s from Bilbo’s perspective!“ you explained further.

“I don’t have a story to tell about them!“ Bilbo almost shouted, gesticulating at the dwarves “I barely know them!“ Thorin was growing impatient by now, as his jaw was clenched tightly and his eye was twitching. “We talk of irrelevant things!“ he stated loudly, making everyone shut up “So you don’t know how you ended up here?“ he asked you, more quietly, as to not startle you. You shook your head no. “So how’s it like?“ Kili couldn’t help but ask, full of curiosity. “It’s...hard to explain.“ you laughed nervously, shifting in your seat. “Are there any elves?“ Dwalin asked. “Not that I’m aware of. I’ve heard of legends though.“ you answered. “So they’re finally gone?“ Kili exclaimed, keeping in laughter. “But there are obviously dwarves in the future.“ Gloin stated matter-of-factly. “What about the race of men? Are there any in your time?“ Bofur asked. “Well, yes.“ you answered “Plenty at that.“ Then Bilbo joined in on the conversation “Okay, but how exactly did you end up in my home of all places?“ You turned your attention to him “It says it in the book. Where you live, how to get there.“ Bilbo scoffed sarcastically “Oh, perfect. There are books that waypoint the way to my house being distributed now?!“

More questions were thrown at you and you wondered which to answer first. “Tell us something about the future!”, “Do you fight with swords?”, “What are those clothes? Is that what you people in the future wear?” Thorin was the first to sense your discomfort and once again tried to put an end to their persistence. “Quiet! Everyone quiet!” he shouted “Can’t you see you’re all suffocating her?!” You looked at him again and your eyes met. As soon as it happened, the stern look in his was gone, replaced by the softness from earlier. You blushed again and quickly looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “Hm, I suppose there is nothing we can do for now.” he spoke, but to no one in particular “We can’t just leave her to wander off and get herself killed.” he looked at you again “Do you want to come with us on our journey to Erebor?”

Your heart skipped in your chest at the question and you almost jumped up onto the table from happiness “Yes!” you exclaimed happily. “But we have to warn you, lass. It’s a dangerous journey.” Balin warned you in a soft voice “We will protect you as much as we can but I think it’s best if we assign someone to train you in battle.” At that Kili and Fili both jumped from their seats and raised their hands at the same time “I will!” they both exclaimed in one voice. Balin looked them over and silently asked them to just sit down. “Someone more experienced, if I may.” Dwalin cleared his throat, standing up “No.” Thorin interrupted “That someone will be me.” he stared at you, asking if it would be alright with you. “I-I don’t mind.” you stuttered, blushing again. “I have just one more question!” Nori stated and waited for an objection. When there were none, he continued “Do you know who we are?” You nodded your head “All of your names are in the book.” The impressed gasps, looks and “Ooh” that followed made you smile.

“We should sleep.“ Thorin stated suddenly “We have to get up early tomorrow.“ But nobody was ready to go to bed yet. They were still so curious about your ways and life. That quickly turned into a merry conversation over delicious food and drinks. You asked just as many questions about their culture and you could say the tension in the air was quickly disposed of. And Kili and Fili were the most curious “So your people don’t have to use horses anymore? How did you call your steeds?“ Kili asked “They’re called cars and we can travel with them for as long as we want without stopping.“ you explained “And the letters we send are received instantly through a contraption called a phone.“ It was safe to say that your stories were keeping their interest peaked “We can also talk in real time with someone even if they are across the world through this phone.“ Balin looked bewildered “That’s like magic!“ he stated in awe “Your people are wizards!“

Only Bilbo was keeping away from the conversation. You noticed him throwing you suspicious looks and you wondered why. But you tried not to think about it too much, as this was the most fun you have had in your life. Thorin was also smiling at you so sweetly, so kindly... Too bad it was just a dream... And you will probably wake up as soon as the banquet died down and everyone went to bed.

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cesabutterflywrites · 4 years

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The Duke of the Bay: Part 6

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Warnings: none different than the story warnings that I can think of

Chapter Word Count: 5683

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

Alice hadn’t meant to fall asleep when she had got to her room in Logan’s home, but could one really blame her? She thought she knew what a life on the run entailed when she had been forced to leave her parents at thirteen years old. Well, she learned her lesson after this. No more running for her. No more shady deals, no more hiding, no more selling pieces of her that shouldn’t be sold. This latest day had scared her straight.

Well, maybe not completely straight.

She nuzzled into the soft pillow she was holding as she slowly woke up. She felt the smudged, caked texture of old makeup that she fell asleep rub along the pillowcase. That was enough to remind her to try not to stain her host’s pillows.

She rolled onto her back then opened her eyes. It was sunset, so she gathered that she hadn’t been asleep for longer than a few hours. She didn’t feel well rested enough to wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed, but her hunger for something to eat gnawed at her stomach harsh enough to finally push her out of bed.

She groaned as she sat up. She looked around the room she was in with bleary eyes. She was a bit more awake, once she was sitting up, to fully notice the details in the orange and pink setting sunlight coming in through the white curtains.

The room was a contrast to the brightness of the downstairs. The walls were painted a near navy blue, and the furniture was made of some dark wood that she couldn’t recognize. There were two paintings on the walls. Both smaller than the lighthouse in the main living room.

The first was next to the door above the dark clothes dresser; a beautiful portrait of a beach in the night. The moon was full as it shone across the small waves that crashed into nearly glowing sand. It was oddly inspiring; invoking an emotion that Alice hadn’t felt since she was a small girl in Mississippi. That feeling one would get as a child when learning about the moon while it shone bright and full in the sky. It brought her back to her short lived youth, even though she had only been to the beach in the daytime.

The second was of a bay, though not the San Francisco Bay. This one was painted from the view of a cliff looking down at a crescent shaped beach. There were a few grey clouds in the sky that reflected the moonlight; though not nearly as bright as in the first painting. It was impressive, and if Alice lived through this she’d have to ask Logan who the brilliant painter was, these works were amazing.

She decided to climb out of bed. There was no use admiring a room when she was hungry. She was still in her dress that she had been wearing since she arrived, so there wasn’t much to be done other than wash her face to take the smudged makeup off in the bathroom across the hall. She took her small pack of toiletries with her as she washed up.

After making sure she looked, well, not entirely better, but at least less disastrous as before, she made the trek down the stairs to see if there was anything in the kitchen that she could put together quickly. She was so focused on her growing appetite that she didn’t notice that there was company.

When she made it to the bottom of the steps she yelped when a man’s voice spoke from the living room.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” He didn’t sound malicious, but he wasn’t either of the detectives. The voice was husky, deep, and definitely not familiar.

She didn’t have any weapon but her fists, so she clenched her right fist as she turned into the room to see who had spoken to her. She wasn’t willing to go out without a fight.

Brown eyes met blue ones when she saw him. He looked familiar enough that he wasn’t a stranger, but stranger enough to not be considered a friend. His black hair was unkempt; it fell in his eyes, though he made no move to brush them aside. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t grimacing either. He was smirking at her- clearly amused by her suspicion. He was wearing a plain white long sleeve with black suspenders attached to dark trousers. His arms were crossed over his chest in nonchalance. His skin was a darker shade of olive, so maybe Italian.

Italian? Alice immediately put her defenses up higher. Her face set in stone as she lifted her chin a tad to show that she wouldn’t bow down or surrender without a fight. She was a force to be reckoned with despite her femininity. Many men found it adorable-until they were met with clawed faces, black eyes, and broken noses.

“What’s it to you?�� She asked, not meaning for her Mississippian twang to come on as strong. Usually it was subtle unless she was tired-which in this moment she was.

The stranger chuckled, seeming un-phased by her defensive stance. “Clearly,” he winked at her as he spoke in a deep voice, “Logan was blowing smoke ‘boutcha needing a guard. A tough dame like you doesn’t seem to need protection.”

Alice frowned. “Logan?” Damn her voice-betraying her as it wavered. She tilted her head. “Logan sent a guard?” she muttered, questioning herself more than the man across the room.

“Yeah, I was surprised too,” the stranger chuckled, “I apologize for my lack of manners.” He stood up from the seat and walked slowly to Alice. He reached his hand out for a shake. “I’m Virgil, and you are…?”

She eyed the outstretched hand warily. The majority of her was distrustful, but if Logan had sent a guard, it would be rude to decline the offer. Especially since it was better safe than sorry.

Well, she wasn’t one for manners anyways.

She crossed her arms. Her eyes squinted at how relaxed the stranger was acting about the whole thing-as if it were a joke she wasn’t in on-though there was a tiny bit of tension in his shoulders that she noticed. That told her some part of him was on edge as well.

“I’m Alice,” she introduced herself with a cold tone. Her voice was tight as she glanced quickly around the room. “Where’s Logan?”

“I’m right here, Alice.” The detective’s calming voice spoke up softly behind her. It wasn’t enough to startle her. What was startling was how quickly she relaxed; she felt safer as soon as he was in the room. She felt her shoulders relax-she hadn’t realized they had been so tense.

Logan walked past her to stand next to her and Virgil. “Alice, Patton and I had to go together to go confront the captain.”

She tensed, the tone didn’t make it seem like the confrontation went well. She caught the glance he shared with Virgil. She took a deep breath before asking, “Where’s Patton?”

Logan avoided her gaze. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve been suspended for two weeks for insubordination. I had to leave before he did.” He grit his teeth in frustration. Alice thought she caught an undertone of emotional vulnerability while he continued, “I didn’t get a full confirmation that the captain is in league with the Duke, but the way he berated me for suggesting a plant at all was suspicious enough. Though I suppose I didn’t help when-”

Virgil put a hand on his shoulder. His expression was soft as he shared a fond look with the detective. Alice kept herself from raising an eyebrow at the way Logan gave a minuscule smile of gratitude to the taller man. Maybe she had been correct in her assumption about him from the night of the party after all. She swallowed a smile at the thought of being right about which way the young detective swung. She almost didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.

