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We decided to watch a called no way home because we kept seeing its ads on youtube. We knew the trailer so well that we could say it word for word. Mark's favorite line was when the lead actor talks about his girlfriend in the movie. Mark would repeat it all the time,
So, we went to the movie theater, hoping to see that scene . But to our disappointment, the lead actor didn't say that line at all. In fact, the whole scene we were waiting for wasn't even in the movie! We left feeling upset
As we left,. We realized we could just go watch another movie without paying again. We felt a little bad, but we had spent a lot on snacks, so we didn't feel too guilty. Plus, we felt like we deserved to watch another movie since no way home let us down.
We ended up watching a movie instead. It was good, and since we hadn't seen any ads for it, we weren't disappointed.
//
i needed a car , i could rely on public transport
and all i had was 2000$ so i bought a ford car
so after few rides , it started giving problems
the transmission broke..the power steering didnt work
i couldnt find parking on campus..
Is your minivan all fixed?" Larry inquired.
"Yeah, but it cost us a pretty penny," Mark sighed.
"How much did they charge you?" Larry's eyes widened.
"$2500," Mark responded.
"$2500? You've gotta be kidding me! $2500 for a new transmission?" Larry exclaimed.
"A new what?" Mark looked puzzled, glancing at me in the backseat.
"A transmission. An automatic one. That's what you had replaced, right?" Larry clarified.
"Oh, right, yeah, a new transmission," I confirmed.
"Well, it sounds like they're pulling a fast one on you," Larry said as he dialed a number on his phone.
He called someone named Rocko, then his buddy Kurt, both of whom echoed his sentiment that we were getting ripped off. Mark nervously suggested haggling, but I pointed out that we already agreed to the price.
As we pulled into the garage, Larry insisted we stand our ground. "You tell 'em you ain't gonna be taken for a ride," he advised.
larry gets out of the car an goes in and talks to car dealer.
After a few minutes, Larry returned with a grin. "Saved you a few bucks, boys," he announced proudly.
When we settled up, the bill had mysteriously been reduced by $500.
I still don't know what Larry said or did in that office, but his advice and charm saved us some serious cash. Now, we just hoped the new transmission would hold up.
///
There are few things that bring my father as much joy as clearance sales.
It's not so much the food that my dad loves at Denny's—he only knows three flavors anyway: salt, butter, and A-1 Steak Sauce. No, what he adores is the simplicity, the straightforwardness of the entire Denny's experience, especially the menu.
“You don’t even have to read anything,” he’d say. “You look at the pictures of the food, you pick what you want, and you point.” And that’s precisely what he does. We'd settle at a table in Denny's, he'd crack open the menu to a Moons Over My Hammy or whatever caught his fancy, and he'd point. “I want that.” Not a word more, not a word less. It's the perfect restaurant routine.
we bought couch
So, off we went, driving at a snail's pace—twenty miles per hour in a forty-five-mile-per-hour zone. The officer followed my dad quietly for a few miles before my father suddenly pulled over, even though the officer hadn't signaled with lights or sirens. I followed suit.
After the officer wrote us both tickets for having unsafe loads, he warned us not to drive with the furniture again or risk getting more tickets. Stuck on the side of the road, my dad asked if I knew anyone with a truck. That was like asking if I knew anyone at all.
///
You ever have those gym ,PE classes that make you question why you even bother showing up? . Coach McAndrew, bless her heart, she had all the enthusiasm of a cheerleader at a spelling bee.
Coach blowing her whistle like it's her only source of oxygen. "Forward rolls, backward somersaults, cartwheels, repeat!" she says, as if we're all Olympic gymnasts in the making.
How am I supposed to learn by watching them? It’s like telling someone to learn how to swim by watching a fish.
I muster up the courage to approach Coach. "Excuse me, I don’t know how to do any of those things. Can I please go to the library?" I ask, hoping she'd see reason. But nope, she hits me with the classic "No pain, no gain" line, like she's trying to motivate a sack of potatoes.
So, there I am, at the back of the line, watching these kids effortlessly roll, somersault, and cartwheel like it's second nature.
Finally, it's my turn. I kneel down, put the top of my head on the mat, and just pray for a miracle. But all I manage to do is roll sideways off the mat—splat—onto the wooden gym floor.
All pain, no gain, and a side of humiliation. Can't wait for next week's adventure in awkwardness.
This is America? I’m fucking in! Big Pimpin’ was the epitome of the American dream and I needed to be part of it. I wanted to be like these larger-than-life American superheroes they called rappers. I wanted to be a pimp like Jay-Z and a gangster like 50 Cent. I made it my life’s goal to live the Big Pimpin’ lifestyle. Whenever I watched BET, I forgot I was a small foreign Chinese boy and I felt like a badass gangsta. I started imitating how the rappers walked and how they talked. I would go up to my classmates and say, “Yo what up, dog. Our geometry teacher is a bitch, homie.” I felt like my identity was being judged based on the other Asians around me instead of my own personality, my inside voice screamed, I listen to Jay-Z, motherfuckers! In high school,
thong thong thong thong thong!” This was one of the first songs I heard on American radio. It was catchy as hell, but I had no idea what a thong was. Then when I saw the music video, everything made sense.
I couldn’t rap for shit, but I wanted so badly to be part of the glamorous rap game that I’d seen on Rap City. Chris downloaded a bootleg copy of Sony’s ACID Music Studio, a beat-making software, and he started cranking out some sick beats. Then Jeremy, Phil and I would go to Chris’s mom’s apartment and record our raps on his five-dollar computer microphone. Next thing you know, we’d formed a rap group just like N.W.A. Chris’s mom’s apartment and his Dell desktop became our recording studio. We felt like the real deal and we called ourselves Syndakit. The first time I recorded at Chris’s house, he played me a beat he had just made. It sounded like a real track I’d heard on Rap City. I pulled out my notebook and I was ready to write my first rhymes, but I
I never got a record deal, but I experienced creative freedom for the first time
////
offer to buy one and get the other for half price , my father was first in line.
his ability to consume knew no bounds.his favorite was chocolate pean with extra sprinkles
when i orderd plan old chocolate icecream , he took it as an insult
they have thirty two flavors andu order chocaloate
u can get chocolate anywhere , why did we come to america
we didnt sacrifice everything come to here so u could be satisfied with plain old chocolate ice cream
i just want medium soda
get the large
u get extra large for thirty nine cents more
America was Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and he was a ten-year-old who had won a golden ticket.
Let me tell you what is really embarrassing,” he continued. “Having only one pair of shoes, that’s embarrassing. Having to study for your exams under a street lamp because you don’t have your own room, that’s embarrassing. Hanging off the side of a train on your way to work because it’s so crowded and you can’t afford a seat, that’s embarrassing.”
Yellow highlight | Page: 57
“When will you become an American?” he continued. “Okay, pour the extra thirty-nine cents-worth into a cup and I will drink it later.”
///
I saw a job posting in the college newspaper for telemarketer and decided to interview for it. The college building was squeezed between a sandwich place and a bookstore. The guy interviewing me looked a bit like Paul Giamatti from "Billions," but there were definitely no billions to be made here.
During the interview, he asked simple questions like who had used a computer before and who knew how to use a phone, how to type basic english. I got hired and was given a script to follow.
I got hired and was given a script to follow. My job was to keep people/alumni on the line and chat about how great the university was still doing.
I was supposed to ask alumni like Milli for a hundred bucks to support the college.
but milli response was "Oh, I'm sorry, hun. I'm barely scraping by on a fixed income. I'd love to help, really, but a hundred dollars? not happening."
So, I lowered the amount to fifty dollars, but still got a no. Then I tried twenty dollars, and she agreed to make the donation.
After working for an hour, a bell rang for a break. The boss, stood on a chair and called out how much money everyone had brought in. He gave cookies to the top three earners.
Overall, it was an interesting experience, but I only worked there for a few weeks before my semester started, and I quit the telemarketing job.
//
“BE CAREFUL!” my roommate WILLIAM TOLD ME . “I am being careful!” I said, grabbing the dvd from him and totally not being careful.It wasn't contraband or illicit substances..it was dance dvd.. I was staring at it in awe, my heart pounding like crazy.
cuoristy got the better of me and I put the dvd in my vcr. And What unfolded on the screen was unlike anything I’d ever saw.
and what captivated me even more was drummer in the corner setting the rhythm and this guy was dancing to the beat in rhythm…it was beautiful…
soon i was playing drums…
//
coach andrew, transmission,affleck movie,
, clearance sales-denny's,
/////
I needed a job. Scanning through the student paper, I found an opening in the computer lab. It seemed perfect, except for the minor detail that I knew next to nothing about computers. All I knew was that if something goes wrong, you should reboot the computer. Sure, I could switch a computer on, but i knew nothing about coding, programming, troubleshooting.
I interviewed with this quiet guy who wore glasses, named Dominick. He wore a buttoned-up shirt, light brown khakis, and Nike running sneakers. "Hi, Kunal, nice to meet you,” he said, in a soft, high-pitched voice. “I am looking for some people to be computer lab managers. What are your skills?”
“Troubleshooting, programming, Excel, PowerPoint,” I said.
“Can you give me more details?”
"Sure, I've read courses online, fixed bugs on my computer, and developed applications."
"I like you. I’m going to hire you,” he said as we shook hands. Bingo! “Given your advanced skill set, I’m going to give you a very special project.”
He turned to the computer and opened up a software program I had never seen. “The school is trying to integrate this new voice recognition software. I want you to figure it out, dissect it, and write an entire instruction manual based on what you’ve learned.”
So three days a week, four hours each shift, my job was to sit at the computer and try to figure out voice recognition software. The first day I took the job very seriously. I spoke into the microphone and compared what I said to the words that appeared on the screen: “The cat drank the cow’s milk,” I said. On-screen: "You drank the milk." I said it slowly again… "You drank the milk" again… I basically gave up on the project after a few days, and each shift I would spend fifteen minutes on voice recognition, and then would spend the rest of my time chatting.
The week passed, the instruction manual was due and it was time to face the music. I decided to write something… click the L button… etc.
“I just got an email from the university. I have some troubling news.” Shit. My scholarships. Dominick took off his glasses. “The school has decided to put a stop to the software. The license has expired.”
I said, “Whatever’s best for the university."
“Because of your hard work and commitment to this project, I’m going to promote you to lab manager of the engineering building.” He gave me a raise, bumping me up to nine dollars an hour, which was damn good money at the time. I was a good lab manager.
/////
After finishing college, I got a job as a waiter in a restaurant. But I also had to wash dishes.
Sadly, I wasn't very good at it. I was slow.
The restaurant needed clean dishes to keep running. So, even though I was slow, I had to keep going.
The owner would tell me to just keep washing.
He often came over to me at the sink, shaking his head and yelling.
He'd say, "Wash the pots first! Why are you washing the plates? We have lots of plates!"
When he got really frustrated, he'd grab the spray nozzle from me and
quickly clean a bunch of pots in just a few minutes.
I got a job as used car salesman.
Apparently, you need zero qualifications to become a used-car salesman."
The car lot manager, Larry, was a sixty-year-old car salesman and a alcoholic. I wouldnt see him for days and then he would come and sell ten Dodge Neons in a week.
I looked up to him as a top-notch car pusher.
I learnt car sales from Larry and soon i became good that i could afford HomeTown Buffet once a week.
and i know one day, if i worked hard and I'd be able to afford Red Lobster.
////
It's been three days since I lost the pool key, and now my mom is mad at me. It feels like she has a superpower that keeps her angry without a break whenever I mess up, which is why I try my best to never do anything wrong.
It's like there's a flashing neon sign on my forehead: "HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING KID WHO LOST THE POOL KEY. $50 DOWN THE DRAIN!"
I try to explain to her that Cindy and I put up twenty flyers all over, and I understand that fifty dollars is equivalent to three hundred and fifty tomans in Iran, which is a lot of money to flush down the toilet. That's what it'll feel like if we have to pay the landlady.
"Why don't you check the clothes dryer and all your pockets?" my dad suggests, im filled with hope. I search through all my clothes, inspecting the washer and dryer, even go through the vacuum cleaner bag. I c heck between the sofa cushions and manage to find twelve cents.
But still, no pool key. The following day, my dad suggests praying to Saint Anthony, claiming it always works. "Saint Anthony, you mean?" I ask.
My mom , suggests we ask Saint Anthony to come over and look for the key instead. "He's a saint, so he's been dead for a long time," I tell her. "If you think a dead man is going to help you find the key, good luck," she retorts.
but I decide to pray, and, my prayers are answered when a neighbor finds the key gives it to the apartment office.
//
communication is the key. That's the key to a relationship. That's how you build intimacy, through communication. It's very important to talk and listen to your partner so you can both grow as a unit.
but It's just talking and talking and talking. And I was listening to every word 'cause I thought, you know, there was a point. But there's no point. I should've hired an AI for her to talk to. 'Cause there were so many things I just didn't care about. "Should I move this couch or get a new one? I don't know what to do with this room. What do you think?"
It was a psychotic, babbling conveyor belt of nonsense. "I went to get my nails done, but they didn't have the polish I want.
One of the differences was, I learned this from her, raised to ask questions. You have to ask questions like, "Why? How come? How much? That much? Why should I spend that much?" And, , we don't want to ask questions 'cause we don't want any information. "Look, I didn't see nothin', I don't know nothin'.
" So the questions started driving me crazy. It was like falling asleep with a Spanish radio station on.
Why do you think we possess some mysterious knowledge we're keeping from you? We go to see a movie, she's like, "Now, who's that guy?" "Did I write this thing? I came in with you. How the hell do I know who that guy is? What do you want me to do, show up early?
So she leaves, right? It's all over.
I'm sitting in my room for two weeks straight. my roommate says
They don't want you to talk to them. They don't want you to listen to them. They want you to agree with them. And if you don't agree with them, they just keep talking and talking and talking until you do. and then they will say I'm glad we talked about it.'"
//////
When I was a kid, I had this bright yellow Yamaha YZ80 dirt bike. It was super fast, and I loved riding it around. But my mom hated it.
"Josep, you ride that thing, and I swear to God you’re going to die!" she'd yell at me. And I'd be like, "Mom, it's fine. I'm totally safe." But she wasn't having it.
"What, do you want to die? Is that it? Ha?" she'd say. And I'd respond, "No, Mom, I don't want to die." But then she'd hit me with, "Or maybe you want to kill me from worrying. Yes, that’s it—you want to kill me." And I'd just stand there like, "No, Mom, I don’t want to kill you."
But she wasn't done. "No, no, maybe it’s better if I die anyway. I go to heaven, at least I don’t have to worry anymore. Go ahead, keep riding the motorcycle." And I'd be like, "Fine. Fine! I won’t ride the motorcycle anymore!" But let's be real, I kept riding that motorcycle.
One time, a cop caught me riding the bike without headlights. He was really mad and told me to leave the bike and get in his car. I thought I was in big trouble, preparing myself for the worst—prison, electric chair, death by firing squad—whatever it was. I'm practically begging to go to jail at this point, but no dice.he took me home.
When we got to my house, my mom was freaking out because she thought I was missing. She was yelling at my sisters, too. The cop could hear everything, but he didn't seem to care. He walked me up to the door, and my mom answered, acting all polite.
But as soon as she saw me, she flipped out. She dragged me inside and slammed the door in the cop's face. That was the only time my mom ever hit me, but it wasn't physical. It was all the yelling and arguing that really hurt.
clearance sales-denny's
coach andrew
tranmission
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there are so many thoughts stirring in my head and now that i’ve sat down to start spewing them out i’m overwhelmed by the magnitude and stuck, like i’m trying to squeeze chunks of my emotions through a hole big enough to fit one at a time, but easily blocked by many. i can’t say everything i want to say all at once. i backtrack, and repeat myself, and wander aimlessly around what i want to say like a fool.
i think i’m going crazy.
getting better is never linear. life imitates art imitates life imitates poetry; which is art, which, naturally, imitates life. don’t romanticize your suffering, because pain isn’t necessarily beautiful, and just because you can find beauty in your sorrow doesn’t mean you needed to suffer. just because you put your vase back together with golden glue doesn’t mean it never broke in the first place. being fragile and pretty and traumatized is not cool, actually, and i’m sick of the metaphors, and the narrative, and especially the foreshadowing.
i have always read writings written on walls. and i sit down and i write my little songs about it, and when i get hurt inevitably it’s marginally easier because i knew it was going to happen. and i already wrote some four chord ABAB bullshit that i can sing over and over again until i process it by desensitizing myself to the situation. because i have to make everything funny, i have to make everything palatable, i have to make everything art. and i haven’t been creating art lately. god, haven’t i suffered enough? this isn’t the kind of suffering i know how to write about. not having money to eat isn’t something you just slip into the second verse. i’ve tried and tried, and no one ever sees the part where i try except for him. they see me quitting jobs, they see me calling out sick, they see me spending forty bucks on chinese takeout when i have bills and rent and appointments. what about me holding two jobs with 60 hour work weeks, and STILL struggling to save a fucking a dollar? i overwork myself to the point of burnout, and when i get a pitiful fucking nothing paycheck there’s nothing i can really do to hold out any longer mentally. so i quit. so i chase a dollar’s worth of a promotion and jump from job to job, sitting at the lowest rung, looked over and taken advantage of and talked about and misgendered, misgendered, misgendered. i want to hide!! i don’t want to see myself in windows walking from job one to job two, i hate everything about my body, and i use it as an excuse to not correct people using the wrong pronouns for me, which just makes me hate it even fucking more. oh, i understand why people use she/her, my boobs are just so big teehee!! but i don’t get how nobody even fucking tries. i’m not saying i’m some magical perfect person but i make an effort, a conscious, serious effort, to remember people’s pronouns, to ask their pronouns, to properly gender them. the only people who use my pronouns consistently are max and my mom, who are both cisgender. it hurts so bad when my trans friends don’t use my pronouns. you should know more than anyone! how much it sucks! do i have to take hormones? do i have to “dress nonbinary”? i don’t want to change my voice, i don’t want to change my closet, i don’t want to change anything except my chest, and that’s more a health and comfort and weight thing than dysphoria!
if i don’t get this breast reduction, i genuinely feel like i might give up entirely. on everything. on living well. on waking up. because wouldn’t that just be fucking great? the chance to be comfortable in my body for the first time since i was… 14? 15? if this gets ripped away from me i might just run away, i don’t know! i don’t have a cent to my name but i could do it. go home, work a job for a few months. save up a couple hundred. then go no contact with everyone who’s ever known me. buy a plane ticket. move somewhere far, where the cost of living is low, and just restart. i could steal my documents. i could figure something out. craigslist exists, i’m sure someone needs a roommate. would my loved ones try to find me? i’d leave a note, of course. something to say that i’m gone, and that i might come back, but i don’t know when. would they be willing to wait? i don’t know what i’d want them to do. part of me would want to be found, like some princess in a castle, waiting to be rescued and returned to the kingdom. but if i chose to leave, i would want to stay gone. maybe after a few months, i would send a letter. no return address, of course. i don’t want them to think i got murdered.
i don’t want to make people sad. i don’t want people to hate me. i don’t want people to even dislike me. i want to be loved, and make people happy, and be everybody’s best friend who they can talk to about anything. but i’m lonely, and i’ve always been lonely, and i always will be lonely. in every lifetime, every timeline, every minute, i’ve always been a step removed, like the narrator is possessing my body and observing characters in a story. i can see them, and they can see me, and we can talk and have fun, but i’m here to see this story through. i’m here to tell this story. i’m here to check for plot holes and predict the twists nobody sees coming, and then when everything’s over i move on to the next chapter. moving along like everything is fine. that’s just how the story goes, nothing i can do. i am lonely, and this last year and a half has been nice, because i think max is lonely like i am. i think we deal with it in different ways. i think i’m fighting my loneliness, challenging it, trying to change how i’m written, but he handles it so well. he can be alone, not that he always wants to be, but even when he doesn’t want to be alone, i don’t think it drives him half as insane as it drives me.
i want to rip my hair out, or shave it off, or give myself bangs. i want to scream, but everybody wants to scream. i want to drive my car off a bridge. (i want to fly.) i want to float motionless at the bottom of a bathtub. (my hair makes a halo.) and see? there’s the metaphors. there’s the poetry, and the art, and the symbolism, oh the symbolism, because i can’t just process my feelings like normal people do. but this is good, because the alternative to writing this is laying awake thinking this. or, rather, thinking three sentences at once, because of all these voices in my head talking over each other. i’m at the breaking point. i don’t want anyone to help me right now, i don’t want someone on snapchat messaging me “ily! i hope u feel better soon” which is ironic considering how many of those messages i’ve sent to others.
i’m confused. i don’t think i’m scared. but i’m anxious. and i’m frustrated. i don’t know what to do, going forward? i’m not gonna run away to wyoming. i’m not gonna kill myself. i have to keep living. and keep going. i have to prove to myself that things will get better. it’s sunk cost fallacy, i didn’t kill myself at 19 so why should i now? i could’ve then. maybe i should’ve, the only people i would’ve hurt would have been my family. nobody else was close enough to me where they wouldn’t be able to get over it. it’s funny, getting dumped after a month was the end of the world to me back then. like a kid, falling off their bike and skinning their knee, screaming and wailing so hard at the sight of a few drops of blood and some scraped skin that the neighbors come outside to see what’s wrong. the world is ending! but it’s not. you put on a bandaid and move on.
i’ve had worse injuries since then. and even though they hurt just as bad, i learned to push through the pain, to conquer it mentally. i’ve put on a lot of bandaids. but i’m not trying to minimize how it felt in the moment, because it is the worst thing you have yet experienced. and each time you have a worse experience, you’re better equipped to deal with it. even better, when you experience something of equal or lesser trauma, it’s no big deal! you’ve had worse! wayyyy worse. what i’m saying is, how i felt that night in 2019 was valid, because i had never experienced heartbreak before. i didn’t know how to deal with it. i didn’t know i could hurt like that. now i’ve been hurt like that so many times that i can shut it off, deal with it mentally, think it through, push through the pain. and i hope i come to a day when i feel the same way about right now.
i’ve met the love of my life. i’m scheduled for a life changing surgery. i’m finally been living on my own. i have two sweet little kitties. and i’ve been trying hard not to let the negatives outweigh the positives, but that’s not the full picture. i’m not being negative when i say things are bad right now. i’m being honest. things aren’t perfect between max and i. i have this weird sense of jealousy where i think about how i’m the “first partner he’s actually, genuinely loved” and also, the first partner* he hasn’t actually, genuinely fucked. (*a few outlier relationships have been excused from this statement.) and that’s so stupid, right? it’s so shallow. isn’t this what i wanted, something beyond just a sexual agreement between two people who don’t seem to like each other all that much? yes, it is, and i am grateful, i am beyond grateful to love someone who loves me, and cares for me and about me, who i love to spend time with and talk to, who i fall asleep next to. i just get this hangup. why not me? i know the answer. the answer is i’m not pressuring him to do something he doesn’t want to do, and that will never change. i’m not going to guilt trip him into having sex with me, and the thought of ever doing that makes me sick. but i feel odd thinking that there’s other people who have loved him, just like me, that shared this experience with him, and i haven’t. and i don’t know when i will. if i will? i don’t know!
the surgery has me scared. not because it’s a surgery, i’m not scared about complications. but what about the money, how long will i be paying this off for? what if there’s an issue with healing? an infection? breasts become misshapen? bottom out? uneven? i gain more weight and they grow again? as soon as i’m able to i need to work out. i don’t want to have my stomach be larger than my breasts and that’s probably going to be the case after the surgery. i just hope i like the way i look. i know i’ll be more comfortable but i just… i didn’t think this would happen so soon. this happened incredibly fast and i have barely begun to process it. i’m just basically half dissociative every day at this point.
and august is our last month in the apartment, and then we’re moving home. i won’t live with max anymore. i won’t live with the girls anymore. no more late night hot tub, no more queen sized mattress, no one holding me every night. everything’s going to be over. everything that we built here, we’ll try to get a storage unit but what if we can’t, what if we have to get rid of everything? we don’t have a lot of space in our new living situations. it just doesn’t seem fair.
i wish the money from the tax return had been spent wiser. i wish max hadn’t been unemployed for so long. i wish i could work 60 hour weeks without getting burnt out. i wish i made $100 a minute for playing cookie run. wouldn’t that be nice?
and now… the lawsuit. where do i begin? it’s entirely unreal. i thought i felt insane, now i’m starting to think i actually am. this is some serious psychosis, lilia, you should be admitted asap. i want this to happen for him and his family, they deserve it more than anything, i don’t really know… what i’m supposed to say about it though? i don’t want to say anything. i just want to say, cool, you have money now, my shift starts in ten minutes though so i have to go, i’m already late. what does this change? does this change anything? why would it? it’s just money. but then i think about when i was working runrun and the saint, working til 3 in the morning, crying and panicking over being a hundred short for something or other. is that over now? forever? i don’t know how he’s planning on budgeting/using it, i don’t want to say a word of advice to him on it unless he asks me. he doesn’t need unsolicited advice from me. this has been happening his entire life, and i’ve known for like, two days? there’s nothing i can say or suggest that he hasn’t already thought of.
but it’s strange to think about how this has been here the whole time, in the background, beyond my knowledge. never mentioned. never explained. “well i bet you have it figured out by now” no actually! despite how badly i’ve been wanting to snoop or eavesdrop out of curiosity, i have fully respected your wishes to keep this private! all i thought it was was some sort of settling of affairs. how the fuck would i have ever been able to guess a fraction of this situation?
i guess it’s not the worst thing to be blindsided by. at least you don’t have like, a kid, idk. but i hate to say it… if you were hiding this for so long, what else is there? is there anything else you haven’t told me? you’ve never given me a single ghost of a reason not to whole heartedly trust you and believe you’re giving me the full story. until now! that’s what i feel weird about. that’s why i’m kind of upset. what else do i not know about you? i’m pretty sure you know everything about me.
i love you. that hasn’t changed. i’ll always love you. i just don’t know why you let yourself be unemployed for over a month. i don’t understand how you could keep something as crazy as this under the table for our entire relationship. today is actually a year and a half from our first date. a year and a half without a word, except for, “would you be mad if i pulled a crazy rich asians on you?” i guess i should’ve said, no, i would not be mad at all! if you had worked that month, we might not be moving out. or we might still be, i don’t know. i’ll never know, because that’s not what happened.
i’m tired. see, this is how my writing always goes. all deep and flowery and full of metaphorical rambling that doesn’t make sense and is way too self referential and meta. but then the moment i start talking about my relationships i get more direct. and, idk, sassy. and i start saying fuck.
hey. you say you wish i could’ve met your dad almost every time you talk about him. and i’ve never told you this, because i don’t want to sound crazy, but i probably am crazy, and knowing me i’ll show you this some day, or, knowing you, you’ll just find it, so basically, i don’t mind sounding crazy. you wish i could’ve met him, and i wish so as well, but in a way, i feel like i already have. i see him in you, in how you act, and how you talk about him, and the stories, and the rare pictures and videos. when you’re talking about him, i feel like he’s here, next to us. i think we would’ve been friends. i think he would’ve liked my tattoo. i think he would’ve liked my music. i think he would’ve liked my family. he’s your angel, and that sounds silly, and i don’t mean it super literally, nor do i mean it in a cheap psychic way. i think what we put into the world stays there, our love. you have his love. you carry that with you, and i think you also carry his pain, because no one else was there to pick it up for him after he was gone. i don’t know what else to say, just that i’ve always felt connected to him through you. your love for each other is so strong that i can see it today.
pain isn’t beautiful. neither is suffering. it’s a misconception, because what’s really beautiful is perseverance, and strength, and every little good thing in the world. the scar is beautiful, but that wound isn’t. just because the healing was because of the pain, that doesn’t mean the pain was what created the beauty. we shouldn’t need to hurt.
thanks to sunk cost fallacy, i’m going to get better, because i missed my chance to kill myself four years ago, and now i have no choice but to keep living, to keep loving, and to make new reasons to stay alive. the only way out is through, because you can only go forward, and i missed the suicide exit and now i’m stuck on the bridge of recovery.
at least i have a sunpass.
