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dameronology · 4 years

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welcome to the jungle {frankie morales}

summary: after taking a job with the delta guys, you cross paths with frankie morales. even though you’re at each other’s throats at first, it proves to be the start of something beautiful. (for @what-the--curtains - i hope you enjoy!!) - 7k words

warnings: swearing, mentions of ptsd

this is kinda ambiguous in terms of the timeline of the film but i sort of hint to the first half being before the events of t.f and the second half being after -- with that said, you can take it as you would like :D

- jazz

Your brother had dog sat for a few days.

In exchange, you were flying out to Colombia in the middle of your work week.

You believed in favours, but these two did not feel like they were equal.

Still, you were a person of your word - and getting to fly to South America was exciting. The job itself was exciting, if not a little...eyebrow raising. His friend, an ex-Delta soldier, needed somebody to ID a body. That part didn’t bother you - you were a forensic archaeologist after all and it was quite literally your job description. The suspicious bit was the circumstances under which you were doing it; Santiago Garcia hadn’t been entirely clear on the phone, but he’d said something about witnesses and getting the government off of our backs. You’d met Santiago a few times and you knew what kind of work he did - military stuff. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was probably an under-the-radar kind of affair. But, you’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

So, here you were on a warm Colombian Tuesday afternoon, suitcase trailing behind you as you trekked towards a dusty old air base. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on your back in a way that had initially been comforting, but was now just plain annoying. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, but packing three jackets now felt like a stupid idea. The one one you’d worn on the plane over had been long discarded and tied around your waist, which only added to the struggle of dragging your case up the steep, sandy hill. In the distance, you could see an ATC tower glinting under the sun - the streams of light bounced right back off of it, causing you to shield your eyes with your forearm. The taxi you’d gotten from the international airport - not like this sandy little place - had only taken you so far. At least, of all things, the boots you’d opted to wear were built for this kind of thing.

A few hundred meters up the road, you finally saw another sign of human life. A 4x4 was parked outside the abandoned terminal entrance, three men leaning against the side of it. You spotted Santiago standing a few metres away on his phone, thumbs tapping away. He didn’t look any different to the last time you saw him; dark and curly hair, a semi-friendly smile and stubble littering his chin. You hadn’t seen him since your brother’s birthday party a few months ago.

‘Hey!’ The former soldier offered you a grin when he saw you, holding his arms open. ‘Long time, no see!’

‘Hey, Santi!’ You replied, giving him a pat on the back as he pulled you into a hug. ‘And yeah, it’s been a while. Then again, when was the last time you were in the country for more than five minutes?’

‘I’m in high demand.’ He shot back.

Pulling back from the embrace, Santi pointed to his colleagues. There was Will and Benny, two blonde boys, both in military gear. It didn’t take much to figure out that they were brothers; same smirk, same stance, same eyes. Even if Santi hadn’t pointed it out, you would have figured as much. You were naturally deductive - came with the job. After the brothers, there was Frankie. He had dark eyes and hair, the latter of which was covered by his hat. Unlike the other three, he was wearing more casual clothes, just with a tac vest over the top. You kind of got the vibe that he didn’t want to be there - that was...comforting.

‘What’s all this?’ Frankie asked, gesturing to the heavy metal suitcase behind you.

‘Just...stuff. Tools.’ You replied. ‘Things I need to do my job, I guess.’

‘How heavy is it?’

‘Light enough that I was able to get them onto a commercial flight?’ You offered.

‘The plane is already at max weight.’ He replied, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours.

‘God, give ‘em a break, Fish!’ Santi slapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine.’

‘Remember last time you said it would be fine-’

‘- hey.’ He cut him off with a harsh look. ‘We don’t talk about that.’

‘So I can bring them?’ You raised your eyebrows. ‘Because I can’t do whatever it is you need to do unless I have them.’

‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’ Santiago gave you a comforting smile. ‘Let’s head to the jet and we’ll talk about the job.’

Swinging your duffle bag back over your shoulder, you picked up your suitcase and began to follow the guys further up the hill. There wasn’t anybody else around -- just sand, sun and rusting old jets. There was one in particular that they seemed to be headed towards. It was only mildly less eroded than the damaged ones around you, but the engines were running and the cargo doors were open. Santiago took your bag from your hands as you approached it, tossing it in with the other luggage.

‘Do not throw that one, Garcia!’ You demanded, flinching slightly as he took your suitcase.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He shot back.

‘Sure thing.’ You rolled your eyes at him. ‘You brought a medkit right?’

‘No. Why?’

‘There’s one in my duffle bag.’ You replied. ‘Side pocket. Can you grab it?’

‘We don’t need one, we’ll be fine-’

‘- Santiago Garcia, do you want me to report back to my brother that you took his baby sibling on a jungle-wide expedition without the correct medical supplies?’ You challenged.

Santi swallowed, mind briefly flashing back to the time he’d almost been decked by said brother for letting you walk home alone. ‘Fine.’

Your triumphant smile only lasted a split second; as soon as your eyes fell on the plane, you realised you still had to get on it. Fuck.

The engines seemed to be working fine, but it was just...old. And eroding. And making a funny sound. You were by no means an engineer, but even just binging a few episodes of Air Crash Investigations made you feel qualified enough to know that this was not where it was at in terms of air safety. You could have taken it up with Frankie, but he didn’t seem entirely approachable.

You did trust Santi, however - though sometimes that seemed a little against your better judgement. Every crazy story that your brother had relayed back to you from their time in the military involved him making questionable decisions. Hopefully, opting to fly this hunk of metal wouldn’t be one of them. Here’s to hoping it was aerodynamic.

‘Are you getting in or…’ Frankie peered down at you from the stairs, eyebrows raised.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘This thing is safe, right?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘What is it to me?’ You snorted. ‘Just, y’know, that I’m about to fly a few hundred thousand feet in the air and if it falls out of the sky I’ll die.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’ Frankie shut the door behind you as you climbed aboard, twisting the handle shut. ‘I’ve been flying for years.’

‘I’m not saying it’s you.’ You brushed past him, shoulders bumping as you did. ‘Captain fucking Sully couldn’t fly this thing.’

‘The guy from Monster’s Inc?’

‘No, the guy who landed the plane on the Hudson? They made a movie about it, with Tom Hanks-’

‘- you should sit down now.’ Frankie turned away from you. ‘We’re about to take off.’

Your mouth fell open in slight disbelief. What an asshole.

Santi called your name, signalling for you to sit with him in the cockpit. The seats on the plane hardly looked comfortable, and your brain was mentally working out if it was safer to sit over the wing in a crash, or by the tail. You’d definitely seen it in a documentary once, but you couldn’t remember exactly what they said. Perhaps the best option was to just be less dramatic.

Taking a seat between Frankie and Santi, you pulled your seatbelt on and shuffled awkwardly. This was fine. Absolutely fine. Frankie was a trained pilot (and a dickhead, but that didn’t take away from his flying skills) and you were going to be fine. Fiiiiine. Maybe if you said it once more, you’d believe yourself. You were going to be fine. Yeah, there we go.

A few deep breaths and you were certain. Or, at least you’d convinced yourself to be certain.

‘So.’ Your eyes momentarily flicked over to where Frankie was adjusting some controls. ‘What exactly am I doing here?’

‘A few months ago, the boys and I were involved in the shoot-out.’ Santi began. ‘Pretty standard for the type of operation we were on.’

‘Right. Standard office work.’ You muttered. ‘Do go on.’

‘We thought everyone who had witnessed it had been recorded.’ He continued. ‘And everyone who we spoke to verified that it was a justified shootout. No dirty work, no ulterior motive. All valid, from a legal perspective.’

You thinned your eyes. ‘I don’t think I like where this is going.’

‘We ID’d all the bodies at the time.’ He said. ‘Including a Ricky Martinez. Except now, a guy claiming to also be Ricky Martinez has come forward, claiming that his version of events is a little different. Like, different enough to incriminate us.’

‘He’s lying, right? You guys were the good ones?’ You urged. Santiago’s silence was anything but comforting. ‘Right?’

‘Morals are all a matter of perspective.’ He replied. ‘Our labs ID’d Martinez’ body twice but we need a third party opinion before we can completely dispel the guy pretending to be him.’

‘Guess that’s where I come in?’ You asked, leaning further back into the seat as the jet began to move.

‘Exactamente.’ Santi nodded.

That didn’t sound too bad. Between excavating the grave, running tests and returning the body, it would take a few days tops. You could manage that.

The jet began to pick up speed, making its ascent towards the runway. Frankie did look like he knew what he was doing -- heck, the man looked bored, even. He barely even had to look at the dash controls as it moved forward, hands moving freely and easily to manoeuvre the plane down the runway.

‘What are you staring at?’ Frankie glanced over at you.

‘N-nothing.’ You replied. ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on the road-’

‘- that’s a runway.’ He cut you off.

‘Whatever.’

You were thrown backwards in your chair from the momentum of the take off. The plane angled upwards as it went up in the air, tilting sideways as it balanced out. You felt your stomach drop as the ground disappeared from beneath you, the push of the engines pulling you up higher into the sky. There was a clunk, signalling that the landing gear had retracted.

Well, the plane had fulfilled its first purpose: taking off. That was a good sign.

‘So,’ Benny peered over at you. ‘What’s your callsign gonna be?’

‘My name, presumably.’ You quirked a brow at him.

‘We have Ironhead, Catfish and Pope.’ He continued. ‘But Will and I were talking, and we thought Barbie was gonna fit well.’

‘Oh, really?’ You sniffed. ‘And why might that be?’

‘Because you’re young, and pretty hot-’

‘- so your call sign is Benny, right?’ You cut him off. ‘Short for Benjamin? That’s really clever. Did you come up with it yourself?’

‘Maybe Eye Candy will be beter-’

Benny was cut off when you reached across, leaning over Santi to smack him in the chest with your balled up fist. All four of them jumped in surprise at your action - clearly, you weren’t somebody to be fucked with. You hadn’t worked your ass for years to get your degree to get discredited like that.

‘Make a comment like that again and I’ll drop kick your ass out of this plane.’ You jabbed your finger towards him.

Benny thinned his eyes at you. ‘Frankie wouldn’t let you do that. Right, Cat?’

‘You heard ‘em.’ Frankie’s eyes didn’t move from the clouds ahead.

To give credit where credit was due, Frankie was good at landing planes.

Specifically, he was good at landing planes in places where planes should not have been landed. Not that he’d had much of a choice when the engines gave in half way through the journey, a couple hundred miles over the thick Colombian jungle.

In short, you’d been right the entire time. The damn thing wasn’t safe. Of course, you weren’t going to say I told you so right then, since it felt like a little bit of a sensitive subject.

Now, the five of you were standing next to a pile of what-used-to-be-a-plane, defeat plastered over every one of your individual faces. You were lucky to all have made it out okay - just about. Santiago had taken a hit to the head, Benny had bitten his tongue pretty hard when you’d collided with the ground (fitting) and Frankie had split his head open. You and Will were the only ones who hadn’t sustained any injuries. He had proven to be much more tolerable than his brother.

‘Okay, we just gotta…’ you looked around, eyes taking in the debris around you. ‘We just gotta stay calm-’

‘- stay calm?’ Frankie cut you off. ‘You’re the reason the fucking thing went down! If you hadn’t taken all that extra weight-’

‘- do you ever shut up, Morales?’ You snapped. ‘And I’m no genius but I don’t think the engines catching fire was anything to do with me bringing an extra bag onto the plane!’

‘I’m the pilot.’ He reminded you. ‘I know what I’m talking about.’

‘Maybe it was the weight of your ego that made it go down.’ You chided.

‘Hey - Patrick, Spongebob!’ Will finally yelled. Both your heads snapped in his direction, eyes wide. ‘Can you keep it in your pants for two minutes so we can work out how to make it through the night?’

‘Right, sorry.’ You nodded.

You glanced around the crash site, brain calculating for a minute as you took in what little was left. The plan had landed on its belly and skidded for a few hundred metres; consequently, most of the luggage had come out on the way. That left you with the one remaining bag, the medkit you’d scared Santi into bringing and the strewn camping kit that had been ditched in the back of the fuselage.

Pulling your phone out your pocket, you sighed when you realised that you had no signal. What had you expected? Four bars in the middle of the jungle? Probably not realistic. You did, however, have a compass app. That was something. You thought for a moment, glancing between the app and the sun’s position in the sky. It was splintering through the trees, washing heat over you like a bucket of cold water. There was a small stream a few metres away, which was a source of water at least.

‘It’s just gone four, maybe five in the afternoon.’ You announced. ‘So we have about three hours till the sun starts to set. The water in the stream runs that way so if we follow it, we’ll find the source. People are more likely to set up civilization around a source of water.’

All four of them looked at you like kids who had lost their parents in Walmart. Were they really ex-military?

‘So, what?’ Benny frowned. ‘We...set up a new civilisation?’

‘Oh my days.’ You muttered under your breath. ‘I am spoon-feeding this to you! It means that there will be a town with people.’

‘That’s smart.’ Santi nodded.

‘But before we do that, we gotta sort this out. Will, d’you know how to check for concussion?’ You asked, to which he nodded. ‘Okay, you check Santi and I’ll clean up Frankie’s head. Then we gotta gather those camping supplies and head east. Best case scenario, we find a town before sundown. Worst case scenario, we camp out for the night.’

‘Who put you in charge?’ Frankie asked.

‘Me.’ You replied.

Taking the medkit from Santi’s hands, you quietly thanked him and led Frankie over to some rocks. He didn’t seem all that pleased when you forced him to sit on one - and he was even less pleased when you pulled his hat off. It revealed a tangle of dark curls, some of which you had to push back to get to the mark on his head. Some may have debated the importance of mentioning such a detail, but you couldn’t help but notice how soft his hair was.

You knelt down in front of him, pulling the supplies out of the little medical kit. There weren't many, but there was enough to give him something temporary till you got to a proper hospital. If you got a proper hospital.

‘It’s not too deep.’ You observed, running your thumb over the creases of his forehead. ‘Just a couple stitches at worst.’

‘Don’t you normally stitch up bodies?’ Frankie asked. His brown eyes were glued to the floor, following the outlines of the boot-prints that you’d left.

‘Yeah, it’s the same kinda principle though.’ You laughed slightly. ‘Despite your attitude, I’m not gonna give you Y-incision stitches.’

‘Thanks.’

‘At least not in a place people can see them.’

Frankie snorted, but it translated to a hiss of pain as you dabbed an alcohol wipe at his forehead. Despite everything, you had a slight admiration for him. He’d managed to land the plane safely as the situation allowed and despite a few minor injuries, things could have been much worse. You didn’t quite feel like vocalising that to him when you were still stranded in the middle of the jungle, but if you ever got out? You might get Santi to pass the message on.

‘D’ you think it’ll scar?’ Frankie quietly asked.

‘Maybe.’ You admitted. ‘Just take a deep breath.’

‘Where did you even learn to do this stuff?’ He asked, letting out another small grunt of discomfort. ‘The stitches and the compass shit.’

You shrugged. ‘I’ve been around the block a few times. You kinda learn to be prepared.’

‘Really? As a morgue worker?’

‘Not a morgue worker.’ You grumbled. ‘Then again, I am stabbing a needle through your skin so I suppose I’ll allow the discrepancy.’

‘What is it you do then?’

‘I’m a forensic archaeologist.’ You explained. ‘So it’s my job to retrospectively work out how people died, whether it be because their body was found a long time after they died or because they had to be exhumed from their original resting place.’

Gently pulling the needle back from Frankie’s forehead, you cut the thread and dabbed it again with an alcohol wipe. You brushed his hair back down and placed his hat back on his head, offering him a smile. For the first time since you’d met him, he returned the gesture.

You dusted off your knees and took a place on the rock beside Frankie, examining your handy work. Considering you’d been in a plane crash not quite an hour ago, it wasn’t too bad. At least if it did scar, it was in a place his hair covered up. And in your defense, scarring wasn’t usually something you had to worry about with your other...patients. They usually went back in the ground not long after you dealt with them.

‘You’ll wanna sit down for a minute.’ You replied. ‘D’you feel dizzy at all? Sick?’

‘I was just in a plane crash.’

‘Me too, funnily enough.’ You rolled your eyes at him. ‘I s’pose it’s the most interesting job I’ve worked in a while.’

‘Same here.’ Frankie said. ‘I normally work for a flight school, so this is...something else.’

‘It’ll make me grateful when I get back to the office.’ You agreed. ‘Because it has four walls, air conditioner and co-workers who don’t give me ridiculous nicknames.’

‘Right.’ He snorted. ‘Benny can be...Benny. He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.’

‘Benny wasn’t the asshole.’ You quipped, nudging him with your elbow.

At least Frankie had proven now that he could talk to you without being insufferable. You couldn’t work out if you’d warmed to him or if he’d warmed to you, but doing somebody’s stitches was unarguably one hell of an icebreaker. He was just a little closed off; quiet and reserved, you figured. You didn’t know what him and the Delta guys had been through, but Santi had mentioned a few things in passing that pointed to a heavy past. That was something you could relate to - your job was no walk in the park either

‘It’s not...personal.’ Frankie glanced off into the distance.

Will had managed to salvage the remaining bag from the jet, meaning that Santiago could use it as a seat. Benny was sitting with them, talking amongst themselves. You would have to move soon, in order to find a suitable place to camp before sundown, but taking a minute to recover from the last hour was also important. You’d barely stopped to sit down since the plane had gone down, and now you had, the shock had hit you. Your suspicions about safety had actually been correct. Not that it mattered now, but at least you had a plan to get everyone back to civilization as soon as possible.

‘So you being an ice cold bitch isn’t to do with me? That’s a relief.’ You joked. Frankie smiled in response; his first genuine one since you’d met.

‘The witness that you were going to ID was from the last job we all worked together.’ He explained ‘It went bad. Really bad.’

‘From what Santi said, it sure did sound like it.’ You replied.

‘I hadn’t seen anything as bad as we did then since I was stationed out in the war zones.’ He continued. ‘So being back here, and being with the guys, has just put me on edge. I’m sorry if I was an asshole.’

‘You don’t have to say sorry.’ You shook your head. ‘I mean...actually, yeah, you were an asshole but I get it.’

‘You do?’

‘Forensic archeology is no walk in the park either.’ You replied. ‘It’s my job to work out how people have died. Most of my work is on crime scenes or in war zones so I’ve seen some...dark stuff.’

‘It sticks with you.’ Frankie quietly murmured.

‘Yeah, it does.’ You said. ‘I know you might not think it on the surface, because it’s the usual sort of job that leaves stuff weighing on your shoulders-’

‘- doesn’t matter.’ He cut you off. ‘Trauma is trauma. Regardless of how you got it or where it came from, it’s valid.’

You gave him a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

---

Later that night -- and after a few hours of walking -- you and the guys had settled down into a makeshift campsite. It was just at the edge of a clearing, not too far from what looked to be a small town glinting in the distance. You did offer to keep going, but between the injuries the group had sustained, it was easier to stop for the night. You had enough of a combined skillset to find some fruit growing to snack on and to start a fire.

Santiago, Will and Benny had long passed out. It wasn’t until after they had done so that you realised there was absolutely no room left in the tent. It was only built for two people, let alone five. Where that left you in terms of sleeping arrangements, you didn’t know, but the chances of even getting to rest felt low. Your brain was on full overdrive, tired eyes darting constantly around the distance. How safe was this place? You’d managed to convince yourself that the plane was secure, and that had gone down like...well, like the fucking plane.

You were sitting on a log, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. It was just something to keep your brain occupied as you fought off the tiredness. The jet-lag from your flight to Colombia had hit in full force and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed -- the bed that wasn’t there.

‘So, are you keeping a look-out?’

You jumped at the sound of Frankie’s voice, twisting around to face him. ‘Something like that.’

‘I can take over if you want.’ He offered. ‘You should get some rest. You’ve saved our asses like three times today.’

‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fit into that tent.’ You replied. ‘I can hear them snoring from here.’

‘Is it worse than the alternative of me keeping you company?’ He softly smiled, taking a seat beside you. ‘I’ll promise not to be an asshole anymore.’

‘We spoke about this.’ You reminded him. ‘I get it. It’s okay.’

‘I still feel bad.’ He sighed. ‘Especially after you stitched me up and led us through the jungle. We woulda eaten something poisonous and died if you hadn’t stopped Benny going near those mushrooms.’

You chuckled. ‘Don’t feel bad, okay? You’ve had bad experiences before and it’s natural to be anxious.’

‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you-’

‘- Frankie!’ You cut him off with a groan. ‘I’m about to be an asshole if you don’t stop saying sorry.’

‘So we’re good?’

‘We’re good.’ You smiled. ‘Thanks for keeping me company.’

‘Santiago, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that he would come for our kneecaps if we left you alone in the dark.’ Frankie admitted. ‘I think he likes you.’

You chuckled, shaking your head. ‘I think you have the wrong idea. Santi is only so protective of me because he’s one of my brother’s best friends, and I guess by extension, that kind of makes him my brother too. They go right back to high school, and then they did the academy together.’

‘That’s a long time.’ Frankie nodded. ‘So you and Santi, that’s...nothing, right?’

‘Absolutely not.’ You snorted derivatively. ‘And if it was, my brother would probably end him.’

‘So,’ He took a stick from the floor, joining in with random doodles you were carving into the ground. ‘Be honest: if these stitches scar, d’you think I’ll look rugged and handsome?’

You peered over at him, eyes creasing as your smile grew wider. ‘Sure. Why not?’

‘Ouch.’ He dramatically grabbed his heart, shaking his head. ‘The correct answer was no Frankie, you already look rugged and handsome.’

‘Okay, it would make you look more rugged and handsome.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ He grinned triumphantly. ‘When was the last time you stitched up a living, breathing human?’

‘College, I think.’ You replied. ‘My roommate got into a fight and didn’t have insurance, so I did some makeshift stitches with a cheap sewing kit we found at a 24/7 corner shop.’

‘We’ve all done it.’ He laughed. ‘I’m glad the stitches you gave me were actual, professional ones...right?’

‘Obviously!’ You exclaimed. ‘You’ll probably want to get them redone when we get back to...y’know, civilisation.’

‘Naturally.’ He nodded. ‘I appreciate you stitching me up. The others would not have been able to do that if it had been just us.’

You shrugged. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

‘What if - and feel free to blatantly reject me for my earlier actions - I took you out for a drink when we got back? Y’know, if we ever get back to civilisation.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ You smiled.

Normally, Frankie wouldn’t have been that bold -- and you would have absolutely rejected someone who had made such a terrible first impression. But, said impression had changed. He’d been an asshole but you could see why; you could reason with it, even. God knew that you also had a tendency to become withdrawn and irritable when you were retracting back to the darker corners of your mind. Bad days on the job were hard to shake. They stuck with you for a long time.

The conversation continued, though you couldn’t recall exactly what it was about. Nothing and everything. Growing up and going to college - or for Frankie, the military. You compared stories of Santiago; Frankie’s were better, but yours were pretty good. He told you about how he’d got his piloting license back, and you in return offered a tale of the time that your brother had gotten a DUI.

Between the warmth of Frankie beside you and the crackling fire in front of you, it became harder and harder to fight off your exhaustion. You would have been tired enough if you were from this timezone, but your body clock was hours out of whack. With your eyelids getting heavier and the dark sky above you, it wasn’t long before you’d flopped into the pilot’s side with defeat.

‘’M sorry.’ You murmured.

‘It’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.’ Frankie replied. He moved his arm around your shoulders to support your weight from falling off the log - also to give a sign that he was more than okay with it.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, peering up at him. Now that his cold facade had slipped away, you could admire him a little bit more. Warm chocolate eyes, a strong jawline, and a face that just felt kind, even despite initial impressions. The warm glow of the fire illuminated his face with a soft hue, making the lighter tones of his eyes a little more visible.

You were both still lingering from the adrenaline of the plane crash, hearts pounding in your chests and brains wrestling with the idea that you’d both made it out with minor injuries. Was that what had made you bold? The sudden reminder of your mortality? Because you never would have kissed him if it had been a normal night.

He met you halfway, lips gently capturing yours in a soft kiss. They were a little chapped from the humidity of the jungle air, but intoxicating and enchanting all the same. He tasted very, very faintly of tobacco and a little bit of mint -- had the bastard had chewing gum this whole time? Not that it was relevant. Not that anything else in the world was relevant. Not when Frankie Morales was kissing you.

Neither of you said anything after; he simply pulled you into his chest, resting his head on top of yours. Between the mental exhaustion and emotional ping-pong game that you were partaking in, you wanted to sleep.

And sleep, you did; tangled together on the dirt of the jungle floor, not a worry in the world.

---

Time passed.

It passed quickly and slowly all at once.

Once you’d found a little town and got on a coach to Medellin, you did what you came to do: identified the body, cleared their names and closed the case. Your duties at your actual job called you back home and less than a day later, you were on a plane home.

After that, everything was a blur. You tried to keep in contact with everyone, but life was demanding as ever. Thanks to a promotion at work, you were being kept busy 24/7. Santiago finally retired from active duty and moved back to your hometown, near to his parents and to the guys. Even with the group chat he’d made - affectionately titled Plane Pals - it was hard to constantly keep up with everyone.

You and Frankie had texted for a while, but it sort of faded out. Whenever you were able to make it back home to see him and everyone else, he was busy. You’d both tried to make plans a few times but they’d never come to fruition. You still texted each other happy birthday every year, but that was it. Like that night in the jungle, he quickly became a thing of the past. A distant memory that sometimes felt like a dream.

It made a good dinner table story, especially for first dates. You told it on many actually, actually -- only one ever went well. So well, in fact, that you’d ended up in a four-year-relationship. A marine biologist called Simon; not boring, but not necessarily exciting either. He was nice...enough. Nice enough that you didn’t find a reason to leave.

Looking back, you probably had a million reasons to leave. He was an asshole, for one. The last time he’d treated you right had been your first anniversary - and for some reason, you’d stuck around to celebrate your second and third and fourth. Everyone around you was settling down, and you felt that pressure too.

Even Santiago fucking Garcia, the biggest flirt and bachelor you knew, was getting married. You’d RSVP’d a plus one - Simon, obviously - but the week before you were due to fly home for the wedding, things had finally reached a bitter end. You weren’t sad about him; more sad that you’d wasted four years of your life on the Walmart equivalent to Ned Flanders.

On the brightside, your brother’s respective relationship had also gone through a shitty demise, meaning you could move your seats at the reception next to one another. Like Santiago, he had also retired from the military and was living his best life - even though it had taken six months for him to start speaking to his friend again. He hadn’t taken well to the idea of Santiago taking you on a job that left you in the middle of the jungle.

‘People are gonna ask where Simon is, aren’t they?’ You muttered.

‘Cheer up.’ Your brother nudged you. ‘I know what’ll help - let’s make a bet.’

‘What?’ You groaned.

You were standing outside the church, waiting to be called inside. You’d waved at Benny and Will as they came in. The latter had kids of his own now, but Benny was focusing on his boxing career. He hadn’t called you Barbie again though, so that was something.

‘I bet you twenty bucks that Santiago is divorced by the end of the year.’ Your brother grinned.

‘No! That’s horrible.’ You slapped his arm.

‘Whatever. That’s $20 you’re missing out on.’

‘I hate that we’re related.’

‘Me too.’

‘Shut up!’

‘You said it first!’

The two of you were cut off by someone clearing their throats.

You almost did a double take when you saw Frankie Morales stood in front of you. He didn’t look that different to his six-year-old Whatsapp profile picture; he wasn’t wearing his hat, instead wearing his hair pushed back, and rather than his old tac vest, he had a suit and tie on. You had a sort of vision of him in your head from that night, but it didn’t do him justice. He was even better in person.

‘Catfish!’ Your brother jeered. ‘Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!’