“Logan, what’s done is done. You made a calculated decision that took the heat off of your partner,” Virgil rubbed his hand-a little too affectionately to be just friendly-in circles on Logan’s back. “You did the right thing, even if I’ll get a bit of heat from my cousin.”

Alice definitely raised her eyebrow then. “Uh, clearly I missed something juicy,” she paused as her stomach clenched as a reminder to eat. She put on an apologetic smile, “How ‘bout we catch up over dinner. Is there anything available or do I need to cook?”

Logan shook his head while sparing a grin. “No, I have dinner already prepared in the dining room. I had actually come here to gather you for the meal in the first place.”

Alice winked at the two men before she walked off. “Alright, boys, let’s get a wiggle on so I can get caught up in all the news.”

The party of three walked to the dining room in tense quiet. Though Alice noticed the tension wasn’t malicious. It was more...delicious. She watched the two men accompanying her share a few too many glances and grins. She smiled to herself briefly, excited to tell Lola about everything, especially about her theory that their dance partners were surely not straight. The thought of gossiping with her girl was enough to put a bit of pep in her step.

She wasn’t offended that Logan never came clean about it. There were still times she had to let go of her girlfriend’s hand no matter no matter how desperately she wanted to hold on. The world wasn’t ready. They weren’t exactly living in Harlem.

Watching the boys avoid the subject was hilarious. If there weren’t more pressing matters at hand, she’d press them about the matter of why they weren’t holding hands. She bit back a giggle.

Dinner was a spread of baked chicken with russet potatoes and carrots glazed with honey. It looked expensive, and delicious. The smell that wafted into Alice’s nose was so heavenly that she couldn’t control herself lunging forward into the nearest chair. She almost stumbled, but thankfully Virgil had been close enough to catch her by the elbow.

She muttered a thanks as she took her seat. The dining set was beautiful. All of it matched with a polished white ceramic decorated with baby blue tulips above light green stems. The edges were trimmed with gold. Alice added another question to her mental list-where did Logan find a way to afford all of this?

Logan was extremely kind enough to serve them. That baffled Alice even more. Why would someone as well off as him do the work of serving his guests? For the first time Alice noticed a distinct lack of servants. Meaning that Logan was not just serving them-he must have cooked the meal himself.

Oh, yes, he definitely wasn’t due for a wife anytime soon.

Once they were served, Logan asked for Alice to lead them in prayer. She felt a lump rise in her throat. It had been so long since her last homemade meal. It had been even longer since she had to lead in prayer. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from flowing at the large reminder that she was in a safe place.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

In Earth as it is in heaven

Give us, this day, our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive those who trespass against us

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the Kingdom, the power, and glory forever

Amen”

“Amen,” the men echoed. If either noticed a tear or two drop from Alice’s eyes, they didn’t show it.

The trio spent the first few minutes eating before talking business. The chicken was divine. It was still juicy despite being baked. The honey glaze complimented the sweetness of the carrots while also blending with the savory flavor of the potatoes. In simple terms, the dinner was delicious. Alice resisted the urge to immediately reach for seconds.

It seemed no one wanted to bring up the difficult conversation first. She resigned herself to being the mature one in the moment, choosing to be bold and brash.

“So what the hell happened while I was asleep?” Her chin jutted out a tad forward in response to Logan’s admonishing look towards her language.

Virgil shrugged. “I had Mr. Doris at my home when Logan called to have me come over to make sure you were safe.”

She rolled her eyes towards Logan. “So,” she started sarcastically, “You and Patton didn’t want babysitting duty?”

“I-no,” Logan sputtered, “We both needed to go in to avoid suspicion.”

“Look how that turned out,” Virgil muttered. When the two looked his way, he muttered something unintelligible and bit forcefully into another bite of chicken.

“As I was saying,” Logan stated. Alice noticed the blush and small upturn playing at the corners of his mouth. “We went together. The captain...he was in a horrible mood. He grew overly aggressive when I suggested that there may be a plant, and when I pressed he put me on suspension. Especially since I told him I had evidence by-” he glanced at Virgil, who nodded encouragingly, “I told him that I had a member of the Duke’s gang visit me last night.”

The hairs on the back of Alice’s neck raised ever so slightly as she fixed her eyes on Virgil. She gripped her fork tightly to be ready to aim for his eyes if he made a wrong move. The man, Virgil, noticed and seemed to not care that she was staring at him.

“Relax, kid, I’m not very interested in family business.” His voice made it sound like he was brushing her off, but his body language was tense again. So it was clear that they both didn’t trust each other. Good.

Alice chewed on her potato while she processed the information. She decided to temporarily table her distrust of Virgil for the sake of the question she really wanted answered.

“So, where’s Detective Patton?” she asked. Her voice betrayed her by cracking on the sweet Irishman’s name. She would hate herself forever if the kind man got himself hurt on her account.

The two men shared another, more concerned, glance. “I’m…” Logan’s voice sounded troubled as it dropped half an octave, “I’m not entirely sure. I left before he did, like I said, but he didn’t follow me back. I’m not entirely sure where to go from here without him.”

Alice’s stomach clenched with fear. Suddenly her appetite was gone. She looked at Virgil without really seeing him. “What do you know about all of this?” she whispered.

Virgil avoided her gaze. Alice’s anger rose with the force of ten hurricanes. “What do you know?!” she bellowed. Her voice echoed in the dining room. She slammed her fist on the table, causing the silverware to wiggle.

She reached for her fork and threatened Virgil by pointing it at him, but Logan nipped her rage in the bud.

“Calm down, Alice,” Logan pleaded softly. “I know you’re upset, but there’s no need for anger.”

She snapped her head to look back to Logan. A biting remark was on the tip of her tongue. However she held it back as she saw raw fear in Logan’s face. Gone was his calculated, even, cold expression. In its place was the glaring, frozen, unbalanced nature of fear.

She settled in a tiny bit. She kept her eyes on Logan as Virgil cleared his throat and explained his side of things.

“Well, to start, I should preface by saying I rarely talk to my cousin unless he needs me for something. I comply because he’s family-but in terms of the business I couldn’t really give a-” he corrected himself at a glare from Logan, “I don’t care. All I care about is being left alone. The most I’ll do is occasionally attend a party. Yet last month I got a call from him telling me to tail Logan for him. Make sure he didn’t give away anything crucial or dig further.”

Alice let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She relaxed her shoulders and let herself settle into the chair while Virgil kept speaking.

“This morning Mr. Doris,”-Alice cringed at the memory of the scar faced man gripping her wrists- “came by to tell me he failed in catching you. He also mentioned that uh,” Virgil blushed. His tone was embarrassed, and he scratched the back of his neck. “That Patton was getting busy with the Duke.”

Alice would have spat out her drink if she had been taking a sip. Logan, she knew for sure, dropped pins. She could tell from a mile away that the younger detective was not into women. However, Patton? The man who seemed to latch onto her and pry and try to protect? Patton, a pansy?

That evidently was not the part of the sentence she should have latched onto.

“Well, Mr. Doris doesn’t seem to be the most reliable informant,” Logan observed dryly.

There was a brief moment of silence before Alice asked, “How do we know you are reliable?”

Virgil nodded solemnly. “I get your hesitation, I do, but I’m being honest when I say I don’t care about the family business.” He absently rubbed his shoulder. “I think nearly dying in a trench puts things into perspective, don’t you?”

Alice’s mouth dropped open. There was no way someone this young looking had been in the war. Unless he shipped in right at the end.

She hardly remembered what it was like; having the men at war. The world being thrown into utter chaos. It was a hard time for everyone. Luckily she had only been a toddler when the war ended. She felt the urge to hug Virgil close; but she didn’t on the suspicion that he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I’d rather we use our resources to help the community instead of hurting it,” Virgil whispered loud enough for them to hear. His eyes were downcast towards the table, and his hand still gripped his shoulder. “My cousin has good intentions, I’m sure, but Mr. Doris uses his access to grip this town so hard he’ll end up choking it.”

Logan and Alice shared a glance, both thinking the same thing. The Duke, leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the Bay Area, having good intentions?

“What do you mean, about your cousin having good intentions?” Logan asked cautiously.

Virgil snorted. “You kidding? All he wants is to show people a good time.”

“I see,” Logan murmured. “Well, that is good information that you’ve shared with us, Virgil. I appreciate you.”

Alice bit back a giggle at the fact Logan had said ‘appreciate you’ instead of ‘appreciate it’. She couldn’t wait to get Logan alone to grill him about him and Virgil, and she also couldn’t wait to dish it all out to Lola next time they spoke.

She picked up her fork and pointed it at Virgil, though not as threatening as before. “Okay, Sinister Sam, I’m trusting you, but if you betray us,” she pointed her fork for emphasis, “I’m not above murder like a certain detective in the room.” They all knew the threat was more of a joke.

Virgil threw up his hands with a smirk, “Good thing I have no intention of betraying that trust, Alice.”

“Glad we all agree,” Logan interrupted with annoyance in his tone. “Now, back to a more pressing matter-where is Patton?”

------

Patton didn’t feel like driving back to Logan’s and facing that fiasco, so instead he chose to walk around the town, which was mostly new warehouses and car factories. He walked along the road and watched as the men got off of work for the day. He saw groups of friends laughing together-completely unaware at the forces of good and evil fighting with their lives in the middle of it all.

