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clairdelunelove · 4 years ago

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Ocean Blues

armin arlert x f!reader, young!armin x reader, timeskip!armin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, mutual pining, angst

warnings: slight spoilers?

synopsis: some cozy comfort with armin as the two of you venture to the beach and admire the sea. The day is filled with shy glances, damp clothes, and sweet treats- as he tries to make you forget that he has to leave. It’s days like these that he adores. Unbeknownst to him, these memories would later come to haunt him in the future.

a.n: in honor of armin’s appearance in season 4, have some angst with our favorite blond boy!

“This is beautiful.”

The confession leaves your glossy lips in a lingering breath that dances out and mingles with the salty air. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, a smile crosses your face as the cerulean waves crash against the golden sand. It’s quite reassuring how empty the spot underneath the concavity of a beachside hill was and occupying the area seemed too fortuitous.

Hauling the beach bag over your shoulder, your feet stay rooted to the spot that overlooks the entirety of the ocean. The sun setting within the horizon casted a glow that rested upon the fluffy, rare clouds that were scattered across the sky.

“It really is.”

Nestling your toes between the layers of soft sand, your gaze flicks to the sudden exhale that’s emitted beside you. Cerulean eyes, combating the water’s hue, meet yours as he slowly exhales. His jaw slackens instantly upon noticing the tinted blush on your cheeks, causing his lips to curl into a joyous grin. The indirect compliment goes straight to your heart as you sputter out a halfhearted rebuttal before veering closer to the water. Immediately, the blond calls out to you while lugging the rest of your personal belongings and his gentle chuckle rings true to your ears.

With a quick pivot, you note the haphazard way he’s heaving around the obnoxiously colored beach umbrella, picnic basket, and blanket while trying to closely follow behind you. A laugh bubbles in your throat as he suddenly yelps when the blanket rolls out of his grasp. Placing the belongings beside you, the male hurriedly arranges the set up when he notices your watchful gaze. He works quickly to gather the pastel cloth and shifts to lay it in a specific way.

“So if the wind direction is north and wind blows north to south,” Armin’s caught muttering his thought process as his slender fingers tug the blanket over the sand, “it should be shifted this way.”

Outstretching his hands, he gestures for you to sit on the covering so you’re comfortable and you do so with a grateful grin. The sand provides cushion when you plop down, fingers itching to scoop a handful up. Grains of glimmering white and beige slipped through the crevices of your hands.

Armin cautiously settles next to you, eyes trained on the soft features of your face, “is this alright?”

“It’s perfect.”

Shrugging off his navy cardigan, he folds the article of clothing and tucks it neatly in your beach bag while casting a relieved smile to you. It’s the type of expression that causes his furrowed brows to relax, the crease on his forehead disappearing with the action. He moves to fold his white linen sleeves and cuffs the worn fabric with calculated mobility.

You tuck your legs inward, resting your chin upon your knees to languidly stare at the ocean. The crashing waves chase after each ripple while concocting a foaming aftermath that sizzles on the sand. Faintly, seagulls squawked in the distance as their habitual flying pattern took up the evening sky.

“So,” he suddenly speaks up while fixated on the same breathtaking view, “this is the ocean.”

Small puffs of warm air leave his lips, intermingling with the chilly weather. The comment comes out in measured breaths. You can’t help but note that his tone is oddly bittersweet in the romantic moment and an unfamiliar tug pulls at you. Doubts, anxiousness, and heartache recurrently clawed at you in the previous weeks.

“I couldn’t imagine being able to see this before I left.”

At the remark, he thumbs at a broken seashell that’s barely visible within the sand by him. The creme colored shell is partially jagged yet smooth when overturned in his grip and he runs a finger over the sleek surface. Moving to settle closer to the male, you carefully rest your head against his shoulder while listening to his soft breaths.

You’d perceived that as a result of his sensitivity to nervousness, Armin’s breathing evolved into gasping whenever the situation was too overwhelming. Interlacing his fingers with yours, you gifted him a reassuring hum before gazing at your interlocked hands.

“Do you,” it was your turn to abruptly speak, “have to go?”

The blond’s head whips in your direction and stares at the top of your head while he’s unable to utter an answer. His lips move as silence is the only known form of language to him at the moment. Internally, his heart drops at how broken your voice sounds at the inquiry and he desires to push away the logic that clouds his judgement.

“Enrollment for the Training Corps starts tomorrow,” Armin mutters while his thumb lovingly caresses the back of your hand.

It’s the same explanation you’ve received for the past three months and he evidently aspired to keep it that way. Nestling into the crook of his arm, the hollow of flesh there indicated the limited muscle mass that the blond’s readily going to exercise once he’s a member. A small smile flashes on your face, inwardly overjoyed that perhaps the male would finally get some type of proper nourishment if he’s enrolled in training.

Rolling up your frayed sleeves, a crooked grin dances on your lips, “I know you’ll make it.”

“As a member?”

He seems bewildered at how resolute and strong your voice sounds at the statement. If he’d have known better, the blond greatly doubted his ability to physically outperform most of the recruits that were willing to try out for the member position. Scrawny physique, due to malnutrition, was one of his traits that he’d been self conscious about before he met you. Usually, others were bound to protect him from the onslaught of swinging fists and raucous cursing.

“Yes,” you quell his racing mind, “and as a commander.”

Armin commits a double take, almost getting whiplash in the process, and his mouth drops to indicate how flabbergasted he is by the comment. Smiling brightly, you reach out to dramatically close his opened mouth with a tap of your index finger. His brows amiably furrow while he sheepishly smiles at your compliment.

“You must be kidding,” the male responds in a higher pitched voice.

“I’m definitely not.”

Resolutely closing his eyes while shaking his head, he actively dismisses his capabilities of being a leader. The blond could barely even defend himself on the streets so becoming commander was pushing it. Yet, your jaw was set as earnestness consumed your entire being.

“That’s so absurd,” he runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together, “that I’m willing to bet anything that I wouldn’t become a Survey Corps commander.”

Eyes tracking the movement, you can’t help but let your own fingers reach out to swipe a blond piece of hair away from his face. He sputters at the intimacy, reeling back with an arm drawn over his face, but quickly regains his composure with an awkward chuckle. At the dramatic scene, you both can’t help but freely laugh. His hair seemed to catch the darkened hues of light, illuminating it to appear golden. You always adored his bob hairstyle, one that he grew up with, and decided to cast a wager on a consistent ideal to prove how confident you were in his abilities.

Tousling the hair framing his face, the bet is uttered by you, “and if you do become one, you’ll have to cut your hair.”

At the mention, Armin draws a hand up to brush away his bangs. Tilting his chin, he seems to ponder the gamble with an intrigued raise of a brow. The blond didn’t mind the length of his hair, quite honestly, and just kept the bob because it was all he’d ever known. He relied on consistency. If the options were weighed then he wouldn’t lose anything too drastic in the situation.

“I can take you on that offer, since,” his lip quirks up in an amused half smile, “the possibility of a Titan attacking is higher than me actually becoming a commander.”

“You have to cut it though,” you reiterate as your gaze broke away from his, “even if I’m not there to see it happen. I’ll know one day.”

It would be a long while before the male would actually become in a position of power since climbing the ranks was it’s own adventure. Plus, you were both extremely young to genuinely make a difference. If anyone had an ounce of striving for change, it would be Armin starting his life in the Training Corps.

He nods, exuding endless loyalty that men would envy, and continues brushing a thumb against your hand. There’s a particular type of happiness that veils his eyes when he stares at you once more. Perhaps it’s the bubbling joy of looking forward to reaching for the commander position or just the notion that you hinted that the two of you would continually stay together despite his absence.

“We’re going to get in so much trouble! Where’d you get that from?”

Stabbing the confectionary through a wooden stick, your lips curl into a mischievous grin that invokes the male to shake his head at your sly ways. You’d taken a trip to the town’s open roofed bakery and paid a visit to the place by giving their products a try. In your parents’ words, borrowing was always an option if the reward was great. Armin’s wide smile was acknowledgement that there was no risk without a reward.

“This is basically why I wanted to meet up with you today,” you mentioned while your fingers continued sliding down the marshmallows to properly align on the stick.

The blond blew out a breath onto the kindling, settling back on his heels when the fire roared to life. He runs his arm over his forehead to gather the beads of sweat underneath his bangs. His white linen shirt laid wrinkled upon him, a rare sight, as the sleeves were bunched up at the ends. The brown trousers were folded up his calves to display the sand that stuck onto his wet skin. Your own skirt was tied at the end to hitch up the fabric to avoid the waves of water. There had been obvious evidence from both sides that the two of you finished a session of splashing in the ocean water.

“Is that,” he scoots closer to your seated position by the fire, “chocolate?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not expecting two sweets to be implemented in the highlight of his day. The town’s rations were highly strict recently and confectionaries were not even uttered to be given to the lower division families. Ironically, the two of you were treating the dark chocolate like it was an unlimited treasure.

“Yeah,” you breathed out while handing Armin a stick of marshmallows, “I wanted to try something new so just put them near the fire.”

The makeshift fire that the male set up laid blazing in intermingled colors of crimson and orange. He constructed the fire directly on the sandy beach, placing it near the water’s waves during high tide. Heat radiated off the bonfire in strong flickers, casting a dewy glow to Armin’s skin as he heeded to your instructions and held out the stick close to the fire.

Once the marshmallows were roasted to a golden shade, your hands quickly reached to your beach bag to pull out the rest of the necessary ingredients. Stacking the remains of some muffin crumbs, chocolate, and Armin’s roasted marshmallows, you squish the dessert between your fingertips. The white confectionary oozes out, leading the blond to curiously glance in your direction.

“Try it.”

Prodding the treat towards his lips, Armin’s gaze flashes toward it and then at your giddy smile. He adores every fraction and angle of the way your soft features gleam. Each wave in your hair, every freckle on your nose, and the tint of your lips didn’t go unnoticed by the vigilant male. Accompanied with the sunset casting a halo above your head, there wasn’t a sight in the world that he’d rather fixate on.

Nibbling at the corner of the makeshift s’mores, he hums in approval as wide eyes connect with yours. Your knowing laugh aids him in properly chewing with a full mouth of the sweet treat. You share the same dessert, taking a bite out of the opposing corner, and crunching in delight. The savory chocolate is a delicacy that you haven’t tasted in months, causing nostalgia to rush through you.

“I wish we could always stay here.”

Muffled by his mouthful of the dessert, Armin’s melancholy utterance is barely registered in a serious tone. Yet, you could tell in the sharp glint in his blue eyes that the notion clouded his thoughts. His fingers find purchase in yours, a gesture that you’d greatly reminiscence when he left to the Training Corps and the blush that bloomed on your cheeks was a clear indicator. Perching on your knees, your arms reach over to envelop the blond in a gentle hug. It’s clearly awkward, by the clunking of your knees hitting his and how your hands are still interlaced with his, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it all.

“Come back to visit the ocean,” you whispered as your muffled voice drifted to his ears, “I’ll always be at the ocean waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Always.”

Hot tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, threatening to slip as your fingers desperately dug onto his linen shirt. It stung that your only school classmate, childhood best friend, and innocent crush would depart while focusing on his own success. You were stuck in Wall Maria. The repetitive cycle of your district life was just beginning and a hint of jealousy clawed at you.

“I promise I’ll come back to the ocean,” Armin murmured as his fingers soothingly played with your hair, “and cut my hair if I become commander.”

“Promise?”

Lifting yourself off his chest, you peered up at Armin’s tear stained cheeks and let out a broken chuckle. Your own eyes were tinged red as your lower lip trembled at each remembrance of the memories you made with the male. Drawing a thumb over his cheek, you allowed the blond to reserve the rest of the night to memorizing each determinant of your beauty. The sad smile, scars, and flaws were the winsomeness that he would take in every battle.

“Promise.”

He never did see you again.

The onslaught of destruction that the Titans brought to demolish Wall Maria was too massive to the districts below. Havoc, chaos, and terror were the only images that you were able to witness before your final breath. Yet, your mind was full with the fleeting touch of Armin’s hand in yours and his joyous smile that stretched across his composed features. You didn’t regret ebbing away from the constraints of life since he was the last vision you saw.

The male, grown and stronger in his years now, was a prisoner in the endless phase of guilt. Each day was a struggle to regain the confidence he once possessed and lead a new army into the depths of uncertainty. Nevertheless, Armin did visit the ocean in hopes of seeing a glimpse of you. He hadn’t. Still, years after the first incident, the blond ventured to the ocean again.

Curling his toes against the soft sand, he ran a hand through his newly cropped hair. The commander badge, clipped on his Survey Corps uniform, glinted in the dusk hours. Alike to when you were both young, he decided on picking a time that was eerily close to that fateful day. You would’ve had no doubt that one day Armin would make a fine commander. He tugged his leather boots along with him, trailing the edge of the ocean as a bitter half smile curled on his lips. The waves crashing against the sand were almost loud enough to muffle his strangled sobs.

Yet, a promise was a promise.

#snk armin #aot x reader #armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #young!armin #timeskip!armin #fluff #angst #spoilers

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glitterge1pen · 4 years ago

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To Wake Up To A Mailbox Filled With Letters Only From You

Iwaizumi Hajime x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 2,071

It was driving him insane. The notes, envelopes, and pieces of paper started appearing at his desk on February 1st. They were tucked away in the cubby and made him incredibly nervous. Whoever was doing this to him was going to really, really make him lose it.

It was nice knowing that someone liked him. Even if he didnt know who it was, it was a good feeling. The only downside was that he had to keep this from you and Oikawa for as long as he possibly could. You two were Iwaizumi’s best friends yes of course, but this was too much.

If Oikawa found out he would stop at nothing to figure out who it was, the teasing would be brutal. If you found out? Iwaizumi didn't want you to think that he had feelings for anyone else, even if you werent dating he didn't want to put that idea into your head. Not only that but anytime romance or dating was brought up with you around he got nervous. Even watching Ryan Gosling movies with you was incredibly difficult. The conversation felt like walking on landmines when it came to yours or his love life.

The first day it was a purple foam heart the size of his palm. Covered in stickers, glitter glue, and in the center was a picture of him playing volleyball. It was from the stands, he could tell the photo had been zoomed in, but he was up in the air on the court. There was no message on the note other than some sharpie bubble letters that said “hottie”, he didn't really pay attention to it. He assumed it was Oikawa messing with him like usual. But when Oikawa made no mention of it he knew that it wasn't his friend.