‘Says you!’ Frankie gave him a slap on the back. His eyes then fell to you, and his demeanour changed a little. ‘Hey.’

‘Frankie fucking Morales.’ You murmured. ‘How’re you?’

‘Thriving.’ He replied. ‘You?’

‘Also thriving.’ You smiled.

‘I was sorry to hear about the divorce, man.’ Your brother, as clueless as ever, didn’t sense the sudden onset of tension.

‘Divorce?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘Is that really something you should bring up-’

‘- you brought up your break up at dinner last week-’

‘- only because you brought up yours first-’

‘- guys!’ Frankie cut you off. ‘It’s fine, really. I appreciate you looking out for me but it was a while ago now. Besides, I’ve got Leya. She takes up all my time.’

‘Leya?’ your eyebrows shot up. ‘Is that your girl-’

You were interrupted by a bell ringing, signalling that it was time for the guests to enter the church. Did the universe hate you? What kind of fucking dreadful timing was that?

‘I’ll see you guys at the reception, right?’ Frankie asked.

‘Sure thing, dude.’ Your brother waved him off.

The pilot turned on his heel, giving you a smile as he headed for the church. He was the best man after all, and his presence probably was needed.

‘You asshole!’ You have his shoulder another whack. ‘I was talking to him!’

‘Jesus, calm down! And why do you hit so hard?’ He huffed. ‘What’s so important?’

‘Who’s Leya?’

‘I dunno! Do I look like Gossip Girl?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re mean.’ He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you towards the church entrance. ‘And mum made me promise to make sure you wouldn’t play Doodle Jump during the vows.’

‘That was one time!’ You snapped.

Thankfully, the actual ceremony passed quicker than you thought. Santiago’s new wife was beautiful -- you hadn’t met Yovanna before, but both her and Santi had greeted you with a bright smile as you entered the reception. It was in a large hotel room, decorated with strings of fairy lights and a large dance floor. A lot of thought had clearly got into it.

It made you a little sad to think about. How many weddings had you been to in the last five years? How many times had people looked at you and your former boyfriend and said you’ll be next. You weren’t even sad about him. If anything, you were mad that you’d let yourself think about marrying him. You could do better. You were going to do better.

‘Is that girl over there eying me up?’ Your brother’s voice pulled you back to reality. ‘I swear she’s been giving me heart eyes since they brought dessert out.’

‘Which one?’

‘The one in the cute dress! Brown hair, dark eyes-’

‘- that’s Santi’s cousin.’ You rolled your eyes.

‘And?’

‘Santi’s cousin who is a lesbian?’ You tried to suppress a laugh. ‘Who has been with her wife for 11 years and has three children?’

He groaned. ‘Why must you find such joy in my pain?’

‘It’s what siblings are for.’ You grinned. ‘I’m gonna get a drink. D’you want anything?’

He only let out another groan in response - you took that as a no, simply giving him a pat on the head as you stood up.

You’d tried to ask around with a few mutual friends if they knew who Leya was -- either they hadn’t seen Frankie in a while, or they pushed to know why you were asking. You couldn’t exactly play that one as suave. Nobody took a casual interest in the personal life of somebody they barely knew -- even though you did know Frankie. Quite well, actually. He’d practically recounted his entire life story to you that night. Told you things that not even Santi knew.

‘What can I get for you?’ The bartender asked.

‘Uhhh…’ you glanced up at the menu. ‘Is it an open bar?’

‘If I had enough money for every time someone asked me that tonight, I’d be able to pay for all the drinks.’ She shot back. ‘So, no.’

‘Jeez.’ You muttered. ‘How much for a double rum?’

‘Fifteen bucks.’

‘Fifteen?!’ You spluttered. ‘How much is tap water?’

‘Y’know, I still owe you a drink.’

Like earlier, Frankie had suddenly appeared unannounced. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw him leaning against the bar beside you, a goofy smile plastered across his face and his undone tie wrapped around his left hand. Your eyes flickered up to his forehead, examining it for a minute.

‘So the stitches didn’t scar?’ You asked.

He pulled back his hair, shaking his head. ‘Nope.’

‘You lucky duck.’ You quipped. ‘So. About that drink?’

‘This shit is insanely overpriced.’ Frankie said. ‘I can steal us a bottle of wine if you’re willing to hide and drink it?

You glanced over at your brother, who was now crying to one of Santiago’s great aunts, piling cake into his mouth.

‘Yeah. I’m down for that.’

Five minutes later, you and Frankie were out in the gardens of the hotel. It had been raining all day, but there was an undercover patio not too far from the main reception; the walls were made out of white wood, with red roses trailing up the side. The fairly lights tangled beside them illuminated the place in a gentle glow, blue evening sky providing a beautiful contrast. Even though the showers had stopped, you could still smell the rain in the fresh evening air.

‘Wine?’ Frankie led you to a seat by the edge of the patio. ‘I stole it from the head table so it's the expensive shit.’

He tore the cork off, handing you the bottle. Neither of you had brought glasses, but you didn’t mind drinking from the same bottle. You’d kissed already - what was the point in formalities?

‘I hate it to break it to you.’ You paused to wipe your mouth, recovering from the bitter taste. ‘But that’s champagne.’

‘Still alcohol, right?’ He took it from your hands, taking a swig. ‘And it’s free!’

‘You’re right.’ You chuckled. ‘So...I believe we have four years worth of catching up to do.’

‘D’you wanna go first?’ Frankie offered. ‘I heard you got a promotion.’

‘I did, yeah.’ You grinned. ‘It’s a thousand times more work but I get more control over what jobs I take, so that’s good.’

‘Anyone special in your life?’ He asked.

‘Cut the shit, Frankie.’ You groaned. ‘I know that Santi updates you on every second of my life as it happens.’

‘You got me there. He mentioned a...Steven?’

‘A Simon.’ You corrected. ‘But Dickhead or Asshole works just as well.’

‘Damn, I’m sorry.’ Frankie gave your leg a light squeeze. ‘What happened?’

‘He didn’t deserve me and I stayed with him too long.’ You shrugged. ‘I didn’t think I had a reason to leave.’

‘Not having a reason to leave isn’t a reason to stay.’ He murmured.

You didn’t know whether to bring up the D-Word. D-i-v-o-r-c-e. He hadn’t seemed that phase when your sibling had so eloquently and gently brought it up earlier, but you knew Frankie was good at putting on a front. It was why you’d clashed when you first met.

‘Am I allowed to ask?’ You quietly said.

‘It’s nothing bad.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean it is bad, terrible actually, but it was two years ago now. We only got married because she got pregnant and then left the minute our daughter was born.’

‘Leya.’ You didn’t mean to say the name out loud, but it made sense now. ‘Leya is your daughter.’

‘Yeah.’ Frankie warmly smiled. ‘I hate what happened but I’d do it all over again ten times if it meant having her in my life.’

He spent the next few minutes telling you about her. She was named Leya after a certain space princess, though Frankie had changed the spelling to make it less obvious (to which you had argued it was still quite obvious, but a cool name nonetheless). She was currently three years old, often got confused between Spanish and English words, and enjoyed Power Rangers. All in all, she sounded like a great kid. Above all, it was obvious how much she meant to Frankie. His whole face lit up when he spoke about her. Her mum was entirely out the picture, meaning he was doing the whole thing by himself.

‘She sounds amazing.’ You beamed, peering down at the picture on his phone. ‘She looks so much like you.’

‘Thank God.’ Frankie murmured. ‘I dunno if it being a dad has made me more introspective, but I think about that night a lot.’

‘Me too.’ You replied. ‘Not the thing about being a dad. The other part.’

He laughed. ‘I got that.’

‘What do you think about?’

‘You, mostly.’ He admitted. ‘The fact I was an asshole. The fact you basically saved us all. The fact I never got to take you out for that drink.’

You took a swig of champagne, poking his arm. ‘We’re doing it now!’

‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘I just...I know it was only one night but we might not have been around to tell the story if you hadn't been there.’

‘You were the one who landed the plane safely.’

‘Which wouldn’t have mattered if you didn’t do all the stuff after.’ He reminded you. ‘The thing I think about most, though, is that kiss.’

You froze slightly, head slowly turning to look at him. He was peering down at you now, brown eyes intently gazing at you, not unlike they had the first time you’d been in this position. Now, you weren’t both beyond exhausted, or stuck in the middle of the jungle. You were safe and sound, right here with one another.

‘It was a pretty good kiss.’ You edged slightly closer towards him.

‘A very good kiss.’

‘Maybe we should do it-’

Frankie cut you off, meeting your demand before you could even finish it. He was just as you remembered; chapped-but-soft lips with a hint of mint. No tobacco this time. He gently placed a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you further up towards him. It was like you were both reliving the memory of that night in a dream - something you’d done many times. Your memory of it had faded over time but this? This was vivid and giddy and entirely consuming all at once.

‘You know,’ Frankie pulled back for a moment, keeping his hand on the back of your neck and forehead pressed to yours. ‘I asked Santi about you a few years ago, pretty much the minute I realised I was ready to move on from...her.’

‘You did?’ You murmured.

‘That’s when he said you’d been seeing Simon for a few weeks.’ He admitted. ‘I was gutted. Kept wishing I’d got there first.’

‘I wish you had got to me first.’ You lightly chuckled. ‘It would have saved me a lot of pain.’

‘If I were to ask out now, what would you say?’

‘Fuck yes, obviously.’

‘Good.’ He pressed a brief peck to your lips. ‘I admire the enthusiasm.’

That night - well, actually it had probably been the night in Colombia, depending on who you asked - marked the start of a fresh start for you both. What had initially started out as an attempt to seek solace in one another during a difficult time had led you to something more: something whole, something fulfilling.��

If someone had told you the first time you’d met Frankie Morales that the unfriendly pilot was going to become the best thing that ever happened to you, you probably would have slapped them. Or laughed, or cried, or all three. That night you met, you thought the emotions you were feeling were from the plane crash -- adrenaline and warmth and panic.

As it would turn out, it was simply the feeling of knowing -- knowing that Frankie Morales was it.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales angst #triple frontier imagines #pedro pascal character headcanons

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 1)

for @evnscvll‘s 3k celebration challenge, I immediately broke the rules and took only one prompt: Love, Actually. then I made it into a series. oops. but she made me that lovely moodboard anyways!

summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention/description of infidelity, awkwardness, me teasing y’all by making this a slow burn

(quick note: I’m not fluent in romanian but I did my best to translate the dialogue as accurately as possible, rather than as literally as possible. if you don’t speak it I would recommend not translating seb’s lines so you get the full experience of having no idea what he’s saying just like the reader in the story but I won’t tell you how to live your life)

You usually trusted your intuition, but up until now you'd convinced yourself that you were being paranoid by worrying about your husband. Trusting him was more important than anything, and definitely more important than a strange feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

The sad thing is, you would've never guessed that he was having an affair with your sister. Not in a million years. All the sneaking around, the strange stories that didn't add up… you would've put your money on a secret gambling addiction (pun unintended but welcome), or maybe that he'd secretly lost his job.

But even with all your suspicion, all your low self-esteem, all your fear that he was too good for you… nothing could've prepared you to walk in and see him with his face between your sister's legs.

He didn't even do that to you; he said he didn't like the taste. You realized now, as you stared out the window of the train at the trees flying by, that that should've been a red flag from the start. For a man who had claimed to be a feminist, things were never really equal in your house. You both worked full time but you were saddled with more chores; you made more money than he did, but for some reason, you found yourself asking for his approval on large purchases; and of course, whenever you'd talked about children, he'd always just assumed you would stay at home forever and do most of the child-rearing. He told you that you'd need to handle them when he was too tired from work-- but what about when you were tired from watching them all damn day while he was working?

God, you needed to stop thinking about this. If you cried on this train people would probably look at you funny and you did not need that right now. You couldn’t take any more reasons to believe people dislike you. Even as much as you wanted to say that you didn't want or need your husband’s approval anymore, you still felt so shitty, so fundamentally worthless that he'd chosen your sister over you. He hadn't wanted to touch you in months. You wondered if it had been going on longer than that: when you'd blown him after that company party half a year ago, were you putting your mouth on something that had been in your sister's--?

"Something to drink, madam?" the attendant asked as she rolled by with her cart, pulling you from a very dangerous cycle of thought.

You jumped a little and looked over to her as she smiled at you-- no hint of judgment or confusion as you wiped a tear away. In her shoes, you would be nosy and want to know more about the woman crying on the train. Then again, maybe it was obvious to her: a woman, alone, who bought the last ticket just before the train left, carrying only a small briefcase and a few hastily-packed suitcases… a woman with nothing to lose, going nowhere as fast as possible. Could it be anything but her having been done wrong by a man?

"Tea, please," you nodded with a smile of your own-- weaker than hers, more awkward. You'd make a bad stewardess.

"Black or green?"

You didn't trust them to steep the green tea at the proper temperature, so you asked for black and nodded in thanks when she handed you the warm paper cup and rolled on by to the next passenger.

What really made your head spin, you considered as you sipped at your drink, was not your husband’s actions but your sister’s. You remembered when you were both teenagers and her boyfriend had cheated on her, she’d gotten so upset with the girl he’d done it with rather than him. You had thought that was ridiculous because the girl didn’t owe her anything. You understood better now, and of course, your sister did owe you something. You two had had your rough patches but overall, she’d been your best friend for most of your life. So much so that she was the one you went to when you were worried about your husband. She told you to give him space. You would’ve never imagined that was her way to get you to back off, to cover her own sins and give her more freedom to shag your husband in your goddamn bed.

Yes, that was the real betrayal. Lots of people have ex-husbands, but you couldn’t exactly turn her into an ex-sister. You were stuck with her, but you had no plan as of yet to face her again.

The night in the sleeper car was restless, literally. It was so dark out that you couldn’t see the trees or mountains anymore, but if you focused really hard and made sure to turn off every light in your room, you could just barely see the stars in the sky. You hoped that you would have plenty of time to spend looking at the stars once you reached your destination. As much as you’d loved the city lights of London for the past several years, you really needed to be somewhere that was actually dark at night. And where the air was clean. And, best of all, where nobody knew who the fuck you were.

You stepped out of the train and onto the platform, feeling very much like you were surrounded by people ending their stories-- reuniting with loved ones, finishing vacations-- while yours was just beginning. Well, you supposed it made sense that most of the people travelling from London to Nyíregyháza, Hungary were probably from Nyíregyháza, Hungary. Unlike you, who had only been here once while backpacking through the area in college and fallen in love with it. You were lucky that the owner of the secluded cottage you’d crashed at back then had picked up the phone when you called from the train; you were especially lucky that she was willing to pick you up from the station, you not being quite dressed or prepared for backpacking.

Exiting the station and finding the cobblestone street, you were nearly tackled by a portly old woman as she tried to get your attention.

“Mrs. Alberti?!” you asked with wide eyes.

“You should at least pretend I haven’t aged a day,” she frowned, her words coated with her thick Hungarian accent.

“I was just surprised that you’re still running the cottage! I figured you and Mr. Alberti retired ages ago,” you explained, following her back to her car and putting your luggage in the boot.

She seemed a little crestfallen, wistfully considering your assumption. “Well, it’s not quite what it used to be but yes, I am still the owner. Sadly, Mr. Alberti passed away several years back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you replied, hoping to be as comforting as reasonably possible, “he was such a sweet man.”

“Yes, but he had a long illness-- and before that, lived a very full life,” she smiled confidently, walking to the driver’s seat as you followed along the other side and got in the passenger.

“It’s too bad he won’t get to see you again, though,” she continued as she started the vehicle. Considering how old it looked, you were impressed that it worked on the first try. “He would’ve been amazed to have a repeat customer from somewhere so far away. I certainly am!”

“Yes, well, I have great memories from staying in the villa, and decided to go in search of some of the lust for life that I had back then-- chasing after youth never backfires, right?” you joked.

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a smirk.

You knew you were getting close to the old house when the roads turned from asphalt, to cobblestone, to gravel, and finally to dirt. As much as you figured trees and grass looked basically the same everywhere, you appreciated that it somehow managed to look totally different than England. Maybe it was the scattering of blue wildflowers, or the way the wilderness was dominating the few signs of human existence rather than the other way around. Driving it was different than hiking it, certainly, and you wondered if you would find the time or energy to climb the foothills on the other side of the lake like you had before. Maybe you didn’t want to find out how much athletic ability you’d lost since college…

“Here we are!” she announced as she made one last turn and yep, there it was: a lonely stone cottage, with flowers all along the walls and pink wooden shutters.

You could tell it had aged since it had looked how you remembered, but if anything it had gained a quaint charm, with its moss and ivy and old trees which sagged under their own weight. Figuring you would have more time to take in the scenery in the indefinite time you planned to spend here, you decided to make good time and gather your things first.

As you opened the boot and reached in to grab your luggage, someone appeared beside you and pushed your hands aside, saying something that you couldn’t parse at all. You stepped aside and realized that it was a young man-- not horrifically young or anything, but certainly… strapping. He shot you a smile, and you couldn’t think of the last time somebody had looked at you with so much joy on their face.

“Oh, thank you,” you nodded, letting him lift your suitcases (which he did with ease, just to make it all extra cruel).

“This is Sebastian-- he lives here and does odd jobs for me,” Mrs. Alberti informed you, "Don't waste your time talking to him; he doesn't speak a word of English."

"Oh, he only speaks Hungarian?" You turned to him again; "Szia, hogy vagy?"

He shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

"No dear, he only speaks Romanian," Mrs. Alberti explained with a laugh. "Can't you tell I can only afford to run this place by using cheap immigrant labour?"

"Salut," he greeted. At least you could figure what that meant. You chuckled uncomfortably and looked to the ground.

You followed Sebastian and Mrs. Alberti into the house, admiring how little the interior decorations had changed-- it was all macrame and flowers in old-fashioned ceramic vases, with lots of oddball Hungarian trinkets to round it all out. Perhaps the only thing you could notice that was different was new floorboards.

“You like the new floor?” Mrs. Alberti asked, as if she were reading your mind. “Sebastian put that in for me.”

Sebastian seemed to perk up as he set your bags down briefly, clearly aware he was being talked about.

“Remember?” Mrs. Alberti addressed him, motioning to the floor. “You put in the new floor, huh? Új emelet?”

You wondered why she’d seemed to laugh at you for trying to speak Hungarian to him, when she was doing the same thing.

“Da,” he smiled, pressing his shoe down onto the floor to apparently demonstrate the lack of creaking. “Ți-am făcut un etaj nou.”

“Alright, go ahead and take her bags upstairs,” Mrs. Alberti instructed him, motioning to the luggage and then to the staircase. He nodded and picked them up again, starting to walk across the room. “He knows where your room is, just follow him,” she told you.

The stairs, unlike the new floor, did creak, and you weren’t sure how far behind you were supposed to be on the staircase to avoid having his ass right at eye level. You didn’t want to stare at it… but either the jeans were doing him a lot of favours, or Mrs. Alberti’s ‘odd jobs’ do a body good. Maybe a little bit of both.

He used his back to push open the door to your room, setting your bags just inside before turning to leave again, like he thought it would be rude to step inside.

“Wait,” you requested, but he kept going-- probably the whole ‘not understanding English’ thing. God, you were going to look so stupid at least a few more times trying to get through to this guy, you could sense it. Forced to get his attention another way, you reached out and grabbed his arm; not hard, but it was definitely a slightly aggressive thing to do anyways. It worked, though, and he turned around with an expectant look. “Could you help me unload?” you asked, gesturing towards the bags.

His brow knitted with confusion as he tilted his head. You sighed, not sure exactly how to pantomime this.

“One of my bags,” you began, pointing to one of them, “is heavy--” a lifting motion-- “could you--” you pointed to him-- “unpack it?”

That seemed to make more sense to him, and he stepped back into the room with you. “Voi încerca,” he said, somewhat to himself, as you opened the suitcase. Inside was your typewriter; he nodded with understanding and scooped it up.

“Unde?” he asked, and regardless of what it meant, you were going to show him where to put the typewriter anyways.

“Just over there, the table by the window,” you pointed to it. He nodded again and walked past you, setting it down, and even adjusting it a little to make sure it was centered.

“Thank you!” you piped up when he turned back to you. And just like that, you were plunged back into awkward silence. You pointed to him, and then the typewriter as you pantomimed typing. “Can you type?” He seemed to understand what you meant.

“Nu,” he shook his head, “când eram mic, trebuiau înregistrați anual.”

“...huh,” you mumbled, not sure what to do with that.

“Plec acum,” he announced as he started to step past you again.

You cleared your throat and let him walk out the doorway. “Right, um, have a good afternoon…”

He gave a little wave as he walked down the hall, and you sighed once he was out of sight and making his way down the creaking stairs. You impressed yourself with your ability to embarrass yourself constantly, even with total strangers. But, all that aside, you were finally ready to settle in and properly enjoy your change of scenery.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan rpf #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastan stan x you

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c-estmabiologie · 4 years

Text

nine terrible cups of tea (and at least one equally terrible cup of coffee) | the haunting of bly manor fic

Dani tries to master the art of making a proper cup of tea. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. (1987 - 1994)

Also on AO3!

One

“Really you could just throw a tea bag into your mug, pour some water on top, and call it a tea. But we’re better than that.”

Dani isn’t convinced but she tries her best to follow the steps as Jamie patiently describes them. She talks about making tea with the casual confidence of someone who believes that Dani can will a good cup of tea to exist. As if this isn’t the first time that she has tried to hold Dani’s hand through the process. Dani’s pretty sure it won’t be the last time either, but she tries to wield some of Jamie’s confidence as her own.

“If you want to be really proper, you can even warm the pot first with some hot water from the kettle and, you know, just dump it down the sink.”

Dani swirls the hot water around inside her teapot, feels it warm under her palms. It’s nice. Wasteful, but nice.

“What does this do?”

“No idea. Somebody probably decided that it makes the tea taste better.”

“Okay,” She drops two teabags in. One for herself, and one for the pot, according to Jamie who’s not leaving tea totally up to chance and Dani’s efforts; her arm is soft and cool against Dani’s as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder at their kitchen counter, each with their own pot of steeping tea.

“Now here’s where you might make a mortal enemy of a Brit: adding milk to your cup before or after the tea.”

“Does it have to have milk?” Dani asks, thinking Aren’t there people who drink their black tea black, like coffee? That’s a thing, right?

Dani can feel Jamie twitching a smirk beside her without having to look.

“It has milk if you’re making English tea.”

She remembers the looks she got from Hannah and Owen and even the children whenever she’d made an attempt at tea. She can’t remember when she’d added the milk. Jamie, for sure, must be exaggerating the offense.

"But which one’s the right way?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really care as long as it’s the right amount of milk.” Dani realizes that Jamie’s already gone ahead and poured her own cup without her, milk and all, and she’s missed it. She pours her own tea and splashes in milk until its colour matches the tea in Jamie’s cup.

They look the same to Dani.

“Alright,” Jamie says, “let’s have a taste shall we?”

They taste the same to Dani, but Jamie’s brow furrows just a little as she takes the cup away from her lips. And then she starts laughing.

“Okay, how is that possible? We did the exact same thing!” Dani takes another sip from her own cup to prove her point. It tastes fine! It’s tea!

“I really have no idea, Dani,” Jamie’s still laughing. “You’re just shite at making tea.”

Two

Jamie's been trying to relax with a book in the bedroom when she hears the beeping coming from another room. Just three little beeps, then nothing. A minute later, the three beeps chirp through her focus again.

When it happens a third time, she finally puts down the book to shout.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” comes Dani’s reply from across the apartment. Then the beeps make themselves known once more.

Then: “Oh. It’s the microwave. I got distracted.”

Owen had bought them a microwave as a housewarming gift. It was a convection microwave, he’d told them proudly, which apparently made it special because you could microwave your food on a metal tray if you wanted. The idea was that they could warm up their takeaway faster, or cook frozen dinners (Owen’s very generous way of chiding them for both being awful cooks). Jamie hated it. It was big and ugly and had faux-wood paneling on the side. She’d rather stick to making burned stews on the stovetop.

Dani appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. She holds out one mug to Jamie.

“I made you tea.”

“What, in the microwave?”

Dani shrugs and sips from her mug.

“No.”

“It’s fine—”

“Absolutely not.”

Three

It’s a quiet-ish day at The Leafling and, to be honest, Dani is sort of enjoying the peace of arranging flower displays and curling ribbons. The sun is warm through the windows.

Jamie is laid up in bed with some sort of cold. She’s being a surprisingly big baby about it, too, Dani is surprised to realize. Her wife doesn’t like it when she can’t be useful.

Speaking of certain wives who shouldn’t be up, Dani can hear steps coming down the stairwell that connects the shop to their apartment. The shop’s back door pushes open a moment later and Jamie appears with jacket on and her curls stuff up into a hat. She’s pale and her nose is pink and tender-looking around the nostrils.

“What are you doing down here?” Dani demands in her most teacherly voice, but Jamie clearly has plans to go out, not back upstairs.

Jamie’s voice is raspy and hoarse.

“I need to go out to the shops and get some more milk. Ours is off.”

“I had some in my cereal this morning and it was fine.”

Jamie coughs into her collar.

“The date on it’s fine. But I add it to my tea and it’s curdled.”

“Oh.” Dani’d left the tea steeping for her before she’d come downstairs.

Then: “It’s probably the lemon doing that. In your tea, I mean.”

“There’s lemon in my tea?”

Dani nods. “There’s honey in it, too. It’s supposed to help with your sore throat.’

Jamie sighs, then sniffles, then seems to deflate a little.

“I’m gonna be honest: it sounds absolutely disgusting.”

But Dani insists that she at least give it a try (without milk), that it will make her feel better (it does, a little, admittedly), and that, who knows, she might like it (she does not).

Four

Summer heat hits hard, and The Leafling doesn’t have air conditioning. The ceiling fans do nothing more than push hot air around the shop. The plants slump in their pots (which annoys Jamie), and fat houseflies keep finding their way indoors, only to bang themselves relentlessly against the windows until they fall dead on the sills (which annoys Dani). Everything is slightly damp with sweat or condensation.

“This is something my ex-almost mother-in-law used to make,” Dani says, stirring the ice around in the pitcher with a wooden spoon.

“You know there’s probably a less complicated way to say ‘ex-almost mother-in-law’.” Jamie says. Her hair is sticking to her neck, and her gardening gloves feel like they’re being peeled off of her skin as she takes them off.

“She used to make it for my, you know, Eddie and me in the summer when we were kids,” Dani hesitated. “I don’t know. It just always reminds me of the best parts of summer.”

But when she looks up Jamie has a glass and is holding it against her cheek.

“You know,” she says, “I do know what iced tea is. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

Jamie is thoughtful as she drinks the tea slowly.

“So,” she says finally. “This is what makes Poppins think of summer.

“It’s kind of a funny taste isn’t it? Cold tea on purpose.”

Jamie gets up and pulls Dani into a hug that’s nice, but not altogether pleasant — their skin clings together and comes apart audibly in the heat and they both smell very strongly of themselves.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Jamie says into her shoulder.

“I’m going to go upstairs and put the kettle on.”

Five

“What is it?”

The gift sits on their kitchen counter, out of place and mysterious with its glass-and-stainless steel modernity next to their wooden cutting boards, cluttered and kind of oily spicy jars, and that obnoxious faux-wood panelled microwave.

“Owen says it’s a French press. He was really excited about some Danish company. Said it’s apparently great for beginners.”

Jamie makes a note to herself to somehow ask Owen to stop giving them gifts for their kitchen.

“I didn’t think Owen drank coffee.”

Dani looks thoughtful, “I don’t think he does.”

Owen’s gift doesn’t come with instructions, and neither one of them wants to ring Owen up to ask for help. Dani takes charge, grinding the coffee beans (which Owen had also generously provided) in the spice grinder… and then washing out the grinder and starting again when Jamie points out that the fresh grounds reek of coriander.

