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enjoythesilentworld · 10 days

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Wille's Month - Frogs

day 19! @youngroyals-events luv <3

Wille and Simon go camping. It goes better than last time. Mostly.

read below or on ao3 (M, 1.3k) cw: sexual content

They hadn’t discussed their last shitshow of a camping trip in a while. When they first did, Wille had apologized profusely for being a bit of a fucking dumbass and they’d talked through it. Simon had forgiven him, eventually, knowing that it was out of anger and panic over everything else going on at the time. Wille still felt like a bit of a dick about it, though.

It’s in the back of his mind now, of course, as they hike in their stuff from the car to their little designated camping spot by the lake. They’re miles and miles from Hillerska, it’s late summer rather than early spring, and it’s been five years since that turbulent time, but it’s all reminiscent, nonetheless.

The flat spot meant for their tent is tucked underneath a large conifer with low hanging branches, a few meters from the shoreline. It’s absolutely beautiful. Simon drops the tent and sleeping bag, and Wille walks up behind him to wrap his arms around his sweet boyfriend.

“You think we’ll run into any issues?” he asks, speaking into the warm skin of Simon’s neck. “You and I don’t have too good of a track record with lakes, or camping, for that matter.”

Simon laughs. “We’ve made up for that plenty over the past few years, I think. Unless you have plans to make this a repeat of those times?”

“Definitely not.” Wille nips at the sensitive skin under Simon’s jaw. “I have very, very different plans, in fact. Except for the skinny dipping, maybe. That can stay.”

Tilting his head back to expose more skin, Simon leans into Wille and hums in approval. “I like the sound of that,” he says. “But we’ve got to set up the tent first. Let’s see how your skills have improved.”

Setting up the tent is a shitshow. Wille claims he can do it by himself — turns out he cannot. Eventually, he gives up and allows Simon to help, but even then, it takes them a good 30 minutes to set the damn thing up. Finally, they can climb inside and set up their bedding for the night before flopping down on top of their sleeping bags. They’re both sweaty and slightly out of breath, which is a bit embarrassing. Tents had no business being so complicated.

Simon rolls onto his side and Wille does the same. They lie there, nose to nose, smiling and listening to the sound of the lake and the trees.

“Hi.”

“You’re hot when you get all frustrated.”

Wille huffs and rolls his eyes. “The instructions were unclear.”

“That was a compliment, baby,” Simon says, reaching out to grab Wille’s hip.

“Oh. Yes, well, just wait until you see me chop wood later for the fire,” Wille whispers huskily, curling an arm around Simon and pulling them flush.

“We can’t light a fire, there’s a burn ban.”

“You know what I mean,” Wille grumbles, then leans forward. “Just come here.”

Simon grins into the kiss but Wille is determined to turn that smile into something entirely different.

Just as he's planned, the kiss quickly turns less sweet and Wille‘s pulls at Simon’s hips until the man is straddling him. Simon resituates so his knees press into the sleeping pad on either side of him, then buries his hands in Wille’s hair, pulling lightly. A slight moan escapes him and Simon swallows the sound, dropping his hips to rest more firmly on Wille, then slowly grinding down.

At the friction, Wille gasps out, “Fuck,” then lets his hands travel all over Simon’s body, from his neck to his waist to his ass, touching everywhere he can reach, caressing and kneading and loving. Simon lets out a beautiful gasp when Wille’s hips buck up into him, then redoubles his efforts, grinding down harder.

A slap against the tent makes Simon pull back abruptly.

“What was that?”

Wille, upset by the loss of contact, is already reaching up to pull Simon back into him.

“The wind probably knocked the tree into the tent,” he mumbles, curling a hand in Simon’s hair. “Baby, c’mere, please.”

Simon obliges, indicating he’s refocused on Wille by grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them to the ground above his head.

"What do you want?" he asks, staring down with dark eyes.

"You."

Wille groans when Simon latches onto his neck. He alternates between loving pecks and harsh nips on the sensitive skin there, then pulls back again. Wille is about to complain, but quickly realizes Simon’s intentions and uses his newly released wrists to rip off his shirt, and then Simon’s. He falls back into the puffy sleeping pad, staring up at his beautiful boyfriend, hair wild and lips flushed red. Love and adoration pulse in his chest. That they can be here, together like this, with no other worries or pressures or fears, it means everything. It also means Wille would very much like to fuck his boyfriend, immediately.

With a renewed fervor, Wille flips them so Simon is now the one pressed down into the slippery material of the sleeping bags. Intent on giving Simon millions of new tent memories to make up for old ones, he puts his mouth to Simon’s stomach and his hands to the buttons of his pants. From above, Simon lets out a moan when Wille mouths over him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Another two smacks hit the side of the tent and Simon sits halfway up.

“Seriously, what the fuck is that?”

Occupied with pulling Simon out of his boxers, Wille doesn’t answer. He could not care less right now, distracted by wanting– needing to have Simon in his mouth. But, Simon stops him by grabbing him by the chin.

“Wait, baby,” he says gently, “did you hear that?”

Wille looks up at Simon with wide unfocused eyes. “No?”

The word is punctuated by another handful of smacks against the tent. Based on the shape and location of the shadows, it is most likely not a tree branch. Refocusing a bit more, he thinks he can hear an odd, low staccato outside the tent, slightly muffled by the sound of the water.

Wille sits up. “What the fuck?”

Tucking himself back into his pants, Simon asks, “Are we about to get killed by a bear or something?”

“I don’t think a bear would be slapping our tent like that, Simon.”

“Oh, you’re a bear expert now?”

Wille ignores his boyfriend’s sass — knowing it’s out of fear — and moves to unzip the tent flap.

“Wait, seriously, what if it’s dangerous?”

He turns back and glances down at Simon’s lap, where he’s clearly still hard, despite the threat of imminent death. Wille would very much like to be handling that, instead, but Simon had been the one that stopped them. “Would you rather we stay here? Or do you want to check?”

Simon bites his lip, then nods. “Let’s check.”

Still too turned on to be afraid, Wille unzips the tent.

Drawing out each syllable, Wille says, “What… the… fuck…” Then, he breaks into laughter.

“What? What is it?” Simon scrambles forward to look over Wille’s shoulder. “Oh my—”

Outside the tent, there is what can only be described as an army of frogs. At least a few hundred cover the ground surrounding their tent. The slapping of dozens of little bodies rings out as they jump around and land on top of each other. It's like a little brigade of frogs has descended from the heavens and landed right in their campsite. A few jump too close to the open flap of the tent and Simon flinches backwards. This must be some kind of ecological disaster, Wille distantly ponders. It could not be good for the lake to have so many frogs all in one place.

“How…” Wille trails off, looking around in astonishment.

Simon lets out a burst of laughter. “What the hell do we do?”

Wille pauses, trying to think through the haze of want in his brain.

“Well,” he starts, turning back toward Simon, “they can’t get in if we close the zipper.”

A slow grin grows on Simon’s face. “Get over here, my frog prince.”

#my favorite genre #crack and a dash of smut!#plus more camping episode redemption!#willemonth2024 #wmday19 #wilmon #yr fic #wille eriksson #simon eriksson #yr fanfic #young royals

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whimsimille · 5 days

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THICKER THAN BLOOD

Chapter 2: "Come home to me, darling."

(Jeong Jin-Man x fem! reader)

"Why are you leaving so suddenly?" You questioned, your voice bouncing off the tapestry that adorned the living room wall of your quaint shared apartment and the oak bookshelves filled with classics.

The comforting aroma of a simmering homemade tomato sauce filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and the rhythmic chopping of crisp, fresh vegetables on the polished granite kitchen countertop.

Dressed in a worn-out apricot apron adorned with faded sunflower prints, your hands were occupied with diligently kneading the carefully prepared pasta dough for your dinner, a recipe passed down from your Italian grandmother.

All of a sudden, the living room's normal sounds—the soft purr of Gunpowder, his gray cat curled up on the plush Persian rug, the low drone of the television playing the evening news—were replaced by an eerie silence that made your skin crawl.

On turning, you noticed Honda in the midst of rushing preparations for departure. He was hunched over the suede couch, lacing up his sturdy boots, his face etched with stern concentration. Against the dimly lit backdrop of the room, his figure blended seamlessly, rendering him no more than a transient silhouette.

"Where exactly are you off to? And what's the urgency?" You signed, your hands dancing in the air while you leaned against the wooden door frame. A knot of unease formed in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his hasty departure.

His gaze met yours, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he signed back, "I have to go. Jin-Man needs me. I can't disclose more for your safety. You know how it works."

He continued to pack his bag—a small duffel made of worn leather with patches on the corners and straps slung over one shoulder. As he did so, you caught sight of an old photograph falling out of the side pocket; it was of you both from what looked like a summer festival years ago, grinning widely under colorful umbrellas while balloons swelled around you both.

"But can't it wait until tomorrow? Is it really necessary to depart on the day that we get back together after several months?

The worn-out leather of the couch groaned under his weight as he rose, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the faded brown wallpaper.

Moving towards you, he avoided the cluttered coffee table littered with dog-eared magazines and discarded newspapers. His leather jacket, draped over the back of a nearby armchair, was quickly pulled on, the rusted zipper scraping against the silence of the room.

"No, it can't wait. But I'll be back in time for dinner. I promise." Even as he used a gentle swipe of his thumb to remove a stray splotch of tomato sauce from your cheek, his smile never left his face. “When I return, we can lounge on the couch, munching on popcorn and be engrossed in those old Hollywood classics you're so fond of. You can also show me your progress with that hacking project you've been working on. Maybe try not to fry the motherboard this time?"

"First of all, you better keep that promise. Second, I’ll hold you to it. Third, for your information, that was a one-time thing!"

"First, I will. It's a promise. And second, I remember it being a three-time thing." He chuckled, his laughter warm like a summer's day.

"Shut up. But tell me, why the secrecy? Why can't you share what's happening? Jin-Man usually keeps me in the loop when a mission comes up.”

Despite your persistent questioning, Honda remained resolute, his face as unreadable as a closed book. He gently loosened your grip on his arm. "Stop nagging me like Mama would. I can't divulge any details. It's not safe. But I need to go. Jin-Man needs me. Don’t you have any government sites to hack? Or do you plan on crashing our systems again?"

"Stop it, douchebag. You're being reckless. We need to tread with caution, especially now more than ever. You know that. And that was not my fault; their security was just… upgraded."

However, he simply shook his head as he smiled at your pout, pulling you into a warm embrace. The cold, hard metal of his brass knuckles, concealed in his pocket, pressed against your side. A chilling reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Yet you refrained from voicing your fears, choosing instead to hold him tight, the rhythm of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"Alright," you conceded, swallowing your protests, "at least take some food with you." Gesturing towards a Tupperware container on the table, filled with steaming eggs and a side of kimchi jeon—both staple dishes in your shared meals.

His eyes softened at your concern, and he took the offered container, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead before making his way towards the entrance.

As he neared the door, a rush of childhood memories invaded your mind. Sometimes you stayed up late whispering secrets under the covers; sometimes you felt his pain even when he was miles away, and sometimes you both fell off your bikes and ended up in the emergency room with scraped knees. They dubbed it the twin instinct, but to you, it was a lifeline, a warning system that alerted you when Honda was in danger.

"Honda, wait!" You called out, your voice echoing off the creaking wooden floorboards.

The desperation in your plea stirred Gunpowder from her sleep, her tail twitching softly against the worn-out rug as though caught in a dream of chasing unseen mice. Honda turned, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes questioning in the pale afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the old blinds.

A knot of guilt twisted in the pit of your stomach, threatening to crawl out through your lips and fill the room with its bitter taste.

The two of you were caught in a moment where petty bickering had canceled all the plans you had carefully added to your shared agenda. Your hands, once intertwined in unity, had become unglued from one another, your fingers now tangled in the strands of hair sprouting from your head. The hateful words you once spat at each other—words that had plunged through the gaps of your milk teeth—had turned into a somber reality. It suddenly seemed oddly appealing to consider dying in order to keep him around.

"I...I love you, brother," you admitted, the words feeling foreign yet so right. It was something you should have said a long time ago, after your parents' deaths, when it was just the two of you against the world. But you had always been afraid—afraid that admitting your fears would make them real.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. "I love you too, sis," he signed before stepping out into the afternoon, leaving you in the silence of the empty apartment.

While life in the apartment carried on around you—the stove still burning, the TV blaring the evening news, Gunpowder curling around your ankles, licking your calves—you felt tears springing up in your eyes as your thoughts raced.

Come home, Honda. Come home and tell me everything about your day, from the way the sun glinted off the skyscrapers to the way the coffee tasted at your favorite café. Come home and argue with me again, about trivial things like who left the lights on or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Slam your bedroom door like you used to when we were teenagers and stomp around the house in Dad's old boots.

Come home and laugh with me, share those terrible inside jokes that only we understand. Handle your knife in the wrong way, the way you used to when you're not on a mission, when you're just my brother and not a covert operative.

Come home and hold me again while I cry in your lap about the girls and boys that shattered my heart. Come home to fix the TV you always mess up with those greasy fingers of yours, leaving stains on the remote.

Scream at me if you need to; let out all that pent-up frustration that I know you keep bottled up inside.

Come home and tell me how you always manage to burn the pasta, making it stick to the pots. Come home and let me nag about your messiness, about the dirty socks you always leave on the floor and about the dishes in the sink.

But most importantly:

“Come home safe. Come home to me, Honda. Please."

2 months later

Late afternoon light filtered through the window, casting elongated, capering shadows across the glossy surface of your living room's hardwood floor.

Finally, after a whole day cleaning the place and trying to make it more child friendly, you were curled up in the embrace of the vintage couch and a soft, threadbare blanket, a relic from your childhood, was wrapped snugly around you, providing a comforting barrier against the creeping chill.

You idly stroked Gunpowder, who was as much a part of the family as any human member. Her fur was coarse, yet soothing under your fingertips.

Gunpowder was the only other living being that missed Honda as much as you did; her amber eyes held a profound sadness that echoed your own. You were grateful that Jin-Man let you take her from the animal shelter.

She didn't deserve to be alone, not when she had already lost so much.

With the monochrome scenes flickering against the brick wall, the contemporary television set in the room's corner was showing Casablanca.

Nonetheless, your mind was elsewhere, lost in a world of thought, meandering through a labyrinth of candid memories as your eyes were glued to the window, drinking in the expanse of the verdant family farm outside.

In your hands was your favorite cat mug, the one with the chipped ear and faded paint, a sentimental relic from your college days.

It was unusually quiet, the usual cacophony of farm life replaced by the relentless drumming of rain.

Not only was Ji-An nowhere to be seen, but Jin-Man's rusty truck had vanished from its customary location beside the red barn.

A glance at the old, ticking clock hanging on the wall—16:00, way past the time Ji-An usually got home from school—made your anxiety spike.

Just as you were about to pull on your trusty yellow raincoat to go look for her, you saw Jin-Man's truck pulling up the gravel driveway. He got out of the truck, his jacket hanging haphazardly off his broad shoulders, and his jaw clenched in a way that set off alarm bells in your head.

You quickly signed , "Hey! Old man! Good afternoon to you too! Where's Ji-An?" as he stomped past you, heading straight to his office. But he didn't answer; he didn't even spare you a glance.

Following him, you tried to make sense of what was happening, but he closed the office door right in your face. You were left standing there, frustration bubbling up inside you, a sense of foreboding making your heart pound in your chest.

As you paced around the living room, worry gnawing at you, the front door creaked open. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you turned around, expecting to see Ji-An, safe and sound.

But what you saw made your heart drop.

Ji-An walked in, soaked to the bone and covered in mud, carrying her pink backpack—the one her mother had bought for her last Christmas. Her uniform was clinging to her small frame, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she didn't make a sound. Not a sob, not a whimper.

Seeing her, you rushed over, dropping onto your knees to be at her level. "Ji-An, sweetheart, what happened? Why didn't you come home with Uncle Jin-Man?" you asked. A flutter of panic seized you as she remained silent, her eyes downcast. "Did something happen at school? You can tell me. I'm here for you."

“I need a bath, Noona. I don't want to talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

You looked at her for a long moment, the sight of her shivering form causing a lump to form in your throat. Her hair, previously neatly braided, was now a mess; the ties you had made for her earlier that morning were nowhere to be found.

"Yeah… Of course, baby," you reassured her, offering a weak smile.

With a sigh, you slowly rose to your feet and gently took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. You could feel her fingers tremble slightly in your grasp, her small hand cold and damp from the rain.

You then went to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath for her. You quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes for her—a soft purple cotton t-shirt and a pair of comfortable cartoon pants that had cute little teddy bears printed on them. You placed them neatly on the bathroom counter, within her reach.

Once the bathtub was filled with warm water and a generous amount of bubble bath, you helped her undress the wet clothes sticking to her skin.

While Ji-An enjoyed her warm bath, Gunpowder sat in front of the bathtub. Her amber eyes were focused on the bubbles, her tail twitching with curiosity. Every now and then, she would bat at a stray bubble, her paw slicing through the air with a fluid motion as if it were a game.

With Ji-An safely in the bath and the clothes inside the washing machine, you then went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. Using cookie cutters, you shaped the food into fun shapes—a star-shaped sandwich, fruit cut into the shape of animals, a bowl of soup with alphabet pasta. You even managed to make a small salad; the vegetables were bright and colorful. It was a small gesture, but you hoped it would bring a smile to Ji-An's face.

Throughout the days you've been living in this place, you've tried countless times to make Jin-Man and Ji-An eat at the same place, to share a meal like a family. But Jin-Man always avoided you and Ji-An like you were viruses, always eating small things before burying himself on the couch while watching movies all alone or in his office working with Pasin. It was frustrating to see the distance between them, but then again, it wasn't your job to force conversations and lovey dovey moments.

Once the food was ready, you set the table and then sat down in front of Ji-An, waiting for her to finish her bath. She emerged a while later, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the warm water.

Gunpowder, having finished her bubble play, twined around Ji-An’s legs as the child sat at the table. You both sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle hum of the washing machine and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

Then, to your surprise, Ji-An was the one to break the silence.

"Today, I waited for Uncle Jin-Man to come and pick me up from school. But he was late, and it started to rain. I decided to walk home instead."

You watched as she continued to sign, her hands moving with a quiet determination. " I was walking in the rain when I saw Uncle Jin-Man's truck. He slowed down, but I didn't want to get in. I was upset with him. So, I continued to walk, even though it was raining hard. Uncle Jin-Man stopped and waited for me to get in, but I didn't."

“I wanted him to come out and apologize, to tell me he was sorry for being late. But he just accelerated and went away. I was so angry, Noona. I wanted him to understand how I felt and how it felt to be forgotten."

"It's okay, baby. It's okay to feel upset. But remember, your uncle loves you very much. Sometimes, adults make mistakes too."

Shortly after dinner, you decided it was time for Ji-An to learn a new task: cleaning the dishes.