That night at home he tucked the heart into his desk drawer. He lay in bed trying to imagine who would have made such a thing for him. Since it had been in those somehow taunting bubble letters he couldn't decipher it by handwriting. He did think the “hottie” thing was funny though. The list of people who could have left him the silly little message rattled in his mind.

He knew that he wanted it to be you. He wanted you to do something cheesy, cute, and cliche like that for him. For you to like him so much that it wouldn't bother you to do things like that. It would be your nature to give him gifts and say stupid things to him that made him laugh, that made his chest feel warm.

The next day he was surprised to see another note. He managed to slip it into the cover of his notebook without anyone seeing. It took everything in him not to peek at it during that first class. He knew for sure now that it wasn't Oikawa because they had walked to school together that morning.

It was during lunch that Iwaizumi took out the note to look at it. He had went out to grab drinks at the vending machine. Away from the prying eyes of his friends he opened the front of his notebook. This second card was much more traditional in style. Red construction paper, with white frilly lace on the edge, a mostly straight line of glitter glue outlining the heart.

This one had a picture of a bunny and text that read “some bunny loves you” , another picture of him had been doodled on so he had bunny ears and whiskers. This picture was not from volleyball and he couldn't remember where it had been taken. It was a little creepy but he cared more about who was sending these to him.

The following day he was looking forward to going to school. He wanted to see if he got another note. Even if he didnt know who was sending these, it did feel nice to know that someone could be interested in him. He had spent many valentines sharing the fruits of Oikawa's good looks. It was a good feeling to know that he could receive the same type of attention.

He did get a store bought card that day. It had a picture of a bumble bee and it read "bee my valentine and you won't get stung. A piece of candy had been taped inside the card. After that it was a cootie-catcher with all kinds of pick up lines buried in its folds. There were two more hand made cards that were covered in stickers, shiny tape, glitter and gel pen.

It was halfway to Valentine's day now. Iwaizumi woke up on the seventh of February wondering what type of card he would get. None of the other cards he had gotten helped him decipher who was sending these to him. It was once again at lunch that Iwaizumi snuck off to peak at what had been left to him. Today it had been a plain white envelope with a heart sticker sealing it shut.

Iwaizumi was expecting another bad pick up line but was instead met with an actual typed up letter. Whoever had written this actually, genuinely, liked Iwaizumi. He had this dumbfounded swirling feeling in his stomach. One of dread and excitement. Because he knew exactly what the letter was saying. The letter was true to the way he felt about you. And this letter wasnt from him to you. He didn't know who had written this.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had not seen Oikawa and Hanamaki run up behind him.

"What is this?"

Oikawa's voice had a mischievous ring to it and before Iwaizumi can properly respond the envelope had already been taken from him. His fingers ghosted the traces of the paper, trying to grab it back but missing it by inches. Hanamaki put his arms around his shoulders locking him into place. Iwaizumi was more desperate now as he tried hurling insults at Oikawa.

"Oh my god, oh my fucking god"

The look Oikawa had on his face was of pure joy. A smile spread over his face and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Who wrote it! Come on tell me who your new lover is"

Oikawa sung that last part. But now Hanamaki was interested in the letter and upon reading it he had the same reaction.

"I don't know who wrote it"

Hanamaki scoffed.

"What are you kidding?"

Iwaizumi looked at his friend confused. But Oikawa launched into a rapid fire question session with Iwaizumi.

"Wait you're telling me you have been getting these for a whole week now and you didn't say anything to me! Your dearest friend!"

Oikawa feigned injury at this, falling back into Iwaizumi as they walked.

"I didn't want to deal with it, plus I don't know who is writing these and maybe they don't want anyone else to know"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You had been doing your best to not tip off Iwaizumi that it was you leaving him the notes. But you were rather disappointed at his lack of reaction. You didn't expect him to suddenly be walking around like a love sick fool but he appeared no different to you. You still walked home with him and Oikawa, you had eaten lunch a few times since, everything was the same.

It was after school and you were waiting outside the gym for Iwaizumi and Oikawa. On days they had practice you hung around in the library finishing up homework or browsed through the books. The door to the gymnausm swung open, you greeted Hanamaki but were halted by the extra devilish grin he had. You roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by his antics.

"What did you do now?"

You ask teasingly.

"Me? I haven't done anything"

He was faking innocence.

"Really?"

You say, raising an eyebrow.

"It's funny though, because, I think thats its you whos been up to no good"

You're taken aback not sure what he's getting at. He drops the sarcasm for a second letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I know about Iwaizumi"

You pull on his arm leading him further away from the gym.

"Did he tell you it was me? Does he know? He hasn't said anything-"

He cuts you off.

"Slow down, that idiot is way too dense to know you like him back"

Hanamaki covers his mouth at that, knowing it wasn't something he was supposed to reveal to you. But you lit up at his words.

"He likes me back? But you said he doesnt know whos writing the notes"

"That's because he liked you before you wrote him that letter...wait did you say notes? There's more than one?"

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. So you explained what you had been doing. The notes for each day. The entire time you spoke Hanamaki had an expression that was somewhere between disbelief and bemusement. You were about to ask Hanamaki about Iwaizumi some more when said boy walked out from the gym.

You let go of Hanamakis wrist, not realizing you had been holding onto him for so long, to wave at your other two friends. They started to approach you but you waved them off.

“Go on ahead I’ll catch up!”

You turn to Hanamaki once again. More serious than before.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You help me out with essays all the time, that letter you wrote him sounds exactly like you”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next day Iwaizumi was not able to focus. He had received a bouquet of suckers and lollipops. Each adorned with sharpie and a terribly corny phrase like “99% Angel” or “Lover Boy”. Oikawa had of course taken one of these for himself. Saying that Iwaizumi owed him. They were walking home without you today, you said you had needed to help Hanamaki with some homework. But that was exactly what had been bothering Iwaizumi .

The night before when you and his friend had been out in the dusk alone. Your hand on his wrist. You looked flustered, and Iwaizumi could only recall a few other times you had been blushing so intensely. What had you been talking about with him? It was driving him crazy that he didn't know, that you were off with him now.

“Where are the rest of them?”

Oikawa asked, grabbing at Iwaizumi's bag. Iwaizumi pulled out another sucker from his coat pocket but Oikakwa was not satisfied.

“No, the rest of the valentines cards and letters, I wanna see them, you can't hide those from me forever”

Wide eyed Iwaizumi doesn't know what to do or say.

“Those are private property”

But Oikawa knows his friend well, and it was not long before his request was granted. Reluctant and embarrassed Iwaizumi allows Oikawa to shuffle through his desk drawer where he has stashed his paper treasure. Oikawa of course photographs everything. When he reaches for the one valentine with the bunny pun he stops.

“Isn't this photo from that movie night we had a couple months ago?”

“What? No way it was only me, you and…”

His words stayed caught as whispers in his mouth. Oikawa was right. It was hard to tell because the white wall behind Iwaizumi in the photo could have been so many places, but he did remember wearing that shirt. You took that photo. It was you.

“Hey, you know you have to make them a card now right?”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You and Hanamaki had been trying to sort out some sort of a plan. You were originally going to confess to Iwaizumi face to face on Valentine's day. But you wanted to do it immediately now. You didn't want to drag anything out or confuse Iwaizumi by not telling him that it was you. There was only one more day until Valentine's day and you couldn't decide if it was worth the wait anymore.

The morning was brisk and a bit cold. You were shedding off your coat, opening your locker you saw an unfamiliar shade of pink. It was a paper heart. Similar to the ones you had made for Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi. You recognized his handwriting. It read;

I feel the same. Meet me after school tomorrow to talk. Can I call it a date if we get food? Check yes or no.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Did I plan this out at all? No. Did I edit this at all? Also no. But this idea was rattling around in my brain and I needed to get it out. Its a little Jem and The Holograms with the whole “omg surprise its me the person you're in love with and also the person who flirts with you a lot and makes you confused” ALSO I LITERALLY HAD NO IDEA HOW TO END THIS ONE????? so sorry if its more muddled than usual

#Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #hq iwaizumi #Iwaizumi fluff #valentines day

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potahun · 4 years ago

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Some rough translations from Liu Yuning (HYJ’s actor)’s Live Broadcast on 7 January 2021, because he talked about Ultimate Note (and HeiHua) a lot:

LYN (18:45) - about the wooden knife: “(...) With Hua’er Ye, the separation scene between Xiao Hua and I, and with Tuo Ba too, you see which one, right? (...) That scene was in the original script. The lines were already complete. (He makes a parenthesis here to talk about how this adaptation really respected the original works, including the words used) But during that separation scene, there’s this one part -- the one where I gift a knife to him. A small wooden knife (...) That’s something we added ourselves.........That’s something we added, because it wasn't in the original script. How did that small knife come about? At that time, I was filming. I have an acting teacher who, while on set, saw one of the staff from the props team carving that small wooden knife. (...) So we discussed with the director, I said “that scene is a separation with Xiao Hua, right? For a separation, just using words might be...I think perhaps we could add an item there. We might not even need to add any lines.” (...) But this item strengthened the ...bond between these two people. So that knife is something that we added. (...) I think it’s quite nice, at least it doesn’t ruin the original script, and it strengthens the feelings - the bond between these two people (...)”

LYN (22:50), talking about the comments he saw on Ultimate Note: “(...) In the first few episodes, I saw “I cannot accept that this Hei Yanjing has a round face”.....This comment stabbed my heart for 3 days straight. Really. (...) Well, let me explain first to everyone what was going on back then! Right now my face isn’t that round, right? Why? First, because I added the filter that makes my face slim - no that’s not it. First, it’s because the me at that time had just done a small surgery on my vocal chords. (...) After the surgery, I had to stay home for a whole month without speaking. So what to do? Eat. I ate for a whole month and went straight afterwards to film that show.”

LYN (57:52) - about any chance for a S2 and budget use: “A friend is asking here, will Ultimate Note have a 2nd season? (...) First of all, I’m just an actor. (...) Ok, I’ll talk about it properly. Will it have a 2nd season? To be honest, I personally hope it will. (...) I believe if you asked me to act Hei Yanjing a 2nd time ...I can’t say the 1st time was good, it wasn’t. But I might be able to -- because I’m also growing, right -- to express this role a bit better. (...) So I hope it will have a 2nd season. (...) Because let’s be honest, I think the crew took a lot of care in making this show. (...) Most of the budget and everything went into the production...the special effects, the scenery, things like that. So the actors like us....*smiles* well of course, they gave me money too, I shouldn’t say it like that, but what I mean is, a lot of the attention went into the making. It’s not a show where, for example, the actors use up a lot of the budget and the production gets less in comparison. (...) So I’m thinking, well, this show could be considered a small, small success? -- I don’t dare to issue a judgment on it, but in my heart, it is a success. (...) So will it have a 2nd season? I hope so, but until now, I haven’t received news that we can film such a thing. (...) Don’t expect too much. For other shows, sometimes, S1 is popular, and then they have trouble shooting S2, because after the 1st season’s success, all the actors increased their prices, so they might not be able to sign on for the 2nd one. But I think for this show (...) each of the actors really like this show. So they might choose to accept to play in this show, even if it means they get paid less. Starting from me, if you tell me this show’s got a different revenue from what I usually get, I’d still want to play it -- that’s how good it is. (...) *reading a comment* “Careful with what you say, boss”. Yes, I almost didn’t control myself just now.... Almost.”

He later mentions that to film certain scenes, they’d really go deep into the mountains, drive for hours and then actually have to climb very steep roads, to places inaccessible by car.

LYN (1:02:02) - about Xiao Hua’s actor Liu Yuhan: “*reads* “Talk about your CP”. Oh, you mean Xiao Hua, right? The actor for Xiao Hua, what I want to say is, I was very happy to collaborate with him, because he...really is a nice person. Just talking about getting to know him outside the story, and not as a character, he’s a very nice little fellow. He’s very honest. He’s also from Dongbei like me. His usual state is of course not as cold as the Xiao Hua in-story, not as “cool”. In reality, he’s still quite laid-back as a person, quite...fun. Kind of like a kid. Well, not really a kid, but...he’s younger than me, so in my heart, he’s like a little brother.” He explains that they tried to have a meal together more than once post-filming, but never managed.

LYN (1:03:35) - about the postcard: “That postcard at the end, the one about the 1,000 sheep...Many people didn’t understand when they watched it. What was that 1,000 sheep about? Actually, it’s because Hei Ye jumped down at the end....with the hairy monster...he jumped down. (...) So that postcard first paves the way for what comes after (aka the storyline in Sha Hai). And on another note, it’s to prove that Hei Yanjing isn’t dead. Because that postcard is what Hei Yanjing left to Xiao Hua. (...)”

LYN (1:07:38) - about Hei Xia Zi as a character: “Actually, he’s not a real miser. (...) He does really like money, there is a little bit of a greedy vibe to him. But you’ll discover that many times, he didn’t actually receive money, and still went ahead and did the thing. (...) He’s actually a lot more about loyalty, and courage, and responsibility. There’s not one thing where he was like “if you do not transfer 10,000 to me, I definitely won’t do this thing for you”. But he will have a vaguely threatening air, and make it seem like he doesn’t care that much about bonds/friendships. (...) He simply has his special way of doing things. He might also have his own type of apathy. After all, a person, after experiencing so much - because as I said, he counts as a person who’s lived a long life (...), he wouldn’t care as much about many things related to time. So in reality, he doesn’t care that much about money either. His love of money is a personality trait, but the premise to anything he does is definitely not money, it’s rather loyalty. It’s feelings.”

LYN (1:09:39) - about Hei Yanjing’s real name written in the sand: “Someone asked “what did Hei Yanjing write in the sand, is it ‘Liu Yuning’?”......Yes. I wanted to write ‘Modern Brothers Liu Yuning’ at the time.”

LYN (1:12:00) - about Hei Yanjing’s age: “As someone who just acted this role, I don’t know how old he is either. But he’s definitely someone who’s lived a long life. (...) In the state I was acting him, he must have at least been a few hundred years old. (...) How many hundreds, I have no way to ascertain.”