That may have been too dramatic, but was it not the same as the fight between the devils in hell and the angels in heaven? Patton thought himself a morally upstanding man. Everything he stood for was good. He did his job with a smile on his face and faith in his heart. Everyone he came into contact with-he made them smile. He worked his honest way into the police force despite his heritage, just like his captain.

The thought of his captain felt like a punch to the gut. Roman’s haggard face after sending Logan home was burned into Patton’s mind. He looked so helpless. Obviously Roman was under great stress. So of course if he got an offer to make his job easier he’d take it. Patton felt guilt over building him into a villain so quickly. Roman wasn’t bad, he was just stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The sun was setting on the bay as Patton turned his way around to the park in between the warehouses and residential area. He watched the children play before suppertime. How he felt for Roman’s wife, Mrs. Rosalie de Rossi. If it turned out to be true-which at this point Patton was sure-then she would raise his son alone. A boy or girl would grow up without a father if Patton did his job the right way.

Would he sacrifice his best friend’s child for the sake of capturing one man? Would he take Roman in cuffs as he heard the first cry of his newborn child? Was this truly about stopping the crime in the town, or about Patton getting a pat on the back for capturing the leader of the crime? Was Patton willing to suffer his friend watching his child grow up behind bars?

Once upon a time the answer was simple. If it were a month ago he would have answered with a vehement ‘yes’, no matter why. Now things were twisted. Everything was knotted together where it was no longer a simple matter of good and evil; right and wrong were a mass of yarns tangled together. The world was covered in a gray haze that threw Patton for a loop as he tried to make some sense of it.

“It’s not so simple anymore,” he mumbled to himself.

The detective sat on a bench facing the bay, which was within eyesight from the incline where he sat. He admired the beauty of the way the orange and pink clouds glimmered on the waves. Crashing to the shore, knowing where they were going. Eroding the rock into sand; the waves knew what they did. They were driven by the moon herself. The white foam born of the impact would fizzle as the only evidence that any destruction was being made.

Patton pondered once more about how far he was willing to go to put the Duke behind bars. The man was clearly a source of stress for Roman. Was there a way to spare the captain? Perhaps getting to the criminal through another source was key. Maybe he could make it so Roman would be spared in the storm that was brewing in preparation of the battle between the good detective and the sinful mobster.

He smiled at the thought of Roman being able to watch his son or daughter play at this park. Roman would swing his toddler on the swing set and chase a short child with black hair and brown eyes. Roman would be happy. He’d be free of the worries of a criminal operation. Patton would be the one to give that to him.

Patton was good with children. He could see himself there too, celebrating with his friends a birthday or summer’s day. When he first learned of Mrs. de Rossi’s pregnancy he had briefly wished that he would find a woman to settle down with to have children of his own.

Yes, there was that question again. Patton was thirty two years old. He had never looked at a woman with lust before. Before he met the Duke he thought it to be a great achievement that put him above his peers. Now, though, it had been brought into question. What was his romantic orientation? Could he actually see himself having a wife? Having children?

Truth be told, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t hold any attraction to women. The terrifying idea of the alternative made his arms raise goosebumps; tingling his senses. He felt his cheeks flush from more than the biting sea air. His lips vibrated softly as if ready once more for a forbidden kiss of forbidden fruit. As he watched the sun set he felt something open up in his soul in revelation. Beautiful, fearful, attractive revelation.

If the Duke weren’t a scoundrel, and if the world and God saw it fit, he would chase the rotten man a different way.

There was something about the two of them. A horror Patton couldn’t look away from. The Duke was an affront to God Himself. He could be the Devil incarnate; present to tempt Patton into committing unthinkable sins. It was so hard for the detective to delude himself any longer that he was immune to the allure. The call of danger. The tempting taste of the pomegranate that would doom him to falling to the underworld of the Duke’s domain was, in fact, an actual temptation for Patton.

He watched the bay waters move to give him answers. He thought of kissing the man. The kiss that had been so easy it had to be for more reasons than to seduce for evidence and information. He remembered with perfect clarity how much he had enjoyed himself with the Duke more than any woman he had kissed, those dames being few and far between. The gangster was an enigma. He was dangerous and chaotic and warm and so many things that seduced Patton.

What would the detective sacrifice to catch the Duke and kiss him once more?

He felt someone sit next to him. It was as if his thoughts had summoned the one man he wasn’t ready to see.

“So, how is playing ‘good cop’ goin’ for ya?” the Duke asked cheerfully.

“I’m wondering to myself what I’m going to do with you, Duke.” Patton was shocked at the honest answer he gave.

A hint of red crossed the Duke’s cheeks before he recovered. “Hopefully devilishly delicious things.”

“In your wildest dreams,” Patton muttered. He was drained of energy. His fingers twitched for the cuffs in his pocket. He looked around to see that no other gang members were nearby. They were completely alone; the children had even gone home for supper.

The Duke was open for capture, and Patton was hesitating yet again.

“Seriously, though, here I am open for capture and you’re hesitating,” the Duke observed. The echo of Patton’s thoughts made him shiver. It meant nothing, but it said everything.

“Are you turning yourself in?” Patton asked sarcastically. “Or are you here on a personal call?”

The Duke’s lips curled into a smile. Patton’s heart fluttered at the sight. This smile wasn’t malicious. It wasn’t cruel or conniving. The Duke’s smile was warmth from a stormy night. A dip into cool water on a hot autumn day. With that smile, they were just two men-two people-in the midst of falling in, what would be seen by others, attraction.

He found himself leaning closer to hear what the Duke was saying despite the man not changing volume. His face felt numb as the breeze picked up. The Duke’s slicked back hair let loose a strand.

“I’m here because you have something of mine. A certain doll who owes me a pretty hefty fee.” The Duke leaned in close enough their noses were touching.

They were magnets. They were the opposite poles of the earth.

“Hm, I’m not telling you where Alice is, dear Duke,” Patton murmured as if he were in a trance. In some form, he was.

Fire flew through Patton’s veins so quickly. The words were losing their meanings in the tones. Their voice inflections were having an entirely different conversation at hand. Patton shuddered at the memories of being nearly pinned underneath the night before, no longer angry but enticed.

“Well, that’s a loss on my end then, dear detective.” whispered the Duke. “Guess we’re both at a stalemate.”

Ah, yes. The stalemate the forces of nature brewed between them. The laws of the world were putting a thorn bush between them to make their journey even harder as enemies than as friends.

“Indeed.” Patton agreed dreamily as he surrendered.

They both came in for another kiss, be it softer than their previously passionate adjointments. The kiss was a sunset-an end to Patton stepping around the truth of his feelings, an end to answering hard questions with simple answers, and an end to pursuing his enemy at the cost of his friends’ livelihoods.

His friends...Roman, Logan, Alice.

Alice.

Alice!

He pulled away and stood suddenly as if his body burned from touching an open flame. “No, no! You’re not blinding me this time, Duke!” he shouted.

Before he could reach for his cuffs the Duke had started running. His maniacal laughter trailing behind him. Patton raced to keep up once he realized what was happening. The moment in paradise melted away like a dream. The chase was back on.

Not this time you damn fool.

They ran through the alleyways in between the deserted warehouses. The streets were darker. The sun was setting rapidly as the chase had continued. They wound around the large lots. They skirted the borders where other officers on the beat would notice. Somehow the mobster knew exactly where they were, too. The Duke was playing with him. He was torturous and wonderful and damn good at getting under Patton’s skin. He knew this had become so personal for Patton he wouldn’t risk calling for backup if it meant losing the trail.

A part of Patton detached and played their kisses over and over again. That piece of him wanted to tackle the man to the ground. Pin the gangster underneath him and succumb to the feral nature being brought out. He wanted to hunt the man down and ravish his soul to the point they would be on fire. He pumped his legs harder to keep up, not knowing what the outcome would be if he caught his target.

Patton’s legs were in a flaming pain as he watched the Duke cross a street. He ran out when a car suddenly squealed to a stop in front of him to block him from chasing farther.

“No, no, no!” Patton yelled. He watched the Duke start to climb over the fence down away from him.

The criminal looked back towards him before hopping down the other side. He was shrouded in shadows. He resembled a crouched cat before it bolted. His eyes nearly glowed in the diminishing light. Then, in a blink of an eye, he was gone.

Patton slammed his fist on the hood of the car in front of him. He marched up to the driver’s seat only to be stopped by the sight of Alice, Logan, and the gang member who had been on Logan’s tail for the past month.

The very gang member who was in the driver’s seat of his partner’s car. The gang member that, for all Patton knew, was in cahoots with Logan. He was the subject that got Logan off the beat. He was somehow involved in all this and for once Patton didn’t want to ask how.

Hyped on his adrenaline and chaotic instincts, Patton reached for the gun on his belt when Logan hopped out of the other side and shouted, “Patton, no!”

Patton wildly looked at Logan. He knew he probably looked feral. His hair felt mussed, his body was covered in sweat from two chases in one day, his clothes were rumpled. He felt no words running through his mind.

In his mind there was only the need to run after the Duke desperately. His heart was pounding over and over. “Logan,” he gasped, “Logan, what are you doing? Interfering with an...an investigation…”

He was ready to collapse now that he was still. Rational thought took over while his body felt like gelatin melting in the summer sun. He had pushed himself to the limits.

Logan slowly made his way to Patton, yet made it just on time to catch him in his slump. He gingerly helped Patton into the backseat of the cramped vehicle. Patton leaned on Alice’s shoulder as he felt the numbing defeat spread from his lips down his body. He played the meeting with the captain, the walk, the kiss, and the chase over and over in his mind. Where had he gone wrong?

From there on out there were no holds barred. Patton would no longer play by the rules in his pursuit. The badge on his belt was no longer a barrier between him and his chase. It no longer mattered what was right and what was wrong-his heart needed vengeance against the manipulative nature of his enemy. He would let himself be seduced then wrap the cuffs in one painfully swift movement.

