#EVEN MORE SO THAT PEOPLE ARE STILL GOING TO HAPPILY VOTE FOR HIS TICKET!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sariahsue · 4 years ago

Text

Rivals Are Always One “Make Me” Away From Kissing

Tossing the controller onto the desk, Adrien reached for Marinette’s waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. (An Adrinette no powers video game AU - 10,000 words)

Adrien had to admit that he was a little bit of a nerd. Here he was, fifteen minutes early for school, in an outfit his personal assistant picked out for him, and looking over his homework alone in the hallway instead of talking with classmates or hanging out in the sunny courtyard like everyone else was doing.

A gust of cool air rushed in through an open doorway and ruffled his hair, making him sigh. It was no wonder he was still single.

The whisper of his name on the wind caught his attention.

"Nino?" Adrien called. The hallway was deserted, so he stuffed his homework into his backpack and stepped closer to the open doorway to investigate. The back of Nino's red cap came into view. He was sitting on the front steps, brushing shoulders with Alya.

"You have too much faith in my bro," Nino said.

Adrien stopped walking forward as his heart sank to the floor. Nino didn't believe in him about something?

"I'm giving Marinette one week, tops," Alya said.

"It's going to take him at least a month," Nino countered.

"You willing to bet on that?" she asked, standing.

"Yeah, I am."

Alya stuck out her hand, then pulled him up as they shook on it.

It was only when they started to turn to come into the building that Adrien realized he shouldn't have been eavesdropping while standing in the dead center of an empty hallway. There was nothing to hide him from the surprised eyes of his friends.

Alya was the first to recover, her expression quickly slipping to suspicion. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Nothing!" he said, hands up. "I didn't-"

"Did you hear the news?" Nino cut in.

"N-no? What are you talking about?"

"The Olympic Committee voted."

"About?" Adrien asked. He tried to forget… whatever they'd been talking about.

"eGames are in for Paris 2024!"

"Seriously?" Adrien asked. "I thought they voted against that last month."

Nino ignored the comment and held out a hand for a high-five, but it was more like a middle five, limp and unenthusiastic. Nino glanced toward Alya, and they shared a smile.

"I bet I could get us tickets easy," Adrien said, pulling Nino's attention away from his girlfriend. "Want to come-"

Nino snapped back to attention, eyes gleaming. "You should sign up for the team."

"I should what?" Adrien asked, bewildered by his friend's sudden change in tone. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm not that good."

"No really, dude." Nino grabbed his arm. "I think you could do it." He threw an arm around Adrien's shoulder, turned him around and marched him deeper into the school.

"No thanks?" Adrien let himself be steered into a crowded hallway, Alya stalking behind them, her eyes burning into his back. "I'd need more practice than I have time for. Some of those gamers-"

"All you need-" Nino guided them around a group of upperclassmen. "-is a partner to practice with."

What was going on? Adrien knew he was kind of sheltered and maybe a little socially awkward, but he knew Nino well enough at this point that he could tell he was trying to set something up. "I get it. You want an excuse to play on my system every day. But you know my father-"

"Oh, no way, man. I'm not good enough." They stepped through a pair of double doors and out into the morning sunshine of the courtyard. Students laughed and yelled at each other. Others lounged on the stairs going up to the second floor. Nino's hand on his shoulder tightened and they stopped moving. "But maybe there's someone-"

"Yeah," Alya cut in. She shoved her way in between them and pointed to the middle of the courtyard, toward a tight cluster of students. "I bet Marinette would want to practice with you."

Adrien followed the line of Alya's finger. Marinette's dark hair and bright smile peeked out from the center of the group. As usual, she was surrounded by admirers, all of whom were laughing at something she had just said. His stomach clenched, though he wasn't sure why.

"You're kidding, right? She's one of the most popular girls in school."

"Did you miss the memo, sunshine?" Alya said. "You're pretty popular yourself."

"And the four of us hang out together all the time," Nino said. "I'm sure she would love to spend some time with just you."

"I don't even think I want to be in the Olympics," Adrien said, turning away from Marinette and glancing at his other friends. There was definitely something going on. Nino and Alya traded sideways glances and wiggling eyebrows, communicating something Adrien couldn't figure out.

"You really should ask Marinette to practice with you, dude," Nino said.

"No, I don't think-"

"Come on, Agreste." Alya stepped up into his space. Not that he could ever tell Nino this, but his girlfriend could be scary when she wanted to be. She was somehow towering over him, even though he could have sworn a few seconds ago that he was taller than she was. "You want a gold medal, don't you?"

"No?"

"Yes, you do. Now go ask Marinette."

"This isn't even about the Olympics, is it?"

Alya nudged him through the open door and into the light. Adrien blinked, disoriented by the sudden movement and the direction his morning had taken.

"Get moving," Alya insisted.

"Okay, okay! I'll ask her!" he said. His plan to skirt around Marinette's knot of students and escape to the other edge of the courtyard was shot down when his friends' footsteps crunched behind him. They weren't going to let him get away.

Feeling their eyes on him, Adrien weaved his way through the students that filled the yard, hoping the bell would ring and give him an excuse to abandon his quest. What was really happening here?

Guys and girls alike were leaning over Marinette's shoulder, and as he got closer he could tell the laughter was due to something on the sketch pad she was holding. Her smile and the light hitting her hair just right made her glow. Her eyes sparkled.

And Adrien stopped moving.

There was no way he could approach her with this many people around. What was he going to say, anyway? Hey, I think our friends are terrible and plotting something against me, and I'm going to regret asking later, but will you please play video games with me? It sounded stupid even in his head.

A single, sharp fingernail between his shoulder blades reminded him that he had no choice in the matter, so he stepped forward, excusing himself through the crowd of Marinette's admirers, until he was close enough to grab her elbow and borrow her attention.

"A-a-adrien?" she asked, stuttering when her bright eyes found his. "How you- uh, what?"

"Can we play video games later?" Ugh. This was even worse out loud than it had been in his head. "Um, the Olympics are coming up later. And we should practice." Yes, that was an eloquent explanation. Very smooth.

Marinette's eyes went wide in a doe-eyed stare, like she couldn't believe he'd ask her such a thing. "Oh." Her voice shook. "Th-tho nank you. No thank you! I don't-" She glanced behind him, over his shoulder. "I mean, yes! I would love to!" She stared at his feet and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Adrien glanced quickly behind him. Nino and Alya were standing a little way away, looking far too innocent. Alya examined her fingernails. Nino was gazing all around the courtyard, not fixing on any one point, his face blank. So they were bullying Marinette into it, too? Whatever they were planning, he wasn't going to let them make her uncomfortable.

"You don't have to," he told her quickly, and her head snapped back up to his. "I mean, it's probably a stupid idea. If you don't want to, I understand. It's kind of a weird idea. And I think the Olympics are dumb and, I mean, you probably like them, so-"

"No," she said quickly, mercifully cutting him off. She reached out to grab his arm, but pulled back just before her fingers brushed his skin. It was close enough to raise goosebumps.

"I do want to practice with you," Marinette said.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Really," she said, putting enough force into it that she sounded almost convincing.

"Okay," he said, skeptical. She must have so many friends and demands on her attention. She was really going to make time for one-on-one time for him? "I have a free two hours before my piano lessons tomorrow. I'll ask if you can come over."

"I'm free then!"

After her initial hesitation, he was surprised to hear her so excited. What was really going on? "Then, that's good, I guess. Sounds... good. Great."

"Great," she echoed.

The bell rang. Relieved, Adrien walked off through the shuffling crowd, pushing through sharp elbows and heavy backpacks and toward Nino and Alya, who were muttering to each other, their heads close together, and not paying him any attention.

Alya was whispering as he approached. He only caught a soft, "They're going to be-" before she noticed him and walked off.

"Bro, please make me lose." Nino adjusted the headphones around his neck.

"You want to lose? What, a bet?"

"Can't say," Nino said. "It's important, though. You've got a month."

If Adrien was confused before, he was stumped now. The only thing he was sure of was that this had nothing to do with the Committee vote or video games. Was Marinette in on it or was she his fellow victim?

Now that he didn't need the bell to save him from anything, it happily rang the beginning of class. Dozens of shoes shuffled down the hallways. Friends called out to each other. Adrien trailed far behind Marinette on his way to their class. Her pigtails bounced to her enthusiastic step.

What was really happening?

***

A week later, Adrien didn't really care what the motivation behind the practice sessions had been. He was having too much fun. In a stunning display of paternal affection, Gabriel had allowed Adrien to set up regular video gaming sessions with Marinette. Or Nathalie had put it into his schedule and not mentioned it to his father. Probably the second one, though he liked to pretend.

Today, they were up in his room, being washed in the music of Mario Kart that they were playing on his gigantic television. Adrien sat up straight on the couch, toes digging into the plush carpet, and pouring his focus onto the screen, but Marinette was draped across the furniture, one foot dragging on the floor, the other accidentally poking his knee whenever one of them leaned into a turn.

In the past few days, a remarkable change had come over Marinette. Instead of being anxious and fidgety whenever they ran into each other at school, the hours of being together had forced her to grow relaxed around him. It was amazing to see the side of her that everyone else so admired shining out of her when she was with him, instead of it being trapped under her awkward stutter like it used to be. He loved this.

As he rounded the final turn, Marinette on his tail, he squeezed the controller even harder, though his character was already going at top speed. A squirt of black ink blocked out his half of the screen.

"No!" he yelled, trying to negotiate the curve while blind. "I forgot you had that one! I thought you were out!"

Marinette didn't leave her position on the couch until she'd crossed the finish line. When she did, she jumped up and crowed her victory. "I beat you again! Admit it! You're going to cry yourself to sleep tonight because I creamed you so bad!"

Adrien wiped away a fake tear with her controller and was rewarded with one of Marinette's soft giggles. The sound was infectious, and soon his laughter joined hers. This was the way a lot of their games ended. Win or lose, they were both happy, just because they enjoyed each other's company.

Adrien's suspicions had melted away over the past few days. Nino and Alya were dating, and they wanted their best friends to spend time together. That must have been it. He had to admit, he loved the idea.

And he loved that she was comfortable enough with him to be the person he saw her be with other people, bold and funny and expressive, somehow kind and fierce at the same time, ready to compliment him or trash talk him at a moment's notice. It kept him on his toes.

While the question of why it had taken her so long to warm up to him nagged at him, it wasn't enough to keep him from acknowledging that he was much happier when she was around.

"So what do you want to play next?" Marinette slid off the couch and pulled out his collection of games.

"Shovel of Hope," he said quickly.

"I usually pick that one," she said, turning to direct a questioning eyebrow his way.

"It is. And I want you to be happy, so we can play your favorites twice in a row."

A slack look of shock was replaced quickly by Marinette's shy smile, and Adrien's heart flipped.

He'd always known she had a nice smile. So why did it seem like a new revelation just now?

***

If Adrien's observation about their first week together was how much he liked Marinette, then observation about the second week was how much his game had improved.

Marinette's skill on most games was just a little higher than his own, so playing against her was always a challenge, and teaming up with her was always instructive. Of course, her teasing continually spurred him on.

Today they were in her room playing Zombie Fighter 2, which he'd never even heard of before. And it showed. After seven rounds, he had failed to land a single hit on Marinette's character. He went down in a shower of sparks.

"KO'd again! I can't believe it!" Adrien tossed his controller into his lap. He noticed every time his left knee brushed her right as they sat cross-legged on her chaise.

"Your skills are improving, young grasshopper," Marinette said.

"How is losing improving?"

"You lasted a whole ten seconds longer than last time. You're learning how to run away."

Adrien socked her in the face with a pink pillow. He'd been in her room a handful of times now and he still couldn't get over how pink everything was. Walls, curtains, blankets, even furniture. It suited her, though.

Marinette stood up and stretched. A small strip of skin peeked out where her shirt rode up. "We should head downstairs. Your driver will be here soon."

"No." Adrien averted his gaze quickly. "Let's play one more!" The warmth of Marinette's room wasn't something he looked forward to leaving, not when his own sterile, empty room was the only thing waiting to welcome him home.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Can't get enough of me, or can't get enough of being pounded into the ground, I wonder?"

"Jury's out."

"Ouch! Why do I keep you around, again?" she asked.

"Must be because I'm so cute." Adrien selected his character, and the screen lit up with another round.

"Must be." Marinette ruffled his hair.

Adrien sat up a little straighter. Was it the praise? Or was it her touch? When she took her hand away, it was to fix his grip on the controller.

"You're never going to win like that. Your fingers aren't spread out enough. Like this." She adjusted each finger individually, pushing and poking and smoothing each one into place until they curved just so.

Her hands radiated warmth. But not just that. It felt like... kindness? Caring? How was he getting that from just the feel of her fingertips against his wrists, directing him to relax the sudden tension in his arms?

By the time she pulled away and they started playing, Adrien's hands were shaking. He pulled them deeper into his lap, so she wouldn't see the tremors.

What was happening? And why did he feel like Marinette touching him again was going to make him feel better? Whatever it was, it wasn't helping him win.

"That'll teach me to compliment you," Marinette said after cutting down his avatar with ease. "That was awful. What happened?"

"Just tired, I guess," Adrien said, putting his controller between them and flapping his hands, like they were sweaty or cramping or something else normal.

"Tired, huh? I can play better than that in my sleep! So what's the real reason?"

"Tired. That's really the reason."

"Tired of getting beat, maybe."

"Oh, lay off."

"Make me."

He needed something to do with the nervous energy in his hands, and Marinette was asking for it. When he poked her side, she made the most adorable squeal he'd ever heard, and he had to do it again. The tickle fight that ensued was nothing short of inevitable. She tried to reach for the pillow on the floor to defend herself with, but he took the opportunity to poke her side and she tumbled off the chaise and pulled him with her. It wasn't enough to stop him.

"I surrender!" Marinette gasped after only a few seconds. "You win!"

"You admit I'm better at something than you?"

"No, your arms are just longer, like a monkey's." She laughed even before she felt his retaliation tickle for the jibe.

As their laughter subsided, Adrien felt lighter. He hadn't had fun with a friend like this in he couldn't remember how long. His father always made him feel foolish for finding something mildly amusing. Somehow, Marinette made falling off his seat liberating instead of embarrassing. He loved that about her.

Sprawled out as they were, it took Adrien a few seconds before he noticed where his hand was resting. Right on Marinette's soft stomach. She was smiling up the ceiling, not seeming to notice or care that he was touching her. It felt nice.

But it was probably weird. He was being weird.

So why was he not moving?

His hand moved up and down with her breathing, rhythmic and calming. Would she stop him if he slid his fingers along the fabric and felt the texture of her shirt?

He kept his hands still until she sighed deeply, and then he guiltily removed it.

***

It had been the best month of Adrien's life, and he owed it all to the girl who was walking toward him. The school courtyard was packed with students going home for the day. Backpacks hung off shoulders. People shouted to each other. Heads bobbed up and down as they tried to find their friends in the crowd.

Marinette's small build made it difficult for her to push her way through the crowd, but shoved backpacks and used her elbows and finally reached him. He was touched by the effort that she made to be near him.

"Nino and Alya coming?" he asked.

"Over there," she said, nodding toward the couple. "You ready to head out? My dad promised croissants for all of us today, and I'm very done with school right now."

It wasn't easy to pick out their friends in the mass of students, but he finally found them by the stairs, heads together like they were whispering despite the noise.

"What are they talking about?"

Marinette sighed. "The, uh, that bet." She looked sideways at him, like she was hoping he'd say something about it.

"Oh," Adrien said, racking his brain for scraps of memory. "Nino won, right? He said it was going to take over a month." For someone who won a bet, he didn't look very happy about it. The two looked over at him at the same time and frowned. Well, Nino frowned. Alya glowered.

"Technically, Alya's got until the end of the day but... yeah." Her voice became very quiet. Small and sad. "Nino's going to win."

"I never learned what that was about," he said, hoping she would provide an answer to the mystery.

Marinette just shook her head and started fidgeting with her purse strap to avoid looking at him. "L-let's wait for them," she stammered.

That wasn't a good sign. He didn't want to push her into her old habit of not being able to hold a conversation with him, so he didn't ask again. "Sure, we can wait," he said, taking a step to the side to give her some space. "It looks like they're on their way over already."

Nino and Alya approached with fake smiles plastered on their faces, like nothing had happened. Neither greeted Adrien or Marinette when they reached them, just kept walking toward the doors. The crowd thickened the closer to the door they got. Students pushed to get out of the building, and Adrien quickly lost sight of Nino and Alya somewhere ahead of him. He and Marinette squeezed through the doors and finally made it out onto the stairs.

"Oh no!" Marinette pulled at her hair as they started down the stairs.

"What?" Adrien asked, shuffling behind a red backpack that was going much slower than it needed to.

"Nothing, nothing. I just broke an elastic again." Keeping one fist in her hair to hold the pigtail in place, she fished in her purse for another one. Their pace became a crawl as she searched.

"Just wear it down," Adrien suggested.

"I'll look stupid," she said, giving up the search in favor of digging in her pockets.

"Come on, you'll look fine," he said, trying to convince her so they could catch back up to the others. He could see them waiting by the crosswalk, backs to them. "I've never seen your hair down before."

Marinette half turned to him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "All right," she finally said, letting it fall and taking out the other side to match. She brushed it out with her fingers as they finished walking down the stairs.

She looked nice like that. Really nice. A piece of him thought he should probably tell her that, so she wouldn't feel self-conscious. The rest of him was just glad Alya and Nino weren't looking at them, so they couldn't see him gaping at Marinette like a vulture.

That was when his hands started trembling. The nervous energy was back, urging him to reach out and touch her. Maybe tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger by her cheek, his fingertips graze her jaw. But he didn't want her to pull away again, so he clenched his fists and tried to remind himself that there was no reason for him to be acting this weird around her.

"I feel like everyone is staring at me," she said after only a few seconds.

Well, I don't know about everyone. At least one person is. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. Students started breaking away from the main group, escaping down the sidewalk toward their homes. Nino and Alya had finally noticed their approach.

"My hair must look stupid. I knew it!" She threw her hands on top of her head, a combination of covering herself and patting it down to lie smooth.

"They're only staring because you're so beautiful."

Adrien and Marinette stopped and stared at each other. Alya and Nino stared at the pair of them. A light turned green and cars streamed past, the wind they created making Marinette's hair dance.

Marinette looked as surprised at his words as he felt. But it was true. He'd never thought about it before, but she was probably the prettiest person he'd ever met. Inside and out.

When the initial shock wore off after three seconds, Marinette hunched her shoulders. "Oh, w-w-well, y-you th-thank."

Panic settled over him as she stuttered. He'd messed up somehow. She was nervous. He'd made her uncomfortable. He was weird and made her feel weird, and he'd messed everything up. She was upset.

He opened his mouth to apologize – he had no idea how to apologize for giving an honest compliment but he knew he had to try – but the look on her face froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Shock and disbelief, warring with curiosity. But they were all replaced with the familiar crinkle in her eyes that meant a challenge was sure to follow.

"So your true feelings come out at last," she said in delight. "Sorry, but I can't get involved with my sparring partner, so don't ask."

"What-"

"No, no. Your begging won't work on me!" She pushed him away with one hand flat against his chest.

Could she feel his heart beating through his shirt? She must have been able to. The whirlwind shift in her attitude was making him nervous.

He looked at Nino and Alya for help at this sudden change. They were both open-mouthed.

That was when it clicked. She was just teasing him again. Or more likely daring him. He knew her well enough to know that tone when he heard it, the same when she offered a bonus challenge round. That compliment had been sincere, but he knew how to play along.

"Oh please, Marinette," he said, falling to his knees. "Your grace and beauty surpass all." The words were so easy to say. Too easy. "Make me the happiest boy in school and go out with me?" He clasped his hands and unleashed the most pitiful expression he knew how to make, not sure if he was even acting.

Marinette flipped her loose hair over her shoulder. "I could never give my heart to my most bitter rival."

"Noooo!" He threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her stomach. He heard more than felt her laughter, but inside he ached. Ached as she ran her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck and then because she pulled her hand away. Ached because it felt so good to be close to her and then because he was letting her go as he stood back up. It was all he could do not to let the ache show through his fake smile as he continued the "joke."

Nino had his face in hands. "I hate both of you," he mumbled through his fingers. "So, so much."

Alya had already given up on them. She was halfway to the bakery.

"That's unfair," Marinette said, shifting her backpack and not looking at Adrien like he wished she would. "This is completely Adrien's fault."

"Mine?" he said, trying to sound scandalized instead of bitterly disappointed. "You're the one who won't go out with me."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to pause when she saw his face. He tried to school his expression, hide the new emotions pulsing through his blood, replace it with a smirk and a wink.

It must have worked because Marinette tapped his nose and said, "Sorry, Adrien. You'll have to ask me again some other time. I'm too busy being single at the moment."

The words cut deeper than they had any right to.

Nino grumbled something and turned away. Across the street, Alya shouted, "Are you two done being stupid yet?"

It seemed like Marinette was the only one who was truly happy after the joke, though he thought he saw something else flash across her face as she looked away. He wanted to pretend that it was longing or maybe regret, but he knew that couldn't be true. Marinette considered him just a friend. They had only been joking.

No, she had been joking. Everything he'd said was real. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

His compliments, all the praise, asking her out, every single word of it had been real.

The ache settled deep into his heart.

***

The next morning, Adrien arrived at school a few minutes earlier than he normally would have, heart pounding and exhausted as he walked through the front doors. The exhaustion was caused by barely sleeping at all last night, instead being consumed with thoughts of Marinette, her confidence, her hair, her laughter, her quiet beauty, her kindness, and how much he wanted to touch her and spend time with her.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since he'd realized he was in love with her, but it spread through him like an wildfire, burning him up from the inside out, reaching through every part of him and carving out new places for thoughts of Marinette to inhabit, driving him to do something, anything so he could be with her.

His pounding heart was caused by that last bit, the knowledge that he now needed to act. His plan was simple, but he ran through it again anyway as he waited by her locker. As casually as he could, he was going to ask her out. But not on a date. Not yet. If she didn't like him that way (the "if" killed him; he knew she didn't), he wasn't going to mess up his chance by playing his hand too soon. He repeated his line over and over again. "I was just wondering if you'd like to do something other than video games with me some time?"

It was simple. It was normal friend stuff. He leaned against her locker, the cool metal soothing the voice that said she was going to say no, that he was an idiot for even asking her. After joking around yesterday, it was clear that she only thought of him as her weird gaming nerd friend. Why would she want to do other things with him?

But he had to try anyway. If she said yes, it would be a step in the right direction. He would be able to spend more time with her.

Though he tried not to, Adrien watched every person who entered the hallway, waiting for her. His heart leaped to his throat every time he saw black hair, and it crashed back down to his feet every time it wasn't hers.

If she said no, well, he would accept his place as just her gaming buddy, even though it would break his heart. And he could always pretend that their practice sessions were dates, right? Besides, he'd known her for over a year and he'd been okay with being only friends that entire time. It would probably be simple to find his way back to that easy, uncomplicated friendship.

He slipped a little farther down the cold locker door. His argument was very unconvincing, and he swallowed back the tightness in his throat at the idea.

Black hair bobbed into view, and this time it was Marinette's face underneath it. Blue eyes flashing. Smiling broadly at someone who wasn't him.

Excitement and terror washed through him. Her laughter echoed down the hall ahead of her, and he basked in the sound and sight of her. Would he even be able to speak by the time she finally saw him?

Marinette hadn't noticed him yet. She was talking with someone else, and Adrien's eyes flicked to her companion.

Nathaniel was laughing too, then laughing harder at something else Marinette said. Without hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. Marinette looked content as they walked ever closer to her locker, and that's when Adrien finally accepted the truth.

She was going to say no.

And he couldn't accept just being friends.

With only seconds to make up his mind before she saw him, Adrien did the only thing he could think of.

He ran away.

***

Today's practice was taking place cross-legged on his floor, staring up at his giant television. Marinette sat with him, a six-inch gap separating them, but she looked over at him from time to time, concerned at his silence.

Over the past week, Adrien hadn't given up hope completely, though he knew he should have. Marinette didn't like him that way and was way out of his league. The knowledge didn't stop him from agonizing over the perfect thing to say that would get her to change her mind, or at least give him a chance.

In the end, he had waited too long.

Though he was trying to act like everything was fine, the jealousy ripping through him was affecting his mood, his game, even his face, and had been chewing him up all afternoon. For the millionth time, he tried smoothing out his scowl. He'd already given up trying to shake life back into his numb hands.

B, up, duck, A. Button smashing when he knew he wasn't fast enough. Finally watching as his avatar felt defeated to the mat. Again. He took a shaky breath.

"Okay, what is going on?" Marinette asked, placing her controller carefully down in front of her, lining it up perfectly parallel to her knees. "You're making a lot of rookie mistakes. It isn't like you."

"Oh, just tired," Adrien said, making a show of stretching and lolling back.

"You told me this morning you'd slept really well last night," she said flatly.