They aren’t sure if they’re supposed to give it all a stir once the water’s been added. Or when to press the plunger. Or how long it’s supposed to sit. Their first attempt produces faintly coffee-flavoured water. Their second, a grainy, chewable mess.

The French press gets relegated to a high shelf above the stove, behind a fern. Eventually it will pinch-hit as a flower pot and Dani will love how the glass reveals the root systems buried in the soil.

Six

“This tea tastes weird.”

It’s Dani who says it.

Jamie looks up from the arrangement she’s been working on. It’s wedding season and The Leafling has been swamped with orders for bouquets and table arrangements. Jamie’s been going back and forth on this particular order all week with a bride who seems unhappy no matter how precisely she tries to follow the bride’s vision. Frankly, it’s been pissing her off (the last time she’d come in and rejected Jamie’s work, Dani had sensibly stepped in to take over the conversation before Jamie could get their shop shut down for punching a customer).

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally drink vase water?”

She picks up her own cup and takes a sip. The milk must have been added too soon and seized up the brewing. The tea tastes like nothing. Dani is watching her.

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.”

Dani says nothing.

“Oh shut up. I’m allowed to have off days, too, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Dani says, but she’s smiling.

Seven

Jamie somehow manages to drink vase water.

Neither of them can explain how it got into her tea cup or where her actual tea had gone.

Eight

“Hey.”

The word is spoken into Jamie’s hairline and followed with a kiss. She smiles, half-awake, and reaches to pull Dani to her so she can kiss her properly. Her hand jostles a tray and something makes a precarious, jangling sound.

“What’s this?” she rubs at her eyes. It’s still mostly dark in the room.

“You’re up early.”

Dani’s at the side of their bed with a serving tray. She’s barefoot, still in her pyjamas and, from what Jamie can tell, still pretty sleepy herself.

"What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Dani places the tray on the bed and climbs in next to Jamie slowly, careful not to tip anything on the tray.

"I just thought it would be nice to have the morning together. I bought scones.” Dani warps her voice around the word in a way that is definitely not the American pronunciation, but just as definitely not a passable approximation of Jamie’s accent. As Dani hopes it would, it makes Jamie smile.

“I see that. Scones.”

“Mm-hmm. And biscuits,” Dani never could manage that one without the secret sort of laugh that says that the Rich Tea biscuit that she’s picking up off a plate will only ever be a cookie to her.

It’s all lovely. The biscuits, the morning, Dani: lovely.

And then, of course, there is the matter of the tea.

A few problems that meet Jamie immediately as she takes a tentative sip. First, it’s cold. Second, even with what looks like an alright amount of milk (Jamie notes that Dani’s been getting better on this front)...it’s bracingly bitter.

She bravely takes another sip to avoid spoiling the otherwise perfectly cozy moment. Something solid dislodges itself from the bottom of her cup and hits her wetly on the nose. Jamie can’t help but splutter a little, and the thing plops back into the cup. It’s the tea bag.

“Uh, Dani?” Jamie realizes that she’s poking a bruise a little here, and Dani looks so happy next to her, breaking off pieces of scone with her fingers.

“How long was the tea left sitting?”

Dani’s brow furrows.

“I’m not sure how early you wake up these days,” she says. “I may have made it… a while ago. Is it okay?”

Jamie gently places the cup back onto the tray.

“It’s just a little on the cool side, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Dani tests the side of her cup with the back of my hand, as if to memorize what a little on the cool side means to Jamie.

“I can just warm it up in the microw—”

“ No. Let’s just enjoy our morning.”

Nine

“Does anyone who drinks this stuff actually enjoy it?”

They’re in bed, limb flung loosely over limb. On the TV screen, a woman sits tensely under a tree while another sticks her bare arm right into a beehive. Bees swarm up her sleeves and into her undone braid.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Dani says, “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Jamie curls up against Dani’s chest. She cradles her cup between them, more for its warmth than for any interest in drinking it.

“It tastes like hot toothpaste.”

On the screen, the bee charmer has returned with a mason jar full of honey. She invites the other woman to have a taste.

“Do you think they’re gonna get together?” Dani says. Jamie considers the scene for a few seconds.

“Yeah. But it’s a little weird to go after your dead brother’s fiancée like that isn’t it?”

Her own mug empty on the bedside table, Dani picks up Jamie’s abandoned tea. It’s still warm and it’s left a warm spot on the blankets between them.

“I guess it’s a little weird. I still want them to get together.”

Jamie makes a sound that might be agreement, but her eyes are drifting closed.

She’ll fall asleep before the movie’s over. Dani will fill her in on the details she’s missed over breakfast, before they have to return the tape to the video store.

Ten

“It’s so nice to have someone cook for me for a change,” Owen says, pleasantly. It’s not often that he’s been able to come around to their place over the years (and lately it’s become even less often).

“You’ve always done so much for us,” Dani calls from the kitchen. Something clatters loudly into the sink. “We just want to return the favour.”

Owen glances at Jamie, who confirms with a nod that it was, of course, Dani who had had such a thoughtful idea.

“I’m just nervous to serve dinner to the accomplished chef and restaurateur Owen Sharma,” Jamie says. “I’ll have you know that if it were my idea, I’d have just gotten takeaway and arranged it artfully onto plates. Real plates, of course. Nothing but the best for our Owen.”

Dani comes in then with a tray and busies herself with setting up the table. Jamie clears away the half-melted candles and clutter to make room.

“I thought we could have some tea before dinner.”

The hesitation that hangs in the air is palpable mist off a pond.

Owen clears his throat and politely reaches for a cup.

“Did you make it, Dani?”

“She’s been practicing,” Jamie says, drawing one knee up to her chest and reaching over to get a cup for herself.

“She says I’m not allowed to be a judge anymore. Says I’m biased against her, but really my tastebuds are probably shot. So, you are her lucky new victim.”

They toast to friendships and loves that are never truly lost and gamely drink Dani’s latest attempt at a proper cup of tea.

“You know what,” Owen says after a moment. “It’s not that bad.”

“Really?”

“You hear that, Poppins?” Jamie says, with another half toast of her cup. “You did it.”

“Really?” Dani says again. She takes her own sip, searching the taste for what might have made this brew remarkable. It just tastes like tea to her.

“It’s good?”

Owen and Jamie both make non-committal sounds, but neither do they abandon their drinks.

“It’s not the most amazing tea I’ve ever had,” Jamie admits. “But it’s absolutely, absolutely a decent cup of tea.”

“You know what?” Dani says, “I’ll take it.”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor fic #dani clayton #jamie taylor #jamie the gardener #dani x jamie #thobm

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 4 years

Note

Grishaverse for the fandom ask

the character I least understand

Hmmm I don’t think any of them are particularly opaque. I suppose from the main crew, Alina, not from the perspective of “I don’t understand her as a character” but more like she’s just decidedly the opposite kind of person as I am.

If we’re counting more ancillary characters, then the Apparat. Like bro... what are you doing? Again, he’s not opaque, but he’s also not particularly fleshed out, and I’d love more information on him. Creepy, religiously motivated characters are a lot of fun for me, and I love the weird place he briefly occupied in the narrative between minor antagonist and uneasy ally.

interactions I enjoyed the most

Alina’s time training with Baghra! Also Baghra’s interactions with the Darkling. She’s generally a really interesting character.

the character who scares me the most

None... of them? I guess the obligatory answer is supposed to be the Darkling because murder, fascism, burning down orphanages, etc. But as a character he’s just extremely funny to me.

the character who is most like me

I don’t particularly identify with any of them! Maybe Genya? But also not really.

hottest looks character

Zoya has the strongest hot girl energy lmao

one thing I dislike about my fave character

Alina is so steeped in mid 2000s Not Like Other Girls mentality. She has a variety of interesting flaws but they’re never fully addressed. Meanwhile she’s troubled the entire time by this very YA fear of corruption (over some incredibly mundane things tbh) that prevents her from making many interesting choices or really exploring any sort of darker aspect of her personality in a genuine way. I think she had the potential to be a much more interesting character, both emotionally, and with regards to her narrative decisions. But ah well.

one thing I like about my hated character

I don’t hate him, but the most aggravating character for me was definitely Mal. Like yes the Darkling’s got disney villain ridiculous evilness going on, but it’s fun. And the Tsar while extremely vile, also was too much of a no factor into the plot to matter much beyond “gross and two dimensional”

But yeah Mal annoyed me the most. That being said his tragic bodyguard thing he had going on in Ruin & Rising were fun, and I actually liked the fairytale protagonist vibes he had with Alina when they were on the run in Shadow & Bone.

a quote or scene that haunts me

Honestly the climactic battle up to and especially when she stabs Mal is really good. And as much as I dislike Alina losing her powers/the ending she got, I do love the moment where the Darkling realizes that she’s removed herself from the equation, and he’s going to be forever alone. And then she kills him lol. His death scene is also great imo.

a death that left me indifferent

I think the books in general aren’t great about portraying the magnitude of mass casualties. Like the deaths aboard the sand skiffs in S&B and the massacre at the end of S&S weren’t really emotional.

a character I wish died but didn’t

MAL SHOULD’VE STAYED DEAD

Like... way to undercut any emotional gravity that scene had. And the idea that she has to kill him to wear his bones as an amplifier to complete her magic and defeat the Darkling was so horribly macabre. And I was initially delighted that the book was actually going through with it! So just going back on that with Deus Ex Machina resurrection was extremely annoying. Either kill him or don’t, this fakeout was just felt cowardly.

my ship that never sailed

I liked Nikolina a lot as a tragic endgame, where they pick up the pieces together, and aren’t initially sure if they even like are actually into each other. Slow burn, marriage of convenience angst etc

Also Genyalina, because they were clearly in love. Also Zoyalina for the rivalry dynamic.

Send me a fandom for my thoughts on it!

#grishaverse #alina starkov #on second thought I’m not tagging everything mentioned here lol #fandom asks #ask memes #ask games #i ramble sometimes #all the bendy punctuations #*writer's cap*#long post

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analyzingadventure · 4 years

Text

I’M 5 EPISODES BEHIND ON PSI, I CAN ONLY WATCH 4 BECAUSE THE NEWEST ONE ISN’T AVAILABLE YET AND IT’S KILLING ME BECAUSE I SAW AN OUT-OF-CONTEXT MEME ABOUT IT AND IT HAD SOME IMPLICATIONS ABOUT IT

ANYWAYS, LET’S CATCH UP ON PSI, EPISODES 20-23, LET’S GO

Okay let’s save that widdle baby from that test tube

HOLY SHIT PSI’S VELGRMON IS HUGE

THAT IS A BIG FUCKING BIRB

That is a weird way for Devimon to ask Velgrmon to fetch Takeru considdering he was technically already captured by Devimon but okay I guess

MEGADRAMON!!! YEAH

Leomon please don’t die

Ah, they are acknowledging that the kids were missing for three days during a horrifying black-out, I was worried they wouldn’t like, acknowledge that at all

Koushirou’s hesistant to talk about his parents... Oh baby... ;_;

TENTOMON!! How’re you messaging to the kids?? IS GENNAI THERE TO HELP?? Or are you just in the Network messing with stuff?? Probably?

Oh, great, Algomon still isn’t fucking dead. HOW MANY TIMES DO WE NEED TO KILL THIS FUCKER

Is that squid thing Calmaramon? It looks like Calmaramon??

oH MY GOD it took me a moment to realize what was happening but WEREGARURUMON HITCHING A RIDE ON THE GIGA DESTROYER MISSILE WAS HILARIOUS OMG HE’S USING IT LIKE A SKATEBOARD LMFAO

YEAH YAMATO, SAVE YOUR BABY BRO!!!

TAKERUUU!! SASUKEEEE wait

ANGEMON!!!! BABY!!! WHERE ARE YOU ANGEMON?!?!

Megumin Han.... I’m so happy to hear your voice ;___;

A beautiful reunion

Takeru seems to be taking... [/points at the DW and the Digimon] everything really well

Jesus Velgrmon is stronk

NOOO THEY JUST SAVED TAKERU, FUCK

ANGEMON WAKE UP!!! WAKE UP!!!! WE NEED YOU!!!

OHHHHH TAKERU IS ANGERY no talk to him he angy

YEAH ANGEMON, FLY LIKE THE FUCKING WIND

God I love WereGarurumon’s nail polish, it looks fantastic yo

ANGEMON!!!!! Feather symbolism yeee

Is Angemon gonna spend all his powers to kill Velgrmon and die instantly? That’d be hilarious

Awe, no Giga Destroyer? Just Giga Storm? D’aww

HE IS GONNA DIE, ISN’T HE

ENJOY YOUR TRAUMA TAKERU LMFAO

oh mY GOD SKULL KNIGHTMON CAME IN AND STOLE IT TOO, YOU FUCKER LMAO

EPISODE 21, LET’S GO

Yamato I’m sure you could explain a few things to Takeru while you’re just chasing Skull Knightmon

Ah Devimon, your arms are as long as always, how wonderful

Ah, more Xros Wars rep! Splashmon! :D

TAKERU WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING

YOU JUST GOT HERE LITTLE CHILD, DON’T JUST JUMP INTO THE HOLE HEAD FIRST, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE DOING

Oh wow Devimon had prepared an Evil Incubator for Angemon’s Digiegg, how fast and nice

Poor baby is gonna get super corrupted, eh?

IT’S SO NICE... TO SEE THESE FAMILY MEMBERS OF THE KIDS, LOOKING SAME AS ALWAYS AND STUFF

Oh wow did Koushirou just hack the Digivices, WOW

IT IS CALAMARAMON! I KNEW IT, FUCK, I am so enjoying the Frontier/Xros Wars rep rn, thanks Toei, I wub you

Is that another nuke? Are they launching another nuke? No? Just a massive crash at a dock?

I was just gonna complain about Psi having a serious case of Takuya & Kouji Show-syndrome but if Sora and co get to deal with the threat in the Network while Taichi and Yamato are rescuing Angemon’s egg, I’ll be okay with it

Takeru, your Powers of Adorable will not save the world, I’m sorry, you’re just gonna get yourself killed and/or kill Yamato a third heart attack, PLEASE GO BACK

Holy shit METALGREYON NOOOOOOO DON’T HURT HIM LIKE NOOOOOOOO MY BABY ;A;

THAT IS A BIG EYE WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

A Digimon that was sealed away by Devimon or something? IDK it’s kinda scawy

METALGREYMON NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

TAICHI PLEASE SAVE HIM ;_; YAMATO GO HELP HIM YOU WIMP

OWO WHAT'S THIS

A NEW METALGREYMON VARIANT? (Or a different Mode?)

Tbh the new cannon kida clashes with MetalGrey’s oldschool design a lil BUT IT’S FINE, IT’S COOL

Agumon deserves a nap

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

ELDORADIMON???? IS IT OH IT TOTALLY IS, RIGHT? YEAH

I love the textures on his face, the pencil strokes look really cool

EPISODE 22 WOOO

I think I’ve complained about this before but it has kinda bothered me before how the Digimon don’t have to rest or eat before entering into battle again, and like, while it’s been mostly fine up until now... Like ever since the kids entered the Fake Tokyo they have pretty much been fighting non-stop without resting or eating and like, it’s starting to get to me, their stamina to keep on fighting is a bit much and it’s just gonna keep on going until Devimon’s dead, isn’t it

How are you climbing this wall that’s this god damn steep, you are a little child HOW DO YOU HAVE THE MUSCLES FOR THIS, I’M A GROWN ASS ADULT I DON’T HAVE THE MUSCLES FOR IT

Gabumon is a sweetheart and I would die for him

Koushirou, why didn’t you have your partners evolve faster, jesus christ (like I’ll give Gomamon and Palmon a break but the other two? Jesus)

Oh that DigiEgg is getting so super corrupted, isn’t it? Oh yeah, Devimon is trying to turn Angemon into a fallen angel like him, amazing

I wish Skull Knightmon had like a personality... In fact I wish all of the enemies had personalities beyond Devimon being ominous and Orgemon dumb with lots of honor

Jyou is gonna get in such great shape from running up those stairs- he ain’t skipping Leg Day, not today

Skull Knightmon is so cool I wish he had more of a personality ;_; I wanna root for him but beyond doing cool shit he has nothing going for him

Ah, the upgrade to MetalGrey wasn’t permanent, just a temporary buff from the power of Courage

DARK KNIGHTMON! YEAAAH

I hope Eldoradimon is okay with all this chaos happening inside him; like I hope he doesn’t get an upset stomach from this

THE BABY TOLD YOU TO MOVE, SO MOVE, KNIGHTMON!

Poor Calamaramon died without ever getting a personality ;_;

How the fuck is this infact making these gigantic leaps over great distances

God Takeru you are so cute, you widdle baby you

Oh man the hightech wings really don’t fit with the punk look of WereGarurumon at all

Welp the DigiEgg got dipped in the miasma like an egg in soy sauce, Press F for Patamon, say “hi” to Tsukaimon

Oooo the egg is exploding! :D

Oh, the egg... I mean it didn’t explode but it destroy the fortress

POYOMON! :D

Devimon, are ya gonna finally show up in person

YEAHHHHHHH DEVIMON!!!! YOU LOOK SO PRETTY I MISSED YOU YOU EDGY GOTH BASTARD

OOOO DEVIMON AND ANGEMON GO BACK? THEY HAVE A HISTORY? Well this is a ship I’m into, let’s go

EPISODE 23!

DEVIMON AND ANGEMON USED TO BE FRIIIIIENDS ohhhhhhhhh I wanna know more about their history THIS IS A JUICY SHIP RIGHT HERE

Ohhh he is so OP, I love that, thanks

How’d MetalGrey and WereGaruru get the message to use the rubble as cover? Not that it worked really

Devimon can use finger beams, lovely

Sora and co should really evolve to Perfect, like they should’ve evolved earlier to begin with

OH SHIT, WE GOT EVOLUTION ALREADY! I mean it’s only Tokomon, which ain’t that useful rn, but okay

Oh Devimon just gave Tokomon this angry-ex look oh my god

I wonder if Devimon’s plan was to like, bypass the need to use humans directly to evolve, instead using the data from humans to forcibly bring forth evolution

NeoDevimon isn’t as cool and sexy as vanilla Devimon, F

Honestly I’m kinda sad he evolve to begin with because Devimon was already super OP, like he didn’t evolve because he was losing, he evolve because his ex made him angry (although I mean I guess that is funny)

Oh WereGarurumon can just do the wing thing at will? Seems OP but okay

Ah, but I know Devimon isn’t dead yet... Saw the new Digimon Bandai shared on Twitter, the new Devimon form that is VERY SEXY (IDK if this needs to be stated but I do say “sexy” here ironically)

OH, Dark Knightmon, you’re still alive? You gonna take lead from now on?

Ohohohohohoh let’s go, gimme that new Devimon

OH MAN, IT WASN’T THIS EPISODE? HE’S SHOWING UP IN THE NEXT EPISODE? Boo, now I gotta wait :(

So I saw some memes on Twitter (along with the art of the new Digi), them including Taichi dying, dark evolution, a clip from the Adventure dub finale where Agumon’s like “next time I’ll evolve into one of the Dark Masters” so like

NEXT EPISODE IS GONNA FUN, also I’m kinda unsure if I wanna watch the preview or not... Like I already know so much out-of-context so I’m afraid if the preview is gonna tell me even more to a point it gets too much, or if it should be fine...

No, I have no chill, Psi has been teasing Mugendramon to me this whole god damn time, I NEED TO KNOW IF WE GET MUGENDRAMON LIKE THE MEMES PROPHESIZED, I NEED TO KNOW

PREVIEW!

LMAO IT REALLY DOES JUST START WITH “TAICHI DIES” JKSDFHKJSDFGJSFDGHJ

OH MAN WE ARE GONNA GET MUGENDRAMON AREN’T WE

I’M SO EXCITED

ALSO DOWNDEVIMON OHOHOHHOHOHO

NEXT EPISODE IS GONNA BE GOOOD I can’t wait

#Psi #Psi reaction

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dreamyjoons · 5 years

Text

devilish // ksj

Synopsis: desperation can make you do many things - although selling your soul to a crossroads demon is a little far. But Jin isn’t just any crossroads demon, and he’s going to prove it to you.

Genre/warnings: 18+! Pure smut, Demon!Jin. Oral (m and f receiving), rimming, slight bondage, overuse of ‘pet’, faint ‘sir’ kink, choking, lil rough sex, dom!Jin, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (be safe), tiny bit of spitting, marking, spanking, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, swearing, maybe a tiny bit of fluff.

Words: 5.6k

A/N: so, this got out of hand - it originally wasn’t going to be smut but as you can see, that didn’t happen. I wanted to release a fic for another member but this had other ideas, so hopefully there will be something out this weekend. Enjoy this mess! 🧡

As you kick the final bit of dirt over your offering, your eyes shift warily to the roads surrounding you.

The crossroads was truly in the middle of nowhere. You hadn’t seen another car or person in hours, and the last of the daylight had truly vanished. Your beaten up old car sat just off the road behind you, and you mentally began counting down the minutes until you could get in it and drive away.

This was stupid. Turning to make a deal with a demon. You were sure they didn’t exist. But when you’re desperate, why not try anything?

Five minutes. That’s all you would give it. After that, you’d get into your car and drive home, having to suffer the reality of your life. You weren’t giving up, but it was getting harder and harder.

The dust blew up around you as you waited, the chill of the evening seeping through your jeans and jacket. The distant call of an animal startled you, making you feel infinitely more exposed. It was probably time to go.

You turn with a heavy heart, leaving the offering half sticking out of the hole in the dirt road that you’d dug with your hands. You’re sure it’ll amuse someone. You walk quickly to your car, your hand reaching out to grab the handle when a gust of wind blasts you from behind.

You stagger slightly, turning around. You gasp, your eyes fixing on a smiling man standing over your offering.

“Hello there, miss Y/N.” He smirks, and you’re surprised you can hear him over the hammering of your heart. Of course he would know your name. Chills shoot through you.

“Who are you?” You ask, daring not to move.

“A demon, obviously.” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you’re stunned. Did you just get sassed by a demon? Can they do that?

“I… Yes, I guess you are.” You say dumbly, and before you can think better of it, you walk towards him, stopping a few yards away.

He was divine. Or pure sin, however you wanted to look at it. Black hair, smooth skin, puckered plush lips and black eyes that had hidden depths. He stood in a black suit and tie with a red shirt, perfectly tailored to his sculpted body. His wide shoulders were held proudly, and you followed the expanse of chest that he puffed out with pride. Meanwhile you stood with tatty skinny jeans tucked into dusty combat boots, your top half in a tee and shrouded in a bomber jacket. You were nowhere near his level - he dripped luxury.

“What is it you desire?” He asks, taking a smooth step towards you.

“I… need a new life, so I need money. A lot, as it turns out.” You sigh, meeting his eyes. The black didn’t scare you like you thought it would have. It made you want to get closer - but you knew that was dangerous. Too dangerous.

“Ah. And why turn to making a deal with a demon? There are millions of people who need money.” he sighs, turning over his hand and examining his nails, a look of severe disinterest on his face.

“I’m not millions of people. I’m one person that needs change as fast as possible. I want out of this dead town. I don’t earn enough to live, my exes are working on personal vendettas to ruin my life and I have no family here any more. My friends are in other cities and work around here is dying. I need out, and I need out now.” You spit, his apparent lack of care making your blood boil.

His eyes flick up, your raised tone piquing his interest. His lips curl into a smile as he walks towards you, and begins to circle you, assessing you. You grit your teeth and wait, fixing your eyes into the darkness as he takes his time. He finally stops within arm’s reach of you, his eye meeting yours in a deadly stare.

“I’m Jin.” he nods, and you nod back.

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, you made that clear with you being a demon and all.” You snark, and immediately bite your tongue.

You need help, not to be exploded on the spot. Could he even do that? It was better to not tempt a devil.

“You’re awfully brave for someone who’s life is in my beautifully refined hands.” He smiles, and you mull over your thoughts.

“I guess when you’ve got nothing to lose, you get a little braver.”

He looks you up and down again before smiling, and a shiver runs through you. You were sure it was to do with the cold, dark night, and not the way Jin’s eyes examined your every feature.

“I suppose so. Then let us make a deal, and work out our terms.” He smiles, before reaching forward and taking your hand, and dragging you back to the centre of the crossroads.

You hold your breath as your hand sits in his, the warmth radiating from his skin. He stops in the middle of the road and drops your hand, before bending down and scooping up your offering.

“Let’s see… a bone or a bird, three drops of blood, a secret written with your non-dominant hand,” He pauses to read what you had written before looking up at you with a filthy smirk on his face. You look away, heat burning over the surface of your skin. “Nice. Hmm, and an item of extreme personal value.”

He turns over a small silver ring in his fingers, the thin band of metal curved delicately in his perfect fingertips. Your eyes stay glued to the ring, your heart flipping every time the ring disappeared from your eyesight. He catches how pained your expression is, and notes just how personal it must be. A family heirloom, no doubt.

“These are decent. Let’s discuss your deal.”

“Hit me with it.” you nod, bracing yourself. Making a deal with a demon was going to come with a steep price. He half laughs, his eyes examining your face.

“You’re a funny little mortal, aren’t you?” He laughs.

“Oh, er, thank you-”

“You’re welcome. Now,” he grins, opening his arms wide. “The terms.”

“Do I have to give you my soul?” you ask, almost jokingly, but the contemplative look he gives you makes your heart thump its way into your throat.

“Not right away. But something about you makes me think your soul will be particularly delicious. Still, I won’t be needing your soul for a while. At least ten years, deepening on how well you pay me for my services.” He smiles, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You choke on the air you’re breathing, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

“So, I can grant you enough money for you to make a comfortable start somewhere else. If you are wise about it, you can have a good life.” He states with a flick of his hand. “Your payment will be to give me three earthly favours that I cannot perform myself.”

“Three? Are you going to get me to commit crimes or do some ridiculous shit? Because if so I don’t want to make a deal.” You rush, crossing your arms and fixing Jin with a determined look.

“Two then, since I like you so much. And nothing too bad. Nothing you won’t be arrested for or not be able to wash off.” He shrugs, and you don’t like the way that sounds.

“What about one? Because you like me?” You offer, and he laughs. It’s in a higher pitch than you imagine, and it crinkles his eyes. You find yourself smiling too.

“I like you, Y/N. No one makes jokes with me. It all gets very boring after a few centuries of doom and gloom.” He says as he straightens from his laugh. You find yourself fascinated by him.

“A few centuries? How old are you?” you ask, subconsciously taking a step closer. He notices though, and revels in it.

“Old enough to know better, pet.” He smirks, bringing a hand up to push a strand of hair away from your face. You feel your stomach flip at his actions.

“Okay, one earthly deed. But your payment will be to give me your soul in nine years, unless you’ve done enough good in this world to extend it. And a kiss from you, that is also my demand.” His eyes flicker to your lips, and you gulp.

“My soul and a kiss? Sounds like fun.” You laugh awkwardly, that nervous habit of yours to say something dumb in an important situation really coming back to bite you in the ass.

“Oh it is, Y/N. You’ll find that these beautiful lips and handsome face are great to kiss.” He smirks, holding his head up proudly. A small laugh falls from your lips.

“Aren’t you meant to be… Different?” You murmur, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be a demon, right?” You ask dumbly, and he laughs lightly.

“I was the last time I cursed someone.” He shrugs, and you forcefully push that terrifying thought away.

“Well aren’t demons meant to be, y’know, scary and evil? All broody and weird and making me want to scream and run away.” You explain, your pulse thudding loudly in your veins as you gauge his reaction. You didn’t want to finally push the wrong button and have him eviscerate you or something.

“Do you want me to be all broody and dark and mysterious?” He asks, and a part of you does want to know.