LYN (1:12:49) - about the fried rice prop on set: “It tastes pretty good. (...) But the problem is where we were filming, (...) we were mostly in Yun Nan. The temperature there was over 40°C. When it was low, it was a little above 30°C. (...) The fried rice would turn sour in no time. (...) So you’ll find out that, throughout this entire show, Hei Ye loves to eat fried rice with green peppers and meat, but hasn’t eaten a single mouthful. He’s just feeding Xiao Hua with it. And the reason why Xiao Hua looks disgusted is because it’s really sour.”

LYN (1:14:00) - more bts stories about the heat and stench: “That scene where we first fall into the tunnel. That tunnel from the time of the Republic. (...) That tunnel, my God! (...) The temperature outside was 40°C. Inside, most of the scenery was made from foam. (...) The temperature inside that environment was incredibly hot, unimaginable, and on top of that we were wearing leather. (...) And do you remember when we first fell into the tunnel with Xiao Hua and we dug up a place? (...) The bones on the floor were all purchased real bones from sheep or pigs and so on. (...) Think about the temperature in there. In one night, the stench was impossible. (...) When we were filming, the stench was so bad, you felt like you couldn’t live on anymore (...) My God...At the time, as soon as I walked into that place, I was dumbstruck. Xiao Hua and I made eye contact and just went... “do you smell this?” He went “I can’t even hear what you’re saying anymore, I’m already knocked out.” (...) The director went “Let me see! ...............My God. Props director, what do we do with this?” And the Props director said “What our show cares about is making things realistic. We want to make the original works real. We want the props to be as real as possible.” (...) We also have to respect that Props director’s professionalism, right? (...) So the Director said “Ok, then let’s do this, let’s prepare some cologne.” (...) Poured it. Poured 2-3 bottles of it into the place... It made everything WORSE. The normal stench was simply stinky. But the cologne -- that thing has volatility!! (...) Do you know how stinky it was, exactly? It felt like even my arms could feel the stench. We held on for 3 days to film that part. That stench, my God. It’s a smell I can remember my whole life.”

#hei yanjing #dmbj #ultimate note #liu yuning #liu yu ning #liu yu han #liu yuhan #xiao hua #xie yuchen #dao mu bi ji #dmbj cast #Liu Yuning talks a LOT #but anyways I found the bts stories amusing #and yeah so the knife was added during filming and it stuck til the end #bless #heihua

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

Text

Sticky, Sweet

Author’s Note: I’m so pleased to tell you that this is the first of my 1000 Followers Requests! Again, how do 1000 people like me enough to read my words? I don’t know!! But I love you all! Also, bless my beta - @sammy-jo1977 ... she lets me drag her to hell and back, and goes willingly. Lots of Love, lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from many of the Avengers Tower residents Summary: This was requested by the amazing, adorable and always supportive @alexakeyloveloki ... As I hit my milestone, she was having a birthday, and this, I hope will be a gift she’ll enjoy. You deserve it girl! The request was: One with Loki and a Curvy Reader where she works in the Tower, maybe the canteen, and people are mean to her and Loki likes her for some odd reason and... smut ensues. I did make some changes, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, @alexakeyloveloki !! Warnings: This one might give you a toothache! There’s smut, but it’s sweet!

“Uh, yes. Might I trouble you for a chocolate croissant and… a cappuccino, large, please.”

You knew the owner of that voice without raising your eyes. Today he was wearing charcoal grey slacks with straight creases all the way down. A shirt, starched, bright white, with rolled back sleeves revealing the articulate length of his forearms. All of his dark locks were gathered over his open collar in a low man bun, which is something you had laughed at other men for doing. Somehow, the tall, trim man in front of you was making it work in a way that made your mouth water.

Flashing him a megawatt smile, full of promise, “My pleasure! Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. Thank you, though.”, warm and caramel sweet, his response made you melt.

Clearing your throat, struggling to maintain some sense of composure, “A name… for the order?”

“Loki… that’s L, O, K, I…”, his own grin widening at the request.

You knew his name. He’d been coming to your little dessert cart for months now and every time you asked, just like you did for all of your customers. And each time he spelled out the letters for you, as if you were taking his order for the first time. Handing back change only for him to drop it into the tip jar, you let your eyes linger over Loki just a moment more, enjoying the view.

Most of the visitors to Avengers Tower paid you little to no attention. Outside of offering a cup of joe and a giant cookie, you had no bearing on the day to day business of the super hero syndicate, and that was just fine by you. Everyone else? They all had important things to do. Meetings and appointments were near constant as apparently saving the world took a lot of planning. And, thankfully, a lot of coffee, danish and muffins.

Of all your customers, the actual, swear to God heroes were the most colorful. They were also the most loyal of your clients, stopping in at least daily, although, there were occasions where you would see Wanda two or three times in a day. Especially if you had made those little mille-feuille stacks that reminded her of home.

Thor would buy out your stash of jelly donuts, to the chagrin of the office workers in line behind him, but then divvy them up as a way of apologizing. Ms. Romanoff had a tendency to whisper her order, lest anyone realize her secret desire for a sinfully sweet White Chocolate Mocha with whipped cream. Captain Rogers? His routine was the most straight-forward. Black coffee, ma’am, Blueberry muffin, thank you so much.

Loki, from the start, had been different. Unlike Mr. Stark, Loki looked you in the eye when placing his order. He never seemed distracted by the technology buzzing around or the high ranking officials clustered in these hallowed halls. Loki also didn’t order 12 shots of espresso, steamed skim milk, no foam, and one donut hole. No, that was Tony to a t.

But Loki? This giant guy, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, always ordered your daily special. Frilly pink cupcakes, jam filled eclairs, fruity hand pies, Loki had tasted them all. And he still turned up, day after day, eager and kind. That had to mean something, right?

Honestly, it was the pinnacle of your day when, looking up from the grinder, you’d see him towering majestically over the office drones all in a row. Knowing that smooth voice would soon be speaking to you, even if it was just to get a snack on the run, was almost enough. Almost.

Letting your gaze linger after Loki’s retreating figure, you got lost in a daydream, one where you were making Loki coffee in your kitchen. His lengthy legs tucked under your tiny table, a tray of fresh cookies in front of him as he read, sometimes with his shirt on… sometimes without. Feeling your cheeks warm up at the image, you shook your head, ready to refocus on the caffeine craving customers still in line.

As closing time drew near, you began the daily task of cleaning up your cart. Sweeping, wiping, sterilizing, washing, drying. There was a rhythm to it all and you often found yourself entrained in the work, as usually there were few distractions at this time of day.

“Excuse me?”

Spinning, surprised, you barely kept hold of the carafe in your hands as you spotted Ms. Pepper Potts standing at your kiosk, “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Waving away your worry, Pepper took a moment to introduce herself properly before getting down to business, “I was wondering if you had ever considered catering before? You were highly recommended by a colleague and I am looking for assistance with an event we're hosting in a few weeks. What I really need is someone to help with an after hours sort of thing.”

Your heart leapt in your chest, thumping wildly, threatening to bust out of your chest. Now, you’d be lying if you said that expanding your business wasn’t part of the dream. Always hopeful that your little cafe cart could somehow be expanded into a little sweet shop or bistro bakery, you had been hard at work for the last two years, slinging lattes and refining recipes until the right moment arrived.

When you said as much to Ms. Potts, her gracious smile lit up, “Then this, my friend, is that moment.”

Details were exchanged, pricing negotiated, plans put in place. In ten days you were going to be providing The Avengers and their guests with pastries, cookies, coffee and tea. There was a select menu so that you wouldn't be running around like crazy, which would make prep time easy, but Pepper had told you to be creative. In short, you were getting your shot and the excitement of that put you on cloud nine.

As you had arranged with Ms. Potts, while the guests attended one of Mr. Stark’s lavish galas downtown, you were given access to the Avengers Suite near the top floors of the tower. Seeing the building, well past your normal 5:00 pm, was energizing. Getting to sneak a peek at where the most important people working here spent their days was overwhelming, but you were giddy at the prospect.

In a sweet spot, just inside the expansive glass doors which led to the sky rise patio, you set up your display. Feeling pretty proud of yourself, you only had to wait a few minutes before the elevator dinged on the first arrivals, including the host and hostess for the night. "Here we go!", whispering to yourself, you took an anxiously excited breath.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the glitz of it all. Tony Stark, wearing a plum colored tuxedo, had his Rolex draped arm around Pepper. She was stunning in her black column gown, purple jewels at her throat and ears, the perfect counterpoint to Tony’s ensemble. You struggled not to stare.

More people filtered in, some went to the bar, where champagne popped regularly. A few grabbed frosty glasses of fresh beer. And for a time you thought you were invisible among all the glamour around you. Honestly, you were surrounded by the type of people who graced magazine covers and had in depth chats with Oprah. That wasn’t you by a long shot.

Then, of course was the difference in your shape and size compared to the elegant group assembled for the evening. You certainly weren’t as stately as Ms. Potts, nor as thin as Ms. Romanoff because she was trimmer in hip and bust. Carol, stately and graceful, was a sheet of well hewed muscle. All of them shone tonight, regal and lovely, while you wore your best black pants and white button down, the uniform of catering professionals world wide.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, temping your coffee pot, your mind churned. There was no shaking the idea that even though you had been invited here, hired to be here, you were woefully out of place. And just as your confidence was at its lowest, you heard it… or rather, him.

"Um… yes. May I have… well… I don't know what to have. Normally you have something special prepared."

Even over the din of chatter and softly played music you heard his baritone register. A little flustered, disarmingly charming, Loki’s buttercream smile triggered your own. Laughing, lifting a small tray towards Loki, "I am keeping it simple tonight. These here are individual peach melba pies, topped with homemade whipped cream."

"And, what’s that?" Looking like a little kid, ready to tear into a birthday present, Loki's face lit up with anticipation of what you might be hiding under the cover of a chafing dish.

"Mocha mini-cheesecakes, or-" Here you lifted the silver lid of your best party dish, "-my grandmother's chocolate chip cookies! What would you like, Loki?"

Hearing his name in your lilting voice, Loki couldn't avoid the hot blush that rolled over him, turning his cheeks pink. As if your delicious snacks weren't enticing enough, the way your shirt buttons could barely contain the bounty of your bosom made Loki's hunger real in a different way. It was true that Thor had plied him with a great deal of Asgardian mead at the gala, even as the others drank up the less potent Midgardian spirits, all getting well past tipsy.

And maybe that's why he felt so bold, flirting with you casually, teasing you about your treats. Also, he was shamelessly ogling your rounded ass in those tight black pants as you bent to retrieve a napkin. Deep down, Loki longed to know if you tasted as sweet as your sugary confections. Would you be slick like syrup? Sticky like cinnamon buns? Dark and delicious like chocolate fudge?

Shaking those long locks, which you couldn't help noticing were down and free tonight, Loki was struggling to decide among your snacks. If his thoughts were lustful, your own weren't too far behind, because it was hard not to appreciate the fine figure in front of you. At some point Loki had shucked his tuxedo jacket and the slim black bow tie that accompanied it. Again his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows making him casual and cool, red cheeked and rambunctious. Never had Loki seemed so at ease.

There was virtually no one else around, most of the remaining people were clustered by Clint at the piano singing show tunes, oblivious to you and Loki. Looking from left to right, leaning in conspiratorially, "Ya know… I could let you have one of each, then you wouldn't have to decide."

Those dark brows arching, bright eyes smiling shrewdly, "You'd do that… for me?"

“That and more.” It tumbled out of your mouth unbidden, your eyes widening in surprise at your own admission.

Leaning against your table, a lascivious smile on his face, “Do tell.”

And in the low light of the Avengers’ loft, with the soft smell of sugar filling the air, you felt yourself drawn to Loki’s aura. Biting into your bottom lip, looking at him through your thick lashes, “Um… well… I could make you a little snack bag. Ya know for later tonight…”

“Later tonight… I really like the sound of that.” And to his unending surprise, Loki really did. Maybe he’d find out about your favorite flavors in the dark of night, under the covers in his bed. And if not, if he was somehow mistaken about your interest in him, then Loki would welcome some little cake that would make him think of you while he sat in his solitary room, brooding over you.

He shouldn’t have worried. Genuinely smiling, Loki was beyond grateful to see the same look of desire reflected in your own face. As you busied yourself packing up the little box of selected snacks for the sweet toothed stud, a voice called out, "Lokes!! Get over here!! Thor says you can dance and I need proof!"

Wavering slightly, Loki ducked his head in the direction of Sam Wilson's shout, not entirely eager to end your chat. He was worried that somehow the sugar spun bubble you two were in would burst, and that, well that just couldn't happen. Conspiratorially, invading your space across the narrow table, "I will be back. Please, don't go away?"

Feeling like a movie heroine, you felt yourself nod, giggling a little at the spectacle of Loki's clear need. In the glimmering low-lights, under the clink of champagne flutes and husky hum of conversations, Loki wanted to spend his time with you. It was surreal and surprising, but you wanted him too. There was no shame in that, right?

Glued to the spot, feet unmoving, Loki wouldn't leave until you said, "Go on, then. Show me what you've got. I'll be right here."

With a cocky grin, Loki loped toward the waiting circle of people and the makeshift dance floor. Tinny, tinkling piano music was replaced by electronica, pumping through Tony's beyond state of the art sound system. It felt like you were inside the speaker, thumping and bumping, in time with the dance hall beat.

What a sight! You guessed it shouldn't have been so surprising, but seeing Loki, normally so reserved in your daily interactions, grinding and bouncing to the rhythm… it made you feel things. Pulse pounding, deep sighing, clenching your muscles things. Sexy things.

You could have stood there, enchanted from afar, for hours. And you would have too, if Thor hadn't stumbled to your stand, nearly toppling the table with his unsteady bulk, "Oof! A thousand apologies, my dear sweet bakery maiden."

Diverting your attention, you quickly stepped back into vendor mode, "No trouble! No trouble at all! What can I get for you?"

"Well, I have been wondering, what did my brother get a taste of that made him smile so wide? It must have been a truly delicious nibble." Thor, mimicking a mouse nibbling at cheese, was clearly past the point of sobriety.

Turning thoughtful for a second, you realized Loki hadn't eaten anything of yours tonight… at least not yet. So it had been your easy back and forth that made the frosty boy happy. Smiling secretively, suddenly supremely pleased, "Um… I have some special items this evening. Would you like to try a peach pie?"

Blowing a raspberry, rolling his eyes, "Did Loki like it?"

