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bucksfucks · 4 years ago

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𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but.

pairing┃roommate!steve x f!reader

word count┃2,382 words

warnings┃hangover, drinking, tipsy sex, pining, teasing, makeout session, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, steve doesn’t think he’ll fit but he makes it, use of toys (vibrator), mocking, edging, hair pulling kink, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, steve finishes on readers back, steve is lowkey a fuckboy — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃presidential alert 🚨 the girls, gays, and the they’s are horny

The shower was already running when you had walked out of your room and into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was Saturday morning and despite your best efforts, your body never let you sleep in last nine in the morning.

You may as well start your day at 8:48 am.

Steve had gone out last night, but you remember the door shutting at three in the morning and a faint shhh falling from his lips as he spoke to whatever inanimate object was making noise.

In your sleepy daze, you didn’t really mind. Instead, turning your pillow onto the cool side and drifting back to sleep.

The kettle was boiling and the bread was getting warmed in the toaster when the shower finally stopped running.

It was a little unusual for Steve to shower for so long, even after his morning runs or workouts, he’d never need more than 10 minutes.

When the door opened, and a groaning Steve emerged, you knew exactly what the problem was.

“Mornin’, Golden Boy,” he didn’t even have the energy to grimace at the sound of his nickname.

His bare feel pattered against the wooden floor until he dropped his large body in one of the bar stools.

“Someone had a fun night.” You mumbled with a small smirk as you slid him a cup of coffee which is took between his fingers.

“I don’t know how Sam and Bucky roped me into shots,” he said into the cup of coffee as he took a cautious sip.

You just rolled your eyes playfully and plated the toast that had popped out a few seconds earlier, slabbing a large helping of butter before adding honey and sliding the plate over to him.

“Eat.”

He groaned again, but put the coffee down in place for the sweet honey toast.

“I can’t drink like I used to, I think I’m dying,” he was being dramatic, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took a bite and hummed.

“You’re 27, Rogers. I think someone’s being a little dramatic,” you teased with a smile.

You are your breakfasts in silence for the most part, the painkiller Steve had taken not yet kicking in until both of your plates were cleared.

“Did you get lucky last night?” You asked with raised eyebrows as you both placed your plates in the sink.

Steve just laughed, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

You had to admit that your heart dropped, the same twinge of jealously starting to bloom in your chest as you imagined him with someone else.

“Proud of you, Golden Boy.” You fake cheered, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride.

Above everything, Steve was your friend and he deserved to get laid.

He laughed, “you should’ve come, Bucky couldn’t stop asking about you.”

You rolled your eyes again, slightly in annoyance.

“He knows I’ll never sleep with him,” you sang song, helping Steve dry the dishes as the sink stopped running.

“You never told me why, you know that?” You scoffed, “and for good reason.”

The reason was simple; you didn’t want Bucky, but instead his best friend and your roommate, Steve.

“I’ll get it out of ya one day, sweetheart.” Steve chuckled and you felt your heart sink a little further, “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, nothing to do on a rainy New York day other than read as Steve fiddled with his sketchbook while an old sitcom played on the television.

Steve’s hangover either disappeared or he was great at hiding it, whatever it was, he was humming along to the show tune.

“Pizza and beers for dinner?” Steve asked as he was putting the final touches on his sketch making you laugh.

“What happened to I can’t drink like I used to?” You said, echoing his words from the morning as he shrugged.

“It’s a lazy day essential, now what toppings, and don’t say pineapple.” You acted shocked, mouth twitching into a smile.

“You don’t know anything about good pizza,” you huffed as he tore his eye away from his sketchbook to look at you.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime, sweetheart. Now if that’s who you are I can’t judge, but I’m jus’ sayin’,” he said raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Whatever Golden Boy, just say you’re a vanilla type of guy,” you winked, standing up to put your book on the shelf as the sun began setting to cast yellow and orange hues over the apartment.

Steve snickered, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

The low timbre of his voice, your own words echoed from this morning sends a shudder down your spine as he grabs his phone.

“The usual?” You manage to nod your head, smiling as you try to distract yourself from the sudden and very evident ache between your thighs.

30 minutes later and the pizza was here, still hot and greasy as Steve set it on the wooden coffee table as you grabbed two beers, scratch that, four beers.

“Cheers, Golden Boy,” you offered with a soft smile as you both clinked your bottle necks against each other before pizza was being devoured.

You didn’t know what it was, but cheap greasy pizza and a cold beer always soothed the soul. No matter how heartbroken you had ever been, or upset at the universe, beer and pizza were always there for you.

As the hours went by, the bottles emptied and the pizza slices disappeared before you and Steve were sat on the couch laughing and giggling at the time Steve locked himself out in nothing but his underwear.

“And where were you to rescue me!” He bellowed, throwing his head back at the memory.

“I was in the shower, you know I blare music. I’m sorry Stevie, I promise the next time you’re locked out and naked I’ll rescue you.”

He shook his head, “well I wasn’t naked.”

You felt a little dizzy, body lighter as you finished off the second beer. You weren’t drunk, but loose enough to rest your head against Steve’s shoulder.

His phone buzzed then, grabbing it off the table as Bucky’s name lit up across the screen.

Steve ignored it.

“He’s jus’ gonna ask me to go out again,” he said before you could ask, seemingly reading your mind.

“Plus, I’m perfectly content right here,” he smiled, finishing off his second beer as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a sap,” you teased, “that a bad thing?” He asked and you felt the air around you grow more tense.

“‘Course not, you’re just Stevie,” you tried to explain as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Stevie?” He asked as you sat up and crossed your legs under your body.

“Yeah, you know,” you tried to find the words, “Golden Boy.”

He hums in response, “golden as in pure?”

You nod your head, “pure, sweet, innocent.”

You weren’t sure if you had struck a nerve, but Steve smirked as he leaned into you.

“‘M not so innocent, sweetheart. Not everything is as it seems.” His voice was much lower, raspier as you could smell the beer on his breath.

“Is that so?” Your voice was just a little above a whisper, heart racing in your chest.

“I could even show you, sweetheart, but you gotta answer one question first. Sound fair?” He asked.

You nodded your head slowly, eagerly awaiting his question.

His hands fell to your knees, sliding up until he pulled you into his lap.

You looked up at him, craning your head only slightly as he craned his at you. He was warm, and broad.

“Why,” his voice was low, “won’t you hookup with Bucky, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you ran your hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders.

“I think you know,” you whispered as he shook his head and chuckled.

“Uh uh, I wanna hear you say it.” He purred, brushing his nose against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you smelt his oaky, but sweet body wash. Something like bergamot and oranges.

He squeezed your hips, a soft moan falling from your lips at the sensation.

“It’s because,” you swallowed thickly, “because I want you, Stevie.”

He hummed, hand on the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed back, the realization hitting you it became hotter and more desperate as you slid your tongue past Steve’s lips.

“All you needed to do was say those words and you could’ve had me all to yourself.” He smirks against your lips making you whimper.

His fingers are digging into your ass, rocking your hips over his. It’s the right amount of friction to have you melting into his touch.

When he picks you up, carrying you into his room to toss you onto his bed, you know you’ve made the wrong assumption about him.

“Now there’s nothin’ wrong with a man who likes vanilla,” he hums, hands exploring your body.

“But I’m a man who prefers a little more,” he meets your eyes, a devilish smirk and twinkle in his eyes, “flavour.”

He’s hovering over you, lips on your neck and jaw as his hips rut over yours.

“Go get that goddamn vibrator of yours,” he breathes as you look at him bewildered.

“You know that one, you like the third setting the most on it.” He winks standing up as your eyes trace along his body and to where his cock is straining.

“Go on, don’t sit there actin’ all dumb,” you spring to your feet, tripping over them as you quickly fetch it from your room.

“Good girl, lie back down on the bed, but get naked first.” He instructs you sternly.

You’d never had anyone tell you to strip, let alone have someone eyes so focused on you as you place the vibrator in his larger hand.

Starting with your sweater, you tear it off—chest exposed as Steve licks his lips.

“Go on, don’t be shy. You’re makin’ him real happy,” he smirks, squeezing his dick through his pants.

You tug your leggings down until you’re in your panties and Steve is giving you a look that tells you to continue.

It’s a thrill, stripping for him and watching his cock twitch at the sight of your curves, dips, and the marks you hate.

“Look at you,” he groans, “perfect little thing aren’t ya? Now I gotta be honest,” you swallow thickly.

“‘M not sure if he’ll fit like I planned, but we’ll make sure to get you warmed up,” he says before placing your hand over his dick.

It causes goosebumps to prickle your skin as he pushes you down onto the bed fully naked now.

“Now this,” he says, holding your vibrator, “isn’t even gonna compare to me by the time I’m done with you.”

It’s a promise that you know Steve will keep as he kneels between your legs.

“I expect you to keep these open, okay? Unless of course,” his cocky attitude breaks through, “you’re squeezin’ my head when you cum.”

You can’t even chide back, all thoughts gone at the sound of the click of your vibrator.

Steve wastes no time, spreading your folds and exploring you with his tongue before he connects the silicone tip to your clit.

It causes your body to jolt and Steve has to keep your legs open.

“What did I say, sweetheart. Keep ‘em open,” he reminds you as he slips a single fingers in you.

It’s already ten times better than your own, longer and thicker as they curl against your sweet spot.

Your walls squeeze him, fluttering as you grip onto his unmade bed sheets.

He teased you, edging you until you’re begging him to let you come with a dry throat.

“Steve, c’mon. ‘S’not fair,” you whine, tugging at his hair. He groans, hips rutting into the bed and you know you’ve found his weakness.

Two can play at this game.

You tug at his hair again, “please, Stevie? Wanna cum so fuckin’ bad—all over your face.”

He groans vibrator tossed on the bed as his mouth wraps around your clit, “fuck, baby.”

It’s a lewd sound, your wetness against his fingers and mouth, but it’s enough to send you over the edge.

“Make a mess, sweetheart. Gotta taste ya,” he groans against your core as you’re nearly suffocating him.

It’s intense, washing over you like a wave followed by a series of smaller ones until he’s flipping you over and your ass is in the air.

“Not so fuckin’ vanilla anymore, huh?” He slaps your ass, a squeak leaving your lips.

“Gonna have the taste of you on my mind for days now, practically have me pussy whipped already.”

His clothes are gone, all necessary ones before he’s bending his body over yours, “grip onto the headboard baby, you’ll need all the support you can get.”

And he’s not wrong, sliding into you and stretching you out as you wrap yourself fingers around the wood until he’s fully seated inside of you.

It’s a new fullness, one that you’ve never experienced and something you never want to forget.

“Bounce, baby.” He then says, as you look over your shoulder.

“Ride me, use the headboard and make yourself cum.” He smirks, slick coating both of your thighs.

Everything is new to you as Steve lets you take control, yet, you’re never truly in control.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Look how desperate you are to cum,” he taunts making you whimper.

He joins in soon, meeting your thrusts with his own until you’re both grunting and he can’t hold back.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum.” He hissed, quickly pulling out to paint your back as he rubs your clit with his free hand and you feel the white hot explosion of pleasure for the second time that night.

You’ve both made a mess by the time you’re done, Steve cleaning you up with his boxers as you’re collapsing beside him still trying to catch your breath.

“You’ve ruined my vibrator for me,” you chuckled breathlessly as he turns to you with a smirk, “well it’s a good thing I’m your roommate then.”

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;#steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers drabble

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rachaeljurassic · 3 years ago

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So, I am exhausted tonight and in no fit shape to watch two (possible angsty, spiral-inducing) episodes!

Of course, that got me thinking about what episode I would write if I just wanted everybody to go into a tailspin. More on that later 😉

But first:

Mid-season thoughts on Phryne and Jack

First off, reading up on the original Phryne, what an appropriate name!

So, OUR Phryne is a free spirit, she’s said she could never settle down with one man. But Jack seems like a one-woman kinda guy. So, we have a problem. Jack doesn’t want to change Phryne. What he loves is her bravery, audacity, and knack for causing outrage. Why would he want to change that? He knows that she has many admirers, and it must eat him up, but he must also think that’s part of who she is. Could he cope with that? I think he doubts that he could. He’s had one relationship burn down, it feels like he’s consigned himself to sitting on the side-lines, leaning on things, watching Phryne be glorious. Meanwhile Phryne thinks Jack is the hottest thing since sliced bread found itself in a toaster. But she is also coming to understand that he is a gentle, cautious man whose feelings run deep. It’s part of why she loves him (even if she doesn’t want to admit to herself that she does). And she doesn’t want to mess with a man like that – beyond locking herself in cupboards with him and feeding him pie. The other men in her life know what’s what. They’re not there to stick around, they are not serious, everything is up front with them. Nobody’s heart is broken. Could Phryne live with herself if she had a fling with Jack and then sailed off into the sunset. I don’t think so. But also, WHY is Phryne like that? I mean, it’s fantastic, and glorious, and so much fun, but WHY is she so different from the vast majority of women in those times? I’m sure most of them want to settle down, fall in love, have a man love them like Jack seems to love Phryne. I think it’s down to what we’ve seen of her early relationships. She was charmed by René in Paris and then he abused and controlled her. She is NOT going to let that happen again. No man is going to capture her heart. No man is going to be in the position where HE can hurt HER. She has locked away that part of her that ever wanted something permanent, for somebody to be hers and, more importantly, for her to be somebody’s. Jack represents everything that terrifies her, while simultaneously being the thing she wants most. Jack’s no better off, she is the woman of his dreams, and she could totally ruin him.

But, IMO they have awoken in each other something long buried, even if they aren’t entirely willing to admit that to themselves yet. From those brief glimpses of smooth seduction from Jack he was clearly not a shy young thing like Hugh. His interactions with Rosie suggest to me that he was full of life and humour, he can STILL make her laugh. The war changed everything, but the sparks are returning, thanks to Phryne. And surely Phryne thought, when she was young, that she would find that one great love, most of us do. But she has turned away from that in favour of brief, if admittedly fun, flings with men who expect nothing from her other than a flirt and a fun time in bed. And yet now she is throwing heart eyes at a man who can offer her everything she thought she didn’t want.

While Phryne might LOOK the braver of the two she is using her outrageous over-the-dead-body flirting to keep up the pretence that all she wants from Jack is another look at those legs 😉 Jack, for all his admiring looks and occasional forays into seduction, is falling back on his image as the honourable stoic who will only look from afar.

And so they circle each other, afraid of being burnt by the fire.

#mfmm #miss fisher's murder mysteries #thoughts

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wehavebiggerproblems · 4 years ago

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Fallout 4 Random Companion Headcanons

Wrote these a few years ago, too nervous then to share them.

Ada

-Ada was built in 2268. She's about 21 years old.

-Her first memory is of seeing The Mechanist in front of her. Then she watched as The Mechanist removed their head and smiled.

-She's Isabel's first project.

-Her voice was originally supposed to be more synthesized and robotic, but the more human sound was easier for Isabel to work with.

-Ada prefers to travels in groups with 3-4 people, knowing fully well a robot is a higher target for scavvers.

- Her base body was constructed from many different trial runs of the "ADA" project.

-She's programmed to remain indifferent but the nagging voice in her programming says to do good things in order to to aid other people.

-Ada appreciates the effort Sole goes through to upgrade her body. She doesn't think it's necessary and she's somewhat sentimental about her original form.

-She finds Codsworth's attachment to Sole strange. Almost too human, those Mr. Handy's.

Cait

-Cait loves baths. Bubble baths with bath bombs and even a little rubber ducky. Only Sole knows this.

-The rubber ducky's name is Codsworth. Will not explain why.

-Can fire a rifle over her shoulder behind her. (Annie Oakley style)

-Hates Jazz music. Says it's too slow and calm. Really dislikes it because she's uncomfortable slow dancing with anyone.

-Allergic to feathers. Rad chickens make her sick to be around.

-But once the feathers are removed, the chicken has been cut up, and cooked with some veggies and a loaf of bread, loves it.

-Chicken soup is her favourite dish. Only likes Sole's chicken soup though. Will not eat anyone else’s.

-Shot put would be her favourite sport. Throwing a heavy metal sphere a very long distance is goals.

Codsworth

-Codsworth can speak 8 languages. Including: English, Spanish, French, Japanese, German, Italian, Polish, and Swedish.

-Can recognize almost every written language and translate but lacks the programming to speak every one.

-Nate/Nora got him two years before Shaun was born.

-Sole did minimal repair work on him, and offered to polish him every time he got a dent or scratch.

-He always accepted the polish offer. Very wary of Sole doing factory repairs on him. Would prefer professionals doing the delicate work.

-Always celebrated Nate/Nora and Sole’s respective birthdays. For 200 years.

-When Sole called him "Family", he felt an odd electric pulse through his core processor. He decided to call it a skipped heart beat.

-Calls synth Shaun "Sonny", and "Young Master Shaun".

-Makes Sole's favourite meal when they come back home from Vault 111.

-Will ask to take over if he catches Sole doing chores.

-Hesitates when he has to bring up Sole's spouse knowing it's a touchy subject.

-His favourite friend of Sole's is Nick. Thinks Nick is a good role model for synth Shaun.

Curie

-Curie, like Codsworth can speak 8 languages. However, after becoming a synth, she can only speak about 4.

-Curie loves the feeling of velvet. Collects pieces of velvet clothing.

-Once wore a velvet cape around because she loved the way it draped over her shoulders and fluttered when she walked.

-Has sensory phases. Music, nice noises, soft materials, different foods, perfumes, etc. Collects whatever makes her senses happy.

-During the "feeling phase" her favourite feeling was holding Sole's hand. Loved running her hand over the surface of water. And velvet.

-Talks out what her feelings are with Piper. Piper explains to her what the "spin spin spin" in her head meant.

-Favourite smell is fresh baked bread. Bakes bread with Mama Murphy every weekend.

-Favourite sweet food is mutfruit pie. Will badger Piper to make it with her.

-Curie's motor functions are still new. Sometimes she misses what she was trying to grab and fumbles.

Danse

-Danse is a horrid mechanic. You'd think spending time in the BoS and dedicating time to auto repair with Ingram. Can't put a toaster together.

-But Power Armor is a piece of cake. Can't do much with pre-war tech, yet fixing power armor is as easy as making breakfast.

-Like all gen 3 synths, he loves Fancy Lad snack cakes. He'd share whatever box he'd find with the squires around the Prydwen.

-Scribe Haylen would volunteer to work alongside Danse on all his scouting missions.

-Danse found out Deacon was the one who stuck the dildo to his power armor. He made sure Deacon's wigs were the same bright purple color the very next day.

-Loves country music. When a traveling courier stops by and shares their western/country music, he actually dances.

-Has a heart for kids. Even Billy.

-Leg bouncing habit. Can't bounce his leg in power armor but as soon as he's out, his leg's jittering.

Deacon

-Deacon is in his late 40's.

-Did not lie about his wife and the University Point Deathclaws.

-Enjoys learning about Pre-war culture, spends free time with ghouls asking them about the past.

-Sole can fool him easily about prewar facts though.

-Has incredible luck with the pie claw game. Has won 8 times while traveling with Sole.

-Loves making silly bets. "I bet I can skip this plate across the lake at least 1 time." Proceeds to throw the plate at the water horizontally.

-Doesn't hate Danse. He will pull pranks on him though. Once stuck a dildo on the back of Danse's power armour.

-His hair grows quickly so he has to shave every day.

-Shaves his head, isn't bald. Shaved head works better with his pompadour wig.

-Doesn't like mutfruit. Says it's too acidic and hurts his gums.

-Has a rifle-shaped scar on his forearm. Will tell a different story for it every time.

-Once drank a dozen Nuka Cola Quantums on a dare. His pee glowed for a week.

-Tried going vegetarian once. ONCE. Found out being vegetarian means eating no meat or dairy products. Had to have Sole explain that, while gross, radroach could technically be considered meat.

-Is kinda clumsy. Always bumps into counter edges and stubs his toes on bits of debris.

-Doesn't lie about his family. And when Sole calls him family, promises to never lie about family again.

Gage

-Gage juggled skii balls to entertain the last Overboss, Colter.

-He enjoys small shooting competitions with MacCready, Sole, and X6. All four are sharp shooters.

-Fastest learner. Spent an entire week learning how to cook Sole's old recipes. He can cook them better than anyone with the exception of Codsworth.

-Hums when he works.

-Had a one night stand with Nisha. Ended so bad, he avoids that area of the park at all costs.

-Hates cats. Had an awful run in with a rad lion. Radiated Mountain Lion that tore a scar deep down his back.

-Does routine maintenance on the rides in the park. He knows how everything works there. From social hierarchy - to the intricacies of the Vault Tec: Among the Stars ride.

-His favourite flavour of Nuka Cola is Nuka Cola Victory. Rare to find but easily the best.

-Record farthest shot is a bean can from 410 meters.

-He's a lightweight. Only two beers and he's buzzed enough to sing along with Red-Eye.

-Will tell a different story every time if anyone asks about the eye patch.

Hancock

-Hancock is a history buff. Loves learning about colonial era civilization.

-Has spent days with Kent Connolly researching Silver Shroud information. He knows more about the Silver Shroud than any other companion.

-Has had a fling with every person in Goodneighbor at least once. Even Kleo.

-At least in a sexual way, he is extremely open minded. Welcomes new experiences and new information given anywhere anytime.

-Had a decent childhood with his brother. He remembers tending to the mutfruit trees with him and eating every other piece they picked.

-Adores pickles. Would sit and eat an entire jar of pickles just because he loves the cronch so much.

-All time favourite chem is Mentats. Loves making intellectual jokes while high as a kite.

-Does not know what a lot of pre-war expressions mean, but enjoys saying them and hearing them from Sole.

-Is a master at repairing clothing. How else does the frock stay in such good condition? He tends to it every night.

-As far as euphemisms for ghouls go, he likes "beef jerky".

Longfellow

-Longfellow met Hannah while out hunting. She blasted a trapper's head clean off, and he fell harder than the trapper's body.

-He spent his youth training, hoping to become a Brotherhood soldier one day.

-And then he met a vertibird full of them. They called Far Harbor a dump while gathering supplies there. Officially decided to cease all training.

-Managed to take down 17 Mirelurks in 3 minutes.