Alice carded her hand through his curls. She hummed a soothing tune that washed over him as a cleansing shower after a long day. It was a backwards scenario-a young girl comforting an older man. If any of the passengers heard him softly sob once while a tear fell off of his face, no one spoke up about it.

The sun had set, and with it the last remnants of upstanding, rule-following, by-the-book morality Detective Patton O’Hearty had left.

“Catch me if you can,” The Duke had teased. Oh, how he would.

A/N: Hi! I haven't abandoned this story, I promise! I have had a lot going on lately and have been absolutely zoned in on Prince in the Storm. I apologize again for making this so late. I hope you still enjoyed, feedback is appreciated.

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Oh Honey

… Mentions of abuse, attempted assault - not graphic, mostly mentioned...

“I thought I could always trust you!”

“Don’t! I don’t need to hear more pathetic excuses!”

…

We’re just blowing up the actual Tolkien timeline. I’m a day late and getting tired so pt 2 will be out tomorrow. :D

…

Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? The question making you smirk as you finished securing the buttons on the cinched vest accenting your bust in a drop maroon shade over a simple cotton blouse dangling over your thighs under tapering panels on the knee length vest covering the tops of your black jeans tucked into knee length boots. You would have worn your leather leggings your friend had bought you but they tugged too tightly over the bruises your step brother had left there. Lastly a grey fur coat with ears on the hood to finish off the look in securing the buttons cinching the jacket above you.

Your friends were waiting and you had to get going so right out your window you went, using the lattices nailed to the wall coated in flowering vines leading up to your father and step mother’s bedroom. He wasn’t all bad, no, to the world he was the best thing since sliced bread and your hindrance on ‘family’ gatherings since the wedding rehearsal dinner when his hand rested on then eased up your thigh receiving a fork inches from his groin triggering an all out war.

It had been two weeks while your parents were away on their honeymoon and you made sure to get gone. Though tonight you had come back for one purpose, legally you were an adult and instead of saving money to finish out your degree living at home with the sixteen year old predator you returned for a single night to finalize your plan. All week you had snuck in while he was off at team practices packing and filling your trunk to the brim and tonight you had your final bag of things to carry to your waiting car down the block.

Two fences and a hedge leap later you patted the head of a guard dog you passed a treat to in exchange for his silence to climb into your car parked in the back driveway to a neighbors’ that was gone for their night shift. It seemed so easy, just tell the truth and things would get better, but like Cassandra being cursed by Hera you were not to be believed by any wine it came to voicing injustices.

But to yourself you recited the phrase from your favorite film the Labyrinth when Sarah calls out to the Goblin King. Not noticing the glint of an icy blue eye in the crystal marbles dangling from your rear view mirror at the glare from a street light you drove under on your way to the costume party you were expected at. Hosted by the friend you would be renting a closet sized room from to share the apartment around it with six other of your friends to save cash.

Straight through a green light you rolled into the intersection only to slam on the breaks as a truck pulling what looked to be sheets of glass somehow appeared out of nowhere. Shattered shards fell around the metal body of the car contorting and warping as your eyes slammed shut. Soft chirping and bright sunlight has you squinting an eye open, looking around you gawked at the lush lands you were in filled with giggling children racing on the street in the distance into the lakeside pasture you were in. From the stump you were seated on you stood and gasps sounded with the curious children racing over to see the person now turning in circles to see where they were.

“Tiny people…” you mumbled to yourself mentally seeing a man tip his hat to you pulling a massive cow, in comparison to him, along to wherever he was going you nodded to in return.

Giggles surrounded you and you looked down flashing a grin exposing your naturally slightly pointed canine teeth and bright smile making an adorably giggly girl ask, “Are you really part wolf?”

“What?” After a moment you reached up, “Oh no, just the hood,” lowering your hood exposing your naturally silver curls with lavender dyed ends in a straightened ponytail now gently curling back in a warming before the usual sudden poof at how humid the air seemed to be getting in contrast to your former fall setting.

A boy asked, “Are you here to see the Wizard?”

After a weak chuckle you said, “Why not? Where is he?”

The girl answered, “Gandalf left last week Juniper! He’s off to Bree.”

You nodded and said, “Bree it is then, thank you.”

They grinned up at you and you tried to turn away only for the boy to tug on the tail of your shirt, “Your bag!”

Looking down you smirked seeing the carpet bag there you nodded and lowered smiling at him, “I’d forget my own head some days of it wasn’t glued on so tight.” Making the children giggle and run off again as you lifted it and started to the road they had come from.

Far behind you though the children together called out, “The other way!” Making you giggle and wave in thanks at them turning to your left instead to follow the road wherever it wandered passing the kind curious tiny people along the way.

***

Holding up the crystal ball set on his throne in the middle of a meeting in Amon Lanc Prince Thranduil wondered just when these three balls would help him find his One. A gift from Annatar of Rivendell and all he got was flashed of a gorgeous woman with absurdly colored hair. Again just now he saw her, this time with furry ears on top of her head and then suddenly shouts around him died as he fell straight to his back in a sunlit field. Groaning in his rise children swarmed him and grinned asking, “Are you here to see the Wizard too?”

“What?”

They pointed to the figure in the distance near the edges of the city, “She is off to see him as well.”

Instantly his lips parted and he shot up, “Thank you!” And darted off after that stranger in hopes it might just be you.

Deeply a sigh left you as you eyed the clearing with nothing but a road for miles without end making you mumble, “Years of watching Bambi is warning me against this, but, we have to get to Bree…” stepping out into the open you walked on, and on, and on. A stop for water in a small stream to fill your thermos from your bag however had brought the figure in the distance to your attention.

Continuing on subtle stolen glances back kept bringing their place to your attention quickening your pace. Up a hill you hastened and on the other side you crouched to hide behind the swaying tall grass surrounding the empty road. Soon enough the mysterious blonde cane into view turning in a circle trying to spot you only to shriek and drop a few inches in a readied stance to strike as you popped up behind him saying, “Can I help you?!”

Inhaling steadily his hand rose to smooth over his outer pale blue robe reaching to his knee over silver pants and tall boots with twin long swords strapped to his hips. “Forgive me, My Lady,” his eyes looked you over and in the warm sunlight taking in your features his words unknowingly halted.

“Are you following me?!”

Hastily he cleared his throat and said, “I am also in search of Mithrandir.”

“Mithrandir? Because I’m looking for a Gandalf.”

“Ah, they are one in the same. Hobbits refer to him as Gandalf and Elves as Mithrandir.”

“Hobbits, And Elves…” moving closer to him you shifted on your feet inspecting his ears and gasped, “You’re an Elf!! Like in Middle Earth-,” your expression shifted to a playfully curious smirk in asking, “Am I in Middle Earth?”

With a nod he replied, “Yes, My Lady. We are, and I am, an Elf.”

His eyes switched to your ears you felt with a giddy squeak at their new tips and you turned to keep going in a bouncing giddy quickstep. “So cool! Always wanted to be an Elf, but then again I’m not technically as stoic or graceful or willing to abandon my children like most self Maidens seem to be.”

“You have children?” He asked hurrying after you.

“Hmm? No. Just, in the books you can’t go without seeing six out of ten Elf mothers abandoning their children to certain doom and loneliness in the books.”

“You know of our histories then?”

“Some,” looking up at him you offered your hand, “Jaqi. But everyone calls me Tiny. You are?”

Slightly afraid to admit his title yet Thranduil answered, “Duil.” Eyeing your hand you pulled back to your side with a nod and faced forward again making his brows furrow at the drop of your grin wondering if he had issued you insult. Quietly you strolled until he noticed your hand moving to unbutton your jacket in the growing warm breeze to cool down a bit, “Is that fox fur?”

Peering up at him you shook your head, “No, it’s fake fur,” you said with a giggle, “I doubt I could ever afford a real fur coat like this.”

“Fake fur?”

You nodded and flashed him a weak grin, “It’s really soft, did you want to feel?” You said raising your arm making him side step to keep himself from issuing any unjust contact between you.

His brows furrowed in a steady inhale and he asked, “How can you fake fur?”

It was your turn for your brows to furrow as you answered, “Um, I, don’t really know. I thought it was like sheep’s wool but stripped really finely and woven into stocks of fabric. I know some use Alpaca fur, but those are out of my price range. This one was second hand and a bargain.” Curiously peering down at your still raised arm his hand rose and risking the flash of seeing the creature’s last moments only to feel nothing but the silky soft material so similar to an implacable type of fur it was trying to resemble.

“What animal is it meant to resemble?” He said withdrawing his hand only to have his brows pop up as you raised your hood with wolf ears on it.

“It’s a wolf costume.”

Lowly he repeated, “Wolf costume..”

“Ya, well, the Big Bad Wolf to be exact,” your eyes met his and you explained, “It’s from a children’s story, my friend was throwing a costume party and I ended up in, what must be The Shire. Where’d you come from?”

“Oh, my family was also having, a gathering, of sorts. In the Greater Greenwood.”

“I bet it’s lovely there.” Curiously he looked you over as you grinned to yourself looking ahead over the endless path through a low rumble of thunder building around you explaining the humidity.

“It is. You know much of it?”

You shook your head, “No, the books say more about Rivendell than Lothlorien and Greater Greenwood, mainly,” in a turn of your head you asked, “Is Feanor dead?”

With a nod he answered, “Yes,” his brows furrowed again, “Why do you ask?”

“Trying to place when I am…is this the First Age?”

“Yes, in the birth of it.”

“Hmm, ok, so no big wars yet with Sauron.”

“Sauron?”

“Annatar is his alias, if you know that one.” Making his lips part, “He’s Melkor’s student.”