"Oh." Right. He'd said that. Shoot. "Tired... from school."

"Okay... What was so-"

Adrien started a new round, forcing Marinette to scramble for her controller and cut off her interrogation.

It was only going to buy him time. If Marinette thought someone was upset, he knew she wasn't going to let it rest until she'd helped them feel better. It was one of many, many things that he loved about her. But he also knew he'd be better off bringing it up before she did, so he could steer the conversation.

They played for a few minutes in silence while Adrien's character was annihilated and he organized his thoughts. "So..." he finally asked, and he was pleased to hear his voice sounding almost normal, not tense like he felt. "What did Nathaniel want to talk to you privately about earlier?"

Adrien knew. She probably knew that he knew.

Nathaniel had asked her out. Adrien had been too slow, and now she was someone else's girlfriend. Could she read the agony on his face underneath the mask of disinterest?

"Oh, Nathaniel asked me for a date." How could she be so calm about the thing that was causing him to die inside? Sensing his distress, his avatar also keeled over and died. Round sixteen ended in defeat.

"Oh? That's..." He gulped. What question would just a friend ask? "When's the big-" He forced the word out. "-date?" That had sounded awful. The words and his delivery.

"I turned him down," she said casually, and just as casually she slaughtered his character again.

The next round began as Adrien blurted out a thrilled, "Really?!"

Marinette's character killed itself by jumping off the edge as she dropped her controller and turned to stare at him.

Adrien cleared his throat. "Really? Too bad for him, I guess." I'm cool about this, Marinette. Not interested in you or your love life at all. His unasked question hung over them: Why did she turn Nathaniel down? He couldn't bring himself to ask.

She continued to stare, considering him, then turned away with a smile she couldn't quite hold in. "I've wiped the floor with you for the past eighteen levels. You want to go again, or are you ready to admit your defeat?”

"And let you rub it in for the rest of our lives? I don't think so."

"I promise not to if you agree to do my homework for the rest of the year."

"I would absolutely love to never do that ever. Bring on level nineteen."

"Oh, that's what I was hoping you would say." Her glance was sly, and Adrien felt a challenge coming on.

Their characters were whirls of pixels, but this time he had no problem keeping up. She'd turned Nathaniel down! Adrien was back on form, matching Marinette stroke for stroke, about to pull out his first win since-

"I bet you were wondering why I said no." Marinette's avatar slipped a punch over his slack fists, knocking him down to half health with one blow. "It's because I already like someone else." With one more kick, she finished him off.

Adrien gripped his controller, not seeing the screen or even her as the next level started playing. Of course she already liked someone. Someone as loving as Marinette would have someone she loved. He'd never even had a chance, even before he'd wanted one. He was an idiot for not realizing.

"Complete devastation!" Marinette said. She meant his character, but she could have been talking about the boy sitting next to her. Both were crumbling to the ground.

The practice session ended early that day. Marinette sent him several questioning looks over the next hour that he stubbornly ignored, and he was glad she didn't push him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand her sympathy.

Like the gentleman he was, Adrien walked her to his bedroom door. Even with the awkward tension lingering in the air, he wanted her to stay a little longer. Maybe sensing that, or maybe just still hoping to cheer him up, Marinette hesitated in front of the closed doorway.

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but when he realized he had no idea what it was he wanted to say, he shut it again slowly. Marinette waited patiently, playing with the hem of her shirt. What could he tell her? Nothing that would help his situation. Nothing that would change her mind about whatever wonderful guy she had her eye on. Nothing that would make her consider her dork of a gaming partner.

Marinette smiled up at him. After the miserable company he'd been all afternoon, she still felt like smiling at him? He almost blurted all his feelings out anyway.

"Well..." she said. "I should go."

Pushing herself up on her toes so she could reach and putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, Marinette placed an unexpected kiss on his cheek, just next to his mouth.

Adrien closed his eyes at the tender touch, heart melting.

I could turn my head, he thought as her lips lingered. I could wrap my arms around her and never let go. The scene was vivid in his mind, her hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, fingertips tracing the stripes across his shirt. Whispers of how much she loved him. Him pulling Marinette close, her wanting him to.

But it wasn't real. She wouldn't like that, he reminded himself, so he kept still. His hands gripped his jeans to keep them from seeking her out.

When she pulled away a few seconds later, her look was intense. Despite her announced intention to leave, she hesitated. Waiting for something. For him to say something?

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. Confess! He could do it!

He could, but he shouldn't. She'd just admitted to liking someone else. How disrespectful of her confession would telling her now be? Adrien didn't want to lose her.

"See you tomorrow?" he said, pulling the door open for her.

She frowned, not like she was angry. Like she'd been disappointed. Without another word, she slipped through the door and padded down the wide atrium stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her the whole time, but she didn't turn around to see it. From his spot so far away, he heard the front door click softly behind her.

He stayed put long after she'd gone, replaying the kiss in his mind, what her soft lips felt like, the tingle he'd felt as she'd rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the heat of having her body so close to his.

Had it been all his imagination, telling him what he wanted, or had her kiss really been that close to his mouth? It had felt like she'd almost touched his lips she'd been so close.

The memory was still fresh on his skin, and he outlined the spot hesitantly, then with awe as his finger brushed the corner of his mouth. It wasn't his imagination. She really had.

Maybe... maybe he had misunderstood. Hope bubbled up inside him. She liked someone else, someone other than Nathaniel. He wasn't Nathaniel. What if she'd meant him?

What if he did have a chance after all?

***

Adrien wanted to be absolutely sure. Getting his hopes up again, or listening to Marinette's rejection, would be too painful. He was going to make sure he was the one, so he spent the next week looking for clues that he was the lucky boy she'd set her sights on.

And clues were everywhere.

They were mostly little things, like the way her face would light up when he came around a corner, or how she leaned into his touch when he dared to brush her bangs out of her eyes, or how she didn't scoot away if he sat down close to her.

Four days later, in the middle of a hard level, he experimentally touched his hand to her knee, keeping the pressure as light as he could, in case it wasn't wanted. She scooted closer, like she wanted to make it easier for him to do it again.

Marinette knew about his strict diet and would often bring him goodies, leftovers from the bakery. The following day, she'd brought him ones she'd made herself "with love." That's what she said. The big L word. A small part of him told him to calm down. She could have meant that she loved him as a friend. Most of him excitedly took it as an obvious hint.

Overall, his second favorite hint of her feelings was how she glowed under his compliments.

"These pastries are the best things I've ever tasted! Could you teach me to make them?" Marinette stumbled over her words for the next five minutes.

"Forget competing in the Olympics," he said two days later. "You could be the team coach. You're amazing!" She blushed for the rest of the day.

The best hint, the one that left him reeling, was becoming a common occurrence: she talked to him. Lately, their practice sessions would be filled with long stretches when they chatted about everything and nothing, controllers abandoned.

Today, she lounged on his couch, and he sat on the floor by her head. She'd asked him about his day, and he'd listened to hers, though she admitted herself that it was boring. She'd asked him about his day, then about his dreams for the future.

The honest curiosity she had for his answers, the fact that she even cared, left him leaning the couch for support. Marinette was on her back and smiled up at him as the movement brought him closer.

The conversation hit a lull when he ran out of things to say. Instead of feeling awkward, it was peaceful, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

What a perfect time to test her feelings for him again. Before he could think better of it, he ran his fingers through her hair. Her reaction was immediate. Her whole body relaxed, her smile widening. When she opened her eyes to look up at him, they were soft, maybe even loving.

But the "maybe" was still too daunting, and he pulled his hand back and looked away.

He needed to tell her how he felt. He liked her too much not to. He wanted her to look at him like that all the time. So why was he pulling out the controllers again to avoid her? Was it really better to wait and see what happened? Or should he just lay his heart bare right now?

He settled on the couch next to her, Marinette bending her knees to give him room without moving from her spot. Was she still giving him that loving look? Or had it turned into a frown because he was being a coward? He hunched forward under the weight of all his questions, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I bet I could beat you in my sleep," Marinette said. Her voice sounded normal, so he dared to look at her. Her face was mischievous as she stretched out with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her legs across his lap and pinning his arms down. "Care to bet against me?"

"Um, move. I need those arms."

"Make me."

Two more hints: the ease with which she touched him, and the way she seemed to save her most dazzling smiles just for him.

"Make you?" Massive crush or not, Adrien was not about to pass up a challenge. "I'll make you."

Marinette settled deeper into the cushions, pressing down onto his arms. It was the best trap he'd even been in, and he couldn't reach much to help him, just the coffee table in front of them. Leftover snacks littered the table, along with a half-filled glass of water. He slid it off the edge of the couch as Marinette squirmed to keep him in place.

With his limited movement, he couldn't lift the cup very high, so he mimed pouring it over her shins. She shrieked and kicked him in her scramble to get out of the way, and the glass spun out of his hand, splashing water all over him before landing on the floor. It soaked into his shirt and dripped through his hair.

"I'm sorry!" Marinette jumped up immediately, flapping her arms around her head so fast they blurred. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," he assured her while rivulets of water tickled his down scalp. "It wasn't that much water."

She groaned at the lie. "I'll go get you a towel."

Before he could protest, she ran toward the bathroom door. Adrien followed her, dripping. "It was my fault. Please don't-"

A fluffy towel muffled his words as she threw it over his head and started rubbing it into his hair. "Marinette," he mumbled. "You don't have t-" The pace of her hands became less frantic as she moved from the crown of his head, moving down to dry the back.

"Sorry," she whispered. Her tempo became even slower as she worked the sides of his heads, rubbing gently so she wouldn't hurt his ears. Plans to "accidentally" get himself soaked on a weekly basis were already starting to form in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the attention she was paying him or her rhythmic pace as she stroked circles around his ears, but every muscle in his body seemed to be melting.

"Is that any better?" she asked. Her hands stilled, but she didn't remove the towel from his face. Her breathing was quick and shallow.

Adrien lifted up the edge to reveal Marinette's panicked face. What did she think? That he was going to hate her because of some water? He wasn't a cat.

Her eyes searched his, looking for anger or rejection or who knew what, and he gently grabbed her face with both hands to bring her back to reality. And as an excuse to act out at least the beginning of every fantasy he had about kissing her. With the way she was looking at him, he could even pretend that they were about to come true.

"It's fine," he said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. "I'm all dry now." A cold spot was soaking through at his shoulder, but he ignored it.

After a few more seconds of wide-eyed staring, Marinette slid the towel off his head and looped it behind his neck, holding onto both ends and giving no indication that she wanted him to remove his hands. So he didn't.

Another clue. It finally was enough. He knew.

Leaning in slowly, so she would have time to change her mind, he looked at her lips, then raised an eyebrow in question. Marinette used the towel to pull him closer to her, closing her eyes. A rush of heat swooped in his stomach when he felt her body brush against him. Her breath fanned his face as he inched closer. They hovered, anticipation building, noses brushing, lips quivering, until he tilted his head and finally closed his eyes.

Without warning, the door swung open. "Adrien."

Marinette and Adrien jumped apart, the towel falling on the floor.

Nathalie walked in, staring at her tablet and almost ignoring the teenagers she was speaking to. She hadn't noticed anything. "Your piano teacher is here. Ms. Dupain-Cheng's ride is waiting downstairs." Without another word, or even looking around the room for them, she left, leaving the door open after her.

"Um," Adrien said. Cursing the interruption, he bent to pick up the towel. When he straightened he reached out for Marinette's hand, but she was already across the room, picking up her things and not looking at him, her face glowing red.

She snuck him a peek once as she was putting her shoes back on, but when she saw him staring at her, she looked down again. Probably because he was gaping at her like an idiot.

Marinette finally walked back over to him, eyeing the wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-

"Want a hug?" he asked, offering his arms. "It's nice and cold."

She chuckled as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his. "Thanks for having me over." Her breath blew his hair, tickling him. "And for letting me beat you."

"Oh, yes," he said. The hug didn't feel cold at all. It was warming him up from head to toe. "I lost on purpose, just for you." How was he supposed to just let her walk out his door, when all he wanted to do was hold her and never move from this spot again? "Because your happiness is so important to me."

As she pulled away and stepped back, he grabbed her hand, and then just as quickly let it go, unsure how to recreate the mood that had so quickly evaporated.

They waited, neither moving, Adrien hoping for at least another goodbye kiss like she'd given him last week. Without warning her expression crumpled, and she walked through the door without saying goodbye at all.

She'd been waiting, he realized as soon as she was gone. She'd been waiting for a goodbye kiss, too.

Adrien ran to the window in time to watch her walk down the front steps. He followed her with his eyes as she slid into the car. When she turned to pull the door closed behind her, she paused, looking straight at him. He waved, but she shut it without returning the gesture.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. It was Saturday, and they had another practice in the morning. The first words out of his mouth were going to be his confession.

He just needed to figure out what to say.

***

Saturday mornings used to mean stifling isolation. There was no school to look forward to. His tutors often had the day off, and if there wasn't a photoshoot, he was likely to be confined to his room. Another benefit of having Marinette in his life was that he was no longer alone on the oppressive weekends.

"You're smart, and kind, and funny." Adrien muttered to himself in the back seat, his driver occasionally looking at him with concern through the rearview mirror. He'd been rehearsing multiple versions of his speech since last night. It was only a few minutes until he saw her, and he still hadn't decided what to say. Should he just blurt it out? "Marinette, I love you." Or should he build up to it? "I've loved spending time with you, and you're my best friend, and lately you've become more than that." He tested them both out. They were both fine, so why did they both sound so... wrong?

Maybe he wasn't being specific enough. Anyone could tell her she was great. So what should he say about her specifically? This only led him back to all the other lists of rehearsed lines he'd come up with in the last 12 hours, her confidence, her infectious joy, her compassion...

The car pulled up to the curb, and Adrien stepped out, knees a little wobbly with anxiety. He was going to have to just wing it. Say what felt right in the moment. Which was a terrifying idea, but now he had no choice.

The bell tinkled and the smell of fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies filled his nose as soon as he pushed open the bakery door. Sabine and Tom turned to him with wide smiles.

"She's already waiting for you," Sabine said, waving him through the door to their upstairs apartment. "Have fun!"

His footsteps seemed to echo through the small hallway. Hesitating only a second, he knocked on the door that led into her living room, and waited, heart pounding.

Marinette, I have something to tell you. Marinette, I love you. Marinette, before we start to play, can we talk? He'd promised himself. The first words out of his mouth would be his confession. Don't mess it up, Adrien. Just tell her you love her.

The door was yanked inward so fast that it hit the wall. Adrien jumped. "M-marinette. I lo-"

"I've got a new idea! Come here!" She reached through the doorway and clamped down on his wrist, then turned and towed him through the living room and up her stairs. A woman on a mission.

He had no idea what that mission was, or what really was happening, so his imagination started supplying possibilities. She got a new game? She needed to show him her newest art project? He tripped on the top step when he thought that maybe she was dragging him up to her room because she couldn't wait to kiss him.

He imagined her snapping the trapdoor shut, with the pink curtains closed and her room dimly lit by filtered light. She would let go of his hand, then turn around to face him, before slowly stepping into his space. She'd slide her hands up his shirt, stopping at the collar, grabbing fistfuls to pull herself closer. And closer. Their faces were millimeters apart. He could count the lashes of her half-closed eyes. He reached for her eagerly, wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her closer, her stomach flush against him.

"I love you," she whispered. "You're the only one for me." Her lips parted slightly as her eyes slid shut.

Marinette's voice was suddenly bright and cheery. "Pick your favorite button!"

Adrien's daydream popped.

Sunlight flooded her room through uncovered windows. Her trapdoor was still open, as her parents had always requested, and she waited for an answer expectantly, bouncing on her toes and not looking smitten in the slightest.

"Uh, what?"

"Buttons," she repeated. "Which one's your favorite?"

She'd dragged him upstairs for sewing help. He cleared his throat and smoothed out the collar of his shirt, which hadn't been rumpled by her hands.

"I've never thought about it," he said, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "Flat buttons are probably the easiest to sew with, but Father says shank buttons are almost as easy, and I think they look... What?"

Marinette was laughing at him. "No, your favorite controller button, you goof." She waved one in front of his face. The A button had been taped down. Taking it in both hands again, she mimed playing an intense round. Enthusiasm bubbled off of her. He had no idea what this was about, but he was already on board with whatever it was. (Even if it wasn't kissing.)

"I'm confused." And also in love with you.

It was too late for his confession to be the first thing out of his mouth. His fingers itched to touch her, but she was too excited to let him interrupt.

"See, we're getting too good. We need a new way to push ourselves, so I thought, give ourselves a handicap." She pointed at the incapacitated button. "And go head-to-head. What do you think?"

"I think that's amazing."

As soon as the moment passed, he'd realized what a perfect opportunity he'd missed. Marinette was scrambling across her room to tape down the B on his controller. "You're," he whispered, too quiet for her to hear. "I think you're amazing."

"Catch!" The controller flew, and he caught it deftly. Marinette flopped onto the chaise, leaning sideways against the cushioned back, leaving enough room for him to sit at the end, if he didn't mind her feet poking his thigh, which he definitely did not.

The computer monitor flickered as Marinette scrolled through the settings. Adrien leaned forward as the round began, trying to ignore the way her toes jabbed him when he got a hit on her. It didn't happen very often. The handicap was almost impossible to play with. Marinette won every round easily. At the end of the fourth round, she covered a fake yawn and stretched lazily, and he finally realized something important.

"You practiced this beforehand, you dirty cheater!"

Marinette laughed wickedly as his character was knocked out again.

"You're almost as good as I am now, young grasshopper. I've got to maintain my superiority somehow!"

"We both know that isn't true." He swiped for her hands, but she was too fast, moving the controller out of his reach. "Give yourself a second handicap."

"Make me," she said, her feet pushing against him to press herself further into the back of the chaise.

"Give it."

"No."

He leaned over her legs and into her space, but she kept the controller away from him, grinning wildly. Feigning defeat, Adrien leaned back. When Marinette lowered it into her lap, he pounced forward, but she was still too quick, lifting both hands behind her head, hiding it out of sight.

"Hand it over!"

"No!"

He reached, and she leaned back farther, one elbow poking his cheek. Pushing into her, he strained to get the controller, and she arched underneath him to keep it away.

His arms were longer than hers. He should have been able to get it. His fingers found her wrists, and he slid them up to find her fingers.

A warm breath on his cheek made him stop. He was face-to-face with Marinette. He was nearly lying on top of her, pressing her into the chaise. They were both breathing hard, though they'd barely moved. One of her pigtails was loose.

"It's not fair," he said, mouth dry. "You need to make it even."

She lifted her head, until her face filled his vision and their noses touched. "Make me." Her lips brushed his with each word.

He kissed her.

Every longing moment, every loving thought he'd ever had about her poured through him into his kiss. Again and again his lips found hers. Somewhere, a controller clattered to the floor, and then her hands were on him, in his hair, splayed against his neck, pulling him closer, and he kissed her harder, caressing her face, pulling out her loose pigtail so he could feel her soft hair between his fingers.

Kissing a line from the corner of her mouth to ear and back, he asked, "Have I sufficiently dazed you?"

She hummed dreamily in response.

Kissing just below her ear, he asked, "Think you can play like this?"

A whisper. "No."

Taking his time, he worked his way back across her cheek, making sure to kiss every inch until he reached the corner of her lips, but he stopped just shy of them, gently kissing her nose instead. "Good."

Somehow, he managed to pull himself off of her. Marinette clutched at his shirt, trying to get him to come back, but he circled the chaise and retrieved her controller, holding it out to her. He loved the way her fingers hovered over her mouth as her eyes wandered up his arm. When her eyes reached his lips, her fingers pressed down hard, like it was the only way she could stop herself from kissing him again.

"Up for another round?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the computer screen.

"Yes, but not of that." She scowled. Half of her hair was loose around her shoulder.

"Let me win this game and you have a deal."

"Never."

"Poor, Marinette," he said, settling down next to her and clicking Start. "No more kisses for you."

Ten seconds into the round and Adrien already knew his plan was going to end badly. His hands were shaking. Marinette's character wobbled. Every time he licked his lips, he could still taste her.

And she had realized that if she rubbed her toes against his hip, he would jump and look over at her. The first time she did it, he was unsure if it had been on purpose, but the second, he turned to find a sly smile waiting for him. This girl was going to drive him crazy.

"I don't think much of your tactics," she said a minute later, as her character finished him off. It had taken three times longer than normal because they were both awful. "You're clearly just as dazed as I am."

"Not nearly enough," he said. Tossing the controller onto the desk, he reached for her waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair.

One of his hands stayed at her waist, the other reached up and pulled her other pigtail loose. "You really do look good like this," he breathed.

"You love me," she giggled. "Admit it."

He leaned forward, forehead resting on hers, eyes locked. "Make me."

"Oh, believe me-" Marinette's voice was a low whisper, and Adrien felt a thrill. "I will."

***

Author’s note: This might just be my new favorite thing I’ve ever written. :) I wrote this in response to a poll I took a zillion years ago. It’s finally here! Thank you @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs and @actuallycannotflirt for beta’ing this one! I know it was long, and I truly appreciate the help!

@tbehartoo

#adrinette #adrienette #ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #no miraculous au

593 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 4 years ago

Note

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-” “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

»»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

»»————-　➴　————-««

(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

»»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record…

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

546 notes · View notes

unwrittenlibrary · 3 years ago

Text

Sole Survivor -> II

summary // days eight through eighteen; blindsides, chocolate rewards, immunity idols and cutthroat words.

words // 11.5k (wowza)

warnings // reality tv, typical survivor mentions (idols, tribal, council), cursing, introducing a nickname (sweets) & some allusion to horniness but no sexual scenes

notes // this chapter & the next will probably be the longest ones because they have the most days but!! so much more development and drama here i’m actually super happy with how this came out! i hope you enjoy it :) i did some editing but there still may be some minor spelling or grammar mistakes, i will go through again this weekend!

series masterlist here. [eighteen plus blog and this fic holding eventual eighteen plus scenes mean minors should not interact with this story]

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

PREVIOUS • Chapter II • OUTPLAY • NEXT

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Day Eight

Bucky’s shocked with how well the villains have been playing throughout the first week. While there may be tensions running high at camp, whispers and secret alliances, they pull it together on challenge days.

Except - well - Bucky’s cringing as he watches this challenge because the villains are just sucking. Apparently wrestling in the mud with padded duffle bags is their achilles heel, who would have fucking thought?

The heroes had gotten rid of Sharon at the last tribal council which made the most sense to Bucky. She had been good in her season, but challenges just weren’t her thing, social skills were and right now the heroes need challenge wins.

And it’s worked.

One by one the villains have been knocked off the platform, the heros have five points and first to six wins, Bucky doesn’t even want to go up.

“You got this Bucky!” You cheer from your spot on the mat. You’re covered in mud from the last round. Bucky kind of wants to forfeit to avoid embarrassing himself in front of you. It’s raining now, the platform is slick with rain and mud so Bucky’s slipping before they even begin trying to knock each other off.

“Villains need this point to stay in the game.” Jeff calls out - yeah thanks - “Ready? Go!” Bucky stumbles around as Steve, of all people, circles him.

They’re the same height, but Steve is definitely a little broader. “Come on, Buck! Knock him down!” You scream.

“God, she’s annoying.” Steve murmurs in response and Bucky furrows his brows a little angrily. “Come on man, leave her alone.” He mumbles, trying to keep the words off camera. He doesn’t need the world to know he’s grown a little protective of you.

Steve raises his brows. “She’s annoying.” He repeats and Bucky sighs. He didn’t want to make the first move, content to circle Steve until Jeff forced them to make contact, but for some reason he just can’t let that slide.

So, he steps forward and goes low, pushing his huge red duffel into Steve’s stomach. It makes him stumble, but not a lot, and Steve is quick to push back.

Bucky stumbles more, his feet sliding around the mud until he tumbles to the ground and tries feebly to block Steve’s pushes towards the edge. How were the heroes so good at not slipping? Did they have glue on their feet?

There’s almost a sigh of relief when Bucky’s body hits the mud, like thank God this is over. He crawls out sadly and feels embarrassed as everyone pats his back reassuringly.

“Heroes, for the first time in eight days, you’ve won immunity.” Jeff hands over the small statue. “Grab your stuff head out.” The heroes cheer as they happily march away.

Jeff turns to the villains solemnly. “Villains, I got nothing but your first date at tribal council with me tonight. You have the afternoon to discuss. Grab your stuff, head out.”

Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“We needed this win. And to be able to absolutely demolish the villains while getting it? It’s a boost to us and humbling to them. We could win this.”

Loki Odinson - Villain Tribe

“We were just pathetic today. Absolutely awful. Not one point? You can’t even blame that on a weak player because we all sucked!”

You’re in the water with Bucky and Natasha trying to wash all the mud off your body. “Who should we get rid of tonight?” You whisper as you dip your head back to try and get it out of your hair.

Tony and Stephen were further down in the water. Loki was laying in the shelter with Clint. You knew Darcy was sitting by the fire.

