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dreamcatchers-husband · 2 years

Text

TSR Pt 2

Male Reader X Dreamcatcher Jiu

Length: 1800 +

Tags: Creampie. Mommy kink

PT 1

A/N= highly unedited quickie so sorry for typos

New York City. The place of many people's dreams when they imagine coming to the states. Walking around the bustling city was almost overwhelming but the laughter from your friends running around brought you back to your sense of happiness.

“Oppa?”

“What’s up Gahyeon?”

“Can you buy me this shirt?”

“Gahyeon, you have your own money.”

“I know but can you please just buy it for me?”

A familiar sight unfolds before you as Gahyeon hits you with her puppy eyes. Gahyeon being the maknae always asks for things from her members and you.

“OPPA!!!!”

Gahyeon raised her voice a bit as her feet began to stomp on the floor. Fellow tourists began to stare at all of you as Gahyeon made more noise.

“Daesung just buy it for her already. We have to get ready for the sound check in an hour.”

Jiu at the time reminded you about your job to get them to the venue on time.

“Ok fine. Such a little brat you are Gahyeon.”

A small smirk appears on Gahyeon’s face as she hugs you, bringing her mouth close to your ear.

“Well when you have time, you should fuck the brat out of me.”

Your dick twitches at the thought of plowing into Gahyeon but you don’t have time. Pulling out your credit card, yoy pay a ridiculous amount for one shirt and begin to walk back to the hotel with the girls. Being close to Times Square was helpful as the walk back was barely even three minutes.

Entering the lobby, you all make it to the elevator and jump in the first Available car. The ride up was short as you all hopped off at the ninth floor.

“Ok! All of you get ready and do what you need to do. I will meet you all at this elevator in 45 minutes, got it?”

“YES MANAGER-NIM!”

At that time the girls all began to run to their rooms leaving you alone.

“Guess they really wanted to shower or something.”

Following the girl's example you make your way to your hotel room and enter. You are lucky enough to get your own room, so all of your things are thrown all over the place. Taking off your clothes, you jump into the shower and take a quick one to be refreshed before the concert.

After your short shower, you went to the drawers and pulled out soak clothes and threw them on and laid on the bed. There was still 30 minutes left until you needed to see the girls so you filled the time with a usual pastime for people, playing on your phone.

After another failed win on mobile apex, a knock can be heard on your door as you look at that time and see there is a minute before you need to meet the girls. Standing up, you made your way over to the front door and opened it seeing Dami.

“I figured you would still be in your room. Come on, we got a show to give.”

With your shoes right next to the door you managed to put them on and walk over to the elevator where the other members were just arriving.

“Let’s go!”

With those words you all made your way down in the elevator to the van that was waiting for the eight of you. You honestly didn’t even have time to get comfortable in the van as you quickly arrived at the venue in two minutes. It’s just safer to show up una. Van there to not get mobbed by the fans waiting near the venue already.

As the doors opened the roar from the fans filled your ears as each member stepped out one by one. As you finally step out of the van some screams are directed towards you.

“Daesung oppa you are so hot!”

Laughter is the only thing that leaves your mouth as you hear that. Walking with the girls the screams continue even as you make your way into the venue.

As you make it to the lower levels the staff working at the event direct all of you to the girls dressing rooms. Entering that room you can see the chaos all around as make-up artists and stylists are all getting things ready for the Dreamcatcher girls.

“Ok ladies get ready I’ll just sit here till you are ready.”

Sitting down in a chair the girls all sat down in the other seats in front of the mirrors as they began to get their makeup done. As the make-up process can always take a bit, you closed your eyes and quickly found yourself in dream land.

A quick shake to the body woke you up as the girls had their makeup done.

“Sound check oppa.”

“Thanks yooh.”

Following behind them you follow to the side of the stage as people were running all around getting ready for the sound check. As the girls put on their mics they made their way out to the stage, bowed and commenced the check. It was a quick 15 mins as the girls came off the stage and walked back to the dressing room.

With a few hours left the dreamcatcher all began to sit around and do random things to pass the time as it slowly got made it to two hours before show time. Jiu at that time stood up and made her way over to a separate room and closed the door. You were honestly a bit curious at what she was doing but decided not to bother her.

As you continued to pass the time talking to the girls and such you heard the slight squeak from the door and saw Jiu pop her head out.

“Daesung can you come over here please?”

“Oh yeah sure.”

Wanting to make sure Jiu was ok before the concert you walked over to the room and walked in as the door closed behind you. At that time you notice that some of the other outfits from future shows were in the room.

As you were looking around the room you notice Jiu standing in a corner all dressed up for the concert already. Jiu was always a sweet girl and dressed modestly, but this outfit was provocative. A sports bra on top with a mesh covering over it.

“Wow. You look amazing noona.”

“Thank you. I’m sure the fans will go crazy when they see me in this outfit but I’m gonna be honest. I wanted to see how you would feel.”

Almost like a lion approaching its prey, Jiu began to get closer and closer to you until you could feel each other’s breaths. Your body jolts as you feel a hand grab your clothed member.

“Oh looks like you feel hard. I should help you with that.

Dropping to her knees, jiu quickly pulls down your pants exposing your hard shaft.

“Let’s just get you ready for my pussy quickly.”

You didn’t even have Time to respond as Jiu’s lips wrapped around your cock. Back and forth Minji brought her mouth on your rod, getting it wet for her hole. A minute passes as Jiu stands up and pulls down her sweatpants. Taking a position in front of a mirror you ran up behind her lining yourself up with her folds.

“We don’t have much time before they all need to starts changing so hurry up and fuck mommy.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you shoved your length into her cavern. A grunt left your mouth as well as Jiu’s. Grabbing a hold of her hips, you began to enter and exit her snatch slowly building up speed. You don’t have much time to enjoy so you have only one mission in mind, the two of you reaching your orgasm.

As you speed build up you hear moans leave Minji’s mouth as you bring your hand around her waist and reach down for her clit. Having had sex very often with Jiu you knew exactly where to find her nub and how to touch it. As you touch her clit you feel Jiu shake a bit from the stimulation.

“That’s Right sweetie. Rub mommy’s clit. Make me cum and you get to cum.”

Moving your fingers clockwise you begin to move faster and faster as you feel Jiu’s walls begin to constrict around your wall. Jiu has always been a bit easy to please and moments where the two of you have a quickie, that comes in handy.

Moans and screams begin to leave Jiu’s mouth as you continued to fuck her as her orgasm aproached.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum sweetie!”

Hearing those words let you know to continue fucking her exactly the same as with one final thrust into her pussy, a rush of fluids hit your legs. Jiu begins to shake all over as you help hold her up as she comes down from her peak.

A minute passes as Minji finally looks back up and smiles at you in the mirror.

“Fuck that was good, but you need to cum as well.”

Without warning Jiu began to move her own hips, stimulating your cock once again. Normally you would try to last longer, but as said before you need to hurry up. Helping Jiu you continued to move faster and faster as you felt a knot in your stomach approaching.

“Hey sweetie. You know me and you are both getting older. I’m thinking it’s time I have a baby of my own so shoot the load into my pussy. Let’s have one.”

Those words nearly drove you mad as you moved as fast as possible, happy to comply with Jiu’s request. A few more seconds pass as you finally recognize your peak arriving.

“FUCK MOMMY, IM CUMMING.”

With one final thrust you shot your load deep into her pussy. For some reason knowing that you are trying to get Jiu pregnant you continued to somehow keep shooting your seed deep into her cavern until you finished. Pants are all that are heard in the room as you pull out of her walls.

As Jiu turns around you are met with her lips on your own. The kiss is intense but quick as you pull back from her lips. The smile on Jiu’s face made you happy.

“Ok let’s get changed.”

With a nod Jiu pulled up her pants as you did the same. Walking towards the door you open it and walk out with Jiu and see all the members staring at you two.

“You really couldn’t wait a bit to tail your girlfriend?”

“Ok I don’t want to hear it from you Yoohyeon. You have literally pulled the same shit with me before.”

A small blush appears on Yoohyeon’s face as you all laugh.

“Don’t worry you will all get your turn on this tour.”

A smirk appeared on all of their faces as they all stood up to get changed. Let’s see who you will end up fucking in the next stop.

#dreamcatchersmut #Jiusmut #kpopsmut

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sleepy-exe · 3 years

Text

Mechanic AU - 12

Kyoutani x f!reader

<< Part 11 | Part 13 >>

Summary: You feel a little off, a little lonely too. Kyoutani is down bad for you.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/Genre: nsfw, 18+/mdni, slow burn, straight up smut, dry humping, fingering, oral m.receiving, mental health/illness/mania, FWB

a/n: don’t look at me

Part 12: Strange Nights

The shop is so busy you completely missed that your phone was ringing. It’s possible that you missed the call while things in the garage were super loud; which has been most of the day. Daichi made plenty of noise pulling a transmission, Tanaka and Nishinoya always find ways to be loud, and you’ve been having a time with head gaskets on this Legacy. So if it wasn’t the noise level at work today, it might have been that you were too busy and aggravated to notice your phone ringing on your tool box.

You love Subaru’s through and through, but some things really suck to work on. Doing head gaskets on the flat four is one of those things.

On top of that, you’ve been feeling a little off. You feel pent up and easily agitated, like you’re being held down against your will. The overly loud environment today isn’t helping, and neither is this damn Subaru.

Dropping a few tools again, you push away from the car with a frustrated growl and stomp off to grab your phone and head to break, not bothering to pick up the tools for now.

That’s when you notice the missed call from the dealership that currently has your Subaru. You mutter an insult at the car manufacturer before hitting play on the voicemail. Listening to a male voice speak through your phone, you begin to scowl. They were calling to tell you what is wrong with your car, and it’s not what you assumed to be true. They confirm that your blend door actuator is indeed malfunctioning, but that your radiator fans are fine and that the blend door is the only problem.

With a huff you consider that maybe you were wrong. You only gave your car a quick look over. It’s possible that you misdiagnosed it. At the end of the voicemail, they ask for you to call back to give them permission to continue with the service. So you give them a call to let them know they can continue with the service before you dig into your bento that Satori was kind enough to make for you.

The bubbly yet heavy feeling in your chest doesn’t go away after lunch. It doesn’t go away for the rest of your shift, but you continue on, eager to finish up your work orders to line up with Nishinoya’s so you don’t have to wait around for each other.

You two work the same schedule today and he volunteered to drop you off to pick up your car after work thanks to Tanaka bringing the situation to his attention and more or less asking him to do this for you.

Noya’s pickup truck makes some interesting noises on your way to the dealership. You hold on to the seat and door as if that’s going to do anything to help you if his truck calls it quits on your ride. You decided not to point out the obvious to the fellow mechanic. Surely he knows his truck better than anyone. Right?

He drops you off and you wish him luck on the drive home with a giggle and a grimace. You quickly head in to pay your bill and get your keys so you can have your baby back.

The dealership only had your car for two days between figuring out what was wrong, waiting on parts, and fixing the problem. For you though, that was two days too long.

You make it home without the previous problem; your A/C works just fine now. Great!

After a shower, you get ready for the night. Last minute plans to go out and get some of this pent up energy out.

Twirling in front of your full length mirror, you inspect your outfit. The fitted top, the short skirt, the thigh highs. Just a few more accessories and you’ll look truly irresistible. A perfect fit for a night out. Where will you go? Maybe a friend or two will tag along.

Facing your bed, you look over the duvet and pillows. You actually made your bed for once. So cozy and inviting. You hop onto it and spread out across one side, sighing when your back meets the soft material. Your car isn’t your only happy place.

You look to your right at the empty space beside you. All this room for just one person. It just doesn’t seem right. Your bright mood begins to fade. Sometimes it really can be lonely. Not having someone to call your own, no one to truly understand you. Understand your deepest thoughts and accept you for who you are. Not just as some pretty face that makes her friends laugh and likes to roll around on dirty concrete under cars.

But fuck it. You do you. You can do anything you want and have the freedom to do so. No one to hold you back or try to tell you how to live your life. You do feel free and ready to do anything, get anything you want.

Glancing beside you again, you pick up your phone. You can do what you want. And what you want right now is someone here beside you.

Being in your bedroom is nothing new. Your bedroom, living room, kitchen; anywhere besides Tendou’s room is fair territory for your guests. Sitting on your bed isn’t anything new and sharing personal space isn’t out of the ordinary either. So when you step up to Kyoutani and place your hands on his shoulders while he sits on the edge of your bed, it isn’t exactly weird.

No, it’s when you lean in close enough for your nose to brush his ear, sliding a hand down his chest as you move to hover over his lap as you whisper, “Mind if I..?”

That’s what catches him off guard, and when you drag your nose back to his with lust in your eyes, he catches your lips in a passionate kiss. Hands grip your waist tenderly, granting you permission to fully straddle him. He moans into your mouth when you pull him closer and deepen the kiss. Any thought of this being forbidden shatters away completely and his fingers slip under your shirt to trace up your sides and over your bra.

He breaks the kiss to search your eyes. The blush in his cheeks makes you grin like an idiot. “You sure about this?”

“Yes.” You roll your hips just to drive in your answer, but the deep groan it pulls from his lips sparks a fire in you. The concern for you, the way he’s so gentle, the desire dripping from him like honey, so sweet you’re dying to get a taste. It’s all enticing on another level. “You too?”

“Yeah.” One hand kneads the flesh under his palm while the other dips down to your hip, aiding your rhythm as you rut against him.

“Mm, fuck,” you gasp at the added friction, only thin cloth separating you and his denim covered cock. Your head dips to his shoulder, needy whimpers filling the room, grinding down more, wanting more. You’re dying to ride him, feel how perfectly he fills you up again, and you have every intention of doing so.

A gutteral sound catches in his throat and the warm hand over your breast moves to your other hip as well and he meets your movements with his own. You feel drunk but no drinks are in your system this time and you can’t help the added excitement in that.

“Kyou, please,” you raise your head just long enough to make the desperate request before diving your teeth into his neck, leaving nips and sloppy kisses all along the side.

He shutters and leans his head against yours, “You know how hard it is to tell you no?”

Lust filled mind and the heat in your core, the words hardly register as anything more than ‘yes’ and you frantically unbutton his shirt, mouthing at his collarbone and throat. His hand slides down your thigh, giving it a squeeze before slipping between your legs, making your breath hitch the second it makes contact with your soaked panties.

He groans through the kisses he leaves in your hair with your head still tucked away, muffling your own moans and whimpers. Tugging the wet fabric out of the way to get better access to where you need him most. Sinking a digit into your core, and another after you shutter in his arms, digging your nails into his back as if he’s going anywhere. And that’s it, there’s nothing more he wants than to get you off right here and now. To have you creaming around his fingers while you sit in his lap, holding on to him, holding him close. Burying yourself against him as he buries himself in you.

He moans with you as the saccharine sounds pour from you with every thrust of his fingers, tracing all the right spots. Every movement that has you writhing in his hold, and him twitching in his jeans. He loves to see you like this, completely unhinged in pleasure. He wasn’t so sure he’d get to see you like this again. That last time would be the only time.

“Kyou!”

If this is the last time, then so be it.

“Kyou, please! Please please please!” Between your lewd cries in his ear and clenching cunt around his fingers, you are driving him absolutely mad.

So mad that when you come undone, he could nearly fall apart himself. The way you’re bucking against him, muffling your erotic moans into the curve of his neck. The way your nails dig into him hard enough to leave marks left for the guys to tease him over the next time he’s in the locker room. The fucked out way you continue to call his name. He can hardly take it.

“Shit.” Just as you’re coming down from your high, he’s wrapping both arms around you and pulling you up, jolting your body and mind.

You groan at the sudden interruption. “What?”

Between the death grip around you, the rapid, unsteady breathing, and the face buried in your neck, you return to reality quickly. You drag your fingers through his hair just how you know he likes it. Softer, you ask again, “What, baby?”

He mumbles against your skin, easing you back into his lap, “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

The roughness of his jeans against your sensitive cunt is less than pleasant, but easily ignored with the throbbing hard cock twitching beneath you.

Mm. You bite your lip at the thought of repaying him.

Nuzzling your nose into his hair, you reach behind you to gently tug yourself free from his arms. He makes no complaints, happily accepting a kiss before you pull away to ungracefully step down from the bed. Kneeling on the floor as you start to make work of his pants only for him to take over and spring himself free.

“Oh, fuck.” The reaction is instant the second your soft lips are around him. His shallow breathing, strangled curses, and needy moans are more than enough to spur you on.

If logic and reason was present, you would be cursing yourself for the lack of restraint. For giving in to such desires, acting out this fantasy of yours with the one man you told yourself not to. But luckily the very concept of self reservation is long out the door. The only thing of your concern is what you want here and now, and Kyoutani is the only thing you have locked in your mind.

“You- Fuck,” he’s words fail as you take him in deeper.

You stop briefly enough to get a teasing word out, “Rude.”