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Fortstopher IV And The Holy Grail (Monty Python and The Holy Grail Casting Parody)
A comedic send-up of the grim circumstances of the Middle Ages as told through the story of Fortstopher IV and framed by a modern-day murder investigation. When the mythical king of the Chesstonians leads his knights on a quest for the Holy Grail (which is an endless macaron tower), they face a wide array of horrors, including a persistent Black Knight Child, a three-headed Kaiju, a cadre of shrubbery-challenged robots knights, the perilous Castle Anthrax, a killer costume, a house of virgins, and a handful of rude Frenchmen.
Fortstopher IV as King Arthur (Balan Wonderworld)
Fortie VI as Himself/Arthur’s Brother (Balan Wonderworld)
Neon J as Sir Bedevere (No Straight Roads)
Revali as Sir Robin (The Legend of Zelda)
Cell as Sir Lancelot (Dragon Ball Z)
Almond Cookie as Sir Galahad (Cookie Run)
Kenny as The Black Knight (South Park)
Happy Mask Salesman as Patsy (The Legend of Zelda)
King Ghidorah as The Three Headed Giant (Monsterverse)
Wizard Cookie as Tim The Enchanter (Cookie Run)
Double Trouble as The Killer Rabbit (Balan Wonderworld)
Darkrai as The Black Beast of Arrgh (Pokemon)
DJ Subatomic Supernova as God (No Straight Roads)
1010 as The Knights Who Go NI (No Straight Roads)
Riverman as The Bridge Keeper (Undertale)
AZ as The Frenchman (Pokemon)
Cal Suresh as The Narrator (Balan Wonderworld)
Here’s your hint for the next casting:
🧜♀️🐠🦀
#parody#crossover casting#monty python and the holy grail#Balan Wonderworld#no straight roads#the legend of Zelda#dragon ball z#cookie run#South Park#Godzilla#monsterverse#pokemon#Undertale#let me tell you D&D campaigns will never be the same again!!#especially since Fortie wrote the entire thing down!!
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It’s Okay (drabble)
Genre: Nonidol, a/b/o, a bit of angst from reader, fluff, established relationship
Pairings: Alpha!Seokjin x Omega!gender-neutral reader
Warnings: None
W/C: 1,285
A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something small and sweet for a while now. Literally the summary popped in and said hello and demanded to be wrote.
Summary: Seokjin comes home to you making a nest which is… unusual.
Likes, comments, and reblogs are very much encouraged! Thank you!!
"What are you doing?" The question comes as Seokjin takes in the atmosphere of the current state of the bedroom.
Walking through the front door things were off. The usual sweet scent of lavender and rosemary were replaced with the scent of rotten oranges. Before reaching the bedroom, all the couch pillows were gone along with the few throw blankets that were laying around. Guest bedrooms were completely scavenged of blankets and pillows.
You have never done this. Even though you’re an omega, you never have nested before or for as long as you two have been together and that’s been a while.
You were stacking the last of the pillows onto the bed when caught. “I…” You had no idea what you were doing either but you did know nothing was organized in the way that you wanted it and that felt frustrating just looking at it. “I don’t know.” The sudden feeling of embarrassment overcomes you as you sit in the pile. Your parents were both alphas so when you came along it was shocking when you presented as an omega.
When an alpha and another alpha have a baby, it’s rare. It’s even rarer that the baby ends up being an omega. Nonetheless, they loved you but the mindset of growing up in the shadows of alphas never left you. In a way, you felt a bit broken. You weren’t like them but you also didn’t act like an omega.
It was common for the omega to just stay home but you didn’t want that. No, you got a few jobs in the past and were currently somehow still working at a restaurant. It was hard to get work as an omega since no one wanted to grow out of old ways.
Seokjin comes over to sit next to you on the messy bed. “What’s wrong, my love?” A gentle hand is placed on your knee. Your scent wasn’t getting any better so something was clearly up. “Did something happen at work?” Of course, it was something at work. It was the only time the two of you were away from each other except for when Seokjin had business trips to attend.
You knew Seokjin didn’t mind you ranting out your feelings but sometimes, like now, you just wanted to curl up in bed. “Yeah..” You speak softly, hanging your head low. You were still reeling with embarrassment from being caught attempting to build a nest. There were a few times in the past where you had wanted to build one but it just never felt right. “I kind of messed up a lot today.” The tickling heat of tears can be felt building up around your eyes and nose as you recall the events.
It started off like any other day. The normal morning rush and, of course, the usual lunch rush but today was the busiest workday you've ever experienced. Orders were getting mixed up causing everything to become slower as you tried fixing it, a tray of drinks slipping out of your hands destroying all the glassware, even the computer system went down for a few hours making a payment with a card impossible. By far the angriest customers in one day you have ever dealt with. Sure, making a few mistakes here and there was okay but for an entire day was just too much.
“It’s okay, let's not worry about it right now.” If you weren’t speaking now then it was clear to Seokjin that you weren’t up for a recap. Instead, he stands looking at the pile of blankets and pillows. “Do you want me to help you with this?” You looked surprised at him before turning your head to the bed. “I don’t know. I think I should put everything back.”
“You seemed like you were on a mission before I interrupted. Why not give it a try since everything is here?” Seokjin was being so gentle and encouraging. You ponder a moment before agreeing. There was still awkwardness lingering in you. Nesting was so commonly known to be done by omegas and yet here you are attempting your first. Even when you went through heats, you never made one but the temptation was always there.
“Want me to leave?” You didn’t want to say yes to him as he literally just got home but you also didn’t want to say no. Seokjin reaches down, petting your head. “How about I make a snack run for us?” He was trying to give you some privacy seeing how uncomfortable you were with this new action. “Can we order takeout?”
The two of you settled on tteok-bokki and kimchi fried rice, something familiar before Seokjin is headed to the store.
You returned to the room now alone with the mess. Seokjin would be back within forty minutes or less. It felt odd. You didn’t know what to do but at the same time, you knew exactly what to do. With some minutes going by trying to decide rather put everything back or to make an attempt. You heard Seokjin’s ‘why not’ ring through your head and decided to take on the action once again.
The pillows were laid out like a barrier on the edges of the bed with a few of the lighter blankets covering them. The bigger blankets and some smaller pillows from the couch were inside. It made the bed look like an actual nest.
Crawling over into the nest for the first time ever was the most affirming thing you’d experience as an omega. What about it was suddenly making you feel so much better and just euphoric? It was so new to you still you couldn’t put a finger on it. Curling up in the blankets, you basked in the new warm and fuzzy feeling. This was definitely something you have been missing out on.
Time seemed to fly by because Seokjin was suddenly home again and the discomfiture was threatening to start welling up again.
You only raised up enough to peek over the edge of the fluffy walls around you when you heard the rustling of plastic and feet walking into the room. It felt like there was a hand reaching into Seokjin’s chest and just squeezing his heart as tight as possible seeing his omega in their first nest. It was by far the most endearing thing he’d ever seen you do.
“It looks nice, may I come in?”
Seokjin didn’t know much about the nesting process, especially how it was with you. Even be possessive over their space. Earlier, he could sense there was uneasiness about it, thus the reason he thought to go out for a bit. He was glad he did because getting to witness you like this was going to be memorable for a long time.
“Of course!” Your voice sounded tiny and as if you were starting to destress. It brought a sense of happiness and relief that you were.
After very carefully climbing into the nest, making sure not to knock anything out of place, he planted a kiss on your forehead before going through the two bags of snacks with you. The only time you left the nest was to eat the takeout food in the kitchen as you feared it would get on something if eaten in the newly built nest. Though, you still ate snacks in it. That night when the two of you laid down finally, you told Seokjin about what happened at work.
“It’s okay. Mistakes happen sometimes when we least expect them. I’m sure everything will be okay.” With reassuring words, your head calms for the moment as Seokjin holds you a little tighter for the night.
#seokjin x reader#alpha seokjin#omega reader#gender neutral reader#bts a/b/o#bts omegaverse#bts fluff#bts scenarios#bts au#bts fanfic#bts reactions#kim seokjin x reader
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Bucky Barnes - Just You
A/N & WC - I wrote this when it was my time of the month and I couldn't get out of bed. Periods suck :). I do not own the character of Bucky. 2k.
Warnings - roommate!Bucky, fwb, periods and menstruation, cramps and pain, lowkey toxic situation, allusions to sex. 16+
Summary - It's your time of the month and Bucky is clueless and cocky. As a man from the forties you don't expect much, especially not for him to realise his mistake.
Getting Bucky as your flatmate when you advertised in the local post office was a literal dream come true. Handsome, house trained, hot… and he’s useful and sweet as well, but that’s not why you gave him the room.
He paid the rent and wasn’t always around. Perfect.
Everyone says ‘don’t shit where you eat’ which, yes, is a very fair point, but you work on opposing schedules a lot of the time with your varying fields of work, and he’s away a lot.
So you did exactly what you weren’t supposed to do. And you did it a month into his living with you.
“I’ve been waiting for you to do that, doll,” he purred.
You shut him up and showed him who was boss… for all of five minutes.
Still, it’s been almost six months since then, and you’ve got a pretty good, mutually-beneficial, flatmates-with-benefits thing going. It makes more sense: he could hear your vibe through the wall anyway.
However, thus far you’ve been pretty lucky as far as Lucifer's waterfall goes. It’s fallen exactly when you’ve had a busy stint at work (not exactly great but doable) or when he’s been travelling or fighting space mutants or whatever it is he does, or even when you two haven’t really been in the mood.
Today, though, it’s hit you like a tonne of fucking bricks. And it’s a bad one.
Y’know the ones that are worse than most? The ones that feel 1000x worse than a sledgehammer picking away at your uterus? Plus the cravings, the headache, the stomach pain, the nausea, the awful mood swings, the excess grease that makes you feel like you’re drowning, the hormones… Just everything worse.
You texted Bucky with a shopping list and asked him to stop at the convenience store on his way home just to grab a few things you’ve been craving but there are none in the flat.
He’s supposed to be a while, so you crawl under the shower, wash your hair, and then just lie back.
It’s times like these and only times like these that you’re glad the flat has a bath-shower, since you’re able to sprawl yourself out over the entire thing, bending your knees to lie your feet flat against the wall so the water hits on your lower belly, pelvis and upper thighs, easing the pain and flushing away your worries for a little while.
However, being in the bath with the water thundering down means you don’t hear him come home early.
And Bucky being Bucky takes the sound of the shower, and your faint groan as an invitation to traipse through the flat with his clunky boots still on, and join you.
He’s developed a bit of a reputation as a ladies man since he started pleasing you. Not that he wasn’t in the forties, or that he wasn’t aware of his skills, but he hadn’t been with anyone for quite a while before you. And now he knows your reaction, it’s definitely gone to his head more than a little. He wears that signature cocky smirk more than he wears clothes.
He’s done this so many times now that he doesn’t bother knocking. You’ve had words with him about it before, but when he’s horny, all logic evaporates. And usually you’re fine with it. But today?
After kicking the bathroom door open, the last thing he expects to find is you laying there on your back with your legs propped wide open against the tiled wall, the shower jetting down on your lower belly, but as Bucky notices, just there as well.
He’s a man. Don’t expect him to understand.
Though he tries to hide it, he blushes a little, knowing he’s caught you in such a way, small moans spilling from your lips as you lie there, water falling in droplets over your torso.
He also gets an idea.
Swaggering across the room and toeing off his boots, he purrs, “Couldn’t wait for me to get home eh? Well, let me help.”
You scream ferally. A piercing shriek that shoots through him the second his boot lands on the tiled floor and his deep voice penetrates your daydreams.
You sit bolt upright, feeling dizziness swirl around in your head as the bath gapes open beneath you, or so it seems. You crawl up into a ball and force yourself under the showerhead, shivering, your back facing Bucky.
The water bounces off your back as you cover yourself. He managed to scare the living bloody daylights out of you. You hadn’t heard him come home so naturally his presence would cause alarm.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, suddenly scared, stopping dead in his tracks.
Irate, upset, in pain. You tell him what he needs to hear. “Just fucking leave.”
“Christ, y/n,” he grumbles. “What the fuck is up with you? You’ve been in a foul mood for days. I thought you’d wanna have sex to ease the tension but fine.”
“Oh!” you cry out suddenly, your voice hoarse, breaking as all your rage and temper build up, accompanied by your petulance due to menstruation and mood swings. “That’s fucking rich. You’re allowed to act like a butt-hurt prick whenever something goes wrong in your life but the second I’m feeling shit you’re allowed to have a go at me because I don’t want to sleep with you?”
All you hear is silence. Bucky doesn’t even breathe, doesn’t move: nor do you. You zone out so much that you can’t even focus on the steady pounding of the water as another cramp gripes at your lower belly and has you grimacing, barely suppressing a pained groan.
Bucky undergoes an internal debate, you can feel it, and he evidently makes the wrong choice.
“God, sorry,” he snarks. “I just thought I’d finish the job. If you don’t wanna fuck me anymore just tell me. You don’t have to be a bitch about it.” With that he goes a step too far, wincing at his own words.
And that’s when the waterworks begin, before he can apologise or try to take it back.
He starts murmuring incoherently to himself unsure whether to leave or stay as you hesitate, turning your head shyly towards him. “—I wasn’t... yknow.”
“What else could you possibly have been doing then?” He deadpans, but takes one step closer to the bathtub and sees flecks of blood in the water going down the drain.
He catches a glimpse of your pained expression, sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, watches every muscle in your back tense. Fuck, Bucky. You’ve really done it this time.
“It helps with the pain,” you mumble, forcefully swiping the tears away with your thumb, “gonna make fun of me then?”
“Course not, doll,” he tells you, kneeling by the bath with his elbows on the edge, though with his eyes averted. He proceeds to stutter and stumble over his words in a very contradictory and endearing way that almost passes for an apology in your mind. “You want me to do... anything?”
You shrug, murmuring, “I wasn’t done doing anything in here.”
You relax a little and let the shower hit your pelvis, relieving a knot of pain building up to be a killer cramp there.
But while you’re doing that, in what seems to be a blink of the eye, Bucky is naked but for his boxers, and is sliding in behind you in the back of the bath-shower.
Tentatively he wipes your final tears away, your sniffles quietening down, and says, “Women didn’t talk about this in the 40s. It’s all new. Tell me if I do anything wrong. Just tell me what you need tonight.”
“Just you, Bucky.”
Loofah in hand, he slips his arms under yours and lets you fall back against his strong chest, his warmth bleeding into you. He starts to clean you tenderly, rubbing your stomach in gentle circles as he goes, using his flesh hand only to massage.
You could swear you fall half asleep while he does that, finally catching some sleep between the gruelling agony and fits of nausea.
He helps you out of the bath when your skin starts to prune and he wraps you in a plush towel, the ones you insist on tumble drying to keep them fluffy. He then helps you get dry before you offer him a half smile to tell him you’re okay.
When he heads off to prepare dinner, you get into your comfiest pyjamas and slob around. He delivers you a hot water bottle that you cradle close to your stomach.
This is the most intimate Bucky and you have ever been. Yeah, sure, being flatmates and sleeping together means you see the worst parts of each other. Bad habits, no makeup with bedhead, wearing three day old clothes with food on them (Bucky only).
And yeah, sure, you’re friends as far as that measure goes. And you do bicker. And you do treat one another and do cute things sometimes, like watch a film under a blanket together.
But he’s never climbed into the shower with you to help you ease your period cramps.
In all fairness, and however bad it sounds, you expected him to be, well, not good about it. But once he worked it out, you could see the ruefulness flash over his face. He’d never call you a bitch unless something was going on with him as well.
So the fact he sacrificed getting his anger out to sit with you and tenderly massage your stomach, acting like a boyfriend, is a big step. And it could mean a lot of different things.
“Dinner’s ready!”
This domesticity is normal. You take turns cooking and he’s actually really damn good at it. However when you stumble into the kitchen-diner, it’s different somehow.
The table is laid out for two, a mug of milky tea in your space with pain meds and headache relief and miracle oils nearby.
You sit down, stunned, and your jaw drops open a little when this gorgeous man serves you up a plate of—
“Mashed potatoes. I used the internet thingy and it said somewhere they help with cramps.”
“Really?” you croak, overwhelmed with emotion. “You did this for me?”
“Of course. And the nuggets are in the oven, spaghetti hoops on the hob.”
A moment later he dishes it all up and pretends to enjoy eating it, smiling at you, asking if he can do anything to help.
“This is plenty,” you tell him.
He doesn’t believe you.
He helps you to the couch and lets you choose the movie for the night, loading the dishwasher in record time so he can join you. He slips beside you and opens his arms wide, letting you get comfortable and cuddle him whichever way is best for you.
He refills your hot water bottle, keeping the heat. He gives you a massage. He feeds you chocolate and all the junk food your heart desires.
And when you fall asleep on the couch, he doesn’t wake you. He just holds you.
Maybe he can’t make your period go away, and he has no idea how to make it better, but he spends his night the way he aims to continue, and reads articles on menstruation until the early hours.
You stir around then, pleasantly surprised by his arm comfortably around you and the fact he’s thrown a blanket around.
“Buck?” you murmur.
“Hey doll, what do you need?”
“The loo…”
“Of course. Did I wake you?”
“Hmm no. I’ll be back in a minute,” you say, and start to clamber up, wincing at the pain.
Bucky leaps up to attention, steadying you and helping you to the bathroom where he leaves you to refill your hot water bottle once again and fetch some more chocolate and pain meds.
He meets you when you come out, and helps you back to bed, asking tenderly after tucking you in whether you want him to stay.
You nod vehemently, naturally, and fold the corner of your duvet back for him. His smile is soft as he slips in next to you.
“Do you need anything before you sleep?” he asks again, a note of work in his deep voice.
You smile, and tusk his arm around you, savouring his warmth. “Just you, Bucky.”
#bucky barns x you#bucky barns#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky fic#bucky x reader#bucky barnes blurb#bucky blurb#bucky barnes imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#james buchanan bucky barnes#flatmate!bucky#fwb!bucky#james barnes#sergeant barnes#sergeant james buchanan barnes#sergeant james barnes
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Gorgeous
Summary: You’d spent the last year and a half pretending to hate Ransom Drysdale. One Christmas trip could break that facade.
Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Black!Reader (though it’s pretty inclusive. It’s just what I had in my head when I wrote it)
Warnings: And there was only one bed, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut, swearing, secret crush, daddy kink
Words: 7K
(A/N: Yes. I pretty much wrote a Hallmark movie. Yes it is also based on Gorgeous by Taylor Swift because I’d also hate Ransom Drysdale for making me fall in love with his stupidly handsome face. No I will not be taking questions.)
Tagging: @titty-teetee @queenoftheworldisdead @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @harrysthiccthighss @mariahthelioness29 @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @stargazingfangirl18 @hqneyyincc @iam-laiya @zaddychris @emjayewrites
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Contrary to popular belief, you didn’t hate Ransom. Sure, his smug smile made you want to punch him in the face sometimes. But you kind of liked the vein that popped out on the side of his head when you did something to irritate him. Or the way he rolled his eyes at you when you did something to annoy him. And you annoyed him a lot. It was like you couldn’t help yourself.
To be honest you kind of like those things too much. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. Imagine everyone finding out that you had some little primary school like crush on this asshole. Down to the point where you’d push him into sand to prove that you didn’t like him in the slightest.
Since your best friend was marrying his best friend, you were spending way too much time with him. You thought you’d done a good job at convincing Monica, your best friend, that you absolutely couldn’t stand him. She seemed to buy it since every eye roll was appropriately placed anytime you thought you might laugh at one of his rude jokes.
So, when your best friend asked you to accompany her and her fiancé to visit his family, you were positive. It might be nice seeing how these super rich people did the holidays. You’d met them a few times and they’d been super nice. Nothing like how Ransom or your own boyfriend’s family came off as stuck up as hell. Also, you were kind of dying to see the decor.
Until that day came. “I’m sorry!” Ava said for the millionth time since she’d told you the news when she’d FaceTimed you. That not only was Ransom coming, you’d have to ride with him in his Beemer because she’d packed more than she’d expected and there’d be no more room in Simon’s car.
You groaned softly, wrinkling up your nose. Your cats rubbing themselves against you because they knew you were leaving and loved to get all needy when you did that. You were already having a hard morning so this was kind of the last thing that you needed. “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” you suggested, even though you were supposed to be leaving in about five minutes.
She pouted. “But I need you there so I won’t be bored.”
“You know David,” your own boyfriend who was not going with you because he had to work and also because you weren’t sure he’d be your boyfriend by the time you came home, “hates Ransom.” It still made for a good excuse, though.
“What he won’t know, won’t kill him?” She shrugged. “Look it won’t even be that bad! It’s just the car ride.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, for four hours.”
“Just do this for me,” she whined. “Please. I’d do it for you.”
“Fine, but next time my boss has one of those boring dinners at his house, I’m making you go with me.”
She gasped. “Deal!”
There was a honk outside and it was safe to say who it was. You rolled your eyes. “You’re so lucky I love you because I’m already annoyed.” You peeked outside the window to see him aggressively honking.
Fucking asshole.
Once you’d hung up with Ava, you grabbed your bags so you could hurry out of the house. Luckily David was already at work so you didn’t have to explain to him why you were getting in the car with him. Ransom seemed to like getting under his skin, which you’d noticed is what he did to most people. Including you, but it seemed to be for a different reason than most people had.
“Hey,” you greeted him, as you struggled to carry your stuff to the trunk. Even though you were trying to keep this facade up, you didn’t want to be rude.
“Can you hurry? We’re on a strict timeline, Buttercup.”
You hated when he called you that. “First, don’t call me that. Second, maybe I’d finish sooner if you’d help.”
There was this smirk on his lips as he finally opened up his car door so he could take one of the bags out of your hands and then the others. “Did you pack your entire closet?” He asked as he tried to make it all fit in the trunk.
“I have a lot of needs,” you retorted.
“That’s probably why you need that sugar daddy, huh,” he said. This is why David didn’t like him. Okay yeah maybe you’re twenty-six with a forty-seven-year-old boyfriend. Sure, he brought you nice things, but what was wrong with that.
“He’s my boyfriend,” you made a point to emphasize. You weren’t going to tell Ransom Drysdale that you were with your boyfriend because he was your daddy dom. That’d be fucking stupid.
“Look, sugar daddy boyfriend whatever,” he said, dismissing you. “I just think you should pack lighter.”
“Whatever. Aren’t we on a tight schedule or something?” You rolled your eyes before going over to the passenger seat.
“Hey, hey, hey!” He stopped you to open the door himself. “I don’t need you to scratch my shit. You have to handle with care.”
You tried not to laugh which made you bite your bottom lip instead making you taste the mint chapstick you’d just put on. “You’re such a control freak,” you said, having to brush passed him so you could sit.
He didn’t say anything as he closed it gently.
The ride had been pretty boring so far. You yawned a few times. Wiggled in your seat trying to get comfortable. He surprisingly pulled over to get you coffee and even got you your blanket so you could curl up at some point.
If you weren’t trying to hate him, you may have swooned. He also said it’s because he didn’t feel like hearing you complain so maybe less swooning anyway. You reached for the radio and he smacked your hand away. “Ow!” You gasped.
“I’m just fucking with you.” He laughed, glancing over as you glared at him.
“Dick,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached forward again to change the station.
“What was that?” He asked.
“I said you’re a dick,” you repeated, sitting down as a song you liked started playing.
He groaned. “I hate this song.”
“Too bad,” you snickered.
“Need I remind you that this is my car, Buttercup?”
You narrowed your eyes at him because he called you that damn nickname. “Whatever. At least it wasn’t that Dad stuff you listen to.”
“Should you really be the one making fun of Dads?” He laughed.
“Hey! David doesn’t even want kids.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You don’t?” He asked looking genuinely surprised at that.
“I mean... maybe. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Do you?”
“Well, I hate kids, but maybe for the right women. Who knows?” He once again took a quick glance at you, with this small dorky smile on his face.
That was surprising. You felt yourself starting to get to where your heart was swelling in your chest. “Why are we talking about this, you weirdo.”
He chuckled as you cross your arms in front of your chest as you looked out the window.
For the rest of the car ride only the music filled the silence. You wanted to say something. Thought about at least trying. Every time you started to open your mouth no sound came out.
You’d look at him while he focused on the road. Just because you couldn’t like him didn’t mean you couldn’t look at him, right? Though it was bothering you that there was a hole in his cashmere sweater.
“I’ll open your door,” he said getting out. You waited for him to open your side, but you heard the trunk pop open. You turned around watching him take out your four bags along with his. How the fuck was he so strong.
He opened up your car door finally. “Do you want me to take some?” You asked him with a frown as he closed the door with his elbow.
“It’s okay,” he replied already walking off. You scurried behind him trying to catch up.
Ava and Simon were right behind you. Ave got out and went to hug you. “See I told you it wouldn’t be so bad,” she said. “Wait why is Random holding all your stuff?”
You shrugged. “He insisted.”
“Weird,” she replied.
Simon’s family was pretty nice, but they were so busy doting on the happy couple you were kind of ignored. It was actually kind of nice because when you met David’s family, they pretty much scrutinized everything you did. His mother was honestly the bane of your existence. Like, lady, if your son hadn’t had a kid by now how was that your fault.
That was another thing that made you treat Ransom the way you did. You’d met Linda a few times now and she already hated you. You could only imagine how she was towards his girlfriends. You’d only seen the tip of the iceberg of the insanity of the Thrombeys, though Harlan had been nice every time you’d met him.
“Okay, so, it turns out that one of Simon’s cousins decided to come at last minute and uh,” Ava took a deep breath, “you two have to share a room okay, bye!” She tried to grab Simon’s hand, but you managed to catch her first.
“What,” you said a little too loudly so you lower your voice, “the hell, Ava.”
“You’re shitting me,” Ransom groaned.
“It won’t be so bad just think of it as a sleepover. Maybe he can paint your nails and you two can do face masks together,” she started rambling off.
You weren’t as amused. “Or maybe me and you could share.”
“Hell no! I’ve slept in a bed with you. You’re a cuddler.” She frowned. “Besides I wanna sleep with my boo.”
“You’re the worst best friend ever,” you told her. “Fine, but he’s sleeping on the floor.”
“Like hell I am,” Ransom said.
“I have a boyfriend!” You reminded them. “I can’t sleep in a bed with another guy. Especially Ransom.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been over this, Buttercup. You don’t have a boyfriend; you have a sugar daddy.”
You huffed. “Alright that’s it I’m calling an Uber.”
“And paying a hundred bucks to get home?” Ava rolled her eyes. “Come on just tough it out.”
“I hope you know that I hate you now,” you told her.
“Good. We’ll work it out in couple’s therapy.”