Natasha purses her lips. “I was thinking Strange.” She says with a quick glance over her shoulder. “I know they’re going to be saying your name, Y/N, so we need to get Darcy and Loki before they do.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “My name? Why?”

“It’s too soon to get rid of physical competitors.” Bucky comments. He rests a reassuring hand on your back and you fight the urge to move closer to him. You weren’t sure what it was about Bucky, but he was so comforting, you always wanted to be around him. “Loki and Darcy know that.”

“I’ll talk to Darcy, you two talk to Loki.” Natasha orders before swimming away. You and Bucky look at each other with a laugh.

“She’s intimidating.” You admit. Neither of you move to go and talk to Loki, both content to relax in the water for a few more minutes.

“Not as intimidating as you.” Bucky splashes some water at you making you splutter.

You splash him back with a laugh. “How so? I think I’m nicer.”

Bucky shakes his head. He moves a little closer to you in the water and you smile when his leg brushes against yours. “You just have this stare.” Bucky smiles. “Makes everyone around you want to drop everything and do what you say.”

“Does it make you feel like that?” You stare at him with a smirk. Bucky presses his tongue against his cheek and looks away for a moment.

“Sometimes.” He admits as he stands in the water. Your eyes trail up from the waistband of his shorts to his collar. He’s already got a tan from the island sun and his body looks incredible dripping water off of it. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his and Bucky smiles before moving to make his way to shore.

Your hand darts out and wraps around his wrist. “I know we haven’t talked about it a lot.” You say quietly. “But you and me, Bucky Barnes. Final two. These other alliances are just a means to an end.”

Bucky nods stiffly, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “I’ll talk to Loki.” He gently pulls his wrist away from your hand. You watch as he makes his way to shore and begins searching subtly for Loki.

Clint Barton - Villain Tribe

“I trust Nat. Nat and I are friends outside of this. She’s a part of my life, she knows my kids, my wife. I just hope she’s made a good choice in working with Bucky and Y/N because from what I’ve seen they’ll pick each other over any of us.”

You - Villain Tribe

“I don’t…” You laugh. “Bucky is handsome. That’s all I have to say.”

“Can I talk to you, Loki?” Bucky asks politely. Loki stares at him for a moment before raising his eyebrows. “Come for a walk?”

Loki heaves out a sigh before standing up to follow after Bucky. “I’m assuming you and the siren need a vote.”

Bucky snorts. “She’ll love that. Black Widow. Villainess and now siren.” He sighs. “Where are you leaning on the vote?” Loki looks at Bucky from beside him. Social game wasn’t Bucky’s best aspect, he always struggled with the ability of persuasion, but he was better at this game now. Six years off of it, twelve seasons, he’s had time to study up.

“Not sure. Today was a wake up call. Maybe we’re not as strong as we thought.” Loki admits. “Who are you leaning towards?”

“Strange.” Bucky answers quietly. “We’re all pretty strong, you know? But he and Stark are just stuck in the past and Survivor is a new game now.”

“So why not get rid of Stark?” Loki just watches as Bucky picks up logs. Bucky supposes he can’t be too upset because Loki had agreed to talk and not gather. “Stark won. Strange didn’t.”

Bucky can admit he has a point and Strange was far more tolerable to Bucky than Tony was. Strange was good at laying under the radar though, and while he was incredibly talented at puzzles, physical challenges seemed to be a weakness.

“You won.” Bucky purses his lips as Lokie shrugs. “Like you said, we need a strong team. We just came to the decision that Strange is weaker than Tony.”

“What can you offer me?” Bucky is reminded of how Loki won. He was always so good at giving less than what he got in return.

“I can promise you safety tonight.” Bucky narrows his eyes. “Then we’ll talk. You have to know your reputation, Loki.”

“I do.” He smiles at Bucky. “But we all have one, don’t we? Who’s to say your girl won’t turn on you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the jab. “Can I count on you Loki?”

“I’ll let you know.” Loki shrugs apathetically before walking away. Bucky scoffs.

Was trusting you risky? Of course it was. If he fell out with you he was sure it would be his ticket home, but he had seen your loyalty in full play too. When the alliance had turned on Shuri your season, you had refused to write her name down and gave up your idol for her.

He was playing smart, whether or not anybody else thought so. He could work with you, save you, get saved and then when it became necessary he could turn his back on you.

This was a villain's game after all.

Tony Stark - Villain Tribe

“Something is brewing. I can feel it. We got too comfortable with winning. We never put a plan in place for if we lost and now I’m afraid I’ll be the target.”

When you get the hour warning, you can tell something is wrong with Bucky. He’s shaking his leg and his eyes are shooting around the shelter like he’s an on duty security guard.

“Bucky.” You nudge his shoulder with yours as you sit next to him. “What’s up?”

He looks around skeptically before leaning in towards you. His metal arm brushes your’s and makes you shiver, it’s coolness offers a much needed relief from the sun beating down on you everyday. “We should get rid of Loki.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him shocked. “Wh...What? Why?” You whisper.

“He wants too much from us. He wants to play that swing vote angle again. He’s dangerous, he’s won before.” He explains hastily. Tony and Stephen were whispering by the fire with Darcy.

“I’ve won before.” You point out. Bucky shakes his head quickly, his hand lands on your kneecap reassuringly.

“He’s not gonna help us, I’m telling you.” There’s a warning in his tone that makes your back straighten. “We should talk to them, he hasn’t made any friendships yet.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… Okay.” You place your hand over Bucky’s. “I trust you.” He lets out a sigh of relief and you stand, holding a hand out to help him up.

The three look up at you cautiously as you and Bucky take seats across from them. “Who are you guys thinking?” You ask gently.

“You come to us less than an hour before we have to leave? Your plan not work out?” Tony scoffs with a defiant cross of his arms.

You roll your eyes at his pride. It would be his downfall. “Our plan is Loki and we were hoping you could help.” You put on your sweetest smile and softest tone of voice.

Tony looks you up and down with a tense jaw. “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?”

“I wouldn’t have even come up to you if I wanted you gone, Tony.” You say with a smirk. “I would have just picked you off.” You stand quickly, over the conversation. You had given him your demand, there was no need to waste your last half hour before council. “I’m gonna rinse off. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky watches you go. It’s hard not to. He doesn’t even care that the cameraman not even ten feet away captures his eyes moving over your body or how he adjusts his seat when he turns to face the two older men again.

“We’ll vote with you tonight.” Tony says with a knowing look. “But, I’ve gotta warn you. I’ve watched her season. I’ve seen her. You, my friend, are falling right into the trap.”

Bucky shrugs. “What if she’s falling into mine?”

Natasha - Villain Tribe

“We’re going to tribal tonight, which I’m sure will be a disaster. I know Jeff is gonna tear our performance to pieces and he’ll ask intrusive questions. All I can hope is that the plan works and Strange goes home.”

You - Villain Tribe

“Bucky and I came up with Loki so last minute I didn’t have a chance to tell Nat or Clint. What’s the saying? I’d rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. I can only hope this doesn’t make an enemy out of her.”

“Villains come on in. Grab a torch and light it up.” Jeff calls out as the eight of you walk in in single file. “Fire is your life in this game. When it’s extinguished, your time here is up.” Everybody takes a seat. You place yourself in front of Bucky and in between Loki and Darcy.

“Wow. Villains. Not going to tribal for eight days is an impressive feat.” Jeff starts off his hands pressed against his legs as he looks over your group. “Do you think tonight will make you stronger? Or expose rifts? Natasha?”

You force yourself not to flinch as she begins speaking. Have to keep the guilt off your face as you think of how upset she’ll probably be when all is said and done. “Well, I think tonight will really strengthen us as a group. Sealing up any cracks.”

You swallow and turn your head to look at her like you agree. You see Bucky out of the corner of your eye and really, really want to look at him for some comfort, but you knew Jeff would catch on.

“Loki? You agree?” Jeff moves his eyes over you and onto the laid back man. Loki nods with a cocky smirk. “I do, Jeff. Tonight will be a clean slate.”

You rub a finger under your noise nervously. You and Loli weren’t friends, but you did feel a little bad at the idea of this blindside. “Bucky, I mean, it seems like you guys have it all figured out? Is this a front or are you guys really at one?”

Bucky’s knee grazes your lower back. “I mean… I feel like we’re working together well, but you never know. I mean, I could go home tonight. You really never know.”

Jeff nods, looking a little put off by how little you’re all giving away. “Okay, well then, let’s get to the vote. Loki, you’re up first.”

As Loki walks away you finally look back at Bucky. He nods as subtly as he can and while you’re sure it will be zoomed in on in the edit of the show, nobody sitting around you seems to notice and that’s what matters right now.

One by one the eight of you make your way to the voting area. You write Loki’s name with a sad face in the O and fold it up.

This was the best move for your game, you knew it was. Loki was too good and too smart to be kept for a possible vote. You knew if he made it to the merge he could make it all the way to the end again.

And you just couldn’t let that happen.

Bucky’s Vote - Loki

“Sorry, man.” Bucky shrugs holding the slip of paper up. “You came too hard. I need to protect myself in this game.”

Tony’s Vote - Loki

“If it’s not you, it’s me.” He shrugs. “Sorry, I really like me.”

Natasha’s Vote - Strange

“Some OGs just don’t know how to adapt. I’m learning the new game while you’re stuck in the past.”

Once you’re seated again, Jeff moves to grab the votes. “Person with the most votes will be the third person voted off the island and the first voted off the villain's tribe. I’ll read the votes.”

He pulls a slip out. “Strange.” He marks. You hear Stephen’s sharp inhale. “Strange.” Jeff reads again. “That’s two for strange.” He pulls out another slip. “Strange. That’s three for strange. Five votes left.”

You suck in a breath. This was the moment, either you and Bucky would be victorious or this would be an incredibly fast fall from grace.

“Loki.” His head whips around to look at Bucky, who you know is staring straight af Jeff like you are. “Loki. That’s two votes Loki. Three votes Strange. Three votes left.” You tap your foot against the makeshift wood floor. “Loki.” Jeff reads. Natasha’s head turns to look at you with fierce eyes, but you don’t acknowledge her gaze.

“Loki. That’s four for Loki. Three for Strange. One vote left.” Jeff pulls the last slip out. “Third person voted-“

“Fuck.” Loki hisses next to you as he stands. He doesn’t acknowledge any of you as he brings his torch to Jeff, only deigns to say something when it’s put out.

“I think you all know who’s running the show now and if you let her, she’ll go all the way again.” He warns before descending the steps.

You roll your eyes before you turn to look at Bucky with a small smile. “Well, playing the game with vets obviously means playing the game. Villains starting off with a blindside, the only question is will it make you stronger? Grab your stuff, head out. See you at the next reward challenge.”

Loki Odinson - Exit Interview

“I was just too big of a threat to them. They new I would win it all again if I stayed, I can only hope they figure that out about that girl. She’ll go all the way again, she’d win.”

Natasha - Villain Tribe

“I got played. That’s what happened. She took my trust and used it to her advantage and she played me. She’s going home next. Then her little boy toy.”

Bucky trails behind you as Natasha stomps back into camp. “I just can’t believe this.” She hisses to the two of you as move to place your stuff back in the shelter.

“It was last minute, Nat.” Bucky sits down next to you in the shelter. “We didn’t have time to talk to you before tribal.”

She scoffs. “Yeah. Yeah. Now I just look like the idiot who trusted you and who brought Clint down with her!” She waves her arm in Clint’s general direction and he looks away like he doesn’t really want to be a part of the conversation.

Bucky gives her a dramatic eye roll. “You don’t look dumb. It was last minute. Loki was too dangerous to keep in the game. He was going to play us all to make it to the merge.”

“The merge? Bucky! It’s not even day ten yet. We need a strong team.” Natasha hisses. Bucky feels your foot rub against his shin subtly as she yells at him. “Loki was strong!”

“We all are! This isn’t the same survivor, Nat!” Bucky tries to keep his voice steady, but he’s getting tired of being yelled at. “If we lose again. If we somehow end up one more or one less than them, having Loki would be detrimental to numbers. Especially with Thor on the other side.”

Bucky nudges his knee into your leg dangling off the makeshift bed of the shelter. “He’s right. You know it.” You defend him.

“You two just made an enemy. Okay?” she crawls onto the opposite side of the shelter.

Bucky scoffs, but doesn’t say or do anything else in response. It’s tense as some of your tribe members sit by the fire or crawl into the space to sleep.

You fall onto your back and Bucky takes space beside you. “Did we make a stupid move?” He whispers. He can see one of the silhouettes of a cameraman near the shelter and he’s sure they’ll be trying to pick up this conversation, but he really just needs reassurance.

You shake your head. “No.” You scoot closer to him. Bucky shuts his eyes, while laying like this during the day was a no-go, it was nice to be beside you at night. Where your heat offered some relief to cold. “And there’s no second guessing in Survivor, okay? We did what was best for us.” You whisper sternly.

Bucky nods in response. He hesitates for a moment before reaching out and squeezing your hand. “Thank you.”

Your eyes widen and he can see the shock reflected on your face even in the dark, but you squeeze back. “Final two.” You say so quietly Bucky can barely hear you.

Day Ten

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“Loki was the best move for us. I know and Y/N knows that. That’s all that matters right now. We have a challenge to win. Nat’s threats mean nothing right now.” He shrugs.

Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe

“The villains walk in and my brother is gone! I just never expected him to go home so soon. We didn’t get to play together long on blood versus water, and I hoped that we would be able to here. If I had to guess I would say they just saw him as too big of a threat.”

When Jeff reveals a set up of chocolate, your mouth waters. Sweets person or not after almost two weeks with nothing but water and rice, chocolate sounded like a five star meal at a Michelin star restaurant.

“You even get a little taste.” Jeff teases as he reveals a plate with small break away pieces of chocolate. Your entire tribe groans as he comes up to you with the plate.

You turn to face Bucky as he takes his small piece. He smiles and offers it out. “Do you want it?” You shake your head quickly and he shrugs before popping it into his mouth.

You nudge him when you notice Steve handing the plate back without taking a piece. “What are they doing?” He asks amused as the entire tribe follows suit. You roll your eyes when Steve holds the plate, still filled with chocolate, out for Jeff to take.

Jeff furrows his brows. “You don’t like chocolate, Steve?” He asks, bemused by the hero's actions. Your entire tribe turns to look at them to explain themselves. Steve shrugs. “We don’t need it, Jeff. We’re here to win.”

“So you don’t care about the reward? You just want to win to win?’ Jeff attempts to clarify. You laugh out loud. “We’ll take it, Jeff! Can we have their bites of chocolate?” You giggle as Bucky pinches your side.

Jeff laughs and Steve shrugs apathetically. “We’re ready to win. Let’s play.”

“So you don-”

“Let’s play.” Steve cuts Jeff’s question off, who looks at the man annoyed by the attitude. “We’ll play.” Jeff says sternly. “When I’m done.” Steve looks away a little embarrassed which only makes your tribe laugh a little more as Jeff begins to explain the rules of the challenge.

“It’s like basketball.” You murmur, recognizing the game from your own season. Two players from each team in the area and three on each platform. The two in the arena catch the balls and try to steal them for the contestants on the platform to shoot. You feel like your tribe has a really good shot to rebuild momentum again. “We got this.”

You end up in the arena with Clint while Bucky, Nat and Tony stand on the platform to shoot. You’ve forced Strange and Darcy to sit out, but neither of them seemed thrilled at the idea of basketball either.

It’s a brutal match. The heroes are obviously desperate for another win, desperately trying to prove themselves to whoever watches this season at home.

Something about the villains just clicks though. It’s easy for your team to communicate and score; the closer and closer you get to five points the dirtier the heroes start to play.

By the last round, you and Bucky are both in the arena while the other three attempt to shoot the winning score.

With Steve.

Who elbows you when you jump for a ball. “Shit!” The hit itself isn’t too hard, but it’s jarring enough that you fall to the ground in shock.

“Are you fucking serious, dude?” Bucky shows up behind you with a glare directed towards Steve, who at least looks a little apologetic. Bucky’s fingers lift your chin so you look at him.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call for medical?” Jeff calls from his spot near the benchwarmers.

Bucky’s fingers trace over what you’re sure will be a little bruise later or some minor swelling before he shakes his head. “You good?” He asks quietly, just for you.

His eyes on you are intense as he traces his fingertips over your skin. It’s intimate, far too intimate for the amount of people watching hawkeyed and looking for reasons to vote you out.

You stand abruptly. “I’m good.” You dust the dirt off of your legs and turn to face Jeff without glancing back at Bucky. “No medical! I’m okay! Just an accidental bump.” Your eyes find Steve’s and he offers a semi-apologetic smile that you shrug at in return.

The game is called back on. Steve seems a little shaken by his accidental brawl and it gives your team all the momentum they need to score the last basket.

“Villains win reward!” Jeff’s arms shoot up and your team cheers. You squeeze Bucky’s bicep as Darcy rushes over to give you a hug. Thank you. You mouth, the cameras may have picked up on it, but nobody else has and that’s all that matters.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I bet right now they’re wishing they had some of that chocolate.” His laughter rings out.

Peter Parker - Hero

“I really wish I had taken a bite of chocolate. It looked so good.”

There’s a large table set up buffet style with chocolate candies, cakes, milk and anything you can make chocolate, is chocolate.

But there’s only one thing Bucky’s searching for, a clue. If there’s one thing he’s learned watching these more recent seasons, it’s that there’s always a clue hidden away on these reward trips and Bucky’s going to find it.

For you and for him.

“Oh my god.” You let out a moan at the bite of a chocolate cupcake you take. You hold it towards Bucky with a smirk. “Try it. I don’t think I’ve ever had a cupcake that tasted this good.”

Bucky takes a small bite and lets out a pleased groan. He’s sure if he had been eating steadily for the past couple weeks the cupcake wouldn’t taste nearly as good, but to him it’s like heaven.

“We’re gonna go for a swim. Do you two wanna come?” Darcy offers as the rest of the team darts towards the clear water. You and Bucky shake your heads quickly. “I’m too attached to this chocolate.” You giggle as Darcy moves to follow the rest of your team.

You move so you’re sitting beside Bucky and lean your head against his shoulder as you take bites of the chocolate treats. “Check this out.” You hold up your left hand and flash a small, white piece of paper.

“Is that…” Bucky trails off as you stuff it into your bikini top with a smirk. “Where’d you find it?”

“The cookie platter.” You laugh softly. “It was hidden between the chocolate chip and oreos.” You tilt your head up to look at him. “That’s our safety procurement. They’re not getting rid of us anytime soon.” You smirk.

“If we can find it.” Bucky noted, picking up another small cupcake. You grab a small, hershey kiss and pop it into your mouth. “I know where it is, Buck. I read the clue when I went to the bathroom. It’s back at camp.”

Bucky nods and finally lets himself relax, his head resting over yours as the two of you eat in a comfortable silence.

“You and I, baby.” Bucky holds a piece of chocolate out which you meet halfway in a cheers. “Til the end!” You cheers with a soft laugh.

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“Nobody is really worried about Bucky and Y/N because they just don’t have the numbers anymore. Clint and I aren’t going to help them and Tony and Darcy only promised one vote.” She shrugs. “If they want to sit off in their little bubble and just enjoy their last few days together until we vote them off, that’s fine! We’re not worried.”

Darcy Lewis - Villain Tribe

“I mean, she had to know nobody would want to bring her until the end. She’s a fan favorite. She plays well. It’s only a matter of time until she’s gone and Bucky following right after her.”

Day Twelve

The heroes just can’t win. Which you can tell is annoying your tribe. Immunity is nice when there are people you don’t want to get rid of before the merge. It was an issue when there was and they wanted to get rid of you.

“If we lose, we need to have a plan.” You whisper to Bucky as the two of you huddle by the fire. Your thighs are pressed against one another’s and it has warmth spreading through you. “They’re going to try and vote one of us out.”

Bucky’s fingers trace over your leg. “But we have this.” He taps the immunity idol you had stuffed into your shorts after finding it on the trek back to your camp. “We can use it against them.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “If we play it right.” You glance over your shoulder. The rest of your tribe is floating in the water, washing off the dirt from today’s challenge. “If we play it wrong, we fuck everything up.”

You can feel Bucky nod against the top of your head. “How do we play it right? They’re not going to tell us their votes.”

“They’ll try.” You cross your arms over your chest. “They’ll whisper around us and try to make us think a certain way. We just have to play smarter.” You shrug.

You stand up suddenly, dusting off the sand and dirt stuck to your skin. “We’ll just play the defeated pair act and turn it around on them. We just have to find a weak link.”

Your eyes move back to the ocean, where Darcy floats away from the group, obviously ignored and outcasted.

“Then we have our in.” You smirk down at Bucky.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s so odd. I’m… I just find myself wanting to follow her everywhere though.” He shakes his head, like he can’t quite believe he’s saying all this. “I know how she won. She’s good. She makes it feel real.”

Day Fourteen

Things go well, but not as well as Bucky had hoped. With a double tribal council looming over them, individual immunity for you or him would have ideal, no matter who won the award.

Natasha had won individual immunity and the reward, hot dogs and hamburgers while sitting in the opposite tribe’s council. It was good, but Bucky knew she would be power high for the rest of the afternoon.

She had made it clear she would be coming for you and him.

“Heroes can’t win, so they’re forcing us to go to tribal now.” You nudge Bucky with your elbow, but he can’t bring himself to laugh. He can’t understand how you’re so nonchalant as Natasha moves around camp with a vengeance, desperate to get back at you two for screwing her over.

In the first vote, his mind tacks on. She shouldn’t be taking it too serious.

“How are you not worried?” Bucky asks quietly as the two of you sit under the palm tree. You’re weaving ferns together for no reason other than it giving you something to do while Bucky uses a spare cloth to wipe dirt off of his arm. “She’s plotting our demise and we’re just sitting here.”

You glance up at him with a smile. “You worry too much, Buck.” You shrug your shoulders. He watches as your eyes move over the beach and take in the groups spread out. “Have you noticed anything?” You ask quietly.

Bucky splutters for a moment, completely shocked by your nonchalance. “Are you listening to me?”

“Because I have.” You ignore him. Anybody else and Bucky would be furious. He thinks that may be a problem. You hand comes up to cup his chin and force his stare in the direction of the fire pit. His eyes land on Darcy, sitting alone as Tony, Stephen and Natasha chat in the shelter. “I’ve noticed how overlooked Darcy Lewis is. They don’t see her as a physical threat or social competitor.”

Bucky nods slowly. “What makes you say that?”

“They think she’ll fall into line because she owes them something for keeping her safe.” Your hand drops from Bucky’s face and he raises a fingertip to trace over where they had laid. You keep talking, “But she knows they’ll rid of her at the merge. She’s too smart individually to not.”

“And we get her to spill their secrets?” Bucky asks softly, catching on to your train of though. “Because they’re talking around her, but not to her right now.” You turn to look at him with a proud smile and short nod.

“When she goes off on her own, we’ll make our move. There’s no need to stress, Buck.” You say softly. He looks down at you and almost melts at the reassuring smile on your face.

Fourteen days and he felt something for that smile. Something like butterflies in the stomach and breath flowing easier. Was that too soon? He wasn’t sure. Time was different when you’re with people twenty-four seven. “Yeah.” He breathes out. “You’re right.”

The cameras have no doubt caught this flickering of emotions on his face and maybe by the end of this he’ll be plastered across social media as a somehow worse victim to your Survivor game. He knows Steve had worshipped you, but it was never like this. You never smiled at him like this.

Bucky swears it.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s good.” He laughs awkwardly. “We’ll see how this alliance plays out.” He looks away and watches as you get up and walks towards Darcy, who has finally drifted off to collect fire wood. “We’ll... We’ll see.”

“Darcy? Can I come with you?” You’ve made sure the majority group has moved on to the water so they don’t see you talking with her and . “Maybe we could talk.” You shrug.

She looks you over with wary eyes before sighing. “Yeah. Okay.” She nods for you to follow and you smile thankfully at her. Darcy was sweet, there really wasn’t any other word for her.

Her confessionals had been hilarious; They were full of dry commentary and sarcastic quips that made her easily likable. She was a genius, in the literal sense, and forced her way to the end with puzzle wins. Her fatal flaw, and the ultimate nail in her coffin, had been her inability to make strong alliances.

“You’re a threat.” You say easily as you both pause to pick up some fire wood. “It’s why you struggled on your first season and why you’ll struggle now.”

She raises her eyebrows at you obviously unimpressed. “i made it to final tribal council. How is that struggling?”

“You lost.” You shrug. She seems unphased by your bluntness and that makes you happy. “You know you lost because you didn’t forge bonds. You’re sweet. Funny. Smart and strong. People saw you as a threat from that first puzzle challenge on your season and they spent the end plotting your demise. You made it to final three because of your skills not because of your social presence. It’s incredibly impressive, but it might not help you as much in this game where people already know how truly good you are.”

Darcy takes pause. An in. You think proudly, you knew you could crack her. “What exactly are you offering? You and Bucky have made it clear that’s final two.”