Then take him back into your warm mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, looking up at him even if he barely keeps his eyes open. His head tilted back with his face contorted in pleasure.

He pants through his words, “You ruin me.”

The plan was to ride him. You were just dying to sit on his cock, to take the lead this time. Gentle and sensual sex is immaculate with him, he’s quickly proven that. How he can take you. But how can you make him wild? How dirty can he get? While the scene before you is hot, the idea hasn’t left you.

You flick and curl your tongue, to see what he responds to best before you pull off him again to share your thoughts. “Hey, I-“

“Please don’t stop,” he begs, legs quivering on either side of you. Begs. The Kyoutani, nearly six feet tall and built to match with an intimidating demeanor that most steer clear of. And it holds you captive.

Fuck whatever you were going to say. “Okay.”

You attempt to recreate the pattern that got him so close until he’s digging a hand into your hair and bracing himself with the other.

The arm holding him up buckles and he falls backward, pressing the flesh of his hand between his teeth, thighs spasming under your hold. Part of you wants to keep him like this. So vulnerable and pliant, so reactive to your touch. So under your control. But you don’t even know if he’s into being edged, and you wouldn’t want to risk completely ruining his orgasm when you want to treat him for being so good to you.

Because he is so good to you.

So instead of holding him at the edge of ecstasy, you don’t stop, don’t slow down. Just keeping the rhythm that gets his breathing more erratic by the second while you watch etched muscle flex beneath his skin. Only taking him deeper when you feel him come, swallowing him down while you clench your hands around his legs in an attempt to anchor the athlete.

Pulling off him for air when his high begins to fade, you catch your breath with a couple of coughs sneaking through.

Gentle hands cup your cheeks like they're made of glass, “You okay, baby?”

“Heh-mm, yeah. Never better.” You wipe your lips with a thumb. This is better than being alone. So much better. Maybe he’ll stay all night if you ask nicely.

“Shit.” He falls back again with a sigh. “Ah. Damn you’re amazing.”

On wobbly legs you stand and adjust your skirt and top. A fleeting desire to climb over to those abs on display by his open button-up, or into his lap again, makes you bite your lip and press your thighs together.

Kyoutani opens his eyes, pulling himself from his chemical daze. Putting himself back into his pants, he sits up once more, pulling you in to kiss you sweetly. “So, what do you say, food, bath, stay in bed?”

You smirk, pressing a knee between his legs on the bed. Your slick is covering his jeans - you’re going to have to find him something to wear if he ever hopes to leave. “Or maybe another round, hm?”

With a playful scoff, he teases, “Not enough, huh?”

“Am I too much for you, Kyoutani Kentarou?”

“Eh, sometimes.” He smiles at your playful smack to his arm. Bringing a hand to the small of your back, he nuzzles your chest and murmurs, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “So, what about snacks and a bath later?”

“Snacks in the bath?” He counters, gazing up into your eyes.

Your hands slip under this open shirt, lightly caressing defined muscle. “Hmm. Bubble bath?”

“I would love a bubble bath.”

“Hm. Bad news though.” Your eyes meet his warm ones as you push the fabric off his shoulders until he’s pulling his arms out of the sleeves.

“What?” Do his eyes ever leave yours? So engrossed like it’s impossible to look elsewhere.

“I just have a shower.”

“Ah. Right.” He leaves a peck on your collar, sweet and innocent as if just a minute ago he didn’t come down your throat. “Shower and snacks then?”

“Not the same.”

“You’re right.” Hooking an arm around you, he pulls you onto the bed and rolls over with you. Caging you beneath him, his necklaces dangle over your own neck. The genuine smile he’s wearing is heartwarming.

“So, can I just be honest for a second?”

He searches your face at the question. “Sure.”

“I wasn’t lying about that round two.” He rolls his eyes with a low groan, clearly expecting some romantic or serious words to fall from your mouth. “Hmm?”

“Hm.” He leaves a chaste peck on your lips, brushing noses with you before going in for a deeper kiss.

Fingers tangle into his hair as you pull him closer, as if he would pull away. Captured in your grasp and kiss, you whisper words of admiration between kisses until he’s doing the same.

You trail kisses to his ear. Nipping softly around the studs and rings, careful not to stab yourself or pull his earrings, you purr in his ear. “Let me on top~”

You bite the sensitive skin below his ear, drawing a soft whimper from the man above you. Pulling your top up, you add, “And let's lose these, yeah?”

Instantly, you’re topless and he’s making quick work of your skirt and panties before losing his clothes as well. When you start to wiggle down to the edge of the bed, he digs his fingers into your thighs, thumbing at where your thighs spill out the top of your socks.

“The thigh highs stay on during sex,” you joke.

“Yeah, they fucking do,” his grip tightens and he pulls you closer to him.

Kyoutani is laying in your bed, resting soundlessly as he plays with your hair. The duvet is barely holding on, only a corner of it left on the bed. You lay half draped over Kyou, drawing shapes on his bare chest, both of you sweaty and gross, but neither of you care.

“Does that mean this could happen again?” His breath tickles your hairline. Fingers drag up and down your side.

“Ten out of ten, would ride again,” you say, still delirious from your fun.

He laughs. It rumbles deep in his chest, making you sit up a little.

It doesn’t just jar your head, but your thoughts. Many, many thoughts. Like how amazing this has been mixed with how you told yourself this wouldn’t happen again. You didn’t want to sleep with him again.

No, you did. You just didn’t want to admit it. You were supposed to break the habit of sleeping with your friends when you’re-

Damnit.

You curl back into his side, hiding your face from view. “Is this gonna make things weird? I don’t wanna risk what we have..”

Kyou tilts his head, trying to get a better look at your face. “I remember our conversation about last time. I know you were afraid what happened would ruin things.” He nudges your head gently in an attempt to get you to look at him. “But I don’t think it did any harm last time. Other than maybe you worrying over nothing.”

You do look at him, but only to pout.

He half shrugs from where he's at. “I’m just saying. We’ll be okay after this.”

“What about next time?” You bite your lip. That slipped out without warning.

“..Hm? I thought you were just joking.”

“Yes and no. Was tryin’ to be funny, but at the same time I wasn’t kidding. Your game is,” you click your tongue with a wink just to frown after. “But no, really, I would like to think that we’re.. good friends that just so happen to be sexually compatible.”

“So what, you’re gonna use me as a booty call?” There’s humor laced in his question.

You smirk, finding his reaction to your words both calming and entertaining. “Worked last time, didn’t it? And this time?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t think it was this time. 3am and 3pm invites don’t have the same connotation.”

“It was later than 3pm.”

He ignores your correction and wraps his arms around you. “So then.. Another round or should we get cleaned up?”

“Well.. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

“I can,” he brings one of your hands to his lips, softly mouthing at your fingertips, “Is that what you want?”

“Good.” A shiver goes down your spine at the contact of his lips and teeth, nibbles placed on your fingers between kisses. “We can worry about cleaning up before we go to sleep then.”

“Then does that mean..“

“Fuck yes.”

Part 13 >>

#but can i fix it #kyoutani x y/n #kyoutani x you #kyoutani fanfic #kyoutani kentaro x reader #hq kyoutani #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani smut #kyoutani x reader #haikyuu kyoutani #haikyuu smut #seijoh smut

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applesontheground · 3 years

Text

beauty behold you 🕯️

SFW | Word Count: 2,116 | Bo Sinclair x GN Reader

contains: soulmate AU (one person’s scars show up on the other), canon typical/implied murder, unwanted touching, my size kink shows if you squint, if reader isn’t developing stockholm syndrome by the end of it 😬 they will

🎼: x, x (these are just songs i listened to while writing/editing!)

You yelped as he made a beeline across the street, finding yourself only able to walk backwards in response to the looming mechanic.

Anything to keep away from him, that was all your mind could focus on.

Your stare couldn't leave his face, taking in the sheer rage that hid in striking blue eyes and tightened lips. He was agitated from the struggle with your friend, a stocky fellow you'd just been passing through with. He was practically heaving out breaths as he stepped up onto the concrete from the road, arms clenching at his sides as they were rearing to strike again – and this time, his sights were on you.

A desperate impulse made you flinch, shielding your arms over your head. You didn’t care that your sleeves had fallen, exposing your wrists. The sound of soles nearly tripping over the ground underneath them took the place of what you were anticipating; him pushing your hands aside and going for a blow. Everything staggered to a hush. His footsteps scraped against the concrete, still taking a reactive step every time you moved back, but not stomping with the purpose they had before.

Your hands shivered violently as they rested against your brow. You felt nothing save for his breath fanning against the marred patches of skin, but kept walking until you were pressed against the wall that he herded you towards. You took your last moments to haphazardly slide down it, crumpling onto your haunches and wanting to melt into the ground. You felt your burning calves and knees press into the cold concrete underneath you with your arms still poised to hide your face.

"Please..." You choked out, clenching your fingers tight to your palms until they ached and letting the hand tremors fall downwards to your arms and shoulders. You begged, something you just couldn’t stop as you registered what could happen next and racked by shivering, "P-please don’t..."

He was looming overhead, still silent. It felt pathetic to do nothing except cower, but it was all you could bring yourself to manage. Seeing the jerking, agitated struggle between him and your friend was enough to drive any sort of security that you could take him on from the realm of possibility. You were going to die here. The thought was tucked into your head and seeping through your eyes in hot tears. Even when he had blood on his hands, and intent to make you the next victim to god knows what, you didn't find a single bone in your body ready to swing back.

When he sank down to his knees, you could hear his breath quiver in each of his exhales. It wasn't from fury, but from something you were now sharing: gutted terror. You dared peek through the gap between the bars of your arms with a teary eye. His expression was lost on your forehead, the knife he pulled falling from his fingers and clattering against the ground, echoing into the night that seemed to entrap Ambrose from all edges, fought off by the unnecessarily bright lights on every street corner and shop window. Breathing through a half open mouth, you almost saw each conceivable emotion that passed under his fixated expression: disbelief, denial, excitement…shock.

You figured that you weren’t going to be able to move for a long while, so you finally mustered the self control to stop whimpering between your breaths. You and him sat in silence, the only sounds between either person being the stifled breathing. The town was still dead silent, no footsteps echoing down the empty streets or figures in the windows of the shops. The more you realized no one had even responded to the commotion, and that no one would be coming to intervene, the worse you shook.

Your exposed eye flicked up again as one of his large, bloody hands rose to your head. When you felt the numbed rush from the calloused fingers pressing against your scar tissue, you quickly realized that your forehead wasn’t what he’d been looking at.

You quickly flinched at his touch, letting out a pained scream. Barely missing a beat, he shushed you, "Shh sh-sh. Stop thrashin’." The soft voice made your eyes snap up to him a third time, wide as you could hold them while letting out unapologetic groans. He continued to run his fingers over the damaged skin, a pair of ravaged shackles that you felt as though you’d been born with because of how long they had taken up space on your arms.

Gritting your teeth, it almost looked like he was admiring you as he did it. When the pain was reaching a boiling point, you begged in a warbly voice, "Stop, fucking stop! They hurt!"

"I know, I know they do." He responded in the same voice, pained and sweet, half dazed as he seemed to come down from the adrenaline he had been riding. Your brain was reeling, remembering how entranced in a deep rage he had been only moments ago, and how much agitation could be held in those broad shoulders and sharp jaw. You couldn’t trust anything about him right now.

Seeing the confusion, and the distrust that settled deep in your head as you sized him up, he grunted and began to tear at his own sleeves. The fierce voice returned as he huffed, “Look. Look.”

Your eyes fell down to stare when you saw him set his forearms in his lap, showing his wrists that held identical marks. You dragged your arms down from your face, everything fading into a fuzzy state of mind. You only saw the scarring. A noise escaped your tight throat, the mental punch to the gut making jaw muscles release. Your wrists refused to move below your chin, resting against your mouth. You were scared to see what his face looked like as he let you stare, because if he was anything like you, he didn’t show them to anyone.

“Didn’t think I’d ever find this,” He breathed, “That there wasn’t gonna be one of you.” Your eyes shot up to him, unable to respond as you looked into each other’s eyes and recognized each other as soulmates for the first time.

Another flood of tears began streaming, but you could only look on, barely blinking the blur away. He was the bearer of these marks, the one who saw them rip across his wrists from something you didn't quite know yet. You had traced and memorized every crooked line and torn mark that defined them, and from what you could tell he had each one in all the right places. Just as it devastated most people who saw them on you, seeing them as an outsider made your entire chest start to ache. You didn’t even know.

The breath sitting in your chest was one that you had been holding for an entire life, even on the days where you convinced yourself you’d be happy by yourself. In that moment, you’d felt as though you reached the end of a search that took some people their entire lives, and with such little chances to be viable... Not everyone met their soulmate by watching him murder, only deterred when he realized who you were, but you could barely fathom just how lucky it was to have fallen into place how it did.

When you found the courage to finally meet his gaze again, he smiled. It was a tired but probably true gesture, revealing itself underneath the wicked game that he had played; the constant shifts between detached to charismatic to full blown unhinged were subsided now, the storm calmed in the face of you.

There was a lot going over your head. You had to promise yourself -- besides that this was a living nightmare -- to think long and hard about what this situation had to offer once you could calm down. That wasn’t going to be happening tonight, though. The next time you exhaled, you let the breath go and something in your body caved like a collapsed mine. It lead you to let out a long, quiet whimper. You saw the blood on his clothes, seeped into the off-color blue of the coveralls. Hanging your head, you let yourself openly weep against your arms. The hot tears that seeped into your scars made your fingers release themselves, extending out to let the tremors rush through them.

Again with no hesitation to his words or his actions, he murmured, "Aw, don’t cry. It's okay, I gotcha..." He let himself creep up to the point where your knees were touching, trying to hold your face up for him to see again. You flinched when you felt the first hints of his fingertips coming even close to your skin, so he took ahold of your elbows instead. "Come here, [pretty girl/boy/baby’]. You're just a little thing, aintcha?"

You tugged against his grip, knowing it was futile but now brave enough to glare weakly and bear your teeth behind trembling lips. With softening eyes, glowing with a newfound desire to comfort all the hurt that he knew you shared with him instead of the blistering daggers that mowed people down, his head fell to one side to see your flushed features.

You looked away again, knotting your brow so hard you squinted to the point of seeing white. Your crying was growing ragged, and your jerking movements to try and break away were now tired. He continued to croon at you in a gravely Southern drawl, "Shhh, come on now. I ain't gonna hurt ya none. Not now, not ever."

Not now... You felt yourself shudder as you were finally coaxed into his lap, loathing the arm that came around your shoulders as he hummed, “That’s right.” You folded into yourself as much as you could; he wasn’t necessarily forcing you there, but the embrace still felt suffocating. You allowed your arms to sink lower, settling them against the top of your chest.

You felt him staring hard at you. He was probably in shock for some different reasons, recalling how he said he didn’t think this meeting would ever happen. Murder and chaos were probably just another day for him, the pit in your stomach concurred. Staring at your arms, you tore yourself apart both mentally and emotionally. All you could do was fight the urge to relax while choking on silence. Your eyes kept shooting to the blade by his knee, but whenever you got the urge to bolt, you only shivered and stayed where you were.

"I’m sorry I scared you. I wouldn’t have done all that if...if I knew…” His voice was tense, almost unnatural. Every time he paused, a vein twitched in his neck to show he was clenched up still. You sucked in a breath, and felt his hand start to touch yours again. “You look a bit too gentle for this kinda stuff." He teased, but you could only watch with involuntary shaking and pained shudders as he found himself at your wrists again.

Unable to keep them up, you lowered your arms, elbows sitting in your lap. You watched his fingers run laps around them. He seemed entrapped with how furiously they had settled against your own skin, the only minor difference.

You grimaced, realizing you hadn't even let your own parents touch them this much. Not in years.

You looked up at him again, turning your head with a slow pull like you’d shatter if you moved too suddenly. Before you could think of something to say besides the whining and crying you had offered up until this point, he pulled the arm closest to him up, your hand pressing to his lips.

“Wh-” Your jaw fell open to watch him pepper a few kisses over the shared marks, his own peeking from his unbuttoned sleeve as he pushed his fingers to intertwine with yours. It was an awkward fit, but he made it work, pressing his warm palm into the clammy, cold one.

The only reason you relaxed enough to let him was because in your mind, they weren’t your scars any more; they were his.

"Oh, look at that...” He met eyes with you again and swooned, resting his cheekbone against the back of your hand, “Don't think I could hurt those puppy eyes, anyways.”

You tried to ignore how it was all making the pain fade into the background, to see a vicious person melt with the gentle roll of his thumb against your knuckles, like the rhythm of the tide against the shore. The same hand that snuffed lives out, grabbed with ferocity, shanked unsuspecting people...

An embarrassed heat flushed over your face, and your eyes fell to your lap quickly, considering that maybe this hesitation was just a brain starting to swim from trauma...