—————
The first night was awful. It felt like you couldn’t sleep. While Ransom seemed to sleep like a baby on the other side of the wall of pillows, you’d built between the two of you.
Even when you’d tried to move away from him, he’d just hold you in place. At some point you just had to accept your fate. At least you were cozy. So, you just kind of let it happen because who knows if this could again. When you actually woke up, he was already gone. You were neatly tucked under the comforter.
As you were finishing up your face routine and making yourself look presentable, Ransom was coming back in. You’d never seen him with sweats on before because he was usually such a preppy asshole, but he looked good. “Morning.”
“Morning,” you mumbled.
“How’d you sleep?” He asked.
You raised an eyebrow. “Why? You didn’t do something did you?”
“Me? Never?” He smirked before walking passed you and into the bathroom.
You walked through the house, taking in the way everything was beautifully decorated for the holiday. Honestly this place was house porn. “Good morning!” Simon’s mom, Trish, greeted you as you walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” you replied with a grin.
“Did you sleep okay?”
You nodded. “Yeah, it was perfect,” you answered.
“Breakfast will be ready soon so why don’t you go wake up Simon and Ava.”
You nodded. “Yeah of course.” God they were too nice. Maybe you need to be around rich people more often.
Oh wait, no. David’s family came from money and they were awful. Also see Ransom.
Simon had come to answer the door, freshly showered. Ava was just coming out of the bathroom. “Morning,” he said.
“Morning. Your mom said breakfast is going to be ready.”
He nodded. “Okay. Babe, you ready?”
“You go ahead,” she told him. “Y/N, c’mere.”
You and Simon exchanged looks and he shrugged. “Guess I’ll get Ransom.”
Ava waited until he was completely out of the room before motioning for you to close the door. “So,” this shit eating grin appeared on her face, “how was it?”
“How was what?”
“Sleeping with Ransom.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “How was it?”
You shrugged. “We put a pillow wall up.” You really didn’t want to mention the cuddling.
“What? That’s it?” She groaned. “I always thought he’d be a bed hog.”
“I stayed on my side, he stayed on his.”
“That’s boring. I at least thought you’d have something to talk shit about.” She sighed. As far as you knew her and Ransom got along. She just found it super entertaining how you bitched about him.
The two of you went to sit in the dining room, waiting for everyone else. Trish sat down not to long after bringing the two of you mimosas. “Oh my gosh thank you!” Ava said getting up to hug her mother-in-law.
“Of course, Sweetheart.” She grinned. “So, Y/N, how long have you and Ransom been together?” She winked, bringing her champagne flute to her mouth. “I always said that Ransom just needs to find a sweet girl to settle down with. Maybe melt down that cold exterior he puts up. You know he really is a sweet boy.”
It was a good thing you hadn’t even been able to take a sip because you probably would have choked on it. “Her and Ransom aren’t together,” Ava answered before you could.
Her jaw dropped. “Oh, I just thought because you were fine sharing a room.”
You shook your head. “It’s okay.”
Ransom took a seat beside you while Simon sat on the other side of Ava. Trish looked between the two of you because this table was huge and Ransom could have sat anywhere else. He could have sat on the other side of Simon if he’d wanted to.
Breakfast went by pretty uneventfully, though the pancakes the housekeeper made were kind of to die for. “So, what are you kids planning for today?” Simon’s dad, Warren, asked as plates started being cleared away.
“Well, Ava’s never been ice skating,” Simon said.
“That’ll be fun,” Trish said. To be honest you were kind of nervous about ice skating. You’d done it before, but ate shit hard. “Is this your first time, too?” She asked you.
“No,” you replied. “I’m not very good at it, though.”
“I’m sure Ransom can help you,” she said with a grin.
Ransom groaned softly beside you. “Yeah of course.”
As soon as you got on the ice you could feel yourself going down. Ransom grabbed onto you to hold you up. “Don’t eat shit on me already,” he said with a smirk on his face.
“If I go down, I’m taking you with me,” you snap back at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”
It was a good thing you’d bought these leggings that were fluffy on the inside and this jacket you were wearing was cozy because it was freezing out here. Ransom had to
At some point you kind of started to think that you had the hang of it. Like maybe you could actually do it. He started to slowly let go of you, but the minute you started to feel unsteady he’d grab your hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he said sighing softy. He stood for a minute holding your hand so he could skate with you to the middle of the rink. “Hey can we talk about something. Really quick?”
You nodded. “Sure.”
“Hey, so,” he looked down at you with this almost nervous look on his face. “There’s been something I wanted to say, but I wasn’t really sure how to before.”
You nodded. “Yeah, what’s up.”
“Um,” he sighed. “Well, okay, so I-“ well he didn’t get to finish as this asshole barreled into you. “Y/N!”
You hit the ice pretty hard almost bouncing up as you came back down. “What the hell!”
Ransom immediately helped you up. “Watch where you’re fucking going!” He yelled back after the guy who’d already started skating away without even saying sorry. “Are you okay?
“My leg like hurts really bad,” you felt yourself tear up because you’re a little baby.
He sighed. “Shit, okay,” he said. “Are you okay to stand?”
“Oh my gosh!” Ava came over to the two of you. “Are you okay? I told Simon to go tell security. That guys been such an asshole this whole time.”
“Yeah thanks,” you said.
“Here why don’t we got some hot chocolate,” Ransom said.
It felt so nice being back in your boots. Ransom had you sit before going to get the drinks. You couldn’t help yourself as you rubbed over the spot on your leg that had been hurting super bad. Wincing at the tenderness.
“How’s your leg?” Ransom asked, sitting beside you with the steaming beverages in hand.
You brought your cup up to your mouth loving the warmth against your cold nose. “It’s fine,” you answered.
He reached down to touch the spot making you jump. He laughed. “Wow usually I have to get a girl naked before they start reacting like that.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to play off as annoyed, but it didn’t work since you couldn’t help yourself as a smile spread on your face. “Oh, shut up.” You blew at the steam before taking a sip. “So, what did you wanna talk to me about?”
“It’s.... it’s nothing,” he said picking at some lint on his coat, suddenly getting all quiet. He took a sip of his own drink.
Here’s where you made a mistake. Which is the mistake that got you into this in the first place. Because every time you looked into his eyes, seeing those long lashes framing those deep blue eyes made you feel like you might drown in them.
And you fucking looked into them. After that first time you told yourself to never do that again. That it’s what made you trick yourself into thinking that you liked him the first time. No. He was just so close.
You pretty much fought yourself on this for the rest of the day. Even during the little shopping trip that the two of you dragged the boys to when you’d been debating with yourself if you wanted to buy this gorgeous coat or this really dress. Not that you needed more of either.
“Here just get both,” Ransom grumbled, taking out his card.
“What!” You gasped. “No, I can’t ask you to do that!”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. Just wear it for the Christmas party.”
“But I already have a dress,” you said.
“Look, I’m sure your sugar daddy buys you very nice things at Forever 21, but I insist.”
You rolled your eyes as he quickly handed the worker his card. “Hey!”
“Too late,” he replied with a shrug that smug smile on his face.
You looked down at the glass as your things were being wrapped up nice and neat. The gold necklace had a diamond moon pendent. It looked so delicate and would have gone so good with that dress.
“You like it?” He asked, noticing.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you said. “But this is already too much.”
“C‘mon, we have to get back for dinner,” Ava said as Ransom grabbed the shopping bags.
—————
At some point every night the pillows would end up on the floor and you’d end up nestled into the crook of his neck. He’d have his arms around you until you’d roll over onto your side where he’d wrap himself around you again. Then you’d wake up to him gone because he went on his runs at the ass crack of dawn. You noticed how you’d be snuggly tucked into bed each time.
A part of you wanted to feel bad. That you were away and cuddling with another man every night. It was hard to feel guilty when you weren’t sure if your boyfriend was taking advantage of you being gone not that he knew that you knew. He was probably in some club, too, doing you don’t even want to know what. You knew when you left that you may be going home to end things.
You were trying not to think about it. Hell, you hadn’t even told Ava. You wanted everyone to have a good holiday and not worry. Besides you wanted to have fun. Which is why the four of you were going to some club tonight.
The four of you had went to dinner at this really nice restaurant. There were a few times when you’d caught Ransom looking at you all weird. “What?” You wrinkled your nose.
He cleared his throat before going back to picking at the salmon on his plate. “Nothing.”
As the drinks finally started flowing, you started to get a little loose. Ransom was sitting beside you being all sulky as he sipped from the glass of whiskey on ice.
“What’s wrong?” You asked him. Okay to be honest maybe you were more than a little loose, but you were just trying to have some fun.
“Nothing.” He glanced over at you then back to his drink.
“Hey,” this girl sat on the other side of him. “My friend was wondering if you wanted to dance.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why couldn’t your friend ask me herself?”
“She’s a little shy, but she’s cute.”
Ransom glanced over at you. “Nah. I’m just sitting here with my friend.”
The girl pouted, but finally left. You snickered. “I’m just sitting here with my friend,” you mimicked. “What too cool to dance?”
“Because I don’t know. I didn’t feel like it.” He shrugged then took another sip of his drink. “Do you wanna dance maybe?” He finally looked over at you and you were almost hypnotized, but managed to keep your composure.
“With you?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, Buttercup, with my grandpa.”
You laughed once again ignoring the nickname. Maybe it was kind of growing on you. It only took a year and a half. You stood up. “Fine, but you better not stomp on my feet.”
“I might on purpose.” He got up standing in front of you. For a minute you thought he might kiss you until he grabbed your hand to pull you onto the dance floor.
You didn’t want to admit this either, but you were having fun hanging out with Ransom. Ava and Simon were understandably in their own little bubble of love and you didn’t want to interrupt.
After the club Simon had the bright idea of going in the hot tub to warm up. Since you were all a little tipsy that sounded like a great idea.
You had to wear your long sweater out of the house since it was freezing. You in your own little space while Ransom seemed to scoot way to close to you. The four of you were just talking mostly. Enjoying the hot water after being in the freezing cold.
All of you were talking when Ava gave Simon a kiss, which got deeper to the point where they were showing you way more than you needed to see. “I think I speak for both of us in that we really do not want to witness the two of you procreating,” Ransom said.
Ava made a face at him while Simon laughed. He whispered in her ear where she pecked his lips again. The both of them started getting out right after. “We’ll see you two in the morning.” He grinned.
“Goodnight!” She said.
“Night,” you and Ransom said in unison.
You went to the side that your incredibly horny friends had been on which had been across from him. His eyes were closed with his head tilted back. You splashed water at him making him jump a little.
“Hey!” He splashed you back. You laughed as you did it a second time. “Alright, alright,” he said.
You did it again for good measure. “Can’t have someone seeing you have too much fun.”
He went back to his previous position this time putting his muscular arms on the ledge. You wouldn’t care to admit how long you stared at his biceps and shoulders. Then taking the quickest glance at his abs. Then that neck that you kind of wanted to put your mouth on. This is bullshit.
Why was he allowed to be this hot? It couldn’t be enough that he was an asshole. He had to be hot about it. Okay you looked at his pecs and tried to see if you could get a glance of what may have been in his swim trunk. Whatever.
“What are you doing?” He caught you, a smirk appearing on his annoyingly perfect face.
“It’s called minding my own business,” you replied. “You should try it.”
He laughed. “You’re such a brat.” You shrugged turning your head to look at nothing. “Is that what your sugar daddy sees in you?”
“He’s not my sugar daddy. I mean he buys me things like for my birthday, but... that’s not what our relationship is about. I don’t even know if we are in a relationship anymore.” You don’t know why you were spilling all of this to Ransom of all people.
Ransom frowned. “What happened?”
You looked down and sighed blowing out your cheeks after. “Well...” you sighed again. Your stomach was turning now. “You have to take it to your grave.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
You rolled your eyes. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
You sighed, biting your lip weighing in your options. On one hand it wasn’t Ransom’s business. You really hadn’t told Ava this. You didn’t want her to worry.
“So, he’s not my sugar daddy,” you said, hoping he got the hint.
You could tell he did by the grin on his face and the way he raised his eyebrows. “You?” He explained. “No there’s no way and here I always thought you’d be boring in bed.”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up no you didn’t.”
“I took you for a dead fish kind of girl,” he teased. “It’s always the cute ones.”
Your eyes widened at what he said. Then so did his when he realized what he said. “Anyway, so yeah that’s how we started off as,” you decided to ignore what he’d just said.
“Alright so go on.”
“Yeah, so it turns out I’m not the only one,” you said. “He’s been going to these clubs and he doesn’t think that I know.”
His jaw dropped. “This is the plot twist I really wasn’t expecting. I gotta tell ya.”
You shook your head. “Shut up.” You splashed him again.
“Stop!” He laughed, doing it back to you.
As you kept splashing at him, he came over to you, grabbing your hands to keep you from doing it again. “Let go of me.” You laughed.
“No.” He wasn’t laughing anymore. Just looking at you. Fuck he was putting you under his spell. You were supposed to not looking into his eyes. How did you make this mistake so many times? “Y/N, I... don’t make things weird.”
“What?” You laughed.
“Yeah. Don’t make this weird,” he said again softly before brushing his lips against yours finally.
“And here I’d always heard that you were a ladies man, Ransom,” you teased. “That was kind of weak.”
“Yeah, well maybe you bring out the worst in me.” A dopey smile had spread across his face. It was okay because there was one on yours too.
“Oh whatever.” You rolled your eyes still smiling. He leaned over to kiss you again but you put your hand against his lips to stop him. “I’m getting kind of tired actually.”
You walked back to your room. All wrapped in your sweater because fuck it was freezing now. You also wouldn’t say this out loud, but his lips felt really nice. As you made it to the bedroom the two of you were sharing, he came on not too far after, grabbing your arm to pull you into a kiss. He’s so dramatic.
As his lips worked against yours, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He felt so good. You can’t remember the last time David kissed you like this. “Fuck it’s actually really cold,” Ransom said.
You laughed. “I know I’m freezing.”
“How about we take a shower,” he said. “Maybe we could save some water together?”
“Oh yeah. We would totally be helping the environment.”
He grabbed you hand to lead you the rest of the way. You pulled off your wet clothes. As soon as you felt time hot water on your skin, you moaned. “
Jesus Christ, why not shower in hell,” he hissed.
“I’m already there.” You threw your arms around his neck. He leaned down to kiss you again. Pawing at your ass. He was so close this time.
You tried to act like nothing had happened as you finished getting ready for bed. As you got all settled under the covers, you felt your body finally start to warm up. He slid in next to you. This was the first time that you didn’t even attempt to put the wall of pillows up.
He pulled you all close to him. “You little shit! Are you naked?” You gasped.
He laughed. “Yeah. I don’t even know why you bothered.”
“Who said I was going to do anything with you?”
“Well, what if I tell you that,” he said, grabbing a handful of your ass, “I actually maybe sort of have feelings for you.”
Ah fuck.
Well, obviously.
But, ah fuck.
Why were you supposed to hate him again?
Because he was a giant asshole. He was rude to the help. Rude to everyone. Even you. Yet you still liked his stupid smug smile. That annoying laugh. You liked how he’d been surprisingly good company for this whole trip. Liked how he was holding you right now. You were pretty sure he could get an ugly haircut and you’d still like him. How he looked at you even when he was irritated with you.
Waiting for you to say something back.
“I... I have feelings for you, too.” You bit your lip after like you were nervous about what he might say back.
“Yeah?” He said with another dopey smile covering his face.
You nodded right before he bridged the gap first. Pressing your lips to his. His mouth moving ever so softly against yours. Like he was afraid you’d run away if he moved to quickly.
You deepened it and he finally pushed you down on your back. Ransom grabbed the back of your leg so you’d wrap it around his waist. Fuck he was already growing against you. “I still can’t believe you got dressed,” he pulled away to whisper in your ear. “You should have known I was just going to take everything off.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ever think that’s part of the fun.”
He chuckled before kissing you again. “Oh yeah?” He pulled away so he could start pulling down your sleep shorts. “You wanted me to take your clothes off?” You nodded, looking into his eyes. He hissed. “Didn’t even put-on panties, dirty girl.”
You laughed. “Do you like it?”
“Oh, I really, really like it.” He reached down to rub his hand up and down your slit. “What a pretty little pussy.”
You gasped. “Fuck.” His hands felt so good on you. He’d barely even touched you and it felt so, so good. Finally, his finger grazed your clit. He traced along it in a circle. “Stop teasing me!” You whined.
“Be patient, Buttercup.” He smirked.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Shit,” he stopped, “I don’t have a condom.”
You shrugged. “I’m on birth control.”
He smirked. “Yeah, you want me to fuck you raw, Baby. Want me to cum in you?” He leaned back down to kiss your neck this time. His thumb was pressing into your clit now. Going on sweet, sweet circles. He stopped for a minute to pull off your top.
When you were fully naked and he finally put his mouth on your nipples, you needed him to just fuck you. “Please, Daddy,” you whimpered.
He went back to kissing your neck. “Yeah? You want me to be your daddy? Want me to take care of you.”
“God, yes.”
He lined himself up at your entrance. Looking into your eyes as he started to push into you. You closed your eyes tightly. “No, no open your eyes. I want you to look at me while I fuck you,” he commanded.
You nodded doing as you were told as he made you stretch over the thick head of his cock. You were so fucking wet just from him touching you like that. Your skin felt like it was on fire. You cried out as he inched into you. Fuck he was bigger than you’d expected. He was making you feel so full.
“Ransom,” you whimpered, he started out with shallow thrusts not going all the way in.
“Fuck, you’re fucking tight,” he groaned. “Can you even take it?”
You nodded. “I can take it, Daddy.”
He steadied his hips before finally shoving himself all the way inside of you. You gasped as he started fucking into you going so deep. Little droplets of tears formed in the corners of your eyes.
He was fucking you so good, your brain went blank. All you wanted was him. Wanted him to never stop fucking you. “Oh my god,” you whined.
“Yeah. Feels good?”
You nodded as you tried to take it. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Daddy making you feel good?” He panted. “Daddy’s gonna always make your pussy feel good, Baby. I’m gonna take care of you. Buy you whatever you want. Give you every fucking thing your boyfriend wouldn’t.”
Your pussy was gripping his dick like a vice. How were you so close already. “Please?”
“Is that what you want?” He asked in that condescending voice, you’d always hated, but fuck he was going to make you cum because of it. “Want me to buy you nice things. Be your boyfriend. Give you a fucking family.”
If he wasn’t balls deep inside of you, you would have probably reacted differently to him confessing that he wanted something with you. More than just this, but fuck hearing it like this only made you that more far gone. “Yes!” You moaned a little too loudly.
He clamped his hand over your mouth to shush you. “Shhh, Baby. You don’t want everyone to hear you getting dicked down do you? Want everyone to hear me fucking you?”
You shook your head, but stopped as you tilted your head back because you couldn’t stop it. Your eyes got all glazed over as your orgasm hit.
“That’s it, cum for me.” He breathed. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum in your pussy.”
“Yes,” you whimpered. You could feel him so deep in your stomach. You can’t remember the last time you got fucked like this. No one else had ever been able to do this to you.
As he finally couldn’t hold out anymore, cumming deep inside of you he still moved his hips. Making sure you got all of him.
He laid on top of you for a minute, not pulling you as you both came down from your orgasms. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. How the hell were you going to explain this to everyone.
He rolled beside you before pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his shoulder. Still trying to catch your breath. “Fuck.” He laughed.
You chuckled. “I know.”
“Why did we wait so long to do that again?” He asked.
“Because I hated you.” You didn’t mean to let out a bigger laugh because your lower half was way too sore for that.
He rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. No, you didn’t.”
“I wanted to.”
“Brat.” He chuckled. “I just... I meant everything I said.”
“What?”
“That I wanna be with you...” he replied. “That I wanna make an honest woman outta you.” You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain that damn facade. He was making it hard because this smile spread across your face. “I’ll even let you live with me when you pack your shit out of that old man’s house.”
“Moving so quickly? Ransom, I’m shocked at you.”
“Look, I’ve put up with your shit for a year a half already,” he explained, “I already know that I want you.”
“You fucking sap!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why don’t you suck my dick about it?” He rolled his eyes.
You shrugged. “Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
----------
You didn’t fall asleep until the sun was already coming up. Every time you tried before that; Ransom would start kissing your neck. You were exhausted, but satisfied in a way you hadn’t been in a long time.
You woke up to rustling on the bed. You tried to feel for him because although you were still cozy you wanted his warmth, but he wasn’t there. “Ransom?” You yawned, peeking your eyes open to him fixing the comforter.
Oh.
“Hey, Baby,” he said with a smile on his face. He leaned over to kiss your forehead. “I gotta go, okay. I have some errands I have to run.”
You nodded, before wrapping your arms around him. He held you to him tightly kissing your forehead more. “Do you have to?”
“Mhmm,” he replied. “I told Simon I’d help him with this surprise for Ava
“Okay. I love you,” you replied sleepily before dozing off again. He smiled down at you before laying you back down, kissing your forehead before leaving.
You woke up again to Ava jumping up and down on your bed. “Get up!” She cheered.
“What are you twelve?” You grumbled. Then your eyes cracked open when you fucking realized you’d told Ransom that you loved him. “Oh no.”
“What? Wait, are you naked?” She raised both of her eyebrows as she got settled beside you in bed. “Did you and Ransom...”
You shook your head, suddenly feeling like you might puke. You fucking told Ransom Drysdale that you loved him. “What? No. I just got really hot last night.”
“Where’s your pillow wall?” She asked with a smirk.
“We were too drunk last night to remember?”
“Bitch, you slept with Ransom Drysdale!” She gasped. “What about David?”
“Um... David and I are... I was already going to end things with him.
This annoyingly shit eating grin spread across her face. “You dirty slut. Okay, well, I don’t think Simon would mind if you stayed with us until you got back on your feet.”
“Actually, I already found a place. I just... I didn’t want to ruin your fun, ya know.”
She sighed. “Y/N, I’m your best friend. Your problems are my problems. I wouldn’t have cared if you told me. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” You smiled.
“So...” another smile spread across her face, “how was it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking.” You laid back down, turning on your side and ignored her as she continued to ask questions.
You got your nails done with Ava, Trish, and Simon’s sister. Still thinking about what you’d said to Ransom. Nerves had started to settle in that you’d done something wrong. Raking your brain trying to remember if he’d even said anything back. You couldn’t remember.
It was Christmas Eve now and there was supposed to be this super fancy party today that the family apparently threw every year. Of course, you were going to wear the dress Ransom had bought you. There was no question. It fit in more. Besides okay maybe you wanted to look pretty for him whatever.
Neither him or Simon had come back by the time everyone started getting ready. You did your makeup in Ava’s room before going back to yours to get dressed. The was a knock on the door as you’d just finished.
“Hey,” Ransom leaned down to kiss your cheek lightly to not mess up your makeup. Setting down a little gift bag on the bed. “You look... you look beautiful.”
You were going to have to get used to him being nice to you. “Thank you.”
“Sorry, it took so long. You know Simon. Has to go above and beyond.” He chuckled.
You waited for him to get ready, checking your phone. David had been texting you throughout the trip. Not that you ever responded. You thought when you’d get to the end of this trip, you’d be dreading the drive home. Instead, you were hopeful of what was to come.
"So, I kind of got you something,” he said before the two of you could leave the room.
You frowned. “I didn’t get you anything back.”
“That’s okay. I don’t think either of us were expecting this,” he replied. “I just wanted you to know I was serious about everything.”
“Okay.”
He clenched his jaw as he grabbed the bag he’d placed, taking out a jewelry box which he handed you. You looked up at him with those big eyes. “I saw you looking at it at that store so...”
“You’re such a sap,” you sniffled.
He smiled. “I just... when you told me I love you this morning, I didn’t say it back. I wanted to say it when I gave you this so... I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded and he pulled you to him, hugging you tightly. You really didn’t want to mess up your makeup so you forced yourself not to tear up. Except lipstick be damned because you were not, not going to kiss him.
It was taking you everything to not hold his hand as the two of you walked into where the party was starting to pick up a little. He looked so cute in his red sweater. Simon and Ava were being doted on by his grandparents.
“So, Ava kind of figured it out,” you said as he handed you a glass of champagne.
“How?” He asked.
“You didn’t lock the door and I was still naked under the covered.”
He snickered. “Should have given her an eye full.”
You shook your head. “I’ll give you an eye full.”
“You already did, Buttercup.” He shrugged.
“Why do you call me that?” You rolled your eyes.
His face started to get all red. You’d never thought in all your days you’d see Ransom blush. Between the two confessing your feelings for one another, of you having sex, you accidently telling him you love him, and him telling you that he wanted to be with you, making him blush made you feel like you’d won whatever game the two of you had been playing.
He sighed. “Well, okay, so when me and my cousin Meg were younger, she was obsessed with the Powerpuff Girls. I didn’t want to admit that I kind of liked it. Your bad attitude reminds me of Buttercup. She was my favorite.” He rolled his eyes looking away from you like he was embarrassed.
“You’re shitting me.” This smile spread across your face.
“Shut up.” He wrinkled up his nose.
“Never would have guessed that under all that wool and assholeness was a sweetheart waiting to burst out of the seams,” you teased him.
“You’re so lucky I think you’re pretty or else I think I might drop kick you.” He sighed.
----------
Christmas Day passed by nicely and easily. Mostly with everyone relaxing. You spent most of it tucked into Ransom’s side drinking hot chocolate watching Christmas movies with everyone because at this point the two of you are just a cliche. Which was fine because you liked it.
He’d whisper I love you in your ear. Or pull you under the mistletoe because he’s corny. Ava and Simon teased you while Trish swore that she called it, which she kind of did.
When it was time go home you were a little sad. You liked being in this little bubble with him. Now you’d have to go home and deal with having to officially break up with David and having to talk Ransom out of taunting him. Of course, Ava and Simon offered up their place until you got on your feet, but him being him pretty much demanded that you live with him.
Normally you would kick yourself for moving so quickly and you don’t know why, but you saw something in him. Of course, you weren’t going to be able to move all of your stuff out today, but there were two very important things that you needed. David wasn’t even there when you got home. He was probably still at his parents.
“Hope you like cats because I’m not leaving them,” you’d told him as you packed them into their carriers.
He groaned, throwing his head back. “Fine, but you’re giving me a blowjob as soon as we get home.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you said before placing a wet kiss on his cheek just to annoy him.
“Hey, you wanna have sex in his bed before we go?” He asked with a smirk.
“You’re an awful person, you know that?” You put your hands on his chest. “Of course I do.”
“God, I love you.” He grinned before pressing his lips to yours.
#ransom drysdale smut#ransom drysdale x black!reader#ransom drysdale x black woman#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale x plus size!reader#ransom drysdale x black!plus size reader#chris evans smut#chris evans x black!reader#chris evans x plus size reader#happyhoelidays2020
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ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ
_________________________
ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Would you please do a part 2 of the Wakanda Bucky imagine „down by the lake“ where he has his new arm ? ❤️
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: smut 18+ (rough sex? Idk man lmao)
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: idk why but i don’t really like the way i wrote the smut idk but i was taking too long to write so you be the judge ig *sad face and cries* also i know his place in the movie is like a hut but i just made into a small cabin i didn’t think it was a big deal
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ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ
“Stop,” you smirked.
“What?” Bucky chuckled.
“You’re staring and it’s distracting.”
Bucky was in the lab with you as you put the finishing touches on his new arm. He had a chip, as freaky as that sounds, placed on the sensory cortex of the brain so that he can register feeling through the vibranium that you and Shuri co-created.
