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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Book of the Dead

Genre: The Mummy AU

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: After traveling to the fabled city of Hamunaptra, you read from the Book of the Dead and accidentally resurrect an ancient mummy with extraordinary powers and quest for revenge. The only thing to do now is try and convince your less-than-traditional guide to help you save the world.

Part 1 I Part 2

“I just said a few sentences!”

“What did you do that for!”

“Well, I didn’t know that that would happen!”

You stared at the aggravating, self-absorbed, cocky Korean soldier and wondered why on earth you had decided to negotiate for this man’s life.

Alright, you did know why. You needed him to show you to Hamunuptra - the fabled City of the Dead.

Too many times you had stood in front of the museum curator with pages and pages of references and evidence that the place existed and just needed a small team of archeologists in order to track it down. He’d shot you down every time. And each time he took the liberty of reminding you that while your father was an exceptional explorer who had many successes under his belt, you were a woman whose life had been spent between the shelves, cataloging. Your adventures consisted of the fictional kind, devouring any novel you could when you weren’t archiving the latest crate of artifacts and texts.

Then your cousin showed up. Your normally useless, hare-brained, erratic, drunkard cousin showed up at your apartment with a “fun new artifact” he found on his latest trip. And suddenly your luck had completely turned around.

Or so you thought.

Now you were standing in the middle of Hamunaptra, feet sinking into the unstable sand, with an empty sarcophagus and everyone blaming you because you did what you did best - read.

It was only a book. Albeit, a very heavy, possibly-made-of-painted-solid-gold book that was written in the dead language of ancient Egypt, but still. What harm had ever come from reading a book?

Kim Junmyeon stared at you as if you were the one who had risen from the dead. You were still stunned at how different he looked from when you had first met him in that smelly prison, minutes away from being hanged. His hair had been long and stringy, clumps of dirt clinging to the dark brown strands that brushed his shoulders. Now it was shorter, cut above his ears and gelled back in the current style that almost made him look like a gentleman. The several days’ stubble was long gone to reveal smooth skin and a sharp jawline. He was actually very handsome - when he was cleaned up.

Stupid, you hissed at yourself. Now was not the time for this. Because right now there seemed to be a reanimated mummy running around here. And by the looks of Barney’s husk of a body lying deep within the temple underground, it was hungry.

As it should be, given the three thousand years it spent locked up under piles of sand.

“Really, you should have been more careful!” your cousin, Baekhyun, scolded.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. You were the one who snatched the key off of Mr. Kim here at one of your seedy bars and then proceeded to lie to me and say that you found it on a dig in Thebes which in turn brought us here!”

Baekhyun opened and closed his mouth as he searched for a possible retort.

“I think this is more your fault,” Kim Junmyeon’s own cousin and traveling partner, Oh Sehun, said. “You told us to go down a level and dig under the statue, which in turn,” he mocked your tone almost precisely, “caused the mummy to be able to get out of his sarcophagus. If we had dug somewhere else entirely, then he’d still be trapped under the statue of Anubis.”

“Despite the fact that it was two layers deep, nothing would have been able to hold a victim of the Hom-Dai.”

“Would have given poor Barney a chance,” Kim Junmyeon muttered under his breath. You shot him a glare that he hardly noticed.

“I say that we get out of here and to the safety of the city before the mummy finds us.” Oh Sehun swallowed thickly. “Or worse. The beetles find us.” The supposedly brave soldier who had two pistols hanging under each arm was more terrified of the flesh eating bugs than he was the living mummy that was bringing about the ten plagues of Egypt. You’d already lived through the locust infestation, but that was always the most minor of the plagues. In your opinion.

“We told you to leave,” Ardeth said in that low, monotone voice that made him seem centuries old. You had only known him for a few hours, but you already feared and respected him. Despite the fact that he had attacked your campsite the night before. “Now you have condemned the whole world to the very monster that we have spent three thousand years keeping hidden.”

Kim Junmyeon finally tore his face away from yours. “I told you. I shot him. He went down.”

“Mortal weapons are useless against this creature. None can kill him.” Stepping up, he stood toe to toe with the soldier who led you here. “A gun is nothing more than a fly to him. He will never eat. He will never sleep. And he will never stop. Not until this world is only sand.”

Though still not completely backing down, Kim Junmyeon took hold of your arm. “Come on. We’re going back to Cairo.”

The camel ride back to the city was long, tiring, and a bit painful, if you were honest. The inside of your thighs were sore from keeping you up right on the animal’s back for hours on end under the blazing heat. You were used to the comfortable back seat of a car, even if the roads here tended to be on the bumpier side. Kim Junmyeon stayed at your side the entire time, up until you were back in your hotel room. All your things were still in there. That was nice, even if it was to be expected. The desk clerk had sworn he would keep the room reserved for you until you made it back. And now that you had, you were on to the next fight.

“We’re not going anywhere!”

Kim Junmyeon pretended not to hear you as he started emptying the dresser drawers of your clothes and stuffing them in your suitcases lying open on the bed.

“Excuse me! I said we’re not going anywhere!” As soon as he stepped away again, you slammed the suitcase shut. A stray white cat that you didn’t have the heart to remove from your room took advantage of the newly available space and laid down on the surface of the luggage. Unbothered by the argument taking place in its presences, it purred as it curled into a ball and closed its eyes.

“You keep using the word ‘we’ and I’m not sure why,” he said. “I believe you were the one who woke him up in the first place.”

“Yes, I get it!” you shouted. “Everyone can blame me because I read the damn book, but that is why we need to stop him.”

He closed the empty drawer and turned back around to face you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? You heard Ardeth. No mortal weapon can kill this guy.”

“That’s why we’re going to find some immortal ones.”

He pulled a pair of rounded glasses from his pocket, wiped the lenses with his shirt, and stuck them on the bridge of his nose. “There goes that ‘we’ business again.”

You huffed, trying not to focus on the newest version of the soldier now being presented in front of you. “Yes, we. Because this curse will continue to get worse until the whole world is destroyed.”

“And that’s my problem?”

“It is everybody’s problem! You live here, too!”

Kim Junmyeon stepped up until he was mere inches away. “Listen. I appreciate you saving my life and all, but when I agreed to this idiotic mission my objective was to show you the way and then bring you back here. I have done that. End of job. End of story. Contract terminated.”

You tried not to show how his last few words affected you. Though you had been a little intoxicated two nights ago, you still very much remembered how sweet he had been, how he had listened to you go on and on about your parents and how much you wanted to be a famous adventurer like your father. And how you almost kissed him. And how he was going to kiss you back. Stupidly, you had thought that there was something growing between you. Apparently, you had been wrong.

“Is that all I am to you?” you whispered. “A contract?”

Kim Junmyeon blew out haughtily from his nose. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You waited in hopes that he would contradict you. That he would say, no that was not all you were to him. And it really seemed like he would be saying something along those lines. But other words came out instead.

“Look. You can either come with me or you can try and stay here and save the world. So. What’s it going to be?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I’m staying.”

“Fine.” He headed for the door.

“Fine,” you bit back, following him.

“Fine,” he threw at you again as he barely glanced over his shoulder.

“Fine!”

He got the last word in before slamming the door to your room shut.

You huffed as you crossed your arms. Yet, as angry as you were, you still hoped that he would come back. That he wouldn’t let you take this on alone. But the footsteps on the other faded away and you were alone.

Looking around your room, you didn’t think there was much you could do. So, you did what you were best at. You grabbed all the books you thought could help you and got to reading.

While sitting in the wicker chair in the corner, you skipped around the books and pages, clinging on to any small word that you thought could lead you to a possible solution. There wasn’t much to be found, unfortunately. Most works spoke of how to perform the Hom-Dai and how it should never be performed due to the curse that awaits should the victim ever be awakened. You already knew that. You needed specifics on what to do after the victim came back.

“(Y/n)!”

Kim Junmyeon came bursting back into your room. You slammed the book in your hands closed, feeling very high and mighty indeed.

“Ah. Mr. Kim. Have you changed your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter now, he’s here!”

“What!”

He didn’t clarify as he hoisted you up out of the chair and pulled you out of the room, and into the hall. Through the windows, you watched in horror as fire fell from the heavens. The balls of flame engulfed anything it touched when it landed, whether it be plant or human life. Turning a corner, Kim Junmyeon ran into a room you knew was occupied by another one of the Americans that you had ran into on your way to Hamunaptra. You gasped.

In the chair, now nothing more than dried, husky skin and hollow bones was… oh, dear you couldn’t remember his name. You hadn’t bothered to learn them. You and Baekhyun had simply referred to them as the “Bloody Americans”. You were feeling a bit awful about that at the moment.

But you didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Standing in front of the fireplace was a new version of the mummy. His skin was starting to come together, though patches were still missing, allowing you to see the gray bone and lack of organs underneath. Kim Junmyeon pulled out both of his guns as the mummy stalked forward.

“We are in deep trouble,” he murmured before opening fire. The loud pops banged on your poor eardrums. You stumbled back a few steps to try and soften their blows. It didn’t work.

The bullets passed through the mummy as if they didn’t exist at all. Even when Oh Sehun and the other Americans came running into the room and firing off their own guns, the mummy still kept going. He shoved Kim Junmyeon back into the others as if he were nothing more than old wrappings. Then he turned on you.

Completely unarmed, you stumbled back until you were betrayed by the bookshelf behind you. There was nowhere to run. Instead of sucking out your liver, however, he spoke.

“You were the one who saved me from the afterlife.” His words were haunting, echoing as if he was speaking in a cavern. And the language he spoke… ancient Egyptian. You weren’t sure why you expected to speak anything else. Coming in closer, he lowered his voice. “I thank you.”

He leaned in his head, those very human eyes lowering to your lips. You turned your head away to try and avoid the kiss, confused as to why he was trying to seduce you.

Sharp, unpleasing notes from the piano pierced through the air. The mummy turned and gasped when he saw the white cat from your room walking across the keys. In a whirl of sand, he fled from the room.

“Oh, thank god,” you said with a heavy breath.

“No kidding,” Kim Junmyeon groaned as he sat up.

You ran to his side, fearful that he might have been injured. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes,” he huffed. With a very odd expression, he added, “And I told you to call me Junmyeon.”

To be honest, after your fight, you didn’t think you would be allowed to anymore. A strange silence settled between you. He was trying to say something with his gaze, but you couldn’t interpret it. So, instead, you helped him to his feet. “Come on. I know who we need to talk to about all of this.”

It took a while to get back to the museum that had employed you for the past year or so. Every street was full of panicking people. Flames no longer fell from the heavens, but little fires still raged on homes and carts. The Americans had declared that they were coming along, so your group was slower in moving. Although you didn’t really want the mummy bait to be anywhere near you, Junmyeon and Sehun decided that it would be better to keep an eye on them and - hopefully - keep them out of the mummy’s grasp.

“Dr. Bey!” You ran into the museum’s main storage room, happy when you saw the curator. But then you skidded to a stop at the sight that he wasn’t alone.

Ardeth was talking with him in hushed tones that stopped the second you appeared. Both men turned towards you, the curator wearing a very readable expression. It was one that stunk of “I told you so”. The others were only a few steps behind. As soon they, too, saw the unexpected visitor, Junmyeon, Sehun, and the Americans pulled out their guns while Baekhyun simply squeaked in surprise.