-Holds the record in Acadia for alcohol consumption. All records involving alcohol consumption.

-He's really fit? Longfellow could and has bench pressed Sole.

-He only did so because Hancock and MacCready wouldn't shut up about it.

-Loves singing old shanty songs and dancing with Sole. Only when no one else is around though.

-After the events at Far Harbor, he decides to go sailing along the coast. Wants to see the world more.

MacCready

-MacCready does brush his teeth. He brushes his teeth regularly. He started brushing after he left Little Lamplight. By that point the damage was already done.

-Lucy was the one to convince him to brush his teeth.

-He can't stand the smell of lavender. Lavender candles, lavender lotion, etc...makes him feel nauseous.

-He named his sniper rifle, "Lucy"

-Won't drink brahmin milk with cereal even to Sole's encouragement.

-Is very well read. Vault 87 had many educational textbooks hidden among the super mutants.

-MacCready was the longest lasting mayor in L.L. He was mayor for 6 years.

-He has no idea what television is and is afraid to ask any pre-wars about it.

-Wary of all ghouls, both feral and normal. He's not bias to non-ferals, but he is a little uncomfortable.

-Had a crush on Lone Wanderer when they first visited L.L. Mac told Joseph and he made fun of him.

Nick

-Nick has an oral fixation. Smokes out of habit and having the familiar feeling of a cigarette between his lips feeds into human nostalgia.

-His right hand is missing skin because he fidgets only his right. Whether it was picking at the fraying plastic or rubbing the fake skin raw.

-He lost the chunk of neck skin after Myrna accused him of working for the Institute. Tore off a chunk to prove he wasn't a perfect person or an infiltrator synth.

-Ellie was the first person in Diamond City to wholly accept Nick as he is. She asked to work with him as soon as he decided to stay.

-Piper and Nick have jam sessions where they have heavy debates about Diamond City law enforcement and criminal misuse of power in the capitalistic society of pre-war USA.

-Met Dogmeat under an overpass. He handed the dog a snack cake and scratched his head. They've been close pals ever since.

-Will "sleep" around Sole. He'll lay down and manually put himself into "sleep mode". Any unnecessary functions will shut down. He lets his thoughts take over. All Sole hears is the faintest fan whir.

Piper

-Piper plans Sole's 211th birthday. She goes all out, collects balloons, bakes several cakes with Codsworth, makes everyone attend and threatens anyone who would act up. "It's Blue's first birthday out here, you WILL behave!"

-Knows how to make mutfruit preserves, mutfruit pie, mutfruit jam and jelly. Makes it for Nat constantly.

-Has a notebook dedicated to little tidbits of info about Sole.

-Nat is exactly 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days younger than Piper.

-Piper has interviewed every person in Diamond City. Made a game of it with Nat at first, then she just kept going with it.

-Piper has awful shorthand. Almost as bad as Curie's shorthand. Still illegible.

-Piper's handwriting is so bad, Nat does the writing for the paper. Piper writes the final draft and Nat copies it, and sends it through the printing press.

-Despite bad handwriting, Piper is very eloquent. Can make a super mutant sound like good date idea or convince anyone how the mayor might actually be a synth.

-Her favourite of Sole's friends is Kent Connolly. Would gladly dress up and act out Silver Shroud episodes with him and Sole.

Preston

-Preston has insomnia. Cannot sleep well. Has had insomnia since Quincy.

-Can sleep well if he's sleeping beside someone.

-Has a box under his bed of little knick-knacks children have given him over the years. Can't bear to get rid of the kid's gifts.

-He actually likes all of Sole's friends. Even Strong.

-Hates coconut. Once found an Almond-Joy while scaving and couldn't finish it to save his life.

-All time favourite candy is Peanut Brittle. Hard to find but gnawing on the hard chunks is somewhat soothing to him.

-Loves back rubs. Giving and receiving but only from close friends or lovers.

-Once accidently drank a bottle of perfume. MacCready told him it was a bottle of fancy expensive wine.

-Sturges and Preston are the closest of friends, no less maybe more.

Strong

-Strong knows how to jump rope.

-But double dutch is a mystery.

-Before Sole, he only ate meat raw. Sole taught him how to cook it.

-Also lacks patience to cook, but slowly learning.

-Strong was created in Vault 87 after the bombs dropped but remembers nothing from being human.

-Doesn't understand bubblegum. Will always swallow it after a few seconds of chewing.

-Likes having poetry and plays read to him.

-Sleeps holding Sole or having Sole laying across his stomach.

-Loves fire. The smell, the feeling of heat against his hardened skin, the taste of charred meat, and watching the embers fly up and turn to ash.

-Strong can read, but chooses not to because super mutants discourage any educational behavior.

-Likes the sound of clacking keys on a terminal. He'll turn one on and mess around with the keyboard just to hear the different sounds each key makes.

-He can't decide if hand-to-hand combat is better than using guns.

X6-88

-X6 doesn't like using plasma. He thinks the plasma is less accurate.

-But laser weapons are his jam.

-Spends excessive amount of time augmenting his weapon.

-If Sole helped, he would be "happy". Would never say it, but a tiny smirk would pop up on his face for half a second.

-Will collect Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Hoards them in his bedroom in Sanctuary and in the Institute.

-Sole found his stash and X6 blushed for the first time when they confronted him.

-He called Sole "Mom" instead of Ma'am once. She won't let him live it down.

-He called Sole "Dad" after hearing Shaun call him "Dad" all day. He won't let him live it down.

-Actually likes kids. Won't show emotions, get down to their level, or speak to kids. But he doesn't hate children.

-Especially likes synth Shaun. He taught synth Shaun how to use a laser pistol. Shaun found out and put X6 on probation for a month.

Bonus Vault Tec Rep and Kent Connolly under the cut.

Vault Tec Rep

-Rep spent a couple decades learning how to draw. Loves drawing from life. Mostly draws people. Occasionally draws ferals, mutants, and various animals.

-Was engaged before the war, lasted about 2 years before she died of cancer.

-His favorite food was and still is a well grilled medium rare steak.

-A total neat freak. Every space he uses as a homestead has to be thoroughly cleaned of any bacteria, ticks, dust, dirt, radiation residue, etc

-Teased in school for his red hair. "Rusty" was his least favorite nickname.

-He's extremely susceptible to pet names. Doesn't have to be anything sexual or romantic, just pet names. He blushes like a starstruck starlet.

-Loves love. Romance and old-timey corny love stories. He like to woo his partner. Flowers, chocolate, dancing, movie dates, hand written poems, you name it.

-He misses his old red hair. Years of being a brunette and he's a little bitter about his hair.

-Least favourite part of The Wasteland is amount of bodies he sees on a daily basis. He saw about zero bodies a day on average before the war. Even in Goodneighbor, the average has risen to about 4 bodies a week.

-Favourite part of The Wasteland is the ability to just go anywhere. After realizing he didn't have any obligation to stay any specific place, he just traveled around for a few decades.

-His father worked for Vault-Tec, and when he graduated high school, he was given a job immediately.

-Didn't hate it. Didn't love it at first, but he had a real knack for selling.

-He never had an office in Boston HQ. He got the van, and got a sweet bonus for being top salesman, but never his own office.

-Despite being top salesman, he was only allowed on the first and second floors. He didn't find out till after the bombs dropped that the basement and third floor up had the plans for the various vaults in the area.

-He can't apologize enough to Sole. After thinking on it and checking out vault 111 by himself, he truly feels sorry for what happened.

-Sole gets him a set of steak knives for Christmas. They're homemade by Sole. They tell him he's earned far more than a knife set, but if that's what he's pining for...

-He treasures it so much, he rarely uses them. Just before he leaves for work in the morning, he checks them over and admires them.

-He and Sole have spent days just telling each other pre war stories. He almost knows more about Sole than Piper does. And he's a little proud of that fact.

-He gets along best with, of all people, Deacon. Good sense of humour and always interested in pre-war info.

-Second best is Piper. A nice lady who snoops too much, but does treat everyone with respect and tries to remain unbiased.

Kent Connolly

-Kent was 23 when the bombs dropped.

-He was sleeping in on the Saturday morning when he heard the air raid sirens.

-Hid in his house's basement till the sirens stopped.

-And then the radiation sickness took over.

-It took him about 3 months to turn ghoulish. Quicker than most.

-He dislikes Goodneighbor - the town as a whole. The people are fine, the resources are serviceable, and the safety assured is nice. But he hates how back alley it feels.

-Misses his family the most. They weren't the best, but they made him feel loved and important.

-Speaking of which, Kent had a huge family. I'm talking brothers, sisters, cousins for days, aunts, uncles...he remembers family reunions as huge gatherings chock full of food and kids running amuck.

-Maybe, just maybe, he enjoys seeing Sole all dressed like Shroud a little too much. He's a big fan.

-Once spent 4 grand on a mint condition Issue no. 3 Silver Shroud comic just to find out it was a forgery. Never got that refund. :(

-Writes really well. But only writes Silver Shroud fanfiction. Piper almost convinced him to help write an article about how crime differed before the war and after the war. But he turned her down.

-Nick has agreed to dress up as Shroud if Sole dresses up like Grognak or Mistress of Mystery. But only if Sole dresses up too.

-Irma refers to him as her son. Amari will not say the same, but she also doesn't protest.

-He used to work in comic book shop. (Of course he did.)

-He writes self insert Silver Shroud fanfiction all the time. After the events at the hospital with Sinjin, the Shroud in his fanfictions suddenly start using Sole's pronouns and is described as physically similar as Sole.

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haechanhues · 4 years ago

Text

- written -

chapter five : idiots fight and make up

warning : mentions of vaping + argument.

Your parents are the first thing Jay sees as he is welcomed into your house. You’re on the kitchen stool, on your phone, patiently waiting. You offer a small smile to which he can only grimace a bit in turn, setting the bag of avocados, bread and eggs on the table.

You watch as he turns towards the cupboards, naturally pulling the ingredients from the pantry. He purposely avoids the slight smile on your face, not interested (or at least pretending to not be interested) in why you’re looking at him so weirdly.

As he sets the ingredients out on display, you ponder over them curiously.

‘What are we making?’

‘Eggs on toast with avocado,’ He says before briskly finding a pan he has quickly grown to be quite fond of.

Seriously.

The annoyance you have heats his back but he doesn’t care. He can’t afford to care.

His annoyance however infects your way of thinking. The judgement on his face is etched into your skin as you struggle to do basic kitchen duties. You feel the genetic makeup is manipulated by the scowl he has on his face as he stares at you. He finds it incredibly irritating that you’re celebrating being able to use a toaster correctly and the way you’re currently fucking up the poached egg.

With the final button to his sanity hereby thrown into a ditch with your struggling, he grips your hand in his. The front of his body is flat against your back and you can feel his exhale along the back of your ears as he flickers some water on the top of the egg, creating a slight change in colour.

‘I could’ve done that myself you know,’ You can’t help but let the words flow through your lips, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

He chuckles, but it isn’t a kind one, not at all, ‘Could you?’

Your tongue rolls into your cheek with a need to defend yourself, ‘What is your problem?’

Jay doesn’t look at you, instead, he turns the element off and begins plating the stupid eggs on toast with avocado. With a small shove, you take over from him.

‘At least let me plate it,’ You grumble.

‘And let you ruin this? No,’ Jay bites as he attempts to regain possession.

‘Why won’t you let me do anything?’ With determination dancing in your body you block him from ruining your chance to actually help with cooking. But your attempts to defend it, ends with you scraping a harsh line through the perfectly poached egg.

‘This is why! There’s no fucking way you should be allowed near a kitchen, cause this? Worse than home detention.’

‘Then why didn’t you go? I’m sure you’d fit right in,’

Jay ignores you as he pummels his way out through the backdoor. The night air lulls him into a state of faux serenity. The anger in his body rests in his shoulders and his feet. He wants to kick something.

In an attempt to keep his anger under wraps, he digs around his pockets for his vape, putting it into his mouth as he drags his phone out to check the time.

Your dad comes outside with heavy steps and a low voice, ‘Oi, punk.’

Jay turns around, sighing from the possibility of getting into another heated argument. Instead, your father reaches for the vape hanging on the boy’s lips before exchanging it with a single lollipop.

He’s quite smug, ‘Little shit, took my last one.’

All Jay could do is stare confusedly. Quite frankly the weirdest experience he’s ever had with a father of a girl Jay’s just insulted.

With Jay occupied by confusion and shock, rather than grudge, your father stands up and stretches his back.

‘Now. When you finish that. Come back inside,’

So, after a few minutes of developing regret and calming himself down, Jay makes his way to the kitchen where you sit, waiting for him to return.

‘Sorry, for… that,’ Jay wants to hit himself with that apology but these are the only sincere words he can express without wanting to smack himself with a brick.

‘Me too,’ Your eyes wander behind Jay to meet with your parents who stare at you challengingly, daring you to say the one thing that’d cause an entire riot, ‘I’m sorry for what I said.’

‘You’re okay,’ Jay says and that is when your enforcers leave, happy with the argument finally resolved and quiet time to once again commence.

The air is awkward and leaves you wanting to pluck yourself from the situation, happy to have your cooking lesson over.

‘I can cook something else if you want?’ He offers and you hate the fact that he’s handsome whilst he slouches in the chair.

‘No, it’s fine,’ You sigh, shaking your head before signalling to the poached egg and avocado toast, ‘We can eat that… Do you want to eat together?’

‘Sure.’

So with a heavy but recovering air between the two of you, the plate is dragged into the middle. Two knives and two forks dig into the meal. You try to ignore the way the tips of his hair will sometimes tickle against the skin of your forehead or cheeks. Instead, you focus on the meal in front of you.

You both pause, hating the fact it was so fucking good.

C H E F I N S E S S I O N

an ex delinquent teaches a girl (who happens to be his next door neighbour) how to cook to escape more dire punishment.

chapter five: idiots fight and make up

masterlist | prev // next

taglist : @penny-quinn @studioreader @heejojo @hobistigma @ghjasksdk @uhhalexwashere

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kythed · 4 years ago

Text

“you can hear it in the silence” - a collection of conversations between you and futakuchi kenji.

1. april 14th, 7:56pm.

“it’s terribly boring, isn’t it?” the voice comes from right near your ear. you start, turning to see a young guy dressed in jeans, a tee, and a baseball cap, slouchy and messy in the most attractive and purposeful way. “the movie, I mean.”

you turn your eyes back towards the screen — some spanish neo-noir retelling of the same old “sexpot femme fatale turned domestic by a dashing hero with a horse” plotline. “yeah, it is. I only came so my film major friends would finally respect me.”

“that’s valid,” he whispers with a snort. an older man sitting beside him shushes him. “I only came so I could make fun of the people who only came to impress their film major friends.”

“oh, ouch,” you say, grinning. “way to attack like 90% of the foreign film audience.”

“I’d say it’s something more like 97%, actually,” he says, briefly glancing at the movie. the dark haired, sultry love interest is batting her lashes at the brooding protagonist, nightgown slipping off her shoulder. “the remaining 3% is horny teenagers who can’t yet figure out how to erase their search history.”

despite being in the middle of a crowded theater, you laugh, giggle echoing off the walls. several people turn around to shoot you dirty looks, and you immediately clap an apologetic over your mouth. oops.

“I’m kenji futakuchi,” your seat-neighbor whispers, extending a hand. “unprofessional film critic, engineering major, and thai tea hater. I’m willing to take you out for boba on our first date, but if you order thai tea it will also be our last.”

“bold of you to assume we’ll even have a first date,” you say, shaking his hand with another quiet laugh.

“oh, we will,” he says with what can only be described as a bona fide smirk. “I saw the way you were looking at me earlier.”

before you can respond, the curmudgeonly old man beside kenji leans over and scowls. “if you kids want to keep flirting, do so outside. some of us are here for cultural enrichment.”

kenji glances at you, face spelling out mischief. “you heard the man. shall we?”

for a moment, you consider saying no. but then reason kicks into gear and you stand up, dusting popcorn off your lap. “we shall.”

(discovery number one: your hand fits perfectly in his.)

2. may 2nd, 11:17am.

“you know, this actually isn’t so bad.” kenji takes another cautious sip. “still can’t hold a candle to jasmine.”

“I respect that,” you say, offering him a taste of your drink. “I feel like everyone who hates thai tea is just jumping on the bandwagon. it’s pretty decent.”

“you’re pretty decent,” he says petulantly, snatching your tea and replacing it with his own.

you roll your eyes. “your comebacks suck. still can’t believe I agreed to go out with you.”

kenji feigns a look of surprise. “oh, are we going out? I thought this was a platonic thing.”

you send a pointed look at his hand resting on your thigh, his thumb rubbing light circles in your skin.

kenji follows your gaze and suppresses a smile, shrugging. “friends do that.”

it’s a cool spring day, the air smelling of his cologne — vanilla, coffee, and burnt orange — and the eucalyptus growing in front of the cafe. the sunshine is fresh and pale, casting a glowy halo over kenji’s brunette mess of hair. he smiles rather angelically, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“and do friends do this?” you say softly, leaning forward so your nose is just centimeters from his.

kenji gulps, adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat. his voice cracks with his next words. “y-yeah. I do this with my buddies all the time. no homo.”

you slowly bring your hand up to cup his jaw, letting your eyes linger on his lips before glancing back up and smiling. “oh, good. ‘cause I do this with my girls all the time, too. full homo.”

“yeah?”

“mhm,” you purr, trying to channel some of that femme fatale energy, leaning even closer so you can feel his warm breath on your mouth — and then you pull away with a cackle, leaving kenji blinking down at you with reproach.

“women are so cruel,” he sighs wistfully, fanning his shirt and running a hand through his hair.

“sorry,” you chirp, not sorry at all. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“you don’t kiss on the first date?” kenji repeats. “so what’s the timeline — we hold hands today, and then you let me hug you next week, and then we kiss in a month, and then in like fifty years we finally fu—”

“kenji!” you say, whipping around. you’re scandalized. there’s a family with primary school aged kids sitting at the other table, shrieking with laughter and bouncing around like pinballs on a boba-fueled sugar high. “keep it PG.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything bad,” kenji complains. “I was just gonna say that in fifty years we finally, uh… furbish the condo we purchase together.”

“sure you were,” you say, and kenji just laughs. there’s something in the way he looks at you… something soft and affectionate that makes you think he might actually intend to stick around for fifty years. it scares you a little — but in a good way.

later that day, when kenji drops you off at your front porch, you lean forward again. usually you keep your word, but today’s an exception.

(discovery number two: he tastes like colgate and thai tea.)

3. august 21st, 8:02am.

“what the hell,” you cough, squinting through the smoke. you can barely hear yourself over the shrill beeping of the fire alarm resounding around your apartment. “kenji?”

kenji emerges from behind the fridge, nonchalantly leaning on the wall with a nervous smile. “hey, baby. sleep well?”

“don’t you ‘hey, baby’ me, mister,” you say, marching forward, fanning the smoke away with your oversized sleep shirt. (well, technically it’s his shirt, and that’s why it’s oversized. it fits perfectly fine on him.) “what in the world did you do?”

“why is it that when something goes wrong you always automatically blame me?” he complains, coughing.

“because it’s always your fault,” you say, gently but firmly pushing him aside to reveal, sitting innocently on the counter… a smoking toaster with two pieces of bread (burnt nearly completely black) resting in the slots. oh lord. “kenji. babe. darling.”

“ooh, keep going, please,” kenji coos, yelping when you lightly pinch his elbow. “hey!”

he’s about to retaliate before you double over in laughter, holding onto the edge of the kitchen counter for support. you choke out giggles between breaths, hardly able to keep balance. “you — (wheeze) — you nearly burnt down the kitchen — (wheeze) — trying to make toast?”

“it’s not as easy as it looks,” kenji insists, gingerly picking the slices of bread (although they’re more like crackers now) out from the toaster. “I’m sorry that I wanted to do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend. and I’m sorry that the only thing I could handle was toast and coffee. well, technically just coffee, I guess.”

he picks up a mug from the counter and offers it to you. “it might be kinda cold now. sorry. I tried.”

he’s so earnest and adorable and lovely in that moment — standing in the middle of the clouded kitchen in just mismatched socks and an old pair of boxers, holding the coffee out for you to see — that you can hardly contain yourself.

“god, I love you,” you say without thinking, the last word catching in your throat as you look up. oh. oops. kenji’s staring at you, unblinking, big brown eyes filled with… surprise? “I mean, I meant —”

“you love me?”

“I, uh,” you falter. this isn’t you; you’re supposed to be the calm and collected one. “this isn’t how I wanted to say it, but—”

“but you do, right? you love me?” kenji sets the mug back down and pulls you in by the waist, grinning broadly and resting his forehead against yours. your heart is pulsing erratically, but a smile big enough to match his somehow finds its way onto your face. you nod, and kenji immediately kisses you hard, tangling his fingers in the back of your hair.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly after finally parting. you feel the uncomfortable warmth of your face and the swollenness of your lips... but you can’t quite bring yourself to care. “I love you a lot.”

“you love me so much that you even tried to make me toast,” you laugh. “and you brought me cold coffee in my second favorite mug.”

“no, wait,” says kenji, glancing back towards said mug. “that’s your favorite mug.”

“no, my favorite is the green one with the—”

“—with the orange flowers,” kenji groans in realization, slapping a limp, penitent hand to his cheek. “I’m a failure of a boyfriend. I deserve to go to boyfriend jail.”

“you do,” you agree, nodding solemnly. “but lucky for you, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card right here.”

“oh?” says kenji, a devilish smile quirking up the corners of his lips.

you hum and offer him your clenched fist, like you’re about to place something in his palm. but when he extends his own outstretched hand, you interlace your fingers with his instead. “yep. right here.”

“you think you’re so clever,” kenji sighs, nonetheless bringing your hand up to press a brief kiss to your knuckles.

“I do.” you shuffle towards the counter to take a sip of the coffee — sure enough, it’s cold. (but he still made it exactly the way you like it.) “c’mon. breakfast.”

(discovery number three: burnt toast doesn’t taste so bad when you eat it with someone you love.)