Bucky sat beside you waiting for the initial placement of his arm and just stared at you admiring the way your face scrunched adorably because you were insanely focused. It's been a few weeks since the day you first spent the night in Bucky’s arms; or arm really.
Since then especially he’s been so ridiculously cuddly and touchy. He’s always pulling you close to kiss you or whisper something not so appropriate in your ear that always made you giggle and roll your eyes; but not without turning hot and flushed.
He always looked at you with nothing but pure adoration and desire and it gave you butterflies everytime. His lingering touches on your arm made your skin burst into chills and when you looked away you could still feel his eyes lingering on your figure and that sent shivers down your spine.
“I can’t help it, you’re beautiful,” he said cheekily.
“Get a room, you two. Gross,” Shuri shouted across the room making you and Bucky laugh.
“I think we’re finished,” you smiled.
“Really?” he asked excitedly.
“Shuri, come!”
In no time, you and Shuri successfully attached Bucky’s brand new arm, black vibranium with gold lining; it was very sleek and cool and Bucky looked at it in awe. He moved his fingers around and closed his hands into a fist. He looked at every detail his arm had and he was just in complete shock.
“I can feel the breeze,” he whispered.
You smiled and grabbed his new metal hand and intertwined your fingers with them. His eyes widened and he squeezed your hand harder. His hand was cold against your but Bucky felt the warmth from just the palm of your hand. He couldn’t think about what the rest of your body would feel like.
He hugged you and Shuri tightly before turning to you with a giant smile on his face.
“Meet in the cabin?” he whispered.
“Of course.”
Hours later and you found yourself heading down the hill to the lake where Bucky’s cabin was. The cabin that you two spent so many nights together already; and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He was in the water making small waves with his metal hand and you smiled. You were so proud of him and yourself for this project that’s the start of changing his life for the better.
“I can feel the water,” he said sensing your presence behind him.
“I don’t think I need to ask if you like your new arm,” you giggled as did he.
“Come in, water’s warm.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“So?” he smirked.
You bit your lip and looked around knowing there wouldn’t anyone near but you still made sure. You took your shirt and pants off leaving you in your bra and panties and quickly ran to the lake before slipping in to let the warm water come to your waist.
You wadded through the water coming up to Bucky who smiled and wrapped his arms around you pressing light kisses to your shoulder. Your hands came up, his arm passed his shoulders to his hair still long and wavy; those strands you loved to pull on when his head was settled between your thighs.
“Thank you, darling,” he whispered into your ear.
“Of course, you deserve it,” you smiled at him.
“I think I have a promise that I need to uphold,” he nibbled on your ear seductively.
“Oh yeah? Care to refresh my mind?” you smirked.
“I’m gonna fucking ruin you so good, baby girl,” he growled before dragging you out of the lake by your hand. You two ran to the cabin giggling, once you stepped inside Bucky’s metal hand wrapped itself around your throat and pulled you close to him.
“I want you on the bed on your knees naked waiting for me. I’ll be right there,” he whispered making you grow wet in anticipation, your stomach fluttering at the tone of his words.
You scurried away to his bedroom getting rid of the wet garments that stuck to your skin uncomfortably. Your body grew cold from being wet but the heat in your belly grew and the cold air around you didn’t matter anymore. You crawled to the center of the large bed and waited patiently for Bucky to walk through the door. You trembled with eagerness, excited and aroused for him to come and completely ruin you.
“Ready, babygirl?”
You nodded shyly.
“Words,” he demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Bucky smirked devilishly at your obedience.
He was already shirtless and stalked towards you, crawling on the bed like an animal. You bit your lip nervously but Bucky pulled it from between your teeth and traced it with his metal thumb. He could feel the ridges of your lip and he could get over it. He knew what they felt like, he touched them a thousand times by now but he seemed hyper aware of everything he touched with his left hand. He hadn’t felt anything in that arm since nineteen forty-five.
He leaned down and kissed you softly, taking you by surprise; you were ready to get railed into the mattress but Bucky was kissing you like a shy teenage boy again.
Needily, you dipped your fingers in the waistband of his wet pants he still had on but Bucky didn’t want you in control. Weeks ago he made a promise and boy was going to keep it. He wrapped his hand around your throat again harder this time and moved you away from him; you stared with wide eyes, your breathing quickened.
“Did I give you permission to touch me?” he whispered.
You shook your head as best you could given his hand around your throat. When you did so he gave that look warning you to use your words.
“No, sir,” you whimpered.
“Good girl,” he moved back looking into your eyes as he took his pants off. You wanted to touch yourself so bad but you didn’t dare without his permission. You felt flustered and hot and the arousal dripping from you wasn’t helping.
“Come here,” Bucky stood at the edge of the bed with his erect cock in hand, slowly pumping it. You excitedly crawled forward replacing his hand with yours. You leaned forward arching your back and wrapped your lips around his cock.
Bucky rubbed your back softly biting his lips as you circled your tongue around his tip. Your hand continued to pump what couldn’t fit in your mouth because lord knows Bucky packs a lot. Tears brimmed your eyes as you suck on his dick.
Bucky tossed your hair and gathered it into his hand into a ponytail. You looked up at him through your lashes and Bucy almost came from the sight alone. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and played with his balls before pumping up and down what your mouth couldn’t take.
“Fuck, baby. Sucking my cock like a fucking slut.”
All you could do was simply moan around his cock. You moved your hand faster desperate to make him cum but Bucky pulled you hard by your hair pulling you off his cock.
“I wanna cum inside you babygirl,” he breathed out.
“Turn around,” he said with a stern voice; you giggled and turned around compliantly, subtly wiggling your ass to tease him.
Bucky rubbed his hands on your cheeks softly before bringing a hand up and striking it down to smack your ass hard. You yelped in surprise but the pain turned to pleasure and the tingles made you wetter. You bit your lip and your breathing quickened as you anticipated more spanks.
“You liked that, didn’t you. Such a fucking whore; like getting spanked like a bad girl,” Bucky growled.
“I’m your bad girl,” you smirked.
“Really? Does someone need to be punished?” he smiled playing into your little charade.
“M-hm,” you practically moaned.
Bucky smack your cheek again leaving a bright red mark on your soft skin. He pumped himself a couple times just spreading his pre-cum round his shaft, not that he needed the extra lubrication; you were practically dripping down your thighs, legs damn near shaking with need and desperation.
“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he leaned down to whisper.
Your body trembled under him and upon feeling the tip of his cock nudge your entrance you squirmed around desperate for more. He chuckled lowly standing back up before sliding slowly passed your slick folds.
You groaned at the incredible feeling of him completely filling you up. Never in your life have you ever felt so full, so right. His hips started moving faster and your arms gave out as you fell forward. Bucky’s hand rubbed up your back grabbing your hair one again.
He pulled it harshly and brought your body up flush against his. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke smoothly, whispering filthy things in your ear bringing you closer to your release. His metal hand came up to your throat and squeezed ever so slightly. Your eyes rolled back and Bucky chuckled wickedly.
“Fuck, you feel so- ugh! So good,” you wailed.
“You gonna come? I can feel ya clenching around me; feel fucking incredible,” he moaned.
“Yes, please let me come; fuck!”
“Wait for me, baby. Don’t you dare come until I say so.”
Bucky pushed you down once again and his hips snapped into you even harder if that was possible and your entire upper body fell into the sheets. Your moans and whimpers were muffled and you gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white.
He smacked your ass again rubbing your reddened skin softly. The slight stinging felt so good and you wiggled your hips in hopes he would do it again. When he did so, your body jerked in pleasure moaning loudly. You felt impossibly close to your release and you didn’t know if you’d hold on any longer.
“Bucky!” you whined.
“Please I need to come, fuck! I can’t hold it anymore!”
“Come on; let go, darling. Come all over my cock, make a mess baby,” he grumbled.
His hips stuttered signaling he was quite close to his high as were you. Your moans became high pitched and whiny and with pure adrenaline you lifted your torso up with your arms peeking behind you to find Buck panting hard. His head was thrown back and his eyes were screwed shut. Sweat lined his forehead and chest leaving him with a glowy sheen that made him look ethereal.
You dropped your head down with tightly shut eyes just like Buck’s were and finally you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach snap. You came hard against him rutting your hips back making his cock reach impossibly deep inside you. Your back arched and your toes curled. Bucky grunted loudly above you squeezing the flesh of your cheeks in his hand surely to leave marks and bruises littered for you to marvel tomorrow morning.
Bucky fell forward and littered faint kisses across your back and neck. You panted hard under him and Bucky soon got up to clean you off. Your body felt limp simply laying on the bed and when Bucky returned he chuckled at the state you were in.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumbled; the burning sensation between your thighs becoming apparent.
“You ok?” he asked sincerely when you winced trying to move.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “I think I’m ok.”
“Good, can’t have my best girl falling apart on me now. Not when she just gave the greatest gift of a new arm. Think of all the ways I have yet to do with this arm,” he whispered huskily making you giggle. He pulled close to him after crawling back onto the bed with you.
“I like that,” you smiled.
“The arm?”
“No, well yes of course, I made it,” you chuckled.
“I’m talking about you calling your best girl. Am I really?” you asked shyly.
“Of course you are,” he kissed your forehead.
“You make me the happiest man alive,” he whispered.
“Bucky,” you teared up.
“Get some rest, baby. You’re gonna need it,” he winked at you; you pressed kisses to his neck and jaw closing your eyes tiredly before Bucky turned you and cuddled you close from behind.
“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he gently wrapped his metal hand around your neck; a reminder that he was there behind you and he wasn’t gonna leave you.
==============
ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ:
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Notes: Title stolen from Song Of The Soul XXII by Khalil Gibran.
Companion piece: In the absence of sound (she hears her heart break)
Wrote this indulgent piece angst and fluff to reset after the very angsty The Astrophile (which took a lot of my own heart). As always, comments are gladly appreciated <3
Summary: Yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst Akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze.
Pairings: Yaku x reader, Akaashi x reader
She runs into Yaku at the New Year’s Party the Japanese embassy in Moscow throws for expatriates (a fancy term to describe birds who’ve flown the coop after finding it unbearably small). He’s in the middle of chattering with a bemused waiter in very broken Russian about the spread when he explodes into a delighted laugh, so loud that she startles and spills her drink all over his shoes.
Pandemonium ensues – the restaurant staff scatter to fetch napkins and she’s trying to pick up the pieces of her broken glass, stammering out apologies (because dear god, her boss is going to have her head for upsetting a guest – especially one so prominent as Yaku Morisuke, the only Japanese volleyball player who broke into the Russian professional league), when his laugh cuts through the noise.
‘This was my favourite pair of shoes’ he tells her when he stops laughing, and she’s about to launch into a litany of apologies when he grins at her cheekily – ‘But you can make it up to me by buying me dinner instead’.
‘Now?’ she gapes at him in shock. ‘I can’t, I’m working’.
‘Whenever’, he answers, stealing her phone from her hands. ‘Look – here’s my number. Call me when you can’.
She’s left in shock, watching him in silence as he bounces off to join another conversation.
She texts him that night (because a deal is a deal, and she always pays her debts) and they arrange to meet the next day at a dumpling place he recommends.
She’s there five minutes early, and he bursts into the restaurant five minutes late, apologizing whilst complaining about goddamned Russian traffic. He orders for the both of them in such an excruciatingly terrible Russian accent that she winces, but he must have been here before because the waiter takes their order without batting an eye. The owner, a wizened old lady with apples in her cheeks swings by to smack kisses on his cheeks noisily.
‘It’s a little strange, but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he tells her when the waiter presents them with their dumplings with a flourish. It is indeed strange – the dumpling skin is thicker and doughier than she’s used to with Japanese gyozas, stuffed with varying fillings of beef and pork and cheese, but his eyes are bright when she takes her first bite and gives a hum of appreciation because it is as he says, strange but good.
There is indeed an echo of home in her heart but she clamps it down firmly.
‘It’s good right?’ he asks and she nods mutely, mouth full of dumplings. He talks her ear away, telling her about his time in the Russian league, how he’s just made the first team this week. She learns he can’t remember a time when he doesn’t know the feel of a volleyball in his hands, and how he broke his mother’s heart when he chose to train outside of Japan, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.
He asks her why she’s in Moscow. She tells him she’s studied Russian as a child – her father, a math professor, believed it necessary for her and her sister to learn Russian, and while she’s never quite had a head for numbers, she takes to languages like a fish to water – and since she was looking for a new adventure, Moscow seemed like a good fit.
(She does not tell him she’s actually on the run from her broken heart)
‘You can teach me Russian then’, his words presumptuous, but there’s mirth and warmth flickering in his eyes that makes her hesitate to tell him off.
‘Maybe’, she responds with a shrug, standing up to pay the bill. To her surprise he lets her pay without a fight - very unlike Akaashi, who had only agreed grudgingly to allow her to split the bill on their first date.
‘It’s my turn to pay when we go out next time’, he tells her when they stand outside the restaurant about to part.
‘Will there be a next time?’ she asks him archly, and he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. He texts her less than five minutes after he takes his leave, inviting her to an ice skating rink.
To neither of their surprise, there is indeed, a next time, and a next time after that.
Yaku has an extremely sweet tooth, unlike Akaashi who prefers the bitterness of black coffee.
She tells him to drop in on her apartment after training (only if he’s up to it of course, she’s learnt that lesson from Akaashi after all). He does so without complaint, and she’s removing the pie from the oven when he lets himself in with the key he sweet-talked out of her.
‘Tadaima’, he calls cheerily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he drops his gloves on the kitchen table. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks, gaping bug-eyed at the steaming pie in her hands.
‘I don’t see anyone else it could be for’, she teases, setting the pie down on the table, cutting him a slice. The fruit seller at the corner of her street had a sale on apples, and she remembers Yaku telling her that he used to buy apple pie on the way to school every week, but would always end up giving it up to Kenma as a bribe to train harder during practice and finish running his laps.
He takes a bite and moans loudly even though he burns his tongue – it’s so good, a flaky, buttery crust hiding a jammy filling of caramelized apple and browned butter. It tastes like home in the fall when the leaves turn golden and red, when his mother brings home apples on discount from the store and he and his little brothers fight over the apples pastries his grandmother makes.
‘I love you’, he declares firmly, as he reaches for a second helping, and he pretends not to notice when she shrinks back and does not respond.
Yaku revels in public displays of affection - unlike Akaashi, who used to shy away from it.
‘I like your hair. Have you always kept it short?’ He asks her one day when they’re feeding ducks in the park near his house.
She laughs at him as he quacks exaggeratedly back at a very greedy duck chasing the bread in his hand and answers without thinking - ‘no, I cut it before I left Japan because I hear it’s what break-ups make you do’. Then she freezes, because this is the first time she’s ever alluded to Keiji to him – it’s a part of her life that she’d very much like to bury in a deep, dark vault and throw the key away.
But the expression on his face is very much like a cat eyeing a rat it’d like very much to trap and she’s right, he’s relentless (she should’ve known that, could’ve seen that from just watching one of his matches). As he walks her home, she finds herself telling him about Keiji - how his lack of affection and inability to step away from his job created a silence so still she heard her heart break.
When she finishes what she self-deprecatingly terms her tale of woe, he pulls her to a stop, ignoring the indignant protests of the people walking behind them. ‘What on earth, Mori’, she squawks, but he ignores her too, choosing instead to wind his hands into the ends of her scarf and tug her face to face with him. She does not want to look at him, does not want to see pity in his eyes – but there is none of that, only a quiet tenderness that warms her to her core.
‘I love you’, he tells her softly, and it’s a wonder she can hear every inflection of his voice through the rush of blood to her ears. ‘I will continue saying it as many times as you need, as loudly as I can until your heart is no longer broken and the silence is gone’.
Then, without an ounce of shame, he kisses her right in the middle of the busy street, completely oblivious to the glares of the people who pass them by.
Yaku is quick to anger, whereas Akaashi is the calm before the storm.
She’s told him again and again not to send her flowers – she swears she’s developed an allergy to them, the memory of Keiji sending her flowers every Friday even after they broke up sends bile up her throat (pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons) – but Yaku doesn’t listen and sends her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday (for love).
So she screams at him when he pops by her flat after training – because why on earth doesn’t he just listen to her, he knows she hates flowers, what on earth would possess him to send her flowers for her birthday, and he screams back that he does, damn it - but he’s not Keiji, he’s spent their entire time together trying to prove that, why can’t she just trust him for once.
Finally, he storms out shouting that he’ll come back when she’s calmed down, when she’s finally ready to forgive him for whatever Keiji has done – even though for the last goddamned time, he’s not bloody Keiji and she sinks to the floor, wondering why she’s allowed the ghost of Keiji to continue haunting her, six thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles away from home.
He’s right - it isn’t fair to him for her to keep comparing him to Keiji, to keep watching and waiting for him to slip up, not when he’s poured all his love and affection into her – into them . He’s not Keiji, never has been and never will be, and she wonders if this is the point his patience and kindness and love finally runs out.
But she’s not going to let another man she loves walk out of her life without a fight.
So she throws on her coat and climbs down the stairs, determined to march to Yaku’s apartment just a couple of streets away when she slams into him head-first at the corner of her street. ‘I’m sorry’ they both chorus immediately, and despite themselves, they break into a laugh.
‘I’m sorry for not listening’, he says, but she shakes her head, determined to say her piece. ‘You're right, it's my fault for not letting Keiji go. I should have figured this out earlier, but I know you’re not Keiji, you never have been, and I trust you never will be’.
And to drive the point home, thanking her lucky stars he’s not tall, she pulls him close by his collar and presses her lips to his. ‘I love you’, she whispers, when they finally come up for air. He looks at her like she just hung the stars up in the sky.
The next day, she presents him with a literal bushel of red roses, and he laughs at that - loud and clear and bright.
(The sound makes her heart feel whole again)
‘Why don’t you move with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to stiff her by doubling her rent in less than a year with a month’s notice.
She stills, hand frozen halfway to her mouth. He does not swallow for fear of choking the mix of uncertainty and hope rising in his throat - because sometimes even though he promises to wait for her as long as she needs, he wonders if she’ll ever forget that he’s not her bloody ex – until he senses her relaxing her tense shoulders, and decides to close in for the kill.
‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up. There we go.
‘You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, but she laughs along with him when he triumphantly presses his lips to her cheek, dodging her swats when she scolds him for leaving grains of rice on her face.
They adopt a black kitten from the shelter and they name him ‘Kuroo’.
Much like its namesake, their cat is a piece of shit and contrary as hell. He doubles over in laughter when he comes home one day to find her chasing Kuroo (the cat, not the middle blocker) around the house, furniture upended everywhere. He later understands through her huffs that she meant to give him a bath.
He sends endless pictures of Kuroo (again, the cat and not the middle blocker) to the Nekoma groupchat and they all fall head over heels in love. Kai sends him advice on how to grow catnip in an apartment. Fukunaga asks to video call the cat more than he texts him. Shibayama and Inouka ship a box of clothes for the cat because they’re worried it won’t survive the Russian winter. The worst offenders are Kenma who sets up social media accounts for it, and bloody international supermodel Lev who pours oil on flames by tagging the damn cat on his own posts. Yaku is alarmed to wake up one day and find that his cat is more popular than him.
Well, all of them save for its namesake, who threatens to retaliate by naming his dog ‘Yaku’.
He gets drafted onto the National Team, and he’s elated until he realizes that he’ll have to spend months away from her.
‘It’s fine’, she reassures him. ‘Kuroo will keep me company while you’re back home’. The little demon licks its ass and looks intolerably smug when he shoots a glare at it behind her back, because he knows damn well the cat is going to take advantage of his absence to take over his side of the bed.
He extracts a promise from her to call him every day (screw the time difference, seriously) and he in turn promises to send her tickets to watch him play. Then he packs his bags and flies back to Tokyo.
It’s nostalgic being back in his childhood home. The posters from his teenage years are still on his bedroom walls (gods – he was such a horny bastard back then), and his mother smothers him with his favourite foods and far too much attention. But he lays awake at night thinking of their little apartment filled with the smell of her baking and the sound of her singing and realizes he misses Kuroo - again, the cat, not the middle blocker, who’d miss him - despite its despicable way of stalking him while he takes a shit and most of all - he misses her.
He figures he has it bad when he starts turning down his grandmother’s apple pastries because they remind him too painfully of the apple pies she makes after either of them have had a hard day at work, and wonders when he started thinking of Moscow and the little apartment he shares with her as home.
But he soldiers on because playing for Japan is his dream (and has been, ever since he first learnt the thrill of keeping the ball in flight with his hands), and gets by on video calls and texts and pictures of Kuroo and the promise of dumplings and apple pies when he comes home.
He makes the mistake of mentioning that he has a girlfriend in Miya Atsumu’s earshot after practice one day.
‘You have a girlfriend?’ the piss-haired setter asks in disbelief. ‘You? Mr bossy - under five foot five – libero-chan managed to land himself a girl that’s willing to tolerate him?’
‘Just because you have an issue keeping girls from running away from you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t find girlfriends’, Sakusa interjects flatly, face firmly masked up, trusty bottle of sanitizer pointed in Atsumu’s direction.
Yaku is about to claw Atsumu’s eyes out when Hinata prances by and asks to see a picture of said girlfriend. Growling, he whips out his phone, and is mollified when the rest of the team crowds around and pronounces her to be very pretty. Everyone – except Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, sneering that he could do better (no he can’t - he really can’t get a girl to save his life), and Bokuto, who corners him later when he’s about to leave.
‘She used to date Akaashi, you know?’ Bokuto tells him solemnly, a marked departure from his usual jovial self. ‘They broke up on a pretty bad note’.
Yaku does not in fact know, because she’s never mentioned her ex-boyfriend’s last name, always opting to refer to him as ‘Keiji’, a fairly popular name for guys their age. ‘Oh?’ he replies, and tries his best to sound encouraging and not derisive or threatening or whatever it is that Atsumu has accused him of over the past few weeks of training.
‘Yeah. She’s a nice girl, I met her once or twice, but between you and me, I don’t think Akaashi is really over her’.
Too bad for him, he wants to say but doesn’t, because despite whatever Atsumu might say about him, he’s tactful, thank you very much, and knows it’s probably not the best idea to badmouth his teammate’s best friend to his face, especially a teammate he likes as much as Bokuto. Instead, he stuffs his shoes in his bag, shrugging and grunting noncommittally before heading off.
He doesn’t mention this to her during their nightly video calls. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want them to have to talk about him being an old acquaintance with her idiot ex over a call, their time together is too precious to be tainted by any mention of him. But there’s a part of him that wonders if it’s because he’s afraid that she’ll bump into Akaashi when she’s back in Japan and he might convince her to let him sweep her away. Akaashi is tall, dark and handsome, and most definitely smarter and more educated after all - a better match for her than him, an idiot that chases balls for a living.
But then her laughter chimes through his phone’s speakers as he pouts when she carries Kuroo to the screen to ask if he misses his daddy (the traitorous hell spawn refuses to even look at him) and it banishes the shadow of his doubts away. It’s as clear as day that she loves him, ball chasing idiot Yaku Morisuke.
He falls asleep to the sound of her humming his favourite songs.
She flies to Japan with their cat in tow a week before the Olympics and even though he’s moved into the Olympic dorms by then, he sneaks out to meet her for dinner as often as he can. Atsumu catches him once and grumbles something about ‘hypocritical bossy know-it-alls’ - but shuts up when Yaku turns up for practice the next day and is too busy grinning ear to ear to yell at him for flubbing an easy receive as he usually does.
When he finally steps onto the court for his first match, it’s easy to get carried away, because the light bearing down on the court is brighter than any game he’s played in before, and the roar of the home crowd is so loud he swears the tremors in his feet are from the floor - but he doesn’t. Because there’s a girl in the VIP stands shouting his name, and maybe it’s childish of him, but he has something to prove - he wants to make her proud.
And he does, because they win.
The entire team is in the locker room when he hears the clatter of familiar footsteps, then a shrieked ‘Mori’ before she tackles him into a bone-crushing hug. Atsumu barks at her ‘not to break our dear libero-chan’, but neither of them pay him any mind - she doesn’t even care that he’s literally dripping in sweat and snot and tears - because they won, they won, they won -
Then he looks up and sees Akaashi staring at them. Ah. The idiot ex-boyfriend has to ruin their moment.
Just as he’s wondering whether his fist should meet Akaashi’s eye or nose first, Bokuto swings by at the moment to distract her. She’s so excited at seeing a familiar face that she disengages herself from their hug and throws her arms around Bokuto instead. Yaku thinks that Bokuto is probably a lot smarter than most people give him credit for as Akaashi approaches him, his hand outstretched.
‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile on his lips. ‘You’re a lucky man’.
He pauses briefly to glance at her - and gods she’s radiant even as she’s chattering away to Bokuto, her eyes sparkling, the light shining softly on her hair - fuck, Atsumu’s right, he’s whipped - and tries to imagine a world where she slips through his hands. Suddenly, the twisted knot of spite in his chest unravels, and he can only feel the dregs of pity pooling in his belly. He's not blind, he can recognise the look of wistful regret on the taller man’s face, and he's certainly not deaf - he suspects that if he listens hard enough, he can hear Akaashi’s heart break.
I know, I’m lucky to have her - he wants to say but does not because that would mean twisting a knife in an already broken man. Instead, he steps forward to take Akaashi’s hand.
‘Always’, he promises firmly. Akaashi inclines his head in thanks.
Her heart is safe in my hands.
She returns to Russia first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.
He breaks into a run when he sees her standing at the arrivals gate with a bouquet of red roses and a cheeky grin on her face. ‘You’re rubbing it in at this point’, he pretends to pout, but rather spoils its effect when he swings her into his arms.
She cooks dumplings for dinner and there’s an apple pie waiting for him in the oven. His jaw drops in surprise when the dumplings taste exactly like his mother’s cooking. ‘I learnt it from your mum while you were at training, in case you already miss home’, she teases.
‘But with you, I am home’, he responds, his voice earnest and low. She flushes pink and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.
She is his home now, she and their cat in their little flat in Moscow bursting at its seams with apple pies and dumplings and love .
‘I want this to be my forever’, he tells her later, laying his head in her lap. His heart skips a beat, waiting for her response.
‘So do I’, she finally replies, running her hands through his hair. Her heart hums quietly, finally in safe hands.
#haikyuu angst#haikyuu#haikyuu fic rec#haikyuu imagines#haikyu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!#yaku morisuke#yaku morisuke x reader#nekoma#akaashi keiji#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi angst#akaashi imagine#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu romance
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A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)
I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!
I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors.
I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!
I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....
***
Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.
Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.
No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.
Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.
As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.
That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.
There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.
At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.
Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.
That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.
Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.
The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.
When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”
Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.
The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.
No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.
Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.
“Nesta?”
“I’m here.”
“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”
Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.
Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.
“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”
Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.
Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.
She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.
“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”
Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.
Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?
She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.
The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.
When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”
“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”
Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.
“Just do the dance cultural justice.”
Nesta swore she would.
On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.
High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.
Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.
As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.
They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.
The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.
They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.
She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.
Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.
Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.
Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”
Yes, that was why.
Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”
It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.
Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.
The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.
Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.
The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.
Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.
Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.
At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.
“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”
Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.
Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.
They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.
Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.
“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”
“I don’t know, probably.”
“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”
Yes. Terrified.
“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”
Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.
At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.
Gwyn’s grin was still wide.
“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”
Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.
“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”
Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.
The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.
For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.
Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.
While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.
Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.
The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.
Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.
The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.