“My Ada shall have to hear of this when we find Mithrandir.”

“I think we should write to Celebrimbor first.”

Thranduil’s head turned, “Why would we be writing to Curufinion?”

“Because he’s the one that Annatar possesses to create the Rings that destroy Middle Earth.”

Parting his lips again, yet the first drop of rain had his eyes turn upwards at the clouds that had rolled in above you, “We should find shelter…”

Turning around in a circle he tried to find any source of cover only to flinch at the ‘shink’ of your obnoxiously wide umbrella you pulled from your bag and opened at your side then lifted over your heads making him look at it then you in the growing patter of rain overhead. “It’s an umbrella.” His eyes met yours again, “As long as there’s no lightning we should be fine to keep going.”

Looking forward again he watched the path ahead and round you growing wetter while he couldn’t help but giggle to himself mentally at the simple contraption to ease a common problem.

Passing the first street sign stating you were leaving the Hobbit territory your eyes snapped to a floating ball when you stopped in your tracks, inside which a voice emanated, “Miss Pear, you have called out to me and I have answered. Welcome to my domain! Answering your plea I have taken your brother as my hostage. Should you regret your choice-,”

“You have Kody?”

Pausing slightly the voice replied, “He is my prisoner! Should you-,”

Grabbing the ball you said, “Keep him, you took him he’s yours!” As hard as you could you hurled the ball away only to watch it shatter against a boulder in the distance and turn to a dark waft of mist fading to nothing stirring screams far off in the distance from the one who had stolen him away.

“Your brother has been taken! How-,”

“I don’t have a brother.” You snapped back at his voice raising at you.

“Then who did that person take?”

“My father remarried a few weeks ago, it was her son.”

“So you have a brother!”

Stopping to look up at him his stomach clenched at your challenging gaze, “What sort of brother tries to put a hand up his older sister’s dress?” That dropped his jaw and he turned to walk with you as you said, “He’s given me twelve bruises since then trying to force me to let him touch me, part of why I was moving out and getting far away from that little predator. Whoever took him can keep him.”

“What did your family do when you told them of his actions?”

“They didn’t believe me.”

“Why would you falsify-,”

With a sigh you said, “I don’t know, ever since I was a kid I’d be on the wrong end of situations often and when I tried to speak up no one believed me. Not until someone else spoke up. I don’t lie,” you wet your lips then said, “You wouldn’t know the story, but we have stories about beings, sort of like the Valar,” he nodded in your eyes meeting his, “Zeus would be like your Manwe, top of the gods under Eru, and his wife Hera, well she like to give curses, and one of them was Cassandra, she was a seer and she was cursed that none would believe her. The world’s full of stories like that, cursed families, maybe was cursed, who knows, magic was so far from common knowledge in my time compared to when they were handed out so it’s all left explained to luck I guess.”

“Was your father believed?”

“I think it was from my Mom. She died when I was little, he’s always been successful, so unless he struck a deal that I get his bad luck so he gets good luck.”

“Why would a parent do that? Force suffering on their children?”

Peering up at him you couldn’t help but grin saying, “I envy you, for not knowing a world like mine. I am glad to be here now though. Hopefully I can stay and Gandalf won’t try to send me back.” Looking forward again his heart sank wondering just what sort of family you had come from and in the silence his mind wandered to just what sort of injuries were hidden under your layers.

…

Bree soon grew in the distance as the rains dwindles allowing you to fold up your umbrella again you slid back into your bag. Into the Prancing Pony you led the way and Mr Butterbur had no clue when the Wizard would be back again leading to your stop to eat, an offer from Duil, to fund before you continued on again in an agreed goal of Rivendell. Horses sounded after you however when you had left the town borders. Subtly your hand dipped into your bag remembering the pair of guys in the dining hall that trailed your path out of town.

Up to your side the pair rode and heavily hopped down with crossbows extended both at you. The pair of them smirked and the larger of the two growled out, “Hand over your goods.”

The other said noting Duil’s swords, “And no thoughts on drawing those blades or the Lady dies.”

Without looking at Duil you asked, “Can you speak to horses?”

Duil looked at you, “Yes, all Elves can.”

“Would you tell them to stand upwind a few feet, I would hate to hurt them, you as well.”

Duil looked you over as the men notched their crossbows and he passed on your request in Quenya then moved around your back as you raised the canister in your hand and in a steady sweep over the pair an orange mist exploded and they collapsed howling in pain cursing at you. Pocketing the canister you approached them nudging the crossbows out of their reach then you turned to Duil and the confused horses saying, “Bear mace. Like liquid fire. Made to scare off bears but also useful for the common thug.”

Nearing the horses you smiled at the tan dappled pair saying, “You are so beautiful. How would you like to go to Rivendell?”

Their ears popped up in glee and Duil asked, “Are you considering stealing their horses?”

“You mean the Men who just tried to kill me for my bag? Yup, I’m freeing their horses from their ignorance.” Strolling around to the side of the shorter of the two you reached up to grip the knot on the saddle and eased your foot in the stirrup to climb up on and look down mumbling, “Been a long time since I’ve ridden a horse…”

Settling your bag in your lap a gentle shift of the reigns had the horse turning and you looked at Duil who rolled his eyes and joined you on the second horse, “Let us fly before their corpses are discovered.”

A giggle from you in the gallop away had him looking at you only to hear, “Mace only lasts ten minutes at the most.”

“What?”

“You don’t want to kill the bears or the idiots, just get time to get away.”

He looked forward again uncertain what aspect made him more upset, the need for the product or the fact that he was now a horse thief even if he turned around to give them back. “My Ada is never to know the manner of claiming these creatures.”

Stroking the neck of yours you said, “I asked if they wished to go to Rivendell, just say we were heading the same way and they happened to be saddled.”

“That will never be believed!” You giggled again and he asked, “What is so amusing about this?!”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” After another giggle you asked, “How far do you think Rivendell is?”

“Roughly a month on foot, few weeks at least.”

Weathertop was the first stop for your night, right up to the still in tact lookout for the Western lands of Arnor you both approached and after a second flaming glass orb arrived and was destroyed you dismounted at a pair of guards nearing you. “Who dares approach the Western Keep of the King?”

Before Thranduil could speak you said, “Hi, I’m Tiny, we’re on our way to Rivendell. I was wondering if we might wait out the rain tonight?”

The guard answered back, “This is not a lodging for commoners.”

“Ok, um, what about our horses? I have a tent, but they clearly can’t fit. Could you possibly allow them in your stables tonight?” A wide grin from you came before a confusing, “Please?”

Leaving the pair glancing from Thranduil to your horses and sigh, the first guard stated, “We will house your steeds, for the night alone, My Lady.”

The second guard said, “Keep your tent off our borders.” You nodded then turned asking where they ended and to a band of bushes they pointed and you grinned again and turned to walk off as they accepted the reigns of the horses Duil informed why they were being separated from you.

Near the bushes the pair kept glancing over curious about your tent, curious himself Thranduil aided in the holding of the supporting staffs before his brows popped up inspecting the giant onion like white tent complete with rain tarp tethered down. Standing up you looked to Duil saying, “I know it doesn’t look that big, but inside,”

“Why would you purchase a tent resembling an onion?”

You looked at him then back to the tent and asked, “Why not?” And lowered to duck inside the front flap giving him a moment to rub his forehead then glance at the stunned guards before he turned to peer inside the front flap spotting you laying out two fluffy sleeping bags he looked over slightly panicked.

“I will sleep outside tonight.”

Sitting up on your knees and you replied, “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to sleep in an onion tent.”

“This has nothing to do with the onion! I cannot share quarters with you!”

With a nod you said after a clap of thunder made him tremble and you smirk, “Well, the tent is waterproof where you are not,”

“I am not afraid of the rain.”

“Oh get in the tent!”

“I cannot!”

Lifting a brow you said, “You are getting in this tent or I am going to scream, and keep screaming until you do.”

“You cannot-,” At a sharp inhale from you he frog hopped inside through the round opening to sit down wide eyed at you as you flashed him a grin, “Satisfied?”

You nodded and dug in your bag for your pop up stove and using more of your water to heat up the jarred veggies you had coated in seasonings combined with and noodles you had Thranduil watched you carefully and accepted the bowl and spoon you offered him. “Thank you,” Your thanks in place for his made his eyes snap back to you with his brows up again in shock, “If you’re afraid of being alone with me I promise not to hurt you, and with the sleeping bags there won’t be any snuggling issues.”

“Sleeping, bags?”

Setting down your bowl you tugged your bag closer and showed him how the zipper turned it into a sort of cocoon easing something close to a compromise instigated grin across his lips, “See, you have yours and I have mine. No funny business. Though I have a comforter or two if it isn’t warm enough.”

“Comforter?”

“Oh honey,” you sighed out only making his head tilt slightly, “A comforter is a decorative thick warm blanket to cover the other sheets on your bed.”

“Ah. Elves are not troubled by the cold normally.”

You nodded saying, “Well, I’ll pull a spare out just in case you change your mind.”

Sleeping once the cooking and eating utensils were put away was next, removing your boots you closed the tent door and secured the lock on the zippers you showed Duil how to work then moved to sit inside your sleeping bag. Shrugging out of your coat the reveal of the figure hugging clothes had Duil swallowing hard though within moments you laid a purple comforter over your feet and laid back zipping and covering up with a comfortable sigh after your wiggle onto your belly to nuzzle your head into a pillow from your bag. On his back he eventually settled and closed his eyes when your breathing deepened, silently hoping that sharing quarters unchaperoned could be taken well once all details were thoroughly explained. True you would be wed one day in the future when all priorities were met but he hoped not to hasten things too quickly and ruin the reputation of your union after having been swayed into taking a consort not two centuries past giving him a son, the birth of whom withered his mother to an early grave as it came suddenly in an attack on the edges of their borders.

