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hijackedacademia · 4 years

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A Friendly Favor (Tenya Iida x Fem!Reader)

Characters: Reader (Fem), Uraraka, Jiro, Iida, Mina, Midoriya (briefly), Sero (briefly), Kaminari (briefly)

Request: No

Requested by: N/A

Warnings: none? If there are lemme know and I’ll tag them. Also I didn’t edit this.

Words: 2240

A/N: I wrote Iida w/ red eyes because that’s their color in the manga and I’m a sucker for red eyes. Also forgive me, this is my first time writing for him properly so he may be a little bit out of character?

——

Training had been rather rough on you today. Every muscle in your body ached, and your PE uniform was drenched in sweat (and possibly some tears) by the time you’d made it back to the girls locker room to peel it off. You toweled yourself off before throwing your uniform back on. A few of the other girls seemed just as exhausted as you were, while the others were just as chipper as ever.

This is what you got for slacking off to play video games.

Again.

Uraraka was the first to approach you, asking if you wanted to walk with her back to the dorms. She’d pushed back her hair with a plush, pink headband you were 98% sure had belonged to Aoyama at some point, and she was holding out a cooled water bottle that you just couldn’t say no to.

“Sure,” You said, taking the bottle. “Thanks.”

“No problem, (L/N)! You really look like you need it. Is everything okay?” Uraraka tilted her head a bit, her lips pulled back into a caring smile.

“Oh, yeah,” You started. “I’m fine, just feeling a bit behind it all. This is the last time I let Kaminari convince me to stay up till midnight to play Minecraft.”

“Oh did he rope you into helping him build that castle he was going on about?” She asked.

“We played for three and a half hours and we’re still flattening the earth for it.” You grumbled.

“I told him to just use creative mode.” Jiro piped in, coming to stand beside you. “But that idiot wants to do it all the natural way.” Jiro mocked Kaminari, rolling her eyes all the while. You snorted.

“Tell me about it, when I mentioned going into creative mode I thought he’d had an aneurysm.” You took a long sip from the water. The three of you began to exit the locker room. “At this point I’m pretty sure I know more about the durability of a stone pickaxe than I know about the math Ectoplasm is trying to teach us.”

“Are you falling behind on your studies, (L/N)?” You all but jumped out of your skin, turning to face Iida with a flushed face.

Of course it was him who heard you. You smiled up at him.

“Not so much falling behind on studying, more not understanding the work.” You said. “I was never very good at math back in middle school, so the stuff we’re learning now is pretty difficult for me.” You rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes. Uraraka wiggles her eyebrows playfully at you from beside Iida, and you frown at her.

You regret telling her about your crush on the engine-quirked boy.

“Well if you should need any assistance with studying, I would be happy to help you. I plan on working on my math after we finish dinner.” He adjusted his glasses as he spoke, his crimson eyes never leaving your own.

Curse him and his need for eye contact.

“Speaking of dinner,” Jiro said. “Who’s cooking tonight?”

“Sero and Kirishima.” You said, turning away from Iida. “It was supposed to be Sero and Mina, but Kiri owed her a favor.”

“Why didn’t they inform everyone of this? The whole schedule we set up-” Iida started, but you calmly cut him off.

“Iida,” you sighed. “The schedule will be fine. Kiri will help cook this meal, and the next meal he’s assigned to. There’s nothing wrong with a friendly favor.” Before Iida could say something, Midoriya exited the boys locker room, a towel thrown over his shoulders. He smiled when he saw the small group.

“Hey, guys! Heading back to the dorms?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Uraraka confirmed. “Come on, guys! We should get going before Mr. Aizawa yells at us again.” She grabbed your wrist to tug you along, and you let her pull you in the direction of the dorms. Jiro, Midoriya, and Iida followed suit.

The only other people in the dorms when you got back were Mina, Kaminari, and Sero. Sero had set out getting everything together for dinner while he waited for Kirishima. When Mina saw you, Jiro, and Uraraka approaching she ran up, an excited look on her face.

“My parents delivered my Wii console! We can finally play Just Dance together! Whatddya say, wanna play tonight?” You were about to let out a whoop in excitement, when you saw Iida looking at you from his seat at the tables. He was already getting to work. He looked away rather quickly when he noticed your gaze turn in his direction.

“Actually, guys, I uh… I think I’m gonna take tonight to study.” Uraraka’s head snapped in your direction. The mischievous glint in her eyes surprised you momentarily.

“Oooo, you taking Iida up on his offer?” She teased you. Mina squealed, drawing in others' attention. You smacked her arm, but she seemed undeterred.

“Iida,” She said in a harsh whisper. “So is it like, a date-”

“We’re just going to be studying-”

“A study date, then?” Mina seemed more excited about the prospect than you did. You’d been looking for a reason to spend more time with Iida alone, but he always seemed to be busy with school work, or was always around Midoriya and Uraraka.

“No.” You say. “Just two friends studying math.”

“Sure.” Mina continued to tease. You really wished she wouldn’t do this while he was right there, but Iida either didn’t hear what was happening or he wasn’t paying you guys much attention because his eyes were trained on his work. You ignore your friends and go to approach him.

He looked up when you reached the table.

“Hey,” You said.

“Hello, (L/N). How can I help you?”

“So were you… serious, about that offer? To help me with the math?” You wanted to slap yourself. Of course he was serious. When was Iida not serious about something?

“I was,” He nodded. “Like I said, I should be getting to my math after we eat.”

“Awesome.” You nodded. “Thanks again, Iida.” He nodded back before returning to his work. You went up to your room to throw on more comfortable clothes, using a couple of wipes to clean up the oil on your forehead and cheeks. You had been laying on your bed scrolling through the various apps on your phone for around an hour when Tsu came to get you for dinner.

Part of you wanted to shovel down the food - the faster you ate, the faster you could study.

But the other part of you wanted nothing more than to never finish dinner so that you couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself in front of Iida. It was bound to happen, you were sure of it. You would say something stupid with such confidence and then Iida would know just how dumb you really were.

But it smelled so good, and the way your stomach rumbled - surely you couldn’t say anything that stupid.

Right?

Uraraka gave you a quizzical look.

“Are you gonna eat it or are you just gonna drool over it?” She asked. Snapping from your thoughts, on instinct, you wiped at your mouth - she was right. You had been drooling. How embarrassing, you seethed. “Everything alright, (L/N)?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah I’m fine. Just thinking.” Without a second thought you began to stuff your face.

When class 1-A first moved into the dorms, a good chunk of the class sucked at cooking. It was typically Bakugo, Uraraka, or Sato who cooked meals.

That was, until the hot headed gremlin decided enough was enough and there needed to be some kind of proper schedule and some kind of lesson.

“I’m not gonna be cooking for you damned bastards for the rest of school.” He’d said. “Either you learn to cook or you starve.”

The only people who couldn’t be trusted in the kitchen were Mineta, Higakure, and Aoyama.

Those three could burn water without turning the stove on.

Kirishima had become one of the better cooks - so having been paired with Sero, who himself was fairly decent, the meal was amazing. Maybe not Lunch Rush amazing, but enough to make you want seconds.

By the time you’d finish your plate, most of the girls and a handful of the guys had scattered, finished with their meals and prepared to unwind or get to work. You took your plate to the kitchen and then went to your room to wash up. You retrieved your homework, notes, and textbook, and after wiping the sweat off your palms, went to go find Iida.

He sat at one of the tables in the common room alone, surprisingly. Usually after a meal Midoriya and Uraraka would sit with him for a bit before going their separate ways. But not tonight.

Were they both joining in on Mina’s game? Or had you just taken that long to get ready?

“Uh, hey, Iida.” He looked up from his work and gave you a kind smile.

“Ah, (L/N), are you ready to work?” He asked. You nodded quickly and moved to put your stuff down across from him. “Perhaps you should come sit over here. It would make it much easier to show you what to do.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” Your fingers gripped your wares tightly as you came around to sit beside Iida. He had his text book open to the pages you guys had been assigned earlier that day - his paper was already filled with notes. “Well, uh, where do we start?”

Listening to Iida go on about math was much easier than listening to Ectoplasm, in your opinion. Maybe it was the fact that you could listen to Iida talk about anything - he could read you the ingredients off of a candy bar wrapper and you would be entranced.

Or maybe it was because what he was saying actually made sense.

“Mr. Ectoplasm tends to explain things in a lot less detail than he should.” Iida admitted. “But I used to sit with my brother when he did his math homework, so it’s pretty easy for me to figure out.”

“How is he, by the way?” The thought of Iida’s brother had been itching in the back of your mind. Ever since he got hurt you’d never seen Iida more determined. You worried sometimes. When you saw a sad look in Iida’s eyes, a part of you regretted asking. His gaze bore holes into the textbook, but he smiled.

“He is healing. Slowly, but surely.” That was all Iida had to say on the matter. Before you could say anything else about it, he was back to explaining the equation you were working on before.

The two of you worked for an hour and a half, and by the time you’d gotten to the last equation you felt proud of yourself. Usually math took you a lot longer. Sometimes you didn’t bother doing them at all (not that you’d ever tell Iida this).

“How are you feeling? Did you understand everything we went over?” Iida asked, setting aside his pencil.

“I think so.” You smiled. “I definitely understand more than I did this morning.”

“Well, I’m glad.” Iida removed his glasses, and cleaned them with a small cloth that he’d kept folded beside his text book. “I’m about to start on English, if you should need assistance with that as well.”

“No,” you smiled. “I’m actually fairly good in English.” You closed your textbook, piling the homework and notes you’d taken on top along with your pencil and pen. “Thanks again for helping me Iida, I owe you one.” You said as you stood up from the table, a couple of joints popping in the process.

“Like a friendly favor?” The question surprised you, but after the initial shock washed away you smiled.

“Yeah.” You said. “A friendly favor.” You picked up your things, ready to depart.

After a moment's thought and a short rush of confidence, you found yourself giving the class rep a short hug, your free arm wrapped around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. He tensed up for a moment, but instead of pushing you away like you imagined he would, he placed a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks again, Iida.” You pulled your arm away and all but skipped out of the common area. When you made it back upstairs to your dorm room, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. After setting your homework back into your bag, you went to read the text.

It was from Iida. You frowned.

Had you forgotten something downstairs?

Unlocking your phone, you open the text.

T. Iida: So

T. Iida: About that favor.

(Y/N): Yeah?

T. Iida: Perhaps you might be willing to join me this Sunday to the nearby café? I was going to go with Midoriya and Uraraka but they are now busy and I would prefer not to go alone.

You flushed a bit. Iida was asking you to go with him to his favorite café (you’d heard him mention how much he loved the place before - the best lattes he’d ever had, if you remembered correctly) with him. Alone.

Just you and Iida.

(Y/N): Count me in. Id love to join you!

T. Iida: Perfect. It’s a date then.

A date.

This boy was going to be the end of you.

#tenya iida #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida x fem!reader #tenya #iida #x reader #reader insert #tenya iida reader insert #fem!reader #mha reader insert #x fem!reader #bnha reader insert #my hero academia #my queue academia

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asphalt-cocktail · 5 years

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Sour- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You’re a Right Bitch

Summary: Signing onto EMI records in the mid 80′s should have been a dream come true for Reader and her punk band, but she finds herself bubbling over with rage every time she interacts with the drummer from the successful rock band that records down the hall.

A/N: Hey lil cuties, I hope you enjoyed the teaser, it got a lot of good recognition which I’m happy about. Maybe i’ll actually do a tag list if anyone is interested (P.S. send ask if you are) and depending on how many people ask I’ll make but ONLY for this fic. If any of you have ideas for a name for reader’s band let me know because I’m writing the next chapter right now and I can’t think of what to call it, I was thinking maybe Sex Kitten, but let me know you’re opinion is always appreciated! This can be read as Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor and your feedback, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Pairing: 80s!Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, hate fucking, degrading, alcohol, cigarettes, dom!Roger, swearing, fighting, unprotected sex, no foreplay, throwing up (from intoxication), age difference(maybe like 10 years, reader is probably mid- late 20s and Roger is close to 40), rog being kind of a c*nt, but reader also is, not proof read, grammar.

Word Count: 5.8k whoops

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Asks

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

<<<< Teaser

Signing onto EMI should have seemed like a dream come true, but it wasn’t. Not because you and your band had issues with the contract or the long hours spent in the recording studio, no, it was because of a certain drummer of a certain internationally known rock band that had been the absolute bane of your existence. You honestly had no idea how the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe it was how loud your hot-headed drummer, Benny got when he was pissed off, or how Haz liked to play his guitar outside of the sound dampened recording studio or how your singer Joe sand loudly in the halls as the four of you left to go home, or maybe it was the fact that you told him you expected him to be much shorter from slouching behind his set. Come to think of it, it probably was the latter of the complaints you’ve gotten from the neighboring band.

The first time you met Roger Taylor was also your first day in the recording studio as an officially signed and contracted band. The group of you were leaving well past midnight, alcohol and cigarettes seemed to be the only way you four could make it through recording this late. As the group of you stumbled through the hallway, your laughter accompanied by Joe’s bass heavy vocals echoed loudly through the halls. Your troupe had just barely made your way to the first door before a head of messy blond hair and furrowed brows poked his head out from the neighboring recording room, “Would you shut your bloody traps, some of us are trying to record.” He snapped before loudly slamming the door behind him.

You and your bandmates froze, unsure of what to do or say. It wasn’t until Haz spoke up and shoved Joe “Yeah shut up, Joe.” He mocked while laughing. You couldn’t help but think of how familiar his face looked.

Just the thought of Roger Taylor was enough to make your mood sour for at least the next three hours. You frowned pushing the heavy doors to the outside open, inhaling the cool winter air. You needed to get out of that damn recording studio, it got so stuffy after having four people in there breathing the same air for hours at a time. You brought a cigarette to your lips and lit it, leaning against the brick building with your hands in your jacket pocket, the door next to you opened revealing your nemesis, Roger Taylor, much to your dismay. “Fuck now my cigarette is ruined.” You said blowing smoke out towards the air.

Roger rolled his eyes, “Piss off.” He retorted before walking past you and to his car to grab a few sets of spare sticks.

“Aw, not out here to join me for a smoke?” you joked.

Roger frowned and his face twisted into one of disgust “I’d rather eat a fist full of glass.” He spat at you bitterly.

You hummed taking a drag from your cigarette and blew the smoke directly in his face as he walked past you “Shame, we really could have bonded.”

Roger waved the smoke away from his face “Don’t you have to be a bitch somewhere else?”

Your face twisted as you stubbed your cigarette out with your boot “Don’t you have to bang on some pots and pans?” you retorted.

Roger rolled his eyes and pushed past you, throwing the door open and stomping down the hall. You waited a beat for him to make his way to Queen’s recording room before you followed suit. Seeing Roger Taylor in person was enough to sour your mood for a few days. You and your bad attitude made your way back to the studio, you loudly shut the door behind you which caught the attention of your bandmates. “What’s got you in a pissy mood?” Haz asked.

Benny smirked knowingly “You ran into roger while out on your smoke break, didn’t you?”

You huffed “I swear to god I’m going to fight his arrogant ass one of these days.” You said while pacing, too worked up to sit down.

Joe walked out of the booth “Well if you’re done brooding, get in and record your bass line for the song. We’ve been wasting time waiting for you to get back in.” He sounded almost as frustrated as you were.

You nodded, picking up your bass and walking into the booth, you put the headphones on and allowed for the music your bandmates had recorded previously to fill your eardrums as you added your bass line onto their unapologetically loud post-punk beats.

The music stopped and you looked up from your bass, “You sound like shit.” Benny said, “Not like good shit, but like actual shit.” He added.

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me?” you sounded shocked, “What?” You really couldn’t wrap your head around what Benny had just told you.

Joe nodded his head and gave you a sympathetic smile along with a thumbs down, “You should make it… make it more slappy I guess?”

You scoffed “Slappy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Benny clicked on the speaking button again “It means, make it sound slappy. Like this,” He said singing a bass like.

You nodded your head “Got it.” You said and waved your hand signaling them to roll the tape. You chewed on your lip and listened for a minute to think of something to play before you let your fingers fly down your frets and strings. When you finished you looked back up to the window “Slappy enough for you?”

“Fucking brilliant, per usual.” Haz complemented into the mic.

Movement in the background caught your attention though, you walked closer to the window and squinted your eyes trying to see into the poorly lit sound booth to the door. Where some tall figures stood “What’s going on back there?” You asked.

Haz shifted nervously in his seat “Don’t worry about it, we have other songs to do.” You could see him swallow thickly behind the glass that separated the two of you.

You were suspicious but he was right, “Fine, roll the bloody tape.” You were frustrated, frustrated with your shit takes, frustrated with Roger, frustrated with the fact you didn’t know what was going on from the outside of this stupid little box. Through the middle of your little recording session you saw your bandmates recongregate in front of the soundboard. They whispered and talked amongst themselves while the producer sat next to them obviously eavesdropping, you abruptly stopped “Are you going to tell me who was at the door? Or should I just keep playing and not having you pay attention.” You said bitterly.

Benny rolled his eyes and paused the recording, “If you really need to know, Freddie Mercury invited us to a gathering at his house later this evening.” He said waving an envelope in front of the window.

“You’ve got to be joking.” You said, letting go of your bass and allowing it to drop and hand loosely from the strap around your shoulder.

“Honest,” He said raising his hands defensively.

You took your headphones off and switched off the mic before screaming “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” From behind the soundproof booth, that did it. You rage had finally bubbled over, you shoved over the table holding your water, extra pics, and notes before breathing deeply and regathering yourself. “Let’s roll the fucking tape so we can get ready, yeah?” You said, as your bandmates looked at you with shocked expressions behind the glass. “You lot catching flies, or are we going to fucking record, let’s go.”

As you recorded your bandmates sat in an uncomfortable silence before one of them finally spoke “I’ve never seen [Y/N] that mad at anything in my life.” Haz started, leaning back in his chair.

Joe nodded his head, still listening intently but joining in on the conversation, “Yeah, but I bet it’s because she hasn’t gotten a proper lay in ages.”

Benny cracked open his beer and took a big gulp before grunting in agreement “You think she fancies Taylor?” he questioned.

“Yeah, but she can’t deal with her feelings, you know that. She’ll destroy this whole damn studio before she admits that.” Haz pointed out.

Benny nodded his head “Right, well I guarantee she is going to be piss drunk tonight, so I’ll keep an eye on her.”

---

After your litter outburst in the studio the boys decided to call it a day after your last take to allow for you all to go home and get ready for Freddie’s party, Ben would be making arounds later to pick everyone up but that wouldn’t be an issue considering he was also your roommate. You rifled through your closet, struggling to figure out what to wear. Your typical style didn’t seem grand enough for a Freddie Mercury party, but you made do with what you had and opted for comfort instead of sex appeal.

“Try not to fight anyone tonight.” Benny said as the two of you got into his small car.

You obviously knew what he was referencing but preferred to ignore it “I won’t, it’ll be fine, I’ve never been in a better mood.” You said and flashed him a fake cheesy smile.

Benny rolled his eyes knowing he would have his hands full tonight.

The drive to Freddie’s lavish home was surprisingly short, which you were grateful for seeing as sitting in the car was making you stir crazy. A pit of butterflies had formed in your stomach, but you had no idea why you had this sudden onset of nerves. You got along wonderfully with all of the other members of the famous rock and roll band and often times would ring up John Deacon for advice on your playing. You didn’t mind his bluntly honest critiques or his back handed complements that would make any other person run and cry. You were not any other person in the sense that you and John were very similar in that sense. Being the bassists in your respective bands meant you had to stand up for yourself otherwise you would get pushed to the background and often forgotten about by fans. It was your mutual understanding for the struggles of being bassists and strong drinkers that caused your professional friendship to form.

The group of you made your way to Freddie’s front door and were let in by nicely dressed doormen, and the scene before you was unlike anything you could have imagined. You knew his parties were the stuff of legends, but a party of this stature could rival even the great Jay Gatsby. You quickly lit a cigarette and took a glass of expensive white wine from one of the waitstaffs’ trays, promptly downing the small glass and handing it back to them, “Shall we?” You asked nodding your head into the large crowd of people before you.

Before you knew it, your bandmates had been swallowed by the crowd, causing you to lose sight of them and anyone else you may have recognized as a matter of fact. You meandered through the crowd towards the bar where you saw a familiar head of iconic curly hair, “Brian!” You said, greeting him with a friendly embrace which he returned. “It’s so nice to see you outside of the recording studio.” You jokingly said.

He laughed and nodded his head, “Yeah same to you.” He took a sip from his drink, “I heard you and Roger got into another little spat.” He could see the remanence of frustration behind your cheerful expression.

Your smile quickly dropped and was replaced by rolling eyes and deep sigh, “Did he tell you that?” You asked, you could feel your frustration boiling over.

“You know he’s sensitive about his drumming.” Brian chimed in with a smirk, oh did he love stirring the pot between the two of you.

“Well I’m sensitive about being called a bitch.” You said quickly swallowing the mixed drink your ordered, hoping the alcohol would ease your frustration.

Brian’s lips quirked into a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” That was a lie and both of you knew it.

You nodded, already nursing your next drink, these bartenders really did work at inhuman speeds “Right,” You said not believing his lie, “Where’s Fred and John?” You quipped.

“What, not curious about where the fourth member is?” Brian pressed, your silence caused him to put his hands up defensively “Only taking the piss.” He said, still smiling “Freddie is out back, and John is God knows where.”

You nodded your head before ordering another drink, back up if you will, and bidding Brian farewell before you pushed your way through the crowd to greet the host. Freddie was having a good time, per usual. You waved hello to him from the crowd of people, he yelled something you couldn’t hear over the music and reached for your hand pulling you into a warm friendly hug which you awkwardly returned given your hands were full. You handed Freddie your empty drink glass “What should I do with this?” You asked, he responded by taking the glass from your hand and throwing it out into the crowd of people, causing you to laugh while nursing your next drink.