Filling the sink with warm, sudsy water, you showed her how to hold the scrub brush and guided her hand to clean the surface of the plates with gentle but firm strokes. You made sure she understood the importance of removing all leftover bits of food and how to rinse each dish thoroughly under the running water.

"Remember, Ji-An, cleaning is also a part of cooking. Once you're done eating, always make sure to clean up after yourself. It's not just about keeping your area clean, but also about respecting the people who will use the kitchen after you. See, we're not just cleaning up our mess; we're also preparing a clean space for the next person, " you signed, watching as she absorbed your words and continued washing the plates carefully under your watchful eye.

When you were done and completed with the task, you noticed that the sky had completely darkened, the bright hues of the day replaced by the deep blues and blacks of night. You gently dried Ji-An's small, pruney hands with a plush, soft towel and led her towards her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm, cozy hue from the night lamp sitting on her bedside table, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls.

You tucked her into her bed. The fluffy comforter was pulled up to her chin, and you couldn't help but laugh at the way Gunpowder jumped onto her lap, purring contently.

"Noona," she signed, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light, reflecting the soft glow of the night lamp. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? "

"Of course, sweetheart. Do you have any particular story in mind?" You asked, settling yourself comfortably at the edge of her bed, your hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"No, you choose, " she shrugged, her small body snuggling deeper into the warm covers.

You mulled over her request for a moment, your mind flipping through the pages of the countless stories you knew. Finally, one came to your mind. "There's a sad yet beautiful story from my hometown about two squirrels. They were mates—lovers for life and the town's favorite pair of animals. They were seen everywhere together, always chattering away in their own language, their tails intertwined. "

With each word, you painted a vivid picture of their life together. You told her about the female squirrel's illness and the male's devotion and his refusal to leave her side even in search of food.

As you narrated, you noticed Ji-An's eyes welling up with a faraway look. She interrupted you multiple times. "Why didn't the male squirrel eat?" "Why didn't he find another mate? " "Do all squirrels do this? "

You answered each question patiently, explaining the depth of the squirrel's love and the depth of his grief. You told her about how the male squirrel mourned for his mate, returning to their empty nest alone each year.

As you reached the end of the story, you noticed Ji-An's eyes growing heavy. Her questions became fewer and farther between, her chest moving slower until she slept. Still, she was twitching ever so slightly, hands closed and then jerking open in a rhythmic pattern that spoke volumes.

In an attempt to provide some comfort, you laid down next to her, being careful not to jostle her too much. You wrapped your arm around her small form, pulling her closer to your warmth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of yellow and red. The hyena. It was lurking in the corner of the room, its eyes gleaming malevolently in the dim light, eager to haunt you too. You didn't even turn to look at it. It was there, but it wasn't real. You knew it.

"Goodnight, Ji-An," you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, placing her bunny toy in the place where you'd been seconds before. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," you added, stroking her hair soothingly. "Noona's here. You're safe."

You switched off the night lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

As you left her room, you closed the door gently behind you, leaving the hyena and the remnants of your past locked away.

Easing back into the worn porch chair, the fabric of Jin-Man's purloined shirt fluttered against your skin in the cool night breeze. A stolen moment of solitude, with nothing but a half-burnt cigarette for company.

The embers at the tip flickered, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. Drawing the cigarette to your lips, you inhaled, letting the sharp tang of nicotine coil around your senses and momentarily dull your worries.

Eyes shut, you allowed your thoughts to drift to the intricate web of coding and changes you had to make in Murthehelp.

The only sounds were the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves under the night sky's vast expanse. Yet, this tranquility was abruptly shattered by the encroaching sound of hushed footsteps gradually growing louder. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jin-Man standing before you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the cigarette nestled between your fingers with a look of distaste as if you had the devil's hands between your lips.

A chuckle escaped you; the sight of Jin-Man, usually so composed, visibly irked by the cigarette, was enough to momentarily diffuse the tension. "Insomnia again?" you asked, flicking the ash off the cigarette with your thumb.

His hardened gaze didn't waver as he retorted, "I was waiting for you to come to bed."

You shrugged nonchalantly. Since your suicide attempt, Jin-Man has taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you. The concept of solitary sleep had become foreign to both of you.

“What's eating at you?" he asked, his gaze softening slightly.

"Why did you abandon Ji-An at school?"

"I got tied up and lost track of time," he replied, but his excuse fell on deaf ears. You scoffed at his words, well aware of the truth. He hadn't forgotten; he probably thought leaving Ji-An to trek home on her own would toughen her up.

"That's a load of crap, and you know it," you retorted, stomping out the cigarette under your feet. "Do you think making her walk home alone in the rain is going to make her stronger? Is that your grand plan?"

His silence was a response in itself, resonating in the quiet night air louder than any words.

"You are unbelievable, Jin-Man," you muttered. The scent of fresh paint and pine filled the air. It was a far cry from the gunpowder and blood that once filled your memory. But you couldn't help but crave it sometimes, even if it meant pain. Pain meant life; it meant survival. "You keep pushing her away relentlessly, like a stubborn child refusing his vegetables. You're so preoccupied with making her tough and resilient that you forget she's just a child. She needs your love and your understanding. You forget that she can't even communicate normally and that her aphasia is only getting worse! You don't even let me talk with her teacher, and don't pretend I don't know about the bullying she's enduring at school! We're not in Babylon , Jin-Man! We're in a small town where everyone knows everyone else. For heaven's sake, grow up!”

He retorted, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through the heavy silence. “You should be more concerned with managing your own aphasia and PTSD. Ji-An’s not your responsibility. She's not related to you by blood. Drop this saintly act of playing mom. We're not her parents. This isn't a dollhouse and we're not Ken and Barbie.”

"Act? I kept Ji-An alive after her parents died! I trained her to communicate again! And even though it's hard, I've made her eat properly and taught her how to brush her teeth and do her homework again! I've been here for her every step of the way! You just... sit in your office or hide in your room!"

His jaw clenched tightly before he spoke again. "You think that's all it takes? Just feeding her and teaching her sign language?" He spat out angrily. The tip of his tongue traced his bottom lip as he continued speaking harshly, "It's not enough! She needs discipline! She needs structure!"

You shook your head violently. "She has enough structure! She needs us, Jin-Man! She needs our support, our guidance. She doesn't need a soldier; she needs a parent!"

His face tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"Are you that afraid to care for someone, that afraid to love again? Are you hiding behind your uniform, your duties because you're too scared to face your own feelings?"

"Don't play with fire. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think I do! And do you think Jin-Suk would like to see his daughter being trained as a warrior rather than growing up as a normal girl?" you challenged, your voice echoing with the strength of your belief.

The mention of his brother struck a nerve. A flash of anger crossed his stony features, and before you knew it, he was charging at you like a wild animal.

Suddenly, Jin-Man's hands shot out, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your back slammed into the gnarled wooden planks, the splintered texture scratching against your skin. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through your spine, causing you to gasp as the wind was knocked out of your lungs.

"Why are you doing this, Jin-Man?"

In response, his large, calloused hands wrapped around your throat in a vice-like grip, cutting off your airway. His fingers pressed against the delicate skin of your neck, the strength in his hands threatening to crush your windpipe. It felt like you were sinking into an abyss, the darkness of his rage engulfing you, making it impossible to breathe.

You clawed at his hands, desperate to pry them off. But his grip was unyielding; his hands felt like iron bands around your neck, tightening with every second that passed. As you gasped for breath, your vision started to spin, the edges blurring as black spots danced in front of your eyes. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, screaming for air.

Panic surged within you, a tidal wave that threatened to consume you. Time seemed to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity as you struggled to draw breath.

Finally, his grip loosened just slightly, allowing a sliver of oxygen to rush into your lungs. You gasped; the taste of air was like ambrosia—sweet and life-giving. Coughs racked your body as you struggled to regain control over your breathing, your throat raw and your chest heaving. The salty tang of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision.

But you refused to back down, to give in to the fear. You locked eyes with him, defiance burning in your gaze. "Go ahead, Jin-Man, continue," you spat out, your voice raspy from the assault. "Kill me. But know this: my death won't change the truth.”

“Jesus, you're so weak, girl.”

A chuckle found its way through your bruised vocal chords. “Yeah? Wanna see who's weak then?”

Summoning every iota of your willpower, you retaliated against his suffocating hold. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you strained against his formidable strength.

After a fierce and desperate struggle, your adrenaline-fueled power seemed to catch him off guard. With a sudden explosive kick, you managed to wrench yourself free, pushing him violently away from you.

Caught off balance, Jin-Man stumbled backwards. His feet skidded across the wooden floorboards, and his body crashed into the pot of vibrant lilies you had carefully chosen from the local market to adorn the porch. The pot shattered on impact, fragments of terracotta scattering across the floor, intermingling with the uprooted flowers and loose soil.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the brutalized lilies and the quiet patter of dirt falling onto the floor. But inside? Inside of you, the hyenas laughter echoed through your mind, mocking you for getting what you deserved—too used to chaos and violence.

The sight of the destruction seemed to snap Jin-Man out of his rage-induced stupor, his furious gaze softening as he took in the aftermath of your altercation.

"I'm done," you said, breaking the silence. "I'm done with this, Jin-Man. I'm done with your anger, your stubbornness, and your refusal to let anyone in. I'm done with the constant battles, the endless wars. I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving."

“Y/N…” He trailed off as he grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you around to face him. Your bodies were just inches apart now, his breath hot on your cheek as he pleaded silently.

“Don’t. Just shut your mouth and let me go. I'm not your Barbie, right?” Each word was punctuated by the bitter taste of blood as you absentmindedly touched your raw throat.

“You can't sleep alone.”

“I'll manage.”

“You can't remember when you last ate.”

"I'll set a reminder.”

"You can't drive without crying."

"I'll get a taxi."

"Ji-An needs you."

I need you.

"She needs you more."

"And you, Jin-Man," you added, the sting of your words sobering the air. "You need to realize that before it's too late."

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

April 3:

"Are you serious? Did I actually have to buy another chip to send you messages? You know, the store owner looked at me like I was crazy."

1 missed call from Ahjusshi

April 5:

"Ji-An keeps asking for you. She asked me to tell her the story about the couple of squirrels. You know, the one about their endless love and devotion."

2 missed calls from Jeong

April 7:

"Pasin showed me the link to the site. It's pretty quick and easy to access. Even an old man like me can make requests for guns, right? Technology these days, eh?"

April 11:

"She asked me to put on Casablanca. It's one of your favorites, right? I remember Honda telling me that you're addicted to Hollywood classics.”

“Gunpowder keeps sleeping on your side of the bed. I hate it.”

3 missed calls from Jeong Jin-Man, son of a bitch

April 22:

"I have a mission for you. It's critical and requires your skills."

"Can you come home so that we can discuss the details? There's something about it I can't trust in a message."

8 missed calls from the son of a bitch

“I guess I will ask So Min-Hye to replace you then. I know you wouldn't want that."

May 7:

“Ji-An's teacher told me that you visited her today. Did you really make two boys eat dirt by grabbing her money?”

“I could've helped.”

May 9:

“Went to the market today and heard Kyung Soo say that you're a good kisser. I had to stop myself from laughing."

“I heard from the locals that he went to the hospital after being knocked out. Strange, right? Or should I say, expected?"

May 16:

"Gunpowder brought a dead bird into the house. I think she's trying to replace you as the hunter of the family."

May 21:

"I saw a girl at the market wearing a dress you would like. It had sunflowers all over it. Made me think of you."

"She was about your age, too. For a moment, I thought it was you ."

-------

As Jin-Man speeds in the direction of Ji-An's school, his heart pounds against his ribs like a war drum. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his forehead slick with beads of sweat. He curses himself silently, berating his own negligence.

How could he have not noticed that Ji-An hadn't come home?

The typical view of the small city blurs past him, the houses and trees merging into a hasty collage of colors under the evening gloom. The town's bakery, the park where the children play, and the old library all blur into indistinguishable shadows. But he barely registers any of it. His mind is filled with vivid images of you screaming at him for this oversight.

He imagines your small fists beating at his chest, your eyes—those captivating eyes that he secretly admired—flaring with anger and worry.

“How could you forget her again , Jin-Man? She's just a child!"

The guilt, like a ravenous beast, gnaws at him, driving him to press the pedal harder. The old engine protests, its roar echoing through the tranquil evening.

Suddenly, he remembers his phone.

Snatching it from the passenger seat, he dials your number hastily. The line rings once, twice, thrice, but there's no answer. He fumbles to leave a voicemail, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks into the device. "Hey, I… messed up. Ji-An... I… Just call me back.”

The voicemail ends with a beep, leaving Jin-Man alone with his thoughts and the eerie silence of the empty road. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving the road.

Nearing the school, his eyes flicked to the digital clock on the dashboard—it read 19:00, the hour when the last echoes of childhood laughter usually fade away. But now, the school grounds were eerily silent and deserted, a stark contrast to the daytime symphony of playful shouts and laughter. The playground, usually a vibrant hub of activity, was painted with somber shades, the swings swaying lightly in the breeze, their squeaky chains the only sound piercing the silence.

As he swung into the school's parking lot, a small figure suddenly sprang from the shadows, frantically waving his arms.

A boy was shouting, his voice hoarse and strained, as he pointed towards the grimy basement door at the rear of the school building. "She's locked there!"

Without a second thought, Jin-Man abandons his car, leaving the engine running as he sprints towards the basement door. The door is locked, but within, he can hear Ji-An's voice, her pleas echoing through the desolate night.

"Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man!" she is calling, her voice scratchy and strained, likely from the first use of her vocal cords in months.

Frantically, he scans his surroundings. His eyes land on a fire safety box nearby. Inside, he spots a hammer.

With no time to spare, he smashes the box, glass shards raining onto the worn-out asphalt. He grabs the hammer, using it to break the rusted chains and unlock the door.

In a final heave, he throws the door open, revealing Ji-An inside. Her cheeks were flushed red from crying and her eyes were brimming with a mix of relief and fear.

She doesn't waste any time rushing at him, her small fists pounding against his chest. He doesn't move; he doesn't try to stop her. She's screaming at him, her words punctuated by her furious hits: "Why did you take so long? You promised you were coming back soon! Why did you arrive so late? Why did you let her go? Why did you let Noona go? Why? Why?"

He could only look at her, absorbing her words and feeling each syllable like a physical blow. Her pain, her anger, and her confusion were all directed at him.

Then he did the only thing he could think of—the only thing he thought you would have done in this situation.

He pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

For minutes, he doesn't say a word until he grabs her, holding her close.

Turning to the boy, he nods, "I'll give you a ride home."

The journey to the kid’s home was silent, save for the muted hum of the car's engine and the occasional rustle of cloth against leather.

Ji-An was huddled against the passenger seat, her body trembling slightly. Noticing this, he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her small frame in the same way he did for you.

After dropping the boy off and Ji-An finally falling asleep, he drives aimlessly. The city lights flicker past in a hazy blur, their glow casting fleeting shadows on his face. He thinks of you—your laughter, your anger, and your determination. It's strange, he thinks, how the absence of someone can fill a room, a house, or a life.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone.

Glancing at the screen, he sees your name flashing. He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the decline button.

But then he remembers how things used to be and how it felt to hear your voice without the weight of regret and guilt. He misses when your name didn't make his chest ache, when it was just a name he heard now and then but held no significance to him.

He yearns for the days when he didn't know you, when his eyes didn't instinctively scan every room he entered in hopes of finding you there. He misses the sight of you standing among strangers, wearing that ridiculous skirt he used to tease you about but now finds himself missing.

He finds himself longing for the mundane details. How you'd take off your shoes at the front door, placing your keys with care in the small glass bowl on the corner of the kitchen counter. How you'd drape your coat over the back of a dining room chair, your socks left at the foot of the bed next to the sleeping cat.

He misses holding back your hair as you succumb to the side effects of your PTSD pills, your body rejecting the chemicals meant to help you cope. He yearns for the times when you would climb under the white blankets with him, forcefully opening his arms to encase you between them.

He misses how you would place your legs on top of his and let your hands wander to his waist and chest. He misses hearing you say, "I missed you," telling him about your day as you would slowly drift off to sleep. And he longs for the times he would secretly kiss your cheek softly before he inevitably had to leave you for work.

He misses when you were simply strangers—not two people who act like strangers in public but once knew each other better than they ever knew themselves. He misses the simplicity of those days and the innocence of not knowing what it felt like to lose you.

Because, in the end, when the lights are off and his eyes flutter shut, the back of his mind always whispers your name, calling out to you like you are the only place he was ever meant to call home .

When he finally decided to answer the call, he placed the phone on the dashboard, the worn leather creaking under the weight. He switched to speaker mode, the familiar chime filling the small space of the car.

"Hello?"

Tinny and distant over the phone speaker, you responded almost immediately. "You left a voicemail. What happened?" In the background, he could hear the faint, unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking open and the soft hiss of a cigarette being lit.

"Your voice sounds rough," he commented, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. "How many days have you been communicating only with sign language?"

"Shut up, motherfucker. What about Ji-An?”

"I…" he started, faltering. The words he needed to say were stuck in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.

“Look, Ji-Man. I have nothing to do with you anymore. I’m calling you back because you sounded like a wounded little bitch and you said her name. Drop the show and spit it out.”

“I failed again, okay?" The confession spilled out of him, the words tasting like defeat. But he couldn't stop there; he had to finish what he started. "But, look, Ji-An spoke.”

He could almost hear your sharp intake of breath and the sound of the cigarette being hastily put out in the background. There was a long, drawn-out silence, the kind of silence that spoke volumes. He could imagine your surprise—the way your eyes would widen slightly, the lit cigarette forgotten in your hand. But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, filled with a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

"She spoke?"

"Yes. She called out to me. She used her voice, and she spoke."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that everything is okay between us," he continued, his voice gruff, "But I'm also not going to pretend that we don't have a shared past. One that involves a little girl who misses you."

"You're such a bastard. You know how to manipulate me using her," you snapped, the sound of a chair creaking in the background signaling your agitation.

"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that Ji-An misses you. And you miss her too, don't you?"

A silence followed his words—not an uncomfortable one, but a silence filled with unspoken words and a shared history. And then you sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that echoed with the weight of your unspoken thoughts.

"I do miss her. But you, Jeong Jin-Man, are a pain in my ass.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at your words. "I've been told that before."

"I'm sure you have."

Another silence filled the line, comfortable yet heavy with years of shared experiences.

"By the way," he added, his voice softer now, "the key is still under the cat statue you put by the front door. You can drop by anytime."

"I'll think about it. But don't expect me to come running back, Jin-Man. We're not the same people we used to be."

"I know. But we're still us, aren't we?"

"We're something ," you admitted, a sigh slipping past your lips. "But I don't know what that is anymore."

"Neither do I. But maybe we can figure it out together, old lady."

"Old lady?" you scoffed, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Coming from a man who's 10 years older than me."

"Years are still years," he teased, a smile playing on his lips. "But whatever we are, Y/N, whatever we become, you're still… something to me. And so is Ji-An. Remember that."

"I will. I will, Ahjusshi."