"He hasn't tried it yet! You'd be first!" Trying to redirect the sloshed slab of man in front of you, offering the pastry up on a dainty napkin, it’s funny how quickly he snatches it from your hand. Looking tiny in Thor's enormous paw, he devours it whole, swiping at the leftover crumbs on his chest.

"Delicious! Another!" Even shouting, Thor's voice doesn't crack through the party goers busting their moves. Sighing, you hand over another, only to watch it be gulped down without thought or consideration.

Spitting crust at you, Thor bows over the display you painstakingly built to showcase your wares, his weight making the table creak, "You know, my brother normally likes little women."

"Excuse me?"

Waving his hands, pontificating, "Small, shapely… you know the type! Waifs. Skinny, like him. Narrow hips and-" attempting to whisper, "-tiny breasts."

Clearly, Thor was hammered, you knew that. But what he was saying was just hard to hear. You didn’t want to be compared to other women Loki had known, and you certainly didn’t want to hear that they were prettier, or smaller, or skinnier than you. But your roller coaster ride of emotions was derailed when Thor slapped his hand on your table, making you jump.

"Now, you… you're a woman. Strong, sturdy. Could really ground him, you know? Give him children worthy of Valhalla."

In his stupor, Thor couldn't read the warning in your expression. Willing him to stop, shut up, go away with just your monosyllabic responses wasn't working. But, alas, the Space God continued on, "It's all your sweets, you know? Candy and cupcakes and… all those little… What do you call them? The circles, fried and filled with jam?"

Flat, without feeling, "Donuts."

"Donuts! Yes!" Pausing for a breath, which you hoped would last all night long, Thor caught your eye. "I approve. Of the match… that is. Loki has been alone too long. He needs a thick woman to warm his bed, a fair, faithful filly to take-"

Thor's voice cut out, a thin line of shimmering red glowing around his throat, stopping his words. You could still see his mouth moving but the sound was, thankfully, muted. It was then that Wanda slunk close to Norse God, wide orb-like eyes full of knowledge, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Mumbling, struggling to sound bright as you gave too much attention to arranging cookies on the tray, "It's ok."

Her delicate hand rested on your own, "No it isn't. Thor's a buffoon when he's downed too many bottles of mead. I hope he didn't say anything too… unpleasant."

Waving her off, working hard to regain your composure, "Naw… it's fine… Thank you, though."

Thor, shrugging off Wanda's limited charm, "What's the big idea? I was telling this lady that my brother likes her! Her ample bosom, her gracious bum… and he always talks about her tasty cakes!"

Steve, sidling up at the first sign of trouble, grabbed Thor's arm, "Come on buddy. Time for bed."

"But! I am not tired! I want more pie! And mead!"

Wanda, rolling her eyes, "May I have another? For the road?"

Quickly wrapping up a few of your crusty delicacies, you handed them over, now eager for the night to end. It seemed tarnished somehow, spoiled by Thor's observations, like an unrisen souffle. Glancing at the clock, you were amazed at the time! It was late even for a late night event and you began packing up regardless of the people still partying their evening away.

You were hoping for a quick departure. Seamless, silent, without distracting anyone, including a certain raven haired hottie. No one would notice if you snuck away now, you were sure, and you had already fulfilled your obligation to Pepper. In fact, with Thor's little outburst, you were well over your allotted time. And, you reasoned, Loki could find some small little twig, more to his taste, if you weren't there to distract him.

That thought made your throat burn and your eyes water as you quietly broke down your area. Even now you could see him, a head above everyone else, spinning with a smile on his face. Loki looked so at ease, you refused to be the wet blanket on his good time. Besides, flirting was one thing, but Loki wasn’t yours and you were old enough not to be crushed by a crush.

With one last, longing look over the assembled Avengers, you bumped your bottom into the exit door, shuffling toward the service elevator. As the doors closed, shutting out the jubilation inside, you slumped against the wall. How could you think Loki would want you?

Having spent a significant amount of the late evening busting a move, Loki had managed to keep one eye on you most of that time. Noticing Thor bumble your way, he was nervous about what his brother might say, but Natasha had challenged him to a dance off. How could he resist?

By the time Loki stopped to catch his breath and collect his cookies, you were gone. Vanished. The only trace of you? A small, golden box, stuffed with your divine delicacies. Loki needn't see the name scrolled on the label to know it was for him.

But like Cinderella, you had fled and Loki had no way to find you. Sinking his heart, Loki clutched the box, padding away to his room and the solitude of silence. At least he had your thoughtful gift of goodies to keep him company. It was almost enough. Almost.

For all the numerous things The Avengers were good at, it was a non-hero who observed Loki slide away, sad and silent. Never one to let a party end on a low note, a new plan was formed to unite the Trickster and the Treat Maker. But it would need time to rise, like decadent cinnamon rolls, and like those sticky sweet buns, would be totally worth the wait.

When Monday dawned, you loaded up your goods and trudged to work. For the first time since starting your business venture your heart wasn't in it. Not when you plated blueberry buckle with lavender scented whipped cream, not when you swirled almond milk into fresh brewed coffee, not when you bagged cheesy bagel bites.

And it was, apparently, to be a day of firsts. Because this was the only day that Loki failed to make an appearance at your stand since you’d opened. Thor, pushing people aside, had made a point of apologizing for his behavior. It was kind and honest, yet, hollow since it didn't make Loki materialize in your line. But you appreciated it, nonetheless.

Before long, the day was done, your cleaning ritual initiated, your mind wandering. That it circled back to a certain blue eyed mischief maker over and over wasn't shocking. Where had Loki been? Had you driven him off? Would he come back tomorrow?

"Ahem… Excuse me!"

Squealing, you dropped the tray you'd been wiping with a clanking clatter, "Miss Potts! You startled me!"

"I didn't mean to!", stooping to hand you back your platter, she lifted her smart eyes to yours.

"I know… I'm so sorry! I've been… a little off today."

Shrewd, searching, Pepper looked you over, "You're not the only one."

Laughing nervously, “Oh? Who else is having a tough Monday?”

“A friend… listen, I wanted to thank you for the other night. It was really wonderful having your exceptional snacks at the ready.”

Allowing yourself a small smile, nibbling your lip nervously, “The pleasure was all mine.”

Pepper, shifting on her high heels, “I’d like to hire you again.”

“Really?” Snapping your head up at the offer, you were a little surprised by her request. Even though that night hadn’t ended the way you had hoped, necking with Loki like a teenager after prom, it had still been a lucrative evening for your little start up company. But so soon?

“Yes! This is a smaller event. Actually, more of a date than anything. This Friday evening. Would you be free?”

Grabbing your phone, confirming the date on your calendar, “It works for me! What time were you thinking?”

Blinking, Pepper took a minute to contemplate before answering, “Let’s say seven. Upstairs, on the outdoor deck?”

“That sounds great, Ms. Potts! How many people are you expecting?”, making notes, head down you missed her gentle smile.

“Just two.”

That made you giggle. So, it was a night of romance with Tony she was after. Flashing your benefactor a knowing smirk, “Sounds lovely.”

“I hope it will be!”

You didn’t see Loki all week. There was rumor going around the tower that he was off on a mission somewhere, very hush, hush. Your limited intell was gained only because of Thor’s inability to lower his booming voice while waiting for a croissant on Tuesday morning.

It got easier. Not seeing him in your daily line, not giving him his cappuccino, not buttering his scone. By Friday you finally felt like Loki was out of your system, which was a good thing, because you knew Ms. Potts was expecting you to knock it out of the park tonight.

“Things are going to be a little different for this evening, if that’s ok. I thought you could set out your dessert courses here, on the counter, and we’d have someone bring them out to the patio area.”

Unafraid to go the extra mile, you were quick to volunteer, “I’d be more than happy to act as a server if-”

Talking over you, “Oh no, dear! I have someone for that already. Really, all you have to do is make sure your treats are in order.”

Slightly crestfallen, but always a good sport, you agreed. As she’d requested, you had prepared three special desserts for the night, hoping you covered all of Tony’s favorite flavors. First, lemon cake with a cracked sugar glaze and fresh raspberry sauce to garnish. Next would be the white chocolate cheesecake studded with plump blueberries and piles of fresh vanilla flavored whipped cream. Last, and perhaps most importantly, was your personal favorite, tiramisu. Simple, delicious, and perfect with a strong cup of espresso.

Clapping her hands, Pepper was so pleased at the thought you had put into each plate, “Wow, does this look amazing! There’s really only one other thing that we need for this.”

Wiping a stray stripe of sauce from the plate, a piping bag cupped in your hands, you lifted your head, “What’s that Ms. Potts?”

“Why, you of course.”

Stalling in midair, you slowly lowered the tool of your trade, wiping your sugary fingers on the seat of your jeans. “I’m right here! What can I do to help?”

Coming around the island now, Pepper drew close enough to take your hands in her own, “You’ve already done it. Tonight is my way of saying ‘Thank You’... and I hope you’ll accept a small gift as a token of my appreciation.”

As the last word hung in the air between you, the lift doors parted, and Loki stepped into the room.

Pepper had summoned him, asking only that he arrive on time and not “look a mess”. Since Loki had never been anything less than elegant in all things, he had no intention of breaking that streak this evening. If only he knew what to dress for?

So, he split the difference, going for casual cool. A jet black polo shirt, unbuttoned, clung to him like a second skin, caressing every muscle. Black trousers and a black belt made him look dangerously seductive as he sauntered closer with each step.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Missing Loki all week made seeing him like this stupefying. Fuzzy brained and dull minded, you weren’t capable of wrapping your head around what was happening.

“Pepper? What… what is all this?” Loki’s husky baritone questioned the set up, your presence, the pretense. At least you weren't the only one who was confused.

Pulling you along, Pepper maneuvered you next to him, “Loki, It’s all arranged. Dessert by candlelight, under the stars… FRIDAY, start my Date Night playlist.” The strains of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins filled the air.

It was right then that Loki got it. The strange summons, the dress code, the secrecy. He knew why you were here, with your bespoke baked goods, looking like a snack yourself. Pepper had listened when Loki recommended you for the first gig, and somehow she had heard the unspoken recommendation of his heart. A rush of feeling flowed over him at the idea.

Looking sheepish and flustered, Loki caught your eye, “Hello.”

“Hi…”, bashful yourself, you struggled not to look too giddy.

“See, you’re already on your way. Have a good night kids!”

You and Loki stood there, staring, until the click of Pepper’s heels on the marble had faded away. This is awkward, you thought, unsure of what to do next. Here with the man you wanted, you weren’t entirely sure what to do, but luckily for you, Loki knew how to take charge, “Shall we?”

Lacing his fingers with yours, Loki led you to the open deck where a small bistro table was waiting, already set for the two of you. Pulling out your chair, Loki made sure you were comfortable before taking his own seat at your side, as opposed to across the table. It was a cozy and romantic scene.

The song shifted. Now The Platters crooned, “Only You”, and your hand was itching to grab Loki’s under the table. Before you could, Pepper’s hired server for the evening brought your first plate, and a bottle of Prosecco.

So far, neither of you had really spoken. Words seemed too difficult to use when the situation was so formal. And yet, it really was lovely of Ms. Potts to do this for you… and for Loki.

“Did you make all of this?”

Picking up your fork, giving Loki a small nod, “Yea… I thought Pepper was planning a date night with Tony. I had no idea that this… any of this… was happening. Did you?”

“No. But, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. She did hire you because of me.”

Taken aback by his admission, “Really? Care to elaborate?”

Tucking into the lemony piece of heaven in front of him, Loki closed his eyes in bliss, “Hmm… that is delicious. You are really so good at this! And that, my purveyor of pound cake, is what I told Ms. Potts.”

“Well, thank you! I mean, I knew you liked me!”

Hotter than opening your oven, a blast of heat swept over you, reddening your cheeks in shock. Flustered now, you could barely speak, cursing yourself for letting your real feelings slip out like that unfiltered. Mortified, you grabbed your glass, slugging half of it down in a second.

Loki’s fork froze, almost to his lips, as his own eyes widened. Sighing, he placed the utensil, covered in lemon and raspberry deliciousness down gently. Feeling his scorching gaze, you sat stock still, Loki’s wry whisper reaching you, “I do. And I should have told you that before… before Pepper had to go to such great lengths to prove it.”

“But Loki… I’m just… I’m not…” Stammering, you couldn’t quite find the best way to explain the reservations you had been carrying, the reasons Thor had so clearly defined.

“You are though. You are so kind hearted… to everyone. Even the dullards and bores. I hear you, you know? What you say, how you say it. No one leaves your little station without being complimented, enlightened, enriched. It is the best part of my day, coming down to see you… and taste whatever marzipan masterpiece you’ve graced us with.”

Starting to feel the bubbles of Prosecco in your brain, your lopsided smile spread at the emotion Loki expressed, “Loki… it’s the only thing that gets me through sometimes. Seeing you, knowing that you’re in line. And how cute you are when you spell out your name, like I haven’t written it a hundred times before.”

It was his turn to blush, “I knew that. I knew it was adorable.”

Playfully pushing against his shoulder, you chuckled, “Loki! That’s not fair!”

“Then you won’t like this, darling.”

Catching your arms in his firm hands, Loki tucked your body into his, finding your mouth as you laughed at his antics. Using his top lip to trap your own, Loki’s bottom lip gently parted, as the softness of his kiss blended into the lemon scented sweetness of his sigh. His tongue, probing slowly, pressed between your lips stealing a shaky breath for Loki to treasure.

Rising, Loki’s hands cradled your cheeks, ensuring that you couldn’t break away from his kiss. As if you wanted to! Your own hands wandered, with one resting on the warm slope of his wide thigh and the other pressed against Loki’s broad chest.

Deepening the kiss, you pushed forward, nestling between Loki’s spread legs. Trailing a hand along his hip, scooting closer, you moaned at the luscious texture of his tongue on your own. When Loki pulled back, you followed, unwilling to break the beautiful bond your mouths had sealed.

Swallowing hard, unable to believe that he was really here with the flavor of your candy kisses filling his senses, Loki shook his head. Seeing your own dazed expression made his heart soar. He was going to have to write Pepper a thank you note or have you bake her a cake, because this was the best thing that had ever happened to the Prince of Asgard.

“Are you ready for the next course?” The server, having popped out of the compound, was struggling to hide his own smug smile at the sexy little show you two had put on.