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Bey greeted as if this were any old meeting on a Tuesday.

“What is he doing here?” Junmyeon demanded. Even with the black tattoos etched under Ardeth’s eyes, you could tell that he was tired, dark circles from lack of sleep bruising his skin.

Dr. Bey raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to know? Or perhaps you would prefer to just shoot us?”

“Either sounds good.” Junmyeon cocked back the hammer of one of his guns for emphasis.

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Bullets won’t do any good here. Besides, you might damage some of the artifacts.”

Junmyeon failed to suppress a laugh over your concern. Despite the present danger, you still didn’t want to see the carriages or sacred jars damaged because someone got trigger happy. So, Junmyeon holstered his guns and the others soon followed suit. “All right. I’ll give a little faith.”

Dr. Bey motioned for the group to follow him in deeper. “We’re part of a secret society-”

“Aren’t they all?” Baekhyun muttered. Both you and Dr. Bey shot him glares that made him snap his mouth shut.

“For over three thousand years, we have guarded the City of the Dead. Once we reach manhood, we swear an oath to do anything and everything in our power to stop the high priest Imhotep from rising from the grave.”

“And now we have failed. Thanks to you.” Ardeth gave you a particularly pointed look.

By now, you were getting very irritated with the constant finger pointing. What was done was done. You were not going to show him any cowardice. “And that justifies the murder of innocent people?”

“Hm. To stop this creature?” Dr. Bey pretended to think for a moment. “Yes.”

Junmyeon, untroubled by that, raised his hand from the golden seat of a dead royal that he had taken over. “I have a question. Why doesn’t he seem to like cats?”

“Cats are the guardians of the underworld. He will fear them until he reaches full regeneration.”

“Then there will be nothing that he fears.” Worry was very much apparent in the soldier’s voice.

“And you know how he gets regenerated?” one of the Americans asked rhetorically.

The other one finished. “By tracking those of us down who opened the chest and sucking us dry like a nomad in the desert, that’s how!”

It was completely pointless to go over the things that were already known. Now was the time to try and piece the unused parts together. Two particular moments were sticking out in your head.

“Back in Hamunaptra, the priest - Imhotep - he called me Ack-Su-Namun. And then just now at the hotel, he….” You cringed at the memory, thankful that you didn’t have to feel the decomposed skin against your own. “He tried to kiss me.”

“It’s because of Anck-Su-Namun and his love for her that he was cursed,” Dr. Bey explained, exchanging a look with Ardeth. “Even after all this time….”

“He’s still in love with her?” Sehun finished with a scoff.

You appreciated the backstory, however - “As romantic as that is, what does that have to do with me?”

“Perhaps he will try to raise her from the dead once again?” Ardeth guessed.

“Yes,” Dr. Bey agreed solemnly. “And it would seem that he has already chosen his human sacrifice.”

All eyes in the room turned to you. Wonderful.

Not only were you the one who read from the book and raised him, but you would also be responsible for the return of his beloved, who was the reason he was cursed in the first place. Absolutely beautiful.

Baekhuyn came up behind you and patted your shoulder. “That is some rotten luck, dear cousin.”

“Actually, this could work in our favor,” Dr. Bey countered. “It could give us time that we desperately need to kill the creature.”

“We’ll need every second, I think,” Sehun said. He pointed towards the ceiling. “I think he’s getting stronger.”

Through the large window high up on the wall, the sun was in clear view. You all watched in horror as the moon moved too quickly across the sky and blocked the light from reaching Earth.

“I’m guessing this is the plague of darkness?” Baekhyun said ominously. You nodded slowly.

“Let’s go,” Junmyeon said softly beside you, his hand coming up protectively behind your back. “We’ve got to get back to the hotel and come up with a plan.”

“I’m just saying, it seems very stupid to comdem someone to a curse when the result of that would be for them to come back a supernatural creature who is practically unkillable.”

“The ancient Egyptians believed in balance,” you explained to Baekhyun for the hundredth time in your life. “To curse someone so badly in both this life and the next, there has to be a consequence to balance out the scales. If not, then the whole world could still fall apart, in even worse ways!”

“All of this is kind of pointless now, isn’t it?” Sehun sighed from the small table in the antechamber to your room. His feet were up on the polished surface as he leaned back in his seat. A look of irritation was etched on his face as he stared at your cousin. “What’s done is done. Right now, we need to focus on our next step.”

“Well, I know you two,” you pointed to the Americans, “opened the chest. As well as Barney. Was there anyone else?”

“The Egyptologist that was with us,” the shaggier one answered. “Professor Chamberlain. He has a temporary residence a few blocks over.”

“What about my best friend Beni?” Junmyeon asked. You nearly snorted. You knew the two of them were anything but friends.

“No. He ran out before we took the lid off. Ended up saving his own skin.”

“Sounds like Beni,” Junmyeon said dryly. “Okay. We’re going to go get the Professor. You four,” he pointed to all the men, “come with me. You, stay here.”

Oh, no you weren’t. “Excuse me! I am just as capable as any of them are. I will not- What do you think you’re doing!”

Junmyeon marched over to you, picked you up, and carried you over his shoulder until you were in your room. Then he dropped you on the floor, closed the door, and locked it tight. “This door doesn’t open.”

You didn’t know who he said it to, who he left in charge of watching you like an infant. It didn’t matter. You pounded your fist against the solid wood door. “Baekhyun! Junmyeon! Let me out! Baekhyun, you coward! Help me out here!”

“Sorry, cousin!” Baekhyun yelled on the other side of the door. “But… he’s got a gun.”

“Smart choice,” you heard Junmyeon say. Oh, you were going to kill him. Which “him” was yet to be decided. Perhaps both would be most satisfactory.

Well, now you were stuck here.

Crossing your arms, you sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated your choices. Not that you had many.

A yawn forced its way out. You were tired. Over the past few days, you had hardly been able to get any real sleep. And, well, now seemed to be a time. So, you changed into your nightgown and slipped under the covers. The mattress was soft, like a cloud. The pillows were stuffed into freshly cleaned cotton cases. It was barely a few minutes before you drifted off…

And then abruptly woke up to something moving against your mouth. It started out soft but quickly turned ashen and tough. Your eyes flew open and you screamed, the sound muffled by the kiss of Imhotep!

You tried to shove him off, but he didn’t budge. Your touch meant nothing to him as he continued the unwanted kiss.

The door to your room burst open, finally taking his attention and allowing your scream to be heard at full volume. Imhotep’s face was half rotten away, his lips completely gone, the cheeks held together by thin strips of jerky-like skin. You scrambled out of reach, to try and get as far away as the tiny room would allow. The movement caused you to fall out of the bed and land hard on the wood floor.

Standing up, Imhotep said something in ancient Egyptian, but your jumbled, still half-asleep brain couldn’t translate it.

“Oh, really?” Junmyeon mocked. “Here’s my answer.” He held up the poor cat who had saved you earlier, the animal hissing threateningly at the mummy. Just like last time, Imhotep fled in a tornado of sand out the window, terrified of the innocent creature.

“Are you alright?” Junmyeon asked as he let the cat fall from his hands. The cat landed gracefully on its feet and walked over to the bed with more dignity than you’d ever seen a human radiate.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Baekhyun answered. After a glare from Junmyeon, he cleared his throat. “Oh. You weren’t- that’s fine. Go… check on her.” Junmyeon did just that.

Kneeling in front of you, he pushed away a few stray hairs that had fallen in your face. Warm, soft brown eyes searched for any sign of harm. The tips of his fingers brushed against your cheek, setting the skin on fire. Or perhaps that was just the blood rushing up to your face in slight embarrassment. This man made you… nervous in a way. He could be dastardly at times, but… also very sweet.

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself up to your feet. “I’m fine. A little disgusted, but I’m fine.”

A smirk and knowing gleam flashed on Junmyeon’s face as he rose. “I’m sure mine was better.”

He was referring to the lip-smash he desperately pulled before he was to be dragged to the hangman’s noose. Not exactly the best first impression.

You snorted. “No. I wouldn’t say that.” His jaw went slack. Sehun and Baekhyun snickered behind him. “Did you find the professor?” you asked in order to change the subject.

“Yeah. He stayed out in the sun for a little long by the time we found him.”

“What are you-” Oh. Oh. That was why Imhotep was so far along in his regeneration. He’d found another victim to suck dry.

“And he has the Book of the Dead,” Sehun added. “According to Beni, that’s what he’s going to use to raise Anacsunmum.”

“Anck-Su-Namun,” you corrected.

“Yeah, her.”

You rolled your eyes. Why did you even bother?

You started pacing the room, trying to figure out what would be the best next move. You couldn’t keep playing hide and seek with the cat for all eternity. There needed to be a way to end this. Before he read from the book and raised-

The book…

The book!

You whirled back to the others. “I have an idea!”

“Care to share?”

“The Black book has always been rumored among scholars to be able to bring people back from the dead. Something I had always thought was nonsense,” you added to yourself. “But since that part is true, that means other rumors must be as well. Such as the Gold Book being able to send a soul back to the afterlife.”

“A balance.” Baekhyun looked awfully proud of himself. At least something finally stuck.

“Exactly. Now all we have to do is find out where it's hidden.”

Junmyeon frowned. “But I thought it was supposed to be hidden with Anubis?”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “It comes from a translation of an ancient text. A stone that’s at the museum here, actually. It also says where the Black book was supposed to be hidden. I think they got their translations mixed up. So, where the scholars who originally translated it said that the golden Book of Amun-Ra was in the statue of Anubis, it's actually wherever they said the black Book of the Dead was supposed to be.”

“And where is that?”

You swallowed. “I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to the museum so I can read it again.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Junmyeon checked the barrels of his guns, reloaded the revolvers with bullets from his belt. “Then I guess we’re headed back to the museum. Hopefully we don’t run into Ugly Face before we get to the rock.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said with the utmost confidence.

Sehun, who did not share that sentiment, looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh joy. Another book hunt.”