He lets his smile slip slowly from his face, the joyful crinkle of his eyes smoothing out until he glares at you, the black of his pupils spreading out until his entire eye was as dark as night. He takes a step back from you and stands to his full height, a shadow falling across his face as he watches you. The air around you somehow make the blood in you run cold but causes your skin to break out into a sweat. An unbearable pressure holds itself down ony our chest, but you cannot draw your terrified eyes away from Jin. He draws his lips back to smile, but it twists his face into something entirely inhuman and wrong to look at with your mortal eyes.

“Is this what you wanted, pet? Dark and deathly?” He asks. His voice is lower, dark and with an echo that you cannot place. You shake your head harshly.

“I don’t like it, Jin.” You say in a small voice, and his facade drops at once. In a blink he is back to the softer form, gentle eyes examining your face.

“I’m sorry to frighten you, Y/N. But as you can imagine, having people look at you the way you just looked at me now takes its toll, even if I am a demon.” He sighs, stepping forward slowly to not spook you.

He reaches down and takes your hand, and you fight a flinch. He rubs soothing circles into the palm of your hand and you let yourself relax a little. He smiles at you, warm and inviting.

“So do you agree to my terms, Y/N?” he asks, and you contemplate your fate. If you were going to be as stuck in the future as you are now, then why not? Things can still change, you have time. And although a small part of your brain tells you he wouldn’t hurt you, seeing something dark in him wasn’t something that you wanted to provoke for wasting his time.

“Fine. I accept. Do you have something I need to sign, or…?” you trail, and he tilts back his head to laugh.

“No, your soul will be marked by me and me alone. I will know when it is time. But we seal the deal with a kiss.”

“A kiss? Does that corny line work on many people?” You ask humourously, but he shrugs.

“It is how we finalise the transaction. I have kissed many people in my time. It helps to be this handsome.” He smiles, before blowing you a small kiss. You roll your eyes.

“You really are different.” You mutter, finding yourself endlessly endeared by him. By a demon. You need to get a grip. It was a dangerous game you were playing, even without finding yourself attracted to the demon.

“May I claim my kiss now?” He asks gently, cupping your face. You nod your head once, you eyes flicking to his lips and back up to his eyes.

He brings his face closer to yours, and you let your eyes flutter shut. You feel him hover just above your lips for a second before his lips pressed against yours, feather light and soft. He pulls away slightly to change the angle of his kiss, his plush lips pliant against yours.

He breaks away, and you open your eyes to look at him and find his eyes surveying your face with a soft look in his eyes. You smile, which he returns.

“So… is that it? Is there gonna be some money magically pinging into my bank?” You ask, your voice breaking.

“Pretty much. Why, do you want to get rid of me already? It was just starting to get interesting.” He smirks, and you roll your eyes and look away, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Don’t you have some like, possessions or something to do?”

“I like to take control if that’s what you mean,” he smirks, and you groan out loud, “but it sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me, pet.” He raises an eyebrow at you, sliding his hand from your cheek to rest at the back of your neck.

“No! I mean, no. If you wanna stay for a bit, y’know, I wouldn’t mind.” You rush. You didn’t want him to go - not really. Demon or not, he was fascinating. And the fact that you wanted to feel his lips on yours again had nothing to do with it.

“You fascinate me, Y/N. I will stay for a bit - I have duties to perform but they can wait a while.” He says in a low voice, twirling his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck.

He suddenly abruptly leaves your personal space, detangling his hand from you and stepping back before waltzing over towards your car. All you can do is stare on, confused, before your mind kicks into gear and you’re trotting after him.

He taps his foot lightly against a loose panel on your driver’s door, causing it to make an uncomfortable creak. You cringe at the noise, before stepping forwards and placing yourself between him and the car.

“Leave her alone! She’s already falling apart without you sticking your shoes all up on her.” You yelp, hands defensively laying across the roof of your car.

“Mhm. I can see why you need money. Poor thing’s on it’s last legs. She needs a little TLC.” He smirks.

He starts to run a finger over the door frame before drifting it onto and up your arm. You shiver at the light contact, causing his smirk to turn into a full devilish grin. He takes a step forward so that his face is hovering a few inches from yours, and you dared not move.

“It seems that your car isn’t the only one that needs some special care.” He whispers, and you hold in a moan.

“What makes you think that I want anything else from you, Jin? You’re already getting my soul.” You say a little breathlessly. He laughs just above your ear, his hot breath fanning over your hair and neck.

“Believe me pet, you’ll like what I have to offer.” You gulp at his words and squeeze your eyes shut. It had been a very long time since someone had this kind of effect on you - and it was a little scary.

“I don’t know. The kiss was okay, but money is what I really want from you.” You state, adrenaline coursing through you as you play with fire.

He pulls back and looks at you, intense and full of emotion. He finally closed the distance between you, his body pressing yours into the car, his face two inches from yours.

“You’re not making this easy, Y/N. Give in to me, I won’t hurt you - unless you want me to.” He almost growls, and you almost soak through your panties there and then.

“If you want something from me, you’ve got to work for it. After all, you are in the deal-making business.” You shrug nonchalantly, but your eyes stay fixed on his.

He looks stunned for a second - shocked that anyone would rise to meet him in such a way.

But then his lips crash back onto yours, rougher and faster than before. He slides a hand around your waist to pull you tighter against him while the other holds the back of your neck. You moan into the kiss, wrapping your arms over his wide shoulders as you both fight to control the kiss.

He breaks apart the kiss to suck in air, his hand moving from your neck to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Tell me to stop now, before we head down this path.” He pants, his stormy eyes scanning your face.

“I’m willing, if you are.”

With that he dives back in to kiss you again, grinding his hips into you so that you can feel his hardening length pressing into you. You gasp into the kiss, and he takes advantage by darting a tongue in between your lips, tasting you for all his worth.

His hands knead into your ass, and you roll your hips to meet his gyrating body. He moans into your kiss before his hands leave you, and you feel them unzipping your jacket and tossing it on top of the car. The cold night air rushes to meet your skin and goosebumps rise, but you’re too focused on Jin’s rough kiss to care.

He finally breaks away the kiss to rip your shirt over your head and unclipping your bra with incredible ease. Your nipples are already hard, but in the cold air with Jin’s full attention on them, they practically ache.

“My my, pet. Aren’t you a pretty sight.” He speaks in a low voice, a deepness that you didn’t expect from him.

You practically keen under his gaze, your dark gaze fixed on him. He steps forward and presses his lips to your neck, biting and sucking their way down to your collarbones and chest. He bites and sucks hard, before smoothing over the marked skin with a gentle tongue. He finally reaches a breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud. You gasp and throw your head back as his hand seeks out your other breast, tugging and twisting your other nipple in his nimble fingertips. You murmur his name like a curse as he alternates between a nibble and a suck, before pulling off your breast with a pop and switching to give the other his undivided attention.

He pulls back suddenly, the cold air rushing to chill the wetness over your breasts, the ache only making your pleasure more acute. He places both hands on your hips and spins you before pushing your torso flat against the car, the cold metal pressing into your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers into your ear as his hands reach forward and begin to unbuckle your jeans. “So filthy, Y/N, letting me undress you out here. You want this, don’t you? You’re needy for me.”

You whine and nod as he finally unbuttons and unzips you, tugging your jeans and panties down together to your knees. He pulls you back a step before pressing you back against the car, your ass sticking out. He runs a soothing hand over your cheeks before delivering a hard slap. You yelp and jump forward, but he merely tuts.

“You have to stay still pet, or I’ll keep going and neither of us will get what we want. Is that how you want to play this?” He says in an almost mocking tone as he rubs his hand softly over the snacked area of your ass.

“N-no sir.” You stammer.

“Sir? Mhmm, I like the sound of that.” He smirks, before raising a hand and smacking your other cheek. You gasp as the contact but stay still. You’re rewarded with a soft kiss on each cheek.

“Good girl, pet. Now, let’s see how wet you are for me.”

You feel him kneel down behind you and spread your cheeks, and you can feel yourself practically dripping. You’re too worked up to feel even slightly embarrassed as he runs a finger along your slit. You practically jump at the sensation.

Without warning, he lunges forward and runs a tongue along you, his tongue hitting your clit with perfect precision, and you feel your knees go weak already. You suck in your breath as his tongue begins to lap at you, his hands keeping you spread.

He laps at your wetness, your walls clenching around nothing as his tongue works tirelessly on you. Soon he adds a finger, rubbing it to gather your juices before he slowly begins to push it inside you slowly. Your eyes practically roll back when his finger fully sinks inside of you.

“So tight for me baby. But I wonder what all of you tastes like.” He murmurs, and before you can even think of something coherent to say, he spits, the wetness drippbing down your asshole before his tongue is sliding up between your cheeks.

You swear under your breath as he begins to lick around your hole, his finger beginning to pump inside your wet core. The sensation is overwhelming and you begin to gyrate your hips, and as soon as he extends a finger to bump along your clit, you’re a goner. He thrusts his finger faster and swirls his tongue tightly and soon your diving over the edge, your orgasm wracking through you as your body pulses against your car.

Jin eases you through your orgasms until you begin to come down from your high. He pulls back from your ass and slips his finger out of you, leaving you panting.

“Delicious, just as I expected.” He smirks, and you barely throw him a look over your shoulder, and he grins sheepishly. You feel heat coursing through your body, a spike of shyness creeping through you.

He spins you around and then turns you both so that his back is pressed against the car. He pecks a hard kiss on your lips before leaning back and undoing his tie from his neck. He then wraps his arms around you, pulling your hands and knotting them together behind your back with his tie. He raises a questioning eyebrow at you and you simply nod. You wanted this.

You dropped to your knees on the dusty road, watching patiently as Jin began to unbuckle his trousers and letting them sag around his ankles. He then peeled down his boxers, settling them on his knees. He then smirks at you. He looks so broad and intimidating from this angle that it makes your mouth dry.

“I’m looking forward to this, Y/N. Don’t disappoint, now.” He demands, but you can see the playfulness in his features, and you fight smiling back at him.

“Yes sir.” You say in the sultriest voice you can muster, before dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

His head rolls back and you smirk. You pull back off of him and spit on his shaft, and his head rocks back up. He smirks, and leans forward and dribbles some spit on his length too. Holding back a groan, you slide him in your mouth, spreading the spit along his length. Your hands twitch in their bindings to get involved, but you had to make do with just your mouth. You pull back off him with a pop, moving to take a testicle in your mouth, swirling your tongue on each one at a time, slowly. You only get through twenty seconds before Jin groans.

“Stop teasing me, pet. Take my cock in your mouth or I’ll make sure you suffer.” He growls, a hand sliding into your hair and yanking just hard enough to steer you.

Not wanting to upset him, you released a ball and run your tongue over the head of his cock, salty precum spreading across your tastebuds. Wasting no more time, you relax your throat and take him in. You let him revel in the warmth of your mouth for a few seconds before beginning to bob your head, drawing back and forth on his length.

“So good, Y/N. Keep going.” He grunts, gathering what he can of your hair into a fist.

Flushing at his praise, you push down further, feeling your throat try to close around his length. He groans and throws his head back, and before long he begins to move his hips, trying to find the right rhythm. You try to relax your throat as his speed builds up, letting him control your movements as he thrusts himself into you. You tug on your bindings, your eyes freely flowing. You can feel him getting close, his breathing more and more rapid and uneven, and you feel him twitching in your mouth despite how roughly he pushes into you.

With an abrupt tug on your hair, you’re pulled off his cock and facing up to Jin. His eyes are heavily lidded as he pants, broad chest heaving as he watches you watch you breath, tears running down your face. You offer him a watery smile and he groans again, letting your hair loose and gently rubbing his fingers into your abused scalp.

“Wow. A girl like you doesn’t come around every century.” He breathes, and you smile at his words. The tips of his ears begin to turn red and you feel your heart fluttering stupidly in your chest.

“Thank you sir.” You say, throwing in a wink for good measure. His eyes crinkle in amusement before he’s pulling you to your feet and walking you to the front of the car.

He bends you over the hood and lines himself up with your hole, running his length across your slit.

“You want this, my pet? Want to feel me inside you?” He whispers, pressing his chest to you back and sliding a hand to your throat.

“Oh fuck yes.” You grit out, but are swiftly brought back to reality by a hard smack on your ass cheek.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir, I want your cock inside me, please.” You pant, turning your head to meet his eyes.

He gives you a devilish smirk as he resumes his slow movements across your slit before finally pushing himself inside you. You gasp at his unexpected size - not too big, but enough for a slight burn as he pushes further inside you. He seats himself fully inside and gives you a mere few seconds to adjust before he’s sliding almost fully out and then snapping his hips back into you. You gasp, wanting to find some way to hold on but you still had your hands tied, being pressed between your bodies.

Jin picks up a brutal pace, fucking his hips into you relentlessly. His hand around your throat begins to squeeze, and you can feel the blood pumping round your head. He releases his hold for a moment, and the little black spots that had begun to appear drift away.

“So good, Y/N baby. So tight for me.” He pants, saying whatever comes to his head as he forces himself closer to his orgasm.

He moved his free hand underneath your body, snaking it’s way to your clit and rubbing fast circles there. You cry out, Jin’s relentless pace pushing you to the edge.

“Fuck, Jin, I’m gonna-“

“Cum, pet, I wanna feel you around me.” He whispers, and with a few more hard strokes, you’re cumming.

You cry out as your orgasms rocks through your body, convulsing on the car as it rips through you. He gasps as your walls tighten around him, his harsh movements stuttering for just a moment.

Jin doesn’t let up his pace - in fact he works harder than ever, his hips roughly pounding into you. It all feels too much, but you can feel another orgasm wanting to come out. You had to push through pain to get it, and Jin knew too.

“We can get another, pet, I know we can.” He pants, pulling you both up so that you were standing as he rams into your sore hole.

He holds you against him by the throat as he begins squeezing again, your vision growing spotty as his fingers continue their assault on your clit. You swear continuously as you get higher and higher, and your next orgasm crashes over you.

Your clenching walls as your orgasms rocks through you pulls Jin with you, and soon he’s cumming too. He bites down on your shoulder but you don’t really feel it - your orgasms rocks through you as your sensitive core throbs. Jin’s hot cum fills you as he slows to a stop inside you. You feel it beginning to drip down your leg as he pulls out of you, warm and sticky, like pure sin. He finally releases your throat and your head swims, but Jin holds on to you and lays you both back over the hood of your car, both sucking in breath. He reaches over and unties your hands and you sigh, settling back on the hood rubbing them.

“Fuck.” Is all you say, and he lets out a breathless laugh next to you.

“Yes, Y/N. Fuck.”

“Do you do that with all the poor souls you meet?” You ask. Your head is still clearing, but you knew you desperately wanted the answer.

“No, you’re pretty special.” He smiles, rolling his head over to look at you.

You both look fucked out: sweaty faces and rapid breathing, blown out eyes that slowly start to refocus. But something is electric between you, and it wasn’t just great sex.

His eyes flick over your head to look at the moon and he curses under his breath. He sits up before getting off your car completely, pulling his boxers and pants back up. You follow him, pulling up your jeans and looking around for your top. You pull it on and chuck your bra and jacket into the car before turning to Jin.

He’s put his tie back on and finishes straightening it before he looks at you, fucked out and waiting for him in the moonlight.

“I don’t want to leave like this.” He blurts, and you cock your head.

“Demon shit, I understand.” You shrug, although you feel sadness creeping through your veins. You don’t want him to go. Not at all.

“... have you ever thought about becoming a demon?” He laughs, and your eyes widen.

“No, not really.”

“I think you’d make an excellent one. However,” he sighs, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You have a few years on the soul of yours to go.”

“Will I see you again?” You ask, pressing a hand to his broad chest.

“Of course, pet. I’m to watch over your soul until i can claim it. And you still owe me that favour.”

“Well, if you need any more favours like what we just did, I might be open to more visits.” You smile, heat tingling along your face. He laughs, the noise fast becoming one of your favourite sounds.

“Believe me, you cannot keep me away. But for now, I must go.”

He leans down one last time to press his lips against yours, your eyes fluttering closed. It’s’ a gentle but meaningful kiss, but he breaks away too soon. He gives you one last look before slipping out of your grasp and walking back to the centre of the crossroads.

Light tinges on the edges of the world, the dark black slipping into a deep blue. You can see the twinkle of his eyes as he turns to face you, a small smirk on his lips. He raises and hand and blows an exaggerated kiss to you and you laugh and look away briefly.

“I’ll be seeing you again very soon, Y/N. Wait for me.” He smiles sadly, and you nod fervently at him.

“I will, Jin. I promise.”

A gust of wind whips around you, sending your hair and dirt from the road into your face. You shield your eyes until the wind stops, and with a quick glance you see that Jin has gone.

Stifling the sadness that threatens to well in you, you walk back to your car and climb inside. You slump your head against the wheel and run a hand over your face when you feel something cool. You look down to see the ring you offered sitting on your finger, glinting brightly in the moonlight.

You smile, your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. With a deep, steadying breath, you turn the engine on and begin to move off. With one final look over your shoulder to the crossroad, you head back to your dead-end town with a new hope in your heart.

A new start, a new life, and a new person who will be a big part of your life.

Well, maybe ‘person’ was a stretch, but it didn’t matter to you. Not really.

#bts fic #bts reader insert #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #jin x reader #jin x you #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin x you #bts x reader #bts x you #my writing

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 4 years

Text

Prompt: “Start your story with one character trying to convince another to take up their favorite hobby.”

A Short Story:

The silver Volkswagen Jetta snaked up the mountain road, maneuvering the switchbacks with ease. Despite Henry’s confidence behind the wheel, Ada still held tight to the door handle. He glanced over and gave her a dimpled smirk as they rounded the final corner leading to the resort.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never skied,” Henry said as he pulled into a cramped snowy space between two trucks that was far too small to be within lines, but traditional parking lot rules appeared not to apply.

“I grew up in the rain,” Ada replied curtly, grimacing at the large flakes already covering the hood of his car. “Not the snow.”

“You grew up in Washington,” Henry corrected, carefully opening his door. Ada scowled as she wiggled out the barely open passenger door into the bitter, windy cold. “The snow is never far.”

“Spoken like a true Eastern Washingtonian,” she grumbled, trudging through a waist-high snowbank behind him in the direction of the resort.

“You know,” He called over his shoulder, grinning at Ada with his mega-watt smile and wiggling his bushy, dark eyebrows. “If you let yourself…you might actually have fun with me.”

Ada’s inhale caught in her throat. He had distinctly said have fun with me, not have fun skiing. The diction of the words was similar enough that the blowing snow sailing in front of her face could have caused her to mishear. That had to be the logical answer because there was no possible way Henry Harrison, her only sister’s ex-fiancé, could be implying that he hoped Ada had a good time with him, specifically.

“Are you coming?” He shouted, having already reached the outdoor line to procure their lift tickets. Ada hesitated, wondering how many hours it would take her to walk back down the mountain road, avoid being hit by all vehicles, and reach the little town at the bottom of the mountain where she had been able to get one bar of service when they stopped for gas.

“Adaaaaa.” Henry was now wildly waving his arms, his fluorescent lime green mittens drawing significant attention from all the parties approaching the ticketing booth around her. “Woohoo! Ada Anna Montrose!” Ada closed her eyes and swore in defeat because if there was one thing she could not handle, even more than spending the day learning to ski with her sister’s ex-fiancé, it was public embarrassment.

“I’m coming,” She hissed, marching up to Henry with hot, red cheeks that matched her auburn hair.

“Just checking,” He replied cheekily.

As they waited through the lines to obtain first, lift tickets, and then, rentals, Ada considered how she had landed herself in this situation at all. It had all seemed like a great idea when she agreed to Henry’s bet, four drinks in, at the arcade bar in Tacoma among their mutual friends. Henry had been a surprise addition to the night out, but that was the funny thing about long-term relationships that ended in a sudden, amicable breakup. There were no clear-cut rules on who got the friends. Although, admittedly, there was a clear rule on who got their own sister.

Ada was obviously on Evie’s side when her sister and Henry’s engagement was called off. Evie was just eighteen months older and Ada’s only sibling, and although their childhood had been filled with screaming matches, as adults they were the best of friends. Just one year apart in school, Ada and Evie’s friend groups had bled into each other over the years. Henry Harrison had come to know both girls set of friends quite well, ever since Evie had excitedly brought Henry home her sophomore year of college at the University of Washington.

Which was why, when the group chat agreed to drinks at the arcade bar on Pac Ave on a Friday night at nine, and Evie bowed out due to a nasty cold she had caught from work, someone had decided to invite Henry Harrison.

“How do those feel?”

Ada snapped out of her thoughts and took an awkward step forward in the ski boots. “Are they supposed to be so tight?” She frowned, shuffling uncomfortably across the carpeted floor of the rental room.

“They should feel secure,” The rental associate with tattoos covering her hands and a black Burton beanie said with a pop of her gum.

“Like your ankles won’t roll around and snap on the hill,” Henry added.

Ada blinked. “Comforting.”

“Those will work,” Henry said to the associate. Ada glared at Henry and he winked back at her. The associate looked between them, popped her gum in her mouth again, and gave a thumbs up.

“Dope.” She raised an eyebrow at Ada. “Do you need to add lessons?”

“I’m teaching her,” Henry interjected.

“Right,” She said with a third snap of her gum, and a smirk. “Good luck. I’ll ring you up around here.”

After having to be practically carried up two sets of stairs in ski boots – why a rental shop catering mostly to amateurs would be in a basement Ada could not fathom – she stood at the base of the bunny hill with skis in hand, a rented helmet and googles atop her head, and a pair of borrowed snow pants a size too small covering her legs. Ada stared in horror at the mechanical rope with staggered handles carting tiny children a third of her age to the top of the far-too-steep hill.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not doing this,” She declared, turning to leave.

Henry caught her by the arm, and she was forced to meet his honey-colored eyes pleading for her to stay. “Will you trust me?” He asked calmly. He looked annoyingly professional in his personal set of skis and matching grey snow pants and jacket, and Ada’s body betrayed her with a nod of her head.

On their acscent, Ada fell off the tow rope twice much to the delight of the giggly children around her, but Henry patiently skied off the tow rope trail both times, helping her upright and instructing her on how to get back on. When they finally reached the top of the bunny hill, he skied around to face her with his back to the bottom of the hill.

“You’re going to ski backwards,” Ada deadpanned.

“I am,” He confirmed with a smile.

“You are actually the worst.”

“I know.” Ada held back a laugh as Henry pointed to her skis. “Now, the first thing you need to know is how to slow yourself down and stop.”

“Sounds important.”

“You’ll position your skis in the shape of a slice of a pizza.”

“A slice of pizza.”

“Ada.”

She sighed, adjusting her skis to look like a triangular slice of pizza. He then gently pulled her over the crest of the hill to begin her descent. Ada held her breath as her triangular shaped skis bumpily skirted down the hill.

“To increase your speed, start to straighten them,” Henry explained.

“I don’t want to increase my speed.”

Henry threw back his head and laughed, while skiing backwards, which Ada found both insanely impressive, and irritating. “Alright, let’s start turning,” He encouraged, and Ada sputtered with fear as she began to pull her skis into the shape of a much more acute triangle in a wide right turn.

“There you go!” He cried. She skied over the slope gently and Henry encouraged another turn, first right, then left. “Big, wide turns help you maintain your speed. Never go straight down.”

“They go straight down at the Olympics.”

“Are you an Olympic athlete?” He asked, with that stupid dimpled smile again.

Ada did not have an opportunity to reply, because her glance up to Henry’s dimple and away from her skis proved to be a fatal mistake as the two pieces of wood strapped to her feet crossed over one another. Henry lunged to keep Ada upright, but suddenly four skis were entangled in one another, and with a shriek from Ada and a “Shit!” from Henry, they were both on their backs.

“So, I am not, in fact,” Ada wheezed, wiping frigid snow from half her face, and looking over to Henry who was wincing as he attempted to sit upright. “an Olympic athlete.” Henry chortled as he sat up, his skis perpendicular to the sloping hill. Ada, fearing a broken ankle, remained on her back.

“You do this for fun?” She exclaimed, looking up at him.

“It’s my favorite hobby,” Henry admitted, smiling. “It’s the closest I think I’ll ever get to flying.”

“You could, you know, just take a flight.” Henry swatted at her shoulder and they both chuckled.

“That was really good for your first time on skis,” He added.

“Liar.”

“I mean it,” He insisted, extending a hand to help her sit up. Ada eyed it warily, suddenly panicking over whether her hand should be in his. In the six years of knowing him, she could not remember after taking Henry’s hand. And why would she? He was her sister’s fiancé. Ex-fiancé, her brain reminded her.

Ada ignored his hand and scrambled up to sitting on her own, her legs flailing briefly and her hip protesting at the angle she chose, but upright, nonetheless.

“Why did you invite me?” She blurted out, pushing the wavy auburn locks that had escaped her helmet back inside.

“Well, I didn’t invite you, per say,” He replied. “You lost a bet.”

“But why did you bet me?” Ada pressed, suddenly feeling quite warm despite sitting in a bunch of a snow on a cold hilltop. Henry bit his lip, and Ada noticed how his normally pale cheeks were rosy and with his goggles back on his helmet, those honey brown eyes practically sparkled in the sun. Ada’s heart thundered in her chest.

“Do you really want me to say it?” Henry asked, his voice lower and huskier sounding than normal.

“No,” Ada said instantly, shaking her head, picturing Evie cooped up in her Seattle apartment with a cold and takeout, clueless about her ex-fiancé and sister’s whereabouts. “Never mind.”

“Do you remember that dinner at Lowell’s in the market?” He asked softly, and despite Ada looking away, observing the elementary school aged child blubbering to his dad about hating skiing, she remembered. “It was that unusually warm day in April.”

“I remember,” She whispered.

“Evie cancelled because of a last-minute client dinner, so it ended up being just the two of us.”

“Henry.”

“I knew, then. When we stayed for hours, talking and laughing.” Ada closed her eyes, remembering his tousled chestnut hair that day and the forest green button up he had worn. “I never laughed like that with her-“

“I can’t,” Ada said sharply, opening her eyes and finding his face inches from hers. She felt shaky and lightheaded. Evie was fading from her mind as his lips moved towards hers. He hesitated, his eyes asking the question his mouth would not. The smell of his cedar shampoo filled Ada’s senses, and she was taken back to that dinner in the market where they watched the sun set from their table and a soft breeze had blew that same cedar smell her way.

Ada pressed her lips against his, butterflies erupting in her stomach. She shifted her body toward him, moving off her hip and digging the edge of her skis into the hill melting into his kiss, when they both heard an abrupt snap.

They broke apart to discover one of Ada’s skis had released from her boot and was rolling happily down the remainder of the hill. She frowned, swiveling her head slowly from the runaway ski to Henry, who was fighting back laughter, his hand cupped over his mouth.

“I don’t think skiing is for me.”

#writing community #writeblr #tumblr writers #writers of tumblr #writingcommunity #writers and poets #writing prompt #writers unite #writing ideas #prompt #amwriting #write write write #write about it #short story #a short story #contemporary fiction #romance #soft romance #fiction romance

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Back to Haunt Me

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 12301

Summary: Simon Snow hasn't heard from his former roommate in years. So when he gets a call from him, he's equal parts confused and intrigued. Based on "I called you at 2am because I need you" request from @god-themself

Read on AO3

AN: I'm really sorry for how long these requests are taking, oy. Every time I start writing, the fic ends up getting longer and my stupid body decides to crap out and not work. Anyway, here's the latest fic. Hope you enjoy it :)

———————————————

Simon

I’m sitting upside down on my couch when I get the call.

It’s not something I do too often, just when I’m really, really stuck on something. I say that ideas pool in my feet and this lets them trickle down to my head. Penny thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous. She says it will give me headaches, and it does, but it also helps. I’ve been stuck for an hour on coming up with new lessons. This is my last resort.

