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sazc94 · 3 years

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The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts.

Part 2 Here

Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+

Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 5659 its Suburban AU.

Winter 2018

You sat on the window seat, head resting on the cool glass a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. Winter in New York was something else, the way everything sparkled in the blanket of snow. This wasn’t your first December in the “Big Apple” but it was your first after moving here. Like the walking cliché you were you had moved here for a Fresh Start, after being offered a once in a lifetime opportunity of working for Tony Stark. You hadn’t planned on taking the job working as head of advertising for Stark Industries. The idea of moving from your small town in Michigan away from your family, everyone you knew and loved, and most importantly away from your best friend and your on-again-off-again boyfriend Bucky seemed ludicrous. You knew James or Bucky as he was to those who knew and loved him would never leave Michigan not if it meant leaving her.

James and you had been friends since, well as since long as you could remember. You had lived on the same street, gone to the same schools, played in the streets on your bikes when you were 8, played in the local park between the ages of 10 and 12. When you both hit 13 everyone assumed you would both either stop being friends or would fall romantically in love. Neither of those happened at least not right away. You two carried on hanging around each-others houses, playing video games and watching movies. Bucky had always been fiercely protective over you, his blue eyes narrowing at anyone who dared to pick on you when you were younger. His eyes would light up when you walked into the room, he loved Friday nights saved just for the pair of you to watch cheesy horror films, lounge around his sofa and stuff your faces with popcorn.

2008

Everything changed when you were 15, you and Bucky had always been inseparable, when no one asked you to combined Prom in your Freshman year, Bucky had surprised you. Showing up at your house dressed in a suit and tie with a white rose corsage, his long brown hair slicked back. You walked downstairs in your ballet slipper pink chiffon dress, your locks twisted into an intricate bun, this was the first time you’d worn heels and you nearly missed the bottom step when you saw Bucky in his Grey Suit stood in your living room. Bucky had tried out for the football team and obviously to no ones’ surprise had become the Star QB. As a result of that Bucky’s grey suit stretched across his muscular frame. Once you’d saved yourself from falling face-first down the last stair you walked over to Bucky grinning like a fool. “Bucky, what, what are you doing here? I thought you were going with Sam and Pietro and the rest of the football team” you said. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl flying solo at our first prom now, could I?” Bucky grinned down to you. “Besides the rest of the guys were meeting dates at the dance, so I told them I’d meet them there with you” you felt yourself blush at Bucky’s term of endearment. You and Bucky posed for photos for your Mum and Dad, your Dad trusted Bucky like his own son so there was no awkward father stare down there, you even had your curfew extended to 2 am.

The prom itself was magical, Bucky introduced you to his teammates and their dates. Sam was there with a cheerleader, Jane Foster she was friends with the cool alternative girl Wanda Maximoff who was Pietro’s twin sister they were Sophomores but made you feel welcome at their table. Complimenting your hair and shoes. Pulling you onto the dancefloor to dance with them and the rest of the cheerleaders and co to the pumped-up pop songs that blasted out. The way the gym had been transformed was nothing short of breath-taking, led fairy lights strung up in waves from the ceiling, silver stars hanging against the velvet blue backdrops made you believe you were spending the night under the stars. When the music changed to a slow song -Tim McGraw by an up-and-coming artist Taylor Swift. The Group of girls surrounding you soon dissipated to slow dance with their respective others. You started to make your way back to the table you’d been sat at, happy to finally take a breather when you felt someone tug on your wrist. You turned around fully prepared to slap whatever creep had felt it suitable to touch someone they didn’t know but your face softened to find the familiar blue-eyed, muscular brunette smirking at you. “Miss Y/N” may I have this dance?”, he asked. “Why certainly, MR James Buchanan Barnes” you replied chuckling to yourself. Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the use of his full name before pulling you tight towards him. He wrapped your arms around his neck before wrapping his around your waist. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, you and Bucky had never been this intimate, sure still hugged and had kissed each other on the cheek when you were like 5, but this felt different. The way Bucky enveloped you, the scent of his aftershave mixed with his mum’s washing powder he smelt like cherry blossom mixed with sandalwood. You rested your head on Bucky’s chest, closing your eyes deciding to take this all in. A small smile tugged on your lips as you felt Bucky stroke your hips. You didn’t know it, but he looked at you with such love and adoration and his heart squeezed watching you rest your head on his chest the smile on your pale pink lips. Bucky moved his right hand from your waist and brought it to your cheek, slightly stroking it before lifting your face to look him in the eyes. His eyes shone with affection; his eyes so blue like the ocean you felt like you were drowning in them. Then his lips were on yours crashing against your slightly chapped lips, you cursed yourself for not wearing Chapstick like the cheerleaders and Wanda did. However, as the kiss deepened, and you felt Bucky’s left-hand grip on you together and you melted into the kiss everything else faded away. Bucky drew back and looked at you. Your smile dazzling him as your eyes shone back at him. Neither of you said a word as he pulled you back to his chest whilst the DJ played another slow song.

2009 - 2010

Bucky and you dated from the end of your Freshman year right up until the summer before your senior year. Bucky and you had been inseparable for most of your High School life, he even convinced you to try out for the cheerleading squad in your Junior year, usually you sat on the Side-lines with Wanda and Carol Danvers, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a cheerleader it's just you were comfortable being “Bucky’s Girl” the one everyone knew without being in the spotlight, however after Wanda and Carol egged you on saying that you had the moves you went for it. You surprisingly made the squad. You couldn’t wait to tell Bucky, warmth spreading through your cheeks at the thought of how he’d be so proud. You decided to keep it quiet until you had your uniform. Jane and the girls had also promised to keep their mouths shut until you’d had the chance to surprise him. So, when homecoming rolled around, and you got your uniform for the first time you went along to the locker rooms where the football team would be heading off to change before the big pep rally. You stood against the wall one foot pressed against it, your knee bent whilst you waited. You heard Sam and Pietro before you saw them. They turned the corner roughhousing one another playfully. “Looking good Y/N” Sam shouted as he clocked you in your brand-new uniform. “looks like Bucky’s personal cheerleader now cheers for us all,” he said walking over to you and enveloping you in a hug. You giggled and at that moment Bucky Turned the corner with Peter Parker a freshman. He couldn’t see your uniform from the way that Sam’s body was covering yours, but he saw your face and started running down the hallway to you. As Sam and Pietro headed inside, he finally got to see the big reveal, he stopped in his tracks for a second. His eyes taking in every inch of your body, the skirt shorter than anything you owned, the top hugging your curves. He ran over to you picking you up and spinning you in the air as you squealed. “I knew you could do it Doll,” he said as he peppered kisses over your head, cheek, and lips. You blushed at his praise. Your Junior year with Bucky was a blur, between the football games, classes, parties’ dates with Bucky you felt like time was rushing past. You Even won Prom King and Queen at your Junior Prom. To no one’s surprise. However, that summer everything changed.

Summer 2010

You were on holiday with your family, visiting your grandparents in Miami. Every year you for as long as you could remember you and your family would spend the last 3 weeks of summer break at your grandparents. You had begged Bucky to come with you as he had in the past, however, due to football camp, he had been unable to swing it. “Hey, I’m sorry doll, it’s just coach said if I didn’t go he wouldn’t consider me for team captain,” he said hugging you from behind as you sat on your porch steps, his chin resting on your head. He had sworn to you that you would text every day and would skype at least once a week for the three weeks you were there. However, after the first week, Bucky’s texts had become less and less frequent. He’d only Skyped you once and you’d get texts from Various friends asking where you were as you weren’t at the latest party. On the final night of your holiday, as you walked along the beach by yourself taking in the last of the holiday feel your phone rang, you looked down it, confused when the caller Id said, Jane. “Hey, babe. Look I’m not sure how to say this” but uh we’re at a small party at Wanda and Pietro’s there’s about 15 of us, including this friend of mine Nat and uhm well, Bucky’s pretty wasted and well after I noticed I hadn’t seen him for a while I went looking for him”. Jane’s voice sounded stressed. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears tried to escape, not liking where this was going. “And uh, oh god I’m really sorry girl, but I, I kind of walked in on them fucking” Jane blurted it out, going for the band-aid approach as if saying it quicker would make it the cut sting any less. You didn’t say anything, you just stood there staring out the black ocean, the warm sand between your toes, feeling your heartbreak. You couldn’t believe it. Your sweet protective Bucky who had beaten up Miles Morales in 8th Grade for standing you up for an arcade date and breaking your heart. “I, I, I got to go my flights early tomorrow. My, my family will be wondering where I am” you stumbled over your words trying to get off the phone as quick as possible not wanting anyone to hear you cry.

Senior year was one of the most painful years, Bucky had met you at your house the day you got back, sitting on the wooden steps to your porch. He looked like he had barely slept, much like you. You were an only child, but your older cousin who was transferring to Michigan State University for his second year had come home with you. He took a look at Bucky and then back at you, you nodded telling him it was fine and that you had this. He walked inside but not before muttering punk under his breath. Bucky winced, he looked at you his blue eyes that once shone with nothing but love and adoration for you, now looked blank, empty, and almost unrecognisable. His brown hair which he had cut in his Sophomore year looked a mess. He started towards you, but you held your arm out.

“Don’t,” you said. He looked crestfallen and his heart shattered as you struggled to hold yourself together. “Doll, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please, look at me, ill make it up to you, it will never happen again” he pleaded with you, his ocean blue eyes stared at your red brimmed eyes, cheeks puffy and streaked from all the crying over the last 16 hours. “Just don’t” You warned him. “Look, baby, it was a mistake, it meant nothing to me” he continued to plead despite your warning reaching out for your hand. His words hit you like a knife, you two hadn’t slept together yet and here he was claiming this meant nothing. You wrenched your hand free from him his touch burning you with his betrayal. “It meant nothing. It meant nothing!?! If it meant nothing you wouldn’t have slept with this Natasha James” you whispered. Bucky flinched at the use of his real name. Oh, how you wanted to shout, thrash scream at him and tell him you would forgive him, but you couldn’t. You had looked up the girls Instagram that night when you laid in bed crying and you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her the gorgeous read head with curves in all the right places. You started to walk towards your house. Unable to keep the tears back and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, Bucky called out for you, pleading with you. “I thought you loved me James, but it clearly meant something to you, or else you wouldn’t have thrown away two years of dating and 12 years of dating for sex with someone that wasn’t me, we were meant to be each other’s firsts, but you decided you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet so you went and fucked this chick you’ve known for what 5 minutes?” you cried out in anger, Bucky flinched again as if you’d slapped him. “Actually, I met her last year at one of our away game parties” he mumbled, his feet kicking the dirt around his feet. “I think you should leave” you whispered, choking back a sob before you ran into your house slamming the door behind you.

You and Bucky barely spoke that entire final year of school, you had been voted cheer Captain at the end of the summer semester, much to Jane’s approval, and you loved being a cheerleader, so you threw yourself into that as well as the school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. You cheered at the games putting on your show face and hyping up the crowds. You wowed in the role of Audrey in the show, avoided parties with the football team and buckled down focusing on your exams and audition for the performing arts programme at the University of Michigan. After Bucky had realised, he was never going to get you to forgive him he had ended up dating Natasha. The news hit you like a sucker punch to begin with but after meeting up with Wanda, Carol, and Jane during the spring break you made your peace with it. You even smiled at Bucky in the hallways when you saw each other. By the time Graduation rolled around you had healed.

November 2011

You ended up getting into the University of Michigan on a partial scholarship thanks to your cheerleading and you were enjoying the performing arts programme, the performing arts programme at the Uni had really blown up after the whole viral “A Very Potter Musical” back in 2009 and you were thrilled to be there. You had settled right in making friends with a young lad from your course Loki Laufeyson right away. He was attractive in an unconventional way, with long black hair, a tall skinny frame but he still had muscles. You two had been cast opposite each other in Romeo and Juliet during your first year and had become good friends. You even ran into Pietro frequently he had gotten a football scholarship and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you on the sidelines one November game. Pietro didn’t really “do” social media and hadn’t paid any attention to Wanda as you had told her, after Bucky’s betrayal you hadn’t spoken much with Sam or Pietro, after all, they were his friends and were now Uni students. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you after the game, ruffling your hair like you were 5 again. You couldn’t help but wince at the old pet name, everyone in the group had called you it, Sam, Wanda, Carol even Jane but you hadn’t been Bucky’s girl for a year, well longer if you take into consideration the fact he’d been chatting with Natasha on and off for the entire year before they slept together. “It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled. “How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro had always been a cocky confident guy, his silver-blonde hair covering his ice blue eyes, he had always been a hit with the ladies, but he seemed that bit more attractive, slightly leaner, still confident but not arrogant. You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled. “I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room.

True to his charm and word, Pietro called you the next day offering to be your personal guide and show you all the hidden beauty spots of the campus. You accepted; even though you had been here for two months already. You walked around the campus and had a great time, you felt yourself really relaxing and laughing at his corny jokes and the way he wiggled his silver eyebrows at you whenever he made a bad joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed, and you meant really laughed, the kind of clutched over struggling to get air into your lung’s laughter that the Silver-haired, blue-eyed cutie gave you. By the time Pietro had finished his tour the sun was beginning to dip, he walked you back to your dorm ever the gentleman. However, this time when your hands brushed against each other he grabbed your hand and spun you around. His hand was cool and smooth, a stark difference to Bucky’s warm calloused hands. The pair of you walked back hand in hand in comfortable silence. When you got to your dorm you leant against your door, your eyes meeting Pietro’s ice blue eyes, the almost sparkled. Pietro positioned himself so that he had one hand above your head, the other to your side trapping you between the door and himself. He leant down and kissed you. It was soft and delicate, his cool lips sucking the air out of your lungs. He pulled away winking at you before he sauntered off to join his teammates at some frat party.

That was the beginning of a three-year relationship with Pietro, you two had been on multiple dates, some official, some were just bumping into each other at the same party and then spending the rest of the evening together all through November and early December of your first year. He even came to support you at your Cheerleading competitions. Neither of you had put a label on it, but he had changed his home screen to a picture of the pair of you, it was one captured by Peter Parker, funnily enough, he was visiting the Uni with his photography club and captured the moment Pietro had picked you up after the Wolverines won their 6th game. He spun you around before dropping you down and kissing your forehead. Pietro didn’t know that you had seen his home screen. However as you were both travelling home for the Holidays you had agreed to travel together, Pietro had offered to drive but you had refused. Telling him that it would be easier for you to drive as you would be running lines late and therefore you could swing by his apartment on the way out of town. It was only a short drive to Dearborn but with the extra holiday traffic, you estimated it would take at least an hour to get to your parents. You connected your iPod to the car via AUX and pulled up your playlist you had made for the drive. You avoided all Christmas songs, and you were sick of them they played everywhere you went. Instead, you opted for Taylor Swift, damn she had blown up since 2008.

After about 30 minutes of driving as you hit the peak of the holiday traffic, you leant over to turn down the volume of your music. Comfortable with the pace of the traffic, you turned your head to Pietro. “So,” you began. “What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone. “Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re obviously going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said, you could feel yourself blush, there was something about Pietro, he made you feel like a high school sophomore all over again. “So you were wondering what we are?” the amusement in Pietro’s voice didn’t escape your notice, you could feel yourself getting embarrassed. Of course, he was a college Sophomore, you two had never had the exclusive talk, how could you be so silly. You stared straight ahead focusing on the slow-moving traffic. Oh god, you wanted to die. Pietro noticed the change in your demeanour and instantly felt bad, he grabbed your right hand from the steering wheel. “Hey Bunny, look at me,” he said softly, you turned your head to face him. “We are exclusive, we are a couple, I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself.

Almost everyone had made it back for the Holidays, excluding a few people, Bucky, Carol, and Jane, they all had their reasons, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that Carol and Jane had been unable to make it back. Wanda was elated for you and Pietro, to your surprise she threatened Pietro and not you. Christmas break came and went all too quickly. Pietro even brought you a small gift even though he didn’t celebrate Christmas, what with being Jewish. He was also very touched at your gift a small, framed copy of the photo of his lock screen, only in black and white except for the ribbon in your hair, the number on his Jersey matching his number painted on your cheek. The next year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top of your studies, your rehearsals for the play, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe.

2012

The summer between your 1st year and 2nd year was a small respite, Pietro had decided to stay in his apartment for the summer, he had a summer job and you decided to stick around after trying out for a local theatres summer production of Grease, unsurprisingly you had been cast as Patty Simcox a cheerleader. “How ironic, my little cheerleader playing a cheerleader” Pietro joked. You just rolled your eyes at him, that night Pietro stayed in your dorm, you were going to have to move out for the summer, your roommate for the year had decided she was going to move into her Sorority House next year and was going home for the summer. You and Pietro were cuddled up on the sofa watching Grease, you had your legs over Pietro and the arm of the sofa. To your surprise, Pietro had confessed he’d never seen it and had asked you to watch it with him so he could see who you would be playing. You let out a sigh. “What’s up bunny?” he asked not taking his eyes of the movie, he was rubbing small circles on your legs. “Student housing emailed me today, they said since Sophie is moving out and going home for the summer. I can’t stay in my dorm this summer. I’m trying to figure out where to go as the apartment I want to rent isn’t available until August” you said, blowing your hair out of your face. “Move in with me for the summer,” Pietro said without skipping a beat. “We’re not going to be around much in the daytime, you’ve spent a lot of nights at mine recently and it’s just for the summer, theirs a spare bedroom where you can store your stuff, and Wanda will be visiting in 3 weeks, it’s no big deal,” he said as he continued rubbing circles on your legs. You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. “Okay,” you said nervously biting your lip. “Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said again this time sounding surer of yourself. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD. You and Pietro had been dating for most of the school year, and he had been nothing but a gentleman never pressuring you for more than you were comfortable with, he knew Bucky had hurt you and you still hadn’t had sex yet as a result of it. You stood up a peeled of your jumper, Pietro cocked his head with his cute, puzzled expression. You didn’t say anything, instead, you removed your athletic shorts leaving you in nothing but one of Pietro’s football jerseys and your panties. You walked to your bedroom. Pietro didn’t move. After a few moments of waiting for him to follow you walked to your door frame and coughed, Pietro looked at you. “Well, are you coming or not handsome?” you asked leaning against your frame, so his jersey rid up slightly exposing the skin of your stomach. Pietro chucked his phone on the sofa before throwing you over his shoulder. That night you and Pietro had sex for the first time.

December 2012

Summer came and went in a blur of a heatwave, and lots of sex. You moved into your apartment off-campus, you spent a lot of time hanging out with Loki between classes, throwing ideas back and forth for an original piece you had to work on for the spring showcase. Pietro and you would always ride to games together, with Pietro being in his third year, the team bus rides were no longer compulsory and as the college couldn’t afford for the squad to have a bus you had to make your own way to the away games anyway. You and Pietro had driven home for Winter break, your family had decided to head to Boston this year, that way your cousin could see his family, however as you and Pietro had a game two days after New Years it didn’t make sense for you to fly out for such a short period off time. This was your first Christmas in years where you wouldn’t be seeing your family, or even celebrating really. However, Wanda and her Mum had insisted Pietro bring you home with him for the winter break. So that was how you found yourself sat in Pietro and Wanda’s basement drinking beer and hanging out with the old gang along with some new faces. Carol had brought home her girlfriend Valkyrie, Jane and Sam were there, even Peter Parker who was now a senior was there he’d even brought his girlfriend Gwen with him. Wanda had brought home her Boyfriend James or Vision as he was affectionately known. Wanda was studying Fashion in NYC; Vision was studying IT and was a whiz with technology. You were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa with Pietro, he was playing some game with Sam and Peter and you were scrolling through your IG feed. Taylor Swift’s latest Album Red playing through the speakers. Pietro had groaned but with Sam being a secret Swifty he was quickly outvoted. You kissed Pietro’s cheek getting up to grab another bottle of beer each. You were technically underage for another few months, but Wanda’s mum had said if you were going to drink whilst you were here, she’d rather you did it under her roof in a safe controlled manner.

You heard him before you saw him. Being the gracious guest you are, you had noticed the beer was low in the fridge, so you were restocking it when you heard Bucky’s familiar laugh. You may have made peace with what Bucky had done but other than a quick congratulations and farewell at Graduation you hadn’t spoken since that summer back in 2010.

Bucky walked over to the fridge, you had changed your hair colour since you’d last seen him at Graduation in 2011, your usual hair was now a chocolate brown, you had your head in the fridge still when he coughed. “Hi I’m Bucky,” he said. You took a deep breath, grabbed three bottles of beer and pulled your head out of the fridge, turning around to face him. “I’m well aware who you are, Bucky,” you said handing him a beer. Bucky’s eyes widened as his ocean blue eyes reached yours. “Hey Buck,” you said softly. “Y/N. I didn’t recognise you” he grinned, moving to hug you. You let it happen, standing stiffly in his arms. “Yeah it's been a minute, how’s school, and Natasha, I heard you got into UDM?” you asked shooting him a smile before twisting the lid of your bottle. “Yeah, I did. Schools great kicking my ass a bit and Natasha and I broke up actually” he said avoiding eye contact with you. You and Bucky made polite conversation for a few minutes Pietro finished up his game with Sam and Peter, noticed you hadn’t returned so made his way over to you and Bucky. “Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you. “Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed. “Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro. “Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa.

December 2012 – August 2014

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. By the time, your third year rolled around you and Pietro settled into a routine between school, studying, games and rehearsals you would steal kisses in the hallways, meet one another at classes with hot drinks, coffee for Pietro not that he needed a boost of energy and usually a hot chocolate for you. After football games, Pietro would drive you back to his apartment. If it were a rare free evening, you’d curl up with a movie at yours. Hanging onto the small moments of peace. You both knew Pietro was going to be moving to New York after he graduated. He’d been studying business and was going to start a fashion company with Wanda. You also both knew that long-distance wasn’t going to work, you’d been majoring in performing arts, but you had also been taking extra courses to help with a career in advertising as a backup. Saying your goodbyes to one another sucked ass. You and Pietro had left your annual Miami holiday a week early to spend a week in Florida visiting the Theme Parks, Wanda and Vision were also going to meet you there. Neither of you had grown up exceptionally wealthy, but Wanda and Pietro’s dad Max Eisenhardt had reached out to them a few years back and had insisted on paying for the four of you to have a group vacation. He had tried to convince Wanda and Pietro to book a holiday in Germany where he was living but they had refused. Pietro had already packed up his apartment and moved most of it back to his family home whilst you finished up school for the year. He had been staying with you for the summer before joining you on your vacation so when you headed to the airport it was time to say your goodbyes. “Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried.

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave because I have promised to write a sad Steve one as a way to punnish myself

Part 2

#bucky x reader #pietro x reader #avengers au #marvel #marvel au #avengers fanfiction #𝐦𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬𝟐𝐤 #bucky barnes fluff #pietro maximoff fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #pietro maximoff fanfiction #natasha x bucky

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kaibacorpintern · 3 years

Text

the wound

word count: ~2500

summary: kaiba has some pointed thoughts about yuugi’s recent cooking injury. platonic rivalshipping. post-DSOD

a/n: a woman has too many unfinished one-shots in her google drive so i’m making time to finish them instead of overthinking them (and never finishing them.) yes this is about cooking and yuugi and kaiba and depression. yes i have already written about this. whatever man. enjoy.

++++

Same time as usual. Two in the afternoon, on Saturdays. Same place as usual. The picnic table under the massive oak in the park, two blocks away from the Kame Game Shop and twenty minutes by subway from the station under the Kaiba Corp tower. Seto took the subway mostly out of scientific interest, taking a professional curiosity in the world Atem had wanted to live in, and because Atem had told him to enjoy it. What had he seen here, in the faded orange seats and bright pastel advertisements and the quiet scattering of human-not-Puzzle bodies? What had he felt, as the subway swayed around the curve in the tunnel, unseen in the darkness and known only by its momentum, making everyone sway with it? Hands curled around handrails and books. Fingers on phones. The train burst into daylight. The side of that girl’s head against the glass, watching Domino slide by with an equally glassy look in her eyes. Two layers between her and the city. Missing someone? Or just bored of life?

He slunk off the subway, unnoticed and unknown, in an immaculate white hoodie and aviators, stainless steel water bottle dangling from one hand. Yuugi was waiting for him at the park entrance, as usual, wearing some kind of fashionable belted dark purple romper, with the usual tote bag full of games hanging from one hand. On the other hand, something unusual: his fingers stuck out from a half-formed mitten of gauze, giving his slender hand a clumsy, snub-nosed silhouette. He was having trouble holding his iced tea, thumb and fingers alligator-clamped around the lid. Someone had drawn a pair of flowers in pink marker across the back of the mitten, a bumper sticker of cheerful admonition: 🌺 BE CAREFUL! 🌺 Not Yuugi’s handwriting.

“Hey,” Yuugi said. “How’re you doing? You sleeping better?”

Seto pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, over his bangs, crown-like.

“On and off,” he said, which was true. His nights were now vast, tossing oceans of insomnia between shores of just good-enough sleep. Last night he’d simply given up trying to swim and instead, for the first time in years, read a book for amusement instead of education. Some sci-fi novel Yuugi had mentioned and Seto bought on a lark from the bookstore in the subway station. Most of his amusement came from correcting the bad science in the margins, until he woke up at dawn with his glasses bent and his bed linens blotted like calico cats with black ink. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Yuugi said, lifting his mitten-hand. “So, I was making a ceviche yesterday…”

He told the story as they walked through the park to the oak tree: the protagonist was a ripe avocado, its tough, disingenuous alligator hide concealing a soft, buttery-green flesh. The arc of the conflict: avocado against knife, a natural antagonist. The climax: the knife, ignorant of its own bluntness and made arrogant by the shine of its own steel, slid off its trajectory like a failing rocket and plunged at speed through plant skin and plant flesh straight into human skin and human flesh. The resolution: two identical cuts, a half-opened avocado and a half-opened hand. Man versus fruit.

"There was so much blood Otogi almost fainted," Yuugi said, thumping the tote bag onto the wooden table and straddling the bench sideways. "So we went to the ER and they stitched me up, and then when we got back home I finished making the ceviche. What game? You pick."

"Hive," Seto said. He couldn’t stop looking at his bandaged hand. It drew his attention like a glitch on a screen, an inescapable aberration. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, it hurts, but whatever, you know?” Yuugi said, digging into his tote bag for the drawstring bag of wooden tokens. He spilled them onto the table in a clattering cascade of wood against wood. They rapidly sorted them out. “It’s not my first cooking accident.”

Seto raised his eyebrows. It was a testament to the amount of time they’d been spending together lately - every Saturday afternoon for a handful of hours, until he made some excuse to leave, and Yuugi accepted it not because he was gullible but because he knew Seto had a battery and it ran low - that he didn’t even need to ask a question, and Yuugi simply provided an answer, with examples.

“So, here, I was frying onion rings for Jounouchi, and I splattered hot oil all over my arm,” Yuugi said, lifting his hand and pointing out a haphazard constellation of white scars over his forearm. “Then here - I was baking cookies for Shizuka’s birthday and touched the tray fresh out of the oven with my bare hand, like a moron, I dueled Jounouchi after and drawing my cards was like, ow - ” he waggled his fingertips - “and this one is another burn - ” a long white ink-stroke across his wrist - “from when I was making ramen for Anzu, ‘cause she was home from New York. And this one - ”

More interesting than how and what were who. This burn for Honda’s birthday barbecue, that cut for Otogi’s game night. A violent kiss between blade and fingers behind a frothy veil of soapy water, cleaning up after a movie night. Another spray of oil splatters, frying tempura for his mother. A lot of meals for her, his grandfather, Jounouchi. Every scar Yuugi showed him had a name attached, almost all of them below the elbows, as though collected there for easy reference. Seto frowned as Yuugi's fingers flew over this map of friendships and family, their routes landmarked by midnight breakfasts, lazy brunches, beautifully-wrapped bento boxes. Something about it tasted sour to him, his tongue held tight and bitten between his teeth. All of his own scars had only one name.

“You probably think I’m a klutz,” Yuugi said, with a sheepish smile, sliding one of the wooden tokens into place around their hive.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Seto said briskly. “I’m not some dumpster for all your insecurities. You think you’re a klutz. You have no idea what I think.”

“I - ” Yuugi started, and huffed, with another smile, his chosen defense against causing offense. “Sorry, force of habit - ”

“Forget it. You don’t ever cook for yourself?”

“Duh. Of course I do. And I eat what I make with everyone else. It’s not like I make a pizza for all my friends and just sit there watching them while they eat it,” Yuugi said. “But I like cooking for people. I love... nourishing them. Knowing they’re not going to go to bed hungry or anything, and I can make something for them that makes them feel good.”

Seto tapped a wooden token on the table, under the guise of thinking about the game but really thinking about the kind of friends Yuugi made, and how he made them. Jounouchi. Honda. Atem. Himself.

“Did you ever cook for Atem?” he said, because he couldn’t help it, and braced against the soft look that came his way, with a default smile, a pre-emptive look, I'm fine. this didn’t hurt me smile.

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. “I did.”

Like what? Did he like it? Did he help cook or did he just watch? Just the two of you or with everyone else? Tell me. What did you nourish him with? What do you think he’s eating now? I ate pomegranates when I was there. Bread and honey and figs and garlic and beer. Nothing I ate makes me spend six months with the living and six months with the dead so instead I trade off day and night. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, mid-afternoon, and I can hear my own name clattering through me as Mokuba calls me back. Seto kept all these comments to himself. There was only so greedy he could get with Yuugi’s grief; only so much he could share of his own.