You and Freddie laughed in your mutual drunken states “You know, darling, when Roger came back into the studio and mentioned how you said something about him banging on pots and pans I nearly died from laughter.” He said remembering the flushed and angry expression on his drummer’s face. “You know what I think?” He asked leaning into talk to you, you sipped your drink, looking up at Freddie wide eyed and pressing him to continue speaking “I think the two of you should fuck.”

You choked on your drink, coughing it all over the front of your shirt and wiping the dribble from your chin “What!” You asked in a shrill voice.

Freddie let out a bellowing laugh, “It would be brilliant, the two of you need a good fuck anyways.” He said trailing off at the end and taking a large sip from his highball glass.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest I sleep with that arrogant asshole.” You were honestly kind of offended that Freddie would group you with one of Roger’s lowly groupies.

“Hear me out, love.” He said, his stance wavering from the alcohol “Roger has had such a stick up his ass after quitting smoking and the divorce. I don’t think he’s gotten any decent pussy since we toured in the 80s and you? I don’t ever see you going home with any sort of eye candy.”

You rolled your eyes before you finished off your drink and set your glass on a table, “I don’t get any I’m the only female in a mostly male punk band, Fred.” You pointed out, using your now empty hands to light a cigarette, “I’m not even a lead, I just play bass.” You said blowing smoke out into the night sky.

“Oh rubbish, you’re a damn good bassist or John wouldn’t even give you the time of say.” What Freddie said was true. While John was harsh in his critiques, you knew it was only because he saw the raw talent you had.

You nodded your head only half listening to Freddie, your mind still caught up on trying to imagine how sex with Roger Taylor would be. A bitter frown crossed your lips, you would never fuck Roger Taylor, “I need a refill.” You huffed before promising Fred you would come back immediately after your drink. You pushed your way through the crowd, your arm raised as to not burn anyone with your lit cigarette. You tried desperately to find your bandmates, but alas due to the large crowd it was no use.

Either way, you needed another drink.

You quickly made you way to the bar back inside the house and ordered a shot of whiskey and chased it with a full beer before you ordered another mixed drink. The copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed were finally catching up to you, your face felt hot and flushed and your skin tingled delightfully. You hummed, sipping your drink and making your way to the bathroom to finally break the seal. After checking several of the first-floor bathrooms, only to find their handles locked you frowned in frustration and made your way up the stairs to the second level of Freddie’s mansion before you finally found an unlocked bathroom. You promptly went in and relieved yourself as you exited you ran into a surprisingly firm body, sloshing your drink and theirs on each other’s respective shirts “Who invited you here?” The voice sent a chill of frustration up your spine and to your alcohol flushed face.

You looked up, locking eyes with an equally intoxicated Roger Taylor, you huffed moving to push past him “Freddie did, the other members of your group actually seem to enjoy my company.” You said, once again moving to squeeze past him. Your efforts were to no avail, as he had firmly planted both hands on either side of the door, trapping you in the bathroom. “Get out of my way.” You said impatiently, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re always a right cunt you know that?” he said in a matter of fact tone.

You grit your teeth and clenched your drink harder “You’re the one that’s the cunt, maybe it’s all that groupie pussy that’s ruined your respect for women.”

Roger scoffed, here he was, nearly forty years old and throwing insults at some newbie punk rocker. “I don’t know if I’d call you a woman, maybe a failed guitarist sure, but a woman or lady not so much.” He said crossing his arms over his chest giving you a smug look.

“I think your sticks are too far up your ass, Taylor,” You spoke as you pushed past him. Before you had time to react you felt hands on your shoulders pushing you hard against with wall causing you drop the glass in your hands, allowing it to shatter on the ground and the breath to escape from your lungs, you groaned but didn’t know if it was from the pain of your back colliding with the wall behind you or from the adrenaline you felt rising in your veins and stomach.

Roger’s strong hands held you firmly against the wall and his calloused fingertips brushed against the skin on your collar causing a light shutter to run through your body “I have half a mind to shut you up right here.” He threatened, his usually bright blue eyes now clouding over with something much darker.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the pressure of having his knee right between your legs, but you felt a sudden boldness “Do it,” You pressed, articulating your words and hoping to get a rise out of him.

With that, he pressed his lips against you with force, causing your teeth to clank together and your head to fall back, knocking against the wall. His roughness causing a sultry moan to slip from your lips, “You’re pathetic.” He hissed pulling your hair and tilting your head to expose your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses along your jawline to your neck where he harshly bit down causing you to shove him back.

Roger gripped tightly to your hips causing the two of you to stumble backwards from the force of your push “Take me to a bedroom and fuck me already.” You said impatiently. Freddie wouldn’t mind if the two of you had a quick romp in the sheets in one of his many bedrooms, after all he was the one that instigated the whole thing.

The two of you stumbled, a mess of tangled and drunken limbs as you fell back into the first open bedroom you could find. Roger flipped on the light switch, not breaking the kiss and revealing a large well decorated room with an equally large bed in the middle. He shut the door behind him with one arm and shoved you back onto the bed with the other. Your eyes caught your reflection in the side mirror, your hair was a mess accompanied by smeared make up and eyes clouded with lust.

You quickly slipped your boots off and lifted your hips to help Roger take your pants off. Quickly, he flipped you over and pushed you forward. You adjusted yourself, ass in the air and legs spread showing off your already wet pussy. Roger groaned looking at it and ran a finger through your slick folds “You truly are pathetic, you know that, [Y/N]? I’ve barely touched you and here you go making a mess all over Freddie’s sheets.” He inserted two fingers into you agonizingly slow and licked his lips feeling the tightness of you engulf him, “A shit bassist, shit song writer, shit musician, shit person…” He emphasized each of his words with the slow lazy thrusting of his fingers. You let out a choked sob, desperate for him to give you more, “What was that?” He asked smugly, “If you want to get fucked, you’re going to have to be louder for me.” He said before pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling empty.

You pushed back against hand, “No-” you said sharply. You spread your legs further and arched your back “Please,” you hated how he had complete control over the situation, but at the same time loved it.

“Please what?” He asked swiping the head of his cock between your damp folds, intently watching as your juices coated him.

“Fuck me.” You said softly, clenching the bedsheets.

He raised his hand and placed a sharp smack on your ass causing you to jolt “Ah, fuck. Just stick it in already Roger.” You hissed.

Without warning the blond lined up to your entrance and pushed in, not giving you time to adjust. He let out a choking groan, not expecting you to be as tight as you were, “Fucking Christ.” He hissed snapping his hips against yours with purpose.

You gripped the bedsheets and cried out, feeling him stretch your walls unapologetically. There was no foreplay and no care in how either of you handled each other, just wanton need mixed with the mutual resentment you had for each other.

Roger propped one of his legs up to angle deeper into you and leaned over, pushing the side of your face into the mattress as he relentlessly pounded into you, years upon years of frustration he couldn’t hold back. He fucked his failed marriage, arguments with the band, cigarette cravings, and the comments you made about how shitty you thought his drumming was into you as he drove you into the mattress. Your legs shook and eyes rolled into the back of your head from the pleasure you received from the new angle and you let out a string of garbled words neither of you could understand. “This whole party can probably hear how much of a slut you are.” He said slipping his thumb into your mouth to which you greedily sucked on, “I didn’t expect you to have such a tight pussy” He huffed and groaned feeling your walls flutter against him, “’Cos you seemed like such an easy lay.” He let out a breathless laugh, knowing how right he was.

Your arms had given out and were sprawled out in front of you and drool had started to dribble down your chin from Roger’s thumb pressing down on your tongue forcing your mouth open to hear your sinful cries, you knew your legs weren’t going to hold you up much longer and Roger knew that as well.

He quickly pulled out and flipped you over onto your back in a less than graceful manor before he hitched your legs over his hips and pushed himself back in, continuing his relentless pace. You reached your hand into his hair and tugged roughly on his while your other hand raked its nails down his back causing him to arch into your touch and his movement to faulter.

You were surprised to feel a hand slip between your legs and begin rubbing rough circles around your clit, guess chivalry wasn’t dead after all, you squirmed against his touch the stimulation almost becoming too much for you to handle. Your walls twitched, clamping down around Roger, earning a shuttering moan from him.

You were both close.

“R-Rog…” You let out a stuttering moan feeling your climax building in your gut.

“Come on, you can’t be that daft, use your words.” He huffed, gripping your chin to make you face him, “I want this whole party to know who’s fucked you by the time I’m done.” He said through gritted teeth.

You opened your eyes and your mouth hung ajar, breathing heavily as you made eye contact with the mess of a man before you. Roger’s shirt had ridden up, and his pants were half pulled down and accompanied by sweaty and matted hair, you hated how the look in his eyes caused your walls to clamp down hard on his cock, squeezing him as you reached your climax, yelling his name with a hoarse and cracked voice for the whole party downstairs to hear, and the face he made as clenched your thighs and hip and reached his own, releasing hot spurts of come into you. He hunched over you, letting out shaky breaths as he worked you through your orgasm. He hated you but wasn’t a monster.

Roger stopped and swallowed thickly while trying to catch his breath, you glanced over at the mirror seeing red scratched zig zagging on his back and sat in silence, wondering which one of you would cave first and break it. The drummer pulled out of you and tried to hide the whimper that escaped him at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his sensitive cock but failed, before he tucked himself back into his pants, “Still think you’re a bitch.” He said tucking his shirt back into his pants and tightening his belt.

“You’re a shit lay.” You tried to insult as you got up, steps wavering and some of the evidence of your prior actions leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Roger bit his lip at the sight and watched you pull your pants up, “Right and the whole crowd downstairs couldn’t hear your pathetic voice five minutes ago.” He said before turning to leave, giving you a short wave “Ta,” he said and left, walking downstairs with no shame.

Your hips ached as you walked to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you hated how that was your first penetrative orgasm, and you hated the ache between your legs, and you hated the smug look on Roger’s face after he left because the both of you knew he was probably the best lay you’ve had. But you couldn’t find it in you to be angry, not while in your post orgasm haze. You walked down the steps, taking it easy, and made your way to the bar and ordered a mixed drink to quench your thirst, desperately hoping that the stares you received weren’t because these strangers knew you just had been fucked so hard you could still feel the muscles in your legs twitching or that you could still feel the remains of your and Roger’s essence leaking out of you even after you cleaned yourself off.

You ordered a shot and a beer, quickly down the shot and moved to drink the beer before it was taken from your hands. You turned to see Freddie nursing what used to be your beer with a knowing smirk on his face, “[Y/N],” He said in a sing song voice.

“I didn’t fuck Roger” You said defensively.

Freddie grinned and handed you back your beer which you promptly drank out of “I didn’t say that, but you just confirmed.” He nudged your side, “Was it good? You know I caught Roger walking down the steps and he flashed me this grin.” He paused to order a drink, “And you know what I said to myself? I said, oh no Roger only makes that face after he fucked a good cunt. Then what do you know” He shrugged in an animated fashion “I see none other than you, darling, walking down the stairs, stiff as a board.” Freddie was about to continue rambling before you cut him off.

“I hate him.” You said placing a cigarette between your lips and lighting it, inhaling deeply.

Freddie practically ignored your comment, “But it was good wasn’t it?” Your silence was all he needed to answer “See!” He pointed out.

As the night continued so did your consumption of alcohol, you felt your drink being taken out of your hands and a blurry figure and closed on eye to focus your vision. It was a very pissed off Benny, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we got here.” He said, drinking your drink.

You whined and leaned onto Benny’s chest “Hey, I was drinking that.” Your words slurred together.

“You look like a mess.” He said wrapping an arm around you to help steady your poor balance, your make up was smeared, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled. But thankfully your drunken state covered for your earlier romp in the sheets. “We have to go home,” He said pulling you along, “Come on.”

Your steps wavered as you began walking out “Wait,” You said abruptly stopping, “I have to say bye to Fred.”

Benny rolled his eyes “You’ve been with Fred all night, I’m sure he’ll understand that we need to leave.” You let out a whiney protest, “It’s 4am, [Y/N]” he said as if pointing out the early hour in the morning was going to make you want to leave more.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and firmly stood your ground, “Fine, for god’s sake Joe go find Freddie.” Benny said running a frustrated hand through his hair.

To you what seemed like hours but was truly minutes passed and Freddie was before you, and equally as drunk mess as you were, hanging off Jim’s shoulder. The two of you held each other in a drunken embrace and Freddie kissed your cheek goodbye before Benny pulled you off.

As Benny and Joe practically pushed you into the car you caught sight of a familiar blonde who was also about to leave, you rolled your window down “Hey!” You shouted, catching Taylor’s attention “You’re a bitch!” You shouted, to which he flipped you the finger and yelled ‘fuck off’ as you and your bandmates drove away.

After dropping off your two other bandmates at home Benny draped your arm across his back and held you at the waist, as you struggled to stand. “’M gonna puke.” You said feeling your stomach doing flips and a sudden cold chill crawl up your spine and settle where your ears and jaw connected. You moved to kneel on the soft grass on the side of your parking area and your hair fell around your face as you retched, trying to use your arms to hold yourself up, they were so tired and your elbows jerked, threatening to give out.

Benny pulled your hair back, seeing a large and deep mark of varying shades of red and purple on your neck, “What the fuck is this?” He asked poking the side of your neck when you finished puking and started to regain your breath. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and mumbled some incoherent words, “What?” He asked again.

“I fucked Roger!” You said loudly, sitting back on the concrete.

“Ssshhh,” He said putting a hand over your mouth “You’re going to wake the whole bloody neighborhood.”

You swayed in your seated position and fell into Benny’s chest, “I fucked Roger,” You said in a loud whisper.

“Yeah, I got that much.” Benny said, hooking his arms under your shoulders and pulling you up with him, the two of you made the long arduous walk to up to your apartment building. Benny laid you in your bed and unlaced your boots, you let out a huff still frustrated with yourself, “Was it good at least?” your roommate asked while handing you a glass of water.

You sat up in your bed and gulped it down “Yes,” you said in a defeated voice “But it doesn’t change anything, I still can’t stand the bloody prick.”

Benny hummed “Right,” He said nodding his head and taking the glass from your hands, “We can talk more about this in a few hours, the birds are chirping.”

---

When you awoke a few hours later you groaned, clutching your head feeling the insistent pounding of a hangover rattling through you and an ache between your legs, “Shit,” You said out loud remembering your actions from the night before. You got out of bed seeing you were still in last night clothes and slipped into an oversized tee shirt and put on some sunglasses to help shield your eyes from the bright light of day before you shuffled out of your bedroom and into the bathroom to find something to curb your headache.

You grabbed the pill bottle of over the counter pain killer and made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water and were greeted by your bandmates all in your living room. You opened your mouth to issue an apology for being a drunken mess last night but before you could get words out Joe interrupted you “Don’t worry, Haz puked all over the nice tile near Freddie’s pool right before we left so you weren’t the worst off.” Haz hid his face bashfully and nodded at you feeling your pain.

You grabbed a glass of water and made yourself comfortable in your usual spot in the living room, not caring that you weren’t wearing pants. You were comfortable enough with your bandmates and paid half the rent here so you really should be able to do whatever you damn well pleased in the place you called home. Much to your dismay you were already thrown a heap of questions “So I heard you fucked Roger last night.” Joe said bluntly.

You paused bringing your glass of water to your mouth to drink and were thankful your sunglasses hid your expression, “Yeah we fucked. What of it?” You asked defensively.

Joe made a face and put his hands up, “I was only making conversation.” He muttered bringing up his cup of tea before drinking it.

You were not going to hear the end of it.

Chapter 2: We Can Hate Each Other in the Morning >>>

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buns-with-a-book · 4 years

Text

The Night of the Long Vigil

For Day Three of DMCWeek2020, the prompt filled this time was Fight! And there is a fight here alright! Just thrown waaaay in the past.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC, Kyrie, Vergil, Kyle, Julio, Carlo (mentioned) Dante (cameo), Nero (cameo), Sparda (flashback) Tags: @furyeclipse @nimnox @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate @queenmuzz @astral-space-dragon

Summary: One Christmas Eve, Cassandra tells the tale of the Midnight Vigil to Cordelia, Julio, Kyle, and Carlo (with the rest of the crew listening in)

Cassandra would never get tired of Christmas celebrations. And this Christmas Eve was looking to be the best one yet. The cool winter nights of Fortuna was a far cry from Red Grave City, blanketed by snow. Cassandra watched as the three boys, Julio, Kyle, and Carlo, ran around Dante and Nero with their limitless energy. Cordelia was helping Kyrie with making the cake for dessert. Cassandra knew Cordelia was easily overwhelmed by too much energy and the three boys Kyrie and Nero were fostering were nothing but high energy.

“Dove? Is it done now?” Cordelia asked, looking to Kyrie. On the counter was the cake tin, full of chocolate cake batter and ready to be cooked. Kyrie smiled and nodded.

“It’s ready to go into the oven.” She hummed. She pulled on oven mitts and carefully took the cake tin to place in the oven. Cordelia stared out the kitchen window, watching Dante and Nero play with the boys.

“They’re a bit much…” Cordelia murmured. Kyrie gently stroked her hair.

“I understand. But I care about them deeply. I wouldn’t give up their energy for the world.” Kyrie smiled to Cordelia.

“And their energy can tire out Dante and Nero. I’ll take sleepy Dante anyday.” Cassandra joked. “Hmm...man, this brings back memories.” She murmured.

“Memories of what?” Kyrie asked. Cassandra blinked.

“Er...well…” She looked to Cordelia. “It’s a tradition from Eternis Brillia.” She began. Cordelia looked at her in confusion. Relaxing, Cassandra continued. “In Eternis Brillia, the concept of Christmas being all holly jolly isn’t a thing. Christmas Eve is known as The Night of the Midnight Vigil while Christmas Day is known as Dawning Day. It’s to celebrate the founding of the city, the day where the titular saints defended what would become the city from the Prince of Darkness and his armies.”

“Oh my…” Kyrie murmured in awe.

“Well, I should add an ‘allegedly’ to that. The only primary source of that time is an epic poem, The Night of the Midnight Vigil. Whether that poem is a legitimate primary source or propaganda is anyone’s guess.” Cassandra shrugged. “Regardless, the whole event is somber to remember those who died to help found the city. It’s also to ‘keep vigil’ for an incoming army of demons, just like the first watchers did long ago.”

"Demons like me and our family?" Cordelia asked sadly. Cassandra grimaced before looking out the window.

“...yes. But! They believe so fervently that everything outside of their walls is evil that they don’t even think about stepping foot outside. I doubt they’ll come all the way to Red Grave City or Fortuna.” Cassandra smiled at Cordelia. She knew that the people of Eternis Brillia never dreamed of stepping outside their walls, content with their lives behind them. “We’ll be just fine.”

“Okie.” She nodded. Cassandra looked out the window, watching as the boys stumbled on in, tired from their roughhousing. Dante and Nero flopped down on the couch, flanking Vergil (who had been quietly sipping tea Kyrie offered him). The three boys ran to the kitchen for water to rehydrate. Cordelia got off the stepstool she used to help Kyrie make the cake and ran over to Dante, curling up in his lap. Dante let out a pleased hum, holding the spirit child close and purring happily.

“Cassandra?” Vergil asked. She perked up, walking over to him. “Perhaps you can regale us with more of Dawning Day. I have never heard of such a celebration before.”

“Makes sense.” Cassandra said, making a cup of warm tea. “It’s basically Christmas but somber and serious. As Dante would so eloquently put it, boring. It’s all ritual, Latin songs that are older than all of us combined, and all in a freezing cold cathedral with no heating.”

“It sounds much like the Winter Solstice celebration.” Kyrie added. “But now that Fortuna has opened up to the world, that includes the Christmas traditions. I vastly prefer being here than at the church.”

“I think you mentioned that you had to sing for the ceremonies?” Cassandra asked. Kyrie nodded. “I can see how Nero would come and attend, just to hear you sing.” She ignored the awkward squawk she got from her adopted son. Kyrie laughed and nodded.

“I remember Nero always giving me a chocolate orange after my performances.” Kyrie hummed nostalgically. “He’s so sweet.”

“I know right?” Cassandra chuckled, taking the warm mug of tea. She walked over to the plush chair, ruffling Nero’s silver hair as she went. Taking a seat, she let out a sigh.

“I’m more interested in this epic poem you spoke of.” Vergil spoke up again. Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose you would, considering it deals with the defeat of the Prince of Darkness.” She looked to Dante, knowing full well his inner devil revealed her saying his true name. “The Tale of the Midnight Vigil is basically the Anead of Eternis Brillia. Allegedly, it comes before the Legendary Dark Knight awoke to justice. I know some even say that this moment was when that awakening happened but…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know the tale…”

Demons and humans screamed out their battle cries, rain pouring around the armored saint. Mud splattered from the combat around them, tainted red and black from blood.

But for Deirdre, armored in silver and white silken filaments, her golden hair braided with silk and silver spikes, there was only one object between her and the Prince of Darkness: Sparda, the prince’s favored general. Infernal simmering red met calm determined blue. Deirdre tightened her grip on the divine rapier Astra, faintly glowing with the power of the Earthmother. Sparda let out a low growl, tightening his grip on his eponymous sword. The world seemed to freeze around them, as if demons and mortal affairs mattered little to the two warriors, trying to intimidate the other into stepping down, into giving up and letting the demons rip apart the last bastion of humanity in the Highlands.