So I’m laying upside down on my small couch, legs up in the air, face turning a very bright shade of red. My glasses slipped off a while ago, making me essentially blind to anything more than five feet away. My mind is swimming with new ideas for maths games and art projects, the mental images almost swirling past my blurry vision.

And when I’m deep in contemplation a new history Kahoot, my phone blares out my “Toxic” ringtone. (Britney is amazing and haters can fuck off.) I flip up way too fast, making my vision spin like water in a toilet bowl. I paw at my phone while I wobble back and forth. With the combination of my glasses on the floor and blood rushing from my head, I don’t bother to read the caller ID. Or lack thereof.

“Hello?” I say shakily, still clutching my head.

“Siiiiimon,” a low, slurring, strangely familiar voice says. Is a student prank calling me again? Dammit, I thought I scolded them enough.

“Jeremy, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. This is my personal mobile and you-”

“Aw, did you already forget me, Snow?” the person continues, and my heart suddenly freezes. “It hasn’t been that long has it? Only seven years.”

My jaw drops and I sit ramrod straight. Every vein in my body turns ice cold. Holy. Fucking, Shit. “Baz?!”

“Yes, it is I. Good evening, Snow,” he snorts, but there’s still that weird waver to his voice.

“A-Are you drunk?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner in every category,” he giggles. Fucking giggles. I don’t think I ever heard him let out so much as a chuckle in all the years I lived with him. He must be very drunk.

“Um, how did you get my number?”

“Remember when you got mysterious calls supposedly from the Babadook when we were fifteen? Surprise! That was me! Got your mobile off the school registry.”

My mouth falls open even more. “I knew that was you!”

“Duh!” There’s some shuffling on the other end. “Shush! Yes, I actually have him on the line. I’ll get him to come.” He’s definitely not talking to me. He lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry about that, Snow. Super sorry, for everything I did back in school. So please don’t hang up.”

Admittedly, I was going to. But he sounds so pathetic and drunk, so I stay on. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’m still here.”

“Hooray!” There’s a short stretch of silence. He doesn’t continue, so I have to pipe up again.

“Baz,” I say, “not to be rude, but, uh, why are you drunk calling me? We haven’t seen each other in awhile and it’s...” I scramble to grab my glasses, then look at my wall clock. “After two in the morning. Plus, you like, hate me.”

“No,” he slurs out. He sounds well pissed. “I don’t hate you, Snow. You’re too much of a kind brave hero to hate.”

“Um, thank you?”

He laughs loudly. I’ve heard him laugh more in the last five minutes than I did our entire childhoods. “You’re very, very welcome.”

Again with the silence. I can’t believe I’m the one talking more between us. “So... why are you calling? You wanna catch up or something?”

Baz lets out a long, low groan. For some reason, I imagine him slumping against a wall or something. “I bloody wish. Stupid barkeep won’t let me leave until I call someone to get me and my stupid friends and stupid aunt won’t pick up.”

“So you decided to call me?!”

“You’re the only other person I know who lives in London.”

“Who told you I lived in London?”

“Aggie. Said you had a cute little flat and a cute little cat.” He giggles, and I can almost picture a dopey smile on his usually frowning face. It looks so weird and wrong. “Hey, that rhymes.”

I sit even more upright. “Wait, Aggie? As in Agatha?! Are you two dating now?!”

He scoffs. Now that really reminds me of our school days. “No, Snow, I’m not dating your ex. She’s not my type.”

“That’s rude. Agatha is very pretty.”

“I mean that she’s not a man, Snow.”

My face immediately turns scarlet, and this time not from being upside down. “O-Oh. You’re gay?”

“Once again, duh!”

“Fuck off, you flirted with her all the time!”

“Nuh-uh.” He sounds like a bloody obnoxious American. “Not really. Just did that to piss you off.”

“I’m hanging up,” I growl.

“Wait!” Baz shouts as I move the phone off my ear. “Please don’t hang up, Simon. Fucking hell, I need you.”

I seriously debate actually hanging up. But there’s something in his voice that tugs at my chest. It’s weird and explainable, but it’s there. I slowly bring the phone back to my ear. “You need me?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “I’m drunk as fuck and uh...yeah, I’m still bleeding.”

My pulse goes wild instantly. “Bleeding?! Are you hurt?!”

“Yeah, but you should see the other bloke,” he laughs proudly. “Bartender says if someone doesn’t pick me up and take me home, she’s calling the police to come get me. Doesn’t trust me with an Uber or something.” Baz makes a weird yet familiar sound. Is...is Baz Pitch sticking his tongue out at someone? What the fuck has happened in the last seven years?

“Alright,” I sigh. “Where are you?”

“Yay! I am...” He takes a long pause, which gives me time to rub my aching temple. “Hey, where am I?”

There’s more rustling and some muffled yelling. “He’s at XOYO,” a stern woman’s voice says. “32-37 Cowper St, second floor. We’re closing in an hour so get here soon.”

Before I can say anything else, the phone clicks off. I stay frozen for a moment. My brain is still playing a bit of catch up. So, Baz bloody Pitch has called me out of the blue after seven years, drunk off his arrogant arse, apparently gay, and needs me to pick him up. And now he’s sorry for being a dick to me through our entire time in school? That’s nice. Few years too late if you ask me, but better late than never I suppose.

I look down at all my notes, the ones I have to finish in a few weeks before the new school year. If I were a worse person, I would forget about Baz, finish my lessons, and just go to bed. He’s my former bully, I shouldn’t care. But when I think about Baz, drunk, bleeding, sitting there alone at a bar waiting for me but I never show up, my stomach plummets to the centre of the Earth.

Godammit.

I march towards the door, grab my keys, and set out to fulfill a bad idea.

Turns out this bar is right in the middle of bloody Shoreditch. Which means at this time of night (or morning), there’s lots of closing nightclubs and stumbling drunk people being sick on the sidewalk. Glad I didn’t take the tube.

XOYO is a mostly nondescript red brick building with some black panelling and a neon red sign. I park as close as I can, which is not that close. The stairs up to the club are steep and leave me panting by the end. Bloody hell, I need to get back to the gym. Chasing ten years old is not enough exercise apparently. The bar is one of those hipster places with wooden tables and old Victorian chairs and candles. There’s a few people passed out on tables, snoring with their beer glasses.

“Simon!” a familiar voice shouts from the bar. “Simon, over here!”

I turn to my left too look at the bar, and...wow. After seven years, Baz looks so different, yet so the same. Same sharp cheekbones, same long-ish raven hair, same deep sea grey eyes. He’s broader though, shoulders filling out his blood stained grey dress shirt. Far less gaunt and gangly and vampiric looking than he was in school. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Weird. Baz always had his uniform buttoned to collar in school. Then I have to do a double take, because...Baz Pitch is wearing jeans? They’re dark and expensive looking, hugging his legs, which still have a footballer’s strong muscles. He has a big, dopey, drunk grin, which is offset by the small black eye and blood trickling from his nose. It’s unfortunate this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile.

I walk towards him, hands in my pockets, shoulders nervously hunched in. Why is my heart beating so fast? Bloody hell, calm down, Simon, it’s just Baz. You know him, probably better than most people. He’s an arsehole, not evil. And we haven’t had a physical fight since we were thirteen. Plus it’s been seven years, we’re adults now. He won’t bite. Hopefully.

“Hi Baz,” I say, trying to hide my nerves. “Uh, nice to see you.”

Baz squints at me, and a pang of panic shoots through me. Is there something wrong with my face? Bloody hell, what a cruel twist of fate it would be, to see my childhood enemy after years and have pizza sauce on my cheek.

“Um, Baz, you there?” I weakly wave a hand in front of him.

“Since when do you wear spectacles?” he asks, still slurring his words.

I instinctively touch my wireframe glasses, immediately self conscious. “Oh. Since first year uni. Turns out one of the reasons school Watford so hard for me was that I couldn’t read the board a lot.”

I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. I expect Baz to laugh or mock me like he used to. But instead he grins again, leaning his cheek on his bruised hand. “They look good.”

Why are my cheeks heating up? Must be bad air conditioning. “Um, thanks, Baz.”

He keeps grinning, showing off his sharp bright white teeth. (There’s a good reason I thought he was a vampire.) “Welcome.”

It goes silent again, with me standing awkwardly and Baz grinning. Christ, this is so weird. I assumed I’d never see Baz ever again, let alone drunk and bloodied in designer jeans. I have less of an idea what to do than usual.

“Ugh, finally!” a woman’s voice says to the side. I whip my head around to see who must obviously be the bartender. She’s got a deep scowl on her face and hands on her hips. “You’re Simon Snow?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I reply.

“Good. Please take this arsehole off my hands.”

Baz blows a raspberry at her like a toddler. Bloody hell, he is a weird drunk. The bartender glares and flips him off.

“I’ll get him out of here,” I say.

“Thank you.” She digs under the bar and takes out a sleek black iPhone. “Here’s his phone. Took it from him after he almost dropped it in a beer glass.”

“Alright.” My brow furrows in confusion. “Do you have Baz’s keys? Or does he still have them?”

“He never had them. Searched all his pockets, nothing there.”

“Worst feel up ever,” Baz grumbles.

I rub my aching temple. “Baz, did you really forget your keys?”

He frowns and scratches his head with a bloodied hand. “Hm, yes, I think I did. I left my flat pretty fast. Maybe the super will let me in if he’s awake.”

“Where do you live?”

His brows pull together, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Now that is certainly an expression I remember from school. It’s his thinking face. I used to glare at him while he studied all the time. “Somewhere...posh, and silver.”

I groan and drag a hand over my face. “Alright then. Well...I guess I’ll bring you to my flat.”

Baz’s jaw drops open and he shakes his head, making his black hair fan out in a strangely majestic way. “No no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out-”

“No, Baz, you won’t, you’re too pissed to think right now. I’m taking you to my place, no questions.”

He frowns. I can’t tell if he’s sad or angry. “I don’t wanna im-”

“We lived together for years, arsehole. One more night won’t kill you. Come on, get up.”

I grab his bicep and haul him to his feet. Bloody hell, does he work out a lot or something? He’s made of fucking rock. Baz wobbles back and forth and ends up leaning on me. I struggle to keep him upright.

“Baz,” I grumble, “you’re too heavy, I can’t hold you up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sort of heaves himself upwards, still wobbling on his feet, but at least he’s standing. That’s something I guess.

“You good?”

Baz sticks out his arms like he’s on a tightrope. “Yeah, I’m alright. Mostly.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.” I look over at the still very annoyed bartender. “Uh, thanks for taking care of him.”

“If you’re really thankful,” she spits, “make sure he doesn’t come back.”

She marches off into the back. Baz flips her off before I quickly pull down his hand. “Enough,” I grumble. “Let’s get you out of here before she smacks you.”

“Kinky,” he chuckles. God, drunk Baz is fucking weird.

Getting down the stairs takes far longer than it should. Baz has to watch his every step so he doesn’t go tumbling down. He’s like a shaky newborn fawn. It would be cute if it weren't so frustrating. Finally, we get to the bottom and I lead Baz by the sleeve towards my car. He laughs loudly when we reach it. I immediately scowl and whip around to face him.

“What?!” I snap, assuming he’s making fun of my old beat up beetle. But instead he has his head tilted upwards, laughing at the sky. Neon club signs and yellow street lights light up his smiling face. He’s like a rainbow constellation, colour reaching every crevice. Huh. Baz has always been pretty, but has he always been this pretty?

“Lights in the sky,” he laughs. “Pretty.”

I groan and tug him hard. “Come on, you drunk prat, hurry up.”

Baz stumbles along reluctantly. I shove into the passenger seat and buckle him up like he’s a bloody eight year old, then take my place in the driver’s seat. Baz is slumping, the seat belt digging into his cheek. If we crash his pretty face is going to get cut open. I debate telling him, but Baz rarely ever listens to me, and I doubt that has changed much.

I turn the engine over. Baz lets out a whoop so loud I jolt. “Allons-y,” he shouts like some deranged adventurer.

“Silence, s’il vous plait,” I reply as I turn on to the road.

“Oo, you speak French now, Snow?”

“Yes. I lived in France for a year, I learned pretty well.”

“Very nice.” For a moment I think he’s mocking me, but his smile is completely genuine, if not a bit drunken. Is it weird that I like drunk adult Baz better than sober teen Baz?

I drive through Shoreditch slowly, making sure not to hit any wayward club leavers. Baz grumbles about the slowness, but I tell him to shut up or I’ll drive us into a pole. That makes him quiet for a little while, thank god. When we hit the main drag, he decides to pipe up again.

“So what have you been up to, Snow?” he asks.

My eyes briefly flick over to him, catching his grin and glazed eyes. I scoff and look back at the road. “Really? We’re going to chit chat about life after Watford?”

“You just want us to sit in silence the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring,” he groans. “Come on, Snow, it’s been a while. Let’s catch up.”

I chuckle low in my throat. “Yes, I would love to catch up with my plastered childhood bully.”

Baz lets out a pathetic sort of whining sigh. Suddenly, something brushes my shoulder. I jolt away and briefly look over, realising it’s Baz’s hand. He’s pouting in the way his mouth is perfectly made for.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About all the shit I did. I was a messed up prick at Watford. I’m really sorry I took that all out on you.”

I raise an extremely suspicious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?!”

“It’s been seven years, Snow. Am I not allowed to learn from my mistakes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, of course. I just didn’t expect it from you...”

“I’m a changed man, Snow,” he declares proudly. “No more picking on other people to avoid dealing with my emotional and family problems.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Wow, you sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I am a therapist.”

We stop at a red light, giving me a chance to whip my head around in shock. My jaw is firmly on the ground. “You’re a therapist?!”

“Sort of.” Baz grins pointed ear to pointed ear. He offers his hand, though it’s a bit limp. “Dr. Basilton Grimm-Pitch, psychiatrist in training at University College Hospital. Pleasure to meet you.”

I can’t take my hands off the wheel, so I don’t take his, but I smile instead. Baz chuckles as his hand falls, so I think he gets the picture.

“Wow,” I sigh. “You, a psychiatrist. I never would have thought.”

“Me neither, until I took a psychology course in year 10. Then I decided I liked, y’know, mind stuff and shit. It was interesting and challenging. And I could help people with it.”

I scoff, but with a smile. “And you used to call me the overly noble hero.”

“Well, I decided to follow in your golden footsteps, golden boy.” He turns towards me, cheeks squished against the seat. He’s really going to die if we crash. “So really, what have you been up to since Watford, Mr. Hero? Storming castles? Saving damsels in distress? Travelling the world?”

That makes me laugh louder. “You have a way overinflated sense of my heroism.”

He snorts, but it’s not unkind like it used to be. Just sort of amused. “Alright. Then what do you do?”

“I’m, uh, actually a primary teacher. Year six, to be exact.”

“Oh,” Baz breathes out, sounding genuinely amazed. “That’s cool. That makes sense, yeah.”

“Makes sense?”

“You were always helping out the kids in younger years at Watford.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Yeah, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Is it fun? Teaching children?”

“Yeah. I like finding fun ways to teach them stuff. Though it’s not great they get in fights or stuck lego bricks up their noses.”

Baz lets out a barking laugh. It’s a fun, sudden sound. I’ve never heard it before, yet it works well for Baz. “Is that what people mean by ‘the joys of children?’”

“Something like that. Is psychiatry fun?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But time consuming. Doctors aren’t supposed to have damn lives apparently.”

“Well, good thing you found time to go to a hipster bar”

Everything suddenly gets very, very quiet. It reminds me of when we would study. Backs to each other, no noise, plenty of tension. Did I say something wrong? I used to do that a lot, but I thought I’d gotten better. I’ve learned to chew my words better over the years. But when we stop at a roundabout, I turn to see that Baz is gazing ahead, mouth a thin line and grey eyes lost in the distance.

“Pretty lights,” he whispers in awe, like a child. I guess alcohol does turn adults into children. His nose is still letting out a small trickle of dark red blood. I sigh and shake my head.

“Glove box,” I say.

Baz turns his head to me. “Huh?”

“There’s tissues in the glove box. Your nose is still bleeding a bit.”

“Oh.” He paws at the latch in front of him, floppy drunk fingers struggling to just bloody lift it. I sigh and reach over, lifting it for him. Baz takes out the little packet and flashes me that dopey smile. Why does my chest feel funny? I must be overtired.

“Thanks,” he says, then presses the tissue to his nose. It’s weirdly comforting in its familiarity. I still remember sitting in the headmaster’s office after our fights, covered in bruises and blood, glaring at each other. This is better though. We’re not fighting, in fact we’re being nice. Maybe this is how we could’ve been at Watford. Maybe we could’ve been...friends.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride. But it’s a comfortable silence, no tension. I like it. A lot. I like all of this better than fighting.

———————————————

I pull into my spot in front of my apartment. Dragging Baz out of the car is a bit of a problem, but luckily my place has a lift, so no more stair problems. He starts leaning on me as we go up to my floor. I use one finger to push him back, and he slumps against the wall. I need to strap him to a dolly.

We go into my apartment, and I instinctively prepare for a snide comment from Baz. Something about it’s size, it’s clutter, the decor. But he says nothing derogatory. In fact, he smiles, brushing his hand against my Van Gogh print and old dining room table.

“You, uh, like it?” I ask. Wait, why does it matter what Baz thinks of my place? I don’t need his approval.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “It’s very nice.”

There’s a thump from my room, followed by the familiar pitter-patter of tiny paws. Cherry prances into the room, all fluffy tailed and cute. She blinks up at Baz with big green eyes. Baz makes a tiny gasp and gets on his knees, holding his hand out to Cherry.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” he says softly. “Aren’t you an adorable little thing.”

Cherry sniffs his fingers, then immediately nuzzles against his hand. Baz looks absolutely elated, a big childish grin on his face.

“You like cats, huh?”

Baz nods vigorously. “I would have one if my building allowed pets.” He scratches behind Charry’s ear with glee. “What’s this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Cherry.”

“You did love those scones,” he chuckles.

I chuckle as well, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. “Still do. Though none are as good as Cook Pritchard’s.”

“Very true.” He stands up, pulling away from Cherry, and wobbles his way into the sitting room. He stands between my coffee table and ratty old couch. “So may I sleep on that couch?”

I scramble in after him and start piling up my curriculum papers. I don’t want Baz shouting at me for the mess. “Uh, yeah, just lemme fix it up a bit.”

“It’s alright-”

“No, I’ll fix it. And...maybe you should clean up a bit first?”

Baz turns to me with a confused expression. “What?” I sigh and point at is blood spattered shirt. He pulls it in front of himself, like a child who’s spilled food. “Oh, right.”

“There’s stuff on you face too...”

Baz drags a long finger over his cheek, and rubs the dried blood between his fingers. “Good point.

“You wanna take a shower maybe?”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah. But be warned, I don’t have any of your fancy French soaps.”

He lets out a loud short laugh, like a happy little firecracker going off. “Wouldn’t expect you to, Snow. I doubt you’ve changed that much.”

“Heh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, which is getting very hot for some reason. I think I need to fix my fan.

Baz wobbles back towards me. He stands a bit too close, and now that things are calm, I notice how he smells. It’s a mix of liquor, irony blood, and the very faint, familiar scent of cedar and bergamot. Seven years later and I can’t forget that smell. I guess it’s burned into my brain forever. I’m not sure that I mind.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks, snapping me out of my olfactory induced daze.

“Oh, uh, down the hall and to your left. There’s towels in the cupboard.”

“Alright.” He sticks his hands in his trouser pockets, a very shy gesture I’m not used to seeing from him. “Thank you. Again. I’m saying that a lot tonight, wow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess so. Now go wash off that awful blood please.”

“Aye aye, Mr.Snow.” He does a mocking little American salute with two fingers. I watch as he half skips his way to the bathroom, trying not to giggle at his ridiculous gait.

The bathroom door shuts, and I let out a long breath. My brain is still playing catch up. I need to sit, relax, just process all this shit. Once I organize my papers into semi-neat piles and close my laptop, I grab a cherry granola bar from the counter and collapse on the couch. I hear the shower turn on. I glance over at the clock. Bloody hell, it’s past 3am, and my enemy is taking a shower in my flat. Well, former enemy, I guess. We’re not fighting anymore. In fact, Baz is being really nice. It’s pretty damn great. I hope we can keep this up.

Cherry jumps onto the couch, startling me from my daze. She immediately curls up on my lap, purring happily. I chuckle as I pet her. Penny jokes that Cherry is my emotional support service cat. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Wanna watch Dr. Who, darling?” I coo, scratching behind her ear. “Yes, yes you do.”

I grab the remote and turn on Netflix, going to one of my favourite episodes. We sit there in peaceful silence through the show. I try not to listen to the shower down the hall. I can’t help but worry. What if he slips and hits his head? What if he falls asleep and drowns? What if he tries to eat the bloody soap? All are strong possibilities. But he’s still Baz. He’s too smart and stubborn to die.

As I near the end of the episode, I realise it’s been half an hour since Baz went in. My heart beats double time, every fear racing through my head. (As well as concern for my water bill.) But the sound of water shuts off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear Baz’s unsteady feet pad around the tiled floor. But then there’s rattling and muffled swearing, and I’m on my feet immediately. Cherry meows unhappily and scuttles away.

“Sorry, girl,” I say as I speed walk to the bathroom. I knock on the wooden door. “Baz? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” his muffled voice replies, but that’s followed by a loud bang. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Snow, wait-”

I push the door open and immediately freeze. All the blood in my body goes straight to my face, turning it tomato red. Because Baz Pitch is standing in front of my medicine cabinet with nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is soaked and messy, falling adorably in front his shocked face. His legs look strong enough to crush someone. Thin rivulets of water drip down his broad, bare chest. I watch them for a few long, drawn out seconds, completely frozen. In our time living together, Baz and I made a point to never see each other without clothes on. Did he even look close to this back at school? Did I just never notice?

“Um...” Baz says, breaking me out of my daze. I whip around, hand cupped over my eyes.

“Bloody hell, Baz!” I shout. “Give a guy some warning.”

“I would have if you hadn’t come bursting in!”

“Well, you took awhile in the shower, then I heard swearing. Excuse me for being concerned.”

“I’m grateful for your concern, Mr. Hero, though not for your usual brashness.”

“Just put some clothes on, please.”

“Very well.”

I listen to Baz shuffle and grumble as I assume he gets dressed. I resist the urge to turn around and check if he can get his legs into his trousers. I’m not sure how drunk he still is.

“You can turn around now, Snow.”

I slowly turn, and my face turns scarlet again. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

“Because mine is covered in blood,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which I guess it is, but still he’s not wearing a shirt. Why are my hands so clammy?

Baz starts sorting through the medicine cabinet. I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for bandages.” He lifts his left hand, showing off his bruised, still slightly bleeding knuckles. “You got any?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get it, sit down on the toilet.”

Baz stumbles over and does what he’s told (for once). I grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“Gimme your hand,” I say. Baz holds out his arm, fingers limp. I try not to look freaked out. His skin is black and blue and there are many cuts, still bleeding slowly. “Why are you still bleeding? It’s been like, an hour.”

“My blood alcohol content is high,” Baz replies. “Booze is a blood thinner. Means I’ll bleed more.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Thanks, Mr. Doctor.”

Baz chuckles, a soft smile playing on his mouth. “Dr. Grimm-Pitch will do.”

I laugh as well. I take a towel off the rack and pat his hand dry, then get the antiseptic.

“I just had a shower,” Baz protests.

“Don’t care. We need to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“I’m fine.”

I pour the clear liquid on a sterile pad. “Still doing it.”

“I’m the doctor here, dammit.”

“The doctor who is still drunk off his arse after a bloody bar fight. So shut up.”

Baz frowns, but doesn’t protest. I lightly pat his cuts. He inhales sharply through his teeth and tries to pull away, but I grab his wrist, holding still.

“Don’t move,” I say.

“It hurts,” he whines like a toddler.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what you get for getting in a bar fight, idiot.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t move again either. Once I’m satisfied all the cuts are clean, I use another pad to get them dry, then take out the bandages.

“You get injured a lot, Snow?” He’s smirking playfully, not a hint of malice. It’s much nicer than his smug arsehole face.

“No,” I chuckle. “But it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Especially if your former enemy shows up drunk and bleeding.”

Thoughts start racing through my head. Horrible, nervous thoughts. I stop wrapping his hand for a moment, but quickly start again. Unfortunately, Baz notices.

“Something on your mind, Snow?” he asks.

I chew on my bottom lip as I secure the bandage. I gesture for Baz to give me his other hand, and he does. I slowly pat on the antiseptic and he doesn’t move at all. Slowly, I look up, and I meet Baz’s deep sea eyes. He doesn’t look mad or annoyed, just concerned. So am I.

“Baz,” I sigh, “you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And considering you’re a bloody doctor now, I doubt that’s changed. So I’m absolutely astounded at how you could get so drunk and end up in a bar fight.”

Baz’s thin lips press together, and I watch his throat bob in a gulp. He leans his elbow on the sink, propping his cheek on his fist. “Snow,” he says slowly, “what do you know about my mother?”

My blood turns ice cold. I stop with the bandage completely, just looking at Baz. “Uh, not much. I know she died a long time ago. And...it was at Watford...”

Baz nods slowly. “Yes, that’s what everyone knows. But what most people don’t know is that I was there.”

And now my heart completely stops. My mouth falls open slightly. Baz’s face stays completely neutral. “You...you were there?”

“Yeah.” He leans harder on his fist. “I was sitting with the rest of the kids in the Watford nursery. Suddenly a group of men with knives burst in. They started to come after the nannies and the children. But that’s when my mother showed up with her hunting rifle. My father insisted she have it for protection when he wasn’t there. She got all of the men immediately, including the one holding me. She hit him in the shoulder so he dropped me. Another man charged her while she was distracted, and she shot him in the chest, but not before...” Baz rubs his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like I do when I have a headache. “Not before he stabbed her in the neck. She bled to death in seconds.” He drags his hand down his face. “I fell unconscious after that. When I woke up, my father and aunt were tending to my wounds, and my mother was gone. I was young, it’s all a bit hazy, but I remember enough.”

I’m left in stunned silence. Baz doesn’t say anything either, just rubbing his head. He’s not crying, but he looks on the verge of tears. I don’t blame him. I can’t believe it, can’t believe Baz went through that and no one ever knew. It’s just terrible.

“Wow,” I finally say, “that’s...wow.”

Baz chuckles quietly. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“I never knew that happened...”

“No one did, Snow. All the gruesome little details were kept under wraps. It would’ve been terrible if anyone found out Natasha Grimm-Pitch died in such an undignified way that traumatized her heir.”

His voice is mockingly scathing, even with his slightly slurred speech. He’s a mix between furious and mournful. I don’t understand how he feels, but I don’t think I ever could. I may never have had parents, but that’s a far cry from watching your’s die.

“I don’t know how much it means, but I’m sorry that happened to you Baz.”

The corner of his lip quirks up into a small half smile. “Thanks, Snow.”

I start wrapping his hand again, and my brow furrows. “So, uh, what does this have to do with you getting drunk and fighting? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Baz takes a deep inhale through his nose, and lets out the air through his mouth. “My mother was killed twenty years ago today.”

“O-oh. That...yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mhm. I’ve lived with it for most of my life, but this anniversary hit me harder than I expected. I had my first day off in months, so after some mindless telly, I went to that bar. Gave the bartender my card and told her to keep the tequila coming. First mistake.”

“Second one was getting in a fight?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He flexes his bandaged hand. “It was just some arsehole looking for trouble. He kept prodding at me and shoving my shoulder until I snapped. I don’t even remember what he said. I was just so angry and sad and drunk. And that arsehole was right there” He groans loudly and rubs his head. “One of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.”

“Probably. But you made one good choice.”

“Oh?”

I finish bandaging his other hand and smile at his mopey face. “You called me.”