He slid his wooden token into place around the honeycomb of pieces. Yuugi swiftly countered. Seto lapsed back into thought.

Yuugi took a quiet slurp of his iced tea, gave it a shake, rattling the ice until it settled, and took another, watching ducks paddle into the reeds at the edge of the pond and paddle out, a portrait of calm patience. It had taken him some time to get comfortable with Seto’s long silences. In concession, Seto made the effort to shorten them.

It was the kind of day where stepping into the shade made a difference. The air was darker and cooler under the trees and the flowering bushes that lined the park paths, while the rest of the earth baked in a cloudless dry heat. Seto made his move and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows.

“How about I cook for you sometime?” Yuugi said brightly, nudging another wooden token against the others with a single fingertip.

Seto scowled, not at the suggestion but at the way his thoughts splintered apart, like two halves of a wooden log split by an axe. He had no doubt Yuugi would pull out the stops for him, slave and sweat for hours over some seventeen-course feast of modern art finger foods. Or maybe something cozy that made him feel like he was just nineteen instead of nineteen and exhausted. Whatever it was, Yuugi would put in the effort. But.

“No,” he said, and made sure to clarify this refusal before the clouds finished gathering over Yuugi’s face in a dejected overcast grey: “I don’t need one of your scars named after me.”

“I - what?” Yuugi said, flashing him an uneven, sideways smile, and Seto felt a flicker of irritation. Atem would’ve understood immediately. But, in fairness to Yuugi, he was being a little obtuse.

“You have a way of suffering for your friends,” he explained. “And I think part of you likes it.”

Yuugi straightened up in his seat, suddenly electric.

“What the hell? It’s just cooking,” he said, with a stormy flash of lightning in his violet eyes. “You’re reading into this way too much. I cook because it’s fun and artistic and I like feeding people, not because I like… self-flagellating or something. Seriously, you can’t just spout off - ”

“You misunderstand me,” Seto countered. “There’s no reason to… hurt yourself on my behalf. If you want to eat together, I’d rather go to that kitschy little ice cream place down the block and get a fucking waffle cone. I don’t want you unable to duel because you burned your hand trying to pan-fry a steak for me.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, brows furrowing together… and scoffed, a surprisingly affectionate sound. He rolled his eyes around the park, his gaze swinging across the sunlit grass, and looked back at Seto.

“Okay. First of all, I've mastered the art of the pan-fried steak, and you should try it,” he said. “Second of all, what makes you think you’re not someone worth suffering for?”

Seto snorted, masking his inwards flinch. Mokuba already suffered enough, thank you. And for what? A ghost of a brother. A black hole, a perpetual collapsing. Things went in and they crossed the event horizon and the pressure squeezed them for eternity without ever letting them reach the center and nothing ever came back out, as much as it wanted to. The scientific term for such distortion of effort, stretched to an immeasurable length without breaking, was spaghettification. Even a black hole needs to eat!

He slid one of his tokens back and forth with his fingertip, short, scraping jerks of wood against wood, thinking.

“Direct attack on my life points,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you also got me pretty good,” Yuugi chuffed. “Let’s call it even. But relax. It’s just cooking. I love the process, and I love the result, and I love doing stuff for my friends. It’s not some big… metaphorical… symbol of something. This - " he lifted his mittened hand - "doesn't mean anything except I mishandled a knife. It’s not like… you and Duel Disks.”

But Seto also loved the process and the result and more than once he'd injured himself, machining parts or fiddling with wires that, like all wild living things, bit back in fear of his touch. He splayed his hand over the table, watching blood drip onto his work station, knowing he should get up, clean it, bandage it. But it was only two in the morning and there was work to do.

“The Duel Disk is a symbol of Kaiba Corp’s future,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. "I know what you've done for your friends. I’ve seen it. Doesn't that merit the same... mythology?"

Yuugi gave him a funny look, half skeptical, half knowing.

"That’s nice of you, thank you," he said, and an uncomfortable blush crawled up Seto’s neck. Sometimes he did understand. “Are you sure you don't want me to cook for you?”

Seto opened his mouth, closed it, folded his arms on the table. He felt like he was trying to explain the feeling of the color blue, or the arguments for why numbers do or don’t exist, or what it was like to dream. Well, you see, the last time I saw Atem, he told me - correction: the last time as in the most recent link in a chain of time, not the last time as in the end of the line, because he also told me we’d see each other again - he told me to enjoy this, and you know me, I never do what I’m told. And I can’t do what he told me to do because he was my friend, and if friendship is just getting caught in a great sticky web of small cuts and large cuts and burns and bruises and tears and suffering because they’re here and suffering because they’re not, then just go ahead and let the spider drink me up and dump what’s left of me in the dirt. I am so sick and tired of pain. Mine. Yours. Ours.

But he did enjoy these afternoons. He was enjoying the process of making this: he had more with Yuugi now than he ever had before. He reached across the table and took Yuugi’s bandaged hand between his own hands, running his thumb carefully over the inked warning. Yuugi's hand relaxed in his. Yes, Yuugi was wrong. It was the same as Duel Disks. In any act of creation there was pain, there was power, and there was glory. What difference was there between a hologram of a dragon and a steaming bowl of soup? Both nourished something. Both were an answer to hunger. Discovering an emptiness and filling it.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Yuugi’s hand. “Alright. Cook for me.”

“Yeah?!” Yuugi said, with rising excitement, beaming. “What should I make? What do you like?”

“Make me a steak,” Seto said, smiling. It felt good to see Yuugi smile. His hypothesis neatly undermined. See? It’s not all damage. “No. Surprise me.”

#fanfiction #intern memo #rivalshipping #a lite snack... once i've written up a few more i'll cross post to AO3 #okay good Night i am. wiped the fuck out

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noladyme · 4 years

Text

xo - Red (A Clark Kent/Superman oneshot)

Just a really funny; warm; kind; built like an Olympic athlete, with perfect lips friend? Tag-list: @wolf-lover-bookdragon @wonderlandfandomkingdom

TW: Fluff. So much fluff. Explosions.

Fifth date. Things were supposed to happen, right? I mean, at least a kiss; other than a peck on the cheek. But he was a friggin’ gentleman; which I couldn’t help but be a little annoyed about; as it made it very difficult to get to the fun part of our relationship. Not that we didn’t have fun, mind you. Clark had an uncanny way of turning my frown upside down.

Ever since I’d run in to him – literally – at that coffeeshop a few months ago. I had left home early, so I wouldn’t be late for my first day at my new job, at the elementary school. I’d been so nervous about it; I hadn’t been able to fall asleep until 3 am; and was now battling exhaustion, nerves, and the fact that my new red shoes were really uncomfortable – all at the same time. I’d ordered a large black coffee; extra strong; and was on my way out the door – the sun in my eyes – when I tripped on the steps; my drink splashing out of the cup.

Suddenly; two strong hands were grabbing my shoulders; and pulling me up to stand. “Are you ok?”, a warm voice said. I looked up, and found two friendly blue eyes looking me over. “Yes, thank you”, I smiled; before noticing the large brown stain on the man’s white shirt. “Oh, crap. I am so sorry!”. He looked down himself; and smiled. “It’s fine. White isn’t my color anyway”. I laughed. “Still, I’m so sorry. Didn’t I burn you?”. The coffee had been scolding; I knew. He smirked. “I’m thick skinned”, he insisted.

He was still holding on to me; and I felt a warmth spreading in my stomach; making me short of breath. “Miss?”. His eyes suddenly looked worried. “Are you sure you’re ok?”. I smiled. “Yes, absolutely. It’s just been… a morning”. He chuckled. “Can I buy you a new cup of coffee?” I simultaneously nodded and shook my head. “Yes… no… I mean, I should buy you one; as an apology”.

He removed his hands from my shoulders; leaving me to stand on my own. “No need for an apology”, he smiled. “But I’ll take the coffee”.

We’d spent 10 minutes sipping at our hot drinks – for which he’d insisted to pay – and talking about what we did for work, and what our favorite movies were; having noticed an advertisement for some superhero movie on a passing bus. Apparently Clark wasn’t a fan of superheroes; but found it hilarious that I loved The Wizard of Oz – being from Kansas himself. Then; Clark had asked for my number, and I’d given it to him. He shook my hand, and we’d said goodbye.

The next afternoon; he’d called me, and we’d gone to see a movie – one about aliens instead of superheroes. He’d still been frowning all the way through it. “It was just really… unrealistic”, he said afterwards over a beer at a local bar near my apartment. He walked me home, declining my offer to come up for coffee; and had given me a short hug, before saying goodbye.

The next time has been a trip to an apple picking farm. “You can take the boy out of Kansas…”, I’d chuckled, as he’d carried a bushel of Granny Smith’s back to his car. “I just really like pie”, he’d smiled. He’d driven me home; and on the way there, told me about his moms pies; and how it was his favorite thing in the world – next to sweet potato fries. When he dropped me off; he leaned in, and kissed my cheek. “Goodnight”, he’d whispered; and I’d bit my lip – and hoped for more. More didn’t happen.

Then there was the quick cup of coffee on both our lunchbreaks; where I’d told him about how I’d sprained my ankle on roller-skates – 3 times in the same amount of years. He’d snorted a laugh. “Well you are kind of clumsy”, he’d said, and removed a strand of hair from my face; putting it behind my ear – before running off for a sudden work emergency.

And lastly; the roller-skating rink. Because I insisted. And he said he couldn’t say no to me. That night, he’d held my hand as we went about the floor; and grabbed my waist several times, as I was about to fall. “Careful, slick”, he’d said. “Oh, is that my nickname now?”, I’d chuckled. “No. I think I’ll call you Red. From those godawful shoes you were wearing when I met you”. It was another kiss on the cheek; and a hug that lingered, and made my knees weak. And then just… goodnight.

So yes. I was just about desperate to kiss the man. He was gorgeous; which at times had made me feel insufficient and a bit self-conscious – but then there was the way he looked at me. His eyes would light up as I talked; as if I was the most fascinating person he’d ever met. Even when our conversation was about cereal, or how one of the kids at my school had put bead up his nose. It was like his eyes drew me in; and then – as my breath would hitch, and I’d part my lips – he’d pull back as if nothing had happened.

I couldn’t help but ask myself; does he just want to be my friend? My really funny; warm; kind; built like an Olympic athlete, with perfect lips friend? I’d decided that I needed clarity on where we were going with our relationship – even if that thought did make me feel like I was living in a sad rom-com, where everyone was always talking about their feelings.

Tonight, it was dinner. Nothing fancy, just a steakhouse I’d suggested. If Clark turned out to just be in it for the apple picking and coffee; then at least I could drown my sorrows in a medium rare steak, with enough bearnaise-sauce to drown a small elephant.

—

Putting on my favorite jeans, black pumps, and a snug top; I waited for the call to let me know Clark was by the door on the street. He’d never been inside my apartment; and didn’t seem very interested in it either. This isn’t real, I told myself to guard my feelings against the inevitable rejection I’d have to face that evening. We’ll eat, laugh; and he’ll walk me home – and then tell me that he’s got a wife and three kids in Smallville, waiting for him to come home for game-night.

A text message made my phone light up. Hey Red. I’m late. So sorry. Be there as soon as possible. – C

Great. That gave me even more time to just hang out… and be anxious.

No worries, Kansas. See you. xo – R Send… Crap, why did I write xo? What am I; a teenager?

I sat down on my couch. Deciding I needed to pass the time doing something other than stare at the wall; I turned on the television. Landing on the news; I dropped the remote.

In Stockholm, Sweden, the building of a new sky-scraper in an old neighborhood; had made a nearby building begin to crack in the foundation. The old residential was quickly giving in; and families were being evacuated from their homes. There were firetrucks spraying water at the structure, to avoid flames from any electrical fires.

Though it was a terrible situation for those families; I was confused as to why one building falling apart half way around the world, was a breaking news story here. That was until I saw a figure at the bottom of the screen; seemingly supporting the weight of the building on his shoulders. Oh, right! That guy! The Superdude…, I chuckled to myself; and went to see if Clark had texted me back yet.

Nothing. It was probably the xo-thing. He didn’t know how to reply to that.

The news story ended when cameras filmed Superman handing a shaking and wet puppy to a little girl; who kissed his cheek in thanks. I always found it kind of neat, that the flying caped man managed to know where every camera was; so that anyone watching would find it difficult to make out his features. From what I could see; he was sort of cute. If Clark doesn’t work out; I could always throw myself of a building; and have that guy catch me. It must be lonely in that fortress of solitude; maybe he’d like some company.

A text. Outside in 5. Can’t wait to see you. xo – C

xo. He’d written xo. Right. Big girl pants on, and go talk to him.

—

Outside the door of my building stood Clark; a smile the size of the sun plastered across his face. My heart jumped. He opened his arms; and took me in for a hug.

“Hi, Red”, he breathed. “I’m so sorry I’m late. It was a work emergency”. “It’s fine”, I said and looked up at him; and opened my mouth to say something more – until I noticed something strange.

“Clark?”, I said. He was still holding on to me. “Yeah?”. “This is going to sound weird, but… why do you smell like wet dog?”.

He pulled back. “Yeah… I was doing a story at an animal shelter”, he said. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Let’s go!”, he said, and took my hand.

It was a beautiful night; so we decided to skip the cab, and walk the few miles to the restaurant. We walked down the street, hand in hand. It wasn’t the first time we’d held hands; but then it was because he was trying to keep me from falling. This was different. It wasn’t strange; but warm… familiar. I swallowed hard. “I want to talk to you about something, Kansas”, I said. He looked down. “You don’t want to do that at the restaurant?”, he said with a strained voice. “No, I think I need to do it now”, I answered. He nodded. “Ok. Do you want to sit down?”, he asked; and gestured at a bench on a playground we were passing.

Once seated; I let go of Clarks hand. “What’s up, Red?”, he asked earnestly. “You seem… tense”. He laughed nervously. I smiled. “I like you, Clark. A lot”, I said. “I like you too. A lot”, he smiled. I matched his nervous laughter. “It’s just… lately, I’ve been thinking. About us… and what we are”. He looked down. “Yeah, I figured we’d get to this at some point”. I nodded. “We have fun”, I said. “Like friends. But I don’t know if we both feel like this is more than that. Friendship, I mean”. He sighed. “Right. No, I get it”, he said. “You’re new in the city, and shouldn’t be settling down with anyone serious”.

I looked at him confusedly. “I’m not sure I follow”, I smiled. He took my hand. “You’re an amazing woman, Red”, he said “And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. But maybe you’re right, and this is a good time to call it quits. If that’s what you want”. My heart fell into my stomach. “Is that what you want?”, I asked timidly. “I want you to be happy”, he said, smiling sadly. “With or without me in your life. I’d just hoped I’d have a few more dates before you came to your senses about me”.

I frowned. “Clark… you need to be clear with me here”, I said. “Are you breaking it off with me?”. He looked at me with a frown on his face. “I thought you were breaking up with me…”, he said. “You suggested that restaurant; and I thought you wanted to be in public when you did it”. I laughed. “No. I just… really like steak”, I smiled.

He exhaled with relief. “Good. Because I was lying. I really don’t want you to be happy without me…”, he said. “I mean… crap… I want you to be happy; I’d just really like to be a part of it. If you’ll have me”. I bit my lip and nodded. “I’d like that”, I said. “I thought you saw me as a friend because… you haven’t…”. I couldn’t finish the sentence. He took my hand, and tried to meet my gaze. “What? Tell me”, he said. I took a deep breath. “You haven’t kissed me”, I said; meeting his eyes for a second; before looking down in embarrassment.

He put his hand under my chin, and raised it to finally meet my eyes for real. “Red, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment you spilled scorching hot coffee on my least favorite shirt”, he smiled. “I was just waiting for the right time, and…”. He exhaled and took my other hand; playing with my fingers.

“My life is… complicated. The work I do; sometimes it’s dangerous”, he said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “You write fluff pieces for The Daily Planet”, I chuckled. “That too…”, he muttered and looked down.

I smiled; wanting to ease the tension. “You know, I was watching a news story while I was waiting for you”, I said. He looked up at me with questioning eyes. “Yeah?”. I chuckled. “It was about that Superman guy. He was helping some people; in Sweden I think”, I said. “I was telling myself; that if you didn’t want to see me anymore; I could always just… throw myself of a building, and he’d rescue me. Then I could hook up with him”. He laughed nervously. “What? Like a rebound?”. “More like a… third choice. If you didn’t work out”. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Only third?”, he said. I scoffed. “Have you seen Aquaman? I mean, come on!”, I grinned.

His lips tightened, and he stifled a laughter. “So… if Superman is third… and… Aquaman…”, he raised an eyebrow at me, “… is second. What does that make me?”. I sighed. “The guy I’ve been waiting months to kiss”.

He looked deep into my eyes; and my breath hitched. He put his hand on my cheek; and he leaned in close to me, stroking my temple with his thumb I brushed my nose against his; and closed my eyes, letting my lips part.

Suddenly; he pulled back. “Clark?”, I asked. His eyes were scanning the area; before they met mine again – alarmed. “Red, go home.” “What’s wrong?”, I said. “Did I say something?”.

He stood up and began backing away; his eyes again searching his surroundings. “Listen, go straight home. Don’t stop for anything. I’ll… I’ll call you when I can”. He ran around a corner, and was gone. I heard a strange woosh, and a stray cat ran from the alley he’d gone in to.

I felt suddenly cold. This was the weirdest date I’d ever had; and it hadn’t even really started. Then there was the fact that the guy I was falling head over heels for, finally said he care about me too – and then just… left. That’s it, I laughed to myself. I’m finding a really high building to jump off.

I began walking home. Slowly. I didn’t want Clark to have the pleasure of getting me to do what he wanted me to. Jerk. Not a jerk. Crap; I really like him. More than like. This is real.

I heard a crash, and then a screech; like metal being torn apart. I felt a warm gust of wind, forceful enough to make me stumble. I looked up. Was that seriously a bus flying through the air?

Another crash; this one even closer. I fell to the ground; and was scrambling to get up, when I saw a minivan sliding on its roof towards me. I got on my feet, and bean running out of the way; when something red and blue slammed into the minivan; making it alter its course. Was that?…

I ran towards my block. Red, go home. I’m going; but where are you Clark? Are you ok?

I kept running; fishing my phone out of my pocket, and dialing Clarks number. It kept ringing, but went to voicemail. Hey. This is Clark Kent. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you… beep. Come on, Clark. I need to know you’re ok!

I redialed. Suddenly I heard a phone ringing near me. I looked into a bush; and saw… Clarks jacket? His phone was ringing in his pocket. 2 missed calls from Red – heart emoji. Damn it, Kansas. If I wasn’t so pissed at you; I might think this was really sweet. Where are you?

Screeching… a car landed on the ground 10 feet from me; the force of it throwing me to the ground again. I got up slowly; rattled from the shock.

I began running again; getting closer to my block.

Suddenly; a tank truck was blocking my path; crashing into a bus-shed. My heart was in my throat, and my chest hurt from having run so fast. I tried turning around, but a bus had crashed into an RV, blocking my path in both directions. I was trapped.

I looked up. The sky was covered in smoke from the many burning vehicles around me. The sound of a large crash made me look towards the truck. Something made the vehicle fall onto its side, and slide towards me with such speed that the shock of it made me fall.

I looked back – there was nowhere to run. In three seconds, I would be smashed between the truck and the bus.

Three… Oh God…

Two… Clark, where are you?

One.

A gush of wind; and I flew in to the air. No… I didn’t fly; I was lifted. My feet were dangling in the air; and one of my shoes fell of, landing on the ground hundreds of feet below me. Someone was holding on to me; his strong arms around my waist; and my chest pressed to his – which was adorned with a red S on a yellow background. What?

I let out a terrified whimper. “It’s ok. I’ve got you”, a warm voice said. I looked up into my saviors face. “Clark?”, I gasped. “Hi”, he said with a crooked smile. I opened my mouth to say something. “Don’t speak…”, he said. “The air is kind of thin up here”.

I looked down; and realizing how far up in the air we were, I panicked. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let out a weak squeal. “It’s ok, Red”, he chuckled. “I won’t let you fall”.

He set me down on the top of a building a few miles from the explosions. Once on stable ground, he held on to me for a second; making sure my legs would carry me. I stepped backwards, holding my hand up in front of me. “Y-you…”, I stuttered. He looked at me apologetically. “I know. I should have told you. It’s just… complicated”. He tried to smile.

I stumbled; and fell to my bottom. He took a tentative step forward. “I know. I get it. You’re scared”, he said. I shook my head. “No… it’s… you!”, I said.

He reached his hand out to me. “Please, let me help you up”. I gave him my hand; and he gently raised me to my feet. “Are you ok?”, he smiled. I simultaneously shook my head and nodded. “Yes?”. It was almost a question. He sniggered.

Suddenly I began laughing – the ridiculousness of the situation too comical. “I was supposed to fall off a building; not land on it”, I chuckled. He began laughing with me. “Yeah, I must have gotten those two mixed up”, he said. “It’s like I’ve said; I can’t say no to you”.

I sighed, and gently laid a hand on the S on his chest. “So… what now?”, I asked. He smiled. “I really want to continue what we started on that bench”. I chuckled and bit my lip. “Ok”.

He slid his arms around me – his tall and broad frame almost enveloping me – and I melted into his arms. His face came close to mine; and the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes; where his striking blue ones, boring deep into me.

He tensed up; and when I opened my eyes again, he was frowning, and turning his head, as if listening.

“I’m so sorry, Red; but I have to finish this”, he said. Another gush of wind; and he was gone. “Seriously?!”, I yelled after him.

—

I made my way down the skyscraper Clark had left me on; where I was met by the sirens of police cars, and people pointing at the sky. I was out of danger – I knew – but no less rattled. I was wearing a pump on one foot, and limping barefoot on the other; until I simply gave up; and took off the shoe – throwing it in a trashcan.

I walked all the way home; confused and dizzy. On my block, people were standing in the streets, murmuring to each other; and looking at the fires in the distance. It was as if there was line drawn through the city. On one side; havoc, and crashed cars – on the other, where I was… nothing. It was as if nothing had been touched.

One of my neighbors tried to stop me in the doorway; noticing the shell-shocked look on my face, and my bare feet. “Were you in that? Are you ok”, he asked. I shook my head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing”, I smiled.

I stumbled into my apartment; threw my jacket on the floor, and grabbed a beer from the fridge – plopping down on the couch.

Well… that was something…

Without anything else to do, I took a large swig of my beer; and turned on the television.

“… explosions in downtown Metropolis this evening; as terrorists connected to the incarcerated Lex Luthor, placed explosives on multiple vehicles, throughout the city…”

Footage of explosions, and scenes of police cars and firetrucks racing down the streets.

“… no casualties, due to the quick intervention of the group calling themselves The Justice League…”

A man who looked like Robocop, pointed at the camera, and the screen blurred. There was a flash of red; and just after it, footage of a group of men captured by a shiny lasso, held by a woman dressed like a Greek goddess. A burning building was drowned in water; and a smirking longhaired man – still hot… – was yelling booyah’s at it.

“… headed by the Batman; and Metropolis’ own Superman…”

I saw the Gotham Knight shaking hands with…

It was Clark. It was always him.

There was a knock at my door. When I opened it Clark stood outside. Not red and blue Superman – just my Clark; dressed in jeans; a plaid flannel; and wearing his glasses.

“Hi”, he said. “Hi”, I answered. “I brought you something”. He pulled out my black pump; the one I had dropped from the air. I chuckled. “Great, now I just need the other one”. He pulled out the other one as well. “It might smell a little. It was laying in a trashcan”. I took the shoes from his hands, and half smiled at him. “I have something of yours as well”, I said, and gave him back his phone, from my jacket on the floor. “Thanks”, he said. “The suit doesn’t really have pockets”.

He clenched his jaw. “Can I come in?”, he asked. I stepped aside, and he walked into my combined kitchen/living room. “You have a nice place”, he smiled. “Thanks”, I said quietly; as I closed the door behind him. His large frame seemed to fill the entire space. “Do you want a beer?”, I asked. He looked at me warmly. “Yeah, sure”. I handed him a cold one. “You can sit down”, I said. “Unless… you pulled a muscle flying me through the sky”.

He chuckled at me, and sat down on my couch. “No, I’m fine”, he smiled. I raised a brow; and sat down on the couch with him – leaving some space between us. “Right; you can lift buildings and stuff like that”, I muttered.

He exhaled, and took a swig of his beer. “Yeah… about that”, he began. “I was going to tell you”. “Why?”, I muttered. “It seems like something pretty big. I get why you’d want to keep it private. Have a… secret identity”.

He frowned. “I wanted to tell you, because I care about you. And I want you to be a part of my life… all of it”. I met his eyes. “Really”. I bit my lip. “You… care”, I said. He reached for my hand; and I let him take it. Our fingers linked into each other. “You’re funny; smart; passionate”, he said. “And you’re beautiful”.

I scrunched up my face in embarrassment. “Ok, now I’m uncomfortable”. “Why?, he said, and stroked my cheek; moving closer to me on the couch. I sighed. “Because you’re… you. The Superdude. You can see every flaw…”. “There isn’t a flaw on your body”, he smiled. I scoffed at him. “I’m serious! Every little thing… the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you’re concentrating… how your one hand is a little bit smaller than the other… that beauty-mark on your back…”. “How did you know about that?”, I interrupted. He smiled embarrassedly. “That loose fitting top you wore on our last date. The dark blue one”, he muttered. “I love all of it”. I half-smiled. “There’s actually two of them… the beauty-marks”, I said. “I didn’t want you to think I was creepy for looking”, he smirked.

“You love it?”, I mumbled. He swallowed. “Yeah, Red”, he said. “I mean… I’ve fallen hard for you”. I giggled nervously. “So, this is real…”, I muttered. “I want it to be”, he smiled. “Do you?”. I nodded, and looked at him through my lashes. “Yeah, I do”, I said.

He let out a relieved sigh, and chuckled “Good… Are you sure?”, he smirked. “I could introduce you to Arthur”. I frowned. “Arthur?”, I sneered. “In that case, never mind!”.

We laughed together; before Clarks face became apprehensive. “And…”, he couldn’t form the words. “Your other side?”, I said. He shook his head. “It’s not my other side. It’s me. It’s who I am”.

I squeezed his hand gently, and placed it on my knee. “I fell for you, without knowing everything you were”, I said. “What I know now… just makes you… better”. His eyes lit up. “Really?”, he half-whispered. “Yeah”, I smirked. “Besides; I kind of like how the suit makes your butt look”.

He raised his brows at me and laughed – putting his free hand to my cheek, and stroking my temple. “Oh!”, he said. “Well… yours isn’t half bad either”. I frowned. “Did you x-ray my pants?”, I asked; narrowing my eyes at him. He tightened his lips. “Not yet… do you want me to? I mean… I’m up for it”, he smiled, and moved his other hand up my thigh.

I chuckled; and put my hand on his cheek; pulling him closer. “Let’s do the kissing part first – we can get to what’s in my pants later”, I smirked. “Unless, of course, you have another superhero emergency you need to tend to".

He closed his eyes and listened; then opened them again. “Nah, we’re good”, he smiled; and his lips met mine.

He tasted like apple pie and sunshine.

—

#superman #superman x reader #clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman oneshot #clark kent oneshot

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sansugar · 4 years

Text

An ultimate secret

Pairing: Wooyoung x Female Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough sex..?, fingering, maybe something else I’m forgetting

--Finally sharing one of my first writings. This is potentially a 3 part series, let me know if you want to read more. Hope you enjoy!--

The train pulled to a halt and your suitcase knocked against your knees, startling you out of an upright doze where your head had been falling forward and jerking back for 45 minutes. A voice over announced the next station and you realised you were already in Seoul. After signing up for a 3 month, intensive course right in the middle of the city, you were excited to be given a second chance at your getting dream job, especially since the end of high school hadn’t worked out because you had been terribly sick. Luckily for you, your brother Seonghwa lived in a dorm just twenty minutes from your new school. With your small savings pot from years of working late nights at the convenience store and not having to pay rent, you would be able to focus all of your time on your studies. Or so you thought.

Exiting the confined tunnels of the station you emerged onto the street, squinting over the blurred, buzzing crowd. Though you recognised the faint smell of tobacco and deep fried chicken, and the clopping of heels across the pavement, you had to take a moment to get your bearings. As you hesitated in the middle of the path, a man leaning casually against a tree caught your eye. He reminded you of a cardboard cut out, slender with hard features, dark hair hanging across one eye. His navy blazer hung open, revealing a band t-shirt underneath, jeans and a belt buckle that caught the sun. You barely recognised your own brother.

“Seonghwa?!”

His face softened with a genuine smile as he strode towards you, arms out. He smelt expensive, like a brand name you’d seen on a billboard, but his enveloping hug was the same as it always had been, like he could wrap his arms around you twice.

“Was your train delayed? I thought maybe I’d missed you.”

“No I don’t think so” you replied, distracted by the of rainbow of advertisements flapping in the street above every shop.

You let him pull your backpack off your shoulders and take the handle of your suitcase before leading you out of the crowds.

“Are you hungry?”

You hadn’t realised until that moment that you had been starving.

“Yes please let’s get something good” you whined, pulling on his arm.

He chuckled, taking you down a maze of side streets to a tiny, hidden restaurant.