#lee dong wook #imagine #a shop for killers #jeong jin man #lee dong wook x reader #lee dongwook x fem! reader #poetry #jeong jin man x reader #jeong jian #seo moonjo x reader #lee dongwook x reader

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artificial-condition · 10 months

Text

Growing Garlic 101

It's summertime and that means it's about time to order garlic! Garlic is one of the easiest vegetables I have ever grown, although it takes a while from planting until harvest. Most of that time is hands off, so garlic is something I would recommend to grow if you're new to planting and want something easy (or just want lots of yummy garlic)

What to know before starting

Before getting further, I just want to say that I am in hardiness zone 6b (near zone 7) in the US, so that is my growing experience (what is a/my hardiness zone?). To my knowledge and research, garlic can be grown in a wide variety of climates, including very hot and very cold ones. This post is going to be oriented around US geography and terminology because that's what i know

The first thing to know about garlic is that it is typically planted in the fall, but not harvested until the following summer. Why is it planted so early? Garlic goes through a process called vernalization, which means that it needs a cold period before in order to grow to its fullest potential. In garlic, vernalization is what causes the bulb to split into cloves (rather than just having one big chunk of garlic). The first year I grew garlic, I didn't know that it had to be planted so early so I planted in January. It did pretty good and I was happy with it! Some heads didn't have cloves and some did, so even if you get to it late you'll likely still have something yummy to eat by the end of it!

The next year I grew garlic, I planted it out towards the end of October and I had an amazing harvest! The bulbs were bigger and all had divided into cloves. All this to say, you'll have better garlic if you plant in the fall but if you forget or don't know and get to it late it'll be okay!

Step 1: Picking your garlic varieties

This is such a fun step!!! You can find all sorts of different varieties of seed garlic online, with different colors, tastes, and growing habits. My first year I started with seed garlic I found at lowes; the type I found was your generic grocery bought garlic, which for the most part is a softneck variety called California Early (or California Late).

Softneck vs. Hardneck

You should pick softneck or hardneck depending on the climate you are growing in. Softneck varieties do better in warmer climates while hardnecks are more cold hardy. In my zone 6b, I can grow both hardneck and softneck varieties because I am in the middle of the temperature range for hardiness zones. If you are in zones 1-5, hardneck varieties are recommended for your area while zones 8-12 softnecks grow better. If you are in the middle zones 6-7, you should be able to choose either variety and end up okay :)

Hardneck features

Hardneck garlic differs from softneck most obviously in that it will form a hard flower stem, often called a scape:

These are delicious and should be harvested before the flower opens, when they start to curl. They can be chopped up and used like other vegetables (they're also great in pesto I've heard). I roughly chopped mine this year and put them in a bag in my freezer so I can take them out and add as needed. They have a mild garlic flavor, more herby than the bulbs, and can be used in greater quantity without an overpowering garlic taste

Other differences in hardneck varieties is that they have larger (but fewer) cloves and the cloves peel easier.

Softneck features

Softnecks don't have the hard stalks and also keep good for much longer than hardnecks, so their stems and leaves are better for forming garlic braids:

Because of their superior ability to store well, softneck varieties are the type of garlic most commonly sold in grocery stores. There are much fewer varieties of softneck garlic than hardneck (only a couple dozen vs hundreds of varieties of softneck). There are more cloves in softneck garlics but the cloves are smaller and harder to peel.

Where to order seed garlic

Here are some good places I've found to order seed garlic:

Hudson Valley Seed Company

Johnny's Seeds

Urban Farmer (my favorite, I ordered here last year)

You can also just buy garlic from local farmers/hardware stores! They'll likely have varieties well suited to grow in your area.

Step 2: Planting

After you receive your garlic, keep it whole in the bulbs until time to plant. The general rule is to plant 6-8 weeks before your typical first frost date (where is that for me?), but I found that its okay to do it later than that, especially since climate change is messing with the dates. For reference, my average last frost date is October 11th but I didn't plant last year until October 22. Typically they are planted around September-November, the warmer your climate the later you plant.

Before planting, I recommend adding an inch or two of compost to the top of the soil. This will give them nutrients for the year ahead :)

If you are planting late or have pretty mild winters, one trick is to keep the garlic heads in the fridge (not freezer) for a month or two before planting. This will simulate vernalization and will help them to form cloves and bigger heads!

It is good to plant in a fairly sunny area. Mine has partial shade but they do great there!

When you are ready to plant, separate the bulbs into cloves. Try to keep as much as the papery skin on your cloves as possible as it helps to protect them in the ground, but don't beat yourself up about it. I plant mine roughly four inches apart, shoving them about two inches down with them upright (the hairy root end is the bottom and they taper to a point at the top):

After they're all planted, water pretty deep and mulch about an inch or two deep. This will help protect them from hard freezes in the upcoming winter. You can use whatever you have access to, I recommend things that will decompose so they add nutrients to the soil. I raked up fallen leaves from my yard last year and used those

Step 3: Wait

Now relax! The garlic won't be ready for a long time, so just let it do its thing. I don't really ever water mine because I get pretty consistent rainfall, but you can water periodically if you are in a dry climate. It is good to water before particularly hard freezes, it helps the bulbs have what they need to survive.

You might see the greens popping up if you have warm sprees in the late fall/winter. It is fine to ignore these, they will likely die back when it gets cold again but they will still come right back in the spring. You'll want to remove any heavy mulch in the spring when they start growing (my leaves had mostly decomposed so I didn't need to do this)

Step 4: Harvest time

I water mine occasionally as they are growing in the spring or summer, but for the most part I don't bother. I have fairly regular rain and garlic seems very resilient to water differences.

Your garlic will be ready sometime in May-August, depending on what varieties, when you planted, and your climate.

When it is getting close to harvest, it is natural for the leaves to start dying back a bit, especially with softneck varieties. You'll see the garlic scapes form on hardneck varieties, and will need to cut these off once they begin curling, before they flower:

For softneck garlic, harvest when about half of the leaves have yellowed and died off, starting with the bottom leaves. The tops may start to flop over when ready.

For hardneck, the appearance of scapes means they'll be ready in about 4-8 weeks. The leaves will die off as well, but not near as much as softneck varieties in my experience.

Do not water for a week before harvesting. You want your garlic to dry out some before harvesting :D

Since my garlic is in a raised bed, I have fairly loose soil. Therefore, I can just pull the neck of the garlic right above the ground to harvest my garlic. If you have more compacted soil, it would be best to dig around the clove some before you harvest so that it comes out whole and unbroken.

Congrats!!! Your garlic is ready!!

Step 5: Eating and preserving

At this point, your garlic is all out of the ground and ready to be eaten. If you have more garlic than you can eat within the next couple months, you'll need to preserve it. There's a lot of ways to preserve it, but I'll go over a couple I have done.

Idea 1: cloves in a vinegar

This one is primarily how I preserved my garlic last year and I'll be doing it again this year. It is very simple: just peel your garlic, place in clean jars, pour over hot boiling vinegar, seal, let cool, and store in the fridge! Make sure the cloves of garlic are completely submerged in the vinegar or you risk foodborne illnesses. The garlic has enzymes that prevent the cloves from absorbing the vinegar, and the vinegar prevents any bacteria from growing and causing the garlic to spoil. The cloves don't taste like vinegar and can be chopped and added to dishes as needed!

Idea 2: cure whole heads

This is best done with softneck garlic as they store better for longer than hardneck.

This is essentially letting them dry so they keep longer. After harvesting, keep the heads as is with dirt and leaves still attached (brush off any big dirt clumps but don't scrub them clean). Place the heads somewhere flat, warm, well ventilated, and shaded from too much direct sunlight (can get some indirect sunlight). This can be in a garage, on palattes, hanging somewhere, in a shed, whatever you have that seems best. I did mine on my front porch just laying on the concrete.

Leave them alone to dry for at least two weeks, then store as desired! You can trim the leaves and roots off and clean with a brush if desired, or leave the leaves and dirt and roots and store. I trimmed the roots off, left the leaves, braided them together, and hung in my kitchen:

(here is a video about braiding garlic) (note: it can only be done with softnecks)

Idea 3: make garlic confit

This is such a yummy way to use up garlic. Peel your cloves, add to a saucepan, cover in desired liquid oil, and cook on low until the cloves are soft and smushable. Store in the fridge after letting cool and eat within a week :)

Idea 5: Roasted garlic

Here is a recipe

And that's about it! Enjoy your garlic :D

@yourfriendfrogs

#gardening #garden #gardeners on tumblr #gardenblr #gardencore #food #garlic #garlic 101 #garlic guide #garlic tutorial #garlic how to #how to grow garlic #making this my pinned post for now because I’m proud of this lil guide I made #I need to figure out how to add a read more sorry anyone who hates the long scrolling #edit: figured it out

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 11 months

Note

Hi can we get some snippet you already wrote? <3

Sure! take the beginning of the scenario where Spider gets so sick that Quaritch is forced to take him to a hospital.

*********************************************************************

Miles slumped against the windowsill, his warm breath fogging up the freezing glass as he stared at the snow-covered world outside. It had been a particularly rough winter. Temperatures had been at or below zero for weeks. Snow continued to pile on the ground growing higher and higher by the day. If it wasn’t for the covered patio they wouldn’t even be able to step outside.

“Miles get away from the window already. Nothin’s changing out there anytime soon.” Papa called, motioning his son to him. Miles sighed but did as he was told, moving to stand in front of his father. Papa tsked disapprovingly at his son's red cheeks and nose from being pressed up against the cold glass. He adjusted the boy’s scarf and hat making sure both were secure.

“Pa,” the teen groaned indignantly, “do I really have to wear this many layers inside. I’m hot!”

Pa cupped his face in both of his hands, “oh yeah? Why’re your cheeks cold then?” Miles groaned again, rolling his eyes. Pa just gave him a fond smile. “Come on tiger, you know better. I’m not taking any chances with your asthma. So you're gonna stay nice and toasty and you're gonna like it.”

Miles sighed, understanding his fathers logic but still resenting it nonetheless “If I sit by the fire and wrap myself in a blanket can I take off my hat, gloves and coat?” Miles didn’t even bother to ask if he could take off the scarf. His Pa had fixed that around his neck the moment the temperature started to dip and it was only allowed to come off when he showered.

Pa thought on it for a moment, “I guess that’ll be okay. Go get comfy, I’ll bring you some soup and something warm to drink.” Miles smiled in relief, quickly shrugging out of his heavy coat, revealing the soft green sweater underneath, flinging his gloves on to the coffee table and snatching the wool hat from his head shaking out his smooshed curls. Pa had actually let him grow it out for the winter “to help keep his ears and head warm.” Miles didn’t care about his father’s practical reasonings. He loved having his hair long again. It still wasn’t nearly as long as it used to be…before. Pa trimmed it for him whenever it started getting too close to his shoulders. But he’d take what he could get and savor it while he could. He knew it’d all be getting chopped off again once the winter chill was replaced with summer heat.

Pa handed him a bowl of chicken noodle soup, and set a few pieces of buttered bread, and a hot mug of tea on the coffee table for him, then sat beside him with his own bowl. They ate in comfortable silence. They had long since run out of things to talk about being snowed in together for weeks.

“You want to watch a movie?” Pa asked suddenly.

Miles was surprised, “how? We don’t have a t.v.”

“No we do. I just keep it in the basement because I don’t want you killin’ brain cells watchin’ it all the time.” He said it so casually, completely uncaring for how this revelation affected his son.

“You’ve been holdin’ out on me,” Miles’ tone was joking but he seriously meant those words. Weeks of boredom and Pa was just now suggesting they watch a movie to pass the time.

“Finish your food. We’ll bring the t.v upstairs, make popcorn, the whole nine.” They did just that, dropping their used dishes in the sink to wash later, then descending into the cool concrete basement.

#miles spider socorro #miles quaritch #spider socorro #colonel miles quaritch #cabin in the woods

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hopepaigeturner · 1 year

Text

Benedict Bridgerton: Emotional support animal snippet

@eleanor-bradstreet has inspired me to polish up some stuff in my drafts concerning my S4--particularly around Benedict's role post-Edmund's death.

First. Go check out her 'A Brother's Love' here, her first installment is brilliant and really well written. It's a series of Benedict aiding each of his siblings post-Edmund's death.

Second. Here is a little excerpt I wrote when writing about Benedict's arc in S4, which takes place at 'My Cottage' while Benedict is tending to Sophie's cut hand...

*~*~*~*~*

“So, what is beyond those woods,” Sophie asks, she winces slightly as Benedict continues to wash away the blood from the deep cut on her right hand.

“Do not worry, even if you wish to make a bonfire every night, it would take you to Christmas to fell every tree,” he teases, referencing that morning when Sophie had upshown him when chopping wood. Sophie gives him a soft glare. He grins. “There is a lake, actually, in the middle of the woods, quite a large clearing around it."

“A lake?”

“Yes, we used to have family picnics all the time during the summer when we visited my grandparents. They used to live here once my parents moved to Aubrey Hall.”

“Sounds idyllic.” Sophie says with a smile, fantastical images of a carefree childhood running through her mind. Benedict nods.

“Yes, well, we stopped going there after…”

“Your father passed?”

Benedict looks up at her.

“Yes, how did you?”

“I doubt the current Viscount Bridgerton is old enough to be your father.”

Benedict laughs and the sound warms Sophie to the bones.

“Yes, unsurprisingly Anthony is not my father—biologically or emotionally. My other siblings might think otherwise, seeing as he was practically pushed into the role by society. I was lucky on that way, to stay a brother.”

“How old was your brother when he became Viscount?”

“Eighteen.”

Both their moods sombre slightly, although Sophie seems more contemplative.

“It must have been an awful lot of pressure to have all that responsibility so young.”

“It was,” Benedict says quietly.

“How old were you?”

Benedict looks a little startled.

“I suppose…I was sixteen.”

“That is very young,” gently she curls her fingers around his, unable to fully close her palm due to the cut, but just enough to give some warmth.

“I suppose,” he shifts slightly, as if uncomfortable. “It devastated the entire family… my mother could not…she fell ill and the rest of my siblings were all under twelve, and Anthony…Anthony was forced to take up so much so quickly.”

“I cannot imagine.”

Benedict shakes himself, as if trying to dispel cobwebs.

“We all coped in our own little ways. Anthony shut the door both to his study and his heart. Mother went through motions until she came out the other side. It got better, we healed.”

Sophie cocks her head.

“And what about you? What did you do to grieve?”

Again, Benedict looks startled, and his words come out disjointed as if concocting phrases on the fly.

“Well…I used to read to Eloise stories every night—and I made sure Francesca joined in as well. She went silent after father died,” his tone picks up as he stumbles on a happier memory, “she loved the pianoforte, so I would accompany her during practice. She used to get so angry with me when I messed up the notes…I did not care, it got her to talk…the same with Daphne. Daphne always bustled around the nursery, but once I got her reading or sat in front of the piano she could finally…release.”

Sophie shifts forward.

“That sounds lovely, but what did you do to grieve?”

“Well…I…I fenced with Colin—taught him the basics. He was always overeager with the sword, but it helped with his anger--" he rushes on at that admission, eyes becoming more frantic, “and I used to play with Gregory after mother's daily visit. He was only three, so we could play lots of games …and..."

“Benedict…” Sophie voice is ever so gentle and her eyes wide with sympathy, “what did you do to grieve your father?”

“I—I—did. I just said—”

Sophie shifts froward, delicately, as if handling a distressed bird.

“You have told me all the wonderful ways you helped your siblings grieve…but what did you do to grieve?”

Benedict looks at her desperately. It is obvious to all that he does not have an answer—not one within easy reach.

“I did...I did..."

And all vitality sweeps out of him as a haunted look comes into his eyes. Sophie uses his spare hand and holds it, as if anchoring him to the present.

"Your family are so fortunate to have you," she whispers, "I wish I had someone so caring to ease my childhood burdens."

Benedict looks up at her with shining eyes, a moment later he looks away to collect himself.

"Any brother would do such a thing at such a time...but I suppose...I suppose that is when I first started sketching…” Sophie does not comment but smiles, glad her previous assumption rings true. Benedict continues, eyes distant as if no longer in the present. “My grandmother visited for a couple months and forced me to sit with her while she painted or sketched, practically shoved the charcoal into my hand. But I suppose, looking back now…those were probably the only times where I could be myself.”

“I thought I spotted some paintbrushes…” Sophie prods with a warm smile.

“I am not an artist.” He says quickly--too quickly.

“Truly?” He give her a peculiar look, “When I was looking for linens, I found some sketchbooks.”

“I used to,” he tries to give her a smile that does not quite fit his face. “I gave up that fantasy a long time ago.”

“That’s a shame, you seem to have the temperament of one.”

Benedict stares at her, once again her words piercing through like light through the shutters.

“That is…” Benedict clears his throat and returns to looking at her hand, “that is...thank you."

*~*~*~*~*

I've got another excerpt around some of the flashbacks that Benedict should have in S4 (two max because I want the main bulk of flashbacks to be about Sophie). That show rather than just tell Benedict's role and how that has shaped him.

But I've got a whole shedload of new stuff in my working life so...might be a little wait.

Thank you once again, @eleanor-bradstreet for kicking up my creative juices!

Or check out the list here, for more of my ideas for S4.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

#an offer from an avid reader #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton #benophie #benedict x sophie #bridgerton #adaptation #s4 speculation #angst with sprinkles of comfort #emotional vulnerability #mhmm that's the good stuff

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bellamyblake · 1 year

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hiii i don’t know if u are taking prompts but i’d love to read your take on bellamy being unconscious for a prolonged amount of time and clarke taking care of him and talking to him. fast forward to him waking up and confessing he heard everything she said while he was sleeping. i just love the way you write and it would be fun to read it!!

Okay...so this accidentally turned into a 6k fic. I wanted to write just a headcanon but this happened...I’ll post it here and then reblog the Ao3 link in you guys want to check it out there too. I hope anon doesn’t mind and that it turned out okay.

It’s set in the Canon Divergence universe, post season 2 just to give you an idea.

Clarke was cursed, she knew it. She was cursed and them moving out of Camp Jaha, away from the adults and their mom got them right where they were now.

This wasn't supposed to happen-she thought, not realizing that she was actually breathing it out loud quietly to his face while she stroked his curls away and stared into his pale features.

The big, no, enormous bandage on his head made him somehow appear smaller.

She remembered all the times she made jokes about his stubborn thick head and how he rolled his eyes and only half-smilled at her.

Clarke wanted to see that smile again, she was desperate.

Her eyes were pinned on his chest that was slowly rising and falling. Then there were the machines too, the best technology they could provide for him was, after all, at their mom's camp, so she was forced to transfer him here when she realized this was out of her control, but she didn't trust those-she needed to look at him with her eyes, as if she could somehow will him to live that way.

She rests her cheek on the side of the bed and looks up at his face, thinking back on everything that has happened just a few days ago.