“So did Steve and I.” You give her a vicious smirk. “Darcy, thirty seasons and men always fall for the nails up their back and sunkissed legs.” You tilt your head with a cocky smile. “I want to create a more... Women led Survivor. So many men have won and used women to do it.”

She releases a shocked laugh. “You know I could tell him all this? Just... Use it for my own good.”

“You could.” You nod slowly. You pause, like you’re actually worried about the attempt of a threat. “You won’t though. Because you know as well as I do this information won’t get you far. Tell Bucky and I’ll just twist it so you’re gone next or tell the grandparents and they’ll try to get rid of me or Bucky, then you when your vote is no longer needed.” You give her a sarcastic pout.

She shifts her eyes to the ground. It’s a tell, flashes of her season play in your mind, she’s about to lie. “They’re talking about you tonight.” She finally says with a fake smile.

Your eyes narrow before you nod slowly. Wrong choice.

The two of your watch each other for a moment, a stock still staring match where you’re both attempting to gauge the other’s reaction. Then you smile, sweet and innocent. “It’s up to you. Vote for me or vote for Strange. I can’t force your hand.”

You give her a wink before making your way back down the trail. She’s revealed more than she even knows and you’ve just figured out how to save your game.

Darcy Lewis - Villain Tribe

“Maybe she’s right. They’ll get rid of me when they don’t need me, but there’s days before that’s even an option. She’s trying to play me, I know. I’ve seen her and Bucky, she wouldn’t mess that up.” She lets out a defeated sigh. “We know she found the idol, Nat snooped through her bag. Now we just need her to flush it while we vote for Bucky tonight. Biggest blindside yet.”

“Villains, since you won reward you will have council and vote. After the vote, whoever is voted off will leave and the rest of you will move to the jury seats to enjoy your hot dogs, hamburgers and soft drinks while the heroes come in and have their council. You’ll leave before their vote and find out who’s gone at the next challenge.” Jeff sucks in a deep breath and smiles at the group. “Sound good?”

Bucky hadn’t gotten a chance to talk with you after you had followed Darcy into the trees for your talk, but you had traced a finger over his knee reassuringly when the two of you had sat down so he’s hoping for the best here.

He knows it’s frowned upon, but he really tunes Jeff out as he begins talking to Natasha. Bucky’s eyes focus on you. The way the fire casts a glow over your skin and how you’re able to keep your face straight as Natasha accuses you of being a backstabbing alliance member.

“Do you feel like you guys made a mistake last tribal? Getting rid of Loki? Bucky.” Jeff’s voice cuts through the fog that’s in Bucky’s mind.

His head snaps up to look at Jeff, who’s unable to hide his amusement, and Bucky quickly shakes his head. “I think we made the best choice for our game. It was never the intention to hurt Nat, but she is and I guess that’s something I’ll have to live with.” He gives Jeff a shrug.

“We had a plan that you didn’t stick to. I think it’s perfectly reasonable for people to not trust you now.” Natasha doesn’t even look at him, she just keeps her eyes on Jeff.

Jeff’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two like he knows he won’t even have to prompt Bucky for a response. “It was last minute.” His eyes move to Stephen and Tony sat behind her. “Stark was in on it too, but he’s trustworthy?”

“Stark never promised me final four.” She finally turns to look at him with a smirk, like her airing that out will seal Bucky’s fate. “You did.”

Your voice cuts Bucky off before he can even speak. “We both knew that final four promise was bogus. You were never gonna turn your back on Clint and Bucky and I weren’t gonna turn on each other. Stop pretending it was your plan to bring us to the end. Lying isn’t all that becoming of you, Nat.” You lean towards her with a pretty smirk.

Bucky looks you over slowly and swallows thickly. He needed to get this attraction to you under check before he ended up in an embarrassing situation on national television.

“Shut up.” Nat says just as fiercely. Really, Bucky thinks, the two of you would have worked so well together. He doesn’t understand why you had chosen him. “Let’s vote, Jeff. Can we vote?” She looks away from you with an eyeroll.

Jeff’s eyes widen before he nods. “Sure. Yeah. Let’s vote.”

Natasha’s Vote - Bucky

“Next time, hide the idol better.” She laughs. “We need it flushed so we can get rid of your girlfriend next week, sorry Bucky.”

Darcy’s Vote - Bucky

“I almost took the offer, but numbers are just safer right now. Sorry.”

Tony’s Vote - Bucky

“Last week was a one time deal, bud. These old-timers still know how to play the game.”

“You know the deal. I will read the votes, person with the most votes gets sent home. If anybody has a hidden immunity idol and wants to play it, now would be the time to do so.” Jeff’s hands clutch the urn as his eyes trail over the group. He pauses, waiting for somebody to speak up and Bucky’s heart races for the first time all night. He’s nervous.

“Jeff.” You speak up softly. You smile at group, who all look far too pleased to see you reach into the bag at your feet, before standing up the idol clutched in-between your hands. You walk up to him him slowly with calculating eyes.

“You know, I’ve had a target on my back since day one. No matter what these villains want to say, they would never have actually worked with me past the merge.” You hold the idol tightly as everyone watches you completely intrigued. You hand the idol over the Jeff. “I would like to play this for Bucky tonight.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he can practically feel his heart stop. Natasha’s tongue presses against her cheek as she looks down at the ground with a shake of her head. Clint looks between you and Bucky in disbelief and Darcy flushes bright red.

Even Jeff looks surprised as you make your way back to your seat in front of Bucky. He’s speechless as Jeff holds the idol up. It’s like water has rushed through his ears as he sees his name pulled out one after the other.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Strange.” Jeff reads out. “That’s one for Strange. Four for Bucky that do not count.” Jeff says pointedly. Jeff pulls out another vote, the one in Bucky’s handwriting. “Strange. That’s two votes and tonight,” he pauses, “that’s enough.”

Bucky lets out a shocked laugh as Stephen Strange slowly moves to pick up the unpacked bag at his feet. Most of his stuff was back at camp, like the rest of their makeshift alliance. The man moves in a shocked daze similar to what Bucky feels himself. He honestly can’t even hear Jeff’s goodbye speech to Stephen over the pounding of his heart.

There’s a moment of shocked silence as the group looks around trying to come to terms with what had just transpired. In that moment, you turn to look at Bucky with a proud smile. “Told you, Buck. Needn’t worry.”

Bucky lets out another laugh and holds his pinky out to you. “You and me all the way to the end, sweets.” Your eyes sparkle at the nickname and Bucky doesn’t let himself feel embarrassed over it slipping out. He’s far too happy with what just happened to worry about anything.

Your pinky links with his and Bucky yanks you towards him to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. You laugh unabashedly as he does so and the rest of the tribe stares in annoyance.

It’s blatant show of loyalty. One that Bucky knows could hurt them in the end, but you don’t seem to mind and he can’t bring himself to care.

Stephen Strange - Exit Interview

“I uh, I feel stupid.” He lets out a dazed laugh. “We didn’t split the vote. You always split the vote. Nat and Tony were sure Y/N would use it on herself though and Darcy reassured us she had told the girl we were writing her name down. We got too comfortable. It just sucks it ended up being my neck on the line but that’s the game. That’s Survivor and that was one hell of an impressive play.”

Your tribe won’t look at you. Natasha sits with Tony and Clint as they whisper and eat the hamburgers placed out for everyone.

Darcy sits in between the two groups as you and Bucky watch the heroes trail into the tribal council chambers. “Heroes. Strange voted out at the villains tribal council tonight.” He gives the heroes a moment to whisper amongst one another as each of their eyes takes in the new villains tribe.

“Is this a surprise, heroes? I mean did it seem like Strange would be the one to go home after today’s challenge?” Jeff asks as the tribe settles into their seats.

The group looks at one another hesitantly before Peter speaks up. “I mean, we weren’t sure with Loki. Maybe he came on too strong... Seeing Strange go? Someone who knows the game so well? It makes us think there’s another all female alliance brewing.”

Bucky looks at you over his sip of generic soda and you suppress a smile as you bite into your hot dog. How wrong they were. You almost want to laugh. Of course they assumed it was an all female alliance again. You had seen it time and time again, long before you came on and long after, men can’t seem to comprehend why other men go home early unless it’s a woman who plans it.

It’s almost sad how predictable the heroes are in their thought process and game play. You and Bucky steal glances over food as they drone on about working together through honor and loyalty.

What does catch your eye though, is the obvious divide. You can only hope Bucky sees it too so you can discuss it back at camp in preparation for the future merge.

It’s easy to tell Steve, Wanda and Scott were alone. They sat huddled together on the end while the other’s spoke. None of them piped up to support the claims of unity or strength. You wish you could speak up and urge Jeff to point it out because it was killing you not knowing.

He was good at his job though. “Steve. Scott. Wanda. You three are so quiet, do you agree with what Thor is saying? That you’re all happy go lucky at camp?” He smiles at the blonde man who shrugs.

“I think we’re all nice to each other back at camp, but I wouldn’t say we’re united.” At this, Wanda and Scott perk up. They both nod and Wanda sits up a little straighter. “It’s Thor’s camp right now, he makes the decisions. The only reason the three of us were spared last week is because he knew we’re strong and we’ve been losing like it’s our job.” Wanda tacks on.

You smirk. Thor was leading the charge? His first season had been nothing short of disastrous. After being kept on as his original tribes muscle, he failed to make a strong alliance post-merge. Even having his brother back by his side couldn’t save him and the end he was voted out as the second jury member. He learned. You glance over at Darcy. Not everyone could.

Quickly after Steve’s comment, tribal council descends into chaos. Thor disagrees and the men begin talking over one another until Jeff steps in to begin the vote. “I honestly have no idea how this vote will go tonight, but I can’t wait to see. Villains, we’ll see you for the next challenge soon. Where you’ll see the new hero tribe for the first time.”

Your group is ushered away quickly, forced to leave any half finished drinks or food sitting on your seats. “How they get to see ours but we don’t get to see theirs?” You call out.

Your question goes ignored by Jeff and the cameramen following behind you. “Whatever.” You shrug hastily before moving to catch up with Bucky.

“Villains aren’t losing. We’re set until the merge, baby.” You wink at him, thrilled at the red you can see dusting his cheeks.

After all, who said you couldn’t have fun on Survivor?

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I have no words.” She sits on the sand illuminated by nothing but the moon and camera lights. “I’m... I’m speechless.”

Day Sixteen

The idol is back in play. And winning reward is necessary for you and Bucky. You couldn’t care less about the rest of your tribe getting to swim in a fresh waterfall or eating a feast, all you cared about was the clue that was no doubt going to be hidden among the food.

Last tribal had been a guessing game and a whole lot of luck. The numbers were still against you and Bucky, that hadn’t changed.

“We need a better strategy.” You shake off what you can of the rain pounding against your skin. It’s getting into your eyes and messing with your vision. “They’re destroying us.” You look at Natasha, who stands beside you and Bucky as the rest of your tribe tries desperately to reattain control of the ball.

Her lips are pursed together, but you can tell she knows you’re right. In the game of ocean basketball, where three points gets you the win, the heroes already had one to your big fat zero and they held the ball.

“Next round, Bucky and you go out and keep Clint. That way there’s a strong player in each heat. Focus on shaking their-” You’re cut off when the hero team begins to cheer excitedly and Jeff announces their second point. “-Confidence.” You say defeatedly.

You pucker your lips in annoyance as Darcy and Tony struggle through the water to the sidelines, both heaving out breaths. “We can try.” Natasha sighs going out to meet Clint and presumably explaining the new strategy to him.

“I hate to be a debbie downer, sweets.” Bucky looks down at you with an apologetic look. “I don’t think we got this.” You don’t have a chance to respond as Bucky is forced onto the makeshift oceanic basketball court.

You watch with bated breath as both teams struggle to maintain control of the ball. Shuri pulls Natasha underwater and away from Peter when he finally gets ahold of the ball.

Wanda wraps her arms around to Clint to stop him from catching the ball if Peter passes, it’s an even fight if you’ve ever seen one. And Peter looks terrified to go head to head with Bucky, who’s waiting for him by the floating baskets.

“C’mon, Bucky.” You mumble to yourself. Darcy and Tony watch in silence. “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon.” You repeat hopefully.

Bucky’s hands shoot up as Peter makes a hail Mary shot from feet away, not wanting to go head to head with Bucky. The cheers of the heroes side are deafening as it goes in.

You can only laugh as Peter gets tackled into the water by his tribe. Your eyes find Bucky, who won’t look up from the water lapping around his hips and you frown.

You guess they were bound to win something eventually.

Peter Parker - Hero Tribe

“We won! Our second win in almost twenty days. I never thought I’d be so happy to sit out here and play ocean basketball in the pouring rain.” He laughs ecstatically. “We won! We won! We won!”

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“Shit.”

Bucky can’t even look you in the eye. He’s so upset with his performance and his inability to stop Parker from that winning shot. The entire tribe is silent as they make the freezing walk in the pouring rain back to camp.

Nobody wants to say it, but losing momentum like this is only bad news. He knows every single person here is now afraid their winning streak is officially done and with no merge in sigh that means battling it out for votes.

He feels something brush against his hand and he looks up at your, shivering beside him in the shelter. “It’s not your fault.” You say quietly. You scoot closer. He can see the whites of your eyes and a vague outline of your face as the two of you lay looking at each other.

“I let him get that shot.” Bucky whispers back sullenly. He can feel you hesitate before moving until you’re pressed against him, chest to chest, and wrap an arm around his waist. It’s a welcome relief, the warmth that comes with being wrapped up with you, but it makes Bucky’s entire body flush and his heart race. “I’m like, double his size, I could’ve gotten him down easily.”

Bucky’s arm comes up to wrap around your waist as the two of you whisper. “They destroyed all of us, Buck. We didn’t score one point. You can’t blame that all on you. It was a team effort.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, his mind drifting to what will happen now. He can swallow losing a reward challenge, it just meant one more night of rice and dirty hair. He signed up for thirty-nine of those. Bucky was more worried about what happens now that momentum was gone.

Could the tribe pull it together for the next immunity challenge, or is this the end of their reign? And if it was, what would the two of you do? Numbers were numbers, and one long shot plan working doesn’t magically mean you and Bucky are safe.

Your thumbs press over Bucky’s eyebrows effectively smoothing the wrinkles that had formed while overthinking. “Get out of that head.” You smile up at him. “There’s nothing we can do now but try to stay warm and get some sleep before tomorrow’s challenge. Okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky swallows as your wrap yourself tighter around him. If anyone asks in the morning, you’ll both say it was for warmth. Sleeping apart just wouldn’t make sense in this storm.

Day Seventeen

When the show airs and your friends ask why your tribe lost this immunity challenge you’ll blame the rain again. The torrential downpour has caused the small cracks in your tribe’s foundation to widen and left you all struggling to work together.

While you and Darcy argued over puzzle pieces, Peter and Shuri flourished. They saw the same thing at the same time and barely needed to speak as pieces were handed off between them. If it hadn’t been you losing to them, you would’ve loved watching it happen.

You’ll blame the rain for ruining your sleep and making your hands shrivel up and so cold they shake. You’ll come up with every excuse in the book except for what everyone else knows to be true; The heroes were the better team in that challenge.

You can’t worry about it right now though. Right now you have to figure out a way to get anybody but you or Bucky off the tribe tonight without any numbers or idols to help you.

“What would you think about voting for Tony or Darcy tonight?” Clint has huddled up with you and Bucky on one side of the shelter with one of your tribe’s two comforters while the other three members do the same.

You make sure to keep your voice barely a whisper and turn your head so your lips can’t be read by anybody but Clint and Bucky. His eyes cut to Natasha over your shoulder before back to you. “You joking?” He asks just as quiet.

You and Bucky look at each other before shrugging in sync. “The merge is awhile away. We’re gonna be stuck in these tribes for a long time, you know it. You need Bucky and I if you want to keep your name off the chopping block.”

“Why? Darcy would be on the chopping block before me.” Clint shrugs. You look over your shoulder again and watch as Tony and Natasha talk to one another as Darcy tries to nap. None of them pay any mind to the group of you. You’re sure it’s because they assume nothing would happen with Clint here to watch you and Bucky.

Obviously they underestimated you. “Maybe. Or maybe whichever person is left between Bucky and I would team up with Tony and Darcy to take one of the troublesome two out.” You smirk, Bucky smiles and Clint just blinks. “Because if I were smart, like Tony Stark, I’d agree that keeping two of the greatest to ever play together was dumb.”

There’s a breath of silence, where all you can hear is the rain still pounding against the makeshift roof of your shelter before Clint finally nods. “If I can get a second alone with Nat I’ll try to talk to her, but I don’t see Tony moving from this shelter before tribal tonight.”

You - Villain Tribe

“It’s a gamble. Trying to turn Clint in the middle of this storm that has no end in sight.” You look up as the rain continues to pour down. “If anyone can convince Natasha to give us a few more days, it’s him though. They’re family.”

Clint Barton - Villain Tribe

“Is it risky considering her past? One hundred percent. It’s smart though. Tony could easily team up with Bucky and Darcy next tribal to break up Nat and I and make himself stronger. It’s a no-brainer. Keep the person without an ally over the person who does.”

“Villains, almost three weeks and this is only the third challenge your tribe has lost. Is that something you’re proud of?” Jeff is bone dry as everyone sits in front of the fire and ignores the pouring rain.

It’s the warmest Bucky has been all day. If his fate in the game wasn’t looming over him, he might even be glad to arrive at tribal council and huddle beside this huge fire.

“I think we’re proud of how far we’ve come and we understand every good thing comes to an end.” Tony answers for the group. Bucky can barely resist rolling his eyes. “It’s time to trim some fat.”

That gets a reaction out of Bucky as his eyebrows shoot up and he can only assume you look the same in front of him because Jeff’s eyes shoot the two of you and he smirks. “You disagree, Bucky?”

“I just want to know what fat he wants to trim.” Bucky looks down the line at Tony. “Who here is the weak link?”

“I don’t want to call anybody out and make them feel bad, but every team has fat. It only makes sense to get rid of it for the sake of the team.” He won’t look at you or Bucky as he speaks.

It has Bucky’s blood pressure rising as he stares at the man in anger. “You don’t want to name names because you know you’re wrong.” There’s no question in Bucky’s tone. “Because you know Y/N and I aren’t really fat, you’re just terrified of going against one of us.”

“Just admit it, Tony.” You chime in. “This week it’s me. Next week it’s Nat. Then it’s Darcy. You don’t want strong women in this final with you because you’ve seen what we can do.”

Bucky’s eyes find Clint’s and they stare at each other for a moment before Clint moves his stare to red head beside him. Bucky can only hope she votes for Tony tonight too. That they’ve somehow pulled this miracle out.

“it has nothing to do with women and everything. to do with how strong you are you. You’ve won. Why would I want that?” Tony narrows his eyes.

Jeff laughs. “Woah. Woah. Woah. So, Tony, she’s right? You’re admitting she’s not the weak link, but you do want to get rid of her?” Jeff attempts to clarify. “You’re really voting for you tonight, not the team.”

There’s a tense silence after Jeff finishes his sentence. “That sounds right to me. Nat?” Your voice cuts through the air. “Sounds like Tony wants to get rid of strong people. You playing Tony’s game?”

“How did this get turned around on me?” Tony’s voice is shocked. “Only an idiot would keep a winner in this game.”

Bucky can’t even see your face, but he knows there’s a smirk there as you nod in agreement. “Only an idiot would keep a winner. And there are three of them to choose from tonight, let’s just make the right choice guys.”

“Let’s vote then!” Jeff claps. “Bucky, go ahead and take the urn to place the first vote.”

Bucky’s Vote - Tony

“I’ve got to win this time. You got that check and that title. It’s my turn.”

Clint’s Vote - Tony

“I hope Nat heard what they were saying tonight, and that she understands ’m doing this for both of us.”

Your Vote - Tony

“There can only be one and it will be me.”

You can’t stop your leg from shaking as Jeff retrieves the urn of votes to read out. Tony had said a few things tonight, but that didn’t mean it was enough to turn the tribe on him.

It could be you, you think as Jeff recites his hidden immunity idol speech. You swallow thickly at the silence that occurs when nobody steps forward with one. This was it.

“I’ll read the votes.” Jeff takes off the lid and reaches in for the first piece of paper. It’s almost slow motion when he unfolds it and reads of your name. When the paper is flipped you recognize Darcy’s handwriting and scrunch your nose up at the small frown drawn in the corner.

You turn to look at Bucky as your own vote with Tony’s name comes out. ‘Breathe.’ He mouths to you with a reassuring hand on your back. Jeff reads your name two more times.

“That’s three votes for Y/N and one for Tony.” He pulls out another piece of paper. “Tony. That’s two for Tony. One vote left.”

You almost cry when Jeff doesn’t begin his voted out speech. “Tony. That means we have a tie.” Your head whips around to look at Bucky again who smiles. “Here’s what is going to happen. You��re going to vote again, you can only vote for Tony or Y/N. They will not vote. The person with the most votes will go home. Got it? Good. Darcy, you’ll vote first.”

Darcy’s Vote - You

“I... I’ve just got to go with my original vote. I don’t know what happened here.”

Bucky’s Vote - Tony

“Please, Nat. Please. Please. Please.”

Waiting for these votes are worse than the first round of votes. You can’t even look at Clint and Natasha, completely unsure of which of two would end up switching their vote. Your hopes were set on Nat recognizing Clint’s handwriting and understanding that’s where he wanted to go, but it’s just not a for sure thing and your heart is beating fast.

Your foot is tapping incessantly on the ground. Bucky’s hand is resting on your lower back as Jeff begins to read the votes. Neither of you can imagine the other going home right now, not with this much game left to play.

Jeff says your name. Then Tony’s. Then his again. You almost scream when his name comes out a third time. You look over to Nat and Clint. ‘Thank you.’ You mouth as Tony’s torch is extinguished.

They nod subtly before turning to look at Jeff again. “Villains, you once again have proven that nobody is safe in this game. Especially those who think they are. Head back to camp, I’ll see you at the next challenge.”

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I don’t know why Clint switched his vote, but he told me he would explain it to me tomorrow. I’m just hoping he didn’t screw us over royally.”

Day Eighteen

The rain has finally taken a break and the clouds have parted to reveal the sun. Bucky can’t stop staring at your legs as the sun hits them just right. You’re glowing.

You’ve lost weight, everybody does on this show, but it hasn’t changed much about you. He still finds his eyes trailing over your body and getting caught on your neck and hands and legs. Imagining them wrapped around him - sue him - he’s young and been stuck on an island with nothing more than some cuddles.

He finds himself wanting to kiss you more and more everyday and that kind of scares him. He’s hoping for the merge for individual rewards he might get to take you on more than he is for finally being off this tribe.

“Earth to Bucky.” Sand hits his chest and Bucky straightens out his back as you stand above him giggling. “Where’s your head at, handsome?”

There’s already red on his cheeks from the sun and despite the feint burning sensation it leaves, he’s thankful for it covering up his blush. “Just thinking about the merge. What our plan will be.”

“If we can get ourselves to the merge, I think we’re set.” You drop to sit beside him on the sand. “Besides, we have a whole day off. No challenge or anything, just enjoy us still being here. You worry too much.”

Bucky shakes his head with a laugh. “You don’t worry enough.” He nudges your foot with his own. “We’re hanging on by a thread here, sweets.”

“We’ve flipped the vote twice now. I think we have a fighting chance here, Buck.” You giggle softly. Your hands dig into the sand as you lean back on them and lift your chin.

Bucky swallows as his eyes trail down your neck and chest. “You’re right.” He pushes the words out. “Humor me, though? What our plan for the merge is?”

“If we lose again, hopefully we can convince Nat and Clint to get rid of Darcy. That should bring us right into the merge where we can break them up by working with Shuri and Wanda.” You explain quietly.

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Shuri and Wanda were on opposite sides in that tribal we saw. Then they voted off Scott, what makes you think Wanda will be safe until the merge?”

“I don’t, I’m just going off of what ifs here. I just know that I know Wanda and Shuri, I’m hoping they’ll trust me and work together. We’ll need numbers and they’ll have them. There’s no way Steve will listen to my opinion, but he’ll listen to Wanda’s.” You turn your head to look at Bucky and let out a sigh. “It’s just an idea. We have to see what happens at the next challenge, okay? I can’t plan everything out.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to have you plan everything out. I just wanted to know where your head was at. Not all of us have won this game, some of us want to make it far.” He regrets the words right away. Bucky knows good and well that you were taking this game just a serious, he doesn’t really know why he even implied that you weren’t. “Lis-”

“Obviously, you’re stressed.” You cut him off as you stand up. “I’ll let you take a breather. Cool off. But don’t snap at me because you’re anxious. It’s not my fault we’re here. We’ve been working together, if we go down it’s because of both of us. Not just one.”

Bucky almost cowers back. He’s put off by your intent gaze and harsh tone. He’s never been on the receiving end of it and he had underestimated how small it could make someone feel.