The food was delicious and you couldn’t stop yourself from ordering way more than you could eat, especially because you knew Seonghwa would pay. You talked with him more than you had in years. He told you all about his experiences as part of a rookie idol group and you told him all about life back home with your parents. You were lucky that he had just finished album promotions and had some time off to spend with you between training sessions.

When you arrived at the dorms you were quickly introduced to the other members of ATEEZ in a whirl of handshakes and tentative hugs before Seonghwa ushered you to his room to get you unpacked. It had all gone so fast that your mind began to replay Yunho’s warm touch, Mingi’s toothy grin, Wooyoungs constant chatter and San’s smouldering stare. Somewhere in the pit of your stomach you felt excited. How were you going to get any studying done with that around you 24/7?

You placed your suitcase on the bed and began to rummage around in your disorganised mess of clothes when you heard a knock at the doorframe. It was Hongjoong.

“Y/N. Do you mind if I quickly grab something? I left my charger in here” He pointed past you to the bedside table.

“Not at all, go for it”

He knelt down to pull his charger plug out of the wall when it clicked in your head that this was his room.

“Did Seonghwa kick you out of your room? Am I stealing your bed?”

Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s yours for the next three months. I’m happy to bunk with Yunho and Yeosang. A girl needs her privacy. Well, you will be in here with Seonghwa but…you’ll be comfortable”

He smiled at you as he swung his hands around his sides, unsure what to do with them.

“Hongjoong, haven’t you got somewhere to be?” Seonghwa said, appearing at your side.

He gave him a look that you couldn’t quite see and Hongjoong slipped out of the room without a word.

Seonghwa pulled a handful of clothes from your suitcase and began to fold them carefully. You crawled up onto the bed and sat with your back against the wall. The room was small and mostly bare but cosy. Seonghwa’s immaculately made bed was opposite yours and you were reminded of when you had shared a room with him when you were younger. You closed your eyes, feeling content in your new home. But that relaxation was short lived.

“Have you studied today?” Seonghwa asked, brow furrowed as he tried to match your socks.

“No? Classes haven’t started yet”

“But surely you have some work to do? To get a head start?”

“I guess…”

“Y/N. I hope you’re taking this seriously. You’re not always going to have a second chance”

You scowled at your brother, starting to remember why you had celebrated when he decided to become an idol and moved out in the first place.

A few weeks later, classes had started and you had settled into life at the dorm. Like you, the boys were in and out constantly but once a week you all had dinner together, and soon enough you were just a regular member of the team. You played mobile games with Wooyoung, watched dramas with Mingi and had regular arm wrestles with Jongho who was sometimes kind enough to let you win. Yunho would ask you about what you were learning while San tried to teach you to do pull ups and Yeosang would send you song recommendations every other day. Seonghwa had been overbearing and wary at first of the boys stealing too much of your attention but over time he relaxed, appreciative that there were 7 other people looking out for you.

It was a Sunday evening and you were sitting on your bed after a few hours of actual studying to watch a movie on your laptop, the room shadowed as the sun set behind the other buildings. You were snuggled in your blanket, completely engrossed when Seonghwa thumped into the room, flicked on the blinding light and yanked your headphones off your head.

“Hey!”

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you studying?” He scolded.

“I have been studying! Get off my back.”

This had been such a regular argument over the past few weeks, you felt like your responses were scripted. But today, he seemed to have had enough.

“You seem to think you can just get through life with a pretty face and no work Y/N but it doesn’t work that way. I won’t let you laze around here and waste our parents money on a course you don’t even seem to care about”

“What are you talking about? I already studied today. I’ve done all my homework”

Seonghwa grabbed your laptop out of your lap and closed it forcefully.

“This look likes you’re working really hard. Really practising well” he chided.

You glared at him.

“Look Seonghwa, I don’t know what your problem is…”

“My problem? I’m just trying to look out for you. You sit around here all day, wasting time on your phone, watching TV. This isn’t a holiday Y/N. Anyone would think you don’t even want to be successful and employed. If you’re not careful, you’re going to fail this course just like you failed high-school.”

You threw your blanket off your knees, stood up and shoved him. A painful lump rose in your throat, which you held in place, determined not to let him see you cry.

“I had pneumonia you asshole. You were there. How dare you stand there all high and mighty when you did absolutely fuck all with your high-school degree. I’m so sick of you pretending like you’re better than me when all you do is prance around in tight pants on stage.”

His face was like stone as he stood motionless in front of you.

“I know the real you Park Seonghwa and I can see straight through this facade you put up for your fans. You and your fake superiority can get fucked”

You stormed out and slammed the front door behind you with one goal in your mind. You had to get away from him. The lump in your throat became suffocating and tears peeked at the corners of your eyes. Your face felt hot but the hairs on your arms prickled and in that moment you wished you had had enough sense to grab your phone or a jacket on the way out. You walked aimlessly down the road, staring up at the dusty sky, willing your tears to suck back in so the passersby with their dogs would stop looking at you. You replayed his words in your head and saw his constant disapproving face, wondering what had happened to that soft and kind brother that had taken you for lunch those weeks ago. Your brother had always been a bit criticising, but never this cruel. You felt the sudden urge to hurt him, the need to see his face in shock, for once unable to predict you. But how? He had always been the stronger one, the smarter one, always two steps ahead.

You found yourself outside the dance practise building the boys often visited after hours. The lights were still on so you let yourself in, shivering and rubbing your arms. You wandered down the hallway, looking in each of the little square windows when you noticed a familiar brunette in a practise room by himself, music blaring. You slipped past the door and sat on the couch to watch Wooyoung dance, still oblivious to your presence. You had never seen him like this before; wearing a tank top and grey sweatpants, leg muscles straining against the fabric. You watched wide eyed as the bass of the music surged through your chest, playing your heart like a drum, captivated by his lunges that shook the floorboards, the intricate patterns he drew with his body and facial expressions that made you feel all kinds of things in your lower half. He almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed you.

“Fuck Y/N!” He said, running to pause the music on his phone. “You scared me half to death”

“I’m sorry. I just saw you dancing and I…” you trailed off, acutely aware of how flustered and tearful you must still look, trying to hide your face with your hair.

The smile on his face fell as he approached you.

“What happened? Are you ok?” He dipped his head to look into your eyes, softly touching your shoulders, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Was it Seonghwa again? I swear to god if he’s been on at you again I’ll…” he paused and reconsidered. “I mean I probably won’t do anything…but I will if you want me to”

“I really don’t want to talk about it”

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He smelt like sweat and deodorant which you inhaled deeply, leaning into his embrace.

“Do you want to get some food?” He asked, stroking your hair.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“What do you want to do?”

A momentary idea popped into your head. “Could you teach me to dance?”

Wooyoung pulled away far enough to look at your face, a hint of concern and uncertainty in his eyes.

“To dance?”

“It would take my mind off things…teach me the part you were practising”

He laughed nervously but when he saw you were serious, he nodded. You followed him to the middle of the dance floor and he stood just in front of you, legs in a wide stance.

“Okay, so first you go like this…”

Wooyoung showed you sequence and then broke it down into steps. You were shaky at first, but with his help you started to get it, dancing the choreography almost to speed once he turned the music on. You quickly forgot the fight, laughing whenever you got it wrong and Wooyoung playfully yelled at you for not listening to him.

“You’re not low enough. Squat lower! Yes like that. Now thrust your hips. More. Make it bigger. You’re still not doing it right!”

Wooyoung ran over to pause the music and you sighed loudly.

“The hip thrusts are embarrassing” you whined, fanning your hot skin with your hands.

“They are not. Confidence is sexy. You are sexy. Now come on, your form isn’t right”

You caught your breath as he came behind you and ran his fingertips lightly down your sides before settling them on your hips. You felt your body stiffen and skin prickle in anticipation, desperate for him to either slide his hands lower or to put a metre of distance between you.

He did neither, instead putting pressure on the juncture of your thighs to make you squat lower and lean slightly right, his chest flush against your back, sweaty shirt pressing against you. You could feel his hair tickling your neck as his hands slid down your arms to grab your hands and raise them above your head. It took everything you had to stop your thighs from shaking, body completely new to such a low squat position. You didn’t dare move as he analysed you in the mirror, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Just like that” he said dryly as his hands came back to rest on your waist, dark eyes fixed on yours, unconsciously licking his bottom lip

You looked away, at anything other than his intense stare. Were you reading this right? Or did all dancers guide each other with such alluring invasion of personal space? His body shifted and you felt the light press of his bulge against your ass, shattering any notions that this was a normal dance lesson. His breath fanned your shoulder and you thought you should move away, pull his hands off of you, tell him off, anything to remove yourself from the precipice of turning your relationship into something else.

But your hips took a mind of their own and you felt yourself gently grind back against him, drawing an involuntary groan from deep in his throat. You craned your neck to look at him over your shoulder, frozen in the painful squat your mind paid no more attention to. Time stood still as his gaze flicked to your parted lips and you slightly inclined your head in a permissive nod. Before you realised you had moved, he had flipped you around and pressed you hard up against the mirror, licking into your mouth and hands roaming over every inch of your clothed chest. His hips bucked against yours and you reached down to the outside of his sweatpants to palm him, drawing a another long groan from him against your lips.

“Please don’t stop” he panted, planting breathy kisses along your jaw to your collarbone, pausing to inhale your scent and pulling down your t-shirt collar to grant him further access to your skin.

“Can I…” he started to ask, but his hands were way ahead of him, travelling up your shirt, kneading your breasts through the fabric of your bra, forehead pressed into the crux of your neck.

You fingers played on the edge of his pants as you briefly questioned yourself again before diving down to take hold of his hot length, earning a simultaneous groan from both of you. You held tightly but didn’t move, causing him to shamelessly buck up into your hand, his touch abandoning your chest in search of your core, which at this point was embarrassingly wet.

You knew there would be no going back the moment his hand slid down the front of your panties. His middle finger swiped up your slit, flooding warmth into you and you instinctively clenched your walls to feel some friction.

“Holy shit” he breathed, mostly to himself as he inched two fingers deep inside you to curl against your spot, causing you to shudder helplessly beneath him. You were insatiable, weeks of pent up curiosity, fantasises and late night masturbation in the shower caused by living in a house of 7 gorgeous men. It was wrong, it was forbidden and you were intent on riding it straight to hell.

“Please fuck me Wooyoung” you whimpered to the ceiling, shaking at the intensity of which he fingered you, tongue pressing into your neck, drinking you in.

He growled into your skin and captured your lips again with both hands holding your face, the fingers which he had just had inside of you rubbing your own juices on your cheek. You suppressed a laugh at his eagerness and pulled his sweatpants down to his thighs as he pulled your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra and burying his head between your breasts, sucking and grabbing at your flesh.

“Fuck I want you so bad” he said, muffled into your nipple, pulling it between his teeth.

In the space of a breath, he hoisted your leg onto his hip, bunched your skirt up around your waist, pulled your panties to the side and entered you in one swift motion that had you both gasping out.

Time stopped again as he bottomed out, pausing with his forehead pushed against yours, inhaling deeply, fingers digging into your thigh. Your walls were screaming with the sudden stretch and you suppressed a painful sound when he tentatively pulled all the way out and pressed back in. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep yourself upright and balanced on your one standing leg. He tested a few more erratic thrusts and the pain began to mix with pleasure and an overwhelming desire to be pounded into the mirror but Wooyoung paused his movements.

“I don’t know if I can control myself” he mumbled with shuddering breaths, hair hanging in his eyes.

“Then don’t”

He snaked his arm around the small of your back and jerked your hips closer to his, your head leaning on back the mirror like a rag doll in his hold. He drew his cock back again and you felt every ridge of him before he thrust up into you, setting a bruising pace that made you gasp for air.

“Fuck, I’ve imagined this so many times” he kissed below your ear, bouncing your body with every thrust and your hands fell back flat onto the mirror to hold on for dear life. “You walking around the dorm in your cute sundresses like you don’t know what you do to me.”

Pleasure started to rise from your core to your stomach and you wrapped your leg tighter around his hips, chasing the promise of your release. You leaned back in to capture his lips in a kiss, deeper than you had all night. He held you in that kiss until the pleasure became too much and you had to pull away, sucking in a desperate breath.

“God you’re so fucking perfect. Tell me-ugh…tell me how good it feels”

You moan as the pressure builds, pleasure sparking in multiple directions, but the pain of your wobbly standing leg starts to pull you away. As if reading your mind, Wooyoung pulls out and turns you to face the mirror, spreading your legs with his feet and pulling your hips back onto his cock. You cry out as he reaches deep inside you, igniting a fire as your walls clamp down on him and your hand automatically drops to rub your clit.

“I’m not going to last” he says, inhaling your hair. “Are you close?”

You moan again as if that is a response and rub your clit faster, knowing your release was within reach, just over that figurative hill, if he could just…

“There, a-ah fuck Y/N, I’m there. God-fucking-yesyesyes”

Wooyoung stands on his toes, boosting the angle of his cock to rub directly on your back wall and pound erratically into your spot. Like the crack of a whip, you inhale suddenly, almost choking on air as he hurtles you towards your orgasm, cock twitching as he cums deep inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop” you pleaded, reaching back to hold the back of his thighs in case he dared to pull away from you or reduce his blinding pace.

Your torso was almost completely horizontal now, back arching, thrusting yourself back onto his cock, his cum dripping down your thighs. Your release hit you like a series of waves breaking, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream as your walls convulsed erratically, spreading a wet warmth throughout your core. Wooyoung continued to pound you, fingers coming down to press on your own, rubbing harder into your clit.

Riding you down from heaven, stars and colours swirling behind your eyes, Wooyoung began to slow. Your knees gave way and you threw your hands out in front of you to stop yourself hitting the wooden floor too hard. Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your stomach and dropped to his knees with you in an attempt to keep his softening cock buried inside of you. His chest heaved against your back but you were both quiet, letting the sound of the squeaky fan and creaks of the building fill the silence.

“Fuck, Y/N I should have asked if I could come in you”

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill”

“Even so” he mumbled, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades and slowly removing himself from you.

You remained awkwardly on your hands and knees, panting at the floor as your senses returned and the reality of what you had done clicked from blurry to sharp in your mind. Wooyoung handed you a towel and you wiped the cum from your thighs, gazing in disbelief up at your smudged handprints on the mirror. Wooyoung was speaking, possibly to you, but you couldn’t focus on his words, caught in a state of ecstasy that wasn’t just post orgasm bliss. As you both got dressed, he tried to catch your gaze, but you barely noticed him, focused on the incredible feeling rising in your chest.

“Hey-where are you going?”

You were halfway out the door when you turned to look at him and forced a smile.

“I have to go back”

You left Wooyoung dumbfounded behind you, revelling in the complete elation of having just done something that would make Seonghwa burst a blood vessel if he knew. You emerged into the night air again, cold wind soothing your red, sweaty face. You felt bulletproof, like there was nothing more Seonghwa could hold over you. Not when you had such an ultimate secret over him.

You heard low voices when you reached the dorm and opened the door to find Hongjoong and Seonghwa sitting at the table, several empty bottles of Soju between them. Something about the way your brother looked at you, eyes glazed over and swaying slightly, told you that the drinking had been one sided.

“There you…I was so…worry” Seonghwa mumbled, standing up to give you a hug though he ended up almost pushing you over and Hongjoong had to step in and hold him up.

“It’s ok, I’m fine” you said, patting him on the back and mouthing a thank you to Hongjoong, who shrugged a smile. You looked up at your brothers’ flushed and puffy face and in this moment you pitied him, a pang of guilt stabbing you somewhere in the gut.

“I wish I…I shouldn’t have-“ he started but you cut him off.

“Let’s get you to bed”

It was a short but slow stumble from the kitchen to your shared room.

“I’m such a screw up” Seonghwa whined, head lolling backwards before you and Hongjoong dropped him on his bed.

“Go to sleep now” you said, smiling to yourself at your brothers complete inability to hold his liquor.

“You’re my sister and I…always…” he trailed off, squeezing your hand, eyes fluttering shut. Hongjoong turned off the light, leaving you sitting on top of Seonghwas quilt in the dark room, listening to his breathing as he started to drift off. You bit your bottom lip, wondering if maybe you had gone too far with Wooyoung tonight.

But your guilt was fleeting as the next morning, a hungover and humiliated Seonghwa berated you over breakfast for leaving the house without your phone.

“What the hell is wrong with you Y/N? What if something had happened to you? It just baffles me how you can be so damn stupid sometimes”

You sat at the table, staring ahead and calmly eating your cereal as he brought up more reasons and memories where you had been what he considered irresponsible. But you didn’t take the bait this time. You felt above that now, addicted to the power of what Seonghwa didn’t know, of how Wooyoung had melted at your touch, and how mere centimetres from your brothers disapproving face, you plotted your next pursuit.

#ateez smut #wooyoung smut

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fieldsofplay · 3 years

Text

Favorite Albums of 2020

25. Dehd – Flower of Devotion

Rather than look back on the shit year that was 2020, lets keep our eye on the hope of the horizon. Speaking of which, Dehd herald much of what’s to come on this here list. While as previously mentioned a shit year for most everything besides presidential politics, 2020 proved to be a great year for good old fashioned guitar music. Could I be accused of curling up with my version of musical comfort food? Perhaps. But starting off with Dehd, we have a type of band that used to be everywhere and now seems to be almost nowhere. Jangly lo-fi guitars, perky drums, and straightforward unadorned singing. About five years ago you couldn’t throw a rock in Brooklyn without hitting a band like this, but now that that fad is long gone. I’m glad that Chicago’s Dehd are still carrying the torch.

24. Perfume Genius – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately

I’ve always liked Perfume Genius, but for whatever reason Set My Heart on Fire Immediately is the album that took him out of the realm of casual background musical encounter to something I sought out. Chamber pop has never really been my thing (except for those couple summers where Grizzly Bear was totally my jam), but here the torch songs catch fire by the compressed force of Michael Hadreas’ longing. This record also pulls off the impressive feat of each song gradually morphing just a bit from what proceeds it, so that the whole record sounds similar and yet each song carves out its own little generic niche, the whole thing united by the quivering power of that pleading voice.

23. 2nd Grade – Hit to Hit

If you ever found yourself wondering what Guided by Voices would sound like if they wanted to be Big Star instead of punk rock Kinks, we now have the answer, and it’s Phily’s 2nd Grade. In the noble tradition of Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes, Hit to Hit’s 24 tracks breeze by in a mere 41 minutes and 8 seconds. An earworm sunny melody, a quick guitar hook, a second verse (maybe), and poof, each song is gone before you could ever miss it. You would think variation would be difficult working within such tight musical corners, but while each song clearly shares common DNA, there is actually a lot of variance here, from weepy country ditties (“Bye Bye Texas”) to overdriven stompers (“Baby’s First Word”) though they all tend to orbit the same (big) star.

22. Tame Impala – The Slow Rush

I’ll be the first to admit that The Slow Rush isn’t my favorite Tame Impala record, not by a long shot. Having said that, this album still feels like it got short shrift this year (not that anyone can really complain about that in these here times). If we never knew that Lonerism or Innerspeaker or Currents existed, I wonder how much people would be head over heels for this album. “One More Year” “Is It True” and “Posthumous Forgiveness” are all top notch Impala jams. Seems like this album is the soundtrack for the chilled out summer hangs that we never got to have, and thus it’s fitting that it seems condemned for the ash-heap of history rather than the late-night come downs we never got up to.

21. Against All Logic – 2017 – 2019

Ah, speaking of complicated musical relationships, I can never seem to chart a clear course with Nicolas Jaar. The music he puts out under his own name never seems to do much for me, but I dug his collaboration with Dave Harrington as Darkside, and I really love most everything he’s put out as Against All Logic. While admittedly not a great year for house music—normally a liberating genre of communal interconnectivity, now a cruel reminder that we all live in Footloose—a banger remains a banger, and 2017-2019 is full to the brim with them. While I honestly can’t remember the last time I went dancing, I’ll still crank up “Fantasy” and bop around my living room, literally dancing by myself (lets be honest, something I would have done pandemic or no).

20. Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters

Fetch the Bolt Cutters has had a lot of great things said about it this year, so I don’t really have to add that much. What I will say is this is perhaps the most interesting percussion I’ve ever heard on a record. There is percussion all over the place, but almost none of it in the form of full-kit drumming. Fiona always used the left hand on the piano as the rhythmic center of her songs, but here there is drilling, tapping, rapping, patting. The phrase DIY gets tossed around all the time (and almost never applied to big money, big label Fiona) but to me the most impressive thing about this record is how it always sounds like she is sitting at a rickety upright piano in the corner of a living room, while everyone congregating around keeps the beat by tapping on pots and pans, the walls, whatever is at hand. I’ve truly never heard anything like it.

19. Advertisement – American Advertisement

Godbless Seattle’s Advertisement. So long as there is cheap beer, old shitty cars driving with the windows down, and the U-SofA, there’ll be bands like Advertisement. Straight out of the vein of Cheap Trick and the more recent White Reaper, Advertisement play power pop with the emphasis on the power. Sometimes this type of music gets called sleazy, but honestly I don’t get it. I think its probably because you can imagine it playing while Wooderson drives around Austin looking for redheads. While we rightfully cancelled the song of summer this year, “Upstream Boogie” would have gotten my vote, perfect for backyard bbqs and cannonballing into creeks.

18. Nation of Language – Introduction, Presence

I didn’t set it up this way, but if Advertisement has a diametric opposite, its probably Nation of Language. Where Advertisement is all frayed edges and foam, Nation of Language is as buttoned up as those terrible sports jackets people wore in the early ‘90s. While its not as good as my beloved Black Marble, those bands share enough DNA to make me a big fan of this synth pop gem. It’s not as dark as the cold-wave Black Marble, but it does share that bands fondness for stark baselines and crisp arpeggios. If you’ve ever envisioned your life as a scene from a John Hughes movie, Nation of Language could easily be playing in the background.

17. The Soft Pink Truth – Shall we Go on Sinning so that Grace May Increase?

Indulge me in a moment of naval gazing. Every year as I put these things together I reach a point where I’m lack “damn, this album is this low on the list?” And the point at which that thought enters my head is usually indicative of how good a year for music it was. Now 2020 wasn’t a good year for anything, and I probably spent the least time of any year listening to music, new, old, whatever. For the most part I just listened to the Grateful Dead and ambient albums. However, for my idiosyncratic tastes, 2020 was actually a pretty fucking incredible year for new music, as evinced by the fact that this album is all the way down at 17.

Earlier on in 2020 as I was bombarding my poor local music text thread with yet more of my inane musings, I think I declared this a top 3 album of the year. And I wasn’t lying! “Pretty” is often a dirty word in aesthetic appreciation, but this is certainly the “prettiest” album of the year in the best sense of the word. From the Drew Daniel half of Matmos comes Shall we Go on Sinning so that Grace May Increase? A record that is somehow simultaneously deep house and feather light, so much so that it needs its own dumb internet music writing moniker—shallow house? wide house? vacation house? (actually kinda like that last one). With vocals from Jana Hunter, Angel Deradoorian, and Colin Self (with whom I wasn’t previously familiar) this thing will simultaneously make you want to tap your foot and drift off into the clouds. This is album is like the prayer Madonna sang about all those years ago.

16. Kurt Vile – Speed, Sound, Lonely KV

It’s not at all surprising that if Kurt Vile decided he wanted to go country western he’d be really fucking good at it. First of all, he’s an exceptional acoustic guitar picker. Secondly, his voice, while always befitting his hazed out urban rockers, has just enough twang to it that in retrospect it always sounded a little bit country. This record also gives me room to offer up an homage to the late great John Prine, for whom the EP is essentially a tribute. Vile covers two Prine songs, dueting with the man himself on “How Lucky.” Saying goodbye is never easy, but on Speed, Sound, Lonely (both the album, and the song more or less by that name) Vile manages a fitting tribute to a lost legend.

15. Lomelda – Hannah

The reviews of Hannah really did Lomelda a disservice. Sure, they were glowing, but they made it sound like this was some weepy milquetoast singer songwriter affair, when it’s actually a knotty album full off elliptical piano and fuzzed out electric guitar. Its 14 tracks hurtle by, largely due to the fact that almost all of them are under 3 and a ½ minutes. Things really get going with the second track, “Hannah Sun” with is squiggly synth effects and driving acoustic strums carrying on Hannah Read’s musings. It’s an album of relentless forward musical movement even if the vibe feels like it’s always looking back over its shoulder. Basically this album is what emo would sound like if it wasn’t made by the worst people in the universe.

14. Shabaka and the Ancestors – We are Sent here by History

Jazz! Another great year for jazz (Asher Gamedze’s Dialectic Soul and Keefe Jackson, Jim Baker, & Julian Kirshner’s So Glossy and So Thin are with a strong group that just missed the cut). In the midst of an excellent jazz renaissance (you gotta use super annoying words like “renaissance” when talking about jazz) Shebaka Hutchins remains my absolute fave of the bunch, and We are Sent here by History is probably my favorite thing he has put out so far.

13. Waxahatchee – Saint Cloud

While I really liked Waxahatchee’s low-fi emoish debut—American Weekend—I’ll readily admit I wasn’t much about the popier albums that followed, frequently jesting, honestly, that Allison was my preferred musical Crutchfield sister. All that changed for me with Saint Cloud. I’ve certainly drifted far off into country and Americana as I’ve aged, and it appears the same came be said for Katie Crutchfield. These songs have a giddyup to them but they never break out into a gallop, allowing the strength of the melodies to carry them along across the plains, with just the right hint of twilight. Saint Cloud is the sound of Patsy Cline if she played to roadside inns rather than the Grand Ol’ Opry.

12. Neil Young – Homegrown

This was the hardest album to place on the list this year. For starters, should it even count? Clearly I say yes. While some of these songs have been available for over 30 years, as an album, Homegrown was a “new” release here in 2020, even though it was originally slated to come out in ’75 between On the Beach (my personal fave Neil record) and Zuma. As a pure piece of music, is it better than most, if not all, of the records that follow? Of course yes. But what does a new Neil Young record mean in 2020? As a thought experiment its fascinating. Do we value this album within the musical context of 2020 or 1975? Fortunately, it’s an even more enjoyable listen than it is a thought experiment. From the first strums of “Separate Ways” you’re like “oh shit, this is the vintage stuff.” Gentle amber acoustic numbers (“Try”) share space with electric stompers (“Vacancy”). The best thing you can say about Homegrown is that if Neil had originally decided to release this instead of Tonight’s The Night, it would have fit right in amongst his unimpeachable run from Everybody Knows This is Nowhere up through Zuma. A classic is still a classic, no matter what year it finally sees the light of day.

11. Destroyer – Have we Met

Ah Dan Bejar, boy was I wrong about you. I kinda got into Destroyer’s Rubies, I loved his contributions to Swan Lake and The New Pornographers, but yet when Chinatown started really making waves, I just couldn’t do it. It was soft rock! I hate soft rock! I hate everything about it! This preconceived notion wasn’t helped by the fact that I saw him open for the War on Drugs in Pontiac once and he was so drunk he could barely stand up and had to read his own lyrics from a sheet. And yet, for some reason I never really gave up on it. I can’t tell you why exactly, but two summers ago Chinatown just slowly became my go-to for early morning / late afternoon strolls. I found comfort in giving myself over to its pillowy soft embrace / cheating on my own aesthetic judgments. Now that I’m card-carrying Bejarhead, I greeted Have we Met with open arms, and I was not disappointed. The synths glimmer, the guitars add just enough punch, and his lyrics remain sharp as ever. Its fitting that this was the last concert I saw before the iron curtain fell. The one thing I had always turned my back on ended up being the last memory of dionysian group enthrallment I had to carry with me out into the desert of social isolation. Come back soon Destroyer, come back soon, everyone.

10. Deeper – Auto-Pain

Ladies and gentlemen, get ready, because post punk is back! I always say my favorite genre is ‘sad songs you can dance to’ but post punk is a close second. When I was in college post punk underwent a bit of a renaissance in the form of Interpol (back when they were still good), Bloc Party (ditto), Franz Ferdinand, and a whole slew of British one hit wonders (Maximo Park, Futureheads, Art Brut, the Bravery). Fortunately, as is always the case, what’s old is new again, and stark melodic bass lines, angular guitars, and moody introspective speak-singing are back in full force. Of the three post punk bands gracing this here top ten (Deeper, Fontaines DC, and Crack Cloud) each has its own little slice of the generic pie. Fontaines have the deep gloom of Interpol/Joy Division, Crack Cloud ripple with the staccato energy of Gang of Four, and Deeper have the wiry dancieness of, well, Wire. So long as leather jackets and black and white photography remain cool, there’ll always be bands like this, and thank god for that. In a true sign o’ the times, I learned about this band from some random girl’s Tik Tok in my for-you feed. She repped five bands, two of which are in my top three, so I was like, sure I’ll give this band Deeper a go. God bless the internet. Finally, Deeper get bonus points for naming a song “This Heat,” who I’ve been spending a lot of time revisiting this year, and whose spikey guitars are all over this record.