Then, a booming voice behind Sparda, speaking in the demonic tongue. Deirdre glanced up to the demon prince, his stone form reaching over and uttering a command to his general. Sparda charged forward, Deirdre deflecting the greatsword with Astra. The two blades strained against each other before Deirdre thrust her shield forward, breaking the stalemate between them before she thrust Astra forward. Sparda deflected the thrust and countered with his own thrust, to which Deirdre dodged by jumping to the side. Sparda swiped his blade to her, deflected once again by Deirdre’s Astra.

‘There’s no way I can defeat Sparda! Unless…’ She glanced back before smirking. She let Sparda push her back, flipping backward. Sparda thrust forward with his blade. She leapt up, landing on the edge of the blade before using it as a springboard. She turned, facing Mundus, before blazing blue stars hovered next to her hand. She threw the stars forward, striking Mundus’ wings with force. The prince roared in indignation, his wings cracking and visibly breaking off. Deirdre fell, her bloodied Clydesdale Fionn leaping out from the mass of demons to break her fall. She clung onto his bloodied mane as he rode through the demon masses and trampling them underfoot. Mundus roared out some sort of command. Whatever it was, the demons began to retreat enmasse. The soldiers of Eternis Brillia followed, slaying the stragglers.

Deirdre watched as Sparda looked back at her, still standing, still strong as ever. She felt the rain wash the sweat off her, her chest heaving. She patted Fionn’s neck with a tired smile.

“Good boy. You did well.”

“And thus, the demonic armies were sent away and Eternis Brillia lived to see another sunrise.” She finished the tale. She looked down at the three boys, eyes wide at the tale. “Of course, that’s just an epic poem. Who knows if the battle happened as it was written? That poem was written down centuries after the battle.” Cassandra rubbed the scar on her hand, the scar of Astra’s shattering.

“Wooow...that was so cool!” Julio said.

“What happened to Miss Deirdre?” Kyle asked.

“She became the first Archbishop of the Earthfaith. She ruled Eternis Brillia with her fellow Maidens: Eirika, Sigrun, Leanne, and Julia. She became a saint-like figure in the mythology of the Earthfaith.” She explained.

“Do you think she’s proud of you?” Julio asked. Cassandra made a face. She hadn’t even considered that sort of possibility, even when they met in the Green Fields. She was quiet from the question. “Miss Cassandra?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not going to vy for her pride. The choices I made were all mine and I’m not going to apologize for them.” Her eyes caught Vergil’s, who she noted was staring quite intently at her. The oven suddenly rang out, earning a cheer from the three boys.

“Cake’s ready!” Kyrie called, leaning down to take the cake out of the oven. Dante let out a whoop, lifting up Cordelia in his arms. Nero followed the boys into the kitchen, leaving her and Vergil where they sat.

“Vergil?” Cassandra asked, standing up. Vergil did the same and walked over to her, giving her a hug. “What’s with the sudden affection?”

“Do you ever regret anything you did?” He asked softly. Cassandra lowered her head.

“Well...probably that I didn’t see Cordelia sooner. That’s the only thing I really feel sorry for. Perhaps she would’ve been less lonely if I had seen her before...you know, everything.” He hummed, lowering his head to rest his lips against her head.

“There are many things I regret in my life…” He admitted, so soft she could barely hear him. “Key among them being absent for Nero. Your bravery still inspires me.”

“Bravery?” Cassandra asked, a smile on her lips. “Well, you can’t change the past unless you wanna fuck up the future, so I said to myself ‘make the most out of every day, because you can’t change what you’ve done’. I can’t change the fact I ran away from home for the unknown so I made the best of each day I had out here.” She explained. “You just...have to keep going. No matter what happens. Because when it’s out there, you can’t take it back. Words and actions.” Vergil nodded.

“I see.” He looked up. “Shall we go have cake?”

“Before the boys eat it all? Yes.”

#dmcweek2020 #devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry vergil #devil may cry kyrie #devil may cry sparda

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antpernas · 3 years

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12/9/20

What a good day!!!

So, I woke up around 10:00, but por BAGO I didn’t get up until 12:30 or so. But, I did text Scorpio boy good morning when I woke up at 10, and after I woke up at 12:30 we started texting. I rolled out of bed and from 1:00 to 3:00 I was just doing all my usual “morning” stuff; breakfast, washing my face, taking a shower, getting dressed, etc. I had wanted to go kayaking today, so I was a little sad that I had woken up so late, but in the end it was alright! I ended up leaving the house around 3:30, and the drive to Lake Okeechobee was about an hour, so I’d make it with plenty of time to kayak for a bit before the sunset began. I grabbed one of my meal preps, set that to heat while I loaded my kayak on my car, and got going!

The drive to Lake Okeechobee was absolutely beautiful. I hadn’t realized how much farmland there was just past the end of Loxahatchee heading west. There were so many abandoned buildings, pastures, fields of crops I wasn’t even sure what they were! It was so cool. The coolest part, though, was being able to see the sun. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the fact that the land was so undeveloped made it so easy to see the sun going down.

Eventually, I got to a small city named Canal Point, and, honestly, I was taken aback. It was so small! It can’t have a population of more than a few hundred, the fact that there was even a school was so jarring. I pulled over to pump gas, and while I was doing that there were these two little dachshunds just walking around sniffing people, it was the most adorable thing! I’m hoping that they belonged to the people owning the gas station, or maybe just somebody who had pulled over and let them out to get some air.

Canal Point was the checkpoint where I switched from a road heading towards to Lake Okeechobee to a road that traced the edge of it. I was a little upset that the view from the road to the lake was blocked by a small incline that supported a railroad, but in all honesty if I had been able to see the lake from the road I probably would’ve crashed. Instead, I admired all the stuff that was passing by on the right of me; more farms, solitary homes (some even decorated for Christmas!), forest covers, it was so comforting.

Unbeknownst to me, I had actually passed a boat launch that I could’ve entered the lake from WAY earlier and I didn’t realize that until the return trip. I had also realized that if I had driven all the way to the place I had picked to launch from, I wouldn’t make it in time. I ended up pulling over at an entrance to a hiking trail that goes along the edge of the entire lake. It was so remote, it was really weird. But it was so amazing to finally discover a hiking trail in Florida! They’re impossible to find. And, the best part was that the board at the entrance had a map of all the natural areas I could find and do stuff at in Palm Beach County! There was also a trail register, so I wrote I wrote a small blurb and dated it. The last entry was dated 11/21/20, so that just confirmed that remoteness of this trail.

I got there at around 4:40, and I took a little time to walk around and appreciate the scenery. The wait to see the actual lake was SO worth it; after I had climbed the little incline, the view was breathtaking! I took about 20 minutes to walk around. Once I had my fill, I got to work on moving my kayak which was.... phew.

So the first challenge I had was to actually get my kayak to the water. It wasn’t a HUGE distance, maybe a few hundred feet total, but the fact that it was over an incline made it a little more difficult. Not to mention, carrying a kayak by yourself is so hard! I’m not even sure if being stronger/buffer would help much, it’s just so big and unevenly weighted. I might invest in some carrying straps/a small set of wheels so I don’t ever have to struggle like that again. But anyway! I ended up carrying it half of the way, then just dragging it across the grass for the rest of the way.

The second challenge was actually launching. As it turns out, this hiking trail entrance was not designed for getting into the water, it was designed for hiking! My solution was to use the small jetty that extended from the dike to get the kayak below me in the water, then put all my stuff in and hop on myself as if I were boarding a boat. Somehow, that worked!

The water was really cool, and the sunset was absolutely gorgeous. I didn’t go too far in, and I couldn’t kayak for long since I had gotten there so late, but I did see some cool stuff! I paddled out to a sign, then I saw some plant floating on the water so I paddled up to that as well. I facetimed some friends and took a bunch of pictures, and once the sun was out of sight, I started making my way back.

For some reason, getting out of the water and getting back to my car with the kayak was super easy. No complaints about that, though! I loaded it back up, then hopped in my car. I had originally planned to eat my meal prep after I finished kayaking, but I had forgotten to grab any eating utensils! Doh! Instead, I just had the chips I had brought and then started driving back.

I got home just as my mom was. I had my meal, changed clothes, texted some friends, and then lied down in bed! I told myself I would get up to work out, but I ended up just falling asleep. Whoops! That was probably around 9:00 PM, and I ended up waking up at midnight.

When I woke up, I showered, did a cucumber face soak, responded to some texts, and since then have just been chilling! Once I finish writing this I might sleep some more. Or I might play some piano. Who knows!

Good night--or good morning--and be safe! I love you!

#mydiary

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feylen · 4 years

Text

Crimson Clover

Remember this little picture I did of my dnd boi Arcelm? I’m a big sucker for werewolf and vampire aus (*sides eyes to the DA:I succuwolf!au haha) and recently I have some little story excerpts in my head which sets our usual Aesis dnd setting into a supernatural/modern high fantasy!au. And so I sat down and wrote something! Whoop whoop~enjoy! ♥

It was his 21st birthday. He could do anything he wanted to do, right? So just for one day, he wanted to be a different man. Just for one day, he wanted to do things. Different things. Change his usual routine. He heard of the wild parties his friends had on their 21st birthday: Alcohol, Drugs, Sex - yeah that kind of stuff.

He changed his clothes, made himself presentable and snuck out of his room. Just for tonight. By dawn, he would return and no one would ever know that he finally - and rightfully - had the time of his life!

---

The bright neon signs of the various clubs were glowing in all kind of colours and the streets were full with people of various stages of drunkenness. Arcelm savoured all the different impressions of the night life of Ebrus City. It’s not that his parents wouldn’t let him party and go out with his friends, but - well - how shall he put it … his mother had a very peculiar way of not letting him leave the house on certain nights. Nights like this one.

Arcelm loved his parents dearly, especially his mother, but sometimes he wished that she was more normal. In a more “down to earth” way. She had the habit of planning their life after a stupid calendar. With various moon cycles and even things like blood moons and eclipses. Arcelm looked up and wrinkled his nose. Heavy clouds were blocking the sky. He saw no stars and especially no full moon. Which apparently was today, at least according to his mother. Come to think of it, she was a bit nervous today and made extra sure that he took his medication on time and - oh shit! What time was it? He needed to take the last one before midnight! Arcelm searched his pockets but wasn’t able to find the familiar little case he always carried around. He must had forgotten it in one of the trousers he tried on and decided to change them for a more skinnier pair of jeans before he snuck out. He sighed and rubbed his nose. It wasn’t the end of the world if he forgot to take one. To be honest, it wasn’t real medication to begin with. Just a “natural supplement” which his mother also took from time to time. This shouldn’t ruin his plans for tonight! He’ll just have some fun for a couple of hours and then return a bit earlier than planned. Yeah, that should do it!

The most known and popular clubs already were too full and Arcelm’s cheerful mood slowly turned sour. With a bottle of alcopop in one hand and the other deep in the pocket of his jeans, he strolled down the street. There were some couples here and there and some of them were already kinda into it and as Arcelm caught himself staring a bit too long, he turned his heavy blushing face away. Maybe all of this wasn’t the best idea after all. Maybe he should go home and bury his face deep into his pillow and drown in self-pity for five minutes. Maybe he -

“Hey there handsome. Your face is way too pretty to be moping around. I’m guessing you’re alone too? My group just ditched me so - wanna hang?”

Arcelm froze. In front of him stood a drop dead gorgeous woman. Red curly shoulder length hair, deep green eyes, a short black dress which highlighted all of her curvy female features perfectly, black high heels and her voice! Arcelm blinked a couple of times and gathered all the courage he could muster in his half tipsy state: “Hi - hey! Wow, I mean, hey. Yeah sure - at least I think you are talking to me?” Arcelm quickly turned around to see if there was someone standing behind him. The woman giggled. “Aren’t you a cute and funny one? I must be so lucky tonight. Listen, I’ll show you the real deal. Those crowded clubs in the front? Only for losers. Come, follow me. Let’s have a good time tonight!” With that, she grabbed Arcelm’s hand and started walking towards the end of the main street. He looked down at their locked hands and felt a slight shiver running down his spine. Maybe he was just too nervous right now, but her hand felt so cold in his own. He cleared his throat : “My name’s Arcelm. Who do I spend the evening with?” The woman smiled and squeezed his hand. Then she took a turn right, leaving the busy main street. “It’s just around the corner. You’ll love it there.” Arcelm cleared his throat again: “O-okay. You got me curious you know. I mean, this is kinda like a mysterious adventure. You still didn’t tell me your name.” She looked over her shoulder and winked: “You’re curious indeed! And I want to stay mysterious for a bit longer. It’s fun!” He chuckled and tried to reply, hiding his rising insecurity: “If you say so!”

Arcelm looked around. While the main street was bright and flashy, this alley certainly had his own charme. He heard the dulled music coming from a few buildings. Mostly heavy metal music mixed with some heavy beats here and there. The woman lead him to a building with red wooden doors. There was no sign with a name above it. At least Arcelm didn’t find one. The man in the front, probably a security guy, just nodded towards Arcelm’s new acquaintance and opened the door. Without hesitation, she pulled Arcelm through and as the doors were closed behind them, it got dark. Really dark. The woman chuckled: “You have an unique name you know. You shouldn’t give it away so freely like that.” She pulled him closer to her and Arcelm could feel her breath on his neck and her knee between his thighs. “I promise you, this will be a night you’ll never forget, Arcelm.” And with that, she opened another door in front of them and suddenly the quietness of the small and dark entry room was replaced by loud music and Arcelm felt his body starting to vibrate to the deep bass in the huge dancing room. A sweet and metallic smell filled his lungs and without even noticing, his body started to move on its own. He looked into the green eyes of his new acquaintance and he suddenly felt so free, careless even. She smiled and they started dancing. He didn’t even know he could dance like that. She put his hands on her hips, encouraging him to explore. He felt her hands doing the same. And after a while, there was another pair of hands and a new face. And then another. Everything started to feel like a blur. Arcelm heard her voice calling his name over and over again. And he followed her through the dancing crowd. He saw her green eyes in front of him. Her beautiful face smiling and everything around him didn’t matter anymore. Because everything was just her.

He wasn’t sure how much time had past since he entered the club. He wasn’t even sure how many people he had danced with. But he was pretty sure the pain he was feeling right now, was coming from his right arm. Arcelm blinked a couple of times and tried to focus. Where was he? This wasn’t the dance room from before. This room was so bright and it smelled heavily like disinfectant. And why was he lying on his back? Arcelm felt like he was hit by a truck. Slowly he tried to stand up and get on his feet but felt a yank at his right wrist. “What the fuck…?” He looked down and saw that he was handcuffed to the surface he was lying on. With his free hand, he pulled up his sleeve to look for the source of the pain he felt in his right harm but everything seemed fine by the look of it. He moved his legs and was relieved that they weren’t cuffed either. He took a deep breath and sat up. No need to panic. There was a perfect - maybe not reasonable - but at least a reason, for him being in this … laboratory? He let his eyes wander and shuddered a bit. Surgical equipment, test tubes, white tiles as far as the eye could see and ... a crimson red blood trail leading out of the room. Arcelm felt a sudden pain in his chest. He tried to avert his gaze from the strains on the floor but something compelled him to look. To suck in the air which smelled so sweet. He started to sweat heavily and also started to hear whispers, voices - so many of them:

Why did you bring him? Look what you did! I didn't’t know! How should I know? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Run, we have to run! It’s not too late! He can be killed! We must hurry! He has no power! Don’t be stupid or do you want to end like Allen?

“No, NO - I don’t want to die!” Arcelm started to drag on the handcuff. His right arm already felt sore from the pain, but he pulled with all the strength his body could muster in his moment. He didn’t want to die. He still was so young. Still had so much to see, so much to feed on. With a last tug, he broke the chain on the handcuff and got up. His feet didn’t touch ground though but something different. Something soft. Arcelm looked down and froze in shock. He stood in a pool of blood and shreds of something that cleary was human once. The pain in his chest returned and it was so much harder this time. Arcelm wanted to grab the table he was lying on not long ago for support but stumbled and fell backwards, knocking over some of the tables and racks in his way.

The next following moments happened in a flash. After hearing the loud noise in the room, the door opened and a couple of people entered the lab. Arcelm got on his feet and tried to run away. Someone grabbed him by the arm, but he managed to shake them off. One just backed down and let him run, but another one tackled him to the ground. Arcelm screamed for help while trying to get the hands of his attacker off him. “Let me go you sick fuck!” The man sitting on him started yelling: “Don’t just stand there! Help me you fucking coward or else we can’t finish him off!” Arcelms eyes widened in shock. No, no!

I don’t want to die. Please no! Someone please help me ...

You don’t need help. They are weak. You are superior. They don’t deserve the blood.

The blood? The blood … is mine. All is mine.

---

This was certainly not what he expected from his 21th birthday. Arcelm opened his eyes and closed them again in an instant. His head hurt so much. He just wanted to have some fun. Did he overdo it yesterday? He tried to remember, but everything was black. He frowned. Why did his room smell like sandalwood and lilies? And was that a velvet bed sheet he was lying on? He made another effort to open his eyes and blinked a couple of times. He groaned.

“So, you finally decided to return to the living?”

Arcelm sat up in a jolt and instantly regretted his sudden movement. Slowly he moved his head to the direction where the unknown deep male voice came from. The room was dimly lit so he had to squint his eyes a bit to find out who was talking to him. The man closed the book in his hands, put it on a side table and got up from the armchair he was sitting on. He was tall, 5’9 or maybe even 6’, slender and his movement was smooth and elegant. He opened the curtains a bit more before heading towards the bed.

Arcelm blinked a bit and … blushed. He had never seen a more beautiful and graceful man in his life before. His skin was like polished obsidian and his long thick white hair perfectly underlined his aristocratic face, his long nose, the curved brows and the full lips. But the most striking feature for Arcelm were his lilac eyes. Arcelm caught himself staring and his heart started to pound.

“Cat caught your tongue? I’m no healer, but I think I patched you up quite nicely. Do you remember what happened last night?” The stranger sat down on the bed, right next to Arcelm. Without knowing, Arcelm took a deep breath and his face got even redder. The man chuckled. “Okay. Let’s start slowly. My name is Veldarin. Right now, you are lying in my bed in a house near the marketplace of Ebrus. I found you just around the corner of my shop, covered in blood.” With that, all the color of Arcelm’s face faded away and the man put up a hand in defence. “Listen, I - I won’t judge. I just had the feeling that you needed the help and I must admit that I am intrigued. In a certain way. So, you don’t need to be afraid. I won’t call the police if you don’t want to. Would you be willing to share your name and story with me?”

Arcelm fumbled with the velvet blanket and was silent for a couple of minutes, trying to get his thoughts together. What … did happen though? He wet his lips before he started to speak: “I think I did something stupid. At least it wasn’t stupid in the beginning. I wanted to celebrate my birthday. You know, have some fun on the 21st one?” Veldarin nodded in agreement. “Happy belated birthday then.” Arcelm smiled for a second. “Thank you, uhm, anyway, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house and so I sneaked away from home and went down to Ebrus City, to the clubs - but I wasn’t able to enter the regular ones. A woman approached me, red hair, black clothes. She took me with her to a club she knew. Some metal club, I can’t remember anymore. We had some fun but then … everything’s a blur.” Arcelm bit on his lip. And frowned. “I remember a white room. And blood. So much blood.” He started to tremble. “I-I remember being afraid. I ran and something happened. But I can’t remember. I-I’m sorry, I can’t remember!” Arcelm didn’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person but right now, he couldn't stop the tears from forming in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away and looked down on his hands. The nails on his right hand were so much longer than those on his left. And since when could he literally see his blood pulsating in his veins? “My mother always made me take some kind of natural supplement. I always thought that they were just some fake vitamins, but I didn’t take them yesterday. And look what happened.”

Big blue eyes met lilac ones and Veldarin crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but I think I didn’t catch your name …?” Arcelm blinked a couple of times and looked down apologetically. “Where are my manners. My name’s Arcelm. My full name is kinda long but it’s Arcelm Aseir Emys von Irnamil. Thank you for helping me. I’m sure my family will be able to-” Arcelm couldn’t finish his sentence because Veldarin suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him slightly. “Y o u are Arcelm? That explains everything! I had my assumptions but I wasn’t sure.” Veldarin’s gaze suddenly changed from relieved to concerned and he let his hands slide down from the shoulders to the hands and took them into his. Arcelm started to blush again and shivered a bit. He felt goosebumps raising on his skin. “But at the same time, you were really careless. Do you even know how much time and energy your mother spends to keep you safe?” Veldarin sighed. “You-you know my mother?” The white haired man nodded and squeezed Arcelm’s hands before letting them go. He stood up again and went to one of the drawers in the far corner of the room. Arcelm already missed the warmth of the older man’s hands and watched him opening the top drawer, cleary looking for something.

The world was a small place though. Who would have thought that someone his mother knew would help him out in the first place? The young man was getting curious now. She never told him about a man like Veldarin. How did she got to know him? Arcelm wriggled his toes. He occupied the bed long enough! It was time to stand up. He looked around the room again. Where were his clothes though? He slid to the edge of the bed and wrapped the blanket around his waist. A blush creeped into his cheeks again as he stood there. Next to him the king sized bed of an older man. This was certainly not the time to question his sexual interests but he always thought that he liked ... women. But then again, he never met someone like Veldarin in his life before. Arcelm sighed. This was uncalled for. He didn’t have the right to think about his savior like that. And this meeting properly was the last one anyway...

Arcelm stretched his arms and legs before walking up to Veldarin. “I don’t want to sound rude, but do you know where my clothes are? I think I should head home now. Although I would love to avoid my punishment but it’s not my first time to be grounded for a longer time.” Veldarin finally closed the drawer with a quiet sound of accomplishment and turned around to face the young man. With a smile, he took Arcelm’s hand in his again and placed two red pills in it. “The agent in these two pills should suffice for the week. And don’t worry. I already contacted Taliyah. She’s furious but I think the feeling of relieve will be far greater than her anger.” The white haired man walked to the side table at the window and poured some water into a glas.