4. november 1st, 10:38pm.

the commute across town from your university to your apartment is on the longer side, around forty minutes. it feels even longer late at night, though, on your way home from your part time job.

the subway rattles on its tracks as it slows to rest at a stop (but not yours) and a handful of sleepy passengers stumble out, swinging briefcases and pulling their scarves a little tighter. you stifle a yawn, slumping back into your seat.

“you okay?”

you smile. ever since you got hired a couple months ago, kenji’s insisted on coming to “pick you up” from work to take the train back with you, even though he works all the way across town. (he’ll probably stay the night — he has a drawer full of his things at your place these days, complete with a dozen wrinkled t-shirts, old soccer shorts, and a bundle of irreparably tangled chargers. he hasn’t bothered to bring his own shampoo over yet, though, claiming that “yours smells so nice and fruity” and “men’s shampoo just smells like nondescript testosterone and insecurity.” he’s right of course, but all the same, you’d rather he not use up all of yours.)

“yeah, I’m okay,” you sigh, taking his hand and feeling him begin to rub circles on your palm. you close your eyes. “just tired.”

“hi ‘okay-just-tired,’ I’m dad,” kenji says slyly, and you open one incredulous eye.

“did you really…?”

“I really did,” kenji says, puffing up his chest. “you walked right into it.”

you groan and fall on top of him dramatically, burying your face in his thick fleece jacket. “I’m too dead for this. I’m like frankenstein before he was reanimated — just a bunch of limbs and organs in a useless, fleshy pile.”

“technically, he’s frankenstein’s monster,” says kenji, petting your hair absentmindedly. “frankenstein’s the name of the doctor. cute literary allusion, though.”

“do you ever shut up?” your voice comes out muffled by kenji’s coat, but not at all devoid of its intended irritation.

“occasionally,” he says as you lift your head. he pulls you closer with one arm until you’re practically sharing a seat, legs interlocked, your temple resting on his shoulder and his chin nestled in your hair. “when I’m sleeping. when I’m eating — well, sometimes. sometimes I talk with my mouth full.”

“yeah, I’ve borne witness to that,” you say, wrinkling your nose. you’ve tried to improve kenji’s table manners countless times (especially in light of your family’s thanksgiving dinner soon approaching), but it’s all been in vain. most likely because he enjoys seeing you get worked up about his not using a coaster, etc. “disgusting.”

“when I’m concentrating on physics,” he continues, as if he hadn’t heard you. “when I’m in the library. when I’m kissing pretty girls.”

he bends down and tries to give you a peck, but you gasp and dodge it. “girls? plural? you’re out here kissing pretty girls other than me?”

“when I’m kissing one specific pretty girl,” kenji corrects himself, grinning.

you feel your own grin stretch across your face. “and which pretty girl is that?”

“my pretty girl,” he says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

you scoff. “corny.”

“you like it.”

you chew on your inner cheek, trying and failing to suppress your smile. “you know I do.”

the train’s speakers crackle alive, a cool automated voice emanating from their unseen perches: “approaching hiwamari station. projected arrival in: 1 minute.”

“alright, time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” kenji huffs, lugging you onto your feet. you hang limp in his arms like a rag doll, unwilling to bear your own weight. “you are perfectly capable of standing. shape up before I alert the authorities, you hooligan.”

“hmm,” you groan, finally arighting yourself with some difficulty. you want to ask where in the world he learned the word ‘hooligan,’ but your brain can hardly afford you even the most basic cognition right now. “it’s too late, and my knees hurt, and I’m tired, and I saw an ad for that new vietnamese place at the last station, and now I want banh mi. but I can’t have banh mi because there’s none on this side of town, and that irritates me.” you take a deep breath. “also, I’m cold.”

kenji laughs and slips a loose arm around your waist as the doors slide open, gently guiding you down onto the platform. the night air bites at your skin, painting goosebumps in its wake. you’re about ready to just sit down on the ground and curl into a frustrated, exhausted ball when he crouches down, fingers straightening and smoothing the lapels of your coat. “well, I can’t really help with the sore knees and the hankering for banh mi part, but I’m pretty sure you’re cold because you’ve had your buttons undone this entire time. dummy.”

he buttons your jacket quickly and deftly, careful to avoid pinching you in the process. a particular kind of warmth bubbles up in your chest at his concentrated expression — kenji likes to maintain his effortless, reckless reputation, but when it comes down to the bare bones of it all, he’s still the type of guy who’ll button his girlfriend’s coat for her. on the walk from the subway to your apartment, his arm doesn’t leave your body once, keeping you close to his side and shielded from the wind.

“I’m not a dummy.”

“sure, dummy.”

(discovery number four: body heat — specifically, kenji futakuchi’s body heat — is by far the most effective way to stay warm.)

5. december 23rd, 12:01pm.

“who’s your best friend?” the question pops into your mind and out of your mouth almost instantaneously. kenji, who’s lounging on the sofa next to you, turns, eyebrows furrowed. there’s a small douglas fir in the corner of the room, minimally decked with what ornaments you could “diy” from around the house: snowflakes made of sticky notes, bedazzled plastic utensils, etc. several small packages have been haphazardly tossed around the tree’s base, yours neatly wrapped in red tissue paper and string, kenji’s covered in newspaper and excessive scotch tape. (he tried. maybe not his best, but he tried.)

“depends,” he says, turning off his phone and tossing it onto the carpet. “what’s your definition of best friend?”

“you know,” you say, helplessly splaying your fingers. “monica and rachel. frodo and sam. taylor swift and karlie kloss.”

“hold on,” kenji says, holding up a hand. “didn’t taylor swift and karlie kloss have a falling out?”

“yeah, but for the sake of the argument,” you insist. you narrow your eyes. “wait. how do you know about that?”

“you talk about it every time you listen to that one album, which is at least once a month,” kenji says with a grin. “probably more like twice, actually.”

“oh.” you flush, making a mental note to use earbuds more often. “anyways. answer the question.”

“wait, but you just gave me a bunch of examples,” kenji complains. he glances briefly out the window, which is iced over like a sugar cookie, obscuring the snowscape outside. mariah plays faintly in the background, jingling and whistle tones echoing through the halls. “you didn’t define anything.”

“a best friend,” you begin, faltering and taking a moment to think. a best friend… what is a best friend, really? you frown for a moment before smiling brightly. “a best friend is a commitment. it’s when you commit to being there for somebody when they need you. and it’s when you commit to finding that person when you need them, too.”

kenji lets out a low whistle. “okay then, socrates.”

“it wasn’t that deep,” you say with a laugh. “so. who’s yours?”

kenji grins boyishly, face lighting up like a christmas tree topper. “easy. you’re my best friend.”

oh. you weren’t expecting that. your chest gives an involuntary little thump of pleasure. “me? what about kamasaki?”

“mmm,” kenji muses, counting on his fingers. “he’s, like, my fourth best friend. maybe third on a good day. but you’re the one I go to first.”

you have the sudden urge to wrap your limbs around him like a koala and never let go; only your dignity keeps you from tackling him right then and there. you clear your throat, praying he can’t hear your thoughts — he’d never let you live it down. “you’re mine, too.”

kenji doesn’t respond, just smiles and rolls off the couch onto the floor with a thud, spreading out on the carpet like a seastar. the silence doesn’t bother you, though — silence (what little you can get of it) is comfortable with you two. plus, it’s never really silent. there’s always something there, something very undefinable but very real.

(discovery number five: you are in love.)

#you guys seemed to really like the last of these so I might make it a series??#cackles #also ly if you see this the last one was supposed to be for the event #I'm sorry it's so late #also I got carried away and made it a whole thing #I hope it still counts T-T #futakuchi kenji #futakuchi kenji x reader #futakuchi #futakuchi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #hqcorenet

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mrfandomwars · 3 years ago

Text

Myles/Jango Incorrect quotes

From here

playing twister

Silas:Right hand red.

Myles: ends up on top of Jango

Jango: ...You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

Silas: I stopped spinning 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice

More under the cut

---

Jaster: Hey, do any of you know how to pick a lock?

Jango: Myles does.

Jaster: .... Myles.

Jango: Yeah, they’re pretty good with poisons and explosives too actually. Apparently they had a rebellious phase*.

Jaster: .... That is terrifying information, thank you.

*unless we think about the spy au lol

---

Myles: I turned out perfectly fine!

Jango: Myles, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast

Myles: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!

---

Myles: Three words. Say them and I'm yours.

Jango: Three words.

Myles:

----

Jango about the million clone kids they have: You love me, right, Myles?

Myles: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

---

Myles: This is such a bad idea.

Jango: Then why are you coming along?

Myles: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

----

Jango: Can you keep a secret?

Myles: Do you know anything about my life?

Jango: No I do not. Good point.

----

Myles, in a beach shirt: So sue me, it's October and I'd like to be on Island Time for a day!

Jango: I have Spotify open right now on my computer, do you want me to blast you? Do you want me to put you on blast? Cuz I've got your history right here on the sidebar.

Jango: Take it Back by Jimmy Buffet, Nautical Wheelers by Jimmy Buffet, Jolly Mon Sing by Jimmy Buffet, Steamer by Jimmy Buffet, trEAT HER LIKE A LADY BY JIMMY BUFFET, MAÑANA BY JIMMY BUFFET, WHEN SALOME PLAYS THE DRUMS BY JAMES BUFFET, HAVANA DAYDREAMIN BY JIMMY BUFFET- What the FUCK happened to you?!

Myles, laughing: I HAD A CASE OF THE MONDAYS

Jango: ARE YOU HAUNTED?! ARE YOU FUCKING POSSESSED?!

Jango: YOU USED TO BE MY FRIEND

Myles, cry-laughing: ᴵ ᴴᴬᴰ ᴬ ᶜᴬˢᴱ ᴼᶠ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᴰᴬʸˢ

---

Myles: i went through an entire character arc during quarantine

Myles: i’m going to get worse on purpose

Myles: i became more evil if you’re curious

Jango: We're still in quarantine, don't worry, there's time for a redemption arc still!

---

Myles: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back.

Jango: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

---

This works with both I think, depends on the situation

Myles: Okay, truth or dare?

Jango: Truth

Jango: ...Dare

Myles: How many hours have you slept this week?

Jango:

Myles: Go to bed.

Jango: I don’t like this game.

---

Death Watch raised Myles: So are we flirting right now?

Jango: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU

Myles: That doesn’t answer my question

I feel like this also fits the other way around if Jango ended up head over heals with Myles

---

Myles: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives

Jango: I wake up at 4:30 AM

Myles:

Myles: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

---

Myles: Is something burning?

Jango: Just my love for you.

Myles: Jango, the toaster is on fire.

---

When they have kids

Jango: Stubs their toe FUCK!

Myles: Mind your language!

Jango: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Myles:

Jango: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

---

Myles: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.

Jango: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?

Myles: No! Four to five seconds!

Jango: Too late!!!

---

Myles: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Jango: It’s not a joke.

Jango: *sniffles*

Jango: I’m a legit snack

---

Myles: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Jango: I think you mean cards.

Myles, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

---

Myles, watching the news:Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today!

Jango: walks in covered with ink Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

---

Jango: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Myles has been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get him out...

Part 2 here!!!

#myles/jango fett #myles/jango #silas the mandalorian #myles the mandalorian #jango fett #we need a ship name #mr jokes #incorrect quotes

18 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Riding High

Ch 5: Ad Nauseam

Chapter Summary: It’s Mary’s first day at school, and it doesn’t go according to plan… Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So from here on in we dive into the GIFTED main story line so this contains SPOILERS for the film. If you haven’t seen it please be aware of that before you read on. As a Lawyer I know how long the types of cases depicted in GIFTED can take, so for that reason I’ll be spreading the storyline over a number of Months, because I find that realistic and it also fits with how I want the story to go so…just roll with it!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4

September 2017

“Hey! Come on.” Frank sighed, knocking on the door that led into his bedroom where Mary was getting changed “Come on let’s move”.

“No” came the sullen reply

“Let me see.” he said a little more gently.

“No.”

“Come on, I made you a special breakfast.” Frank tried.

“You can't cook.” Mary replied, a snort in her voice. With a deep sigh Frank decided enough was enough.

“Hey, Mary, open up.” his voice was sterner and a few seconds later the door opened and Mary looked up at him. She was dressed in her new red summer dress with a white collar and blue and white flowers patterned all over it. She wore a filthy scowl on her face which Frank was trying really hard not to laugh at.

“You look beautiful.” he told her.

“I look like Disney character.” She seethed as she stormed past him. Frank watched her pass as the door to the room shut, gave a sigh and then followed her to the kitchen. She sat at the table, pulling the bowl of cereal to her as Frank set about making her lunch.

“Where's the special?” Mary suddenly said.

“What?” Frank asked, reaching up for a piece of kitchen roll to wipe a knife clean.

“You said you made me special breakfast.”

Frank leaned over and with his left hand turned the box of Special K round so Mary could see it. She rolled her eyes and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. Frank ignored her until she spoke again, her voice pleading.

“Please, don't make me go. You can keep home schooling me.”

“I've taught you everything I know” Frank replied, smearing peanut butter onto the bread in front of him.

“But I don't want to go.”

“Well... I don't want to go to work, but I do.” Frank shrugged as he fixed the sandwich together and reached for a zip-press bag to place it in.

“You don't go to work. You fix boats on the dock.”

“Okay, it's poor example.” he said, pulling the top of the bag open. “But you are still going.”

“But what about Fred?” Mary asked as Frank shimmied the sandwich into the bag and sealed it

“What about him?” Frank sighed

“You won't take care of him. You don't like cats.”

Well, she had him there. He really didn’t like cats. But Frank was ok. Frank wasn’t really a cat, he was more of a dog…

“I don't like two-eyed cats” Frank shrugged in reply “Fred is as you know, monocular.”

“Who's gonna throw him his ping pong ball?” Mary tried again.

“Fred's gonna be fine, no more argument, okay?” Frank sighed, looking at her as he pulled another sandwich bag from the box for his own. “We've discussed this ad nauseam.”

“What's an nauseam?” Mary frowned.

“You don't know?” Frank turned to look at her, leaning against the kitchen unit. “Looks like someone needs school.” Mary looked at him, an utterly filthy scowl on her face and he stared back. She sighed and turned back to her breakfast, hand propping her face up as her elbow rest on the table. Frank stood watching her whilst he threw some bread in the toaster. He felt bad, he really did but this was for the best. She needed to be normal. He felt his phone buzzing in his back pocket and, wiping his hands on his dirty work jeans, he pulled it out, smiling as he read the text from Fliss.

“Good luck with the whole School thing this morning. If she kicks off tell her no riding lesson on Saturday. Give me a call or swing by if you need me xx”

“I don’t need good luck I need a miracle, and a drink. Is 8am on a Monday too early for a beer?” he replied.

“Well, it’s afternoon somewhere in the world Sailor ;-) “

Gave a chuckle as he put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Mary who was watching him, a knowing look on her face.

“What?”

“I know that was Fliss.” she said.

“How?”

“Because you’re smiling, the way you always do when she messages you.” “Well we’re friends…we like talking to one another. Something you might understand after you make some at school.” She scowled at him again and he ignored her, shoving the last bit of his breakfast into his mouth before he looked at the clock.

“Finish up, it’s nearly time to go.”

With a grumble Mary ate another mouthful before she slid off her chair. Frank packed her lunch into her rucksack before he handed it to her. With another scowl she place her arms through the straps and then together they walked out of their home.

“Just remember that today, those kids in your class, they’ve probably haven’t learnt even half as much as you.” Frank said, looking at her as they walked down the path. “So try not to show off ok?” “I can’t even use what I do know?” “No I’m not saying that, just, don’t make it so obvious ok? It will make people ask questions about why you know so many things and...” “AM I not supposed to know them?”

“Honestly, no, you’re seven.” Frank shrugged. “But you’re smart, you know this.”

She remained quiet for a second before she sighed “Ok, I promise I won’t show off.”

They reach the end of the path and then walked across the grassy area between two of the other prefabs just in time for the bus to pull to a stop.

Frank watched Mary as she stood looking at it as the doors swung open.

“This is gonna be fun.” He said, watching the back of her head “You're gonna meet kids today that you’re gonna borrow money from for the rest of your life.”

She didn’t reply

“Come on.” he urged gently, gesturing her forward with his right arm, his tone somewhat softer. He watched her climb up the staps, his hands falling to his hips as he tried to think of something encouraging to say. “You’re gonna be great.”

She paused and looked back at him, her expression soft.

“You know, just...” He gave her a thumbs up, “I don't know. Try bein' a kid.”

Mary looked down as the school bus doors shut and Frank sighed. He watched her take a seat as the bus pulled off and then turned to head back to the house. He was running through his day in his head, he had a boat he needed to have a look at but didn’t think it was a major fix, few parts that type of thing. He could swing by Sandybrook later on, maybe, see if Fliss was free for an hour for lunch…

There was a rapping on a window and he stopped dead at the end of the path looking up. His eyes locking with Roberta’s as she gazed at him from out of her window. With a sigh of frustration he turned to his left and continued back towards his home another way.

“Frank! Frank, I know you hear me.” He let out an inward groan as he rolled his eyes, ignoring her completely. He walked in the door to his kitchen, shut it and then snapped the lock across to make a point. The point being ‘piss off and leave me alone’. He knew that making the point was, however, pointless because she’d just fucking unlock the door and walk in anyway. Like she always did. He grabbed the toast that had popped up whilst he had been out and threw it on a plate.

“Frank!” There was a juggle of the door handle and he turned to look at Roberta as she pulled out a set of keys.

Ignoring her completely he grabbed a mug and poured some coffee into it.

“There's still time for you to undo this nonsense. Go get in your car and go get that child.”

“Are you technically allowed to use these keys whenever you want?” He said to her, a little sarcastically as he passed her the mug. She took it from him

“How you can stand there...acting all calm and all of that making light out of this?” she asked as he took a bit of his toast “Now, go get her back before it's too late.”

“She gotta go out in the world.” Frank said as he began to tidy up the kitchen, placing the breakfast and lunch making items away “She has no friend her age, no social skills. She doesn’t know how to be a kid.”

Roberta merely watched him as he sighed and turned to face her, leaning his hip against the counter. “Two nights ago she told me that even if Germany bails out the Euro, there could still be worldwide depression.” He shook his head “I was staring at the celling for three hours.” he finished softly

Roberta wrinkled her nose a little and looked down at the floor as she shook her head softly. “I'm so worried.” she said gently, her voice cracking and it was then that Frank noticed her eyes were filling with tears. He knew she cared for Mary, she cared for him too even if she showed that less. And he got it, he did, he got exactly what she was worried about because hell, he felt the same. If people spotted Mary’s potential and then started digging it was going to cause a whole heap of ramifications. But he had to balance out the need to keep her ‘talents’ hidden and for her to have a normal life. He saw so many parallels between Mary and Diane, and frankly it scared the shit out of him. His mother had been overbearing, insisted that they were both home schooled, but when their Father had died Frank had rebelled. He’d gone out, fallen in with a BMX riding, trouble making crowd (well, as much trouble as eight year olds could make…toilet papering houses, throwing stones at cars, that type of thing) basically stuck the middle finger up at his mother who had in the end conceded and he’d gone to school. But Diane…well, she’d been smothered and grown up so isolated with no social skills.

No, he wasn’t, he couldn’t let that happen to Mary.

He let out a sigh “Come on, Roberta. If you start crying, I will have to pretend to start crying.”

He watched as she nodded sadly.

“Hey.”

She looked up at him as he spoke.

“You know there's something you could be overlookin’.” he smiled “This could work out.”

“Maybe.” she agreed, with a slight nod and a smile “But if anybody takes that baby away...I'll smother you in yo sleep.” she warned him, her southern accent becoming stronger as she issued the threat “Morning, Fred.” she said to the cat who was led on the table. His tail swished as she rather viciously grabbed at her keys before she left the house.

With his fucking mug.

The sun was already warm and it wasn’t even 9 when Frank reached the dock, the rays bouncing off the crystal blue surface of the water. As he walked he applied a slight smearing of sunscreen to his neck, he knew that bore the brunt of the sun when he was outside and not in the lock up. Fliss had commented it on it the other day, and he had admitted to her that when he’d gotten out of the shower the other day he noticed he was definitely sporting some amusing tan lines, both round the collar of his T-shirts and where the arms finished. It was always the same thought. Fliss had laughed, rolled up her sleeves to show him the same and pointed out it was why she spent as much time as she could on her days off by the pool trying to even it out.

Lying by the pool on a day off… Frank mused to himself, now there was a thought.

Whilst his mind was on Fliss, he pulled his phone out and dialed her number.

“Hey Frankie boy.” she greeted him “Did you manage to get her on the bus without a gun or…” Frank chuckled “It was surprisingly less trouble than I thought but…”

“You’re doing the right thing.” she assured him, and he had to smile at the fact she knew what he was pondering.

“Roberta doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Yeah, well, she’s worried but that doesn’t make her right.” Fliss said “Look, Mary is a kid. She needs to just, oh I dunno, live like a kid. You’ve done the right thing for both of you, Frank.”

“Thanks Fliss.” he smiled to himself “Think I just needed to hear that.” “Any time, look I gotta go, my 9 am is here.” “Ok, well, I thought if the invite was open I could swing by at lunch. I’ll grab us a sandwich on the way?”

“Sounds great.” Fliss said, “Just message me later.” “Sure, have a good morning Cowgirl.” She laughed “You too Sailor.”

He tucked the phone back in his pocketed and continued to head down the gangway, nodding to a few people before he hopped onto the white speed-boat he was working on, pulling the dust cover off the stripped down engine.

**** Two hours. It was a whole two hours before he got a phone call telling him to head into the school. He strode back to the house, quickly washed his hands and threw on a blue and red plaid button down over his grubby white t-shirt before he headed to go get the pain-in-the-ass.

After a number of apologies, Frank walked out of the Principal’s office with a groan. Mary skipped ahead of him, examining something in a cabinet but he placed his hand on her head and turned it in the direction she needed to walk. He pushed open the double doors, letting her go in front of him.

One hand between her shoulder he steered her away from the entrance to the school and was fishing in his pocket for his keys when he heard a voice behind him.

“Excuse me?”

He turned to see a slim, quite pretty brunette in a green and white dress hurrying towards him.