9. The Flaming Lips – American Head

There are few things as satisfying in art as being genuinely surprised by a beloved artist you had given up as culturally dead. Since putting out their last masterpiece (2009’s Embryonic) the Lips have put out a string of good, if inconsequential, albums that befitting the ethos of the band could best be described as half baked (The Terror, Oczy Moldy, and a series of collaborative experiments). Basically, they had reached that dreaded nadir where I was no longer interested in listening to their new output (cough The National, cough cough Arcade Fire). So what made me give American Head a chance? That reader, is the point of art criticism! I can’t remember how the blurb on pitchfork read exactly, but I knew it referenced Tom Petty and a return to a preoccupation with more Earthly concerns—namely ‘70s heartland rock. Well, this sounded intriguing, and boy was I not disappointed. Sure, the Flaming Lips have already reached their sell-by date twice over (first in 1992, immediately followed by their MTV reinvention on 1993’s Transmissions from the Satellite Heart; and then again in the late ‘90s with the departure of guitarist Ronald Jones, followed by their creative pinnacle, ‘99’s symphonic masterpiece The Soft Bulletin), so it shouldn’t be all that surprising that this band could rise from the dead a third time. Only, for the most part, they didn’t. I guess I’m not surprised that American Head failed to reach a broader audience. Most people probably aren’t even aware that they are still a going concern, and after the failures of the last decade it makes sense that most weren’t interested in more tunes from the Oklahoma freaknicks. But for those willing to give the band another chance, American Head easily delivers their best album since Embryonic, if not all the way back to Yoshimi. Mixing ‘70s Americana with the star gazing of Soft Bulletin’s “Sleeping on the Roof,” the Lips deliver their best album in decades by foregoing the parlor tricks and returning to what they do best, taking trips to distant galaxies while keeping their feet firmly planted in the soil and songcraft of Oklahoma.

8. Cut Worms – Nobody Lives Here Anymore

This one is pretty easy. Do you like George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass? If yes, listen to Nobody Lives Here Anymore and revel in this double album’s upbeat acoustic rock mediations. If no, well there’s plenty of other good stuff out there. Not quite as metaphysical or orchestral as All Things Must Pass, Nobody Lives Here Anymore still manages to hit that rockabiliy-pop sweet spot that Harrison used to mine. I’m not quite sure what the definition of “troubadour” is, but it feels safe to call Cut Worms a troubadour, which is certainly better than his terrible stage name.

7. Cigarettes for Breakfast – Aphantasia

Similar to Cut Worms, Cigarettes for Breakfast also involves a simple influence equation. Do you pray at the altar of Loveless? If so, Aphantasia is just the record for you. Sure, it’s a bit of My Bloody Valentine paint by numbers (“Breathe” even features the same squally guitar noise [it’s really hard to try and describe My Bloody Valentine effects ha] as “Soft as Snow (But Warm Inside)”) but when you’re as into shoegaze as I am, that’s never really a bad thing. Plus, I’m being a bit unfair. Everyone with textured tremolo heavy wall-of-sound guitars and cooed vocals is going to inevitably be compared to MBV, and Cigarettes for Breakfast do enough to chart their own course. Perhaps most interesting is the musical journey this record charts. Its loudest moment is its opening, where pummeling guitars more reminiscent of Sonic Youth with a touch of Dinosaur Jr. rip across hardcore style drumming. From there each song becomes a little more ambient, until closer “If Someone Could Help Me, Please” more or less floats away on its shimmering sheets of beautiful noise clouds. In this sense, it bears a resemblance in structure, if not in sound, to Deerhunter’s Cryptograms, another album I spent a lot of time revisiting this year. A shutout here is owed to the fine folks at Radio K, who had me diving for my shazam as this thing ripped across their airwaves. So long as there is college radio, there’ll be a new crop of kids discovering via Kevin Shields that the electric guitar contains endless sonic possibilities.

6. Fontaines D.C. – A Hero’s Death

The second entry in our top-ten post punk trio is A Hero’s Death by Fontaines D.C. I’ll admit, on first blush it’s kind of a dumb band name (I just assumed they were some hardcore band from Washington DC chasing those Dischord Records glory days), but when you learn that the “DC” stands for Dublin City, it all clicks, as this band is sorta inescapably Irish in the way that James Joyce is. Now this fact at first was also off-putting—if I went the rest of my life without ever hearing the Dropkick Murphy’s again I’d be quite content—but eventually it becomes integral to their sound, and not just because of the brogue in Garin Chatten’s vocals. “Love is the Main Thing” is an incredible song in many ways, most notably because of the hypnotic quality of the drumming with its counterpoint between riding cymbal and staccato toms, but perhaps in the main (*wink*) for the way it manages to connote the weariness of a grey urban environment without ever being explicitly about it. Just as Turn on the Bright Lights managed to perfectly capture New York in 2001, A Hero’s Death to me is the aural equivalent of a dense urban center like Dublin, especially after nightfall.

5. Imaginary Softwoods – Annual Flowers in Color

It should come as no surprise that I listened to A LOT of ambient this year, and to me there was no better electronic record to chill the fuck out to during this insane year than Annual Flowers in Color. I absolutely loved Emeralds’ Does it Look Like I’m Here? and was devastated they never followed that gem (*wink*) up. In the immediate aftermath of the demise of Emeralds Mark McGuire’s solo albums got a lot of attention, but apparently the person I really loved in Emeralds was Imaginary Softwoods’ John Elliot. Annual Flowers in Color is like if Dead City’s, Red Seas, Lost Ghosts were waiting in the departure’s lounge of Eno’s airport. At the heart of the album lies the 10 plus minutes of “Another First/Sea Machine.” I could listen to this song forever, and on some particularly WTF 2020 lakewalks I more or less have. Chunky synths, arpeggios that drift off to infinity, ‘80s soundtrack nostalgia. I could live in these Softwoods for the rest of my sonic days.

4. Pottery – Welcome to Bobby’s Motel

In another moment of nostalgia for my college years, Pottery are a welcome return to weird ass experimental Canadian bands. They don’t sound anything like the Unicorns, but in spirit Pottery kind of remind me of them. I’ve spilled a lot of digital ink here and elsewhere bemoaning the fact that Pitchfork (or perhaps, me) isn’t cool anymore, and to me no band embodies this more than Pottery. They take a bunch of fun disparate elements—Talking Heads dance art rock, periodic weird pitch shifted vocal effects, hazy deep purple style guitars, and Queen style machismo disco—throw them into a witch’s cauldron, and come up with something off the wall that sounds like nothing else but is also instantly familiar. This is the type of thing Pitchfork would have been all over in 2007, but instead now they’re too busy chasing conde nast clout clicks. Oh well, nothing gold can last. But enough negativity, this here is a celebration of the joy of new music, and no new band embodies that unbridled joy like Pottery. Along with Fontaines DC, this is the band I wish I most could have bopped around to with a bunch of sweaty strangers in the 7th St. Entry or Turf Club. You can just imagine the call and response vocals and funky grooves getting the people moving. Oh well, hopefully we’ll soon all be rocking the vaccine, they can breeze through town, and I’ll be the first person on the dance floor embarrassingly pumping my fist a half beat behind the rhythm.

3. Pure X – Pure X

To paraphrase Same Elliott in the Big Lebowski, sometimes there’s a band, and well, sometimes there’s a band. For me this year, that band was Pure X. I absolutely loved their debut Pleasure way back in 2011, when lo-fi reverb heavy slow guitar music (ie, Galaxie 500) was all the rage. Their follow up Crawling up the Stairs was so bad I didn’t even bother listening to Angel, though perhaps that also owed a decent amount to just how terrible the art on that record is. (I’ve since remedied this mistake; turns out that record rules). Being that as it may, I can’t particularly tell you what drew me in to this year’s self-titled album, a full nine years after Pleasure first graced the stage. In one sense it’s probably because Pleasure is one those albums that just never went out of my rotation. Whenever the fahrenheit tips past 90 and the walk to the bodega is a few blocks longer than you’d like, that record always hits the spot. Maybe I just knew this was the record I needed this year. Either way, from the first bars of “Middle America” I was hooked. The guitars crash over you, but never in a threatening way. Rather, they envelop you like a weighted blanket, comforting you in their sonic embrace. Nowhere is this more true than on “Fantasy,” easily my favorite song of 2020 (especially since this was a year entirely devoid of dance floor bangers). If this album came out in 1999 rather than 2020 I would have hit the repeat button on my discman and listened to this song forever.

2. Crack Cloud – Pain Olympics

Pain Olympics is the answer to the question that no one asked: what if Arcade Fire’s (back when they were good) communal uplift was paired with Gang of Four’s stark anthem’s of industrialism’s collapse? While on first blush this might sound like your standard album of punkish fist pumping angst, from when the female vocals (sorry there are too many people in this band for me to be able to figure out whose who) come in on opener “Post Truth (Birth of a Nation)” Pain Olympics reveals itself to be a very strange animal (likely a unicorn of some sort), especially as little orchestral swirls creep into the mix, giving it an almost Judy Garland (in hell) quality. This subtle genre pastiche is given its best effect on stunner “The Next Fix.” That song starts out as an elastic spoken-word call and response addiction rumination, at the minute mark it starts to segue into a vocoded chill raver, then some horns crop up out of nowhere, then a spoken word passage, then at the two minute mark a chorus of voices come in, doing their best Broken Social Scene in the truest sense of the phrase. This is perhaps one of the strangest records I’ve ever heard, but what is strangest of all is just how beautiful it is. Crack Cloud are not for everyone, but if you really give it a chance, the returns are limitless.

1. SAULT – Untitled (Rise) / Untitled (Black Is)

You cannot tell the story of 2020 without SAULT, which is why this pair of records is here at the top, even if under the influence of sodium pentothal (lets be honest, veritaserum) I might lean more towards Pain Olympics. In June, the “anonymous” London project put out Untitled (Black Is), and then quickly followed that gem up with September’s Untitled (Rise). Perhaps more amazing still is that these two albums, released so close together, have unique personalities. Black Is is more pop/R&B whereas Rise has a dancy, electr(on)ic feel. I lean more towards the latter, but honestly, both albums are so overstuffed with amazing moments that it’s borderline unbelievable that one outfit could put out so much amazing music in such a short span. While these records would chart high even if sung in Hopelandic, there’s no escaping the social import of the lyrics. One need look no further than Black Is’s “Don’t Shoot Guns Down” for the 2020 dance party at the end of the world. As if that weren’t more than enough, it finds its analogue on Rise’s “Street Fighter,” and that’s SAULT in a nutshell: two albums in constant communication with one another, and more importantly, with the state of the world. Guns down. Don’t Shoot. Let’s dance.

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“K - THE FIRST STORY” (Novel)

CHAPTER 1: THE BOY NAMED ISANA YASHIRO (Part 5)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

*PROLOGUE: SIDE: THE BOY

*CHAPTER 1: Part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 /

A person.

A young man wearing a black coat and long black hair.

He looked up and blew up all the fireballs with his right hand.

At first glance, it looked like he was playing with his own hands, but his hands and the fire were not in direct contact. The space where he places his hand becomes distorted, and the trajectory of the fireball changes. The fireballs whose orbits changed landed everywhere on the back streets and generated smoke.

From behind, the skate boy attacks the young man suddenly and without fear.

The young man with long dark hair raises his hand towards the skate boy.

In the next moment, the skate boy was drawn to the black-haired young man and pushed at the slot with his elbow, as if moving instantly.

It was as if the space between the black-haired young man's hand and the skate boy was compressed in an instant.

The boy was surprised, looking at the skate boy who flew in the air slightly through the groove and the black-haired young man who did a series of things without moving an eyebrow with a simple face.

The young man with black hair grabs and pulls the boy's loose neck and clutches it to himself.

As he was, he shrugged at the black-haired young man and looked him in the face a short distance away.

Their faces are close.

He felt that he had not sensed another person at such a close distance in a long time.

There is a strange tension in the boy's body that may be stronger than when he was chased by a murderer.

"Wooh!"

The boy's feet floated in midair with the sensation that the body was dragged heavily.

The young man with the black hair is reaching the distance. The air at the tip of the palm seemed distorted. The space at the end of the hand was compressed, and it seemed that the boy holding the body of the black-haired youth was up.

The boy, who decided to fly at high speed in the air, hurriedly clings to the arm of the young man with black hair and holds on tight. A fallen skateboarder, a stupid fat young man, and a young man in a red cane cap, and a tall blond man looking at him with a calm expression, the sight of the back alley turned distant and the landscape around him flowed behind.

"Who you are?"

The boy muttered while holding on.

The young man answered nothing, looking at his destination, with a well-organized and determined face.

++++++++++

Kusanagi Izumo suddenly lowered, reported the situation, and gave a small sigh when he saw the young man who flew away with the target.

"Damn... who is that guy?"

Misaki Yata holds his belly that was hit with a strong elbow strike.

"Black dog. Yatogami Kuro. I'm getting in trouble again.”

Kusanagi smiling, looking in the direction the targets disappeared.

However, he confirms the face of the target. A handsome boy with a pretty face, but that's the person in the video.

Kusanagi repeatedly watched that annoying video over and over again.

If he closes his eyes, he will see a child with a terrifying smile on the back of his eyelids.

He will never let him go. No matter which hand he use, he will catch him and mark his fall.

Kusanagi took out his PDA.

"I do not know. Next move.”

The preparation has been completed. Kusanagi tapped to activate it from his PDA.

++++++++++

The boy was taken to the roof of the building on an aerial walk like a roller coaster.

Upon landing, the young man with long dark hair throws his body on concrete. The boy hit his butt hard.

The kitten holding on to the boy is also thrown out, but unlike the boy, it landed well and emerged immediately.

The boy stood up getting ready. Looking around from the rooftop, he saw a large, symbolic monitor in front of the Shizume-cho station.

"Oh, here in front of the station? Thanks for your help! Well then…"

At a glance, with a sense of security that escaped the crisis, the usual boy returns to base. He felt it. It was a little difficult, but it seemed to have worked. Then he would return to Gakuen Island with his goods.

A sword in the sheath of the young man with long black hair blocked the boy's path.

(Huh? Yes, it's a sword, this... Why does this person have a sword?)

The black-haired young man swings the sword in the scabbard, rolling it onto the concrete again.

"I am a disciple of Ichigen Miwa, the previous Seventh King, I am Kuro Yatogami."

The black-haired young man drew his sword quickly as he spoke in a low voice.

The boy cannot understand the young man's words at once, and he bows his head.

"The Seventh King Ichigen Miwa?"

After repeating it as a spell, something comes to his mind.

"Oh, is it a name? My name is Isana, Yashiro Isana.”

He introduced himself as cheerfully as possible, but as if trying to silence the company, Ichigen Miwa's royal envoy shook his sword.

The blade flew at such speed that only a silver trajectory was visible, slicing off the school emblem on the boy's neck.

The school emblem near the boy's throat was cut by a sharp sword and rolls on the rooftop concrete with a little noise.

As expected, the boy breathed silently and looked at the young man in front of him.

Looking seriously, the black-haired young man with the sword, Kuro, seemed to be younger than expected. He may not be much different from the boy, he may be a boy too.

He had a clean and drifting atmosphere with a sharp face. He was like a young warrior appearing in a movie, combining a place where a sword with a naked body looks good with a burn, a hairstyle that combines long straight black hair in a high position, a place where the back seems be serious and upright.

Kuro walks towards him a few steps with a calm expression that does not express emotions.

"Under the orders of my late master, I will defeat the evil "King"."

The voice with which he declared it was calm. But deep in his voice, it seemed that a tragic determination was lurking.

The boy does not know what to accept and what to do, and makes a confused voice.

"What…? King…?"

Everything was strange to him today.

As always, calmly and carefree, he cooks rice at school, he made everyone share a garnish, he ate rice with the kitten, he took a nap, seeing everyone prepare for the school festival happily, Kukuri asked him to help her.

So he was supposed to go back to school and repeat a similar, calm and happy life.

Kuro, who holds a sword, does not have the murderous feeling and burning anger that the skate boy felt.

Instead, he felt a mission sensation like steel that is definitely determined to cut something.

When the boy is stuck, the image on the large monitor in front of the Shizume-cho station, where the promo video was streaming, is suddenly altered and another stormy video appears.

In an abnormal scene, the boy's conscience and Kuro moved together to the monitor.

The monitor screen suddenly changed, and the image that was taken by a hobbyist with a camera was displayed, which was completely different in quality from the beautiful advertising image that had been streaming so far.

The image is rough. It looks like it was taken with an old camera.

At the bottom of the screen, "07.12 23:45", the date and time are displayed.

What was projected was a scene that appears to be the rooftop of the building at night. There is a boy's back resting against the fence.

He was humming.

The voice made the boy aware. Singing Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 "Song of Delight" in a voice he has never heard.

"It's a nice night."

A different voice than the person in the back humming said that. Probably who was recording.

"I came to film the night view, what are you doing here?”

The person in the back doesn't seem to respond to the one who is recording, and he's shaking himself.

Cold sweat pours from the boy's body.

The boy doesn't know about this. He swears to God, an unforgettable sight.

However, he had a bad feeling and his heart was racing.

"I am Totsuka Tatara. And you?"

The person behind looked back. He had a gun in his hand. He fired and fired without any scrutiny.

Bang, the shot sounds.

The image is blurred. The camera appears to have dropped. The screen went black for a moment, and immediately after that, he saw what appears to be the cameraman collapse.

After a while, the camera moves as he whispers. It looks like the person who shot just adjusted the camera with his foot to show himself.

The person's face is clearly projected.

It was the boy. It was the face of Isana Yashiro.

The face he sees in the mirror every morning. However, he had a crazy smile with narrowed eyes and raised corners of his mouth, instead of his usual tense expression.

Someone in the boy's face said,

"I am the Seventh King, 'Colorless King'. Waiting for someone here. Is it a good night? Oh, sure, it is a good night."

In a euphoric voice, someone in the boy's face pointed the gun at the camera and fired again.

Then the video stops.

The boy continued to stare at the large monitor that stopped when the gun was fired and another person's face just looked up.

"Is that correct for you?"

Kuro's voice is heard.

The boy took off the line of sight from the monitor and looked at Kuro.

Without anger or hatred, Kuro, who looks at the boy with a clean face and points his sword, seems like an ideal executioner.

The boy couldn't help but smile at him.

"Uh... does it look like this?"

#k #k project #k the first story #k novel #Isana Yashiro #Yatogami Kuroh #Izumo Kusanagi #yata misaki #homra

35 notes · View notes

anotheronechicagobog · 5 years

Text

Mouse Gerwitz x reader Letters

written by @anotheronechicagobog

Requested by @confusedpimp

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, implied smut

A/N: I’m asexual and terrible at writing kissing scenes, so sorry if that part sucks. I’ve been sick, had school stuff going on, and had some writer’s block, so I really hope you like it!

(Not my gif)

When you first met Mouse you were sixteen, he, Jay, and Will were all back from being away. Jay was on his first leave from the Rangers and Will was back from Uni for winter break. After spending the full day with you and Will Jay decided to hangout with Mouse. You threw a fit over that, you’d spent over a year terrified that he’d come back in a body bag and that you deserved to spend the few weeks he was there with him. So instead he invited Mouse to hang out the three of you instead. He was handsome, funny, and a Harry Potter fan so you didn’t mind at all. The three of you went down to the boardwalk and just spent time together, talking, going to the river museum which wasn’t your thing in all honesty but it was more about being together than anything else, and ended the day with deep-dish pizzas at home and a movie marathon. It was when your dad came home drunk off his ass that the mood changed. Jay and Will suddenly remembered what they left you home with, and Mouse was sitting there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. You sent an apologetic smile his way and stood up. “Hey, dad, it’s time for bed. C’mon, I’ll sing to you again.” Your brothers exchanged shocked and horrified looks as they say you leading your very drunk, very handsy father, up the stairs quickly and efficiently. You’d learned how to handle yourself when your brothers were gone.

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

When you returned downstairs you heard furious voices in the kitchen. You turned to Mouse who was sitting on the couch with wide-eyes. “I’m really sorry you had to watch that Mouse. You look really uncomfortable, can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“Uh... How often does that happen?”

“Why?” Mouse looked at you with guarded eyes. You were confused, Mouse sounded concerned and he didn’t really have any reason to be. Jay was your brother, not Mouse. “What do you mean ‘why’? That shouldn’t be happening to you.”

“Mouse, I only met you this morning so I’m a little surprised at your reaction.”

“Jay’s been showing me and the others pictures of you and sharing stories since basic training, he talks about you all the time, he’s so protective of you, it’s kinda rubbed off on the rest of us.” You nodded slowly, processing his answer. “Look, I get that my brother and his overprotective ways influenced you, but I can handle myself.” Mouse didn’t look convinced.

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

After Mouse left you walked into the kitchen and jumped up onto the counter. The mood was thick and tense and you dreaded the conversation that was coming. “Alright, let’s get this conversation over with.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Jay huffed angrily and threw the dishtowel into the empty but still soapy sink. Will threw the remaining cutlery in the drawer and slammed it shut. “Why are you being so calm about this?”

“I didn’t want you guys to put your lives on hold. You two basically raised me, you’ve sacrificed enough. Yes, he’s been drinking more, yes he’s gotten handsy, but I can handle myself I promise.” Jay screwed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists. “You should have told us.We’re supposed to take care of you.”

“And what could you have done Will? Jay’s been in the middle east fighting a war, and you’ve been in med school in Seattle. You’ve tried to get custody of me before and it fell through, we just have to face it, this is the situation for now. It sucks but its doable.”

“Are you kidding me?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! Y/N, we are your big brothers, it’s our responsibility to help and protect you! You need to tell us when stuff like this starts, so that we can deal with whatever shit’s going on!” You sighed and watched Jay catch his breath.

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

The rest of the boys’ stay was tense. They walked you to and from school, Mouse and some others in Jay’s unit were coming over to stay with you when your brothers couldn’t (including ‘introducing’ themselves to your father), and you were never left alone with your father. You were annoyed at all that your brother was orchestrating, but you were also low-key relieved you didn’t feel the need to barricade your door at night. Two days before Jay and Mouse were scheduled to head back you were introduced to Mouse’s family. His parents were wonderful and Katie was so freaking adorable. You’d all decided to go out to dinner to an Irish restaurant. Right before the Celtic band was set to play Mouse’s mom pulled you aside. “Sweetheart, Greg told us about your dad. We just want you to know that you’re always welcome with our family and at our home. Just call and we’ll be there as soon as possible. Okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

When you both sat back down Mouse’s eyes caught yours and he smiled sheepishly. You smiled in return, feeling grateful about your overprotective brothers

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TWO YEARS LATER

You cheered silently as you skipped down the steps of your childhood home. You had all your possessions in your backpack and a small suitcase. You were finally eighteen, legally able to walk away without being dragged back. Greg’s family invited you to stay with them until you started university in the fall. They’d been a godsend over the years, to the point where you started sending letters to Mouse as well as Jay. While your brother initially thought it was weird but stopped complaining when Katie mailed him a picture of flowers she drew. Your relationship with Mouse grew.you swapped stories, created inside jokes, and confided in one another. For the next few months, you were going to be living in his old bedroom. It looked like how he left it.

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

You sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room you’d called home for the past few months. You were excited but apprehensive about starting university. Not just because of the daunting aura of university, but because of the financial aspects. You’d started applying for scholarships and bursaries before your application was even accepted. While you’d been awarded a decent amount of money, it wasn’t anywhere close to covering one semester, forget the rest of your academic career. So you’d turned to something your brothers would murder you for if they ever found out- being a stripper and a sugar baby.

In all honesty, it hadn’t been as bad as you’d expected. You’d found a website where you could... advertise yourself. You’d posted some nice photos of yourself, selfies where you’re smiling in a park and the boardwalk, and made it clear on your profile that sex was NOT on the table. It had taken you a while to find a sugar daddy, for that reason, but you’d found one and your... allowance was pretty good. You’d been contacted by a guy in his late 30’s who was gay and came from a very conservative family who expected a serious girlfriend. He wasn’t ready to come out, terrified of the backlash and possible violence he’d receive from his family, he decided to go another route. So while everyone thought you were moving into an apartment you were really moving in with your sugar daddy.

You’d have your own room, and were free to use any room in his apartment except for his ensuite bedroom and office. The same applied to him, he wasn’t allowed in your room either. He’d been nervous about the arrangement, much like yourself, and had offered to assist you in decorating your room, a kind offer you’d decided to accept to try and form a friendship with him. You’d need to be a convincing companion, after all.

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

ONE YEAR LATER

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl who put Van Gogh posters up in my room.”

“Mouse! It’s good to see you. You’re on leave with Jay, then? Also, who doesn’t like Starry Night?” You’d gone with Jay to hang out at a bar with him and some guys from his unit, Jay had gone off with a pretty blonde twenty minutes ago and hadn’t returned. Mouse smiled and took another swig of his beer. He sat down across from you, where Jay had been sitting and folded his hands together on top of the table. His arms were even more muscular than the last time you’d seen him. His shoulders were broader, he had a tan, and his eyes looked sharper. “So who’s the lucky guy? Everyone’s been writing that you’re seeing someone, and I know you, you don’t buy jewellery for yourself. Yet here you are, with a lovely necklace, dainty rings and bracelets. C’mon, spill.” Mouse looked tense, and his hands were clenched, almost like if they weren’t so tightly coiled together he’d be doing something else with them. “He’s none of your or anyone else’s business.” You smiled coyly at him and took another sip of your screwdriver. Mouse’s eyes flickered dangerously before going blank, a tense smile forcing its way onto his face. “Well alright, then. Let’s talk about something else.” You felt confused as Mouse started to ramble about the Blackhawks.

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

Things seemed to be frosty between you and Mouse after your talk in the bar. Letters were still exchanged, but he wasn’t as open with you as he used to be. He stopped opening up to you, doodling goofy little cartoons in the margins, sweet words to you, monologuing about his goals and dreams (most of which involved you but you tried not to read too much into, despite how it made your heart flutter), and describing how badly he missed your famous chocolate cookies. You sighed, before placing his latest letter in the decorative box you’d gotten to keep them in. You gently placed that box next to your suitcase before returning to packing. You and George had ended your arrangement, he’d fallen in love with a wonderful man and now that things were serious, and that he felt ready to come out, you were moving out. You’d met him and surprisingly you two had developed a friendship, even with him knowing what you were to George. He’d thought it strange at first, but moved past it quickly when he considered the circumstances. And since he was a successful real estate agent, he’d volunteered himself to find you an apartment. The one you’d settled on was a steal and absolutely beautiful. Taping up the last box you were thankful that you didn’t have more belongings. The new furniture you’d purchased from IKEA was set to be delivered and put together tomorrow, deciding to leave most of your furniture with George since you weren’t overly attached to them and George had, y’know paid for them. So you were going to load your boxes and large suitcase into your car tonight and leave in the morning. Then the room you’d been living in would go back to being a guest room.

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

The sound and smell of sizzling filled your apartment as you cooked up some sausages to accompany your toast and boiled egg for breakfast. They were almost done cooking when there was a knock on your door. Leaving them on the element for a moment you went and opened it. Surprised to see your brother standing there. “Jay! Will! What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to visit your new place, you know, since you actually told us the address this time.”

“Oh come on, you’re not both still on that, are you? I just didn’t want your overprotective asses descending on my life all the time!”

“Hey! Is that any way to talk to the guys who brought doughnuts?”

“Is that any way to talk to the chick who cooked sausages that she’s willing to share with her brothers?”

“Touche.”

“So why are you guys really here? We were supposed to have shepherd’s pie and stuff tonight.”

“Well, we are here in part to celebrate because I got assigned to Chicago Med and Jay is finally back after getting medically discharged.”

“Also, I was wondering if you’d heard from Mouse.”

“What? No, I haven’t, did something happen?” You stomach dropped and ice bolted up your spine.

“He didn’t handle everything well. After he was allowed to leave the facility, no one’s heard from him. Not even his family. We were wondering if he’d contacted you.”

“No, he hasn’t contacted me. I don’t know why you thought he would, we’re not very close.” Jay narrowed his eyes at you. “Then why were you exchanging letters with him while we were overseas? You don’t do that with someone you don’t care about.”

“He was out there with you Jay. It felt good to talk to someone I know had your back, he was willing to tell me things about you and that was going on that you wouldn’t. We formed a friendship for a while,” Jay and Will let out a snort, you raised your eyebrow, “but things got cold a while ago. He stopped telling me stuff about himself, the genuine things we corrisponded about.” You sighed. “Why are you acting like I’m super close to him?”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t know.” You shrugged and shook your head, feeling completely confused. “Mouse fell in love with you.” He and Will jumped when they heard glass shatter. You’d dropped your mug when you heard the shocking news. You could feel your jaw hanging open and your heart pounding in your ears.

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FOUR MONTHS LATER

You were cursing under your breath, your first date since high school stood you up in a pretty bad part of town, huddling closer to yourself, trying to remain unseen. Your plan had failed though, as a hooded man had been following you for the past thee blocks, even circled one behind you. You were officially scared. You were thinking of a plan to attack him that didn’t result in you get raped and/or murdered when you ran into someone. “Sorry, I have to go-”

“Y/N?”

“Mouse? What are you doing here?”

“The question is what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’d like to catch up with you but there’s a guy following me-”

“Blackhawks hoodie covering his face? I see him. I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and started to direct you down the street. “Let’s get you home.”

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

Mouse was sitting at your kitchen island with a coffee and grilled cheese in front of him. His face looked shallow, he had bags around his eyes, he looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in ages and he couldn’t stop fidgeting. You didn’t need to look at his arms to know that there would be track marks. “Jay’s been worried about you. So have I. You dropped off the radar.”

“It’s my life not his.”

“I know.”

“So... You moved.”

“Yes.”

“You and your boyfriend broke up?”