“I’m sorry for asking, but these look exactly like the pills I take at home and ... how could you get in contact with my mother while being in the same room with me the whole time?” Veldarin smiled and handed the glass of water over to Arcelm who simply nodded in thanks and took the pills without further hesitation.

“There are many hidden things in this world which a normal human being doesn’t need to know. And usually it’s safer if they remain hidden. But you - you are not a normal human being. At least, not anymore. Thanks to your recklessness.” Arcelm slightly crooked his head to his side and Veldarin chuckled. Then the older man tipped on his temple with a finger and smiled. “Welcome to the fantastic world of magic.” And with that, a slight breeze went through the room and Veldarin’s features slightly changed. He kept his general appearance but he wasn’t human anymore. Arcelm rubbed his eyes. In front of him now, stood … a smiling drow.

#fey dnds #arcelm #fey writes #yeeeah I knooow #I'm not a huge writing potato but sometimes even I get the tingly fingers and instead of drawing I try to slap some words down #getting them to make sense and stuff xD #I just love the idea of two worlds like #existing in the same time but not the same plane #and the general idea of vampire and werewolf clans #and other magical creatures #♥#damn that's my jam

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nosleepstillweak · 4 years

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cruller

My favorite type of donut is a cruller. Pity the man that begins his own love story with a monologue about his favorite pastry, but I feel like there’s something to be said here. It’s not like your traditional cake or long john or eclair. A cruller is in an avenue all its own. For one, it just looks cooler. Who doesn’t like a twisty donut? The dough is shaped into this endless spiral that flakes beautifully in the oven. Furthermore, the consequent increase in surface area also leads to the creation of these little pockets that are the perfect space for the outer glaze to nestle into. Top the whole affair off with a flawlessly reduced jelly filling and it’s like eating ambrosia. This opinion definitely isn’t mitigated by the fact that a literal goddess is the one to serve me these treats every morning, yet I still face opposition.

“You’re just a fucking weirdo, Jason.”

These are the words of my donut-apathetic comrade, Malachi. He’s a bit of an old-head, if you were to ask me, but sometimes the bluntness of his responses are in my best interest. As of late, he has been the staunchest--and sole--opponent of my onset infatuation with the owner of our newly discovered cafe destination.

“These twists taste like garbage. Admit it, you just have a thing for Donut Girl.” A key indicator of his disdain is the fact he continues to call her “Donut Girl,” even though her name-tag would lead me to believe that she actually goes by Sadie. Then again, given my previous history with “Pizza Chick” and “Gas Station Lady,” it’s fair to say that I haven’t necessarily made the best name for myself when choosing my romantic interests in the wholesale industry.

“Unsubstantiated opinions on Sadie aside, you can’t tell me that this isn’t a damn good donut.” I mean, he could, but he’d just be a liar. I take another bite in between sentences. “Plus, I don’t think you saw the way she looked at me this time. That was definitely some sort of signal.”

I can’t say that I’m not offended by Malachi’s responding scoff. “Yeah, a signal to round up all the idiots. I can’t believe you’re twenty-three years old and you still crush after women like you’re in a teen drama.” He scowls at me as I finish off the last of the half-dozen with a smile on my face. “Those donuts literally taste like sugar-coated metal.”

“Oh, heaven forbid they contain the slightest hint of high fructose corn syrup.” In traditional old-head fashion, Malachi is the type to complain about foods nowadays being too sugary; he gets a headache from eating a rope of black licorice. “Gather ‘round, folks, Old Man Malachi is mounting the soapbox again to preach about the dangers of processed foods--”

“Oh, fuck you, I’m leaving.” He, rather dramatically, snatches the coat off the back of his chair and storms out of the bakery. I can’t wipe the grin off my face when I remember that we literally work at the same office and will see each other again within the next ten minutes. What I find to be less amusing is the fact that he left me the entire bill, including his cinnamon-free cinnamon twists and extra-large black coffee. In lieu of my irritation, I take the situation as just a form of preparation: true love isn’t cheap.

“Here’s your bill.” A slip of paper slides across the table and then I’m blindsided by the sight of an immaculate Sadie smile. Now that’s priceless. I can’t describe it in words, but it’s just so… damn. By the time I’ve regained my senses, she’s gone off to help the next customer. I glance over the receipt, fishing through my wallet to produce the proper total and a hefty tip. My eyes widen when I catch something hastily scrawled at the bottom of the slip: a phone number. Next to a poorly-drawn smiley face, but that’s beside the point; the Sadie of Sadie’s Bakery just gave me her phone number. As I get up to leave, I even catch a glimpse of her smiling softly in my direction. I more than happily return the gesture. Malachi will come around eventually, but this train is definitely already in motion.

***

I have to hand it to Malachi because the first few weeks of my relationship with Sadie did actually feel like a teen drama. Our initial correspondence was nothing to write home about. I’d pick up a cruller every morning at the bakery and we’d chat for as long as it took for Malachi to spitefully gulp down his coffee and claim that we were running late for work. In between breaks at the office, I curated a myriad of internet bakery memes. Then, at night, I would bombard our text conversations with dancing donuts and cake icing videos and pretend to not absolutely lose my mind whenever she responded with a laughing face emoji. This continued for a while until I had to stage a self-intervention from giving myself diabetes. Sadie was surprisingly understanding and even offered to make me a sugar-free batch; had Malachi not physically taken my phone and responded with “no and goodbye,” I would have accepted.

In spite of his continued opposition, the train kept on moving. Sadie was actually the one who asked me out; I know, the misogynists are quaking in their boots. After she made the first move at the bakery, I wasn’t super surprised that she proposed the idea of dating one morning when I stopped by to pick up an office order. That being said, her delivery did not keep me from turning completely red and whooping at the top of my lungs in the otherwise moderately quiet cafe. I honestly still don’t know why Sadie got so embarrassed; she literally owns the place. All that being said, Sadie and I were officially a couple. Now, I just have to let Malachi in on it so he can be a supportive best friend and help guide me through my new--

“Jason, I love you, man, but this seems like a terrible idea.” Okay, ouch. This hadn’t been the first time he’d ever said these exact words to me, but for some reason, they hurt more this time around. “This is so sudden! I seriously worry that you’re getting ahead of yourself. What do you even know about this Sadie girl anyways?”

“Uh, well, for one, she runs the best bakery in town.”

“Debatable. Dinah’s Breakfast Cafe has killer pastries.”

“Unlike Dinah, Sadie’s smart and funny.”

“And you learned this from your 2 A.M. meme conversations?”

“Okay, either way, look me in the eyes and tell me she’s not beautiful.”

“Do you really want me to call your girlfriend hot?”

I throw a straw wrapper in his face and pout, genuinely upset. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Look, dude, I can understand that your initial feelings may be strong, but I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again. Physically or emotionally.” Malachi fixes me with a serious look and I suddenly feel like sinking back into my chair. “Especially after Gas Station Lady, I was hoping you’d make a little bit of a better assessment of things. I mean, like, do you even know how old she is? Friends? Family? Does she have any past relationships? Who’s to say that she isn’t hanging out with one of her ex-boyfriends right now?”

That last comment was a low blow and more than a little melodramatic, but I suddenly feel like I don’t know enough about Sadie to defend her. Now that I think about it, maybe everything is moving too fast.

“Just… be careful, man. Maybe reconsider. Again, the last thing I’d want is for you to get hurt.” Malachi shoots me one last sympathetic smile before walking out of the breakroom. Maybe there’s some truth to Old Man Malachi’s words. I stare at the cruller in my hand for a moment. When I finally move to take a bite, something inside leaves a sour taste in my mouth. The jelly filling doesn’t taste quite the same as before.

***

After that awful conversation, I decide it's best to have a heart-to-heart with Sadie. Our text conversations dry up for a couple of nights and I try to avoid the bakery as much as possible to give myself more time to think. However, as it turns out, the inevitable conversation didn’t end up being as painful as I thought it would be. Sadie actually laughs when I tell her that I don’t know anything about her; she says the same could be said about me. We spend the rest of the evening making donuts together and giving each other a basic autobiographical rundown.

Sadie Marissa Jenkins II is a first-generation British--it was at this point in our month-long relationship that I finally noticed the accent--immigrant who’d moved here in order to pursue her studies in culinary arts at the local university. She lives with her older sister, and her dog named Muffin, and she prefers riding her bike to taking the metro. She spoke of no past relationships and is in fact not currently cheating on me with another man. I was quite happy, and a little smug, when reporting my findings to Malachi.

“If you think she’s the one, then knock yourself out.” He’s speaking very nonchalantly for a man who’s wrestling with a stapler. “She actually gave me a free coffee this morning, so maybe she’s worth keeping around.”

“So free coffee is all it takes to get Old Man Malachi’s blessing?”

“Hardy-har-har.” He flicks a loose staple at my forehead. “This better work out, because I’m not picking your ass up again when you get dumped out of a pizza delivery car in the middle of town.”

“At least she didn’t run out of gas.” I jokingly shoot finger guns in his direction, snorting when he feigns a shot to the chest as he exits the breakroom. There are still a couple of crullers left over in the Sadie’s Bakery box on the counter so I help myself to one--and immediately gag. Okay, they actually do kinda taste like metal. They’re probably just stale from sitting out all afternoon. Yeah, that’s probably it.

***

I decide to lay off the crullers for a while and instead take the time to learn more about Sadie. What I learn instead is that both of us have pretty uninteresting lives, but I think it’s the thought that counts. Plus, her accent is precious and I can barely pay attention when we have midnight baking lessons at the bakery. These lessons are always followed by her getting into my car, me offering to drive her home, and us making out in the backseat instead. This goes on for several nights and I have never once complained about it. That is, until tonight, when she decides to take a chomp out of the side of my neck.

“What the--!” I instinctively push away from her and inspect the injury with my hand. My fingers come away smeared red.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” Her hands hover over me as I frantically press the sleeve of my jacket to my neck to stop the bleeding. “I got carried away. Did I hurt you?” I mean, judging by the fact that I’m literally bleeding, I think it would be fair to assume that she did, in fact, hurt me. Nonetheless, I manage a smile.

“It’s fine, Sades.” Probably. The bleeding has stopped, anyways. “Honestly. I mean, it’s not like you said some other guy’s name, or something weird like that.”

“What? What other guy? When was there ever another guy?” Sadie jolts away from me like I’m made of fire. “What do you know about another guy?”

“Uh, nothing! It was just a joke.” A bad joke. “An American joke.”

“Oh. I see.” She nervously picks at the leather of the car seat, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip.

“Really, the biting thing was fine.” Probably. I lean forward and place a small kiss on her ear. “In fact, dare I say that it was kinda hot.” I don’t know what response I was expecting, but I was not physically prepared for the look that she gave me when I pulled away. Then, we were back at it again. From that point in the night on, it was just so… damn. Maybe I was just hallucinating before; I think the crullers taste just fine.

***

“You look tired.” Malachi inquires with a wink as he takes another sip of his morning coffee. To be quite honest, I probably feel worse than I look; after the whole biting incident and my subsequent flirtatious response, Sadie kinda took things into her own hands. I think it’s fair to say that what happened in that car stays in that car. Probably.

“I was just busy last night.”

“Busy?” Malachi snorts into his cup. “With Sadie?”

“Oh, shut up,” I tiredly flip him the bird, “don’t say it like that. We’re literally adults. It’s not like teenagers kissing behind the bleachers, or something.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot when you got so mature. Just eat your damn cruller.” He shoves the half-dozen towards me and I nibble at one for a bit before taking a bite… which still tastes awful. Did she change the recipe for the filling? I need to talk to her about that. “Then again, maybe you’re right. I don’t remember them wearing scarves in August in teen dramas.”

I literally choke on the bite of cruller in my mouth. Okay, so maybe the biting incident wasn’t fine. You live and you learn.

***

“Uh, hey there, Sades.” I make my way into the sparsely lit kitchen of the bakery. “Whatcha’ up to?” My real question is, why does the kitchen look like a literal crime scene? There’s donut filling smeared all over the counters; there’s even some on the wall.

“Oh! Uh, nothing, just washing my hands. Cleaning up.”

“Did you cook something?” I look around the kitchen a bit. No pots or pans. Not even a baked good. “I don’t see anything.”

“N-No, not really. I was just preparing something for a batch I was going to bake tomorrow.” For a baker, that’s a totally normal thing to do. Probably.

“Alrighty, then. Should we head out now?”

Sadie smiles, but her face still seems tight. “Lovely.”

***

“Something’s off about Sadie, man. I’ve been getting these weird vibes lately.”

“Oh, so now you see it.” Malachi rolls his eyes, taking a bite into a fresh-baked, sugar-free twist. “Did you two have a fight? Does she not like it when you burp halfway through your sentences?”

“What? No, to both.” Well, actually, that’s a hard maybe on the latter. “Nothing specifically happened, per se, but, like, the vibes were off. She was acting really strange last night.”

“What’d she do, exactly?”

“Well, she…” Washed her hands? What exactly am I supposed to say in this situation? “...actually, never mind.”

“Good. Because, if you were about to say some kinky shit, I literally would’ve punched you in the face.” He chortles as I push hard against his arm. “Look, man, relationships are weird. Whatever’s on your mind, just work it out with her. Better now than later. Regret hurts like a bitch, dude.”

I stare down at the cruller in front of me and swallow thickly. “I think you’re right, man. I should just talk things out with her.”

***

Oh, god, I was wrong. I was so wrong. Screw talking things out. Malachi was right. Regret does hurt like a bitch. I should’ve listened to him, the first time. I wish I could go back and listen to him. I should’ve known something was wrong from the random nighttime hand washing. Or from the biting incident. Or from when any human woman found me to be conventionally attractive. Maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s just not human. She probably isn’t, given that she’s pulling this shit. She’s literally crazy, and I fell for it.

You wanna know what was in those crullers? The jelly filling: it wasn’t cherry or strawberry or whatever other random red fruit we thought it was. It’s straight-up human remains. ...Plus a shit ton of sugar and preservatives, but that’s beside the point. That’s why Malachi thought they tasted like metal. There’s iron and calcium in blood and bones; she was just feeding us metal. People. And I ate them! Almost every day! For two months! Oh my god, what’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with me?

Malachi, or Mom, or Gas Station Lady, if you’re reading this, just know that I love you all. Actually, this is an inner monologue; you’ll never see this. Poetic cruller bullshit aside, this is absolutely crazy. Oh god, she’s back. Oh god, she has a meat grinder. Why would she have a meat grinder? This is the worst day of my life. Oh god, this is the last day of my life. I’m about to die. She’s about to grind me into bits and make me into donut filling. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. I should’ve known better, I should’ve--

Fuck, Malachi, please, don’t eat the crullers. Don’t eat the--

***

“I knew there was something up with you!”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, he even told me that you were acting strange recently--”

“Malachi, please, calm down. What’s the matter?”

“Cut the bullshit, Donut Girl. What did you do to Jason?”

A pause. Then, she smiles. “Welcome to Sadie’s Bakery, the best baked goods in town. Could I interest you in a cruller?”

10 notes · View notes

x-reader-theater · 5 years

Text

Can I Tell You a Secret?

Relationship: Peter Parker X Male!Cuban!Reader

Summary: You ‘work’ for the daily bugle. You are an intern there, have been for a few years, and you weren’t getting paid for how many photos you had taken. You wanted more, wanted more for how much you worked, you wanted to get paid. That led you to your most dangerous stunt yet. Climbing the Empire State Building.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 7,692

A/N: Hey guys. So, I know I’ve posted fuck all these last few months, but I was in a really bad place for a while, and Queen was a terrible remembrance of it all. Anyways, I got this idea while playing the Spider-Man game, and wrote it in like three days XD Also, I’m really sad you can’t center stuff on Tumblr ;( Please like and reblog if you like it, and leave a comment to let me know what you think!

This was your most dangerous stunt yet, and it was just past midnight. The city is beautiful at this time of night, and that's exactly why you needed to be up here. The shot was perfect for the front cover of the Daily Bugle, and maybe, just maybe, it would get you on their payroll. Finally. You had been an intern for them for two years now, nonstop, taking photographs, putting yourself in danger, and they have given nothing to you in return.

That is why you are currently scaling the Empire State building.

You feel your arms shaking, hauling yourself another foot above the ground below. You feel your foot slipping, and you course-correct quickly, not looking to become the next Evelyn McHale. Well, whatever the male version of that is, and much less beautiful. You feel your muscles straining against your bones, tightening like cords that hold up a bridge, waiting to snap at any moment. Your feet are numb, ice-like, threatening to shatter if you miss a single step. Your fingers are raw, ragged, bleeding, leaving a trail as you climb. You're dizzy, the nausea of being this high up, and the change of looking up and then down, and then back up again has your head reeling. You feel yourself shaking, a naked penguin in the Arctic, the building is your melting ice block, and you are the penguin. Your hair is whipping above you, falling into your eyes, and the out, and in and out, over and over, so fast it's making you blind for precious moments, and you have to stop. You don't know when you stopped thinking.

Finally, at long last, your fingers touch soft metal, and you look up to see the slanted top of the building. You grin as you grab one of the seams, pulling yourself up and over the ledge. You drag yourself up, using the slight incline to get a better angle at climbing and drag yourself up there. In only a few minutes, you've reached the top.

You made sure to check the weather for the day, made sure the fog was clear and there were no clouds in the sky. You also made sure the smog levels were low.

And you sure are glad you did.

Hanging off the antenna, you watch the millions of lights blinking in and out of existence on the skyline, the glowing buildings like glow sticks, making the sky bright with light pollution. You reach behind you, into your backpack, and take out your camera, and put it up to your eye. Almost… but not quite… if you just tilted a little more…

You snap the picture, and your fingers slip.

The first thing you feel is air, and it feels like you're falling in slow motion, the world passing slowly by you, the city a blur in the distance. And then it's hard, cold metal that bruises your skin. You hold your camera up, trying to save it, but you're sliding down the side of the building. You feel the skin being scraped off your arm, the burn of friction that's hurting you. You grunt as you slam into the slightly raised side of the roof, and you go flying. It's quite freeing as you fall, and you close your eyes, holding your arms out, waiting for the impact.

It's a lot softer, and sooner than you expect.

You're still flying through the air, and you suck some breath into your wind-less lungs, and you open your eyes. You come face to face with the white lenses of Spider-Man. You gasp, your grip faltering on your camera for a moment, but you hold onto it, your hands shaking with the pressure you're putting on the plastic.

Spider-Man shoots out a web, and pulls himself onto a building, panting gracefully on the loose gravel of a New York City rooftop in the middle of Manhattan. You stumble as he lets your feet drop, and you grab onto his biceps. He places a steadying hand on your back, but only for a moment, before pulling it back. You walk back a couple of steps and look down at your camera. You flick through the pictures you had taken today, and when you see the picture you just took, you let out a whoop of happiness. Spider-Man looks genuinely surprised by it.

"What is wrong with you! You almost just died and you're cheering? What were you doing up there!" He demands, and you just turn the camera around to show him the picture. "All this just for some picture?"

You scoff and turn the camera around again, looking at the beautiful art you just created. "Just some photo?" You ask with malice. "This isn't just some photo!" Your expression softens as you zoom in on STARK Tower. "This is going to get me hired…" You trail off quietly.

"So you put yourself in incredible danger, just to get hired! How stupid are you?" Spider-Man shoots back.

You narrow your eyes. "Says the guy who leaps off buildings on a daily basis."

You can't tell if he rolled his eyes or not, but with the way the lenses tensed, and his tone, you're almost sure he did. You put your camera away as he starts talking. "But I have powers!"

"But some of us have to do whatever we can to survive."

That seemed to shut him up, and you turn to walk away. He calls out to you, "Can I give you a ride home?" You look around and smile at where you were.

"I'm already home. Thanks for the ride Spidey." You give him a wave and go towards the end of the building.

"W-what's your name!" He calls out, a hand raised in the air.

"[Y/N]! [Y/N] [L/N]!" You call back. "Remember it! It's gonna be all over the papers one day!" And with that, you climb down the fire escape to the fourth-floor window and crawl inside.

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

You didn't see the masked hero again since that night. It had been almost two weeks, and there wasn't a sign of him. Bringing the picture to the Daily Bugle, you were almost fired for the recklessness it took to capture the image, but you instead were promoted, from unpaid intern to a paid one. It wasn't much, but it was better than what you were getting before. Still, you weren't given any meaningful work. You had been assigned to fluff pieces, taking pictures of random places in New York. It wasn't what you wanted to do. You wanted action, to be in the middle of everything, to see first hand what it all really was like.

You still climbed buildings, taking beautiful pictures of New York's life, you even climbed the Empire State building again, but you never saw him. Sure, you saw Spider-Man in passing, maybe swinging through the city, or saving someone from getting hit. But you're never able to get a good picture of it. It's either blurry, or he's not facing the correct way. You're also just not close enough to get anything worthwhile.

That all changed however when you were walking home one night, the subway only a few blocks from your apartment. You had just gotten done with a shift at the Daily Bugle, and we're going home to finish some of your homework from that day, when you feel a hand on your arm. You look to see who the person is, but they hide their face, pulling you into a dark alleyway, away from prying eyes. You struggle, trying to leave his grasp, but even after two weeks, and even in those two weeks, your muscles still hurt from climbing.

The man pushes you up against the wall, and you feel his fingers reaching up to your neck. You know it's a man because he speaks a second later. "Mmm. My my, aren't you a pretty one." His voice is deep, and his breath reeks of alcohol. From his words, you assume you aren't the first one he's done this to. "What's a pretty boy like you doing all the way out here?" He asks. You just lean your head away from him and go to scream. He grabs your face roughly and forces you to look at him. "You make a noise and I kill you, here and now." You feel the knife poking at your stomach.