“Hi.” she said, raising her hand in greeting.

“Look it's my teacher.” Mary rolled her eyes as Frank slowed down. “Probably wants to remind me what one plus one is.”

“Go to the car, okay?” he said, gently guiding her away with his hand.

“Hi” he repeated

“Hi.” Frank replied, removing his glasses and taking her extended hand in greeting.

“Sorry to yell at you and then chase you down.” she apologised.

“It's okay. Mary's teacher?” he asked, releasing her hand.

“Yes. I'm Bonnie Stevenson”

“Frank. How are you?” he said, and then before giving her chance to apologise he sighed “Sorry about today. She got little overexcited.” he gestured to the car as Mary climbed in “It's just first day jitters.”

“Sure, yeah.” Bonnie nodded, turning to look at Mary

“We are running a little bit late actually, so we gotta get going.” Frank said, late for what he had no idea, he hadn’t made that bit up yet.

“Okay, I don't even wanna talk about that.” Bonnie shook her head “I will keep you just a minute”

“Okay.”

“I think your daughter...I think Mary might be gifted.”

Shit.

“What?” Frank feigned surprise, quite well too so it seemed.

“Yeah, today in math, she answered some really, really complicated equations and…”

“Oh, no, no, no…” Frank held his hand out to stop her as she was gesticulating fastly with her own as she continued to speak. “No, that's...it's not gifted.”

“difficult questions that a seven year old would...”

“It's Trachtenberg.” Frank cut her off easily, he could deflect this.

“I’m sorry…” Bonnie laughed, folding her arms, looking at him, puzzled.

“Jakow Trachtenberg.” Frank nodded. “Spent seven years in a concentration camp. Developed a system to rapidly solve problems.” he gestured with the hand holding his keys “It's the Trachtenberg method.”

“But she’s…I mean...she's seven though.” Bonnie said, smiling slightly, her tone still surprised.

“I learned it when I was eight.” he said, smiling “Do I look gifted to you?”

Bonnie looked him up and down and dropped her head, smiling.

“It kinda went out of note since the invention of the calculator.” Frank continued, backing away from her as he spoke, “But I can still win a drink at the bar using it.” he smiled, opening his sunglasses out. “Sorry for today. Won't happen again.”

“Okay.” Bonnie nodded as Frank slid on his shades.

“Nice to meet you…Bonnie.” he said, remembering her name.

“Frank.” Bonnie nodded again.

He drove them home in silence. His only words being an instruction for her to go change into something suitable for an afternoon at the docks before he stepped into the kitchen and remembered his lunch arrangements. With a curse he pulled his phone out and gave Fliss a quick call.

**** Fliss’ morning had been fairly busy as well. She’d given two private lessons, worked one of her horses, mucked half the block out as it was a Monday, which meant that Ellis had the day off so she mucked in, and was now going through the bookings for the week. She’d been inundated this week with requests that she couldn’t accommodate, but was contemplating putting another lesson on to satisfy the demand. Bill had told her not to be stupid, she was already teaching 6 days a week and needed to let her staff shoulder some of the responsibility before she burnt out.

“Joanne?” she called. Joanna walked in and looked at Fliss.

“How do you fancy over for me completely on a Sunday?” she asked.

“Me?” Joanne frowned.

“Yeah.” Fliss nodded “You open up, close and can run a couple of Classes. You have your teaching qualifications. I can supervise the first two weeks or so and if you’re happy after that then you can take the day completely, take 20% of the earnings as an extra. What do you say?”

“Fliss, I’d, well, I don’t know what to say!” Joanne grinned “Yeah, yeah I’d love to!”

“Good.” Fliss smiled “There’s a list of clients here, you can call back after lunch and offer them a time slot to suit you on Sunday, have a think about a lesson plan for groups and then…” “Thanks Fliss. “ Joanne smiled “This means a lot.” “You’ve earned it.” Fliss smiled “You’ve been a perfect head groom these last 6 months. Keep going and…well, we’ll see where we end up!”

Joanne beamed and nodded, heading back out onto the yard.

Fliss took a deep breath. She had spent so much of her life not in control of her career or home life, doing as she was told by John, when she was told to do it or suffer the consequences of a beating, that she had gone the complete opposite way when she had taken grasp of her own life. Her business was run by her with military precision. Bill did the books for her, but other than that she arranged everything. She was a control freak, she knew that so stepping away 1 day a week might seem like a little step to other people but to her it was a huge one. Bill had reminded her the other night that the idea had been that eventually Fliss would have a manager running the place for her which meant she could turn up to provided lessons and ride when needed. She was a long way off that yet though, but this one day off was a little progress.

Her phone started ringing and she reached over to pick it up, smiling when she saw the number.

“Two calls before noon!” Fliss grinned “I’m honoured”

“Unfortunately I’m calling to cancel lunch.” Frank sighed.

Fliss was surprised she felt disappointed. “Oh, it’s no issue.” She said, pulling a face. “Is everything alright.

“No.” he replied bluntly.

“Mary?”

“How did you guess?” he gave a low chuckle.

“She’s normally your source of your trouble. What has she done?”

“Apparently she stood up in class, and shouted at the principal to, and I quote ‘get on your phone and call Frank and tell him to get me out of here.’ I mean…”

Fliss bit back a laugh. It shouldn’t be funny, but she could picture Mary’s angry face and her arms folded across her chest. Despite her best attempts an amused snort escaped her.

“It’s not funny.” Frank deadpanned

“I know, I’m sorry but…“ Fliss cleared he throat, forcing herself to become serious.

“You now I wasn’t a perfect kid but I’m pretty sure I never got thrown out before lunchtime on my first day.” Frank sighed.

“She’s not been thrown out…just told to go home early” Fliss countered

“Well I brushed it off as first day excitement but the teacher was digging into how smart she is and…”

“Look, try not to worry.” Fliss soothed, sensing the tone of panic in his voice “Just try talking to Mary You always get the best out of her when you explain things to her.”

“Yeah, look, I better go…I need to get back to the boat yard.”

“No problem. Take care, and, just…well, listen to her Frank.”

“Yeah, bye Fliss.”

Fliss placed her phone down on her desk, and bit her lip. The morning had started off reasonably well too. She knew Frank well enough now to know that his frustration with Mary was born out of simply wanting the absolute best for her, and he was completely focused on making that happen even if Mary was not happy about it.

Fliss tapped her nails absentmindedly on the desk, trying to think of ways she could help. But other than talk to Mary, as she had encouraged Frank to do, she was stumped.

Nope, Fliss didn’t envy Frank one bit.

*****

“For the record, I didn't wanna go to the stupid school in the first place.” Mary rambled on as she perched on a cool box, blue sun hat perched on her face as Frank finally finished his work on the engine, screwing the cover back on “And the boy in the front row acts inappropriately for someone who's a child.”

“Sorry. I'm still passively aggressively ignoring you.” he said without looking up.

“Other kids answer questions, they don't get in trouble.” Mary continued to protest.

“You didn't get in trouble for answering the questions.” Frank looked at her, still turning the screw driver, his voice taking on a tone of exasperation. “You yelled at the principal.”

Mary looked at him, shrugging.

“All right, you know what? You're gonna find this interesting.” he said, stepping back slightly, tossing the screwdriver onto one of the seats as he made his way to the cockpit of the boat “So I googled" first graders who yelled at the principal". And statistically you will never believe how many kids do it.”

He started working his way through the checks as Mary answered

“How many?”

“None.” he shot back over his shoulder as he fired up the boat, revving it slightly. He heard Mary’s footsteps as she ran down the side of the boat and stopped.

“Frank, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.” she said leaning over the edge to look at him.

“Yeah, right.” he said, shaking his head before he turned to look at her “You can't show off like that in school.”

“I know.”

“You promised you wouldn't then the first day...”

“I know, I screwed up.”

Frank looked at her, he could see she was genuinely contrite. Her head was dropped slightly. He watched her for a moment before he nodded and looked back out of the water before she spoke again.

“Do you think this boat needs a test ride?”

He looked back at her as she grinned up at him, the gap where her two top teeth had fallen out serving as a reminder as to just how young she damned well was. Like he could ever forget that, mind. Frank looked down and shoved his glasses back as they slipped down his nose and with a sigh he gave in, the way he normally did when she pulled those puppy dog eyes on him.

“Go get, Fred.”

She smiled and jumped up.

“Don't run!” he called after her, watching as she slowed to a walk for a few strides, before running anyway. He shook his head, smiling to himself at her blatant disregard for his order.

She appeared a little while later and Frank got her settled in the seat of the boat with a life vest and a blanket covering her legs, it could get a little nippy on the water for Mary, not that it bothered him.

“Ready?” he asked

She gave him a thumbs up and he pulled the boat out of the spot and headed slowly out of the harbour. Once on the open water he sped up, relishing the feel of the wind in his hair. He felt at peace on the water, something about it soothed his soul. He drove them to a stretch of beach they knew and loved, a quiet one and he drove the boat into the shallow water before he shucked off his shoes and socks, rolled his jeans up and jumped down, pushing it up onto the sand.

“Alright short stack…” he smiled as Mary grinned and stood up. She shucked off her life vest and he lifted her out of the boat before passing Fred over. He hopped back in, grabbed the parasol and a fold out chair, passing her a bucket and spade, all of which he had thrown on the boat whilst she’d headed off to get Fred, before they made their way up the beach.

Mary soon set off, digging about in the sand and collecting shells, like a normal kid her age should do and Frank settled down to watch her, occasionally glancing out into the ocean, spotting every so often the ripple of the resident pod of dolphins as they broke surface lazily. Mary was splashing around in the shallow pools on the beach, Fred by her side before she looked up and came running towards him, jumping on his knee as the birds flew down to inspect what the tide had washed in.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she smiled, shifting around to get comfortable. “Fred loves to watch the sandpipers.”

Fred gave a meow as if to confirm what she was saying and Frank looked down at the cat as it lounged in the shade.

“He thinks he'd like to catch one, but he'd regret it.” she continued “Fred's not a killer. He's a lover.”

She gave a sigh and leaned back into him, her back resting against his chest and Frank moved his arms as she took his left hand in both of hers, gently looking at his palm and playing with his fingers.

“Would my mom want me to go to this school?” she asked.

“I can only guess.” Frank replied, honestly “But I will tell you that she would have wanted you to have friends.”

“Idiot friends?” Mary said, almost groaning.

“She'd want you to have compassion for others.” Frank tilted his head so he was looking down at the side of her face “Like a cat can have for a sandpiper.”

Mary paused and shifted slightly, looking down a little “But what if they don't like me?” she asked softly.

And God, if that didn’t break his heart! He swallowed and took a moment, before he looked at her.

Then they're idiots.” he said simply, and in his mind it was the truth.

Mary didn’t reply, instead she leaned back, her head on his shoulder and Frank gently wrapped his arms further around her, patting her stomach gently. They both sat in silence for a bit, Mary gently tickling the back of his hands with her own. He was just thinking about telling her they really should get back, when he felt her sit up.

“Hey, is that Fliss?”

Frank frowned and looked at her, “Where?”

“There, look.” He followed where she was pointing and squinted slightly. There was a woman riding a chestnut horse a little further down the beach, and it certainly looked like Fliss.

“Hang on…” Frank pulled out his phone. He dialled Fliss and as he watched he saw the woman pause and reach into her boot to retriever her phone.

“Hey…” she greeted him.

“Turn to your left.”

There was a pause and then as she did so the two of the waved. Fliss laughed.

“Be right there…”

She placed the phone back in her boot and then kicked the horse into a gallop. It sped over the sand, kicking up spray as it went and Mary giggled and jumped off Frank’s knee as she approached.

“Hi!” she beamed down at them as she pulled the horse to a stop. Frank stood up and smiled at her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Had to take the speedboat for a test drive.” Frank shrugged.

“Test sail.” Fliss countered.

“Whatever.” Frank rolled his eyes as Mary was busy stroking Heidi’s face. “What about you?”

“Oh had a spare afternoon so decide to load her majesty up and come down here.” she smiled “It’s nice and quiet. Sometimes I see the dolphins too.” Frank noticed the way her face lit up as she said that, and he smiled.

“They’re even better up close.” Mary grinned.

“Well, one day maybe I’ll get the chance” Fliss smiled.

“I still owe you a ride.” Frank smiled and she grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Fliss grinned, “And speaking of rides…” she looked at Mary and gestured to the horse.

Frank took a deep breath “seriously?”

“Come on.” Fliss said “She’ll be safe, I trust this horse with my life.” Mary, suddenly realising what was being said looked to Frank, her eyes sparkling.

“Fine…” Frank sighed, shaking his head “But drop her and I’ll kill you.”

“What do you take me for?” Fliss scoffed, removing her hat and handing it to Mary. Once she was seated in front of her Fliss held her tightly, one arm around her waist, the other in the reins and told Mary to hang on. She set off slowly at first and then with a grin kicked the horse on into a slow canter, and steered towards the sea.

“Shit…” Frank muttered, his heart in his mouth as the both cantered through the waves, the spray kicking up behind them. He could hear Mary’s shouting and laughing as it echoed up the beach. They went a little distance away before Fliss slowed down to a walk, Heidi continuing along her path steadily.

“So, I hear school wasn’t great?” Fliss said as they turned and made their way back at a slower pace.

“No.” Mary shrugged “Frank got mad.”

“Did you apologise?”

“Yeah…its ok now.” Mary shrugged “I just didn’t like it. And I don’t think they liked me.” Fliss took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you a secret, when I first started riding, the other kids didn’t like me either.” “Really?” Mary turned to face her as they wandered back, gently swaying with the horses motions.

“Nope, I came from a different back ground to them. We weren’t rich, I mean my mum and dad have money now but we didn’t always.”

“So what happened?” “I kept going.” Fliss said gently “And then I met a friend, a girl called Charlotte. She was the same. Her family sold all their belongings so she could pursue her dream.”

Heidi slowed to a stop by Frank but Fliss continued to talk “And we became good friends, and we worked hard. She did dressage, I did show-jumping. And we both grew up together, and encouraged each other, and we made the teams.”

“Are you still friends now?” “Yeah, I still talk to her now, I don’t see her as much but…” Fliss took a deep breath, the thought of the past still a bit painful. “The point is Mary, if you go in thinking that everyone is against you then believe me, it will seem that way. Maybe you should think about having an open mind and giving this a go, yeah?”

Franks eyes were hidden behind his glasses and at that moment he was kind of glad, because for some reason, there was a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes as he had observed his niece and Fliss together, the woman simply talking to Mary.

Mary pondered for a moment before she sighed “I suppose…”

Fliss smiled “Good, you’ll be glad you did.”

Mary shrugged “Maybe. Hey, you know what ad nauseam means?”

Fliss frowned and looked up as Frank gave a laugh “It means indefinitely, never ending…forever, why?” she looked at Mary. “Oh, something Frank said I’d learn at school but I didn’t.” she shrugged “But now I know, thanks.” “You’re welcome.” Fliss chuckled, as Frank helped her down. She watched her run off to pick up her cat.

“Thank you.” Frank said gently, turning to look up at Fliss.

“What for?”

“Talking to her, the way you always do. I don’t know how you do it Lissy, but you make her listen.”

“Don’t worry too much about her.” Fliss smiled “I know it’s easy for me to say but, well you always said today would be a challenge. See how she goes tomorrow.”

Frank smiled and rubbed at the back of his neck before he took a deep breath, suddenly making a decision. “I err, don’t suppose you wanna come for a drink on Friday? I’m only going to Fergs but…”

“I thought Fridays were your nights, you know where you sat at a bar, alone, all broody and mysterious.” Fliss grinned down at him.

Frank shook his head, a crooked smile spreading on his face “Yeah well, maybe I fancy a bit of company this week.”

Fliss looked at him for a moment, considering what he had said before she smiled “Ok, I got lessons until 6:30 but I can meet you there later on?”

Frank smiled “Great, it’s a date.”

Fliss arched her eyebrow and Frank inwardly cursed “I mean, not a date, but, you know, a…”

“You’re cute when you get flustered.” Fliss teased, cutting him off with a laugh “Don’t worry, Sailor, I know what you mean.”

With that she turned the horse back the way she had come and winking at Frank called to Mary. “Hey, you know when you asked if Heidi could still go really fast?”

Mary nodded.

“Well watch this.”

And with that Fliss gave the horse a gentle nudge and it erupted into a ridiculously fast gallop back down the beach. Fliss’ whoops echoed in the air as she looked back waving, and Mary ran a little way after her laughing and waving back.

****

Fliss was right. The next morning they had a little fuss but nothing drastic. Mary came home with a note about Wednesday being show and tell. Mary wanted to take Fred. So they bundled him into a cardboard box. Frank waited patiently outside until Mary was escorted back out by a classroom assistant to hand the cat back over.

“Enjoy that?” he said.

Mary nodded.

“I was talking to Fred.” Frank teased. Mary narrowed her eyes and he laughed. “I’ll see you later ok?”

She came home a lot happier, talking to him about how the kids had asked her questions about Fred that she had answered and Frank couldn’t help but smile as she rambled on and on. Later, when he called Fliss he couldn’t stop himself from talking either and Fliss had been led on her bed, smiling at his voice as he continued to gush about his niece. Thursday and Friday passed much the same, which was why when Friday night came Frank was in a reasonably good mood, and ready to buy Fliss all the damned beer she wanted.

Fliss, however, was in a flap. Her lesson had overrun and now she had changed her outfit 3 times, finally settling on a light blue cotton knee length, sleeveless dress and brown sandals, leaving her hair loose and her make up light. She hadn’t been out with her friends for, well, not since moving here. Sure, she’d been out with her parents and their friends but this felt different. And she was nervous.

“You look nice.” Her dad looked up as she walked into their living room. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, you sure you don’t mind dropping me?” she looked at him, “I can get a cab?”

“Don’t be daft.” Bill said, picking up his keys.

“Have a nice time, Honey!” her mum called.

Bill could tell Fliss was nervous so he made idle chit chat on the drive down to the main strip of bars and eventually pulled up outside Fergs.

“Just have fun.” he looked at her, squeezing her hand gently “And if you need me, call.”

“Thanks dad.” she smiled, kissing his cheek before she let herself out of the range rover and headed into the bar.

She glanced around for a second, looking for Frank and spotted him at a table talking to a dark haired woman, with a pretty face. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she really wanted to interrupt and was debating running back out to catch Bill when Frank looked up and saw her. Flashing her that smile that could melt her on the spot he waved her over.

"Thought you were gonna stand me up!" he grinned at her as she took a seat. "Sorry, my last lesson over ran." She answered before she smiled politely at the dark haired woman. "Hi..." "Oh, Fliss this is Bonnie, Mary's teacher." Frank introduced them. "Nice to meet you." Fliss smiled. The woman gave her a smile back and stood up speaking to her as she did so “Well, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time Frank and don’t want to eat into your date." "Oh this isn’t a date..." Fliss protested at the same time Frank shook his head "We're not..." he gestured between himself and Fliss with his hands "Fliss is Mary's riding instructor" "She horse rides?" Bonnie said, an air of surprise in her tone. "The idea was it would hopefully teach her social skills." Frank snorted. "Clearly hasn’t worked.." "Oh don't be so hard on her." Fliss jumped to the girls defence. "She's a good kid." "I bet it’s easier when you're trying to teach them something they actually want to learn, or in Mary's case teaching her something she doesn’t know." Bonnie said and Fliss laughed. "She’s actually one of the easier kids I have." She replied and Frank smiled at her comment "mind you, none of the kids give me any hassle really, it’s the adults that are hard work."

“Oh my god tell me about it.” Bonnie groaned “I dread Teacher-Parent evenings, honestly, some of them are so obtuse.” "I can imagine." Fliss grinned

"Anyway I better..." Bonnie gestured over her shoulder. "See you later Frank, and nice to meet you Fliss" "You too." Fliss nodded to he as Frank waved his hand in goodbye.

“What you drinking cowgirl?” he asked, standing up “I’ll go get em in.”

Fliss asked for a beer and sat down as he went to place their order. A few minutes later he was back, sliding the bud over to her.

“Thanks…” she took a huge drink. “I err, didn’t interrupt anything before did I?"

"No, not really." Frank shook his head "Not really?" "She errr...found out about Diane." Frank said. "Oh." Fliss frowned. "How? I mean..." "When I picked Mary up on Monday she was asking me about her background on account of her being so smart. I tried to fob her off, saying I had taught her a system, you know for arithmetic but she didn’t buy it. Apparently she’s been giving Mary a few more advanced equations to do…”

Fliss looked down as he slid the paper on the table over to him. It contained a number of formulas and algebra problems which Fliss could see Mary had completed.

“As you can see, she aced them. And then Bonnie googled the system I mentioned, and then me and up popped Diane.”

“So did you tell her the truth?” Fliss asked looking up at him, sliding the paper back.

“What option did I have?” He shrugged, folding it and shoving it in his pocket. “She came down here to call me out so I figured honesty was the best…what?" He asked when he noticed Fliss was frowning. "She came down here on a Friday night to find you?" Fliss snorted

Frank shrugged “That’s what she said.”

"How she know you'd be here?" "I'm here most Fridays...not that hard to find." "Maybe you should think about varying your routine, Sailor" Fliss grinned “And you should definitely think about varying this shirt.”

Frank glanced down at his bright yellow palm tree print Hawaiian shirt

“What’s wrong with it?” he pouted.

“What’s right with it more like.”

“Well I’m not one for corporatism.” Frank shrugged “I like to think I’m an individual.”

“Yeah, well I’m not sure planet Earth could deal with two of you.” Fliss shot back. “I can only just about cope with one…”

Frank paused before he looked at her, shaking his head with a snort as his mouth curled up at one corner “Well that’s just fucking rude.”

“Made you smile though.” Fliss grinned at him.

Frank looked at her for a moment before he felt his face split further into a grin as he looked at her. “Yeah, yeah you do…I mean did.”

He saw her cheeks flush in that adorable way they did, and he decided to save her from further embarrassment by changing the subject. It wasn’t long before they settled into an easy conversation and the events of the previous week and all worries about Mary flew completely from Frank’s mind.

**** Chapter 6

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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leonardovaldezz · 5 years ago

Note

What would u do if u could change anything about anything in the series?