The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.
Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.
Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.
The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.
Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.
Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!
Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.
The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.
The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.
When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.
Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.
Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.
She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.
In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.
“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”
Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”
The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”
Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.
Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.
Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.
The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.
Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.
Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.
Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.
Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.
Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.
The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.
“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.
What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.
There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.
Must have been magic.
“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”
Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.
“Interesting performance.”
Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?
If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.
“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”
“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”
Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”
Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.
“Why didn’t Amren stay?”
“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”
The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.
For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.
The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.
“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.
“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”
“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”
Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.
“Well, that explains it!”
Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.
Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.
“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”
Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.
“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”
Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.
She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.
He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.
But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”
Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.
“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”
Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.
Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”
“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.
His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.
She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.
“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”
Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”
“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”
Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.
“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”
It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.
Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.
Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.
Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.
The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.
Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.
She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.
History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.
The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.
Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.
The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.
There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.
Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.
Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.
Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.
She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.
Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.
“What are you-? How did you-?”
Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”
“Well... yeah.”
“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”
Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”
“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”
She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.
It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”
“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.
Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.
Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”
Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”
“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”
“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”
Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.
Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.
As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.
Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.
“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”
Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”
Oh.
“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”
“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”
Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”
“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”
Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”
Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”
Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”
They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.
Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”
“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”
“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.
Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.
They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.
“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”
Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”
“How long have you been interested in them?”
“A while.”
“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”
Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.
Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”
They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.
“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”
“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”
“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”
“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”
Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.
The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.
They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.
“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.
He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.
“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”
Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.
He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.
Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.
“Wait!”
Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.
“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive. I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”
Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”
Nesta nodded.
“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”
“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.
“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”
The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”
Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”
The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.
Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.
“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.
Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.
A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.
“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”
#nessian#fanfiction#nesta archeron#cassian#nesta x cassian#nesta#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#i wrote something#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nessian fan fiction#nessianfic#nesta archeron x cassian#nessian fan fic#nessian month#nessianmonth#a love for all seasons#a love for all seasons part 1#a love for all seasons winter
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The Bones (Reid Series) Part 1
Summary: Almost a year after Maeve’s death, Spencer reaches out to the recipients of Maeve’s donated organs to reconnect with his lost love. However, when the receiver of her heart, Reader, doesn’t write back, Spencer goes on a poorly-motivated mission to find her.
Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing)
A/N: There is an OC in this story because to me, writing “(y/n)” over and over again cheapens the story and doesn’t flow well. It was a personal decision, and to anyone it sincerely bothers, I’m sure there’s a way you can insert your own name instead. This fic is also inspired by “Things We Know By Heart” by Jessi Kirby. Category: Series, Soft Angst, Eventual Smut + NSFW content* Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC Content Warning: allusions to death, mourning, loss, recovery, arrhythmia (this is an intro chapter, so it’ll get more interesting from here I promise) Word Count: 2.2k
This will be a multi-part series.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
It all started that first autumn after Maeve’s death - just five weeks past a year since I parted with her. I was absentmindedly reading when, rather out of the blue, Mary Donovan called to inform me about a Mrs. Rachel Larsen.
Although we didn’t learn her actual name until later, she was first known to us as the recipient of Maeve’s liver. Not a single one of the three of us - Maeve’s parents and me - had expected a recipient to be in contact with us. That inability to predict such an event was caused by my neglect to remember Maeve was an organ donor. It wasn’t particularly relevant in the grand scheme of things, and for that forgetfulness, I was truly ashamed, but after reading Rachel Larsen’s letter together with the Donovans, it all came back to me.
Every single thing.
You see, despite the anonymity of the person writing to us, it was as if I could actually feel Maeve’s soul coming alive again, as strange as that sounds.
She was still here with me ... in some form.
Later that night, when I would return to an empty apartment, I would wonder why I hadn’t thought of reaching out to the recipients before. Even though I’d already started writing a thank you letter back to Rachel, the thirst for more of Maeve became increasingly insatiable.
While I did have fond memories of her to live by, I couldn’t thrive off of them in the way that I did with that letter. Our only moments together worth reliving were those spent over the phone, a time when I didn’t even know what she looked like. But that letter from Rachel Larsen ... it was somehow more wholesome and pure than any memory of the living Maeve that I could cultivate.
You could say I was doing this to ease my mourning, meaning it should’ve made me feel better, but that didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at me piece by piece as I wrote letters to the rest of the recipients.
The Donovans had no idea I was doing this, but I reasoned to myself that they would appreciate the surprise. Though they were still undeniably riddled with grief, smiles embellished their sullen faces when they read about Rachel’s quality of life now with a new liver. So maybe, just maybe, hearing from the rest of the receivers would be good for us all. At least, that’s what I told myself.
In one of those rare moments when inspiration strikes and it courses through your veins at the speed of lightning, I found myself being more productive than I had been in nearly a year. By midnight, I��d successfully composed five letters, each dedicated to the receiver of one of Maeve’s major organs - none of which, though, included my identity.
Given the fragile process of contacting the transplant coordinators, getting consent forms, and premeeting counseling, it would be months, if not years, before I would be able to really speak with these faceless people. Nothing against Donor Family Services - I’m sure they do the best they can - but for me, their best wasn’t good enough. So instead, I enlisted the help of someone I knew could never let me down.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Penelope peered up at me from her seat, her pinky finger hesitantly hovering over the ‘enter’ button.
“Yes.”
With just one click, she discovered the addresses of each one of those faceless people. This singular operation, albeit somewhat unethical, was the final piece to my puzzle. All there was left to do now was send the letters to them, with the tenuous hope they might send one back.
Luckily for me, not a single recipient questioned how I managed to find them or why this process wasn’t being handled by Donor Family Services, but I suppose if they did wonder those things, they didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Especially not after they learned who I was in relation to their donor. I didn’t intend to guilt-trip anyone with what I wrote in my letters nor did I want to take advantage of anyone’s empathy, but how could you possibly make a foe out of your organ donor’s grieving boyfriend? Exactly - you can’t. So you don’t. Instead, you send an inviting letter back, telling me you’d love to meet. Which is what four of them did.
Only one person didn’t reply, and while an 80% success rate was great, I simply couldn’t let this one go. Trust me, I would have ... had it been any other organ.
For quite some time, I was the one with Maeve’s heart.
I just needed to see where it was now.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
The heart has several definitions and corresponding connotations.
Scientifically speaking, the heart is a hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation. However, figuratively, the heart can be seen as the central or innermost part of something. The heart of a city, for example. But in literature, the heart is symbolic of love. It is often regarded as the source of all knowledge, which is where the comparison between the head and the heart comes from. The head operates logically, whereas the heart functions emotionally, but despite the rationality the head holds, the heart is what people advise you to listen to because it holds the ultimate truth.
The heart, because it is equipped with your truest feelings, supersedes any logic and reason the head might hold.
But you see, I only ever knew Maeve’s mind. I could understand the inner workings of it - I’d probably be able to navigate through her consciousness if I entered it given the fact that our intellect matched one another’s - and I shared nearly identical thought processes with her, but that was all that I ever knew.
And if that was how much knowledge she held in her head alone, then, undoubtedly, her heart held so much more.
Science defines the heart as an organ. Figurative language uses the heart to establish a focal point. Literature likens the heart to love. But I compare her heart to the ocean. Like the sea, Maeve’s heart was 80% undiscovered, and exploration was simply calling my name.
For that reason, and that reason alone, I couldn’t abandon my pursuit of it.
That’s not to say I wasn’t ashamed of this mission, though. If anything, shame for the man I had become in the face of Maeve’s death was the only feeling I was truly capable of anymore. Any other emotions were fleeting or insincere.
Unfortunately, that slimy, disgusting feeling was only amplified times ten when I found myself driving two hours and forty-five minutes to get to Virginia Beach.
No sane man would drive this far on a weekday for even their most prized possession, and yet here I was, exactly 180 miles away from home, seeking out someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to even write me back, let alone agree to meet with me. Who knows if she’d even give me the time of day.
She being Valerie.
“Valerie Elise Bishop was born on August 5th, 1988 in Henderson, Nevada, to parents Andrew and Sara, but when Valerie turned seventeen, she was diagnosed with arrhythmia,” Garcia explained to me over the phone on the car ride here. “It’s when-”
“When the electrical impulses that coordinate your heartbeats don't work properly, causing your heart to beat too fast, too slow or irregularly,” I accidentally cut in. Realizing I interrupted Garcia, I brought her back into the conversation by asking, “I know there are more than 3 million cases per year in the U.S, but isn’t it usually common for ages 60 or older?”
“You are most certainly correct, Boy Wonder. It is more common in ages 60 and older, however, her maternal grandmother passed away from arrhythmia, so the family history increased the likelihood.”
At the sound of this news, I had to pull the car over and physically stop just so I could grasp the weight of what I was really doing.
“In Henderson, Nevada ... maternal grandmother passed away ... family history increased the likelihood …” Garcia’s voice rang in my head.
It was then that I came face to face with the gravity of reality.
Valerie wasn’t just a faceless name or a recipient of Maeve’s heart, she was a person. And her humanity only became more apparent to me the more Penelope spoke.
For god’s sake, she and I grew up in the same state. She and I saw the same sunsets from the same little corner of the earth. She drove down the same highways and byways - we might’ve even crossed paths at one point or another! Not to mention that she lost her grandmother to the same disease that she was suffering from, and if there was one thing consistent about arrhythmia, it was very likely she’d been living with it for decades, if not her entire lifetime. It’s a long term disease that takes years to improve but only seconds to kill. All it would take is just one irregular beat, and she’d be dead. How can you possibly live with that constant fear looming over your head?
She is a person. I had to remind myself. Not just a means to explore more of Maeve.
“Hey, Garcia,” I turned the car back on. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I could just feel panic begin to rise in Garcia.
“No, I’m not talking about life, I’m talking about this.” Though she couldn’t see, I grandly gestured to the location, the car, and the passenger seat that was cluttered with files on Valerie. “I don’t feel right invading her privacy like this. It’s just selfish.”
I wasn’t the only one mourning something here.
“Are you sure?” Penelope clarified. Which was ironic considering she was the one who was unsure of doing any of this, to begin with. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have dragged Garcia into this. Something as immoral as this was totally against her character, but she did it anyway because her loyalty to her friends conquers all.
Like I said, my shame multiplied times ten. If not for Valerie, then certainly for Penelope.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m heading home.”
“Okay,” She softly returned. “Be safe.”
“Oh, and Garcia?” I asked before ending the call. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Anything for you, Dr. Reid.”
By the time I ended the call, the sun was already setting - that’s how long I’d been on the road for. The nearly-three-hour drive I would have to make for the second time today meant I wouldn’t be home in time to beat the pitch-black sky, so considering I was already in for a long night, I made a little detour for the one thing I couldn’t go home without.
A piping hot cup of coffee.
I felt something as rewarding as caffeine was well deserved for the self-restraint I demonstrated minutes ago. And maybe it was my exhaustion, both mental and physical, that brought me to the near conclusion that I would truly let this go, but I was honestly feeling like I could accept this. An 80% acceptance rate. Not bad, right?
Though I was basically half-asleep while waiting for my coffee, I could not miss the barista when she said, “Valerie! Your order’s ready!”
What are the chances?
A jolt of energy surged through my body and brought me back to life, causing me to whip my head around at the slightest semblance of movement. On instinct, my gaze gravitated to the woman walking towards the front counter. My pull to her was so strong that even if I hadn’t studied file upon file on her that included pictures of what she looked like, I still would’ve recognized her in a heartbeat.
I just knew. That’s her.
I had no plan whatsoever for how I should approach this, and yet I still rose from my seat, motivated by nothing more than the single belief that I needed to.
Was this the universe telling me that I was meant to run into her after all? That I needed to meet the woman with an oceanic heart?
But when I finally got to where she was, she glided effortlessly past me, not paying any mind to my presence. Why would she though? To her, I was no one. To her, I was the faceless person.
“Excuse me!” I bolted to the front counter after realizing I might’ve just missed my opportunity. The barista, stunned and concerned, furrowed her brows while she waited for my question. “Is that girl a regular here?”
“Valerie?” She pointed in her direction, to which I nodded rapidly. “Oh, yeah. She comes in here all the time. She works just across the street.”
When I came to this coffee shop, it was simply by chance. It wasn’t even the closest cafe, but it was the one I chose to go to for some inexplicable reason.
I’d like to think it was fate. I was meant to be here after all. Because right behind me stood the storefront of a building I had only briefly read about in Valerie’s file.
The Bones, Art Gallery & Studio
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
PART 2 HERE!
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[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Tempering (Eng Translation)
🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (淬炼) which has not been released in English servers!🍒
This R&S features S2 Gavin!
[ Chapter One ]
Eight-year old Tang Chao wrote in his homework: My aspiration is to be free and easy, and get to sleep after a full meal.
The teacher failed him.
Eighteen-year old Tang Chao wasn’t able to be free and easy, nor get sleep after a full meal. This is because he was recommended for admission into the police academy.
Everyone knows that he’s a “specially enrolled student”. When he entered the academy, he didn’t even have to go through the “Demon Test”. He wasn’t treated harshly by the officers during training. The first semester consisted of some foundational stamina training and a few superficial criminal investigation classes. In the first month, Tang Chao barely passed in every course. Yet, he remains unusually carefree.
Tang Chao’s roommate feels indignant. “It’s only because your Evol is special. Otherwise, you’d have been expelled from the academy a long time ago with such grades.”
“That’s right, my Evol is special.” Tang Chao arches his brows. “If the academy were to expel me, they’ll experience a great loss.”
Detecting lies is essentially an Evol meant for criminal investigation. And it’s precisely because of this ability that he was recommended for admission into this first-rate police academy despite his average physique.
“Hmph. Anyway, you only have a few more days of being carefree.” His roommate flips over on the iron bed, sticking out half his head from above. “I heard from the instructors that the first month after entering the academy merely counts as a warm up. Actual training will only begin next week. The higher-ups even sent a third year student to supervise us. Guess who our class got?”
“Who?”
His roommate pauses with each syllable. “Gav. In!”
“Who’s Gavin?”
His roommate almost falls down from the bed. “You don’t even know who Gavin is?”
“Why do I have to know him...” Tang Chao mutters. “Is this person very famous?”
“Famous! He’s so famous! He’s celebrated!”
The famous Senior Gavin had passed, with record-breaking marks, the admission exam, physical capabilities, shooting, Close Quarters Combat, simulated sand tables... His marks for various segments have never fallen below the top three places. In his second year, he was already heading out on missions with full-time Evol agents. Even before graduating, he was so popular that police departments from various districts were already falling over each other in their eagerness to snatch him up.
“...but I heard that mission was pretty tragic. It seems a comrade from the same squadron as him lost his life... Hey, are you listening to me?”
“I’m listening, I’m listening.” Despite Tang Chao’s perfunctory words, he has to admit that this Senior Gavin is indeed more of a special police officer than he is.
Or rather, Evol special police officers ought to be like Gavin.
“I should caution you. Apparently, he’s exceptionally haughty, and you might as well be a grain of sand in his eyes.” His roommate pats the edge of the bed. “You should be a little more serious next week.”
Tang Chao laughs. “What can he do to me? I’m someone with a special privilege.”
His roommate clicks his tongue, not advising him further. “Seeing that you have such virtuous conduct, you can ask for help after meeting him.
-
[ Chapter Two ]
After assembling in the field on Monday morning, Tang Chao realises that a young man in his twenties is standing next to their class leader. The other party looks fierce, his back even straighter than the Chinese fir trees along the field. At a glance, it’s evident that there’s a world of difference between him and this batch of newly enrolled students.
“This is Student Gavin from the Seventh Squadron. This semester, he will be a provisional supervisor and instructor. In the training from now onwards, I want all of you to be more spirited and driven, and prohibited from embarrassing our class.” The class leader exclaims. “Do you hear me!”
“Yes!”
Amid the uniform responses from the formation, Gavin’s line of sight sweeps across this batch of new students. Everyone holds their breaths and keep silent, thinking that this senior would be giving them a lecture. In the end, the other party simply nods. “In that case, we’ll officially begin. As a warm up, run 10km.”
How many kilometres?
Everyone looks at each other, thinking they must have misheard.
Tang Chao raises his hand. “Reporting to the instructor - We typically run 5km in the mornings...”
Gavin turns a deaf ear to him. “Turn to the right, get ready --- Run.”
[Note] I recorded the audio for his command because why not
At this point, everyone realises that Gavin is truly like what the rumours said, and is not to be trifled with. All they can do is gulp in resentment, running in formation. Tang Chao deliberately lags at the very end, then walks towards Gavin, giving him a salute. “Reporting to the instructor.”
Gavin looks at him.
“I can’t run 10km.” Tang Chao is straightforward. “I have a special situation. The class leader and the others know about it. If I were to run 10km, I’ll really die...”
“Since you’re enrolled in the police academy, there’s no special situation.” Gavin responds. “As for whether or not you’ll die, we’ll talk about that after you’ve finished running.”
“...”
In the end, Tang Chao finishes running. Or rather, he finishes crawling.
The other students in class have already finished running and have headed off for breakfast. He’s the only one who resembles a ghost, drifting on the field. Occasionally, some classmates would pass by. He usually laughs and jokes around while they’re still running, so seeing him - who entered through the back door - finishing last leaves them gloating a little.
Gavin, on the other hand, doesn’t gloat. When Tang Chao staggers to the end point, he speaks with a blank expression. “You’re late by 20 minutes. Have your breakfast. The class will assemble after 20 minutes, and we’ll start with the next training.
Initially, Tang Chao was already too tired to speak. After hearing this command, he can’t help but do so. “Brother... ah no, Instructor Gavin, even if you’re just showing your authority at the first encounter, it should be enough.”
Gavin furrows his brows.
“Just look at how cooperative I’ve been. Seeing how I've ended up, the others in class will definitely listen and obey you unquestioningly.” Tang Chao cracks his knuckles. “But my physical constitution is really like this. It isn’t my choice to rank at the bottom of the class. Could you just close an eye and let me off?”
Gavin looks at his unwillingness to change, and speaks plainly. “Since you’re so unwilling to undergo training, what are you doing here.”
Tang Chao shrugs. “There’s not much reason. Someone needs me to be here, undergo some simple training, go through the motions, then graduate as a matter of course, then help crack some cases and make a living.”
“What I'm asking is - why are you staying here.” Gavin’s voice turns stern. “If someone didn’t need it, you wouldn't be here? When you were running, I asked your class leader for the training results from your first month. Most of your marks hovered around the passing grade, and you had to re-take a few tests.”
Tang Chao releases an “mm” sound -- even though it’s very embarrassing to be told this in such a straightforward manner, the results are black and white, so he doesn’t hope to get anything higher.
Gavin continues. “From the numbers of your make-up examinations, you actually have quite a lot of potential.”
Tang Chao is left dumbfounded.
“Since you have potential, don’t waste it.” After Gavin finishes speaking, he leaves.
-
[ Chapter Three ]
Gavin’s demon-like training continues. On the second day, he adds weight training and 200 push-ups to the training regimen. At this point, it’s not just Tang Chao who can’t handle it - the other new students in the class can’t endure it midway through. On the third day, he adds an obstacle course and forty minutes of wrestling on top of the basic training.
“I think I understand now. Senior Gavin doesn’t want me to die. He wants everyone to die.” Tang Chao feebly concludes during wrestling training.
Finally, a week goes by. A simulation tactics manoeuvre is added to the training. This is a rare course in which Tang Chao can attain high marks. With an Evol which allows him to detect lies, he’s especially skilled in courses related to psychological warfare. He looks at the holographic sand table before him. Filled with inexplicable courage, he suddenly raises his hand. “Report.”
“What is it?” Gavin’s voice drifts over from the front.
"I wish to challenge Gavin to a round.” Tang Chao raises his voice.
At this moment, soft discussions fill the surroundings. Gavin arches his brows. Amid the discussions, he walks to the other side of the holographic sand table, not engaging in superfluous words. “Which one do you want to start?”
“Rescuing hostages in a factory. I’ll storm the fortification.”
“No problem.”
Tang Chao’s palms begin to sweat slightly, but he maintains the provocative smile on the corners of his lips. “Instructor, if I win, could I be exempted from the remaining training for today?”
Gavin pulls open the map. “We’ll talk about that after you’ve won.”
The holographic sand table simulation is an entirely new course introduced to students in recent years. The maps in the sand table, the personnel’s Evol abilities, the weather and weapons are entirely constructed by the system. Because this is meant to train a students’ adaptive and judgment skills, there’s no such thing as a party gaining an advantage over another through undergoing a similar experience.
Not even after ten minutes after the round begins, Tang Chao’s moves have already garnered him sixty more points than Gavin.
In the lead over Gavin for the first time, his heart finally feels slightly pleased. He can’t help but lift his eyes to cast Gavin a glance. However, the other party doesn’t look frantic at all. Gavin’s line of sight is focused on the sand table in front of him, fingers continuously moving and tapping. The originally three-way defense team is quickly split into nine teams, intercepting and attacking Tang Chao from all directions.
At this moment, students observing from the side burst into an uproar. Having to command nine groups at the same time - is he human?!
Tang Chao is also very shocked. But in the next second, he loses his ability to be shocked. The symbols on the map representing each other’s movements flicker continuously. Gradually, he can no longer keep up with Gavin’s movements - there is too much false information. The moment he calculates that one path can’t be taken, many more paths around him have already been blocked.
An increasing number of regions struck with red crosses appear on the map. When he finally grabs the hostage, the six teams he originally had have been reduced to a small four-person group by Gavin.
Gavin shuts the holographic sand table. “Any thoughts?”
Tang Chao remains stubborn. “At least I successfully rescued the hostage...”
“You think that’s called a success?” Gavin laughs coldly. “Do you know why the highest marks are awarded based on the number of people left in the simulation? Because every red dot on the map represents the life of a comrade in real life.”
Tang Chao feels as though something is lodged in his throat.
“In an actual operation, the situations you have to face are even more dangerous, and even more complicated than in the sand table.” Gavin looks around at all of the students. “The criminal will not give you as much time and opportunities to make judgement calls. Every wrong decision could result in the death of a comrade.”
His gaze returns to Tang Chao, his tone becoming more severe. “Give it proper thought.”
Tang Chao lowers his head. “Yes.”
“But you were courageous in bringing up the challenge, and it’s worth encouraging.” Gavin curls his forefinger and taps the sand table. “5km, go.”
For the first time, Tang Chao wholeheartedly finishes the 5km run. He pounds his aching and sore legs, preparing to return to the dormitory. Suddenly, he sees his opponent from half an hour ago at a corner not afar off.
Gavin is standing underneath a tree, holding a photograph in his hand.
Gavin doesn’t notice Tang Chao. All of his focus is channelled onto that photograph. In this moment, he seems to have unloaded all his defences, becoming a Gavin different from his usual self. Those perpetually stern eyes have grown dim, bringing with them a twinge of fatigue.
Tang Chao holds his breath, subconsciously squinting his eyes to identify the photograph. On it seems to be... a female? Could she be Instructor Gavin’s...
But why is there blood on the photograph?
Before he can let his imagination roam, someone suddenly pats him on the shoulder.
“Hey, Tang Chao, have you seen Instructor Gavin?” His roommate asks. “I need to look for him.”
Tang Chao turns slightly, blocking his roommate’s line of sight. He points in another direction. “Oh, I saw him. He walked towards the canteen.”
The lies of a person who can detect lies will never be discovered by someone else. His roommate doesn’t doubt him, and gives him another pat on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
After his roommate walks a distance away, he turns his head once again to look at Gavin, before leaving quietly.
He doesn’t know what that girl in the photograph means to Gavin, but his instincts told him that the tranquil image before him wasn’t one which someone should have disrupted.
-
[ Chapter Four ]
Amid torrential rain, one group continues training on the field of the police academy. The gloomy weather and gloomy atmosphere seem to make the weight on their shoulders much heavier than usual. But this time, no one complains, including Tang Chao.
--Because yesterday, another comrade in the police academy lost his life in a hostage rescue operation.
The pools of water beneath their feet are akin to pools of blood. The wooden piles on their shoulders seem to be alive and breathing, weighing down on them, and leaving them unable to catch their breath. Tang Chao grits his teeth. Even if he’s at the very end of the formation, he doesn’t give up on pressing forward.
“Late by four minutes.” Gavin clutches the watch at the end point as always. “There’s improvement.”
Only Tang Chao knows just how much effort he expended for the few words “there’s improvement”.
In this moment, he vaguely figure things out in his mind. Even though it’s very unclear, there’s a life goal in his heart which is more definite and firm than being “free and easy, and sleeping after a full meal”. Carefree days are definitely good. If he were to cast down the wooden piles and shout “I quit”, he can have them. But as long as he remains in the police academy for one more day, as long as the vow he made upon entering the academy still remains engraved in his heart, his future is destined to have no fate with being free and easy.
Tang Chao releases a muddy breath. He unloads the weight, laying directly on the field. “Instructor Gavin, how did you tell that I had potential back then?”
Gavin is silent for a while. “...actually, that was a lie.”
Tang Chao bursts out laughing.
Perhaps it was indeed a lie from Gavin. But he had followed through with this lie, and enabled Tang Chao to believe this lie too - he had never given up on Tang Chao, and Tang Chao had never given up on himself.
The rain continues pouring down. After laughing, Tang Chao’s voice mixes with the clear water. “Did you know? I suddenly had the ability to detect lies overnight.”
Gavin doesn’t say anything, and Tang Chao continues. “At first, I didn’t even know how to control my Evol. I was so confused, and the people around me were also very alarmed. Because those around me could no longer conceal anything. No matter what kind of masks they wore, I could remove them. Many people were afraid of talking to me. They didn’t even dare to come near to me. That period of time was... pretty depressing. It’s such an incredible ability.”
“Afterwards, I fumbled around and became clearer on how to use this ability. I more or less figured out how to live in such an environment.” Tang Chao points at his head. “The secret is in not caring.”
“It’s not that you really don’t care.” Gavin says.
“That’s right.” Tang Chao smiles wryly. “It’s just that after pretending not to care for such a long time, I’ve become confused too. Instructor Gavin, do you think I can still find the reason for staying here?”
Gavin ponders for a moment before responding. “I can’t imagine how it feels like to be surrounded by lies. But right now, you’re able to walk out from those days, and maintain an independent judgement. It shows that you’re actually much more tenacious than the average person.”
“I don’t think that I’m strong...”
“No one is born strong.”
Tang Chao wipes at the rainwater on his face. “Including yourself?”
“Including myself.” Gavin says solemnly. “I was at a loss before, but afterwards... I found a reason to persevere. I think it’s only a matter of time before you’ll also find a conviction belonging to yourself.”
When Gavin speaks, his intonation doesn’t fluctuate much. It’s as though he’s elaborating on an obvious fact. At this moment, Tang Chao doesn’t use his Evol, because he knows that these are Gavin’s genuine words.
There’s no need to use a lie detector to determine this.
The rain gradually lessens. Tang Chao observes the ash coloured sky for a very long time. His voice is very soft, as though he’s speaking to himself. “I can’t think of any high-sounding reasons. In that case, my goal is to become a person who can live up to this ability.”
Gavin laughs. With neither too much nor too little force, he kicks Tang Chao’s arm with his foot, then blows the assembly whistle in his hand. “All right. Get up and prepare for the next training.”
Tang Chao sits up. “Big Bro, you should at least give me a compliment!”