A new song started, the notes drifting through the air, making you smile. Sam Cooke’s eternally youthful voice sang, “Cupid… draw back your bow…” and Loki slowly stood. “Uh, please, hold the next one, if you don’t mind.”

Coming around behind you, offering you his hand, “Loki? What are you doing?”

“What I should have done last week… Ask you to dance…?” Voice brimming with hope, Loki quirked an eyebrow, anticipating your acceptance.

“About time.”

Rumbling through Loki’s solid torso, his laugh greeted you as you fell into his arms easily, chuckling yourself. It was so familiar and yet so different. His hands rested over the curve of your back, pulling you tighter, controlling the sway of your hips. Circling the delicate strength of his neck, your fingers teasing into those long locks of tousled hair, you let Loki take the lead.

Tipping you back, over balancing you but still in control, Loki’s look was pure lust, “I apologize for running late. I should have-”

Cutting in, husking into the shell of Loki’s ear, “Don’t. We’re here now. And besides, you were worth the wait.”

Squeezing you, putting every ounce of feeling into his hug, Loki found it hard to loosen his grip. Now that he had the thing he wanted, he never wanted to be separated from it… you… ever again.

Twirling you out, tugging you back in, as the song came to its close, Loki took the opportunity of dipping you low enough for your head to graze the ground below. Breathless and giddy, you were lifted back to standing, clinging to the demi God before you. Parting your lips, anticipating another of Loki’s kisses, your eyes fluttering closed, “Sir? Madame?”

Shifting his focus from your glossy, eager mouth to the server once more, Loki’s own giggle shining in his face, “My good man, please… just pack it all up! We’re not staying.”

“We’re not?” A hint of surprise colored your tone as you took in the ecstatic look on Loki’s face.

Nodding at you, “Nope.”

Waiting only a moment or two for a bag stuffed full of your goodies, Loki slung it over this wrist before taking your hand and leading you through the Tower’s maze of floors. Of course, he stopped at almost every corner to sneak a peck, pat your tush or cage you against the wall so that his hips were flush against your own as he licked the soft spot under your ear.

“Hmmm… Loki… That feels so good.” Mewling softly, your nails scratching into his scalp, as he swung open the door to his room.

Ushering you inside, Loki paused only to set his blistering, needy eyes on you once more, “We are not children, you and I. If you want to wait, I will be patient… but, believe me, my darling little patisserie, when I say this: I want you. I want to devour you… I want to know if you’re as sweet as strawberry shortcake or tart like key lime pie.

“I need to see if you-” here he swallowed so hard his Adam’s Apple bobbed, “-sigh when I kiss you the same way you do when you slide a hot cup of tea over the counter. Or how you’ll sound when you call my name in ecstasy. Because I’ve already thought about these things a hundred times over. While I wait in line for a moment of your attention or when I taste those lovely delicacies, you fill my thoughts.

“Do you always smell of vanilla and butter, I wonder. Will my sheets be scented with marshmallow and marzipan? Almond and cherry?”

Advancing on you now, hunger heating his look, “But just know, little one, if you do come to my bed, I will make sure it’s the last one you’ll ever need.”

Stepping closer, baiting the bear in him, you bit into your bottom lip, “Are you saying that everyone will know I belong to you… L, O, K, I… Loki?”

“My sweet, sweet thing. That is exactly what I mean.”

In a flurry of movement, Loki swept you against his kitchen table, the wood strong and sturdy behind you. Kisses, hot and happy melted you like butter, as Loki spread your legs to stand between them. When you heard the sound of paper crumpling, “What’s that?”

“Oh! Our to-go bag! Your luscious desserts!” Sounding slightly panicked, Loki quickly removed the items from inside the bag, before turning to you with a look that said trouble.

“What? What’s that face?”

“I’ve told you how much I fancy your food… and now you know how much I adore you... “

“Uh huh…”, still unsure about where this was going, your eyes followed Loki as he pulled your tub of whipped cream from the ruined sack. Snapping off the lid, his long finger scooping out a big glob, only for Loki to brush the airy confection over your mouth.

Licking the cream from your lips, Loki tongued the seam of your pretty pout, moaning at the burst of vanilla he tasted there, “I don’t know what’s more delicious, your frothy garnish or this mouth.”

“What if I want some, huh?” Grabbing at Loki’s finger, the one he’d used to snag the sample with, you pulled it into the warm inlet of your mouth, sucking lightly.

Growling low in his throat at the erotic scene before him, Loki issued a command, “Bedroom. Now.”

Sliding off the table, right into Loki’s space, “Bring the whipped cream though, ok?”

Clothes were shed in a rush. Each piece unveiling soft skin and new places to explore, reminding you of a creme brulee’s hardened caramel layer. The way you crack it open, revealing the cool custard beneath the scorched sugar crust, a gift unwrapped for all your senses.

By the time Loki lowered you onto his bed, he had already sampled swatches of your skin, leaving behind the marks of his possession. His hands never seemed to stop. First they were dusting over your shoulders, then across your thighs, next on your generous bottom, squeezing hard.

Sighing in contentment, you closed your eyes, lost in the moment of making love to Loki. As he lay down over you, the press of his rigid planes met the soft curves of your figure, you wrapped yourself around him. Tangling those rich, dark locks in your hand, forcing your mouths together, panting with shared passion.

Connecting with his hip, you slid your palm over the rise of his bottom, squeezing just a little, “You know, you have a great ass, right?”

Sucking against the ridge of your clavicle, Loki kissed over your jaw, “I do?”

“Oh yea… I watch you walk away everyday thinking, damn. That ass.”

Brushing stray strands from your face, “That’s funny, because I think the same thing every time you bend over to get those little swizzle sticks for stirring coffee!”

Setting off a fit of giggles, the pair of you with arms and legs akimbo, laughed like children. There was something so freeing about being naked and comfortable with the man beside you. Quieting only when you heard the pop of the frosting bowl's lid coming off, you sucked in a breath as Loki lowered his lips to your waiting nipple.

Playful and pleasing, he released you just long enough to sit back on his heels, surveying the state of you. "Now, It's my turn."

"Your turn to what, exactly?"

"Decorate!" Producing an assortment of sprinkles and frosting, sanding sugars and coconut shreds, caramel sauce and raspberry coulis as if from thin air, Loki grinned at you wickedly before setting to work.

For every place that was home to a dollop of icing or a squirt of sauce you were licked, nibbled, nuzzled or bitten. As Loki worked lower, you squirmed in anticipation, as your pastry chef in training sucked your inner thigh free of chocolate fudge. Before you could prepare, Loki's tongue parted your slippery center, making you call out, "Oh! Yes, Loki!"

Parting your swollen sex, circling your stiffened bud, Loki lapped at your sensitive skin gently. His fingers, long and reaching, stroked into your sticky channel, stretching you sweetly. Rocking against Loki's oral affections, the beginning of bliss burning in your belly, you gripped him tightly seeking release.

For his part, Loki needed no encouragement. Bringing you to the pinnacle, alternately sipping at your slick core, and sucking on your sweet pearl was making Loki ache with want. Even when you pulled at his onyx locks, inner thighs trembling, struggling to stave off your peaking pleasure, Loki only worked harder, "Don't hold back. We've already wasted too much time!"

"Uh huh… um… shit… Loki…" mumbling was the most you could do as you felt a third finger enter you, widening you, readying you. It was enough. Cumming hard against him, stiffening and then softening like taffy, you gave yourself over to the pleasure Loki provided.

Smacking his lips lewdly, licking his fingers, "I knew it… I knew you'd be delectable."

Grinning broadly, happy and satisfied, "Am I gonna get a taste? You're not the only one with a sweet tooth, ya know!"

"Only when I've had my fill… and I'm not close to being finished, darling!"

Sticky, sweet and satiated, you and Loki lay in each other's arms smiling. He'd asked about a gift for Pepper and you were already planning a cupcake basket for your matchmaking mentor. You had just licked the last of your lemon curd from his abs, curling into his side, "I need a shower."

"Oh, yes! Let's do that!" Rising, dragging you with him, Loki could picture you under the steaming water, begging him to please you. He liked that idea!

"And after…"

Pausing to look at you, "After?"

"Can you find me something salty to snack on… ya know, for a change?"

Pressing a kiss to your hand, Loki flashed you that megawatt smile, "Absolutely, darling. Absolutely."

My Minxes: @alexakeyloveloki @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatilie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #mcu smut #MCU fanfiction #loki fanfiction #1000 followers

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indestinatus · 4 years ago

Text

smoke gets in your eyes

for my dear friend @ocheabutter who supports me in everything i do <3 ly mel

°°°

It couldn’t be that hard.

Tony looked once again in the mirror and his reflection laughed at his face. He shook his head, the bags under his eyes now part of his persona as he tried to pull all his life together, one obstacle after the other.

He asked for the millionth time that day if he was ever going to learn how to be a proper father.

Tali was biting the handle of a bright new hairbrush he had just purchased that afternoon. Her big doll-like dark brown eyes studied him with interest as if she too knew he hadn’t the faintest idea what he was doing.

He scoffed. That reminded of someone he knew.

Tali sat on top of the sink countertop in front of him babbling words he couldn’t understand, and his eyes drifted momentarily to the shampoo and conditioner flasks next to her. He had done what everyone had recommended, from Jimmy’s advice on which brand to use to McGee’s insights in how to convince a toddler to have their hair washed to even calling Abby asking for any bit of help.

Somehow he always ended messing something up, from buying clothes to types of baby food to ways of teaching her English, and many other things. There was no way this wouldn’t be the same, with Tali’s curls looking too entangled from where he was standing, imagine after he so clumsily made her blind as shampoo burned her eyelids.

He blinked, probably knowing he was taking it too far.

To his credit though, Tony had to turn from a no one to a single dad of a little human in mere hours, with no warning, no preparation and absolutely zero skills with children.

He sighed, knowing there was no other way.

That child needed a bath, and she needed it badly.

Tali didn’t mind him taking her clothes off, nor being carried to the small bathtub sitting at the shower floor. Tony had rolled up his sleeves and tested the water temperature almost ten times already, but he sighed in relief all the same as Tali only giggled once she was inside the bath.

First step complete.

He opened the shampoo bottle, smelling its scent for a moment and wondering when was the last time he had taken care of his own hair like that. Probably never.

“Hmmm,” he said, then immediately cursed in his mind. That was shampoo, it wasn’t food she needed to think it was delicious. Teaching a child to drink shampoo is not the best way to go, he thought.

He put some in his palm and rubbed them together, only to remember he had to rinse her hair first. After a deep breath and a series of self-doubting thoughts, the game started again and lukewarm water was being cupped by his hand and almost too gently poured onto Tali’s head.

There was no reaction. He frowned. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

He slowly started massaging her scalp with shampoo, bubbles appearing with foam. Tali kept singing in a language he understood nothing of but was glad she was being distracted. He had no idea if he had done a good job, but soon enough he had just rinsed the shampoo off twice and was ready to pour some conditioner.

A smile crept out in Tony’s mouth. This was going better than he thought, the warm feeling of pride spreading across his chest.

Then he gently grabbed the brush by its bristles from where Tali was bitting it and in an instant, it all went downhill.

Her face contorted almost instantly to sadness, tears already streaming down her cheeks as Tony tried his best not to let her hear his cursing. He quickly let her bite the hairbrush handle again, and sighed in relief when that was able to calm her down, at least for now.

Then he realized he would need another brush.

°°°

“I like to wash my hair, wash wash wash my hair,” she sang as he made her lean under the tap, holding her in place. “Bubbly, bubbly, bubbly,” Tali repeated.

“How does Rapunzel say?”

She started singing the main song from the movie, the one he knew was her favorite and she was going to repeat it many times. Enough times to let him do his job.

Soon her hair was spiked up, foam covering his hands as Tali only giggled at the funny faces he was pulling, falling back to singing right after.

“What does shampoo mean?”

“Shampoo it means uh-” Tony tried to think of a good answer. “It’s like soap that cleans your hair.”

“Ooh, I forgot.”

He started massaging her scalp under the tap, cleaning the bubbles away.

“It feels good,” said Tali, closing her eyes.

“I bet it does,” he smiled. “Abba is a master of it, isn’t he?”

“Hmm-mm.”

Soon it was time of conditioner and disentangling, and he swiftly put Tali to sit onto the sink countertop again in order to brush her curls properly. Tony grabbed the bottle to pour some in his hand and she held her own little hands out, demanding to let her have some too.

“In my hand!”

“This is not for your hand,” he said laughing. “This is not lotion. It’s like shampoo but it’s called conditioner.”

“May I have conditioner?”

“Uh, how does Elsa say?” He was going to run out of princesses to use, but if he had any luck she would soon forget it and start singing the songs all over again.

To no surprise, she was soon humming another one of her favorites, distracted enough that he started to untangle her curls without much problem.

Everything was fine and today was a great day. Tony smiled.

Then the song changed.

Tali started singing it quietly at first, a jumble of words muttered under her breath. He laughed, asking her what new song she had come up with.

Then his heart died in his throat.

She was singing in Hebrew.

His hand stopped midair but Tali continued to sing, eyes not directed at him but rather at the Barbie on her hands. Tony caught a few words with his limited knowledge, but the meaning was too vague for him to truly understand it. His heart was beating too fast for him to think properly.

Ziva, Ziva, Ziva, was all that was ringing in his mind.

Tali stopped singing once she looked at him.

“Did it get it in your eyes, Daddy?” she asked concerned, patting her own eyes with the towel that was around her shoulders instead, as if it would also help him. “It hurts?”

Tony quickly wiped his teary eyes. “No, no, nothing hurts,” he said.

It was a lie.

She studied him for a second but soon was singing again as if nothing had happened. The song wasn't in Hebrew anymore. Tony cleaned his throat.

“Tali,” he said, and she looked up at him again. “Tali, who taught you that song?”

Her forehead furrowed, but she spoke all the same. “Song?”

“The one you were just singing.”

She was a smart girl, maybe she could tell him something. Something, anything about her memories of her. Tony had been desperate to know what her life had been before him maybe since the day he met her.

The despair must have shown in his eyes because Tali was soon shaking her head with worry in her face.

“I don’t know,” she said.

His heart sank once again.

“It’s- It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t worry about it,” he kissed her hairline and felt her relax under his touch. It wasn’t her fault. Nothing was her fault. Nothing of it.