The silence settled over Ambrose once again.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #soulmate au #✏️#🕯️#OOOH WE GOT A LONG ONE TODAY #i wrote this in first person originally so if you see an i/me/my i'm SORRY

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thekatebridgerton · 2 years

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Apparently B&B were contacted by Netflix and they turned down a deal with them, and I don’t know what it consisted of but for once I actually side with Netflix.

Like as someone who writes fan fiction if someone took my idea for example and plagiarized it I wouldn’t be happy, not to mention if they gained something from it like followers or whatever.

And so when I see someone like Julia Quinn who is the one truly loosing out on the right to HER property I completely can’t stand it. Like I know for a fact unless a series gets super duper popular you don’t make as much money it costs to make (like really the effort it takes is priceless) and I doubt if shonda ever read it it would have ever become popular or made into a series as huge as this. Like the cost to make a book is so expensive overtime and now for someone to disregard and disrespect her creative right plus the time on top of her blood sweat and tears? I just don’t get how you can stomp like that all over a fellow creative person like that.

I watched them make this musical from the beginning and I just don’t get why they’re doing this? It’s basically on my end just themselves thinking they’re entitled.

Combining two replies for this ask too

Here's the thing about licenses, we don't know how much of the proceeds Netflix requested during the offer. That might have led to B&B turning it down. I mean it's still a jerk move but we can only speculate.

but let's use the license deal for Ariana Grande's '7 rings' song as an example and note, I'm only bring Ariana Grande into this because its a well known case. We all know 7 rings copies the melody of beloved the sound of music classic 'my favorite things'

90% of '7 rings' goes to the original creators of My favorite things, you know how much money that is for Ariana Grande? That's a lot of money. Considering 7 rings is very popular and played around the world. (Does it make me happy? Yes, because I support Rogers and Hammerstein more than I support Ariana Grande). One would think that when Concord said give us 90%, Republic could have said wtf no. But the song was ready to be commercialized, not taking the deal when they had everything prepared for the January release, would have been bad....

Like not taking a licensing deal from Netflix when you're already booked for a paid live performance in the Kennedy Center.

Now, I'm not privy to Netflix legal coming and goings, but considering that Barlow and Bear use Netflix property verbatim, which is a form of plagiarism unless you have the license. I'm thinking their deal was probably close to what Ariana Grande's label had to sign over to Rodgers and Hammerstein. Maybe not a 90% of royalties, but I'm speculating probably a 70 or an 80.

And even in this fictional case THEY SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE DEAL. Again, using my previous example, even if the royalties of '7 rings' goes mostly to someone else, Ariana Grande's label knows that in the long run, it's her name and her music that's going to be associated with the song. Which brings them more revenue for the artist entire album and other original songs.

In the long run, Barlow and Bear would have seen their name attached to music that was wildly popular and got renewed interest with every new Bridgerton season. Their original work would have gotten traction and they could have become a bigger name in the music industry rather than just 'the Bridgerton music girls'

B&B are adults who are smart enough to work on the deals they got that led them to a Grammy.

In my opinion doing things in tiktok, Tumblr or Instagram is fine as long as you're not getting paid to do content having to do with someone else's work, at least not directly.

Things like YouTube ad revenue and donations revenue happen under the assumption that while you may be talking about other people's work in your content creation (which is in escence, a way of promoting what you love and honoring the original creator by giving them the credit so they hopefully feel prompted to produce even more), you're neither stealing it or claiming you have permission to use it as if it were yours.

I know that licensing Bridgerton The musical would have cost them revenue, but without licensing it, they risked not having revenue at all by inviting a lawsuit.

And I hope they settle this outside of court in order not to damage the teneous compromise of peace that Original creators have with fanworks inspired by their work.

And that's the tea

#bridgerton #barlow and bear #more takes on this #i hate netflix as a corporation #but they're right

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winchesterxxi · 4 years

Text

Two Left Feet (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: G ( General Audiences )

Type: Fluff

Summary: “Din wakes up just to find reader and Grogu dancing around and that goes on almost everyday since she joined them and Din seems to get used to it, but after a really hard day, reader suggests dancing with Din for the first time and he's not quite the dancer type.”

Word Count: 1.6k (short but sweet, I promise)

Warnings: Non-canonical music (for the sake of working well with the story); teaching someone with absolutely no rhythm how to dance (all my fellow dancers know the pain, and yes it is a warning)

A/N: For the sake of rhythm and story pretend the songs I’m referring to, in order, are (1) Rasputin by Boney M. (2) Tusk by Fleetwood Mac (3) Club Tropicana by Wham! (4) Moon Song by Phoebe Bridgers

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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Din was a fan of routine.

He was a man that liked peace and quiet, to lead his life with the schedule that he pleases, not having to attend to anyone else.

But the galaxy just told him no.

At first, his life was disrupted by what was by now his protegée, despite everyone calling him his son, that little green ball, over a decade older than him, Grogu.

Then, you came. It’s not that you disrupted his life per se, on the contrary, you were his salvation when it came to managing between taking care of Grogu and going on dangerous missions or fighting the Empire. But he soon found out that the peace and quiet that he had instilled in his clan of two was not going to be kept long with the clan of three.

You had a thing for the kid, a deep affection, a motherly love, if you will. Taking care of most of the mundane tasks like bathing and feeding him but the little ball really started reaching out for you more than Din because, on the particular case of your little group, it was the mom that meant fun and the dad that meant business.

Grogu loved how you would play music through the ship when Din was away, having little dance parties with him, as he sways between his tiny legs to the beat of the music.

Whenever night time came around or Din was with you, you tended to not want to disturb him as much, so you would just hum along some tunes to entertain the kid. He was particularly fond of this one tune (1) where he could clap along, giggling at the silly dance you would make.

At first, Din was not amused by it. As said before, he was a man that enjoyed peace and quiet but seeing the joy that you brought to the kid, who previously only had a little ball to entertain himself, slowly but surely started to soften his heart over time.

This one morning, stationed in some random planet after a long mission, he slid out of his cot, fully armored headed towards the sound of a rhythmic thump coming from the main deck of the ship.

It wasn’t the first time that he would wake up to the beat of a song and even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud, he preferred it a thousand times to the sound of the cockpit signals going off.

Walking towards the source of the sound (2), as it became more clear, Din leaned against the door frame as soon as he spotted the scene unfolding in front of him: you shaking your hips side to side, slightly bent down so that you could grab Grogu’s little hands, the kid laughing out loud as the two of you moved to the beat.

Noticing Din close to you Grogu coos at him, extending his hand in his direction and making grabby movements.

Looking up, you straighten your bag dancing up to where he was, maintaining your eyes fixed on the T-shaped helmet on the beskar helmet.

“Come on, old man. Join us!” You tug at his arm but he just stands straighter, reaching his full height, arms still crossed across his chest.

“I don’t dance.” his voice rumbles through the modulator. You just continue to sway your hips and move your shoulders next to him trying to at least get a small shuffle in his weight out of him, but he remains undefeated.

Just as you were about to pull him harder in your direction, the lights in the distant cockpit go off and a deafening beeping fills the Razor Crest. Din stomps past you and rushes to the panel.

“Saved by the bell.” you mutter under your breath, before pausing the music and rushing to the seat by his side, getting ready to co-pilot, not before grabbing the kid and buckling him up to your lap.

The perks of being a foundling, you ask?

People feed you, bathe you, carry you on their laps and most importantly, you don’t need to actively engage on any sort of physical activity that might reveal itself to be exhausting, say a bounty hunt.

The kid was insufferable.

It was stark dark outside of the ship and you had already tried to put him down to sleep about three times, but every single time he would just refuse to close his eyes, making sure to display his reservoir of unused energy.

If it’s tired that you need to be, it’s tired that I’m going to make you, You think to yourself.

Settling him down on the ground, your fingers reach for the control panel of the lower deck tapping in a few times before a tune (3) starts fluttering out of the rusty speakers.

The kid’s ears perked up in a flash as he giggled and started shaking to the sound of the music in the middle of the room.

You shake your head down at him, before climbing up the ladder that accessed the top deck, adjacent to the cockpit, dangling your legs from the edge, allowing you to not only keep an eye on Grogu but to also be within Din’s reach, would he need something.

You were floating through hyperspace, only the stars lighting where you sat, Din just a few feet to your right, sitting at the pilot’s chair.

“Are all kids like this?” you ask him breaking the silence, as the music below you sounded quite distant.

He turns his chair to face you, leaning against its back.

“How would I know?” he questions.

“Oh, right. Stupid question.” You laugh and shake your head down, checking on the kid, but Din maintains his eyes trained on you from under the beskar. “Next time you’re the one dancing with him to exhaustion.”

“I piratically have two left feet. That’s not happening.”

“Was that a joke?” You ask mockingly and he chuckles.

It isn’t until you beckon him closer with your finger that he moves, cautiously walking to where you sat, following your gaze and looking down at the kid who had seemingly fallen asleep from exhaustion on the floor, curled up on himself.

You both chuckle at the same time, unconsciously looking at each other only to avert your gazes as soon as your eyes met.

“I-...I’m going to put the kid down.” You avert his gaze as your cheeks were flaring up, quickly descending the ladder and picking the kid up, walking towards his improvised crib.

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bottom deck, sliding the access to the ladder closed, only to be met with Din’s right side facing you, the pilot seat facing the side of the ship. His legs crossed in front of him and his hands tucked underneath him as his arms formed an x against his chest.

This was the typical position which he used to fall asleep on the cockpit but you knew by the way his head was positioned that he wasn’t actually sleeping, but rather looking out at the stars.

Not wanting to disturb the scenery in front of you, you just rest your hip and upper body against the control panel wall, admiring the beskar hunter.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the way his voice resonated through the chamber would’ve scared you a few months ago, but instead you remained unmoved, only a smirk growing on your lips.

“A few actually.” you finger pads skim through the control panel before you smile to yourself and click on one of the tunes (4) you had recently chipped into the ship’s system.

Din’s helmet slowly turns your way, just in time to watch you slowly walk up to him, only the shine of the closest stars illuminating your figure. You looked beautiful, there was no denying that.

When your knees brushed against the side of his chair, you extend your hand down to him, inviting him to join you at a standing level.

Din gently grabs your hand and stands up to his full height, a few inches higher than you, inducing his helmet to face down at your own face.

“I told you, I don’t dance.” his voice is but a whisper, raspy and tired but so full of adoration for you that in no other setting would he let transpire through the modulator.

“You don’t have to.” You right hand trails up his arm until it comes to rest on his shoulder pad as your left fingers intertwine with his, his head shifting to follow both actions, one at a time.

“Just hold me and shift your weight from one foot to the other.” it is your time to utter but a whisper as you bring your braided hands to rest against his chest, followed by one of your temples.

It was quiet between you as you danced, his smile never fading, his fingers momentarily leaving yours only to have both of his arms around your waist, beckoning you closer against his body as you swayed to the slow strums of the music, relishing every second of it.

“Isn’t dancing easier like this?” your barely audible wouldn’t it be for his closeness to you, the sultry sound of it, mixed with the warm feeling of your body pressed against him, had his heart racing.

“I actually wouldn’t mind if every day ended like this?” his answer surprises you, but you try to hide your smile, keeping the side of your head rested against his chest.

“Are you going soft on me, Din Djarin?”

“Not a word to anyone.” You bite your lips containing a chuckle and the man in beskar repeats the action but unknowingly to you, as the beskar helmet concealed it. And you stayed there, in his embrace, and him in yours swaying through the night, every time ignoring the restart of the song, secretly hoping that the other wouldn’t complain.

Secretly hoping you could stay like this forever.

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TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77 @pedrobreakmyback

DIN DJARIN TAGLIST

@niall2017

PEDRITO TAGLIST

@weirdowithnobeardo

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Want a completely personalized imagine just for you? Click here!

#Two Left Feet #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars #fluff #star wars fluff #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader

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tedturneriscrazy · 3 years

Text

And here we are with Yesterday's Lie, the season 2A finale!

Wow, this came up quick, huh?

Anyways...

What are you doing with all that, not-Luz?

(Also, cute photo of younger Luz. She had hair!)

That musical cue when not-Luz adjusted her hair was rather unnerving

Judging by Camila's reaction to that box being set out, she wasn't lying when she said she loved Luz's creativity

Freeing the rabbit from the trap did a lot to establish more of Camila's character. I'm glad we're finally getting more of her.

OH SHIT REAL LUZ IN THE MIRROR

"Are you sure this isn't gonna blow our faces off?" "Nope!"

That's a rather eclectic collection of ingredients for the door

I wonder if Amity also provided the abomination head

Group hug❤

There's the trailer shot

You only appear in reflections, huh? Interesting...

Jeez, Luz, priorities!

(Oh who am I kidding, the fact she's still thinking about her girlfriend is adorable)

I do love it when her accent comes through

Whoops, looks like wherever this is the magic of the Isles doesn't reach

Previously unmentioned dad whose face is obscured in the photo

GASP

Spider-Man moment

Oh, voice change in not-Luz!

Classic "I ain't goin' back, man!" moment

Also, it's beta Luz's bat!

"Monster Slayer Academia" I'm not entirely sure that doesn't actually exist...

"I will never understand anime..."😂😂😂

Oh, true form time!

Vee's gonna be a fan favorite, isn't she? (I ask, full well knowing the answer)

I mean, I've already seen plenty of Luca x Owl House fan art, so I imagine that may intensify

Luz seems to be quite understanding all things considered. I suppose all the people in the "Doppelganger isn't evil, actually" camp have been vindicated.

Oh, Eda

I don't think I like that camera...

So Gravesfield, Connecticut, huh?

Welp, there's a statue of a man that's probably Philip Wittebane

Oh, partially transformed Vee is gonna be irresistible to fanartists

Witch obsessed guy? Pamphlets? Hmm...

Wait, MARILYN?! As in Stan's ex?!

(I know she wasn't actually since the two shows don't take place in the same universe, but no way that nod wasn't deliberate)

"She tried to pay for a latte with a live raccoon" Eda I'm saying this in the nicest way possible: What the fuck

Those rats...buh

"BREAD OF WISDOM GRANTS US SPEECH! WE DESIRE MORE!"

Can't say I don't relate to Vee wrt confrontation

Luz has definitely had some...previous experiences with other kids. Creepy talking rats? Yes. Human high schoolers? No thank you.

Oh, fellow campers! Luz isn't the only one who had off-screen experiences.

That reading seemed...ominous

Right...contacts...

Side note: seems like that camp doesn't stomp out weirdness as thoroughly as previously speculated

Oh shit it's Sonic the Hedgehog! I mean Warden Wrath! I mean Roger Craig Smith!

I saw someone take issue with how Vee reacted to Luz running away to the Demon Realm, but considering her past experience and trauma, her reaction is understandable

Belos I don't care how much of a foxy grandpa you are, you fucking suck

"Skin's sure weird!"

She took the day off work to drive "Luz" to camp I just😭

Whether you think camp was a bad idea or not, Camila's a good mom

Oh dear, Sonic is a conspiracy bro

I guess we know who set up that camera. And the traps.

Oh, seems Eda didn't have elixir with her on one of her trips to the human realm...

"After watching a few Mew-tube videos I learned the truth!" Yup he's a conspiracy bro. Goddamnit, Sonic!

(I can rag on Sonic the Hedgehog all I want, I've been into the games since the Genesis days, well before most of y'all were even born)

Luz having a "BOI" moment

This guy definitely watches Alex Jones. Props to the TOH crew for teaching a new generation about these conspiracy creeps.

Vee is accustomed to a life on the run, but apparently not with Luz's determination and quick thinking.

Also, all this talk about being "outed?" Yeah I'm definitely seeing the trans allegory everyone's talking about.

Now Luz turns to the one person who can help

That "boop"❤ (Now we know where Luz gets it from)

Camila not believing all the Demon Realm stuff. Shocked. SHOCKED, I say.

Well shit, Camila's been a veterinarian all this time! Don't we all have egg on our faces!

It would explain how Luz is so good with animals

Sonic the Curator sure is something, huh

The scary thing is that there are people like him in real life. Worse, even.

Okay, I know this is a dire situation, but I am enamored with Camila's mom energy here. She's adorable.

Dude with a ponytail and cardinal on his shoulder to send the theorists in a tizzy. It'll be interesting to see how this all eventually comes together.

I just realized that that's a training wand on the table

And now Camila realizes this is no game

Further props to the TOH crew for making the antagonist of the episode a crackpot white dude. This is correct.

Yup, further trans allegory. Plus a nice example of a supportive-if-not-quite-understanding-everything parent.

And there's Camila going ham on a motherfucker. Turns out there was no lie in the "Two Truths and a Lie!" Rather, the lie was that there was a lie in the first place...My brain hurts.

Oh, she can appear in the rain. That's cool!

Now is time for Real Sad Hours

The way Camila is reacting...god...it hurts...