You dust the sand off of your thighs. “I’ve done a lot for us. I’ve been the brains behind a lot of these votes, Bucky. Don’t ever try and diminish that because I don’t go around talking to everyone or because I don’t perform as well as you in competitions. It’s disrespectful and a good way to get voted off.” You hiss before stomping down the beach.

Bucky can only watch as you go, guilt squeezing his chest and consuming his mind.

You - Villain Tribe

“I trust him. I know he’s just anxious about what could happen, but he needs to understand I’m just as good at this game. That I know how to play.” You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t think I would actually vote him out, but I need him to know we’re equal partners. I have just as much power as he does.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // omgomgomg hi! this took a little longer than i thought just because i’m on vacation and haven’t had time to write until tonight! i hope you enjoyed this, a lot more content and some more changes in the game! i’m so excited for how this is coming together and it’s been so fun to writer!

thank you so much for reading & i hope you enjoyed this part. i write for free, if you can please consider donating to my ko-fi! if you can’t, please reblog/reply, comments mean a lot to writers!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #survivor au #steve rogers

69 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 106

I know I’ve been on a fluff kick lately, and I’m not even remotely sorry. This chapter started out as an excuse to re-visit an offhand comment from a previous chapter, and ended up with Sophia having the kind of night off I wish I could have.

Thanks go out to @baelpenrose (beta and also creator of our favorite teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher), @charlylimph-blog (because no one else could have created the ball of chaotic friendliness that is Charly, nor her strong, silent, and charming partner), @werewolf2578 (because I will never not love Maverick), and @creakingcryptid (for donating faerself and Antoine early on to the cause, and putting up with me in real life. This entire story, from chapter 1, would never have happened if not for faer, and I’m not even remotely exaggerating about that).

“Lift the right corner a bit more,” Tyche called out. “Yeah - Dammit, Arthur, that’s too high. Bring it down a bit more.”

“Do you want to swap?” he quipped, dropping his side of the large, white sheet to exactly where it had been before.

Ignoring him, Tyche asked Maverick to lower his corner instead, to much greater success. At least satisfied with the results, she turned to me and made a ‘ta-da’ gesture towards their work.

I shook my head at her. “And we need this why?”

“Movie night,” she reminded me needlessly.

“Eyeah. It was kind of my idea.”

“And none of us have been to a proper movie theater in ages.” She had a point there.

“Do we even have a projector?” Maverick asked, grinning, as he walked up.

Arthur, right behind him, grinned almost malevolently before Tyche cut him off with a glare. “I told Charly we were doing a movie night,” she offered by way of explanation.

“She insisted she had popcorn covered,” Arthur ventured carefully. “Do I even want to know?”

Eyes wide, I turned to him. “She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head. “I asked what that meant, and all I got out of her was a maniacal laugh. By any chance, does she always carry around a cartoon-villain moustache in case she needs to twirl it?”

“And cat ears, yeah,” I confirmed absently. “She really didn’t tell you?”

“I just asked if she got the consoles to actually make popcorn that wasn’t better used as packing material,” he admitted.

Maverick erupted in laughter. “You are in for a treat.”

“Will it poison me?”

“Doubtful,” Tyche shrugged regretfully.

“Hmm. Pity.”

Trying to get somewhat back on topic, I pressed on about the projector. “So, you told Charly we were doing movie night this week, so she is going to… obtain? Steal? Jury-rig a projector?”

“I try not to ask, unlike some people,” Tyche arched an eyebrow defiantly. “Gift horses, mouths, you get it.”

“I doubt she’s stealing one,” Maverick offered. “She’s an engineer. Pretty sure she already had one she made, or is finishing one up as we speak.”

Fair. “What movie did we end up agreeing on?”

Maverick and Arthur answered in unison. “Star Wars.”

“Nuh uh. Nope,” my sister argued. “Repo! The Genetic Opera.”

“I’m with her,” I jerked my finger toward the person not insisting I watch a movie about a war in space while actually on a spaceship.

We continued arguing good-naturedly while getting non-popcorn snacks and drinks together. Arthur, to no small amount of surprise, was putting a very impressive amount of thought and consideration into the arrangement of blankets and pillows on every conceivable seating surface in my living room - some of which I didn’t even recognize and probably didn’t want to know where he got them. At some point, Derek and Sam arrived, judging by the latter sitting happily next to a moving lump in Arthur’s careful construction and petting my cat.

About the time snacks were ready to be carried into the living room, the door opened to reveal Conor, who abruptly stopped to remove his work boots. Unfortunately, he was knocked down by a clattering intruder behind him and saved only by the - no joke - knee deep ocean of bedding. A hinged brass lid and a metal piece of something went flying past his head, revealing the intruder to be Charly. “Hi, guys!” she waved cheerfully. “Don’t worry. Coffey has the projector.”

White teeth flashed in a dark, handsome face as the man in question held up the device. “Her hands were full,” he shrugged before glancing past Conor. “You take movie nights seriously,” he added with an approving nod.

Charly, who I couldn’t remember having even seen wear shoes, had already scrambled over Conor’s laughing form so that she could grab the lid and basket, which she brought along with the enormous pot into my kitchen area. “Popcorn,” she declared, gently slamming the pot on a heating surface. “As promised. I’m thinking green today.”

“That’s not popcorn,” Arthur pointed out, curiosity etched into every bit of his face.

“Duh, Mr. Farro,” she sputtered. “It’s how we’re going to get popcorn. The consoles never season it, and it’s always stale, or soggy, or just… not good. So. I made a whirlypop.” With a clatter, she patted her copper contraption. “It makes absolutely perfect kettle corn, every time. And I can make it whatever color I want, too.”

“It’s really good popcorn,” I confirmed. “She brought some to your fight with Jokul.”

“Of course she did,” he sighed. “I thought you said no selling tickets and no concession stand for that?”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t bring her own, screaming blue popcorn with her,” I held up both hands in surrender. “I couldn’t argue with the logic, and she was the only person there with popcorn, can confirm.”

When I glanced back at her, I saw what I pretty much expected to see: her handy cartoon-villain moustache was pasted firmly on her face and she was twirling one end in what could only be described as a dastardly fashion. Arthur, on the other hand, was almost sputtering. “I - how? I was facing you, Charly. How?”

“Don’t ask, you probably don’t want to know,” I sighed with a wave of my hand. “Besides, I’m reasonably certain the answer involves a collective hallucination, blood sacrifice, or time travel.”

“Two out of three,” Charly nodded, sounding impressed but not clarifying any further. “So! Everyone ready for- oo! Mini pizzas! - popcorn and Master and Commander?” A collective groan went up at a third movie being added to our ongoing argument over what we had agreed to watch. “What!? It’s my favorite!”

Maverick explained the conversation we had earlier to those who arrived after. Even having nine people voting now didn’t help: we were still split evenly across all three movies. In the end, we agreed to take a run at watching all three, but that led to another discussion - what order? We knew the odds of getting through all three were slim, and nobody wanted theirs to be left out.

Sam finally interrupted us. “If we don’t stay awake through all three, can we watch the last movie on another night?”

My jaw clicked shut mid-argument. Tyche tilted her head, “That makes entirely too much sense.”

With that anticlimactic resolution, we quickly took votes to determine which movies were most popular. In the end, we ended up with Star Wars first, Master and Commander second, and Repo! last, much to my and Tyche’s chagrin. At least we weren’t the only ones who voted for it, so I was mollified. Somewhat.

While we were hashing all that out, Charly somehow called upon the popcorn deities and managed to fill nearly every bowl and bucket she could find in my quarters with a rainbow of fluffy kernels. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure how she managed to make that much in roughly fifteen minutes, and when I asked, the only answer I could manage to get from her was “Two out of three, like I said.”

I wasn’t asking after that, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if blood magic was involved, honestly.

Antoine arrived right as I was trying to figure out how to fit on the couch, where Maverick and Conor were cuddling and hogging the whole damned thing. Unfortunately, between the immense quantities of popcorn, blankets, pillows, and people strewn everywhere - and somehow my Christmas lights were carefully hanging from the ceiling, which I had a sneaking suspicion was Derek’s doing - our poor resident therapist looked a bit confused.

I couldn’t help but grin as I waved at the chaos. “Welcome to movie night, apparently. You can sit anywhere except there,” I explained, gesturing at a particular pile of blankets.

“Why not - ah….” he trailed off in understanding as a hand darted out of the ‘pile’ to snag a mini pizza.

“Eyeah, only Mac can sit there, I think. And nobody better be feeding him pizza?” I warned. “Whoever does gets to keep stinky cat for the night while he has tummy trouble.” Turning back toward the couch, I stuck my lip out in a pout. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“We’re comfy….” Conor whined, hiding what was probably a grin behind Maverick’s head. Rather than sitting up in any capacity, the two were laying down along the entire length of the couch, both their feet sticking off. There was maybe two inches of couch between them and the edge.

While my attention was focused on my boyfriends, two strong hands grabbed each of my arms and tugged me down. With a yelp, I fell across Charly and my sister, both of them giggling. Deliberately, Charly started to pet my hair as clumsily as humanly possible, and the scowl I directed at her set Tyche off in hysterics. When I opened my mouth to protest, popcorn was thrown in. With another scowl, I surrendered to being draped across both of their laps, with a fluffy blanket spread over me from somewhere.

I still sulked, and ignored that I probably looked like a particularly perturbed cat. With much determination, I managed to keep a scowl on my face until the first movie started rolling. It was hard to stay even faux-upset after that, as what ensued was the most laid back night I had enjoyed in longer than I could remember. Seats were stolen every time someone got up for any reason, snacks were eaten and refilled, popcorn got everywhere….

It. Was. Glorious.

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #found family #found family tropes #humans are space orcs #fiction #original fiction #earth is space australia #hfy #humans are space fae #humans baffle aliens #humans are crazy #movies #cuddles #popcorn

66 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 4 years ago

Note

Your political posts recently have been excellent. I was 17 during the 2016 election and watching everything go down while not being able to vote (and watching people choose not to vote) was horrible. I can’t believe how many people on the left seem to have forgotten 2016. I’m worried about the leftist twitter mob and the anti-trump conservatives in swing states who might not vote at all and the voter suppression. I’m so worried about everything right now.

Oof, hon. That is a Big Big Mood.

It’s a hard and surreal feeling when you’re having conversations, as have happened in my family and probably in many of yours, with your parents about what to do if we need to leave the country and flee to Canada (or wherever else) at a moment’s notice. My father is 67 years old and disabled, and he is so worried about all of this (as he damn well should be) because we’re well past the dress-rehearsal stages of fascism and into outright fascism. We are making serious plans to relocate permanently out of America no matter how the election goes, because I honestly cannot take this country at all anymore, and my family feels the same. We have had the conversation about “what if this country collapses and we have to get out.” It’s scary and it’s awful and I hate that we’re having to do this, and I hate even more that people are deliberately rejecting their chance (again, the LAST CHANCE WE HAVE) to reject Trump in a (somewhat) democratic fashion. No wonder we can’t remember history at all when we can’t even remember, as you point out, four years ago.

I just can’t with the renewed kerfuffle that the Harris pick has kicked up, not least because most of us knew or figured for a long time that it was coming. Somehow the twitterati wants us to believe that they would have happily skipped to their polling station to vote for Joe Biden, despite months of screaming about rapist/dementia/corporate ghoul/worse than Trump/senile/won’t follow through on his promises/insert tagline here, if only he hadn’t picked Kamala “Cop” Harris. (She’s a lawyer, not a cop, and her prosecutorial career also specialized in putting away male predators for rape and murder and taking financial giants to town for multibillion-dollar fraud settlements, aka the kind of people we want to see punished, but hey, all nuance is evil.) Because... come on.... seriously???

If Biden had picked Stacey Abrams (and don’t get me wrong, she was my favorite too for a while) the narrative would be about she is inexperienced and has never held any executive office (which she hasn’t), and this is bad because it means he’s senile. If Biden had picked Val Demings, who was ACTUALLY a cop, more cop screaming. If Biden had picked Karen Bass, they would have fixated on her remark praising Castro at his death (which she has subsequently apologized and retracted) and moaned about how this lost Florida. If Biden had picked Susan Rice, who was entangled with the whole Benghazi scandal, BENGHAZI BENGHAZI BENGHAZI HILLARY CLINTON EVIL would have been shouted by both the right and the left. If Biden had picked Elizabeth Warren, oh my god. FAKE PROGRESSIVE CORPORATE SHILL WHITE DEMON WHO DARED TO ATTACK BERNIE!!! would be bellowed from the rooftops. There is literally nobody who would have been Progressive enough for the leftist twitterites, and if they claim there is, they’re lying. Plus, the Vice President does.... not make policy??? He (or she, in this case, and I love that) is there to implement the President’s goals, to advise, consult, take over if necessary, and otherwise serve in a supporting role. So why the fuck on earth is a long-expected VP pick suddenly The Straw That Broke The Camel’s Back?

You wanna know the Upside Down we’re living in right now? Sarah Palin (yes, that Sarah Palin) has been openly more supportive of Kamala Harris than some of the supposed members of her own party for getting the pick. And that’s not because RAH RAH HARRIS’S POLICIES ARE JUST LIKE SARAH PALIN!!! Sarah Palin has offered her advice to Harris without a partisan bent and even said she’s happy to see her picked and that she hopes Harris isn’t attacked in the same way she was (fat chance) and that she should be confident and present herself to the American public as she is. And that is... surprisingly... not terrible advice?? And I’m genuinely happy that the only other female VP pick, as embarrassingly unprepared as she might have been, is doing that, while wondering how on earth we’re living in a world where, again, Sarah Palin is being more supportive than supposed Democratic voters. I don’t get it, chief.

The racist, misogynistic, “nasty woman” attacks on Harris have already eagerly begun from the right, the same stuff they hit Hillary Clinton with, and just as before, the left is eager to pile on rather than to defend their candidate, because they’d rather tear her down for not having policies that perfectly aligned with their own at all times rather than attack her outright fascist opponents. I don’t agree with everything Kamala has done either. But guess what? I DO agree with some things that she HAS done! And I’m going to defend her like crazy, because lord, I am tired of us eating our own. Kamala is experienced, competent, her nomination is historic, and she can clearly do the job. AND SHE IS STILL THE VICE PRESIDENT. NOT THE TOP OF THE TICKET.

The good news is: Biden has leads outside the margin of error in almost all swing states (which don’t matter a damn unless voters actually show up and vote, and we’ve already discussed how hard the GOP is deliberately making that, because they can only win by cheating) and far larger than Clinton’s leads at this time in 2016. Black voters, while being wary of some elements of Harris’s past, are largely very happy with the pick and agree that she can continue to evolve on her policy stances, and that the selection of a Black woman who has been a leader on criminal justice and police reform sends a strong message. Biden’s campaign had its best fundraising hour ever and ultimately raised $26 million in 24 hours after Harris joined the ticket, reflecting a surge of Democratic voter energy and enthusiasm. (That does not count leftists, who aren’t registered Democrats and don’t vote for Democrats and yet still act like their views are mainstream within the party.) So as loud and as obnoxious and maddening as they are, the hard left twitterati still aren’t actually the people that we are counting on as a core constituency. But this election is going to be very hard, and all the people threatening to sit out for some ridiculous moral-ideology reason are only going to make it harder for themselves and us.

I don’t know what to say. I spend a lot of time being scared too. Especially when it can feel like I’m yelling into the void over all this, and the sanctimonious circle-jerking baffles me beyond all reason. But we are not alone, we will do our best, and that is all we can ask for.

#politics for ts #your salty internet aunt is Fed Up kiddos #anonymous #ask

40 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years ago

Text

Clark Gable and His WW2 Death Wish

https://ift.tt/3oDIaDK

Clark Gable did not intend to see action when World War II came to America. Which is not to say he ignored the war. Gable was there that day in 1940 when President Franklin Roosevelt gave his famous “Arsenal of Democracy” speech from the Oval Office. And, indeed, the first thing the movie star did when he heard about the Pearl Harbor attack was cable FDR to offer his full support—and, tellingly, the besieged president promptly answered right back.

But then in the 1930s and early ‘40s, Gable was “the King of Hollywood;” the reigning movie star who could sell more tickets than anybody this side of Shirley Temple, and he didn’t have to sing or dance to do it either. He was a mustachioed and muscular alpha who appealed to everybody, even presidents, and was one of the few leading men who would tell Louis B. Mayer no (at least until casting for Gone with the Wind came along). The government saw the value in that kind of celebrity when the dark storm clouds of war gathered over Europe and the South Pacific, and so did Gable. Still, he was practically 41 when the bombs fell in Hawaii and more than happy to support the war from afar.

As he told fellow MGM stablemate Jimmy Stewart at the latter’s going away party in 1940—Stewart had just happily joined the Army—“You know you’re throwing away your career, don’t you?” When Stewart answered yes, Gable added, “You won’t catch me doing that, but I wish you godspeed.”

Gable had success, Gable had power, and for the first time in his four decades on this earth, Gable had something approaching peace thanks to his marriage to Carole Lombard, the firecracker screwball star. Yet in less than a year, all of those things turned to ash following Lombard’s violent death. When her plane went down in a fiery blaze, it was treated as a national tragedy around the country, and for her husband it was the beginning of the end.

The King became broken, despondent, and finally disillusioned enough to enlist in the U.S. Army Air Corps. To this day, some say he went to Europe with a death wish, and on at least one bombing raid, Capt. Gable almost had it granted as a Luftwaffe shell passed right between his feet.

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard posing for photographers shortly after their marriage in 1939.

The King and Queen of Hollywood

Women were always easy for Clark Gable, and for a time so were wives. The first Mrs. Gable was Josephine Dillon, 17 years his senior, and she was introduced to him as an acting coach by another woman who was his then-fiancée. As a handsome, if unrefined son of an Ohioan farmer, the 23-year-old Gable was perfect clay for Dillon. She turned him into her greatest student, teaching him how to lower his voice and hold your attention. As his patron and wife, Dillon also introduced Gable to all her Broadway connections and the adjacent stock companies. It was even as the star of one of those companies that he met Maria Langham, a wealthy widow and oil heiress who was also 17 years his senior.

As the second Mrs. Gable, Ria introduced Gable to Manhattan’s high society and exquisite living, teaching him social etiquette and the value of a finely tailored tuxedo. One wife taught him how to play at being an actor, and the other taught him how to play at being a gentleman. They served their purposes and they were both brushed off.

But Lombard? He couldn’t brush her off ever.

The first time Clark met Carole, it was a surprisingly chaste affair. The two were cast as the leads of 1932’s No Man of Her Own. Unlike many of his leading ladies in the 1930s, Gable made no passes at Lombard, who was married to movie star William Powell at the time and intended to remain that way. Nevertheless, they hit it off, as the breathlessly quick-witted Lombard did with almost everyone.

Gable wasn’t yet “the King of Hollywood” then, but he was well on his way. Two years later, he’d star in the film that popularized screwball comedies, It Happened One Night (1934), which won him an Oscar for Best Actor, and two years after that he would lead the granddaddy of all disaster movies, San Francisco (1936). By ’38, he was already Tinseltown royalty when then-gossip columnist Ed Sullivan overheard Gable’s drinking buddy and sometime-rival, Spencer Tracy, affectionately refer to him as “King.” Sullivan immediately lit upon the idea of holding a national poll for the “King and Queen of Hollywood.”

More than 20 million people voted and, by a huge majority, Gable was crowned “King” for the rest of his career. Meanwhile, Myrna Loy was elected “Queen of Hollywood.” The fact they were then filming MGM’s Test Pilot (with Tracy) certainly suggests the results might’ve been tampered with. It also likely struck Loy as ironic since her first encounter with Gable ended with her pushing him into a hedge bush after he drunkenly bit the back of her neck while his second wife, Ria, was sitting in a nearby car. Gable refused for years to talk to Loy socially after that rejection, including between takes on film sets.

So yes, the King was a womanizer—complete with a secret baby born out of wedlock to co-star Loretta Young—in a sham marriage at the beginning of his reign. But things began changing when he finally ran into Lombard again, and at last he found his matching monarch.

It was at the White Ball in 1936 that the pair’s paths crossed a second time. By now, Clark was fully estranged from Ria, and the two lived in separate houses. Lombard, meanwhile, had risen to her own stardom by bringing her transgressive life-of-the-party persona to recent screwball comedies directed by Howard Hawks and Ernst Lubitsch. Vivacious, whip smart, and an eventual inspiration for Marion Ravenwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Lombard was a hard-drinking and giddy star with her own orbit.

According to Clark Gable: A Biography by Warren G. Harris, when Gable saw Lombard on the dance floor, he went up and said, “I go for you, Ma.” After a moment’s confusion, Lombard realized he was quoting their characters’ nicknames for each other in No Man of Her Own from four years earlier. She responded, “I go for you too, Pa.”

For the rest of their lives, they’d always refer to each other as “Ma” and “Pa.”

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard play with horses at the Encino ranch in 1939.

The Love of His Life

That first night on the dance floor actually ended in the pair’s first of many fights. But in a trick that would come to define the pattern of their relationship, Gable woke up the next morning in his hotel room with two doves sitting on his chest. They’d been secreted there with a note on one’s leg: “How about it? Carole.”

Unlike Gable’s other romantic entanglements, Lombard always controlled the tone and tempo of their courtship while Gable offered Lombard an escape from the glamour goddess, society girl image she’d molded herself to in Hollywood. She was an athlete growing up and, alongside Pa, she picked up outdoor-living again.

Clark taught Carole rifling, skeet-shooting, and camping. In ’38, she joined what had up to that point been Gable’s all-male hunting club with fellow actors and Hollywood talent. When the other men complained about a woman being present and sharing their bathroom, she brought along her own trailer with a private bathroom—taunting Clark and the others by then keeping him out. She crawled in the mud next to the dudes, and would soon be on all of the Gables’ hunting trips.

The pair eloped in ’39 after three years of courtship. This occurred in large part because Photoplay magazine revealed the two were living in sin (Gable was still married and too chintzy to get a divorce). Shortly after the embarrassment, however, Gable paid off his second wife and Lombard became the third Mrs. Gable.

“I just think of that husband of mine all the time,” Lombard once said with her usual candor. “I’m really stuck on the bastard. And it isn’t all that great lover crap, because if you want to know the truth, I’ve had better. No, I’m nuts about him and not just about his nuts.”

When the two moved into their Encino ranch, Gable made his gun collection the centerpiece when you walked in the front door, and Lombard began raising chickens and cattle. It was about as far from Beverly Hills as you could get, or as Lombard enthused, “The best little shit house in the San Fernando Valley.”

It was here that Lombard planned to soon retire, beginning with a one-year sabbatical in an effort to have children. Yet after a year of trying, they only had two miscarriages to show for it. They agreed to keep trying, but they’d soon run out of chances.

Clark Gable and wife Carole Lombard circa 1940.

The Loss of His Life

When the bombs fell in Pearl Harbor, it was Carole who urged Clark to telegraph Roosevelt as soon as possible. She was also in the White House for the president’s fireside chat in 1940. And unlike Gable, she was furious when the president responded, “You are needed where you are.”

With the war finally here, Lombard urged Gable to join the Army in December 1941 while she hoped to join the Red Cross. For Christmas, instead of her usual lavish presents she sent all her friends engravings announcing she’d made a donation to the Red Cross in their name. And when she got wind of MGM publicity chief Howard Strickling trying to position Gable for a safe desk job in Washington D.C. for the course of the war, she told both men, “The last thing I want for Pappy is one of those phony commissions!”

Gable preferred helping the war where FDR told him he should—from the comfort of Hollywood. On Dec. 22, 1941, he presided over the first meeting of the Screen Actors Division of the Hollywood Victory Committee as its newly appointed chairman. The committee functioned as a way for Hollywood stars and leaders to organize all activities in support of the war effort. His wife was the first at the meeting to pledge her cooperation in donations, bond rallies, and touring the troops.

When a request came from the Treasury Department for the Victory Committee to launch Indiana’s participation in the national campaign of selling war bonds on Jan. 15, 1942, Gable recognized his Indiana-born wife as the perfect talent to send along. Carole was thrilled to go, although apprehensive about leaving Clark behind.

Gable couldn’t join his wife on her journey by train because he was about to start work on Somewhere I’ll Find You: his second film with Lana Turner. Up until then, Carole had been very open-minded about Gable’s continued infidelities and little affairs, even after they were married. She turned a blind eye to more than one rumor of him sleeping with a co-star here, or a starstruck journalist there, because she assumed you had to let Clark Gable be Clark Gable. But she drew the line over rumors about Clark and Lana, the latter of whom was infamously dubbed the “Sweater Girl” when she was discovered at a soda fountain at age 16. Blonde and buxom, Turner was 20-years-old when she first worked with the 40-year-old Gable. These stories did get to Lombard.

The evening before she left for Indiana, the couple had a huge blowout during which Clark failed to convince his wife he never slept with Lana Turner. The last night Gable and Lombard were under the same roof, they slept in different beds. The next morning, he did not see his wife off to the train station.