All the way to another open clearing two weeks later an eerie chill had you up early and in a cautious stroll to the nearby stream your head swiveled hearing someone around you. Tightly your throat was gripped and a broken shriek from you ended in your back being slammed into the trunk of a tree. Tighter the grip grew until a hand reached out to cover your eyes followed by a warm splash of liquid coating your lower half.

Shakily you inhaled after a harsh cough ended with Duil’s hand on your other shoulder cluing you in he was not alone. “Keep your eyes closed, Miss Pear. We will dispose of this filth.”

Weakly you asked, “On his neck, is there a c shaped red spot?”

Thranduil, “C shaped?” Holding up your hand you made a C and he replied, “This was your brother that attacked you?”

“If there’s a C on his neck it was.” Over his body Thranduil patted Glorfindel’s shoulder then they and the twin covering your eyes peering at his brother who was looking down at the now apparently young for his size teen whose body faded to nothing. Another failed plan spurring up screams in the distance and the agitated path to drawing up a new plan for his schemes. Though back in your old world the teen awoke and was instantly infuriated and in search of you to complete his dreamed strike out against you.

Eyes uncovered you silently went back to the tent to pack up while the Elves discussed what had happened a few moments prior. It took only a few moments in sharing what he had done to you in the past for the trio to be seething with anger as to who they had saved you from. Quietly the tent fell and you stood peering over at the four as Glorfindel said, “Prince Thranduil, your Ada will be relieved to know you are safe, he has had us scouring our lands for any sign of you.”

“Prince Thranduil,” you stood with a hip cocked making him sigh at the shake of your head and turn lowering your crossed arms.

Looking to the trio he stated, “I was not exactly forthcoming of my title to Miss Pear upon our introductions.”

To yourself you mumbled folding the tent up making the twins smirk in amusement, “Exactly forthcoming, no title at all Mr Duil.”

Atop your steeds between the trio you rode the final stretch to Rivendell, then chatting around you while Thranduil kept peering at you longingly for your forgiveness. His lips parted and in a far from threatening tone you said, “Don’t! I don’t need more pathetic excuses!” Already he could spot the few usual markers of your use of ‘sarcasm’ and it eased his mind knowing you were in a form of jest with him, even if you were a bit upset at the moment for the initial half truth. “I thought I could always trust you!”

By chance Elrond was already out in a trip to Lothlorien so you were stuck waiting for word on what to do next. Odd ruffling sounds brought the newly discovered Prince into the doorway of the open dining area you were sitting in to remain out of the way for the workers in the kingdom all staring at your every moment.

It seemed wishes for a better look had him in the doorway watching on as you shuffled your deck of cards once again. Breaking the silence as you set up another game of Solitaire he asked, “Are you testing the fates’ path for you with your cards?”

“No. Just a game of Solitaire.” For the remainder stack if cards you swiped your hand fanning them out, “Pick a card.”

His brow inched up and Elladhan slid to his side choosing for him making you smirk asking, “Is it the three of hearts?”

Ellohrir shook his head with a chuckle before you claimed the card and turned it to peek at it reading the seven of clubs, “Hmm..” Turning it back to them your other hand rose to flick the card making them gasp seeing it now reading the four of spades. “How about now? Three of hearts?”

Again they shook their heads looking at you and the card in confused awe as you clicked your tongue then leaned to your right looking Thranduil over, “You’ve got something-,” Reaching out his ear twitched as your finger grazed his hair hanging over his ear before he heard a flick of paper sound and your hand drew back making their mouths drop open as you held the three of hearts in your hand, “There it is. Trying to spoil my tricks by hiding the card in your ear, young Prince.” Shaking you head he couldn’t help but chuckle a you said, “For shame.” Teasingly.

Glorfindel approached saying, “You are a Wizard then.”

You looked up at him shaking your head, “Nope, all slight of hand,” you said flicking the card from one hand to the other changing it to the seven of clubs again. “My father is a magician, I used to be his assistant. All slight of hand and misdirection for amusement of crowds. Easy to learn with practice. Nothing special.”

Your eyes lowered to put the cards back into the remainder deck you shuffled again before Thranduil said, “You are unfathomably special.” Making you glance up at him before he shifted to learn more on this card game of yours hoping to get back to your same joking, relaxed relationship.

…

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf, @pastelhexmaniac

#Theincaprincesswritingchallenge #30daywritingchallengebytheincaprincess #thranduil x oc

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

All That Glitters {Roger Taylor} [2]

A/N: 2160 words. Every day I deadass get closer to just writing this movie. I’ve put too much time and thought into this probably. As Always @ginghampearlsnsweettea and @prettyboyroger are my favourite Giselle chearleaders. I actually rather like this, though I’m worried it’s less coherent than the first All That Glitters trailer.

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

All That Glitters (2018) | “Oracle” Teaser Trailer [HD] | 20th Century FOX

[id: We open on a shot of the crowd at Live Aid from the perspective of the stage; the crowd is cheering, but it’s distant, almost like it’s underwater. The camera pans back slowly, so slowly, and we see Giselle, facing the crowd; as soon as she is in view, the squeal of a microphone feeding back fades in, growing louder until it overpowers the sound of the audience.

The feedback cuts out sharply and we see and hear the following in rapid succession; a close up of a large aux cord, from a keyboard, being plugged into an amp, a power switch being flipped and lighting up, a bare but new-ish looking parcan lighting up.

The room is hazy, a small, speak-easy style bar; the patrons mill about, smoking and drinking and we hear a general, indistinguishable chatter. It’s mostly dark, a few dim, gold lights overhead, with one exception;

We see Giselle standing on a cramped stage, wearing an ill-fitting, wine-coloured, rayon slip dress, lit only by the unflattering light of the cheap parcan. Behind her, drowning in shadows, a four-piece jazz ensemble sits, all wearing white button down shirts and black jackets, though their accessories are a mishmash of colours; some where bowties, some don’t even have their top button done up. One is wearing sunglasses and is looking like he’s almost asleep at his keyboard.

Giselle stands awkwardly, fidgeting, she looks young, and not particularly at home on the stage. She leans into her microphone and tries to speak, but there’s the squeal of feedback and she flinches away. The band behind her just looks tired. She leans back in to the microphone.

[GISELLE] (hesitant) Hello, I’m-

[MAN] (from the crowd, not visible) Sing something already!

Giselle looks taken aback, a little offended, and she looks over her shoulder at the band who nods. There’s a moment, a beat, when we cut to a close shot of the keyboard player’s hands hovering above the keys, before coming down, playing the opening notes of This Is Where You Get Off.

[Editor’s note; This Is Where You Get Off comes from Giselle’s sixth studio album, Strictly Professional (1978). It was the second single released off the album. Think, the upbeat positivity of ABBA’s Waterloo, meets the heart and catchiness of Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody. It’s joyful and tongue in cheek, as the name would imply, a song about young love and intimacy, though it may be fleeting.]

[Title cards for 20th Century Fox and Marv Films come up.]

We pull back from a close shot of hands playing the keyboard, however this time they’re Giselle’s, well manicured with gold polish, and she’s is sitting behind the keyboard though the bar is empty. She’s lit in stark relief to the rest of the room with a warm, gold light. The rest of the room is a cool, hazy grey. She’s wearing a pair of high waisted, pale blue jeans, and a yellow and green floral button-down.

[JOHN DEACON] Giselle?

Giselle looks up, a little confused. Her hands still on the keys, but the music keeps playing. It’s a wide shot, the two in profile facing each other; John Deacon is backlit on the right where he’s standing at the door, sunshine shining in behind him, wearing brown corduroy pants and a maroon jacket that’s a little too big for him. His hair is long. The space between them shows the bar, in shades of grey, almost like the colour’s been saturated from it, though it gives a nice contrast to the colours of the two figures on either side of the shot.

John smiles.

[JOHN DEACON] Thought I might find you here.

Extreme close shot of Giselle’s eyes as she squeezes them shut tightly. When she opens them, we cut to a wide shot taken from behind her, facing a small room packed with people. She’s standing now, holding the microphone on it’s stand, wearing a blue velvet, off the shoulder dress.

The camera pans back and with each beat of the music, we cut between shots, all from the same angle, all with Giselle in the same place, but it’s always in front of a crowd, and the crowd is always getting bigger; at first it’s bars, then theatres, then stadiums, with thousands of cheering fans. We never see Giselle’s face, but the crowd is always desaturated compared to her, each of her ensembles, her very presence vibrant under the stage lights.

[JOHN DEACON, VOICE OVER] So I suppose I’m gonna see your name in lights in a few months?

Giselle snaps back to the present, and we get a close shot of her looking at John a little wide-eyed.

[RAY FOSTER, VOICE OVER] Giselle? That’s the name on the marquee?

We smash cut to an over-the-shoulder shot of her sitting in Ray Foster’s office; he’s wearing a beige suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up over a bright blue button down. From what we can see of Giselle’s shoulder, her shirt is a red and orange striped turtleneck and her hair is down.

We whip pan around and stop on a shot of Giselle, sitting at her desk at the very righthand side of the shot, lit in pale yellow by her desk light, while the rest of the shot is filled with the midnight blue of the night sky through floor-to-ceiling windows; on the lefthand side of the shot is a television, showing reports and excepts all about Giselle, giving off desaturated blue and white light. Giselle is writing furiously at her desk, though we can’t see what.

[REPORTER, VOICE OVER] Giselle, the name on everyone’s lips!

[RADIO HOST, VOICE OVER] And now, with her newly certified platinum single, Giselle -

[REPORTER 2, VOICE OVER] Why Giselle? Who’s this woman who’s caught the world by storm?