-
[ Chapter Five ]
Without realising it, the semester is drawing to a close, and Gavin’s task of being an assistant supervisor is ending soon. The class had originally planned to drag Gavin along to a small New Year’s Eve farewell party. In the end, Gavin was sent to participate in a special operation that day, so everyone just brought the farewell party forward, and wish Instructor Gavin a smooth and successful mission.
After the students have left the classroom, Gavin realises that Tang Chao is still standing at the doorway. “Why haven’t you left with the others?”
“I heard this mission is pretty dangerous.” Tang Chao suddenly speaks.
“Every mission is accompanied with danger.” Gavin says.
“Not that kind of danger...” Although Tang Chao isn’t a participant in this mission, he has heard about its contents. “The moment it isn’t handled properly, the dissent between civilians and Evolvers would be aggravated. If the time comes, I’m afraid it wouldn’t end with just a few clashes and bloodshed.”
Although he’s often careless and relaxed, it doesn’t mean that he’s stupid.
“I know.” Gavin nods. “Since you’ve already heard about some of its contents, your class should more or less know about it too - did they ask you to inquire about it?”
“Not really. I wanted to ask you about it myself.” Tang Chao hugs his elbows. “If... and I’m saying ‘if’. If this operation contradicts with the convictions you’ve always persevered in, what would you do?”
“There’s no need for such hypothesis.” Gavin looks at him. “I’ll just use my own eyes to look at it, use my own mind to make a judgement, and not doubt it before the operation even begins. If conviction can be so easily swayed, it means it isn’t yours. Instead, it’s what someone else has forcefully given to you.”
Gavin pauses, glancing at his own palm. Even if its development clashes with my convictions, I’ll use my own methods to handle it.”
When Tang Chao hears this, he’s left dumbfounded. Then, he immediately laughs. “Ah, this answer is truly in line with Instructor Gavin’s style.” He moves over and crinkles his eyes at Gavin. “No wonder the higher-ups purposely trained you to become a leader. With such words, who wouldn’t want to be Instructor Gavin’s subordinate?”
Gavin shakes his head. “I’m not interested in being a leader.”
“Why aren’t you interested in anything? You said you weren’t interested in the competition earlier either...” Tang Chao grins. “It looks to me that the only interest you have is the lady in that photograph, right? When will you introduce Sis-in-law to everyone- ack!”
He receives a blow from Gavin’s elbow.
Tang Chao covers his stomach and pouts, looking aggrieved. “If you don’t want to be a leader, what about being a captain? I heard that after I graduate, the Special Operations Team proposed by the higher-ups will be formed. When the time comes, I reckon there’ll be many interesting and strong comrades joining the team. You can be the boss.”
“Am I the one forming the Special Operations Team? Can I be the captain just because I want to?” Gavin glares at him. “Why not consider whether or not you can join it first.”
“I think if it’s you, I definitely can.” Tang Chao laughs, showing his teeth. “If Captain Gavin can do it, I definitely can do it too.”
A few days later, Gavin sets out. Students from the class send him into the vehicle at the entrance of the academy. Tang Chao gives him a salute and a smile. “Wishing Instructor Gavin an early New Year’s, and wishing you a safe and successful operation.”
Gavin nods, returning a salute to everyone. “I receive your good wishes. Happy New Year. In the future, we’ll definitely meet again.”
Everyone watches as the truck leaves their line of sight. For a very long time, nobody speaks. Finally, with a deep breath, the class leader asks. “Are we continuing with training?”
“Of course we are!”
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Title: Kismet {8}
Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor
Warning: Plot, Tiny Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes, Small Time Jumps
Words: 6.6k
Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?
If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘
As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️
***Loosely Edited/Proofread***
***Interactive***
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
-Henry-
The minute he woke the next day and the alcohol had worn off; he instantly regretted his actions. His head was pounding and his nose stuffy, which was always what the morning after a drinking fest looked and felt like for him. the pain in his head made him painfully aware of everything he’d said to you. More than half of him wished he would have just held his peace and moved on, but the other side of him—the stubborn bull side felt nothing but satisfaction from what he’d done. It was time, especially seeing that you completely had the wrong idea about who he was and his character. He couldn’t help but wonder what you thought about your conversation, but instead of dwelling on it, he decided to push it to the side and do the logical thing. Move on.
It was now five days since that conversation, and though it felt strange the first couple of days to not send you a message when you ran across his mind, he did it and adapted. He now was throwing himself into work because there wasn’t a shortage of it. Most days, he was in pre-production for Witcher two, and that in itself was a lot of work. Production decided to kick fight choreography up a notch because last season wasn’t badass enough. The choreography this season was definitely taking it up several notches, and it meant more long hours of training and even more potential for him to be hurt.
By week two post convo, he was steadily counting down to his vacation time. Training was kicking his ass, and the more and more days that passed, the more he thought of you. That wasn’t all though, the more the way he thought of you changed. In the beginning, he thought he was infatuated or possibly obsessed. When he was around you, he always felt as if he wasn’t in control. He felt like there were forces that were controlling your interactions and pulling a starry blanket over his feelings. He expected this time away to act as a purge, but it hadn’t, not in the way he’d anticipated.
“Come on, her name is Becca, and she’s super cute,” Alisha said.
“Why is it that all my brother’s wives want to set me up?”
“Because we care. You’re too great of a guy to be alone,” Halley complimented.
They all nodded, and his eldest brother painfully squeezed his cheek.
“Plus, look at this face,” Nik teased, making all of them elate.
It had been like this since they were kids. Nothing had changed.
“I’m perfectly fine being alone,” he answered.
“Doesn’t mean you should be,” Amee piped out.
No matter what, he said it wouldn’t be good enough until he gave them what they wanted. He had no intention of doing it, though. He wasn’t sure if it was really his loathing of being set up or because he didn’t want to pretend to want anyone else. Whatever it was, it had him declining to their annoyance. He could stick it out for the next two weeks until he got out of London.
-Aliya-
“You fucked up, plain and simple,” Amaya blurted out as she flipped through a magazine.
You rolled your eyes and tried to continue writing notes to the song you’d just wrote. As sure as you were that it was pitch black outside, you knew she wasn’t done—not by a long shot. A minute passed in silence, but as projected, Amaya began again.
“Just explain to me why you don’t want to be happy.” Amaya tossed the magazine aside, giving you her full attention. Still, you ignored her and kept your eyes glued to the note pad.
“Liya, come on. At some point in your life, you’re going to have to be honest with yourself.”
She was right. For the last few weeks, you’d spent a lot of sleepless nights doing just that. Since Henry’s call, you’d been forced to look at your situation in a light you’d ignored. It wasn’t that you were doing it maliciously. It was just easier and neater to see the worst in every situation hence the worst in people. You’d been the girl who dug deep for the best in people and only focused on that and their potential for too long. It made more sense from a survivalist standpoint to be different.
You’d went back and forth and round and round your situation, and perhaps you were too quick to jump to conclusions. The bottom line was the things he said had affected you, more than you liked and more than you could ignore. A few days after his call, you saw his picture in The Sun. He wasn’t alone. It looked like he’d had a long night of partying. You deduced it was probably the same night he called you. Though he was obviously drunk, he still looked so damn good. In the last few weeks, you’d thought about him a lot. On several occasions, you’d taken up your phone for the sole purpose to stalk his Instagram or even scroll through your gallery to gawk at his pictures. Never though, did you attempt to call.
The main reason was that you hated being the one in the wrong. You hated feeling like the asshole and what was worse was that you also hated apologizing. So, you bit your tongue, pushed your thoughts and emotions aside, and just hoped time would make it all fade. It didn’t.
“Aliya!”
Closing your notepad, you stood. “We’re going to miss the flight.”
“Whatever! It’s a private jet. It’s your private jet.”
You were already out of the room, which meant thankfully, you didn’t have to see her face. The drive to the private airfield was about forty-five minutes. For the entire ride, you could feel Amaya’s annoyance with you. she didn’t say one word. Instead, she kept her nose buried in her phone scrolling her life away. It was okay with you; you had plenty of work to do. Plus, you knew this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
Sure enough, twenty minutes into the flight to London, she was back at it. The difference between Amaya and Alicia was simple. Where Alicia liked to leave me be until she knew the perfect time to go in because she knew the perfect time would come when you would be more receptive to it, Amaya preferred to go in all the time. She was always on one hundred. You loved both your best friends dearly, and they both spoke to different sides of you, but sometimes you wished they were wrong a lot more often than they were right.
When you got pulled into a phone meeting, you were grateful and even more so when it lasted for almost two hours. By the time you ended the call, Amaya was napping. Though you thought the silence was what you wanted, it was a blessing in disguise. It meant you now had peace and quiet to think, and your thoughts more often than not went right to Henry.
When you landed in London and checked into the hotel, it was after midnight. Once you’d taken a shower and answered a few emails, you popped two sleep aids in hopes they would knock you out because you needed all your energy tomorrow.
-The Next Day-
Hectic was an understatement for how your morning and afternoon had been going. One of the great things about being you was that when you got bored with one career avenue, you had three more to distract yourself with. For the last several months, you’d been focusing on your acting career and had been able to complete two films and three guest appearances. In between acting gigs you were also able to do a few modeling events, including Fall and Spring fashion week.
What had fallen to the wayside was your singing career. It was almost time for you to fulfill your contractual obligations by releasing another album. You’d been focusing on writing new material for the last few weeks, and tonight you were putting on one of the last stops on a mini-tour your team had planned months ago. The travel alone was killing you. You were exhausted, even more than usual. With every show, you felt your body telling you it would soon be time to slow down or stop for a few months. You needed a break.
“I should have flown in days ago. I hate feeling like this isn’t perfect.”
“Aliya, it’s fine,” Alicia countered.
The perfectionist in you didn’t believe her.
“I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. You have to go anyway. The show is supposed to start at six; it’s already three.”
She was right. Though you hated it, you would have to cross your fingers and hope things looked cohesive. After finishing up the last-minute wardrobe adjustments and a quick pep talk with your dancers, you made your way back to the hotel to get in a little bit of pampering before having to get back to the center for prep.
As you laid on the table and enjoyed your deep tissue massage, you allowed the worries to float away. There was nothing you could do about it now anyway. You were also sure it was perfectly fine, and just your obsessive nature taking over. Tuning everything out, you focused on your meditative breathing. Before you knew it, it was time to get back to the center to get into wardrobe and put on a show worthy of the hundreds that were spent on tickets. You were determined to perform your ass off.
-Henry-
He couldn’t have gotten out of tonight no matter what. He’d tried. When Charlie announced to everyone that Heather had made plans for their adults' date night, he rolled his eyes. Now that he thought of it, it was around the time that Amee tried to set him up with that woman. This was supposed to be a blind date, and since he’d declined, he was here alone while all his other brothers were snuggling up and whispering to their significant others.
Here he was an hour and ten minutes into your show, and he’d never had more fluctuating thoughts and feelings. At first, it was surprise; then annoyance, then it transitioned into awe until it moved to arousal and admiration. Now he was stewing deep in all of them, and it was not a good look. Your voice was incredible. He’d always known how talented you were. Your stamina to dance and sing blew his mind. Then when he watched those dance moves closer, it was impossible to keep his thoughts pure. It also didn’t help that the outfits you were wearing only fueled his imagination more.
“What’s wrong with you? You said you liked Aliya Taylor,” Amee shouted over the music.
Plastering a smile on his face, he nodded. “Yeah, she’s great. I’m tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
When you came out for the final song in a flowing low cut white gown and barefoot, he staggered backward when he envisioned you walking down a flower aisle.
“Fucking hell!”
All eyes snapped to him, and the curious looks on their faces only had him needing air even more.
“I—I’m gonna get a head start to the cars.”
Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked through the crowd, not daring to look back at you.
-Aliya-
Amaya and Alicia laughed together at something on Amaya’s timeline. No doubt it was some picture of one of her boy toys. You sipped from your flower decorated porcelain teacup while staring out over London to the Eye. Just behind it, Big Ben stood tall and proud as it chimes for four o’clock echoed through the city. This was a city you’d spent a lot of time in thanks to your grandparents on your father’s side. Not as much time as they’d like, but there was only so much free time you had. Big Ben and the Eye were two of your favorite things about London.
You should have been on cloud nine after another successful show and checking another thing off your extensive to-do list, but you weren’t. You felt almost as gloomy as the rolling clouds in the sky that threatened rain.
“You seem depressed.”
Alicia’s voice had you turning back to them you softly smiled. “I’m not.”
“You look it,” Amaya slid home.
Rolling your eyes, you finished your cup of tea and gently placed it on its matching saucer with a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you then.”
Amaya then gasped with a smile in her eyes. “I know what it is. You’re finally missing your grade A prime beef of a man.”
Snorting, you shook your head. “Oh god. Try again.”
“You might be right, Mya,” Leece started placed her elbows on the table to peer at you closer. “This all started the night we had dinner with him. What’s his name again?” Both of them pretended to wrack their brains to remember his name, but they knew damn well what it was.
“Ah, Henry,” Amaya cooed, making you roll your eyes even harder.
“Both of you stop. You’re not funny.”
“We approve.”
“I second that,” Alicia added.
“What? Really?”
“Are you kidding? Yeah. Not only is he gorgeous, like drop dead gorgeous, but he is also super nice. Throughout dinner he was very courteous and sincere. You know I’m a good people reader,” Amaya attested.
“He’s funny, and he seemed to be genuine with his efforts to get to know Mya and me. He also was putting in effort into proving something to you.”
Sighing, you took a few sips of your water.
“Honestly, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him.”
“Really? Perfection?”
You couldn’t believe your ears. Yes, you’d suspected they liked him, but the perfect word was just uttered. It was never spoken of, not by them.
“Pretty much,” Amaya doubled down.
“Wow.”
“Tell me about it. Move on that before some other chick does. He will not be single for long,” Amaya added.
For some reason, this was the first time you’d thought about that, and you couldn’t believe it. She was right. He was gorgeous, among other things, and women already fawned over him. He wouldn’t be licking his wounds much longer. A knot formed in your gut, and a sour taste in your mouth followed. Glancing away from their penetrative gazes, you looked around the restaurant and nearly dropped the water glass when you saw Henry across the restaurant laughing. This was the first time you’d seen him in person since your breakfast in New York weeks and weeks ago, and he looked great.
Your eyes drank him up, taking their time soaking up every detail of his face, the slight stubble that decorated his chiseled jaw, his perfectly imperfect smile, his hair that fell slightly longer than you remembered. When he spoke again, you watched his mouth move and quickly got lost. You didn’t have to hear his words. You knew how he spoke them. You knew the effect his voice had. At the thought of that effect, you peeled your eyes away and tried to keep them on either Alicia, Amaya, or the table. Of course, it was impossible. Your eyes continuously found him, and it was on him they remained until you forced yourself to look away.
“What do you keep looking at?”
Amaya glanced around the restaurant. You knew she’d found him because when she turned to face you again, her smile was as wide as a thief's.
“Oh ho ho, looks like fate is on mine and Leece’s side.”
“Stop. Be cool, act natural. Don’t make a scene,” you pleaded.
“Look at that, same place, same time, just mere feet away.”
From the tone of her voice, you knew she was tempted to fuck with you.
“Stop, Amaya. Don’t.”
“Why?”
Trying to keep your voice down and the panic from your face, you pleaded again. “Just don’t.”
Amaya studied you for a few moments before she nodded in defeat. Relief flooded you. Though you tried, you couldn’t get your head back onto lunch and off of him no matter how you tried. The three of you left shortly after passing his table on the way out.
Thanks to a little free time, you, Amaya, and Alicia were able to soak up some shopping in London and before getting back to the hotel for a quick change, then dinner. Even though you tried to stop thinking about Henry’s face earlier, you weren’t the least bit successful, but you played it off like everything was cool. You didn’t know if you fooled either of them, but you really didn’t care. You were so ready to get the hell out of London.
-That Night-
Big Ben’s chime for one in the morning ringing out all around you. It was yet another night of sleeplessness. From your seat at the window, you could feel the nice breeze. It still smelled like rain, but for whatever reason, the rain was staying away. Finishing your glass of wine, you sighed out and nearly leaped out your skin when your phone rang in the quiet room.
“Hello?”
“What’s wrong?”
You smiled from the unexpected sound of your gramaw’s voice. It was like the concrete gate you had around your heart that was constricting it to the point where it was challenging to breathe loosened.
Sighing, you leaned back, reclining against the surface.
“I think I fell in love,” you whispered.
“In love?”
Hearing the words said back to you made you close your eyes and shake your head.
“Yeah, at least I think that’s what I’m feeling. I can’t sleep well, not that I could before. I feel a little depressed, and I can’t pinpoint why, but when I think about it, I feel this way when I think about him. Not to mention, I think about him all the time. Christ, I even dream about him.”
Pausing, you glanced at your phone to find his picture there. It was the last thing you’d been looking at before tossing your phone away.
“I truly feel like I did something wrong, like I was wrong,” you confessed.
“Have you talked to him?”
Hitting your head back, you groaned. “Not since he called me and told me I’m missing out on him and gave me all the reasons why I should realizing I’m missing out.”
You couldn't help but smile at his words as you remembered them.
“Do you feel like you’re missing out?”
Your Gramaw always knew the right questions to ask. She was one of the few that did, one of the few that you’d even listen to. Bowing your head, you sighed again.
“Maybe. Normally I’m sure about someone and sure that I don’t need or want them in my life, but with him—I have doubts with my snap judgment.”
“Oh no, snap judgments are never a good thing, Aliya.”
You groaned hearing the disappointment in her voice. “I know, jeez do I know.”
“What do you feel like doing?”
You scoffed, if you knew that you wouldn’t be going through this struggle.
“I’ll be to you in a few days. I’ll see you soon.”
“Your heart, Aliya, not your head,” she cautioned before you ended the call.
For the next thirty or so minutes, you paced the balcony of your room as you debated with yourself over what you were going to do. After psyching yourself up as much as you could, you bit the bullet dialing Henry’s number before you talked yourself out of it. After one ring, you almost hung up but forced yourself to stick through the terror running through you. Two rings passed, then three. At the fourth you began to lower your hand to end the call and then his voice echoed through the speaker.
“Hello?”
You froze drawing a blank and forgetting for a moment you had a voice.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” you whispered.
The rustling on his end was loud but brief.
“Aliya?”
Swallowing the lump, you took a deep breath. “Yeah. Hi.”
“It’s after one in the morning. Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”
Your heart lurched, and a soft smile spread across your lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” you assured.
He sighed, then yawned.
“I uh—I know it’s late or early. I know you, um, probably have something better to do than be up. I’m sorry if I woke you,” you half rushed and stuttered out.
“You’re rambling, Aliya.” You stopped your pacing then and slapped your forehead.
“Yes, I am. I do that when I’m nervous,” you blurted.
“Why are you nervous?”
Pausing, you gripped the rail on the balcony and used it to center yourself and get your nerves under control.
“Well, I’m about to ask the man I told I wouldn’t be with to meet me somewhere at nearly two in the morning. I’m—sending major mixed signals.”
Henry didn’t speak right away. Instead, he waited, making you chew your bottom lip as your anxiety increased.
“Why?”
“Wh—why? Why what?”
“Why should I?”
Stunned, your jaw dropped. “Oh, wow, out with the hard questions. Okay. Um—well—you should meet me because uh—it’s not often that I realize I was wrong or did something wrong and when I realize that, I like to say so.”
Again the silence over the phone stretched for long moments. After a full minute of it, your anxiety peaked.
“Still there?”
Henry sighed. “I’m here. I’m thinking.”
His voice sounded so deliciously deep. Either you had woken him, and this was his sleepy voice, or he was purposely giving you that sexy baritone.
“By all means. Think as long as you need to. Um—I’ll be at the eye until 2:30. I um—I hope you show. If you don’t, I understand, really I do and no hard feelings.”
Quickly you ended the call and panted as if you’d been running a marathon all in an effort to calm yourself down. It had been years since you’d put yourself through something like that, and you had a feeling it was only the beginning of you making amends.
Being Aliya Taylor afforded you some perks, and one was being able to have access to the eye well after closing. All it took was one call, well two to be exact, and voila, you were sitting in one of the cars anxiously waiting for Henry. You had no idea if he’d show, and the more and more time that passed with him not magically appearing, the more and more your brain worked overtime. The scenery helped a lot, but when you glanced at your watch and saw that it was almost 2:30, the scenery could do no more. Your nerves and anxiety had erupted like a volcano.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Spinning, you saw Henry at the door still on the platform. You released a relieved sigh, realizing he hadn’t stood you up.
“Good thing I’m not—anymore.”
Henry stepped into the car and took a few steps to you but stopped when he was still a ways away.
“London after two is not safe,” Henry informed.
“I know.”
The doors closed, and the contraption began moving.
“How in the world did you get them to open this for you?”
Smiling, you shrugged. “I may know people in high places,” you replied, which made him smile.
“This is one of my favorite places in London,” you announced as you walked around the car, taking care not to get too close. You didn’t know if you could handle it right away, and you had to feel him out to see what his coming really meant.
“Why?”
“You can see all of greater London from here and out to the countryside if you really look once you’re up high.”
Henry also walked around the car, mirroring your intentions. Neither of you came close enough to touch one another.
“How often do you come to London?”
“A lot. I have some family here, plus I prefer the countryside.”
“So you have some British blood,” Henry inquired, half a question, half a statement.
“I had to. Only the Bris would dare think to send their daughters off to finishing school,” you quipped.
Henry’s laugh filled the car, making you smile widely. He walked to one of the many windows turning his back to you. Slowly you looked over his broad back, taking in every detail. Your fingers could still remember what the dance of his muscles felt like underneath them, and they itched to feel them dance again. Taking a deep breath, you fiddled your fingers.
“Uh--I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important by asking you here. Like I hope I didn’t impose on—anyone.”
You were fishing, it was obvious, and you felt no shame.
“Eh, who needs sleep anyway. I can sleep when I’m dead,” Henry replied with a shrug of those magnificent shoulders still keeping his back to you.
“Were um--were you uh—sleeping—alone?”
Your heart was pounding so loudly you could swear he could hear it. He didn’t speak or turn around. He just stood there torturing you. You wondered if he knew it was sheer torture what he was doing. Did he even care? The longer he remained quiet, the more you freaked out until you decided to backtrack all the way back.
“I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It is absolutely none of my business. I don’t even know why I asked that,” you rushed out, rubbing your forehead from embarrassment before beginning to pace the car.
That was when Henry chose to turn around.
“I know a woman doesn’t say something she doesn’t mean, and usually when a woman asks a question, she wants to know the answer either to prove herself right or in hopes she’s wrong. What is it for you?”
His voice made you stop in the midst of pacing to watch his mouth as he spoke. There was something poetic about how he spoke, and it always distracted you. Nibbling your bottom lip, you thought about how to respond. You were already tired of the verbal Olympics and talking around each other.
Sighing, you rolled your eyes. “Henry--.”
“You know that’s the first time you’ve said my name without the word goodbye in front of it.”
That made you snap your mouth shut. Had it?
“That’s not true,” you protested.
“It actually is. I was beginning to think you like saying goodbye rather than hello.”
You took a step to him. “That’s not true. I like saying hello way more than goodbye,” you defended.
The neutral look on his face gave you no confidence to go on, so you rolled your eyes and continued to walk around the car. This would be harder than you expected, you thought.
“I was sleeping alone. I’ve slept alone for quite some time now,” he informed just as you were looking out of the window to the city.
“Look, Henry, I-,” you began again, but then henry cut you off.
“That day in New York those weeks ago, I should have plain and simply laid it out for you. I should have told you everything. I was with Francesca--.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t. I honestly don’t want to know.”
“But you need to know. There is no way you can begin to trust me or begin to let yourself gravitate to me the way you’re entire being wants until you know,” Henry slid out. Pressing your palm to your abdomen, you tried to slow the butterflies that began flitting.
“I was with Francesca for about two years. The whole time I knew she wanted a family in life. She was always vocal about her wanting to get married young and have kids. I knew, but I never paid attention to it. I was away filming something for a while, and when I came home one weekend, I caught her with someone else.”
Your eyes widened, hearing his words.
“turns out she was beginning a relationship with someone else, someone who she thought would lead to marriage and kids,” Henry added. His voice held steady, but you could imagine the pain going through those memories again.
“I’m sorry.”
Henry shook his head, “It’s not necessary. After a few months of her trying to make amends, I thought we’d try again.” He scoffed then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a hopeless romantic. After months of trying, I knew it wouldn’t work, but I kept a relationship of sorts with her.”
You understood. They were bed buddies.
“I then met Abby, and what started as a fling developed into something more. Long story short, I got wind of a rumor she was using me for fame and money, so I distanced myself from her. after some time of her telling I had it all wrong, I decided it was easier keeping her around though my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t juggling them. I hadn’t slept with either of them in a long time. I just—I felt it was better to have someone who misses me and wants me than living the lonely actor life.”
His honesty had you frozen. When he began to explain, you hadn’t expected him to reveal so much. You expected a bare minimum explanation, but what you’d gotten revealed so much more about him. You felt bad.
“I guess allowing the attentions and affections to remain is just as bad as juggling them. I was playing with their hearts. I’m not proud of it.”
Henry dipped his head, showing he felt some shame for his actions.
“When I met you, I realized although I had these two women sort of vying for me, I was still lonely, but those moments we were together, I didn’t feel alone. I felt--,” he paused as if trying to find the right word. His hesitation made you look down.
You knew what you’d felt.
“When I met you, I felt someone I’d never felt before, something I don’t fully understand. I don’t know what that means, but I know I want to find out—with you.”
Finally, able to release the breath you held, you took another, then cleared your throat. “I’m not juggling two guys. I was dating two guys, but not sleeping with both. I was with Liam first, and we had an okay relationship. We were busy, never saw each other and when we did it wasn’t for long. He um—he got annoyed and broke up with me. He said I was impacting his work, and he needed to focus.”
You remembered how he’d said it too. He’d said it like you were the one to blame for the roles he’d gotten or hadn’t gotten.
“I was fine with it, and during those five months apart, I met Jesse. We worked together and had fun and began dating. It wasn't anything sexual. Then Liam comes back and wants to pick up where we left off. I told him about Jesse, and he was fine with it.”
The shock on Henry’s face almost made you laugh. Alicia and Amaya were also surprised they’d chosen that unconventional path. Amaya, of course, thought you should have kept it secret from both of them.
“One day, Jesse sees Liam and me out, and it pissed him off enough to end things. Three weeks later, I lay it out for both that I don’t want to choose, and I don’t want anything serious. They were both fine with it, and so it went on. Six months later, I decided I needed to be on my own to focus on work and me. They didn’t like the decision. They call and text me to try to—rekindle something.”
Henry scoffed, and you watched a soft smile tickle his lips.
“I haven’t physically seen either of them in weeks, now maybe months,” you finished.
Henry was quiet for a few seconds before he snorted.
“They were mad.”
“Angry?”
“No, mad, bonkers,” Henry clarified.
“Oh, crazy.”
“Yeah. To be okay to share you, be willing to do something like that. I couldn’t do that,” Henry informed, making you smile in the process.
“Well, men do crazy things.”
“I can attest to that, but I’d never do something that crazy. I can’t share what’s mine. I won’t.”
Your eyes locked, and your body swayed toward his. It was like he was metal and you a magnet. Everything in you wanted to be close to him. The more you tried to fight the pull, the harder it became to breathe. The harder it was to breathe, the dizzier you became.
“I—I—I—I,” you began before gulping the knot in your throat down that was making you speak in a raspy whisper. “I don’t—know what this is.”