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fantasy au #exo fantasy!au #junmyeon x reader #junmyeon x fem!reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #exo mummy au #exo egypt au #exo 1920s au #byun baekhyun #oh sehun #exo adventure au #Book of the Dead

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panharmonium · 4 years

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you know what?

no. absolutely not.

i already did part 1 of this post here. i’m back again with part 2, because unfortunately the awfulness factor doesn’t stop with arthur, and as much as i adore hunith generally, this entire sequence is a MESS.

and yes, i am aware that pretty much nobody else thinks so. every time i see this scene referenced in fandom, it is always framed as a fun, cutesy, sing-songy moment of “oooo, hunith ships merthur!” literally every time.

which, you know, like i always say about everything fandom-related - that’s fine. everybody is going to enjoy things differently; you do you, and keep on having fun! but here on my own blog, in my own space, i am gonna do me, and in this case ‘me’ involves yelling about how much i can’t stand that particular read, and how angry the end of 1.10 makes me.

disclaimer, to help folks curate their own fandom experiences: i am going to be Very Cranky for the rest of this post. if you love this particular scene in the way i just mentioned, you will probably want to scroll on by, because this piece of meta most likely won’t be your jam. as always, these are my personal thoughts and nobody is obligated to share them, so please do not hesitate to simply skip this post if we are on different wavelengths - instead, keep enjoying fandom in whatever way is most fun for you!

fair warning now given, off i go on a long, frustrated tirade.

i already wrote about the first half of this scene, where arthur decides that the appropriate thing to do at this particular moment is to give merlin a scolding about the evils of sorcery, despite the fact that the only reason arthur is even alive to deliver this lecture in the first place is because merlin’s ‘sorcerer’ best friend just DIED saving arthur’s life. but sure, you know what, let’s use said best friend’s funeral to chastise merlin about how “dangerous” sorcerers are. let’s just make that completely dickheaded decision.

and, moving on to the second half of this scene - here’s the thing. hunith overhears this entire conversation. she overhears arthur telling merlin off about sorcery, in front of the burning corpse of merlin’s best friend, who is, as far as arthur knows, the ‘sorcerer’ who died saving arthur’s life.

and yet, for some inexplicable reason, hunith still cannot get off the arthur pendragon train for two damn seconds.

she has known arthur for less than a week. by contrast, she has known will for his entire life. but the instant arthur walks away, hunith sidles up next to merlin and says, “you’d better be going” - like. okay, my god, can you try to hustle him away from his best friend’s in-progress funeral any faster????? how about we maybe give him a second? the pyre hasn’t even burnt down yet, and merlin hasn’t had a single second to himself since this sequence started. he’s had to stand there and listen to arthur insult the dude who everyone is supposed to be memorializing, and then hunith - who overheard the entire thing - zips right over and tries to chivvy merlin on his way. you’d better be going.

HELLO?! the pyre is still roaring. how about, instead of hassling merlin and hustling him offstage, everybody just sits down and waits for a minute. how about they all just leave merlin alone for three everloving seconds.

honestly, just - every time i think about this scene i get angrier.

i love hunith, and i know she’s well-intentioned. but everything she gives merlin in this scene is the exact opposite of what he needs. he doesn’t need to be hurried off the village green like there’s some reason he can’t stay there for the entirety of his friend’s funeral. he doesn’t need to be pushed into going back to camelot when he is clearly struggling with the idea of leaving ealdor again. and he absolutely does not need to be told how much someone else “needs” him right now, when he himself is the one who is having a fucking crisis and who needs someone to take care of him.

i cannot emphasize that last point enough. it is just - beyond upsetting to me that hunith literally watches arthur shitting on merlin’s dead best friend (and, by proxy, merlin himself, since merlin is the actual sorcerer) and she still somehow thinks the right thing to do is walk over and start telling merlin how great arthur is and how arthur “needs” him and how merlin “belongs at arthur’s side.”

i can’t stand that. it makes me so angry. it’s not right. it’s not fair. it’s damaging. it’s the same shitty messaging that destroys merlin’s life in later seasons, this idea that he exists for someone else’s sake, the complete disregard for what he himself might want at any given moment, for what he himself might need, for the reservations he might have about this plan that other people have formulated for his life.

he is UNCOMFORTABLE when she says these things to him! he doesn’t look at her; he shifts his gaze to arthur and the camelot squad with this grim, unconvinced expression on his face, and then he averts his eyes from her.

everything hunith tells merlin in this scene is the exact opposite of what he needs to hear. he does not need someone to tell him how badly his services are “needed” by a man who hates the person merlin truly is, not when the only friend who ever accepted merlin’s true self has just been killed. he does not need to be told that arthur, who is alive solely because will is dead and who only seconds ago expressed exactly zero gratitude for that sacrifice, is the person to whom merlin owes his undying loyalty. he does not need to be shuffled off to camelot as quickly as possible, as if it would be better for him to just rush forward and forget what happened here, as if what happened here didn’t matter.

because what happened here did matter, whether hunith and arthur find it convenient to acknowledge or not. i have to lay this out again, because what happened to merlin in ealdor is so much more important than anybody ever seems to realize - and i do understand that, i really do (because yes, it was just one episode for us) - but we have to look at it from merlin’s perspective, not the audience’s.

will wasn’t ‘one episode’ for merlin.

i can’t say this enough times. i cannot say this loudly enough.

merlin, at the beginning of this show, has only ever had ONE FRIEND.

most of us can’t even imagine something like that.

but try. TRY.

merlin has only ever had one friend. he’s only ever had one friend to love him. he only had one friend for the first two decades of his life. he’s only been in camelot for a couple of months; he’s only known these camelot people for a couple of months, and they don’t know his real self anyhow. and now his ONLY FRIEND, the person he’s known all his life, the only friend he ever had who knew him for who he truly was, was just violently cut down before his very eyes, whilst saving a guy who can legally have merlin murdered for just existing. and even though merlin and will spend the entirety of 1.10 having a painful, complicated argument, will still uses his last moments on earth to tell the biggest fucking whopper of his life, in order to shield merlin from harm, taking all of the danger and infamy and condemnation upon himself. he dies with a lie on his lips. he dies with merlin’s hand in his hair.

and all the while, merlin knows that this would not have happened if he had just been willing to use his magic in the first place, instead of letting his fear of discovery prompt him into allowing his neighbors to offer themselves up for the slaughter in his place.

the avalanching double-whammy of grief and guilt that merlin is suddenly slammed with at the end of this episode is almost incomprehensible in scale.

i’ve talked about this before, but again, i think it’s something we don’t generally remember: losing will is the first time merlin has ever experienced personal bereavement. and he doesn’t get to start out with a warm-up; he goes straight to the big leagues. this is not some trifling thing. this is a total implosion of merlin’s world as he knows it.

when we think about the mark this episode leaves on merlin’s life, i don’t think most of us consider the magnitude of this event deeply enough. losing will in this way is not some one-off thing that merlin just...gets over. this is the most earth-shattering thing that has ever happened to him, at this point in time. it is still one of the worst things that has ever happened to him, period, even years later. the guilt never goes away.

and the thing that’s unique about this particular trauma is that merlin has to manage it alone. there are other tragedies in his life where we witness him receiving support/comfort from others - freya, lancelot, balinor (though of course there are aspects to these miseries that merlin has to keep secret from other people, as well) - but with will, merlin has to do everything on his own. he can’t get one single moment of peace at will’s funeral. his own mother, the only person who knows what really happened, can’t help him without making everything about arthur. and merlin can’t tell anyone else what happened, not the truth of it, because doing so would squander the gift he’s been given - will’s lie is still protecting him, years later, from arthur and morgana both.

merlin, at the end of 1.10, is forced to navigate this grief completely alone, in the silent secrecy of his own heart. arthur is actively making it worse. hunith is out here singing arthur’s praises. and will is just like - he’s suddenly not part of the conversation anymore. he doesn’t even register on anyone’s radar.

it truly is...incredible, for me, to watch hunith overhear arthur being legitimately terrible to both merlin and the guy who just died saving merlin AND arthur’s lives, and then to see her come over and start talking about how merlin belongs at arthur’s side, how much merlin needs to be there for him, how they’re two sides of the same coin. meanwhile, the guy who literally just lied his life away to protect merlin’s secret and who NEVER made merlin feel like he had to hide who he was and who never had any problem with magic in the first place and never made merlin feel unsafe and never treated merlin like he was less of a human being just for existing -

- he’s just burning to ash there, and hunith doesn’t even acknowledge that, despite the fact that merlin is so visibly, intently, single-mindedly focused on that funeral pyre, and so clearly in distress and in pain and NEEDING somebody. all she can talk about is merlin’s responsibility to arthur.

the dissonance here is baffling. hunith has known will forever. she met arthur less than a week ago. she barely knows him, and what she does know is that he thinks magic-users are dangerous/evil. she saw him being a dick to her kid. she knows her son is having the worst day of his life. and she still doesn’t offer a single comforting word in reference to the person who just died protecting merlin’s secret, instead choosing to wax poetic about a man whose bigotry is what merlin needed protecting from in the first place.

that...is a hot mess. the merlin-hunith-will dynamic is one of the few things in this show that reflects less-than-stellarly on hunith’s character, however much i love her. and even though it all stems from an overwhelming desire to keep her son safe, it doesn’t make her choices any less damaging. she sends merlin away specifically because she finds out that will knows about his secret. she spends 1.10 analyzing and encouraging and dissecting merlin’s relationship with arthur, when merlin’s relationship with will is the one that desperately needs attention. she’s proven wrong about will’s trustworthiness in the most stunning, powerful way possible, and then she never even acknowledges him, instead choosing to laud the dude who literally forces merlin to live in fear of execution.

she’s merlin’s mother. she’s the only person in his life who knows anything about what will actually meant to him. she is his only possible resource as he tries to weather a kind of devastation that defies description.

and she, like arthur, just barrels right on ahead and makes everything about someone else.

the cinematography choices in this scene matter. whenever arthur or hunith tries to talk to merlin, the camera is placed on the opposite side of the fire from them, meaning the flames are always in the foreground of the frame. they are something we are required to see and look past before we can get to anything else in the scene. and in terms of directorial/acting decisions - merlin doesn’t take his eyes off the pyre until the end of his conversation with hunith. not once while talking to arthur does he look away from it.

the funeral pyre is always in the foreground of the shot, because it’s in the forefront of merlin’s mind. that is where his focus is right now. that is what is taking up all of his attention. that is what is edging into the frame, eating up our entire field of view. that is what he needs help with.

but he doesn’t get any such support. the entire sequence ends up revolving around arthur. will’s entire funeral is about arthur fucking pendragon. arthur inserts himself so he can talk to merlin about how evil magic is, and then hunith inserts herself so she can talk to merlin about how great arthur is. nobody ever stops to think that maybe merlin doesn’t want to talk to anybody right this second. merlin’s entire ‘farewell’ to the only true friend he ever had in his life is completely swallowed up by the prince of camelot, and if that isn’t a metaphor for the rest of merlin’s life, then i don’t know what is.

i know nobody needs to hear this, because very few people are invested in this kid at the same level of embarrassing detail as me, but here it is, anyway.

yes, will is prickly. he’s hard to get on with. he’s angry. he’s bitter and snappy and uncharitable, sometimes.

but you know what? he has every reason to be like that.

this kid has nobody. his own best friend’s mother - who has known him all his life - doesn’t trust him and doesn’t respect him. she is too afraid for her own son’s safety to give will any credit. she sends merlin away to camelot, the most violently anti-magic place in the world, because apparently, will knowing about merlin’s secret would be even more dangerous than uther pendragon’s genocidal reign.

think about how that would feel. to hear something like that about yourself. to be somebody who is already so goddamn alone in the world, and to have your only friend vanish without so much as a ‘see you later,’ and then to be made to feel, however indirectly, like this is somehow your fault, like you’re the liability, like you’re the untrustworthy element here. as if you, somehow, are more dangerous than a king who literally pays to have sorcerers trafficked to him in cages.

will has every right to be upset, all the time. he has every reason to be angry, and bitter, and hurt, all the time. to be thought so poorly of - to be held in such low esteem - when he hasn’t done anything wrong, when he hasn’t ever done anything to earn that kind of mistrust - and to have that same misplaced suspicion used to justify separating him from the only person in the world who gives a damn about him - if it were me, i would be constantly on the verge of screaming, all the time.

will has always been on merlin’s side, and he has never done anything to endanger him, and in the end he gives up everything to make sure merlin can stay safe and hidden and unhunted. he shouldn’t have needed to prove his goodness, his constancy, his worth; not when he’s already kept merlin’s secret for who knows how many years, but even after he does do so, it doesn’t even matter. arthur acknowledges him only to disparage sorcery. hunith passes him over completely in favor of praising arthur, with no acknowledgment of the misjudgment she made.