His mopeyness melts away as he lets out a breathy laugh. Our eyes meet, and his are glinting in a way I’ve never seen before. “Yeah, I guess that was a good idea.”

We smile at each other. Something tugs in my chest, something I don’t fully understand. I’ve never felt anything like this. Maybe I’m just overtired.

Baz flexes his bandaged hands. I put the first aid kit under the sink again. Baz stands and presses a hand to his bruised eye. hissing between his teeth. “Got any ice packs, Snow?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “It’s in the kitchen, c’mon.”

We walk towards the kitchen. I open the freezer and pull out my reusable ice pack. Teaching a bunch of children can result in some bad headaches. I wrap it in a napkin and hand it to Baz. He presses it to his eye with clenched teeth. As he leans back against the counter, I remember he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Uh,” I say, “those jeans don’t look comfortable. I’ve got some spare pyjamas. Want me to get them?”

Baz nods. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Alright, stay here.”

I go to my bedroom, wading through the laundry I have to do tomorrow to get to the dresser. It takes awhile for me to find something that will probably fit Baz. Damn his extra four inches, always so infuriating. I eventually pick out some trackies and a long Chicago Cubs shirt. It’s all I’ve got. I go back to the kitchen, and come upon a strange scene.

“Baz,” I say slowly, “what are you doing?

Baz looks up from the messy, cutlery covered counter, still pressing the ice pack to his eye. He lifts a plate with two pieces of bread, both half covered in marmite. “Making a marmite and cheese sandwich. You want half?”

His expression is so innocent, not a hint of the old malice I used to know. I let out a sigh. “Sure. Let me get the cheese.”

He grins and goes back to slathering on marmite. I pull my sliced sandwich cheese from the fridge. Hope Baz doesn’t mind cheap Tesco brand swiss. I bring the package to the counter, and Baz takes out a slice without even looking. Guess he’s not as snobbish about food as he used to be. He cuts the sandwich into two slightly lopsided triangles and swans out to my dining room. I follow behind with the pyjamas.

Baz sits in a chair, leaning back with his legs spread out. I sit across from him, placing the clothes on the table. Baz snatches it. It unfolds and his brows pull together.

“You a baseball fan now, Snow?” he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah. Micah definitely is though.”

“Who?”

“Remember that American exchange student from fourth year?”

“The short nerd with large glasses?” His voice is muffled as he struggles to put on the shirt. Drunk Baz doesn’t get along with t-shirt holes.

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him I guess. He and Penny started dating then and have been together ever since. She lives in America with him now.”

Baz’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. How is Bunce? I miss facing off with her in debate club.”

“She’s doing well. She’s got a job as an assistant professor in Chicago and loves American food. I just saw her a few weeks ago on vacation.”

“Marvelous. Tell her I say hello next time you speak to her.”

“Will do.” We both take one half of the marmite-cheese sandwich. Baz takes a huge bite, followed by a happy groan. I can’t tell if he’s drunk hungry or actually hungry. Probably somewhere in between. I take a bite as well. There’s far too much marmite, but it’s four in the morning. Right now anything tastes good.

Thinking of Penny makes me think of Watford. And something else, or more accurately someone else, pops into my head.

“Hey,” I say through the marmite, “you said you talked to Agatha earlier. How are you two still in contact? She cut off almost everyone after Watford. I didn’t start talking to her again until a year ago.”

Baz quickly chews and swallows. “Funny story there. I did a semester abroad in California and ended up in the same biology class as Agatha. It was extremely awkward at first. But once we sat down over coffee and sorted stuff out, we bonded very quickly. Similar upper class British family problems and expectations.”

“Oh. That’s makes sense I guess. It’s nice you guys talk.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” He chuckles, mouth gummed with marmite. “The weirdest part was telling her I’m gay. I apologised for leading her on, and you know what she did?”

I lean over the table, genuinely enraptured. “What?”

“Laughed her fucking arse off for ten minutes straight.”

I snort so hard I nearly shoot sandwich out my nose. Baz throws his head back laughing. He’s so loud he might disturb my neighbours, but I don’t care. His laugh is too incredible.

“Just like that,” he giggles, calming down.

“So she wasn’t mad?” I ask.

“No, not at all. She admitted she wasn’t really into me. She was just rebelling against her parents. We both sympathised on that front.” He sighs and leans back even more. “That’s all I wanted at Watford, really. I was under so much pressure to be the perfect son. I seriously considered yelling ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever I wanted.”

I sigh too, putting my cheek against my palm. “Yeah, I understand that. Mr. Mage put a lot of pressure on me. He wanted to prove to the Watford board that scholarship students were worthwhile, and since I was Watford’s very first scholarship kid, I had to be perfect. Every time I got a low grade he would yell at me for an hour.”

“What a prick,” Baz grumbles.

I chuckle as I nod slowly. “Yeah, total prick. Watford wasn’t an easy place to be.”

Baz slowly lowers his sandwich, looking pointedly at the plate, and therefore not me. My heart speeds up. Did I say something wrong? Did I piss him off by accident? I do that a lot. And I definitely used to do that to Baz.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he says carefully. “And maybe this is me still being pretty drunk. But...I saw something in your medicine cabinet.”

I squint, trying to think what could be so concerning. “Saw what?”

He fiddles with his still damp hair. It’s an old nervous habit I recognise from finals studying. “A bottle of citalopram. I’m a future psychiatrist, I know what that medication is usually for...”

My stomach drops out. I freeze with the sandwich still in my hand. “Oh,” I squeak.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, eyes round and sympathetic. “I’m sorry I looked. And...I’m sorry if I had any part in your need for it-”

“No no, Baz.” I shake my head, leaning forward as well. “You don’t have to. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s in particular, really. It’s stupid chemicals misfiring in my brain. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

“Yes, of course I know that, Snow. But I also know my incessant arsehole behaviour for seven years probably didn’t help.”

I shrug, leaning back again. “Probably. And I bet me insulting you and punching you in the face all the time didn’t help your mental health either.”

He smiles and laughs again. He looks better when he laughs. “Okay, good point.”

“Exactly. So let’s agree neither of us need to apologise. We’ll let the past be the past, move on from here.”

“So you mean a truce?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I reach out my hand. “Truce.”

Baz smiles and clasps his hand with mine. His skin is just as rough and cold as I remember it being back at school. But even after we pull apart, my skin still feels warm.

“Just so we’re even,” Baz says with his mouthful, “my favourite antidepressant was cipralex. I went off it a few months ago because it started making me too drowsy, but it worked well for years. Citalopram made me far too ill. When I first tried it, I ended up vomiting in a bloody bedpan.”

I burst out laughing. And Baz’s grin outshines the sun.

We finish our sandwiches together. Baz complains that his mouth tastes like a rubbage heap. Apparently the combination of old tequila, Tesco cheese, and marmite creates a truly awful flavour. I give him an unused toothbrush from the dentist. He goes into the bathroom and soon emerges with clean teeth and wearing my trackies. I’m back on the couch with Cherry in my lap.

“You tired?” I ask.

“Not really,” Baz replies. “Late hospital shifts have turned me into an insomniac.”

“Wanna watch some Dr. Who?”

He throws himself down next to me, long arm stretched out over the back of the couch behind me. “Sure.”

I switch to a new episode. It’s a standalone, so Baz won’t be too confused. But he still asks incessant questions. Who’s this, what’s that, how the everloving fuck can they do that and survive? No wonder he’s a doctor. He’s perfect at looking for answers, no matter how annoying he is. Eventually I have to threaten to duct tape his mouth to get him to shut up. He huffs, crosses his arms, and sinks down further.. His head ends up on my shoulder. Despite my shorter neck length and Baz’s naturally long face, his head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. Like it was made to be there. Wait, where did that thought come from?

The credits roll, and I notice a quiet whistling noise. I turn my head to the side. Oh. Baz is asleep. His eyes are softly closed and his lips are slightly parted. I’ve seen Baz sleep before of course, but this is different. Baz had nightmares throughout our entire time at Watford. (So did I.) I don’t think he’s having one now though. There’s no thrashing or whimpers. I’ve never seen Baz look so...peaceful.

“Baz,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond at all. “Baz,” I say louder, jerking my shoulder a bit.

“Ugh,” he groans, “let me sleep in, Daphne, it’s summer.”

“I’m not your step-mum, Baz.”

He cracks one eye open. “No, you’re really not, Snow.”

“Yeah. You wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Okay.” I slowly get up, easing Baz off my shoulder. I gently lower him onto the couch. The bottom half of his face hangs off the arm. Yeah, he’s going to need a pillow. I go to my bedroom and grab a pillow and blanket. I also make a stop by the bathroom for some aspirin and make another at the kitchen for some water and a bowl, in case he’s sick. I would prefer not to clean vomit out of my carpet.

Baz is still awkwardly pressed against the sofa arm, drooling slightly. Who would’ve thought I’d see the day Baz Pitch drooled in his sleep? I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. But apparently tonight is a time for new things.

I place the bowl, water, and aspirin on my coffee table. Slowly and carefully, I lift Baz’s head and fit a pillow under it. I drape the blanket over his annoyingly tall body. His arm hangs like a limp noodle off the side. I sigh, kneeling down to tuck it back in.

Out of nowhere, I feel long, rough fingers touching my cheek. My whole body locks up in shock. Slowly, I raise my head, and I meet Baz’s half open grey eyes and soft smile.

“Uh, Baz?” I say, not sure what else I can.

“You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers. My eyes widen and every nerve in my body is filled with...something? Fear, nerves, an absolute sense of what the fuck? I can’t tell.

“W-What?”

Baz’s hand moves lower. His thumb traces just under my bottom lip. Why does my skin feels like it’s fire? “Your face, it’s still really pretty.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, I guess you’d know. You punched it enough.”

He laughs softly. His hand falls, pulling back under the blanket, and his eyes slip shut. “Wish I had kissed it instead.”

I don’t even have time to respond to that, because Baz is asleep in an instant, snoring quietly once again. I’m frozen in place. My jaw is slack. Baz would tell me I’m going to catch flies. Baz, who’s sleeping right in front of me, who wished he had kissed me? My brain can’t process this. I’m like a computer with an eternal blue screen. This does not compute, cannot compute, fuck fuck fuck.

There’s only one thing I can think to do.

I grab my phone, rush to my room, and close the door. Cherry is already curled up on her side. The second I’m sitting on the mattress, I click Penny’s contact.

“Hello?” Her voice immediately calms me down.

“Hi, Pen,” I say.

“Simon?! Bloody hell, isn’t it like four in the morning in London?”

I look over at my clock. “Uh, yup, just about.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are calling me at four AM?”

I sigh and flop backwards. “Pen, you’re not going to believe who is sleeping in my living room right now.”

“Who? The Doctor? Boris Johnson? The Queen of England>

A laugh bubbles from my mouth. “Nah, even weirder.”

I can almost hear Penny’s face pinching together in confusion. “Who?”

“Baz Pitch.”

She gasps loudly. “What?! As in Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch? That Baz Pitch?!”

“You think there’s another Baz Pitch in existence?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “good point. So why is your arsehole former roommate sleeping on your couch?”

I rub the bridge of my nose. It doesn’t help. I’m not sure anything can help now. “That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I sigh, and start spinning my insane tale. From the call to the bar to my flat, how Baz and I talked and became friendly and made a weird truce over cheese and marmite. I try to say everything quickly yet accurately. Penny barely makes a noise as I talk. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or contemplative. Probably both, honestly. I can’t blame her. The more I talk, the more completely nuts it all sounds. I’m living in a bloody sitcom.

“And then,” I say, “he held my face, said I was beautiful, and that he wished he had kissed me instead of punching me!”

“Wow,” Penny gasps. “That’s...a lot.”

“I know right? I’m so confused and I have no idea what the fuck to do!”

“Okay. What do you want to do though?”

I rub my very aching brow. “I don’t know, Pen. It’s so weird. Like, is this something he’s just realised or has Baz always felt this way?”

“Probably the second one.”

I bolt upright, brows knitted together. “Wait, really? You think so?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“But why?!”

“Well, Baz has always been very obsessed with you. He would go out of his way to be around you.”

“Yeah, to torment me,” I grumble.

Penny lets out a sigh. “Yes, he did. But as you told me, Baz said he picked on you because he couldn’t deal with his emotional issues. One of those issues certainly could have been romantic feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t he just say something?!”

“Because he was the gay son of a conservative upper class British family, which probably wasn’t easy to deal with. Plus, his father and aunt hated the idea of scholarship students, also known as you.”

My righteous anger fizzles out like a dying campfire, shoulders slumping as I fall back against the headboard. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point. Still shouldn’t have been a snob and a bully.

“No he shouldn’t have. It was probably half poor coping and half trying to get your attention.”

“Like a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a stupid and sexist way to handle a crush. I tell my students that all the time.”

Penny sighs. “Yeah, of course it is. But I’m pretty sure Baz knows that, at least now. He’s sorry for what he did. It seems like he’s gotten a lot better.”

“Yeah.” A smile creeps across my face without thinking. It just feels natural. “He’s gotten a lot nicer. He’s not the perfect, pretty, unfeeling arsehole I thought he was. And he’s funny, at least when he’s drunk. We had a pretty great time .”

I laugh quietly, but Penny’s is far louder. She sounds like she’s muffling her giggles. I frown a bit. “What’s so funny, Pen?”

“Oh,” she keeps giggling, “I think I’ve just realised something, and it’s hilarious.”

“Realised what?”

She takes a few deep calming breaths while my anxiety just climbs. “Simon,” she says kindly. This is the way she used to speak while explaining our complicated maths homework. “Hear me out, but I don’t think Baz is the only one who feels something.”

“Huh?”

“I think you have at least a few romantic feelings for Baz.”

“What?!” I shout far too loudly, and I worry I’m going to wake up Baz. I crouch inward, like I’m hiding, but I’m not really sure what. Baz? Penny? Myself?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss.

“Hear me out,” Penny says. “I’m saying that based on the evidence, you may have latent romantic feelings for Baz Pitch.”

“What evidence?!”

Penny lets out a low chuckle, like a super villain who’s plan has come to fruition. “Let’s see. Number one: back at Watford, you spent 99% of your time thinking about, talking about, or being with Baz. I had to put a limit on how much you were allowed to talk about Baz, remember?”

“Yeah, because he was bugging me,” I mumble.

“Number two: when you talked about Baz, it was always about how annoyingly pretty, smart, and graceful he was. You hated him, yet you had so many nice things to say.”

“Well he was perfect and it was annoying!”

“Number three: During the entire time you dated Agatha, you paid far more attention to Baz than you ever did to her.”

“T-That’s not true!” Though, looking back...fucking hell, it might actually be true.

“Number four: even though you hadn’t seen him in seven years, you dropped everything at two AM to go pick up his drunk arse from a bar.”

“It was the right thing to do!”

“Number five: you just gushed about how much you like Baz now and that he’s fun to be around. And I bet you were smiling.”

“No.” I think my cheeks are turning red.

I hear some rustling, and I think Penny is leaning forward in her chair. I can almost see her kind face in front of me. “Simon, I don’t want to push anything on you, but I also want you to really think about this. I know you hate to analyse things but it’s necessary right now. Maybe it could lead to something good.”

I tug on my hair, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

“I know. Doesn’t even have to be romantic, maybe a good friendship. You could use more friends. And I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tomorrow.”

“Penny!” Now I’m definitely blushing.

She laughs uncontrollably, snorting every once in awhile. I cover my blushing face and groan. “Oh, I’m only joking, Si,” she says. “But I’m serious, don’t shut it down. Think about it. Baz is nice now, maybe it could work.”

“Why are you so desperate to set me up with my former enemy?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date or made new friends since first year uni. And I haven’t heard you this happy about being around someone in years.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I’ve had more fun with Baz in one night than I have in ages. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed laughing with him. I’m glad he’s asleep in the next room, where I can make sure he’s okay.

“You may have a point,” I say.

“Of course I do.”

I roll my eyes, just like she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve always known you’re smarter than me.”

“Mhm. And in my smart opinion, you need to go to bed.”

“Will do.” I flop backwards. The pillow feels heavenly on my head. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better. Night, Si.”

I smile, and I hope she can hear my love and gratitude over the phone. “Night, Pen.”

The phone clicks off. I let it fall to the side. I am 0.2 seconds from passing out, even with so much still on my mind. I plug in my phone and turn on my side. I pull Cherry close to me. She curls around my hand like usual. When I close my eyes, all I see is raven hair, deep sea grey eyes, and a smile I never knew was there before.

———————————————

“Bloody fucking shit!”

I wake up with a start, clutching my sheet. Late morning sunlight is bleeding through the gap in my curtains. There’s muffled banging on the other side of my door. It’s like a very clumsy little rhino is moving through my flat. But I know exactly who it is.

I grab my glasses and slowly walk down the hall, peeking around the corner. It’s weird to sneak around my own apartment. I see a familiar long, lithe back, bent over as he struggles to get his struggles to get his oxfords on. He keeps wavering side to side like a branch in the wind.

“Good morning,” I say nonchalantly.

Baz whips around so fast he nearly topples over, stumbling to the side. He looks even more disheveled than last night, hair extremely tangled from sleeping on it wet, bruise worsening under his eyes, and bloodstained shirt buttoned wrong. He looks absolutely shocked to see me, which is odd, considering this is my flat.

“Um,” he says, shakiness in my voice, “good morning, Snow.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Uh, well, yes, I suppose.”

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “So you were going to go and what? Leave me a thank you note like some bad teen movie?”

He probably thinks I don’t notice, but I see him crumple up and shove something in his back pocket. “No. I-I would’ve texted you my thanks.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

Baz looks down in shame, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...I didn’t want to make things awkward after last night. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted and imposing on you.”

“It’s okay.” I walk forward, hands in my trackie pockets. “I know you were pretty drunk, but, what do you remember from last night?”

Baz looks up, but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “I remember, being upset, going to the bar, getting in the fight, and the bartender screaming colourful obscenities at me.” That makes him laugh a little. It still sounds so nice. “Then I called you, you came and you had glasses. We drove to your place. I had a shower. You tended to my wounds like some war nurse.”

I giggle, nodding in complete agreement. “Yeah, I definitely did do that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Then uh, we ate sandwiches, watched Doctor Who, and I assume I fell asleep.”

“Okay.” I draw out the last syllable on purpose, making my doubt extremely clear. “That’s most of it, but you’re missing a few key parts.”

“Am I?” He’s trying to sound confident, but I know Baz, and I can hear a waver in his voice.

I start walking closer. “Mhm. You’re missing the parts where you apologized for being a prick in school, called my flat was good, liked my cat, said you drank because it was the anniversary of your mother’s horrible death, talked about your experience with antidepressants.” I’m only a few feet away from him now, looking him right in his pretty. “And, the part where you said that you wished you had kissed me back at school instead of punching me.”

With his complexion, it’s hard to tell when Baz is blushing. But I can see it. Scarlet creeps down from his cheeks to his long neck, eyes locked on me in stun.

“Oh,” he squeaks. “I see.”

“You really don’t remember all that?”

He rubs his brow. “Well, maybe, it’s just...fuzzy.”

“But was it true? Did you like me back at Watford?”

He visibly gulps, then looks at the floor again. He looks incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. “Yes,” he says, like he has to force himself to say it. “Yes, it’s true.”

I let out a long breath, half from relief, half to calm myself down. Okay. It’s true. Baz had feelings for me. All through school, all that time, Baz was pining after me from afar. And I never knew. Not a bit. But I think that was the idea.

“Alright,” I say.

Baz lifts his eyes slightly, cocking one eyebrow. “Alright? Is that all you have to say?”

I shrug high then drop my shoulders low. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s all. It changes a lot of things I assumed in school.”

“I bloody well hope so.” His voice is lighter, trying to lift the mood, trying to make this even slightly less than horribly awkward.

“So,” I say drawing out the o, “when, uh, did it start? You feeling like...that.”

If Baz’s blush could get any worse, I think it just did. He plays with his sleeves, his buttons, his hair, obviously looking for a distraction. “I realised it when I was 15. But I think, it started almost since we met.”

That hits me hard. The first year we met, I wore ratty old clothes and was essentially nonverbal. Baz saw me like that, a dirty silent little orphan kid, and he already liked me. He didn’t show it, but only because he couldn’t. He cared about me, even then. Even when so few truly did.

“Huh,” I say stupidly. “That’s a long time.”

He lets out a scoffing chuckle. “No shit, Snow.”

“That makes me feel even more sorry for being a prick to you in school.”

Baz shakes his head very quickly. “No, no, don’t apologize. I was a prick to you first. I just...” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “In my family, I wasn’t supposed to be gay, let alone have feelings for someone they hated. I lashed out and hurt you because I was hurting. It was wrong.”

He sighs and sits down heavily on the couch. He looks so forlorn and ashamed, head hanging forward, his hair like a curtain. All the guilt seems to be pushing down on his shoulders, making him slump. Penny was right, as usual. But to hear it from Baz, to see him like this, it tugs on my heart. Like that time I caught him drunk in front of his mother’s grave when we were fifteen, or twice last night. He’s grown a lot and gotten happier, but a small part of Baz is still that sad kid, I guess.

Slowly, I walk towards him and sit down. Before I can think too much, I reach out and touch his hand. Baz’s head snaps up, completely terrified and shocked. Yet, he doesn’t pull away. One by one, I slip my fingers between his. Baz’s skin is such a strange contrast. My palm touches the smooth back of his hand, while fingers trace tiny rough ridges. It feels...really good.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, but what do you think about me now?”

I look him in the eye. I can see the way his lips shift, feel how his hand twitches. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking right now. He stays silent, so I decide to jump in.

“Well, let me start. I know what I think about you. I think,” I move closer, “that you’re kind, funny, smart, and still annoyingly gorgeous.” That makes his eyes widen ever so slightly. “And now I also know that you’re incredibly strong. That you struggled and mourned and came out okay. I mean, you’re a bloody doctor who’s going to help people work through their own problems. That’s amazing.”

Baz looks so shocked, probably both at my words and my coherency. I’ve gotten a lot better at speaking over the years. I’m so glad for that right now. “You really think all that, Snow?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always found you annoyingly amazing. Now it’s just not so annoying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Is it so hard to believe?”

Baz presses his lips together for a split second. “Honestly, yes. We hated each other for years, fought like cats and dogs. I assumed I had ruined any chance of that changing.”

“Well,” I move even closer so our thighs press together, “you didn’t. Because I like this.”

“What is this?”

“This!” I gesture wildly between us. “What we’re doing right now. I like this, I like you.”

He looks so shocked, yet there’s a twinkle of happiness too. “Like me how? As...a friend?”

And he calls me oblivious. I squeeze his hand again. “That depends. I know it’s been a long time, so have your...feelings about me gone away?”

Baz stares at me, studying my face. I just watch his eyes roam over me again and again. Then he reaches forward and delicately places his hand on my cheek, just like last night. Except it feels more purposeful. And so much better.

“No,” he says quietly, “they haven’t gone away. I don’t think they ever could.”

My body feels so light and happy and indescribably full. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. It’s hit me so suddenly, yet it feels so right. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning.

“Okay,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Baz’s hand falls, touching my arm. He raises a perplexed eyebrow. “Okay, but since when?”

I shrug, which makes Baz roll his eyes. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I do. That’s what really matters, right?”

He sighs. His hand moves up and down my arm. I can’t tell if he’s studying me or trying to hold on. “I suppose, yes.”

“Exactly. So why don’t we give it a shot?”

“What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” Baz’s lips falls open and hand slips slightly down my arm. I hold onto him tighter. “Like, fair warning, I’m not a great boyfriend. I forget things, I’m super clumsy, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Agatha, so my experience is limited. But I like you. And I’m not asking for something serious right now, I just want to give this a try. Do you maybe want to?”

Baz’s face is such strange, confusing mixture. His brows are tense and pulled together. They scream worry and doubt. His thin beautiful lips hang open is absolute disbelief. But his eyes, a mix of dark blue and dark green, are filled to the brim with hope.

“I’m a doctor,” he blurts out.

“Um, yeah, I know,” I reply, trying not to laugh.

He shakes his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. I’m a medical resident. I’m at the hospital almost every day. I have barely any free time, and if I do I use it to sleep. And I don’t have much experience either. I’ve had two semi serious relationships that both ended in flames. I’m terrible at everything relationship related, probably even more than you, Snow.”

Baz looks so frantic and scared, but he’s hanging on to my hand. In spite of harsh realities, he doesn’t want to let go. I think he’s expecting me to admit defeat and walk away. But what he doesn’t seem to get, is that I don’t want to let go either.

I move closer, and cup his face this time. Baz instinctively leans into it. “You called me Simon before.”

He lets out a bursting laugh, sudden and unwanted. He immediately calms down, but there’s a little smile there. “Really? That’s what you care about?”

“Yeah. Because I like hearing you say it, and I like this. So,” I squeeze his hand again, “I want to try, no matter the risks. We’ll just deal with the rest later.”

He gives me a doubtful expression. “That’s your solution? Put off thinking about the problems we may face?”

“Yup. Because I want this, you want this, and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess...”

Stupid bastard still overthinks everything. I don’t want his mind far away, I want it right here with me. I brush my thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “Plus, I’d rather focus on other things right now.”

“Oh? What things?”

“Well, more a question.” I deliberately move my hand lower, tracing under his bottom lip. “You said you wished you had kissed me when we were in school.”

He gulps. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly. “Yes, I did.”

“So, do you still want to kiss me?”

His eyes flick down, just for a moment. I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Yes.”

I smile, leaning close so our noses brush. “Then do it.”

Baz doesn’t ask for anymore assurance. He just leans forward, pressing his mouth to mine. And my mind completely implodes.

His lips are colder than Agatha’s, than anyone’s really. It’s like kissing a soft autumn breeze. Just chilly enough to send shivers over your skin. Yet when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, I melt completely, leaning closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. He clutches my sides, hanging on with a death grip. Like he never wants to let me go. (I wouldn’t mind that.) It’s an awkward position, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I run my hand through his hair. It’s soft and slips through my fingers, just like I thought it would. I clench my fist and push his face into mine. I more feel him groan than hear it. He bunches my shirt in his own fists. I like him here, under my hands, not off being sad or drunk, where I know he’s okay. I’ve got you know, Baz, I’m not letting go.

From that first press of our lips, I know I want this. Baz feels perfect and wonderful. I want to kiss him forever. It’s strange, to have something you never knew you wanted before, and suddenly need to hang onto it forever.

We both pull apart at relatively the same time, flushed and out of breath. Baz’s eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown incredibly huge, and his lips are swollen and pink. I think mine are too, at least it feels like they are. I’ve never felt so elated from just one kiss. I’m sure I never will again.

“Wow,” I breathe out.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, so quiet and sweet. “Very eloquent.”

I chuckle too, twisting a strand of his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s all I can manage right now. I think you broke my brain.”

“Don’t stroke my ego too much, Snow. I’ll get a big head.”

“You mean a bigger one?”

Baz glares, but when I flash one grin, his entire face melts. My heart melts too. It’s in a goddamn puddle on the floor forever.

Baz presses one hand to his temple, eyes squinting shut. “Bloody hell, all the drinking and excitement is too much for my head.”

“Did you take the aspirin I left?”

“Yes, but apparently that only does so much. I want coffee.”

“I’ve got some. Probably not very fancy, but it’s good enough. That alright?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. It’s incredibly sweet, making me smile in return. “That would be wonderful, Simon.”

God, I want to hear him say my name like that a thousand times.

We reluctantly untangle ourselves, but our hands stay linked. I lead Baz to my tiny dining room table. He sits on the far side, facing the open space of my kitchenette. My hand drags across his as we reluctantly let go. I walk into the room and flip on my ancient coffee machine.

“How do you take your coffee?” I say over my shoulder. “Black?”

“Actually, I like a lot of cream and sugar.”