"Is this the only way I can touch you?" STOP😢

"Staying here was the best decision I ever made!" Uh oh...

That promise is totally not gonna come back up later in the most tragic, gutwrenching way possible. Nope. Nuh uh. No way that'll happen.

Dammit, Luz, not more lies! Oh, right. The episode title.

Her face really says it all.

Well, it wasn't quite the continuous pain train we convinced ourselves it was gonna be, but that ending? Ow. I'm glad Vee has the support she needs, but my heart hurts for the Nocedas. I really hope they can resolve the issues they clearly still have, because damn.

And now we get to chew on all that for the next however many months! Hooray! I knew I said I was ready for a hiatus, but it turns out I'm a big fat liar, because I'm not! Augh!

Well, I'll try to look on the bright side: At least my sleep schedule can normalize again? Also I can cancel my Sling subscription once 6-10 drop on D+. Neither DisneyNow nor Sling are optimal VOD experiences.

#the owl house #luz noceda #camila noceda #toh vee #vee noceda #idk i've seen other people use that for her #toh season 2 spoilers #toh s2 spoilers #the owl house s2 spoilers #the owl house season 2 spoilers #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers

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princessphilly · 4 years

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Hockey Fic Exchange: Second Chance in Chicago

This is for the @hockeynetwork winter gift exchange. I was matched with my friend, @texanstarslove and it was relatively easy to give her what she wanted.

Title: Second Chance in Chicago

Player: Jonathan Toews

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 6410 words

March 2007

“Wouldja look at that? There’s the future NHL star, looking like the dork he is.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue as Rachel announced the presence of the asshole himself, Jonathan Toews. They were all sophomores at UND but he had gotten drafted third overall by the Chicago Blackhawks last year. Hockey ruled UND so the team already had a high profile. But this year’s team looked like it would do some damage in the tournament so all eyes were really on them.

Tonight, Lizzie and her friends had decided to go to a frat party at the Beta house. It was a cold early March Thursday night but she had been in the mood to party. Unfortunately, the party had been invaded by the hockey team.

Jonathan grinned, his deep brown eyes sparkling like he had already pregamed. “Hey ladies,” he greeted before grabbing Lizzie and giving her a hug.

“Ew!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away. He definitely had pregamed, he smelled like good old Vladimir vodka. He was going to have a fucking hangover tomorrow.

Jonathan pouted. “I thought we were friends, Lizzie,” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie again

“When did you think that?”

Rachel and Bethany snickered. It was a bit of a running joke, this animosity between Lizzie and Tazer. No one quite knew how it really started except it had been a freshman year hook up that ended bad. At least, that was the rumor. Ever since, Lizzie couldn’t stand Jonathan and Jonathan did every thing possible to needle her.

Lizzie flipped her hair over her shoulder before elbowing Jonathan in the ribs. Giving him an angelic smile, she ordered, “Don’t touch me.”

Being the drunken asshole he was at the moment, Jonathan leaned down and murmured in her ear, “You didn’t say that last weekend.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie pushed Jonathan away before stomping towards the keg. Jonathan shrugged as TJ and some of the other hockey players came in. She was able to avoid him for the rest of the night and even flirted with a couple of junior guys she hadn’t met. Of course, as soon as she went to get a breather from the hot party, Jonathan was already outside.

Shivering, Lizzie huddled close to the door, planning to ignore Toews. There had been a snowstorm the other day and there was a good ten inches of snow on the ground.

“Supposed to snow again tomorrow.”

Lizzie let out a loud sigh. Of course, he couldn’t respect her silent plea to be left alone. “This is North Dakota. It’s always snowing.”

Turning to her left, Lizzie looked at Jonathan. For once, he didn’t have his cocky, self-assured, ‘I’m the one in complete charge’ look on his face. He looked slightly pensive and a bit unsure. “Here, have my hoodie.”

“I don’t-,” Lizzie started to say but she relented as Jonathan put his hoodie over her head, pulling it down. She was cold as fuck, shivering in just a short-sleeved shirt and her jeans. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for several moments, breath turning into puffs of icicles before Jonathan finally broke the ice. “Ridley, really?”

“Oh, you know him?” Lizzie tensed, UND wasn’t as big as other schools but she could at least have found someone that Jonathan didn’t already know. But then, hockey ruled here and he knew more people than her so yeah, just her fucking luck.

“He’s cool.” Jonathan shrugged, suddenly feeling nervous as fuck. It really wasn’t his area to talk, he didn’t really want to be a cock-block, but fuck it. “He’s not an asshole or anything. But we both know that’s not who you really want.”

“Oh really? Who told you what I really want?”

He hadn’t really planned to do it now; Jonathan had planned to go for it next month. But he already had told coach and his teammates that he was going pro after this season, so he might as well do it. “We have unfinished business, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie froze at Jonathan’s use of her full name. He was the only one here at UND who ever used her full name. It brought back memories, those first weeks of spring semester of freshman year. Memories of doing things that would have had Momma reaching for her rosary and Papa yanking her out of UND to go into a convent. She bit out, “No, we don’t.”

“So, that’s why you called me last Saturday, asking me to come over after the game?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I was drunk,” she very primly replied, staring at her nails. She thought to herself, ‘I need a manicure.’

“Then last weekend, you came over and you definitely weren’t drunk.”

Lizzie shrugged, pretending she didn’t hear what Jonathan said. She didn’t want to admit the truth; Jonathan made her nervous. She was 19 and every time she was with him, she felt like this could be something that could be forever. But Lizzie had plans; she was planning to go east for law school, get out of North Dakota forever. This wasn’t the time to even think of settling down with anyone, especially not with Jonathan since he was going pro. Even though, her traitorous pussy reminded her, Jonathan made her cum better than anyone else and wasn’t scared to choke, bite, or spank her unlike other guys.

Jonathan growled, of course Lizzie would be acting obtuse. He wasn’t looking to settle down or anything serious, he was just about to turn 19 and about to go to Chicago in five and a half months to start his pro career. Jonathan did really like Lizzie a lot and wouldn’t be against putting a label on what was going on. Then, Lizzie got cold feet last year and had been stringing him along for over a year. It would be nice if Lizzie actually admitted that they had something going instead of being nasty to his face but fucking with him late at night.

“Okay, since you don’t want to face reality, I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair that you like to treat me like shit in public but you want me to fuck you when no one is looking.”

Lizzie opened her mouth before closing it. From the tone of voice that Jonathan had used, it sounded harsh. Like she was using him like a whore. But Jonathan wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry about my hoodie, I’ll get it before I leave.”

Jonathan turned around and went back inside of the party. Lizzie stayed outside for several more minutes, pensive. Then she harrumphed and rejoined the party, resolute that she was going to ignore Jonathan once she gave him his hoodie back.

Twelve years later

Lizzie brushed her ginger hair over her shoulder. It was weird to be ginger for the first time since she was fifteen. The past years, she had been a very faithful blonde but it was time to do something very different.

“Not bad for a rancher’s daughter.”

Lizzie twirled in her full-length mirror, admiring the way the navy-blue dress fit her body, accessorized with her diamond hoop earrings, tennis bracelet, class ring, and the brand-new patent leather heels she had managed to score on clearance at Neiman Marcus. Very much the uniform of an intellectual property litigator who had just made partner, not the yee-haw who had went to UND. But right now, as she thought about tonight, Lizzie felt like the yee-haw she tried to suppress.

Tonight, there was a fundraising cocktail hour for her firm, Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper. This would be the first one that Lizzie attended since she transferred to the Chicago office from Atlanta. She was good at gladhanding and charming people, attending Penn Law had sucked the yee-haw from Lizzie’s accent. Now, she was Elizabeth Romanelli, ready to make connections while raising funds for the Children’s Miracle Network.

Only fly in the ointment was that this fundraiser was being held at the United Center. Not only that, it was rumored that the firm was able to get a couple of players for the Blackhawks to appear. Bradley, Lewis, and Cooper did some work for the Blackhawks, mainly with local TV contracts and sponsorships. Lizzie took in a deep fortifying breath. “It has been years,’ she told herself. “There’s no need to be nervous seeing Jon again.”

She turned around and grabbed her coat. It was mid fall but the temperature dropped enough at night that Lizzie wanted to wear her coat just in case. Before she left, she looked at her left ring finger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her old wedding ring off her finger. It was a new start, time to act like it.

The fundraiser went pretty well, in Lizzie’s eyes. It was her first firm social event in Chicago so most of it was spent shaking hands, exchanging business cards, and talking some shop. There were a couple of Blackhawks players there, none of that Lizzie recognized. She admitted several times while in conversation, that she was more of a college hockey than pro hockey fan.

Then, the one person she was hoping wouldn’t show up, showed up. Lizzie worked hard not to check Jonathan out but he had the kind of presence that commanded attention. His hair was cut short and the once lanky frame had filled out completely. Lizzie smirked when she saw one of her fellow attendees lick her lips but she couldn’t blame her. Jonathan looked delicious in a black suit with a pristine white shirt, no tie. He looked like casual, dominant elegance in a hockey player package as he made his rounds the room.

“You’re lucky that your department doesn’t work with the Blackhawks on anything,” said the woman who licked her lips. Lizzie looked down and looked at her name tag, it said ‘Elise’.

“Oh why?”

Lizzie took a sip of her pinot grigio, waiting for a reply. Elise didn’t disappoint as she whispered, “He’s single and my law school loans say he would be perfect for them.”

She couldn’t resist laughing at that statement; Lizzie totally understood where Elise was coming from. But as soon as her laughter faded, there was Jonathan Toews, right in front of them. Elise looked up at him, obviously starstruck. Lizzie put her best courtroom face as she stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Romanelli. You are?”

Jonathan blinked when Lizzie introduced herself as Elizabeth Romanelli. She was Lizzie MacArthur in the flesh, all these years later. Grasping her hand, Jonathan said, “Jonathan Toews, but you know who I am.”

Jonathan kept his best PR smile on his face as he processed his thoughts. This was Lizzie, the only one who got away. She was a redhead now, not a blonde, but those green eyes were still the same. Deep green eyes that always brimmed with an intelligence that had made Jon feel like he was an idiot when they first met at UND.

“Oh, how do you two know each other?”

Lizzie managed to keep her expression completely neutral while Jon reddened a bit. He dropped her hand as he said, “We went to college together.”

“Where was that,” Elise innocently asked and Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was truly curious or if she was being a bit catty.

“I went to University of North Dakota with Mr. Toews for undergrad,” Lizzie said. “Then I did Penn Law.”

Elise replied, “Oh. I remember reading that once.”

Lizzie refused to roll her eyes as Jon made small talk about the hockey season with Elise. Spotting a waiter, Elise raised her hand for another glass of wine. Tonight, was looking like it was about to be long. Before she could make her escape, Elise exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Mr. Schmidt, I need to talk to him! It was so nice to meet you and talk to you, Mr. Toews, Ms. Romanelli.”

Lizzie sighed as she scampered away, leaving her alone with Jonathan.

“Long time, no see,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water. Tomorrow was a game night and while he enjoyed drinking, he had no interest in doing anything that would keep him out of peak performance. But looking at Lizzie, he wished he had something stronger. The years had done her good; she looked curvier, stronger, hotter. He felt his pants tighten and Jonathan thought of his smelly hockey gear to deflate his hard on.

Lizzie stroked the curve of her new wine glass before replying, “I know. Wasn’t necessarily planned.”

“Romanelli?”

“I was married,” Lizzie’s smile tightened.

Jonathan quickly replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything that would make you feel- “

“It’s okay, let’s not go there, okay. Before you ask, I’m a widow.” Lizzie looked down at her wine. It had been long enough that she knew she wouldn’t break down but it was awkward to talk about it with her first college hookup/almost boyfriend. After all these years, Jonathan still had an affect on her. She felt a bit lightheaded but her once dormant libido had flared up as soon as they shook hands. It was as if her body had decided that someone worthy was nearby and it was time.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated, his voice low as he ran his fingers through his short hair. It was a bit overwhelming seeing Lizzie again but he was already damn sure that he needed to see her again. As they exchanged pleasantries, Jon moved on to another group at the fundraiser. But every now and then, he made sure to catch her in the crowd.

At the end of the night, he was finally able to get Lizzie alone, again. “Now that you’re in Chicago, why don’t we go out? As old friends?”

Lizzie laughed as she waited for her coat. “We weren’t old friends and you know it.”

“But who said that we can’t be at least friends now?”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a big smile while she scoffed, “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me all night that you aren’t interested in being just friends.”

“How was I looking at you?”

Jonathan leaned into Lizzie as he noticed that Seabs was nearby. While he loved Seabs as a brother, he didn’t want him to have any idea of what he was planning, yet.

Lizzie batted her lashes at Jonathan before replying, “Like you never seen a woman before. I have to keep the conversation business casual but we both know what I’d really like to say.”

“Then, you should let me have your phone number.”

“Smooth, Toews,” Lizzie commented. “Very smooth.”

“I try.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself; as Lizzie received her coat from the coat check, he helped her put it on.

“Wow, I don’t know if you’re actually a gentleman now or if you’re trying to get points,” Lizzie quipped.

Jonathan gave her an aw-shucks grin and a shrug. Despite her better judgment, Lizzie figured that it couldn’t hurt. She didn’t really know anyone yet in Chicago and it would be nice to talk to someone who she at least knew from college. But she didn’t want to openly give it to Jonathan so she took the moment to turn and grab paper and a pen from a table. Writing her number and snap down, she slid it into Jonathan’s pocket.

“There, now you can never say I never gave you anything.”

Lizzie turned and sauntered away. Jonathan fished through his pockets and grabbed the paper, grinning and laughing to himself.

Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit. He knew how to attempt to get a woman’s attention. The flowers were a nice touch; not too ostentatious and he was smart enough not to attach his name to them. But Lizzie knew exactly who they were from because there were exactly nineteen pink and nineteen white roses in Monday’s bouquet. Yesterday’s bouquet was a set of nineteen purple flowers that after she looked them up, Lizzie found out that they were purple columbine. Today’s bouquet involved nineteen white camelias and nineteen red chrysanthemums.

“This guy must really like you.”

Lizzie turned around to see Peter, her paralegal. He was pointing at the flowers, a pensive look on his face.

“Really? He just wants my attention.” Lizzie dismissively waved towards the flowers but inwardly, she was loving it.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever you say. Anyway, I have five messages from the managing partners.”

“I already know what they want and I already reviewed the files and sent them to Kristin, Jacques, and Malik. They are working on the briefs for the arbitration and they should all be done by the end of the work day. I will prep my own opening argument myself for the hearing when we are done talking. You can quote everything I just said in your email,” Lizzie stated with a smile on her face. This was her first arbitration hearing at the Chicago office with her new associates working under her. But she knew it would go well.

“But the flowers. I’d look them up, Ms. Romanelli. He’s sending you a message with each bouquet. Especially that first one with those kind of pink roses, maiden blush roses? Oh, he’s definitely telling you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Lizzie brushed Peter off, her mind already back on work. However, she messaged Jon later, I like jasmine, lily of the valley, the most.

The next day, there was a bouquet with yellow jasmine, lily of the valley, and red pink flowers, the number adding to 19 and a note, looking forward to seeing you tonight.

Lizzie was still a mystery and Jonathan was desperate to figure her out. This was their sixth date and every time he felt like he was getting closer to her, Lizzie pulled back. Jon understood but at the same time, he was getting annoyed. He was also horny as fuck and trying very hard not to let his cock dictate his actions.

Tonight, Lizzie wore a little black dress with strappy heels to dinner and all Jonathan could think of was having Lizzie wear those heels while he fucked her hard and fast. It took all his willpower to keep the conversation light during dinner as his traitorous brain filled with all kinds of dirty images. Now, they were having post dinner drinks at a place Kaner had suggested. It was very intimate, the kind of place for seduction. Unfortunately, Jonathan thought, there would probably be no seduction tonight as he stood on the wall with Lizzie.

“I intentionally wore these for you.”

Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes at Jon’s dumbfounded expression. She wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly the kind of affect she had on men. Lizzie had to give Jonathan credit; he was doing a good job of not being a stupid hornball.

“I love them,” Jonathan drawled before taking a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. He told himself to be patient, as they continued to talk but after another half-hour talking about football, Jon finally broached the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you,” Lizzie countered. She went out on a couple of dates with a couple of different guys when the Blackhawks were out of town because, in her mind, she was still a free agent. Doing that actually made Lizzie feel more comfortable with going out with Jonathan. Not that the other dates were bad but Lizzie had to admit to herself that there was still something more with Jonathan.

“No,” Jonathan admitted. His DMs were full on all social media so he could go out with anyone he wanted if he truly felt like it. But right now, he really was just interested in Lizzie.

“That’s nice.”

Lizzie twirled the straw in her cocktail. Jonathan thought about what to say but ended up blurting out, “I still think about some of the things we did.”

“Woooooooow.”