Soon Tali was singing Disney songs again while Tony disentangled her hair the same way he did almost every day. He asked her what movie they should watch and she answered the same one they’ve been watching for the whole week. Everything went back to normal.

He spent the whole night thinking about that song though.

For some reason, he was sure it had her hand in it.

°°°

“One-two-three, UP.”

Tali giggled as she was lifted up in the air to sit on top of the sink countertop. It was morning. The smell of lavender insensed the bathroom, vapor covering the mirror and making everything warm.

Tali turned to it, drawing a ‘T’ next to a heart. She giggled, her eyes bright.

A moment after, another hand placed a 'Z' just next to it.

Ziva laughed as well, the sound of their laughter echoing all around the bathroom. She opened the door to let the air in and grabbed a fresh towel to put around Tali’s shoulders.

“Daddy said we would make pizza today,” she said with a big gap-toothed smile.

“Did he now?” Ziva started drying her hair with another towel, rubbing her head until Tali was all giggles and laughter.

“Do you think he can beat my bread with his pizza?”

“No,” said Tali giggling, then covered her mouth as if it was a secret, but the smile was still very visible behind it.

“Hmm, maybe he can surprise us.”

Ziva started untangling her hair, a brush swiftly undoing Tali’s curls that were a match to her own.

Tony leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head as his throat started to close.

Ziva was singing. She was muttering the melody under her breath, Tali smiling at her.

It was in Hebrew.

It almost undid him.

Tony didn’t even feel the time passing, for a moment he was watching her and the other Tali was already dressed, running between his legs. Time had a different feeling to him now, as if they suddenly had too much of it. Past and present seemed to overlap more often than not.

“Are you alright?” asked Ziva frowning as she placed her hand on his chest.

He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat pounding inside.

Tony pulled her close, kissing her hairline. Smoke clouded his vision.

“I love you,” he said.

Ziva laughed, it was something he said all the time and they both knew that.

“Why do you say it at most random things? Is it not something to be cherished? To be guarded for special moments?” she asked, looking up, her hands circling his body.

“Oh, Dah-veed,” Tony shook his head, pulling her even closer as he replied in her hair. “Prepare to hear it for the rest of your life.”

#ncis #tiva #tivali #tiva fanfiction #tivali fanfiction #tiva fics #my fics #it's miss them hour #don't mind me crying over the progression of things #anyway thought of you while writing this mel #really hope you like it <3

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kooala · 4 years ago

Text

whatever you need - second chapter

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader, Jimin dating best friend Hannah, ex bf tae

Tags: strangers to lovers! college!au

Genre: fluff, mutual pining, reader isn’t interested in relationships at first

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none I thinkkk

Summary: The fact that your brain seemed to be occupied with a boy didn’t really sit well with you and the bold flirting made your head spin. But for some strange reason - you really didn’t mind.

A/N: sorry it took me so longsdsadkfh but here’s the second chapter xx

<<previous

masterlist

As you waited outside their frat house in your car, ready to pick up that friend of yours, again, you felt like a proper soccer mom, driving your kids around to playdates although Hannah was definitely playing a different sort of ball game.

A knock on your car window caused you to twitch and as you saw Namjoon staring at you with a bright smile on his face, you rolled down the window.

“Is this going to be a frequent weekend thing now?” he asked, handing over a proper cup of coffee, fresh and steaming. Holding his own cup, you looked out of the window to him with a smile on your face.

“Thank you very much.”, you snickered, taking a sip and closing your eyes at the taste of the coffee. This wasn’t any cheap ass college student version of a coffee. This one was roasted and delicious.

“That’s some good ass coffee.”, you mumbled quietly, enjoying the fact that Namjoon obviously knew what he was doing and stepped out of the car eventually to chat with him outside on their lawn.

“Right? This is what I pull when I want to impress a girl.”, he joked, but the fact that Namjoon had offered you some coffee twice now, caused your stomach to feel a little tingly.

“Well I’m sure you get them all if you brew coffee like that.”, you smiled, sitting down at the steps on the front porch next to him, waiting for Jimin and Hannah to finish up their snogging and snuggling inside. You really enjoyed the cup of coffee that warmed your hands. The slightly chilly morning made it feel even more perfect to sit outside on the porch and wearing your sweat shorts and university sweater, you definitely felt like the coffee cup only added to the college look.

“Thanks for walking me home yesterday. I know I’ve said it before but it was the complete opposite direction of where you were going so I do appreciate it a lot.”, you smiled over at Namjoon and he shrugged it off smiling.

“No worries at all. Anytime. And just for the record? Jimin has a car so technically you don’t need to pick her up every time they bang. But I’m going to be really disappointed if we lose those early morning coffee sessions together, not going to lie.”

He chuckled and took a sip of his cup, stretching out his legs down the steps and faced the sun with closed eyes, enjoying the outside. Something about his settle way of flirting made you feel all over the place, especially since none of it was over the top or intrusive. Namjoon flirted in a settle manner, honest and not trying to impress someone with grand gestures. Being someone who wasn’t into flirting if you didn’t know someone well, your bodies reaction seemed to confuse you a little.

“In that case, you better not mention the car thing to Hannah so I can come by more often.”, you chuckled and Namjoon peeked over out of one of his eyes, a bright smile on his face.

“Better not.”, he chuckled and you put both your hands around the coffee cup, taking another sip while enjoying the crisp morning air.

“I know I’ll miss you, too.”, you heard voices behind you in the hallway and Namjoon and you shared a knowing look, both of you trying hard not to laugh at the dramatic situation that had been building up between Jimin and Hannah over the past weeks. He really wasn’t someone to date and now that the two of them seemed to be official, everything was very dramatic and full of emotions between them. If they fought, they fought hard, if they made love, Namjoon couldn’t help but leave the house or listen to some music to get away from it. Now that Jimin was visiting his family in Korea for two weeks, you had no idea how you were going to survive this with Hannah constantly talking about him at the dorm already.

“If you ever need out, you can call.”, Namjoon whispered and you had to chuckle.

“I don’t even have your number, I could always ring though.”, you smiled and Namjoon held out his hand with a smile on his face, holding his phone over to you.

“Well, looks like we’re going to have to change that.”

It had been a while since somebody had asked you for your number and usually, you were never too keen on giving it away. Something about Namjoon asking made you feel emotions you hadn’t felt in a long time. The excitement of it all made you feel a little skittish and with a shy smile on your face, you typed it in along with your full name for him to safe.

“Ohohooooo what’s going on here?” Jimin had knelt down between the two of you, his face uncomfortably close between both of your faces and the sudden loud sound made you jump.

“Why do you have to be like that, Park?”, Namjoon stated calmly, looking up to him and Jimin shrugged with a smug little smirk on his face, giving Hannah a last kiss goodbye.

Sipping that last sip of coffee you handed Namjoon the cup, smiling at him and with closed eyes and a scrunched up nose, he smiled a wide smile that made your stomach twist and tingle. Shaking your head with a chuckle, you got up to walk down the steps to catch up with Hannah who had rushed to the car.

“I meant it!”, he yelled after you, sitting up on the porch. “Call if you want out.” You watched Jimin sit down next to him and mumble something and Namjoon didn’t even blink once, his eyes locked with yours. Another shy smile, you shook your head chuckling and disappeared into the car, driving off while Hannah was nagging you about what had just happened all the way back.

The following Saturday and Sunday came, without a text from Namjoon. You hadn’t really expected him to text but as he actually didn’t, you found yourself in the position of being a little sad about it. Something very uncommon for you since you happened to be the kind of girl that put being happy alone before feeling completed by someone else first. The fact that your brain seemed to be revolving around whether or not this guy was going to text you, caught you a little off guard.

You saw him in class once, sitting all the way across the lecture hall and although you had debated on sitting next to him a couple of times, it had never entirely felt right for some reason – so the confusion was big as you and a couple of friends walked into a coffee shop off campus after your last exam to celebrate, before all of you were forced to prep everything for the next semester, when all of a sudden Namjoon popped up behind the counter, towering up behind the big coffee machine.

Furrowing your brows in amusement you watched him, waiting for him to recognize you and as his head shot up to look through the crowd and his eyes met yours, his focused features softened and a slight smirk crossed his lips, putting his beautiful dimples on full display.

Mouthing a shy “Hey.”, you nodded and Namjoon waved, mouthing it back to you before turning his attention back down to his coffee machine and the foamed milk in his hand.

All of a sudden you felt way more excited about coffee than you usually would and as you and your friends came up to the register, Namjoon slid in fast between his co-worker in order to be able to take your orders.

“What can I get for you guys?”, he asked with a sheepish grin, tapping his long finger on the screen, ready to take your orders. All of a sudden you didn’t even remember that you came with people.

“Well what is it you would recommend?”, you asked and looked at him with raised eyebrows. You had to chuckle at his expression as he ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly a little nervous.

“I can recommend the whipped crepes cake with strawberries, it’s really delicious. Oreo roll is also very good but if I could recommend anything, I’d say I’ll pick you up at seven and show you that new restaurant that opened in Gangnam if you’re available.”

The words didn’t even make their way into your ears properly. All you could hear was a slight ringing while you watched him and the sudden fear of heading into something way too fast was striking you like a slap in the face. Trying not to lose your cool you nodded.

“I’ll take the strawberry crepes cake then.”, you smirked and Namjoon’s eyes flickered between yours, trying to read your expression, worried this may have been a no. “Text me.”, you said smiling and stepped aside to make way for your friends who had more than confused expressions on their faces.

“I will.”, Namjoon nodded and smiled at you while taking the other orders and as you walked off a couple of steps to sit down at a table, one of your friends sat down next to you with big eyes.

“What was that about?”, her voice was so excited she had to cover her mouth with one hand in order to not burst out with an excited little scream. “Do you know Namjoon?”, she asked and you looked at her confused.

“Do you?”, you replied and watched her chuckle, turning her head over to watch his long hands slide over the coffee machine which made you assume he had been doing this for a long time.

“Everybody does. Namjoon is like... the perfect boyfriend. He’s illiterate, caring, absolutely beautiful... obviously. How come you know him? Why did he ask you out?”

The tone of her voice didn’t really resonate with you and with a straight expression you looked at her. “What do you mean? Why would you say it like that?”

She immediately put her hands up in defense and you knew you were right about your gist. “I mean I’m just saying.. You’re not the outgoing type. You’re not.. suuuuper girly you know what I mean? I’m not saying you’re not attractive I’m just saying I thought he’d go more for... the super mean IT-girl.”, she rambled and you nodded, wondering if those people sitting down at your table, talking about what had just happened were really your friends.

Feeling your phone ring in your hand, you looked down.

Unknown Number [1:57 pm]: You look a little stressed. Sorry for being bold in front of your friends

You [1:57 pm]: It’s okay, no worries at all (:

You saved his contact and smiled as you put a little coffee cup emoji behind his name.

Namjoon☕️ [1:59 pm]: So? What do you say? I’ll pick you up for dinner?

Looking up from your phone you watched him work for a little while and bit your lip thinking about the offer. There was no harm in going out for dinner with him, if anything it would give you a chance to get to know him but something about the way he had rushed his way into your brain made you hesitate.

You [2:01 pm]: What are options besides dinner?

Feeling a little shy and as soon as you sent off the text you played with your phone nervously while watching him work behind the counter. It took him a while before he picked up his phone again and as he read the message, he looked over to you and smiled shrugging. “Whatever you want.” he mouthed and with a smile you had to look down, heat rushing into your cheeks.

You let the words echo through your head. Whatever you want.

You [2:14 pm]: Let’s go for a walk later. Tell me when you’re off

Namjoon☕️ [2:15 pm]: I’ll be off at six latest. A walk sounds lovely 😊

You sat at the café for a while and Namjoon had been right, the fluffy cake made of thin pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries was delicious and you took your time to eat it. As you walked over ready to head out, you handed over your tray with your empty cup and plate and Namjoon took it with a nod, smiling over.

“Looking forward to it. Should we meet up somewhere? Or want to walk together?” His smile was genuine, his eyes open and focused on you entirely. It made you feel very special and maybe that was the dangerous part, the fact that Namjoon made you feel so special when he was around.

“What would you prefer? I’m ok with either.”, you say a little shy now, nothing from the little cocky replies from earlier seemed to be left now that the nerves had kicked in.

“If you’re ok with it I’d say we’ll meet up at the library and walk from there?” He smiled and handed over a little paper bag for you. As you took it, you peaked inside to find a cinnamon muffin inside of it.

With a smile you closed the bag and looked over to him.

“Almost as good as dinner.”, he winked before wiping his hands on his apron and headed back to turn around and get to the pile of order papers that were out on the counter, waiting for him to prepare them.

At seven, you waited in front of the library. You had put some effort into your outfit and hair, not too much to not make it look desperate but you had thought about how effortlessly good Namjoon had looked in that turtle neck and coat.

“Hey, [y/n].”, he smiled, walking up to you and you looked up at him with a bright smile. Namjoon was wearing a thick cardigan, a white shirt under it and some rolled up beige dress pants that seemed to be a little too big, making him look like he was fresh out of bed and absolutely preppy at the same time.

He tended to do that. Looking cozy and put together all at once.

“Hey, you.”, you smiled up and Namjoon held over his hand with a shy smile, opening it up. Inside was a single purple flower and once you saw it your cheeks turned bright red immediately. This had to be the cutest thing anyone has ever done for you.

“Figured an entire bouquet would’ve been a little too much.”, he smiled confidently and pointed at the flower. “May I?”, he asked and hesitantly took a step towards you. Namjoon looped the stem of the flower through the unbutton top slit of your coat, making it look like brooch on your coat.

“Thank you very much. It’s really pretty.”, you smiled, looking down at it and back to Namjoon who had pushed both his hands in his pockets now.

“Shall we?”, he asked and with a nod and a tingly feeling in your stomach, you turned to follow him as he turned towards the direction of town.

If you’ve managed to read this far, I’d be more than thankful if you could like and reblog my chapter if you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions for improvement or a drabble request - make sure to shoot me a message!✨

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nyctolovian · 4 years ago

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Chapter 17: easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

Summary: Shouto's worries about his relationship with Bakugou reach a boiling point and something tips over.

Shouto took a deep breath as his thumb hovered above the dial button.

It was difficult to find any time where he could be left alone long enough to make a call. Most of the days were spent at the hero agency as Preeta taught Shouto and Bakugou the ropes. Additionally, Preeta’s agency was collaborating with several other local and overseas hero agencies to deal with some cross-border smuggling. Shouto's skin tingled with adrenaline at the prospect, but that basically meant that sometimes there were even workdays that stretched into the night.