He hadn't gone out on a hunting trip-now, that would've perhaps made more sense in terms of him getting hurt, no...he had left their gates in order to chop more trees with Miller and a few other guys and bring them home for all the cabins they hadn't finished.

She had been against it even though they fought a lot less now since they moved away from the adults than when they did back there or even at the dropship-the place they had chosen to come back to.

"There's no need for that, Bellamy. If someone has no place to live, they'll just go in the dropship."

"I don't want them there. It'll be cold and uncomfortable and the kids hate it anyway." he had cut off.

"The kids?"

"Come on, you know they call us mom and dad behind our backs anyway, we might as well just accept it, princess." he smiles and she beams back at him.

"We had worked hard this summer, we got everything we needed. You built most of the cabins, went out and hunt meat. We have the chicken and the cows, enough wheat to survive, even better than my mom would back at Camp Jaha. You could spare yourself this."

"We also don't have enough clothes or blankets or even chopped woods for the fire." he argued "Your medical supplies, despite your constant gathering, are pathetic and Murphy burned through the wall of our mess hall so now there's no kitchen. I have to go."

"It rained hard last night, it'll be slippery." he had rolled his eyes at her like she was his sister before she left for the sea with Lincoln a few months ago and he was scolding her to keep herself safe.

Clarke knew part of the reason why he worked so hard was so he didn't have to think about Octavia and the fact she wasn't around anymore.

"I'll be fine." he grunted back and jumped on the horse Trikru had given him as a gift after she saved five of their children from the flu last winter.

His name was Apollo (of course), it was a beautiful black boy with stunning eyes that reminded Clarke of Bellamy. She still thought the grounders only gave it away to get rid of him because he was just as stubborn as Bellamy was and only he could ever jump on him and tame him when they brought him back to camp.

Miller got in the cart they've made themselves, saluted her before the gates opened and they left but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach about it and she couldn't stop worrying all day.

When they didn't come back at around noon like they were supposed to, she tried not to panic but even Jasper asked her about it a few times and she was starting to lose her patience, so she snapped at him and some of the other kids. Dark clouds loomed over camp and just as the heavy rain started, the gates opened up and Miller screamed for help as he carried Bellamy's body in his arms.

For a second there, she felt like she lost all ground underneath her but she commanded herself to be strong and run to them.

He was unconscious and his face was covered in blood. There were lots of scratches and bruises already forming on him. When she looked down she saw his shirt was torn up and his chest looked about the same as his face did. His left arm was twisted in an unnatural way, falling down the side but the worst of it all was his head.

"What happened?"

"He slipped and fell down this steep hill really hard. We were trying to take off that tree and he just-" Miller explained out of breath "I told him not to go there because it's muddy but he didn't listen. It took us too long to take him out of there, I don't know how much blood he lost." he explains and Clarke looks back to the two other boys that were with them all covered in mud, breathing heavily...terrified that their leader was unmoving in Miller's hands.

Her fingers dug into his beautiful curls and she felt something sticky on his right side. When she turned his head away from Miller's chest, she saw the haphazard sort of bandage they've tried to put there and carefully peeled it away only for it to start bleeding just as hard immideately.

"Must've been a rock he hit or something, I don't know. Tried to make it stop but-"

"You did well. Bring him to meedbay with me." she commanded,hands already bloodied, her heart beating fast in her chest as she gave away her orders to the others in camp.

"Jasper, hot water, right now. Monty, I'm going to need you to assist me, so clean your hands well and bring as many bandages as you can. Murphy, two bottles of that awful moonshine from the kitchen, right now! Monroe, get me that knife you got on the last spring trade at Polis, warm it up on the fire and wait for me to call you, okay?" they all nodded and scattered around before she even made it inside medbay, which was just the first floor of the dropship that Bellamy himself had arranged for her this summer.

She still remembers how angry he had been when he came over one day and told her she can’t treat patients in that chaos and clutter. Clarke had gotten mad that he called it that and they yelled at each other for about ten minutes.

It was then when she couldn’t help herself and pushed him to the wall, pressing her lips against his and kissing him hard. He immideately kissed her back too. Then they pulled away, stared at each other for a moment and left before they could even begin talking about it.

It happened a few more times after-once when they were in the woods, gathering herbs for her when she tripped over and he got all crazy about her being hurt. He insisted he carried her to the cart and placed her on the back, wrapping her ankle in a bandage and elevating it on his jacket.

When he leaned over to check how her head was, he stared in her eyes a little too long and this time it was him who initiated the kiss.

That one moment got a bit more heated with him sneaking his hand under her shirt and pulling her body to his. She felt the buldge in his pants and he the heat in her center. His fingers moved to her breasts and undid her bra while his other hand slipped inside of her.

Just like before, when they were done they didn’t talk about it. She wanted to but something stopped her and he looked like a stormy cloud, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks bright red as he urged the horses to get them home.

He carried her to her cabin and commanded her not to even think about doing anything in the next few days. To make sure, he posted Miller and Monroe right outside, so every time she tried to leave, they stopped her.

And the third and final time was just about a week before this all had happened. They were right here in medbay and she had finally agreed to let him put some order into her chaotic system. He had won her by bringing built-in wooden shelves that he made himself in his spare time (which she had no idea how he found but she was aware he got up earlier than everyone else) and they started hanging them together.

He was the one to fall hard on his ass this time and this should’ve been her cue something was off because she noticed how he lost his balance out of nowhere. She had rushed to him and leaned over while he tried to get back to his surroundings.

“How did that happen?” she had asked angrily, picking up his chin and staring into his eyes.

“I don’t know, you tell me, you were the one staring at my ass, marvelling my body, princess.”

“Was not!” she slapped his chest “I’m serious!”

“I don’t know...just got a little black before my eyes.” he mumbled huffing annoyed at her but felt his hands moving to her sides, watched his devilish smirk reappear.

“Did you have breakfast?”

“I never eat in the morning.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well you’re gonna do it from now on!” she said sternly. “That’s an order.”

“I don’t take orders from you, princess.”

“Don’t you?” it was her turn to smile a little devilishly before she captured his lips with hers.

Of course he moaned a little and she knew this time, she would be in charge when she let her hand slip down to his pants and cup the buldge that was already forming there, satisfied that she had that sort of an effect on him.

“Someone can catch us.” he acknolwedged this, whatever it was, for the first time then and gripped her body tighter as he moaned and pulled her closer, feeling her breasts rub against his rock hard chest.

“Then you can lift me up and carry me to the storage room if you don’t think you’ll pass out again, grandpa.” she whispered in his ear. He chuckled and picked her up in his arms with such ease, she yelped.

They came so close to actually fucking then but he stopped himself and let her jerk him with her hand while he sucked on the skin of her neck and massaged her breasts.

When they were done and were trying to put their clothes back on, she attempted approaching the subject carefully.

“What are we doing here, Bellamy?” he looked at her briefly and shrugged a little, keeping his back to her.

“I don’t know.” with that he fixed his belt, got his holster on and gave her a small nod before leaving.

“Get breakfast!” she insisted yelling after him.

He hadn’t done so, she had asked Murphy about it and decided she’ll show him so by being angry with him which resulted in a week of snapping and rather irrational and stupid behavior from both sides.

He kept to himself, mostly going out hunting or working in the woodshop which is what he called the corner under the big tree behind the dropship, south by their wall. She wanted to go there many times but stopped herlself as she wasn’t really sure how to feel about whatever this thing between them was but also because she was angry he refused to take proper care of himself but hypocritically went after her whenever he noticed her not eating and shoved a plate in her hands or wrapped her in hats and scarves once the snow hit.

He was a stupid little self-sacrificial idiot.

The urge to bang his head with a pan and pull him for a kiss was equally strong.

But back then in medbay as she was trying to save his life, all she could think about was that she would kill him if he died, so she focused and tried to do her best. She let Monty to clean the wounds on his chest upon determining them not as serious while she focused on his head. The hole was rather big and deep, she had to clean it up and stitch it well but she noticed there was some swelling at the back of his head too which she didn’t like. His pupils were barely responsive and his breathing was too uneven.

At first she thought she can pull it all by herself. He’d be fine, he just had to rest, the swelling would go down and he’ll get better. She had fixed his dislocated shoulder, wrapped his twisted knee in gauze and put ice on his broken ribs. He had somehow managed to fuck almost every part of his body but what really worried her was his head and the fact that after the first night, he burnt a fever, his breathing got worse and his pulse weaker.

That’s when she had asked Raven to radio her mom. Abby and Kane, of course, agreed to take them in, despite the fact they hadn’t separated on the best of terms. Clarke knew the adults were hoping the delinquents would come running back to them after the winter was through but all scouts and reports, even the grounder ones, said that Camp Jaha was less prepared for the harsh conditions than the Dropship.

They had also managed to establish better connections with the grounders and offer them medical help and assistance as well as some tech in exchange for help with crops and livestock, something her mom and Kane had not succeeded in no matter how hard they tried.

When her mom took a look at Bellamy, her eyebrows furrowed and she got too serious and quiet. Jackson had attached him to an IV while Clarke explained everything that had happened and what she had done to help him but she had been frantically twisting her hands beside her mom, waiting for her diagnosis.

Once Abby's hands moved to his skull and undid the bandage she had made, she carefully dragged her fingers over the scar, then turned his head right and looked up while examining him as she concentrated better this way.

“There’s lots of swelling back here.” she determined and Clarke shot up on her feet. “It’s pressing on his brain hard, that’s why his breathing is so bad and his pulse weak. The fall must’ve been rather strong, the impact his body made with the ground and whatever caused that wound...probably a rock was severe. It’s a miracle he made it out alive at all.”

Clarke wnated to scream-of course he made it. He is Bellamy. Her Bellamy. And he wasn’t going anywhere. She had to force herself to bite back on her emotions and try to sound calm and collected instead.

“What do you think? Will he wake up on his own?”

“Not unless I help him.” she determines “And still...there’s a chance he may not.” Clarke purses her lips and gives her a hard look.

“What do you have to do?”

“Basically make another hole at the back of his skull to relieve the pressure and put him in a medical induced coma until we can determine it’s safe for him to hopefully regain his consciousness.”

“Have you done it before?”

“More than once. There were many work incidents on the Ark.” she had reached out to touch Clarke’s hand but she pulled away immideately and Abby’s face fell “I’ll take good care of him.” Clarke had nodded but the truth was she didn’t believe anyone but herself when it came to Bellamy.

She had no choice, though, so she had to command herself to be strong as she watched her mom wheel him into surgery while she curled up sitting on the metal hallway floor and prayed that he would be okay.

Now here they were, just a few days after her mom had successfully operated on him.

He was still unconscious and she hadn’t left her side. Her eyes fell to map his body from head to toe again-every morning she picked up a clean towel and dipped it in the water, cleaning his face and chest with it, thinking that this is how she could make him feel better.

Bellamy’s first job when he woke up was to wash his face and soap his neck and chest, even in the winter when it was cold. She had caught him by the barrels of water near the kitchen more than once and let her eyes linger for a bit.

Now she squeezed the towel and gently ran it down his face, trying not to stir his head too much, afraid she may cause him pain.

“Your breathing is much better.” she told him “And your pulse is stronger. Mom says they can take you off the meds tonight which means you can wake up tomorrow.” she smiled when she moved the towel to his neck and chest, rubbing against it softly “You’re going to wake up, right?” she asked, her voice breaking up a little.

Clarke bows her head and squeezes her eyes shut, feeling her tears drop on his clammy and somewhat cold skin.

“I’m sorry-” she shook her head “I promised I’ll be strong but...it’s hard seeing you like this.” she cleans up his side, the bruise on his ribs, his stomach all the while avoiding the IVs they had in his arms or the machines they had attached to his chest.

Then she pulls up the blanket to his middle and cups his cheek softly.

“I’m angry with you, you know? That’s just one more reason for you to wake up-I know you love seeing me yell at you.” she smiled and moved closer, kissing his forehead while the tears kept streaming down her eyes and fall on his face.

She moved up and brushed them away before kissing his closed eyelids, then his cheek, after which she ran her thumb over his soft lips.

“You were so stupid! I told you not to go out there but you did anyway. I hate how you pretend that you don’t care about anything yet you walk around camp and make sure everyone’s fine, even me. I know you gave Jasper and Monty the cabin that was supposed to be for you. I saw Monroe dragging the deer pelts you use for your belt to her tent and I am sure now you’ve been giving your breakfast rations to Sterling because he’s still too weak after his sickness and honestly? It makes me want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you so hard, so you can remember yourself, Bellamy Blake!” she whispered.

“Where are you in all of these scheming and secret missions, huh? Who takes care of you?” she rests her head against his chest and hugs him tight, listening to the steady beating of his heart under her ear. “I should’ve noticed it earlier...I should’ve...talked to you about it, not that you would’ve listened but I would’ve at least tried. Maybe if I had you wouldn’t be here.” she moves up and looks at him, still expecting for him to just wake up and snap back at her.

“Anyway, I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.” she promised.

It was that night when she started sleeping curled up next to his good side under the thick blankets her mom provided.

The first time she came to check up at him at night and found her there, her eyes widened and she was clearly surprised but she thankfully had the decency to keep her thoughts to herself. In the morning, when Clarke hadn’t moved up, Abby tried asking if she’s comfortable enough like this to which she got a snappy responce from Clarke that she almost regretted after.

The days kept going like this, one after the other and to her it felt like she was in some sort of dream-like state. Still, she didn’t give up.

There was no reason he wouldn’t wake up on his own, her mom said-he’s breathing on his own, his heart’s stable and though he’s weak and lost blood, she still had hope he had been through the worst of it.

Yet, he wasn’t opening his eyes and it was killing her.

Every night she talked to him, ignoring all letters or radio calls from camp. She had left Miller and Raven in charge-they could deal for a week or two while Bellamy woke up. He had done more for them than anyone else, he deserved to be left at peace, the rest of it be damned.

Or so she thought, though deep down she was feeling responsible and her worry grew no matter how hard she tried to push it down.

“You know we never really talked about it...” she spoke to Bellamy one evening when she had curled up by his side getting ready for sleep that she knew she’d barely get anyway “whatever this thing between us...is. I know why you pulled away the last time-it’s too uncertain, this life, camp, the kids-it’s a lot of responsibility that falls on us and this makes it all the more complicated, right? What would they say if we got together? How would we cope with everything if we chose to take this path? I get it but...I don’t know-” she ran her hand up and down his chest “Somehow I think we could do it as much as it all scares me.” she had looked up at him “What do you think?”

Of course, no responce came but she still moved up and kissed his lips, feeling her heart desperately beat against her chest.

“You have to wake up, Bellamy.” she begged “You have to get back to me because if you don’t....I don’t think I’d be able to do this by myself. And it’s not just the camp or dealing with the grounders...I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” she had sobbed out and buried her head in the crook of his neck as she ran her fingers through his curls “Please...please, wake up, Bellamy.”

Clarke cried herself to sleep that night. In the morning, she was awaken by her mom who wasn’t alone this time-there was Kane and...Miller there.

“What are you doing here?’ she had asked, moving up from bed and feeling her cheeks burn as if she was caught doing something bad and not just slept next to the person she cared most in the world for right now.

“Clarke...” Miller began carefully “We need you back at camp.”

“No, I can’t leave. Bellamy’s still not awake and-”

“The first snow hit...there’s already a few cases of the flu going around. Raven and I tried to keep it together but...we need you to come back before it gets worse.”

“No...I can’t go! I can’t leave him!” she said, feeling the panic rise in her chest.

“Clarke, honey-” her mom tried but she snapped at her.

“Don’t!” she cut off “I know what you’re going to suggest. We’re not coming back here. We’re fine on our own.”

“That’s not what I was-”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“Clarke, please!” Miller tried, taking a step forward after looking at Bellamy’s lifeless body “I know how much you care about him but we need you too.” she felt the anger building up in her chest as she came closer too.

“You need me? What about Bellamy who needed you to get him to camp faster after he fell or at least get a proper bandage instead of a dirty rag that gave him infection?”

“Clarke-” her mom tried.

“He’s been sacrificng his life for you and this is what you do?” Miller’s face got paler by the minute, his eyes filled with tears but he bite his lower lip and stood tall against Clarke who was prodding his chest with her index finger.

“You are his best friend, for god’s sakes, how could you let this happen to him?” she raised her voice and Miller looked like he had just been slapped.

There was a moment of silence in which Clarke realized she had taken this too far and turned her back to them out of shame and fear. Her hand shot to Bellamy’s lifeless one and she squeezed it hard.

She heard Miller ask Abby and Kane to leave them alone before he moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re right about everything.” he said quietly without forcing her to turn around but simply letting her know he’s there “I should’ve been faster, should’ve made a proper bandage. The truth is I never thought I’d see him that hurt and I panicked.” his voice broke for a moment and Clarke turned sideways, catching his eyes.

“But you have to understand, I’d never come here and ask you to get back to us unless I thought it was absolutely necessary.” he swallows hard “I know how you feel about him.” that made her look away with her cheeks burning even hotter.

“I...I don’t-”

“You don’t have to deny it. I can see it clearly, so can the others.”

“They can?” he huffs out a weak laugh.

“You’re not exactly trying to hide it, Clarke. Plus the sexual tension drives us all nuts. We all bet on when you’ll finally sleep together and release us of this torture.” she chuckles out a laugh and lets Miller pull her to his chest “I know it’s a lot...what I’m asking but you wouldn’t be leaving him alone. I’ll stay while you’re back home. I know you’re scared of being in Camp Jaha on your own and I wouldn’t let him be by himself even if he was awake and coherent.”

She looks up at him and sees that he understands her worries extended to more than just Bellamy’s condition-they were the leaders of the Dropship and as much as she loved her mom and Kane she had no idea what they’d do if they wanted to try and push them to bring their two camps back together with force.

Bellamy being weak and sick made the situation even harder.

Miller was right-she had to go back, had to take care of camp and heal the sick kids, then bring Bellamy home with her if he was doing better. As much as she wished to do that now, she knew that he was still rather unstable and her mom’s medical equipment could save his life if necessary. His heart had been a little off the other night and he had a fever in the morning, so she wasn’t going to risk transfering him back home when he barely survived them getting him here.

She and Miller talked through the details and when everything was decided and he caught her up on the latest things in camp, she asked him to give her a few minutes to say goodbye to Bellamy.

Clarke waited for Miller to not just close the door but hear him walk down the hallway and once she was certain it was just them, she sat on the bed by his side, took his hand and cupped his cheek.

“Hey, I don’t know if you can hear me but I still have to say this.” she began quietly, looking down at his motionless face. His cheek was clammy and he felt a little hot to her again but he was just as beautiful to her as ever.

“I have to go back to camp.” she let out with a trembling voice “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on you or leaving you alone. Miller will be here to kick your ass and finally get you to wake up. I still believe you’ll be alright and nothing will ever change that, no matter how much time passes-weeks or months. You will come back to me, Bellamy Blake.” she insisted

“I know it because...I love you. I’m aware it’s too early to say this, we never even properly discussed what happened but I feel it in my heart and I know yours says the same. You’ve showed it to me a million times by now because love is not just about words-it’s about you shoving plates in my hands, wrapping me in warm jackets, yelling at me for working too hard or carrying me to bed when I’ve passed out in medbay.”