Blushing, Lizzie bit her lip. Some of those memories had come back since she had seen Jonathan again. Some of those things that had seemed extra sinful at eighteen and nineteen were mainstream these days. Plus, Greg had tried but he didn’t have that same aura that teenage Jonathan had. Adult Jonathan had that dominant aura in spades and it was tempting.

Lizzie added, “And?”

Jonathan moved closer to Lizzie, his big body bracketing hers, his monotone voice even deeper, “You remember when I tied you up the first time?”

“That was…. interesting,“ Lizzie replied. She felt flushed, that memory now in her brain. They had been fumbling around and Jonathan had tied her up before making her beg and scream his name. But the knot had got stuck and after he cut her out, Lizzie had chafed skin on both of her wrists. “It was an interesting experiment.”

Jonathan licked his lips. He noticed that Lizzie was flushed, her body leaning towards his. It was almost heady, the tension, he could taste it. So, he decided to press into the attack.

“We’ve both grown up now. I mean, I know what I love to do in the bedroom and I’m not a teen boy fumbling around.”

Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Jonathan’s pronouncement. Steeling her face so that she looked impassive, inwardly she was freaking out a bit. Jonathan had been pretty good fuck in college, better than the rest of her boyfriends before she married Greg. But this Jonathan, three times Stanley Cup winner and hockey superstar Jonathan, he seemed lethal.

And he knew it as he gave Lizzie a little smirk and a wink.

“Don’t worry Lizzie, no one is going to judge you now if you like a little pain. I definitely won’t. You know I liked giving it to you when we were experimenting.”

Exasperated, Lizzie exclaimed, “You’re still so arrogant! I seriously doubt you’d have a chance to fuck me again.”

Jonathan moved closer and Lizzie backed up, backing into the wall. Jonathan got close enough that Lizzie could smell his expensive cologne but far enough that she could easily move away if she wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re still lying to yourself all these years later,” Jonathan murmured, his dark brown eyes looking black. “But I’m patient, I can still wait. You still want me and I’ve always wanted you.”

Lizzie bit her lip and Jonathan resisted the urge to groan. He had thought that he had forgotten her but just meeting her again two months ago had brought back those old feelings. Now, he was getting tired of playing cat and mouse but from what he had learned from TJ and Ridley, Jonathan was trying to be careful and tactical with his advances. He at least managed to get her to go out with him. His cock could wait.

Of course, after telling himself that, images from a decade ago filled his head. Ignoring them, Jonathan instead taunted, “Nothing to say? I never thought lawyers could be rendered speechless.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie reached out and touched Jonathan’s sweater. It was super soft and felt like it was made from the finest cashmere. She finally replied, voice low and soft, “Why am I so attracted to you? This shouldn’t really be happening.”

“Fate.”

It was a very simple reply as Jonathan grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her hand, just a brief touch of closed lips to skin. But it felt like electricity coursed through both of them. Jonathan recovered first before giving Lizzie a devilish smile. “Night, night Elizabeth.”

***

“He’s way too smooth.”

Lizzie took in a deep breath as she watched the first snowfall of the year through her office window. Rachel’s laughter at her complaint registered super loud over her ear pod.

Rachel commented, “Of course he is, he’s had over a decade of practice. I can’t believe he’s still interested; I think Jon has dated models and he could date anyone. You’re lucky as hell, Lizzie.”

Lizzie pouted as she moved away from the window. “I don’t know if I want to be lucky.”

“Well, I remember all of the sneaking around you’d did when we were in college. You had no problems fucking him in private.”

“RACHEL!! Oh, my Gawd, you knew that?!?”

Lizzie put her hand on her forehead, mortified. She thought she had been cautious.

Rachel chuckled before continuing, “No one else figured it out. But it was obvious that sparks were flying. And then Jon goes pro and you end up dating around until you met Greg. But you never were as happy as you were freshman spring.”

Lizzie sighed, feeling a headache beginning to start. “Greg, you know I loved Greg.”

“I know honey, if you hadn’t, I would have seriously considered stopping the wedding,” Rachel consoled. “And he did help you escape the ranch and your parents’ plans.”

“I’ve been a widow for 3 years and this is the first time I’ve been attracted to a man,” Lizzie blurted out. Her cheeks reddened as she realized her admission.

There was an extended pause before Rachel finally replied. “Then you should go for it. Greg wouldn’t want you to give up on sex because he’s gone.”

Lizzie flipped through the messages on her work phone as she pondered Rachel’s words.

“I gotta go, Alyssa is about done with school and the baby should be up any minute. Stop thinking and just fuck him. Just remember to put color corrector and concealer over any marks Jonny leaves on you.”

Lizzie exclaimed, “Rachel,” but she had already hung up. Checking her personal phone for messages, Lizzie grinned when she saw she had a snap from Jon. Opening the snap, she saw a photo of Jon signing jerseys and picks with a note of can’t wait to give you one.

Lizzie responded; too bad I’ll be too busy to get one for the next couple of weeks

Lizzie put her phone down, ready to focus on her work before getting a new message from Jon. I told u I can be patient.

Lizzie looked down at her list of pros and cons. All the pros were reasons why she should fuck Jonathan: get rid of all the unresolved tension from college, he’s an already proven great fuck, probably the best guy to be her first fuck since Greg passed away. The cons were that he was Jonathan Toews, he was famous, and he did have the ability to be an asshole. Her skeptical side told Lizzie that she probably couldn’t keep it casual but the other side was like, was that a bad thing?

Shaking her head, Lizzie pulled on a pair of jeans before putting on a sweater. The Blackhawks were back in town and last night, she went to the game courtesy of Jonathan. Lizzie had taken Elise with her and they enjoyed the Blackhawks winning against the Flames. It was actually fun as Lizzie explained some of the finer points of hockey, such as power plays, penalty kills, offsides, and the fact that all refs in all sports were absolutely awful. Tonight, she actually told Jon she would come over after they saw a movie.

Lizzie was curious about where Jonathan lived. She knew it was in an area called Lincoln Park; she lived in the outskirts of the North Side. Her student loans from law school demanded payment so Lizzie moved in the nicest area she could afford, in a gentrifying neighborhood. “Get a taste of how the rich live tonight,” Lizzie said to herself. However, she did put on a matching pair of underwear just in case she decided to do more.

Jonathan looked at Lizzie as the car pulled up to his place. He had been on his best behavior tonight; no sly comments, etc. after last time. But Lizzie had been cuddly during the movie and now, she… he couldn’t read her actions.

Jon entered his code and led Lizzie inside. “Very nice,” Lizzie commented as they walked through the first floor of his place.

“Oh wow, you have my favorite flowers,” Lizzie exclaimed as they walked into his kitchen. There was a vase with Spanish Jasmine flowers.

Jonathan shrugged even though he was inwardly pleased. He had ordered them this afternoon, a rush order when Lizzie said she would come over. Now she was here and he felt at a loss. His cock said to seduce her, his brain said to wait for her cues and see if she was actually interested. Jonathan grabbed two cups and got himself and Lizzie a glass of water before guiding her back into the living room.

“More movies,” Lizzie teased as she made herself comfortable on his leather couch.

Jonathan shook his head no, suddenly nervous as he cut on the TV. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

Lizzie smirked as she watched indecision on Jonathan’s face. Tonight, had been their first date since that conversation and it was obvious that Jonathan was still very interested but didn’t want to do anything that seemed pushy. Lizzie thought at first it was because they were out in public but she realized that if she wanted to actually go there again, she would have to bring it up.

“What are you thinking about, Jon,” Lizzie asked, intentionally shortening his name.

Jonathan put his arms on the back of the couch and mentally said fuck it. “Do you want to good answer or the dirty answer?”

“Dirty answer?”

Lizzie grinned as Jonathan gulped then groaned.

“I keep looking at your ass in those jeans and I want to grab it so bad,” Jonathan admitted. Lizzie looked at his big hands and she decided that tonight was the night.

“You can grab it, if you want?”

“Huh, what?”

Jonathan looked so dumbfounded that Lizzie giggled. “I said you can grab it. That’s another way of saying, you can touch me.”

“Are you sure,” Jonathan asked, locking eyes with Lizzie.

Lizzie rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand. “I came here with the full intent of getting fucked. But if you aren’t interested, that’s okay and we can hang out before I go home.”

“Oh, do you really want me to fuck you?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as Lizzie flung her hair behind her shoulder. “I want you to kiss me, eat my pussy, maybe I’ll suck your cock, and then fuck me, if you want to get precise.”

“Goddamn,” Jonathan breathed. “Fuck, then why don’t you sit in my lap?”

Lizzie climbed into his lap before locking eyes with Jonathan again. His deep brown eyes looked nearly black and he had stubble all around his jaw. She traced his jaw with her fingers before running her fingers through his hair. His voice a deeper monotone, Jonathan murmured, “I’m not going to bite, unless you want me to do that.”

Instead of replying, Lizzie brushed her lips over Jonathan’s, once, then twice. Then she leaned down and nipped his lip. “I like biting,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. Jonathan’s arms came around her waist, keeping Lizzie in place as he began to take over the lazy kiss. Need stretched through their kisses, tongues interacting as over a decade apart melted away. Then Jonathan pulled away. Lizzie reached to pull her sweater off but Jonathan stopped her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in forever on a couch, at least not this time.”

Lizzie laughed as Jonathan picked her up and nearly ran to his bedroom. She didn’t even get a chance to look around and admire before he was on her. Jonathan’s hands were all over her body as he desperately kissed her. Before Lizzie realized it, her sweater and bra were off and so was Jonathan’s hoodie and t-shirt. She could feel his rock-hard abs against her body as Jonathan rolled so that Lizzie was on top.

“Your tits are still fucking amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie beamed as Jonathan gently kneaded them in his hands.

He murmured, “They are still so sensitive,” as her nipples hardened quickly in his fingers, watching Lizzie’s changes in expression. “So, you’ll tell me right away if I do something you don’t like?”

“Like what,” Lizzie asked.

Jonathan lightly grabbed her throat, something they had never done before but something he had learned that he liked to do. “Like that.”

“Mmmm, this is good,” Lizzie replied. Choking was one of the kinks she had explored with Greg and that she missed.

“Fuck, you got dirtier,” Jonathan stated before rolling Lizzie under him again.

“Why don’t you stop talking and undress me some more,” Lizzie ordered.

Jonathan laughed before idly replying, “Normally, I wouldn’t let you tell me what to do but we haven’t even negotiated that yet. And we aren’t, not tonight.”

Lizzie’s giggled as she shimmied out of her jeans. But those giggles were replaced with moans when Jonathan’s fingers brushed her upper and inner thighs before stroking her pussy through her panties. “So wet for me.”

He had planned to go slow but Jonathan was pretty sure that wasn’t happening, at least not for this first round. He needed to be deep inside of Lizzie, back where he belonged. Jonathan stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers, revealing his very hard cock. Lizzie reached up and ran a hand over his cock before pumping it with both hands.

“I’m not going to last that long,” Jonathan warned as Lizzie began to jerk him off. “I want to cum deep inside of your pussy, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my God,” Lizzie breathed. There was something in the way that Jonathan said her full name, it made her pussy drip even more.

Jonathan reached into his night stand and grabbed a condom. “Be a good girl and put this on me.”

Lizzie took the condom from Jonathan’s hands and opened it. Then she guided it over his cock with a wicked grin on her face. Leaning back on her elbows, Lizzie smirked at Jonathan before sucking her lip into her mouth. “Fuck me, Jonathan.”

Jonathan growled as Lizzie spread her legs, showing him just how wet and ready she was for him. Pulling a leg up and over his shoulder, Jonathan entered Lizzie slowly, making sure she felt every inch. Lizzie moaned, her hands grabbing anywhere they could on Jon as he fucked her, slow soft strokes turning harder with each thrust.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Lizzie groaned as Jonathan gave her a harder thrust, hips grinding with each stroke.

Jonathan managed to reply, “Your pussy still feels like it was made for me.”

He was already close and Jonathan couldn’t hold off even though he could tell that Lizzie wouldn’t cum with him this time. Jonathan’s lips found Lizzie’s as he kissed her while he came. Lizzie let Jonathan ride his high out, she could feel that she was getting closer but she wasn’t there.

Jonathan slumped against Lizzie for a couple moments before withdrawing from her pussy. He took off the condom, telling Lizzie, “Stay there.”

Dumping the condom into the trash, Jonathan pulled Lizzie to the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs, Jonathan knelt in between, fingers spreading her folds. Then his tongue licked her clit and Lizzie arched off the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Jonathan cooed as he played with her clit. Then he dove in, licking her juices from her pussy before tongue-fucking Lizzie’s entrance. His fingers continued to roll her clit with light pressure, enough to keep Lizzie on the edge but not enough to get her to cum. Then Jon sucked her clit into her mouth and bit it very lightly, enough of a shock to get Lizzie to cum with a scream, fingers grabbing sheets to hold on for dear life. Jonathan muttered something in French as Lizzie rode out her high. Then she fell asleep with a light snore.

Lizzie laid on the bed, her hair fanned out around her head, body too depleted to move yet. But she peeled herself up as Jonathan was sitting up next to her, a MacBook in his lap.

“Wow, what time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight,” Jonathan replied. He had changed into a pair of sweats and Lizzie licked her lips. He looked really good in gray sweats.

She shrugged. “At least it’s Saturday.”

“I cleaned you up after you passed out.”

Jonathan gave Lizzie a wicked grin as she blushed. “It’s been a while,” she replied.

Lizzie got up and Jonathan pointed to his left, indicating that was the way to get to the bathroom. Lizzie stepped inside of the master bathroom, still too tired to check it out. After taking care of business and washing her hands, Lizzie walked back into Jonathan’s bedroom. Jonathan handed her a t-shirt and said, “You’re too tired to attempt to drive home. You can stay here; I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“I like cumming so you don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

Lizzie gave Jon a saucy smile while he groaned.

Let yourself be happy. Find that guy again, the one who was before me. I just want you to be happy, don’t shrivel up and die because I’m gone.

Lizzie looked at the note, last note from Greg before he passed from non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her wedding ring was on next to it, the simple gold band twinkling in the late winter sun.

Today was her seventh month since her move to Chicago, fifth since she met Jonathan for the first time in years. Tonight, she was going to the game, Elise going with her but this time, they were going to sit with the WAGs. Lizzie had met Jonathan’s closest friends and teammates and it was obvious that there was something happening between them. But Lizzie felt the need to look at this one more time.

“I’m going to be happy, Greg,” Lizzie whispered before putting her old wedding ring and the note in a box, setting it next to a vase of nineteen red tulips that Jon had given her. Then she pulled her hair into a ponytail, sent all work calls on her work phone to voicemail. Picking up her personal phone, Lizzie smiled as she looked at the text from Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to run this time. She was going to embrace a future with Jonathan.

#hockeynetwork #Jonathan Toews #smut #angst #drabbles #blurbs #blackhawks #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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kenrik · 3 years

Text

I owe my fellow GoUta fans two fics.

I just lack like 5% of each oneshots. It’s been sitting on my lappy for a while now~! Hehe~

In the Car Outside

Utahime has to work on a client project supervised by the annoying dick from their head office.

Violin Lessons! (Sequel)

Unhappy that his colleague brainwashed his precious students, Gojo-sensei visits Kyoto Tech to win over its students.

Keep reading for excerpts. Might upload within the day though.

In the Car Outside

When Utahime finds out that that dick from their head office was at their branch party, she starts to snarl in irritation. And when he starts to walk to her for some unknown reason, she seethes and walks away with her drink.

The whole night -

Her eye twitched.

That whole night, she'd find that idiot's gaze at her. And if she hadn't been cautious of him, he would've approached her again.

Why was he even here? She frowned in annoyance.

They haven't spoken yet, and already, he was giving her a headache.

Finally, just when she thinks things couldn't get any worse, their partner climbs up the stage, taps on the mic to call everyone's attention, and introduces the new regional director.

And Utahime almost spat her drink when Gojo Satoru was called to the stage.

This idiot, Utahime snarled; he walks up the steps to the platform. His hair disheveled. His grin, wide and cocky. His tie loosened and the buttons on his shirt, undone.

He looked like a fool up there beside their partner who wore a proper coat and tie for the occasion.

"Thanks for the intoduction, oji-chan~!" (old man/grandfather) He playfully smacked the man's broad back.

Oh, my god. Utahime covered her mouth in disbelief, in secondhand embarrassment. This moron!!

"I'm looking forward to working with all of you~!" He grinned at the crowd wide and happily.

Utahime narrowed her eyes at him up at the stage, as he held up the drink in his hand to cheer in their new year;

Was that, she held her throbbing head; was he seriously holding up a chocolate milk box??

Before she could recover from the headache that was Gojo Satoru, her firm's partner approached her and by god's will, they finally meet.

And Utahime could barely keep herself from grimacing at the wide grin on his stupid face.