“Yeah, we did, he wasn’t really my boyfriend, though, that’s a story for another time. How have you been, Mouse, really?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Whatever you say. What have you been doing?”

“Please don’t pull that with me Y/N. I know you can tell that I’ve been doing drugs.”

“I know we’re not as close as we used to be, but I’m here for you, okay? I miss you and what we had. Let me help you. I’ll even leave Jay out of it if you want, I know he can be kind of over bearing.”

“Okay.”

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EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Mouse was curled up on your couch with you stroking his hair. Therapy had taken a lot out of him and he just wanted to be held. You obliged, letting him rest his head on your lap and running your fingers through his hair. He wasn’t moving or making any noise, and he was cold to the touch. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was on death’s door and called for help. After escorting you home from the disaster of a stand up, you’d gotten close again. Mouse went to rehab for six months and while he wasn’t using anymore it was clear he was still struggling so you’d suggested therapy with the VA. He’d been hesitant, and you hadn’t wanted to push, but he realized you were just trying to help him the best way you knew how. This included letting him live with you and not telling Jay you knew where he was. Mouse hadn’t wanted to ask that of you but he felt much more comfortable with as little pressure on him as possible. You sat like that for hours. Surrounded by silence, the only movement in the room was your hand going in soothing rounded movements along his scalp. You stopped when Mouse started to sit up. “I’m feeling like Thai food tonight, how about you?”

“That sounds like heaven, Y/N. I’m going to take a quick shower.” He dropped a kiss on your forehead and padded down the hall to the bathroom. You placed your usual order and then took a moment to dwell on your current living situation. Mouse meant a lot to you, but he also meant a lot to Jay, and not telling Jay he wasstaying here could seriously damage your relationship. And your relationship with Mouse was shifting too. Your apartment was only one bedroom, so while Mouse had started with sleeping on the pull-out couch, it hadn’t stayed that way. He’d found you comforting and since his nightmares often woke you up and prompted you to stay with him anyway, you’d started going to bed together. You’d made space for his things in your dresser and closet. All that with the subtle intimate gestures it made you feel like you were dating, and it had dragged all of your buried feelings back into the spotlight. It killed you to be so close, to be tangled in one another, to have your faces so close, and not being able to express how much you loved him. Crushing on your older brother’s brother in arms was one thing, but what the two of you were doing now was something else. Your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. You were sitting the food on the island when Mouse stepped out of the bathroom in jeans and... nothing else. His lean chest and arms were exposed, they reminded you of the warmth you felt when he used those arms to pull you close and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You swallowed thickly and forced yourself to turn away. “Are you okay, Y/N? You’re looking a bit flushed.”

“Yeah, the food’s hot, that’s all.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

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

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The monotone sound of your alarm blared into your ear, reminding you that you had class. You moved to get out of bed but were held in place by Mouse’s -deceptively- strong arms. “It’s early. Stay.”

“I can’t, today’s my last class before my thesis is due.”

“No.”

“Greg.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Greg’ now is it? When will you be back?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

“Let’s meet somewhere for lunch.”

“Diner?”

“Diner.”

“Alright, now that that’s settled, let me go.”

“Fine. But I want it made very clear that I would rather be holding you against me.”

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

Class dragged on and you were glad when it ended. Your thesis was already complete, all you had to do was meet with your supervisor to go over it. You stretched your neck to try and remove some of the tension as you stood on the bus that was heading in the direction of your and Mouse’s favourite diner. A small family-owned place that was run by a single mom and her two kids, one of whom was a firefighter at firehouse 51. You got off at your stop and entered the diner, you spotted Mouse almost immediately. He was facing the door and smiled, gesturing to the two cups of coffee on the table. The sight made all the remaining tension evaporate.

Lunch with Mouse always relieved some stress, talking to him, being with him, made everything better. Always. Your burgers were served promptly and with a twinkling smile from Peter. The exchange was not missed by Mouse who muttered under his breath, as he did every time Peter was your server. “Mouse, why do you always do that?”

“What? Get annoyed when he flirts with you while I’m sitting right here?”

“We’re not dating Mouse, why does it matter if he flirts with me?” He tensed and swept his tongue over his lower lip. Taking a deep breath he sat up straighter in his seat and looked you in the eyes. “I don’t like it because I do want to date you, and I know that wanting to date you isn’t the same as actually dating you, but he knows how I feel about you. His mom pulled it out of me when I was doing a freelance job on my laptop here a couple of weeks ago and not only was he standing right beside her, but he told me that he thought we’d make a cute couple.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah... I get it if you don’t feel about me like that, I mean I’m a train wreck-”

“Mouse.”

“Jay would kill me-”

“Mouse.”

“I’m not good enough for you-”

“Mouse!”

“Y/N, please stop interrupting me. I just, I get that you don’t love me back and that’s okay and completely understandable.”

“Mouse I love you.” He gazed at you softly, reached his hand had closed around yours gently. “Do you mean it?” His voice was deep and soulful. “Yes. Mouse, I love you.”

“Thank God.” He leaned across the table and enclosed his lips around yours. His hands were delicately cradling your face, your heart swelled. All you could do was wrap your arms around your neck and smile into his lips. When you parted neither you nor Mouse could stop beaming.

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ONE YEAR LATER

Three months after your first kiss with Mouse he decided to get back in contact with Jay. Your brother had responded by tackling him in a bear hug, getting him a job at intelligence as the tech guy, and waving off your apology citing that you brought out the best in Mouse. While you and Mouse were still going strong and continued to love each other with everything you have, neither of your brothers knew. The only people who knew were Sarah Reese, your best friend, Trudy Platt, because she’s a genius, and Voight, because that man knows everything. They all encouraged you to tell your siblings, and you wanted to, you really did, but Mouse didn’t want to. He said he just wanted to enjoy your little bubble a while longer, but in truth, you knew he felt guilty about dating his best friend’s baby sister.

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ONE YEAR LATER

You and Mouse still hadn’t told your brothers, while more members of med, PD and firehouse 51 knew, they were all sworn to secrecy. You wanted to tell your brothers. You wanted to be able to kiss your boyfriend when you visited the precinct at lunch, to hold hands without Mouse looking over your shoulders. It was starting to wear on you honestly, but you still loved him. And you understood that the time really just hadn’t been right recently. You both had agreed to tell them, but then catastrophe after catastrophe prevented you from doing so.

Sarah was frog-marching you to the ED because you’d been throwing up violently almost non-stop for days and was furious when she found out you hadn’t told Mouse you were sick just because he had a case. “Sarah-”

“No. You’re sick. Something’s wrong, and if you don’t get checked out I’ll tell Will and then he’ll drag you down here.”

“I was going to say you’re right this definitely isn’t a little stomach bug, that I’m grateful for you as a friend, and that your goddamn claws are digging into my shoulder, but okay.” Her hand fell from your shoulder, you rubbed it tenderly as the pain flared. “Sorry, I’m just getting really worried.”

“I know, I am too. Because I realized upstairs before you made the decision to manhandle me down here, that I haven’t gotten my period in two months.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup, that’s how I ended up here.” She rolled her eyes and hooked her elbow in yours. “I call godmother.”

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“Hi Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nat, I think I’m pregnant.”

“Well okay, then. We’ll do an ultrasound while we wait for your blood test results.” You lifted up your shirt and tried to control your nervous breathing. “This might be a little cold, okay.” She pressed the gel-covered wand on your abdomen. She smiled and turned to you. “Congratulations, you’re seven weeks pregnant.” You let out a sigh and looked at the monitor your brother’s wife had turned towards you. Your heart felt so full, remembering Mouse’s numerous comments about what he thought your children would look like. The moment of peace and joy was disturbed when Will, in his regular clothes, pushed the curtain aside. “Hey, Nat I need- Y/N? Why are you here? And- oh god. You’re pregnant, you’re- how are you pregnant? Y/N?” Will was in full freak out mode and he wasn’t paying any heed to Nat who was doing her best to calm him down. Sarah accidentally chose that moment to distractedly walk into the room. “Y/N I found the cutest way to tell Mouse you’re pregnant on pinterest-”

“Mouse?! Mouse knocked you up?! Does Jay know? Forget it, I’m going to kill him.” He stormed out of the room and ED, presumably to confront your boyfriend at PD.

“Shit, I didn’t think he’d be here, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“It’s okay, I have to get to the precinct before Will does.”

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

After pleading with your boss to let you go early, citing a family emergency, you rushed to the precinct and to Trudy’s desk. “Will’s upstairs isn’t he?”

“Got here a minute before you did, what’s wrong?”

“He found out about me and-”

“Say no more. Head on up.”

You took the stairs two at a time and ran into the bullpen to a full-on screaming match between Will, Jay, and Mouse. “Back the fuck up Will! Jay doesn’t get to make this decision for me and neither do you!”

“NO WAY GREG! NO WAY IN FUCKING HELL!”

“Will, calm down, he’s my best friend and I don’t want him to reenlist either but there’s no need to yell like that.”

“YES THERE FUCKING IS! GREG GERWITZ YOU ARE NOT RUNNING OFF TO THE RANGERS AFTER KNOCKING UP Y/N!”

“What?! Mouse, you did what?! YOU HAD SEX WITH MY BABY SISTER?!”

“DOES SHE EVEN KNOW YOU’RE GOING BACK TO THE RANGERS OR WERE YOU PLANNING ON TELLING HER BEFORE ASKING FOR A RIDE TO THE AIRPORT?!”

“HOW DARE YOU HAVE SEX WITH Y/N-”

“You’re reenlisting with the rangers?” Your voice was so quiet you weren’t sure how the three arguing men heard you but they did, as well as the rest of intelligence who were huddled in the break room. You were shaking and your vision was blurring from tears. You’d spent years worrying about him, as well as Jay. You didn’t think you could handle that, especially not now. You felt light-headed and like you needed to lie down. “No, I’m not.” Mouse crossed the room to you quickly, guiding you into Antonio’s chair and holding your face in his loving hands. With the pads of his thumbs, he wiped away your tears. “No, I’m not reenlisting. I got the offer from my old SO, I briefly considered it before chucking that idea out the window because I don’t want to leave you, Y/N. The only reason I haven’t outright told Jay, and consequently the rest of intelligence, is because they were trying to control my decision. I was never going to go, I won’t leave you, especially not now. How are you feeling sweetheart? Do you need something to eat or drink?” Still shaken up, you could only sniffle out, “I don’t know,” before bursting into tears. You felt him bend down more and wrap himself around you. He ran his hands comfortingly up and down your back while murmuring words of reassurance to you. “I’m right here.” “I don’t ever want to leave you.” “I love you so damn much sweetheart.” “I want to spend the rest of our lives together.” “I love you.” You finally lifted your head out of the crook of his neck, and looked into the gentle eyes you love so much. “I’m pregnant.” He smirked playfully. “I heard.” Laughter escaped your lips before you could realize his joke wasn’t all that funny. He pressed his forehead to yours. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah, we are.” Mouse captured your lips in a loving, searing kiss that was interrupted by someone, or someone’s, ‘aheming’ right next to you. Still tangled with Mouse you turned to your brothers, “how do you guys feel about being uncles?”

“We feel great but,” Will looked at Jay who finished the thought you knew they were both dying to ask, “are you going to explain any of this to us?”

392 notes · View notes

celestialvoid-fanfiction · 5 years

Text

First Date Deception

Stiles goes on a date with Derek in his sister’s place.

For @aussiebee

Stiles jumped as his bedroom door flew open, slamming against the bookshelf on the wall behind it.

His sister barrelled into his room, stumbling as she tried to catch herself on the doorframe. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths and her dark brown eyes were wide with fright.

“I need your help,” Paige pleaded.

Stiles rose from his seat, his chest tightening with fear as he stepped over to his sister’s side. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Paige stepped into his room and slumped down on the end of his bed.

“You know, Derek Hale?”

“Super popular jock? Captain of the basketball team? Tall, dark, and handsome. That Derek?” Stiles asked.

Paige nodded. “He asked me out on a date, tonight.”

“Does he know you’re a lesbian?” Stiles asked.

“No,” Paige answered. “And that’s what I’m worried about. I can’t go on a date, it wouldn’t be fair. I don’t want to lead him on, or get caught up in a situation I don’t want and can’t get out of.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t go,” Stiles replied bluntly. “It wouldn’t be honest.”

He paused for a moment.

“I’ll go,” Stiles offered, “disguised as you.”

“What if he wants to hold hands?” Paige asked

Stiles shrugged. “I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

“What if he wants to kiss?”

“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

“What if he wants to—?”

“You don’t want to know how far I’ll go,” Stiles said, cutting her off.

“You’d really go on a date with a guy for me?” Paige asked, stunned.

“You’re my sister,” Stiles said, smiling softly. “Of course I would.”

“How’s it going in there?” Paige called out from where she stood in the hallway, leaning back against the wall across from her brother’s room.

“Almost done,” Stiles replied.

A moment later Stiles stepped into the hallway. He wore a thin summer dress, the wavering white fabric covered in vibrant yellow sunflowers and the skirt hanging around his knees. He wore a pair of white sandals that complimented the dress.

The illusion was completed by a wig of long brown hair, curling slightly as it framed his face. His moles were covered up with concealer.

He looked himself up and down before looking back at his sister and raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“It’s like looking in the mirror,” Paige said. “But you might want to work on your voice.”

“You might want to work on your voice,” Stiles mimicked.

Paige blinked in surprise. “That was a lot better than I thought it’d be.”

Stiles smiled proudly.

“You’ve been practicing that, haven’t you?” Paige asked, narrowing her eyes suspisciously.

“Sometimes I pretend to be you when I call Dad,” Stiles admitted. “He’s more likely to say yes to you.”

Paige pushed herself up off the wall and took a step closer. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Paige, it’s going to be fine,” Stiles said reassuringly.

Paige opened her mouth to say something when a knock at the front door interrupted them.

“That’ll be him,” Paige whispered.

“I’ve got this,” Stiles said. “Just hide in your room until we’re gone.”

“Call me if you need to, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed. “Now, go.”

Page stepped past him and into her room. She stopped in the doorway, hesitating for a moment as she looked at her brother.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Stiles made his way downstairs and opened the front door.

Derek stood on the front step. He was dressed in a grey Henley and a worn leather jacket. His wide-set eyes were pale, the colour of his irises shifted in the light; from hazel to green, to a shade of light blue-grey hue. A kind smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he met Stiles’ gaze.

“Hey,” Derek said quietly.

“Hi,” Stiles said, mirroring his sister’s voice perfectly.

“You ready to go?”

Stiles nodded.

The cinema was full with a buzz of chatter as the crowd of people filtered into the space and filled up their seats.

Stiles toyed with the hem of his skirt, swallowing hard as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"Here you go," Derek said quietly, trying not to startle Stiles. He held out a box of popcorn and a drink for Stiles.

"Thank you," Stiles said softly. "Are you sure you don't want me to pay you back? I'd be more than happy to."

"It's fine," Derek reassured him, offering him a kind smile.

Stiles smiled bashfully, bowing his head as Derek slid into the seat beside him. A strange warmth filled his chest and his stomach was full of butterflies.

The cinema darkened and the screen lit up, playing trailers and advertisements before finally starting the movie—the latest horror film.

Stiles couldn't focus. It's not that it wasn't a good film, it was just that he was expecting Derek to make a move—to pretend to yawn so that he could put his arm around his shoulders, or to edge closer. But he didn't. Part of him felt relieved at that, he didn't—for Paige's sake—but part of him wished Derek had made a move, that even for one night Stiles could be close to him.

His mind was swirling with thoughts. He bounced his knee slightly, trying to find a way to move while sitting still.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to focus on the movie.

He watched as the characters moved down the dark, damp tunnel—a sewer or hidden passage of some sort, lit by the flickering glow of their flashlight. The concrete walls were covered in slime and mould, rivulets of water streaming across the rough surface. Spaced out along the walls were rusted iron grated, the lattice of metal bars catching debris and detritus.

There was no music, no sound except for the dripping water, the trickling rivulets and the echo of the character's footsteps as they moved slowly.

There was a thundering bang as the creature burst through the wall.

Stiles jumped. He let out a startled yell, reaching out for Derek.

A moment later he composed himself, his heart racing as his eyes drifted to where his hand clutched Derek's. He lifted his eyes to meet Derek's reassuring gaze.

Derek looked back at him, his face lit by the glow of the movie screen and his adventuring eyes like clear diamonds.

Stiles felt his stomach twist in knots. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throats and slowly pulled his hand back.

"Sorry," Stiles whispered, his face flushed red as he turned back to face the screen.

A moment later, he felt Derek's fingers gently brush against the palm of his hand as he laced his fingers with Stiles'.

Stiles looked up at Derek in surprise.

Derek looked back at him, his pale eyes lit by the movie.

Stiles blushed, bowing his head slightly as he turned back to the movie.

He didn't want to lead Derek on, but at the same time, he couldn't pull away.

His racing heartbeat slowed, the warmth of Derek's touch soothing him.

They stayed like that for the lights came back up at the end of the movie. Derek slowly pulled his hand free of Stiles', collecting their things before making their way out of the movie.

They stepped out into the cool night air.

Stiles looked up, watching as the wisps of cloud cleared to reveal the glittering stars that filled the night sky.

"We should get going," Derek said quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I think your dad will kill me if we're out later than nine-thirty."

"Assuming he hasn’t sent the deputies after you already," Stiles teased, a mischievous smile turning up the corners of his lips.

Derek smiled back, nodding towards where he’d parked his car.

Stiles followed.

He climbed into the Camaro and Derek slid into the driver’s seat. He fitted the key into the ignition and turned it, letting the car roar to life.

They drove home in quiet, Stiles staring out the window at the night sky as Derek drove through the familiar streets of Beacon Hills. The sound of Derek's car engine rumbled through his chest, soothing him.

They pulled up before Stiles' house and Derek shut off the engine.

Stiles climbed out of the car and made his way across the front yard to the front door, Derek following after him.

"You don't have to walk me to the front door, you know," Stiles told him.

"What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't make sure you got home safe?" Derek said, flashing a charming smile.

Stiles stopped by the door, he turned to face Derek, letting out a measured breath.

"Derek,” he started slowly. “You’re a really nice guy and I had a really nice time tonight, but I..."

"I know," Derek said softly, offering a kind smile. "You only want to be friends."

He leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles' cheek.

"Goodnight, Stiles," he whispered before stepping back, a coy smile in his face.

"What?" Stiles asked, stunned.

Derek smirked, turning back towards his car.

"Wait, you knew?" Stiles asked, no longer mimicking his sister's voice.

"I worked it out a while ago," Derek admitted. “About an hour into the night.”

"And you didn't think to tell me you knew?"

"I didn't want things to get weird,” Derek answered. “Besides, I liked being with you.”

Stiles frowned in confusion.

"I asked Paige out tonight as a friend so I could to talk to her about how to talk to you," Derek admitted.

“Why would you need my sister to help you to talk to me?” Stiles asked.

Derek levelled Stiles with a look, lifting an eyebrow.

I took a moment, but Stiles’ eyes widened with realisation. "Oh."

Derek bit his bottom lip slightly, bowing his head.

"So you... you like me?"

A soft pink blush coloured Derek's cheeks. "Yeah, I do."

Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

“I like you too,” Stiles admitted.

“Does that mean you’ll go on another date with me?” Derek asked hopefully.

“I’d like that.”

[AO3]

#give away #commission give away #fanfiction commission give away #thank you give away #thank you #aussiebee #first date deception #sterek #sterek au #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #sterek fic #sterek one shot #sterek short one shot #sterek first date

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etlunainmorte · 5 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

Galatea found Vergil in the library that day, and when she approached the little boy, she saw him drawing something on a cover of a hardbound book with a blue crayon.

She might have smiled at the boy's little project but, the erratic movements of his little hand as the worn down cerulean crayon chaotically glided through the book, making jarred lines and messy curves, slightly unnerved her. And as the huge letter V finally started to form on the book's cover, she realized what he's been doing.

"You know, William Blake would not appreciate what you did to his book if he sees that." She gently told the little boy as she took a seat on one of the chairs next to him.

Vergil looked up at her, letting her see the ugly bruise on his cheek ( most probably Dante's doing ), and frowned. "I want to make this book mine!"

"I know, dear. It's just,... you're going to ruin the book. And if it's ruined, you won't be able to read it properly again."

"BUT - !" The boy almost cried. "It's Dante! He always takes everything away from me! I'm putting my name on it so it can truly be mine!"

"Sshh, sshh, sshh, alright, calm down,..." Galatea hushed as she held up her hands in front of the boy. "I understand. No need to get mad."

"But,..." the boy looked down at the ruined cover of the book, his tears now steadily flowing from his eyes. "... will Mr. William Blake really get mad at me for doing this?"

The girl smiled as she took the boy into her arms and wrapped him in a very warm and gentle embrace. "I think," she explained. "... that he will be very proud of you for picking his works over others. He will say that you're a very clever boy, and that you deserve all the love and affection in the world."

"You're joking, I know,..." Vergil argued, calmly but still with a hint of disappointment.

"I'm not! Okay, if you'll let me borrow your book,..." Galatea answered as she took the book from the table. "... then, maybe I could do something with it,..."

Later that night, the girl showed up at Vergil's bedroom, both her hands behind her back and a mischievous smile on her lips. The boy left his bed and went over to her side.

"Galatea, what are you hiding?"

The girl smirked as she finally showed what she's holding. It was the same book, only that it has now a brown leather cover with a huge golden V, along with intricate lines around it, emblazoned on both the front and the back.

The little boy's eyes widened with complete wonder, gasping excitedly as he received the newly covered book from her.

"It's like,..." Vergil almost stuttered, his excitement getting the better of him. "... it's magic! How did you do it?!"

Galatea playfully rolled her eyes. "Magic."

The little boy threw himself at her, hugging her as tightly as he could. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

"Ah, it's nothing." Galatea answered as she put her arms around the boy's tiny body. "By the way, I put something in - "

"I'm so excited to read this!"

The boy ran to his bed, bouncing happily in it as he started to surround himself with the wondrous and imaginative world of Blake.

"Never mind." Galatea murmured more to herself than to the little boy. "Good night." She whispered as she quietly closed the door,...

Little Lamb who made thee,

Dost thou know who made thee,... ?

***

XXIX

***

"Sunny day sweepin' the clouds away.

On my way to where the air is sweet!

Can you tell me how to get?

How to get to - "

"V! Wake up!"

The poor poet woke up to someone shaking him on the shoulder and the sound of that sickly cheerful music on the television. He opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the bright morning light that seemed to add insult to his self - inflicted psychological and emotional injury, and saw the woman peering down at him with utter disgust.

"Eww, what happened to ya? Ya, like, cried yerself to sleep or somethin'?"

V ignored her stupid question as he sat up from the sofa ( which was mercifully soft, thank the Heavens ) and took a good long look around the now bright room.

During his awfully stressful slumber, Nico has managed to enter the premises ( of course, she has her own key ), parted the heavy curtains, and actually made something decent for breakfast.

And its smell was now actually wafting from the kitchen to V's sensitive nostrils.

"Breakfast time!" The tattooed woman announced as she went over to the television to turn it off.

"HEY!" Griffon, who was sitting on the floor beside Shadow, pointed an accusing finger at her. "WE'RE STILL WATCHING!"

"ELMO CAN WAIT! AND DON'T YA POINT AT ME JUST BECAUSE YER HUMAN NOW!"

"AARRGGHH!"

Shadow, who was eagerly watching the children's show with Griffon, flinched when the television screen went from colorful to blank, and started crying like Nico just took her candy away from her.

"SEE WHAT YE'VE DONE TO THE HOUSECAT!"

"OH, SHUT THE CRAP UP!"

"ENOUGH!"

Griffon and Nico both looked up as they heard V's intentionally loud scream and immediately stopped bickering. Shadow, on the other hand, went on crying like nobodies' business.

And it was to an awkward silence when he left the unit to clear his mind. He knew he has an obligation to take care of (Y/N) and he was fully aware that he must not leave her with Nico and Griffon ( who were both as perfectly capable as two clashing, idiotic hominids ) but, he really needed to get away for a while, to ease his anxiety and to calm his senses. He wanted so much to get rid of the throbbing pain on his head, and he needed get away from too much noise for a while.

He wanted to breathe some fresh air,...

All of a sudden, like something that could only happen in cheap novels and low - budget movies, a single piece of flyer flew from somewhere and landed on his face. He picked the piece of paper off his tired and greasy face, took a good long look at it, and almost swore out loud. Almost.

Of all the places that could lure him in,...

An hour later, he found himself face to face with the familiar wooden door with the huge neon sign right above it. The one place that old flyer advertised.

It was the same place,... that changed his fate forever. Not to mention the others he intentionally and unintentionally dragged along with him and his blunders.

He opened the door, stepped in,...

... and saw, in his utter shock, the huge interior of a grand, old cathedral. He was now standing next to one of the pews, and when he looked down to his left, he saw (Y/N) actually sitting on it, her eyes transfixed to, most probably, the choir practicing from the far right corner of the cathedral.

"Willst du ihnen beitreten?" Came the voice of an older woman who suddenly went through V ( like how Alicia did ) and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was a middle - aged nun with the most gentle features he has ever seen.

The nun must have noticed (Y/N)'s confusion upon being asked in a different language, and shook her head. "Oh, vergib mir. I mean, forgive me. I was asking if you want to join them." She asked, then gestured towards the choir.

(Y/N)'s mouth opened as she was about to say something but, then, hesitated. She just smiled sheepishly and shook her head.

"You'll love it there."

"I'm sorry, I can't,... I really can't sing like that."

"Oh, is that so? Hmm, you do seem to like music." The nun sat down next to (Y/N). "Then, what brings you here? You do seem like you came from a very far place. I may be able to help." She asked as she looked at her casual clothes that were inappropriate for such a cold weather.

The girl, who looked like she was about to burst into tears, nodded as she bowed her head. She, then, looked at the nun's eyes and spoke, "I was looking for - "

"V?" Came a familiar voice. The poet glanced at the vicinity of the choir once more and noticed Dante standing just next to the old conductor, his arms crossed. "Hey!" His younger brother went towards him, looking confused, and when he finally patted him on the shoulder, his surroundings abruptly changed from German rustic to American modern. He was back to his own reality with the familiar atmosphere of the Devil May Cry office before him. "Finally came for a visit, eh?"

"I,... guess I' am. Yes."

Dante rolled his eyes and gestured for V to follow him towards his desk. "So, what happened with the Vergil disguise?"

"It wore off." It was the truth

"Can you put it back on?" Dante mildly asked as he collapsed on his chair and placed both of his feet on his messy table. "Be my brother for a while?"

"Do you want me to?" V inquired as he threw his cane in mid air and caught it with his right hand.

The Devil Hunter in red just shook his head. "Nah. Would it make any difference, though? We'll still try to kill each other anyway."

"Was that the only memory we had? Of us at each others' throats?"

"Seems like it."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and when Dante spoke once more, V felt that there really was a reason he was led back to this place.

"That day, when I was fighting the Dreadnought's horde, some names came up my head. Something like Andromeda, Cassandra, and Galatea?" His statement made V smirk as he shook his head in disbelief. And this very unexpected gesture irked Dante. "What?"

"You heard the man, Cassandra." V spoke, much to Dante's utter confusion. "It is time you explain everything."

For a few moments, Dante only stared at V, thinking that his "brother" has completely gone insane, and lo and behold, something materialized right next to him, and it made him almost fall off his chair in shock.

"WHOAH! WHO ARE YOU?!"

"Dante, I'd like to reintroduce you to Cassandra, the Aspect Of Future, eldest of the Sisters of Fate."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Wait a second here, reintroduce? Did I hear that right?"

V's gaze felt like daggers against Cassandra's skin. She looked down in shame, unable to speak.

"Cassandra, if you please?" V asked. No. More like ordered.

The Sister of Fate nodded and went closer to Dante. The man quickly stood and drew back in terror, uncertain why a tall and lovely woman was approaching him. "Let your sight be opened." Cassandra spoke clearly as she took hold of Dante's head, making his eyes roll back and his muscles tense. After a few moments, she let go of his head, making him stumble to the ground. And the moment he opened his eyes, he finally remembered everything.

"H - how could I forget?!" He muttered. "Cassandra, were you the one who sealed our memories?"

"Yes." The woman answered with much guilt. "I only did it to protect you from Mundus and all of Sparda's enemies. I' am very sorry."

"Ha." The man mocked as he stood up and brushed some dirt off his jacket. "And surely you've realized that your bright idea did nothing to keep us safe!"

"That is enough, Dante." V quietly interjected.

"Can you explain what this is all about?"

Which was exactly what V did for the next couple of hours. He explained everything, from the day he commissioned him to take on the Demon King Urizen, to the day the Sisters returned to him. And, of course, he told him everything about (Y/N), how he felt about her, how he fell in love with her,...

... how he hurt her,...

"To be quite frank," Dante began as he rubbed his stubble. "... you've been a total douchebag, V. No offense. Just saying the plain truth."

"I know. And I'm sorry." The poet, now settled on one of the chairs beside the desk, answered.

"Nah. What's the point in falling in love when you don't make a blunder or two? It's called, falling in love. And, damn, it hurts. Look what happened to me." Dante shook his head and stood. "Speaking of (Y/N), I just remembered something. Wait here." He stated as he made his way to the back of the office, occasionally throwing weird glances at Cassandra, who was quietly standing at the far corner of the room.