You whimper, an undignified noise escaping you, but you don't have the will to keep some dignity. You are scared.

The man leans in, placing his lips to your jaw, but just for a moment. That moment ends when he's pulled away from you. You press yourself to the wall, expecting the knife to enter your stomach, but nothing comes. You open your eyes to see the man hanging upside-down, webs covering his body like a cacoon, and a white web-like film covering his mouth to keep him from talking. You look around and slowly start taking your camera from your backpack.

That's when you hear it, light feet touching the ground behind you, and you whirl around.

Standing, silhouetted against the street light, you see Spider-Man, looking down at something in his hands. You raise your camera to your eye and take a picture.

The flash goes off, and you see what he's holding in his hands. It's the knife the man had, the one that was pressed to your stomach.

You see him jump in surprise, and the knife drops onto the ground. You don't lower your camera, even as footsteps approach you. You just take another picture. From the flash, you see Spider-Man rushing forwards, and you go to take another picture when something takes your camera and fills it away from your face.

"Hey!" You shout, but Spider-Man already has your camera. You go to walk towards him, but he holds up a hand. For some reason, you stop.

He's looking through the pictures, his mask illuminated by the digital light of the screen. "Oh! You're that guy that climbed the Empire State! [Y/N], right? These are really good!" He exclaims suddenly. You blink at him, shocked. "Well, except for these two you just took… I mean, I look like a gremlin!"

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Well, it's not like you're easy to take a picture of…" You mutter to yourself.

Spider-Man chuckles. "Why do you want a picture so badly?"

"They see me as a liability, my pictures aren't worth the pain I go through to get them. I need them to see I'm not a liability, but an asset," you say. You don't know why you're pouring your heart out to him, but it's Spider-Man. How could you not? He's just trustworthy.

He walks closer and hands you your camera back. You grab it and look up at him. Your heart clenches, and tears pick at the corner of your eyes. "Well, maybe I can help you?" He offers. Your eyes widen, startled. "Yeah, yeah! I could swing by you, take the pictures from up high for you. You know, keep you out of trouble!"

You nod, slowly at first, and then faster. "Yeah, yeah that could work!" You reach forward and envelop him in a hug. He doesn't hug you back but slowly squeezes his arms around you.

You pull back and clear your throat, cough into your fist, and look down at the ground. "So, uh, I'll- I'll see you around?"

Spider-Man nods. "Yeah. You should… probably stay here to call the police, and give a report."

You nod as well. He gives you a two-fingered salute and shoots off. You raise your camera one last time and take a picture. He turns his head back and poses for you. You let a chuckle escape your lips, before you drop your camera, stuffing it into your bags and pulling out your phone. You call the police.

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

You sit on the roof of your building, leaning back on your hands, the gravel digging into your fingers, the sun shining on your skin. You close your eyes, just taking it in. You take a deep breath, and cough slightly, laughing as you open your eyes. The sky is clear today, one of the few clear days in Brooklyn. You hear the crunching of gravel behind you and turn around. You pick up your camera and stand up to greet Spider-Man.

"Hey!" He calls out, waving to you. You wave back and he jogs to you. "So, what do you need today?" He asks.

You shrug. "Well, all they've been giving me are fluff pieces, things that don't require beautiful pictures. But I do want to get something of you, a nice photo, something simple, I dunno…" you trail off, not knowing how to end it.

Spider-Man nods and takes a step towards the edge of the building. "Well, how about this?" He steps off the side, and your eyes go wide in fear for just a moment, before realizing he's Spider-Man, and he's definitely okay. You raise your camera, and just as he pops out from the building, you take the picture. No flash this time, it was bright enough outside. You grin as Spider-Man does it again, a different pose this time, and then again. You get about six pictures before he lands on the gravel roof, ducking and rolling, and popping up right in front of you, his mask filling the camera's lens. You lower the camera, and grin as the masked hero stands in front of you. You can see the outlines of a goofy grin underneath his mask. What a dork.

"That was perfect!" You exclaim, excited.

"Good! Okay! What now?" He asks. He sounds a little out of breath, but that's probably typical.

"Can you help me get some shots of the city? I don't want to, but if I want to keep my job…" You hand the camera over to him, but he pushes it away.

"No, no, I'm not taking those. You have to take them," he says simply. You go to say something, but it escapes your mind, so you just close your mouth again. Spider-Man holds out one of his hands. "Here. I'll take you. And I'll make sure you don't fall off again."

You hesitantly grab his hand. "What are you gonna do? Carry me by the wrist?"

He chuckles. "Not exactly…" He holds up a hand, and motions towards your waist. You nod and he places a steady hand there, strong and commanding, the hold of someone who knew what he was doing. You put your camera away in your backpack and wrap your arms around his neck. His suit is really soft…

That's the last thought you had before your feet are lifted off the ground, and you're flying eight stories above Brooklyn. You gasp and cling tighter to him, but the hand on your waist kept you pretty much in place. He was strong. You wouldn't really know unless he showed it. He was lithe, had the body of a runner, with good proportions. You shake your head. Why the hell are you thinking about proportions? You're flying through the air!

You grip tighter onto Spider-Man, sort of wrapping your legs around his waist, and the hand on your own hips tightens ever so slightly. You push your face into his neck.

Suddenly, you stop, and you slowly open your eyes. You're looking out at a beautiful, clear day, with clouds overlooking the city. In front of you is Stark Tower, a stark contrast to the rest of the city with its high tech blues and silvers. The shadow it creates over the streets is jarring, and it takes you out of the picture. Still, you stare, watching as clouds disappear like streaks from a paintbrush, the blue covering the white after layers upon layers of paint, like it's trying to erase a mistake.

You slowly pull out your camera, and take a picture, making sure to get the magnitude of the building just right, enough to make it look imposing. You pull the camera back and bring up the picture on the digital face. Spider-Man leans in to take a look at it.

"Beautiful," He says quietly. You can hear his muffled voice in your ear. You look over at him, and he's staring at the building.

You scoff. "It's ugly. The beauty of New York City is its old buildings, the people who have been here for decades, telling their stories, the old monuments that give the city vibrancy." You feel Spider-Man stiffen around you. "Dude, it's okay. We can have our different opinions." You feel him relax slightly. "We don't have to talk about it anymore…" You look down, and your vision suddenly becomes sideways, before going back to normal, but the pit in your stomach is still there, and the ground looks miles below you now. Your grip on Spider-Man's shoulders tightens, and you gulp.

"Can we- can we please get on solid ground again? Please?" You beg. Spider-Man looks down at you, his lenses wide. He nods quickly, and soon, you're in the air again. You push your face into the crook of his neck again, shaking slightly as you feel the wind pass by you, and the dropping and rising of your stomach is jarring.

After what feels like an excruciating number of hours, but what was only probably a short and painless five minutes, you feel gravel underneath your feet. You sigh in relief, but you don't move, and Spider-Man doesn't look like he's willing to move either.

"Thank you," you whisper, before pulling back. Spider-Man just nods and takes his own step back, though his hands linger on your waist for just a moment, like he doesn't want to let go.

You give a wave, and he gives his signature lazy, two-fingered salute, before jumping off the building backward, and zipping off into the air, turning behind a building. You stand there and just look for a few moments, a pleasant smile on your face, before turning around and going inside.

You get a weird feeling like you're being watched.

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

It had been two weeks since you took those first photos with Spider-Man. Since then, you had taken more photos with Spider-Man, been promoted to head Spider-Man photographer at the Daily Bugle, and gotten a raise. You now got thirteen dollars an hour, more than enough money for a high school student, and more money than you've ever had before. It was an incredible feeling to get your first paycheck, to be able to say you made some of your own money. And what did you do with that money? Well, you had Spider-Man get you the best Chinese food in town, and you paid for it.

Right now, you were sitting with your legs dangling off the edge of some random building in Queens, sitting next to Spider-Man, eating Chinese food. He had his mask pulled up to his nose, and right now, you were just staring. He was white, definitely, pale, not like most people in Brooklyn. Almost everyone was a minority, though there were a few trans people who lived here who were white, but that was about it. All you could see were his lips, and damn your brain if they didn't look like the most kissable lips...

He looks over at you. "What? Do I have something on my face?" He reaches up with a gloved hand, palming at one of the lenses.

You smile and shake your head. "No no."

Spider-Man rolls his eyes. "Take a picture… it'll last longer…" he mumbles. You bump his arm with yours, and you both laugh.

You sit in silence for a few moments, the two of you just eating. Spider-Man stops for a moment and looks over at you, the lenses of his mask narrowing slightly. "What school do you go to?"

You finish your bite, chewing and putting your chopsticks down. You swallow first before talking. Your mama didn't raise you to be impolite. "I'm sorry, what?" You ask, confused by the question.

"I asked what school you go to." You narrow your eyes. "Just because- well- I haven't seen you around anywhere, so I just figured you don't go where I go."

"Where do you go, Spider-Man?" You ask back.

He leans in closer. "I asked you first."

You roll your eyes and lean back slightly. "Alright, alright. I go to Brooklyn High."

Spider-Man's eyes go wide, and the white of the lenses take up more space than the black. "The one on 42nd Street? Where the principal has a crossbow? My friend, he told me about it, and I said it's just a myth but he kept insisting, said he knew someone there who told him and everything! Is it true? Does he have a crossbow!"

You laugh quietly at his excitedness, but you pull a straight face to say as seriously as you can, "Yes it's true. I've seen it myself. Held it in my own hands…" You mime holding up a crossbow and shooting it, pulling your arms up to mimic recoil.

"Whoa, that's so cool! I'll have to tell Ned about that! He's gonna be so excited!" He rambles.

"Okay, my turn. I asked you. Where do you go to school?"

He paused for a moment, thinking, considering his answer, before finally giving it. "Midtown High."

"Huh. Smart cookie." You poke him in the shoulder. "Must be smart to have this suit."

"Oh, I didn't build it. Mr. Stark made it for me." You tense at the name, but he just continues talking. "He's so cool. He made all this stuff for me, and when I was a little younger, he took it away from me for a bit- but that's-that's another story for another time- Are you okay?" He turns and looks at you, stock still, unmoving. You can hear the blood roaring in your ears, and your heart is pounding away in your chest. You don't say anything, but you feel something touch your shoulder, gently, so as not to startle you. It's a hand, a gloved hand, Spider-Man's gloved hand.

You nod, shaking yourself out of your own thoughts. "Yeah yeah, I'm okay."

"Was- was it something I said?" Spider-Man asks quietly, all excitement gone from his voice.

"No- well, maybe? Yes?" It's more of a question than an answer. "Just- it's about Tony, Stark." Spider-Man doesn't say anything, just waits for you to continue. "My dad, he was stationed in Afghanistan. Stark was selling weapons to both sides, to keep the war going, so he could sell more weapons. He was trying to get civilians out of a small town that was about to be blown up by the opposing side when suddenly his own man turned a gun on him and told him not to stop him, to let him run. My father couldn't do that and was killed by a Stark branded gun. When the bombs dropped, his body exploded in the impact. We never got to bury him."

Spider-Man seems to deflate at that, his shoulders sinking at your story. He hesitantly places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug. "Is that why you hate Stark Tower?" He asks quietly.

You lean your head into the crook of his neck, placing a hand next to his thigh. "Part of it. The other part is that it's just a goddamn ugly building. Like, look!" You point it out, sticking out of the comparatively smaller buildings all the way across the east river, though it wasn't hard to miss. "Just look at it. So out of place. Like, couldn't you have gotten a cool, bigger on the inside studio apartment in like, Soho or something?" You joke. Spider-Man laughs at it as well. You reach your hand up and place it onto his chest, right next to the symbol of the spider. You reach up and feel the cold metal chill your fingertips. You shiver, and the arm around you tightens. Neither of you pulls away.

It's perfect.

You watch the people on the street pass you by, not looking up, so engrossed in their own world they can't be bothered to look away from their phones. You sigh a deep breath of relief and swear you feel the phantom brush of a kiss on the top of your head. You smile and snuggle closer as the night time air of New York starts to blow in, sending a chill up your spine.

You and Spider-Man sit like that for hours, your dinners long forgotten.

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

The last few days had been weird. You hadn't seen Spider-Man at all in that time. Well, you had seen him swinging around, saving people and the city, and you got a few good shots of him, but none you could send to your boss. You were on thin ice now anyways.

You and your writer MJ were talking about a new article you could publish, another glowing review of Spider-Man, when the Editor in Chief walked in. J. Jonah Jameson, the head honcho of the Bugle, mustache, cigar and all, came strolling into your admittedly not very private meeting at MJ's desk. He demanded that you write something scathing about Spider-Man instead, something horrendous that would get the public on his side. You knew about JJJ's views about Spider-Man, and frankly, you were not a fan. He walked away without another word, and the two of you started talking about a new idea. It went a little something like this:

SPIDER-MAN'S HATERS AND THEIR VILLAINOUS PORTRAYALS! IS IT JUSTIFIED?

Written by Michelle J. Waterson

Photography by [Y/N] [L/N]

It was your best article yet, and the public thought it was too. In the first two days, over a thousand people had clicked on it. You and MJ had a doughnut celebration at her desk, just laughing and talking for both your lunch breaks, before you both got back to work, her writing another story and you going through and meticulously editing your photos.

Today though, we slightly different. Mostly because as soon as you signed into work, you were knocked over.

"Ah!" You exclaim as you topple over onto the ground. You feel pain shoot up your shoulder, and you roll onto your back, gripping your arm. You hear someone curse next to you, and then footsteps approach you. Looking over, you see a man, well, boy. He couldn't be much older than you, probably your age, with brown eyes and hair. He holds out a hand, and you reach up with your good arm. He grips your hand and pulls you up onto your feet with a surprising amount of strength, strength you wouldn't know he had just by looking at him. He looks at you with apologetic eyes. There was also a bit of shock in them.

"Ah shit," he mutters under his breath. You raise an eyebrow as your hand goes back to your hurt shoulder. "I-I mean about that! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going!" He exclaims. His voice is familiar. Your eyes narrow.

"It's… fine…" you say, hesitant.

He walks over to you, close enough to reach, but he doesn't. He hesitates before putting his hand down. He puts it back up again, but not to touch you, but to shake hands. "I'm Parker Peter- uh no, I'm Peter. Parker." His voice is shaking slightly.

You take his hand and shake it once. His grip is strong. "[Y/N] [L/N]."

"I-I know. I've been following your photography for a while now. You take amazing pictures of Spider-Man," he says.

"Thanks…" You say cautiously. "What are you doing here Peter?"

His eyes light up. "Oh! I just got an internship here!"

You scoff. "Good luck."

He just nods, and you lean down to pick up your backpack. You give him a wave, and walk away, frowning as you try and place that voice.

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

You fiddle with your camera settings, taking random pictures as you look up at the brightly lit night sky, only the moon visible tonight. You swing your legs back and forth, humming to yourself and clicking your tongue to some made upbeat in your head. You had been sitting outside every night for the last four nights, and every night, he still hadn't come. For three weeks, you haven't seen him. You were starting to think he didn't care about you.

"Hey."

You jump, yelping as you slip off the back of the ledge, and fall onto the gravel, on your butt. You groan and look up to see Spider-Man holding a hand down to you. You take it and he pulls you up onto your feet.

"Thanks for that," You say sarcastically.

"Sorry sorry," he says laughing, putting his hands up. You just chuckle along with him. "So, what's on the agenda today? Or I guess 'tonight'?"

You shrug. "I dunno. I was playing with the settings on my camera, and I really want to do a long shutter speed photo. You know, like the ones where the cars are just streaks of light?"

He nods. "Do you know where you wanna take the picture?" You shake your head. "Well, what about the Brooklyn Bridge? It's predictable, but it's really beautiful at night. We could find a nice building, sit there for a while?"

You smile and nod, grabbing your backpack from the ground, and slinging it over your shoulder, deftly putting your camera away. You hold out your arms like a little kid, and Spider-Man chuckles, walking over to you and wrapping a strong arm around your waist. You slide your own around his neck, and he jumps. You both tumble over the side of the building, and you have to shut your eyes. You bury your face in his neck and just stay there. The wind passes by you, chilling you to the bone, and you squeeze tighter. You feel yourself shaking from the cold, the small droplets of water from the fog felt like ice shards hitting your skin, and you feel yourself shaking. You try and get as close to Spider-Man as possible.

Suddenly, you feel ground beneath you. Hard ground, not gravel like a lot of the building's roofs, but nice concrete. You sigh in relief and pull away from Spider-Man, pad along the roof, and get to the edge of the building, the corner that's overlooking the bridge. You take out your camera and tripod and spend five minutes setting it up, getting it right, and pushing the button.

You quickly turn around and see Spider-Man sitting cross-legged on the concrete, and rush over to join him. When you're fully situated in the ground, you go to say something, but close your mouth, letting you two enjoy the silence. You wouldn't say you enjoyed it, as it was quite tense. You both had pretended like nothing had even happened like he hadn't just left you for two weeks without notice. You knew you weren't entitled to it, but you hoped that you were close enough, that he would at least tell you. You don't know how he feels about the silence, but with the two of you so far apart from each other, it still feels wrong.

You start shivering slightly, pressing your hands on your arms, trying to converse heat. Something moves behind you, and you realize his hand has enveloped yours, and he's now pushing you closer to him, to his side. You slide over so you're touching, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He rests his head on yours.

It's you who breaks the silence first.

"Why were you gone for so long? I was worried…" You stop yourself, not wanting to finish the sentence. You knew what you were going to say. 'I was worried you were hurt, or worse, dead.'

You hear him sigh, feel his chest rise next to yours. "I'm sorry. I was busy."

You shake your head. "Busy with what?"

"Stuff… things…"

"Things you can't tell me, or things you won't?"

Silence from Spider-Man. It's an answer in and of itself.

You sigh. "I thought that might be what it is."

"I really want to! I just can't…"

You look up at him from your place on his shoulder. "I know. I understand. There's a lot I haven't told you…" You sigh and rest your forehead in the crook of his neck. "I hate secrets," you mumble out, your words muffled by the suit. "I hate keeping them. I hate when they're kept from me." You look back up at him, at the soulless lenses that covered his eyes. The black around the white would move, allowing for some expression to be read, but you really wished you could actually look into his eyes, to see what he was thinking about, how he was feeling. "But I guess that makes me a hypocrite. I keep too many of my own secrets to have anyone tell me about theirs."

There's silence for a moment, and you see his lenses flicker, almost as if they were looking down, towards something, something below your nose. Your cheeks burn even warmer in the cold air, and only your face feels hot as you reach up with one hand.

He doesn't try and stop you as you pull his mask up to just above his nose. You don't go further than that.

"I was scared..." he whispers quietly.

"Why were you scared?" You whisper back.

"Because I like you…"

You don't answer. You just lean in.

His lips are soft, wet, most likely from his breath and being inside a mask all day. Reaching up with one hand, you gently lay it on his soft cheek, and on part of the bunched up mask. You see the lenses close, and you follow suit, closing your own eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, the one on your arm had left, and was now slowly pushing on your lower back. You see darkness behind your eyes, no light, no bridge, no city. Just you, and Spider-Man. You take a breath in through your nose and shift slightly, deepening the kids more. Your other hand mirrors the one already on his face, and you run your thumbs across his cheekbones. You turn your body so it's more comfortable to kiss him, and you practically sit in his lap to get a good angle. His free hand goes to your hip, gripping it tight.

You're the first to pull away, gasping slightly at the cold air. You don't dare open your eyes. For a moment, you feel Spider-Man's breath on your lips, but then it's gone. You open your eyes, and he's turned away from you. You use one of your hands to push him back, so he's looking at you.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You whisper, a sky smile on your face. He nods, silent, not daring to make a sound for fear of shattering the moment into a bunch of tiny, silver, mirrored pieces, reflecting them back on the both of you, mocking you and tormenting you with humiliation at what you just did. You didn't feel humiliated. In fact, you felt relieved. "I like you too…"

He kisses you again.

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

The next night, you're sitting on your windowsill, looking out the open window into the loud New York night. You don't have your camera in your hands, nor your backpack near you. You just sit there, empty-handed, still, just watching everything pass you by. The fire escape blocks part of your view though. You rest your head back on your window, and think about the day, about going into work, about MJ questioning you on why you were so happy. You bumped into Peter today, who also looked really happy. You talked for a little bit, and the entire time, again, you couldn't get that voice out of your head. You were terrible at placing voices.

You sigh as you shake your head. It didn't matter right now.

You turn to look at your door, and when you look back, someone's on your fire escape. You slap a hand over your mouth before you can scream, and your eyes go wide as you gasp.

"Spidey? What are you doing here!" You whisper shout to him, trying to keep your voice down. He bends down so he's eye-level with you.

"You weren't on the roof! I was worried about you!" He whispers back. You roll your eyes and move out of the windowsill, beckoning him to step inside. As soon as he does, you close the window behind him and pull up his mask. You kiss him. He hesitates for a moment, before placing his hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile as you pull away. "I missed you," he mutters. You smile and just kiss him again.

He squeezes your hips, and you pull away with a wry smile. He tries to chase your lips, but you put a finger on his, causing him to kiss them. You laugh quietly and pull your hand away, going to kiss him again, but there's a knock at your door.

"¿[Y/N]? ¿estas ahi?" You hear your mother call from the other side of the door.

Your eyes go wide, and you look at Spider-Man, who's own lenses are wide as well. You open your mouth to speak but close it, looking at him in panic. He just stares at you. You turn over your shoulder and call back, "¡Un momento mamá!" You push him towards your closet, opening the door and shoving him in. He closes the door on himself and you take your shirt off, hoping it would convince your mom you were in the middle of getting dressed.

The door opens, and your mom walks in. "¿Por qué estás tan rojo?" Is the first thing she asks.