"Oji-chan tells me you're heading the Gouto merger." He leans back on his heels and smiles, biting the straw of his chocolate drink.

"I am." Utahime hissed at him.

And Gojo could only raise his brows in confusion, intrigued by her unabashed vitriol.

"We'll work closely then."

"I guess." Utahime snarled.

And the second nothing was said, she simply walks away with a frown.

"She really hates me, huh?" Gojo chuckled as he watched her leave, honestly wondering if she was one of his many stilted lovers. If she was, he tilted his head as he gave her a look over, he'd be sure to remember.

He couldn't pinpoint it. So, he walks to her.

And he laughs when she starts walking away, as she's been doing the whole night.

Then, when she runs into a corner, stuck in place by a crowd of their coworkers, he laughs at her red face.

"Did we sleep together?" He finally asks her rather innocently, when they're standing to the side of the room. He was interested himself, surely; surely if they slept together, he'd remember.

He raises his brows at the growing flush on her face.

Surely, he'd remember if he slept with her. And definitely, their tryst would have a repeat. Once, maybe twice.

He looks her over again.

Thrice. Definitely.

"You idiot," Utahime hissed, clenching her fist to keep from hitting his stupid head. "We met at a conference years ago! And you kept disrepecting hierarchy!"

"You were an idiot junior then." She sneers at him, remembering what a headache he was as a pompous new graduate who thought he was the king of the world. "But, I guess you're still an idiot now." She frowns.

And Gojo's eyes light up.

"Utahime!!"

Utahime didn't know whether she was glad he remembered her.

She frowns bitterly at the happy grin on his face and decides it didn't make her happy at all.

They've only ever met once before, in a conference in New York. And they barely spoke. But she saw him. She saw how much of a shameless, loud fool he was.

"What happened to your face?" He laughed and tried to touch her scar; to which she swatted his hand away and hissed. This only made Gojo laugh even more. "You're still the same feral cat!!"

"I'm your senior, you moron!" She cried in disbelief. How could he not have changed after all these years?!

"So what?" He laughed at her. "I outrank you now too!"

Then, he points to himself and revels at Utahime's fuming face.

"I'm your boss now." He snickers, grinning in victory when Utahime could say no more.

"I'm still older than you!" She thinks to add at the last minute. And Gojo just loses it and starts laughing out loud.

"So what?!" He guffawed. He shook and wheezed and laughed at her vermillion face.

This bastard! Utahime clenched her fists, she writhed in anger. Close to shoving this stupid man in front of their entire office.

This moron was just. Too. Loud!!!

Violin Lessons! (Sequel)

This idiot is too loud. Mai grimaced as she stepped on the batting mat, with Yuuji crouched down behind her, ready to catch missed pitches. And just behind them, the idiot Tokyo School sensei kept snickering for some stupid reason.

Turning her gaze ahead, her frown sours even more at the sight of her sister.

Tokyo people were the worst. She thought as she hit Maki's pitch and ran to first base.

Miwa! She pumped herself up as she walked to the batting mat, gripping her bat tightly. You can do it! You can score a point for your team!

Maki smirks at her.

And she could feel her idol's gaze at her.

Hm. Miwa pursed her lips and flushed.

She misses the pitch and Gojo-sensei cries out instantly. "Strike!!"

And in the distance, she knots her brows - she could hear Iori-sensei's enraged, frustrated, and utterly disappointed cries.

Miwa, she shook her head and frowned. Why are you so useless?

Come the seventh-inning stretch, Utahime stomped her foot at her team and told their grumbling faces to huddle up.

They could only wonder why she was all riled up and way stricter over their performance during a baseball game than their matches from the previous day...

"Todo?!"

Todo looked up from his phone, from the comforting images of his beloved Takada-chan.

"What?" He turned to her with a sour frown.

Utahime's eye twitched at the pitiful sight before her.

"Win this match, and I'll buy you that ridiculously expensive Takada-chan body pillow."

Flames engulfed Todo's eyes in a burning passion.

And Utahime massaged her temple.

Everyone around her were just complete headaches.

"Uta-hime~!"

Here was another one. She glared in annoyance.

The Kyoto students flinch at the sight of Gojo-sensei casually stepping into their side of the park, while they were all crouched together and planning out their game.

"What do you think you're doing here?!" Their sensei cried at the grinning idiot in disbelief. "Are you seriously spying on our play?!" She stomped her foot and gave him a menacing scowl, firmly standing her ground even when she was a good foot shorter that him.

They all frown at the sight of their teachers arguing once again.

And when Gojo-sensei steps closer to their sensei, tall and leering down at her with a smirk, Momo narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

Wasn't this guy getting too close? She glared. From her angle, it looked like the fool stole a kiss from her fuming sensei. And had Utahime not been yelling his ear off about boundaries and staying on your lane, she wouldn've thought he really did.

"What?" Gojo-sensei waved his hand at his furious colleague and laughed to her face. "Your team's too weak to even spy on." He sniggered and casually ducked as she shrieked in rage and threw her cap at him. "I just came for water!"

Their sensei flinched. And they could only narrow their eyes as their gazes followed the oddball sensei in suspicion.

"What the hell?!" Their sensei cried in disbelief, stomping after the man who went ahead to the benches and grabbed a thermos. "There's a jug of water over there?!" Utahime points a heated finger across the part, at Tokyo Tech's side of the park where the students were lounging around and drinking.

"This yours, right?" The Tokyo Tech's sensei ignored her and simply wagged the thermos in his hand.

"It is!" Their sensei cried. And they twitch at the questionable sight before them.

Then, their eyes widen, their face pale in horror when, with their sensei yelling in indignation, the idiot sensei Gojo Satoru took a drink from their beloved sensei's water bottle.

"What the hell?!!" The livid woman cried.

And with a snicker, the other sensei raises the thermos at her, "You thirsty?" He offered. And Utahime just puffed red and yelled and cried at his shamelessness.

"Nice job, minna-san~!" Gojo-sensei turns to the shocked, stricken, horrified Kyoto Tech students as he returned Utahime's jug on the bench.

And they grimace, and they seethed, and they writhed in pure, utter rage.

What. The. Hell.

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime #fanfic #wip

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dessarious · 4 years

Text

Guilt and Consequences Pt10

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

“Mme. Bustier, Marinette is forcing Lila to sit with her instead of in her assigned seat.” The bell hadn’t even rung yet and Lila was about two seconds from either trying to slap some sense into Alya or just grabbing Marinette and leaving. She was fairly certain Marinette’s parents wouldn’t mind if she decided they both needed a mental health day.

“Is that true Lila?” The teacher’s tone was concerned but she gave Marinette a disappointed look that made Lila even more annoyed. She’d already decided Marinette was somehow to blame for this, just like everything else.

“No.” That was it. No one seemed to be able to respond immediately. Alya just glared at them. Finally the teacher cleared her throat.

“Then why exactly are you sitting there rather than your normal spot?” Lila debated for barely a second before saying screw it and going with obnoxiously blunt.

“Because I refuse to have my back to a bunch of psychopaths who planned and carried out an attack on a fellow classmate.” The room exploded. It was funny if she was being honest. Max and Kim both looked a bit guilty so she had hope their conversation had done something. Alix was glaring at the floor so her she was less certain about. Everyone else was either trying to yell at each other or Marinette. Then there was Adrien, who kept giving the both of them disappointed looks. He really needed to stop that before she did something stupid. She watched as the teacher tried and failed to bring the class back to order. Honestly, Lila was surprised she even tried.

“Marinette’s obviously threatening her!” Lila just blew out a frustrated breath as half the class immediately agreed with Alya’s insanity. She moved to better block Marinette from their angry muttering, or worse, and tried to come up with something, anything, to make them see the truth. Time for someone else to get thrown under the bus.

“Ask Adrien. He knows I’ve been lying, just like Marinette said. He saw Ladybug call me out for it. He told her not to tell all of you.” The entire room went silent as one by one they turned to look at the model. The ‘oh shit’ look on his face was more satisfying than it should have been, but she didn’t bask in it long because she needed to see how the rest of them were likely to fall. Kim and Max looked even more guilty and Alex was glaring at Adrien had enough he should have felt it. Juleka and Rose both just seemed stunned. The rest were far harder to read and she wasn’t that great at it in the first place.

“Lila just needed attention, she would have stopped once she got it.” Lila just started cursing internally. It was bad enough he decided that she had the same motivation as him, but the fact that a good portion of the class seemed to be ready to agree with him just made her blood pressure go up.

“No I wouldn’t have. I’m not trying to make friends. I’m not trying to get people to like me. I don’t care what any of you think of me because all I want is to go back to homeschooling were I don’t have to deal with stupid drama like this. I’m not you Agreste and I have no tolerance for fools which is what all of you have proven to be.” Most of them looked stunned except for Chloe who just sat there with a smug smirk. She didn’t even want to guess what that was about.

“Now that’s rather harsh Lila, you should apologize.” She just pinned the teacher with a bland look.

“I will not. You’re worse than them. You’re supposed to be the ringleader of this circus and keep everyone in line. Not once did you check my excuses for being absent. Not once did you ask for or receive a doctor's note for one of my medical issues. I don’t even understand how you’re still employed except for the fact that the principal is just as negligent as you are.” This time even Chloe was looking at her like she had a screw loose but she didn’t care. Unfortunately she wasn’t accomplishing what she wanted to either. Her goal was to get them to hate her instead of Marinette but too many of them were still giving her looks of pity. This was insanely frustrating.

“Look whatever it is you don’t have to worry. We know you’re a good person and we’ll still be your friends.” For the love of… Alya would not give up this nonsense. She was done with this. Lila stood, pulling Marinette with her and headed for the door.

“Lila what are you doing?” Marinette sounded slightly panicked.

“I’m taking you home so we can talk to your parents about a safer environment so you don’t get assaulted and I don’t get Akumatized.” She was trying to keep her emotions in check but it wasn’t something she was good at. She was also dead certain this subject wouldn’t be dropped until one or both of those things happened. They were almost out the front gate before she heard someone running after them.

“Lila! Why would you do that? Marinette tell her she can’t just say things like that and get everyone all upset.” Lila was perfectly willing to keep walking but Marinette stopped.

“She’s her own person Adrien and I’m not going to suggest she keep lying or do anything she’s not comfortable with just to make you feel more comfortable. I made the mistake of agreeing to keep quiet against my better judgement to make you happy because I wasn’t certain of my motives. Lila doesn’t have that problem, and I don’t either anymore. I’m sorry you don’t like what’s happening but this isn’t about you. And it isn’t about them either. Lila is doing what’s best for her.” Adrien actually stomped his foot.

“That’s just selfish. You can’t just let her hurt everyone with no better reason than that.” Lila was watching Marinette’s face, fully expecting her to cave. Not because it was Adrien either, just because she always seemed to put others first, regardless of the cost. Instead her expression hardened.

“Why not? It’s exactly what I let you do.” She turned and headed to the bakery and Lila was stunned enough that she didn’t move right away. When she saw the shocked expression on Adrien’s face she could help but laugh before she followed Marinette to the bakery.

“I think you broke him.” It was supposed to be a joke but Marinette just let out a tired sigh.

“I just wish I’d seen it sooner. I wish I’d done what I knew was the right thing.”

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

@readeracctagmepls @aestheticnpoetic @akana-sama @schrodingers25 @runestarchild @paradoxal-occurance @heaven428 @animegirlweeb @deepestobservationwombat @iggy-of-fans @yin-390 @thehufflepuffranger-blog @trippingovermyfeet @misslenamooney @ladybug-182 @zalladane @pale-lady-dreamer @smolplantmum @peachedpocky @bezzy-d @naoryllis @sassakitty @18-fandoms-unite-08

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #lila redemption

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justasparkwritings · 4 years

Text

March: Too Scared

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Hoseok always plans on going on epic adventures with you... and it’s not his fault his fight or flight response happens to lean towards flight, resulting in you being left alone... again and again.

Written for #thebtswritersclub monthly challenge

Your red and blue jumpsuit hangs off your frame, a size down and it would be too small, a size up and there’d be too much fabric, a hazard in this environment. Your helmet, in contrast, fits snuggly over your cranium, safety goggles protecting your eyes from the impending devastating winds. At this moment, you’ve completed the preliminary training and are waiting with your fellow divers for your chance in the tube. Earplugs already in, it takes you a minute to register that he’s trying to talk to you. It’s his hand aggressively tapping your shoulder that brings your eyes to his.

He takes off his helmet, and your stomach drops. Adrenaline left your blood stream as you watched him. His eyes begged of you to take yours off, and you did, if only to hear your disappointment more clearly.

“I don’t want to do this. I’m too scared,” He informed you.

“You wanted to do this!” You snapped.

“I changed my mind!”

“The deposit is paid, we have to,”

“It’s too scary, no,”

“You’re being-

“Don’t say it,”

“So difficult, my god!” You stood up from the bench, moving to the back corner of the waiting area and away from the other two people in your group.

“I’m scared! Aren’t you?” He asked.

“I wasn’t until you started chickening out.” You said.

“I’m just, afraid, okay?”

“Hoseok,” Your voice was a warning, a siren that couldn’t be overwhelmed by the voracious faux winds being created twenty feet from you. “You promised.”

“Come on, baby, please, let’s just, not and say we did?” He begged.

“You can wait in the car. I’m still doing it.” You quickly moved out of his reach and sat back down, placing your earplugs back in, and securing your helmet over your head.

Hoseok, unwilling to sit in the car and not watch you, decided to sit to the side, staring in awe as you “flew” in the indoor skydiving chamber, legs steady against the hurricane like winds, arms spread to steady yourself. You’re a natural.

The adrenaline returned, blocking all anger you were feeling towards Hoseok. In the moment, what mattered is the slight lock of your legs, the angle of your arms, breathing in rushed moments to ensure you don’t faint in the sky. Who would jump out of a plane when you could do this?

It was over too soon, leaving you feeling empty and angry again, this time tears welling in your eyes.

“You were so good!” Hoseok exclaimed.

“Thanks,” You muttered, busying yourself with taking off your gear and pretending to be interested in the photos that were snapped.

“How was it? It looked amazing,”

“It was fine,”

“Just fine?” Hoseok trailed behind you, one step away from flat tiring your heels, breath threatening to tickle the back of your neck.

“Yes, fine,” You refused to look at him the entire drive to your apartment, where Hoseok could’ve sworn he was going to stay the night.

“Why are you so mad at me?” Hoseok asked, this time his breath fanned your face, his arms caged you against the island in your counter. Dominating you, eyes narrowed, voice low, hands steadfast, white knuckling the faux granite.

“Because you suck,”

“That’s a terrible reason,” He said, he didn’t roll his eyes, but stared at you, mouth slightly open in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to be indifferent towards him.

“I’m mad because you always get so close to trying something new and then you just, poof, cancel, leaving me to do it all alone.” You explained.

“You don’t have to go through with things,” Hoseok told you. He backed away, arms crossing over his chest in defense.

“Then why make the fuss if you never plan to go through with it?” You asked.

“I do plan to, I just, get scared.”

“You abandon me,” You accused. “You give me your word and then at the last possible second, back out.”

“I, no,” Hoseok shook his head, gone was the domineering, confident, J-Hope-Mic-Drop version of himself. Here stands Hoseok, scared to ride a horse, screams at balloons being popped, cuddle monster, multitudes of a man.

“Yes, you do,” You repeated.

“I don’t mean to,”

“You do everything in RUN BTS! Everything, you eat it all, try it all, there isn’t anything you won’t do when the cameras on you!” You reprimand him.

“I have to,” He countered. It was true, a contract was a contract.

“Is it that you get to do it with them?” You asked. “Is that the difference?”

“No!”

“Explain to me how you can be so,” You sighed. “You’re so intentional with everything you do, from music to fashion to writing and dancing… but when it comes to us, to me, you just stomp all over me. Namjoon’s the god of destruction but you, you just break my heart again and again.”

“Baby-

“No, Hoseok, no. I’m not your baby,”

“You’re my girlfriend,” His confusion was written in the slope of his brows.

“No, I’m not, because you don’t treat me like your girlfriend. You treat me like a toy, like a friend you get to be naked with, but you don’t treat me like I’m your girlfriend. So, I guess, I’m not.”

“That’s not true,” He tried to argue, to protest, but he can tell, nothing he said that night would make a difference. He hurt you, however unintentional his actions were, he still hurt you.

“That’s how it feels.” You muttered.

“It’s not true,”

“Then why do you just, you leave me. Today it was indoor sky diving, a month ago it was go carts, before that it was swimming with dolphins and taking the pram up to Jesus the Redeemer. You plan these elaborate trips, these excursions and exhibitions and just… leave me to experience it by myself. What’s worse is that you turn around do it with Bangtan! I’m tired of being second best.” You pushed yourself off the counter and begin to walk away from him.

“What do you, what do you want me to do?” Hoseok asked.

“I want you to leave and call me when you can treat me like your girlfriend.”