I laugh loudly and smile at him. “Still have a sweet tooth, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Of course. I still remember how you would steal my mint aeros.”

“You have no proof of that, Snow,” he singsongs.

His voice is light and joking. I look over my shoulder, and see his soft smile. I want to see that smile all the time. I want to find out every little happy expression he has, the ones I never got to see when we were kids.

“I’ll find some,” I reply..

“It’ll take a lot of coaxing.”

I lean against the counter, looking at him. Really looking at him. Baz Pitch, the former arsehole bully, now the mostly well adjusted altruistic doctor, still someone who can occupy most of my thoughts. This is all new yet so familiar.

“Good thing we’ve got time,” I say.

Baz leans his cheek on his palm. From his calm, happy expression, I know he agrees. We’ve got time to not just catch up, but start something strange and beautiful and new.

And I’ve never been so excited in my life.

———————————————

AN: Is this a bit unrealistic? Yes. Is this super adorable? Also yes. Hope you guys thought the same. I def enjoy writing drunk Baz and switching it up so Simon has glasses this time. And I like Simon's total obliviousness to his own feelings. He's a dumb romantic little shit lol. Thanks for reading, see y'all next time :D

PS: XOYO is a real bar. Hopefully they don't have to deal with drunk traumatized psychiatry residents too much lol.

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #normal au #reunion #enemies to friends to lovers #getting together #mysnowbazfic

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kz-i-co · 6 years

Text

Tricks & Lies

Summary: You come up with a big lie so you can make friends but the lie blows up in your face.

Pairing: Hwang Hyun-Jin / Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 3.3k

Part 2 | Part 3

m.list ╫ skz masterlist

You took a deep breath as you put on your helmet. You picked up your skateboard and ran until you reached the guard rail, grinding down the steep metal. You did a kick flip as you reached the bottom landing perfectly.

You heard cheering in the distance as you picked up your board. You smiled seeing all the attention on you and you couldn't help but smile.

"Dude What is your name?" A boy with orangeish hair came up to you followed by a bunch of other guys.

"You are awesome, I thought I met all the greatest skaters out here. Are you from around here?" A blond hair boy said. But your attention went to a tall boy with black hair. He had a beautiful smile and you couldn't help but fall for it.

"I just moved here." You said.

"My man." The one with orange hair put his arm around you. My man? Did they think you were a guy? When you skated you liked to dress more baggy so you were comfortable.

You were a proud skater where you used to live but the problem was you were a girl. The boys would never take you seriously and make fun of you to the point where you gave up skating for a while. Maybe this should be the way to go. Pretend your a guy so you could actually make friends.

"My name is..." You tried to pick a boyish name that was close to yours. "My name is (Y/B/N)."

"Sweet." They gave you playful hits on your back. "You have to join our crew."

"Please." They begged.

"Sure."

"We are gonna be the best team now. Those street rats can't touch us now." You were a blushing mess. You have never been so wanted in your whole life.

....

After a few simple tricks you decided to crash next to the tall boy you learned as Hyunjin. He has been sitting out from a cast placed on his arm.

"So how long have you been skating?" He asked. You took off your helmet, keeping your beanie on to hide your hair.

"3 years?" You asked yourself.

"Wow, and how old are you?" He asked.

"I'll be 18 in 2 weeks." You smiled.

"18? I thought you were younger." He laughed cutely.

"How old do I look?" You almost forgot you were pretending to be a boy.

"16 maybe?" He looked at you closer. "You have a very pure face."

"Okay." You pushed him away feeling nervous. "What about you? 25?" You teased.

He laughed. "18."

"What happen to your arm?" You asked.

"I broke it last week."

"Last week? What did you do?" You continued.

"I tried to pull off a trick at a skateboarding competition that was too difficult for me....just to show off." He pursed his lips. "Didn't end well."

"I'm sorry." You said.

"That's surprisingly nice of you. Usually the guys make fun of me." He laughed. "But thanks anyway."

I suck at being a guy. What the hell am I going to do? You mentally hit yourself.

"What trick were you trying to do anyway?" You asked.

"It was a pressure flip going into a laser flip."

You looked at him wide eye. "That's a hard trick."

"Yeah, I thought I could pull it off since I have before." He shook his head.

"No way." You said.

"Yup." He confirmed.

"You're making it up." You smirked.

"Never mind I take it back, you're just as worse as them." He looked away. "I would prove it but I can't." He held up his injured arm.

"Okay. But I want to see it when that's gone." You stated. "How long you have to keep that on for anyway?"

"A few months."

"That's harsh." By this point you were stealing vocabulary from your idiot older brother.

"Tell me about it."

"Yo dudes. Let's go get something to eat." The other guys were coming closer to you.

....

"What about Stacy." Han asked.

"No way. She's too sensitive." Chan shook his head.

"But she's hot."

"So what."

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "You both are idiots."

"What about you (Y/B/N)? What kind of girls you like." Minho asked.

"Oh um...." You couldn't even begin to think of a question like that. "I like a girl who isn't afraid to be herself."

They all looked at you arching their eyebrows. "I mean a girl who knows what she's doing." You wiggled your eyebrows causing the rest of the boys to high five you.

"Hey we have young ears." Chan cover Jeongins ears causing him to push him.

"Hey Hyunjin it's your ex." Changbin pointed. "Is she still hung up on you?"

"I don't know." He looked down playing with his food.

She's pretty. She noticed your circle and started making her way over. "Hyunjin can we talk?"

He looked up and softly shook his head. He followed her and they started a deep conversation.

"Look, look, she touching his arm. She's probably saying how she wants to get back together. Just look." Han said.

You felt bad. He looked broken just talking to her. You figured they had some kind of bad breakup.

"Girls are evil." Woojin said. "They just play with your heart and then only come back if they want something."

You gave an annoyed look but he didn't notice. Not all girls are like that. This just got a lot more fun for you. Look into the deep minds of how boys really thought of girls.

"Hey how'd it go?" Felix asked first.

"She said she misses me and she wants to get back together." He slouched.

"Ha I knew it. Pay up." Han said collecting money.

"You made a bet?" Hyunjin looked at his friends disappointed.

"What else she say?" You asked.

"She wants to comfort me since I broke my arm." He rolled his eyes once again.

"Aw." You said. "I mean pssfff." You tried to get the attention off of you.

"You think she means it?" Hyunjin asked you personally.

"Maybe."

"How would you know so much about girls?" Seungmin asked.

"I have a sister. I may know a little." You shrugged.

"Is she hot?"

"Ew come on." You got up and walked away.

....

"So where's your house?" Hyunjin asked getting off his skateboard. You felt nervous he even got on one but he said he can ride is just for strolling.

It was down to just the two of you as the other boys went home. You were in panic mode. The last thing you want was the guys showing up at your house one day and your parents giving away your secret.

"Just a few house down." You pointed nervously.

"You want me to walk you?" He asked sweetly.

You couldn't help but blush but you hid it quickly. "I'm no chicken." You said in your boyish accent.

"Okay then." He laughed. "See ya later dude."

"Bye....um...bro." You gave him a fist bump.

He just looked at you more confused but kept laughing. He probably thinks you're a freak. You sucked at being a guy.

"Hi dear.....woah what happened to my beautiful daughter?" Your mother asked as you came into the door. You kicked off your shoes and took off your helmet. "You look like a boy. Stop wearing all those boyish clothes."

"Alright." You were always a bit more on the tomboyish side but you still went causal. It was only when you skated that you wore the really boyish stuff. But you definitely didn't mind wearing dresses here and there. Your sister said you could pull off anything and you still be gorgeous.

You went to the kitchen as dinner was cooking. "What's with the hat?" Your sister said pulling off your beanie letting your long hair flow out. "Skating?"

"Yup. I met a lot of friends also." You smiled.

"Are they all guys?"

"Yeah." You shrugged.

"Doesn't sound like a good idea." She ate a cookie and your mother pulled away the plate.

"After dinner."

"Why not?" You said completely ignoring your mother.

"You remember what happened last time?" She looked at you.

You nodded and sat down next to your father. "Boys can be jerks just remember that." Your sister said sitting next to you as your mother set the table.

"Yo (Y/B/N) over here." You just reached the park and you can tell they were goofing off. "Aren't you got?" Han asked noticing your beanie.

"Nah man, I'm cool. I always wear my beanie." You sounded confident but you were panicking on the inside.

"Okay dude, we are practicing Hyunjin's trick so the street rats can stop making fun of us.

Street rats? They kept saying that but the funny thing was how familiar it sounded. "Where do the street rats live?" You asked.

"They are from south side."

It all connected. That's where you used to live. It was still pretty close but you had to change school districts anyway. You were just happy it was the summer. There was no way you could hide your secret from them.

"I used to go to south side." You said.

"Oh so you know them?" Chan asked.

"I don't know, I never skated with a crew before. I'm always by myself." You shrugged.

"That's lucky, because they're dicks." They laughed.

"You're going to north this year right?" Hyunjin asked you.

What could you say? If this secret keeps up until then, you would have to pretend in school and there was no way the teachers would lie for you. They have your records. So you lied.

"I don't know man. My moms part of the bored and she mentioned me staying since all my records are there." You were being honest about your mother working there but she already told you, you had to go to north. Your residence was on the border of the north school so that's where you had to go.

"That sucks, maybe she can change her mind." Hyunjin looked at you sweetly.

"I'll see."

"Nail this trick I.N." Han shoved him playfully.

"I can't." He whined and you just sat on the bench with Hyunjin. You liked his company and hopefully he didn't sense the obvious crush you already had on him.

"You don't want to skate?" He asked.

"Nah, I will later." You slouched back.

"Can I ask you a question about yesterday?" You said breaking the silence.

"Sure."

"Are you thinking about getting back with your ex, I mean she seems like she really cares for you."

He sighed. "No. She really hurt me so I don't want to go through that again."

"What did she do? If you want to tell me."

"She had to study overseas last year and she just dumped me like I was holding her back. But she came back a few months ago and just wanted to pick things up like nothing happened."

"It was only yesterday she finally said she wanted to get back together." He continued.

"What did you tell her?" You couldn't help but be noisy.

"I told her I'll think about it. But I'm just afraid to tell her no." He looked at you. "Did you have any nasty breakups?"

You cheeks warmed up from the attention turning to you. You never had a boyfriend before. "Not really. I'm too focused on my skating." You lied.

"That's a good idea." He laughed. He gently pushed you.

You pushed him back and he winced in pain from his broken arm. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." You panicked.

Then he started laughing. "I was kidding dude, chill out." He patted your head and you quickly pulled your hat down from it falling down.

"You suck." You pouted.

"Stop acting like a girl." He smiled.

"You're a girl." You snapped back and he just looked at you cutely. "What?" You asked from the sudden staring.

"Nothing, you're just different then most of other skaters I meet."

"What's that suppose to mean?" You asked but not harshly.

"Skaters are usually cocky and confident but you are a little more sensitive and generous." He said looking at his friends as Woojin was on the floor laughing from trying to land that trick.

"You're kind of sensitive also." You said softly.

"Yeah. But don't tell anyone." He smiled again that took your breath away.

"Okay (Y/B/N) stop flirting with Hyunjin and show them how it's done." Chan said.

Stop blushing. Stop blushing. Stop!

You grabbed your skateboard and stood on the small ramp. "I never tried this trick before." You said.

"We believe in you man." Han said and you put on your helmet. You took a deep breath and jumped on your skateboard trying to land the hard trick. You got through the pressure flip but crash on the laser flip. The skateboard hit your inner thigh and your arm scrapped against the concrete.

The boys ran over as well as Hyunjin to make sure you were okay. "(Y/B/N) are you okay?" Hyunjin asked.

"Yeah." You said out of breath and looked at your scraped up arm.

"What about down here? You hit there pretty hard." You looked to where they were referring to and looked down.

"Nah, I'm good. It hit here." You rubbed your inner thigh.

"Yes, your man hood is saved." Han cheered.

"That doesn't look too good." Hyunjin kneeled down to your level to look at your arm.

"I'll take him home, you guys keep practicing."

"Alright." They said.

He helped you up and grabbed your skateboard. "You really don't have to."

"It's fine. Now we both have injuries." He laughed.

You smiled from the fact that he was sweet enough to help you walk home but on the other hand panicked because if your parents were home, you would be busted.

"I just remembered. My mom is having some kind of company party. I can't show up looking like this." You said as you finally reached your street.

"Okay, we can crash at my house. My moms pretty handy with this stuff." He said.

Once you entered his home, it was very simple but comfortable. "Hey Mom?" Hyunjin called.

"I'll be there soon." She came out of the kitchen with a phone to her ear and looked at the both of you shocked. "Honey I gotta go." She hung up. "What happened?" She asked examining your arm.

"The same trick that gave me his." He held up his casted arm.

"You boys need to stop doing that." She kept looking at your arm but then looked at you confused. "I never met this friend."

"He just moved here last week."

"Oh. Welcome to the neighborhood and I'm sorry my son already got you involved with their dumb schemes." She said.

"That's alright ma'am. I've been in my own schemes myself." You smiled nervous. His mother already seemed suspicious of you.

"He calls me ma'am. You can stay." She smiled and led you to the kitchen. She took out a first aid kit and got out everything she needed. "You're lucky they cuts aren't deep enough to need stitches."

"They're just concrete scrapes." Hyunjin confirmed.

"Yes but there still is bits and pieces of rocks in there."

"This might hurt." She warned before cleaning it out.

....

"I got to go meet our father, behave yourselfs." She said as she left.

"She still treats me like a child." Hyunjin shook his head. "Video games?" He asked and you nodded.

....

"I won." You cheered.

"Man, you're good at skating in real life and in virtual reality." He pouted.

"Yup."

"So how long is your parents party? You can sleep here if you want. I can give you a spare pair of boxers. But you would have to keep them because that would just be weird." He laughed.

"Um. That would be cool." You got up. You looked at the time and noticed it was 9 o'clock already. You didn't even realize how long you were playing video games for.

"Here." He handed you some boxers and threw off his shirt to get another clean T-shirt. You couldn't look away from how attractive he was. Snap out of it. You were blushing also.

As soon as he looked up you turned around panicking. "You can just get dressed here dude."

Now that you thought about it you couldn't even speak you were so shaken. There was no way you could pull off sleeping over his house and not giving away your secret. "You know what, I should probably call my mom first." You said and ran out the door.

You sat on the stairs until your noticed Hyunjin come out with sweat pants and a new T-shirt on. Thank god. "What did she say?" He sat down next to you.

"I told her I hurt my arm and she told me to come home this instant." You lied.

"Oh, sorry dude. Maybe you can spend the night another time. Especially Changbins house. We all sleep over his house every once in while."

"Yeah. No problem." You said with all the confidence but you were just a mess. You were already to far into this lie and there was no way you can get out of it. What were you going to do?

-2 weeks later-

"I got it." You cheered and the boys ran over.

"You nailed that trick (Y/B/N)." Hyunjin gave you a high five. He has been helping you with it for the past 2 weeks and he couldn't believe you got it so quickly.

You couldn't believe you were the first one to nail it and actually be a girl. It was unreal.

"We should do something fun." Minho said. "How about the pool?"

"Good idea, we have all been sweating our ass's off." Changbin said.

"Let's go."

You panicked once again. You couldn't go to the pool. That would expose you. "I can't go." You pursed your lips.

"Why not?" Hyunjin asked.

"I'm....um.....allergic to chlorine." Your lies were getting ridiculous.

""Then we'll go to the lake genius." Han said.

"I can't swim."

"You're killing me smalls." Han continued. "Just stick your feet into the water."

"I don't feel good. Maybe next time." You walked off.

"Is it just me, or does he seem really strange to you?" Han asked and the rest of the boys agreed.

"What about you Hyunjin? You two seem like you've been hanging out the most." Chan asked.

"I don't know. I'll talk to him." He ran after you and he caught you sitting on the curb in the distance.

"Why am I so awkward." You felt like crying.

"Hey." Hyunjin greeted.

You were about to get up but he was quick to sit next to you. "I'm sorry. I just don't like swimming."

"Then that's all you had to say." He laughed and pushed you gently. "I noticed you lie when you're nervous."

"It's that noticeable huh." You shook your head.

"I feel like I know you pretty well, the other guys are just oblivious." His smile really melted your heart.

You zoned out from what he was saying and got lost in his beautiful eyes. You noticed him glance at you and you caught your self leaning forward. Your lips were about to touch his but he moved away startled.

You looked at him wide eye and you felt like you were really crying from the embarrassment. "I'm so sorry."

"You were about to kiss me." He panicked. "I mean I'm flattered but I don't go that way."

"I'm so sorry. I better go." You ran off.

"(Y/B/N) wait." He called but you continued to walk home.

....

"Honey we're going to the store really quick do you want to go?" Your mother caught you outside.

"No." You said down.

"What's wrong?" She lifted your chin. "What did I say about these clothes. It's 90 degrees out why are you wearing this?" Your mother took off your hat.

"Sorry. It's my last time."

"We'll see you later." She got in the car and drove away. Once you turned around you saw Hyunjin stare at you with mixed emotions.

"What are you doing here?" You shook.

"You're a girl?"

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fluff

333 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 5 years

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Run, Brittany, Run.

“It has changed my life. It’s changed the way I look at myself, the way I speak about myself or even think about myself. I feel like I’m a much kinder person to me.” We talk to stars Jillian Bell and Lil Rel Howery, and playwright-turned-director Paul Downs Colaizzo, about his debut feature film Brittany Runs a Marathon.

Transformation stories, makeover movies, ugly duckling tales: Hollywood has long been awash in them, but usually they’re steeped in fantasy (average girl discovers she is princess! Princess reveals she is ogre!). Brittany Runs a Marathon is the very real story of a woman who is transformed not by any magic spell or deus-ex-machina, but by the words of her doctor, warning her to follow a healthier diet, get some exercise and lose some pounds.

The real-life Brittany ended up running the New York Marathon, inspiring her friend, playwright Paul Downs Colaizzo, to write and direct a feature film about her journey. It’s a great vehicle for Jillian Bell, who racked up her own running miles to prepare for the title role. Playing Brittany’s wonderfully supportive brother-in-law Demetrius, lending moral support via video-chats, is Lil Rel Howery (Get Out TSA agent Rod Williams).

While Brittany Runs a Marathon is being heavily marketed as a comedy, “there’s something deeper, more serious and heart-wrenching lying at the heart of this film” observes Letterboxd member Nina. “Sticking to regimens and coming off of setbacks is hard,” writes Michael. “It was refreshing to see growth portrayed in all its fits and starts.” “A really beautiful story of someone trying to better themselves and how that doesn’t mean you have to do so alone,” Claire agrees. “Jillian Bell is excellent and really raw as Brittany.”

We spoke to Jillian Bell, Paul Downs Colaizzo and Lil Rel Howery ahead of the film’s US theatrical opening.

Jillian Bell (Brittany)

What was the first thing in the script that you related to and made you feel that you could be Brittany? Jillian Bell: I got the script from my manager and I was very nervous [laughs]. She said, “You’re going to be a little scared while you’re reading this because I think you’re going to relate to the character and then you gotta keep reading because the script is really beautiful and powerful.” I read it and I remember thinking the exact same thoughts: ‘This is going to be very different to take on than most things I’ve done’. It was different in a good way. Something I wanted to try and go out of my comfort zone. I just related to the characters so whole-heartedly. There were moments where I thought ‘someone is taping me right now’ because I’ve thought the exact things and now they’re in a script I’m reading.

What were some of the conversations you had with the real Brittany? How did meeting her affect your approach? The script is inspired by her story but there were a lot of other characters in the film that were not in her actual life story. Paul and I decided to create a character together and Paul had sent me early on a video of the real Brittany when she was making a tape to raise money for the marathon. I completely got her essence from that. She is so inspiring, smart, and funny, sometimes very silly.

Paul and I worked together on creating a character based off all these other characters and it informed us about X, Y and Z. But the first time I met the real Brittany O’Neal was when we were shooting a super emotional scene. I was concerned about making sure she was okay. It’s one thing to know that your life story was about to be told; it’s another thing to see an actor trying to portray all of these things you really went through in your real life.

What were the other types of preparations you did for the role? I decided I was going to do the actual physical journey of the character. I decided to lose 40 pounds for the shoot, 29 pounds before we shot and eleven while we were filming. I just thought it would inform me on certain approaches the script took that I didn’t quite connect to emotionally. There was so much that I did connect to with Brittany, and then there were moments in certain scenes where I thought ‘why is she acting that way? Why is that her response?’ Once I had done the physical journey I completely understood. I had never experienced what it was like to plateau, for example, and focus on a number so intensely. That was part of the script that I didn’t really understand.

You’re known more as a comedic actress and this was a fantastic opportunity to show off your dramatic talent. How did you want to subvert expectations of yourself coming into the more dramatic scenes? I think there’s always a lot of pressure when you try something that is different than people expect to see when they come to see a movie that you’re in. I was just so drawn to the script and I wanted to protect the character. I know I told Paul that I didn’t want anyone else playing her, not that anyone else couldn’t do it, but I wanted to make sure that the way I read it was the way he was going to shoot it, and he was so on the same page.

I felt like I was in really good hands. We were both taking a chance on each other. He was a first-time writer/director and this was my first time doing something that had dramatic elements, and I was playing the title character which I’d never done before. This is the first time where I was in a movie where I was in every single scene. I had no idea if I was going to enjoy doing something that was such a departure of things I had done in the past, but I truly loved it and I hope I get to do it again.

There’s a fine balance between the need for people to live healthily in order to avoid lifestyle-related illnesses, versus the need for society to accept everyone for who they are, no matter their appearance. What conversations did you, Paul, and other creatives have about this line? We had several conversations and talked basically every day for seven months before we started shooting. We wanted to make sure that we were being honest about these conversations: what it’s like going to the doctor and have them say to you: “You need to lose weight to be healthier” because of some health concerns; and the difference between that and the friendship that you have where somebody is saying: “You’d look better if you drop a few pounds” and how unhealthy that is. And how you can have self-hate and lack of self-worth and [how some of that] is society-ingrained ideas and some of that is of your own making. I think Paul did such a beautiful job with the script. We hit on everything without being too political or too shy.

We just covered Sword of Trust and had the delight of chatting with its director, Lynn Shelton. That’s another fantastic, funny movie you’re in. Can you talk about the different pleasures you get from working from a script versus the type of freedom you have in improvisation, as you did on Sword of Trust? I’m definitely more comfortable with things like Lynn’s film, where it’s not as scripted and you get to be extremely loose and bring whatever you want to it, and Lynn was so open to any ideas we had. I remember Michaela and I, the night before we shot, we were sitting in a hotel room together talking over who our characters were and what they wanted, what their goals were. We approached Lynn saying “this is what we’re thinking” and she said “great!”. It’s very different from doing a role like Brittany, where all I got was the script and I fell in love with that. I decided to stick more to the script than I’ve done with any other film. But I definitely wanted to make sure I was telling the story that I received and was so moved by.

Jillian Bell, Micah Stock and Michaela Watkins.

It’s awesome that in both these movies you’re opposite Michaela Watkins. It’s wonderful for me. Michaela Watkins is one of my favorite actresses. I just think she’s so strong, and honest in her performances, and she also makes me laugh harder than most people in this world. I would really love to work with her again. I’ve worked with her twice in one year so I’ve felt very lucky.

Paul Thomas Anderson has said he’s gearing up for a comedy with Tiffany Haddish. He brought you onto The Master and Inherent Vice because he thinks you’re very funny. You must be on his speed-dial for this project, right? I don’t know about that. [Laughs]. I may not be on speed-dial. I’m definitely a huge fan of his and I love that him and Tiffany are working together. That’s going to be amazing. If I hear nothing more than it coming out, I’ll be very excited to go see it.

Brittany has a life-changing experience and your hard work to demonstrate that really shows. How has working on the film changed your life? It has changed my life. It’s changed the way I look at myself, the way I speak about myself or even think about myself. I feel like I’m a much kinder person to me. It made me examine what I was putting out there and how negative that can be and I think that happens, not to all women but to some, and I’m definitely one of those women.

I feel like a movie like this really inspired me to look at that and have a deeper look at how I would talk about myself. I think this is the movie that I wanted to see when I was thirteen, about a real woman who was struggling with these things and how hard it can be to make the first step, how amazing it can be to really choose yourself first over everyone. It’s a hard thing to do, making that first step.

What was the film that made you want to be in film? Clue was the movie that made me want to be in films. I watched that when I was a young girl; it was one of the first VHS tapes we had and I watched it on repeat. It wasn’t just because I loved comedy and mystery and anything that’s a little dark and twisted; I also loved how all these funny character actors were the leads. I still love watching that movie and it’s still my favorite movie to this day.

Jillian Bell with writer/director Paul Downs Colaizzo.

Paul Downs Colaizzo (writer/director)

The film is based on your best friend and roommate Brittany. What was the moment you realized her story could be a movie, and how was she involved in shaping her own narrative and the tone of the film, if at all? Paul Downs Colaizzo: It was after a conversation she and I had after I first moved in with her, where she decided she was going to turn her life around and take control of what she could control and find some structure in her life. So she went for a run. It was when she was out for her first run that I thought this could possibly be a movie. I outlined it without telling her I was working on a movie that was inspired by her life and then a few months later I let her know. She was surprised and flattered and excited and interested and intrigued.

The character of Brittany is different than my real-life friend Brittany in a lot of ways but her DNA is all over it. She was incredibly supportive, and now she’s at a point where she’s excited that people are going to be inspired by something that was inspired by her.

Which aspects were fictionalized for the movie? I took some milestones from her journey and there were elements of her personality that I incorporated into the character of Brittany, but none of the characters is really based on anybody. The character Brittany is different from my friend and really none of the scenes from the movie is a recreation of anything that happened in real life.

What was it that convinced you Jillian was right for the lead? How did you identify the dramatic potential of the comedic actors you selected? [With] Jillian, I’d always been a fan of her comedy and her comedic acting; when she was in 22 Jump Street I fell in love with her. When I met with her about the role she really had this connection to the character. She wanted to tell the story and she wanted to protect the character in the way that I did. Her brain is naturally funny so we got the opportunity to play with the comic genius that is Jillian Bell and also expose this well of untapped emotion that most people had never seen her access. She’s never done a dramatic role before, I had never directed a film. We had to place bets on each other. That drove both of us to work as hard as possible to not let the other one down.

The idea of the film is that we’d take a character who is typically a sidekick, start with the archetype of her as someone we know how to laugh at and create actually a really deep, personal pathos-filled human that we also empathize with and relate to. We wanted to do that with Brittany but also with all the other characters in the film. Luckily we got incredibly talented comedic actors who are normally playing supporting roles and also have these other elements of their personality that we were able to expose and illuminate for the world to see.

Do you feel there are films or plays that have done justice to body image issues before? What did you want to bring to the topic you felt was lacking? I never really approached this as a body-issue film. I started working on this in 2011 and that wasn’t really part of the cultural conversation at the time, at least in the way it is now. Her relationship to her body was always a big element of the film as far as her trying to understand what her own value system was, not the value system that the world put on her. But I would consider it a story of a person coming into their own.

I think we all can relate to this idea that we’re not living the lives we want to live and that we’re maybe not taking ourselves as seriously as we could because we’re afraid that if we try we will fail. I think we’ve been ingrained to feel that failure is a bad thing. For me this was a story about a person who learns to help and dream for herself and pursue these dreams in a way that’s earnest, without losing her edge and irreverence in the process.

I like how you kind of utilized the “friend-zone” in a way most rom-coms don’t know what to do with. What were some of the genre clichés you deliberately resisted? Again, you know, I never really looked at it that way because I come from theater. I really am just looking at the characters and their journey and the story we’re telling and how it all relates back to the theme. It’s not quite how I look at the construction of a story; I’m not starting with the genre. The one thing I was starting with here is I was starting with the archetypes we were familiar with and allowing the story to decidedly go in a different direction by deepening the characters and seeing where the story would go as we deepen the characters.