You wince slightly, and you pray that it's not enough for her to notice. "Es realmente caliente mamá." You fan yourself with your hand, and let out some air, pretending like you're trying to cool off.

"¡Entonces abre una ventana! ¡Está frío afuera!" She walks over to your window and opens it up. A gust of cold air rushes in, and you shiver. "Y ponte una camisa. Vas a atrapar tu muerte." She picks up the shirt you just tossed onto the ground and throws it at you. She walks to your door, and grabs the handle, walking out as she starts to pull it closed. She stops and leans her head in. "Hice Ropa Vieja. Consigue un poco antes de que se enfríe o no vas a cenar." She closes the door, but not all the way. She leaves a little sliver of it open, and you sigh, knowing it's to prevent you from doing anything stupid.

You walk over to the closet and open the door. Looking around, you don't see anything, until Spider-Man drops down from the ceiling. You reach a hand out and place it onto his shoulder, and the up onto his cheek. He put his mask back down.

"Maybe we should try again tomorrow?" You whisper with a small laugh. Spider-Man sighs. "It's a Holiday, I don't have work, we can do whatever you want."

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in. "What if I just want to lay on your bed with you?"

You smile and kiss his masked cheek. "Then that's what we'll do."

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

You sit at your messy desk, staring at your computer. Well, you weren't staring so much as frowning. It was a picture you had taken a few weeks ago, and you didn't really know what to do with it. You had changed the colour, brightness, and even the contrast, but nothing seemed to be 'right' for it. It was a picture of Spider-Man. He was small on the picture, only taking up a small portion of the otherwise large photo, but he was against a plain building, with sectioned off, blue windows. It was a beautiful photo if you did say so yourself, but you couldn't figure out what you wanted to do with it. You tried making the colour more vibrant, but it made the city look to pretty to be real. The contrast just made it look fake, and the brightness was either too light or too dark.

Nothing helped.

You're broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your window opening, and in a panic, you close your computer. Looking up, you see the same man you were just looking at on your computer, staring back at you. You let out a breath and smile back as Spider-Man crawls in through the window, closing it behind him. You stand up out of your chair, and he walks over to you. You push up his mask and kiss him.

"How are you?" He asks as he hugs you.

"I'm fine. Busy, but fine. How are you?" You ask back, returning the hug.

He just sighs. "Tired."

He sounds tired, and you pull away from the hug. You hold out your hand, and he grabs it, letting you lead him to the bed, where you sit down. He follows suit, and you lay down. You open your arms, and he flops down into them, letting you hold him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask. He shakes his head. "Okay," is all you say in response.

You just lay there, holding him, letting him relax in your arms, and you don't press him don't try and get him to talk, just give him the space to if he needs it. And he does, eventually, though it isn't what you were expecting.

"Why have you never asked who I am?"

You're taken aback by the question, and you think to yourself about his question. "I-I don't know… I guess I never needed to know. You've always just been Spider-Man. I didn't really need to know who you were." You reply honestly.

He looks up at you, his mask pulled all the way down. You can't read the mask. "Do you want to?"

You open your mouth to speak, but you stop yourself, halting the words before they can move past your lips, like a dam blocking a waterfall. Immediately, you want to say 'yes', but do you really? Do you really want to know who he is, maybe ruin this? You tell yourself nothing could ruin what you had, but you couldn't lie to yourself. What if he was someone you hated? You didn't know many people from Midtown High, but of the ones you do know, you only like two, and one you barely even know. So, you rethink what you're going to say, and slowly say it.

"I don't… know…" you answer sincerely. You place a hand on his masked cheek. "I truly don't know. What if you're someone I know, someone I don't like. Even if you weren't, what if you're someone I don't know? We know barely anything about each other. What if… what if I don't like you?" You look away, and your hand drops from his face. You turn, and lay on your back, pulling your arms in so they're over your stomach. It's protective.

"I-" Spider-Man cuts himself off, looks away, and then looks back at you. "I want you to know." It's simple. But it's also a question. I want you to know, but I won't force you. It's also a matter of fact. I don't think I could go on with you not knowing. It's also a hesitation. Are you sure you don't want to know? I'm putting myself out there so you can know, are you sure you don't?

You look over at him, and sit up, leaning against the wall, so you're more or less upright. "Okay."

"Okay?" He sounds excited, but like he's trying to hide it. You can't help but smile.

You let out a breathy laugh as you confirm, "Yeah. Okay."

He sits up opposite you, and he grabs at his mask. He doesn't pull.

"You know, I always expected this to be a lot more dramatic. Maybe I'm hurt and you need to heal me, and in order to help you take off my mask!" He exclaims, and you laugh. "Or maybe it comes off while I'm trying to save you, and you swoon over me!" You laugh harder at that, at knowing he probably has a really goofy grin underneath his mask.

"Just, take it off already! Before I change my mind!" You exclaim in between laughs.

The smile drops from both your faces, and Spider-Man takes a deep breath. He reaches up, grabs the top of his mask, and pulls.

"Peter Parker?" You ask, just confused. "Wait hold on, that's why I recognized your voice!" He just looks at you, confused at your reaction. "I would have never thought it was you!"

"W-what? Why?" He asks, not knowing what to say.

"Well, Peter's like, nerdy, clumsy. I mean, for God's sake, you bumped into me your first day!" You exclaim, a laugh bubbling up behind your lips. "And well, Spider-Man… well, he's…" You trail off, and mutter quietly, almost quiet enough where he can't hear, "sexy." Your cheeks flame up, and you want to die from how embarrassed you feel, but when you look up at the man in front of you, he's also blushing.

"Wait, really?" He asks.

Your cheeks go even hotter. "W-well, yeah. It's hard not to think that when you're in a skintight suit…"

Peter just laughs and leans forward. "Can I tell you a secret?"

You nod and he gets even closer to your lips, so close they're brushing up against each other. You've never seen him this confident.

"The secret is… I feel the same way."

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dwyguyhikes · 4 years

Photo

King’s Peak

26.8 mile roundtrip

5,118 feet elevation gain

Link: https://www.alltrails.com/trail/us/utah/kings-peak-utah-highpoint-trail

Time from trailhead to base camp at Dollar Lake: 3:50 (7.4 miles)

Time from base camp to summit: 3:45 (6 miles)

Time from summit to base camp: 3:20 (6 miles)

Time from base camp to trailhead: 3:14 (7.4 miles)

Time to finally begin this incredibly ambitious goal of summiting the highest point in every state! I decided to start with the closest one to me: King’s Peak in Utah. I’d gotten an invitation from Nick to join me, but wanted to give solo camping a whirl and see about doing this first highpoint on my own.

The trailhead was about a 3 hour drive from Salt Lake City, and it took me through southeast Wyoming. The drive there was pretty easy, except for one road block caused my some unruly sheep that refused to get out of the road. I also spent the last hour or so on a hole-ridden dirt road, and lemme tell you that a Ford Taurus was not designed for that kind of terrain.

As you’re driving, you can see King’s Peak clearly standing out from the surrounding mountains. I had a kind of minor freakout when I saw this, and I started to question if this was really a good idea to do on my own. “You’re seriously going to climb that tall ass mountain? By yourself? Are you nuts?” I quickly pushed these thoughts out with a different one: “Hell yeah I’m fucking climbing that. Because I’m the fucking man.”

I got to the trailhead and chatted with some people who were getting back. They said the weather was too bad and they had to turn back, but with the weather shifting they thought I’d have a good shot at it. I put on my backpack and started my trek to Dollar Lake where I’d set up camp for the night.

This was my first backpacking trip in about a year, and I forgot how much hiking with a full backpack SUCKED. I had also just played hockey for the first time in about 3 months, and I had kind of forgotten how much skating uses your hips. As such, the first 3 miles involved the lower half of my body crying out in pain, but I carried on.

The hike in was super peaceful, and I really enjoyed the lonely walk through the forest. I’m glad I had decided to buy a map before heading out, because Dollar Lake wasn’t clearly marked. I did some minor bushwhacking toward where I thought it would be, and after a bit of wandering around I was able to find it. I set up my tent, cooked up some dinner, and got ready for a long day ahead. I knew there wouldn’t be bears, but I still climbed a tree about 100 yards from camp to secure my backpack with food out of reach just in case.

Trying to sleep that night turned into a lost cause. It was ridiculously windy (40 mph gusts), so every few minutes it felt like my tent was blowing away. I also kept hearing footsteps outside my tent, though that could have just been my ears playing tricks on me. At around midnight a helicopter was flying around, too. To add onto all that, my joints were still killing me and I couldn’t get comfortable. I laid there all night waiting for sleep to take over, but I don’t think I got any real shut-eye until about 4 am. With my alarm going off at 6, I knew I wasn’t going to have a good time.

6 am came and I snoozed a few times before getting going. I had some oatmeal and coffee, put together my day pack (stupidly without sunscreen, bear-spray, or my med-kit… whoops) and started heading toward the summit. There were a few sketchy snow traverses, but I had no issues making a good pace and passing a few other groups. I did have some issues staying on the trail since it wasn’t clearly marked, and I think at one point I was on the shortcut called Gunsight Pass before realizing and bushwhacking back to the trail. I had read that Gunsight Pass could get sketchy, and I didn’t want to take any chances since I was by myself.

This hike was GRUELING! It was steep and wet, and there was no cover from the sun. I had to take breaks every 20 minutes, but thankfully there were plenty of places to re-fill my water. I quickly realized that checking the mileage at every break wasn’t helping me at all, and I just focused on keeping one foot in front of the other. It was oddly meditative just listening to my footsteps and my heavy breath as I carried onward and upward.

Close to the summit, the trail just stops and you have to scramble up some scree. The wind gusts were still coming, so I decided to leave my backpack (aka my water and food) and focus on my balance. Thinking I was much closer to the top than I actually was, this proved to be a mistake. That climb to the summit was probably the most difficult part of the whole hike, but that feeling of finally getting to the top… pure joy. For the time being, I was the tallest person in Utah! I felt incredibly accomplished, but I also felt incredibly vulnerable when the winds started tossing me around a bit. I stayed only for a hot second to take some pictures before making my way down.

On the way down I found a lot of snow and developed a shortcut instead of scrambling across the scree: if I run across the snow like I’m doing hockey crossovers, I could cover distance in half the time. I fell a few times but never slid very far because I had a pole to self-arrest. While I saved a ton of time, I quickly realized that I was coming down the east side of the mountain, and my backpack was on the north side… all that time saved was quickly lost when I had to go BACK up the mountain. Oh well, I got back to it and had the Snickers bar I was saving for my lowest moment and all felt right in the world.

The hike back to basecamp was largely uneventful except where I ended up off the trail a few times. The trail wasn’t well marked, and there were so many offshoots that it was easy to get sidetracked. Luckily I had enough of a mental compass to realize I was walking on trails I’d never been on before. More bushwhacking (what else is new) led me back to trail. After some thought, I figured I’d try to hike back to the car rather than stay another night in the wind here, so I ran a lot of the downhill parts to make up time.

When I finally made it back to camp, I was NOT having a good time. My feet were wet, my shirt was drenched, and I was definitely overheating. I laid down in the tent for about 2 minutes before quickly taking off most of my clothes and running to soak in the lake. That helped a ton. I also knew that another night of no sleep was only going to make things worse, so I sucked it up and packed up camp.

The hike back to the car was absolutely brutal. I had just finished 6 of the steepest uphill miles I’ve ever hiked, then ran 6 miles back, and now I was doing another 7.4 with a full backpack? My body was NOT happy. My head was throbbing and I could hear all my joints screaming out saying “boi what is u doing??!?!” Luckily my medkit had aspirin in it, so I popped that and kept pushing on. I stopped to chat with one couple who told me that the helicopter I heard last night was looking for a kid who got lost at Dollar Lake. He went missing around midnight, and his dad apparently found him at 11 am the next morning playing like nothing had happened. Kids are wild.

That hike back was mentally one of the tougher hikes of my life. I was checking the mileage way too often. Funnily enough I’ve started equating all my mileage to my runs around Baltimore: “Ok 2 miles left. That’s just from the bridge by the old Chipotle back to the house. Just gotta around the aquarium then along the harbor then the promenade. That’s nothing.”

I finally stumbled to the car around 6:30, eager to take off my pack and boots. If you haven’t backpacked before, I can assure you that finally taking off your pack is one of the BEST feelings in the world. With my trek done, I had my sights set on a Wendy’s frosty next, so booked it straight back to civilization.

All in all, this was an incredible experience, but I don’t think I’d do it again. As an introvert, I really enjoyed the alone time, but I have to admit that I got really lonely. I think these kinds of experiences (aka suffering) are best enjoyed when shared, so I don’t think I’ll be doing another solo trip for quite some time.

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the-girl-from-number-4-blog · 5 years

Text

My Very First Mistake (II)

Roger Taylor x Reader

On the subject of guilt

Word Count: 2,925

part one

part three

(whoops this took a while. school is busy. hope you like it!)

Keeping his feelings secret from the band, Roger found, was much more difficult in practice than in concept.

Usually, he never bothered hiding anything from his friends; there was nothing about his life of which he was ashamed, or that he felt they shouldn't know. Roger was a naturally open and honest person, fully comfortable with himself and how he was presented to others - and this duplicity was unnatural and unfamiliar.

He was afraid that it showed on his face. Ever since his midnight revelation, every sight of Brian and you together - or of just you - flooded his mind with strange new sensations. He felt a deluge of jealousy and betrayal. To protect himself against the turbulence of his alien emotions, he built up a dam against them. But, as he was not the most experienced at maintaining such a fortress around his heart, other areas of his life suffered.

"Rog, you're off beat," Freddie stopped suddenly in the middle of a recording of "Dear Friends", jarring him from his stupor. "You've been slacking this entire session. What's the matter?"

Roger silenced his cymbal quickly and cut his eyes to Freddie. "What d'you mean? It was fine."

Freddie crossed his arms. "Yes, yes, it was fine, it was good, but it wasn't good enough. You're better than this. Why are you slipping?"

Quite defensive at his blatantly condescending tone, Roger huffed indignantly. "It's no different than it was yesterday!"

John stepped into the recording room, having heard the tensions rise from behind the glass. "Guys, guys," he said, looking sternly from Freddie to Roger, giving them a leveling motion with his hands. "Let's just start this again. Rog, you go a bit slower, and Freddie, cut him some slack, will you? He's obviously tired."

That irritated him even more. "No, I'm not! I'm fine! I don't know what your problem is; I'm playing fine, I look fine, I am fine."

All of his insistence otherwise could not alter the fact of the matter, that he really was tired. Exhausted, even.

The truth was, he hadn't gotten much sleep, recently. He recognized it a hazard of being terminally in love - risky business, whether it's with his best friend's girlfriend or not. He found himself, night after night, lying still in bed, waiting for sweet oblivion to sweep him from the torrent of his imagination - but it came slowly, after giving him ample time to think of every single interaction he had with you or Brian today. It was wasting.

Words no longer came so easily when he was around you. Always guarded, he was afraid to let the wrong thing slip. And the worst of it was, there was nobody around in whom to confide. Sure, if he were only keeping a secret from one or two people, then he could probably do it well; but he couldn't even tell Freddie or John.

What scared him about it was the threat to the band. He could tell how deeply and completely Brian and you were in love with one another. Were he to intrude, a schism between himself and Brian would be inevitable, and that was something the band simply couldn't bear.

But beyond the band, Roger didn't want to lose Brian. They'd been friends for so many years, and though it hardly did justice to the strength of his love for you, he really did love Brian in a different way.

"Roger," Brian said, "we've been here long enough, and you do look tired. Maybe we should continue tomorrow."

Freddie, who wanted to finish up the recording of this song today, huffed and was about to protest, before John elbowed his side.

Roger looked into Brian's eyes, and his guilt doubled. He had to look away. "Fine," he grumbled, swinging his legs around his seat and shoving the drumsticks into his pocket.

He ducked out of the studio and hailed a cab, hating himself all the way back to his flat.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, you had brought the boys lunch in their studio, and when you turned to leave, the rain began to pour quite hard. "Stay a while, dear," Freddie waved his hand. "You're never a bother, but you will be if you catch your death out there."

You eagerly accepted his offer to watch them record. You loved being there when they were playing, but never wanted to impose, so you hardly asked. You set down your coat and settled down on the couch, across from the glass, watching John nail the bass line to "Stone Cold Crazy".

Freddie stood by the console, tapping his foot to the beat. Every time John paused for the assessment of his performance, Freddie buzzed in with his input - which was largely favorable, but still quite particular. Brian paced around for a while, until he decided that John would probably be in the booth for a while, so he sat down on the couch beside you and draped his arm over your shoulder.

"Hey," you said softly. You grasped his hand, holding tightly, and hoped he didn't notice how overly-attentive you had been as of late.

You were dreadfully afraid that you were letting your feelings show; you didn't want Brian to find out that you had fallen out of love with him. You loved him deeply, still, but in quite a different way now, but despite that, it would wound you to see him hurt by your actions.

He just seemed to appreciate your affections. "Darling," he said softly to you.

“Hey, Bri,” you said, leaning appropriately into his touch. You hated how disingenuous you were.

“I spoke with mum last night,” he said. “She was interested in meeting you.”

“Yeah?” You tried not to sound too disappointed, but you also didn’t want to sound too eager.

“Hmm,” he said. “I’ve met your parents several times, after all, and since we’ve been serious for quite some time, mum and dad really want to get to know you.”

“We’ve spoken on the phone,” you say, as though it really matters.

“This is important to her, honey,” he used a pet name that used to fill you with warmth, but now just settled a rock in your stomach. “She’s invited you over next Saturday.”

There was nothing you could say to argue. “I’ll be free.”

Suddenly, the door on the adjacent wall flew open, and a sopping wet Roger stumbled in, huffing and dripping water onto the shag carpet.

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it beside yours, probably getting it wet in the process, and shook out his hair like a hound. You watched in mild amusement, expecting him to turn to you and apologize, or explain, or something. He didn't.

"Hey, Fred," he greeted the singer congenially, ignoring you and Brian. "Where are we at?"

"Very nearly done with John," he said. "You should give it a listen, put it over that track you did yesterday and compare it." Roger nodded.

"What," Brian demanded in false affront, ruined by the grin on his face, "no 'hello' to us?"

Roger froze just so briefly. He turned stiffly back to him, and gave a quick, "Hey, Bri." It lacked the usual bravado with which he did almost everything; you and Brian shared a concerned glance.

He just shook his head at you, a silent 'Just keep quiet'.

You tried to put your disquiet out of your mind and enjoy your time with the band, but you couldn't.

The following week, when you took a cab over to Freddie and Roger’s flat, it was for two very important reasons.

As you walked along the sidewalk at a steady pace, you swung by your side a large clothes bag, containing two dresses. That was the first reason for visiting the household: you needed Freddie’s expert opinion on fashion. In the following two weeks, were going to meet Brian’s parents, and you hadn’t a clue what to wear.

Most of that was the fact that you didn’t want to have to choose. Choosing would imply that it was an important decision to you – which it wasn’t, anymore. You no longer loved Brian.

The second reason was less conspicuous as the first. A part of your mind wanted to see Roger; you hadn’t heard a word from him since that day at the studio, and even then, the words weren’t directed to you. Your relationship with Roger was always very calm and comfortable, so you weren’t quite sure what brought on this odd change.

When you got to their flat and knocked the door, you expected Freddie to answer; he was usually the one to greet guests, after all, since they were usually his, not Roger’s.

You waited for a few moments, wondering if they weren’t home, when the door slid open, and you saw Roger.

Grinning as though nothing were wrong, you said, “Hey, Rog! Is Freddie home?”

He seemed frozen for a moment, then he gulped visibly and answered, “No, he’s out for drinks with Mary.” His voice was tense. You ignored this.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” you said, and you really were disappointed; you needed his advice. Then you took in Roger’s flamboyant colors, which would be obnoxious on most, but seemed to fit him. “Hey. You could help me instead.”

Because you feared that he would refuse (you weren’t sure on what grounds, but he just didn’t seem to be in a welcoming mood), you pushed past him into their familiar flat. It was dimly lit; only a lamp on the far side of the living room illuminated the furniture, and the curtains were drawn.

“Are you ill?” you asked him. You almost hoped that we was; it would be an easy explanation for his odd behavior.

“No, I’m not,” he said, “but I’m not really up for company, if you don’t mind –”

“Oh, I won’t be but a minute,” you set down your bag and unzipped it. You were being a terrible imposition upon someone who clearly didn’t want you there, but being around him was the only way you knew to glean what afflicted him, since the rest of the boys certainly didn’t know.

“Really, Y/N,” he said.

“Please, Rog, I need you,” you insisted. “I have to meet Brian’s mum and dad the weekend after next, and I need to look good, you know? I’m so bad with clothes, and –”

“Why don’t you just ask your boyfriend?” he almost spat the words.

“You know who I’m dating, right?” you laughed. “Brian’s even worse than I am. I wanted to ask Freddie to help me choose between dresses, but he’s not here, so . . .”

“Look,” Roger said imploringly. “I really can’t help you.”

You sniffed, disappointed that you hadn’t gotten anything out of him. “Fine,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Let Fred know I stopped by, all right?”

“Sure,” he said, trailing after you and closing the door as you left.

As you stared at the two dresses on your bed, your hands at your hips and yet another exasperated sigh in your chest, you seriously considered ending your relationship with Brian.

It wasn’t fair to him to give everything he has to a woman who doesn’t love him. Every time he held your hand, or kissed you, or even smiled – every single thing made you feel such immense guilt that being around him made you physically ill.