That was three weeks ago.

It wasn’t that Hoseok hasn’t called, or texted, or sent flowers and chocolate. He has. His “Good morning, I hope you have a beautiful day” texts continue to arrive around 7AM every day, followed by his mid-morning check in… But his efforts, his I love you’s, his song of the days, all go unanswered. You aren’t so cruel as to You just haven’t responded. You’re hurt, aching, disappointed. Hoseok couldn’t see you, and that was a devastating realization for both of you.

For Hoseok, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to do all those things with you, or spend that time exploring. It was just, he didn’t know what it was. What stopped him?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, staring up at Hoseok. He’d knocked on your door, no text or call warning you of his arrival, just showed up. In one hand he held a bag of take out, the other rested against your door frame, leaning.

“We need to talk,” He says. “Can I come in?”

“I, yeah,” You step aside to let him in. He kicks off his shoes, Gucci, before slinking off his jacket and face mask.

“I stopped by your favorite,” Hoseok says, setting the bags on the counter.

“Did you buy enough for us or all of Bangtan?” You question. Grabbing two plates, you stop to look over what he bought.

“I got one of our favorites, then I got two new things for us to try,”

“Why?”

“Because, our relationship is about growth and moving forward together, and I’ve been asking you to do all that without me,” Hoseok stops fidgeting with the take out containers. “That hasn’t been fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t, I don’t know what to say,”

“I didn’t realize the position I was putting you in. With Bangtan, we just power through it, do whatever we have to do. I guess, when I was given the chance to back out, I always took it because it was the only time I could,” Hoseok’s gaze finds yours, he’s surprised to see the warmth in your irises. “I’m sorry baby.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” You tell him, “I should’ve, and I could’ve said something instead of letting it bubble and boil,”

“And burn,” Hoseok steps towards you, his cautious steps moving him incrementally closer. He’s moving far too slow, and you nearly leap at him pulling him against you. A muffled “Oh!” can be heard as your arms hold him tight, the physical contact needed after what felt like years apart.

“I missed you,” You mumble, cheek pressed against his chest.

“I missed you too,” Hoseok agrees.

“I’m sorry I stopped answering you, that was shitty of me,”

“I accept your apology,” He hums.

“I accept yours too,” You tell him.

Hoseok leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s try not to do that ever again, okay?”

“Deal,” You pull away, eyes staring into his.

“I love you,” Hoseok tells you.

“I love you too,”

“I’ve missed hearing that,” Hoseok says, leaning down to press his lips to yours. Damn if you didn’t miss his lips, on yours, on your neck, nibbling your ear, whispering, praising, licking, kissing… and his hands… touching, caressing, groping, tickling, tracing… He was everything you could dream of.

“Hobi,” You whisper, lips close to his ear as his trail your neck.

“Hm?”

“I’m really hungry,” You inform him. He giggles before leveling his gaze.

“Ready for this food adventure?” He asks.

“Yes, but no backing out!”

“Promise,” Hoseok smiles.

And this time? He keeps his word.

Next: April’s Monthly Challenge

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joe-mazzello-archive · 4 years

Text

Two Lost Souls

A Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader fic

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: references to the war/violence (duh), references to ptsd, panic attack/nightmare, snafu being his crass self, so much awkward flirting, a teeny tiny bit of angst

A/N: okay story time -- one day a few months ago i rewatched the last episode of the pacific and then took a nap and proceeded to have a lovely dream about cuddling with eugene in a train booth and running my fingers through his hair sooooo here we are. i’m extremely nervous to post this as it was a labor of love and it’s almost my first full period piece. i hope you enjoy! also bonus points if you know what book the reader is reading.

moodboard by @brianmays-hair

The nightmares started while Eugene was still in Peleliu. Flashes of blood and corpses and metal and dirt. Screaming and explosions, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. But then he’d wake up to the same visuals, the same sounds. His reality was one long nightmare. There was no escape, no end in sight.

Now Eugene was afraid this was all a pleasant dream. No screaming, no blood. From the moment he set foot back on the mainland, he was in constant fear that he’d wake up and be back there. Especially when the nightmares felt so real. Sometimes he didn’t know what was his true reality.

It had taken a while to get the dirt out from under his fingernails, to get the stench out of his hair, but eventually he did feel clean again.

You can’t shower away the memories. Those linger much longer.

Distractions helped. He read, he smoked. He chatted with his fellow marines. He enjoyed the good food he was given, tried to find comfort in the bed he got to sleep in. He thought about Mobile and his parents and Sid and how he’d be home to them soon. He was hyper-focused on everything and anything, knowing that if he let his mind wander, it’d wander right back there.

It’s how he found himself people-watching at the bustling San Diego train station. The boys were prattling next to him about some girl Snafu had gone fishing for, but Eugene was more engrossed in the crowd around them. Sure there were tons of other marines around, but they were mixed in with parents wrangling their children, businessmen with their briefcases, lovers saying their goodbyes.

A flash of dark red caught Eugene’s eye. A woman, probably around Eugene’s age, stood alone on the platform, clad in a burgundy blazer and matching skirt with a brown trunk resting at her feet. Whereas most of the platform was hectic and frazzled, she stood firm and patient, a calmness about her. She seemed unperturbed by the world around her, lost in her own thoughts, her eyes cast downward as she let out a sigh.

She was beautiful.

Not in the way that the nurses back on the island greeted soldiers with their red-lipped smiles and white uniforms. Not in the way that the girls had primped for the Murphy High prom, practically fighting to dance with Sid while not paying Eugene any mind -- which seemed a lifetime ago now. No, this girl was beautiful in a way that Eugene couldn’t put his finger on. She was beautiful in a way that stopped him in his tracks like no girl ever had before.

The whistle of the train finally arriving at the station and a hand on his shoulder pulled Eugene out of his trance.

“Last leg, Sledge,” Burgie commented with a nod towards the train. Eugene replied with a half-smile before following the corporal, Snafu already ahead of them. Sneaking one last quick glance in the direction of where he last saw the beautiful woman, Eugene was greeted with a sea of people - no flash of burgundy in sight. With a sigh, adjusted the duffle on his shoulder and boarded the train, ready to get home.

You weren’t a big fan of long train rides. The rumbling of the cars, the confined spaces, the stale air, the bad food -- it was miserable. Last time you’d boarded a train, it had been under bittersweet circumstances - excitement mixed with worry. But three years had passed since you had arrived in San Diego, and after finding yourself jobless with no place to stay, your time in the port town had come to an end.

So you booked your ticket back home, with nothing but your childhood room and your disillusioned parents waiting for you. What a way to make an already miserable form of travel even more miserable.

You found your only solace was in reading. Luckily you had grabbed a newspaper from the stand at the station -- and snatched a book from your sister’s home before you left. You planned on losing yourself in words while the American countryside passed by your window. You had quite the trek ahead of you.

You sat at a table in the dining car, a bottle of barely-sipped cola accompanying the plate of lunch that had been hardly touched. You held the newspaper in one hand as you used your fork to idly push around your roasted potatoes.

“Is your meal alright, miss?” sounded the voice of a slender waiter above you. With a deep sigh, you lowered your paper and plastered a polite smile, meeting the young staff member’s stare.

“It’s just fine, thank you,” you replied, your voice cheery despite your true demeanor. The gentleman nodded before leaving you be, stepping to the next table. As you watched him leave, your eyes drifted across the aisle of the car. A lone marine sat at the table catty-corner to yours, a private first class by the looks of his uniform. His auburn hair was neatly coiffed and a striking nose divided his face. His eyes were downcast, staring out the window, an almost solemn look to him. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he was handsome - in a genteel boyish way.

But he was no boy. Many of the servicemen you had encountered in the past few years maybe were boys before they left. But being sent overseas to be met with nothing but violence and death -- those boys grew up quickly. This marine was no different. You could see it in the distant look in his eyes. He had seen terrors and lived to tell the tale.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a drawling southern accent behind you.

“Hiya,” the voice greeted. You glanced over your shoulder to find another marine trailing behind a woman. The woman turned at the greeting. “I’m Merriel Shelton. How about I take you to the back and you can show me your caboose?”

You spun back forward, eyes wide and your hand shooting up to cover your mouth, hiding your smirk. And when a resounding slap echoed behind you, a short giggle escaped your lips. The woman stomped down the aisle in a tiff, while the extremely forward marine and his buddy took their seats, joining the lonely marine you had been admiring.

You shook your head at the antics, turning your attention back to your paper. The boys’ voices across the aisle carried over to your side, but you tried to tune them out, not wanting to unintentionally eavesdrop. You urged yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your ears betrayed you. After reading the same sentence over four times, not digesting a single word, your gaze drifted back over to your marine, who had taken up buttering the biscuit that had been sitting on his plate. His posture and manner had shifted, he seemed more relaxed in the presence of his fellow soldiers. His eyes were soft and friendly, and the ghost of a smile had taken up residence on his face.

“Guess I’m gonna find out soon enough whether I’m getting married or not,” the colonel who sat across from your marine declared wistfully before turning his attention to your marine. “What about you, Sledgehammer?”

You grinned at what you assumed was a nickname. How a seemingly mild-mannered fellow like your marine could have gotten the moniker of “Sledgehammer” was beyond you. Your eyes drifted back to the man, interested in his answer. He seemed to ponder the question for a moment, a flash of uncertainty briefly crossing his face as he picked at his biscuit.

“I’m just hoping this Florence girl comes to her senses,” he finally cracked with a smirk. So he was clever, too. You found that you couldn’t help but smile through the exchange, your gaze dropping back to your lap.

“Got a job lined up in Mobile?” An Alabama boy. That was an interesting development.

“Nah,” he revealed, his apparent uncertainty no longer bothering him. “No job, no girl…no plans.”

You and the lone marine had more in common than you had originally thought.

“How long you think that’s gonna last?” the flirtatious marine from before inquired, relaxing back in his seat. But the laughter of a pair of businessmen passing by your table concealed the marine’s answer. You shot a glare towards the rowdy gentlemen’s backs. How dare they prevent you from snooping on some strangers’ conversation!

Your gaze fell back to the trio of boys, and you couldn’t help but admire the redhead’s smile. The way his eyes lit up with warmth at his friends’ jokes, the way the dimple between his brows appeared and disappeared -- he was beautiful.

You were lost in your musings when for a brief moment, your marine’s eyes suddenly locked on to yours.

His smile fell and a look you couldn’t identify -- confusion? recognition? irritation? -- flashed across the features of his handsome face before you broke the spell and looked back down at your paper. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stared down at the black ink on the page. How embarrassing. You had been boldly staring at the man for an inappropriate amount of time -- listening to his conversation, no less -- and now you had been caught.

You couldn’t help but think about the marine’s reaction. In the fleeting moment that he held your gaze, it was almost as if he’d seen a ghost. You didn’t want him to think you were some creep or some crazy woman.

You lifted your eyes slightly, glancing across the aisle. Your marine’s cheeks were pink as he gazed back at you softly - but only for a moment before his eyes quickly fell back down to the plate in front of him.

And that became the game you played. As the train chugged through the desert - what you assumed was Arizona - you and your marine took turns stealing glances at each other. First you, then he’d notice and you’d look away. Then he’d stare and you’d catch him. Each time, a rosy color would come to his cheeks and a hint of a smile would appear. Your own shyness began to fade with each time you’d catch him, even throwing him a wink at one point.

After another hour or so, your marine’s friends elected to head back to their coach seats. You assumed your game was over, and you tried to not let yourself be too disappointed. You closed your paper, having finally read every word -- though whether you absorbed any of it was up for debate. You gathered your things, pondering your next move. Maybe you’d wander to the observation car - it tended to be quieter as the sun went down. You slung your messenger bag over your shoulder and were about to step into the aisle when you were met with the sight of your marine, alone once again, staring out the window. Just like the first time you noticed him.

You took a deep breath, channeled your sister’s boldness and took a seat at the marine’s table.

It was her. The mystery woman. The beautiful girl clad in burgundy from the train platform was sitting across from Eugene.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts as he gaped at her. He had spent the last hour stealing glances at her across the aisle, unsure if she was real or simply a vision. Now there she was, close enough for Eugene to reach out and touch her, gazing at him with soft eyes and a friendly smile.

“Hi,” she spoke after a few moments, breaking the silence and Eugene’s daze.

“Hi,” Eugene practically whispered, unable to find his voice. He cleared his throat before starting again. “I do apologize for staring, miss. You know, before.”

The young woman let out a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, let’s not pretend you were the sole offender, private. I believe I was staring at you first.” Oh how wrong she was. But Eugene would keep that correction to himself.

She offered her name and her hand across the table for a shake, and Eugene almost immediately felt at ease in her presence. She certainly was not like the girls back in Mobile.

“I’m Eugene,” he offered in return, trying to ignore how soft her hand felt in his. She smirked as she let him go.

“So where does ‘Sledgehammer’ come from then?” she questioned with a quirked brow, and Eugene flushed at his nickname falling from her gentle lips.

“My last name. Sledge,” he explained. “Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, at your service, miss.” His explanation earned a bright smile from the girl, and Eugene decided right then and there that he’d do anything he could to make her smile again.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sledge,” she said with a nod.

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, miss.”

The woman playfully narrowed her eyes at Eugene, as if she were examining him.

“Was all that true? Before?” she asked before pursing her lips.

“Was what true?”

“No job. No girl. No plans,” she recited back to him, adding a twang to her normal voice. Eugene could feel the heat in his cheeks once again. He let out a nervous chuckle and scratched at the back of his neck.

“‘Fraid so, miss,” he responded, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Hope you don’t think less of me.” The woman shook her head as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Of course not,” she assured him. “I just don’t believe you.” She shrugged and cocked an eyebrow challengingly. Eugene was thrown off by her answer.

“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with a furrowed brow. She casually shrugged once again, as if she was making perfect sense.

“No way you can be this handsome and charming and not have a girl waiting for you back home.”

If the young woman was on a mission to make Eugene blush at all costs, she was extremely successful. Eugene shakily laughed as he stared down at his lap, unable to meet her gaze after that.

“My apologies, Mr. Sledge,” she spoke again, and Eugene let himself glance back up to see her timidly looking away this time. “That was awfully forward of me.”

Eugene was so thrown by his woman in burgundy. The prettiest dame he’d ever laid eyes on had gone out of her way to talk to him. Ask him questions. Compliment him. Yet he could see that she was just as nervous as he was. It was disarming in a way.

“No apology necessary, miss,” Eugene affirmed, offering a friendly smile when she met his gaze once again. “I’m just not used to getting attention from a gal as beautiful as you.”

A new game began. Eugene and his woman in burgundy took turns trying to make the other bashful, his confidence rising with every clever quip and retort to her own flirtations.

Eugene wouldn’t realize until much later that he hadn’t thought once about the war the entire evening.

“I feel like I should ask,” Eugene spoke up, rousing you from your thoughts. The two of you had relocated from the dining car to the observation car. You had been correct: it was virtually empty at this time of night, and the two of you were enjoying the peace. “Where are you off to?” You gave him a lopsided smile.

“Home,” you replied. “Tallahassee, Florida. Lived there my whole life until a few years ago.”

“Florida, huh? Why we’re practically neighbors,” Eugene commented with a grin. “So how did you end up in San Diego?”

“Few years back, my older sister married some businessman from California. Didn’t even get a chance to meet the man myself before he was drafted and shipped off to Europe.”

Eugene listened intently as you told your story. You knew he understood the horrors of war more than anyone else you’d ever spoken to.

“She demanded I come out to San Diego to stay with her,” you explained. “She’s always had terrible nerves and couldn’t bear to be alone in the house. So I took the train out, got a job at a bond office, and spent my free time keeping my sister away from the radio.” You let out a sigh and let your eyes fall to your lap before going on. “By the end, we assumed he’d be coming home safe and sound. They told us he was shot two days before the ceasefire was called.”

“To say my sister was distraught would be quite the understatement. After locking herself in her room for a week followed by five months of her ignoring my existence entirely, she told me I had until the end of the week to leave. Perfect timing really, since the bond office had terminated me that morning. No more war meant no more war bonds.” You shrugged as you recalled your story, as if it wasn’t such a fresh wound. You chanced a peek at Eugene, expecting a look of pity. But instead you were met with his warm hazel eyes, expressing nothing but understanding.

“So now here I am. Headed home. No job. No man. No plans,” you finished with a wink. Eugene smiled at your quip before turning to gaze out into the darkness.

“It seems like we both deserve to just do nothing for a while,” he suggested. Doing nothing. You quite liked the sound of that.

“Inspired idea, private.”

Eugene’s warm eyes locked on to yours once again, and you swore everything stopped and fell away. Nothing mattered except the marine in front of you, his bright smile, the lock of auburn hair that had fallen out of place. He was beautiful and clever and sweet, and though you knew he was haunted by his past, you’d never hold that against him. Gosh, you knew it was ridiculous, seeing as though you’d only met the man a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that wanted to pull him into your arms and never let go. Be there to make him laugh and make sure he knew he was safe. Listen to his stories and share yours in return. You wanted to do nothing for a while, like Eugene had said, but do that nothing with him next to you.