I’m gonna assume you’re talking about Hero’s Of Olympus, since I want to talk about it. Let’s start with the relationship each of the 7 had with one another/character dynamics.

Percy. We know who he is, we’ve met him before, we’ve lived through his adventure with him. He’s a shithead, we love this about him, but he’s also kind and loving. Percy would’ve made an effort to get along with everyone, to be friends and goof off to help everyone feel better. Which is why all of this shit Rick created with Jason being his Roman counter part and them being rivals, the two “macho men fighting for power to lead the pack” makes NO goddamn sense. And quite frankly smells HEAVY of toxic masculinity the entire series could’ve gone without. They would’ve been friends. Maybe not the best of friends because Jason has Leo but they would’ve been those two dumb jock friends and that narrative bettween them would’ve made the story so much more fun and interesting than pitting them against eachother.

Annabeth. The trope Rick created with Annabeth being a know it all, smartest person in the group is a disservice to her character and makes her shallow. She’s the daughter of a goddess of wisdom, wisdom recognizes intelligence when it sees it, and the fact that all Annabeth thought about Leo during the entire book was that he was annoying is VERY dumb. They could’ve had a really good friendship, two nerds playing off of one another’s intellect to create things that could benefit everyone on their journey. Or even Leo just convincing her to help him make stupid shit like a toaster that can toast eight pieces of bread at once. I would change how rigid Annabeth is, loosen her up just a little bit and make her friendship with Leo the type of thing where they constantly feed off of one another.

Piper. Her entire character arc revolved around being beautiful, being Native American, and Jason. Firstly, we’d have to throw away all the stereotypes and general horrible things that Mr. Rick Ross (read: Rick) did to her character. Like the whole feathers in her hair thing. There are better way to incorporate Piper being Native American, there were so many missed opportunities to intertwine Greek mythology and Native American beliefs. Secondly, in order to get rid of the. Frankly, shit, way Piper dealt with beauty is to first address the way the Aphrodite cabin as been treated through the entirety of the PJO universe. Instead of writing Aphrodite children like frilly little things that can’t stand to get their hands dirty and Piper being “not like other girls uwu”, I would’ve written them as deceptivly beautiful. Deceptive in the fact that no one expects them to be strong, cruel, to be able to hold their own. Knights you mistake for damsels in distress, and before you realize you’re wrong they’ve already defeated you. You can be strong and feminine, and femininity isn’t the only way to be beautiful, so I would’ve explored that too. And Pipers arc on beauty would’ve been different in the sense that she realizes she doesn’t have to like pink and glitter in order to be beautiful, and that even if she did like those things, that’s okay. Let girls be feminine without demonizing them for it.

Hazel. God Hazel was done so dirty. First, she’s thirteen, so no Frazle shit, jot that one down. Her and Frank being really good friends would’ve been so much better and allowed her to grow as a person without throwing her into some serious romantic relationship so young with someone so much older. I would’ve written Hazel as very cautious, specifically around her white friends. She comes from the 40’s of course she wouldn’t be buddy buddy with them immediately, and I think that would be a valid concept for the books to explore. And besides, her realizing later on that things really are different and times really have changed would be such a heartwarming thing to experience. Her breaking out of her shell and leaving that shit behind her to be unapologetically her. Actually exploring the racism and prejudice in the world instead of ignoring it and erasing the experiences of black people and black youth in this world is problematic and we won’t be doing that here smh. I wouldn’t make it the core of her character because that’s wack but it also wouldn’t be something that’s just never talked about. That being said, I would’ve made her relationship with Leo SO GREAT. They could’ve been dumbasses together running around the ship playing stupid games like hide and seek. Once again, instead of that romance shit, I would’ve built their friendship. Let the girl have fun, she’s 13 for gods sake.

Jason. The essence of his character was to be Percy Jackson’s Roman counterpart, which IS WACK. It made him VERY boring and one sided, so away with that! The Jason I had hopes for and wanted to see was, in simple words, a blond Himbo Jock!!! He loves his found family (Piper, Leo, and later the rest of the seven) and he PROTECT!! He and Percy would get in mock fights and wrestle sometimes because Percy says something very stupid and Jason simultaneously wants to laugh and shake him and he and Leo have the type of friendship where even the last few barriers come down and they are unapologetically themselves with one another. Jason learning that he doesn’t have to be a grown up and that he doesn’t have to have such a rigid sense of responsibility and that it’s okay to have fun sometimes, things Leo and Percy teach him. He grows into himself and realizes that he’s not JUST a son of Jupiter, and he doesn’t have to be a leader all the time. It’s okay to let go of the reins, and be stupid.

Frank. Rick made him... so forgettable. Firstly, the fatphobic blessing of Mars shit. We can hit next on that shit: the blessing of Mars but Frank goes from chubby to chubby with muscle because believe it or not a lot of fat people have muscles!! The arch with him wanting to be a child of Apollo is VERY interesting and something that should’ve been played up more within his arc until he realized he didn’t have to prove to anyone how manly he is, that you don’t HAVE to be aggressive and manly to be a child of Mars. Once again: Rick was on some toxic masculinity shit. Frank being okay with being a big teddy bear is enough for me. Also fuck the burning stick of life things stop putting a time limit on teenagers lives that’s bullshit. His relationship his Hazel was rushed and shallow, and quite frankly (ha) they should’ve just been friends.

Last but not least: Leo. Leo’s relationships with EVERYONE could’ve been better. He was treated as the comic relief, an annoyance, someone everyone could barely stand to be around, and instead of bettering his relationships with everyone Rick thought killing him off and then bringing him back with a love interest was the best thing to do. He was the treated as an emotional whipping board and then gave his life to save everyone on some sacrificial lamb shit which is a fucking cop out. In my head, Leo would’ve remained single, he would’ve felt like an outcast in the beginning, yes, but his friends would have actually noticed and reminded him that they value him as a person. I would’ve also built Leo’s arc so that he realizes the only validation he needs from anyone is himself, and that he wasn’t responsible for his mother’s death. I would’ve also written him realizing he has a support system amongst his friends, and he doesn’t need to overexert himself trying to fit because he’s already one of them. Leo has an inferiority complex and that was the core of him sacrificing himself, he felt like, if anyone, it would be him. He felt that he wasn’t as important as any of the other 7. He wouldn’t have died so other people could live, his life would’ve mattered to everyone including himself.

#wow this was long sorry #lmao Iiiii think i forgot to answer your question oops #i shouldve just answered simply: i would change the dynamics the characters have together #heros of olympus #percy jackson #annabeth chase #piper mclean #jason grace #frank zhang #hazel levesque #leo valdez #long post

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sxfterhearts · 5 years ago

Text

4. [11:45am]

The car ride from the hotel you stayed overnight with your bridesmaids to the wedding venue seemed to stretch out for ages. Your mind tuned out the girls’ excited chatter as you stared out the backseat window, watching the tall skyscrapers of the city blend into suburban houses and well-manicured lawns. Soon, in another twenty minutes, you were about to lay your eyes on your future husband, dressed in his wedding tuxedo.

Your lips unconsciously formed a fond smile as you recalled the first time you saw him in formal dress.

Twelve years ago

“Well, what do you think? How do I look?” Jinyoung directed his question to the figure standing by his doorway while smoothing down an invisible crinkle on his left sleeve. He turned away from the full-length mirror to lock eyes with you.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that slipped past your lips. His hair was gelled and combed back neatly, a stark contrast to how he usually wore it down with no product. His black suit and matching trousers were impeccable, however the red tie that hang messily around his neck destroyed the entire look.

“Hey! Is it really that bad?” He whined. Never in a million years did you think it was possible for your best friend and next-door neighbour of five years to sound like a fussy five-year-old child. “You’re so mean, I don’t know why I asked for your opinion anyway.”

“No, it’s just,” You chuckled mid-sentence upon discovering his fiery red socks. You took a deep breath to compose yourself. “I didn’t mean it like that, I promise. Come here, let me fix it for you.”

Jinyoung reluctantly complied, standing in front of you and crouching down so you could help him with his tie. You adjusted your pink corsage out of the way before reaching out and redoing his tie with practiced, fluid motions, thanks to all the practice you had with your younger brother. The two of you were standing so close that a strong whiff of cologne with undertones of hair product entered your nostrils.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Like what?”

“My appearance. I mean, is it enough to impress her? I still cannot believe that I’m going to the ball with the class president as my date. She’s smart, kind, athletic…”

“All done.” You cut him off, forcing a lump of envy down your throat. “Says you, Mr. Vice President. I’m sure she’ll think you look absolutely dashing.” You gave him the most genuine smile you could muster and two thumbs up to calm his nerves.

Six years ago

Honestly, Jinyoung had no shame admitting that he was always a hoodie and sweatpants sort of guy. Or jeans, if the occasion truly called for it. At most, he would swap out his hoodie for a button-up. He never owned any blazers.

That is, until he received his job offer at a top professional firm and you dragged him out shopping last weekend for a major wardrobe revamp.

So that’s how he found himself in a grey chequered blazer with a pristine white button up underneath and a pair of black slacks. He stared at his reflection while running his fingers through his unstyled hair. Something was amiss.

“Y/N!” His voice travelled throughout your shared apartment of nearly two years. The pair of you had moved out of college dorms midway through your university degrees and moved into the modest two-bedroom apartment in the city centre together. It was a natural transition for you two, from being neighbours since primary school, to living across the hall in college dorms, and now to being roommates. You wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up buying houses on the same street in the future.

You popped two slices of bread into the toaster before making your way to the bathroom. You peeked inside, satisfied at your masterful taste in office fashion. “Looking good, Mr. Junior Consultant. Your tie needs to be done up, though.” You pointed at the piece of black fabric laying abandoned on the counter top.

“That’s where you come in handy, roomie. Help me fix it? Pretty please? I’ll buy your favourite jjajangmyeon from the corner-shop-ahjumma for dinner on the way home tonight.” Jinyoung looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Throw in a bottle of soju and I’ll help you, kind sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Who were you kidding, though? You would’ve tied his tie for him even without anything in return. Oh, the woes of unrequited love, you thought to yourself while looping the black fabric around his lithe neck and fastening it securely. A final clean of his black-rimmed spectacles and a sweep of his fluffy hair later, you deemed his outfit presentable with a big thumbs up.

Two years ago

Jinyoung let out a sigh in frustration, just as you stepped into the backroom of the wedding hall. He had tried for the fifth time to get his tie to knot properly but to no avail and frankly, it did nothing to sooth his jittery nerves.

“Need some help?” You offered, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from that night ten years ago.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without-” His words caught in his throat as he spun around and laid eyes on you. Your maroon chiffon dress hugged your curves in all the right places. He struggled to tear his gaze away from the side slit that exposed your long legs and the deep V-neckline. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “My tie…”

“When will you ever learn how to tie a tie by yourself, Park Jinyoung?” You teased, nimble fingers already dancing across his broad chest.

“You know what they say, a man who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie is a lucky man.” He mentioned, entranced by the way your delicate eyelashes fluttered against your sparkly cheekbones. The smokey eyeshadow fit you very well, he decided.

“Yeah? Why is that?” You tightened the black tie gently towards his neck and brushed your hands over his shoulders to rid his black suit of any dust while simultaneously reassuring him.

“Because he has a great woman who does it for him.” Jinyoung sneaked in a quick peck on your flushed cheeks, grinning smugly to himself when you gave him a bashful shove.

“Good luck out there, Mr. Best Man. Don’t mess up the speech, okay?”

Present day

“Ready, sweetie?” Your father’s voice asked tenderly upon opening the car door, holding his elbow out for you to take as you stepped out gingerly.

“Yes, dad. Thank you.” You replied, trying your best to calm the fluttering butterflies in your stomach.

As you led your entourage of bridesmaids towards the aisle, you were filled with an overwhelming sense of contentedness. The periodic crashing of the waves was a perfect backdrop, soothing any residual nerves and bringing back happy memories of summer days spent on the beach, with the man who stood at the end of the flower path. You wriggled your toes as they sunk into the cool sand and scattered petals left by the flower girl, placing one foot in front of the other confidently, with your father by your side. The audience clapped and stood at their seats, while a group of six grown men (the groomsmen) wolf-whistled and whooped enthusiastically.

Each step brought you closer and closer towards the love of your life; the person whose presence was as calming to you as the ocean itself. Standing in front of Jinyoung, you knew that this was where you belonged – beside him.

“Y/N,” Your beauty left him breathless and for a moment, he was lost for words. “You’re the best view. The beach and the sea can’t compare.” He mouthed to you while the marriage celebrant began to speak.

“Not too bad yourself, Mr. Husband. I love the bowtie.” You whispered as the two of you exchanged a knowing look and loving smiles.

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ilguna · 5 years ago

Text

Metanoia - Chapter One (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.9k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

This might be it. This might just be the first time you’re feeling emotion that doesn’t belong to yourself. And all you can say about it is: it’s completely awful. It’s nothing close to what your mother had told you about. Right now, it feels like you’re a prisoner in your own body, and you’re not being allowed to feel for yourself.

Whoever your soulmate is, they’re obviously empathetic to the point that it’s crippling. Imagine being this grief-ridden on reaping day. You can’t fathom the idea that any regular person would feel this bad for people. So there’s really a couple of things that might be going on.

One, your soulmate is a friend of a victor, and they’re worried that their favorite person is going to get pulled to go back inside. Two, they’re family of a victor and it’s the same thing. Three, it’s an empathetic person--which you can’t stand. Or four, it’s a victor themself.

No matter the way it goes, their emotion is cancelling out yours. You don’t want to be full of sorrow, you know for a fact that somewhere deep in your body, you’re absolutely bubbling with excitement. You’ve been looking forward to today ever since the games were announced in the winter.

Today is the day.

And yet, you can’t pull yourself out of bed. You’ve been staring at the white ceiling for at least an hour now, setting yourself back. It’s like all the enthusiasm has been drained from your body, and you’re actually regretting your decision.

A slight shiver runs through your body at that thought. You draw the line there, you’re not going to regret anything.

Pushing yourself up, you slide out of the silk bed sheets before you can change your mind and go back to laziness. You don’t bother fixing the blankets, not really caring for the fact that they’re in disarray. You never make the bed, and you won’t start on it today either. It’s a tactic of stalling, and there’s no reason for you to.

Before the shower, you decide on picking out the dress. Something gold and glittery, which is just about the entire wardrobe. You didn’t actually buy any of these dresses, they were all given as a gift from your stylists or Capitol citizens when you spent your summer after the games, inside of the Capitol.

You pick out a floor-length dress that’s a mix between black and gold. Two set colors that you can match easily. You kick out the heels that are also black and somewhat glittery. They don’t have the actual heel part to them, but they are engineered to look like it, and they’re pretty easy to walk in. They’re always your go-to when it comes to special things like this.

The dress is only a little bit poofy, and it’s on the lower half. Either way, it goes down to the floor, and there should be no chance of anyone seeing your feet to know that you’re reusing another pair of shoes. There’s a v-neck plunge, but it doesn’t show much skin, you still look pretty modest. In the back, it’s open.

It’s definitely a dress you could find yourself wearing during the interviews with Caesar. Or a dress you would have worn after your first tribute had won the hunger games. You’ve only mentored twice, and both of them came out alive. After that, the job was handed onto them since they were the more recent victors.

All your jewelry resides on the white vanity, but you don’t bother picking those out. You toss the dress over the back of the chair, and move the shoes nearby so it won’t be a hunt. After that, you go ahead and get into the bathroom to take your shower.

You scrub your entire body clean, even though you know that you’ll be washed again inside of the Capitol about a dozen times. You do the basics to your hair, and when you get out, you’re putting product after product in so it’s ready when you do finally come around to it.

You pull on your undergarments, skipping your dress as you head downstairs for breakfast. There’s no shame in going downstairs half-naked. There’s no one else here to call you out on it.

You hit the bottom of the stairs, and while you’re navigating through the living room to get to the kitchen, you pause in the open doorway, a little surprised to see who’s sitting on the white loveseat.

Tanith is flipping through one of those books that are on the bookshelf for pure decoration. From here, you recognize the pink cover like you received the book yesterday, when it’s been years. A gift from your then-district representative, the cover reads in nice script writing, ‘how to get used to your new wealth’. Written by some asshole inside of the Capitol.

“Riveting.” Tanith looks up from the book, eyes landing on you. But she freezes, “God--I’m sorry--”

She covers her eyes, and you can’t help to laugh, “Really?”

You walk past her, heading into the kitchen. You dig through the fridge, pulling out some fresh fruits that you’d bought yesterday from the store. On top of that, you pull out a few eggs too, pop bread into the toaster, spray some cooking butter onto the pan so the eggs won’t stick, and work away.

“I should have knocked instead of walking inside.” She says, “That’s my fault.”

You shrug, “I have no shame, not after my time in the Capitol.”

“I expect not.” you can hear the light scraping of the stool against the tile floor, “You really want to go back inside?”

After the games had been announced, all the victors in the district had gathered together to have their own little meeting. Cipher the people who didn’t want to go back in, and make the ones who did, known. The old were automatically ruled out either way, whether they wanted to go inside or not, they’re too delusional. Old age has rotten their brains, some can’t think straight anymore.

There had been a good handful of people that wanted to go back inside. The only problem was that everyone wanted to do it based on capabilities again. To keep you guys on top of the pyramid as usual. You can’t send in someone who would die off immediately. Thus, a competition started.

As time went on, people were slowly weaned out. Based off of strength, fighting capabilities, who still knew the edible plants, the medical knowledge. If you were able to still present well, with the cute dresses, the white smiles, the charming personalities.

It brought it down to only a couple of you. Sorcha, an older woman in her forties who’s fit even after all these years. She’s arrogant--even more than you--and mean. She’s self-driven, disregards most of the people that come across her. She started off as a Capitol favorite, but now they see her as a total bitch.

Daleka, in her thirties and a very skilled fighter. She won her games by being completely ruthless. Her personality is likable, the Capitol complained when she stopped visiting and mentoring all together. Has a wife and a kid she adopted from the foster care place.

You, of course. Only twenty-five, still seen as somewhat fresh off of the arena. Nine years may seem like a long time to others, but not to you. Along that time, other districts have won too. Like Annie from four and Johanna from seven, and your most recently hated, Katniss and Peeta from twelve.

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the top three for the most recent out of the arena. First would be Zavian, next would be Tanith, and then it would be you. Everything is still very fresh in your mind, since you were the one that had mentored both Zavian and Tanith. What you’re saying is, you’re a perfect candidate.

Anyway, the final girl that had wanted to go in was Enobaria. A Capitol favorite, like most of you are. Fierce, confident. She got her teeth filed to be sharp because of her signature win of ripping a tribute’s throat out. Fun to be around, nowhere near bubbly like some people think.

And for the boys, the list was quite large, and you wouldn’t be able to name all of them on one hand. The whole point of this is, there could only be one girl and one boy sent in. Therefore, the competition narrowed it down for everyone, as the challenges progressively got harder.

For boys, Brutus won. Tall, bald, muscular. He’s in his forties, but he looks to be about late thirties instead. He’s cocky, a complete pain in the ass, and he would be difficult to fight. But he’s an ally that you can’t deny wouldn’t be good to have at your side.

And for girls, you won it. You practically blew Sorcha and Daleka out of the water. Enobaria was much more difficult to shake, though. She’d obviously continued studying even after her games. You might have been a softie back in the academy, but you were a quick learner, and all of it stuck like it’d been glued with superglue.

The volunteer is yours to have. And if you chose to back out, there would be no harm in it. That’s why Enobaria is there, she’s the backup in case you were to choose to do something like that. However, you didn’t fight tooth and nail with a bunch of bullies just to quit it. You want that win.

“Yes,” you answer Tanith’s question, “I do. Afraid I won’t win?”

She snorts, “Hardly. I’m afraid that you’ll be a murder machine.”

You look over your shoulder at her, “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” she says, and with that, you serve her the eggs, toast and berries. After that, you slide her the butter for her toast, “Thank you.”

As you go back to cook your own breakfast, you smile down at it, “Obviously you haven’t watched my games.”

“I was fifteen.” she objects, “I watched them. What I mean, is that I’m afraid you’ll become a murdering machine again.”

“That’s what all the victors are, not just me. Look back at anyone’s games from this district and you’ll see that.” you pop a strawberry into your mouth, “And it’s not like there’s much to lose, either.”

“This big old house?” she proposes, “Me?”

Tanith has uncomfortably clung onto you like a parental figure. She came straight from the foster care herself, an orphan. Academy took her when she turned eight, because obviously no one would miss her. She was just as deadly as you were, when she turned seventeen. You hand picked her yourself, even though there were ‘better candidates’ for it.

She’s your first winner, like how Zavian is your second. You were sure to keep him out of the same games with Tanith, knowing that it would screw the whole system. You’re fond of them equally, but unlike Zavian--who was eager to get away from you as fast as possible--Tanith has stuck around.

Take today as one of the many examples.

“I like how the house was your first priority to say.”

“You speak about this place like it’s a home base.” she reasons, “You seem to like it more than me, what can I say?”

You go ahead and plate all of your food, turning off the stove but leaving the pan. If you put it under water so soon, the metal will warp from the temperature change, and ruin it. It won’t sit right ever again.

You stand opposite of Tanith, leaning against the counter as you eat, “I wouldn’t say I like it more than you, that seems like an overstatement.” you decide to change the conversation, bored of this one, “Should I be worried about anyone else coming to visit?”

“Enobaria was.” Tanith says, picking at her egg, “She wanted to come and be the one to harass you about volunteering. I told her that I’d take the blow.”

“Smart girl.” you say, stabbing your fork into your egg, walking as the yolk runs out, and straight to your toast. The berries are long gone, “Well, I guess she’ll find out when I volunteer.”

“What’s the point of it, anyway?” she asks, “I mean, you have everything you could have wanted, right?”

“You and I don’t think the same.” you say, “You remind me of myself, back when I was on my victory tour.”

She gives you a confused look, “Is that compliment?”

“I’m more or less calling you humble.”

“Thanks…”

“And mushy, you’re an overthinker. You like the simple things, you won and now you’re done, right? You’re not bothered by the fact that you’re just another face, another name among this crowd of victors.” you take your time eating between sentences, “Me, on the other hand--who would give up the opportunity to be a living legend?”