i have said before that merlin tends to befriend people who have nobody, people who’ve been left behind by the rest of the world, people who’ve been made to feel that they aren’t worthy of love. and will, merlin’s oldest friend, was the first of those many characters, and it is so heartbreaking to me that in this instance, the same kind of disinterested and careless attitude towards his worth that dogged him all his life is perpetuated and affirmed after his death. ‘people are used to ignoring him,’ merlin tells arthur, and merlin is right - even when will is dead and burning, arthur only sees sorcery. hunith, who we would expect to be more sympathetic, only sees arthur.

merlin is the only one who knows better. merlin has always known better, and he loves will so much, but he is the only one, apparently, and honestly, after will dies? nobody else even tries to understand.

to sum up:

hunith and arthur, for all that i love them, are both way out of line at the end of this episode.

the legacy of this experience, for merlin, is that he spends the rest of his life processing this particular trauma alone. and that is why i always, always have to keep will and ealdor in the back of my mind when i write for merlin in any capacity - because this event isn’t some simple stumbling block for him; it changes him forever. it teaches him what he can and can’t expect from the people around him, and it solidifies how irrelevant his own needs are when viewed in comparison with arthur’s, even to people who barely even KNOW arthur; people who are supposed to put merlin first over everything. it teaches merlin to bury his sorrow, and to wrestle with personal suffering in secret, because if things aren’t ultimately about arthur, then they aren’t important enough to be granted any significant amount of time for merlin to deal with. merlin’s own grief, even at his best friend’s funeral, takes too long to resolve. arthur walks away from the pyre, and it’s time for merlin to leave, too. you’d better be going.

bottom line: i don’t care if other people think this whole ‘ooo, everybody wants merlin to be with arthur’ thing is wonderful or beautiful or dreamily romantic. it isn’t. it’s ugly, and it’s cruel, and it stripped merlin of his present identity and his future potential, one stolen moment at a time.

#and that's what i have to say about that #so.#in case you all weren't already aware #will is a goddamn hero #and merlin misses him every day #the once and future slowburn #meta #no kings no masters

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exhxustxd · 2 years

Text

oakley “oak” casillas is here.

basic information:

full name: oakley “oak” casillas

nickname(s): they just go by oak really

age: 42

date of birth: june 3rd

hometown: los angeles, california

current location: outer costello, california

ethnicity: mexican, irish

nationality: american

gender: non-binary

pronouns: they/them

orientation: pansexual

occupation: club manager/dj/podcast host

living arrangements: lives with carrie, aspen and dorito

language(s) spoken: english, spanish

physical appearance:

face claim: sara ramirez

hair color: black

eye color: dark brown

height: 5′9

tattoos: a shit ton by now, used to be a tattoo artist after all

piercings: just ears

clothing style: techwear, big black boots, cool hoodies, t-shirts or longsleeves with cool prints, leather jacket

usual expression: one arched eyebrow

distinguishing characteristics: i mean – a nugget?

health:

physical ailments: –

neurological conditions: –

allergies: tbd

sleeping habits: used to be a very heavy sleeper until aspen came around, but anything will wake them up now. if they get seven hours they’ll usually be good to go with a cold brew coffee in their hand though

eating habits: eats quite healthy at home, but will sneak some junk food whenever they eat at work

exercise habits: not great, but goes for a run every now and then whenever they feel like it, and loves a good day out with the family skiing during winter

emotional stability: they’re at a 7/10 right now

sociability: very friendly and loves talking to new people as they are very curious, and will remember every face they meet

body temperature: like a space heater

addictions: cold brew coffe, weed or cigarettes

drug use: weed

alcohol use: minimal

personality:

positive traits: charismatic, funny, curious

negative traits: elusive, detached, closed off

fears: anything hurting aspen or carrie, snakes, spiders

hobbies: perfecting their cold brew coffee recipe, curating playlists

favorites:

weather: snowwww

color: black

music: pop

movies: comedies

sport: women’s soccer

beverage: cold brew coffee

food: tacos

animal: cats

song: life is funny – role model

family:

father: tbd

mother: tbd

sibling(s): two younger sisters

spouse: carrie casillas

children: a daughter, aspen casillas

pet(s): dorito the cat

extra:

zodiac: gemini

bio:

oak always stood out in a crowd. very early on, they realized that they didn’t identify with the gender they were assigned at birth, and just did their own thing instead.

it wasn’t until they were two years into their college degree that they came out as non-binary to their parents, who to oak’s big surprise had absolutely no issues with it.

after college in new york city, oak came back home, having missed it a little too much for comfort. they started as an apprentice at one of the tattoo shops in town, with a side hustle gig at one of the night clubs in order to make ends meet. eventually they started taking their passion for music seriously and started getting dj sets at the club, while taking on more responsibility for the club.

oak didn’t really notice carrie until she started working at the club. they had always been one to make a point of getting to know everyone who worked there, and the second they got to know each other, oak started gravitating towards her.

when one of carrie’s friends made them aware of how the other felt, oak was sold.

they moved in together and started building a life for themselves. while oak had never seen themself as a person who wanted children, carrie flipped it on its head the second it was mentioned in conversation. they quickly realized that their reservations had never really had anything to do with how they actually felt, rather than their fear of commitment.

throughout their process of trying for a baby, every time it didn’t stick, oak got more and more defeated. it felt like this one thing they all of a sudden craved so deeply wasn’t meant for them. as if the universe was telling them this wasn’t meant to be. oak agreed to one last try before they would let it go for a while – without little to no hope it would work this time around.

when it seemed like it was out of the question, the pair packed up and moved to taos, needing a change of scenery. oak had gotten a sweet gig as a club manager, where they could throw the events they wanted and dj to their heart’s content.

however, as they were starting to finally feel at peace moving into their new home, the revelation of carrie’s pregnancy hit oak like a ton of bricks. while they were ecstatic that it had finally worked, oak felt more than unprepared, especially with going into their new jobs and not having their home in order yet.

when aspen came around though, everything else faded away. she is oak’s baby girl, and they would do anything for her.

oak has over the years developed a strong need to advocate for lgbtqia+ rights and issues, and will from time to time put on events and such for the community around the resort.

recently, they also started a podcast focused on lgbtqia+ topics, and would love to have every single person in town on it, even if it is just to understand someone new just a little bit better.

oak has a childlike curiosity, feeling like they could always do more to understand other people as well as themself.

oak’s the type of person who knows a little bit about everything.

being as perceptive and social as they are, they recognize just about every face in town, and they will try their best to make you their friend.

oak struggled for a while with committing to a serious relationship. it had to be with the right person, and it had to be someone who could challenge and intrigue them on a daily basis. carrie proved to be that person for them.

and if there’s one thing oak is good at, it’s slipping away from a situation they’re uncomfortable in.

#[oak] look i’m tryna keep it cool but please don’t break me #[oak] intro #taos.intro

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

What A Tease: Unprofessional [M]

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: smut / museum au / boss x worker

Warnings: semi-public space (museum office) / tension-filled and mutual pining finally given into / smut

Word count: 1232

Thank you to everyone who supported this series.

You looked insatiable today and Jinyoung couldn’t concentrate.

As head curator of the museum, you spent a lot of time in his office and he was certain today would be another frustrating session of him asking you to repeat yourself multiple times because his mind couldn’t stop fantasising over you to take in the information you were sharing. He’d never met someone before who could so easily unravel him from the modest man he strived to maintain being, straining to control himself whenever you were in the same room as him.

“Did you manage to secure that final eighteenth-century guard for the upcoming exhibit?” he asked and you smiled politely.

“Mr Park, I just mentioned I had.”

“Right. Of course. You did” he answered brokenly, unbuttoning the cuff to both of his sleeves so he could roll them up his forearms. You watched the action quietly, and with his distracted gaze, Jinyoung managed to catch you staring.

It didn’t help that he was aware you held some attraction for him either. Unlike him, you never completely showed how it affected you, merely pausing for a moment before blinking the desire away. He, however, was attempting to cool off physically from his embarrassment of not catching what you had said yet again, and the one too many glances at your curves that had been extenuated by your pencil skirt. Popping open the buttons at his collar, he hardened his gaze onto the paperwork between you, determined to take control of himself and the situation once again.

“Would you like me to get you some water?” you offered and he waved you off silently, not wanting to answer that he was indeed thirsty.

It was ridiculous how you made him this way.

Jinyoung managed to finish the meeting without any further mishaps, smiling weakly at your final suggestions at the door to his office before he shut it behind your departure, letting out what felt like his first proper breath since being in your company.

He was exhausted by the time he rounded his desk and sat down in his chair again, leaning back into the leather seat and closed his eyes. His energy was spent from controlling himself so much, and despite the internal scolding he was logically giving himself, it didn’t stop you from appearing behind his eyelids, tantalising him further.

“Why do you make me feel like a teenage boy in heat, Y/N?” he murmured aloud, his eyes snapping open when he heard something drop.

You had somehow made it back inside the office unheard, the file you had been holding now scattered all over the floor. Your eyes darted between that and him, your mouth somewhat ajar at his statement.

“Y/N… I uh-”

“You’re not exactly one to play fair either, Mr Park,” you confessed, stepping over the mess you had created, pointing at him accusingly. “Must you be so difficult to deal with?!”

“Me? Difficult?! I’ve never heard-”

“One look from you has me grappling onto all remaining sense of decency,” you admitted, your eyes falling to his forearms in distaste. “You roll up your sleeves and expose your arms at the most inopportune times and I’m certain whenever you laugh, it’s in attempts to ensure I’m thinking of you long into the night.”

“Really?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “You make it hard for me to maintain my professionalism, Mr Park.”

A small part of him wondered if he had fallen asleep and this was all a dream. And yet, he pushed back his seat and stood up, rounding the desk to where you had stopped, unsure if he should come any closer in the wake of your confession. Your eyes were round, swirling with vulnerability and lust. Even if you were hesitant right now, you were liberated from expressing yourself.

He had never found you more attractive than now.

Slowly, he moved into your space and you smiled, stepping back. “What are you thinking right now, Mr Park?”

“I’m thinking that a beautiful woman who drives me insane every day just confessed that I do much in the same to her and I want to know what she tastes like,” he stated, moistening his lips and parting them in anticipation.

Your eyes filled with desire further. “Right now?”

“Mm.”

“Shouldn’t we go somewhere more private?”

“No one else comes into this office nearly as much as you do, Y/N,” he reminded, still walking into your moving form. Eventually, your back hit the wall behind you right as his hand came up to balance on it. Jinyoung could tell the idea of being trapped here excited you and he smirked, placing the other hand upon the opposite side of you.

After a shaky inhale, you angled your head towards his. “Well, do you plan on taking forever?”

It was enough to cross the line, Jinyoung’s lips finding yours, the heat within him soaring. His palms pressed into the wall as he craved more connection with you, his body now against yours. Your hands slid up his chest and linked behind his head, arching away from the wall and further into him. Tongues collided, stars formed behind his eyes and he was certain the coiled tension between you had snapped. He couldn’t think straight, all he wanted was to have more of you and he wasn’t prepared to wait for it.