As you continued to gaze at the handsome man before you, you absent-mindedly tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. And you swore that for a brief moment, Eugene’s eyes fell to your mouth.

You practically lept to your feet, letting out a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well, I’m going to get some shut-eye,” you announced as you collected your things. “I suggest you do the same, private. Or at the very least you should spend some time with your friends before you have to see them off tomorrow.” Eugene, seemingly confused by the suddenness of your exit, nodded a few times before finding his voice.

“Right,” he said, “Well, goodnight.”

You cringed at what sounded like disappointment in his voice. You hadn’t meant to offend him - you just got startled is all.

You offered him a warm smile. “Goodnight, Eugene.”

You spun on your heels and headed for the doorway before you could change your mind and kiss him the way you really wanted to.

Eugene didn’t get much sleep that night, but that was nothing new. What changed is what kept him up. Thoughts of his burgundy girl swam through his head most of the night. He replayed every conversation they’d had, half of the time berating himself for what he said and the other half thinking about what he wished he’d said instead.

Snafu made sure to point out the bags under Eugene’s eyes that morning at breakfast.

But Eugene didn’t pay him any mind. He was too busy keeping an eye out for the woman, hoping he could flag her down to at least wish her a good morning.

By the late afternoon, there was no sign of the woman, and Eugene, Snafu, and Burgie had moved back to a booth in the coach car. Burgie was antsy, knowing they were not far out from his hometown of Jewett. He was recalling his excitement to see his little brother again when Snafu interrupted him, tapping his hand on Burgie’s chest.

“Would you look at her,” Snafu drawled out. Eugene glanced over his shoulder to where Snafu was indicating, only to be met with the sight of the very woman who had been on his mind all day, casually walking down the aisle towards him. She had traded out her burgundy ensemble for a cream colored blouse and a navy skirt. Eugene perked up, sitting up straight in hopes of getting her attention. But Snafu was faster, rising to his feet and cutting her off. She was surprised for a moment, but a look of recognition flashed across her face.

“Afternoon, miss,” Snafu greeted as the woman eyed him warily. Then her eyes flitted over to Eugene and a hint of a smile appeared. Then she looked back at Snafu.

“Something I can do for you, soldier?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest.

“Ohh, there’s a lot you can do for me, girlie,” Snafu countered. “Hows about we head somewhere private and I’ll show you?”

Something in Eugene’s chest tightened at Snafu’s words. Sure, he had watched Snafu use line after line on any girl in his vicinity since they boarded the train. Even laughed at the man’s antics at times. But something was different about him putting the moves on his girl--or at least his friend. Acquaintance? Eugene didn’t know what the two of them were.

“Tempting,” she responded, rousing Eugene from his thoughts. “But I think I’m gonna sit and enjoy my book instead. Thank you for the offer, private.”

Snafu seemed confused -- Eugene assumed he was used to either getting the girl or getting a slap. He probably wasn’t used to getting no reaction at all. Snafu plopped back down in his seat, his brows furrowed, and Eugene chanced a look at the woman. She shot him a wink before settling in the booth directly across the aisle from the group of men and pulled out a book.

Eugene fidgeted in his seat -- his instinct was to go join her. But he respected her wishes. Maybe he’d ask her to dinner later.

It wasn’t long after you had settled into your booth that you watched Eugene say goodbye to his sergeant.

The mutual respect was evident, and the goodbye was definitely bittersweet. The normally chatty boys fell silent after he left, and Eugene’s far away look returned once again.

Eugene’s flirtatious friend then announced he was headed to the dining car to get a drink, and Eugene simply nodded, his gaze never leaving the window.

You waited until the audacious marine was clear out of the car before you shifted across the aisle to grab his empty seat. Eugene perked up immediately, sitting up and grinning.

“Afternoon, miss,” he greeted with a nod. “Sorry about Snafu before. I think he’s determined to pester every woman on this train before he gets off.”

“Oh, no apologies necessary,” you assured him with a chuckle. “I found it quite funny.”

Eugene’s eyes sparkled as he looked at you. Gosh, you’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was in the sunlight. Those hazel eyes you could just get lost in. You noticed the littlest bit of stubble had formed across his upper lip and around his jaw since last night.

Then you realized you were staring again and you quickly dropped your eyes to your lap out of habit.

“How’s your book?” Eugene spoke up, easing the awkwardness. You appreciated the gesture.

“It’s good so far,” you explained, patting the cover. “Not the most uplifting thing to read on the train, but I’m hoping it ends on a happy note.”

“What’s it about?”

You sighed as you stared at the book in your hands. “It’s about family hardships. Talks about poverty and alcoholism.” You paused to think for a moment before looking back up at Eugene with a smirk. “I don’t mind reading sad stories usually. But I can’t help but wish I’d stolen a happier book from my sister on my way out.”

That earned a chuckle from Eugene.

“Well, I--”

“Now now, what have we here?”

The two of you had been so focused on each other that neither of you had noticed that Eugene’s friend -- you remembered Eugene called him Snafu -- had returned, and was leaning against the side of the booth with a bottle of Coke in his hand.

“Thought you wanted to read your book?” Snafu continued, a playful tone to his voice. He cocked an eyebrow before taking a sip of his soda. You glanced over at Eugene to find him beet red in the face.

“Actually, I was just inviting Mr. Sledge here to grab some dinner with me,” you improvised, not wanting to have to lose your alone time with Eugene. “If he’d like.” His eyes lit up.

“I would be honored, miss,” Eugene replied, getting to his feet and holding a hand out for you. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling as you placed your hand into his and let him help you from the booth. Eugene looped your arm under his and began to lead you down the aisle when Snafu’s slow, southern dialect called out behind you.

“Oh, I see how it is. Well, don’t have too much fun, you two!”

“So what did you miss the most while you were away?”

The question surprised Eugene a little bit. It was the first time she had asked him anything that had to do with his experience in the war.

“My dog,” he replied, his eyes dropping to his half-empty plate. “Closest friend I’ve ever had. He passed while I was gone.”

She nodded in understanding, and Eugene appreciated that she didn’t offer him pity.

“Dogs really are better than humans sometimes.”

Eugene simply nodded as his gaze drifted out the window. Time passing in the pacific had been a blur, even with him keeping track of the days in his notebook. He couldn’t even remember when it was he got the letter about Deacon. Maybe it was sometime during Okinawa? It must have been. He was just so angry --

“Where do you go?” The woman’s voice interrupted Eugene’s thoughts, and he blinked rapidly as he realized he had been zoning out.

“Sorry, what?”

The woman seemed unfazed. She simply looked at him with curiosity, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“When I first saw you yesterday, you were staring out the window. Eyes glazed over, lost in thought. You’ve done it a few times actually,” she explained. “You drifted off the same way just now. So my question is, where do you go?”

Where to start? Should he sit there and detail the horrors he’d seen? How every second he spent on those islands would flash before him, his brain forcing him to relive the atrocities he’d witnessed and been a part of? And could he even begin to put into words how affected he was? Was it fair to unload his burdens on this innocent girl, who’d brought him nothing but peace since he had set foot on the train platform?

“Back there,” was all he said, hoping it would be enough. It seemingly was, as his dinner date nodded her head once again. A silence settled over the pair, and Eugene couldn’t help but kick himself. If he hadn’t gotten lost in his thoughts before, she wouldn’t have asked and they could have continued their lovely dinner.

“I’m no expert,” the woman spoke up, and Eugene’s eyes locked on to hers. “But I have a feeling it’s going to take some time for you boys to fully leave that place.” The woman leaned forward, and Eugene was struck by how warm and comforting her eyes were. “And in my humble opinion, the world shouldn’t expect you to be okay right away.”

Eugene was blown away. This woman -- this beautiful, funny, clever, smart woman, who’d never set foot on a battlefield in her life -- somehow got it. Sure she hadn’t physically seen the things that Eugene had seen, and she never would, so she couldn’t completely understand. But she respected him and what he’d been through. And not in a superficial way, like when strangers on the street would thank him for his service. But in a way that made him feel seen and heard -- without having to speak a word of the horrors out loud.

With a nod of his head, Eugene finally spoke up.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Now if only the rest of the world agreed with you.”

By the time Eugene and you walked back to the coach car, the sun had gone down completely. You could tell Eugene was beat, and you wondered if he even had slept the night before with how large the bags under his eyes were.

You tucked yourself back into your booth across from the boys, continuing where you left off in your sister’s novel.

The boys were relatively quiet next to you, and you realized after only a few moments that Eugene was out cold, slumbering against his duffle.

It soothed you to see him so peaceful. Your conversation over dinner had confirmed what you had expected to be true: Eugene could put on a face, but behind the facade he was extremely haunted by his time overseas.

It truly wasn’t fair. No one should be subjected to such horrors. Young boys with their futures ahead of them, shipped off to some foreign country, to either die or come back missing a piece of themselves? Tearing families apart and turning cities to rubble? It all seemed so pointless.

You were just one person. Just a simple girl from a small town, lost in your own life, unsure of where the path ahead would lead. But you had a loving heart and a warm embrace. And you’d give them both to Eugene, no questions asked. You could see yourself walking down that path with his hand in yours, figuring out how to navigate the future together. The thought of Eugene being there made it a little less terrifying. And you wanted nothing more than for Eugene to go through the rest of his life never feeling unsafe ever again.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when the train slowed to a stop. You watched as Snafu slowly got to his feet and grabbed his duffle from the bunk, swinging it over his shoulder. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking back at Eugene before stepping into the aisle. His eyes locked onto yours and he cocked his head back towards the sleeping marine.

“It’s rare to sleep well these days. Don’t want to ruin that,” he mumbled, clearly feeling like he had to explain himself to you. “I’m not one for goodbyes either.” You offered him an understanding nod and a friendly smile. Snafu returned your nod before heading down the aisle and out the door.

Sometimes you didn’t understand why men did the things they did. But you’d also never be able to understand the connection and camaraderie between servicemen. So you didn’t question Snafu’s decision to leave without waking Eugene.

Another hour or so had passed after the stop in New Orleans when you heard a whimper from across the aisle. Your eyes shot over to Eugene and your heart practically stopped. His eyes were closed tightly, his brow pinched, and he was gripping his own arms so hard his knuckles were practically white. He shook and thrashed in his seat, small cries escaping his lips that seemed to increase in volume each second.

You lept to your feet, throwing your book into your booth behind you before plopping next to Eugene and gently resting your hands on his.

“Eugene,” you whispered, trying not to wake him too harshly. He was clearly having a nightmare, and you didn’t know if trying to startle him awake was the right move. “Eugene, honey, wake up.”

He continued to shake, sweat forming on his forehead and his cries growing louder and louder. You moved your hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently and running your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Eugene!” you spoke louder and suddenly his eyes shot open and he sat up, gasping for air, but your hold on him prevented him from going too far. He blinked rapidly as his chest heaved, trying to get his bearings, but you continued to caress his face, murmuring affirmations to help him.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” you assured him. His big, hazel eyes were so sad as they stared into yours, and tears had begun to fall to his red cheeks. He let out a sob and you pulled him to your chest, cradling the back of his head as you wrapped your other arm around him. You held him close to you as he cried, your heart breaking at seeing him like this. You wished you could take every burden away from him. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

A few nosy guests began to peek over their seats to see what was happening, frowns painted on their faces. As if this poor man’s trauma was an inconvenience to them. You glared daggers at them, and they shied away, slipping back into their seats.

You lost track of time, absentmindedly running your fingers through Eugene’s auburn locks as you held him. You began to softly hum a melody, a song that always comforted you when you were upset. Eugene’s cries began to quiet down, and his body shakes ceased.

Suddenly, he tensed in your arms before pulling away entirely. He wiped at his cheeks roughly as he sniffled, eyes locked on to his lap. You watched him carefully, unsure of what to do.

“Sorry,” he croaked out, his voice scratchy. “I, uh -- um, thank you for…” he trailed off, gesturing towards you with his hand.

“It’s okay,” you replied timidly. You knew he was embarrassed but you wanted to pull him back into your arms and assure him that he had no reason to be. But you waited, wanting him to come to you. His brow furrowed and you could practically hear his brain thinking.

“Now I guess you can see how broken I really am,” he said after a few moments and your heart ached.

“Eugene,” you practically cried. But he didn’t respond, instead turning sharply to face the dark window and letting out a shaky breath.

A tear escaped down your own cheek, your heart stinging at the rejection. But you opted to respect his space. With a sigh, you stood and shifted back over to your booth. You didn’t bother picking up your book, instead deciding to pull your own trunk and coat down from the rack and settling against them, hoping maybe you could get a little sleep.

Eugene didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep -- he knew wait awaited him in his dreams. Instead he focused on what he could see out of the train window. The sun eventually rose into the sky, and Eugene could finally see the greenery of Mississippi just before the train crossed the border into his home state.

He hadn’t taken a moment to look over at the woman he knew was still in the booth across from him. He couldn’t bear it. He was so ashamed of her seeing him like that. And then even more ashamed at how he’d pushed her away after she had been so kind to him. She hadn’t needed to comfort him, she had no obligation to do so. Yet she held him anyway. And Eugene had thanked her with a cold shoulder.

As the train pulled into the Mobile station, Eugene’s eyes scanned the platform. He couldn’t help but smile when he spotted Sid, leaning against his car.

Eugene slid out of the booth, grabbing his duffle and throwing it over his shoulder. A small voice sounded next to him.

“Eugene?”

The marine turned to find his woman in burgundy, eyes filled with so much worry, holding out a piece of paper.

“If you want to write. You don’t have to,” she explained, her voice uneasy. Eugene could feel his chest tighten. He hated that he had hurt her, made it so that she was so unsure around him. He gently took the piece of paper from her hand, his finger brushing hers just slightly. He was so tongue-tied, he had no idea what to say to her. So he simply offered her a soft smile and tucked the paper into his coat pocket.

As he made his way down the aisle, Eugene took a deep breath. Maybe one day he’d work up the nerve to write to her. He’d explain his actions and apologize profusely for his behavior. Hope that she’d forgive him but would understand if she didn’t.

But what was the point if he was always going to be broken?

You didn’t think you missed Tallahassee. But after settling back into your childhood home, visiting some of your old haunts, and reuniting with old friends, you’d begun to realize its charm.

Now that all the men were home from the war, jobs for women were scarce. You spent most of your time helping your mother around the house or taking walks downtown. Every so often you and some girlfriends would drive down to the beach, but other than that, you didn’t get up to much.

It had been a little over two months since you’d gotten home. You would have been lying if you said you hadn’t checked the mailbox religiously -- each day hoping a letter from Eugene would arrive. You knew the two of you had parted ways rather awkwardly, and you understood if a letter never arrived. But you really hoped you’d hear from him.

You opened the mailbox, only finding some random letters for your father. With a sigh, you headed back inside the house, dropping the letters on your father’s desk before heading down the hall to your room.

You collapsed on your bed with a groan, staring up at the ceiling. You needed to get Eugene off your mind. Maybe some of your friends knew some local servicemen who weren’t spoken for.

You were lost in your musings when a knock sounded at your door. Your mother called your name from the other side.

“You have a gentleman caller, dear,” she explained through the wood. “I didn’t know you knew any marines!”

You sat up with a jolt, eyes wide. Could it be?

“Be there in a minute, ma!” you called out, rushing to your vanity. You quickly checked yourself over, fixing your hair just slightly and patting down your skirt. You cursed at how your bed had wrinkled your blouse, but you didn’t have time to fix it. And if your caller was who you thought it was, you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

You practically flung open your door, pausing in the hall to take a deep breath before stepping out.

You were greeted with the sight of Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, adorned in his uniform, standing in your living room.

Eugene’s face lit up at your entrance, a huge smile plastered across his face. You grinned as you took him in -- he was even more handsome than you remembered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write,” he said, breaking the silence. “I needed some time to get settled back home. And I figured you deserved an in-person apology for my actions.”

“Eugene, you have nothing to apologize for, I promise you,” you assured him as you took a step forward. You itched to reach out to him, but you knew your mother was watching nearby. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Eugene was here, in the flesh, in your living room in Tallahassee. You could barely believe it.

“Ma’am? Do you mind if I take your daughter out for a walk around the neighborhood? I promise we’ll be back before supper,” Eugene inquired, addressing your mother, who had been lingering in the doorway of the kitchen. She grinned as she clasped her hands together.

“As long as you promise to join us for supper, Mr. Sledge.”

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” Eugene said with a sharp nod. He turned back to you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

With a beaming smile, you looped your arm through his and let him lead you out the front door.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, soaking up each other’s presence in the warm Floridian air. You nudged his shoulder slightly.

“I was right, you know,” you spoke up.

“About what?”

“You do have a girl.”

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