One of the dresses, a pale coral that would hang loosely around your hips and shoulders, would suggest a light-hearted, kind personality. That would be the version of yourself you would present to his parents, but as you imagined greeting them and shaking their hands – and probably hugging his mum – the guilt grew. You couldn’t present yourself as the loving girlfriend of their only son; you’d not only lie to them, but you’d lie to Brian.

The other one was a more somber blue, showing seriousness, commitment. The problem was, you’d committed to Brian for years, and you couldn’t hold yourself to that. You weren’t comfortable even thinking of the next step, so acting like you did felt like a betrayal.

You swept the dresses from your bed with one frustrated stroke. They crumbled to the floor in a pathetic pile, the hangers clanging together in the silence of the flat.

That was it.

You went to your phone and rung off a number you knew by heart. The tone sounded for a few moments before Brian’s soft “Hello?” rang across the line.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said.

“Y/N! Are you okay? You sound off.”

“Er, well, I’m fine,” you said hesitantly. “Look, I need to talk to you.”

He was quiet a moment. “Well, you could come by the studio in the morning, I guess – ”

“No, I need to talk to you now. Can I come by your place, or is John there?”

“John’s at Roger and Freddie’s,” he sounded bewildered. “Y/N, is something the matter?”

“Just let me tell you,” your voice broke. Why were you nearly crying? Didn’t you want this? “I’ll be there in ten.”

“A-all right.”

You hung up the phone, grabbed your sweater, and left your apartment complex to hail a cab.

You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Brian was quick to answer, looking slightly disheveled and worried. Perhaps, if you weren’t in such a rush to get this done before you backed out, you could have told him slightly more tactfully.

But this was not the time for second guesses.

“Hey,” you said weekly.“Goodness, Y/N, you’re in a right state,” he said. He knew you very well; he could tell by your eyes that you were troubled. Letting him go would be hard.

You just nodded and pursed your lips.

“Would you like something to drink? I can put on tea,” he offered, turning to the kitchen.

You shook you head. “No! No. Don’t trouble yourself. Can we just – let’s just sit down, yeah?”

Brian kept a watchful eye on you as the two of you sat on the couch in the living room. You leaned away from him ever so slightly, because if he were too close, it would make your job infinitely more difficult.

“Talk to me,” he said, looking soulfully into your eyes.

You look down at your lap and fold your hands together nervously. “Brian, I don’t want to meet your mum and dad.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Is that all?” he asked. “If you really don’t want to, you should have just told me earlier. If this is going . . . too fast, or . . .”

You shook you head. “Bri, we’ve been dating for two years,” you chuckled humorlessly. “Now isn’t exactly the time to talk about taking it too fast.”

“Then what is it?”

“God, this is hard.” You had to swallow thickly before continuing. “You know that I love you, right?”

He didn’t like where this was going. “Y/N, of course,” he said softly.

“Well, it’s true, I love you,” you said.

“And I love you too.” He said it almost like a question, because he wasn’t sure where this was going.

“But –” your voice catches, and you feel hot tears welling in your eyes. “But I’m not in love with you anymore.”

Brian’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in concern, and his brows came together in distress. After a long, tense moment, he said, “What are you saying, Y/N?”

You didn’t want to have to repeat it, but you could tell he needed closure, confirmation. Perhaps you did, too. “I got that call from mum the other day, remember? She asked me – since you and I are so serious, you know – if anything . . . if . . . if you’d ask me to marry you. And it made me think that . . .” You trailed off, trying to find the easiest way to say this, without hurting him too much.

“Y/N,” he breathed out. You couldn’t quite tell what the emotions were behind it.

“I couldn’t imagine being happy married to you,” you said. He flinched and your stomach clenched. “I realized that I wasn’t in love with you anymore, Brian. And it’s been eating me from the inside out, knowing that I don’t love you.” You closed your eyes, so you didn’t have to see his. “And I know you deserve better than me. You deserve someone who loves you like you love them.”

He grasped your hand. “But, Y/N,” he pleaded, “I’m in love with you.”

You shook your head. “Maybe you are,” you reply. “But I can’t do that to you – let you love me when I don’t feel the same way. This guilt, it’ll destroy me. It already is.”

His hands around yours were squeezing tightly. Not so much to hurt – he was ever gentle – but the pressure went straight from your hands to your heart, and you found it hard to breath. “Is there any way that we could work?” he asked hesitantly.

You shook your head. “I care for you, I really do,” you try to console him. “But you’re not the one for me any more than I’m the one for you.”

He huffed. “You know I don’t subscribe to that destiny shit.”

“I know.”

For a while, after your reluctant break with Brian, all thoughts of Roger were far from your mind, but thoughts of you were forefront in his.

taglist: @crazyweirdocalledfriday @anita-e-taylor @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @onceuponadetectivedemigod

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wickedsingularity · 5 years

Text

Fine. I’ll Kiss You, Doctor. [drabble]

wickedsingularity’s Christmas Stories 2018 Masterlist

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Leonard McCoy x reader (but not really), Nyota Uhura-cameo, mention of Jim Kirk and Spock Words: 1245 Warnings: Kissing, grumpiness, mention of the Kamraazite flu, insults

Prompt/summary: Prompt/idea given me by @iguess-theyre-mymess. New Year’s Eve on Archer IV. Everyone is obsessed with the old Earth tradition of kissing someone at midnight. I don’t really wanna kiss any of these people, but that grumpy doctor happens to stand next to me at midnight, so why not.

This kissing someone at midnight was a stupid tradition better left in the past. But I still looked around the room for the millionth time, wondering if there was anyone I'd like to kiss. And there were still none. If I had to, just to kiss someone, I'd take Jim, the lesser of all evils, but he was engaged to one of my friends, and was most likely going to kiss her.

I swivelled my chair back around to face the bar and a glass of Saurian brandy. I lifted the glass to my lips and took a long sip, feeling the burn down my throat. Impromptu shore leave on Archer IV was nice, but I'd rather be out there continuing the study of the animal life that I'd only read about at the Academy. There were some nocturnal marsupials here that I could be looking up right now.

The reason we were orbiting Archer IV wasn't really shore-leave, but the Captain had some diplomatic thing or other to attend, and we were changing some crew members around. It so happened to be Earth's New Year's Eve during this time, and the Chief Medical Officer had made the Captain grant shore leave for two days.

"Lieutenant," a gruff voice suddenly said.

I looked to my left and saw the very same Chief Medical Officer that had requested this little respite. "Doctor." I was not exactly on good terms with Doctor Leonard McCoy. My first week on Enterprise, I had unknowingly brought Kamaraazite flu onboard, infecting a large number of the crew before the good doctor managed to get it under control. That didn't exactly earn me any stars in his book.

"Enjoying the party?" he asked and signalled for the Betazoid bartender to fill up his glass.

I eyed him sideways. Doctor McCoy making small talk with me? What if I gave him some nasty disease? He, of course, had also caught the Kamaraazite flu from me. "It's okay. The drink is good."

He made a sound of agreement. The bartender filled up his glass, and McCoy nodded in thanks before swallowing down half the contents. "The drink is good," he mirrored.

"I thought you'd have more fun," I said. "Weren't you the one who requested we get shore leave?"

"Who says I'm not having fun?" he snapped as if I'd insulted his mother, grandmother and great-grandmother all at once.

"Excuse me then." I turned my head away from him and looked down the bar. Uhura was there, ordering a few drinks.

"Midnight soon," she said and winked.

I nodded and forced a smile. "Give Spock my best." This obsession with kissing someone at midnight was ridiculous. Humanity had outgrown a lot of its weaknesses, but in my opinion, there were a few things left to work on.

As if he had read my mind, McCoy spoke on my other side again. "You got someone to kiss at midnight?"

I resisted raising my eyebrows. That was none of his business! "Haven't found anyone up to my standards," I replied and rolled the brandy around in my glass.

McCoy just grunted and checked his comm. "Ten minutes left. Better hurry up and lower your standards."

"Do you have someone to kiss?" I turned fully to him now, getting a little annoyed at how extra grumpy he was and how he dared let it out on me.

"None of your business if I do," he said, but I noticed that his eyes dropped to my lips for a split second.

I snorted in a very unladylike fashion and finished my Saurian brandy. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that even if I remove my standards altogether, I still wouldn't kiss you. Besides, you might catch another flu from me."

"Very careless of you to bring that goddamn flu onboard."

"I had a complete physical before I beamed up," I defended and swung around to face the room. "Not my fault that Martian Colony 3 doctor didn't find it."

"If you'd come straight to sickbay for your physical when you came onboard, I could have limited the outbreak."

"There is no regulation that says I have to go straight to sickbay after finishing a physical just four hours before I beam up from a Federation planet."

McCoy gritted his teeth, the muscles in his temples almost vibrating. "My god, you are infuriating," he muttered. "Just like Jim."

"I heard that."

"Good."

I wanted to refill my brandy and throw it in his face, but even if this was an off-duty event and the Captain was past just tipsy, judging from the way he had his hands all over his fiancé, I was pretty sure Jim would have my head for insubordination.

"One minute to midnight," someone shouted from somewhere.

"Find anyone yet?" McCoy asked. He too was glancing around the room.

"If you keep asking me if I have anyone to kiss, I'll start to think you want me to kiss you," I snapped.

His head whirled around. "When pigs can fly."

"Thirty seconds to midnight!"

"Harry Mudd has a ship that can fly."

McCoy's eyes widened, and the corner of his lips twitched. He chewed on the inside of his chin, and I couldn't believe I had made the grumpy Chief Medical Officer struggle not to laugh.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" People began counting down, more and more voices joining each second.

McCoy still looked at me, the repressed laughter leaving his face.

"Seven! Six!"

His face moved closer to mine, and I didn't back away.

"Five! Four! Three!"

One of his hands moved to the back of my head and he licked his lips.

"Two!"

I could smell the bourbon on his breath.

"One!"

His lips caught mine.

"Happy New Year!" There were shouts and whoops and whistles, but I barely noticed.

McCoy moved his lips against mine, his other hand coming up to cradle my face. I straightened up a bit on my seat, pressing harder against him and he took a step closer. My hands moved to his waist, grabbing fistfuls of the white shirt to keep him close.

All around us, people went back to drinking and dancing and talking. But I pulled away only long enough to draw a breath and then pulled on McCoy's shirt for another kiss. My entire body felt like I had drowned in Saurian brandy, it burned and tickled. He tasted just like bourbon and I don't know what kind he had been drinking, but I'm pretty sure I was getting second-hand drunk from him.

He was the one who pulled back to breathe now, letting go of me and taking a step back. His eyes opened slowly, his skin looking a little flushed. "That uhm... Well."

"Uh-huh."

He turned around and leaned his elbows on the bar and grabbed his half-empty glass, swivelling the liquid around, but not drinking any. I turned to face the same direction. The silence between us was awkward, but there were a million thoughts running through my mind, or one thought in a million copies, I couldn't be sure.

That had been very unexpected. But not unpleasant. "I'd like to do that again," I admitted.

He breathed deeply through his nose, then swallowed the contents of his glass in one large gulp. "Let's go," he said and held out his hand.

Without hesitating, I grabbed it and let him lead me out from the New Year's Eve party, to wherever he wanted.

Permanent tags: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @geeksareunique @iguess-theyre-mymess @neeadinghugs @earinafae @mattmurdocksgirl @joulien @imaginesofdreams @brewsthespirit-blog @lemonlime799 @reading-in-moonlight Star Trek tags: @feelmyroarrrr @somethingwitty-somethingsweet

Tag lists are open! Just send an ask, DM, reply, reblog or anything you want to let me know!

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yodawgiherd · 5 years

Text

In Pursuit

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

It was cold outside, as one could expect at this time of the year, making Sasha shiver and bury deeper into her coat. That damn cook told her that his shift was ending, she checked her watch, fifteen minutes ago, yet here she was, and Niccolo was nowhere to be seen. Sitting in her wheelchair in front of the soup kitchen, she must have looked like a beggar, judging from the glances the passing pedestrians threw her way. Gritting her teeth, she just hoped that no one who actually knows her will walk past, because that would be rather embarrassing. Finally, after about five more minutes of her contemplating if the guy didn’t forget about her, Niccolo appeared, nodding in greetings as he came to stand next to her, hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket.

“What took you so long?”, Sasha hissed at him, righteously upset.

“What? I’m late?”, he frowned down at his phone, shrugging afterwards, “Whoops.”

Bastard. But she couldn’t antagonize him, he was the best lead she had.

“So, can we go?”, she asked, forcing a smile on her face despite really wanting to punch the smug bastard right between the eyes.. Or in his stomach, if she was being realistic, because she couldn’t reach his head.

“Just one last thing.”, Niccolo looked left and right, squatting to be on level with her, which simultaneously gave her the perfect opportunity to fulfill her dream of breaking his nose. With a lot of self- denial, she pushed that desire back. For now. “Is there something you didn’t tell me? Anything that could help us?”

“Gabi talked about needing a “fix” from time to time. Does that help?”

He nodded.

“Immensely.”, Niccolo grinned, “Luckily for you, I do have certain knowledge of the drug underworld here, so don’t worry. I know just the person to talk to.”. Standing up, he stretched, groaning when his back popped a bit. Spending the whole day behind counter and handing out soup was not exactly comfortable. “Shall we?”

With Niccolo leading, Sasha followed, wheeling herself next to him. The road was silent, with only the passing cars cutting into it. She was used to being around introverts, after all, she was Mikasa’s friend, but she wanted to know more about this guy, the I’m a cook and volunteer in soup kitchen profile didn’t really cut it for her, especially when she had to trust him with something as personal as this.

“So, Niccolo,”, she began, getting his attention, “your family is Italian?”

“Because of the name, huh?”, he smiled, “It does give it away, doesn’t it. Anyway, if you are interested, I was born and raised in America, but my grandfather was Italian.”, he looked down at Sasha, his voice dropping to a secretive whisper, “Apparently he was a mobster, and tried fucking with the wrong people, so he was forced to flee Italy to save his life. Crook can’t deal with a boss.”, he looked back forward, making sure that they were taking the right street. “That’s how mafia works.”

She watched his face with an unamused expression.

“You’re full of shit.”

“I know.”, Niccolo shrugged, “But it’s much more interesting than what actually happened. Dad simply wanted to live in America, so he came over and met mom here. Not much of a fun story now, is it.”

“I prefer the truth.”

“Suit yourself.”

Abruptly, he stopped, turning back to Sasha.

“We are here.”

Sasha wanted to ask what does “here” mean, but then she noticed a man coming their way, dark skinned youth in a buttoned-up jacket. He reached Niccolo, and they nodded at each other, before his gaze slid down to Sasha, and he frowned.

“Who’s this Nico? A cop?”

Before the cook could answer however, Sasha did it for him.

“Oh yes, I’m a policewoman, special wheelchair division.”, she patted the side of her seat to emphasize her point, “We specialize in chasing running suspects and climbing stairs.”

“Right, chill lady, I’m just careful.”, satisfied with her outburst, he turned back towards Niccolo, who extended his hand.

“You got the stuff?”

Instead of answering, the youth reached into his coat and pulled out a small plastic bag, stuffed with certain substance that she recognized from her college years.

“Weed? You’re buying weed? Do you two realize that it’s been legalized?”

So, they were doing all this sneaking around and cop accusations for a few grams of cannabis, which you can buy in a regular drugstore nowadays. Perfect, just perfect.

“I do know that.”, ignoring her, Niccolo pocketed the bag, “And I also know that I can get better price per gram here than in any other store. Plus, I’m also getting something else…. right?”

“Right.” Agreed the salesman, pulling out another package from his pockets of wonders, smaller this time, filled with pills. Sasha watched, wide-eyed, as Niccolo grinned in satisfaction, handing over some cash.

“So, we came here just so you can get your stuff? Or what the fuck did we walk all the way for?”

“All in due time.”, as if annoyed by her eagerness, he shook his head, looking up at his supplier. “Listen buddy, I need to know, have you seen a young girl recently? About thirteen, apparently going around with a guy of the same age. We just want to know if you sold her anything, and where.”

“I don’t deal with underage kids. Shit’s too risky.”, the dealer redirected his eyes at Sasha, “Sorry lady, can’t help.”

“Well, worth a shot, thanks anyway.”

With that, the man turned around and walked away the same way he came, doing his best not to look suspicious.

“Dead end?”

“Nah, not at all. An elimination tactic.”, Niccolo looked smug, even with Sasha glaring at him. “Now we know that she didn’t buy form this guy and can move on from here.”

“Ah, and you get your own fix in the meanwhile. Junkie.”

“I just take some stuff from time to time, to feel better.”, he patted the pocket where he hid the weed, “Nothing beats a joint after work.”

Whatever, Sasha wasn’t here to criticize his life choices. She came to find Gabi.

“So, what now?”

“Easy. Now we…”, but before Niccolo could finish his thought a motorbike stopped nearby, and a figure jumped off, removing the helmet to reveal a pale face framed by waterfall of shiny midnight hair. Sasha’s eyes widened. She knew that face very well.

“Sash? What are you doing here?”, Mikasa asked, her eyes flying over to Niccolo, measuring him. “Who’s this?”

“This? Uhm that’s…. eh..”, Sasha’s brain was working in overdrive, trying to figure out an excuse that her friend would buy. It had to be something real, something good, because Mikasa was far from stupid, and wouldn’t buy just anything. “A cook?”

“Cook?”, the biker wondered, looking back at him.

Niccolo smiled, giving Mikasa a small nervous wave. He seemed to be shrinking where he stood, rather intimidated by her presence.

“Yes, a cook. Me, Armin and Connie are considering adding a kitchen for our bar, and this guy, Niccolo, is one of the potential hires to work there.”, she nodded, satisfied with her fabrication, “It’s of course just a possibility, nothing is certain.”

“Okay… But why are you meeting out on the street?”

Damn she was persistent.

“We just wanted to get some fresh air.”

Mikasa seemed to be turning her statements over in her head, eyes flicking from Sasha to Niccolo and back. The whole thing didn’t seem right, not at all, but she had no intention of trying to act like a Spanish inquisition towards her friend and just grill her out in the street. Sasha’s life was her own. Faking her best, “I understand”, expression, she took a step back towards her ride.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”, she finally spoke, putting her helmet back on and mounting the bike with a practiced movement. “See you around Sash. Niccolo”

With that, she kicked the machine back to life, and with a screeching of tires disappeared after taking a sharp corner. Sasha exhaled in relief, wiping her brow. Crisis averted.

“Fuck.”, Niccolo breathed out as soon as Mikasa was gone, hanging his head, “She was scary.”

“Scary?”, Sasha blinked in surprise, not sure where that was coming from. She wouldn’t call Mikasa scary, but then again, they each other for a very long time. It was hard imagining someone as scary after you saw them wiggling on the bed, trying to hide beneath the blanket moaning “Just five more minutes.”, when you tried waking them up in time for class.

“Yea, with the bike and her figure and the black leather clothes and stuff, she looked like a gangster.”, he gestured towards his face, “the dark lipstick and narrowed eyes didn’t really help it either. And the way she looked at me, it was just…”, he ran out of words, shrugging. “Scary.”

“And here I thought you knew how mafia worked.”, Sasha couldn’t stop herself from poking fun at him, just a little bit, for all his previous bullshitting. Felt good.

“Yea well,”, he let out a breathy laugh, “this one was definitely a hitman.”

Finally collecting his bearings, he straightened, giving Sasha a wink.

“Let’s go.”

“You never told me where we are going now.”, she said as she followed him, matching his tempo.

“Oh right, it’s a…. well, how do I say it, a house where you can shoot your stuff into the vein without fear of someone robbing you and raping you after. Safe house of sorts.”

“Crack house.”, Sasha corrected him.

“You could say that. They do sell more than crack though, they are rather well supplied.”

“Wonderful.”

“It’s a good thing.”, he pointed out, “Since we don’t know what Gabi’s thing is, we can’t filter places by what they sell.”

“How do you even know all these people?”, Sasha wondered, “Wild youth?”

“Grew up around them.”, he said, but didn’t elaborate further. This conversation was over.

The rest of their way was quiet, as Sasha sensed that she broached a sensitive topic that Niccolo didn’t have any intention of speaking about. The destination showed to be a rundown building, the stairs at the front flanked by three guys, lounging around. Not suspicious at all.

“Wait here.”, Niccolo ordered, crossing the street to meet the welcoming party.

Ignoring her gut, which was telling her that this was a bad idea, Sasha watched him swagger right into them, greeting the one who stood up with a raised hand. They talked between themselves, with the guard pointing at Sasha, demanding something, but Niccolo calmed him with a few choice words. After a bit more discussion, and some money flowing from the cook’s pocket to the sentry’s, they parted, with Niccolo returning to her with a thoughtful expression.

“Didn’t see her either.”, he said, shaking his head.

Sasha could feel the desperation in her rising. Nothing at the guy they met before, nothing here. What now?

“He did promise that he will put a word out, for a small fee.”, seeing her so crestfallen, he put a hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry, she will turn up. Sooner or later.”

“Why would he help you? Just for the money?”

“That and other things. Dealing with a minor is tricky, if you get caught the authorities will fuck you hard.”, he stammered, cheeks coloring slightly. “Excuse my language.”

So, he drags her through a meeting with a drug dealer, to a street where a crack house is, and he still apologizes for swearing. This guy.

“It’s quite all right. Thanks for the help today.”, burying her hands in her pockets, she blinked up at him. “But what do we do now?”

“Now we wait. I’ll contact you as soon as someone finds her, I promise.” He handed her his phone, watching Sasha put her number in. He chuckled. “Gotta be honest, this is the hardest I ever worked for getting a girl’s number.”

“Then you had it easy.”, Sasha answered, returning both his phone and his smile. “Wonderful first date, I learned a lot about drug dealing in our city. Call me?”

Niccolo pocketed his device.

“Count on it.”