At that her tears were already falling down on their joined hands.

“When you get better, I swear, I’m going to kick your ass so hard, you won’t be able to spell your name. Then after I’m done, I’ll kiss you and break your world in two and if you call me princess one more time...well actually, I do kind of like it when you use it but I’ll never admit it.” she choked out a little “There’s more waiting for us out there, okay?” she finally moved down and pressed her lips agains his, then ran her fingers down his cheek and rubbed her thumb under his eye “I’ll see you soon, Bellamy Blake.”

She allows herself to cry on the way home, wrapped up in a bunch of blankets on the back of the cart Miller came here with. They didn’t have the luxary of Rovers like their mom did and even when she offered it, Clarke denied her. Sterling was the one taking her back to camp-the same boy Bellamy had given his rations to was now taking her away from him. He was still as rail-thin as before but his cheeks were flushed red. His eyes were sad and he only nodded just barely to her when she made it on.

If he heard her cry, he didn’t let it show and she was grateful for him.

The moment she sets foot back on the Dropship, she commands herself to be strong and gets back to her old self-not just for the others but for Bellamy, because she knew that’s what he would’ve wanted from her.

That doesn’t stop her from crying herself to sleep every night when she hides in the storage room and sleeps on the floor, remembering their last time there.

It’s the third day after she left Bellamy back in Camp Jaha, she’s elbow deep in fixing Collin-a thirteen year old boy’s broken leg, when Raven storms in the dropship. Clarke had been angry the kids went out there to supposedly fish but instead decided to skate and have fun while Bellamy was out there fighting for his life but she couldn’t really blame them-life went on no matter what and that scared her like nothing else. She had five more patients-three sick kids that she had secluded to the other corner and two more with breaks from the snowly weather.

"Clarke-” Raven calls out to her frantically but she doesn’t turn around right away.

Work, she had realized, provided for a good distraction.

“I’m busy, Raven. Whatever it is, it can wait.” she insisted while wrapping Collin’s leg in a bandage and trying to fix the torniquet in a way that would allow the kid to move his foot even if a bit.

“No, it can’t.” she says with urgency “It’s Bellamy.” Clarke’s head snaps at her friend and she drops the bandages. There’s a moment of complete silence in the room and Clarke knew she wasn’t the only one staring at Raven expectantly.

“He’s awake.”

She feels the tears gather in her eyes and moves closer to Raven.

“He’s awake?” she asks with fear, feeling like she’s dreaming and she’d wake up any minute now to the realization that none of this was true. It had happened in the past few weeks more often than she was willing to admit.

Raven nods and lifts her hand up, offering the radio.

“Miller wants to talk to you.” Clarke grabs it and leaves medbay before anyone can stop her.

Everything keeps feeling like a dream after that-she is on her way to Camp Jaha just an hour after she talks to Miller who confirms that Bellamy woke up but he was still rather weak and tired, so they let him sleep for now. Her mom said he seemed good, his vitals were strong and while it’ll take him a while to recover, he seemed coherent, answered all her questions and of course...asked for Clarke.

She should’ve been there. She should’ve goddamn been there when he came back.

Clarke doesn’t cry this time, she’s staring ahead, jaw clenched, hands clasped together, eyes boring into the near distance of the approaching Camp Jaha.

She jumps off the cart before anyone can say something-distinctly she recognizes Kane trying to talk to her as well as a few others but she strides towards the wreackage that was Alpha station where Bellamy was and basically starts running down the hallways once she gets inside, unashamed of all the looks people throw her way.

Once she gets there, she thankfully sees no sight of her mom-in all honesty, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to deal with her now but the curtains surrounding his bed were pulled and she stops, listening to Miller’s voice.

“She’s on her way now, she’ll be here any moment.” then finally, the voice she’s been craving to hear for weeks.

“She...shouldn’t have to...come.” it’s weak and so very quiet, not like the strong low voice she’s used to but still....him.

Clarke pulls the curtain with teary eyes and finds him lying in the same bed she used to occupy with him, propped up on a few pillows, somewhat sitting up, face still pale, the bandage on his head just as big and scary, his eyes a little disoriented but ultimately, the same warm ones she fell in love to.

“Bellamy!” Miller pulls back before she can knock him down and throws herself in his embrace. He chuckles a little-the voice sending her heart beating out of its ribcage as he moves his arm to wrap around her waist.

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Miller says after clearing his throat shyly and Clarke hears him pushing the curtain back in order to give them privacy. She holds Bellamy tight in her arms and he hisses.

“Dammit, princess...you’ll break another rib.” she loosens her grip but stays there, finally letting her tears spring free and wet his chest. “Oh, Clarke-”

“You’re here.” she whispers “You’re awake.” it sounds more like a question than a realization.

“I am.” he promises and moves his hand from her lower back to her head, which he strokes softly “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not.” she pulls away and faces him, not believing the fact that his eyes were actually opened. She cupps his cheeks and stares into them, feeling herself get lost in the warmth she found there.

“Or else you’d...wait...how did you put it “kick my ass so hard, I won’t be able to spell my own name?” Clarke’s mouth drops and she moves away for a moment.

“You heard me?” he smiles and it’s his turn to cup her cheek.

“Of course, I did, princess.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“But you said you love it!” she slaps his chest and he winces a little but pulls her up and rests his forehead against hers. “Thank you....for not giving up on me.”

“I never would. No matter what.” she insists. He takes a deep breath and after pulling her hand in his and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, he looks at her again.

“I love you too.” he let out “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” it was her turn to look away shyly.

“You don’t have to say this just because I did.”

“I’m not! You were right-I was showing it in all the little things-bringing you food, getting you to bed...but when we were actually together I...I closed up, built my walls. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same, scared of what everyone else would think of us if they found out. I was stupid...reckless. A thickheaded idiot like you called me.”

“Are you actually admitting to that?” she asks smiling and he groans.

“Just this once.” he pulls her up to his chest again, desperate to feel her closer “I mean it, though-I love you, Clarke Griffin. I think I have loved you from the moment I first met you and nothing, no steep hills or broken bones or cracked heads, would change that.” she smiles and hugs him back tightly again, resting her cheek on his chest and listening to his heart.

“Say it again.” she begs “I need to know this is real.”

“I love you.” he promises as he strokes her head “I love you, I love you...I love you.” she holds him tight in her arms and lets herself indulge in this moment. His breathing calms down and he keeps stroking back up and down and repeating it every once in a while until he stops and she moves her head up in confusion and worry that something is wrong with him again.

“What is it?”

“I mean I can keep on and I won’t mind doing it but...you did make me a promise to kiss me and break my world in two after I came back....princess.” she chuckles again but pushes up on her arms, getting closer to his face. His hand shoots for her cheek as he stares into her eyes again.

When their lips finally meet, he realizes that Clarke Griffin always kept her promises because his world did split in two and he was the happiest man on Earth for it.

#bellarke fanfiction #bellarkeedit #the100edit #bellamyblakeedit #bellarke fanfic #clarke griffin #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #ofc you know me for the hurt/comfort #hurt!bellamy #worried!clarke #unsconsciousness #love revelations #my writing

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kouros-herc · 7 months

Text

SWYNWRIMO2023

November 10 – Love Is Stored In The Garlic: Write about 10 significant meals that your character has had in their lives.

Ten Times Food Made Hercules Kouros Feel Love(d).

Gemista (Greek stuffed tomatoes and peppers)

He was 12 and summer was long. The sun was going down, but on the patio golden lights pooled, as a steady procession of grandchildren bore dishes and plates that weighed them down out to the large table set up outside. Hercules was carrying a huge pot of stew. His young arms should have been straining. It was set down with a great loud thunk.

He slid into his chair, and his grandfather started to speak. He made eye contact with his Uncle across the table, who gave him a wink. They had a big dish of gemista between them. His Uncle snaked a hand towards it as if he was going to grab it as soon as the man was done speaking. Hercules gave him a grin.

His grandfather finished the prayer, and his Uncle grabbed the dish. Hercules groaned, having been too slow, but his Uncle slid it back towards him so he could help himself.

“Go on, you go,” he urged the youngster. “Plenty for everyone.”

2. Oranges on the beach He was newly 14 and summer was good. The sun-baked orange peels were just waiting for him to dig his thumb into it. As soon as he did, the aroma filled the air all around them. Sea salt and sand and sun-cream and orange, glorious orange. His cousins were still dancing around in the shallows. Except for little ‘lexi. His cousin was pouting, and wanted a snack. He would return to that memory, time and time again, frozen in time. All of them together, the laughter, the cool water splashing down all over him, the feel of the heat on his face. The smell of the oranges filling the air.

3. Kleftiko (Greek roasted lamb with potatoes and vegetables)

He was 16 and it was his birthday. Hercules set his bag down, and dropped heavily down into a chair at the kitchen table. There was a handful of envelopes addressed to him sitting there, but he didn’t want to open them yet. The day had been long, and miserable, and he just wanted it to be over. Was it better that nobody had remembered it was his birthday? Or would it have been nice if just one person had thought about it?

It didn’t matter. They hadn’t, and it felt like there was this big gaping loneliness sitting in his chest.

His Mama came up behind him, and set down a glass of water for him. She ran her hand over the back of his unruly ginger curls, and gave his neck a squeeze. “You want to open your cards?” She suggested. Hercules mumbled something. He would get to it. They were probably from his aunts and uncles. “Then you can help me with some potatoes, eh? I’m making kleftiko?”

Ah. There was a smile. That was her boy.

4. Chicken with fried peppers and rice He was 18. His Mama had left today, moving back to London and leaving her boy to stay in Swynlake. He had moved into his new flat the day before, a shabby, empty little place, with no personality and a roommate who merely grunted in greeting. But she was ringing him from the train, as he clumsily chopped some peppers. There was a pan with some chicken in, already frying, and a pan of rice boiling at the back of the hob. When he started it had felt scary. Foreign, like a world he didn’t belong to. But now his Mama’s voice was there, and the chicken looked like it would be alright, and he had his tupperwares all set out to put spare servings into it so he’d be set for the next few days leading into the start of his first term at university. His eyes watered as he added the onions to the pan, and he rubbed the tears away with his forearm. It would be alright (but he still sort of wanted to cry).

5. Galaktoboureko (Greek custard baked in filo pasty)

He was 18 and it was almost Christmas. The weather was bloody awful. The whole train ride from Swynlake had been just one miserable grey blur as rain streaked the windows and countryside faded into grey nothingness, which became the grey London suburbs, which became the grey streets he’d walked down with his rucksack pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder because one of the straps had broken.

Papa was busy shutting up the shop when he arrived, so he trudged upstairs. Mama was out, apparently, taking some food to someone from church whose husband wasn’t very well. That had been hours ago (she had obviously got to chatting), so the flat was dark. Hercules sighed, and set down his bag in his room, before climbing over the bed to shut the curtains. Then he went around the rest of the flat, shutting blinds, until the grey darkness was all shut out.

He clicked the kettle on and looked around. Nothing had really changed here. Hercules sat down at the kitchen table in the same chair as always, rubbing his tired eyes. He was just thinking that perhaps he should make a start on the essay he had due after Christmas, when he realised there was a note on the table.

‘For ‘Erco. Welcome home xx’

His eyes fell on a plate, a thick slab of galaktoboureko on it, orange sauce having oozed down the sides and onto the plate.

He laughed, and picked up a fork.

6. Baklava and coffee. He was 24 and had just been dumped. Again. When he got home from work, there was a parcel waiting for him on the front step. He stooped, and picked it up. It was a little dented, but shouldn’t be too bad. He recognised his Papa’s spidery scrawl on the front of the parcel. Hercules sighed as he put the kettle on. It had been an ok day, really, but everything had taken on that grey filter of having been dumped out of nowhere by text the night before. Idly he dumped a tea bag into the mug, then remembered the parcel. He opened it, tearing into the paper with a satisfying rip. Something welled up inside him as he saw a packet of coffee, freshly ground and smelling strong and rich and filling the kitchen with an aroma even now. He lifted it out, and he felt the sudden urge to sob, as homesickness overwhelmed him for a moment. Never mind tea, he would make a coffee. His heart skipped a beat. Underneath was a tupperware box, filled with what he could tell from here was layer upon layer of sticky, glorious baklava, nuts scattered across the top where the crisp filo was crinkled slightly, and syrup clung to the roof of the box. “Thanks Papa,” he smiled to himself.

7. Orange cake

He was 27 and had a tray of cakes to bring to the Madrigal’s that his Mama had insisted he take with him - a thank you for the kindness of Isabela getting her Mama to cook some things for him while he was fasting. He was showing Isabela what all of the different cakes were, and he couldn’t resist taking some of each of them, and watching as her face lit up in pleasant surprise at the tastes. It wasn't home, but it almost felt like home.

8. Chippamunka's Spinach Puffs He was 27 and it was a random Friday night. Hercules grabbed a handful of napkins, and turned around as he heard a loud peal of laughter behind him. Boo was bent double, folded over the table, cackling with laughter at something that had been said. Q was wiping tears from her eyes as she went back to animatedly explaining something. Merida was barking with laughter. He smiled. It was silly, probably. Or probably the beers just getting to him, but it felt as though the lighting was all soft over there. He felt all warm. “Hey. You guys ordered the spinach puffs, right?” He turned around to see the waitress loading some things onto a tray. “Yeah?” “Here, take these over, they’re ready-” She smiled at him. “Cheers.” He picked them up and raised them in salute, before wondering why he was so weird.

9. Homemade sushi

He was 28, and hungry after football practice. He watched carefully as Bruce sprinkled something over the sushi to finish it. His brow furrowed in concentration as he did, and Hercules almost felt like he was intruding on something. He’d seen Bruce in a whole lot of situations, but there was something so sincere about this moment. He wasn’t doubting himself, wasn’t unsure and looking around. He was just doing something nice that he wanted to share with his friend.

“Good to go?” Hercules asked, suddenly finding his voice as Bruce straightened up again.

“Yeah!” Bruce grinned.

10. Apples and honey

He was 28 and it was Rosh Hashanah. “So now we dip the apples into the honey,” Ken explained, taking some slices of the apples. They’d gone to pick them that day, spent the afternoon wandering around the farm, and talking about things. Ken didn’t seem so upset about missing out on going home to see his family, and Herc was glad he’d been able to share this. “Ok.” Herc copied, and took a crunch of the apple. The sweet and floral taste filled his mouth as he chewed. “Damn. That’s good-” he wiped his mouth, and nodded. Who’d have thought it was something so simple, that could taste so good?

#swynwrimo #swynwrimo2023

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abookishdreamer · 9 months

Text

Character Intro: Telete (Kingdom of Ichor)

My Light by her mother

Tee-Tee by her family

Age- 13 (immortal)

Location- Hearthwood neighborhood, New Olympus

Personality- The "baby" in her group of cousins, she's sweetly innocent, sheltered, & unassuming. She's wholeheartedly focused in the potential of good in all beings.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. She shares abilities with her family members like limited photokinesis, ambrosia manipulation, having an eidetic memory, and blessing bestowment. Her other ability is vitakinesis (healing).

Telete is the only child of Ikesía, the youngest of The Litae. The both of them live at their house in the Hearthwood neighborhood of New Olympus. Her bedroom is in pastel hues of pink, lavender, silver, & mint. Framed inspirational quotes are posted all over the walls along with posters of her favorite deities she holds in high esteem. There's also string lights strewn decoratively about.

Her mom's griffin gave birth to three fledglings some time back and before they were scheduled to be adopted, Telete had her pick of one to be her animal companion. She went with the runt of the litter- a boy she named Bronzequill. When the mom was unable to nurse, Telete took on the responsibility, feeding him every three hours. She smiles at how fast he's grown- his strong hind legs & impressive shriek of a roar! In just a couple of years, Bronzequill may be large enough for her to ride!

A go-to drink for her is white grape juice. She also likes the banana milkshakes from The Frozen Spoon, ginger ale, lemon-lime soda, mint infused sparkling water, apple juice, and lychee juice. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean ia a medium iced green tea & a large coconut lychee splash.

There's a simple gold pearl pendant necklace (gifted to her by her mom) which she always wears.

Telete describes her personal style as "glamour doll preppy." Her closet is filled with conservatively minded printed tennis skirts, oversized cardigan sweaters, mary janes, ballet flats, tweed jackets, pastel colors, and chic peasant sleeved tops.

She loves her long thick curls! Her favorite products to use is the Glory's Crown marshmallow & babassu oil whipped curl creme and the Hairology 2-in-1 coconut milk & tumeric shampoo/conditioner.

Telete & her mom have a very close relationship. On saturday (a day before church), she'll surprise her mom with breakfast in bed. They'll end up spending the entire day in bed- knitting, sewing, reading, and watching wholesome family films. Even though Telete feels like she can talk to her mom about almost anything, there's a secret or two she keeps under lock & key.

Her relationship with the rest of the family are fairly ok. She sometimes feels like the odd one out when she hangs out with her cousins Epidotes (god of purity) and Pompe (goddess of rites) beacuse of the fact that they're closer. Telete does like her aunt Lití's homemade sourdough bread.

She loves wearing the LipCalm tinted lip balm in "watermelon summer."

A typical breakfast for her is a bowl of vanilla spice oatmeal topped with plain yogurt, crushed walnuts, & chopped pecans.

Within the family business, Telete's usually the errand girl- whether it's looking through the extensive record of scrolls, going for a coffee run, or getting paper orders from Chartí & Meláni, the stationery store owned by Philyra (goddess of perfume, paper, & beauty).

A guilty pleasure of hers are the extra crispy chicken wings from Olympic Chef- the crispier, the better! She'll treat herself to an order of 10 wings every other week, preferring to eat them with no sauce.

Telete's on break from school. She attends the same school in the city as her cousins & she's an exceptional student! She's even the student council secretary. The "Drool Crew" nickname does hurt a bit, but she tries not to let it get to her. She's friendly with Pandia (goddess of the full moon), Achelois (goddess of the moon & comfort), Philia (goddess of friendship), and is even courteous towards Anaideia (goddess of ruthlessness, shamelessness, & unforgiveness) even if it's not always reciprocated. Other godly students include Thespios (god of acting), Dysis (goddess of the sunset), E.B, Krysothemis, and Thrasos (god of boldness, insolence, recklessness, & courage). She's also friends with Calocagathia (Aggie) (goddess of nobility & goodness)- even spending time outside of school where they can be more free & laidback.

Her favorite sandwich is the grilled chicken caprese panini from The Bread Box.

Her all time favorite dessert from Hollyhock's Bakery is the banana pudding cheesecake!

In the pantheon Telete also admires & looks up to Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Nephele (goddess of clouds), Soteria (goddess of safety), Paregoros (Rae) (goddess of soothing words), Eudaimonia (goddess of happiness), Arete (goddess of virtue, valor, & excellence), Elpis (goddess of hope), Aletheia (goddess of truth), Homonoia (goddess of concord), and Pistis (goddess of trust, reliability, & good faith).