The voices start to overlap, become indistinguishable as the song rises to a crescendo, though their words are clearly turning negative. Giselle’s name is distinguishable every few moments.

[GISELLE, VOICE OVER] I want to work with Queen.

Giselle stands with her hands crossed over her chest, wearing a mint green, skater style, floral dress, her hair tied back neatly. The music is still upbeat and joyful. Jim Beach stands across from her in a freshly pressed, grey suit. He looked amused.

[JIM BEACH] You want to work with Queen?

We shift through a set of quick shots all intercut together to the beat of the music that gets progressively faster, never stopping on one for enough time to get a good look; Giselle running into a drumkit and the cymbals going crashing to the ground, Giselle and all four members of Queen cheersing their drinks though they all seem to already be drunk, Giselle sitting on Roger’s shoulders and cheering and singing at the top of her lungs in a hotel room while Brian throws things at them because he’s trying to get to sleep, Roger kisses Giselle on stage in front of a stadium audience and though she’s shocked for a moment she kisses him back, Freddie walks in to what is clearly Roger and Giselle’s wedding with an elephant in tow. The final two shots are of Roger and Giselle wearing identical shocked looks, clearly at Freddie’s extravagant party, and then we cut right to the door being closed in Roger’s face.

The music stops; we come back to Jim and Giselle in the present.

[GISELLE] What’s the worst that could happen?

Her grin is all teeth.

We kick into the next scene and into the chorus section of an instrumental version of Set It Up.

[Editor’s note: Set It Up was the fifth track on Giselle’s second album, Cold In June (1971). It’s got the bass and weight of Queen’s Another Bites The Dust, courtesy of Giselle’s pre-established friendship with John Deacon, and it’s the earliest known collaboration between them. Lyrically, the original song is a love letter to dedication and drive, and is the story of a young woman forging her way in such a ruthless industry.]

Cut to; Jim and Giselle standing in the doorframe of a wood panel studio; Jim looks like he hasn’t changed, though Giselle now wears a yellow sundress.

[JIM BEACH] Boys, -

The rest of the room is filled with band equipment, and the four members of Queen, all in light coloured but colourful clothes, a solid contrast against the mid-tone brown panels along the walls, the chrome of the drumset, and the red of Brian’s guitar, the darkness of the piano and the various amps in soft focus behind them.

We quickly pulse through visions of other big name musical celebrities to the beat of the music, all looking at something just off camera, as if looking at Giselle in the room, though their background all betray different settings. We see Elton John, Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson, and David Bowie, before settling back on Queen in the present.

The music cuts out.

[JIM BEACH] - play nice.

[ROGER TAYLOR] You’re not our father, you know!

The camera turns to show that Jim has already stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. There’s a few moments of awkward silence; Giselle looks at the door for a few minutes before smiling awkwardly at the boys in front of her.

[GISELLE] I should introduce myself -

Before she can, the music comes back in after a beat and we cut to a montage of concert footage, of Giselle in various dresses which all look incredibly expensive, as well as her appearance on Top of the Pops in 1972, the camera craning around her as she sings in her black, velvet off-the-shoulder numbers with her black and red gloves.

This is also intercut with key moments from her life; arguing animatedly with her sister, Giovanna, in what appears to be a hospital, screaming at the top of her lungs in what appeared to be a recording studio, rage written all over her face, though we can’t hear the scream for the music, she’s laying in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but elated, holding her two daughters and almost weeping with joy. The final shot in the montage is Giselle in soft focus as she holds out a copy of Rolling Stone magazine, which she is on the front cover of, posing surrounded by Queen. The headline reads ‘And All The Queen’s Men’. She sets the magazine on fire and we fade to black, and the music dies down, fading into the slow, melancholy piano chords of Ache.

[GISELLE, VOICE OVER] (she sounds tired, a little forlorn) Everything I touch turns to gold.

We fade in to a dressing room; Giselle is sitting in front of a mirror lined by lightbulbs, sneering as she addresses someone who we can’t see, not even in the reflection of the mirror. She’s adjusting the neckline of a gold, sequinned, v-neck dress, wearing thick, winged eyeliner and gold lipstick to match. She looks over her shoulder, her expression cold.

GISELLE (rueful, a bit bitter) And God, I was all over you.

The music picks up, quick to morph into Trot, Canter, Pirouette (The Show Pony Song), and she stands quickly.

We smash cut to her walking out onto stage at Live Aid, though she’s now wearing a dress with a white velvet bodice and an ombre yellow-orange-charcoal skirt. We can hear both the song, and the crowd chanting her name.

[JOHN DEACON, VOICE OVER] An engineering student and a law student walk into a bar.

Cut to; both Giselle and John are sitting at the bar from earlier, both looking young, Giselle in her yellow and green floral shirt, and John in his maroon jacket. They’re positioned in the left half of the screen, both in profile; Giselle is in the foreground, slumped against the bar, her head resting on her arms. John is looking up wistfully. We can no longer hear the crowd, but the music is still softly playing. John pauses. Giselle turns to him, resting her cheek on her arms and looking at him expectantly. The camera angle changes so they’re side by side and fill most of the screen.

[GISELLE] And?

John, who’s seemed to have zoned out, looks at her with a slight frown, as if just remembering she’s there.

[JOHN DEACON] Oh, I just got lost thinking about the future.

Giselle gives a quiet, amused smile.

[GISELLE] About my name up in lights?

[JOHN DEACON] (nodding and grinning) About your name up in lights.

We cut to; the music picks up and the title card, “ALL THAT GLITTERS”, lights up in a block font, with lights in the letters, reminiscent of a Broadway sign. We hear Giselle belt the final, high energy, upbeat lyrics of the song, accompanied by a full brass section for the end of the song; “But I cant! Call! Cut!”

Snap to black. End id.]

#roger taylor #john deacon #roger taylor x oc #john deacon imagine #roger taylor imagine #john deacon & oc #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #queen #and all the queen's men #the angry lizard writes

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marsupials-of-mars · 5 years

Text

Night Terrors

Part three of my Dreams/Nightmares series (Dreams came first, then Nightmares, now this much later), because once Remus was revealed it was clear he should have totally been nightmares instead of Virgil but I worked him in anyway!

Contrary to Roman and Virgils nights with Thomas, Remus generally didn't talk much. Suprising really, considering his personality, but the videos they watched together had some auditory stimulus that he didn't dare interrupt. So he just enjoyed himself, lending his presence. He loved his Thomas nights, a full night to be good and nasty and Remus it up, loosen up after a long day, for Thomas to tire himself out for a good nights rest. A night all to himself and Thomas, what could be more fun?

But as all good things must come to an end, so too did his contributions. Thomas was tired, and that meant off went the explicit content, onto it's charger, and under the pillow. Remus whined. Sleep. What was it good for anyway? Just to waste time. He sank back into Thomas's subconscious and sulked over to the basement door. He yanked it open and practically oozed down the staircase. He didn't want to sleep that night. Sleep was boring, he wasn't even tired! He wasn't...

His eyes lit up at the realization. When a side wasn't tired it meant... Remus scrambled back up the stairs on all fours, bursting out the stairwell and into the hallway. And now that he was facing the right direction, it was clear as day. A black and hot pink door. Remus squealed.

Aint no rest for the wicked.

He skipped down the hall, overwhelmed with excitement. He didn't care much for the guy really, but he sure loved the work. He popped his knuckles, dagger-like claws bursting from his fingertips. He would have toyed with his coworker a bit but he didn't feel like wasting any time that night. He gouged his claws into the wood of the door, dragging them down its length with a terrible, grating noise.

"UP AND AT EM BEAUTYSLEEP, WAKEY WAKEY!" He pressed his ear to the door. Silence... but he could smell the fear.

"Okay, rude, I was willing to be polite but here goes." He sent his tentacles about the doorframe, their boneless, mucus-soaked nature letting them slip through the cracks and around the door in its entirety, effortlessly ripping it off its hinges. "See!? See what I gotta do when you bully me?" He waved the door around above his head before chucking it aside and retracting his slimy extremities back into his person. He locked eyes with a face of absolute horror and disgust, apparent even through the sunglasses. "Well I won't hold it too much against you Remy... after all, we're still NAME TWINS!" He finished in a singsong voice and fell into his host's arms.

"EW!" Remy gasped. He dropped him and quickly retreated backward until he was pressed against a wall. "Bitch, you will not TOUCH me, you will not SPEAK to me! WHY do I still not get some warning when one of you are coming?!" He hovered his contaminated arms far away from the rest of his body.

"Hey, I warned you! Warned you not to piss me off!" Remus giggled from his spot on the floor. "Cmon, you love me!"

"I don't! I really don't, I'd appreciate if you jumped in a lake! It'd at least be some sort of bath, you heathen." He sneered and whipped out a portable hand sanitizer. He started slathering his forearms extremely thoroughly.

"Aww, 'heathen'? You flatter me..." Remus brought his hands to his face as he blushed a warm shade of puke green.

"Whatever. WHATEVER. Get the job done and get OUT." Remy massaged his temples. He seemed to be going out of his way not to look in Remus's direction. It filled Remus's stomach with delighted butterflies. Maybe moths... mosquitoes? Mosquitoes sounded right.

"But REM!" Remus whined. "Last time Virgil was in here he left all pretty with face paint and claws-"

"Makeup and acrylics. Because we had a bonding moment. Acrylics are EARNED." He took a sip of his coffee. With a second thought he mumbled around the straw: "And don't call me Rem."

"Pleeease? Please with something hairy on top? I'll make it worth your while..." He bit his lip and winked. Remy nearly spit up his coffee.

"You need to CHILL."