As with many of their fights, things cooled almost immediately. Before she left, Lombard still delivered a pack of handwritten love letters to her live-in secretary Jean Garceau to deliver to Clark, one at a time, everyday she was away. She also had the prank she planned before their fight still be delivered, so when Gable returned home from work that night he found a naked blonde dummy in his bed with a note. “So you won’t be lonely.” Gable reportedly laughed until he had tears in his eyes.

According to Garceau when the two talked by phone the next night, they sounded like “lovebirds” again. And according to the You Must Remember This podcast, Gable had Carole’s hotel room in Indianapolis be covered in red roses when she got in. But before even then, Lombard’s train stopped in Salt Lake City where she saw the troops marching and immediately telegraphed her husband, “HEY PAPPY, YOU’D BETTER GET INTO THIS MAN’S ARMY.”

On Jan. 15, Lombard intended to raise $500,000 in war bonds. Instead, she raised over $2 million. Afterward, she was so eager to get home to Gable following their fight that she decided she’d fly back to California instead of returning by train. This was expressly forbidden by the Treasury Department. Commercial travel was still relatively dicey, and they feared she’d be a target for Nazi saboteurs. Additionally, she was traveling with her mother Elizabeth Peters, a superstitious woman who’d never flown and was deathly afraid to start now. She was also there with Otto Winkler, Gable’s publicist and buddy who was best man at their wedding.

The morning their flight was to leave Indianapolis, Otto got Carole to at least agree to a coin toss. Heads they fly, tails they take the train. Carole won. From Indianapolis, they would make multiple stops, including Wichita, Albuquerque, and Las Vegas. TWA Flight Number 3 never reached Burbank.

That night Gable arranged a surprise party to welcome the three heroes back—as well as a surprise male dummy with an erection waiting for Carole upstairs. He was reportedly giddy waiting for the phone call from limo driver Larry Barbier, who was supposed to report when they landed. Instead, Clark got a call from MGM fixer Eddie Mannix.

“Can I get back to you?” Gable asked. “I’m expecting word on Ma’s arrival any minute.”

Mannix cut him off. “King, that’s why I’m calling. Larry Barbier just phoned from the airport. Carole’s plane went down just a few minutes after it left Las Vegas.” She was gone.

Clark Gable stands next to co-pilot Lt. Col. Robert W Burns beneath B-17 “The Duchess�� after bombing raid in September 1943.

Clark Gable Goes to War

The fallout from the literal wreckage of Lombard’s flight was national news. A bewildered Gable joined Mannix and other MGM brass for their own chartered flight to Vegas. He could see the burning debris that Lombard’s flight smeared across Table Rock Mountain from the air. Locals in the city described it as “apocalyptic” and like an “inferno.”

Mannix refused to let Gable go on the rescue party climbing the mountain—convincing him Carole, Otto, and Bettie might have survived and were now walking to the city. So the star stayed behind and drank. The next morning, he received a cable from Mannix. “NO SURVIVORS. ALL KILLED INSTANTLY.”

In truth, the bodies of Lombard and everyone else on board had been more or less cremated by the fire after impact. And while Mannix couldn’t be certain, he believed he found what was left of Carole: a decapitated, charred body with a few blonde strands of hair and the remnants of a ruby and diamond pin Gable had given his wife the year before. He never told Clark about what he saw, but brought back the hairs and piece of ruby.

The next day, FDR sent Gable private condolences and publicly awarded Lombard a medal as “the first woman to be killed in action in the defense of her country in its war against the Axis powers.”

The official and (likely) reason for that flight’s crash is it was overloaded with servicemen and movie star luggage, and the pilot failed to see the mountain in front of him, on which all lights had been turned off to preserve wartime power. Although, according to Orson Welles (as per You Must Remember This), Hollywood and government insiders all knew Nazi saboteurs did in fact bring down the plane, and Roosevelt covered it up to prevent a nationwide panic.

In the months that followed, Gable grew quiet and despondent, losing 20 pounds despite drinking untold amounts of Scotch every day. He dined alone for all meals and began wearing a locket with Carole’s hair and ruby remnants within. According to household staff, he rarely slept and stayed up all hours of the night watching 16mm prints of Lombard’s old movies he had sent over (she’d given him the projector as a Christmas present). Now he had time for no woman except the one he lost.

When he discovered MGM was still trying to keep him from being drafted—with the age range now being raised to 45—Gable grew furious. A scriptwriter pal put him in touch with Col. Luke Smith of the Army Air Corps, who told Gable he should consider applying for training as an aerial gunner since it’s one of those jobs no one seems interested in.

“Everybody wants to be a pilot,” Smith told Gable. “Your becoming a gunner would help to glorify the plane crews and the grease monkeys.” Gable made up his mind to enlist in spite of the wrath of MGM head Louis B. Mayer. He also defied the constraints of his age of 41 by passing the physical—save for the need of getting triplicates of his new dentures (Gable had false teeth his whole career).

On Aug. 12, 1942, Gable enlisted into the Army air force. Right beforehand he told Jill Winkler, Otto’s widow, “I’m going in, and I don’t expect to come back, and I don’t really give a hoot whether I do or not.”

Capt. Gable posing for the press with a gunner’s weapon in June 1943.

The Aerial Gunner with a Death Wish

There is still much speculation over whether Gable actually wanted to die in World War II. His superiors eventually reached that conclusion based on his cavalier attitude, and he at least seemed ambivalent about the whole affair. However, it is interesting he joined the air force considering that, after Lombard’s death, he developed a fear of flying for the rest of his life. Following the war, he would always prefer to make his transatlantic crossings by ocean liners instead of planes.

But during the war? Frankly, he didn’t seem to give a damn one way or the other.

Gable’s biggest fear during the whole conflict was his struggle to pass officer’s training in a 90-day course stateside. A high school dropout, Gable was challenged by the academic course work, which he ultimately got around by treating each textbook like a script he needed to memorize.

Once he was an officer (and allowed to grow back his trademark mustache), he seemed in relatively good spirits for the first time in months. Before going overseas, he told Garceau, “I have everything in the world anyone could want, but for one thing. All I really need and want is Ma.”

In April 1943, Gable was shipped off to join the 351st Heavy Bombardment Group in Peterborough, England, about 80 miles north of London. Gable also received an automatic promotion to the rank of captain, although this had as much to do with the heavy losses of Allied officers as it did with Gable’s leadership.

In truth, Gable likely enjoyed playing the part of officer more than he entirely became it. The military loved letting him pose for the press as a gunner with a bombardier’s bullets wrapped around his neck, but that wasn’t his actual job. While Gable did on at least two occasions take on the role of aerial gunner in combat, his official role was as an observational gunner—he was there to pick up the weapons in the side or rear of a B-17 if the gunner operating it was injured or killed (which did happen).

Otherwise, Gable was there because the Army wanted him to film footage they could use as propaganda, glorifying the role of gunners. While in officer’s school, the Army reunited Gable with cinematographer Andy McIntyre, who would become his sidekick and cameraman in the air. And after his graduation, Gable arranged the transfer of his scriptwriting buddy John Lee Mahin, then a lieutenant serving as an instructor in Combat Intelligence, to join them. In all, Gable and McIntyre built a film crew of six men to film the other fliers on B-17 missions. They were called “the Little Hollywood Group.”

More than twice the age of many of the pilots and gunners he flew with, Gable found himself facing heavy skepticism in his early training.

“None of the kids believed he was going to do anything at all,” Mahin recalled in Warren’s Clark Gable biography. “They never thought he was going to expose himself to any kind of danger. They said it was all a lot of bullshit. It really killed Clark that the kids shunned him.”

The brass, however, loved Gable at first. Many of his superiors invited him nearly every night to dinner, an annoyance he’d soon relegate to one evening a week. And while he welcomed the press to photograph him at the planes, he also refused the special treatment of having private quarters set up, which earned him more respect from the young fliers.

He’d also soon prove himself as a member of Col. William Hatcher’s Chickens (a nickname for his bombing group) when he went up in the air on May 4, 1943. Hatcher was onboard the same B-17 that day as group commander and co-pilot; the 351st were tasked with taking out several factories in Nazi-occupied Antwerp, Belgium.

During Gable’s first combat mission, flak from ground defenses took out one of the plane’s four engines and its stabilizer. More unnervingly, after delivering the plane’s payload, a German’s 20mm shell pierced the center of the plane, with the corner of the shell passing through the heel of Gable’s boot—lifting it clean off—and then exiting the aircraft inches above Gable’s head.

On another mission, Gable took over for gunners who were wounded or killed (there was at least one of each that day). Fifteen holes were found in the fuselage. For Gable, such horrors were also a vindication, as he fully won the respect of the kids around him.

“They adored him,” Mahin recalled. “They couldn’t stay away from him. And he was proud that they accepted him.”

Portrait of Capt. Gable after arriving in England in 1943 as part of the the 351st Bombardment Group.

Hitler’s Prize

At Peterborough, Gable grew increasingly chummy with the other fliers serving. He bought a used motorcycle and would make small talk on trips around the base. And on more than a few weekends, he would head to London to screen at MGM offices some of the footage he shot in the air. He also would meet with his pre-war Hollywood chum, David Niven, who was serving as an instructor for British Commandos and had recently married and had a son.

“From then on our cottage became Clark’s refuge from military life,” Niven recalled. “With Carole’s death, he had been dealt the cruelest of blows, but on the surface at least, he was making the best of it. In his own deep misery, he found it possible to rejoice over the great happiness that had come my way, and he became devoted to my little family.”

Niven added, “Clark’s personal wounds seemed to be healing, but Carole was never far from him, and the very happiness of our little group would sometimes overwhelm him. [My wife] found him one evening on an upturned wheelbarrow in the garden, his head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.”

Movies

Audrey Hepburn: The Secret WW2 History of a Dutch Resistance Spy

By David Crow

Movies

Jimmy Stewart and the WW2 Mission That Almost Broke Him

By David Crow

Still, Gable seemed to be settling into a new happy rhythm of camaraderie on the base, frequent trips to London, and even playing the field. He renewed an affair with a pre-Lombard paramour in London, the English (and now married with children) Elizabeth Allan. Nonetheless, he may have been enjoying himself too much for his superiors’ liking.

Robert Matzen, author of Mission: Jimmy Stewart and the Fight for Europe and Fireball: Carole Lombard and the Mystery of Flight 3, told me he believed Gable had a death wish.

“Carole Lombard, his wife, wanted him to go fight and she’s killed,” Matzen said. “So he then decides, ‘Alright, I’ll go fight and hopefully I’ll be killed too.’ That’s why he wanted to be in the Eighth Air Force, because he wanted to die in a plane crash.” Also, unlike Stewart, Matzen stressed, Gable never fully adapted to military culture.

Said Matzen, “Gable was much more interested in being Clark Gable in England than Jim Stewart was interested in being Jimmy Stewart in England.” This weighed on the mind of Col. Hatcher, as did the growing understanding that every B-17 Gable was on became a prize for Nazi Germany.

The day the 351st arrived in England, Nazi radio propagandist William Joyce, aka “Lord Haw Haw,” broadcast from Berlin the following: “Welcome to England, Hatcher’s Chickens. Among whom is famous American cinema star, Clark Gable. We’ll be seeing you soon in Germany, Clark. You will be welcome there too.”

Adolf Hitler apparently adored Clark Gable, considering him his favorite American actor. A movie nut with a love for British and Hollywood cinema, Hitler even allegedly smuggled a film print of Gone with the Wind before it opened in the UK. Hitler therefore marked Gable as one of the most prized “war criminals” in the Allied Forces, offering a handsome reward to any German soldiers who can bring Gable to him alive.

The actor was terrified of being paraded through Berlin like King Kong and was only half-joking when he told a friend, “If Hitler catches me, the sonofabitch will put me in a cage like a gorilla and send me on a tour of Germany. If a plane that I’m in ever gets hit, I’m not bailing out.”

While his superiors might’ve appreciated the sentiment, they feared the humiliating spectacle of one of their gunners becoming a Nazi political tool—or the actor putting a bigger target on their bombing group. Additionally, Gable didn’t follow protocol as intended, at one point threatening a military doctor after the physician apparently said nonchalantly that Gable’s pal had hours to live while the young man was awake and listening. And, again, the opinion became that he wanted to be shot down.

So it was in October 1943, after only five combat missions, Capt. Gable was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Medal for “exceptionally meritorious achievement while participating in five separate bomber combat missions.” Hatcher apparently pulled the strings to get Gable out.

Clark Gable in 1960 on the set of his last film, The Misfits, with Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift.

The End

Even though Gable’s time in combat ended in October of ’43, he still wound up with 50,000 feet of film at his disposal. He was apparently shocked when he learned the air force really didn’t care what he did with the footage since gunner recruitment was up. So he returned to Los Angeles, having been reassigned to the city’s photographic division. Allowed to cut the film at MGM, Gable put together five short films that could be used for instruction on operating B-17s. But by the time it made its way through the Pentagon’s chain of command… the war was over. The footage mostly still lies unused in government archives.

After finishing the films, Gable had expected to be assigned to a new bombing division in the Pacific Theater. As he waited months for the orders to come in, he found out on the news about the D-Day landing in Europe on June 6, 1944. Feeling forgotten and discarded by the Air Corps, he requested to be discharged on June 12, which was his right as a volunteer over the age of 42. A captain named Ronald Reagan granted Gable his discharge after 670 days of service.

Clark eventually re-acclimated to Hollywood and restarted his career, but by 1945 his days as “the King” were waning, and he saw more flops accompany his diminishing hits. He also had many more affairs with leading ladies, extras, and socialites. But for years he refused to marry, telling friends, “It wouldn’t be fair. I have nothing left to give.”

For the rest of his life, Clark mourned Carole, including on Jan. 15, 1944 when he was on hand for the launch of the SS Carole Lombard. Gable was supposed to speak at the event. Instead, he mostly cried.

Eventually he did remarry, twice, and finally had one child who wasn’t disowned in secret. But after the star died of a heart attack at age 59 in 1960, his fifth wife, Kay Williams, honored his final wishes: Gable was interred at Glendale’s Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Next to Ma.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post Clark Gable and His WW2 Death Wish appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/35A0RQk

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

2 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #361

“the world is a vampire, sent to drain”

Have you ever been through a phase of thinking emo guys were hot? A phase? Hunny, they're still hot lmao. Have you ever dated someone that could play an instrument? Yeah. Juan could play guitar, and Girt played I think the tuba in band. What’s so horrible about wearing leggings like pants? I've actually never understood why people freak about this. Like so long as they're not sheer and fit you fine, why exactly is this a problem...? Weirdest picture you’ve ever taken of yourself? Oh dear. When someone claims to be suicidal, do you take them seriously? FUCK you if you don't. Honest to god, fuck you. This is NOT something you just don't even blink at. Even if it's surprising to hear from that person, you take that shit seriously and try to talk to them about it. Ever been kicked out of anywhere? Colleen's house. Ever had Skittles vodka? No, but that shit sounds good. Ever punched someone in the face? No. If you haven’t, do you want to now? Uh, I'll pass. Do you truly HATE anyone? No one I know personally, but people like rapists, pedophiles, etc., I sure as hell do hate them. Most historical/famous landmark/building you’ve been to in your country? No clue. Favorite flavor for most things? Strawberry, watermelon, or blue raspberry, depending on what the thing is. Ever taken pictures in a photobooth? Who with? Yeah: Summer, Jason, and I'm pretty sure Sara and I did? What is the closest book to you? It's a full collection of Poe's poetry that Mom got me. Are you reading it or someone else? I'm not right now. I may eventually. Milkshakes or Sundaes? Hm, I gotta go with milkshakes. Do you like watermelons more or cherries? I'm not a fan of either, but I'd definitely pick watermelons over cherries. Who was the last person you ate with? My family and I went to Ichiban (a Japanese steakhouse that we have here where they cook directly in front of you) yesterday to celebrate Nicole's graduation. Do you prefer broccoli or asparagus? Broccoli. I hate asparagus. Do you have any bug bites? No. Do you have any flowers in your room? No. Do you know anyone that owns horses? Loosely, anyway. It's a family I took pictures for, and I still have the mother on Facebook. When you were little, did you ever go to feed the ducks? Yes, I LOVED doing that. Don't feed ducks bread, by the way. Have you seen any of the seven wonders of the world in person? No. Have you ever won anything out of one of those crane machines? Yeah. Can you remember being taught how to ride a bike? Was it hard for you? Yeah. I don't THINK it was too hard. Did you get carded the last time you ordered an alcoholic drink? No. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? No, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. Which was the worst phase in your life? 2016 was. Towards the end of '15 was the breakup, and through aaaaaaall of 2016, I was just dead inside and totally useless. Every day I wanted to be dead. Can you remember your last dream? I had a nightmare some stupid kids were fucking with my snake Venus, so I was trying to protect her. Do you ever use Snapchat? No, I don't have one. What’s your favorite musical? I don't like musicals. What happened at the last party you went to? Summer prepared some little Halloween treat bags for us guests, we watched a horror movie, and everyone but me smoked some weed. Are you more comfortable sitting or lying down? I would assume everyone is more comfortable lying down... Have you ever been a fan of N*Sync? Yeah, as a kiddo. Favorite kind of cake: Red velvet, yum yum. What is your middle name? Marie. TV shows and anime you watch regularly: None. Do you want to have a big family in the future? Just a big family of pets with a spouse. What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush? Oh boy, I couldn't tell ya. Is Vegas one of your must-see places? No. Pet rat: yay or nay? YAY!! I've had many, but I don't think I'll get any more. I've just had bad luck with them, save for one that died of cancer at an old age. Would you call yourself a writer? Written any stories lately? Yeah. I haven't really written any big RP posts of the late, but I did recently write a poem. Are needles something that you’re afraid of? Okay, so this is super weird. Tattoos and piercings? No problem. Little prick, getting blood drawn, that sorta little stuff, no problem. I am, however, NOT a fan of big needles, which used to not be an issue. It's actually kinda recent, and it's why I'm nervous about my second Covid shot coming up, aha... What was the last unexpected hug you gave/received? I really haven't had an unexpected hug since Jason asked for one before he left my house after our final talk. Who was the last person you held hands with? Either my niece or nephew. Have you ever been in a parade before? If so, was it on TV? No. Do you have a fear of rollercoasters? If so, were you ever forced to go on one? If you don’t, what is your favorite rollercoaster? I have a big fear of them, yeah. Post a picture of you from a recent time. Don't feel like it. Who was the last person to give you some of their food? Miss Tobey let me try one of her dumplings yesterday when we were at Ichiban for dinner. The last person you met, what was your first impression of them? I actually didn't quite like her. Have you ever been to a football game? Yeah, because my sister was a cheerleader. Do you like the snow or rain better? Snowwww. Have you ever faked sick? Yeah. What is your blood-type? A-. Have you ever eaten a bug? Not knowingly. The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Salsa. Mom got these veggie chips at the store and they apparently taste better with salsa, which it did. They weren't great, though. Are you listening to anything at the moment? It's Gab Smolders' turn for me to watch her Resident Evil 8 upload, haha. I'm literally watching three different people (Mark, John Wolfe, and her) play it. Can you take a bra off with one hand? I haven't tried, I think? I doubt I could, given that I'm not exactly small. Do you have an innie or an outie bellybutton? Innie. Can you crack your neck? NOOOOO AND DO NOT DO IT AROUND ME YOURSELF. Are you donating your organs? Yeah; what am I gonna use 'em for? It just seems like a waste otherwise. They're just gonna decay. When was the last time you talked to you mom? Before she left with Tobey to go to the store. Do you like pumpkin pie? NO. I don't like pie, and I hate pumpkin. Do you own your own computer? Yeah. Did you ever have to share a room with one of your siblings? Yeah; growing up, my little sister and I did. Is there any piece of technology you want to buy? I REALLY want a PS4. Did you ever have a night light when you were a kid? Yeah. What TV show had you hooked from the very first episode? Meerkat Manor, 100%. I had to know that Shakespeare was okay. What is your least favorite Sour Patch Kids color? Orange or red, can't pick. Have you ever seen the movie Matilda? YES! I love that movie. What is the weirdest chant you have ever heard? Uh, idk. How are you feeling? Annoyed and hurt as fuck because shit Miss Tobey says without thinking for a single goddamn second. I'm honestly beyond sick of this woman. Do you know anyone with a unibrow? I don't think so. Doughy or saucy pizza? Doughy. Do you have anything that’s limited edition? Yeah. Do you have an air freshener in your bathroom? If so, what scent? I... think we do? If so though, I just don't notice it. The bathroom doesn't smell like anything in particular. Do you like Jalapeno Cheetos? Oh man, I forgot about those! Love 'em. Are you a fan of salads? Yeah, they're fine. I have to be in the mood for one, though. What’s one random thing that you don’t like? Uhhh carrots. What’s one random thing that you like? Shrimp. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I don't. Is it easy for you to accept loss? NOPE. I'm the absolute worst with it. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? I really wanna see Sara, so take me to Illinois. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her birthday the day before mine. Is there someone you just can’t imagine your life without? Not anymore, honestly. After Jason, I stopped that "I can't live without you" mindset. Truth is I'm going to lose people through life, and I'm not attaching my ability to happily exist to anyone. Are you wearing a ring? Two. Have your friends ever stopped by your house just to say hi? In the past, yeah. Do you like Chinese food? Not really. I only ever get pork fried rice and eggrolls from Chinese restaurants. Have you done any shopping for something in specific recently? No. Do you still live in your hometown? No. What was the reason behind the last time you stayed up all night? I don't recall, honestly. I haven't done that in a very long time. Have you ever had a UFO sighting or a sighting of strange lights in the sky? A very strange light, yes. Have you ever seen your mom or dad drunk? Yes to both. Seeing Mom drunk is very, very rare though. My dad was an alcoholic when I was growing up, so I saw him drunk plenty. Do your parents vote? Mom does, idk about Dad. Who’s the most romantic person you ever went out with? Jason. What restaurant has the best fries? Nowhere has anything on Bojangle's, y'all. Have you ever had a surprise party thrown for you? No.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''bullet with butterfly wings'' by the smashing pumpkins

2 notes · View notes

ghoestys · 4 years ago

Text

and this is ruby! my 4th and final muse! been wanting to use gayoung’s pretty face since she was in tempted and now that shes in true beauty it made me want to use her even more! and the content she gave us while playing yeo hajin? iconic this is ruby <3

STATISTICS

full name: ruby odette im nickname(s): rue, rubes, ro, odette, od, odettie age: twenty two date of birth: october 8th, 1998 hometown: tba! gender: cis female pronouns: she/her/hers religion: christian (raised, non-practicing) sexuality: bisexual & biromantic hair colour: brunette eye colour: brown height: 5'9″ tattoos: dainty colored lavender on her left ankle facing outward (ex) piercings: standard & upper lobe (both), forward helix & industrial (right), daith (left)

PROMPT + BLACKMAIL

a legacy and member of the yale's elite, they're twenty-two and a sophomore undergrad student majoring in law. they are as positive as they are negative.

● was caught with a dui and almost got her license revoked because of it, but she flirted her way out of the ticket and convinced the police officer to kill the report by giving him tickets to a movie premiere where she held a small role. background: this happened in new york after she was attempting to drive home from a party with her 3 model friends who were also all drunk. she was 20 at the time and should’ve also gotten in-trouble for underaged drinking along with driving under the influence, but she truly utilized her fame status and looks. luckily no one got hurt and the road was pretty empty so there wasn’t many cars, but it was still dangerous and irresponsible because if she wasn’t pulled over, then she would’ve hit busier traffic and something definitely would’ve happened. after being pulled over and saving her ass, ruby stopped driving and ordered a lyft to pick up her and her friends to drop them back to her apartment in new york.

● was convinced her father was having an affair with a news anchor, so ruby convinced producers, news channels, and everyone in the business to blacklist them from ever working and essentially ruining and ending the new anchor’s career. unknown to ruby, though, is that the news anchor was never having an affair with her father and it was actually colette who was having an affair with her father at the time. background: her relationship with her dad has always been rocky, but the minute she found out he was having an affair and cheating on her mom made ruby go batshit. she wasn’t sure who the person was exactly except for that her father was having an affair because she was overhearing flirty & secretive phone calls and was seeing bills for expensive gifts that her mother was never receiving. when ruby saw her dad meeting with a news anchor frequently, ruby automatically assumed that was the person her father was having an affair with and essentially ruined that new anchor’s career. the new anchor’s career ended very abruptly and ruby loved seeing it. she loved her mom and she wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her- not her father and not the news anchor. unknown to ruby, though, is that the news anchor was never having an affair with her father and it truly was just business. ruby framed the wrong person and ruined an innocent person’s career for no reason.