The biggest secret that Telete's been keeping from her family is that she has a boyfriend! She's been talking to Zale, a merguy who moved from the Underwater realm (who's also a student) for a few weeks. They first struck up a conversation during a school assembly when they were randomly seated together and things picked up from there when it was also discovered that they shared the same study hall period. Telete remembers everything about her first kiss with him- the way he moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, the way he smelled of aftershave and seaweed, the attractive way he licked his lips, & how he lightly traced her bottom lip with his thumb before moving in. Telete likes the fact that he's a "good boy with a bad boy aesthetic"- leather jacket, piercing dark blue eyes, and long black hair with the sides of his head shaved. Zale's also a total gentlemen- holding out doors for her and carrying her books if no one's paying attention to them. Because of the school's rumor mill (and other reasons), their relationship is on the down low. They try not to even exchange glances with each other while at school. The only free time they have to see each other is during study hall, where Zale found a blindspot in one of the staircases! Their first official date was at the movie theater after Telete left her class at Kyría Aristeía under the guise that she was running an errand for Eusebeia.

Her other extracurriculars include volunteering at the Psomí & Zoí soup kitchen. Telete calls herself the supreme master at cutting off the crusts on the moussaka sandwiches.

She's well aware that her mom is looking through candidates for her for a "possible coupling" when she's older.

Telete's favorite music artists to listen to include Pale Blu, Aoide (goddess of voice & song), and The Gypsy Belles.

On her smartphone, Zale's contact is saved under the name "Amalia."

Some of Telete's favorite dishes to cook are green bean casserole, garlic mashed potatoes, and white rice with okra stew.

In her free time she enjoys bike riding, gardening, yoga, knitting, cooking, doing lanyard, reading, and spending time with family.

"Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul."

#my oc #oc character #my character #my oc character #oc intro #character intro #oc introduction #character introduction #modern greek mythology #modern greek gods #greek myth retellings #greek goddess #greek goddesses #greek mythology #greek pantheon

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luveline · 2 years

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could i request sirius black helping you make dinner? like you teaching him how to cook

hi this idea is so lovely! i hope this is what u meant <333333

You stand in the kitchen with your hair out of your face and an apron tied loosely around your dress. The summer heat rolls through the kitchen and a gentle breeze kisses your skin, bringing with it the smells of your small herb garden. Parsley, cress, basil and mint.

Sirius hesitates in the doorway. You turn to him unassuming, a small smile on your lips.

"Hey. Feel better?" you ask.

He tugs at his wet hair, nodding absent-mindedly. He seems distracted by the kitchen counter, covered in food prep for your dinner.

"Clean enough for a kiss?" you ask hopefully.

His smile lightens. You flounce toward him and move up on your tiptoes to kiss his waiting mouth, a chaste peck. He cups your cheek as you set back down on your heels.

"Can I help?" he asks.

Sirius isn't shy - far from it. But he's quiet about the things he doesn't know, and the idea that he trusts you with this is enough to fill you up with a warm glow. You know Sirius had grown up in a rich house and attended boarding school through his young years and as a consequence never really learned to cook anything worthwhile. You're more than happy to teach him.

"Yes please."

Even something as simple as knife skills need to be taught. You know it embarrasses him that he doesn't know them, and so you drag him next to a cutting board.

"Wash these?" you ask, holding out a colander of broccoli.

He takes it. You make sure he can see your hands as you start to chop up your carrots, displaying where you hold your knuckles, the grip you have on the knife handle.

After a minute of that he puts the colander down on the top. You smile at him, orchestrating a practice run. "Will you finish cutting these for me? I'll get the radio."

Best to let him come to grips with a silver of privacy. You don't want him to feel judged – some things just need practice.

He's done a pretty decent job of it when you return. You're quick to turn the radio up high, spinning on your heel with a big smile. "There, now it's a real party."

Sirius reaches out, stroking the back of your hand with his pinky. "What now?" he asks.

"You like sautéed veggies, right?" He nods. "I thought we'd do honey. And we'll have garlic chicken. Yeah?"

"Sounds amazing."

You eat up his praise like a rabid animal, stepping into his space to rub your shoulder into his chest. "It's gonna be great. Better 'cos we made it together."

He exhales, not quite a laugh. You tuck a wet curl behind his ear and then clap your hands together. "I'll sautée. You can make the garlic butter."

"Baby," he says tentatively. "I don't know how to do that."

His honesty plucks your heartstrings. You brush the back of your hand over his cheek before giving him a determined smile, moving to get the ingredients from your small fridge. "I'll show you how. It's so easy, Siri, don't worry. You'll be amazing in no time." You mean cooking in general, not just making garlic butter.

He grins. "Better than you?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

You peel a bulb of garlic and take a clove, lay it flat. You crush it with the side of your knife, then mince it. Sirius watches patiently.

"Just gotta do that," you murmur, then look up at his concentrated furrow of brows. "Okay?"

"Yes miss," he says easily.

He struggles through the first one. You light the hob and warm your frying pan before dropping a square of butter into the centre and spreading it around with a wooden spoon.

You turn the heat down. "You almost done, handsome?" you ask quietly.

He smiles. It's bashful. "This is finicky. You've an advantage, your hands are smaller."

"Yes I do," you agree, though you've no clue if bigger or smaller hands make a difference. He's done a pretty good job. You tell him. "Even with your big hands, you've done a great job. We can soften up some of the unsalted butter and," you pause, opening the patio door to step out into the garden. You trim a few fresh sprigs of parsley and rush back in. "Mix this in too. Then you get the gross job - you get to massage it into the chicken."

He doesn't seem perturbed. "Right."

You put the parsley into his open palm. "You got this."

"I got this," he agrees. "Thank you, sweetheart."

You kiss his shoulder and go back to your frying pan. You have some veggies that need sautéing. There'll be time for your welcomes later.

#sirius x you #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

Note

ahh!! a fellow curly girl!! if you dont mind me asking, could you go into more detail about your hair type/maintenance? what is your hair’s natural curl type and porosity level and did it change at all after transitioning? how often do you go between “washes” (co-washes)? does your hair tend to get frizzy or lose its shape quickly between washes, or is it pretty durable? also, have you ever used a leave-in product other than gel, and if so why did you move away from that? what kind of gel do you use? do you get special curly-hair cuts/do you think the kind of hair cut matters? do you air-dry or diffuse? thank you in advance!! -a curly girl who would love her hair to look like yours 💓

So, curl type according to Lorraine Massey is Wavy, and according to the number system I guess about 2c on average? Obviously you get different curls all over, and it changes with weather, and hair length, and products, and the movement of the stars, and the fae blessings cast upon you depending on the quality of the cheese you cast in the lake.

But mostly 2c on average. Short bits (I have a fringe) can be as much as 3b, long bits on day 7 can be 2a.

And it MASSIVELY changed after transition (hair transition, I am aware of how that sounds). My first ever curly wash was this:

And a year later was this:

It curled more as it gained health.

Porosity I don't know, I never really bothered with it. I was told it's one of the things that the internet kind of popularised, but isn't really part of the method - like the moisture/protein balance myth - so I ignored it.

I wash it once a week. Sometimes more often if needed, but once a week as standard. I am extremely lazy so it was one of the big draws of the method because I enjoy Being Still and Doing Nothing. It does lose definition and gain a bit of frizz as the week wears on, of course, but not too much usually? I recently bought the Cantu spray and that's the only thing I've found that successfully allows me to refresh, so that may be about to extend the lifespan of the curls after each wash day.

I tried leaving in some conditioner a couple of times, and it did give better curls, but I stopped doing that - it's too loose a curl pattern for it, so I got greasy faster and also it felt like straw and made me feel like a sexy scarecrow, which more power to you if that's the dream but personally is not my bag. So I just use gel. I generally use Shockwaves Ultra Strong (the weight of my hair means I do need a firmer gel hold), but in summer I switch to Tuff Stuff because my summer hair loathes glycerin.

Haircut: yes, I'd say with curls the outcome is one third products, one third technique, and one third cut. I gave myself a unicorn cut initially, and it instantly looked better. I did find a proper CGM trained stylist and bit the bullet in the end, though. I figured I'd go once, get the proper style, and then trim it myself. But, first of all it's a consultation as much as a haircut, so v useful, and secondly, it's the first time in my life I've trusted and enjoyed a hair stylist, so I go to her once a year. Previously my experience with hair stylists was always being told "Oh, look at this lovely long hair to chop off!" which made me want to drop kick them through the window, and was inevitably followed by them agreeing to cut off an inch and then removing half my fucking hair. Like ffs Karen I wanted a trim, not to give you my daughter's hand in marriage.

Drying: I diffuse, ain't nobody got time for air drying. Plus if I diffuse upside down I get Volume, which is a challenge with the weight of it. That said, in hot weather I have air dried. My method is to put the diffuser on a chair at the foot of the bed, set a stool over the side of the bed, and then lie on the bed with my hair over the side on top of the stool in the path of the warm air. Resting on the stool means some of the weight is removed so it helps to curl up to the root. Then as it dries I shuffle down the bed to get the next bit into the warm air and thus get to lounge about like a Roman emperor demanding to be hand fed grapes (I truly am dedicated to my laziness and also good lower back support). I believe it is called hammock diffusing, although my bed set up is my own addition.

Anyway, I hope this helps!

#long post #hair #asks

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dokifluffs · 3 years

Text

Booping His Nose | Aone, Ushijima

Pairings: Aone X Reader (gender neutral), Ushijima X Reader (female)

Genre: soft 🥺 sweet fluff

Author’s Nose: im absolutely and utterly soft for Aone and his turt 🥺

Aran, Kenma, Atsumu // Nishinoya, Sachiro, Kuroo // Sakusa, Iwaizumi // Suna, Kageyama, Matsukawa // Tendo, Hinata, Bokuto // Yamaguchi, Osamu

gif from @rivaillerose

Aone:

A cool, early summer breeze blew by, making the plastic bags in your guys’ hands rustle as the two of you walked side by side, on the way toward his house

“‘Nobu, what are you gonna show me?” You asked for the nth time, though you knew you weren’t going to get an answer

“We went grocery shopping for these veggies…” you mumbled to yourself, taking a peek to refresh your memory

He held the bag with the heavier snacks that you guys would eat and share and you help the lighter bag of veggies, specifically spinach, carrots, and even a few kiwis

Was he going to make you something to eat?

He was only silent as he looked down to you, giving you a soft, silent smile as you guys turned onto the block, approaching his home

The only plans you were sure of was that you two were going to watch a movie or two tonight while and snack a bit, eat pizza

But oh well

You opened your mind, just going with the flow, not worrying much about anything as long as you spent some time with Aone

Stepping inside, you were greeted warmly by his parents before they left very shortly to head out to relative’s house

This time, he took care of the veggies and produce bag while you helped yourself to some snacks, sorting the others that you weren’t too interested in, away

You snacked, standing beside him as he washed the fruits, occasionally feeding him before he had to focus, cutting the fruits diligently but also into very small, small cube shapes

He plated them neatly, alongside the greens and that was when he took your hand

“I want you to meet someone very special.” He spoke matter of factly before he brought you to the sun room, setting the plate of veggies and fruits down before disappearing once again

But when he returned, it was like there was a sparkle in his eye, his hands holding something, though you couldn’t really see what

“Who is it?” You asked as he knelt down right beside you

“This is berry, my tortoise.” He opened his hands, revealing a small tortoise walking from his cupped hands, right toward the plate of deliciousness as fast as she could

“Oh my gosh, she’s so precious, Nobu,” you gasped as you laid lower, closer to the floor, as close as you could without startling her or anything

Aone smiled happily, seeing his two favorite beings together, finally meeting

He went through the story of how he adopted her, how he bonded with her, learned to take care of her

And now that you had gotten the chance to meet her, the three of you could grow and see her grow

Though she would be living far much longer than the two of you

You two knelt low in the sun room, watching her bite the small-cut fruit, taking mighty but tiny chops into the spinach leaves

She was just so cute but made a perfect acquaintance for him

You couldn’t even think about a movie as the two of you were much more entertained just by watching Berry eat her meal

Looking beside you to Aone, he watched her like anyone would want to be looked at by their loved on - almost like he was looking at her just like he was looking at you

With his chin resting in his hands while the two of you laid on your bellies, elbows propping yourselves up, you leaned over and pressed your finger to his nose

“Boop.”

And you knew for a long time that he never really was one to show emotions, but you had never seen his cheeks turn pink so fast while Berry walked in between the two of you

gif from @rivaillerose

Ushijima:

“Mm, this team was good,” Wakatoshi spoke stoically as ever as you leaned back into him, his arm draped over the back of the couch

Dinner had already been eaten and the night was very young

Though you did feel a little lethargic from how you were positioned

His abdomen providing you the perfect pillow, but his lap was even better as you laid yourself across from him

“What team?” You asked, turning to glance at the tv, suddenly seeing a closeup of hinata and kageyama

“Argentina,” he spoke stoically and that was when you remembered the game the two of you were watching

It was the pre-olympic qualifiers with the Japan team and the Argentina team, of course with Oikawa Tooru as their setter, a setter Wakatoshi highly approved of

You did your best to stifle a yawn, only for it to grow into an even bigger yawn

“Tired?” He looked down to you, resting his hand on your baby bump

“Mmhm,” you blinked slowly, bringing your hand to his, feeling his warmth

“Do you want to go upstairs? I can carry you.”

“Oh, no, no Toshi. I’m far too heavy for that but I just wanna stay here with you.” You adjusted, turning to your other side that faced the back of the couch, facing in to his stomach

It was so perfect

The couch supported your heavy belly, letting your back rest for the first time in awhile

You were right there besides your husband, able to smell his fresh body wash his hand now resting on your arm, stroking it as he continued to look down at you

“It would be no problem. I can carry you at any weight, so don’t worry,” his lips curled up a little, the tickling feeling of his thumb now on your cheek

“I wanna stay here with you,” you looked up to him, wrapping your fingers around the bottom edge of his shirt

“Alright, then.” He continued watching his game, rewatching the footage to prepare for the actual olympic games

When you first met him, Wakatoshi was even quieter, not really talking much unless asked to, and.. not slow per se, but he would have to ask about jokes as well as online trends

He was very focused on himself, doing things he knew would be the best for him and here he was

He was a lot more open with you, mostly because you two had been married and you were pregnant with your guys’ first kid

Things were for sure changing, life was changing and

You got to spend it with Wakatoshi

You further nuzzled your face into his abdomen, liking how warm it was, despite his strange it would sort of look to others if they just walked in and saw you rubbing your face into your husband’s stomach but you couldn’t help it but touch and feel him before he would be gone again and you would be alone and needy for him

He smelled so good, he was so warm

You could’ve, you wanted to fall asleep right then and there in his lap but there was something else that just didn’t want you to inside

Looking up to him, your eyes practically half open, he was so focused on the game, he had that face on, which was basically his everyday face, that you couldn’t tell what he was really thinking

But you just knew it was about the game

Reaching up, your rest your hand on his pec and shoulder, getting his attention

“Hm? Do you want to go upstairs?”

Giving him no answer, you simply reached over and pressed your finger to his nose, booping it

A look of confusion spread on his face for a moment before he did the same, slowly reaching over and awkwardly booping your nose too

You hummed, content for some reason that he had done it

“I’ll stay here with you,” you spoke softly, snaking your hand under the hem of his shirt, resting it on his lower back, a feeling he was very much used to at this point

Every touch from you, he was used to

“Alright then. Let me know when you would like to go upstairs and I will carry you, Y/N.” He ever so carefully pulled you closer, leaning to the side to pull the folded, light blanket to throw it over, draping it over your body

“M’kay,” you hummed, before finally reaching for his hand that rest on your arm, bringing it to your face so you could hold his hand, feeling him as you let yourself doze off completely

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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necros-writing-stuff · 2 years

Note

Eden with a stalker is such an intriguing thought. Staring from the treeline while they chop wood and weed plants, sneaking up to the cabin at night to have a little look around. Eden would either hate it or find it very convenient

Eden with a stalker is one of my favourite things mostly because I'd stalk him.

Obvious warnings for stalkings, scent kink and Eden just being Eden.

But imagine Eden walking around, turning their head this way and that because they just feel this tingle down their spine that tells them they're being watched. It's not a wolf. The wolves would have attacked by now. They've been being watched for days now.

It's so hot. Dead of summer, sun shining right onto their back as they chop wood. They want to take their shirt off, but they can feel those eyes right on them. Eventually, the heat gets too much, and they take their shirt off anyways. A few minutes later, they swear that they hear a little whimper from the bushes, but by the time they get over there it's empty.

They barricade the door at night now. What if someone that they had fought with in the past is trailing them, waiting to get revenge for some stupid decision Eden made as a teenager?

Eden should never have put WD40 on their damn window hinges. They find one open in the morning, as well as yesterday's clothes missing. The unwashed ones. It makes them nauseous. Some freak from that town was in their home. Some fucked up little shit stole their clothes and is doing god knows what with them.

It's not till they look in their mirror to get ready in the morning that they see the hickey on their neck. What the fuck.

Eden is a light sleeper. They wake up when anything approaches the fucking cabin. How could they not wake up to their new problem suckling at their skin like a damn vampire bat?

They have to fight the urge to throw up when they think of what else could have been done to them, but theirs no fluids on them or the bed. There's no ache in their body. Just missing clothes, an open window and a marked up neck.

They start imagining the worst. Some 70 year old man with the worst hygiene terrifyingly wide eyes. You can imagine their surprise when they finally catch their little fox, as they began to affectionately call you once you were collared.

Not an off-putting old man. A pretty thing that they were stricken by as soon as they saw them. You'd been so scared when Eden had reached into the foliage you had been hiding in, gripping you by the neck and pulling you into the clearing. They'd just been passing by, they didn't look paranoid at all. They always looked paranoid when they knew they were being watched.

You had seen the hunter attack people for simply coming across their path in the forest. It's why you chose to love them from afar. They're someone who loves their personal space. That time you crept in was a moment of poor impulse control on your part. You'd made your dear hunter upset. You never intended to make them upset.

Not that it matters now. It all worked out for the better. Why didn't you see how lonely they looked when you watched them? It's so clear to you now as you snuggle in their lap, listening to their low voice read. Maybe that was why they didn't kill you. They'd ripped your clothes from your body and taken you so hard it had hurt. But you had deserved it. You'd upset them, so they should punish you.

The collar around you neck made you smile everytime you saw it in the mirror. It was a reminder that your dear hunter had chosen you. The marks on your neck reminded you that only they had the privilege to make marks. You were to receive, obey and smile. There's nothing that could make you happier.

Eden still flinches or curls their lip when you do some things, like hoarding their underwear or whining when they need to go hunting. If you're that infatuated with their scent, you can get on your knees and please them directly. If you don't want to starve, you'll let them hunt.