Even if there wasn’t work at night, Preeta occasionally invited the two interns out to eat and chat with their coworkers, who proved to be a fairly rowdy bunch. So far, Bakugou seemed to be having quite a blast trying the different foods in Singapore, especially when chilli seemed to always be readily available anywhere. Not to mention how many types of food were spicy to begin with. But that meant that Shouto’s poor tongue had died several times over the span of the single week they had been here.

Sometimes, Kaiqi would join them. When she did, she would fit right into the crowd of rowdy heroes. She also seemed to have taken a liking to Shouto. (“You can’t give special treatment to specific interns!” “I don’t work here, Preeta. I can do what I want.”) And so they talked often and though it was difficult to keep up in a foreign language, he found himself slowly getting the hang of it.

Another thing he found was that occasionally, he'd notice Bakugou watching him like a hawk. When he turned around, Bakugou wouldn't be looking anymore, but months of being with him had made him more perceptive of the feeling when he glared at the back of Shouto's head. But he never raised the issue with Bakugou.

Needless to say, the days, with their bombardment of socialising and adapting to new stuff, were tiring. Most nights, Shouto would fall asleep before his head even hit the pillow and he’d simply open his eyes the next day to Bakugou shoving out of bed from under his arms.

But nightmares were more frequent for them both. Bakugou had one on their second night. But it was the regular case of simply shaking a jerking Bakugou awake before he just took several deep breaths before calming down again.

On their fifth night, it was a hard kick to his shin that jolted Shouto awake. It took a while for his head to clear from his sleepy state and when it did, he looked down to see Bakugou, kicking violently and gripping the fabric of Shouto’s shirt. His breaths came quick and shallow and his eyes were screwed shut while he whimpered in agony. For a moment, Shouto was at a loss. Then, he cooled his hand and pressed it against Bakugou’s shoulder, shocking him just enough to pull him back into reality.

Bakugou looked up with a coat of wetness over his eyes. At the sight of his boyfriend, he let out a shaky sigh before burying his face into Shouto’s chest. “Thank fuck,” he muttered. “Okay. Okay.”

Meanwhile, Shouto used his warm hand to rub circles on Bakugou’s back until they eventually drifted off.

As for Shouto, his nightmare came on the sixth night, the first time in the last two months. And as he opened his eyes to a gruff but concerned Bakugou, he could still feel the echoes of “you were never suited for this” bouncing about the walls of his brain.

It wasn’t because of those nightmares that Shouto decided to make the call though.

He was getting ready this morning, brushing his teeth drowsily, when Bakugou walked in to spit out his toothpaste and rinse his mouth. In his typical bastard fashion, the way he got Shouto to step aside was by bumping him away with his hip. As Shouto stared at him in annoyance, he let out an impudent open-mouthed chuckle.

It should have been disgusting with all the toothpaste foam still in his mouth, but Shouto had to bite down on his toothbrush to stop a smile from growing on his own lips. Then, came the sense of guilt that Shouto was planning to stop all of this, and he really didn’t want to, despite how many times he’d told himself it would be the right thing to do.

That was how Shouto found himself sitting on a bench near the basketball court on a Sunday morning, gathering his courage to call Izuku. Izuku had assured him time and again that he’d be free but Shouto still couldn’t help but feel he was imposing. But clearly, mulling over this on his own wasn't working out well with the stress he'd been having for the past few weeks.

Taking in a deep breath, he clicked the dial button and pressed the phone to his ear as he let it ring.

Izuku, in all his speedy glory, answered the call with a bright “Hello, Shouto!”

Smiling at his best friend’s voice, Shouto greeted him as well. They went through the usual motions of catching up with one another: “How is it there?” “Tiring.” “Mood.” “Huh? What mood?” “I mean, it’s the same for me! But it’s fun, right?” “Yes, a little warm though.” “Not that case for me!”

They continued to talk about their respective internship, Shouto with his more mundane bits, and Izuku with his insane first week battles. Shouto swore his best friend was living the life of an action series protagonist. As Izuku recounted in great detail what happened to him on patrol three days ago, he nodded along, smiling fondly. To be honest, Kaminari had sent the trending Twitter video of his best friend hopping from building to building and into the heat of the battle already, but Shouto took certain delight in hearing it first-hand – terrible sound effects, hero fanboy enthusiasm, and all.

They continued talking until a lull in their conversation appeared and finally Izuku asked, “So something you need to talk to me about, right?”

Despite knowing full well that Bakugou was resting in their room, Shouto found himself glancing around before admitting, “Mm yeah… I have a problem." Shouto looked at the ground and kicked a pebble beside his foot. He sucked in a deep breath of air. "I… I might be feeling a little homesick,” he lied.

At that, Izuku laughed and began chattering away excitedly about the things he missed about Japan as well.

***

Shouto was deep in thought when his train of thoughts was broken by his transmitter. “Calling for Shouto and DynaMight,” Preeta said, “are you in position?”

“Yes,” Bakugou replied immediately.

“Ah, um, yes,” Shouto stammered back.

Although Bakugou was crouched at the opposite end of the shipping container, Shouto could practically feel the glare on his nape.

According to intel, an illegal trade was due to happen in this port at 4am in the morning. After a general briefing, Bakugou and Shouto were positioned to hide behind a shipping container, a distance away from the predicted location of the trade. Their task was to ensure that the routes of escape were sealed off for the smugglers. Time and again, Preeta had warned them not to let their guards down. They may only be serving as backup, but criminals were unpredictable. They should be paying attention at all times.

Shouto could tell that Bakugou was rather restless at the thought of being distanced from the action, but he had nodded cooperatively when the task was assigned to them. Perhaps Bakugou was now transferring his irritation, which was probably exacerbated by the long day, into the stare he was sending Shouto. Granted, he shouldn’t be allowing his mind to wander like this, but he couldn’t help how he kept going over the way he was going to tell Bakugou the truth about his feelings towards Bakugou, or rather his lack thereof. When something that heavy rested on your mind, it was really rather difficult to forget it.

Shouto sighed at the thought.

His mind went back to his conversation with Izuku. He was a coward.

How long was Shouto planning to keep mum about the situation? He knew he ought to talk to Bakugou about this. Sort things out properly between themselves.

But what was there to talk about though? The likely scenario was that a look of hurt would wash over his face. After that, ultimately, the best course of action would be to simply break up. There was no point in being such a one-sided relationship, right? He supposed-

“Shouto! Watch it!” Bakugou’s voice shattered his trance.

He looked up.

A man was rushing at him.

“Fucking hell!” the man roared. He aimed his right cannon arm at Shouto and fired.

In a moment of panic, Shouto swiped his hands upwards, sending a Heaven-Piercing Ice Wall towards the man. The man cried out before his voice was abruptly cut off.

“You…!” Bakugou growled, and Shouto turned to face him. “Have you got any idea-”

“What the hell was that?!” Preeta’s voice pierced through the scene. She blasted through the air and landed before the messy ice tower that trapped their perpetrator. Cursing under her breath, she pressed her palms into the ice and it rapidly melted away. “What are you doing, just staring?!” she yelled at the two boys. “Help me with this ice right now! He’s going to die there!”

A shiver ran through Shouto’s spine at the realisation. In his moment of panic, he had completely encased the man in ice. The cannonball the man had fired was merely ten centimeters away from the outer walls of his ice pillar. It fell to the ground with a dull clang as Preeta melted the ice.

Bakugou was the first of the two to react, moving to explode the ice to bits.

“Be careful,” Preeta told him.

He let out a hum between anger and acknowledgement.

Meanwhile, Shouto fumbled to his feet and joined the two in releasing the man from the icy death-trap he had created, all while guilt pooled in his gut. He had been incredibly sloppy, something he couldn’t possibly afford to be in this line of work.

He should know this by now.

***

By the time Shouto and Bakugou arrived back at the dorms for rest, it was already late morning, even after heading straight back to it without changing out of their hero costumes. The debrief had been short. All the perpetrators had been apprehended and this operation had been a success. For the most part.

Then, came Preeta’s debrief.

“You are a hero!” she chided. “You have a responsibility to control your quirk!”

Shouto had hung his head in remorse. He had no excuse for his behaviour. Thank god the man he had frozen had been largely intact after being suffocated in ice for an entire minute.

She ended the lecture with a sigh. “I know you’re just a kid, but being a hero means you of all people must remain calm.”

What was also terrifying was how silent Bakugou had been. He had spoken while talking to Preeta and some other heroes when he needed to. But there was a steely coldness in his anger as he refused to exchange any words with Shouto.

It was as he closed the door to their dorm room that he finally said anything to Shouto. “Spit it out. What’s bothering you?” His voice was seething and low.

“I-I don’t–”

“Do you take me for an idiot?” Bakugou’s palms began to smoke. “Something has been on your mind since god-knows-when so quit acting like a pussy and goddamn spit it out.”

Shouto looked at Bakugou with wide pleading eyes. “I… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to fucking apologise! I’ve seen you bow your head so many times today already. If I weren’t with you 24/7, I’d think you were replaced with some life-size bobblehead. Just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours already!” He groaned. “To think I was gonna let you tell me or solve this at your own time. Clearly you fucking need it forced out of you if you’ve let it bother you this fucking much.”

“It’s not…”

“I swear to fuck if you don’t tell me right now, I will rip your fucking jaw off and pull it out myself!” Bakugou spat.

Frustration and exhaustion bubbled beneath Shouto’s skin. “I’m really sorry. I am. But could you calm down?”

“Calm down?” Bakugou yelled. He threw his hands in the air and marched past Shouto. “How do you expect me to? After that stunt you pulled–”

Shouto’s vision was beginning to tunnel as he glared at Bakugou’s back. “I can’t explain with you shouting–”

“–you expect me to be calm?!” he roared as he threw his bag onto the floor in a rage.

“Just let me–”

Bakugou was still back-facing him as he yelled, “Just what the fuck is going through your head?”

“I could ask the same thing!” Shouto retorted. “Your mood has been so awful lately!”

“Yeah? At least I don’t fucking let it distract me! I’m not the one who nearly died!”

With a huff, he mumbled angrily, “Who said I was distracted?”

Bakugou scoffed as he spun around, sharp red eyes finally meeting Shouto’s mismatched ones. “You’re a bloody awful liar, Todoroki Shouto,” he growled out.

Fury spiked in Shouto’s blood. “I never felt the same way about you,” he stated. “Did you know that?”

#todobaku #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #bakutodo #tdbk #fanfic #my writing

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

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A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 8

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: Snapshots of life with a fussy brat over the three-year time jump. Including: a few holiday specials.

3,949 words

With the lease up on your apartment, Frederick invited you to move in with him. It seemed like the next logical step in your relationship, especially considering how frequently you slept there anyway—though he had to justify the choice by saying he “could not stand seeing you live in squalor.” The house was certainly big enough for two people (or several less-wealthy families).

It was nice living with him, because you lived very different lives. Rather than finding it stifling to be trapped in the same house, it was freeing that you could spend so much of the day apart—or weeks, as it often was, traveling for cases or book promotion tours—and yet always be connected by the home you would return to at the end of it all.

You were planets of the solar system orbiting the same sun.

The stability of that was comforting. So much had changed—Will Graham left and cut ties with the FBI, Hannibal Lecter was imprisoned at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where Alana Bloom now held Chilton’s old job, and you were considering following Will’s lead and pursuing new career options. It made you glad to have someone familiar to keep you company, and always be there when you needed him.

For all the good, living with Frederick Chilton was not always easy. He was a shameless snob who did not believe in laundry chairs, and panicked when his state-of-the-art kitchen was filled with sugary cereals with cartoon characters on the box. There were many clashes of egos early on, some of which never fully disappeared. Now that his star was rising, he insisted you dress a certain way when you were to be seen in public together—particularly at any sort of publicity event or psychiatric conference, but anywhere really that he might be recognized. He was yours, and that meant you reflected upon him. He updated your entire wardrobe like you were starring in an episode of Queer Eye, and had your hair professionally styled.

You couldn’t even be annoyed at the controlling implications of it—you were never great at dressing professionally, and it was exciting to see yourself looking so sharp in the mirror. You could surrender that to him. He enjoyed sophisticated things, like the opera and restaurants where celebrities eat, and now you didn’t feel so out of place when you joined him.

“You actually look quite elegant,” he nodded in surprised approval at your new attire.

You stuck out your tongue.

“Do not tempt me with that,” he said with a feline wiggle of his shoulders. “We have engagements to get to, and I do not want to re-do my face.” He wrapped the hand not gripping a cane around your hip and kissed you, coaxing your naughty tongue into his mouth with a lustful growl.

Any time he was too fussy and judgmental to the point of being unkind, you were quite practiced at flicking him back down to earth. He rarely apologized, of course, but would look up and purse his lips in thought before admitting, “You may be right.”

He was a sassy bitch, but you knew that. It’s why you loved him.

You loved him.

You did. It was strange to realize how much you loved someone you used to hate, whose traits you would normally find incompatible with your own. He was a miserable little rich boy with a self-satisfied sneer, a flare for drama, and perpetually questionable ethics, yet you would do anything to keep him safe. You wanted to stay by his side forever.

And there was something to be said about his difficult personality when you were not on the receiving end of it.

Being on his side was fun—his hand at your back as he verbally destroyed someone with a catty insinuation that left their eyes glowering with indignation. That used to be me, you thought. Now you were up on his throne with him, and the view was much better.

You wanted to stay through all the medications, physical therapy, and regular hospital visits to tweak his prosthetics and make sure his remaining organs were all still functioning properly. You wanted to stay even as you questioned how much of your affection for him was pity in disguise, as he had suggested the first time you slept with him in a fit of explosive passion—that you liked wounded birds.

If it was pity, and being pity meant you would have to leave, then you resolved to stuff your fingers in your ears and ignore it. No psychoanalysis would make you give him up. You wanted to keep orbiting the sun together.

*****

Calliope music paraded through the air with aggressively cheerful pneumatic whistles that grabbed your eardrums and pulled them screaming into the 1920s. Shrieks, laughter, bells, and shouts rushed by.

Frederick Chilton stuck close beside you and mistrustfully held a greasy paper plate like it was a venomous snake.