His lips moved onto your neck, trailing down to your collar bone as his fingers moved to blindly tug at the buttons of your blouse. You moaned into his ear when his teeth came out to graze over your skin, throwing your hips forward into his, unsettling him from his intended pathway. Jinyoung’s head shot up and he looked at your dishevelled state, blinking softly.

“Is everything alright, Mr Park?” you breathed, your hands now smoothing over the bare skin you had exposed from undoing his own shirt.

“Shit, Y/N, just call me Jinyoung.”

“Well, Jinyoung, as much as I can appreciate that this is going to end me and my ability to maintain my cool around you in the future, I have to admit, we don’t have all the time to remain just exploring one another. I suggest we either accept that this needs to stop now, or…” you trailed off as your hand slipped south, cupping over the outside of his evident struggle for you. You smiled smugly. “Or we tend to this growing need between us before someone walks in on us. I know you have a meeting in Dinosaur World for an inspection of the exhibit in twenty minutes. Will that be enough?”

Hastily hiking up your skirt and bunching it around your waist, Jinyoung cursed. “Even if it’s not, I hope you don’t think this will end just here.”

“On the contrary, I’m hoping that you plan on doing things more appropriately from here on out. One act of being unprofessional is more than enough, don’t you think?”

Jinyoung exposed himself just enough to have clear access to enter you and after applying protection with the condom he thankfully carried in his wallet, he did just that. Smirking as you both adjusted to the internal connection he had just made, he ran a hand tenderly over your jawline. “I very much doubt that this will be the last time I have you pinned up against this wall moaning out my name, Y/N.”

_________________

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majesticbrownjawn · 4 years

Text

The Best Man

Things get complicated when the best man looks like him ⬆️ But probably not complicated in the way you’re thinking.

Oldie from Wattpad. ‼️Chris=Erik‼️ I ain’t feel like going thru and changing his name. Deal with it. I wrote it with Erik in mind though. Enjoy boos❤️

——————————

His hands unashamedly gripped her ass, making her jump in shock.

"We can't do this Chris..." her voice faded out in the most unconvincing way, letting him know she was enjoying the moment as much as he was. When he pressed his lips against hers, she kissed him back, forgetting where she was and focused on his tongue entering her mouth. Ms. Johnson was quickly brought back down to Earth when her phone started vibrating in her hand, reminding her it was almost time for the mother/son dance. Sanai was a stickler for things being on schedule and wanted everything to be perfect for Bryan's big day, which to her meant keeping to the strict time table she mapped out.

She finally broke away from the younger man, staring him down with a frustrated look before disappearing into the large crowd of people to find her pursuer's best friend and the groom--her son.

***

Sanai Johnson was a woman with a plan, well, at least since she had become a mother at the age of 16. She fell in love with her son's father, August, and she thought he felt the same until he disappeared six months into her pregnancy. He was from the other side of the tracks, the "right" side. His parents were wealthy and he had earned a scholarship to a prestigious university a few hours away. When he finally showed up fours years later begging for Sanai to take him back so they could be a family, it was way too little, too late. From the moment he stepped back into their lives, he proved to be a great father to Bryan, and that was all she wanted from him. He on the other hand, had just stopped confessing his love for her just over a year ago before their son's 25th birthday--when he showed up to Bryan's party with a woman who looked just a few years older than the birthday boy himself.

It was funny, after all these years of refusing him, Sanai was actually contemplating giving August another chance and then he shows up with with some young girl. Oh well, she thought. She had bigger fish to fry, like planning the wedding she never got to have. It's not that she couldn't have gotten married in the past or sometime in the future for that matter, she was still in her early 40s, but could easily pass for someone a decade younger. She'd loss count of all the times people mistook her for Bryan's sister. Her buxom figure, glowing skin and beautiful features added to her appeal, but she always fell just shy of being completely confident in her appearance.

Where she lacked confidence in the physical, she made up for it in business and street smarts. While August was doing God knows what those four years in college, she graduated from high school early and started working at a museum. Little did she know she'd fall in love with art history and would later become one of the most sought after and well paid art curators in the country. She got to where she was by working hard and staying focused, which for her didn't leave much room for romance.

The wedding weekend had finally come and the guests had started to arrive at her large estate. She planned a series of events designed to make the large 250 person guest list feel a little smaller. This first event, brunch, was purposely hosted at her home to make everyone feel a little more comfortable mingling and getting to know each other.

"Chris!" Bryan was ecstatic to see his best friend who was more like a big brother to him. He flew across the foyer and embraced Chris, who he hadn't seen in almost three years. The two met when Bryan was in the 7th grade and Chris was in the 10th grade at a basketball camp. Chris was Bryan's counselor and the youngster immediately took to the older boy, following him around and following his lead in almost anything he did, except when Chris moved to China. Ms. Johnson wasn't having that. Both men studied business at the same university and started learning Chinese in high school, continuing through college. After graduating, Chris decided to take a job in Beijing making just under seven figures at a budding tech start-up.

"It's been too long, man." Chris was just as excited to see his friend, but was always more reserved than him, being careful to save his energy for just the right time. He knew this weekend would be full of exciting and possibly emotionally draining moments, so he decided to ease his way in.

"So your mom got it like this now? No wonder she invited the wedding party to stay here. This place is massive." He looked around absolutely impressed with his surroundings.

"I know right? When's the last time you've seen her? Like right after I graduated?"

"Yea--high school, I think. Maybe when you moved into your dorm freshman year."

"Well, she's around here somewhere. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. Let me show you where you'll be staying."

***

Sanai was the kind of woman who always had things under control, but her son's wedding had her out of sorts. She was so hell-bent on everything being perfect that she was stressing about every little detail. She did a self-check about 30 minutes ago, realizing her worries were affecting the time she was having, so she took a couple mimosas to the head to take the edge off.

After settling in, Chris made his way back downstairs and gave himself a tour of the home. Along the way, there was a woman who he couldn't stop looking at from afar as she weaved in and out of the crowd. The red dress she wore was what caught his eye first. Then as he closed in on her, her familiar smile pulled him in, making him wonder if he and Bryan went to college with her because she seemed to know a lot of people here. He approached her from behind, placing his hand on the small of her back and leaned into her, introducing himself.

"Hi, I'm Chris. Do I know you? You look so familiar." When she turned around and he finally got an up close look at her, he immediately knew who she was. "Ms. Johnson?"

She smiled and answered, "In the flesh." Instead of letting her go, he froze, still holding her close as she now faced him.

"Uh, uh--it's good to see you," he finally spoke up, his arm still holding her tight. "You haven't aged a day. You're so...beautiful," he blurted out. It was like he was seeing her for the time. In a way he was, this was his first time seeing her as a man.

"Thank you, Chris. It's good to see you too," she replied blandly, gently patting him on his chest, trying to release herself from his grip. Despite trying to get away from him, Sanai certainly noticed what a handsome man Chris had become. She was on the taller side for a woman, but he easily towered over her at 6'4". His frame was full, with just the right amount of grown man thickness she liked. The rest of brunch Sanai was slightly distracted by Chris, partly because she was so shocked at how much he'd grown up and also because she thought she caught him watching her. It was probably just her imagining things.

That night after dinner at the house with the bridal party, Sanai was cleaning up the living area when she felt a quiet presence enter the space.

"Can I help, Ms. Johnson?"

"Oh, please call me Sanai, you're grown now, Chris."

"Ok. So tell me Sanai, what's your secret?" She looked at him confused. "I meant what I said earlier. You haven't aged. It's incredible. You look incredible." He didn't try to hide the fact that his eyes couldn't stop taking her body in.

She blushed at his comment but tried her best not to act phased by his repeated mention of her looks.

"Well, you certainly have changed."

"I hope that's a good thing," he smirked. "How are you dealing with Bryan getting married? I assume it can't be easy to let go of your only child. And you're single, right? I'm sure you've thought about how lonely it may get, him not being around as much."

"Bryan has been on his own for a while now. I'll manage."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How will you manage, Ms. Johnson?" His tone seemed a bit suggestive, but she figured maybe it was the wine she drank playing tricks on her.

He was, of course being suggestive in the slightest way. His immediate attraction her earlier today threw him off initially, but that wasn't going to happen again this weekend. He decided everything else he'd say and hopefully do to her his weekend would be very deliberate.

"I mean, I'm sure you have needs, right?" He moved closer to her, so close that she had no choice but to look at him As his tilted his head sideways at her seductively.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think you know exactly what I mean, Sanai." Chris' hand slowly traced up the side of her body, carefully following the curve of her hip upwards, stopping just below her bust. She watched his hand closely, allowing his touch to send a shiver up her spine.

"Your behavior is so inappropriate Chris." She said it so sternly that he momentarily forgot he was a grown ass man now who could pursue her without worrying about getting in 'trouble.'

He lifted his hands in surrender and openly watched her as she nervously cleaned up a few more things before heading upstairs. He noticed the way her breathing picked up when he touched her. The goosebumps on her arms told him she enjoyed his hands on her, despite her calling his actions "inappropriate." Chris laid in the bed that night, thinking about her and trying his best to ignore the nagging feeling of his dick hard-pressed against his shorts. The hornier and unsatisfied he was, he figured, the more persistent he'd be about getting a taste of Ms. Johnson.

***

The following afternoon, the bridal party gathered in the foyer of Sanai's home to learn the tango for the reception. After the instructor paired everyone up, Sanai noticed Chris was missing, but remembered he didn't have a partner because as the best man, it was his job to walk the grandmothers and her down the aisle.

"Looking for me?" She jumped at the sound of his voice.

"No, Chris. Why would I be?" She figured if she acted like she was uninterested in his attention that he'd leave her alone. She had another thing coming though. The more time Chris spent in her presence, the more his desire for her increased. Even if he wasn't able to see straight through her hard-to-get act, it wouldn't have stopped him from doing all he could to get her.

He bent down and bowed, lifting his hand to hers, "May I have this dance?" He grabbed her hand but she quickly yanked it away.

"Come on, don't be like that, Sanai."

"Maybe you should call me Ms. Johnson after all."

"I'll call you whatever you want. Just dance with me. Please." He was a little surprised when she took his hand and stood close to him. He took the lead, already familiar with the sensual dance. His hand rested low on her back and he used it to push her lower half into his. Front to front, Sanai could feel Chris' bulge brushing up against her as they moved across the foyer.

"You know I had a crush on you back in the day right?" He whispered closely to her face.

"Excuse me?" She cackled at his comment but he pulled her closer, feeling like she'd walk away from him at any second.

"Honestly, I wasn't even tryna be Bryan's friend at first when we were kids...I just needed an excuse to be around you," he continued. "You were just so creative and kind. I didn't know a mother could be so damn beautiful." Sanai blushed at his memory of her.

"I used to love to come over so I could see you walk around the house in those baggy t-shirts with no bra. Watching you in them little ass shorts had me on hard every time. I can't tell you how many times I had wet dreams about you, Ms. Johnson."

Sanai could feel Chris' excitement pressing up against her. Wisdom urged her to break away from him, but her body begged her to stay put. It had been so long since she allowed a man to be this close to her. And he just smelled and looked so good.

"Are you serious? Why are you telling me this now?" She shouldn't have asked, but her curiosity and her attraction to him was getting the best of her.