And you have to stop trying to cook more recipes for them goddamn it. Eden likes what they like. They don't need you changing their diet because 'it's healthy'. They're plenty healthy enough.

For now you think too much for yourself. And you think you can think for Eden. It should be the reverse. Anything Eden dictates, you should believe like its a law from whichever damn god made you.

Just a little more training is needed, though. Turns out grabbing your stalker to be your spouse can work out exponentially, so long as they're you.

#spill your guts #anonymous #eden the hunter #degrees of lewdity #'nw stalking'#'nw scenting'

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marginalmadness · 4 years

Text

Summer Nights: 2/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Mature (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long…will it?

Warnings/Tags: This chapter involves Jungkook going into heat.

Author’s Note: If I called @johobi patient before, I fucked up the tenses to bad in this chapter, it took her HOURS to fix. But she approved of the chapter which I’m happy about because this is the one I was most worried about. Jungkook Goes into heat in this chapter, and I hope nobody wants to kill me when they finish it. Chapter 3 is only a week away! <3

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Tags: @kookiebunny97 @mintyrae @skswriting

Word Count: 5.6K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

I hope everyone is enjoying BE, and Life Goes On.

Summer Nights: Chapter Two

The next morning is the first day of your new-new normal. You wake to the sound of music coming from the living room. You pull yourself to your feet, shuffling from your bed to find the sourc

The next morning is the first day of your new-new normal. You wake to the sound of music coming from the living room. You pull yourself to your feet, shuffling from your bed to find the source of the enchanting sound. To your shock and delight, you find Jungkook hopping around the kitchen happily, ears and hair bouncing as he sings along to the radio and prepares pancakes. His voice is divine. You stand there enraptured, caught under his spell. He drops the spatula in fright when he turns to find you leaning against the wall, watching him silently.

“Please continue,” you urge him. But he shakes his head, blushing and hiding behind his ears. “Your voice is so pretty. Please?” you coax, stepping towards him. Jungkook considers you from behind his ears for a second. Then, tentatively, he picks up the spatula and resumes his song while he washes it clean.

From that day onwards, he wakes you each morning the same way, voice drifting through the bedroom door he leaves slightly ajar. There’s always a stack of warm, fluffy pancakes waiting for you in the kitchen, and beside it a bowl of yogurt-drizzled fruit. As soon as you’re seated, Jungkook extends a freshly brewed cup of breakfast tea to you. You eat together in the early morning light, the radio playing in the background. And while you get ready for work, Jungkook cleaned up the dishes from breakfast.

Domestic heaven.

At the end of your work day, you come home and thank God he’s still there. Sometimes he’s typing away on your laptop. Jungkook signed up as a freelance transcriber as a way to make money while staying with you. It was something to do while you were at work, too, restless soul that he is. Sometimes, though, you come home to find him flopped on his side in a patch of sun, having a nap as a bunny.

You cook dinner together now. Well, when you say together, you mean you take his direction, since Jungkook is a much better cook than you. He uses some of his free time to look up recipes he thinks you’ll like.

It’s ridiculously heartwarming.

After dinner, as is your routine, you split the washing up and curl up together to watch some Netflix. On the days you do all the washing up, Jungkook doesn’t fight you for control of the TV.

You still tease him over the first and only time you watched a horror movie. The first jump-scare forced him into rabbit form and he leapt into your lap in fright. Jungkook spent the entire movie there, shivering. And the rest of the night he spent pressed against your side in a tight, furry ball. Of course, the next day he insisted he wasn’t that scared, he just didn’t want to bother you by transforming back and forth.

He did a similar thing when you were watching a sappy romantic movie, but you don’t tease him about that. The second you noticed him sniffling at the lovers’ separation, he turned into a rabbit and hopped off his chair and over to you. You expected him to come cuddle, but he scrambled onto the back of the sofa and situated himself by your head instead. Every time there was a particularly romantic moment, he would nudge you with his nose and tickle you with his whiskers. And when he was feeling particularly bold, he’d grip your shoulder with his front claws and rub his chin over your cheek and neck. It tickled so much it made you squirm.

After extricating yourself from his clutches, a quick search on the internet told you that rabbits do this to mark their territory. You have trouble looking him in the eye the rest of that day. You know he’s attracted to you; have done since that first night. But he’s been ever so respectful. For some reason, the thought of him marking you as his makes your skin flush and burn.

Shopping for groceries is an experience, too. Jungkook skips around the store, picking multiple things up, asking you if you like them before throwing them in the shopping cart. It doesn’t matter whether you need them or not, just if you like it. That’s good enough for Bun. He’s so happy and energetic, his smile wide and eyes sparkling until you bend over into a freezer to pick up some ice cream. When you turn back, Jungkook is clinging to the cart, his eyes wide and entire body stock-still. All but his foot as it wildly pounds the ground.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask with a tilt of your head. His mouth drops open into a shape as round as his eyes. Mimicking you, Jungkook tilts his head before blinking and shaking it. And then he coughs, practically vibrates, before muttering something about cereal and running off in the opposite direction of the cereal.

Ever since that peculiar day, Jungkook has insisted on going grocery shopping alone. Something about getting out of the house and becoming more independent. But he blushes and averts his eyes as he says it, foot tapping wildly until he kicks over a plant pot. He cleans up the mess without another word, chewing on one of its stricken leaves and purposefully avoiding your eyes for the rest of the day.

Your weekends become different too. Before Bun arrived, you’d spent them relaxing after your work week, alone and in peace. Now you have a tiny, demanding rabbit that follows you around your apartment, tripping you up. And now you also have a fully grown, demanding man. A roommate - for lack of a better word - with which to do things. Now you have Saturday walks in the park and Sunday brunches. Imagine that.

Jungkook is incredibly physical. Forever moving, rarely still, bouncing from foot to foot, wiggling when excited. When you praise him, he claps and dances. The day you get a promotion at work, he hugs you so tightly, lifting you up and spinning you in the air because he’s simply that happy. He binkies about in excitement just as much as he did in bunny form, long hair and floppy ears bouncing wildly as his eyes crinkle in happiness, sending things flying in his excitement. You’ve already replaced one particular lamp three times.

But then Jungkook starts marking his territory in human form, too.

You’re chopping something for dinner on some nondescript day when Jungkook approaches you from behind, hands sliding gently over your hips. You could shake him off easily if you wanted to. But you find yourself not wanting to. His chin rests on your shoulder as though he’s just watching you work, but then the subtle rub starts. Across your shoulder and into the crook of your neck, until an involuntary shudder runs down your spine. It snaps Jungkook back to his senses and he pulls away.

—-

The day everything changed was the day from hell. Work had been awful, just one fuck up after another. None of which were even your fault, but all of which you were expected to fix.

You come home to a tidy apartment, subtle scented candles burning and soft music playing. Jungkook is in the kitchen cooking, and you’re sure the ingredients you can smell are ones he’s shopped for today.

“Welcome home.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “Dinner is almost done if you want to get washed up.” He turns back to stir the pan on the stove. When you walked through the front door you were on the verge of tears. Now your eyes are misting up for the complete opposite reason.

You drag your sorry ass over to him and practically collapse against his wide, strong back, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist like he often does you.

“Thank you,” you practically sob into his shirt, screwing your eyes closed in an effort to not actually cry. You try to keep the emotion out of your voice but Jungkook knows you well enough to sense you’re upset by something. He immediately switches off the stove burners and turns to wrap his arms tightly around you, holding you without a second thought.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, voice full of concern. Large, strong hands brush the hair back from your face.

“I just had a really shit day, and you just—” You turn, arms flailing, motioning to the clean apartment and dinner on the stove. Jungkook nods in understanding. “—you made it all better.” His eyes go round as he blinks at you in shock, before melting into something warm. He tucks your hair behind your ears and tilts your head as he moves in, as though he were going to kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed as his nose brushes yours, but his lips never touch yours. “What’s this?” you ask in a whisper, blinking your eyes open to find him smiling at you softly.

“A rabbit thing,” he says simply, resting his forehead against yours with a soft grunt of air. It doesn’t quite reach a growl. You know it's a rabbit thing; you researched. But you didn’t expect it in human form.

“Okay.” You don’t push, don’t demand an explanation for a deeper meaning, just accept the affection from him. You lean in and brush your nose against his in return, causing him to gasp and grunt again, hand moving from your face to your waist. It lingers there for a few seconds before Jungkook gently, physically, pushes you away, his large eyes looking bigger than usual. His pupils are blown out, almost entirely black. Breath comes from his parted lips in short pants and huffs.

“You should get cleaned up while I finish dinner,” he says softly, stepping backwards. There’s an arm’s length of space between you now. You nod at him, hands finding his, giving him a squeeze as you back out of the kitchen. You don’t let go until the space between you is too far for your fingertips to touch. His eyes don’t leave you until you’re completely out of sight.

You close the door quietly, leaning your forehead against it and taking slow, deep, grounding breaths, trying to calm the racing of your heart. What was that? Sure, it isn’t the first time he’s done it; he did it on the night he transformed and kissed you. Somehow, though, it felt as intimate as him kissing you again. Is it wrong to feel this way towards Jungkook? He’s your Bun, your charge; you’re his caretaker. Are you taking advantage of him? Is he only acting like this because he’s thankful to you for taking care of him?

You push off and away from the door, feeling heavy. It’s almost like there’s a rope connecting you to Jungkook and forever pulling you towards him. You change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. If that more comfortable thing happens to be something just a little clingy in certain, flattering places, and it makes you feel pretty, then you tell yourself you need the ego boost after the day you had. It has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to look good for Jungkook. You head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your hair into something more relaxed before returning to the kitchen. And Jungkook.

“Nope!” Jungkook yells, stopping you before you can even enter the kitchen, two strong hands taking you by the shoulders, turning you around and practically marching you towards the living room. You pout over your shoulder at him, but he’s just grinning and laughing at your pouty face. You slump onto the sofa and he leans over the back of it, hovering over you, his eyes crinkling as he laughs musically. Ever so carefully he takes you by the jaw, rubbing his chin over your head, tilting you to the side so he can whisper in your ear.

“Sit and relax, I’ll bring you dinner.” His voice is light and full of joy.

You sit and pout, grabbing the remote to put some music on. At the exact moment you drop it back to the table, a bowl of food is placed in front of you. You blink up at a grinning Jungkook as he retreats eagerly to the kitchen, presumably for drinks. His enthusiasm is infectious. You pick up the bowl of pasta, twirling your fork in the creamy sauce and noodles, and take a big bite. It’s delicious. Delicious enough to have you moaning with pleasure and sliding back against the couch.

“Kookie, this is amazing!” you groan, licking the sauce from your lips.

Jungkook stares at you, eyes wide, focused on your tongue as it slides along your lips. You hadn’t even realised he’d come back from the kitchen. He places a glass of wine on the table in front of you, ducking his head and hiding behind his ears as he shuffles to his spot on the sofa, bowl in hand. You watch him slyly out of the corner of your eye. His face is so red, so glowing you can almost feel the heat radiating from it. “I made it,” he says, still staring intently at his food. “I found a recipe online I thought you would like.”

“From scratch?” you ask, amazed. He nods, biting his lip and refusing to look at you. You reach across the space between you and thread your fingers into his soft, wavy locks, rubbing the spot just behind one of his floppy ears. “Bun this is amazing, it tastes amazing!” His head lifts up, eyes so big they sparkle in the low light. “You’re amazing,” you whisper in a soft voice. Jungkook ducks his head again, hiding once more behind his long ears and curly hair. He eats his food slowly, more picking at it than anything. You, on the other hand, tuck in enthusiastically, all manners and grace gone, letting him see and hear your enjoyment of the food. You know how much it pleases him when you unabashedly enjoy his cooking. When you ask for seconds, handing him your empty bowl, Jungkook binkies across the room to the kitchen, bouncing on his heels as he piles a second serving of noodles and sauce into your bowl.

He hands it back to you soon after and sits beside you on the sofa, knees curling under himself. Reclining on the back cushions, he observes you as you eat, arms crossed and eyes sparkling. When you’re half way through your second serving and can’t eat a bite more, he whisks away the dishes and returns quickly to your side.

Jungkook flops over and places his head in your lap. “Will you…” He bites his lip, turning to bury his face in your sweater, his cheeks burning crimson again.

“What? What do you want, Kookie?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair and rubbing a thumb over the gentle fur of his ear. It twitches repeatedly.

“Just this. Will you play with my hair? Stroke my ears?” he asks in a small voice. It’s unusually meek for him in his human form.

“Of course I will, Bun. Anything you want.” You smile, running your fingers through his hair, nails trailing down his scalp. His leg kicks out, narrowly missing the coffee table. You hand him the remote. “Pick something to watch.”

Jungkook shuffles, turning to face the TV. With his head still in your lap, he curls up into a ball, enjoying your ministrations. You continue to pet him, running your fingers through his hair and stroking his ears, twirling locks of hair around your finger before releasing the resulting curl. You lounge there together, the stress of the day bleeding away from you thanks to a stomach full of good food and your hand tangled in the hair of—Jungkook—whatever he was to you right now.

You don’t know exactly when you fall asleep, but you wake to strong arms holding you, carrying you to your room. Jungkook places you delicately on your bed and you fling yourself backwards, curling up to drift off again. But before long you’re being shaken gently awake and sat back up. Soft, cotton pajamas are pushed into your hands.

“You need to get changed,” a soft, deep voice says firmly in your ear. A warm body presses against your back.

You pout, eyes resolutely closed, but begin taking off your sweater. Large hands help you when you get tangled on your arms. It’s even more of a struggle to unhook your bra. You flail for a while before dropping your arms and slumping back against Jungkook with a tired, pathetic whine. If you were properly awake you might have noticed how his breath hissed through his teeth, or how his nose rubbed your temple.

With more force than is probably necessary, Jungkook grips you by the shoulder and props you forward. Then, with just one finger, he pulls your bra band away from your back, taking all care not to touch you at all. By some black magic he manages to unhook it, sliding the straps down and off your arms before discarding it on the floor. Not once does he look over your shoulder. He pulls the camisole of your pajama set over your head, guiding your arms through the straps before you wake enough to take over and pull both arms through.

“Now the shorts,” he grunts, low and gruff. It’s unusual enough that you pout at him over your shoulder.

“Bossy bunny,” you mumble, standing and kicking off the comfy leggings you had on. Somewhere in the back of your head you register a soft ‘”shit’” that you’re too tired to acknowledge. You pull on your shorts and sit back down, immediately flopping to your pillow. You feel your body being turned, tucked beneath the sheet pulled over you. Sleep comes easily to you after that.

—-

You wake up while it’s still dark outside. Jungkook’s chest is hot against your back, his knees curled and tucked behind yours. A muscled arm hangs heavily over your waist, keeping you close to him. You lift it as carefully as possible and slide out of bed, tip-toeing stealthily across the soft carpet and out of the room. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass in the dark, in search of a drink for your parched throat.

You drink your fill and shuffle back to bed, bringing a glass with you just in case. Although you slip into your room as stealthily as you’d left it, Jungkook is awake when you return. He sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, bottom lip snagged beneath his prominent front teeth.

“Kookie?” you ask softly in the darkness, making your way back to your side of the bed. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I just—I reached for you and you were gone,” he says, watching you place your glass of water down and climb back into bed. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Silly rabbit,” you coo. Jungkook rolls towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling a powerful, muscular leg with yours. You settle back, stroking his head and mulling over his unusual clinginess as sleep comes to claim you.

But then you feel a pressure against your thigh, and you’re suddenly very awake.

Jungkook undulates his hips to a subtle rhythm. “Wha-” you begin, turning to look at him. But he buries his nose beneath your jaw, his breath coming out in soft, heavy huffs in time with his movements. He grinds against your hip with a desperation. You swallow audibly, forcing yourself to ask as your face burns. “Jungkook, what are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he whines. “I can’t help it, I just—” He throws his thigh over your hips, shifting until he’s hovering over you, weight on his knees and forearms. His hips drop to roll against your stomach, a thick bulge straining the thin material of the pajama bottoms you had bought him. Jungkook ruts against your sweat-covered skin as you stare up at him, eyes wide, frozen in shock. Heat floods through you, stirring your insides until you’re panting. He is, too. His mouth hangs open as he huffs in time with his thrusts, lips grazing your jaw until they reach your mouth. He caresses it softly with his own, barely a whisper of a touch. Once. Twice. Just like that first night he turned. The third time, he kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back. Nothing more than a delicate tilt of your head and a careful brushing of your lips against his. This is wrong, a voice in the back of your head whispers. This man is practically a stranger.

Only he’s not.

He’s shared your bed as a human for the past two weeks, and ten weeks before that as a rabbit.

You’ve spent evenings curled up together, watching shows you both enjoy. You know his moods, as he knows yours. Your hand feels as comfortable tangled in his hair as it does amongst his fur, and you can read his eyes in both forms exactly the same.

He’s your Jungkook. Your Kookie.

Your Bun.

He exhales heavily, his tongue lapping at your lips for more. Warm breath fans your face and you practically tremble with anticipation. Jungkook tears himself away to run his hands down the curves of your body, and as you look up at him, your mouth dries at the sight of his godly form. The ever-present glow of the city creates a subtle neon halo behind him, heightening his otherworldly, divine presence.

“I-I—“ As suddenly as he came onto you, Jungkook scrambles backwards off the bed, falling ungracefully to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” he yells, eyes watery and wide with terror. He rushes out of the room so quickly he doesn’t even stand up straight. Just heads straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You follow too late, reaching your bedroom doorway just in time to hear the bathroom lock snap into place.

You drop to your knees outside the bathroom door, knocking on it gently. “Jungkookie, what’s wrong? Please, come out,” you call.

“I can’t,” comes a whine from the other side of the door. It almost sounds like a sob. “I have to stay here. Can I have a blanket please?” The voice is strained and tight; unsure. It’s not like the warm, bright voice you’ve come to know at all.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll get that for you. I’ll be right back.” When you return with the requested blanket, you let Kookie know with a small knock on the door. He cracks it open just enough for you to push the bedding through. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re wide and a little teary, his pupils huge. His face and upper chest is worryingly flushed. Jungkook notices you scrutinising his appearance and slams the door shut before you can comment. You hover on the other side of the door, not wanting to leave him. “I’m not upset with you, Bun. I understand if you want some space. Good night.”

You shuffle your way back to bed, curling up under the duvet for the first time in weeks. Because despite the heat and humidity of summer, it feels far, far too cold.

—-

The fullness of your bladder wakes you, demanding you seek relief immediately. You can tell by the noise outside that it’s late morning, and you hope Jungkook is already awake. You roll out of bed and shuffle over to the bathroom, trying the handle and finding it still locked.

With a reluctant sigh, you knock. “Jungkookie? Bun, I need to pee. Can you let me in please?” A few moments later there’s shuffling behind the door and the soft click of a lock opening. A sunken-eyed Jungkook stands on the other side, eyes averted. The duvet you gave him wraps him like a shroud. It hangs over his head, hiding his ears, his hands clutching it tightly at his chest. He stares pointedly at his feet as he shuffles past you, and if it weren’t for your desperate need to pee you’d stop and talk to him. But that’s a conversation that can wait until you’ve made breakfast.