She hums, nodding a little bit, not knowing what to say. It’s a rhetorical question, there’s a ton of people that have passed on this. But the idea is way too tempting. Possibly double the cash, and you literally get put into the books for not surviving once, but twice? The Capitol citizens love you now, wait until later.

You finish your breakfast quickly, taking your and Tanith’s plate as you move over to the sink, running water over them. Next, you go ahead and place the pan in there too.

“I’ve got to get ready, are you sticking around?”

“I should report back to Enobaria.” Tanith says, you can hear the chair again, “I could come back later with Emi, if you want.”

“Whatever.” you say, heading towards the staircase, “Don’t worry about me too much, kid. I’m unbreakable so far.”

“So far.” She echos.

There’s no goodbye as you go up. By now, your hair is pretty dry. In the bathroom attached to your bedroom, you go ahead and get ready now. You brush your hair, blow dry only a little bit, and then straighten. When you’re done with that, you curl and hairspray.

By the time you’ve moved onto makeup, Tanith is back with Emi already. Emi is older than the both of you, but she has more experience when it comes to some things. She picks out the jewelry for you, and does some of the harder parts of your makeup. The both of them work together to get you into the dress, and then help with the shoes too.

Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, you double check everything, asking yourself if this is what you want. With a few more turns, you decide that you’re going to get praise for the outfit choice. The Capitol will be impressed with how dressed up you got for it. Others might see it as some joke.

You have about thirty minutes before the reaping, which is when you go to leave the house. It isn’t until you’ve stopped at the door, when you realize that you’re missing some sort of token. You tilt your head from side to side, trying to remember what you wore in your first games.

A necklace, wasn’t it? Given to you by your then-boyfriend. He later broke up with you because of your performance inside of the games, which he wasn’t expecting at all in the slightest. Because of this, you kept the necklace as a reminder, it’s tortuous, and you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it now.

“What are you waiting for?” Emi finally asks.

“I need a token.” you tell her, still staring at the staircase, distracted.

“Earrings, necklace, bracelet…” Emi urges slightly, “Ring?”

“No.” you tell her, “Wait--yes for the necklace.”

Your hand finds it, already dangling around your neck. Another gift, Tanith. Some souvenir she had gotten from the Capitol during her visit after she won. This will please her.

“Never mind, it’s on me.”

You leave the house, closing the door with a slam, since it’s a bit shifty when it comes to closing. After that, you wait at the bottom of the steps with the other two, watching as people come out of their houses, one by one. In no time, you’re all walking towards the stage in one big herd.

“Not everyone can visit you, but I definitely will.” Tanith says, “In the departing room, I mean.”

“Sweet.” you look over all the district people who dressed up nicely, despite the fact that they’re not going to be the ones going in. You catch the attention of a few people because of your out. You wonder if they know deep down that it’s because you’re going to volunteer.

“Zavian even agreed too. It was supposed to be a surprise but I know how you feel about them.”

It’s like showing up uninvited. Like her being inside of your house without any prior warning. You guess that’s somewhat your fault too, since you hadn’t talked to anyone yesterday. You were too amped up about today. It’s funny to you, that you were allowed to feel excited yesterday, but so unmotivated today.

Maybe your soulmate was full of anxiety this morning.

“Wanna know something cool?” you ask Tanith.

“Sure.” She looks over at you, but you’re still staring off at everyone you pass.

“I think I actually do have a soulmate.”

Tanith gasps, covering her mouth. You look over at her, confused by the reaction, until you realize that it was genuine excitement, “Really? That’s good news! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrug, “Didn’t see it as important. Haven’t heard anything from them in a long time, so I thought they were as good as dead.”

“It’s good news.” Tanith looks happy for you, “I wish I’d come across mine already.”

She looks down at her wrist, running her finger over the words.

“You’ve got plenty of time.” you tell her.

“Says you. You were so worried about it.” Tanith says, and before you can object, she adds: “Come on, admit it already.”

You give an exasperated sigh, “I suppose.”

She smiles a bit.

Tanith helps you up the staircase to the stage, which almost looks brand new. It isn’t though, it’s just pristine clean. Unlike the other districts, two is highly loved. Which means that the entire district is rich, except for a select few who were born in the poorer part of the district to begin with.

It just means that everything looks nice. The stage is white, it hardly had dirty footprints. You watch as some comes across with a broom to brush off the dirt after everyone has stepped onto the stage.

District Two is practically a second Capitol.

This year, no one sits in chairs. The girls stand on the right, in the back stand the tallest, and the front stand the shortest. You’re fairly tall, you’re able to see over most people’s heads. Most of the girls in the district manage to be short anyway, it was just the genes that you inherited that allowed you to be tall.

You’re given an easy escape route, the same as Enobaria as a backup. If your name is called, no one is allowed to volunteer over you. However, if you don’t volunteer fast enough, then that leaves it up to grabs. There’s a whole list of people that are dying to be able to go back inside.

Two people sit in chairs, waiting for everyone to file in and get comfortable below the stage. The first is the governor, a woman you’re not that fond of. She got on your nerves back when you had won your games. Back then, you were taking a lot of trips to the Capitol to have work done on your body. She was getting irritated about it.

The second person that sits next to the governor, is the district representative. A short man with loud opinions. He’s one of those people that you wouldn’t mind being thrown inside of the arena with. He’d likely be torn apart like the tributes are a pack of wolves.

He thinks of you guys as used tissues. There’s been a couple of times when you’ve gotten in his face because of what he said. Nearly shredded him right then and there in front of a few peacekeepers and tributes. If people think you’re scary normally, then they haven’t seen you angry.

It’s a disappointment that he is the district rep. You wish he would jump off a cliff and die.

Once everyone is in their respective places, the governor gives her speech that she gives every year. It’s the one about the dark days, a required speech. In the group of girls, you whisper the words in harmony. After she wraps it up, the rep moves forward.

His name is Theo, a boring name. Unbearably common and simple. You thought the Capitol people were supposed to be extravagant. This man is a disappointment in more than one way, it turns out.

“Happy hunger games!” His voice is what you’d like to also describe as ‘average’. Not deep, not high pitched. Average, “Let’s start with ladies first, shall we?”

As if it’s a question any of you are allowed to answer. You know someone in this group--mainly Sorcha--is dying to yell back ‘actually no, we shall not’ just to see his reaction. Forget the tributes being seen as monkeys, the Capitol people’s reactions are just as entertaining.

He sticks his white-gloved hand into the bowl, spinning his finger around while he puckers his face. He’s likely thinking, ‘Which one looks the most presentable?’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ you want to yell back, ‘I’m volunteering either way!’

It’s building up unnecessary tension. You scowl, eyes glued to his hand as he finally picks a damn slip of paper. He pulls it out, his suit sleeve nearly clipping the mouth of the bowl, and goes back over to the expensive microphone. He pulls off the black tape, and reads over the name.

“Tanith Nuova!” he smiles widely, looking over towards the girl section.

How funny, your own tribute getting called out. It’s a sign. If you didn’t have your mind made up before, you do now.

“I volunteer!” your voice rings out, no one is surprised.

You slide out of the section of girls, along the way, Tanith holds out her hand, and you slap it for a high-five. A small smirk appears over your face as you gracefully go to where you need to stand. One look at the choir of girls, and you can see that you’re nowhere near out of place with how you’re dressed. Plenty of people look like they’re also ready to head back to the Capitol.

Theo doesn’t look too thrilled, his face puckers again as he heads to the microphone, “(Y/n) Rosecelli for our girl.”

He moves over to the boys now, doing the exact same thing that he did the first time. You glare at him out of annoyance. You manage to catch the eyes of Brutus to see he’s shifting on his feet, clearly fed up with this too.

Theo finally gets to the point of it, “Cobalt Struyk--”

He barely gets out the last name when Brutus’ voice overpowers him, “I volunteer.”

Brutus comes over, standing in front of the boys bowl. Theo, scowling and hinting at the beginning of a temper tantrum, motions to the two of you, not even bothering to introduce Brutus.

You hold your hand out for Brutus, and he gives you a smirk as he takes it. Once you have a hold of each other, you turn towards the cameras, holding up your intertwined fingers, a giant grin on the both of your faces.

Two volunteers, it’s unsurprising to the entire nation. They’re expecting volunteers, but they definitely weren’t anticipating those who would step forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Quarter Quell!” Theo says after he managed to pull himself together. He skips the bit about shaking hands, and the two of you are then escorted off of the stage.

You begin in the direction of the departing room, noticing how the peacekeepers follow you and Brutus tightly. By the time you get to the building, Tanith and Zavian are already there, in your room.

“What’s with them being so stuffy?” you ask once the door shuts behind you.

“I heard a few districts are getting out of hand.” Zavian leans on the arm of the couch, “I guess it’s better safe than sorry.”

Another reason why you don’t like that Katniss girl, look at the mess she’s made of everything. It was fine before she came along, fucked up the process. Should’ve gotten over the fact that both of them couldn’t win. It’s not like Peeta was a use anyway. Like you’ve said before, deadweight on her fragile, little girl shoulders.

“Well, this is goodbye.” Zavian says, “Thanks for mentoring me.”

Tanith elbows him, giving him a glare, “You could at least be a little sympathetic, douchebag.”

He raises his eyebrows, “That’s a new one, what else are you gonna call me?”

For a second, they’re staring at each other. And then, Tanith grabs her arm like it’s going to detach itself. You watch in awe as she holds it out, looking down at the words.

“Oh, this is unbelievable.” Tanith now looks like her arm can detach, “I’ve been paired with a moron.”

Zavian doesn’t look that phased, taking one look at his arm, and then shrugging. Almost like nothing that went on in front of you, actually happened, he looks at you again, “Good luck in there, you’ll need it. Twenty-three people to fend off? May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Tanith isn’t very good at brushing it off, but she knows her time is limited. She comes over, holding her arms out like a child. You hug her, for her own sake and squeeze her tightly.

“Will you actually use the necklace as a token?” she asks.

“Well, I need something.” you say, “It’s better than nothing.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.” She pulls away, “Thank you for being the greatest person, ever.”

“Cheesy, she hates it.” Zavian comments, laughing a little to himself, “Look at the look on her face.”

Tanith pretends not to hear him, “I know she’s not fond of affection but--” she backs away entirely, “--you should know that a lot of the victors do like you. Truly. Sorcha and a few of the other’s won’t say it, but they love you. We all do.”

You give her a smile, “Thanks.”

“I’ll send anything that you need.” she says, “Make plenty of allies. Be ruthless.”

She’s quoting you. Those are the exact words you said to her last, before she was off to the hovercraft. It’s funny how they’ve stuck with her this long. They must echo inside of her mind like an empty chamber.

“I will, I promise.” you take in a deep breath.

The doors open, “Time’s up, time for the train.”

You look over the two people that decided to visit you, and you open your arms one last time. Tanith comes over willingly, and it takes Zavian a moment before he realizes that it’s extended to him too.

“You two are my pride and joys. Two of my biggest achievements, really. I’ll be back soon, and then you guys can praise me all you want.”

“Get off of me.” Zavian laughs, pushing away now.

“Bye.” you tell them firmly, before turning around and heading towards the peacekeepers.

One of them presses their hand to your lower back, guiding you to the car where Theo and Brutus await. Theo goes in first, since he’s royalty. Next is you, and Brutus nearly weighs the entire car down when he steps inside.

Theo begins muttering about something, you’re not entirely sure if you’re supposed to be listening or not. You want to tell him to shut up, but Brutus beats you to it. Theo glares, you can see him mouth the word ‘ungrateful’ and then stares out of the window for the rest of the time.

When the ride is over, you purposely hold onto Brutus, making him wait, “Open the door for us, Theo.”

He looks over like you just insulted his mother, “Huh?”

“I said, open the door for us. This is our spotlight, after all.” you motion, “Go ahead, before the peacekeepers do it first.”

Brutus is smiling, and he pushes Theo towards the door forcefully. Theo doesn’t like this in the slightest, popping open the door, and holding it open for you and Brutus. Brutus lets you go first, and you step out of the car carefully, holding onto your dress.

Out of the car now, Theo leads you up to the train station. Around you guys are a bunch of peacekeepers still, getting you up to the platform, and then taking on an automatic position behind you guys.

You take your time, waving with a smile at the thought of the fact that the next time you’ll be here, you’re going to be a two-timed victor.

–

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deanstefillin · 4 years ago

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idk what overcame me anyway here’s a destiel ficlet

There is a ferality about the way Dean cooks, sometimes, Cas notices, and it's often from or because of something that had happened in the night or in the early morning - often, both - that causes his emotions to stir the scrambling eggs in a way that doesn't so much stop them burning as to stop them cooking. Eventually, of course, they do, but that isn't to say it's not without a lack of trying.

Castiel observes all these things, as an angel who observed most of life is want to do, and Cas is particularly well suited to pick up the intricacies in which Dean holds himself and the minute changes in that position. Sometimes, it comes as a shock when Dean tells him 'I'm fine, Cas, jeez,' because it couldn't be more abundantly clear from the way Dean's throat bobs and his shoulders tense that things really aren't okay.

Like today, for example. Not only is Dean attacking the eggs, he's seemingly attacking the bread too, near furious when it pops up out just on the light side of done - Dean stares at the toaster as though it is personally out to get him - and once those particular cooking battles are completed, then comes the final brawl with bacon. It sizzles and pops and turns the air fatty, as though it couldn't be thick enough already.

Dean sits, blankly staring at the food in front of him - after quickly chastising himself for forgetting to heat up the plates - and begins the slow and deliberate process of fitting as much of his breakfast into his mouth as humanly (and angelically, Castiel hastens to add) possible.

But the truly most stark reason as to why Cas knows Dean's in a huff is that he hasn't said a word to him since he sat down. Of course, Dean immediately placed a hot cup of coffee in front of Cas (black, obviously) and, of course, Dean has made enough food for the two of them and the others in their little home under the Earth, but this was all done in silence. And not their usual kind of silence either - the one where a whole conversation was had between shared glances and the slight tilt of the head, where they seemingly understood everything the other had said despite no actual words passing between them. No, this silence was not like that. It was deliberate. It was a barrier.

Dean had only just finished his first mouthful, and Cas only just finished his coffee, when he decides that in fact this silence is so out of the ordinary, it must be made known.

'You're quiet today,' Cas says carefully, eyes still a little sullen from sleep, and a little sullen from concern too. Dean simply grunts in response before putting yet another remarkably large amount of food into his mouth. Cas can hear Dean’s jaw pop as it struggles with the load.

Soon enough he swallows hard, and Dean takes his own coffee (also black, but with a little sugar, but only Cas knows that) and gulps half of it down before resolutely returning to his plate of food.

At this point, Dean's noticed Cas' noticing and is trying to unnotice it as a ploy for Cas to do the same. This is a strategy that has never worked.

'I am going to keep asking until you tell me why you're in such a mood,' Cas says firmly, not condescendingly, but more knowingly.

Dean simply rolls his eyes, and continues to eat. Cas does the same.

He does eventually speak once all the pans and dishes are washed and dried and placed ever so carefully into their rightful spots.

'Had a bad dream,' Dean says, and he doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to.

Cas just shrugs over to him, his best friend, his Dean, and puts a hand on his shoulder, seeing in his eyes the temporary wall he’d put up come down. They're back now, to that silence they both know, and they share their looks and their tilts and their soft touches and it expresses everything they need to. Dean visibly relaxes, and does so even more when he stretches himself out onto his sofa.

'I'm not gonna tell you what is was about, so don’t ask,' is what his body language says, as though his eyes weren't enough to tell him that too.

Cas does what he knows best to do. He puts on Star Trek and they sit and watch that together, and when Cas comes back with popcorn and more family, Dean's asleep again with a smile curling his lips. Calm.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #my writing #edit: i know this has too many commas but it's like 1am so i forgive myself

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jowritesthingss · 5 years ago

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Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Eldritch Being

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through early s3-ish

Length: 2,190 words

Brief Summary: The archival team adopts a rabbit. (Part one of the Emotional Support Eldritch AU!)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is a biatch!

“What is it?”

Jon levels a suspicious glare down at the fluffy blob comfortably stretched out in the middle of the overstuffed break room couch.

Tim blinks owlishly at him from behind his mug of tea. “A...rabbit?”

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a rabbit?” Jon asks insistently. “Not a—a spirit, or...an animated doll, or a clown in disguise or something?”

Sighing, Tim sets his tea down on the counter. “Look, I get the whole ‘suspicious of us being murderers’ thing—no I don’t, actually, but that’s beside the point—it. is. a rabbit.” For a good measure, he walks over to sit on one side of the rabbit, reaching a hand out to the little guy’s fluffy head. If a rabbit could smile, he suspects this one would be doing so as it leans up into his hand.

“No fleas or ticks...or worms, so it’s not some Jane Prentiss Pet Sematary crossover, I promise—” Tim rolls his eyes, “—the veterinarian confirmed as much when I brought the poor thing in. Out of the mud and the rain of the gutter,” he adds, not even attempting to hide the guilt-trip. He wishes Martin were here, with his ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes.

Tim knows this is Jon he’s talking to, but surely even he can’t be that cold-hearted. He rather thinks that Jon will enjoy not being alone anymore down here during all his late nights. If he’d let himself, surely Jon would enjoy having company in the form of a teeny tiny creature that can’t and won’t harm him—which, uh, certainly is not why he’s lying about his current flat not permitting pets, no siree.

“...Fine. Whatever.” Jon points an accusing finger at him. “But we’re not keeping it,” he stresses. “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim chirps, although as he begins a staring contest with the rabbit’s curious red eyes, he has no intention of actually doing as Jon says.

Martin chooses this moment to walk through the door. His eyes light up. “Aw, is that a rabbit?”

“No, this does not mean you’re allowed to bring in more strays,” Jon snaps.

The light in Martin’s eyes fades. “Okay,” he says mournfully as he crouches to pet the rabbit, sulking.

“So what should we name him?” Tim asks Jon when the Head Archivist comes into the break room the next morning.

“Oh—my—” Jon startles where he stands by the counter, attempting to make himself some toast with the Archive’s horrible fifteen-year-old toaster—toast that now splatters across the floor. Somehow in his sleep-deprived stupor he must’ve missed Tim sitting on the couch with a white rabbit on his head. He never seems to really notice Tim, but at this point it’s fine enough; Tim has accepted that the guy has impossibly poor taste.

The rabbit clambers down from Tim’s shoulders, jumping off of the couch and padding over to investigate the new human(?) and the mess he made.

“How about Thumper?” Tim puzzles aloud, stretching leisurely and acting as if he doesn’t notice Jon frantically scrubbing up raspberry jam and trying to avoid the rabbit’s investigative snuffles all in one. “No, no...that’s too cliché.”

“I really don’t see the point in naming it when it shouldn’t be here more than a few weeks,” Jon comments, shooing the animal in question away before it can try to lick up any jam.

“Maybe Joe?” Tim continues loudly, as if he hadn’t heard the other. When the rabbit ambles back over to him, he scoops them up, pressing their noses together. “Ligma?” He shakes his head at the rabbit. “No, no. We need to have more sophistication as we go about this.”

“You could do with applying that sophistication to your work,” comes the grumbled retort.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jon abruptly turns to burn another piece of bread in the toaster.

“How about Marshmallow?”

“What on Earth—” Jon shrieks, jumping in his desk chair, and a sheaf of papers is sent flying around the office.

“The rabbit. Should we call him ‘Marshmallow’?” Tim smiles as innocently as he can manage, standing out in the hall with his head peeping into his boss’ office. “Marshie for short?”

“I am in the middle of a statement!” Jon sputters. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay....” Tim fluidly shrugs his shoulders. “What about ‘Bob’?”

“Out!”

But Tim continues to pop into Jon’s office unannounced throughout the day, tossing out name suggestions. He even manages to rope Martin into doing it too, and notes with savage delight that between the two of them and his work, Jon doesn’t get much more than a moment to wallow rest for the remainder of the day.

Between the two of them Tim and Martin manage to compile a surprisingly long list of names:

Snowball,

Posy (Martin is partial to this one because he thinks it’s cute),

Bungen Leitner,

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (“is that too American of a reference for a fanfic taking place in the UK?” “what?” “what?”),

the Bunholding,

Michael (Jon is especially averse to that one for some reason),

Cottonball,

Fluffy Bastard (Tim’s own favorite),

Bugs Bunny,

Eldritch Horror (Tim tosses that one in as a joke; no way the rabbit that eats his own shit is some kind of otherworldly being),

Big Bungus (“it’s a play off Big Chungus!” “d’you seriously think anyone else here even knows what memes are”), and

the Vampiric Count Sir Maximillianus-Who-Is-Also-A-Werebun

(Despite badgering Sasha multiple times in an attempt to get her thoughts on the matter, the only name she offers up is “Dinner”, which makes Martin cry, so that one is out.)

None of the names quite seem to fit the little white puffball that has now taken over the realm of their break room, however—so Tim and Martin find themselves going back to the drawing board. They reluctantly leave the Institute at the end of the day, still without having decided upon a name.

“JON JUNIOR!” Martin screeches excitedly the next morning as they’re congregating once more in the break room, zombie-like before their tea and mid-morning snack time (primary schools don’t get all the fun, okay).

Jon and Sasha startle, and for once even Tim himself jumps. The rabbit doesn’t seem to care much where he is, nibbling at some hay in his corner litter box.

“I—what?” Jon asks, flabbergasted, although he manages to not drop his toast this time. Character development.

“We should name him Jon Jr! After you!” Martin explains eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Jon tries to say, but before he can finish, Tim is jumping in.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he says, grinning broadly. “Thoughts, Sasha?”

“I’m not emotionally invested in this.” Sasha shrugs, uncaring. “I’m going back to my desk.” She takes her drink and walks out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“All right, since Sasha doesn’t care, I’ll decide her vote for her,” Tim says, carefully containing his glee. “So that’s three votes for and one against, then. Majority rules.”

“What? No!” John protests, but Tim is too busy looking at the rabbit for confirmation.

“What do you think, little guy?” He walks over, bends down, and lightly boops the rabbit’s nose. “Are you a Jon Jr?”