"But I CAN'T! The only thing that could ever quell my madness is claws and facepaint! But alas..." Remus sighed dramatically and brought the back of his hand to his forehead. "You couldn't possibly provide such things..." He opened one eye and grinned when Remy groaned.

"Fine. FINE. But we're watching what I want." He grudgingly dragged his feet over to a cabinet by the TV and pulled out a makeup bag and a bin of nail supplies. "Wasting my best stuff on you..." He mumbled to himself at a volume that made it difficult for Remus to believe that he wasn't supposed to hear. Remus squealed and leapt onto the couch, giddy to be included, even more giddy that it was a grudging inclusion.

He was suddenly hit in the face with a container of wet wipes.

"I'm not touching your hands until you get that grime off, I'm not catching any diseases tonight." Remy pulled out a binder from a bin under the coffee table. The wipes quickly turned various shades of brown as Remus scrubbed his hands, but his attention was elsewhere, peering over Remy's shoulder.

"Whatcha got?"

Remy placed the binder gingerly on his lap. "Ideas."

As soon as Remus got a good look at it, he recognized his brother's calligraphy. He scrunched his nose. "So you and the Quest for Camel-snot are real besties aren'tcha?"

He knew that Roman had work with Remy too, but in the moment it kinda stung. He got the lights, did he really need the extras too? But Remus didn't really want Sleep, not his type. So it was fine, right?

"My closest girlfriend, bitch numero uno. He's a genius, really. Full binders of inspiration for every one of you." He flipped through the binder, double tabs color coordinated to each side, nails and makeup. Profiles and front views of each side's face in Roman's swoopy, perfect art style, graphite with oil pastel for color. Remus craned his neck to see.

"You're at the back. He has a lot of ideas for you, he talks about them a lot. Never gets around to drawing them up though, pretty sure it's personal. Gets uncomfortable drawing your face."

Remus ignored that last piece of commentary.

"Don't care, show me what he DID put in there! Probably awful, I could do better..."

Remy flipped to the green-tabbed page. There were three pages in the Remus section, contrasted against the five or more for every other side. But Remus wasn't focused on that. He was focused on the drawing: The palette was dark but bold, dark greens, black, metalics and greys. The look was extremely busy with intense, full mascara, black lipstick dusted with metallic green, tentacles curling from the eye flaring in the direction of the lashes and writhing down the side of the face. He was even crazy enough to scatter black rhinestones and silver glitter about, seemingly at random but somehow in just the right places. Remus stared at the drawing in awe. It entirely fit his aesthetic, minus the grime. The drawing still didn't quite look like him, though, and it broke Remus out of his trance to laugh out loud as he realized why. Roman had deliberately refused to draw in the mustache.

"What?" Remy squinted at him.

"He's so petty!" Remus conjured a pencil and scratched on some glorious facial hair in some frustratingly wobbly lines compared to Roman's. "There! There's my guy!" Remy grabbed the binder and clapped it shut.

"Ugh, you ruined it!" He opened the page back up and pouted.

"It's better now! Whatever, just fuck me up!" He sat up and closed his eyes, ready for beautification. He felt a wet wipe instead, though it wasn't like he was caught of gaurd by a sudden cold dampness to the face. "What are you doing?"

"You're so oily, if I tried to apply anything it'd roll right off like water on duck feathers. You owe an apology to your pores hun... and a shower."

"Nah I'd rather you keep with the wiping. Feels nice and sensual." He felt the scrubbing grow more hesitant and heard a quiet but exasperated sigh.

"Tell you what, if you can keep your feral little mouth shut for the next ten minutes I'll let you at the expired wine. It's real vinegary."

"Ooh!" Remus mimed zipping his lips and flicking away the key. Remy seemed suprised that his deal worked.

They sat in relative silence for a while, save for Remy's instructions for Remus to tilt his head one way or another, and the scrapes and clinks of makeup containers on the coffee table.

"Aaand...done!" Remy sat back and surveyed his work. Remus blinked.

"Wait I can't... I can't see..." His eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to look at his own face. Remy rolled his eyes.

"Cut it out, I've got a mirro-" Before he could reach under the coffee table, Remus had already plunged his fingers into his own eye sockets and torn his eyes from their nerves.

"HOLY SHIT-" Remy threw up in his mouth but managed to hold it back. Remus turned his eyes to look back at his face.

"Ooo well done! Though the eyes are a little smudged."

"Because you just mutilated your mascara with your fat knuckles you ANIMAL!" Remy grabbed Remus's wrist and pushed it back toward his face. "Back! Back in!"

Remus groaned and popped his eyes back in. He blinked rapidly as they resituated their orientation in his skull.

"I didn't even bleed, cmon, I'm being respectful of your work."

"Whatever, just sit still..." Remy pinned his shoulder to the couch and kept his legs down with a knee. He blended out some smudged eye shadow and reapplied the mascara. "There." He fell back onto the couch and massaged his eyes. "Now grab us some wine so I can make it through the rest of the night. Right of the fridge, top shelf."

Remus hopped up from the couch and twirled over to the cabinet. He found the bottle that had clearly been re-corked among the vast array and popped it open with his teeth. He waved it under his nose. Vinegar. He called over his shoulder; "You said I could have all the expired stuff?!"

"What else would I do with it? Grab me something."

Remus re-corked the bottle. He grabbed another bottle of red and a single wine glass and ran back to the couch. He cannonballed into the cushions with enough force to make Remy yelp and send out his arms to stabilize himself.

"Claws now!" He clapped his hands. Remy held up a finger.

"Just a sec, hon." He opened the fresh bottle and filled his glass. And kept filling. And kept filling. He tipped the bottle back just as he reached the brim. He took the glass gracefully and downed it in a single tilt. He let out a sigh of relief. "Mkay. Claws."

The next two hours were occupied with messy, drunk acrylic construction, trash reality TV, and half coherent conversations about either the meaning of life or over which two patent moms would get in a fistfight first based on their initial introductions. Remus could half remember Remy crying at some point over how bad the nails looked and how he was losing his gift, and another point where he ranted about how the other nail techs of the world better "step the fuck up or drop dead" at his sheer talent.

Remus began to come to, though barely. He pawed at Remy's shoulder. "Rem, Remmington, up up up! Got night terrors to make!"

Remy rolled over. His lips were smudged with black and metallic green. Remus didn't say anything, though silently cursed himself for having blacked out through that part.

"Hm? Nah bitch, you're on your own. Scary shit, not my cup of tea."

"You've got the assets!" Remus snorted at the word. "Yknow, the characters and stuff."

Remy groaned for a long time. "Fiiine." He rolled off the couch and followed Remus to the recording room. Remus attempted a cartwheel but fell over halfway through. He made it into the room at least. Remy snorted.

"GIRL! You're WORTHLESS!" He pulled a giggling Remus to his feet.

"Yeah..." Remus bounced from foot to foot. "Gimme!"

"Hold on a sec!" Remy yanked open a file cabinet and pulled out a handful of folders. "First choice..." He hiccuped. "Classic spiders."

"Cmon Rem, what kind of creativity would I be to keep using spiders every time?"

Remy thought. "A bad one?"

"Correct!" He reached into the folder and pulled out a spider. With a tap of his fingers he multiplied them into the thousands. "Next!"

Remy pulled out the next. "Sharks."

"Nah, that's just a sharp fish. Something GROSS, something WEIRD. Next!"

"Ummm...Thomas saw a dead mouse the other day. Part of it's belly smushed open."

"ZOMBIE! RATS!" Remus grabbed the mouse and threw it on the ground, instantly multiplying it into a writhing pile of the living dead, which quickly dispersed through the blackness, some eating spiders and the others being eaten by spiders. It was quite the beautiful display of the circle of life, but Remus wasn't thinking about that as much as he was thinking about how awesomely disgusting it was.

"MORE! Characters!"

"Mom! Fitness trainer! Mark from Rent! Moana!" Remy read off folder titles.

"All of them! To be CONSUMED BY THE ZOMBIE RATS!!!" He dumped the folders into the swarm of arachnid and gorey fur. Remy began to squint and avert his eyes. No matter how drunk, there was only so much he could take. "Last part! Setting!"

"We've got... woods behind our old elementary school, the underworld from the first Percy Jackson movie, and the church basement!"

"When presented with some form of hell, hell it is!" Remus grabbed the underworld folder and opened it to surround them with sweet sweet fire and the wails of the damned.

"Okay! Let's go!" He grabbed Remy's shoulder. He rewound the terror and hit play from the beginning before pulling Remy out the door. He slammed it behind them. Remy, who was just coming to, winced.

"You know you could have made the whole thing while it was paused?"

"What's the fun in that?"

Remy huffed. "Well, we're done. You can finally get out of my room.

"Do you really WANT me to though...?" Remus wiggled his eyebrows and nudged Remy with his elbow.

"Yeah. I REALLY want you to."

Remus gasped in offense. "Fine. Be that way. I had fun."

Remy rolled his eyes. "Well once I got drunk you weren't as bad. Take that as you will."

"I'll internalize that as a confession of your deep sexual attraction to me."

"Please don't."

"Too late!"

Remy grabbed Remus's shoulder and spun him towards the door.

"Just get out."

Remus snorted and made his way to the door. He stopped and turned back. "You might want to get your door fixed by the way. I don't want to alarm you," He put his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered. "But I think some idiot broke it."

Remy gestured for him to shoo. "Yeah. I'll look into it."

Remus grinned. He looked down at his acrylics for nearly the first time. They were wobbly and awful and sharp, like twisted daggers. Not what the sketchbook recommended, but better than Roman could have come up with anyway. He looked back up at Remy.

"Great. Bye name twin!"

"Good riddance."

11 notes · View notes