How do you feel your instincts as a playwright and experience in television informed your approach in making your first feature film? What were the different satisfactions in the process? The good news about theater is that it’s an all-hands-on-deck situation. You’re making things work, you’re solving problems because there are limitations in the space in which you’re telling the story. In an indie film, there are also a lot of limitations. So getting creative with your surroundings and figuring out how to multi-purpose environments so they can be several different settings so your film can have a feeling of scope and a change of scenery, but also be filmed in a certain amount of time, was a technical thing I brought over from theater. But beyond that, it’s all storytelling and it goes back to Aristotle and the poetic and finding heroes with flaws that we can relate to. It’s just, in this movie, I’m just asking that the sidekick is the hero because she deserves to be one too.

You filmed at the New York City Marathon. That sounds very challenging. Can you talk about your experience filming there? Did it go smoothly? It was incredible. There were six of us from the crew permitted to be there. We had three units in the race. It was a monster of a day. And also, the action you see in the marathon is easily one of the most emotional days of the city in the year because everybody is so supportive and lovely and kind to their fellow man. We could feel it that day, and I think you ultimately feel that energy in the film. It’s a magical day to experience in real life and we did our best to honor that.

What was the importance for you of depicting an LGBTQIA+ family in the film? I’m a gay man. I think this story is about giving depth and relatability and asking for empathy for all of the people in the film, many of whom are “others” in our society. I wanted to subvert the idea of the gay best friend as a trope, which is usually in a lot of ways the comic relief or kind of a hot mess, sort of the character Brittany would be in a typical big comedy. I wanted him to have a full life that honored where our culture is headed and made the gay storyline as relatable as any other storyline.

What are the types of films you’d like to make moving forward? Do you see yourself making more personal projects/dramedies like this or maybe adapting your own plays? I’m gonna go wherever the inspiration takes me. One thing a friend of mine observed about my work recently: I tend to like to unfreakify people we freakify. My guess is that thread will remain in my work but I’m going to do it in a whole bunch of different ways I hope. I’m working on something right now that’s a historical thriller but I’m not done with it yet. I’ll let you know.

What was the film that made you want to be a filmmaker? The first film that made me realize that films had the amazing potential to break through to people all through the country in all sorts of situations and make them feel excited by the idea of insight was American Beauty. I grew up in Georgia in a conservative area in a religious home and the idea that my life could be subverted in a way that movie depicted made me excited to understand more about myself and the world about me and the lies we tell ourselves.

Great choice, it was formative for me too, I resent this backlash it’s been getting. American Beauty? Fuck that! It’s great!

Lil Rel Howery as TSA agent Rod Williams in ‘Get Out’.

Lil Rel Howery (Demetrius)

What did you connect with most about the script? What was it that stood out to you? Lil Rel Howery: How honest it was and how Paul did a good job of writing the human experience on an aspect of you know, “you lose weight, everything becomes peaches and cream” but you have to get your mental health together too. I thought it was dope. Brittany’s character really showed all the different processes of getting it together. She would be running and losing weight and it’s like “everything’s going great now” but then here comes an obstacle. It’s not about the weight, it’s more than that, and I thought that was very deep. I love how, also, he wrote all these stereotypical characters in such a human way without a political agenda to it. He made these beautiful families look like real people.

Most of your scenes you’re acting in front of a computer. What were the challenges of acting without your co-star present? How did your scenes work? I always joke with people, like, “I’ve done more than Get Out”, and they’re like, “Have you ever acted with people before?” I’m joking. It was acting, man. I think one of the things I love about what Paul did a good job of was each of us got our one-on-one with Jillian. And not just one-on-one, especially for us funny people, very dramatic one-on-ones. It wasn’t hard, it was a beautiful well-written movie and for me, that scene with me and Jillian was one of the coolest things I’ve ever filmed because it was filmed with honesty and emotion and I think we did a good job of filling that.

Do you feel eager to show that dramatic side of yourself? How will you reconcile that after establishing yourself as a comic relief? I’ve never put myself in that box. Unfortunately people just love to do that, I guess. With Get Out, as funny as I was in that, I was only funny to people because it was so intense. It wasn’t like I was just telling jokes. I wasn’t doing anything silly. My character Rod was just being honest: “This is what I think is going on.” It’s just funny the way I was saying it because the rest of the movie is insane. I even look at Bird Box, that character, I threw in a couple of jokes in there just because I felt like it, but that was a dramatic character.

Even the scenes in Get Out, most of those things were dramatic. Even doing Uncle Drew, I made sure they didn’t make me the funniest person in that movie, especially with a movie with everyone running around with prosthetics. I thought that was crazy. I made sure I was the one who brought the heart into the movie. I’m very specific about what I pick. So I think with my next few films, the ones coming out this year, along with Brittany Runs a Marathon and the stuff I’m filming now, I just think you’re not going to put me in a box. You’re just going to have to call me good at one point.

You are good! [Laughs, generously.]

What are the different pleasures for you working in a scripted format compared to the freedoms you might have on other projects where you can improvise jokes? The crazy thing is, when people hire you they want to hire the best of you, right? I can improv drama. When I met with Paul it was about playing a love interest. We had a conversation of how I loved the script so much and I was talking to him about how I wish the father figure would be aggressive with her and he ended up making me that character where I played the father figure. He created this character based on our conversations. This character didn’t even exist at first.

I’ve worked with directors so far that trust me, and I trust them along with the creative process. I’m one of those dudes who’s a control improv-er. Maybe some comedians go off the rails. I know what the story is, I know what the moment is, I never go off what we’re supposed to get. My only thing I like to do is make a scene real. Even if the scene is funny, I don’t like to do nothing funny if it ain’t real. If it’s too silly, I don’t want to do it. I’m very big on keeping it real.

The same goes for my standup. My standup always comes from a real place. I try to make sure, everything I do, every project, every role, even the stuff now, I’m working with some great directors and I’m like, “can we get on the phone today because some of these lines are too stupid. Let’s think of something better and dramatic and I’ll make it funny” [laughs].

Get Out is a bonafide classic. It must have been exciting two years ago when it was being lauded and discovered, but in hindsight, it’s a key part of a movement that’s defining Hollywood right now. How does that feel to be part of? It feels great, man. I feel like I’m a part of so many different versions of that. I’ve been lucky, I’ve been able to do some cool stuff, man. I think with Get Out and what that did. I think about even Bird Box, you can do whatever you want, that was a fun time and I loved the script. After that, Netflix said they were breaking all these records. “This is a record-breaking movie.” There are a lot of interesting things I’ve been able to do, which I’m not done with.

I think for me, Brittany Runs a Marathon falls under that category with Get Out where I don’t think people know what they’re about to get into. I remember telling people that about Get Out and they were like, “Oh, okay”, and I was like, “Naw, you have no idea what this is about to be”. I think Brittany Runs a Marathon is like that too, I don’t think people have any idea how special this movie really is until they see. That’s why I think it’ll do well word-of-mouth more than anything.

Did you get to keep the hoodies for your character’s birthday? That’s the best piece of costume in a film for 2019. [Laughs]. Naw, I didn’t. It’s so funny you say that. I don’t know why I didn’t keep a t-shirt. Damn, I should’ve. I’d keep anything.

What movie made you want to be in movies? Let me tell you something funny. It’s not a film that made me want to take this on at first. It was an episode of Family Ties. It’s the episode where his friend got killed by a drunk driver [season 5, episodes 23 and 24; a two-parter titled A, My Name is Alex which won the Emmy for Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series in 1987]. Michael J. Fox performed in a way, you know, you watch things to be entertained at first? But that was the first time I watched an actor and I was like, “Yo, this is crazy good”. Then he did like a one-man show in the second part, like a play where he was walking on different parts of the set and it was different parts of his life. Man, I thought that was brilliant. I thought, ‘Whatever job this is, this is what I want to do!’ [laughs].

‘Brittany Runs a Marathon’ is in US cinemas now.

#brittany runs a marathon #jillian bell #new york marathon #comedy #indie comedy #get out #lil rel howery #paul downs colaizzo #letterboxd

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jeanna-nottaylor-swift · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2

Part 2.) Dark Carnival

I can't fight without you

Driving down the highway, Ellis made a quick stop due to the cars parked side by side.

Everyone got out.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news guys, but unless Ellis knows how to build a monster truck, we ain't driving through this." Nick pointed out.

"Sorry, guys, guess this wasn’t such a hot idea after all."

"Don't sweat it, Ellis, at least you got us out of that mall."

The small group grabs their health packs and a gun, climbing over a white car. Coach noticed a Whispering Oaks advertisement.

"Hey! Whispering Oaks! Shit I used to go here as a kid!" Coach smiled.

"Oh good! Now we get to die here as adults." Was the sarcastic remark from Nick. He then took a look at his surroundings. "These abandoned cars go on for MILES."

"Maybe they left 'em when they got rescued."

"That's... One theory."

The group climbed over cars taking out zombies that ran towards them.

"Trucks blocking the way." Ellis nodded in the direction he was heading around the truck. When he was attacked by a Jockey.

"Is this thing humping me?!" He cried out, and the others weren't far behind.

"GET HIM OFF!"

Coach shot it dead, and Ellis thanked him.

"Down this off ramp" Nick commanded . He ignored his beating heart at the sight of blood dripping off his nose. "You got a cut, Ace."

Ellis took his two fingers, index and middle, and touched the bleeding cut along the bridge of his nose.

Nick stopped walking and turned back, pulling a band-aid out of his health pack. "Here." And he placed it along the cut and wiped the blood off his nose with his white sleeve, what's a little more blood, right?

Ellis' face burned and it showed it, red blush that burned even his ears.

Walking down the street, they came across a motel. The road ahead of it was barricaded.

"We'll have to cut through here." Rochelle stated.

Ellis noticed the light blinking within a red car parked in front.

"Hey, don't shoot that car."

They went up the stairs and checked the rooms for supplies they might need.

Rochelle found pills. Nick found a molotov. Ellis found a pipe bomb. And Coach found a bottle of what appears to be boomer bile. Contents of the smelly infected.

"Goo!" Rochelle called out running forward leaving the boys behind.

"Get out of the spitter goo!" Nick shoved Ellis back. Rochelle shot the Spitter in the face, killing it. Causing it to leak more goo.

The toxic acid cleared up and the survivors were able to walk along the second flooring. Rochelle taking the lead."Through this door."

Round and about the group made it's way through the motel and stalked the back. Looks like the only way towards the search lights is down.

"Be careful on the way down!" Nick warned.

"HoOo hold on." Rochelle stuttered as she slid down the steep slope.

"Woah woah woah!" Ellis slid down behind her, "let's do that again!"

Coach and Nick followed.

Walking through a small river, the group shot zombies surrounding a car. Out of no where came a charger and it hurled itself at Nick, grabbing him and throwing Coach out of the way.

"Shoot the big guy pounding me into the ground!"

Ellis and Rochelle did as told while Coach pulled himself to his feet.

The charger released Nick once it had died. He stretched his back and they all walked up the hill.

"Whisperin' Oaks! We made it." Ellis cheered. But his cheer didn't last long. Another tank came around and charged at the survivors. Nick missed the tank and shot the car parked in the parking lot, setting of the alarm.

"This is why we have guns!" He called out in a panic. Here they come, drawn to the noise.

The tank swung at Nick sending him soaring. Zombies went after him.

Coach threw his bile on the tank and the zombies went after him instead of them. Making their job a little easier. Everything was dead in minutes. Nick threw an arm around Ellis, he was hurt badly.

"C'mon, Nick. We'll patch you up in the safe house." Ellis encouraged him.

Coach shut the door behind them. And Ellis sat Nick on the floor.

"Don't worry, don't worry... I'm not done yet."

"Here, let me help ya. That's what friends are for!" Ellis pulled out his health pack and started patching Nick up, slowly, trying not to hurt him anymore than he was.

"Thanks, Killer." He threw a lopsided grin, still hyped up on painkillers Rochelle gave him.

A short while later. Everyone was ready to go, and left the safe room. Wandering through the carnival.

A clown caught sight of the survivors and it honked as it ran towards them, bringing more zombies with it.

"That clown's bringing friends, man! Take him down!" Ellis called as a smoker pulled him back.

Nick hadn't noticed for a horde had surrounded him.

"Ah! Smokers got me!"

Nick glanced in Ellis' direction while pushing back the infected with his axe. Thankfully Coach had gotten to him. They cleared the infected and walked through the entrance of the carnival.

The group had passed a public bathroom and walked pasted a few games. On a picnic table next to a gun game, were actual guns.

Everyone grabbed a new gun or stocked up on ammo, and proceeded around tents. A jockey rode Coach into a storage room.

Rochelle shot it. Walking in the storage room, the group kept in silence. Another clown zombie brought it's posey and attacked the survivors. Once dead, the group went back outside, and walked around the corner, approaching 'Kiddie Land'.

Ellis cheered, "Holy SHIT, guys, KIDDIE LAND!"

"I swear, doesn't it sometimes feel like we're babysitting?" Coach whispered to Rochelle.

"Well he's just trying to make the best of a bad situation." She replied.

"He's like a five-year-old with guns. And a comprehensive grasp of every swear word in the English language." Nick added.

Rochelle sighed, " I wish I could be that happy... Oh to hell with it! WHOO KIDDIE LAND!"

Not a zombie in sight. That's strange.

The group walked around the children rides and games. And down a pathway to the back of the maintenance building. Inside there were a few melee weapons.

"A ninja sword." Ellis smiled a devilish grin, that made Nicks heart race. They climbed to the roof that was the top of the racing slide.

Up the slide came the one and only Tank. He was a rough one, angry and strong. Slamming Nick into a metal guard rail at the beginning of the slide. Coach shot at it and it went after him. Pushing him down the slide. Then chased after him.

Ellis picked up Nick, who could barely stand.

"Sport, just put me down and fight the damn tank." He spoke lazily.

He did what he was told and slid down after the Tank, shooting it dead. Immediately after it died Ellis was already back up the stairs to grab his teammate.

"Let me patch ya up." He pulled out his Heath pack and started fixing Nick's wounds.

"Y-you don't have to-" Nick fought back weakly.

"Here ya go. Had no use for this anyhow." Interrupted Ellis. He smiled once Nick was able to stand on his own.

"My back hurts..." He winked.

Ellis helped him down the stairs, and the group went up the stairs to an operating room. Not the kind for surgeries. Ellis handed Nick a bottle of pain pills. And grabbed one for himself.

He secretly hoped he wasn't making his crush too obvious.. That'd be a pain in the ass to deal with.

Nick thanked Ellis and the group jumped over to a carousel, the only way they had to go, for the rest was blocked off. They didn't really have a game plan other than to keep wandering until they thought of something.

Coach started up the ride and once the gate was open they ran through the ride fighting off the oncoming horde. They were all attracted to the annoying music. Clowns brought more, and so did boomers.

Ellis swung his sword once he ran out if ammo. Keeping everything away from Ellis, Nick was determined to keep him safe. He needed to keep his thoughts together. Sure, Ellis was cute, but sooner or later they would all split up, or one of the two would die.

"Nick! Shut off that alarm!" Ellis called out right before a hunter pinned him to the ground. Nick refused Ellis' demand and killed the hunter. Coach shut off the alarm, instead.

Rochelle ran and shot clown zombies and their hordes. Coach found a safe room in the tunnel of love.

Nick shut the door and locked it, Ellis sat down to catch his breath, refilling his gun.

He wanted to tell Nick, he really did.

He wasn't sure how Nick would react. And Ellis knew he was straight. His 'ex wife' was proof of that. But the worlds ending and life's too short now to leave Ellis wandering in his thoughts. Thinking about it made his face flush and he berried his face in his hands.

"You okay, Ace?" Nick sat next to him, rubbing his shoulder with a kind voice.

Nick thought he was crying, where in reality he was just embarrassed.

Ellis looked up when he figured his face had returned to its normal color.

"I thought you were crying!" Nick laughed.

"N-no just kind of processing it all." He lied.

"Well get up. We have to get going."

"Yeah."

Coach and Rochelle left first and shot zombies down the ramp.

Nick leaned over and whispered to Ellis, "Hey, I think Coach is into Rochelle."

"I'm into you." Was the response from Ellis, who didn't even look at Nick,but followed after Coach and Rochelle.

He can't believe he just did that. He wasn't even thinking! It's just came out!

Nick stood there, in shock. He realized if he stood there he'd be killed. So he ran after his team. He could not believe Ellis said that. 'Maybe it was a joke.' 'Maybe he just wanted to be funny.' His mind was in shambles and he couldn't concentrate. He allowed a smoker to pull him away from his team, forcing Rochelle to turn back and cut him free.

Ellis was just as bad. Running through the tunnel of love all he could think about was how he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

'There is absolutely no way I can play that one off!' He thought to himself. Nick was really good at hiding his emotions. His face said "nothing happened" but his actions beg to differ. He kept staring at Ellis and Ellis avoided even glancing in his direction.

Another tank made it's way toward the survivors, squeezing it's large body through the narrow tunnel. Knocking over the swans soaked in zombie blood.

It didn't take long before it was dead, although it did put up a fight. Not a big one, but enough to weaken the team.

"Into the swan maintenance room of love!" Ellis fake commanded. Coach and Rochelle false saluted.

"Crying bitch." Ellis hushed, "Y'all better kill ya lights."

A witch was walking near the stairs going, that led up into a water pressure room. The survivors stood puzzled, unsure of what to do. They could not go upstairs without disturbing her. They all pointed their guns, aiming for her head, and they all shot rapidly at the same time, killing her before she could attack. Up the stairs they went, grabbing a few odds and ends. And wound up going through a hole back into the tunnel. Killing infected that had hid in the shadows. A spitter spat it's acid in the direction of the survivors splitting them up. A hunter took that as an opportunity to pounce on Nick who wasn't paying attention, and pin him. "GET IT! GET IT!"

Rochelle shot it and pulled Nick up.

The goo cleared up and the small group and proceeded down the tunnel.

"I feel a breeze!"

There was a large hole in the wall that lead to an outside section. Stepping outside a helicopter flew over head. They tried to chase after it, running through a fenced off area and to the beginning of the roller coaster none other than the Screaming Oak. The only was to follow the 'copter, was the coaster. Not riding it. Run along it. Once Coach started the ride, the infected were attracted to the noise.

"Look Ellis, you finally get to ride that ride you wanted." Nick teased running ahead, taking the lead. Ellis was baffled, but thankful. At lease he was ignoring his mistake. Up and down and around the bend, they managed to make it to the other side of the ride and shut it off using the control panel. Just down a ramp was a safe room in a recreational shelter. A boomer waited inside, to cover the survivors in its zombie-attracting-goo.

"Christ in a hand basket, I'm gooed." Ellis swung an axe at the large infected, causing it to rupture. Monstrous amounts of zombies hovered the people, trying to get to them. Rochelle and Nick made it into the safe room, but the remaining infected swarmed Ellis and Coach.

Coach shoved the zombies back and Nick took that small window of opportunity to grab Ellis' shoulder and pull him inside, tripping over a bar on the floor, Nick caught Ellis on instinct wrapping his arms around him as his back hit the floor. Rochelle grabbed Coach's arm and yanked him in as well, Ellis scrambled and kicked the door shut, then Rochelle locked it.

Nick helped Ellis up, and Ellis quickly walked over to the other side and set his gun down, leaning on a couple of boxes.

Rochelle and Coach, caught on to the strange behavior, but didn't say anything.

"Can we talk?" Nick sat next to Ellis who was leaning against a set of stacked boxes in fetal position.

Ellis' face grew scarlet, "Y-yeah-"

Nick wasn't sure how to put it, "I-" he rubbed the back of his neck, "about what you said..."

"Listen about that-"

"Did you mean it?" Nick interrupted.

"What?" Ellis was completely taken back by his question.

"Did you mean it? What you said?" He repeated.

Not sure how to respond, Ellis just gapped at the lost of words.

"Am I speaking a foreign language?" Nick threw a lopsided grin in Ellis' direction.

"W-why are you asking?" Ellis fiddled with this thumbs.

"Because I've been played before." He scoffed sarcastically. "And I don't want it happening again." He looked serious.

"I-I-I Mean- you're- you're cute..." He stuttered. "Wait you're-?"

"Yup. Hence why I have an ex-wife."

"...oh..."

There was silence. Ellis was confused and Nick was losing his patience. "Did you mean it or not?"

Ellis panicked, "I-I did.. I like y-"

Nick put a finger up to his lips, shushing the boy.

"I'm no good for you, Ace. I'm trouble. You're cute and all, but I'm a mess."

That slightly irritated Ellis,"The worlds gone to absolute shit and you're worried about how much trouble y'are? Then why'd ya even ask?" Ellis stood up and stormed out of the safe house and rapidly shot zombies that ran after him.

Nick didn't think Ellis could tell him off like that. The truth is, Nick wasn't sure how he felt about the young hillbilly.

Running after Ellis, the group shot the straggling zombies that chased after Ellis running through a picnic area. Ellis didn't care, he was upset, and mad, and just so confused. If Nick didn't want to be with him he shouldn't have addressed it.

He ran ahead, running through a stopped bumper cars game and ran to the operating section in the back. Everyone tried to catch up to him but he wasn't paying attention.

The three survivors called after him, but he wouldn't listen. He was so lost in thought he didn't hear a witch rocking and ran right into her, causing her to screech an attack him. The other survivors were farther behind, so it took longer to get to their fallen teammate, allowing the witch to do more damage to Ellis.

By time they had caught up to him he had shot the witch but he was bleeding out. He was barely awake when Nick pulled him up. He couldn't stand on his own and scarlet liquid stained his shirt. Nick lied him on his back and lifted his shirt, revealing the gashes across his chest and stomach.

"N-nick.." He fought weakly.

"Shut up. Let doctor Nick fix you up!" He frowned. He pulled out his health pack and did his best to patch him up, even if it was just until safety. Meanwhile, Coach and Rochelle kept watch and killed any zombies running their way.

Nick could barely stitch some of Ellis' deeper wounds because his hands were shaking and although his face showed no emotion, he was absolutely terrified. One of his teammates were dying and only he could save him. The fact it could actually be someone he might care about just made matters worse. He slowly started to panic and Ellis had lost conscience.

"Shit shit shit!"

Nick took off his jacket and wiped away the excess blood making the wounds a little more visible.

He calmed himself and and managed to fix him up, the bleeding had stopped and he's in critical condition. But he'll pull through, he's strong.

Nick threw Ellis on his back and they walked through more games and such.

In order to get it a needed section, it looked like they needed to go up and over. Nick prayed for an absence of a tank, because they would be absolutely fucked if one were to show up.

"Through this barn." Coach commanded and took the lead, he made sure not to get too far ahead. Rochelle shot zombies, protecting Nick and Ellis.

Coach grimaced at the sight of dead animals lying on their sides.

Ellis was getting heavy, but Nick refused to let him go. It's his fault he was in this mess, so he was going to fix it. Maybe they can patch him up better in the safe house. He'll make it. He has to!

Running through the back on the barn a smoker snuck up on the survivors and used his advantages, wrapping his tongue around Nick forcing him to drop Ellis and slide back into a gate. Rochelle shot the infected and helped Nick, while Coach grabbed Ellis and they walked out the back of the barn. The group had to climb the roofs which was a pain in the ass trying to get Ellis up there and not drop him off the side of the building.

"We have to open this gate." Rochelle pulled a switch, the gates squeaked and a horde had started to form. Nick propped Ellis up in a corner and protected him with his life. He was angry with himself, for letting this happen. He shot clowns out of anger and killed a charger by himself. That was until he ran out of ammo. He still has his axe from that building. As soon as the gates opened completely he grabbed his fallen companion and ran to a safe house inside the stands of a concert area. A hunter pinned Coach but Nick couldn't go back to help him. Not until Ellis was safe. Rochelle and Coach ran inside once everything had cleared, slamming the door shut. "That was some close-ass shit." He panted.

Nick had already started removing Ellis' shirt to continue what he started. He was still breathing but he lost a lot of blood. Nick cleaned off the rest of the blood from his chest with his coat and water. He wasn't worried about his white jacket anymore because even without Ellis' blood on it, it wouldn't be white. Maybe he'd clean it later.

"We'll miss the chopper if we stay here too long."

"How we gunna signal it?"

"We set off their finale, that chopper pilot's gonna know something's up. Because nobody, and I mean nobody, has a bigger pyrotechnic show than the Midnight Riders."

"Coach, that just might be the stupidest idea I've ever agreed with." Nick called back to his remaining teammates. "But with a concert like that they'll be a shit ton of them meat bastards, and we can't protect the kid and ourselves."

Rochelle spoke up as she grabbed a pipe bomb on the shelf, "We'll wait for 20 minutes. If he doesn't wake up by then we have to leave him-"

"No!" Nick barked,"We can't just leave him."

"It's him or us, Hun. We'll shut the door so he's safe, but we need to leave." She cooed.

"Then you're on your own. I'll stay here."

Coach rolled his eyes, "Better hope he wakes up."

Nick knew he couldn't stay, but he knew much better that he couldn't leave Ellis here; It's his fault, he should've kept his mouth shut. Ellis was right though, the worlds gone to shit and he's worried about his reputation: not tainting it but living up to it, he'd just disappoint Ellis, over and over again.

Nick sighed, then slapped Ellis across his face hoping to rise him.

He smirked as the shorter hillbilly coughed and his eyes fluttered open. It was a little hazy but slowly he regained his sight, Nick being the first thing he saw.

"Yup... I hurt a'plenty." He groaned.

"Take these pills." Nick handed him 4 white capsules.

"Much obliged."

Nick handed him the water bottles they had found and he swallowed the pills.

The group wanted to make sure Ellis was okay before they started to the concert.

He was fine, other than the burning on his chest.

Running to the concert area the entire group was swarmed, a boomer had snuck up on them and puked. It took a little while, but eventually all of the infected were gone.

Coach ran up the audience and turned on the stage lights in the back, once they were on, Ellis grabbed a guitar and the group prepared for the horde about to come.

"Start it up!" He commanded.

Rochelle started the concert and Ellis decided to sing into the microphone,"Every lady's crazy when her daddy's not around... Gotta reach for the top, stay on the mountain... Check one, check one, two."

The cries from the infected echoed through the area, and the vessels followed soon after. Rochelle and Coach stayed at the top and fought the zombies coming along the top.

Nick and Ellis stayed on stage and fought those that were there. A hunter pounced on Nick and Ellis shot it instantly. It was a little awkward working with him, but it was what had to be done. Nick shoved back a boomer and shot it, preventing him from covering the survivors in goo and bringing more infected than necessary. A charger grabbed Coach and rammed him into a bar.

Nicks bullets couldn't reach it, so he shot a box of sparklers, causing it to go off and burn the charger.

Rochelle spotted a tank, just as it launched her. The boys rushed to her aid, and killed the tank, almost with ease. As soon as it was dead another horde came along, and another song played. Ellis ran out of ammo and was forced to use his guitar. Swinging it and smashing heads.

Nick watched him in awe as he stood in front of him swinging. Nick used his axe to save ammo, and swung behind them. Time passed and zombies kept on coming, then another tank: he was angry, but the survivors defeated it. The finale came on and music soared. Fireworks filled the sky and zombies filled the surface. A tank or two ran towards them and the helicopter flew in lower. Dust and wind blew as it came closer to the seatings. The group ran to the other side as fast as they could. Coach lifted Rochelle into the chopper and Nick pulled Ellis in. They sat there for a moment, no words. Just relief. The helicopter flew off leaving the zombies to themselves. Coach exhaled a deep breath, and Nick smiles as he places his hand on top of Ellis'. He liked Ellis too.

#l4d2 #l4d #nick x ellis #nellis #gaybies #lol #left 4 dead 2 #left 4 dead

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