Henry nodded.
“I am not used to not knowing and being out of control,” you continued.
“You feel less controlled too?”
You couldn't help but to nod. Once you did, Henry took a step to you. You took a step back.
“Hold on. I like control. I like control a lot. Anything that threatens that control is not for me.”
Henry’s eyes lowered but only for a moment before he was looking right back into yours.
“But—I really want to find out why you make me less controlled,” you finally admitted.
The uncertainty on his face spoke volumes. “What does that mean? Where does that leave this—us?”
You chewed your bottom lip; you realized how ill-prepared you’d been.
“Honestly, I didn’t think this meeting out that far. I only planned up to when you showed up. I’ve um—I’ve been winging it this whole time.”
His smile started small but spread wide in seconds; then, he laughed loudly.
“So you won’t mind me making a plan?”
Oh lord, you thought, feeling his alpha pop out. You bit your bottom lip again.
“What kind of plan?”
Henry closed the remaining space between you. Every step he took had you shaking even more.
“A plan that I’ve envisioned every night since brunch.”
Stopped in front of you and held you captivated by his gaze and the sheer dominating energy rolling off of him. The way he stood there taller than you made your mouth run dry.
“Jesus, you’re freakishly short,” Henry teased in his perfect Englishman voice.
Smiling, you shook your head. “I know, I debated wearing heels but didn’t—I wanted you to see me normal for someone reason I don’t under--.”
Henry’s sudden movement cut you off. He dipped down the entire foot he overshadowed you and lifted you into the air to hold you flush against his body. Then he lowered his lips to yours, taking and keeping control of an intensely passionate kiss. A kiss you hadn’t known you craved until it began, a kiss you were not prepared for. You moaned against his lips, and that moan triggered his. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you clung to him, and every sensation you were feeling and even new ones he was awakening within you.
Slowly, Henry pulled his lips from your, but he kept your body to his. You kept your eyes closed, relishing the lingering effects.
“You’re shaking,” Henry whispered.
“So are you.”
You opened your eyes and gazed into his as he slowly lowered you back to your feet.
“What else is part of your plan?”
Henry's smile spread across his face. “For me to carry out any other part of my plan would be completely rakish of me.”
His smile was adorable, but still intimidatingly sexy.
“I take it you’re not a rake.”
“Not in the least.”
“All right. So, alternate plan?”
He smiled again. “Still pretty rakish.”
With that, he brought his lips back to yours, but this time he didn’t pull back for several long minutes.
Though you knew people in high places, it didn’t mean you could keep the eye open all morning. After three trips around, the two of you got off then walked around London holding hands and eating ice cream. It was such a weird sensation allowing someone to hold your hand. It had been a long time since you’d ever wanted to. The entire time you laughed and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. One thing was clear; neither of you was in any rush for your time together to end.
But end, it had to. When Henry walked you back to your hotel, it was almost time for the sun to come up.
“Home safe and sound,” Henry joked.
“Yes, thanks to Superman.”
“No, no, I’m just the man. Henry Cavill.”
He held his hand out to you. Smiling, you rolled your eyes.
“Now is when we get to this?”
His goofy smile and shrug had your head skip a beat.
“Aliya Taylor,” you said, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you. Mind if I call you Aliya or Liya, that's all a mouthful,” Henry teased.
Your laugh was loud, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth, remembering what time it was.
“Yes, you can call me either. Can I call you Henners or Hank?”
“No. My friends call me that.”
“So, I’m not your friend?”
“If I have anything to say about it, which I do, then no. I don’t want you as a friend.” Henry replied, making you smile like a little girl at Christmas.
“Then what do you want me as?”
Your eyes lingered for a few seconds before Henry was pulling you closer to brush the back of his hand against your cheek.
“For now, I’ll settle for my girlfriend.”
The man was an expert at charm. You bit into your bottom lip and tried to stop smiling. “Girlfriend, wow. That’s a loaded title. What does it entail?”
“Well, for one, it entails being your true self with me, accepting my true self, being there for me when I need you, letting me be there for you when you need me or when I need you, allowing me to be your strength when you’re weak, your hope when you’re hopeless. Allowing me to grow with you, learn with you. Giving me your time and attention, enough of it so what we have can grow. Trusting me and letting me spoil you rotten.”
If he weren’t holding you against him, you would have fallen back.
“Is that all?”
Henry leaned closer kisses your cheek. “To begin.”
“And if I refused to be this girlfriend you speak of?”
“Then I’d just have to convince you,” Henry cooed.
“How?”
Right on que, Henry dipped his lips to yours. The second they touched, you moaned and held him close. Why resist when you could enjoy it, you thought. His tongue swirled with yours before he nibbled then sucked your bottom lip. When he pulled back, your eyes remained closed.
“I’m convinced.”
Henry pecked your lips once, then twice. “Good. Girlfriend.”
Your eyes locked again, and you forgot all common sense for what felt like an eternity.
“Eh-em—I have to be on a set in the morning.”
“Which is now,” Henry filled in.
Still hazed in the brain, you stuttered and smiled like a fool.
“Mm, did I stay out all night?”
“You did. I hope it was worth it.”
Smiling, you kissed his jaw. “We’ll see,” you whispered as you backed away from him, making your way to the door.
“Good morning, Henry.”
He smiled again, watching you disappear inside the hotel. As you walked to the elevator bank, you couldn’t stop smiling or stop the butterflies that had been flying all night in your stomach. As you stepped onto the elevator and watched the doors closed, you recognized the feeling you felt as happiness. It had been absent for a long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Blind Date
Note: just an idea I had, hope you like it. some soft fluffiness, but also smut bc I’m still h word for Jake, especially after how he looked tonight on tv.
Pairing: Jake Tapper x reader
Warnings: smut, NSFW
(sorry for eventual typos, I wrote this in a bit of a frenzy)
enjoy
“You look horrible. “Abby stated matter-of-factly as she sat down in the restaurant chair across from you.
“I missed you too, great to see you, thanks. “you responded, not even bothering to argue with her.
Abby was your best friend since college, if she said you looked horrible it was either a joke or a fact. Considering the way she was looking at you, probably the latter.
“Hard week at work?”
You let out a tired huff.
“You have no idea. We got this new client who booked us for a nation-wide tv ad, and they’re so incredibly demanding. I’ve been working overtime for three weeks straight, it’s a miracle they didn’t call me in today.”
Your monthly Saturday brunch with Abby was sacred, work be damned.
Your friend was giving you a worried look across the table. “Well, I’m glad they didn’t, you deserve a day off.”
“Enough of my sad life, how is it going over at Fake News?” you joked.
“Amazing actually. You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re thinking about offering me John’s Sunday spot on Inside Politics. Can you imagine, my own hour, as an actual anchor. It’s nothing official yet, but I’m so excited.”
“Oh my god, Abby, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of you. We should celebrate.” you exclaimed, beckoning a waiter to order two glasses of champagne.
Abby gave you a warm smile.
“Thank you, babe. But let me be honest, I’m worried about you. You look exhausted, even your voice sounds tired. When was the last time you did something actually relaxing?”
“I’ve watched a movie, like, a week ago. And I do yoga, at least sometimes.” You tried to argue, not entirely sure if you wanted to convince Abby or yourself.
A smirk settled over your friend’s face, and she looked at you like she just had the most brilliant idea ever. You did not like that look at all, it usually meant trouble.
“Well todays your lucky day, because I know just what you need to de-stress a bit.”
You just raised an eyebrow at her.
“Care to elaborate, genius?”
“You, my friend, need to get laid.”
You snorted. “Fun times, Abbs, you almost got me,”
“I’m serious, Y/N, when was the last time you had sex?”
“Okay, it’s been a while, but I’m fine. I don’t need a man to interfere with the little free time I have. And it’s not like the streets are full of men chasing me. I don’t have time to date, and, like I said, I’m totally fine with the way things are at the moment.” You tried your very best not to sound defensive.
The expression on Abby’s face told you everything you needed to know. She didn’t buy a single word coming out of your mouth.
“Y/N, trust me when I tell you, blowing off a little steam would do wonders for your stress level. And maybe you’d even meet someone nice. And, lucky for you, I know just the guy. He’s someone I work with, and I think you’d get along perfectly.”
“You’re not actually suggesting setting me up on a blind date.” You couldn’t believe your friend. The last thing you needed was an evening full of awkward small talk with some boring, sleek CNN guy.
“Come on, Y/N, take a leap of faith. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
+++
(One week later)
“I can’t believe I actually agreed.” You murmured to yourself as you rummaged through your closet, looking for an outfit to wear on that damned date Abby bullied you into.
You thought about the peaceful evening you could have had, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine, maybe getting some work done.
But it was too late to back down now.
“Let’s just get this over with” you told yourself, applying some lipstick as if it was war paint. “Let’s hope that the guy is at least good-looking.”
The restaurant Abby sent you to was nice enough, a small and intimate place, perfect for a date. You couldn’t wait to have your first glass of wine, because you could feel your nervousness increasing with each passing minute.
You entered the restaurant, looking for the third table on the window side that Abby had described to you…and directly turned around, practically fleeing through the door again as soon as you set eyes on the man sitting there.
Back outside, you took your phone out of your bag and furiously dialed Abby’s number. She picked up right away, but you were shouting at her before she could even say a word.
“You better tell me that you did not set me up with Jake fucking Tapper.”
Was she out of her mind? This was the Jake Tapper, the face of CNN, hell, the face of the media in this country. What the fuck were you supposed to talk to him about.
But your friend just chuckled at you through the phone.
“When you saw him on TV some months ago, you said he was your type. Plus, he’s intelligent, funny, and single. Perfect for you. And now stop making a fool out of yourself and go in there. You got this, girl. Love you, bye.”
And with that, she hung up.
You took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves. You could not just leave now, and stand up Mr. Breaking News himself. So you pocketed your phone again, squared your shoulders and went back into the restaurant.
You made your way over to the table, coming to a stop in front of it. The man sitting there looked up to you and smiled. And wow, what a beautiful smile it was, sincere, warm and inviting, taking over his entire face.
“Hi.” You said, trying to sound confident.
“I’m Y/N, Abby’s friend.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Jake. I’m working with Abby, but she probably already told you that much.”
“She did, but I’ll be honest, I know you, of course. Big fan of your show.”
God, why did you just say that. He was probably going to think you were some kind of crazy fangirl now.
But he just continued to smile his open, friendly smile at you.
“Always happy to hear that.” He chuckled, pointing to the opposite chair. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Yes, of course, sorry.” You said, feeling silly because you totally forgot that you were still standing. You quickly sat down and tried your best to appear calm and collected, even if your insides were in turmoil.
“Would you care for some wine? They have a pretty impressive list, I could pick one for us if you don’t mind.” Jake asked.
“Wine sounds fantastic. I love it, but I’m not really an expert, so go ahead.”
Jake took some reading glasses out of the pocket of his suit jacket and put them on his nose.
While he was studying the wine list, you took your time to study him instead. He appeared to be in his late forties, so there was an age difference of probably 15 to 20 years. You didn’t mind that at all, older men had always been more your type.
He had a really handsome face, kind eyes that looked even better when he had those glasses on, and you loved his salt-and-pepper hair. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt with a dark grey suit jacket. You caught your mind wandering to how he might look underneath his clothes and gave yourself a mental slap on the wrist. This was your first date, no need to get ahead of yourself.
“Everything alright over there?”
Shit, he had caught you staring.
“Yes, sorry, I zoned off for a moment. I had a stressful week at work.”
“Oh, yes, Abby told me you’re working in advertising. Any interesting projects at the moment?”
You went on and chatted about work a bit. You were fascinated by what he was doing, and taken aback by the confident, yet humble way he was talking about it. This was absolutely not the behavior you were expecting from the leading anchorman of the nations most renowned network. He wasn’t arrogant or self-centered at all and you were definitely charmed.
The wine Jake ordered arrived with your starters, and soon after you had your first few sips you felt some of the initial nervousness fading away.
Soon, the conversation was flowing freely, and you discovered that Abby was right, you really did get along perfectly. Jake was incredibly funny in a dry and witty way and his sarcastic remarks made you laugh more than once. You also discovered your shared interest in graphic novels and argued a while about weather DC or Marvel was the superior comic universe.
Jake showed you one of his own cartoons on his phone, and with each moment you found yourself more drawn to the man in front of you.
At some point his hand started to lightly brush against yours on the table, and each touch sent a warm feeling through your chest.
You talked some more over dessert, had some more wine and overall, a really good time.
The alcohol gave you a pleasant, fuzzy feeling, and the desire to just get up and crawl on Jakes lap grew with each look he gave you.
“Excuse me, Ma’am, Sir, were closing up now.” A passing waiter told you and put the check on the table.
“Let me take care of that, please.” Jake said, taking out his wallet. You just thanked him and enjoyed the view of him putting on his glasses again to read the check.
He really was a perfect gentleman, you thought to yourself, as he got up to hold your coat and then the door for you on your way out.
“I really had a wonderful evening.” you said softly, as the both of you were standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Jake shot you another one of his brilliant smiles, and you could feel your heart beating faster.
“Me too.” He replied. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, and I’d like to see you again.”
Now your heart was almost jumping out of your chest, and you could feel your own smile taking over your face.
“I’d love that.”
Jake took one step closer, now standing so close you could almost feel the warmth radiating off his body. One of his hands came up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb slowly stroking over your jaw. His touch sent goosebumps all over your skin, and you slightly parted your lips, looking him directly in the eyes. They were warm, and dark, and you felt like you could get lost in them. And then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your mouth.
It felt incredible, a kind of warmth that was totally unrelated to the wine spreading through your body, your skin prickling where his hand was still on your face.
You put your hands on his arms and kissed him back, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips against yours. He still tasted slightly like red wine, and you wanted nothing more than to explore the rest of his body with your mouth just as thoroughly.
First date, you reminded yourself, and broke free from the kiss before your lust-clouded brain could make you do something you might regret later. You glanced up at Jake, who looked at you with an unreadable expression. Then, after what felt like forever, he finally spoke.
“Could I maybe have your number?”
“Of course.” You said, with maybe a bit much enthusiasm, but Jake didn’t seem to mind. You quickly typed your number into his phone, and just as you were finished, the cab you had called earlier was arriving.
Jake held the door open for you, and shot you one last, beautiful smile. “Good night, Y/N, get home safe.”
“Thank you for the wonderful evening, Jake. Good night.”
You closed the door and the taxi drove off. You already missed his face as soon as he was out of sight, and you turned around to watch his receding figure through the rear window of the taxi.
Great, you were already down bad after one date. The man really got to you, and you desperately hoped that you would hear from him soon.
As soon as you were home, you really felt the effects of the wine, so you quickly went to bed to get some sleep. Just before you were nodding off, you sent Abby a quick message.
You were right, he is perfect. THANKS xxxx
When Abby answered five minutes later, you were already asleep.
Told you so ;) xxxx
+++
When you woke up the next morning, there was a new message from an unknown number on your phone. Your heart made a flip in your chest, and you opened it as fast as you could.
Hi, this is Jake. It’s probably way too soon to text you, but I just wanted to let you know, again, what a great time I had yesterday. If you’d be up to it, I’d really like to see you again soon. Let me know if that would be alright with you. And have a nice Saturday :)
He had already texted you. That meant he didn’t think that you were crazy, or awkward, and that he wasn’t just acting nice, he genuinely wanted to see you again. You were filled with a giddy sort of happiness, and decided to answer him right away, there was no need to play any games here. Leap of faith, just like Abby said.
Good Morning Jake, I really enjoyed yesterday as well. I’d love to spend some more time together; would tomorrow evening be too spontaneous? I could make dinner, to return the favor since you paid yesterday ;) my place at eight?
As soon as you hit the send button you started getting anxious again. What if tomorrow was too soon? What if he thought you were being too eager?
“Stop it, Y/N!” you said out loud to interrupt your mental spiral. You wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself for this man, even if he was handsome, and intelligent, and funny. No way.
But as you were standing in the kitchen five minutes later and heard your phone chiming from the other room, you were there in the matter of seconds to read the new message.
Tomorrow sounds perfect, just text me the address. I’ll bring the wine. xx Jake
You clutched your phone to your chest, the biggest, goofy smile on your face.
You spent the remaining day extensively cleaning your flat, stressing out, going grocery shopping and stressing out some more. You face-timed Abby and bullied her into helping you pick out an outfit, since she technically was the one who got you into this mess in the first place.
Jake was occupying your mind whatever you did, and when you finally got into your bed that night, all you could think about was how his lips had felt against yours. Those thoughts sent a hot, burning feeling down between your legs and when you finally touched your pussy, you were already so wet and aroused that it only took you minutes until you reached your peak, Jakes name falling from your lips.
+++
To say you were a nervous wreck the next day would be an understatement. When you woke up, you decided to watch some TV to get yourself a bit of distraction. An ad was currently playing, and so you decided to check your mails first.
“Good Morning from Washington, where the State of our Union is in turmoil over the latest…”
Your head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice coming from your TV, the voice that occupied your mind ever since your blind date on Friday. You had totally forgotten that Sunday morning meant Jake Tapper time on CNN, because usually you were either asleep or at work at 9 am. But now you took your time to really appreciate the man on your TV.
He looked way more serious than the Jake you got to know, no smile, just a stern expression and a dark suit and tie. Which didn’t mean that he wasn’t looking totally hot, and his intelligent and sharp remarks did nothing to calm your fluttering heart or the heat in your lower abdomen. You definitely wanted him, bad.
This is getting ridiculous, you thought to yourself, and turned the TV off to take a very long shower.
Afterwards, you spent the whole day pacing around your flat and annoying Abby with numerous text messages and another two face time calls. She assured you multiple times that everything would be just fine and by the time it was 7:45 p.m. the food was in the oven and you sat on your couch, waiting for the doorbell to ring.
When it finally did, you all but ran to the door only to stop and force yourself to take a couple of calming breaths before opening it. Jake stood outside, a bottle of red wine in his hand. He looked amazing with his white dress shirt and dark grey slacks, but again it was his smile that got your attention, he looked just as happy to see you as you were feeling.
Out of a sudden impulse, you surged forward and threw your arms around the man, hugging him and burying your head in his chest. He seemed surprised, but still put his free arm around you, embracing you.
“Hi.” You whispered, suddenly shy, but as you looked up to meet Jakes eyes you could see nothing but warmth in them. “Hi.” He replied, pressing a kiss to your hair. “It’s good to see you.”
You slowly let go of him so he could actually enter your apartment. He followed you inside and you fetched some glasses for the wine. You talked about everything and anything over dinner, family, football, the book Jake was working on. You listened closely, and so did he as you told him about your passion for art and music. He even asked you to put some of your favorite records on as you moved over to the couch after dinner.
You were still talking animatedly but having Jake in closer physical proximity made it increasingly hard to focus on what he was saying.
Instead, your eyes and mind wandered to his hands. Without thinking, you reached out and put one of your hands into his, He stopped speaking, and looked at you. You could see the kind look in his eyes being replaced by something darker, more passionate.
He spoke again, voice lower this time. “I’ve been thinking about you and our kiss without a break since yesterday. And just as long I’ve wanted to kiss you again, touch you again.”
He reached out, cupped your jaw with one of his hands and slowly ran his thumb over your bottom lip. It took every willpower you had not to suck his thumb into your mouth. This man had you hot and aching for him with just a single touch and a couple of words.
“Is that something you want me to do, Y/L?” his voice was only a low rumble now.
“Oh my god yes. Yes please.” You whispered, not really trusting your own voice to come out steady enough.
The hand on your face slid to the back of your head and you uttered a surprised gasp as Jake just grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled you close, until your faces were only inches apart.
“You are beautiful.” He said, looking you deep in the eyes.
And then he kissed you again. And as soon as his mouth connected with yours, you realized just how much you had missed the feeling of his lips, the warmth of his body. But that was where the resemblance to the kiss you shared last night ended. Because this one was more.
More passion, more lust. Jake softly bit your bottom lip and used your surprised gasp as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. The kiss deepened and you could feel small sparks of arousal all over your body with every touch of tongue and every time he lightly tugged on the hair in the nape of your neck.
Your hands found their way around Jakes shoulders, roaming up and down his back. You were really glad he was not wearing his full State Of The Union Outfit, even if it had looked extremely hot, because as soon as you could feel the solid muscle through his thin dress shirt, you knew that those clothes had to come off at some point.
You lightly tugged on the hem of his shirt to pull it out of his pants and spread your hands over the warm skin underneath. Jake broke the kiss as soon as he could feel what you did, just to tilt back your head and kiss your exposed neck.
You couldn’t stifle a moan as he lightly sucked on your pulse point.
The feeling of his mouth on your skin made heat coil between your legs, and you tried to shift even closer to him, until you were almost sitting on his lap.
Jake continued to kiss your neck, while his other hand crept under your shirt to palm your breast through your bra. He lightly squeezed it and you moaned again, you nails raking softly over his back, making him groan against your skin.
“You like that?” he asked, and pinched one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, and you could feel your panties getting soaked with arousal.
You decided that it was time to get rid of some clothing and started to quickly unbutton Jakes dress shirt, revealing more and more skin with each button undone. As soon as you were finished, he pulled the shirt of his shoulders and the view of his body made your mouth water. You ran your hands over his muscled chest, and you could see the way his eyes darkened again.
“I can’t wait to touch you everywhere.” He said in a husky voice and pulled your shirt over your head in a swift motion, and instantly his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming over your back, unclasping your bra. When your nipples came in contact with the skin of his chest, you couldn’t contain yourself anymore.
“Jake, please. Touch me, kiss me, anything. I need to feel you.” You pleaded, your voice slightly breathless.
“Take the rest of your clothes off, now.” Jake said, his commanding tone sending another surge of wetness between your legs.
You got up from the sofa and stood in front of Jake. Slowly, you opened the zipper of your jeans and pulled them down, leaving you only in your black lace panties.
Jake was watching you, his intense stare burning on your skin.
“Everything. Off.” He said, never breaking eye contact.
Having the undivided attention of this man was so hot, you almost got lightheaded.
You slowly dragged your underwear down your legs, and as you were looking up again, you saw that Jake was palming the bulge that had begun to form in his pants. You wanted to touch him so bad.
“You are gorgeous. Amazing. Beautiful. Stunning.” Jake said, taking in the sight of your naked body. His voice was strained, this was clearly affecting him.
A light flush was beginning to form on your skin, you weren’t sure if it was because of arousal or embarrassment, but you definitely knew that you needed Jake to get his hands on your body, now.
You made your way over to him again and leaned down to open the fly of his trousers. His briefs were already tented by his erection, and you palmed him through his underwear, making him groan.
“Those need to come off.” You whispered, smiling at Jake, who just nodded and lifted his pelvis so you could pull down his trousers along with his underwear.
Finally, he was naked in front of you. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you down on the sofa, lying on top of you. The feeling of his warm skin against yours was thrilling, you tried to get your hands on every part of his body you could reach, stroking his back, pulling his hair. Finally, you wrapped your hand around the base of his hard cock, giving it some light strokes.
“You feel so good, Y/N, I’ve been thinking about doing this since I first laid my eyes on you. I’ve been in a state since we kissed, and now” he whispered against your neck „I can’t wait to finally have that sweet pussy of yours.”
You couldn’t believe the words coming out of Jakes mouth, hearing him say filthy things like that was turning you on more than you could’ve ever imagined. Obviously, your thoughts were written all over your face.
“You like it when I talk like that, don’t you, sweetheart.” He said, pinching one of your nipples as he did.
“I…Oh shit, yes, yes I do. Please.” You whimpered, almost going you crazy with the need to finally feel him.
He had mercy on you, reaching out between your legs. When he touched your pussy for the first time, you felt like the pent-up tension could make you faint any moment.
“God, you’re so wet, Y/N.” He thrust two of his long fingers into you without warning, and you almost screamed.
“And so tight.”
“I need you, please Jake, fuck me.” You were begging now, way beyond caring about any sort of decorum as his digits touched that sweet spot inside of you again and again.
He withdrew his fingers and shifted on top of you before he put his hands on your tights, spreading your legs. You couldn’t even begin to complain about the loss of his fingers, he was already lining up his cock with your entrance, and pushed in, slowly, filling you inch by inch until he bottomed out with a deep groan. His length stretched you in the most delicious way, and you cried out as he was starting to thrust in and out of you, leaving you almost no time to adjust to his size.
You couldn’t talk coherently anymore, you were just chanting his name over and over as he was fucking you into the sofa. Your nails clawed into his back as he was leaning over you, his hair falling into his face. Just as you thought you couldn’t feel any more pleasure, he grabbed one of your legs and probed it onto his shoulder, the new angle making you see stars with every move of his hips.
“You feel incredible, so tight and warm around me, you are amazing.” He looked down on you, taking in your face, squinted with pleasure, his name falling from your lips over and over again.
He reached between your legs and started rubbing your clit, never slowing down his relentless, hard thrusts. The combined stimulation was almost too much for you and your orgasm was approaching fast.
“Don’t stop, please, just don’t stop.” You cried out, the pleasure running through your body like a wildfire.
“Look at me when you come, I want to see you. Look at me!” Jake growled, breathing hard as he sped up even more.
You hit your peak with a cry, sparks dancing over your skin as your walls clenched around Jakes cock. Your eyes were fixed on his, and he looked at you like you were the only person on the entire planet.
Seeing you come undone beneath him, Jake only lasted for another few deep thrusts before he came, shouting your name and spilling his hot release inside of you.
He laid on top of you afterwards, his face on your shoulder, breathing deeply. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and he turned his head to look at you.
“Hi” you said.
“Hi” he replied, your favorite smile spreading across his face again.
“I liked that very much.” You said, pressing another kiss to his lips. He chuckled and propped himself up onto his arms with a small sight, rolling off you. Luckily, your sofa was large enough so you could comfortably lie next to each other.
“Me too, that was fantastic.” He replied and pulled you closer, putting his arm around you. You buried your face into his chest, soaking up the heat of his body and his wonderful smell.
“Maybe you should come over more often.” You suggested, sounding a bit nervous again. You didn’t want to appear clingy. But this man had just rocked your world, and you couldn’t just act like nothing happened.
“I’ll come over whenever you want me to, sweetheart. Consider me at your beck and call.”
“Stay the night?” you asked in a hopeful voice. You had work in the morning, but you just couldn’t imagine letting him go anywhere now.
He just nodded, smiled, and kissed you again. That soft, tingly feeling in your chest increased even more, and you just happily snuggled up to him.
Later, as Jake was already asleep next to you, you took up your phone and sent a quick text message to Abby.
Next brunch is my treat! I owe you xxxx
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This isn’t really an ask but I wanted to share something I was thinking about with you guys who show your sincere love/admiration for BTS in all you post —
Watching the past BTS Run episodes and the behind videos makes me feel a certain way not only because we get to see the boys relax and have fun (even if they get frustrated a bit haha *looking at HS and JM*), but also because I wonder how often they got to play around and do these kinds of things during the age most people do? I’d say teens and early-20s is the age when we do silly things like play mini games with friends, go to amusement parks for the first time, take a stab at cooking — and yet they were working their hardest and truly shedding blood, sweat, and tears during that time (thinking about JK makes me incredibly soft because he really started young). This show really just allows them to have fun. And it’s frustrating to see that others called the show terrible and said it was something the boys were forced to do and didn’t truly enjoy (the article saying otherwise was a blessing).