"Because it's the truth...and because I always fantasize about being close to you, just like this." The pair was face to face, their foreheads pressed against the other's. Lucky for them, no one would think anything of it because the tango called for that intimate positioning.

"You always fantasize? Or you used to?" She asked her question while looking him square in the eyes.

"Can I cut in?" Bryan's father looked at Chris suspiciously for a moment before taking Sanai's hand and trying to shake off the notion that his son's best friend was doing what it looked like he was doing—pushing up on Sanai. Their interaction would have looked innocent to the average person, but August recognized game when he saw it. He stayed close to Sanai the rest of the day just in case his suspicions about Chris were correct.

***

Hey, can you come downstairs for a minute please?

The text came in to Sanai's phone after 1 a.m. that night.

Who is this?

Guess 😈

I don't have time for games. Who is this?

It's Chris. I want to apologize.

Sanai made her way downstairs cautiously, as not to wake anyone in the house. When she laid eyes on him, she immediately knew she was in trouble. Chris wore a pair of silk pajama pants that left little for her to imagine about how girthy he was and the way his arms looked in the wife beater he wore was already doing things to her.

"He's Bryan's best friend..." She reminded herself as she approached him.

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

"Don't be cute, Chris."

"I hope I'm cute to you."

"I thought you want to apologize for your behavior?"

"Oh yea, I do." The pair was whispering trying not to wake anyone, especially Bryan. It would be hard to explain why they were down here whispering at this hour. Her home was large enough that no one would have heard them anyway, but that fact eluded them both in the moment. "Is there somewhere we can talk without having to whisper?" he asked.

She looked him over trying to decide if she could trust him being alone with her. He'd been so bold the last few days.

She decided she probably couldn't trust him, but still answered, "Sure, follow me."

***

So there are three, maybe four 🤔completed parts to this miniseries but the series itself isn’t completed. Hopefully posting this here will motivate me to finally finish it (it’s been like two years 🥴) I know y’all are waiting on Delicte part 4. Wrote on it some tonight and plan to have it up in the next week. Thanks for reading🖤

#erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #killmonger x black!reader #erik killmonger fic #michael b jordan

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serendipitous-magic · 4 years

Text

Why Don’t We Read: An Impromptu Essay By Me Because I’m Mad

You know how everyone is always saying “oh, I was such a big reader when I was a kid but I just don’t read books anymore, I don’t know what happened”? And how old people are always griping about “This is called a BOOK, it has no commercials and no loading screens, hardy har har har snorf har”?

What if it’s because we just don’t have time anymore?

Think about it. More and more and more of our time on earth is eaten up at our jobs just trying to survive in an economy where “minimum wage” covers maybe 1/3 of bare minimum expenses. And not only that, but we’re expected to juggle more and more and more things every single day. Long, uninterrupted hours simply... do not exist anymore.

Every day you have to not only commute to work, and then work, and then commute back, plus all the little chores and mundanities that make up every day life, cooking food and then eating food and folding laundry and cleaning and putting gas in the car and don’t forget that dentist appointment and better call Mom and if you have a lawn you have to water it and weed it and you have to figure out if you have enough to pay rent this month and you still have to call FedEx about that missing package and now you have to cook again and now there’s more laundry and so many emails to respond to and it’s been months since you washed your sheets hasn’t it and

BUT THEN

You are expected to do and be and keep up with so many things.

You’re supposed to work out, or jog, or do yoga, and you’re supposed to meditate or do a breathing exercise daily because it’s good for you, and while you’re at it, make sure that your living space looks like a magazine or an Instagram post, you need X minutes of sunshine a day to be healthy and Y minutes of exercise and Z number of steps, and you need to be an environmentalist and make sure you’re doing your part to save the planet, and you need to be constantly self improving, you need to be learning a language on Duolingo and doing projects like crocheting or writing or antiquing, you have to be completely unproblematic and constantly monitor everything you do and say and post because one tiny little thing can have the internet jumping down your throat, you’re supposed to be a nutritionist and a fitness nut and an expert on everything you talk about because society has become so black and white that saying “I don’t know” or “I didn’t know that before” is looked on as unacceptable, you’re supposed to know what’s in your coffee and where it came from, you’re supposed to be a son a daughter a sibling a parent a student a mentor but also you’re supposed to be an interior designer, a small business owner (if you do any kind of Etsy or commission thing), a revolutionary (you’d better care about every overwhelming, exhausting injustice in the world and you’d better take action against it - see below), a curator (if only of your own blog), a rhetor (you’d better damn well know how to argue or you’re screwed in this society), a teacher (because school districts don’t teach anyone shit), a negotiation expert because it is car salesmen and insurance agencies’ job to fuck you over as hard as they possibly can.

Oh and don’t forget, you’re supposed to simplify your life and live in the moment. That one’s very important.

All of this is most likely while you’re already working anywhere from 20-40+ hours per week.

Keep up with your friends on Facebook, spend time to see what they’ve been up to, spend time posting your own pictures, catch up with your Instagram and Twitter and Tumblr feed, and for fuck’s sake you’d better make sure you’re reblogging all the right things about current social events, and you’d better also be caught up on the news, which all happens and changes so fast now that communication is instantaneous, keep up with all the politics, know every new outrage and be outraged about it, keep up with the politicians, the scientists begging us to listen, the latest news about the celebrity outed as a bigot, the latest shooting, the latest bombing, the latest protest, you’d better keep up with all of that and know what’s happening in the world, every minute of every day, and oh don’t worry about having to seek the news out, it comes to you. Every little ping on your phone is a new piece of news.

And you’d better care about it all. You’d better have enough energy in your body and mind to care about all the politics and all the injustice, and be rightly outraged every single day by the state of the world and every new horror, but you’d better also care about the dying planet and the burning rainforests, the oil spill, the glacial melt, you’d better be outraged about that too and you’d better be able to act on that outrage because those are all so important, and they are, but then you also have to care about insurance companies ruining people’s lives by making it impossible to afford healthcare, and you have to care about how agricultural companies have made cruel and byzantine webs of laws to drive farms out of business and make food, a basic necessity of life, a business, and one that’s designed not to feed and nurture people but to make money. And then while we’re on the topic of money you’d better care that the top 10 richest companies in the world create 70% of the world’s pollution, and you’d better care about how billionaires could fix most of the world’s biggest problems and they simply choose not to, and how Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos and everyone like them have an amount of money and resources that no single person could ever come close to earning, and how if that wealth was fairly redistributed and recirculated into the economy then maybe minimum wage would actually earn you a living and that’s not even to mention the other systems of brutality and cruelty and injustice in society, the racism, the homophobia, the ableism, the ageism, the sexism, the -ism -ism -ism on for infinity

So you’d better buy and use reusable straws and reusable coffee cups, you’d better cut down on your CO2 emissions, you’d better take shorter showers, you’d better recycle your plastics and spend time at the store thinking about how you can buy things with less plastic wrapping, while you’re also thinking about those big agriculture companies, oh and by the way your eggs? The chickens they came from live in cages, barely being allowed to move for their entire lives, and you’d better be outraged about that too. Where do you think that milk came from? What does that cow look like? How about those peas, were they picked by someone being paid $1 an hour? Every single item on the shelf has some deep horror woven into its backstory.

You’d better sign every petition you can and you’d better reblog the right things about taking action against injustice and you’d better be vocal about it, you’d better buy your soap and your clothes from small businesses instead of supporting the big evil ones that are much easier to access and much, much cheaper (because somebody suffered, somewhere along the line, to make it that cheap), you’d better remember to save your pasta water to water your plants with instead of wasting it, you’d better make your gifts by hand (if you have the time, which you don’t), and

And then there’s the beauty industry.

You cannot go a single day without seeing something about “lose weight fast!” or “The Skinny Girl Cookbook!” or “This Weird Thing Burns Belly Fat!”, and everyone you see on screen is twig-thin or muscled, and don’t forget that you’re supposed to take the time to love yourself and practice body positivity too, oh wait no it’s too late, now body neutrality is the right thing to say and think. Every part of your face and body has some malady and you can buy a cure! Spend this much to get rid of acne, spend this much to wax your legs, buy this for wrinkles and that for stretch marks, this cream smooths out your skin to look like an eggshell instead of human flesh, that cream “fixes” those bumps on your arms that apparently aren’t allowed to exist, a basic face of makeup is at least 5 products if not 10, there are countless tutorials on how to make yourself better, because you aren’t okay as you are and you never will be as long as somebody can sell you something to “fix” yourself.

Oh, and that’s more time spent, too. Take the time to shave, to moisturize, to do your 3-step skincare routine, to slather all different kinds of goops and goos on various parts of you, take the time to pluck your eyebrows and exfoliate your feet and

Everything wants your attention, every second of every day. Because attention is money. Netflix Hulu Youtube watch this ad look at this ad Twitter Disney+ Twitter again Facebook more ads look at this ad sign up for this subscription package watch this new season of this show, watch this new movie, watch this watch this watch this watch look at this this watch this watch this look at this look at this look at this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this look over here look at this look at this look over here watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this look at this

And then at the end of the day you still have to reserve time for the people in your life that are important to you, and leave time for those long conversations with your sister or time to bond with your kid or time to go on dates with your S.O.

And then you’re supposed to take time for yourself. Self care. Like social media is always saying to do. Take a bath, drink some tea, relax. If you have time.

And all of that. ALL of that. Most likely happens in the small slivers of time before and after your work day, or on the weekend in the small sliver of time before or after you fold that laundry and cook dinner and attend to your personal matters and maybe hang out with a friend if you’re lucky.

And I just described a fairly privileged, not-on-the-brink-of-poverty, not-in-and-out-of-the-hospital, not-constantly-targeted-by-violence-or-oppression life. I just described a cushy life.

Is it any fucking wonder that we all feel shattered? Like our time, even on free days with absolutely nothing scheduled, is made up of tiny pieces? Is it any wonder that it seems like nobody can sit down with a book anymore?

I’m so fucking tired.

#impromptu essay because I'm goddamn mad #long rant #sorry this blocks off your whole dash #but I don't think this one should have a read more line tbh #modern society #books #compassion fatigue #lifestyle #we need to change society but i'm afraid the inertia is too much #and the people in power who WANT it this way #are too powerful to beat #i should not be this fucking exhausted at 22

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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 years

Text

Heartbeats

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC/Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Rebecca Cooke

Summary: A first date at a Beer Garden shouldn’t be difficult to manage, especially with his team at his side, but Santi still has doubts.

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Benny being Benny, references to war time injuries, references to Anxiety if you squint

A/N: Hey y’all. Sorry it’s been a while. Some stuff came up, but I am so happy to finally have this chapter out to you all! Anyway, this is chapter 3. Please enjoy!

**********

Listening to his own heartbeat had become something that Santi was pretty comfortable with. When the Humvee had hit a landmine during his first deployment, sending him, Frankie, and Will sky high, he’d woken up in a military hospital in Germany, with only the steady beeping of his heart monitor to keep him company. Well, it kept him company until Will wandered in with a cup of coffee. The youngest member of the team had somehow managed to walk away with a couple of cracked ribs and some scarring on his back, whereas Pope had fractured his knee and given himself a pretty nasty concussion. At that point, Frankie was still out. He had broken a rib, punctured a lung, and fractured his hip, all on top of a nastier concussion than Pope’s. There was a harried moment when they thought he wouldn’t make it, but Fish was the toughest bastard out of any of them, and within nine months he was patrolling the desert with Santi once more.