When he got back, he was carrying a pale pink fur coat and what looked like an instrument case. "(Y/N) forgot this the last time she's here. Can you give this back to her for me?"

As V was about to take the parka - like clothing from his brother, his visions returned, flinging him back to the old rustic church where he saw the same nun from before handing him the thing instead of Dante. A pair of hands went through V, taking the parka from the kind, old woman. He moved aside to see (Y/N) lovingly clutching the warm, wooly parka close to her chest.

"Thank you so much, Sister,... ah?"

"You may call me Sister Christina." The old woman smiled. "May you finally see the man you've been searching for." The nun made the sign of the cross and kissed the younger woman on the forehead. "Möge dich Gott auf deinen Reisen segnen."

"V?" Dante's voice once again brought him back to the present. "You okay?"

"Yes. Forgive me."

Dante just stared at V with a raised eyebrow as he handed the coat to him. "Oh, and, ah, her birthday is coming soon, and I couldn't think of anything else to give. I mean, I don't know what movie she hasn't already seen, and I'm sure she's not gonna appreciate Twilight. So, I got her this." He handed him the instrument case he's been holding.

V was right. It was a violin. A real one, and not a weaponized version.

Dante scratched his head in confusion. "Ah, I know she's tone deaf. But, you can teach her, right?"

"Of course." V answered. "Can I open it?"

"Sure. Open it, play something with it, whatever you want."

V carefully opened the case and saw the exquisite, wooden thing inside. He took it and appraised it like an expert.

"Guarneri? You can afford Guarneri?!" For the first time since those stressful days, V actually felt the mirth going back to his system at the thought of Dante buying an expensive instrument for the girl he loves.

"Guava?" And he clearly sounded that he had no idea what he just got himself into.

"Guarneri." V repeated dryly. He just can't accept people being ignorant about the popular Italian Luthier - the maker of Paganini's violin.

"Guava. Guanini. Whatever. Besides, I just bought it from an antique shop and had it fixed."

And apparently, it cost too much, V thought, taking note of the dark atmosphere of the room. His brother wasn't able to pay the bills again and was probably fast approaching bankruptcy.

V pushed the thoughts aside as he positioned the violin below his left jaw and raised the bow,...

"Allmächtiger Vater, Segne diesen Mann auf seinen Wegen und Reisen. Segne ihn in seinem Denken und Handeln. Segne ihn in seiner Seele und seinem Herzen. Dass dein Licht ihn stets umgibt, und ihn auf deinen erwählten Pfad sicher leite. Geleite ihn durch die Stille und Leere, auf dass er an deiner Seite die Hoffnung und das Glück entdecke. Im Namen des Vaters, des Sohnes und des heiligen Geistes

Amen."

The two brothers both looked at the other end of the room and saw (Y/N) standing there, her back turned against them.

"What the hell?!" Dante mumbled. "(Y/N)?!"

However, V was fully aware who she really was. And he knew she wasn't (Y/N).

The girl turned and finally revealed her face. It was, indeed, Galatea. "Almighty father," she went on with her prayer. "Bless this man on his roads and travels, bless him in his thoughts and actions, bless him in his soul and in his heart that your light always surrounds him and guide him safely on your chosen path. Guide him through the silence and the void so that by your side he may find hope and mirth. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen. It's what (Y/N) always prays at night before she sleeps. It was taught to her by the nun who gave her that parka. She prays for you each night, Master."

"Galatea, is that you?!" Dante gasped, pointing at another one of the Sisters of Fate who kept materializing in his own office.

"That name was given by your father, Sparda. Before that, I was,... nothing. A shell of what truly mirrors the illusions made by him." Galatea explained.

"What do you mean by that?" V questioned.

The girl smiled. "Do you remember that night when I fixed that book of yours, Master?"

"Of course. As clear as day, dear."

The girl nodded, her expression very serious. "Then, please, take the cover off the book."

"NO!" Cassandra shrieked all of a sudden. She crossed the room and made her way to her younger sister, hugging her as tightly as she could.

Like Galatea was going to leave her,...

"You can't do this! Please! We'll lose you! I beg you, don't do this!"

The youngest sister only smiled as she embraced her sibling. "But, you've seen it?"

"Yes!" Cassandra was crying, and it unnerved both V and Dante. "So, I beg you! Don't make him do it! Please! I've lost mama and papa. I don't want to lose you!"

It's just a book. What would happen to her?

Galatea closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her eye. She, then, looked at V. "Master, do it. And see for yourself. Do it for me."

Despite the heavy and unexplainable feeling that suddenly weighed on his chest, he placed the Guarneri and the bow back on their case, took out the William Blake anthology from his coat pocket, and opened it, noticing the part where the leather cover began. With mild curiosity, Dante inched closer to V, watching his brother tear off the brown leather cover. A few moments later, a single piece of paper fell from it to the floor, making all eyes focus on it and it alone.

And as V picked it up and noticed what it was, his eyes widened and his lips parted. It was a very old vintage photograph of a little girl holding a stuffed lamb.

It was an old photograph of (Y/N).

"I was created to mimic her image. To provide mama with a daughter. Without her, the girl in that old photograph, I' am nothing. The moment I came to life, I always dreamed of actually meeting her in person. And I found her," Galatea let go of Cassandra and went directly to V. "... and brought her to you."

All the pain in his chest went back, reminding him of every bit of mistake he has done to her. He clutched the photograph closer to his chest. "But, I don't deserve her. I,... hurt her."

"I know. So, promise me you'll find her and get her back."

"Find her? Galatea, what do you - ?" V was startled when her body was suddenly engulfed with multiple little orbs of light. "What's happening to your body?"

"I used up all of my powers. I found her, fulfilled your wish, healed her. My mission,... has ended." She answered. She was dying, and yet, there was a content look on her face.

She knew her fate all along. And she embraced it.

"Farewell, Master."

And with those final words, she vanished, leaving behind her true form: an antique porcelain doll clutching a stuffed lamb.

That image was still on his mind when he left Dante's office and made his way back to (Y/N)'s unit but, something else was bothering him.

Find her? What does that mean? It's not like (Y/N) suddenly vanished or anything. That’s impossible.

But, then, something flashed in his mind: an unknown visitor, a tear - stained note, an open door,...

V practically sprinted towards the building, his heart rate going higher and higher as the vision finally took over his mind.

It can't be! She can't do this! She can't - !

The poet flung open the door and saw the frantic look on Nico and Griffon's faces.

"Where is she?"

Nico and Griffon immediately went towards V. Something really was wrong.

"Okay, V. No need to stress yerself even more. We just went out to get some stuff and,... she's just - " Griffon began but, he was immediately cut off.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Nico, who was the calmer of the three of them, tried to stop V as he made his way towards (Y/N)'s room. "Calm down, man! She will go back. I know she will - "

She will go back?!

He almost rudely brushed the two aside and ran to her room. He flung open the door,...

... and didn't find her there.

But, just like in his vision, there was a single note on the bed. He picked it up and saw the shaky scribbles on it.

“One of these days, and it won’t be long,

You’ll call my name and I’ll be gone,

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well.”

And just like in the vision, the note,...

... was tear - stained.

***

🖤 Special thanks to @la-vita for the German dialogue and translations. And for introducing us to Sister Christina. 🖤

🖤 @beyond-the-mirror , @gothghoulfiend , @vergils-daughter , @micaelagua , @ehrzeth , @ceruleanworld , @simmy-ships , @boundbysoul , @diabeticsugarush , @lessy86 , @heaven-on-a-landslide , and @krazy06 . 🖤

***

As they made their way back to their home, he saw his wife stop at an antique shop, her eyes transfixed on something in a glass case. He took a curious look at it and realized it was a beautiful vintage porcelain doll holding what looked like a stuffed lamb. And just above the doll's glass case was a photograph of a real human girl, clutching the same stuffed lamb, who must have been the inspiration of whoever made the toy.

He smiled at her. "Do you want her? I'll get her for you."

His lovely wife looked up at him, her smile slowly diminishing. She shook her head and grasped her husband's hand, leading him away from the shop with a sad look on her face.

The week after that, the husband introduced his wife to three girls. And he called one of them Galatea.

"Galatea?" She gasped in wonder as her hands glided against the girl’s smooth porcelain - like skin. Like that of a doll's.

She was,... simply perfect,...

The little girl smiled at her as she carefully touched her hands with her own, little ones. "Mama?"

Little Lamb who made thee,

Dost thou know who made thee,... ?

***

🖤 P.S. I Love You 🖤

~ A V X Reader set in a modern Alternate Universe.

~ Life goes back to normal after the fall of Urizen, the Demon King. V, one of the Demon Hunters who survived the demonic invasion, officially joins Devil May Cry and takes on small jobs to make ends meet. One day, a female client hires him to drive away an evil spirit that haunts her home. Along with Nico, who brings along her new state - of - the - art gadgets to help him on his new mission, and his familiars, Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare, V moves to his client's home - a mansion rich with history, both happy and dark. And in that mansion, he finds a diary that once belonged to the client's great grandmother, a woman named (Y/N) (L/N), who is, somehow, connected to the hauntings of the restless spirit he must drive out.

~ To be released on the 1st week of October.

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #chapter 29 #the little lamb #teaser #p.s. i love you

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gofordrakgo · 4 years

Text

Dwelling Chapter Ten

“She threw back the curtain once more, to ask Drew how he felt about the tank-top, somewhat bemused by the way his blush had gotten darker each time she’d asked for his opinion. ‘Joan Jett,’ he said, with a nod, before she spoke. ‘Very cool.’ ‘If you’re saying it’s cool I probably shouldn’t believe it,’ she mocked. Instead of getting flustered, his eyes went wide. ‘You… you don’t know who she is?’ ”

Dwelling Summary

Dwelling Chapter One

Dwelling Chapter Nine

Dwelling Chapter Eleven

Drew informed her, minutes after they put the groceries away and left the apartment yet again, that she had about twelve dollars to buy clothes with. At least she’d remembered to plunk a toothbrush and some other cheap toiletries into the cart before they left the store. She couldn’t do much more than give a nod in response as she tried to mull over how much that would actually be worth.

Ever since she and her brothers had become Team Go her clothes had been designed specifically for her. Even her t-shirts and jeans, which she’d rarely gotten to wear before running away, had been sewn to her exact measurements. Her parents had been adamant that heroes needed to look presentable at all times, which meant wearing her brother’s hand-me-downs was no longer acceptable. They’d been furious when she put up a fight against her uniform being a dress instead of a one-piece like her brothers - they only relented when she pointed out that accidentally flashing a crowd of onlookers would look bad for the team. Shea personally thought that putting her in a flowery green and white dress looked bad for the team on its own.

She had no idea how much her clothes were actually worth, but if she had to bet, the cuff of her sleeve probably cost more than what Drew was able to provide for an entirely new wardrobe. It wasn’t that she cared about getting the best clothes, but she did have to wonder if she’d be able to afford more than a t-shirt or two.

“Are you even listening to me?” Drew asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She’d been nodding along while he ranted and raved about… something.

She shrugged apologetically. “Not really.” She had stopped listening the moment he mentioned the money, too entangled in a vehement debate about how to politely ask how much twelve dollars would get her.

“Well, I was saying,” he snipped, “that we should wait until it starts getting cooler out to buy you a jacket. People donate nicer ones when they realize their children don’t fit into last years any more.”

“I’m not-”

“Teenagers still count as children of their parents, Shea.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunching as he added in a mutter, “That’s all I meant.”

“Fine, whatever,” she mumbled back, unsure of why she was getting more and more offended each time he called her a child. It hurt a little, in a way she couldn’t quite identify. Not that she assumed getting defensive and angry made her look particularly mature.

She forced herself not to scuff her shoe along the pavement as they walked. The silence between them felt like a pressure pushing on her from all angles, worse somehow, than the silence of the apartment without him. His incessant babbling after he’d gotten back had become some sort of a comfort, especially after having been alone for most of the day. The whole walk back to the apartment after they’d gotten groceries he’d rambled about some new show airing on the cooking channel later that night, practically begging her to watch it with him. Then, while they put the groceries away, she’d listened to him babble on and on about how a bar by his school was advertising a karaoke night on Friday. She’d barely been able to get a word in, but she had actually listened to him the whole time. Of course, he only noticed her the one time she distracted herself.

She lingered behind a step, watching the way he shuffled his feet while he walked, and the way he fidgeted with a penny he’d pulled from his pocket. He must have been annoyed with her, she figured, to have fallen silent for longer than it took to pull in a breath. Did that mean she should apologize? Or was it on him to just get over it? She loathed her parents with a white-hot fury just then… or, well, green-hot, really. If they hadn’t pulled her from school and every other social activity she’d been in as a child, maybe she would have known the answer to that. Maybe it wouldn’t have even been a question.

Even if she should apologize, she couldn’t force the words out without feeling insincere. She wasn’t all that sorry, truth be told, she just didn’t want him to be angry with her. Which was ridiculous. Normally she delighted in pissing people off - granted they were perverted creeps or weirdos who really thought the entire population of the city should bend to their will. Instead of speaking she slipped back into her place beside him and after a few more steps, snatched the penny from his hand.

“Hey!” Drew protested immediately, trying to grab it back.

Mockingly she asked, “Does the school normally give you your allowance in coins?”

“It’s not an allowance it’s - nngh! Give that back!”

Ignoring him, she tossed the coin into the air. He tried to catch it, managing only to swipe fruitlessly at empty air as the coin landed heads-up in her palm.

“Heads, you have to answer any question I ask,” she said, showing him the coin. He reached for it again, and she slipped it between her fingers as she pulled it away.

“No way!” He shook his head, his hair bouncing. “I’m not agreeing to that.”

“Aw come on, Drew.” She nudged his arm with hers’ gently. “Humor me.”

“Humor yourself,” he muttered. She stared, unblinking at him until he looked at her. “Nn - fine! Just… You have to agree to answer questions when it lands on tails, first.”

“Wanna play would-you-rather?” Shea offered, as she realized he’d probably utilize her saying yes to ask for her last name. Which, if he did, she’d have to hit him for. She didn’t love the idea of that - he’d probably start crying again or something, and she didn’t think she could deal with it.

“I don’t see why not,” he sighed.

Shea grinned at him, then looked around to find inspiration for her first question. “Would you rather,” she began slowly, as a small bakery caught her eye, “be an average, unknown scientist, or a world-renowned baker?”

Drew hummed in thought, running his hand through his hair. “As a scientist, I’d have no way of making myself known? I wouldn’t do anything significant?”

“You could help someone do something, but you couldn’t do it yourself. And you could never get recognized for your help.”

“Well, I’d like to be a scientist, but given the parameters… World-renowned baker.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re in it for the attention?” she teased, nudging his arm again.

“No! I just— I’d like to do something that’s worth it, you know? Something that will actually make a difference. And if I can’t do that as a scientist, at least I could as a baker.” Jokingly he added, “The attention is just a perk.”

“I don’t think I believe that.”

“Believe what you want.” Drew shrugged and pointed to a shop across the street. “That’s where we need to be.”

While they waited for the crosswalk signal to change, Shea flipped the coin again. “Heads. Would you rather… cook breakfast foods or dinner foods?” The question sounded stupid even in her head, but it was the best she could think up on the spot. It was her fault for asking him to play this game. She could have gotten away with pestering him about his past if she hadn’t been so scared of him trying to dig into hers.

Drew still mulled it over, as if it were worth the effort to think about. “Dinner, I suppose. Mostly because I have time to cook decent meals for dinner. I normally have to leave too early for a good breakfast. And besides, I can explore more options with dinner.”

“I need better questions,” she muttered while they crossed the street.

“Flip the coin again, maybe it’ll be my turn to ask.” Much to her disappointment, it landed on tails. While she was struggling to come up with anything worthy of asking, she worried more about what he might ask her. She expected something goading her into telling him her last name, or an equally unanswerable question. Instead, he asked, “Would you rather drink an entire gallon of iced tea, or eat an entire watermelon in one sitting?” The words left his mouth before she could properly manage to tell him the coin had landed on tails. Surprised by the question, she started to laugh.

“I’ll go with the watermelon, I guess.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’m just not a huge fan of iced tea. I like it and all, just not enough to drink an entire gallon.” There had only been one iced tea that she could have drank an entire gallon of, and ever since the comet struck her mother refused to make it. She’d tried to remember the exact mixture, but the times she managed to sneak the supplies into Go Tower, it had never turned out quite right.

“My father, when I was a child,” Drew said, as he held the door open for her, “used to bring home a watermelon on the last day of school every year. We’d eat the whole thing that night, as proof summer had begun.”

“I bet you were the kind of kid who got scared and cried about how a watermelon was going to grow in your stomach if you accidentally swallowed a seed.”

“I was not! I mean– nngh! I was four!”

“I knew it,” she laughed, slipping past him to step inside. Her eyes widened as she took in the interior of the building.

A bell above the door rang as Drew closed it. He chuckled quietly as he saw her expression, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Welcome,” he said imitating a game show host, “to the wonderful world of thrift stores.” Stuffed into one corner was a stack of movies that rivaled hers and Drew’s combined. Next to it was shelves full of books that made her want to sit down and read every single one, and made her all the more grateful for Drew’s library card. Knick knacks and toys lined the back wall. The rest of the building was filled up with rows and rows of donated clothes.

“That was terrible,” she said, turning to look at him. A billboard on the wall next to the door caught her eye.

“Thank you. Now, come on,” he urged, nudging her forward. “Your size is going to be over here.

“Wait!” Shea brushed Drew’s hand off her shoulder and pointed out, “Job advertisements. Maybe somebody needs a dog walker or babysitter or something.”

Drew glanced behind him, and when his gaze shot back to hers she thought he looked oddly panicked, the way he had during the movie before he freaked out. With unexpected speed and force his hand smacked back down on her shoulder. “Don't— Don't worry about that right now,” he said in a rush, jolting her back around and shoving her forward. “Next time, maybe. I um… I have to get back and do work, so let’s hurry it up.”

“Yeah, but—” She started to protest, but Drew interrupted her with an almost urgent, “Not now.”

She threw her hands up, stepping out of range of his insistent shoving. “Fine! Jeez. I was just hoping to pitch in, you know.”

Drew made a strangled sort of sound. “And I do appreciate the sentiment, but if we could get going!”

With a huff, Shea made her way over to the section he’d pointed her towards. “What’s got you so grumpy?” She muttered under her breath.

He either didn’t hear her or decided to ignore her. “Pick out anything you want. There are dressing rooms over there. Just be sure to check the price tag. I’d suggest avoiding anything that costs more than fifty cents, but sometimes you can convince them to bring the price down.”

“I’d like to see you trying to haggle,” Shea scoffed. In truth, she could picture it pretty easily. After all, it had only taken one flash of his dopey grin and she’d agreed to watch some lame cooking show with him.

He shrugged at her. “I got… um, something, from here for less than a dollar. It was worth eight. I’ve got my ways.” When he winked at her - more smooth than she ever would have expected from him - she felt her stomach twist in a strange way - a way she couldn’t decide if she liked or disliked.

She gave his arm a swift punch. She hadn’t meant for it to hurt, but he yelped, wincing, and she took that to mean she’d probably hit him harder than she meant to. She needed to watch her strength, she decided, before she hurt him too badly.

“Something?” She teased anyway, “Real specific, Drew. Not at all suspicious.” He grunted and shot a glare in her direction but otherwise didn’t respond.

She couldn’t tell if it was force of habit or the knowledge that it looked best on her, but she found herself gravitating towards anything green. She plucked shirt after shirt off the racks, examining them.

“Oh, that’s perfect for you,” Drew laughed, as she pulled out a t-shirt bedazzled with a large purple butterfly and tiny colorful little flowers.

Sticking her tongue out she faked like she was going to be sick and nearly threw the shirt back onto the rack. “Am I really that small that kids stuff is going to fit me?” She asked without meaning to.

“Drat!” He exclaimed. “I meant to make you eat some food before we came here.”

She’d all but forgotten about the hunger working a pit into her stomach and the temptation to hit him, for real, came on as strong as the hunger pangs did. “I’m not that little,” she decided, grumbling to herself.

Drew shook his head. “Yes, you are. You wouldn’t be if you’d eat food.”

“I eat!”

“Not enough, clearly! You look like nobody has fed you in years! You’re all bone!”

“I’m just not normally hungry!”

“You’re eating two servings of dinner tonight, at least, since I forgot to make you have a proper lunch.”

“Fine! As long as it’s good.”

“I’m making cantaloupe fruit salad,” he teased, then sighed as she glared at him. “Chicken fried rice sound better?”

“Much.”

“It’s not the most nutritious meal, but it’s cheap. And easy to make.”

With a snort, Shea started walking in the direction of the dressing rooms, figuring the stack of clothes split between her arms and Drews was more than enough. “I didn’t think you’d be into easy to make meals.”

“Oh, it isn’t easy to make because of me,” he said. Something about his tone made her pause, and she turned slowly to face him.

“I’m not helping,” she stated, shaking her head. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“Come on, Shea! Everyone should know how to cook. I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t need to be taught how to burn down a building!”

“It’s easy and I’ll be right there the entire time in case something goes wrong!”

“Yeah, and you’ll be right there fighting over the toilet when we both end up with food poisoning. Not happening.”

“You know you already helped me with the first step.”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

Drew hummed affirmatively, “Did too. You helped buy the ingredients! So, now we both know none of it has gone bad yet, which means you can learn to cook.”

“I’m not doing it,” she insisted one final time, snatching the clothes from Drew’s arms and marching into the small closet-sized room to try them on before he could argue.

After half a dozen t-shirts were discarded on the floor with increasing amounts of annoyance, she heard a knock on the wall. “Having trouble choosing or did you get stuck?” Drew’s disembodied voice teased from behind the curtain.

“I’m too small to get stuck,” Shea grumbled, glaring at her body in the mirror. He was right. She’d never really noticed, with how much her parents shoved the idea of the perfect image in her face, but she really was just… far too skinny. Two pairs of jeans, the smallest ones she’d found, both dangled far too loosely around her hips, and the only other pair had slipped right off when she’d finished buttoning them. One t-shirt had been so baggy she looked like a child wearing their parents’ clothing, another had clung to her skin, showing off every rib and ridge of her spine. Something wasn’t right and she knew it, she just couldn’t explain why.

The pit in her stomach seemed to grow, for reasons far beyond hunger. Her parents had done something to her. They had to. Or maybe those creeps at the lab where she had woken up and lived for seven months of her life after becoming a glowing freak had done something.

She was tempted to put her own clothes back on, and tell Drew to keep his money but tears started welling up in her eyes at the thought, and she knew if she actually said it he’d know she was upset. She swiped at her eyes and chucked another shirt - this one with long sleeves that dangled down like loose skin on her boney arms - into the growing stack of discarded clothing.

Another knock on the wall and Drew asked, “Shea? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, snatching up a black tank top from the few shirts left for her to try.

“What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

Shea dragged in a deep, breath, forcing herself to calm down before she snapped at him again and made things worse. At least the tank-top, while still awkwardly too big on her, didn’t actually look horrible. It just looked like it was a little too big. Drews’ clothes didn’t fit right either, some part of her brain reminded which was dumb but a little comforting. She sniffled a bit, and wiped at her eyes again, reaching for a green and black flannel.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Just a lot to try on.”. She thought maybe the bagginess of the flannel wasn’t so bad if she left it unbuttoned. It still looked like she was borrowing someone else’s clothes but… She smirked to herself, as she imagined how the flannel kind of looked like it could have been snagged from a boyfriend, rather than from her dad. That wasn’t so bad, she decided. Girls stole their boyfriends’ clothing all the time, didn’t they? Maybe people would assume she was one of those girls instead of a super- ex-superhero - wondering if her genetics had been tampered with to keep her nauseatingly skinny permanently.

“Found anything you like yet?” Drew called quietly, clearly trying not to upset her again.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She spun around trying to get a good look at herself in the mirror. With a sigh, she yanked the too-big jeans up with one hand and pushed the curtain to the side with the other. “How does this look?” she asked before she could convince herself not to.

Drew audibly gulped, as he looked her up and down. “Looks– looks good,” he stammered. She raised an eyebrow at him and he averted his gaze, the tips of his ears turning pink. “We can get you a belt so you don’t have to hold those up all the time. There’s a ton to choose from.”

“Okay,” she said, admittedly a bit confused by his weird reaction– was he just trying to get her to hurry up? She rolled her eyes at the weak smile he sent over his shoulder and shut the curtain again as he turned away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

She found three more shirts that she liked, and another tank top with the words, “I love rock and roll” in messy graffiti-style print on the front. It wasn’t much but could get her through a week for now.

She threw back the curtain once more, to ask Drew how he felt about the tank-top, somewhat bemused by the way his blush had gotten darker each time she’d asked for his opinion.

“Joan Jett,” he said, with a nod, before she spoke. “Very cool.”

“If you’re saying it’s cool I probably shouldn’t believe it,” she mocked.

Instead of getting flustered, his eyes went wide. “You… you don’t know who she is?”

“Drew, my parents got mad at me for reading books. I wasn’t exactly allowed a radio.”

“But you were allowed a television? How does that make any sense?”

She glanced around and grabbed the front of his shirt. He yelped, stumbling as she pulled him into the small room with her. She shut the curtain behind him.

“What are you–”

“My parents gave me a television to watch horror movies on to train me not to let this,” she explained in an almost angry whisper as she lifted one glowing hand up to his face - he pressed himself flat against the back wall, wide-eyed, “flare-up every time I got scared.”

“Oh,” he squeaked out. “I– I’m… Sorry. I– We– I have some of her music on tape. We can…” His shocked expression faded into a small, nervous, smirk as her hand dropped back to her side. “We can listen while we cook dinner.” She realized then how close she had been standing to him. Unnecessarily close, even in the cramped space. She’d had another half foot to step back, and yet she’d decided to take up as much of his personal space as she could.

“You mean while you cook dinner,” she snipped and gave him a shove back out of the room.

“Not if you expect a meal I don’t,” she heard Drew mutter.

“Says the guy freaking out about the fact that I didn’t eat a big enough lunch.”

He didn’t respond until she walked out, back in her old clothes. “Got everything you need, chef?”

“Don’t start that,” she warned. “And no. Belt, remember?”

“Don’t start what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he grabbed her elbow to steer her in the right direction.

“You know what!”

“Well, why not? You are the one cooking tonight, after all.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Four brothers, Drew. I can do this a lot longer than you can. I am not.” Actually, she was usually the first to quit those kinds of nonsensical arguments, quick to turn the fight physical, but he didn’t need to know that. He fell silent again, and she could only hope that was the end of it.

Drew helped her sift through the belts, pulling ones at random to offer to her. Well, helped was generous. More than anything he picked up the gaudiest, awful belts he could find - a pink one with plastic rhinestones, a Mighty Martian belt, which she was surprised he cared that it was for kids enough to leave behind - she wasn’t even sure he was actually offering them to her, or just offering them up for her to laugh at. Which she found herself doing more earnestly with each terrible fashion choice he showed her, especially once he gave in and began laughing along with her.

“Look at this one,” he called. She peered around the rack as he flashed a faux-snakeskin belt at her. On its own, she could have seen the appeal, but the previous owner had apparently taken the liberty of tie-dying it with purples and yellows and reds that made her loath having eyes.

“That is…” The word ‘repulsive’ died on her tongue and she pushed him aside, a neon green belt catching her eye.

“Find something you like?” He chuckled, evidently not at all upset at being shoved. She nodded absently, pulling the belt down. Another came with it. When she made to pry them apart she realized they were meant to be a package deal. The green one that caught her eye was completed with a black buckle, and the slightly larger one attached was a perfect inverse.

She debated putting them back, but decided against it, wrapping the green one around her waist.

She glanced up at Drew. “Thoughts?”

“I think you like green.”

“Yeah, kinda got a flare for it,” she joked, immediately hating herself for it.

“That was terrible,” he said, though his laughter belied him. “But the belt works. You should get it.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “but it’s three dollars cause it’s a package deal. See?” She showed him the other belt.

He shrugged. “So, I’ll get the price down. And take that belt. I could always use more.”

Something in her stomach flipped at the thought of wearing matching belts, but she found it wasn’t because the idea particularly bothered her. She shrugged back and tossed the belts into his arms.

“I guess we’re done then?” Shea asked. Drew nodded and she gave his shoulder a pat. “Let’s see you work that charm, bargain-boy.”

“No, no, no! Stop that. Don’t start calling me things like that.”

“Aw, but it’s so much fun. Is barter-boy better?”

“Nngh! Shea! Just–” Drew sputtered out a series of incoherent sounds at her, until a strangely calm look took over his face. “Would you rather… have to cook dinner with me tonight or stop calling me things like that?”

“You didn’t flip the coin, dork.”

“Just answer it!”

“Does calling you a dork count?”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy flop of hair. “I suppose not.”

“Then I’d rather stop calling you things like that. Cause I’m not cooking.”

Drew hummed innocently. “If you say so. Let’s go.”

Straightening his glasses, he took the bundle of clothes from her arms, placing them gently on the desk of the cashier, an older woman who glanced up at him through glasses almost as thick as his. Her wrinkled face shifted into a smile as she saw him.

“Drew,” the woman croaked happily. “How lovely to see you again, dearie!”

“It’s lovely to see you too, Lorraine,” Drew replied. “How have you been these last few weeks?”

“Busy, busy,” she laughed, glancing around the near-empty building. “Not that you would guess right now. I’ve missed the company of good boys like you. Where have you been?”