Half a city away, Mikasa sat in a random bar, replaying the weird encounter in her head. From time to time, she liked to just take her bike and ride, with no destination in mind, simply enjoying the way the motor purred between her legs. What she didn’t expect however, was her meeting Sasha in a rather unpleasant part of town, accompanied by a short blond guy, talking out in the street. She circled the cold bottle of coke with her fingers, studying the mental image she made of them. Both Sasha and the guy, Niccolo, seemed nervous, and the excuse that she was interviewing him to be a cook at the bar didn’t sit well with her at all. Why would you look for a staff, when your establishment has no kitchen? Mikasa was also rather familiar with the layout, as she spent a lot of her free time there, helping, and she knew that there were no plans on building anything new. But even if her friend told her that the guy was a waiter or something more credible, she would still have very strong doubts about it. Talking in the street, in that part of the town? Yea right.

The meeting plagued her mind, so much in fact that she couldn’t focus on driving, so she took the first exit she saw and went to sit down, entering a bar she never visited before. There were a lot of bikes in the front, and the interior was half full of leather clad men and women, making her realize that this was most likely some kind of biker meeting point. With her clothes, she fit right in. The atmosphere was nice, rock music playing, with most of the patrons playing pool, talking and laughing between themselves. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her, which suited her just fine, until a man emerged from the crowd, coming to sit down next to her.

“Now what’s a beauty like you doing here all alone?”, he asked with a suggestive smile.

His intentions were easy to guess, so instead of answering, Mikasa held up her hand, letting the light shine on her engagement ring, offering him an apologetic shrug, hoping that he will understand. To her own surprise, he did.

“That’s a damn shame.”, he muttered, standing up, “Have a great evening miss.”

And with that, the well-mannered biker returned to his group, leaving her alone. With that out of the way, she was once again free to think about Sasha. What was she doing there? The dramatic explanation would of course be cheating on Connie, but her friend wasn’t that kind of person. Sure, she was way more socially active than Mikasa, having a number of boyfriends and even some short flings in college, but to her knowledge she never cheated on anyone, ever. Then again, what other solutions were there? Why would she just hang around bad neighborhood with a random dude, chilling on the street? Mikasa had no idea. Finishing her coke, she decided to go back out for another ride, hoping that the wind and the sound of engine will put her mind to ease.

The door creaked closed behind her, as she jumped on her bike once more, speeding away.

#fanfic #snk #eremika #sasha braus #niccolo #gabi

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moonaft · 6 years

Text

The Winter Long - Reread

Rosemary and Rue

A Local Habitation

An Artificial Night

Late Eclipses

One Salt Sea

Ashes of Honor

Chimes At Midnight

Interlude : Full of Briers

As always, spoilers up to The Brightest Fell and October 2018 for the Patreon stories. No spoilers for Night and Silence, and at this point I think I’ll have finished the entire reread by the time I get my copy. Which is just as well.

First off, ‘the winter long’ is one line after ‘rosemary and rue’. Is the final book going to be ‘Grace and Remembrance’?

I really like TWL. This was a good book, filled with shifting allies and cameos by my favorite people. It’s probably my favorite after The Brightest Fell and not just because of Simon.

I am going to ignore the fact that the knowe is called ‘Muir Woods’ even before it was named that in 1908. Maybe? Maybe Arden took up the name really quickly. I can’t find a mention of it by name in Patrick’s first short story and I can’t dig up “In Little Stars” right now to check if it was called Muir Woods back then. Patreon’s search sucks.

Onto the ball! A good ball, in which no one gets poisoned or nearly assassinated and Toby doesn’t commit murder. Yeah, if I was her I also wouldn’t want to go to fancy balls. She takes after Sylvester in that regard.

Speaking of, hi Sylvester! Hi Li Quin!

Arden has social anxiety and needs more friends than Madden. I am surprised no noble Daoine Sidhe have come a-courting. At least she’ll get Walther and Cassandra to take jobs at court soon.

I love Arden subtly copying Quentin in table manners.

Are Raven-maids and -men the opposite of Selkies, born birds and need the feathers to transform? Jazz takes off her band to turn into a raven. Amandine doesn’t, but presumably her magic can force the transformation regardless. Though Amandine does imply that destroying the band will keep her as a human.

Yes, it’s time to put everyone to bed. Meanwhile, Toby gets to pull some all nighters.

Hello, Simon.

I love how no one has questioned where he was since Late Eclipses, and that only as a brief mention. He’s the tragic backstory, not meant to show up in the present. Oleander was that too, but now she’s dead and can’t hurt anyone anymore.

Yeah, she was really not expecting that. Why is it that the bad things only happen to Toby during the books? From the plot summaries, the time between the books is the only time she gets to relax.

Yes, that’s not Sylvester.

It’s sad how much Toby has internalized him as her personal boogeyman. Dugan, Riordan, Samson, the false Queen could all be fought. It wasn’t easy by any means, but here Toby’s given up without a fight which just doesn’t happen. She’s already determined this is a fight she can’t win.

I love that the first thing Simon does is praise her. He genuinely does not mean her ill-will.

So Simon has not seen Evening in years prior to TWL and did come to warn Toby about it. Or, turn her into a tree for a hundred years, but to him, that is helping. Evening didn’t send him so he must have gotten word somehow that she was returning. Where was he all those years?

Hello Jazz, you have great timing. Sorry that you are once again attacked in your own home.

Simon didn’t come in limping – Toby turning his spell back against him must have hurt him badly.

Why exactly does Simon have so many transformation spells? Is this his own flower-based transformation or something he got from Evening? It could be his own – he once transformed Patrick’s suit into something more modern and there’s no indication that eventually failed. And why fish? Could he have transformed Patrick into a fish so he and Dianda could spend time together in the Undersea without breathing spells? That would be so cute.

Good job on using your cats to warn Tybalt.

I think even May gets over her feelings by the time of TBF, or at least, she’s willing to let him try so they can save Jazz.

All in all, Simon’s going to get what he wants by the end of this book, namely, Toby’s safety. Sure, he’s elf-shot but so’s Evening. It’s TBF where he’s going to get his ass kicked repeatedly.

Same, Quentin – I too have an endless supply of songs about boats. Five bucks says you’re singing “The Mary Ellen Carter”.

Tybalt probably would still shred Simon to pieces given the change but he’s out of the picture for all of TBF.

Why do you think you can predict what Simon’s going to do, Toby? You know literally nothing about his objectives. He’s also willing to answer what he can of your questions and tell you things without being asked.

The knowe is willing to let Toby through, and she is family. Would the knowe have let Simon through because he helped build it? What about August?

Way to mess it up, Sylvester. You definitely should have told Toby about Simon before you sent her after him. But that’s in the past and doesn’t matter, does it, Sylvester? Just like September, just like August. It can’t hurt you anymore, right?

I do believe the twins were close once, and by 1840 that’s no longer the case, but it doesn’t matter until 1906. You didn’t help enough to find August, or you encouraged her too much, it doesn’t matter. Simon wanted you to hurt the way he hurt, and if you can’t see that, you have forgotten too much.

Yeah, I can’t imagine Simon hurting Amandine unless it was in direct defense of August or Toby. Sylvester, you should know Amandine’s not going to let him back into her life without August present. You should know this, why don’t you know this?

Tybalt, you told them to run, that is not the Torquills’ fault. Hey, remember that decree that says if you want to marry one of the three, that one can’t refuse?

“I need you to live long enough to be cannon fodder when Simon decides to attack.” Quentin loves you too, Toby.

You are missing a vital, vital piece of why Simon was running around with Oleander. He’s not doing it for shits and giggles, Toby.

Poor Luidaeg. It sucks having the answers and not being able to tell them. Toby’s doing better on the questions this time around.

“At least we know that Simon won’t be able to come after us there.” One small problem with that, Toby.

Does each Library have its own library card, or is it an all access pass?

Mags definitely wanted Toby to show up after Simon left. Whoops. And Toby, you still owe her your mother’s history.

Hi again, Simon. Maybe this time you can actually talk?

Yeah, the arrangement with Oleander is definitely non-con. Everyone is glad she’s dead except probably Evening.

Simon has three modes in this book: what he thinks will help Toby, what Toby thinks is helpful, and what he does as a servant of Evening. This is the middle interaction – useful information, no one is transformed or hurt.

Toby, remember you still owe Mags info on your mom.

Amandine definitely ruined your life, Toby, even if you don’t want to admit it.

Good job on raising the dead, Toby.

I guess Evening is a vampire? There’s at least one Snow White legend like that.

“Your lover was a Selkie; he told me quite a bit after he died.” How- What- Did the Luidaeg summon the night haunts to talk to Connor?

How long had Simon been sitting on Toby’s doorstep? He must have gotten straight to Shadowed Hills to get the roses and then back to her place. To the rose gardens at least, he couldn’t have gotten into the halls themselves.

This is the other thing – Toby stops again to ask her personal boogeyman for help. She trusts him enough to do that, which is something we don’t see anywhere else in the series. To be fair, Simon does keep insisting that he’s there to help, which is something no other villain does.

And Simon’s convinced she’s going to die.

May’s benched again, which is a recurring theme that she specifically acknowledges. Let this girl have a field trip with Toby.

Although not into the ocean because that’s where everyone ended up! Hi Dianda. Thanks for saving Toby from drowning.

I wonder what would have happened if Toby told Dianda that Simon gave her the warning. Probably nothing good – here’s yet another trusted authority figure who knew about that relationship and didn’t tell her.

Hello Evening. Hate to see you again. If only Dianda could punch you in the face.

Here her magic is roses and snow but I swear I’ve seen it described as roses and apples somewhere.

So where was she these past few years as she recovered? Does she have another knowe?

So why is Marcia not affected by Evening’s magic? Evening doesn’t recognize Marcia as anything other than changeling, I think. But Evening wouldn’t care that much. I really really want her to be Titania. Maeve would be cool too, but I want her to be Titania.

Good thing no one drowned in that little episode, including Tybalt and Quentin.

Hi Raj! Everything’s ok!

Props to Toby for being willing to burn the Library down to get it to close, and kudos to Mags for listening to her.

And Simon’s playing double agent on the phone. Toby couldn’t have gotten through this book without him.

Toby hasn’t actually slept since before the Yule ball. How many days and nights has it been since then?

So why did Evening get Quentin sent to Shadowed Hills directly after Luna and Raysel’s return? How did they break free?

Riordan was once in Alameda – how did she move down to Dreamer’s Glass?

And how did Sylvester know they were coming? Simon must have told Evening, or maybe Evening assumed Toby would show up.

Hi Etienne, Bridget and Chelsea!

Yes, leave the boys behind to play Xbox games. Good plan.

Luna does have several points about Evening, Raysel and Karen. Why, exactly, does Stacy have two Seer daughters? She is also smart enough to get her favor from Toby before telling Toby what’s going on.

Is Toby going to have to do a favor for every ally she has?

You can take the Daoine Sidhe out of the Torquill but you can’t take the fox-fur hair and golden eyes.

Poor Raysel. I hope this helps her.

Huzzah, Toby gets to sleep!

Hello again, Simon. OK, Toby doesn’t think he told Evening that she called Shadowed Hills. And he’s back at the house.

There’s something to be said for the image of Simon petting Toby’s rosebush-cat for hours.

Yes, everyone needs group therapy, which clearly doesn’t exist in Faerie.

Correction: there’s nothing in his blood now that she could change. If Toby knew enough to look, could she tell immediately? Maida told Toby that she was once a changeling, and now Toby can look at Quentin and see those watermarks. She has since looked at Sylvester and Simon and been unable to tell that they had human blood once, but Toby misses a lot.

Hmm, Toby is not this… intimate with anyone else. Mind walking while riding Simon’s blood? She’s never done this with living people before. I think if he can be saved in the end, it will involve something similar.

Yep, the non-con is strong here. Simon is a fascinating villain.

So what exactly was Simon planning here? Toby is not a tree. She’s out for several hours and up again. Was Simon buying her time?

Hi Luidaeg! Glad to see you up.

Titania also sounds like a shit mother.

Septiminus was Evening’s grandson. He certainly didn’t get his coloring from her.

“Most of her children died young.” But there were enough grandchildren to establish several Daoine Sidhe lines. Aethlin and Maida aren’t closely related to the Torquills or Dugan or Rhys or Riordan.

Maeve took what vengeance she could against Titania for the Luidaeg’s binding and we don’t know what that is, yet.

Ok, yes. This is where the Luidaeg says Evening’s signatures are apples and roses. Her own magic is brackish marshes and ocean air. Toby doesn’t ask about this.

Elizabeth Ryan would probably argue that the Luidaeg stole her heart but she isn’t here right now.

I am pretty sure Evening is older than the Luidaeg, but the Luidaeg implies Maeve could have had children before her, just not through Oberon. And none of them are living now.

The Luidaeg knows who Amandine’s mother is and can’t say.

Yes Evening, we know you don’t like Dianda and Patrick’s marriage. You can shut up about it now.

Is Dawn one of the things the Luidaeg can’t talk about? She is not mentioned at all in this book, least of all by Toby.

And Simon’s under Evening’s control again. Poor Tybalt.

And Toby’s covered in her own blood again.

Dammit, Sylvester, Simon’s better at giving Toby answers than you are.

Yes, which of the Queens owned that key? And what exactly is it?

Oh you still don’t know better by now, Toby. You are still somewhat blind to what’s going on around you.

Nice job breaking Evening’s spell, Toby.

Oh Simon, you were so close.

Being stabbed with Simon’s elf-shot laced blood is enough to take out a Firstborn but somehow drinking Nolan’s blood didn’t put Toby out.

Though being asleep isn’t going to stop her…

Naww, Tybalt and Toby are cute together.

Man, I really want to see Dianda and Patrick’s reactions on learning that Evening is the Daoine Sidhe Firstborn. And why does no one seem to recall Dawn? Is there a world-wide “don’t think about it” spell? If so, who could cast it?

#october daye

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probably-enjolras · 7 years

Text

Enjolras’ Anon Chapter 9

ughhhh i wanted it to be longer but i’m in too much pain to write more, like yeah it’s 1.6k but i wanted to get to 3k, alas

support me on AO3 cause it’s easier to reply to you that way!

Enjolras went home from his it’s-a-date-but-it’s-not-a-date smiling. As soon as he realized that he did in fact like Grantaire, everything felt so much lighter. There wasn’t a constant sense of dread and misery aviating over him.

He also knew where Grantaire lived. He thought about all the times that he was late, but now he could see R running down his stairs. Enjolras smiled at the thought. Grantaire wants to be on time, he really does. He wants to be present.

Enjolras flopped onto his bed, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He felt like a teenager again, blushing while thinking about his crush. He had half the mind to scold himself for being so emotional, but it felt too good to stop.

Enjolras pulled out his phone and sent a text to Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

Enjolras: it’s settled, i like him

Courfeyrac: eyy congrats

Combeferre: this leaves the question of ‘what now?’

Enjolras: i mean… dating?

Courfeyrac: that would be the logical step

Courfeyrac: you like him, he likes you, you two go off and fuck like bunnies!

Enjolras: great talk, let’s put that plan in action

Combeferre: yes, and do you have any plan of how to ask him out?

Combeferre: because saying ‘i know you like me because you’ve been talking to my blog on anon for a while and i went on a hunt to find you’ doesn’t seem like the best thing

Courfeyrac: i mean, why not?

Enjolras: ferre is right, he would want to know why i didn’t just ask him right away

Enjolras groaned and pushed his face into his pillow. Why did this have to be so hard? He just wanted to go out with Grantaire, but this whole scheme of how he even figured out it was R was so elaborate it would seem at best a dick move, and at worse a stalker move.

Courfeyrac: dammit why isn’t ‘hey i like you, let’s go fuck’ not enough

Enjolras: when have i ever been anything but extra

Courfeyrac: fair point

Combeferre: you’ll need to get him alone, and at a pretty nice place

Enjolras: not a restaurant

Enjolras: and it can’t be something he likes too much because then he won’t pay attention to me

Courfeyrac: i think you underestimate his ability to pay attention to you

Courfeyrac: hell, i think he underestimates his ability to pay attention to you

Combeferre: how about a picnic? Simple yet romantic

Enjolras: but i don’t want him to know i want to ask him out

Courfeyrac: movies?

Enjolras: nah, it’s dark and not a place for talking

Combeferre: lunch + a walk to that cafe with cats and books?

Enjolras: yes! I can ask him out during the walk and then we can go do whatever, and if it goes bad we can play with cats

Courfeyrac: ok, it won’t go bad, but it’s nice to have a backup plan

Enjolras: thanks for the advice, I’m gonna go talk to him now

Enjolras put his phone down, staring at the messages. He could do this, right? He liked Grantaire, and he had for a while, even if he didn’t realize it. Grantaire challenged his ideas like no one else, and he did it so nonchalantly. He was someone who bettered Enjolras in ways no friend could.

Enjolras sighed, laying down and looking at his ceiling. How do you ask out the man that betters your existence without even trying? Enjolras rolled over, looking at his desk. His computer was charging on top of a pile of books.

Enjolras sat up and grabbed his computer. He entered his password and logged onto Tumblr. He smiled when he saw that he had asks. The first three were random people and Enjolras deflated for a second, but the final one started with a phrase he had come to recognize on sight.

(passionate anon) we went out today, i mean, not in a proper date, but it did feel like it. he was so cute, and it was so easy to talk to him, i wasn’t expecting that, i thought we would only be able to talk when he had some alcohol in him. i hope we can do that again

Enjolras grinned widely, unable to hold in the sudden rush of joy. He rushed to post the messages and grabbed his phone. He took a deep breath, calming the last of his nerves, before opening up his messages.

Enjolras: hey, had a nice time today, wanna go for lunch again tomorrow? i don’t have anything going on

Enjolras held his breath as he watched the speech bubble in the left hand corner. It can’t take that long to answer a simple question, can it? After what Enjolras could only assume was an eternity, Grantaire responded.

Grantaire: yeah! do you have a place in mind?

Enjolras let out the breath he was holding and smiled to himself.

Enjolras: well i know this place, they serve great muffins and sandwiches, and then maybe that cafe with the kittens?

Grantaire: that sounds great! does noon work for you?

Enjolras: yeah, meet you there!

Grantaire: can’t wait

Enjolras laughed, he couldn’t help it. He had set up a time and place for him to ask Grantaire out. He flopped back down, smiling up at the ceiling.

“I’m really doing this,” he whispered. Enjolras sat back up and looked out the window. It was starting to get dark and he could see his reflection in the glass.

His cheeks were bright red and his hair was mess from his pillows, but he had the largest grin on his face. “I’m gonna do this!” he said to himself, louder this time. Enjolras laughed again, standing up to clean up after his day. He kept repeating that phrase to himself, in awe of what tomorrow has in store.

After he showered and brushes his teeth, Enjolras got into bed. He knew it wasn’t late, it was only 8:30pm, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait. Enjolras sighed, closing his eyes and willing sleep to come, and after a few minutes it did.

Sleep left after about six hours. If he had gone to bed at midnight or one, maybe that wouldn’t be such a problem. It would be six or seven, and that’s a reasonable time to start the day. Enjolras could get work done before he went out and he wouldn’t have to work on anything during the day.

But he hadn’t gone to bed at midnight, he had gone to bed at 8:30, and here is was, wide awake at 2:30am wide awake. Enjolras tried to go back to sleep. He got up, made some tea, read a little bit, and laid back down, ready to get some sleep.

Enjolras looked up at his ceiling, sighing to himself. He knew that it was the anticipation that was keeping him awake. It had happened all his life. On the first day of school, he would always wake up early and be ready for the bus an hour early than needed. The same thing happened on holidays and birthdays. His mind was ready to get stuff done, while his body just wanted to sleep.

Enjolras kicked off his blanket, cursing softly. He tried to get as comfortable as possible, but nothing helped. He groaned, pouting to himself. There was nothing he could do, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

There was a chance that his friends were still awake. Most of them stayed awake until they passed out around three am. That gave him a solid thirty minutes to talk to someone. Enjolras considered it, but decided against it. He didn’t want to explain to his friends how he already got six hours. Some would call him old, some would want to know why he went to sleep at that time, and Courfeyrac would manage to do both.

Enjolras unlocked his phone and, against his better judgement, looked for Grantaire’s instagram account. Being awake late at night and looking through his crush’s instagram was a perfectly normal thing to do, right?

Grantaire didn’t post often, but it was still filled with photos. Some of them were of his artwork or photographs of what he found beautiful. Enjolras smiled, Grantaire was a true artist.

Other photos were photos of his friends. There was one of Joly and Bossuet, clearly not knowing that the photo was taken as they held hand and smiled at each other. Another was of Eponine, smiling at the camera and raising a glass in its direction. The one after that was of Bahorel and Courfeyrac the day they decided to have a rollerskate race down the street. The image depicted the moment Courfeyrac crossed the finish line. It didn’t show the moment after, when Courfeyrac fell when he tried to stop. Enjolras smiled, making a mental note to screenshot all the photos so he could keep them for himself.

But the majority of the photos were of him. Some were of Enjolras giving speeches, others were him talking with friends, or just him on his phone. Enjolras couldn’t believe he never noticed Grantaire take these. He put his phone down, looking at the window.

It still reflected his image, but Enjolras didn’t see himself anymore. He didn’t understand what about him made Grantaire take such beautiful photos. He felt like he didn’t deserve the attention.

Enjolras looked down at his hands and put his phone on his bedside table. He sighed and closed his eyes, but his mind kept running. Maybe if it ran far enough, he would be too tired to think anymore.

Enjolras’ wish to sleep was finally granted around four am, and he drifted off into less than peaceful sleep.

find that les mis lyric! it’s not hidden too well, whoops

#enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les mis #courfeyrac #combeferre #enjolras' anon #my writing #ryan.txt #ryan rambles

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