The rabbit twitches his nose in agreement and poops.

“Well then!” Tim stands, clapping his hands together. “That’s been decided upon.”

No, it hasn’t,” Jon insists, but Tim cares little for his boss’ objections. He’ll accept his fate as Jon Senior eventually.

To Tim’s utter surprise and fascination, it happens sooner than later.

Jon, Tim quickly realizes, is a lot like the one dad who says “no dog” and then ends up loving the dog more than he loves his own children.

Despite his initial objections, the daft fool ends up getting caught up in Jon Jr’s big, innocent, rabbit-y gaze (worse than even Martin’s puppy-dog eyes, they conclude gravely), and by the end of the day Friday Jon has announced that he supposes the rabbit can stay with him over weekends and holidays.

“We’re still not keeping him,” Jon reminds them all, even as the rabbit gathered in his arms, giving his nose kisses and knocking his glasses askew, says otherwise.

He gets caught trying to sneak the rabbit into his office on more than one occasion, but Martin raises a fuss about it.

(“He’s all of ours! Jon Jr is our department’s mascot now,” Martin protests defiantly. “You can’t take him away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tim adds, mostly just to stir up drama—he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. “You can’t just swoop him up and file him away like one of your statements.”

“Just don’t let it get out and chew at my electronics,” Sasha says, distractedly typing something on her phone, probably to that weird new boyfriend.)

To stave off the imminent coup, Jon Jr becomes an officially-declared resident of the break room. He slowly amasses chub around his middle and a cardboard kingdom of bunny toys, houses, blankets, and treats. A rabbit could want for nothing more.

And perhaps—perhaps a human could want for nothing more, too, Tim thinks as he looks down at the figure curled up on the sofa, rabbit nestled against his chest.

He doesn’t love the man, not by a long, long shot—doesn’t even particularly like him half the time—but Tim can’t deny that the scene is adorable. And, regardless of his very vocal protests, Jon Jr may very well be what Jon Sr needs to finally process things and move the hell on with life.

Tim smiles grimly. It’s about damn time.

He quietly closes the door to the room and heads back towards the Archives. He’ll leave Jon to wake himself up.

(And to discover for himself that Jon Jr has peed on his pants leg.)

Of course, this is the Archive we’re talking about, so naturally the peace is abruptly shattered, and everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tim isn’t entirely certain what happens or why, but all of a sudden Sasha isn’t really Sasha, and he and Jon have gotten backed up and cornered in the tunnels as this not-really-Sasha stalks towards them, predictably with the intent to kill, just like the rest of the spooks they are so lucky to deal with.

Tim and Jon Sr slowly back away until they hit a dead end. Meanwhile, Jon Jr licks at Tim’s arm—he’d been scooped up as they ran into the tunnels, Tim doesn’t entirely know why—and despite the fact that they are most probably about to, y’know, die, the little kisses almost feel strangely reassuring.

The thing-that-is-not-Sasha cackles, her—their?—its?—voice distorted and echoing throughout the tunnels. It stalks towards them.

All of a sudden, Jon Jr wriggles loose and leaps smoothly down onto the ground. He scampers in front of Tim and Jon, heading towards bitch-give-me-my-Sasha-back.

“No! Get back here!” Tim hisses at the rabbit, even though he knows it’s pointless. He hates to admit it, but he’s becoming rather fond of Jon Jr, even if Tim mostly brought him in to piss off and totally not help Jon. Jon—who, speaking of, seems to be equally fond now, judging by the deflating tire of a terrified squeak he makes, and the adorable immature grabby arms he makes at the little bugger.

“Junior,” Jon calls out, sounding like a toddler who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real (he is, they have the statements to prove it, he is). And Tim wants to laugh, albeit hysterically. The first time he sees his brick wall of a superior cry and it’s over a rabbit, and he’s not even going to have time to gloat over it because they’re about to die. “No! You’re going to—”

Jon Jr stops and sits in front of wholly-absolutely-totally-not-Sasha-what-the-fuck, who looks down at him, bemused through its murderous bloodlust.

The rabbit lifts a dainty paw up to his mouth, and suddenly—suddenly it’s twisting and huge, towering up to the ceiling of the tunnel, its skin hairless and tinted a sickly, glowing gray, with five, six, seven...a whole lot more limbs than a rabbit is supposed to have.

The not-rabbit unhinges its now meters-long jaw and snaps up the creature.

Tim and Jon stare at each other, wide-eyed.

There is a loud gulping sound, then a deafening crack, and suddenly there is a very normal white rabbit sitting in front of them again, carefully cleaning one paw with a very normal pink tongue.

“Wh—” Tim chokes on his own words.

The holy-shit-it-really-is-an-eldritch-horror-after-all stretches, yawns, and flops over in a dead sleep.

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon says faintly.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, light-headed. “We’re keeping the rabbit.”

Jon Jr the rabbit-slash-eldritch-abomination gets a very hearty dinner of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber peels that night.

(Tune in next time* for the terrible, terrible realization—“Jon Jr is a girl?!” (Also why is there another dead body again, dammit, can’t we go one week))

Fin

First || Next

(There may or may not actually be a next time. It depends. )

Behold. What very well may be the stupidest thing I have ever written. Ahem. Did I say stupidest? I meant most brilliant. Clearly I meant it’s the most brilliant thing I have ever written. Obviously.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! I have a bunch of ideas to continue this ridiculously silly AU of sorts, but idk if I’m going to quite yet and am not certain that I’ll be continuing to write for TMA. atm I’m focused on a different fandom, and I’m only on s3, so the really big idea I had has to wait, anyway.

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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generaldisdainn · 5 years ago

Text

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 9 (we’re back to our regularly scheduled fluff and shenanigans hehe)

“Alright. It’s official.” Anna came out into the kitchen and enunciated her entrance by throwing a drawer handle onto the island where Kristoff, Ryder, and Sven were all sitting. “I need a new dresser. Who wants to go with me to Target to get one?”

Sven pushed his stool back dramatically. “I call shotgun!”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” Anna chuckled.

“I’ll go too!” Ryder said with a smile.

“Kristoff?” Anna turned to him, wondering if he would join them.

“Sure, what the hell. I could use a couple of things from there.”

“Alright!” Anna clapped her hands together, suddenly excited to have the whole group with her. She figured it would turn a boring shopping trip into an actual event. “Let’s go!”

After a moment spent gathering up their things (Sven had to change into a different outfit before they left and Ryder insisted on bringing a snack "just in case"), they made their way down to the parking lot. Kristoff decided to drive since his car would be spacious enough to accommodate the four of them and a dresser. Sven got shotgun while Ryder and Anna sat in the back. Ryder handed Anna his phone every once in a while to show her a meme at which Anna would laugh earnestly.

“Oh my god, dude, pick a song!” Kristoff huffed. They’d only been driving for a minute, but Sven had already skipped through about 15 songs.

“I’m trying to find one to fit the mood!” Sven retorted as he flew past another five songs.

“Oh, play that Tik Tok song! Say So!” Ryder eagerly suggested.

“Ryder, you know nobody else in this car uses that app,” Sven replied.

“Alright, well you guys are missing out. When we get home I want everyone to see the dance I learned last night and you guys will change your mind,” Ryder asserted.

“Oh my god,” Sven groaned.

Anna smiled at the thought of Ryder learning Tik Tok dances in his room. She’d be lying if she said she had never wanted to try one herself. “I want to see your dance, Ryder! Maybe we could learn one together sometime!”

Ryder looked at her with a wide grin. “Yes!”

“Anna, don’t tell me you use that godforsaken app too,” Sven said with a resigned sigh.

Anna shrugged. “I do sometimes. I think it’s fun.”

“Doesn’t it steal your data and send it to China or something?” Kristoff chimed in.

“Yeah like every app doesn’t already collect all of your data,” Ryder scoffed, rolling his eyes for effect. He turned up to the front, pointing a finger towards Sven and Kristoff. “You guys are just mad because you’re boomers now. You’re old and you’re boomers and you refuse to accept that the world is moving on without you.”

Anna laughed and slapped a high five with Ryder, smiling at their newfound solidarity in using Tik Tok of all things.

“If being a boomer means that I don’t waste my time watching horny people thrust their hips to music then I will gladly claim that title," Sven said with a confident nod. "Right, Kristoff?”

“I accepted my fate as a boomer a long time ago,” Kristoff agreed.

Sven turned around to face the back, his mouth quirked upwards in a mischievous smile. “When we were in college, Kristoff would go around and bang on people’s doors to get them to shut up late at night.”

“What? I needed my sleep. And I know other people were thankful that I did that,” Kristoff said defensively. Anna laughed at the image of a grumpy, sleep-deprived Kristoff roused out of bed and making his way to a room where kids were up late partying. Sometimes he really did give off the energy of an old man. She couldn’t help but find it endearing.

The car came to a halt in the parking lot. “Alright, boomers and zoomers,” Kristoff began, sending a look back to Ryder and Anna on the word ‘zoomers’. “Everyone out. We’re here.”

***

Anna made her way down the furniture aisle, appraising the various dressers and armoires. Nothing piqued her interest like she hoped it would.

“You okay?” Kristoff asked from behind her. The concerned tone in his voice tugged at her heart. She knew the face she made when she was concentrated oftentimes made her look worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking.”

“Do you like any of them?”

Anna hummed thoughtfully for a moment as she looked over her limited options. “Not really. I think I might have to go somewhere else. I would’ve loved to go to Ikea, but I think the closest one is like an hour away.”

“I’m not doing anything today if you wanted to go to Ikea. I could drive you. Not if you don’t want that of course, but it might be nice. There's no pressure or anything though-”

“Kristoff,” Anna interrupted his rambling, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I’d love that.” They shared an easy smile for a moment.

They were both brought out of their shared comfort as Ryder careened past them in a shopping cart and crashed into the stand next to them. Sven stood at the end of the aisle, a hand over his stomach as he doubled over in laughter.

“I can’t take you guys anywhere,” Kristoff said with a sigh, his mouth forming a slightly amused smirk nonetheless.

***

“Can we go to Lowes? I want to get some of those wall-hangy things for my new plant,” Ryder asked as the four of them headed back to the car after their Target run.

Anna was about to nod in agreement, but Sven jumped in before she could say anything.

“Oh, I’m actually not allowed in Lowes.” He said it so nonchalantly. The rest of the group faltered and stopped in their tracks while Sven kept going towards the car, completely unphased.

“Why aren’t you allowed in Lowes?” Anna hesitantly asked. There was a tiny part of her that thought that he was joking, but he had said it so sincerely, as if being banned from a large chain store was a common occurrence.

“Oh, I think I barricaded one of the aisles with plywood? I don’t really remember to be honest. I was high off my ass.”

“Sven, when the fuck was this?” Kristoff asked incredulously.

“It was like the beginning of freshman year of college. We weren’t super close then, so you didn’t go out with me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kristoff groaned.

“I used to be pretty dumb. But it’s a fun story to tell.”

“Used to be?” Kristoff asked.

Sven rolled his eyes and nudged his friend playfully.

They drove back to the house together. Sven was finally able to settle on a song and danced along in the front seat while Ryder and Anna laughed at Tik Toks in the back.

Kristoff dropped Ryder and Sven off and waved them goodbye as Anna climbed into the passenger seat and plopped down next to him.

“I’ll find a dance for us to learn before you get back!” Ryder promised. Anna nodded enthusiastically and gave him a thumbs up while Sven rolled his eyes.

“Thanks again for driving me, Kristoff,” Anna said with an earnest smile as Kristoff pulled out into the street.

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” he replied, gazing at the road ahead, hoping she wouldn't see the subtle blush playing out across his cheeks. “I’m happy to do it.”

***

Kristoff looked over at Anna for a moment, allowing himself to admire the way she gazed out the window with wistful wonder at the passing trees. They had been driving for a good fifteen minutes or so at that point, conversation and comfortable silence passing between them easily. They had almost immediately settled back into friendly coexistence after their fight and subsequent reconciliation. They began watching shows together on the couch at night, and last weekend the four of them had all gone out together. Even on the rare day when they didn’t see each other, they were still a part of each other’s lives in small ways. Kristoff had gotten into the habit of leaving a piece of bread in the toaster for when Anna woke up, and Anna made a point of preheating the oven so it was hot for his dinner when he got home from work. They were thoughtful habits that they had both gotten into. Things were back to normal for them, even surpassing what their normalcy once was. The easy car ride so far had been a reflection of that.

A song came on the radio, and Anna suddenly bolted upright. “Oh my god, this song.”

“What about it?”

“This was one of my breakup songs with Hans.”

“Your breakup song?”

“Yeah, you know, like a song that helps you get through your breakup. You had to have had one.”

“I didn’t!”

“Are you serious? There wasn’t a single song that really spoke to you after your breakup?”

“No, I didn’t even know that was a thing until just now,” Kristoff said with a chuckle, amused by the sudden shock in Anna’s voice.

“Oh my god, I have an entire playlist on my Spotify called ‘Hans Sucks.’”

“Get outta here.”

“No, I’m dead serious- look!” Anna flashed her phone at Kristoff for a brief moment- just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of the playlist’s title: ‘Hans Sucks’.

“Okay, I actually have to hear this.”

Anna laughed and plugged in her phone. The first song that came on was “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.”

“Wow, very creative,” Kristoff teased.

Anna swatted at him. “Shush, this song’s amazing.” Anna sang along, bopping her head and singing the lyrics like she was the only one in the car. Kristoff smiled. If he hadn’t been driving he probably would have stared at her the whole time, captivated by the fiery tendrils of her hair that bounced as she sang and the way the light caught in her eyes. He didn’t know the song very well (he wouldn’t call himself a Taylor Swift fan), but her energy was infectious. He found himself bouncing his head and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

There were some more unfamiliar breakup songs that came on, some of which Kristoff found to be surprisingly empowering.

“You know, I’m starting to get this whole breakup song thing.”

“Right? They make you feel powerful! Like- fuck you, Samantha!”

Kristoff laughed.

They went back and forth on music for a bit, sharing stories about their favorite songs and lyrics.

“I had my first kiss to this song.”

Anna nearly choked. “Apple Bottom Jeans?”

Kristoff chuckled to himself. “It’s called ‘Low’, but yes, unfortunately.” He supposed it did sound a little ridiculous when you said it out loud. “It was at my 8th-grade dance. This song was on when I kissed my date under the bleachers.”

“That’s hilarious. I think my first kiss was after a date in high school? It was gross. He used way too much tongue.”

“Oh yeah, I used to be a terrible kisser. I’d like to think I’m okay now though.”

Anna hummed to herself for a moment. “I’d say you’re more than okay.”

Kristoff blushed, her words sending a shiver down his spine. He remembered what it felt like to kiss her- the soft way she bit at his bottom lip, the feeling of her hand in his hair. He was suddenly thankful he had the driving to focus on.

“Sorry, was that too much?” Anna asked. The sudden nervousness in her tone made him rush to reassure her.

“No, no, you’re fine." He could still sense her doubt. He tore his eyes from the road for a moment to offer her what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. "I promise. I was just caught off guard. Here- play this song next.”

The two continued to exchange songs and stories. Kristoff kept his mind on the driving. If we wasn’t careful, he swore he would crash the car getting lost in the way she moved.

***

Anna felt her arm brush against Kristoff’s as they walked down one of the hallways in Ikea. She had the sudden urge to grab his hand or maybe even cling to his arm as they walked. “He asked for time. He needs space,” Anna reminded herself. Kristoff looked down at her with a smile and those warm, brown eyes. She felt her stomach dip as she let herself get lost in them for a moment. Nope. She couldn’t. She turned to her right and made her way over to a couch, pretending to be enthralled with one of the intricate pillows.

“That’s pretty,” Kristoff said, motioning to the pillow in her hands.

“Yeah, it’s really cute.”

“Do you want to get it?”

Anna looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“For the couch," he clarified.

“I mean, I do, but I don’t know if I have decorating rights in the apartment,” she said with a slight chuckle. She placed the pillow back down, only for Kristoff to pick it back up and hold it close to his chest.

“Sven decorated most of the place. He can stand to have one pillow that we picked out on the couch.”

Anna’s heart swelled. A pillow that they picked out. Together.

***

“I used to come here all the time when I was little.” Anna’s elbows were perched on the fake counter of one of the many Ikea kitchen displays. She peered at Kristoff from one side of the fake window, his head rested on his hands much like Anna’s was. Kristoff smiled as she spoke, looking at her in a way that radiated warmth. They were on either side of the window, staring at each other through the gap where glass would have been if it was a real kitchen. “There was one near our house, and our mom would take us sometimes on the weekends. My sister and I would run around in the kitchens and play house until our mom finally told us it was time to go. She always got us food on the way out too.”

Kristoff nodded. “That sounds really nice.”

“It was.”

“Do you miss them?”

Anna had almost forgotten that she told him that her parents had practically disowned them. “Sometimes, but it’s easy to remind myself that I’m better off without them. And I have Elsa, so I’m okay.”

“I would love to meet her sometime.”

Anna’s heart fluttered at the implication that maybe one day Elsa and Kristoff would meet. Of course she assumed that Elsa would meet her roommates at some point, but the way Kristoff said it made it seem formal- like he would be meeting her in a kind of traditional “boyfriend meets the family” kind of way. Anna quickly shook off the thought before she could let her mind get too carried away. “What about your family? I don’t think I know anything about them.”

“I was adopted when I was 4 by my mom and dad. They’re great,” he started as they resumed their walk through the kitchen section of the Ikea. “My mom is the strongest person I know. And my dad is seriously hilarious. He has all these ridiculous stories from growing up on a farm.”

“They sound incredible,” Anna said with a wistful smile.

“They are. They would really like you.”

That same feeling bubbled up in her chest- the promise of some sort of future with him and the vision of time spent together as more than just friends. She watched as he walked over to a bed and laid on it, letting out a sigh of contentment.

“Kristoff,” she hissed. “We’re not supposed to lay on those.”

“No one’s looking,” he countered, patting the spot on the bed next to him. “Come on! It’s really comfy.”

Anna looked at him for a moment, biting her lip and mulling it over in her head. She had always been a stickler for the rules, and the thought of breaking one now, even a small one, made her feel a bit anxious. But the soft twinkle in his eyes and the way he held an arm open in such an inviting way overrode any sort of worry she felt. She climbed up next to him and sunk down into the pillows, careful to leave enough space between the two of them. She turned her head to the side and saw him, all rosy cheeks, brown eyes, and warm smile. She counted the freckles that ran across his nose, ones that she hadn’t noticed before. She could feel his breath tickling her face. They were far enough so that they weren’t touching, but close enough that under any other circumstances, she would’ve expected him to lean in for a kiss, to capture her lips in his and pull her into his chest.

He suddenly bolted upright as if he had been struck by something, his eyes alight with mischief. He grabbed her hand and tugged her off the bed. Anna giggled at the unexpected motion, but followed him along regardless, down the hall and around the corner. She was starting to think that perhaps she would follow him to the edge of the world.

They stopped and Kristoff laughed, taking a moment to catch his breath. “There was one of those Ikea cop people.”

“One of what?” Anna joined him in his laughter.

“You know,” he started, motioning with his hands as if that would help him find the right words. “Those people that work here and walk around to make sure you don’t steal anything or sleep on the beds. I didn’t want to get us in trouble.”

“Oh.” Anna covered her mouth as she giggled. “Well, thanks for saving us then,” she concluded.

Kristoff offered her another smile. It seemed as though he had been smiling a lot more frequently lately. “No problem.”

***

“This is the one,” Anna announced, pointing to a beautiful white dresser with ornate handles on each drawer.

“I like it,” Kristoff concurred.

“I think I’m going to paint it and really make it my own, you know? It’ll be a fun project.”

Kristoff nodded. “I really like that idea.”

“I’m glad.” Anna looked at the large box before her and let out a sigh. “Now for the not so fun part- checking out and getting this thing in the car.”

Kristoff took a step forward and grabbed the box containing the disassembled dresser. He lifted it without hesitation from its slightly elevated position and placed it on the ground by his feet. “Here, can you grab that cart over there?”

Anna didn’t say anything. She always forgot how strong he was. It caught her off guard whenever he reminded her, whether it was by lifting something at home or lifting this Ikea box. Anna was always struck by the defined muscles of his arms and the sturdy width of his shoulders in those moments. She tore her eyes away and ran to go get a cart.

Kristoff again easily lifted the box onto the wheeled platform and took the lead in guiding it over to the checkout area.

“So once we finish building this thing are you going to start painting it right away?” Kristoff asked.

Anna’s heart surged. We. He wanted to build it with her. “I’ll probably work on it periodically. It’s nice to have ongoing projects like that. You and Ryder and Sven are welcome to paint stuff on it too if you’d like.”

“Oh god. Don’t tell Sven that. You’ll have a million dicks all over your desk before you know it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Anna replied with a laugh.

Anna paid for her dresser. She would have paid for the decorative pillow too, but Kristoff had insisted on covering it. He loaded the dresser into his car with relative ease, and they hopped in together, exchanging cheerful glances before starting on their hour-long journey back home. This time the ride was more silent, quiet spaces filled with the soft lull of the radio and the feeling of the wheels against the pavement of the road beneath them. Anna thought about how natural it would feel to reach out and hold his hand. But she kept to herself. She was fine with that. She was just happy to have such a good friend.

***

Kristoff knew he liked Anna. It wasn’t hard to admit that much to himself. He knew he liked her almost too much- enough to want to wake up next to her every morning and make her breakfast in bed and kiss her whenever he got the chance- even sleep with her for God’s sake. He thought he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and yet, here he was.

It seemed like she was keen on knocking down every wall he had tried to put up, exposing him for a kindhearted, sensitive person. A while ago Kristoff would’ve said that that version of himself was dead, buried long ago with his last relationship. But with her, he was starting to see parts of himself emerge that he assumed were long gone.

She was there for him even when he let his insecurities get the best of him and turn him into a total asshole. He felt unworthy of her, and yet every time he tried to distance himself, there she was, ready to remind him of what it felt like to show your truest self and let people in.