“Busy myself,” Drew said. “Summer courses have just ended, and now the fall semester has just begun.”

“Did you ever find yourself a roommate to split the cost of that apartment of yours?”

Drew pulled her by the shoulder to stand next to him, and she smiled awkwardly at the old woman. “This is Shea,” he introduced. “She’s taken the second room”

The woman, Lorraine, squinted at her, looking her up and down scrutinizingly. The woman hummed, seeming displeased.

“A girl, Drew? Are you sure that’s appropriate?”

“We share entirely separate rooms,” he assured her, adding with a shrug, “I’m sure you understand how I couldn’t possibly leave her on the streets.”

“You always are such a good boy, Drew,” Lorraine chortled. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

The woman didn’t offer her a hand to shake and Shea didn’t offer hers either. “Likewise,” she managed tersely. Drew squeezed her shoulder. She could only assume he intended to convey some sort of message, and she stared up at him, hoping for some help understanding it.

Lorraine looked back to Drew as Shea floundered to figure out what he wanted her to say or do. “I take it you found everything you needed, Drew?”

“We actually came to find clothes for her,” he explained. “I don’t think she’d be particularly fond of having to continue wearing my t-shirts.”

“Well, I should think not. She’s quite the little thing.” Being talked about like she wasn’t there shouldn’t have been comforting, but a sense of normalcy washed over her nonetheless.

“We tried to stay within a twelve dollar budget but… Well, I needed a new belt as well. We grabbed that joint pack, but even that puts us out of our price range…”

“Drew, I never mind giving you a deal, you know that. But most of this isn’t for you, it’s for her.” Lorraine’s tone held none of the grandmotherly affection towards her as it did towards him, and she found herself simultaneously wanting to step away and stuck where she was.

She settled on looking down, muttering, “I can put things back.” She’d be content to put everything back if she’d stop watching her. She couldn’t decide if she was more freaked out by the idea that the woman would suddenly realize who she was, or by how much the way the woman eyed her reminded her of her mothers constant commentary on her every move, be it how she threw a punch in a fight or how she ran six miles instead of seven during morning warm-ups.

“How did you meet Drew?” Lorraine suddenly asked her.

Shea found herself stammering before answering as honestly as she thought worth it, “I met him at a bus stop.”

“Are you homeless?”

“If he decides to take away my key, then yes.”

“What are you going to do if he does?”

“I’m not going to,” Drew cut in, looking almost as flustered as she felt. She didn’t particularly appreciate being interrogated over bargain bin clothing.

“Do you contribute to the financial situation?”

“Well, I was going to look at the job advertisement when we came in,” she grumbled.

Drew squeezed her shoulder again, far more gently than the first time. “She helps with pretty much everything else, including my work, so yes, in a way she does.”

“That’s quite nice. But I am still curious as to what you would do if he did ask you to leave… Darling?”

Shea’s stomach twisted at the idea. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Then I leave. If he really wanted me gone, then I’d leave.”

“Are you quite happy with having her live with you, Drew?”

His brow furrowed as he watched the woman, the familiarity and comfort gone from his expression. “I– yes?” His gaze darted to her, and she stared up at him, silently begging him to just forget the clothes so they could leave. “I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I didn’t want you to.”

Shea couldn’t help but look away, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she felt her face heat up.

When she next spoke, Lorraine’s voice had gone back to the voice of a bubbly sweet old lady. “Very good, very good,” she crooned as if she’d just witnessed a spectacular show. “How much of this can you afford, dears?”

Drew blinked, clearly as stunned as she was at the sudden switch. “Twelve dollars worth,” he answered, almost robotically.

“How about this dear; you give me eight for all this and spend the leftover on ice cream cones for the two of you, while it’s still warm outside? My treat for such a sweet couple.”

Shea opened her mouth to point out that they weren’t a couple, but Drews nudge - because she couldn’t justify calling something so weak a kick - to her shin told her loud and clear to shut up.

“Are you sure, Lorraine?” Drew asked, pulling the bills from his wallet. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to drop the price so low.”

“Don’t you argue with me, Drew Lipsky,” Lorraine lectured, waggling a finger between them. “A sweet boy like you doesn’t often find a girl like her. You take care of her and don’t you ever let her go.”

Shea couldn’t believe the woman hadn’t noticed she was green, with how flushed her face felt. Drew, though she could see the tips of his ears turning pink through his hair, was playing it much cooler than she felt.

“If you insist,” he laughed, passing over the eight dollars. “We’ll even get double scoops, as an extra thank you to you.”

“That’s my good boy. Lovely to meet you, sweetie!” She waved at them as Drew pulled her out the door, shifting with her to block her view of the billboard on their way. He waved back at the old woman and Shea reluctantly did the same.

“Fifteen dollars worth of clothes,” Drew stated as he passed one bag over to her, “for eight. I told you I had my ways.”

“You have one way,” she protested, laughing, “and that’s being a suck-up.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Thanks for the clothes. Although, a heads up about the questioning would have been nice.”

“I didn’t expect that either,” he told her. “I’ve never seen her like that.”

“Well, of course, you haven’t you’re such a sweet boy,” she teased.

He glared at her. “Yes, well. Oh,” he exclaimed suddenly, breaking into a grin, “guess what?”

“What?” She asked hesitantly.

“Are too,” he stated simply.

It took her a moment to realize that he was talking about her cooking dinner with him again - enough time that he’d slipped out of range for her to hit him. “I am not,” she protested yet again. “If I’m going to burn down your apartment I assure you it won’t be by accident.”

“You’re going to help if you want a double scoop!”

“Are you… are you really planning on using that money to get ice cream?”

“I promised I would,” he said, shrugging as he fell back in step with her.

“What a sweet boy,” Shea teased again.

“Be quiet before you get no ice cream at all.”

Stifling a laugh, she mimed zipping her lips shut.

He found her silence worse than her teasing. By the time they made it back to the apartment, he had practically begun to beg her to talk again.

She smiled at him but didn’t say anything until he said, halfway up the stairs, “Will you talk to me again if I say you don’t have to help cook?”

She didn’t pause to consider as she blurted out, “Sure.”

Drew barked out a laugh, “You spoke! And I didn’t actually promise anything yet! You still have to help.”

He sprinted through their door as she lunged at him, and didn’t stop until he reached the kitchen, clearly prepared to run no matter which direction she came at him from.

She almost gave in and chased him, but the thought of what she would do when she caught him - which she knew was absolutely nothing except tell him again that she would do anything but cook - gave her pause. Instead, she smiled with false calm and composure and sat down on the couch.

“Food poisoning will work well enough.”

“You’re not going to give me food poisoning!”

She turned her deliberately creepy smile back towards him. “Oh,” she chuckled darkly, “yes, I will.”

Drew paled but didn’t waver as he repeated once more that she was helping him cook and that was that. Damn him. She should have given in and chased him. At least cornering him would have given her something more satisfying. She forced herself to keep up the act, leaning back against the couch to shoot one final eerie smile in his direction.

#drakgo #drakken #drew lipsky #shego #shea go #fanfiction #drakgo fanfiction #shego x drakken #drakken x shego #Dwelling #chapter ten #gofordrakgo #22 pages #5870 words

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emotionallyconfusedpolyglot · 5 years

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Get those mf tissues ready. Things you remember if you're Gen Z

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Ook and Gluk

Jetpack Joyride

iPods

Nancy Drew

Blue's clues

Drake and Josh

Kim Possible

Spongebob

Dora

Diego

Kai-Lan

Max and Ruby

Rolie Polie Ollie

Maggie and the ferocious beast

Angelina Ballerina

Sesame Street

Clifford

Bob the Builder

Caillou

Fairly Odd parents

Arthur

Suite Life

Dog with a Blog

The Berenstain bears

Teen Titans (and go)

Zoey 101

Ben 10

Atla (and Alok)

House of Anubis

The beer-drinking app on the early days of the iPhone era

Class of the Titans

Drake and Josh

iCarly

Victorious (nothing after that counts)

Wizards of Waverly Place

Chowder

Total drama

George of the Jungle

Totally Spies

What's new Scooby Doo

Scooby Doo : Mystery incorporated

Babar (the old one)

Emily Young

Daniel Cook

Are we There yet? (MF Nat Geo. The things this show should have done for my generation in terms of geography knowledge. I'm going to fucking cry. I might want to be an engineer but kids' education also has a special place in my heart)

Unaccompanied Minors (the movie)

Are we there yet? (The movie)

Rusted Root - Send me on my way (google it, listen to it, see how many memories it turns up)

The Wiggles (when Jeff was still Asian)

Higglytown Heroes (I just rediscovered this while researching for this post. Multicultural animated anthropomorphic Matryoshka dolls)

The Koala Brothers

MTV top 50

Bruno Mars - Just the way you are

The Beijing Olympics

K'naan - Waving Flag

Calvin Harris - sweet nothing

Coldplay Vida La Vida

Coldplay - Paradise

Maroon 5 - payphone

Jojo's circus

Little Einsteins

Hannah Montana

Jonas

Good Luck Charlie

Detentionaire (it tastes the same as Mystery Incorporated)

Chaotic

6Teen

Bakugan

HotWheels Battleforce 5 (It does exist, there's clips of it on YouTube, McDonald's ran the cars for a series of Happy Meals toys, the world acts as if this never existed)

Teletubbies

Franklin (oddly, the episodes I remember as are the episodes that scared me the most)

Wonder Pets (morals. Morals. I approve)

The backyardigains

Miss Spider's sunny patch kids

Pokemon (around Galactic Battles era)

Winx

Elmo's world

In the night garden

Bratz

Lizzie McGuire (I know this exists, I had the game boy advance On The Go game and played it heavily)

Cars with the hand crank for the windows

Yo Gabba Gabba

Wow wow wubzy

Out of the box

Johnny Test

4square

My Babysitter is a vampire

That Fat Albert show

Rescue Heroes

George Shrinks

Harry and his bucket full of dinosaurs (His sister's name is Claire? I've come to realize that even though she kinda lives in her room, she plays with him on occasion. I'm not sure how much of a role she played but I am an absolute failure of an older sibling compared to her)

Imagination Movers

Postman Pat

Fireman Sam (I need another claymated wholesome British man to teach me about public service employment)

Big Time Rush

Popeye (the sailor man)

Shaun the sheep

Wayside

Handy Manny

Stoked

World of Quest

Adam Lambert - If I had you

[that period of time when Last Gaga was a household name]

Hedley - Perfect

Avril Lavigne as a person

Green Day - BBD

Jay Sean - Down

One Way (clap clap clap) Jesus

John 3:16 (said that God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, so that whoever believes in him will never die but have eternal life)

Timothy goes to school

Fifi and the flowertots

That marineland commercial (there's a place in Ontario)

Eggo tunes commercials

House Hippo (Canada)

Concerned Childrens' advertisers PSAs Canada. (I'm not kidding, we need some of these back. Remaster them or remake them or run them raw, I don't care. These messages are invaluable. As much as we like to knock on anyone born after 04, I believe they deserve to learn what we did)

Discovery Channel (and it's Science spinoff channel)

Vsauce

Deadliest Catch

River Monsters

Bear Grylls

Survive This

Air Crash Investigations Mayday (this show introduced me to the concept of 'metal fatigue' which came in handy during robotics class)

How It's Made

Canada's worst driver

Mythbusters

The Colony (Discovery Channel)

Sears Canada

Future Shop Canada

Daily Planet

(Okay just go to YouTube and search up "The world is awesome boom de ya da)

Cash Cab Toronto

Destroyed in seconds

Dirty Jobs

Inventions that Shook the world

Mighty Ships (When some dude at Wonderland asked where my inspiration for Lego building comes from, I cited this show, this is the single strongest memory I have of it)

Monster Ships

The time when Guinness book of world records was relevant

Sharkboy and Lava girl

Spy Kids (If I could change history, I'd alter Sharkboy and Lavagirl to canonically fit within the shared universe of Spykids)

Pawn Stars

Monsters inside me

Rush Hour (Jackie Chan)

Jackie Chan in general

Shark Week

Smallville

The Zone, YTV

3rd and bird

Barney (and whoever created the violent version can screw off)

Care Bears

Thomas the tank engine

When it was announced that we'd be the first generation in modern history to die before our parents

There's probably a lot more but my brain is small

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crowdvscritic · 4 years

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round up // MAY 20

When the going gets rough, I find I keep coming back to two kinds of movies: Romantic comedies and action adventures. For whatever reason, those are my comfort food, even if I’m watching someone get their heart broken or fight for their lives.

Hopefully you’re finding small ways to make your days brighter with books, movies, music, and shows that either help you fight or forget some of the darkness around us for a time. These were a few that made my month brighter, including a number of rom coms and action flicks.

May Crowd-Pleasers

SNL at Home

I almost cried for joy when I learned SNL would finish out its season even though it wouldn’t be in Studio 8H—it felt like a glimmer of a lot of joys we’ve lost in the last few months. While the At Home episodes have an odd rhythm compared to the usual broadcast (that live audience makes a difference, especially during “Weekend Update”), I still laughed every week. A few highlights:

“Bailey at the Movies”

“Dreams”

“Grocery Store”

“MasterClass Quarantine Edition” + “Another MasterClass Qurantine Edition”

“RBG Workout”

Watch those skits, then enjoy an infographic-heavy review of the season from Vulture.

Extraction (2020)

Is this a groundbreaking action movie? Heck no, but watching Chris Hemsworth fight to save a kid with a supporting appearance from David Harbour made for a great Sunday evening. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10

The Wedding Singer (1998)

Somehow I’ve never gotten around to this rom com, perhaps because Adam Sandler’s sense of humor usually isn’t my cup of tea. But here he replaces the gross out jokes with a sweet chemistry with Drew Barrymore. I liked it so much I gave 50 First Dates a shot, but, uh, I only recommend movies I finish. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

Baby Boom (1987)

Another not-innovative genre entry, but a satisfying one. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10

Action Movies set in 1700s America: The Last of the Mohicans (1992) + The Patriot (2000)

Sometimes I don’t want a complicated villain—sometimes I just want Jason Isaacs (aka Lucius Malfoy) to be so evil I want Mel Gibson to take him down with a tomahawk. The Last of the Mohicans: Crowd - 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10 // The Patriot - Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Taylor Swift City of Lover concert (2020)

I’ve seen Ms. Swift live twice and have loved the stadium tour spectacle. But an intimate show heavy on acoustic performance reminds me how well her songwriting holds up no matter the production

Prop Culture (2020)

I know, I know: Disney+ original series are well executed, long-form advertising. But can you find better-executed advertising than Jason Schwartzman chatting about the Mary Poppins snow globe at a piano with Richard Sherman, the character he played in Saving Mr. Banks? These staged treasure hunts for Disney movie props may be a bit self-important, but they’re also a dose of nostalgia and lessons about the technical side of filmmaking.

This Drake Bell TikTok

If you get this, you get this.

Silverado (1985)

My weird New Year’s resolution? To watch Westerns, a genre I’ve basically skipped until now. Silverado feels like a throwback to classic Westerns with a modern sensibility and more laughs. Plus, baby Kevin Costner and Jeff Goldblum in a fur coat! Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

Chromatica by Lada Gaga (2020)

Turns out I’m not just a fan of the A Star Is Born/duets with Tony Bennet/Joanne Lady Gaga. I’ve always been cooler on her electronic-dance-club Top 40 hits than her recent guitar-and-vocal stylings, but I can’t stop listening to album-long jam sesh. It’s old Gaga meets 2020 beats meets Depeche Mode/Flock of Seagulls/Madonna/New Order of the ‘80s.

The Heat (2013)

Two of my favorite funny ladies teaming up was—not surprisingly—a win. No one delivers a kooky insult like Melissa McCarthy. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10

May Critic Picks

Hail, Caesar! (2016)

Josh Brolin, George Clooney, Ralph Fiennes, Scarlett Johansson, Tilda Swinton, Channing Tatum, and more try to keep Hollywood and their careers afloat despite a bizarre series of kidnappings, line flubs, and tap dances. Of course the Coen Brothers have a dry, wacky take on the Hollywood studio era. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Jane Eyre (2006)

Confession: I have not read Jane Eyre. But my mom did, and since she enjoyed the book so much, I figured a happy medium would be to watch this BBC miniseries with her commentary about what they changed from the Brontë classic.

Daisy Jones & the Six (2019)

The highest compliment I can give a book is staying up way too late to finish it, which is what I did with this buzzy Taylor Jenkins Reid book. It’s a barely-fictional oral history of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll in the ‘70s, and somehow it’s not crass or gratuitous about any of them. Most impressive is that Jenkins Reid keeps her characters well-defined even though it’s not written in a traditional novel format. My favorite parts of this story are the deep dive into the creative process and the exploration of how we remember the past. Here’s hoping the Sam Claflin/Riley Keough-led, Reese Witherspoon-produced, (500) Days of Summer team-written Amazon series can do this book justice—I need this soundtrack!

The Plot Thickens podcast (2020)

A Turner Classic Movies podcast hosted by Ben Mankiewicz about film history is a specific—and predictable—Venn diagram of my interests.

Alfred Hitchcock Double Feature: Psycho (1960) + The Birds (1963)

The story about Psycho goes that my grandmother ran out of the movie theatre screaming during the shower scene. Now that I’ve finally watched it, I know why. This horror drama is still terrifying today even if you know what’s going to happen. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 10/10

The story about The Birds goes that my mother was terrified as a little girl after walking into a room where it was on TV, and now she still won’t watch it. The Oscar-winning visual effects have aged so much I didn’t find it scary, but I was still sucked in by the eerie plot. That said, I did have a frightening dream last night involving Tippi Hedren, so it may be more effective than I realized. Give me just a sec while I schedule some Hitchcock-focused family therapy. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

Spend two hours with the two nicest bank robbers you’ll ever meet! A winsome Paul Newman and a laconic Robert Redford make their escape on the scenic trails of the Southwest, and gosh darn it, if they aren’t just a barrel of fun. I enjoyed this Western so much I recommended it in a piece I wrote for Round Trip, too. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

Katharine Hepburn Double Feature: Alice Adams (1935) + Woman of the Year (1942)

Saying you love Katharine Hepburn is like saying you love sunshine and flowers—of course you do! In Alice Adams, she’s an optimistic Cinderella with a down-on-their-luck family who falls for a high class fella (Fred MacMurray). In Woman of the Year, she’s a high-brow journalist who falls for sports columnist Spencer Tracy in their first of nine films together. She earned Oscar nominations for both, but I dare you not to fall in love with her after watching just one. Alice Adams - Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 8/10 // Woman of the Year - Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Also in May…

When you’re not allowed to travel, you get creative! For Round Trip this month, I recommended 13 movies about travel that will make you feel like you took the vacation COVID-19 made you cancel (including Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). And if that’s not enough, why don’t you recreate your trip? I turned my apartment into Paris, and here’s why you might want to do the same.

Kyla and I didn’t go far back in time for most of our Gilmore Girls pop culture references on SO IT’S A SHOW? We covered three movies (or two, depending on how you see it) from the 2000s with connections to this year’s Oscars, 8 Mile and then Kill Bill. We also looked into the famous architect Stanford White and a movie he was featured in, 1981’s Ragtime, which had more connections to today’s culture than we expected.

I made another attempt at Jim Jarmusch for ZekeFilm with Broken Flowers. I still don’t get Jim Jarmusch.

My movie count in quarantine is up to 156. You can see them all on Letterboxd.

Photo credits: SNL, Taylor Swift, TikTok, Lady Gaga, Daisy Jones & the Six, The Plot Thickens. All others IMDb.com.

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sablelab · 5 years

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Covert Operations - Chapter 62

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Karen and Claire spend the evening at The Triangle nightclub and she meets Andrew Ma, her boyfriend. Although he is a musician, the name of his band has Claire thinking that there may be more to him than meets the eye.

THANK YOU to all who are supporting my story. I am so very thankful that you are reading, liking or reblogging Covert Operations and I hope you are enjoying this new scenario for Jamie and Claire. Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 62

“Hey Claire! We’re here,” Karen exclaimed enthusiastically as the two girls’ taxicab pulled up outside the hottest nightspot in town, The Triangle nightclub.

Getting out of the cab, Claire took in her surroundings, and the club appeared to be a refurbished warehouse in a trendy area of Hong Kong. It was a sleek modern three storey building with a triangular shaped roof with steel beams intersected in the same shape jutting out under the roof line. A large neon sign graced the front of the building again in a triangular shape advertising the nightclub’s name which blinked on and off at intervals alluding to what the premises was used for. It was very impressive and the glows from the muted ground lighting led the way to where two burley bouncers were standing vetoing those who wanted entrance to the establishment.

The two women excitedly made their way toward the club and joined the line of patient patrons cordoned off beside a succession of velvet ropes that stretched along the footpath. The vibe was already lively for those waiting to gain entry and Claire could only imagine that inside would be similar. Several couples started hugging each other in excitement as the queue began to move forward happy that they were getting closer to the entrance. There were beautiful young girls dressed in provocative mini dresses eager to enter and see what conquests the night would bring and then there were the male patrons who could be seen eyeing off the girls in line. Karen turned to Claire, rolled her eyes and smiled as they studied the dynamics of the people queued up. Whenever a patron was let in through the double doors, they could hear the powerful beat of the dance music blaring from inside the nightclub. Laser lights were seen rapidly changing colours in the windows as well showing that there was one heck of a party going on inside.

As Karen and Claire edged closer to the front of the queue, it was obvious that The Triangle enforced a dress code to ensure that a certain type of clientele was in attendance at the venue. All the hip young Hong Kong clubbers were dressed to impress as too were the two friends. The Triangle certainly was the place to be seen as was evidenced by people being turned away. They noticed the crestfallen looks of one couple banned for wearing sneakers and jeans who were denied entry to the club by the door bouncers.

“Are you excited?” Karen asked enthusiastically glancing at Claire.

“I am. Thanks for asking me.”

“This is the trendiest new nightclub in town and although it’s only been opened a little while it’s busy every night.”

“How do you know all that Karen?”

She leaned in and smiled spiritedly, “Because my boyfriend is in the band playing tonight.”

“Ah. So that’s why where here? To hear your boyfriend’s band? And here I thought this was just going to be a girls’ night out,” Claire laughed in response.

“Of course, that’s why Claire, but not the only reason,” she answered with a bemused grin on her face, “And it’s because … I really, really want you to meet him.”

“Well then, I hope they let us inside so that I can meet ...?”

“Andrew ... Andy Ma.”

“What does he do in the band?”

Karen gave Claire an enigmatic smile. “He plays the guitar and other things.”

“Sounds intriguing. Is he any good at these other things?”

“What?” Karen replied a little taken aback by her questions.

“Is he a good guitar player?” Claire clarified looking at her friend.

“I think he is, but I’ll let you be the judge of that once we are inside.”

Since they had been standing in line, the queue had grown longer and stretched as far as the eye could see, nonetheless they gradually moved closer to the front of the line as they waited to enter. Finally, it came to their turn. When they approached the two muscular security bouncers at the main door who were screening those who they would let enter into the nightclub, the two women smiled broadly.

“Hello ... Jimmy.”

The very large, stoic man showed little emotion. “Hey Karen ... You here to see Andy again?”

“Yeah ... but this time it’s a surprise for my friend.”

The bouncer gave Claire the once over as he ran a handheld metal detector over her body, then did the same to Karen.

“Sorry ladies but I need to see some I.D. Not you Karen but your friend here ... I will need to see your identification lady. Legal reasons you know.”

“Sure.”

“I need to see your phone too.”

“Why?” Claire requested for explanation.

“We have a strict no photo policy in order to protect the clubbing experience of our patrons.”

Rummaging in her purse she drew out her driver’s licence and her phone. The bouncer gave the licence a perfunctory glance but he placed some tape over the smart phone camera lens before giving it back to her.

“Is that all?”

‘Yes, you are free to enter now. Enjoy yourselves and Andy’s performance.”

“Thanks Jimmy:

“Come on Claire. Let's go in and have some fun."

“Yes let’s.” Claire replied as the two friends made their way inside The Triangle nightclub for an evening of revelry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Claire’s eyes had to adjust to the darkness after first entering the club and when they did, she slowly glanced around inside. The two girls stood on a platform overlooking the main area with a curved stairwell leading down to the main dance floor. The interior of The Triangle was grand, opulent and so massive. It was very impressive and certainly was a trendy and upscale establishment with luxurious furnishings and expensive décor.

It featured a sunken dance floor and upstairs there was a balcony with large banquette style booths to sit and chill in. There was another grand double staircase leading up to the balcony plus the one down to where people were dancing, awesome lights and mirror balls hung from a high ceiling, there was a photo booth, a DJ section and a large stage where a live band was playing. Claire wondered if that was Karen’s boyfriend’s band, if so then they had the crowd in the palm of their hands. There was also a long lit up bar that took up one whole wall and a smaller, more intimate bar on the balcony level.

Obviously, it was the place for celebrities, movie stars and the well-heeled to hang out. What stood out too were the neon signs aligned on the walls and the large signage with The Triangle name emblazed in lights. There were multiple levels for action and interaction, and Claire noticed that patrons were jiving to the music in the dimly lit interior. It appeared that Jonathon Randall had done his homework and The Triangle was a very lucrative nightclub for it was obvious that business was booming. It was very crowded tonight and clearly, he had a great investment that would more than likely bring in a considerable amount of revenue.

It was evident too, that The Triangle had a fast-paced, loud, and raucous atmosphere. The music was even louder than what they had heard whilst waiting outside and seemed to reverberate through Claire’s whole body. The pulsing beat of the bass frequencies coming through the huge sound system almost felt like her spine was turned into a vibrator that shook her entire body. Making a quick summation of her surroundings, she noted several things that stood out. The blaring bass, amplified through the speakers from the guitarist on stage seemed to make the room shake as dancing bodies tangled together. She also noticed that people had crowded the bar area as well where guys were buying a few drinks to muster up the courage to speak to a hot girl. If some of the patrons were taking drugs it was difficult to say given the emotional high and happy atmosphere that was evident as soon as they had walked in the door.

Karen too, looked around at those gathered, then she glanced at Claire exclaiming happily, “Electrifying isn’t?”

The music was loud, very loud and the two girls could hardly hear themselves speak. “What?”

Laughing, she repeated her words a little louder this time, “I said it’s exciting.”

“It is,” Claire replied leaning in and nearly shouting her answer at Karen’s ear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Making their way down the staircase into the hub of the action, they were surrounded by bodies everywhere on the dance floor and the pounding rhythm of the music from the live band had the crowd pumping with excitement. The revellers seemed to be having the time of their lives as they either danced on the different levels of The Triangle to the pulsating live music, or stood listening to the band play on the stage and moshing with arms thrusting in the air and head-banging to their favourite songs of the five-man group.

You couldn’t really see the dance floor as it was wall to wall people bopping to the rhythm. The whole scene seemed so exciting and couples on the dance floor were engaged in all types of dancing rituals from the sexual mating of attraction to the uninhibited dance movements like no one was watching them. Beautiful women and handsome men were checking out each other no doubt canvassing for a sexual partner for later in the night, while others were trying to engage in conversation in some of the quiet areas set apart around the dance floor.

The atmosphere was electric. Laser lights illuminated the dance floor, and light reflected off the large mirror covered disco balls hanging from the ceiling, danced across the walls. Multicoloured strobe lighting, rigged to follow the music, blinked on and off while changing colours to the beat of the music. The light shows only intensified the experience of the revellers, for those dancing looked like they were moving in slow motion. Moving light beams flashed from the stage and the smoke billowing from the smoke machine only complicated visibility. However, there was just enough light for Claire to make out faces in the crowd and she adjusted her glasses to activate her surveillance of the patrons for Fergus’ benefit back at Section One. But as yet, she could not make out anyone of significance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Karen and Claire cautiously made their way through the crowd and across the dance floor as best they could. They were jostled from time to time from those dancing but they managed to make headway through the crowd if they stayed on the periphery. Karen lead the way, however, in the loud atmosphere it was nearly impossible to hear anything but the music and a few random snippets of shouted conversation from each other. Tapping Claire on the shoulder Karen pointed to some seating across the room. “See that empty booth over there,” she practically shouted as her voice was drowned out in the noise.

“Yeah.”

“If we get separated … I’ll meet you there. Okay?”

Claire nodded that she had understood her instructions as she unobtrusively cast her eyes around the venue ever vigilant. She also activated a camera hidden in her necklace, to provide Section One with a broader view of the interior of the club. She surveyed the crowd for anyone that stood out as well as noting where the security guards were posted around the venue. Glancing up to the balcony she noticed members of the security team watching inconspicuously over the clubbers below. However, the two women unfortunately did get separated from each other in the crowd and Claire got swept up in the revelry taking place on the dance floor. She felt a hand reach out of nowhere from between the gyrating bodies, cop a feel of her derriere, and then vanish as quickly as it appeared. If the move was intentional or accidental it still caused her to glance around to see if anyone looked suspicious.

Casing the crowd for any anomalies, Claire’s nose was assaulted by the familiar smell of alcohol, tobacco smoke, perfume and sweat from the dancers packed tightly together. She continued to make her way through the crowded throng to the other side of the room, but another douche bag materialized out of thin air. Grabbing her hands, the man twirled her around the dance floor then held her flush to his chest while pressing Claire’s arms against the sides of her body. Holding her tight, he started rubbing his crotch against her backside. Unfazed, Claire merely dropped her weight down swiftly by mimicking a fast squat. Then she shifted her hips to the side and using her open palm struck hard and fast to his groin area until he released his grip. Lunging forward slightly, she quickly threw her elbow back to the man’s belly and he doubled over in pain.