After various near-misses, his multiple knee surgeries, and his so-called miracle neck surgery, Santi woke up to that same sound of his heart beating. It reminded him that he was alive. It was a comfort.

Now, his heart was beating so loudly in his ears he couldn’t think straight. And, the kicker was, he wasn’t even in country or recovering from a near miss. He wasn’t getting shot at or sneaking around an enemy compound. He wasn’t even sitting in the back of a helicopter while Fish tried to fly it over the fucking Andes while carrying too much weight and, fuck, he was an idiot. He hadn’t even been able to pull off a ‘sure thing’ mission. He hadn’t been able to pull of a relationship with a girl that everyone thought he was fucking anyway. Why the fuck did he think he would be able to pull off impressing this much younger woman who, for some god forsaken reason, thought he was worth her time?

Rebecca was a professional. She had a fucking Masters of Fine Arts that she used to lead tours and co-curate the art museum while also teaching art lessons to kids all across the state. And then there was him. Santiago Garcia. A washed up, beaten down, half-broken retired soldier who was living off his (not unsubstantial) savings and the kindness of friends, who had almost no prospects other than signing another damn contract and going off to shoot questionable people under the orders of even more questionable people until his knees gave out or he broke his fucking neck running around on favela rooftops. She was so far out of his league, he had no clue how to even find her league.

And yet, he found himself sitting outside her apartment in his truck, about to go and buzz up to let her know that he was there. Early. To pick her up. For their date. What was he thinking?

He was shaken out of his negative reverie when his phone buzzed four times in quick succession.

“I swear to god, if you’re sitting outside her apartment deliberating over actually picking her up or standing her up, I will drive there myself and beat some sense into you.”

“Hey man, Charlie’s had a little too much to drink (first weekend alone without Mateo) and she’s threatening your manhood if you stand up your date. Do not show up here alone, cabrón.”

“Dude, you’re bringing a date? Why haven’t I heard about this lovely lady?”

“Ignore him. He’s drunk.”

Pope could imagine his friends, his team, sitting around their reserved table at the beer garden, acting like millennials with their phones out, texting him and ignoring each other for a moment. They were insane…He loved them.

“Keep your shirts on, I’m coming.” He copied and pasted the message into the four separate threads and sent them off, ignoring when his phone buzzed again with what could only be a “That’s what she said” reply from Benny as he exited his truck and made his way to her lobby door.

He pressed the small white button next to her name and waited impatiently for her response.

“Hello?” the tinny machine garbled, but he had become accustomed to her voice. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds, like the sound of the waves at the beach or the sound of his own heartbeat. Soothing.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, c’mon up! I’ll be ready to go in five!”

Santi gulped then shook his head and pulled the door open when the lock clicked, signalling that she had unlocked it for him. What was he nervous about? He was god damn Delta Force. Some girl should not be shaking him up this bad.

Santi took the short elevator ride up to the fifth floor, trying to calm his hammering heart, and knocked on her door.

When the door creaked open, he was reminded that Rebecca Cooke wasn’t just ‘some girl’. He had taken one look at her, sweaty and red faced and face distorted from pressing into a massage table and been smitten. Every conversation he had with her dragged him further in, until he was hooked.

Now, standing in front of him, dressed in a sapphire blue lace dress that swished around her knees, he was smacked in the face with the fact that she was, in fact, the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. The short sleeves showed off the smoothness of her arms and the V-neck had him having to drag his eyes away from her décolletage.

“Hey Santi,” she smiled gently at him, moving in to place her hands on his shoulders as she placed a hesitant kiss on his cheek.

“Um…hey,” he replied, mentally kicking himself for being so lame. “Uh, these are for you.” He handed her the bouquet of wildflowers he had bought on a whim on his drive over.

Rebecca smiled up at him, a slight glimmer in her eyes as though he had just made her the happiest person on the planet. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he blurted. She giggled, turning her back to him and he grimaced at the stupid cornball line.

“Let me put these in some water and grab my shoes, and we can go, okay?” she called back. He looked towards her retreating form and gulped at the sight of her bare back. Fuck, this was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get himself under control. If he was going to actively pursue Rebecca, he was going to do it properly.

“Uh, yeah. No worries.” He followed her a few steps into her home and peered around at the small space. It was a small apartment, cozy and warm. A suede sectional sofa overtook most of the living room, a soft looking throw blanket tossed over the side and brightly coloured patterned pillows were piled up on one end as though she had been searching for something. A variety of prints and pictures decorated her walls, everything from the infamous Kissing on VJ Day photo to a print of San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk by Monet, drawing his eye from one frame to another in rapid succession, drinking in the little details of the life she lived that he so desperately hoped to be a part of.

“Ready to go?”

His eyes were drawn back to her like magnets as she exited the small but spacious kitchen, glass vase in hand. She deposited the vase with the wildflowers on the side table next to the sofa, picked up her purse and held up her other hand, a pair of strappy sandals hanging from her finger.

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. It’s a, uh…it’s a nice place you’ve got here,” he managed to get out, cursing himself internally at his stupidity.

She smiled sweetly at him, that starry-eyed look still in her eyes as she clutched his arm to slide her sandals on.

“Thanks. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

She didn’t release his arm as they exited the apartment, clutching him close as she locked the door, as they rode the elevator, and exited the building. He shifted carefully to grip her hand and help her into his truck, closing the door softly behind her as he paced over to his door, silently coaching himself to not be a total idiot on this date.

She was into him. Holding onto his arm, looking at him the way she was. She liked him. All he had to do was not screw it up…and not let his friends screw it up.

He hauled himself up into the driver’s seat of the truck and let it idle for a minute as he double checked his mirrors. Finally, he pulled out of the parking lot and began the ten-minute drive to the Beer Garden.

“I, uh, I meant what I said. About your apartment. And about how beautiful you look. Because you do. Look beautiful, I mean. That dress is…nice.”

“Thanks.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Santi fidgeted with the wheel. He was halfway to convincing himself that this whole thing had been a bad idea when she turned to him. “Are you as nervous as I am?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, causing her to giggle. “I swear to god, I’m not normally like this.”

“I know, that’s why I asked! I thought you were either really nervous or completely regretting asking me out,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat as the tension began to slowly dissipate.

He waited until he pulled up to a red light to turn and meet her gaze. “The only regret I’d have is if I didn’t ask you out at all and was left wondering what might have happened if I’d just gotten my balls up and asked.”

He watched her eyes widen as she looked down at her lap, jerking the car back into motion as someone honked behind him.

“Can I confess something to you?” She waited for his nod. “I had a shot before you got to my place to try to calm my nerves, but I don’t think it worked. I just…why are we nervous? We’ve been friends for a couple of months now, right?”

“Right!” he exclaimed, laughing as he risked another look at her. “I don’t know, Bex. Maybe that’s why we’re nervous?”

She shrugged delicately, pulling her legs up into the seat as she twisted to watch him drive. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just…I really want this to go well, you know?”

Santi took a hand off the wheel and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I know. I really know.”

She sighed, twisting her hand in his grip until she could interlace their fingers. “Okay. So. We’re two friends. Going on a date. We’ll just…see how it goes, okay? At the end of the night, if we decide we’re better off as friends, you drop me off, give me a high five, and we’ll see each other on Monday at the clinic.”

“But?” he asked anxiously because, like he said, he knew. He knew how badly she wanted things to go well because he desperately wanted the same thing. He’d been drowning in her for months, and he felt like he was just now being taught how to swim.

“But…” he heard her take a shuddery breath. “But if things do go well, and I really hope they do, Santi…If things go well, we agree to go on that coffee date before our sessions on Monday. Deal?”

He squeezed her hand again. “Deal.”

**********

The Beer Garden was a nice place. A solid first date choice. There was liquor to settle the nerves, incredible food to snack on over conversation, a live band to dance along to, mood lighting, and an outdoor patio with fairy lights that was pretty fucking magical, if Santi was allowed to say so.

He and the team had been there once or twice, usually after completing a room at Santi’s house, but this was the first time both Charlie and Frankie would be joining them, since Mateo was off for a sleepover at Grandma’s house. In a way, Santi was grateful. Rebecca knew Charlie, and Charlie was very protective of her patients both inside and outside of the clinic. Santi knew that Charlie and Frankie would help make her feel welcome. Will wouldn’t be an issue. But Benny…when the kid drank, he drank hard, and he was a loudmouth stone cold sober. Hopefully, Will would be able to keep his kid brother in line.

Santi slowed as he felt the distance between him and Rebecca grow, their arms growing taut until he was forced to stop and turn around, lest he let go of her hand.

“Hey, you okay?” he moved to stand in front of her, shielding her from the busy wait staff and slightly drunken customers who were milling around the door to the outdoor patio.

She offered him a distracted nod, her free hand coming up to smooth her hair behind her ear. “Uh, I’m just gonna…” her eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of Charlie sitting at a long picnic style table with a bunch of large men. She met his eyes urgently. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”

Again, Santi found himself watching her retreating form as he cursed his own actions. He thought that having a group hangout would be a good idea for a first date. It kept things loose and informal and, after their conversation in the truck, he thought it couldn’t hurt to have some people there to help things continue moving in the right direction. Besides, so many people had group first dates. It kept things light. Only, now Pope was seeing his mistake. He wasn’t just introducing Rebecca to his friends. He was introducing her to the most important people in his life. His closest friends. His team.

“Fuck…” he mumbled to himself as he watched her duck into the bathroom before nearly sprinting outside to the table. He dodged a few waiters and barbacks before slamming his hands down on the table, causing Benny to jump. “She’s in the bathroom, Chuck, don’t start,” he quickly stated, watching as Charlie’s eyes went from murderous to understanding in the space of a blink. He slowly met each and every one of their eyes. “If any one of you motherfuckers ruin this for me, I swear to god I’ll find a way to end you.”

“Hey, I like her already,” Charlie shrugged, tipping her glass back to swallow the last of the foam. “If you ruin this with her, I’ll be the one ending you.”

“Noted. Fish?” His best friend cocked an eyebrow at him and Santi nodded, communicating in that way that only best friends can. “Fair enough. Will?”

“Hey man, I just came out for a drink.”

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded, before fixing his eyes on the youngest member of the group. “Benny?”

“What? What am I gonna do?”

“Considering you’ve stared at every waitress’ ass as they walk by, and commented on two of the barbacks’ butts, I’d say you’re definitely the problem here, Ben,” Charlie commented lightly, leaning over to rest her head gently on Frankie’s shoulder, smiling softly when he planted a sweet kiss on her temple.

“Hey, I—”

“Shut up, she’s right,” Will growled into his glass.

“Fine, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Charlie, did you collect on your little workplace bet?” She offered him a slightly drunken thumbs-up. “Good, you’re buying.” Pope considered the table before him before straightening and taking a few steps back towards the door. “Please, just be nice?”

“Hey, I’m always nice!” countered Benny, a cocksure grin on his face.

“Yeah, that’s what he’s afraid of, dipshit.”

The din of another Miller argument faded as Santi returned to his post just in time for Rebecca to emerge from the bathroom.

“Uh, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” Santi wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he led her out onto the raised wooden patio. “You’re still nervous, huh?”