You finish in the bathroom as fast as possible and make your way to the kitchen, noticing how he sits curled up on the chair in the corner of your living room.

You pull out all the things you need to make pancakes and crank up the volume on an upbeat playlist; mostly songs Jungkook likes listening to in the mornings. “Jungkook, could you help me please?” you ask sweetly. “The strawberries and bananas need slicing.”

He perks up at that, ears twitching before his eyes dart over to you. He loves bananas, almost obsessively loves them. I knew that would work, you smile to yourself. Jungkook fiddles with the waistband of his pajamas and you try to forget the outline of his hardness straining against them. Try to forget how your skin flushed when he rocked it against you. You focus back on the batter, giving it an extra hard stir, making sure there’s no lumps in it. That’s the reason for you beating it so vigorously. No other reason.

You sigh, pinching yourself before switching on the burner on the stove.

Jungkook begins chopping fruit. Yes. You smile to yourself, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you work on two stacks of pancakes. The tension in the air between you two eases, and soon you’re both dancing to a song that Jungkook listens to often; its easy choreography something you developed together. The song changes into something new, something you’ve never heard before, but you sway your hips nevertheless as you ladle batter into the hot frying pan. Jungkook bounces from foot-to-foot, endlessly energetic as he works his way through half a bunch of bananas and the entire bowl of strawberries. He’s piling the chopped fruit up on plates when you push between him and the counter with a small, murmured excuse me. The step he takes back to allow you access isn’t quite big enough. Even then you don’t notice; so used to squeezing around one another in the modestly-sized kitchen as you are.

Jungkook, however, notices.

Your ass slides firmly against him and he grips your hips almost painfully hard, pressing you into the counter.

“Ow! Jungkook, what are you—” Your question becomes a squeal of surprise when he buries his nose behind your ear and grinds his rapidly hardening cock into the cleft of your ass. Only two, flimsy layers of clothing separate you.

“I need you so bad,” he growls as he rubs his nose through your hair, the underside of his chin skimming the column of your neck. You arch back into him, throwing your head back to expose more of your neck to him. You’re usually a lot more reserved with men—a lot—but something about Jungkook makes you want to be wild. Maybe it’s the way you feel so safe with him. His body is a solid presence against your back, his thrusting desperate and needy. Gone is the sweet, delicate Bun you’ve come to care about. He’s been replaced with someone who grips you, growls at you, and yet you still feel safe in his arms.

It’s Jungkook. He’d never hurt you.

You groan, something between a whine and a whimper being ripped from the back of your throat as he rubs himself against you. Then, suddenly - unwelcomely - cold air hits your back.

Jungkook has torn himself from you for a second time.

You turn but he’s not behind you. Spinning in place, you see a fluffy tail vanishing around a cabinet and a pair of light grey pajamas left in its wake. You follow fast enough to watch him hightail it out of the kitchen and across the living room, straight under the chair in the corner. He never sits in it as a human, preferring to sit next to you on the sofa, but it’s his favourite place to hide as a bunny.

You crouch, peeking under the chair, trying to coax him out.

“I’m sorry, Jungkookie. Come out and talk to me, please?” you beg to the huddled mass of fur under the chair. He stays where he is, shifting in a way you know means he’s settling in for the long haul. You stand up, running to turn off the stove before dashing to your bedroom and throwing on some clothes. After grabbing your bag, you check under the chair again. Jungkook is still there. “I’ll be right back, okay?” you tell him, before rushing out the door.

You all but run out of your apartment building, dodging people on the street as you head to the florist a block and a half away to get a custom bouquet made. It’s ugly as hell, but it’s not supposed to be for looking at. All of the flowers are suitable for rabbits to eat, and you get triple the ones you know Jungkook is particularly fond of.

You rush back to your apartment on a sliver of energy, taking extra care to preserve your gift, but the whole journey takes you less than twenty minutes. You discard your shoes and bag by the door and head straight for the chair, placing your peace offering on the floor before it.

“I have a gift for you,” you say, pulling a white hibiscus from the bouquet and presenting it to him. “Please come out and talk to me, Bun.” You watch as Jungkook hops forward, unable to resist the pull of his favourite flower. You untie the haphazard collection of flowers and lay them out on the decorative wrapping paper for him. It does the trick and draws him out from under the chair. You hold your hand out to him carefully, letting him come to you on his own terms. Jungkook devours a rosebud and hops forward, bumping your hand with his nose. You sigh, tension you didn’t know was building melting from your shoulders.

Somewhat placated, you head back to the kitchen. The pancakes are now cold but nothing that can’t be reheated. You store his breakfast in the fridge and slip a couple bits of banana onto the paper with the flowers. Jungkook leaps at them, devouring them with relish before following you into the kitchen and circling your chair as you eat your pancakes. He reaches up, nudging your foot to get your attention. And by attention, he wants more bananas.

Once you’re all done with breakfast, you move to the living room. There are several episodes of a TV show you and Jungkook have been watching together that you need to catch up on, and that’s your usual plan for the weekend. Jungkook, however, has other plans. He jumps into your lap, purposefully knocking the remote out of your hand. You tangle your fingers through his fur and feel him shudder under your touch.

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?” you ask softly, thumb rubbing soothing circles between his eyes. Beneath your hand, Jungkook transforms. He curls in on himself, doing his best to obscure his nudity, and buries his head in your stomach. You run a hand down his back and find his skin is clammy and feverish. “Oh my god, are you sick? Bun, you’re burning up!” you exclaim, panic injected into your tone.

“I’m going into heat. It’s why I keep—why I keep—” His voice is high-pitched and strained again.

“Why you keep rubbing against me?” you finish for him, raking your nails through his long locks. His ears and tail twitch and Jungkook whines. Nodding, he curls in on himself tighter. “You need a partner,” you say matter-of-factly, but he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No. I don’t need a partner...” he says simply, the implication left hanging. You move his ear carefully, brushing his hair from his face and cupping it with one hand. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone until his tightly-clenched eyes open.

“Then, tell me what you want,” you whisper. His eyes narrow like he’s assessing you. Assessing the full implication of your words and trying to decide how to answer you.

“Normally I’d mate with someone in a nest—” Jungkook starts before he’s racked by shudders. He buries his face in your stomach again and whines.

“My bed,” you offer. “You can build a nest there if you need to.”

He shoots upward at your words, watching your face carefully. “But—” His eyes are wide, mouth agape as he draws the logical conclusion but not daring to hope. “--where will you sleep?” He asks as though he is scared of the answer.

You carefully brush his hair back from his face, thumbing over a floppy ear. “I c-can—“ you stutter, before taking a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out.” You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. Your lips are so close like this, close enough to brush against each other as you speak. It’s not quite a kiss, but your intention is clear. “If you need anything—if you want anything...” You trail off.

Jungkook wastes no time. He sits up and crawls into your lap, his bare, muscular thighs straddling yours as he kisses you deeply. His hands, no longer rough, cup your face delicately as though he can’t believe he’s been gifted something so precious. Even as his naked hips roll against your stomach.

“Iwantyouwantyouwantyou. Need you,” he chants between kisses.

And in an act of madness - or perhaps sanity - you give yourself to him completely.

Next Chapter

#Jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook Fluff #Hybrid!Jungkook #Jungkook Smut #Jungkook x You #Jungkook x Reader #Bunny!Jungkook #Jungkook Fic #BTS #BTS Fic #MarginalMadness #commission #MM Summer Nights #Summer Nights #Hybrid!Koo in Heat #kookiebunny97 #mintyrae #skswriting

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pilothusband · 3 years

Text

fly me to the moon

Rating: M-ish (a lil spicy at the end)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, boner mention, a douchebag, a little hint at food shaming

Word count: 2.5k

Description: You go on a date with a complete asshole. He takes you on a helicopter tour, not expecting the pilot to be the one to sweep you off your feet.

Author’s note: Probably should have edited this more but meh. This was completely self-indulgent. Unbeta’d. Let me know what you think!

gif by @pedroispunk

Why did I agree to go out with this jackass in the first place?

Your eyes were starting to feel sore with the amount of times you had rolled them throughout your date. He hadn’t noticed the exasperated movement of your eyes, too swept up in talking about the summer he spent in Ibiza with his former fraternity brothers, his medium rare, overpriced ribeye untouched.

So far, everything had felt off. The way he pulled up outside of your apartment and honked his horn to signal his arrival, the anchor cufflinks in his freshly pressed suit, paired with a pair of leather boat shoes and a salmon-pink button down. You loved a man in pink, but the rest of the outfit just felt like it didn’t fit together. Was he going to a wedding or going to party on a yacht? You had glanced down at your own outfit, a simple black dress that stopped mid-calf and hung loose, just barely hinting at your curves.

God, you hoped he wasn’t going to take you on a boat.

You had only agreed to this date in the first place because Liam, an investment banker who worked in your office building in the suite below yours, had asked you nearly every day for a month in a row. He was persistent, kind of like a mosquito, but you figured you were being too picky and needed to expand your horizons a bit. Maybe you would learn more about him and actually have a good time.

Not so much.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his brows knit together when you had ordered the fettuccine alfredo. The restaurant’s menu was pretty limited, and you didn’t recognize most of the items. This place was just too fancy for your comfort. You had wanted to call the waiter back to the table and change your order to a cheeseburger, just to embarrass him further.

As Liam droned on about how his father had taught him how to manage his finances, you let your mind wander to last weekend. You had gone out with your friends, Benny and Will, a pair of brothers who were each other’s polar opposites, yet they had a bond that was stronger than any other siblings you had ever met.

You were already well acquainted with their other friends, Santiago and Frankie, affectionately known as Pope and Catfish. Pope had a magnetic personality– he commanded the room without meaning to, sometimes to the detriment of others around him, who were trying to get a word in edgewise.

Frankie was complicated. He was quiet, a little rough around the edges, and a little gruff, but so soft at the same time. His eyes gave way to a deeply settled kind of hurt. They had drawn you in almost right away. It only took one glance at his smile, brilliant and boyish, with a hint of a dimple gracing his cheek, before you were hooked.

You had only known him for a few months now and only saw him when the guys got together, but you couldn’t deny the desire that clutched at your stomach whenever his deep brown eyes met yours.

You heard your date call your name, snapping you out of your daydream.

“You ready for part two of the best date ever?” Liam asked. His smirk was all wrong. It wasn’t soft or playful. It was polished and practiced. He reminded you too much of Patrick Bateman.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, pasting a smile onto your face, inwardly wincing at how fake it was. You could not wait to go home and put on your sweatpants.

Shit. Holy shit.

He was taking you on a helicopter tour. The same company that Catfish worked for. Your stomach was in knots, threatening an unwelcome return of the alfredo you had for lunch.

Maybe he’s not working today, maybe we’ll get a different pil–

Of course you had no such luck. The guide ushered you both over towards the launching pad, where Frankie stood, wearing a tan flight suit. His hair was tousled, likely from being up in the air for most of the day and he had a pair of aviators on. He looked delectable.

His eyebrows shot up in recognition. He cocked his head to the side, glancing at your date, then back at you, a grimace set on his face.

Frankie schooled his expression and walked up and gave you a side hug, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Good to see you,” he said, giving you a small grin.

“You two know each other?” Liam asked, his eyes shifting between the two of you.

“Oh, yes, Liam– this is Frankie. He’s one of my friends.”

Friends.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” Frankie said, shaking his hand politely.

Liam gave Frankie one of his wide, practiced grins. “Likewise.”

You could have sworn you saw Liam wince a little during the handshake, but you chalked it up to pre-flight jitters. Liam slung an arm around your shoulder possessively and chuckled.

“Excited to show this pretty lady some pretty sights.” His fingers curled into your shoulder, a little too hard, and he jostled you a little, trying to come off as a cute gesture. It had you feeling like a rag doll.

The smile you gave him must have been pretty forced, because Frankie coughed, interrupting the moment.

“All right, folks. Ready to get going?”

You nodded, feeling a fluttering in your belly. Despite not wanting to be stuck in a helicopter with Liam, you were excited to finally see Frankie in action.

Frankie handed you both a pair of headsets and instructed you to buckle up. Before climbing in himself, he checked Liam’s belt, tightening it a little and then came over to your side, adjusting your belt as well. You risked a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“All set,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile.

Before you knew it, Frankie was in the pilot’s seat and the helicopter roared to life. The blades were whirring above your heads, making your hair whip around your face. You tucked the sides of your dress under your legs, silently cursing Liam for not warning you of this afternoon’s non-dress appropriate activity.

The swoop you felt in your stomach was unlike anything you had felt before, more intense than a commercial flight. You tried not to fidget, knowing you were in good hands with Frankie piloting, but fuck, were you already high up, and only climbing higher by the second.

You briefly wondered how high up you were now, how high up Frankie had ever flown. You planned on asking him once you were all safely back on the ground.

A large gust of wind made its way into the helicopter, forcing a shiver down your spine, goosebumps rising on your woefully unprotected arms.

“You cold, sweetie?” Liam asked. “I would give you my jacket but I need it to stay warm. You should have planned better, gorgeous.”

You instantly clenched your teeth, wishing murder was legal at this very moment.

“Well, Liam, I would have brought a jacket if you had told me we were coming here,” you said, voice dripping with a sarcastic, syrupy sweet tone.

“I have a jacket in the compartment in front of you,” Frankie said, glancing over quickly. “Go ahead and put it on.”

You obliged, opening the compartment and bundling up in the oversized jacket, instantly feeling better once the corduroy material covered your arms. You wrapped it around your torso and took a deep breath, hiding your grin in the sherpa collar. It smelled like him.

“Thank you, ‘Fish,” you said softly. He didn’t respond, but you saw his dimple appear out of the corner of your eye.

“All good back there?” You heard Frankie’s voice in your ears. You looked over to him, only catching a glimpse of his hands and the side of his face, partially obscured by his headset and his baseball cap.

“Doing fan-tas-tic, Frank,” Liam whooped. You couldn’t help but wince at how loud his voice was, and how he intentionally pronounced Frankie’s name incorrectly.

“Great,” Frankie sounded unamused.

You huffed, annoyed at your date’s bad manners and looked out the window. Terrible date aside, you had to admit the bay from above was absolutely gorgeous. You looked down at the ocean, so expansive and eternally blue. Your eyes skimmed over to where water met land, at the soft sand on the beach, turning into a thick forest.

“Frankie, it’s beautiful,” you gasped.

You looked over at him briefly, seeing a hint of a smile on his face.

Liam was momentarily forgotten, until his hand snaked its way onto your thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Instinctually, you moved your leg at the unwanted contact. Liam looked over at you, an ugly scowl marring his face.

“Careful with the turns in this thing,” he said, addressing Frankie. “Our girl here ate about 15 pounds of pasta before this.”

You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. They streaked down into your hairline from the force of the wind around you. You had already realized Liam was a bit of a douche, but you hadn’t thought him to be cruel.

“The only thing we have to worry about bringing this thing down is that big head of yours,” Frankie quipped back.

Biting back a laugh, you looked out the window so Liam wouldn’t see your reaction.

You could tell Liam wanted to argue back, but he stayed quiet, since the man he wanted to lash out at was responsible for keeping you all alive at the moment.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, other than the persistent chopping of the helicopter blades. The views were beautiful, but you found your eyes wandering back over to Frankie every few minutes. The tanned skin of his hands as he deftly worked at the throttle. Every time he pulled on a control you saw the veins in his forearms strain with the movement. You wondered what else those hands could do.

Before you knew it, the bird touched down and you unbuckled your seatbelt, removing the tight headset from your ears. You had a slight headache and you could tell getting down was going to be a struggle.

Frankie seemed to have no issue, jumping out of his seat with grace and walking over to your side to help you down. Your legs were shaking, so you stumbled as your feet hit the ground, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

“I– oof, sorry,” you laughed nervously, rubbing your nose. You had bumped into his chest nearly smashing your face into his sternum. Frankie bit his lip and chuckled in response, squeezing your waist. You felt dizzy with his arms caging you in like this. It gave you an overwhelming desire to wrap yourself around him, to feel him pressed against you.

“It’s okay, I got you.” His voice rumbled in your ear, absolutely sending your senses on a tailspin. His strong, quiet voice was doing something magical to your already weak knees.

You stepped away before you fell over, remembering your date after a moment. He was about ten feet away, arms crossed, his face pinched in an angry expression.

“I don’t think this is working out,” he said as you walked over to him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, giving him a sickly sweet grin. “I’ll find another ride home.”

Liam scoffed and made his way back into the tour center to grab his belongings. You instantly felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Thank God he left.

“So, why did you go out with that asshole, anyways?” Frankie asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

You sighed, feeling embarrassed.

“I honestly don’t know. He wouldn’t leave me alone so I decided to give him a shot.”

“I can’t say I blame him for being persistent, but seriously, fuck that guy.”

You huffed a laugh.

“Seriously, when he made that comment about what you ate for lunch I wanted to throw him right out of the helicopter.”

You bit your lip and sniffed, feeling the embarrassment wash over you at the memory.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” your voice was small and you rubbed at your arms nervously.

Frankie had a hard, angry look on his face. It made you feel a little giddy, that he was so angry on your behalf.

“He should have never talked to you that way. He’s lucky you agreed to go out with his sorry ass.”

“You’re right. And God, I can’t believe he took me here, of all places,” you laughed. This really was surreal.

“Feels kind of like fate, huh?” He said, giving you a boyish grin.

“How so?”

“Well,” he stepped towards you, arms sliding up the material of his jacket. “I’ve always wanted to see you in this jacket.” His gaze made its way down your figure. His eyes were dark as he swallowed heavily.

“And I’ve always wanted to go on a date with you, though not while you’re on one with another man.” The smile he gave you was shy, searching, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

“Well, I won’t be making that mistake again,” you replied, stepping closer.

Your tongue came out to wet your lips and Frankie watched with rapture.

“I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s okay.” His mouth was an inch from yours, and his large, calloused hands cradled your face gently.

“Please, Frankie,” you sighed.

His lips were soft, despite the bruising urgency in his actions. Your hands immediately tangled into his hair, knocking the cap off his head. You melted against him and licked his bottom lip, asking for permission. He immediately complied, licking into your mouth. Your tongues found a delicious rhythm, tangling together. You moaned into his mouth, spurring him on further. His hips pressed into yours. You could feel how hard he was, even through his flight suit.

“Fuck, baby” he rasped, pulling away. His chest was heaving, breath ragged from your kiss. “The things I want to do to you.”

You slanted your hips back into his, pressing into his erection. “Then do them.”

Frankie bit his lip and groaned, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re absolutely perfect for me, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning forward to capture his lips again.

“I want to do this right, though,” he said. “I’m going to take you out on a better date. Show you how first dates should go. And then I’m going to take you home and show you how much I’ve wanted you for months.”

You felt as if your heart had stopped momentarily.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you said, kissing him again.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #tw food mention

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