Watching “special guests” also be on the show I think highlights this feeling (of them enjoying doing these kinds of things) even more! You can see the excited ness and almost shy manners when they have others on (the voice acting, T1, and recent cooking ep come to mind). I’m looking forward to future episodes! Are there any things/games/themes you’d like to see the boys do on a BTS Run episode?
(Ah, sorry, I guess there is an ask — only if you two wish to answer it!)(Catch me listening to Young Forever now in my feels 😭)
I’ve been sitting on this ask forever and I’m really sorry for that! Especially since it’s such a good one, so thank you so much for sending it in. Maybe that’s why it took me so long, since I kind of wanted to think about it a little and offer something (hopefully) good as response.
RUN certainly offers them a bit of time in their schedules to just be silly together, play mini games and other things they normally wouldn’t really be able to do in their own time, like the zombie game episode or try a flower class. In one of the episodes of Break the Silence Yoongi spoke about how things that are mundane for us are special to them since they don’t get to do them without putting thought into how to pull it off; Seokjin spoke about how while his friends said that he’ll never have to worry about rent, he argued that while that may be true, they will never have to worry about something as trivial as walking down the street, or in one of the Bring the Soul (if I remember currently) episodes where Seokjin was apologetic about wanting to visit the zoo in Berlin since it meant that he had to take so many people with him since they were abroad, though it’s less of an issue while they’re in Korea it seems.
It’s curious how different that experience is for the members though, I mean, just look at their vacation in 2019 and how different it went for Namjoon and Jimin. While Jimin was quickly discovered and followed in Paris and Russia, Namjoon toured through Europe in a way that while ARMY from the respective countries knew about it, they kept it so low key everyone else had no idea until Namjoon posted about it himself. On the other hand, except for their finishing trip, we have no idea what Yoongi did during their vacation, or Hobi besides his CNS collab.
But, generally, it’s rather clear that none of the members would be able to just show up at Everland (an amusement park in Korea, the place where they filmed the America’s Got Talent performance of Dynamite) and have a good time without immediately being spotted, or having to heavily rely on disguises (and likely still worry about it not being enough and what would happen if they were discovered, therefore defeating the entire point of going to a place like that in the first place).
There are two sides to every medal. While yes they had and continue to have to give up on certain things, experiences and freedoms that seem so normal to the average person, something we don’t even have to think about much or can just do whenever we want (like going to the cinema at peak hours or go to McDonald’s (even one of the TXT members couldn’t do that without pictures being secretly taken of him and posted on sns and TXT isn’t nearly as famous as BTS)), they also gain a lot in terms of money but also experiences no one but them will have in such a way. They get to live their dream of being artists, of giving giant concerts all across the globe, of sharing their music with millions of people and bringing us happiness and comfort when we need it most.
More below the cut:
In one of the episodes of Bring the Soul Tae spoke about how they had the opportunities to go higher quicker, but they refused, wanted to do things their own way in their own time. It isn’t like they’ve lost control of their lives, like they wouldn’t be able to do things if they truly wanted—after all in the Bring the Soul episode where Seokjin went to the Zoo, Hobi could also walk around in the area close to the arena where they performed largely without being bothered (which might be due to his heavy disguise and security, but you get the point)—but there are limitations, and in a way, it really is a shame, but at the end of the day, many of these things are ones they’ll still be able to do whenever their fame will calm down, or fade away one day in the future. Cinemas and flower classes and amusement parks won’t just disappear, and they are certainly things you can still do once you’re thirty or forty years old, or even older than that.
But, going back to RUN, the show certainly offers them the opportunity to not have to wait until their fame passes, gives them a chance to experience and try things while also sharing that with us, work and pleasure at once. Though it’s clear that perhaps filming episodes isn’t always at the top of their priorities and I can imagine there are things they’d sometimes rather do—I mean episodes that we’ve seen being filmed in hotel rooms between concerts where I’m sure they’d rather spend the day relaxing, though they likely still prefer filming RUN over giving yet another boring and mindless interview in English, since let’s be honest, those aren’t…great, usually.
When it comes to guests on RUN, be it in form of people like the T1 members or instructors like the tennis players or the auntie teaching them how to make kimchi, it’s always so funny to me to see how humble they are about their own fame, how they get all shy as though they are meeting someone exceedingly famous instead of them being the most famous people in any room they enter. Looking at how they speak of their goals and achievements, it’s easy to see though that they’ve carefully worked on not allowing their fame to get to their heads, to remain grounded and as connected to reality as possible despite being them and how different their lives are from those of normal people. I mean, how many of us can say they were mobbed while trying to buy an iPad?
It's also so beautiful and remarkable to me how people who have met them spoke about them, like Isaac the florist who spoke about how interested they all were in the flowers and truly participated and listened, that they were extremely friendly, kind and polite, and if that doesn’t sound like Bangtan, I don’t know what does. I think this is also one of the reasons why they managed to get to where they are now, why they are so strong as a group, why they still enjoy spending time together, still manage to get even closer and deepen their friendships even after a decade has passed—they’ve remained human despite everything they’ve gone through, despite the heights they keep on reaching, despite all the awards and achievements, the number ones and sold out tours.
Tae said the following about V and his relation to Kim Taehyung in Break the Silence: Persona (the movie):
I think V can show parts of Kim Taehyung and parts of V, but Kim Taehyung can’t show V. Kim Taehyung is Kim Taehyung. Kim Taehyung is someone who’s still filled with a lot of curiosity and he’s inquisitive about a lot of things. There are so many things he wants to do. Also I think there’s so many things he is curious about.
This is the important stuff, and while I don’t have such quotes for the other members, I’m sure it’s true for them as well. Even after all this time Tae is still curious about the world, still has things he’d like to do, he’s still himself even while he stands on stage as V, hasn’t lost himself to the stage persona and the fame. We know Namjoon had a whole crisis about where RM ends and Kim Namjoon begins, and if they really are two separate things, if Namjoon even still exists or if RM has taken over his personality. I’m sure all of them had their respective moment of trying to determine who they are as people, who they are as artists, and who they want to be when they look in the mirror, how to not lose the person below the persona. We’ve also had Jungkook question his worth outside of being a BTS member, something I’m sure all of them also experienced in one way or another since it seems like such an inevitable question to ask yourself after you’ve been part of a group for so long, and yet despite it all, they all still want to stay together as BTS for as long as they can, despite mixtapes and thoughts of wanting to at least be able/confident enough to lead a concert on their own (Jungkook BE Weverse interview).
RUN gives them a chance to be them, to have fun, to be silly, to not have to constantly be on guard, to have fun in an environment where they can feel safe and are surrounded by people who have been with them for a long time and have their best interest in mind as well. There was a whole Weverse Magazine article about it, which I also wrote a post about. And yet there are people who want to take this away from them because they don’t like it while disregarding what BTS themselves want. I won’t call them ARMY since most of them are solos/akgae/mantis, and those are anything but ARMY, they’re not even fans of the one member they claim to stan, are merely caricatures of “fans” who want to “save” them, or rather take control of their lives so BTS would act exactly how they want them to. It’s obsessive and wrong, and it crosses every line and boundary of what it means to be anyone’s fan. As fans it isn’t our job to decide what is and isn’t good for their careers. We don’t know anything about the industry, while they’ve been in it since 2010, and we know nothing about their contracts or what happens behind the scenes.
As long as they are happy and have fun, who are we to question it? I don’t know about you but Bangtan have looked nothing but happy and like they were having a good time in the last couple of episodes, even when they were frustrated because they couldn’t pass a game. After all learning tennis properly and over a longer period of time was their own idea, not anyone else’s, but that’s something those people don’t want to hear anything about or will just twist somehow to fit their narrative. It truly is a shame, but also, it’s their loss if they’d rather make themselves miserable than spend forty minutes laughing along with Bangtan as they’re trying to play the harmonica or trying to cook something with less than stellar cooking skills.
As for something I’d want to see them do on RUN, that’s tricky since there’s so much they’ve already done, but something that comes to mind would be even something as silly as sitting them down and having them try to recreate all the members, or one they chose at random, in The Sims 4. It could be hilarious, and we could see how differently they’d tackle something like it. Or have them decorate a house in Sims, which would be especially interesting with our resident lighting fixtures enthusiast Yoongi. Or maybe something to do with painting, like them attending a class or just attempting to draw the same object or person. (A2: maybe given them a wall and spray cans and have them do graffiti or a mural, or have them do each other’s hair and makeup (taking it serious, of course) for a photoshoot or something like that) Or maybe a Bangtan book club where they’d discuss the same book since it would be so interesting to see what different things each of the members would find in a book and their opinions etc.
The possibilities are endless and just like you I can’t wait to see what the future episodes of RUN will have, and especially the tennis match we’ll see in next week’s episode.
#answered ask#answered ask by admin 1#BTS#RUN BTS#bangtan sonyeondan#discussion#Namjoon#Seokjin#Yoongi#Hoseok#Taehyung
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Fuckin’ Legit
Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Follow up to Fuckin’ Teamwork, based off this ask. A/N: More silly shenanigans. Dumbass reader :) 2.1k words
Bag of Tricks Masterlist
Bucky watches from a distance as you hurl through the air and land right heel-first on the training dummy, knocking its head off and making it bounce off the floor with enough force to lodge itself into the ceiling. The room of SHIELD recruits clap and cheer, and when the dummy’s head flops back down you kick it like a hacky-sack at Maria Hill.
“Great demonstration,” Hill catches the head and tucks it under her arm. “Are you interested in teaching a course in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on aerial recovery? Legitimately?”
“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.” You send a wink at her and then, as soon as you see Bucky’s bewildered face through the other side of the glass, you leap after him. He’s convinced you’re dumber than a bag of rocks, but you’re not deterred by it—especially not after Maria Hill’s validation. Puffing your chest, you skip forward, “Hey, Buck! I’m legit!”
Immediately, you trip and face plant into the nearest surface. The room collectively hisses in discomfort.
“I take that back.” Maria hurriedly ushers the recruits out before they can witness anything else.
Bucky slips through the door and roughly yanks you up by your elbow, wincing when your nose reveals a line of blood dripping into your mouth. “Legit, my ass. Come on. Stark called for us.”
-
The air in the conference room is stagnant and overwrought with a million unsaid—unscreamed—expressions. Tony pivots on his lifted heels, finger jabbing toward the big screen where a dark and grainy image is projected.
“Care to explain this? Friday pulled it from a broadcast coming from the cell.” He narrows his eyes at you as you slump down into the swivel chair until only the top of your head shows. “How about you?” Tony gestures to Bucky.
Tony has a laser pointer in his other hand, and he shines the red spotlight on the picture where Bucky’s knees are bent and planted to the ground. The dot trails over his thigh and then over the smaller frame beneath him.
You’re there, arched upward into his torso, legs hooked around his tapered waist, heels digging into his spine. Four of his thick flesh fingers are shoved inside your mouth, pulling your cheek open, and the dim light catches a sliver of your wet tongue. His other forearm is pushed onto your sternum, holding you down.
It looks bad.
It looks like Bucky is dry humping the daylights out of you in an abandoned Hydra facility.
Sam erupts into a screeching laugh when he finally pieces it together, pitching forward until he’s flattened against the wood table. “Ho-Homygod--- This is the best day of my life. Is this the cyanide incident?”
Bucky is red from head to toe.
Natasha rolls her eyes and slides away from the table. “Tony, she ate two cyanide capsules. Barnes was wrestling them out of her mouth.”
Tony stiffens for a moment as he ponders the truth behind her statement. Then, he quirks his head like an owl, flares his nostrils, and stoops beneath the table to find you resembling a boneless pile of flesh.
“Everyone is dismissed.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I wish I could fire you.”
A quiet whimper escapes your lips, the most pathetic noise to ever come from a human being. “But…” You whine pathetically, “I’m legit.”
-
A few nights later, you find yourself sneaking through yet another dusty old hideout. Surprise, surprise, Hydra is bad with maintenance and loves asbestos.
Steve made you an outline of all your tasks on his mission, written in all caps, folded neatly, and shoved it into your back pocket before departure. You skimmed over it on the plane before crumbling it up. The first bullet point had glared: NO CANDY.
Tightass.
You easily clear the wing and dispatch your status to Sam who is waiting patiently in the jet, fingers on the console. Bucky is patrolling the perimeter and you are taking the east side while Redwing zooms through the west.
There have been trip wires (newbie shit) and also surprisingly advanced attempts at entrapment so far (motion sensors, temperature regulated alarms). They’ve all been expertly pulled apart and rewired and you are taking a short break fucking around in the hallway, peering at dusty paintings of – some old dead bald guys. You take a picture of one and send it to Tony, labelled it’s like looking into the future.
Chortling, you continue down the corridor aimlessly until you hear a creak.
The knife in your hand is blade-first and coming down hard on the body sneaking up until— “Oh Barnes!” You cry happily, tucking it back into the strap on your wrist. “Good. You’re here! There’s only one more room—I’ve been crushing it.”
Literally two seconds after you say that, you turn the corner and run face-first into the door. Bucky pauses as if he doesn’t quite register what just happened before slowly reaching forward and gently applying pressure to the handle.
It’s written all over his face: you’re an idiot. You are seriously lacking some brain cells.
He leads the way carefully, swatting cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and taking stock of each corner, rifle pointed forward and alert. Behind him, your boots thump noisily against the floor and a chair is tipped over when your arm crashes into it.
Bucky spins on his heels and catches the chair before it can fall on top of what looks like a very obviously placed … box.
It’s a box.
A giant red box is on the floor, outlined with a square of white tape. Two abnormally unsoiled items in a room made almost entirely out of forty-year old dandruff. Your hands are already on both sides of it before Bucky can knock you out of the way.
“Don’t!” He screams because fucking anything could be under there!
A wild animal! A toxic chemical! A bomb! Snakes, for fuck’s sake! His eyes widen at the fading shadow cast on the floor as you lift the top away. Then, his heart stops beating.
It’s a slice of cake. And a cup of tea. A single slice of vanilla sheet cake neatly decorated with a blush-pink rose and two perfectly piped green leaves. The faint smell of jasmine wafts into the air.
Bucky barrels into you before you get the chance to lick your lips.
“Wilson!” He calls into the comm as you push his face away with an offended yelp, “They’re in the east side—set a trap for us! Get over here and bring your stupid bird too! I swear to God—NO! DO NOT!”
-
In the hovering Quinjet, Sam Wilson leaps to his feet and swoops out of the cabin, wings folded as he dives. “Come again?!” He taps on the comm wedged inside his left ear, “Barnes!?”
“-- fuck-- gonna—fucking--- stop BITING ME!”
A furious row of explosions blare in Sam’s ear as he banks a sharp left and lands on two feet, tearing his way inside the facility, checking on his wrist all the while. Redwing’s camera is glitching, but he can make out flashes of gunfire and what looks like at least five bodies, not including his two teammates. Bursts of white erupt on the screen and Sam’s heart picks up a tremendous pace before he kicks the door down, pistols out and aimed.
A silence smothers the room before grunting and screaming erupts again over Sam’s shout of, “What is going on in here?!”
-
“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact moment I came upon my fellow Avengers,” Sam pauses, waving his hand with a bow at the image projected on the conference room screen.
Friday pulled another image from the broadcast before Sam shot out all the cameras in the facility.
It seems that the previous video of you eating cyanide had been intercepted through a bounced signal from the original recording’s output and those on the other end decided you were enough of a proper imbecile to be tricked by something as simple as a slice of cake.
They weren’t wrong.
Tony’s laser is in Sam’s hand and he points the dot in flashes five times, “Dead dudes. Check.” The dot moves on, landing on two splayed out legs before it runs up the side of Bucky’s body pressed to the concrete. “Barnes. Check.” Bucky shuts his eyes and slams his head into the table. “And… here we have this.”
Sam points to you, bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you lurch forward, one hand outstretched and smeared with frosting while the other holds your torso barely an inch from the ground, paying no mind to the two elbows digging into your stomach. Sam points again to where your crotch is pushed right into Bucky’s face.
“Jesus Christ.” Steve mutters, flushing red, “I wrote you directions for a reason…”
“Excuse me,” You huff, “Cake is not candy.”
“Really?!” Bucky snaps, “That’s the hill you’re going to die on!? You ran into the door! You knocked over a chair! You looked at the one thing that did not belong in the room and you picked it up even after I told you not to!”
Steve jumps back into the grilling, “And if you would have read the rest of the list—NO FOOD AT ALL was number two!”
“Oh yeah!?” You’re near hysterical now, shrieking at the top of your lungs. Stupid men ganging up on you. “What was number three? No fun!? I’m Captain America and I’m such a tightass--”
Bucky cuts you off, throwing his hands up into the air, “Number three was get the blueprints!”
“Oh.”
The room falls silent as you tuck your hand into the pocket of your pants. “Why didn’t you just say so? I nabbed ‘em as soon as I got in there. Marked off the locations of all the cameras and security alarms—not like that matters since Wilson shot them and I disarmed the rest in the east wing. Also, there were corridors and secret entryways not in the file. It’s on here now.”
Carelessly, you chuck the flash drive from your pocket at Steve and it smacks him in the chest. Sam crosses his arms and cocks his head at you, “Shit. Didn’t know you were all that.”
You frolic to the door, “See ya later!”
Three men watch on in shocked silence as you prance down the hallway, banking a sharp right towards your room. Steve stares from Sam to Bucky and then to the flash drive in his hand.
Sam clucks, “You know what… All things considered… the girl is legit.”
-
He calls your name, bangs on the door with a hard fist and when it cracks open, you peek your head out with tired eyes. “Sup, buttercup?”
“Why are you like this? The cyanide? The cake? You had the flash drive the whole time!”
You shrug off what sounds like an accusation, “I dunno. I’m good at my job.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Barnes!” You scold with a growing grin, “I’m legit! I just… you know. Why put all the pressure on myself when you’re around?”
You snort a little, scratch your tummy underneath an oversized shirt absently, and shrug your shoulders repeatedly like you’re dancing. Bucky narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re an idiot because of me?”
“Yeah, Buck. I know you’ll take care of me.”
He freezes. Feels a sudden swell of heat rush from his chest to the top of his head. Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He closes it. You give him a sleepy grin, leaning on the door and swinging it wide, faltering against the knob with a yelp.
Swiftly, and true to his character, Bucky catches you with one arm.
Hanging from his hold, body twisted around, you look up into his blue eyes. They’re strangely tender, dancing over your face with an inquisitive glimmer.
The moment shatters when Bucky’s gaze stops at your neckline. “Is that—" he frowns, “Is your shirt on backwards?”
You nod. “Uh huh. Inside out too.”
His eyes slip shut. With a sigh, he drops you flat on your back and turns around. “You’re an idiot. I hate you.”
Down the hallway as he stomps off, cursing the moment the thought you were cute or something… he hears your voice calling.
“I’m an idiot— but I’m legit, right? And I’m your idiot, right? Bucky? Bucky!”
Bucky holds back a grin. Flicks you off behind his back. Legit or not, he would never give you the satisfaction of knowing.
-
perm taglist @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail
#marvel#mcu#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#fanfiction#reader insert#crackfic#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#humor
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A complicated day
Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC
Book: Open Heart 2
Warning: None
Words: 1589
Note: English it's not my native language so be patient with me 😌
Here is my collaboration for 12 days of Fictmas! Hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for hosting this again @leelee10898 and @emichelle! ❤️
Writers: @texaskitten30 @zaffrenotes @alj4890 @burnsoslow @kat-tia801 @darley1101 @msjr0119 @annekebbphotography @plumeriavibes @ofpixelsandscribbles @camillemontespan @ao719 @cocomaxley @cordoniansgonewild @twinkleallnight @the-soot-sprite @cordoniantrash @axwalker @innerpostmentality @lucy-268 @janezillow @katedrakeohd
Readers: @mom2000aggie @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @debramcg1106 @desireepow-1986 @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @drariellevalentine
Permanent tagg list: @eileendannie @desireepow-1986 @dawn-1994 @darley1101 @blackcatkita @flyawayboo @drakewalker04 @choicesficwriterscreations @mrawxs
Bryce Lahela x MC tagg list: @anotherbeingsworld
Open Heart tagg list: @mskaneko @x-kyne-x
"What are your plans for the holidays?" Casey asked as they walked to his place after a double shift. Her small hand was in his and her thin fingers were tangled with his as her thumb caressed distractedly his skin.
"Well, Keiki's coming back for the break so I guess we'll stay at my place."
"You aren't going to Hawaii?"
"Nah. I might have talked with my parents a couple of times and I might have put a stop to my resentment towards them, but that doesn't change what they did. Especially after all that Keiki told us."
"So, are you going to be the two of you here, alone?"
"Trust me, Cass, I've had worst holidays." His hand squeezed hers reassuring. "What about you?"
"I was thinking of going home… I haven't seen my family since I moved here."
"I bet you miss them. Like I'm going to miss you." He added with a playful wink.
"Maybe not. I'd like for you and Keiki to come with me."
"You really can't stay away from me, can't you Valentine?" Bryce shot a cocky smirk in her way as she rolled her eyes although the corners of her lips rose up a little. She stopped walking and tugged his hand, making him turn towards her.
"Hey, I mean it. I want to spend the holidays with you and Keiki as well."
"Are you sure?" He took a small piece of falling hair and put it behind her ear, gently brushing her skin and she nodded, smiling at the sweet gesture.
"Of course I'm sure! Talk with Keiki about it and let me know what she thinks." They started to walk again as Bryce's arm sneaked around her waist.
"Your family will be okay with that?"
"I may kinda tell them about you already."
Her cheeks redden a bit. "And there's a chance that they want to meet you."
"Did you tell them how great I am?" Bryce smiled confidently, his finger softly squeezing her waist as she giggled.
"Oh yeah, I told them to make the door hole bigger for your ego." She playfully nudged his side and he chuckled. "And… How you stayed with me during the attack and how worried you were about me. And how important you are for me."
"You are important for me too." He kissed the side of her head as their feet continued walking almost at their own.
The weeks passed and, after talking with Keiki about it, they organized the trip. The plan was easy. Or at least, it should have been. They had planned everything with Casey, the plane tickets, going for Keiki at her school, the presents, the luggage, everything was ready. But, sometimes, things don't work out the way it was expected.
"So, we finish our shift in one hour, you go for Keiki, I grab my luggage, go to your place and do the online check in, then we take an Uber from there to the airport." Casey closed her locker stretching her back a bit. "Should be easy."
"Ready to meet the parents-in-law, Lahela?" Jackie asked, smirked mockingly from her own locker.
"You kidding? Parents love me. Especially if they have good taste as their daughter." In that instant, all the beepers started to blare.
"E.R. A burning building." They all headed to the emergency entrar, a few ambulances already at the door. Casey ran toward an unconscious man with his face burnt as Bryce followed a bed in which a woman laid with an iron rod going through her leg. He washed his hands and prepared, once the patient was asleep, his hand started to move around the wound stable and firm as he slowly and with the assistant of a nurse pulled out the long iron tube.
"Suction." His voice commendatory and his eyes glued in the patient. The nearest nurse immediately reacted but the blood kept coming. Two hours and half, he was leaving the patient room after talking with the family and rushing to the ER once more. Before anyone had noticed, another four hours had passed and the hectic rhythm had finally calmed down.
"Okay, I'm not going to lie, that was a little set back--"
"A little? Going to Keiki's and back is four hours, the airport it's forty minutes away and we still need the luggages and do the check in and the plane leaves in seven hours!" Casey said incredulously, as they rushed to the parking lot to Bryce's car.
"--But we still can work with it!" He said so confident that Casey almost relaxed as his cell vibrated. "It's Keiki."
'Rushing late?' Keiki wrote with an annoying emoji.
'You think?' He answered with the same face. 'On our way.' He sat behind the wheel as Casey took the passage seat, they headed straight for Keiki's school, making one stop to take away coffee as Bryce asked her more about her family. He already knew that she had a big brother, two small nieces, a few cousins and a pretty good relationship with her parents. He knew that she missed them and talked to them at least once a week.
"Finally!" Keiki dropped her luggage in the backseat. "Hi Cass!"
"She gets a full 'Hi Cass' and I only received annoying emojis and complaints?" Keiki rolled her eyes and hugged her big brother and Bryce bearhugged her back. "That's better."
"Okay, we still have five hours until the flight, with a little luck we may have time to take a break before that."
"Casey?" Bryce looked surprised at his sister's shy tone.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for including me. You didn't have to."
"Not including you never was even an option Kei, it is my absolute pleasure!" She turned her head to watch the teenager in the backseat, grinning. "They will love you."
"What about me?" Bryce asked playfully, giving her his best puppy eyes.
"You are the one dating me so you are in a tough spot, Lahela."
"Ouch."
"Nervous, Bryce?" Keiki said in what was supposed to be an innocent tone.
"Please." He shrugged cockily.
"Hey, the road is pretty clear! Maybe we have time after all!" Casey pointed, cheerfully, watching through the window until her face falled down. "Oh no! I jinx it!" A police officer was standing in the, now closed, road swerving cars to the right.
"We still have time." Bryce took her hand and laced his finger with hers as the car slowed down, until stopped at the end of a long line of cars. "Don't worry gorgeous." She squeezed his hand back, leaning her back in the seat as her head fell back, sighing and closing her eyes for a moment.
"You are right. And there's nothing we can do about it." After three hours of frustration waiting, they finally pulled over in Casey's apartment so she could grab her luggage.
"So, did you bought it?" Keiki leaned in the space between the two front seats, talking conspiracy low and watching to the building front door.
"Yeah, I retired it before work, I still have it with me." Bryce took a small velvet box and opened. Inside a white gold heart locket sparkles as he hands it to Keiki. "What do you think?"
"It's perfect for her. She is going to love it." Bryce smiled. It was not only the first time that they spent a holiday together or the first time that he brought her something, it was also the first time he brought a gift to someone this special for him. And he was ready to put all his feelings for her out.
"Thanks for giving me your opinion about it, Kei."
"I know you would be lost without me." She said smoothly.
"Don't push it, kid."
"She's coming." Bryce shoved the box back in his pocket and rushed outside the car to help her. They went to his place, parked in the building parking lot in a space that Bryce had rented for those days, and dash to his apartment.
"You grab your luggage and meanwhile I call an Uber."
"Perfect." He went towards his bedroom and, checking that Casey couldn't see him, placed the box in the bottom of the suitcase, covering it with clothes and finally closing it. Bryce was convinced that if anyone ask him how they made it to the plane, he wouldn't know the answer, he knew they had ran through the airport, like the McCallister family in 'Home Alone', that the check in had been the most slow one he ever made in his entire life and the judging looks as they embarked after delayed the plane for twenty minutes.
Keiki took the window seat, immediately putting her headphones over her head as Bryce sat in the middle with Casey at his left. She scratched her back and rolled her shoulders, yawing.
"Cass, are you okay? Today was..."
"... Awful?" He chuckled.
"That's one way to put it."
"You are here so I'm more than okay."
"You flatter me, Valentine."
"Yeah, well… After all, there's a reason why you are the first guy I take home for the holidays." She leaned her head on the side of his arm, closing her eyes as her hand found his and gently took it.
"You want to know a little secret?" He asked close to her ear.
"Shoot."
"You are the first I spend the holidays with. Ever." Her eyes kept close but her smile brightened up her whole face, showing, without words, how happy she was.
❣️
#choices 12 days of ficmas#12 days of fictmas 2020#12 days of fictmas#dr bryce lahela x mc#bryce lahela x mc#choices bryce#bryce x casey#oh bryce
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