He let go and grabbing his stomach cowered away, muttering under his breath, “Bitch!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Making it to the other side of the dance floor, Claire saw Karen waving to her and made her way over to where she was waiting. As she sat down, Karen nodded towards where the band was playing on stage.

Leaning her head close to Claire’s so that she could hear her every word, she asked, “Do you see that tall, good looking guy singing and playing the guitar?”

“Which one? ... There are five of them Karen.”

The handsome one obviously. The one with the long, dark hair and moustache. He’s the lead vocalist. Well? What do you think?” She asked inquisitively.

“Not my type but whatever floats your boat,” Claire replied laughing.

“Well I think he’s adorable.”

“That’s all that matters then.”

“I’m sure you’ll like him too, when you meet him.” While they waited for the band to finish their bracket, they watched the patrons having a great time until the band took a well-earned break. However, the music didn’t stop, neither did the partying and dancing. There was a DJ booth located at the opposite end of the dance floor. Some of the crowd took this chance to have a rest and get a drink while others filed over to where the nightclub’s resident Disc Jockey began to play a mix of songs of the most broadcasted tunes from the Top 40 as well as recorded dance and pop music through the powerful PA system. The replacement band began setting up their instruments while Andy Ma’s band packed theirs away.

While the crowd was engaged with the DJ, the other guys in the band left the stage to meet up with several eager groupies hanging around trying to catch their attention, or girlfriends who were waiting for them. When Karen’s guy had finished placing his guitar on its stand, he came down the stairs to where she was waiting for him. Smiling she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Claire watched their intimate interaction as they kissed each other again. Then with their arms around one another they headed in her direction.

“Claire ... this is my guy,” Karen gushed smiling up at her man then back at Claire. “Hi ... I’m Karen’s neighbour Claire.” She smiled at the tall man thinking that they made a lovely couple. “I’m Andy. I’m the bass guitarist and lead singer.”

“So, it’s you who is responsible for that pulsating beat that had me thrumming to my bones.”

“Yep ... Guilty.” Andy replied placing his hands in the air then grinning at her.

“What’s the name of you band?”

“Dragon.”

The name made Claire do a double take, but she remained calm and said, “You’re bloody good by the way.”

“Thank you, Claire.”

She thought he was a little reticent with his answers and didn’t really look her in the eye as if he was quite shy and reserved, which was a little strange given that he was the bass guitarist and lead singer. Usually they were more extroverted but perhaps that was just for show. However, the name of his band gave her cause to reflect. Was there some connection there to the Rising Dragons or was it just symbolic of Chinese culture that the dragon was revered? Either way, it was food for thought and made her look at Andy Ma in a whole new light. Did Karen know that he may be someone that was not really who he said he was? She seemed to be besotted with him. She would hate to think that her friend had been duped by this guy, just because he was a rock star and good looking.

When he sat down Andy possessively placed his arm on the back of Karen’s chair and the looks that they were giving each other made Claire feel like a third wheel. The two had eyes only for each other and so Claire made an excuse to give them some alone time.

“I’m going over to the bar to get a drink; can I get you guys anything?

Without taking their eyes off each other Andy said, “Thanks Claire. I’ll have a beer.”

“Me too,” Karen replied enamoured with her guy.

The message was received loud and clear that they wanted to be alone, so Claire got up to leave the booth. “Okay you two ... I’ll be back in a jiff.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once more she had to navigate her way through the gyrating bodies on the dance floor as she made her way to the bar. It was the fastest way across the room to the bar and this time she twirled around from time to time giving Fergus a clear view of the patrons at the nightclub. Her body moved to the rhythm of the music as more sweaty bodies brushed up against her. Luckily, she didn’t come across the guy who had called her a bitch and she hoped that Fergus had a facial of him just in case he was a triad member.

“You getting this Claudel?” Claire whispered as she strolled over closer to the bar to order some drinks. “Yeah.” “Anything?” “No nothing yet. None of the faces that you’ve captured so far are recognizable in our system.” “Maybe Jonathon Randall’s not here tonight.” “Maybe.”

“Anything on the guy I decked?”

“Nothing showed up in our data files. He’s an innocent.”

“Pity.”

When Claire finally arrived on the other side of the room, there were people four deep at the bar trying to hold out cash hoping that one of the bartenders noticed them and that they could order their drinks or cocktails. There were mostly men at the bar and a few attractive women were flirting with the single guys obviously enticing them to purchase more drinks and drive drink sales up. No wonder Jonathon Randall had good business acumen. He certainly had the formula for making money. Alcohol reduced inhibitions and it was the natural choice to boost a guy’s courage towards interactions with the fairer sex and judging by the four deep queues then this was a possibility. They jostled each other to make their way back out from the throng of people at the bar without spilling the drinks they had paid for but sometimes with little success.

Claire, however, succeeded in returning to Karen and Andy without spilling a drop. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The DJ had finished his session and the dancers were now milling around on the dance floor or chatting at the tables on each level. Karen, Andy and Claire engaged in polite conversation in their booth as they waited for the backup band to begin their repertoire. When the group finally belted out a rock tune, the throbbing beat of the music was so ear-splitting and pounding that they could barely hear themselves speak.

Leaning towards her friend, Claire shouted trying to be heard above the din. “This rock music sure is deafening isn't it?” But she still wasn’t heard.

“What? What did you say?” Karen asked. “Never mind. It’s not important,” Claire replied giving her a wry smile.

However, Karen wasn’t paying much attention to her or the band, as all of her attention was focused on her boyfriend. Andy Ma and her friend sat huddled together oblivious to everything and everyone but each other as he whispered sweet nothings in Karen’s ear.

Sitting back in the booth, Claire unobtrusively scanned the room this way and that, to give Fergus another 180-degree view of the setting. Many couples were still dancing while others were sitting with friends relaxing and having drinks. Out of the corner of her eye Claire noticed several young Chinese men acting a little suspiciously who may be a possible lead to Jonathon Randall but it seemed that nothing was forthcoming.

Taking a little sip of her drink of whisky, she immediately thought of Jamie. This was his favourite drink and she could recall the way she loved to watch as he savoured the taste on his lips. That thought then turned to the taste of his lips on hers and Claire suddenly had a feeling of melancholy wash over her. She missed him terribly and wished he was here now doing the things that Andy was doing to Karen. The sound of his voice as his warm breath caressed her ear was just a memory that she desperately wanted to repeat. The lilt of his beautiful Scottish brogue when he’d contacted her on his return to Section yesterday was better than nothing, but she wanted him here with her. She wanted him so very much that she hurt and she was a little jealous of the intimacy between her friend and her beau. “Oh Jamie … I wish you were here,” the voice in her head repeated again and again until she had to forcibly give herself a little shake to bring her back to reality.

She needed an opportunity to nonchalantly broach the subject of the owner of The Triangle, Jonathon Randall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Claire’s patience was rewarded when she finally found an opening when Andy Ma eventually turned away from his girlfriend and reached for his drink. He took a mouthful of his beer and looked over at Claire as she took another sip of her whisky. Fortunately, there was a little lull in the music, so she took the chance to ask him a few innocuous questions and to find out a little more about him.

“Karen is always talking about what a great guy you are Andy and I can see why.”

“Thanks Claire. I think she is wonderful too.”

“You’re a terrific musician too. So, is this your first gig at the nightclub?”

“No, the band is the resident one now. Jonathon Randall liked us so much that he offered us a permanent booking if we wanted it. We can still do a tour from time to time so it is a win-win for all the boys.”

“Is he the owner?”

“Yeah.”

“I was told at the bar, that the man who owns the nightclub is cute and … very good looking.”

“Who? Jonathon Randall? I don’t think I’d call him cute … good looking maybe … but girls might think that.” He answered with a chuckle.

“Does he ever come here?” He took another swallow of his drink. “Sometimes.” “Oh … Is he here tonight?” Claire inquired enthusiastically.

“No, he’s not ... He’s having a party next Saturday night, so, I guess he is off planning it tonight instead.” Claire leaned towards him as if she was to tell him something that shouldn’t be eavesdropped. She lowered her voice. “I’ve also heard that he’s rich ... very rich. Is that true?”

Andy smiled smugly as he sat back, “What do you think?”

“I think that he probably makes a packet from this nightclub. Karen said it is full every night.”

“Yeah ... you could say that! I guess he’s just a savvy business man.”

“I’d love to meet him. I’m unemployed at the moment. Perhaps he might give me a job.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Unfortunately, Andy Ma didn’t have a chance to reply as that little lull disappeared as the band once again began to crank up the volume of their latest rendition of an AC/DC rock and roll classic. The infectious beat of Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap soon had the crowd jumping again and even Claire pumped her hands in the air along to the music. Andy and Karen joined in the merriment too as the crowd went wild for the song and screamed along with the chorus with the lead singer. Then when the lead guitarist did a solo riff the crowd went nuts.

The pulsating rock music continued for several more songs until the band finished their set and also took a well-earned break to make way for the return of Andy Ma’s band, Dragon. Once the music stopped, there was excited chatter from those on the dance floor who had been listening to the previous band playing. Flushed patrons made their way to the bar for a much-needed drink, while others returned to where they were sitting for a breather before they would be back on the dance floor once more when Andy’s band returned to the stage to play.

Once the replacement musicians had finished their session, Andy got up ready to make his way back to the stage for his band’s next bracket.

“Sorry girls ... gotta go. We’re up next.”

Karen was reluctant to let him go and grabbed hold of his arm. She raised her face to his and Andy bent down and gave her a quick kiss and a hug. Sadly, she released her hand but trailed her fingers down his arm until she clasped his hand. Andy pulled away and Karen slowly let go little by little until she had no choice but to let him walk away, although she tried to savour each touch until the very last moment.

He was about to move away when Claire asked eagerly, “Do you think Karen and I could get an invite to his party next Saturday?” “It’s a private function ... but I’ll see what I can do.” Claire flashed him a megawatt grin. “Wow! Thanks ... that would be great.” “Enjoy the rest of the night girls ... See ya babe!” Then turning towards Claire said, “‘Bye Claire. Nice meeting you.”

“Same Andy, ... See ya on Saturday,” she added hopefully knowing that if he could pull off an invite then she would finally meet Jonathon Randall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#jamie and claire #jamieandclairefanfiction #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #jamieandclaireau #covert operations

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Happy birthday, @flslp87 ! I really hope you like this fic I wrote for you because it’s a little different. We've had conversations about our mutual love for Scarecrow and Mrs. King, so I put on an 80s playlist to get inspiration. I was struck by the line about traveling the seven seas in the Eurythmics song “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” and the muse just took me here. I feel like there could be more to it, but I really liked the up in the air way I ended it. I actually think you could right part two with lots of steamy scenes with our ship, lol, because you are so good at that!

Summary: Nothing has been normal since Emma snatched that dreamcatcher from the motel. She keeps dreaming of a pirate with a hook with blue eyes the color of the forget-me-not and of a profound melancholy . . . or are they Emma’s dreams at all?

Rated G because our OTP doesn’t technically “meet.” And this could totally be canon in my opinion . . .

Trigger warning: I just thought I should warn everyone that I did something completely new for me: I wrote from Neal’s point of view and tried to get in his head and, you know, NOT make him a complete asshole. I know, I’m shocked myself.

Words: almost 4,000

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @delirious-latenight-laughs @branlovestowrite @kday426 @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @distant-rose @snidgetsafan

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world

And the seven seas,

Everybody's looking for something.

“Aw look, the granola family left a dreamcatcher!”

Emma turned to Neal with the dreamcatcher dangling from her fingertips, smile

gracing her face. Neal, however, frowned in confusion.

“You know,” Emma continued, drawing closer to her boyfriend’s side, “it catches the bad dreams so you only have good dreams.”

“Right,” he chuckled, and Emma shook her head as she hung the dreamcatcher back on the lampshade. Neal was always funny about things like that: fables, legends, fairy tales. It never failed; he always changed the subject when they came up. She got it, of course. Who wants to believe in that sort of thing when all life has handed you is a shit show?

“You know what we should do?” Changing the subject, as usual, yet Emma didn’t protest when he pulled her into his arms.

“What?” Emma wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Maybe we should stop this whole Bonnie and Clyde routine. Settle down.”

Emma laughed, shaking her head as she stepped out of his embrace. “Where? Neverland?” He might as well believe in fairy tales, after all, to suggest something like that.

“I’m serious. We can get jobs, maybe even a house.”

He looked around and yanked the cheesy framed advertisement off the wall, the one that marked where other motels for this cheap chain could be found. He tossed it onto the bed and gestured to it with a flourish.

“Go ahead. Pick. Anywhere you want.”

Emma eyed him with hesitant enthusiasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off her face. She was so in love, so giddy with happiness living life with someone by her side for the first time, that his words actually sounded possible. She closed her eyes and put a finger on the map. When she opened them . . .

“Tallahassee,” she breathed, “does that mean there’s a beach?”

Neal grinned broadly, pulling her into his arms again. “It’s Florida. There’s gotta be a beach somewhere nearby.”

Emma kissed him. “Tallahassee.”

When they left, she grabbed the dreamcatcher and hid it inside her jacket. They needed it a lot more than the granola family did. No nightmares were going to snatch this dream away from her.

***********************************************************

Emma blinked, then rubbed her eyes. Why couldn’t she see clearly? She shook her head, but the hazy air, like cobwebs floating before her vision, remained.

“Milah! Milah!” a voice cried.

Emma turned towards the sound. There, in the middle of the hazy gray of the place was a man – a pirate? He certainly looked like one, dressed all in black leather from head to toe. He looked panicked, turning around in circles and yelling that same name – Milah - over and over.

Emma drew closer, a question on her lips, but her voice wouldn’t work. The man began to run towards a shadowy figure in the distance, and Emma found herself drawn after him. The man’s legs moved as if he were treading water in molasses, and likewise Emma couldn’t get her legs to work properly either.

“I can’t get to you!” he screamed, moving even closer, and the figure laughed, running farther away.

The man was crying now, begging the figure not to go, falling to his knees. The surroundings turned into jungle instead, though still just as hazy and dark. Emma felt an oppressive heat, and her chest tightened. The man stumbled to his feet, and he looked unseeing straight at Emma. She was struck by his eyes: not only how blue they were, but by the deep sadness glistening in them. He lifted both hands to his face as sobs wracked his body. Suddenly, his left hand was gone and blood streamed from the stump that remained. Emma stumbled back, the scene grotesque as the man screamed in agony.

Figures flooded in from all sides, crowding in around the man. One looked familiar, like a figure Emma had seen somewhere before.

“What’s the matter, Captain?” the figure said. It came into focus, and Emma realized it was just a boy. “I so wanted us to play. Does your hand hurt?”

The man stood, and at the end of his left hand was a hook -

Emma jerked awake, breathing hard. She lifted a shaking hand to her damp brow. Neal sat up next to her, groaning, and as she replayed the dream in her head, she started to laugh, almost hysterically.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Neal grumbled.

“Know how I joked about us settling down in Neverland?” she laughed. “Well, I just dreamed about Captain Hook and Peter Pan.”

“What?”

Emma shook her head incredulously at the angry tone of Neal’s voice and the slack-jawed expression on his face.

“Yeah, I dreamed about a pirate with a hook and a kid who looked just like Peter Pan in the movies.” Emma drew her knees up, uncomfortable in the cramped backseat of the Bug. They hadn’t been able to find anywhere else to crash for the night.

“That’s weird,” Neal commented in a strained voice.

“You’re the one being weird,” Emma laughed. “It was just a dream.”

Neal shook his head and gave her a forced smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Emma reached up and absentmindedly fiddled with the dreamcatcher she had hung in the back window. “Captain Hook was different though,” she murmured, “he was . . . handsome. With really blue eyes that had a . . . profound melancholy.”

“What did you say?” Neal bit out.

Emma jerked away from the dreamcatcher, brow furrowed at her boyfriend’s angry tone. “His eyes were the blue of the forget-me-not with a profound melancholy. Like in the book Peter Pan?”

“Like you read much,” Neal snorted.

“I read it a lot has a kid,” she shot back, “it was one of my favorites.”

Neal shrugged. “Whatever, Ems.”

“What the hell is your problem!”

“You wake up and go on and on about some hot guy in your dream. How am I supposed to feel?

Emma rolled her eyes “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am,” he snapped, yanking open the door and getting out.

“Neal,” she called after him, “don’t be an idiot! It was a dream! God, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Whatever. I need air.” He reached in to grab his coat, and pointed angrily at the dreamcatcher. “And get rid of that stupid thing!”

****************************************************************

When Emma opened her eyes, the ground swayed beneath her. Above her was a dark sky twinkling with stars and a white sail flapping in the wind. She scrambled to her feet and saw that she was on a ship, an old sailing ship, like in a pirate movie. She turned when the floorboards squeaked, and she saw the same man as before, the pirate with the hook, coming up from below deck.

“Hello?” he called, looking around with a worried expression. “Where is everyone?”

Emma held her breath, wondering if this time he would see her, but again he looked right through her. He called out several names as he strode across the deck – the names of his crew perhaps?

“You’re alone, little brother,” a voice called out, “you’d better get to the wheel.”

“Yes, Liam, you’re right,” the dark-haired pirate murmured in response, “you always are.”

He moved in an almost dreamlike state to the upperdeck and took his place behind the wheel. Emma followed him, the ship swaying more beneath her feet. She stumbled just as she reached the wheel, almost falling against it. The pirate struggled with the wheel as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed overhead. An eerie song floated through the air as the ship crashed into the rocks.

“Bloody mermaids,” the pirate grumbled.

Emma was sent sprawling across the deck. Every time she struggled to her feet, she was knocked over once again. This dream felt so much more real than the last one. The ship pitched and rolled as rain poured from the heavens. Emma screamed when she looked up to see a giant wave poised over the ship. The pirate turned his gaze upon her, and their eyes met. Did he see her?

“Lass!” he shouted, reaching a hand out for her, but before Emma could crawl towards him and take it, the wave crashed into the ship -

Emma gasped upon waking this time, almost as if she had just been clutched from a watery grave. Her sheets and her hair were drenched with sweat, and her heart hammered in her chest.

“Emma?” Neal asked her, worry in his voice. “You’re trembling and sweating. Are you sick?”

Emma shook her head, “No, I’m fine. It was just a dream.”

And it felt so real . . .

It was pitch black, but when Emma took a step, she realized there was water all over the floor. It sloshed over her bare feet, yet it was too shallow to reach her ankles. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she gasped. The water was viscous and black, clinging to her skin.

“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing in the emptiness.

She heard someone crying and tried to move towards the sound, though it was hard to get a sense of direction in this place. The crying grew louder, and she knew it was a child. Finally, there, just ahead, a figure curled in on itself. Light from an unknown source surrounded whoever it was. The closer she got, the more sure Emma was. It was a child. A little boy.

“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching down to better see the little boy’s face. His eyes were bright blue and freckles dotted his cheeks.

“He’s gone away,” he sniffled. “They’ve all gone away.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

The way the child said that word – everyone – caused terror to fill Emma’s heart. Suddenly, in the boy’s face, she could imagine her own.

“What are you doing here?”

Emma spun around at the sound of the adult voice behind her. She stumbled backwards to see the pirate from her other two dreams standing before her.

“I . . . I . . . “

“You shouldn’t be here,” he spat.

“Who are you?” Emma asked.

The man narrowed his eyes. “Why do I keep dreaming about you?”

“Why do I keep dreaming about you?”

“You have to get her out of her!” the little boy interrupted their senseless argument. “You know what happens next.”

The boy stood, revealing his scrawny frame clad in a long nightshirt from a long-ago era. What was it about little kids in creepy situations that made things ten times more terrifying?

“What’s he talking about?” Emma asked the pirate.

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand. Emma snatched it away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Fine,” he snapped, “let it take you then.”

“Let what take me?”

“The darkness,” the little boy said in a flat voice, “it always gets us.”

“Quit talking like we’re two people,” the pirate snapped.

Emma looked long at the little boy’s face, then the pirates: the same dark hair, the same blue eyes, the same tiny scar on one cheek.

“He’s you and you’re him!”

“Bloody brilliant of you, lass,” the pirate snapped.

“I think she’s smart,” the little boy said, “and pretty.”

“How would you know?” The pirate ran his hand through his dark hair, causing it to stick up in all directions. “Great, now I’m talking to myself. This isn’t usually how this nightmare goes.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “You’ve had this dream before?” She shook her own head, grasping her temple in both hands. “What am I saying, I’m dreaming this!” She was getting a headache. Could you even get a headache in your sleep?

The little boy took her hand. “I’ll get her out if you won’t.”

The room shook, and the pirate swore under his breath. “Bloody hell.”

Emma cried out as the strange, thick black water began to bubble and lap at her ankles. “What the -”

“Give me your hand, love.” He rolled his eyes when she once again hesitated, then added, “The name’s Killian Jones, okay? Captain Jones.”

“Captain Hook?” Emma asked incredulously, glancing down at his hook. Oh shit, she probably shouldn’t have pissed him off.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me!” he exclaimed with a cocky grin.

“You could say that . . . “

This was by far the weirdest dream she’d ever had.

The room shook again, and Emma yelped as she felt herself sink. Without hesitation, she took Killian’s hand. Or his adult hand anyway, her other still clasped in the little boy’s. Who was also Kilian, apparently. God this was bizarre.

The three of them began running as best they could through the sticky substance at their feet. Since this . . . darkness always got them, according to the little boy, how where they supposed to get away?

“You have light in you,” the little boy said as if he’d read her mind, “so you can get out.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Emma saw the outline of a door ahead. Light spilled out of the cracks around it, getting stronger and brighter the closer they got. Yet the closer they got to the door, the more the black tar at their feet battled to pull them down. It seemed to have tentacles now, reaching up to grasp at their legs, their arms. The little boy screamed and almost got pulled under, so Emma stopped and scooped him up in her arms. The door was only about three feet away and was swinging open, they could make it . . .

Emma glanced back and screamed to see a large, gaping mouth form out of the darkness. It was like a large, sticky crocodile jaw, and it was bearing down on them. The adult Killian shoved her and the boy towards the door, and the tar like jaws closed over his waist.

Emma’s hip hit firm ground, one arm still wrapped around the little boy. Her hand still held fast to Killian’s, but he was being pulled under by the darkness.

“No!” Emma screamed as she tried to hold on. Something in Killian’s bright blue eyes compelled her to fight to save him.

“I’ll never forget you, lass,” he said before his hand slipped out of hers and he was pulled into the inky black.

“Killian!”

“Killian!” Emma screamed, her arms flailing, searching. “Killian!”

“Emma!” a hand was on her shoulder.

“Killian?” she asked, her eyes flying open, but hovering over her was Neal. And he looked angry.

“Where did you hear that name?” he demanded.

Emma was gasping for air, trying to process the dream she had just had. It was the strangest of all she’d had since she got the dreamcatcher, but it has also seemed the most real. The dreamcatcher! Emma sat up quickly, her head almost hitting the top of the broken-down conversion van they had found in the scrap yard to make into a temporary home. She grabbed the dreamcatcher from the window where she’d hung it before going to bed.

‘The pirate’s name is Killian,” she whispered, staring in amazement at the dreamcatcher.

Before she even knew what was happening, Neal had snatched the dreamcatcher out of her hands. With a shout of rage, he snapped the frame in half. Emma shouted for him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. He kept attacking the dreamcatcher with his bare hands, wood snapping and thread breaking. Then he tore the feathers to shreds and crushed the beads beneath his heels. For reasons she couldn’t quite put into words, Emma sobbed as he completely destroyed.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he gasped, his emotions spent, “nothing’s been right since you got that damn thing, and I . . . “

He trailed off, then opened the van door and stomped out. Emma lay back down, curling in on herself. She couldn’t get that last look in Killian’s eyes out of her mind. She didn’t understand any of it: why the dreamcatcher had coincided with the bizarre dreams, why the man seemed so real, or why Neal had gotten so angry. All she knew was that without the dreamcatcher, she felt bereft, like a part of her had been ripped away.

******************************************************************

Emma didn’t dream of him again. Neal kept asking her. He knew she was telling him the truth. For one, Emma was a surprisingly horrible liar. Second, she hadn’t once awoken crying out or sweating since he broke the dreamcatcher.

Yet his Emma simply hadn’t been the same since. Worry seemed to always wrinkle her brow, and she was often distant, like she was gazing off into a dreamworld that he couldn’t see. He cursed that damn dreamcatcher! His old warning bells had gone off when he’d seen it: the same ones that had plagued him when Wendy Darling had mentioned the shadow at her window. He should have gotten rid of it earlier; he knew what magic really was. But fear of having to tell Emma the truth about his past had made him hesitate. How could he have expressed the danger of a magical object without sounding like a lunatic? And now magic had cost him yet another girl that he loved, just like Wendy.

Just like his mother before her.

Killian? A handsome pirate with a hook named Killian? Neal’s hand clasping Emma’s tightened. Could it really be the same guy? He was still working for Pan when Neal left Neverland, so it was entirely possible he supposed. But through Emma’s dreams? And why Emma? It wasn’t even like Hook had magic himself. What game was he playing? Was this still about killing Neal’s father?

“Ow!” Emma exclaimed, yanking her hand away and rubbing it. “Afraid I’ll run away?”

Her words startled him, hitting way too close to home, but the grin on her face made him relax. Emma adored him, she would never take off like his mother did. And yes, he knew all along Hook was right. His mother had left him. Left his father, yes, but it was the same thing. She chose adventure and romance over her own son, and it left a gaping hole in his heart that nothing could ever fill.

“Sorry,” he sighed, pulling Emma close. He didn’t know what to say, so he just held her.

“Hey,” she said, pulling back to look into his face, “this isn’t still about those weird dreams, is it? Because they weren’t, like, sex dreams or anything.” She bit her lip and blushed in that cute way she had.

“Cause you only have those about me, right?”

She giggled, pressing her face against the crook of his neck. She was so innocent; it was one of the things he adored about her. He held her tighter.

“And now you’re choking me,” she joked, exaggerating a breathless voice.

He laughed at the sparkle that was back in her eyes, but then he saw something over her shoulder, and his chuckle drifted off. Emma shook him gently.

“What’s up?”

Neal shook his head to clear it. “Um, nothing, just . . . “ he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little cash they had left. They’d need to lift some more cash soon, maybe hit the park where mothers wouldn’t be watching their purses. He pressed the money into Emma’s hand. “Go over to that diner and get us some burgers.”

“Really?” Emma squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. “And onion rings?’

“Mhm, get us a booth. I’ll be right there. I just have to take care of one quick thing.”

He flashed her a smile so she wouldn’t worry, and she kissed him briefly before heading across the street. Once she was safely inside the diner, Neal turned and went inside the store that had distracted him a moment ago. Stepping inside made his chest tighten with anxiety: it was filled floor to ceiling with magic. The painted window proclaimed: Moana’s Curio Shop. A woman with tanned skin and long black hair stepped out of the back store room. She wore a flowery, one-shouldered, sundress, and another large flower was clipped in her hair. She didn’t look like the sort of person who possessed magic or ran a shop like this, but Neal knew from experience that looks can be deceiving. Pan and his Lost Boys were the greatest example of that.

“May I help you?” she young woman asked, tilting her head as she appraised him. Whatever she saw, it made a slow smile spread across her face. She marched closer, propping her hands on her hips in a scrutinizing fashion. “Never mind pretense, you are just like me, aren’t you?”

Neal shuffled nervously. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Mhm,” she replied with a knowing grin, “stick to that story if you want.”

“I am looking for a particular item.”

“Oh really?” she asked casually as she re-organized a shelf of incense.

“My girlfriend had a dreamcatcher . . . “ he trailed off, grasping a handful of hair in frustration. How did he even begin to explain?

“And you don’t like where it’s taking her?”

“Well, I solved that problem. I broke the dreamcatcher.”

The woman shook her head and clucked her tongue. “It may have closed the opening to the dream world, but she’s still connected to the person who’s dreams she infiltrated.”

Neal’s eyes widened. “Um, what?”

She arched a brow at him. ”Don’t play dumb. You already expected as much.”

She didn’t even wait for an answer. She went to the front of the store where a display of dreamcatchers hung from the ceiling. As she placed it into his eager hands, Neal felt relief wash over him. He’d have Emma back.

************************************************************

Emma arched a brow and laughed at Neal’s eager expression, the dreamcatcher he had bought her dangling from his fingers.

“Sorry?” he asked hesitantly.

Emma threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. He’d been so weird about the dreamcatcher and even weirder about her dreams, but this showed just how badly he felt about all of it. It was kind of cute, actually, how jealous he got of a dream guy who wasn’t even real. He watched her intently as she grasped the new dreamcatcher in her hands. The room spun and the colors of the dreamcatcher seemed to meld together.

Emma stumbled, then shook her head. She smiled at Neal and kissed his cheek.

“Aw, you remembered how I liked the granola family’s dreamcatcher! Thank you!”

“You um,” he licked his lips nervously, “never had one before, right?”

“No,” Emma said, shaking her head and smiling as she watched it spin, “I never have.”

#cs ff #cs canon compliant #tallahassee #dreams #dream-sharing #dreamcatchers #fandom birthday playlist #for flslp87 #on her birthday #sweet dreams (are made of this)

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