ABOUT

family/upbringing/childhood

ruby’s family consisted of her father (randolph im), her mother (marissa im, nee byun), and her three younger siblings (edeline, brietta, and dominick)

her father, randolph im, is a top politician and was formerly a senator before being removed from officer and losing to his component- senator ahn. instead of being a senator, he’s apart of the house of representatives. other than being a politician, randolph also runs a loan business that’s not known unless you’re also apart of the top 1-10%. since they have so much money, he doesn’t mind giving out loans to those in need, but he always expects something in return (like a vote or an endorsement) and he always expects being paid back in time with interest included. if he doesn’t get his money paid back in time, then he’s a loan shark who sends his henchmen to do all the dirty work for him.

her mother, marissa im, is a house wife who happily takes care of her kids.

the family is as tight knit as it can be. it’s not hard for them to act loving and family-like infront of the media because that’s how they are everyday. they have their tense moments like every other family does, but they’re healthy for the most part.

healthy until it involves ruby and her father. these two are constantly butting heads and always arguing over something. maybe it’s because she’s the eldest daughter or maybe it’s because she doesn’t support her father’s shady loan business. she just doesn’t like him and the only time you’ll catching her supporting her father’s political career is when it’s family involved and her presence is required. other than that, ruby is typically absent from whatever political campaign her father does.

ever since ruby was a toddler, she loved the spotlight and performing. she loved acting and she loved when the cameras were on her whether it be for performing something or posing for something. since her mother noticed this, she was quick to put ruby in auditions for acting and modeling and since ruby was a natural, her acting and modeling career began at a very young age. she acted in children’s shows, movies as the younger version of a character and modeled for campaigns and spreads for brands like guess kids.

due to her career being a success at such a young age, ruby never experienced “real school” and was homeschooled her entire life. when she was on set for tv shows where she had to act in a school setting was basically her only experience as a student in a “real school”.

although her siblings would grow up differently (attending private schools instead of homeschool), ruby never minded this and never felt like she missed out on anything because she still learned how to socialize and got to act out wtvr she was possibly missing out on

career/college/the elites

luckily, as ruby got older and went from being a child to a pre/teen, her career didn’t stop and just kept growing. she filmed some tv shows and mostly focused on movies. when she turned 16/17, that was when her modeling career began to become more prominent because she was “old enough”, looked old enough, and was taller. she was having fun, living life, and traveling the world.

since she was a politician’s daughter, she was getting tutored on information about law and politics by the time she was 13. she had interest in law especially so she could spite her dad by telling him what he was possibly doing wrong, but also so she could negotiate her own contracts and understand what’s being said during the meetings. as a minor, she can’t sign contracts without a guardian but she sat there at the meetings feeling lost and wanted to know what they were saying.

although she loved spotlight when she was younger, by the time she was twenty she was starting to get over the fame. her career was successful, but she was starting to see and feel all the negatives that came with fame (especially in the modeling world where they criticized her looks often) and simply wanted out

when she turned 21, as a gift to herself she decided to take a break from her career/the spotlight so she could attend school and actually get a degree in law so she truly could negotiate her own contracts and understand all the legal terms being used during those meetings. she applied to yale and luckily she got accepted (mostly due to her career and philanthropy and because of yale being her father’s alma mater).

her father was a member of the yale elites, which makes ruby a legacy so that made her entrance into the organization very easy.

she still does modeling when she has the time, but her acting career is on hiatus until she finishes her bs in law.

don’t really know where to put this, but her stage name is odette im (her middle name) and only those that actually know her like friends & family call her ruby. she prefers to be called ruby because it’s her actual name, but professionally and in the tabloids she’s known as odette. she will still respond if you call her odette in a non-professional setting and honestly if ur muse met her while she was working then they probs know her as odette

personality

out of all my muses, i think ruby is the most genuinely nice one with no ugly intentions. silvia used to be like this, but silvia was also just willing to do shady things versus ruby who only does shady thing when shes truly hurt or angry or doing it for someone she loves (like ruining a person’s career to avenger her mom)

like taking care of people because shes an eldest daughter but also loves being taken cared of much more. whenever she’s being babied or treated as the youngest she’s happy because she’s used to have to take care of other people instead of herself

is honestly tired of the constant spotlight because she experienced it for so long, so think she’s more lowkey now except for those moments when shes modeling and partying at extravagant places and cities

believes honesty is key and the biggest way to lose her as a friends is to lie to her. she grew up away from the political setting, but it was still something she was apart of nonetheless and she knows how shady that area can b. knowing this, she tries to b as honest as possible and likes to hold people at a very honest level too like pls just be real with her and she’ll be real with u

doesnt mind talking about herself because thats what shes used to (her having to do interviews n shit all the time makes it easy for her to talk about herself)

basically an open book and even tho shes an award winning actress, shes terrible at hiding her real emotions infront of people who know her on a non-superficial level

can be very superficial with others due to her job and having to present herself a the best possible version of herself, but shes usually genuine for the most part like. if ur her friend then ur her friend she wont treat u like a professional associate or wtvr like??? does that even make sense

probs actually enjoys philanthropy work so shes involved n shit

can cook because she was the eldest daughter and also because she had to take care of herself while being in different cities by herself bc she couldnt eat out everyday

cant bake for shit tho like.. that shit is just not her thing. cant even make box brownies

fiercely loyal to those she loves and will legit do anything to protect them. also loves spoiling her friends bc like. if she has the money for it y not

WANTED CONNECTIONS IDEAS

someone that her father loaned money to! ruby is aware of her father’s business and is also aware of the clients because her dad doesn’t keep it a secret within the family. maybe your muse borrowed money and still hasn’t paid her father back for the loan so now the father found out information about ur muse and is holding it against them. ruby could be aware of this and attempt to help you-- if the muses get along tho :)

someone she met thru work! whether it be thru acting or modeling but i think that’d be so fun!! could be a good experience where they became friends or maybe they’re rivals in their careers that the media loves to put against each other. maybe they were even costars who didn’t get along, but the media loves making them out to be bffs!

bffs! friends! close friends!

enemies! betrayals! negatives!

cousins! because why not!

romance! ex flings! flirtationships! someone who leads her on!

ruby isn’t the type to do fwb or non-attachment style relationships because she gets attached to people very easily. with her job shes constantly surrounded by people and while she loves traveling, it can get very lonely. if she fell in love with u then she fell in love with u genuinely and whole heartedly. i think of all my muses, she falls in love the easiest

#intro

4 notes · View notes

queencarolinemikaelson · 5 years ago

Text

A Mystery Never Fully Explained

//Klaroline AU Week// - Day 1 - All Human AU

There really was no two ways about it, Klaus Mikaelson was a diva.

A prima donna, even.

There was an urban legend in the theatre industry that once, while rehearsing his role as Beast in Beauty and the Beast, Klaus opted to sit his dressing room, rather than ‘save’ his leading lady from the wolf attack at the beginning of act two.

“I was just throwing the moron to the wolves,” Klaus allegedly said smugly, to the rightly irate director.

Yep, he was biggest drama queen in the theatre industry.

All who worked with him agreed Klaus was actually a soprano in a baritone’s body. Though they would never say it to his face. Nope, to his face, all were perfectly lovely.

Because, no matter how many three-year-old-esque tantrums he threw, or crazy demands he slung at a company, or assistants he fired, Klaus Mikaelson was still the best.

Contemptuous he may have been until the very last second, but once he was under the spotlight, he was magic.

No note, nor line was missed. His honey voice caressed every ear like a lover. His impeccable acting could bring to life every character from King Herod to Jean Valjean.

So naturally, when casting for a reinvigorated West End production of Phantom of the Opera, whom else was to set to play the titular character?

Rehearsals certainly weren’t easy for the crew.

The nature of the show meant already two divas needed to be cast for the roles of Christine and Carlotta. How were they to cope with a third.

But they had managed to make it to opening day without too many scuffles until –

“What the bloody hell do you mean Bonnie’s in the hospital!?” Klaus roared. “Who is going to do my make up?”

“Have some compassion, Niklaus!” Elijah, Klaus’ brother – who also happened to be his manager, (and what was more pertinent, the only one who could make any sense of a tantrumming Klaus) – sighed. “She is in the hospital, after a car accident!”

“We are opening in three and a half bloody hours, Elijah! I refuse to have my Phantom butchered by some blonde-bimbo-beauty-school-drop-out, playing face paint, just because Bonnie decided to have an accident!”

“Oh be reasonable,” Elijah snapped, though made the mental note to tell Ms Bennett just how indignant Klaus was about working with anyone else. Surely that was some vote of confidence? “She was hit by a car!”

Klaus glowered, but didn’t return fire. Even Klaus, diva or not, knew car accidents were bad.

“There are two options,” Elijah said, after both men had a moment to calm themselves. “You can have your makeup done by the associate head of make up. This will require you to leave your dressing room, and join some of the other cast members.”

“I don’t mingle with the peasants, Elijah,” Klaus pouted, petulantly. “They chatter and natter about inane things, and I cannot focus on what is important. Which is the work!”

“Fine! The second option is you trust Bonnie’s substitute. A Ms Caroline Forbes, currently the head of artistry on Broadway’s Phantom of the Opera.”

Klaus rolled his eyes intensely. He hated Broadway. He hated working on Broadway. And with people who worked on Broadway. And just people in general, but that was beside the point.

“Brother, my feelings about Broadway aside, I’m not sure if you’ve seen a globe recently. But this is London. Not New York City.”

It was Elijah’s turn to roll his eyes – honestly maybe it was time to quit, and live as far away from Klaus as possible.

“I’m well aware of the geography, Niklaus,” Elijah groaned, rather uncharacteristically. “Ms Forbes, an old friend of Ms Bennett, is currently visiting London. Had tickets for tonight’s show, in fact, so is very well placed to aid us tonight.”

“Fine,” Klaus grumbled, after a moment of contemplation – though there wasn’t much to contemplate, no make up was so bad that he would endure the blather of other cast members. “This Broadway woman will have to do. But I refuse to be pleasant to her.”

“I would expect nothing more of you, Niklaus.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door of Klaus’ dressing room.

“Ahh, that will be her.”

“You did not just approve her to come backstage before consulting me brother!” Klaus growled.

“Well,” Elijah said, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood up, an air of finality in his tone. “As you so eloquently put it, brother you’re ‘opening in three and a half bloody hours’, there really isn’t any time for your arguments.”

Elijah strode away from the sulking Klaus, and greeted the woman on the other side of the door.

“Ms Forbes,” he said politely. “Please come in, and thank you so much for this, the company is indebted to you.”

“Please, call me Caroline,” Klaus heard a bright, cheery voice say, though she was still blocked from his sightline. “Anything for Bonnie!”

“And how is she after the accident?”

“Shaken,” the woman said, her bubbly voice suddenly laced with worry. “Her injuries are mostly superficial, but her arm will be in plaster for the next few weeks.”

“I see,” Elijah said, before they both came round the corner, and Klaus was able to get a good look her for the first time. “This is Niklaus.”

“Hi!” she said, smiling a smile so bright, he should have been wearing sunglasses. “Caroline.”

She held out her hand for him to shake, but Klaus just looked spitefully at it, before looking away.

Klaus couldn’t believe his misfortune. She was a blonde bimbo.

“Right,” Caroline said, a little disheartened, as she withdrew her hand.

“Anyway, Miss Forbes, I’m terribly sorry, but I have to dash. The world does not cease for Niklaus, although he’d like to believe it would. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

The two of them chuckled together, much to Klaus’ chagrin, and then Elijah left, the same way Caroline had just arrived.

“So,” Caroline said, sitting herself daintily beside him. “You and Bonnie have been working on some pretty cool techniques for your look.”

Klaus said nothing, just stared pointedly at her.

“She took me through her plans for tonight, anything you –”

“We actually open very soon, and I would very much appreciate it if you just got on with it,” Klaus snipped. “Though try not to talk, love. It will be a bit painful otherwise.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” she said, as she raised her eyebrows coolly. “I was just going to ask, if there’s anything you wanted to tell me before you get started. Latex allergy, warm ups that need doing, that kind of thing.”

“No, nothing to share,” he muttered. “And as if I would need to do warm ups.”

“Okay!” Caroline said brightly, trying to ignore his cockiness. “Then let’s get –”

“I do warm up, but not near the help,” Klaus interrupted. “If you want a free show then go back to Broadway.”

“Yep, I get the picture. I’m just going to –”

“Urgh, the quality of Broadway is nothing on the talent of those of us on West End.”

“Mmhmm, I understand, Broadway is the worst. But please –“

“In fact, I swear Broadway casting directors just goes to Times Square and nab any old riff-raff street performer to make up their ensembles. It’s lunacy _”

“Uh huh, I get it, Broadway suck, but Klaus I really –“

“I’m literally the best in the country. I have won multiple tony awards, even a grammy award. I have more original cast recordings under my belt than –”

In years to come, Caroline would swear herself black and blue that it was an accident. That it was a mere, yet mildly severe, slip of the hand brought about by loss of concentration because of Klaus’ continual ramblings.

And she would never live it down. But she would also be revered by many because she actually managed to make Klaus Mikaelson shut the hell up for once in his life.

For, at that exact moment, Caroline’s deft hands wiped fast drying liquid latex over Klaus’ mouth, and Klaus, who was completely stunned by the movement, did not move quickly enough before the latex dried.

Sealing it completely shut.

“Oh my god, Klaus, I’m so sorry!” Caroline said, with all the correct emotions. She certainly sounded convincingly mortified, until she followed up the with a quirked eyebrow and the comment, “though, try not to talk, love. It will be a bit painful otherwise.”

And, to Caroline’s amazement, Klaus stopped squirming, stopped trying to form words when his amplifier was completely blocked, and Caroline was finally able to get to work.

“What a happy little accident,” Caroline said, jovially, now a little more at ease that he wasn’t being so obnoxious. “Might just snap a little picture, I’m sure Elijah would appreciate it.”

Klaus narrowed both his eyes at her.

“Oh? Don’t like that idea?”

Klaus just remained stock still, the menacing look still etched on his face.

“But you are so cute when you’re not talking!” Caroline joked, before quickly realising what she said, and going a lovely shade of magenta.

Somehow, Klaus managed to smirk, even without full use of his mouth.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Caroline said, with all the bravado of someone trying to dig themselves out of a hole. “You know you’re cute, why deny it?”

Klaus just shrugged, and dismissively inspected his nails.

“Fine, let’s get on with it,” Caroline said. “And if you’re a good sport, I’ll dissolve the latex before it’s time to sing!”

xxx

“All done!” Caroline beamed, happily inspecting her work.

It was a little under two hours since Caroline began Klaus’ transformation, and a little under twenty minutes since she freed him from his gag.

In the past twenty minutes, even though he had the option of railroading her for having the audacity to seal his damn mouth shut, Klaus found himself, funnily enough, keeping his damn mouth shut.

Experiencing Caroline as she worked was rather mesmerising.

She certainly wasn’t anywhere near just a blonde-bimbo-beauty-school-drop-out as he feared. She was very talented, extremely precise, and had an almost unparalleled eye for detail.

But further than that, at any given moment, her face was liable twist and change, letting him know exactly what was going on. It was rather endearing.

She filled the silence in with bits of chatter, about the different steps she was up to in his transformation, about her life, and just about many inane things really.

And, though Klaus despised the inane, coming from Caroline it felt natural and a little bit lovely.

“You do look fantastic,” Caroline said, proudly, spinning him around in his chair so he could more closely inspect her work. “Definitely like a weird dungeon dweller who’d fall in love with beautiful young things who sing to you!”

“Then you nailed the brief love,” Klaus quipped. “I don’t recognise myself.”

“Well, I would be worried if you did!” Caroline giggled, squeezing his shoulder briefly. “Then you would have to admit to me that you’re a weird dungeon dweller who’d fall in love with beautiful young things who sing to you!”

“I’d never admit it, love,” he said nonchalantly. “Though, I have to say sincerely, your work is impeccable. Bonnie’s work is excellent, but you’ve provided just an extra spritz of something else.”

“Not bad for a Broadway babe, huh?” Caroline winked, nudging him with her hip.

“Not bad at all.”

In that moment of eye contact that so often follows a tease, Caroline was stolen by the glint in Klaus’ eye.

“So umm,” she said, looking away. “Where to next for you, Mr Phantom, sir?”

“Warm up, last minute director notes, back here for a costume and touch ups.”

“I’ll stay here until you’re ready for your touch ups.”

“I look forward to it.”

And with a wink, Klaus was off.

xxx

A few hours later, Caroline was back in front of Klaus’ face, tenderly wiping away the residual make up.

The show had gone off seamlessly. And honestly, Klaus was so completely on cloud nine by how it all went, he was actually being pleasant to those around him.

And now he was with Caroline again, and that was a joy in and of itself. Though he’d never ever admit it to anyone.

Klaus couldn’t help noting how soft and delicate Caroline’s fingers, and the stroked along his skin at different places.

“Nearly done,” Caroline murmured, concentrating on removing a particularly stubborn strip of latex. “Nearly done.”

“Not a problem, love,” Klaus said, absently. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in months.”

“Opening night behind you,” she replied. “That’s got to be a relief.”

“Mmm.”

He shut his eyes, and felt himself get mildly lost in the sensations, until –

“Klaus,” she said, softly.

“Mmm?”

“We’re finished.”

“Oh.”

“Umm,” Caroline said, searching for something to say. “I guess I’m done for the night, unless…”

“Unless?” Klaus prompted.

“Well, I’m really hungry, but I don’t know where is any good around here…”

“Are you asking me out?” Klaus smirked.

“What! No?” Caroline blustered. “I mean, I am asking you to go out, but not out. Not like on a date out.”

“Glad to hear you’re so indignant at the idea of a date with me,” Klaus teased in mock offence.

“I’m not indignant! Dating you would be fun, I think! But this wasn’t a date! I’m just hungry, and I thought you would be too!”

“Dating me would be fun would it?”

“Oh shut up. I’m leaving.”

Caroline grabbed her coat and huffily stalked from the room.

“But you’re hungry, and don’t know where to eat,” Klaus grinned, hurriedly gathering his own things so he could follow her out.

“I can google it, I just thought company might be nice,” she snipped. “Glad you arrested me of my illusions so promptly.”

“You wound me, love!” he laughed, catching her hand in his, and stroking a thumb along it gently – apparently her skin was as soft under his hands, as it was on his face. “Come on, let me take you to my favourite post show hang out. You’ll love it.”

Caroline stopped walking, and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Not a chance, love,” Klaus quipped.

Caroline couldn’t help the wry smile stretch across her lips.

“Fine.”

And so it was, the two went to that post show hang out that night. And the night after that. And the one after that. Until Caroline had to leave, back to her home, back to Broadway.

And, in a mystery never fully explained, Klaus put aside his distaste for the iconic New York creative hub, and somehow ended living in New York, reprising his role as the Phantom on Broadway, only a few short months later. Before going on to perform many more incredible shows there.

It was a mystery.

Unless you were familiar with Caroline Forbes.

Then it wasn’t much of a mystery after all.

xxx

This prompt came from ~somewhere~ literal years ago! “You’re the one person who can do my elaborate stage makeup so every night you spend half an hour in close proximity to my face and I am distressed”. I started writing this in 2015, and it finally was in a state that was nice and shareable. Hope you enjoyed! Happy AU week klaroliners!

#klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fandom #klaroline drabble #kcauweek2020 #cheesecake's chook scratchings #all human au

66 notes · View notes

writersplanetarium · 5 years ago

Text

Facade: Rude Awakening

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Aelin wasn’t usually awoken in the middle of the night by a phone call, not unless it was an emergency, so the sound of her phone buzzing had her up in an instant, answering before she even looked at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Is this Aelin?” An excited girl’s voice asked from the other end of the phone.

“Who is this?” Aelin asked.

“I am such a big fan of yours! Watching you on the show is so good and the romance between you and Rowan just feels so real-”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. Don’t call this number again.” Aelin hung up, quickly blocking the number. She knew this had to be Rowan’s idea of revenge. Giving her number to a fan. How petty.

Aelin was about to go back to sleep when her phone rang again. Another unknown number. Aelin hesitantly answered it.

“Hello?”

“Aelin I am absolutely in love with you and I know that while you don’t know me I’m confident that with a little time you could come to love me too-” Aelin hung up. So he gave her number to two people. Then Aelin’s phone rang again. And again. And again. Aelin didn’t know what to do as her phone buzzed over and over, again and again. Her texts started to blow up as well.

Something was up.

Aelin grabbed her computer, unable to open a single app on her phone with the immeasurable amount of calls and texts coming in, blowing it up. She went right to Rowan’s twitter feed and found a new post. A text conversation that was supposedly between them. And her actual number was right at the top.

Aelin swore thoroughly, raking her fingers through her hair. He’d really and truly decided to screw her over this time. She chucked her phone across the room, knowing it was well and truly screwed. It hit the corner of the wall, the screen shattering, and the phone physically breaking apart. Everything she needed was on her computer anyway. She dropped back down onto her bed. Of course, he had to go there.

“God I hate him,” Aelin said to herself, rubbing at her eyes. She could deal with that all in the morning. New phone, new number, new everything.

“Don’t say a thing, I know exactly why you’re here,” Lysandra said when Aelin showed up at her door the next morning.

“He’s going to actually be the death of me Lys,” Aelin said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You need a day to just forget about Rowan. So we’ll get you a new phone, a new number, and then we’re going to go get pampered.”

“That sounds perfect,” Aelin said.

Aelin bought a brand new phone with a high-quality camera and more storage space. She’d needed a new one anyway, she supposed, but she’d grown rather used to her old one and the way she’d had her apps set up. Now she had to download them all again and rearrange them and set her accounts back up.

She was just exhausted.

“Hi ladies,” Phillipa said with a smile as Aelin and Lysandra walked into the spa, “What can I do for you today?”

“Full package, Phillipa. Aelin is having a day,” Lysandra said.

“I hear that,” Phillipa said with a sympathetic nod, “I can get you ladies right now.” The spa was beautiful. Lysandra and Aelin often frequented it for massages after busy weeks. The stunts on the show could take a real toll on their bodies. It was a lot of action and when they weren’t fighting they were standing or walking or moving. They spent hour after hour on their feet, working their bodies to the limit, so they often came here to relax and unwind. Phillipa’s massages never failed to relax Aelin.

They started out in the jacuzzi, relaxing into the warm water. Aelin sat back, letting the jets ease away some of the tension in her body.

“Do you want to talk about what’s been going on with you lately?” Lysandra asked.

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“You and Rowan have been at each other’s throats relentlessly lately,” she replied, “Normally you two get at each other and then you let off for a while, but it’s been constant. Talk to me.”

“I haven’t been able to relax lately,” Aelin said, “It’s getting close to… the day Sam… And with everything Rowan’s been doing… I don’t know. It’s just been a lot lately. This break from work is supposed to be my time to relax, but it seems like I just can’t get into it.”

“I know it’s hard for you,” Lysandra said, “But maybe you just need to take a break from your feud with Rowan. If he’s stressing you out, be the one to take the high road and stop this.”

“He crossed a line, Lys.”

“And you didn’t?” Aelin sighed, tipping her head back. “I’m just saying, you both react to each other. You’ll keep reacting to each other if you don’t stop.”

“I’ll think about it,” Aelin said.

“Will you also think about taking Evangeline tonight?” Lysandra asked, “Aedion got tickets to a concert and she’s got school tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Aelin said, “She is exactly what I need right now.” Lysandra grinned.

“She does have an uplifting spark to her, doesn’t she?”

“Life is never boring with her around,” Aelin chuckled, “She doesn’t give you a chance to be lonely.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lysandra chuckled, “But she’s one of the best things to happen to me.”

“How’s she doing in school?” Aelin asked, “Still keeping her grades up?”

“Great. She’s smart as a whip. She’s already doing great things and I can’t wait to see her when she gets older.” Aelin and Lysandra continued to converse, teasing and joking, slowly relaxing more and more. They went back to the massage room a little while later.

Aelin let her eyes fall closed, groaning contentedly as Phillipa massaged the knots out of her muscles. She slowly felt the tension ease out of her, starting from her shoulders and working its way down to her feet before she flipped and Phillipa worked her way back up.

Next Aelin and Lysandra got their nails done, Aelin choosing to have hers painted a dark green, while Lysandra picked a vibrant red. When they got done, Aelin felt refreshed and more at ease than she had been before. They picked up Evangeline from class as they left and gave her the news.

“Hey Ev, how do you feel about spending the night with me?” Aelin asked from the passenger seat, turning to look at the girl. Evangeline’s face lit up with joy.

“Really?!” She asked excitedly, “We can have a sleepover on a school night?”

“So long as you’re in bed at a reasonable time,” Lysandra answered.

“I’ve got face masks, and Oreos with peanut butter we can eat while we watch ‘The Parent Trap’. But only after you’ve done your homework.”

“Consider it done already.” Aelin grinned at the girl and turned back to the front.

Lysandra dropped Aelin and Evangeline off at Aelin’s house and they headed inside.

“You hungry, Ev?”

“Starving,” she replied, setting her bag on the couch, “But please don’t make me eat your cooking.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Aelin said dryly with a slight tease to her tone, making Evangeline giggle. “We can order pizza, no worries. I won’t make you suffer. What are you thinking about for toppings?”