She nodded hesitantly. “Charlie’s fine, but the rest of your friends…”

Santi tugged her gently to the side and pulled her to a stop.

“Don’t worry about them, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Santi, you fought a war with them. That’s not something I can just not worry about.”

“Look, they’re gonna love you. Trust me…” he looked over his shoulder to peer at his friends, who were all surreptitiously trying to both look at them and look natural. “They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots. Look…see that blond guy? That’s Will. You could set a bomb off next to him and he wouldn’t flinch.”

“Oh, so that’s Will the Wise?” Santi smiled at the moniker. He’d found himself dropping some of Will’s more memorable motivational quotes during physio, and she had come up with the name for his quiet but forceful friend. “And the one who hasn’t stopped staring at my ass is Benny, I assume?” Santi whipped his head around to see Benny subtly trying to peer around him to get a glance at Bex’s profile. He quickly moved into his field of view and turned his back on him. Benny wanted to check out a nice ass? He could feel free. “And I know Charlie, which makes the quiet one…?”

Santi smiled softly. “That’s Frankie.”

“I like him already.”

His smile grew at the pronouncement. “I figured you would. Frankie’s good people. Easy to get along with. Now, please don’t worry?” he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before running his hands up and down her arms soothingly. “They’re gonna see exactly what I see.”

“Which is?”

He smiled. “A stunningly beautiful, intelligent woman who I somehow suckered into going out with me. Ready?”

She gripped his hand again and smiled up at him. “Ready.”

**********

Things were going…well. Better than Santi had dared to hope. He didn’t know what Will had said, but Benny was being a real gentleman and keeping his mouth shut other than asking polite and interested questions about Bex’s work. Bex and Frankie had taken off like two peas in a pod, which gave him a warm feeling in his chest that he dared not name. Not now, anyway. Instead of examining his feelings, he decided to go get another drink.

He stood slowly, squeezing her hand when the angle got too awkward to maintain contact, and leaned down to ask, “You want another one, Bex?”

She smiled and nodded, “Yeah, would you mind getting me a pale ale this time?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!” Benny interrupted, leaning across the table towards them. “She got a nickname?”

Santi shot Will a look, but the older Miller just held his hands up in surrender, as if to say, “You brought it on yourself”.

“I-is that a problem?” Rebecca asked, looking around confused.

Frankie leaned forward, resting his free arm against the table and adjusting his grip around Charlie’s waist. “Every one of us has a nickname,” he explained quietly. “For us,” he gestured to the men. “It’s a military thing. Kind of like a right of passage.”

“I earned ‘Charlie’ after three months of seriously dating Frankie,” Charlie added, her voice only slightly muffled from her cheek resting on Frankie’s chest. “Chuck came three months after that, and then only Santi gets to call me that.”

“Oh…” Rebecca murmured, wrapping her arms around herself and looking around the table at the demolished plates of nachos, chicken wings, sliders, poutine, and potato wedges. Santi quickly retook his seat, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

It had been instinct, giving her a nickname. Rebecca was too formal for the spitfire who made him laugh so hard his abs hurt more than his knees after a physio session. Becca was cute but she had grimaced at the name, citing overuse in popular culture for her dislike. Rebbie made her snort, and Becky made him want to go find Douchebag Derek and give him a swift kick so there was no way his DNA would be reproduced.

She had loved the name Bex. It was rare, it was quick, it denoted her spark and her wit, and, best of all, he was the only one who used it. Now, it looked like she was feeling insecure in it.

“Frankie’s nickname is Catfish,” he piped up, not wanting her to think too much on the subject of him giving her a cute moniker so early in their relationship (week 3 to be exact).

It worked. Her head whipped around so quickly both Charlie and Santi winced.

“Really? Why?” she asked the man sitting next to her.

Frankie’s quick glare and microscope cock of the eyebrow went unnoticed by the entire table, except Santi, who gave him an apologetic half shrug.

“When we were in basic,” he began with a good-natured grumble. “We were all swapping stories one night, and the only good one I had was the one where my old man and I went out fishing together.” Rebecca watched as Charlie placed a small kiss on Frankie’s chest, just above the third highest button, where Frankie had evidently decided to quit, not that his fiancée was complaining about the excess skin on display. Clearly a sore subject, Rebecca filed away for later. “We went all day without catching a single fish, but just as we were about to call it quits, there’s a tug on my line. And I ended up reeling in a 17-pound catfish.”

“Last time you told the story it was 15 pounds,” Will muttered.

“I always heard 13,” Benny laughed.

“Eh, whatever. It was a big fish to 10-year-old me, okay?” Frankie downed the last of his beer. “Besides, it’s not as stupid as how Ironhead got his name.”

Santi laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one.” Will glared at him. “Hey man, Frankie told his story, now you’ve gotta tell yours.”

Will sighed as he sat forward, leaning in towards Rebecca. “So…I was probably the clumsiest private in basic training. Now, I could do push ups and sit ups like a champion, but the more complicated exercises…Well, let’s just say our drill sergeant didn’t know what the hell to do with me. Climbing a rope ladder? I’d get my foot twisted and end up hanging there like three-day old laundry on the line. Going on a march through the woods? I’d find the only rock in the road and trip over it. Field striping a rifle? I’d yank on something too quickly and give myself a black eye.” Rebecca giggled, bringing a smile to Santi’s face. “And inevitably, every time I screwed up, I’d end up smacking my head. One day, we were doing this exercise and I really got my bell rung. Our drill sergeant sent me to the infirmary because he knew there was no way in hell that I didn’t have a concussion. But I didn’t. Hell, I didn’t even pass out. When he found out, he was shocked. Said I must have the hardest skull on earth. Thus, Ironhead was born.”

“Pfft…” Benny snorted loudly, the sound breaking through Bex’s giggles and Charlie’s muffled chuckles. “It’s not even a good story, man! I coulda told your drill sergeant that you were clumsy as fuck the day you enlisted! Now, Pope’s…that’s a good fucking story,” he guffawed, leaning back as far as the bench seat would let him.

“Benny…” Will put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, which was quickly shrugged off. Santi fixed him with a glare, and Frankie was subtly drawing his hand over his neck, but Benny was too drunk to care.

“Pope?” Bex looked up at Santi confusedly, but he didn’t get the chance to explain before Benny’s crowing laughter boomed out once more.

“‘Oh god, oh god! Yes god! Yes! Please, god. Por favor, mi dios! Oh my god, oh my god!’,” Benny’s voice rang out in a poor imitation of a girlish squeal. He threw his head back and laughed drunkenly, almost falling off the bench seat. “We thought for sure that Corporal had to have the Pope himself in her room for her to be screaming for God that loudly. But no. Turned out to only be Santiago Garcia, known almost exclusively as Pope from then on out.”

Bex looked between the two men, eyes wide, before standing and squeezing out into the crowd, heading back towards the bathrooms.

“At least I got a nickname, jackass,” Santi hissed, kicking away from the table. “I didn’t spend my whole military career known only as ‘Will’s Little Brother Benny’.”

Santi turned and chased after Rebecca, praying she hadn’t gone too far.

“What? What did I say?” Benny asked, half a potato skin hanging out of his mouth.

“If this fucks them up, I’ll kick your ass for both of them,” Charlie groaned, unable to take her eyes away from where her two friends had just disappeared.

**********

He found her standing under the strings of lights that hung above the front door.

“Y-you weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?” he asked in a slightly trembling voice.

She turned to him, eyes bright, and chuckled. “No…I just needed some air. Well,” she looked around the darkened city street. “Some different air. Front fresh air instead of back fresh air. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged out of his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders as she shivered. “I…I’m sorry about Benny. He’s an idiot most of the time, but when he drinks…”

“He could win the Nobel Prize for Darwinism?”

He chuckled, a soft smirk appearing on his face. “Yeah, something like that.” They stared up at the dark sky for a long moment, a hesitant peace falling between them. “That story he told…I’m not exactly proud of the way I used to be. I hope you know that.”

Rebecca shrugged delicately. “We all have a past. We all have things we’re not proud of. What matters is who we are today. And you want to know something?” she looked up at him with those eyes, and he pressed down the urge to kiss her.

“What?”

“I really like who you are today,” she whispered, bringing a smile to his face.

“I really like who you are every day,” he whispered back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, his smile growing even larger when she leaned into him. “You ready to get out of here?”

She wrapped his jacket tighter around her body. “Yeah, it’s getting a little chilly.”

He nodded in agreement, gave her a quick squeeze and released her. “I’ll go grab my wallet and we can get going.”

Santi wove his way back through the crowded Beer Garden until he reached the table, quietly scooping up his wallet.

“Everything okay?” Frankie asked quietly as Charlie dozed on his chest.

“Yeah, tell your firecracker that she doesn’t have to kick any asses. See you tomorrow?” Frankie nodded as Santi pulled out a crisp twenty and threw it on the table. “Adios, hermano,” he murmured, bringing his hand gently down upon Frankie’s cap and giving his head a slight jiggle. “Will, can you get me that info on that electrician?” Will nodded as Santi clapped a hand down on his shoulder, bringing his hand up to gently clasp his buddy’s forearm before Santi removed it to give Benny a quick swat on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Santi fixed him with a glare. “Yeah, okay. I deserved that. Night man.”

Santi strolled out of the restaurant, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw Rebecca, wrapped in his jacket, staring at the restaurant doors, waiting for him. That warm feeling in the pit of his stomach came back full force, and, for the first time, he didn’t want it to go away.

**********

His truck quietly slid into a parking spot out front of her apartment building.

“Well…” she murmured. “I guess this is me.”

Santi nodded, a sigh building in his chest. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t want a simple dinner date to end, but he wanted it to continue. He wanted to keep talking to her, keep listening to her, keep touching her.

“I’ll, uh…I’ll walk you to the front door,” he stated, desperate to stretch their remaining few seconds as long as he could.

She smiled and waited as he made his way around the front of the truck, opening her door and offering her his hand. They strolled the maybe twenty paces to the front door and stopped, turning to face each other while their free hands sought each other out.

“I had a really nice time. Your friends are great. Frankie’s awesome.”

“He really is.”

“Well…uh…good night, Santi.”

“Bex?” he tugged slightly on her hands, so she remained facing him. “I…” That warm feeling in his stomach burst. “Oh, fuck it,” he pressed forward, planting his lips on hers the way he had been imaging since he had picked her up four hours previous. Sweet and tender, raw and full of something that would go unnamed for a while but had so much potential. He pulled back for the space of a breath, taking in her closed eyes and slightly parted lips. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

Finally, her eyes opened. “Don’t stop,” she quietly pled, freeing her hands to place them on either side of his face, tugging him back to her lips.

They stood there for what could have been minutes or hours, neither knew nor cared. It was like every moment of their friendship had been leading them to this moment, and they wanted to live in it forever.

It wasn’t until the nearby sound of a fire truck siren starting up broke the serene quiet that they broke apart.

“So, uh…coffee on Monday?” she asked, eyes slightly glazed over and lips plump.

“Definitely.”

**********

Tags list: @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha, @himbopoes, @sophoclese, @phoenixhalliwell, @buckstaposition, @who-talks-first

#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago pope garcia x rebecca cooke #not another fairytale ending fic #first date fic #series #triple frontier fanfic #frankie catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #oscar issac #pedro pascal #slow burn #but its not that slow

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