He glanced over at her sleeping form. She had warned him this would happen. She told him that she always got sleepy on car trips. She said that she might end up falling asleep and if she did for him to please wake her up. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she looked so peaceful and so beautiful. Her cheek was smushed up against the glass and he thought he could even see a hint of drool in the corner of her mouth, but she was gorgeous and stunning and she made his heart feel light.

For the first time, he felt like maybe he had made the wrong decision. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that he needed time to be on his own. Because when he looked at her, suddenly he felt like he didn’t need any time at all. He was ready. There was something about her. Something in the way she made him feel. Free to be himself? Confident? Appreciated? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there, gnawing at him, slowly wearing away at the part of himself that continued to tell him that he was too scared to try again, too scared to open back up when he could just get hurt again. Something told him that she was different, maybe even that she was the one. Maybe he wouldn’t act on it today or tomorrow or this week or the next, but Kristoff knew in his heart that they wouldn’t be just friends for long.

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #frozen fanfiction #frozen fanfic #kristoff

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harley-sunday · 5 years ago

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire [05]

Summary: During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only after do you learn that your high school sweetheart now runs a nationwide crime syndicate and has you placed on a “no harm” list. You decide to pay him a visit after all these years.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (F)

Warnings: Language. Mentions of a miscarriage. NSFW. Unprotected Sex.

Word count: 4996

AN: I am not a doctor, I’m a writer. So things will probably not be medically correct. Please keep that in mind. And please, please, please let me know what you think. I need feedback. And validation. Obviously :) ♥

Masterlist

Even though you have been awake for quite some time now, you can tell by Sebastian’s steady breathing that he’s still vast asleep and so you get out of bed slowly, careful not to wake him. There’s just enough sunlight peeking through the curtains to help you find your clothes without much trouble and you quietly make your way to the bathroom.

Saturday, you think to yourself as the warm water hits your back, day six of this new life where you’re keeping information from the police and playing house with a criminal. You roll your eyes and shake your head at what your life has become, fully understanding that you can never go back to the way things were. It’s fine. Except for maybe your colleagues at Carver State there’s not much to go back to anyway.

Your shower’s quick and you make your way downstairs just a couple of minutes later, barefoot like yesterday, but this time wearing a denim, knee-length shift dress. Coffee first, you decide, and you find what you need in the cabinets and turn on the machine before you raid the fridge to put together a healthy breakfast with what you got at Lowes yesterday.

The coffee’s almost done when you hear noises coming from upstairs and this time it’s Sebastian who asks you if he still has time to take a shower.

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile, while you continue to set the table. Or breakfast bar. Whatever.

You hear the water being turned off a couple of minutes later and as if on cue you turn the toaster on, your hands resting on the counter top as you wait for the bread to pop up. The smell of toast starts filling the air and for a moment it takes you back to Saturday morning in your childhood home. Suddenly, there are hands on your hips and then he’s kissing your neck, making you jump because you didn’t hear him walk in. You mutter a quiet, “Jesus,” because he surprised you, and you feel him step back.

“Shit, sorry,”

You scrunch your nose, your back still turned to him, because yes, it was unexpected, but also because you kind of want him to keep his hands there and you don’t know how to make it less awkward.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and there’s no doubt in your mind he’s running his hand through his hair nervously this very second. “I don’t know what came over me.” He chuckles then, trying to ease the tension, “Force of habit, I guess.”

Really, you want to bite back, after all these years? But you don’t, because you really, really need to let that go. So instead you turn around with a sly smile, “Just give a little heads up next time, Stan.”

His eyes go wide in surprise although he doesn’t say anything and just nods. Sitting down he takes the cup of coffee you’re sliding towards him, his head low when he says, “I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be-” you start, because really, it was no big deal.

“No,” he interrupts you, “that’s not what I meant. Well, also, I guess, but I uh,” he runs his hand through his hair (again) and looks up at you, “I’m sorry about yesterday. What I said about needing you.”

“Oh, Seb, really-”

“No, let me finish.” He raises his eyebrows and you understand what he wants and so you nod to let him know you won’t interrupt. He clears his throat before he continues, “I uh, I thought about it a lot yesterday while you were out, and again last night and I realized that I should never have asked you that. It was,” he pauses, almost like he’s looking for the right words. He smiles then, repeating what you said, “It was a fucking big ask and it wouldn’t be fair in any situation, let alone the one we’re in right now, but even more so because I wasn’t there for you when needed me most.”

He nods then, lowering his eyes, a whispered, “So, please, forget I even asked,” following.

The sincerity in his voice surprises you and for a moment you are actually at a loss for words. But then you realize something and before you know it the words come out, “It’s ok.”

And, as if your body has a mind of its own, you find yourself rounding the breakfast bar, ending up behind him, watching him as he turns around in his seat. A stampede of butterflies flutters around in your stomach when you throw your arms around his neck, taking a step forward so you're standing in between his legs, pulling him closer. “It’s ok,” you say again, and you mean it. It’s time to put that part of your past behind you, it’s been sixteen years, for God’s sake.

His arms find their way around your waist and he pulls you even closer, and the gesture feels weirdly desperate, almost as if he needs you for support. But then you guess in a way he does. You realize you haven’t held him like this since you were in the hospital waiting for the doctors to inform you of Josh’ condition and somehow it seems fitting. Full circle, or something like that anyway.

“Thank you,” he says then, his voice low as he lets you go. His lips brush your cheek, placing a chaste kiss there before he drops his hands back in his lap.

You return to your side of the breakfast bar, with so much more you still want to tell him, but the words failing you, and it doesn’t really feel like the right time either. Maybe later. Maybe tonight.

Sebastian suggests taking your car for the trip to Columbia and you don’t really see any reason why not, especially after he offers to drive. You let your head rest against the window as soon as you hit the mainland, knowing there’s a good two-and-a-half hours left before you get to Chestnut Hill Nursing home, just outside the city. You keep stealing glances in his direction, taking him in because he looks ridiculously good in his black jeans, and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He leans forward then and you quickly avert your eyes, but he’s going for the radio, changing it to a station that only plays eighties music. He’s quietly singing along to a Bruce Springsteen song while you watch the world pass you by and all of sudden the whole thing feels so wholeheartedly nostalgic that you find yourself getting lost thinking about the one, big, what if.

What if you had stayed together?

Would that have been enough to keep him out of what he’s involved in now? Would you have not lost the baby? Would you have gotten married? Started a family? There’s a tug at your heart then when you realize that if you hadn’t lost the baby, you would have had a fifteen-year old by now.

Suddenly an image of a moody teenager sitting in the backseat pops into your mind, a boy, because that’s what the doctor told you after he gave you the news that you were no longer going to be a mom.

The kid would probably be sulking because you’re making him go see uncle Josh when he much rather would have stayed at home to play video games. You’d tell him uncle Josh would be happy to see him, and promise to make it up to him with a stop at your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. Sebastian would tell him that this is all part of growing up, not doing things you specifically want to do but doing them anyway because it’ll make you feel better afterward.

God, Sebastian would make a great dad.

It’s too much, this fantasizing about what could have been, and you can feel tears forming in your eyes at an alarming rate. No matter how hard you try, there’s no blinking them away, and so you try to be subtle, dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, but of course he notices.

There’s a quick glance in your direction, before he asks, “You ok?” his voice filled with worry.

You try to tell him that you’re fine, but nothing comes out for a while and when it does, it’s not what you had in mind, “It was a boy.”

You’re not sure he understands what you’re talking about, but once again he surprises you as he puts his hand on your knee and gives it a little squeeze, “I could tell you I was sorry until the end of time and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Without thinking you take his hand, because somehow you understand this is still very much his loss too, “I know.”

His thumb gently strokes the inside of your wrist, but he doesn’t look at you, his eyes on the road. His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks again, “I’m sorry, dragă.” He squeezes your hand, “For everything.”

“I know,” you say again, because really, you do. You don’t agree with what he did, and never will, but there’s still some part of you that understands why he did it, even though you are not sure you’re thinking about what he did sixteen years ago or what he has been doing over the last fifteen years. Maybe both.

You remember his mother’s words then, about how he’s changed but how that boy you know and love is still there. She was right, it’s not all bad. Most of it is, there’s no doubt about that, but there’s still good in him. Maybe even more so now than before.

Once you turn off the freeway the road leads you through a lush forest and up the world’s longest driveway. It’s a little after one in the afternoon when you pull up to a big mansion, Sebastian maneuvering your car into one of the free parking spots with ease. He looks at you, “Here we are.”

You lean forward in your seat, trying to take in the immense building in front of you, wondering out loud if this used to be a plantation. Sebastian hasn’t heard you though, because he’s already out of the car, greeting what seems to be a nurse making her way towards him. You unbuckle your seat belt and grab your purse before you are introduced to Elizabeth, who insists you call her Betty.

You follow Betty and Sebastian inside, where she makes you sign the visitor’s log while Sebastian explains he’s listed as Josh’ emergency contact and doesn’t have to sign in anymore. You write your name down in what appears to be a very empty log and you wonder just how many people live here and if there’s anyone visiting them. It doesn’t seem like it. Before you have a chance to ask, Betty and Sebastian are on the move again, and you follow them down a long corridor towards what Betty informs you is the sun room.

While Sebastian asks her about some tests they did on Josh a couple of days ago, you follow a little behind, taking in all the art that’s lining the walls. There’s a wheelchair parked outside the room Betty’s taking you to and you realize you haven’t given Josh’ condition much thought up until now. You wonder what’s become of him and it’s then you hear Betty tell Sebastian that he isn’t in the best of moods today so you’ll guess you find out soon enough, preparing yourself for the worst.

Betty opens the door to the sun room then and steps aside, allowing you to pass. You fight the urge to take Sebastian’s hand for comfort and instead follow him inside to where there’s a man sitting in a chair. He’s wearing a beanie, even though it’s mid June and not at all cold outside, the sun having warmed up the room significantly already. His posture is very rigid, his hands resting on top of the armrests of the chair, but his fingers barely touching the fabric. Sebastian’s standing in front of him now, effectively blocking out the sun, a sad smile on his lips when he says, “Hey brother.”

You watch as he gives Josh a gentle hug, and you can tell he’s careful to not hold him too tight, before he pulls up a chair and sits down on his right. Josh doesn’t really respond and keeps his eyes trained on the window, barely even acknowledging Sebastian. Must be the bad mood Betty warned you about.

Sebastian nods at you then to let you know it’s ok and so you take a step forward, swallowing a gasp when you see Josh’ face. It’s badly scarred and it looks like it must hurt, the skin still an angry red in some spots. His left eye is milky-white, while his right keeps moving around and you wonder just how much he can still see.

Stepping in front of him, blocking out a little less sunlight than Sebastian did, you can tell Josh knows there’s someone else in the room by the way he lifts his head up and seems to look for you. You clear your throat, although your voice is barely above a whisper when you say “Hi Josh,”

It takes him a moment, but he chuckles then, his right hand curling into a fist and finding Sebastian’s upper arm perfectly as he gently stomps it, “I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Before you can ask what this is about, because why the fuck does Sebastian look so flustered all of a sudden, Josh turns his attention back to you, “I never thought I’d see you again, Squeaks”

You can’t help but smile at the use of your old nickname, even though Josh was the only one who ever called you that. He’s smiling too and tells you to sit down because you’re blocking his light and he’s working on his tan, thank you very much.

You see Sebastian shake his head at Josh’ wry sense of humor before he pulls up a chair for you, moving over so you can sit in between him and Josh. You’re not really sure how to start, so there’s a bit of an uncomfortable silence before you decide to just go for it and turn towards your left, “I feel stupid for even asking this, but how are you?”

Josh’ smile drops, his tone more serious now, “I have my good and my bad days.” He chuckles then, but the sound doesn’t have any warmth to it, “I fucked up when was younger and I’m still paying the price for that.”

He never was one to beat around the bush.

He points towards his face, “Left eye’s completely fucked, right eye’s seventy percent fucked, sixty percent of my body’s covered in third degree burns, I’ve had more bouts of pneumonia than I can keep track off and I have been close to dying, oh I’d say about four times now, due to infections wreaking havoc on my body.” He says it all so matter-of-factly that you wonder how many times he’s already told someone this, but he continues then, “I’m getting immune to almost every known antibiotic out there and I’m going to need a new sort of therapy that has a ten percent chance of succeeding. So, yeah. I try not to think about it too much.”

“Fuck,” you whisper quietly, because you never knew it was this bad.

“You can say that again,” Josh agrees with a nod of his head. He points to Sebastian then, “If it wasn’t for this guy I would have given up a long time ago.”

“Hmm,” you reply, not really knowing what else to say. There are some things you want to ask Josh, but not necessarily with Sebastian around. You know it’s a long shot, but you decide to ask him anyway, “Seb? You think you could give Josh and me a minute?”

“Oh shit,” Josh chuckles. “Am I in trouble?”.

Before you can saying anything, Sebastian asks, “You sure you can handle her?” It seem like he’s trying to make light of the situation even though you can tell he’s doesn’t like this sudden change of plans.

Josh nods and so Sebastian gets up, muttering something about having to see someone about something anyway. Just as Sebastian walks outside the nurse from earlier walks inside, pushing what seems to be a bar cart.

“I’ll take an apple juice, Betty,” Josh says, probably having heard her come in. Then with a grin, “I think we’ll give my friend here a cup of coffee even though I’m sure she’d much rather have something with alcohol.”

“Josh,” you hiss, but can’t help but smile, because if anything he seems to still have his sense of humor. You watch as Betty puts your cup on the coffee table before she hands Josh his glass and wait until she’s out of the room again before you turn to him.

“Squeaks, I know what he does,” he says before you can even ask anything, his voice low, “I know how he gets the money.”

“Ok,” you draw out slowly, “and you’re ok with that?”

“Of course not,” he bites back, a scowl on his face. His features soften then, “I’ve told him to stop several times, but,” he sighs, “there’s always more. More therapy, more medicine, more whatever it is I need, which means there are always more bills to pay too. You know how stubborn he is. If I tell him I don’t want his money he’ll find another way to make sure the bills are paid.”

“Don’t you worry what will happen when he gets caught?”

“Always the realist out of us three,” he says, sounding almost proud. “Of course I do, but where’s that going to get me? You know as well as I do that I can’t stop him.”

“I know,” you admit quietly.

“I’m glad you’re here though,” he says, smiling. “He’s going to need you.”

“For what?”

“Wasn’t it genius, having our initials up on those vests?” he asks, effectively ignoring your question. “I came up with that, you know? I knew you’d recognize them.”

“Josh,” you start, but don’t really know how to go from there because what the fuck is going on? Why does it starting to feel like you being here was all part of some big, elaborate plan they conjured up together? What’s the purpose of all of this?

“He misses you, you know?” Josh sits up in his chair and turns to you, “And it didn’t get better with time, you know, like you’d expect. He never really talks about it, but I know him well enough that he doesn’t have too. I guess he keeps wondering what could have been.”

You don’t know how to respond and so you keep silent.

"There’s a way out of this,” he says then, leaning closer to you, his voice low, “for both of you.”

“So you promise?” Josh asks again, his hand on yours.

“I promise,” you agree, swallowing back some tears when the severity of the situation hits you.

“Promise what?” Sebastian asks when he steps back into the sun room with a grin.

“Promise to go on a date with me sometime,” Josh says without missing a beat, a smile now plastered on his face.

You wonder if Sebastian notices the abrupt change of subject, but if he does he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he looks at you, “They want us to go. Visiting hours have been over for a while”

You nod, “Ok,” and grab your purse before you turn to Josh and lean in to give him a careful hug, your mouth close to his ear when you whisper, “Thank you.”

“Just know I’m rooting for you two, kid” he says, pulling you just a little tighter.

You walk out then, giving Sebastian some room to say goodbye to Josh. And to hopefully keep him from seeing you cry. From behind the front desk nurse Betty reminds you to sign out of the visitor’s log, her eyes filled with concern when she sees how upset you are. She doesn’t say anything, and you’re glad, because you’re sure that if she had, you would end up telling her everything. Instead you simply tell her, “Goodbye,” and make your way outside, the fresh air helping you regain at least some of your composure. You lean against the side of the car, waiting for Sebastian to catch up with you, while you relish in the warmth of the sun that’s now hanging low in the sky. Must have been here longer than you thought, you think to yourself.

It takes a while for Sebastian to join you and you can tell from the way his jaw is set that he’s not up for talking. Josh must have set things in motion then, although you wonder just how much he’s told Sebastian. And if it’s the first time Sebastian has heard it. You doubt it.

You guess there’s a lot to think about for the both of you and so the drive back is silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts.

It’s dark when Sebastian pulls up in front the beach house and for a moment you just sit in the car together, the engine slowly ticking to a stop. It feels safe in here, like you’re in a bubble where no one can touch you, where the outside world doesn’t exist.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?”

You nod, knowing exactly what he’s getting at, “Yes.”

“It won’t be easy,”

“I know,”

“They’ll be relentless once they take you in, question you to the nth degree.” He runs a hand over his face before he turns to you, “We don’t know if it’ll will work.”

“It will,” you reassure him, simply because it has to. There’s no other way. You look out of the window then, blinking back a tear, “It will.”

“We should get inside,”

“Yeah,” you agree and unbuckle your seat belt. You’re not surprised when he offers you his hand when you round the car, and you take it without hesitation, leaning into him a little as you make your way to the front door. You don’t let go, not even when you get inside and he closes the door behind you, needing the contact.

He turns to you, “Our last night together then, I guess.”

“I guess so,” you reply, a sad smile playing around your lips. You don’t want this to end, not yet, but you know it has to. Especially after you promised Josh you’d do your part.

You look up at him, only to find him staring back at you. He’s not smiling though, instead his eyes are darkened with what you know is lust. It makes your knees go fucking weak because no one has ever looked at you like that except for him. You anticipate his next move and so you’re not surprised when he gently pushes you back until your back meets the wall.

He lets go of your hand while he uses his knee to spread your legs, and places his hands on either side of your head, effectively boxing you in. He lowers his head then, lips ghosting across your jaw before they stop at your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine, “Tell me to stop and I will, but if you don’t I take it you’re in, dragă.”

“Of course I’m in,” you reply, your voice hoarse, your hands in his hair then, using them to guide his mouth toward yours. There’s nothing soft or subtle about the kiss, instead there’s a need to it that has on you on edge right away, your teeth dragging across his lower lip, begging him to let you in.

He does and your tongue find his with ease, your hands in his hair pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He pushes into you more and you moan when you feel his erection press against you. His hands find their way to your hips, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress and pushing it higher, exposing your panties. He pulls back then, and you whimper at the loss of contact, but there’s a wicked grin on his lips just before he sinks to his knees and starts kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper when he takes your leg and drapes it over his shoulder, placing a kiss on the very wet fabric of your panties at the same time. You arch your back, wanting more, hands in his hair again to hold him in place. You feel his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, the fabric in between adding extra friction, and it actually makes you shiver.

He uses his thumb to push the fabric aside, his mouth latching onto your throbbing clit then, looking up at you through hooded eyes and you nearly come right there and then. He pulls back a little, softly blowing on the spot where his mouth was a few seconds ago, his fingers then hooking in the fabric of your panties and pulling them down.

“Seb, please,” you groan, not liking this loss of contact.

He grins back at you, “Ready?”

All you can do is nod, but he doesn’t need any more encouragement and it’s all mouth, tongue and teeth from there on out, bringing your dangerously close in just a couple of minutes. You try to hold off as long as you can, but then he slides his fingers in, two at once, finding your G-spot so effortlessly that you come with a loud, “Oh fuck.”

He keeps licking, helping you come down from your high gently, until you release your fingers from his hair and let out a content sigh. He pulls back then, pushing himself up, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before his grin returns.

You smile, pulling him in for another kiss, still tasting yourself on his lips. Dragging your teeth across his lower lip you let your hand slide down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as you go along. You let your fingers dance across the now-exposed skin of his stomach, marveling at how muscular he really is. Still kissing him, you find the button of his jeans and you open it, sliding your hand inside and cupping him through his boxers.

He groans at your touch and you use his momentary lack of focus to turn the both of you around so that he’s now up against the wall, your hand still holding him even though you can feel him wanting to get out. You let your mouth trail from his jaw to his nipples, licking one before you gently bite the other and you can’t help but smile when you feel him grow in your hand. You slowly make your way down, your tongue tracing the hem of his boxers before you pull your hand out and push down his boxers and jeans in one swift motion.

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, pumping him a few times before get down on your knees and run your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, cleaning up the pre-cum. You take him into your mouth slowly, enjoying the feel of the thick vein against your tongue and then remembering how good he used to, and still does, taste as you bop your head up and down.

His fingers lace through your hair, keeping your head in place but never pushing you, instead letting you set the pace. You can tell he’s getting there from the way his breathing picks up and so you add your hands to the mix, one hand cupping his balls while the other follows your mouth up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, dragă, I’m close,” he growls, and you take that as your cue to pull back with an audible pop. You’ve only just stood up when you feel his strong hands lift you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he carries upstairs, his erection pressing against your core. You pull your dress up and over your head just as he puts you down, your bra following shortly after.

His eyes travel over your body as you stand there naked in front of him, a low, “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” escaping him.

You hold out your hand and when he takes it you pull him towards you, slowly lowering yourself on the bed. You watch him through hooded lids as he lowers himself onto you, entering you slowly, not bothering with a condom because honestly, it never even crosses your mind to do so.

He fills you up perfectly, like he always did, your bodies almost melting together and you easily admit, “I missed you.” Kissing him then, the need behind it hopefully adding to the sentiment. He starts to thrust harder then and you match his rhythm effortlessly, bucking your hips up whenever he thrusts into you, arching your back when his mouth latches onto your breast. He’s keeping himself up with one arm, his other hand finding your clit, gently rubbing circles around it, bringing you closer and closer.

“Fuck,” you draw out, feeling your orgasm rapidly approaching. You cup his face and bring it up to yours, never taking your eyes off of his as your orgasm washes over you. His pupils are blown and you when you see him swallow hard you know he’s right behind you, a smile tugging on your lips, “Come for me, Seb.”

It takes a few more thrusts to send him over the edge, but when he does buries his face in your neck, biting down on your skin as he growls, “I missed you too, dragă.”

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#Sebastian Stan x reader #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan fanfic #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan #Things We Lost in the Fire

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