“Extra cheese and pepperoni and bacon,” she said definitively.

“You got it,” Aelin said, ruffling her hair. Aelin ordered a pizza and had Evangeline work on her homework while they waited. Aelin worked on setting her phone upright again. Soon enough the pizza was at the door and they were eating happily.

“Hey look! Rowan’s outside!” Evangeline said, looking out the dining room window. Aelin turned and saw Rowan in his backyard, shirtless as he mowed his lawn. Aelin hated that she took a few moments to stare. His tanned skin glistening with sweat, his tattoo visible and winding up his left side. “Ooo, you’re staring,” Evangeline said.

“What? No,” Aelin said, a slight flush creeping on her cheeks. She did not think of Rowan like that. “No. No way.”

“Why not?” Evangeline asked, “Lysandra says he’s Hot with a capital H.” Aelin gave a small snort before defending her decision.

“He gave my number out online, Ev. I had to get a new phone and a new phone number. Someone could track me down and break into my house and kill me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Evangeline said, “Rowan would never let someone kill you.”

“Maybe not let, but it could still happen,” Aelin stated.

“But now you’ve got a new phone, so it’ll be fine,” Evangeline said.

“Fingers crossed,” Aelin said, giving the girl a reassuring smile. They finished up eating and Evangeline finished up her homework.

They easily coasted through the rest of the night, joyfully participating in a mini spa of their own. Aelin let Evangeline turn on the jacuzzi jets in her tub when she took her bath and once she was out, they both got into their pajamas. Once they got dressed, Aelin put in ‘The Parent Trap’, letting it play in the background as they got started.

Aelin combed through her hair, pulling it back with a headband, then, she busted out the face masks.

“Pick a face mask, any face mask,” Aelin said, showing Evangeline the variety.

“This one!” She exclaimed, pointing to the glittering, peel off mask and closed her eyes, eagerly awaiting the application. Aelin painted it on the girl’s face, both of them grinning widely. Once Evangeline’s was on, she put a grey, foaming mask on Aelin, giggling at the way it puffed up.

“Now a color.” Aelin showed the girl the wide array of colors she had and Evangeline picked out a cobalt blue. Aelin carefully painted her little fingernails and toenails while Evangeline snacked on the Oreos and peanut butter Aelin had set out. They sat together once Aelin finished, waiting for the polish to dry.

They ended up having time after ‘The Parent Trap’, so Aelin agreed to watch a few episodes of their show with her until bedtime.

Evangeline was yawning by the time they made it through the third episode, cuddling right up beside Aelin.

“You ready for bed?” Aelin asked. She nodded, her eyes heavy with the need for sleep.

“Can I sleep in your room with you?” Aelin looked around and leaned with a conspirator's grin.

“I guess one night won’t hurt.” Aelin decided to leave the mess to the next day, heading upstairs with Evangeline. They both hopped into the bed, Evangeline wrapping herself around Aelin, making her smile. “Goodnight, Ev.”

“Goodnight, Aelin.”

For the first time in a long time, Aelin was content and relaxed. Happy. She drifted off, confident she’d be having sweet dreams.

But she just couldn’t seem to catch a break lately.

Aelin was startled awake by a crash downstairs that wrestled even Evangeline out of sleep.

“Aelin, what was that?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Aelin said, panic crawling in her veins.

“Is someone breaking in?” Evangeline asked, “Did they find you?” The stark possibility that the words could be true made Aelin’s protective instincts kick into gear.

“Under the bed. Now,” Aelin said. The girl did as she was told and Aelin grabbed her phone, going to call Aedion before remembering that he and Lysandra were out. It was early enough that they’d no doubt still be at the concert. Aelin hated it, but she needed to put Evangeline’s safety first. So she called Rowan.

“Hello?” He asked.

“I think someone’s breaking into my house,” Aelin said, grabbing her throwing knives from her bedside drawer.

“Aelin?”

“Yes, it’s me, Buzzard. Evangeline is here in the house with me and we heard crashing downstairs. Aedion and Lys are gone, so you have to get your ass over here right now.”

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone and don’t go down there until I’m at the door.” Another crash sounded.

“Hurry up.” Aelin locked her bedroom door, pulling it closed behind her as she crept out into the hall to keep Evangeline safe. She went down the stairs as quietly as she could, staying on the line with Rowan.

“I’m at the front door. It’s locked. Where’s the spare?”

“Mailbox. I’m heading down now.” Aelin tried to keep her voice as quiet as she could, not wanting the intruder to hear.

“Aelin, don’t be stupid,” Rowan said, “Just wait until I can get inside.” Aelin closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. She heard Rowan rustling on the other side of the phone as she made it to the last few steps. It was too dark for her to see anything as she scanned the living room. Then, just barely, she saw something move by the coffee table. “Okay, I’m coming in. Can you reach the lights?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, her voice not even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

“Three… two… one.” Rowan came in through the door as Aelin hit the lights, rounding up with a throwing knife at the intruder as Rowan shouted. “Freeze!” He looked around for the intruder and found where Aelin’s eyes fell. On Fleetfoot, who was eating the jar of peanut butter she’d left out, the nail polish and face masks all knocked over.

“Gods, Fleetfoot,” Aelin said, putting her hand over her chest with a rush of relief.

“It’s the dog?” Rowan said, lowering the gun in his hands, clicking on the safety, “You called me over here because of your own damn dog?” He was still dressed in his pajamas, no shirt, long hair ruffled, clearly having jumped right out of bed.

“She wasn’t here when I went to sleep!” Aelin shot back, “Dorian must’ve dropped her off. He probably texted me, not knowing I needed a new number because somebody gave out my previous one to millions of people online!”

“I come over here in the deadass middle of the night to help you and you’re going to yell at me?” Rowan asked.

“Yes because I wouldn’t have even had to call you over in the first place if you hadn’t created this mess!” Aelin retorted, “And now Evangeline is upstairs hiding because she thinks someone could be in the house to kill us because you gave out my number online. People can find me based on that! Which means they could just as easily find you too. And Aedion and Lys and Evangeline. It’s common knowledge we’re all neighbors. Do you not think before you act?”

“That’s rich coming from you, Princess,” he retorted. Aelin heard the soft patter of feet behind her and saw Evangeline come downstairs.

“Is everything okay now?”

“Yeah, Ev, it was just Fleetfoot. Dorian must’ve dropped her off.”

“Fleetfoot!” Evangeline ran down to the dog, taking the jar of peanut butter and setting it aside as she cuddled up to the dog. “I missed you!” Aelin ran her hand through her hair, her adrenaline still pumping as she let out a long breath.

“I’m going back to bed,” Rowan huffed.

“No!” Evangeline said, “You have to stay. What if someone really does come for her?”

“No one’s coming for her,” Rowan said.

“You gave out her number and I’ve been on enough cop shows to know people can find you that way,” Evangeline said, “Please, Rowan?” Evangeline gave him puppy dog eyes that Aelin knew even he couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly, “Just one night.” Evangeline pulled him upstair by the wrist, Fleetfoot following not far behind. Aelin shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

Rowan Whitethorn was staying the night in her bed. Perfect. Just perfect.

Aelin cleaned up a bit before shutting off the lights and heading upstairs with them. When she went into the room she found Rowan on the far end, Evangeline beside him, curled up with Fleetfoot who was closer to Aelin’s side.

“I put my gun in the lockbox in your nightstand,” Rowan said.

“Fine,” Aelin replied, setting her knives beside the box.

“Were you seriously going to take on an intruder with knives?” Rowan asked.

“Better than nothing,” Aelin retorted, “And I’m a good shot.”

“Shhh, it’s time to sleep,” Evangeline said.

“Okay, okay,” Aelin said, climbing into the bed. She pulled up the blanket around her and felt the covers tug as Rowan pulled them over towards his side, Aelin rolled her eyes, shifting to get comfortable.

“Goodnight everyone,” Evangeline said.

“Goodnight Ev,” Aelin said as Rowan also gave a curt “Goodnight”.

Aelin took in deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. She was just exhausted. Utterly exhausted. She wasn’t relaxed anymore, yet, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she felt safe with Rowan in the room. So she drifted off into sleep not too soon after she laid down and slept all the way through the night.

Tagged:

@captain-timetraveldreamer @tangledraysofsunshine @dayanna-hatter @faerie-queen-fireheart @rowaelinforeverworld @alifletcher2012 @shyvioletcat @runawayrowan @myfeyrelady @howler07 @your-high-lady @secret-lil-rendez-vous @running-with-thieves @orangeannie @rapunzel1523 @tswaney17 @queenblueoffire @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius

LMK if you want to be tagged!

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #facade #facade ch 5 #actor au

132 notes · View notes

welcometoitalia · 6 years ago

Text

21 Cultural Pointers about Life in Italy

1) TIME: Kick off your shoes, throw away your watch... everything is relative. Whilst much has improved in recent years, trains, buses and people tend to work on an "approximate" timetable. Learn patience and go with the flow.

2) LANGUAGE: Other than in Northern Europe, English is not as widely learnt and used in Italy. Until recently, French was promoted above English. Italians suffer from a sort of language inferiority complex so that even those who do speak good English are convinced that they do not and therefore only speak when absolutely necessary. A common mistake in listening to an Italian speaking his mother tongue is to assume that they are angry or excited. This is not always the case as you may witness in seeing two Italians "argue" and then kiss each other on both cheeks and disappear for an Aperitivo (pre-dinner drink).

3) NATIONALISM: As reflected in regional dialects, modern Italy was actually only unified in the mid 1800's. Still today, great divisions exist between North and South. This means that culture, traditions and life style vary significantly between the various provinces. True allegiance is to the local town or province and less to Italy as a whole. If you want to compliment an Italian, remark kindly on his home town.

4) POLITICS: Often called "the Politics of Favors", politicians don't fade away, they just become prime minister for the 10th time! Bringing down Government is a national pastime, averaging nearly one government for every year since World War 2. Reflecting the national divide, Italy has a strong ex-communist and a strong ex-fascist block. Most Italians believe the country is successful despite the best efforts of the government; tax avoidance is another national obsession. One of Italy's stronger parties is dedicated to the break up of Italy. Lega Nord (Free the North) has a passionate following - in the north! To mis-quote Beppe Grillo, a famous Italian commentator: “One Italian makes a Latin lover, two together can never agree, whilst three make up four political parties.”

5) DRINK: Italian bars often double up as coffee shops as there is a much more limited drinking culture than in other European locales. Italians on the whole do not have a "drinking culture"; many bars reflect this less intense relationship with alcohol, although the club scene is more "traditional" in its appeal. Wine is often less expensive than bottled water and whilst a staple feature of Italian meals, it is very rarely drunk to excess.

6) FAMILIES: Careful of stereotypes but, whilst waning, the family is central to everything and all. It is normal for unmarried children to live at home, even if they are in their 30's and 40's. Children move away... to the house next door! ;) ... and shouting between balconies to borrow some sugar is common. The grandmother plays the role of matriarch and family members like to turn up for a meal and are gladly received.

7) RELIGION: Catholic, of course (about 90%). Strangely though, Italy now has one of the lowest birth rates in Europe, So called Mafia bosses may fastidiously attend church on Sunday and married Catholic men may happily have an “amante” (lover). Many Catholics are uncertain if they are Christians as well as Catholic, such is the hold and “brand” strength of the Catholic church. Church attendances are, however, in decline and the number of new priests has declined by 85% in the last 50 years.

8) SPORT: One thing all Italians agree on is the national football/soccer team, often referred to as Italy's "true" religion. When Italy won the World Cup, people took to the streets in their cars, blowing horns, standing on car roofs and the entire nations transport system ground to a halt for hours as Italians demonstrated their passion for the game. Other sports take a back seat although cycling, volleyball, skiing and Formula One have their place on the front pages. One of the largest selling national newspapers is entirely dedicated to sport (LaGazetta dello sport).

9) WORLD AFFAIRS: Not our affair... so who cares, right?

10) FOREIGNERS: In most cases are greeted with enthusiasm and delight, although heavy non-European immigration has started to create phobia and resentment of the non European invasion in recent years.

11) FOOD: Italians are passionate about... Italian food! So much so that even when abroad, many Italians will go out of their way to seek out the nearest Italian restaurant. Each region of Italy has its own "local dish" and each dish may be prepared in a different way according to local custom. A wedding meal may last more than 6 hours and feature up to 20 courses. Such is the strength of Italian food that finding a Chinese, Mexican, or other type of restaurant outside the big towns is a challenge.

12) DRIVING: The Italian zest for life is well reflected in the Italian driving style! Cars are viewed as a status symbol; Italy has one of the highest percentages of Mercedes owners in the world. Speed limits, like train schedules, are considered approximations. Recent clamp downs and a new point system is beginning to dampen this zest and the best advise for foreign drivers is not to panic if a car cuts in, speeds by, or tailgates you. Don't worry, they have had lots of practice and are very good at it!

13) QUEING: Or lines. Until recently, the concept was an enigma for Italians. The advent of supermarket deli ticket lines and other such devices are being readily adopted and even when no line exists, Italians appear to have an uncanny sense of when it's their turn.

14) GREETING: Even vaguely familiar acquaintances will kiss each other on each cheek, but a hand shake will suffice. “Buongiorno” (formal) and “Ciao” (informal) being the classic accompaniment, followed by "come stai?" - the (informal) “how are you?”. In English-speaking countries, it's normal to reply "fine, thank you" even if you feel awful, in Italy they may well tell you how they actually are! Failure to greet or say goodbye to somebody can be taken as an insult.

15) FASHION: Italians will generally conform to the latest fashion trends, colors and styles, indeed foreigners can easily be spotted, even in a crowd, as they often do not conform to this hidden code. Italians take pride in their dress and are much more brand-conscious than some other nationalities.

16) BUSINESS: Italians prefer to do business with those they know and trust (hence, the relatively low success of Internet companies). Unlike some other industrialized powers, the back bone of the Italian economy is based on people, not multinationals. This is reflected in the proportionally high level of family businesses. Even large Italian businesses are often originated, directed or owned by a family (Benetton, Fiat etc). The local family shop concept still prevails, even though supermarkets are beginning to change the fabric of shopping.

17) PLANNING: Whilst many Northern Europeans are busy planning their next summer holiday in September the year before, summer holiday catalogs in Italy are not even printed till March! Planning ahead is considered restrictive and often Italians will decide what to do for the weekend on Saturday morning. Don't try and force Italians to plan, or expect next seasons bus timetable to be published months before.

18) EUROPEAN: Italy is a great believer in “voting European”, agreeing to many issues and then simply not implementing the directive. Italians themselves see Europe as an escape clause from their own government's perceived incompetence and corruption, however when put to the test, Italians in reality dislike anybody who tells them how to live their lives. Most Italians were enthusiastic about the Euro, until they found that most shop keepers used it to increase prices twofold.

19) HUMOR: Warning: “Sarcasm is not defined”. Do not try sarcastic or ironic jokes on Italians, many will think you are serious. Humor is a lot more lighthearted and obvious (Benny Hill was a big hit) and Italians are not afraid to make fun of themselves. The famous Oscar-winning actor and comic Roberto Benigni once remarked: “If the Berlin wall had been built by Italians, it would have come down on its own.” The prime-time nightly comedy program “Striscia la Notizia” goes out of its way to poke holes and find humor in Italian news and politics. Few Italian comedies work well when translated but have an avid following in Italy itself.

20) TELEVISION: Italians love game shows and reality TV (Big Brother is a yearly event). Like Italian fashion, brand names are important. The host's "brand" is critical and what he or she wears is critically examined. Nearly all shows feature "dancers or assistents", nearly always women, and nearly always clad in mini skirts and revealing tops. Where other countries would cry foul, Italians revel in the female form and are happy to have it presented to them as often as possible, even when totally irrelevant to the show.

21) HOTELS: Contrary to popular belief there is no unified star rating system in Europe. Each country provides its own system. A hotel's ambience is not assessed in any system, only facilities. In Italy, a 3-star hotel will have a restaurant, on-suite bathroom, bar, and lounge area. Room sizes in Italy are below the European average, mainly because many hotels are converted residences. Most hotels are family-run with attentive, very friendly service and homecooked meals. It is not unusual for the grandparents to take over responsibilites when the owner is away or to be greeted during school holidays by the 14 year old son (who probably speaks better English than the parents). This family atmosphere is one of the charms of smaller Italian hotels.

Oh, and one last warning: be careful of the stereotypes. Whilst you can always draw a thread (or even a rope) of similarity (as above) between the nationals of a country, the extent and size of the thread can vary.

Edited and adjusted from an article by A. Reed, a Brit in Brescia, Italy

#italians #europe #europeans #culture #culture clash #stereotypes #customs #italy #italia #humor #politics #food

734 notes · View notes

aaknopf · 5 years ago

Photo

The poet Quan Barry is also a fiction writer, whose mischievous We Ride Upon Sticks has just been published. In the fall of 1989, the seniors on the losing Danvers Falcons field hockey team avail themselves of some locally-sourced Salem witchery, in the hope of concocting a winning season. They make a pact, signing their names in a spiral notebook with Emilio Estevez on the cover, and rip and tie strips of Falcons-blue tube sock around all their arms, sealing their dark bond. In the scene below (which includes a special guest appearance by the poet Philip Larkin), the team mingles with members of the football team at their favorite pizza joint. We meet one of the more mysterious players, Girl Cory, so-called because there’s also a Boy Cory on the squad; Boy Cory’s story, like that of Girl Cory, their teammates Jen Fiorenza (whose awesome, high-teased bangs are known to all as “the Claw”), Abby Putnam (ancestor of an original Salem accuser), and others in the mix here, is a journey of identity, community, and the magic of high school friendships.

from We Ride Upon Sticks

“Our butts are going to States this year,” said Jen. “Where are your butts going?” Just then Girl Cory walked in. For a moment the air in Rocco’s filled with the scent of aquamarine waters and palm trees, the harmonies of steel drums, then just as quickly it was back to cheese pizza and the crackling of the deep fryer. “ ’Sup?” Log called out. Most guys at Danvers High didn’t talk to Girl Cory. From what we could glean of teen-boy-dom it seemed most teen boys only have a finite amount of confidence, and they couldn’t afford to go blowing it willy-nilly on a hopeless case like Girl Cory. It was plain to see she was out of everyone’s league. Most people accepted this. It was pure science, like the apple falling from the tree. Girls like Girl Cory didn’t date regular human boys. Historically, since the invention of written records in the girls’ third-floor bathroom concerning who was banging whom, Girl Cory had never dated anyone at Danvers High. Mostly she left in her wake a trail of names from the local private-school universe, places like the Prep, Pingree, even some faraway boy at Deerfield. Log’s “ ’Sup?” was still hanging in the air. Only he among his brethren had confidence to burn. Little did he know but “ ’Sup?” was an excellent question, one we’d been secretly wondering all our lives. Yeah, Girl Cory, what’s up? As she stood at the counter, Girl Cory nodded at Log but didn’t say a word or even take off her Ray-Bans. “And what does your soon-to-be captain have to say about you hosers going to States?” whispered Brian Robinson in a small voice, only looking at Girl Cory indirectly via a shiny plaque mounted on the wall, as if she were a Medusa with the power to transform flesh to stone. “Which is it?” he said. “You guys going to States, or 2-8 again?” “For your information, we haven’t voted for captain yet,” said Jen. Her Claw gave him the stink eye. Rocco’s adult son Vinny slammed her order down on the counter. Ceremoniously, she rose to retrieve her Diet Coke and two slices of Hawaiian. She noticed Log Winters was still staring at Girl Cory. “Take a picture, my friend,” she said, bending over and whispering in Log’s ear. “It’ll last longer.” Then she raised her voice so that all of Rocco’s could partake in the annunciation. “Besides, Cory already has a boyfriend.” “Who’s that?” said Log. “Nobody you’d know,” Jen projected. “He sent her flowers today. Isn’t that right, Cory?” Girl Cory turned and flashed Jen a look that simultaneously said both shut up and keep talking. She was an enigma like that. Honestly, none of us really knew her. Even now that we were all part of the sisterhood of the blue sweat sock, it was like she had constructed a wall to keep us out, a sunroom off the kitchen where she could sit and drink her Earl Grey in peace while the rest of us crowded around a plate of stale bagels in the breakfast nook. Girl Cory pulled a wad of napkins from the dispenser and went over to where Little Smitty was sitting with Mel. What’s up, Girl Cory? All season long, the rest of us standing around wondering, Girl Cory. What. Is. Up? And then one day we’d take a big juicy bite of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, and to our everlasting sorrow, we’d find out. “Philip” made his first appearance during the ’88 season shortly after Girl Cory passed her driver’s test. It was late October, one of those autumn days when the afternoon sky prematurely takes on a hazy shade of winter. We were just off the school bus after returning from a massacre in Gloucester, 4-0. Truthfully, the score didn’t accurately reflect the gutting we’d endured at the hands of the Gloucester Fishermen. The two senior co-captains, Gina Packer and Mary Ellen Sommers, had gotten into a fight during the coin toss over whether to pick heads or tails. At one point, Gina reached over and ran her finger through the blue face paint where Mary Ellen had spackled the letters DHS on her cheek. We winced. It was like watching someone ruin a beautifully frosted cake. When we finally arrived back at Danvers High, Julie Kaling stopped reciting that part of the Nicene Creed about God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, her crucifix glinting in the dark of the bus. To be honest, after the kind of outing it had been, some of us found her religious yammering weirdly comforting. We’d grabbed our stuff from the locker room and headed out to wait for our moms to come get us or to bum rides with the seniors who lived in our neighborhoods. Girl Cory had hit the two-fecta, having recently passed her driver’s test and been given her own wheels to boot. Her brand-new white Fiero was parked in the student lot. The Fiero had been purchased weeks before her driving test and was just sitting around in her multi-car garage collecting dust. Driving was still a novelty to her, the monogrammed fingerless gloves still fun to slip on. That day she was giving Abby Putnam a ride home. It was Abby who pointed out the mint-green envelope stuck under the windshield wipers. Girl Cory peeled the envelope off the wet glass and held it between her fingers like a dead roach. “This is a wicked bummer,” she said. “Can you get ticketed here?” Abby shook her head. She watched as her friend tore open the soggy envelope. Girl Cory’s face betrayed nothing. If anything, she looked a little more bloodless. “Lemme see,” said Abby. She took the slip of paper in her hands and stared for a long time at the blurred writing, the washed-out words as if painted in watercolor. Roses are Red— Your Fiero—it’s White— With seating for two. Don’t! Put up a fight—take me with you! The next day before practice we showed the letter around. Heather Houston performed a close reading on it worthy of a 5 on the AP English test. She commented on the juvenile use of the Dickinsonian em dash, the strange imperatives, the elisions, the contradictory tone of both fight and flight. “Whoever wrote this is not playing with a full deck,” she concluded, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t even make sense. Like this part. ‘Don’t!’ Don’t what? Use your words, people!” She was practically spitting she was so worked up about it. Poor Heather Houston took weak syntactical choices as a personal affront. Julie Kaling patted her comfortingly on the back. “I dunno, I think it’s sweet,” said Little Smitty softly. This was back in the days before Emilio and the blue tube sock, back when Little Smitty ate all the spinach on her plate happily with a big smile as though it were cotton candy. “What I will say,” said Heather, offering a second conclusion about the note, “is Philip Larkin he is not.” Becca Bjelica looked at AJ Johnson and silently mouthed, Philip who? We were all thinking the same thing. Nobody rolled their eyes at her. How were we supposed to know some curmudgeonly British poet, even one who’d written: They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. And thus “Philip” was born. That first year “Philip” mostly left little things lying around in plain sight, like a cat who brings its owner dead robins. A tube of Chanel lipstick without the actual lipstick in it. A box of chocolates, but instead of sweets slotted in each compartment, there were rocks. Girl Cory took it all in stride. We didn’t tell anyone in the adult world because what was there to say? Some poor slob had the hots for a girl so beautiful she should have been in a music video, and he left her crazy presents? Back then the word “stalker” wasn’t really part of anyone’s vocabulary. Fatal Attraction had come out the year before, but that was just stuff that happened to sexy creeps like Michael Douglas, who banged complete strangers and mostly had it coming. And so Girl Cory learned to live with it. And so we learned to live vicariously through her. In time, we began to look forward to “Philip’s” offerings. They made us feel like maybe somewhere down the road, somebody, anybody, might possibly want us. Even the time he dropped a note in her schoolbag that said, “I hate you, you stupid peckerhead,” and signed it “Much l♥ve.” We were a bunch of mostly inexperienced teen girls. We thought that’s what true romance was supposed to look like. A boy telling a girl she was a stupid peckerhead, but she was his stupid peckerhead. Lord, make us worthy, we prayed. God from God, Light from Light, Boyfriend from Boy Who Considers Us a Peckerhead. It seemed like the thing to ask for. None of us ever thought to pray for a better caliber of boy.