It seemed only fair that in return for dressing up, you made him dress down and do normal-person things, like go to the county fair and eat deliciously greasy fried foods. It was like a cultural exchange program.

“Every moment I am not writing my next book is another moment the world goes without a groundbreaking revelation on the human psyche,” he had snipped when you first suggested the outing. He barely looked up from his computer, where he sat typing in a suave leather office chair.

“Oh come on, you owe me,” you persisted. “I am sick and tired of fancy museums and fancy restaurants and fancy psychiatric conventions. Next time we’re in a hotel, there should be Star Trek costumes involved!” He straightened like you’d shoved a rod up his spine, and you chuckled inwardly at his petty aversion to being seen at that type of convention. “Come on, it’s just the fair,” you rubbed his shoulders and he groaned with annoyance. “Nobody important will be there. You’ll be totally incognito. Be a commoner with me.”

“I suppose it is the least I can do,” he caved in at last, leaning his head back to rest on your chest, glancing up at you through his eyebrows. “Since it is so important to you, I shall partake of your proletariat festivities.”

“Don’t say proletariat when we’re at the fair, you bougie dork.”

He wore a plain black t-shirt, and his hair wasn’t quite as primly styled as usual, letting a few strands fly free. The less he stood out from the crowd, the less likely a professional acquaintance or fan would recognize him.

Even living with Chilton, it was rare to see him dressed so casually, and you had expected it to be disconcerting. Instead, you found yourself drooling. He was sexy in a suit, but so was everybody with the correct fit. The unstructured t-shirt hugged his broad chest and revealed those alarmingly muscular arms that were usually a secret hidden under sleeves.

It was odd seeing your private Chilton—reserved for nights and mornings—out in the world, and a reminder of how lucky you were.

He managed to look dapper even with powdered sugar on his shirt.

“Funnel cake?” he cringed, as if the word itself was in poor taste. “Are we certain this is food?”

“You are ridiculously hoity-toity.”

“I do enjoy the finer things in life,” he boasted in a smooth, self-congratulatory hum.

You were about to sass him when you realized his admiring eyes were fixed on you, and he wore an expectant smirk on his lips. Your scowl cracked open into a tender laugh, and you linked your arm with his, giving him a playful hip bump.

His eyes widened at you in mock horror. “You would attack a man with a cane?” He awaited your answer with that same peevish smirk, but you didn’t have anything clever on your tongue, so you pulled him into a kiss instead. He melted against your lips, having gotten what he wanted.

Frederick refused to go on any rides, citing safety concerns and his delicate viscera, but you perused a hundred breeds of chickens, pet the World’s Tallest Clydesdale, watched pigs racing, browsed local artwork, and sampled craft beers which he had to admit were pretty good. You paid far too much money to shoot water guns at a spinning target faster than other carnival-goers so you could win an oversize plush of a corgi, which turned out to be filled with disappointing foam stuffing.

After finally placing a piece of sugary fried dough in his mouth, his eyes closed, and when they opened again, he declared it “not terrible.” Then inhaled it and spent the rest of the fair surreptitiously looking for another funnel cake stand.

When you got home, he confessed, with his most stern and dignified demeanor, that he may have, perhaps had fun, juvenile as it was. Then he quietly suggested that he would make an excellent Spock.

*****

“I am never going to be perfect enough for you, am I?” you cried after another petty argument over another petty thing like stacking the cups in the cupboard in precisely the correct order. “How do you live with me? It must drive you crazy.”

Months of feeling inadequate bubbled to the surface all at once. Everything he did was so controlled, so exact, you really did wonder why he would ever be with someone like you.

“No,” he frowned, and as he gently took your shoulders his heart was crumbling in his eyes. There was a sorry on the tip of his tongue, but this was not the lottery-winning occasion he would say the word itself. He didn’t need to. He would say it in other ways.

His warm lips pressed your forehead as he rubbed loving circles on your arms with his thumbs. “Do you know who was perfect? Hannibal. I would rather live with a hot mess than a cold-blooded monster. One of us should be warm, anyway,” he gave a self-deprecating smile. “I must do better to remember the beauty of imperfection, because you are perfect to me.”

*****

The front door opened well after the sun had disappeared and the stars had begun to come out. Frederick came home drained and exhausted from being on his feet all day trying to dominate professional rivals who were all, in turn, out to get him.

Conferences were invigorating, an exciting place to strut one’s superiority, make connections, and scope out the competition… until they were not, and they became whichever circle of Hell it is that makes one have to continually defend oneself to people for whom one will never be good enough.

You looked up from the book you were reading. You didn’t get up from the couch cushion’s gravitational embrace, but smiled with stars in your eyes, and called, “Frederick!”

Home.

He crawled onto the couch next to you, and laid his head in your lap. You set the book aside and ran your fingers through his hair, listening to the sweet, sleepy noises of pleasure the action evoked. Fantasies of this moment had kept him alive all day. You caressed his neck and the prickly stubble along the side of his jaw, and he turned his face into your palm and kissed it. He adored the way you touched him with your gentle, caring hands. Yawning, you reclined into the deep, plush cushions, and he shifted so you were both laying next to each other, content in each other’s embrace. He cuddled into your chest, face buried in your shirt.

“You smell like tacos.”

It was unclear how peevishly he intended the observation, so you simply replied, “I made tacos for dinner.”

“The cheap American kind that are nothing but ground beef, shredded cheese, and an insult to Mexican culture,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric.

“Mm-hmm,” you said.

“They are not real food.”

“Do you want some?”

“God, yes.”

*****

With physical therapy, Chilton was finally able to walk comfortably without assistance again.

Technically, he had been able to for a long time. The cane was a crutch—in the figurative, not the literal, sense. In the literal sense it was very much not a crutch, or even a cane. At best, it was an expensive, silver-topped walking stick. He clung to it like a security blanket, or as a prop to garner pity, or simply because it was a dramatic accessory. The threat of physical therapy simply convinced him to let go of the pretense.

Like the spiral staircases of his home, some things about Dr. Chilton were fussy and theatrical for no reason.

It was almost a shame, you thought. That thing was the epitome of his dapper style (he might as well put on tap shoes, a top hat, and put on the Ritz with Fred Astaire), and it brought to mind such kinky images.

It was not one of those lightweight BDSM canes, and therefore was far too heavy to do any spanking with, assuming you wanted to be able to sit down any time in the next month. However, you recalled with some excitement his tapping it on the inside of your heels to get you to spread your legs open, using the pommel to gently tip your chin up to him, or running it slowly along the inside of your thighs.

You would miss that cane.

You still argued sometimes—but not as often. You were accustomed to his haughtiness and felt less need to try and change it, and he knew you well enough to relax when the two of you were alone. He took your advice that life was not a competition... but only when it came to you, not to his career and public reputation.

He was still obsessed with proving his superiority to the world. Still obsessed with seeing Hannibal Lecter grow old and feeble inside a cell. Those edges were so integrally a part of him you could never smooth them out.

*****

You were good for his book tour.

Though he never raised his voice or threw insults around, Chilton still had the journalist sitting in your living room on edge. She gripped the recording device harder, nails turning white. Flanked by imposing towers of leather-bound books, he stared her down like a shark, bragging about his psychiatric achievements and describing grizzly details of the Lecter case with a heartless detachment��he smirked when the more graphic parts made her squeamish.

Dr. Chilton was (contrary to his own opinion) not the best mind in the psychiatric field, but there was one thing he was the preeminent expert in, and that was leaving people with the impression that he was a callous douchebag who thought he was better than everyone else. Which was more or less accurate.

When you entered the room, his whole demeanor softened.

“Hey honey,” you poked your head in with a plate of cookies. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had that interview today. Should I come back later?”

“Nonsense, darling, come in.”

The haughty stare he’d been giving the journalist broke and turned to a warm gaze and a kind smile as he crossed the room to escort you in, his hand on the small of your back. You sat down on the sofa next to him, and set the plate of good-will-bribery cookies down on the coffee table between you and the journalist. She politely refused, at least until the recording was over, but instantly seemed more relaxed, loosing her death-vice on the recorder. You quietly leaned your head on Frederick’s shoulder and discreetly clasped his hand on the cushion between you through the rest of the interview, which he spent blushing and unable to maintain the coldness of his stare.

You brought out a side of him few were able to see. Whenever you made an appearance during his book promotions, the article published was always just a bit more favorable.

*****

“Gotta go!” you called across the house, slinging a pack over your shoulders. Dawn was barely cresting the purple sky, and Frederick was barely awake. He didn’t even have his prosthetic maxilla in yet; he was only up to say goodbye. “I’m going to be in the field for ten hours straight today!” You thought about that for a moment, and groaned with anticipated exhaustion.

“You have water?”

“Yes, mom.”

“You cannot blame me for worrying,” he smiled with some pride at his gallant adventurer. You were wild in ways he would never understand, and it terrified as much as thrilled him. He smoothed a few wrinkles out of your shirt—a rugged garment for outdoor wear—and said you looked presentable enough for what you were doing. You kissed him, and wished him luck with the book signing he was attending that day.

He wandered into the kitchen to search for breakfast, when an idea occurred to him.

“Take some of my meal-replacement bars,” he offered, opening the pantry. He had the organic superfood detox variety that he was able to digest.

“I already did, thanks!”

He sighed with annoyance. “I noticed. It looks like an animal went through the packaging.”

“You love me,” you grinned cheekily in the doorway.

He prowled up to you, eyes narrow, trapping you against the door. He growled. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing you and sucking a small bruise just under your collar. Yeah, he loved you. You purred, arching your back so you were pressed more firmly against him, and breathed in his scent. If only you didn’t have to leave.

“Come home safe.”

*****

Halloween was your favorite holiday. Perhaps it was gauche for one involved in investigating real murders, and real dead people, but then, that might have been what made it so appealing—on Halloween, all the blood was corn syrup, the skeletons danced to 80’s rock, and the serial killers wore their identities on their sleeves and carried plastic weapons. It had been your favorite holiday as a kid, and it still was.

“No.”

“Please?” you begged, drawing out the E. “It would be so awesome!”

“No.”

“But—”

“I am a bestselling author. An esteemed expert in my field. I will not be subjected to such an undignified, childish display.”

“But you would have the best costume and nobody would know!”

He wasn’t sure how you talked him into it. It must have those adorable pleading eyes he could never resist, or the enticing appeal to his ego that it would be an extraordinary costume, certain to leave everyone guessing how the effect was done. Somehow, he was walking into a Halloween party as a zombie. Without his contact lens or prosthetic jaw.

He frowned. It was humiliating.

You were dressed as an apocalypse survivor with an infected bite, and were hamming it up, telling the other guests you were fine, totally fine, with a shaky panic-edged voice and a tremor in your limbs. You had done an impressive job on the makeup, too, giving your complexion a sallow haze and reddened eyes. The bite itself was a gory masterpiece constructed from latex and tissue paper, with dark veins spider-webbing up your arm.

He didn’t have to ham it up. He only needed to walk in the room and Shrek and Fiona, Pennywise the clown, and a sexy velociraptor all gasped in horror at his face. How was that meant to make him feel?

“So cool!” someone said before he could turn on his heel and walk out of there. Words like, “There isn’t a contest, is there? I should have put in more effort,” and “did you hire a movie SFX artist? No fair,” started to get tossed around—including toward costume elements that you had designed and had nothing to do with his natural grotesqueness. Then they offered him a drink and moved on to the next impressive costumes and regular party chatter.

You were right. Nobody knew it was real, and while it stung to be stared at and called grisly—you would later apologize profusely for being too gung-ho and not thinking through what would happen—he had never imaged being able to have a normal conversation in public with his real face exposed. There was something daringly vulnerable about it. He had never imagined not being ashamed, but at least in this niche context, his old injury made him the leading man of the evening.

By the end of the night he got so into it, he was chasing you around snarling for your brains, and getting a kick out of scaring trick-or-treaters.

*****

He took you to Paris for Valentine’s day. Last time it was Italy, and you strangely suspected he was touring the shadow of Hannibal Lecter as much as he was trying to impress you. You had suspected, that is, until you asked, and he rather bluntly admitted to it. He hadn’t expected you not to notice by the time you got to Florence, although Venice had been purely about romance (he loved all those touristy gondola rides that he swore he hated and were just for your benefit).

Now that he finally had the chance to lavish his considerable means upon someone, he was throwing himself heart and soul into the holiday, and would not stop until he had spoiled you senseless. When he was single and accustomed to spending the day alone, he used to loathe February 14th—Valentine’s had seemed a cruel joke directed specifically at him. He couldn’t even spitefully ignore it by staying late at work, because the more perceptive inmates always took notice.

“You do not know hell,” he told you, “until a man convicted of raping his mother’s severed head taunts you about your lack of sex life.”

This year, he treated you to everything Paris had to offer: the Louvre, Notre Dame, an opera at Palais Garnier, a morning stroll through the gardens of Versailles, delicious bakeries, cafes, chocolate, and macrons. You insisted upon seeing the Catacombs, of course.

When you went to the Eiffel Tower and he showed up with roses and dinner reservations for sunset in its refined first-floor restaurant, your gut clenched. You were terrified he was going to propose. Of course he would make a grand gesture! You carefully inspected every champagne glass for hidden engagement rings, but found only bubbles. After dinner, when you ascended to the top of the tower to watch Paris light up at night, you knew that was when the proposal was coming.

But it didn’t. And you found yourself disappointed.

You had never talked about it, so there was no reason to assume it was something he wanted. It seemed far too soon to you, too, until it was snatched away and you realized that after three years together, you still couldn’t imagine wanting a life without him in it.

Arriving home at last, you breathed a sigh of relief into the still air. Paris was exciting and rich with history, but you were glad to be home in the peaceful familiarity of that snobbishly oversized house with its ridiculously spiraling staircases and its somewhat-less-fastidiously-pristine rooms, which now accommodated both of your things. All of the picture frames that once held impersonal stock photos displayed real snapshots of your lives together.

You weren’t even going to shower. You were so tired, you just wanted to rip all your clothes off and drop into bed. Frederick pulled his tie off. Hair frumpy from the long plane and taxi rides, his fingers worked to undo the top buttons of his shirt as he lumbered to the bath. He stopped at the door and turned back. You were taking a sip of water before leaving the cup on your nightstand.

“Marry me?” he said.

#Frederick Chilton x reader #frederick chilton #Hannibal #Raúl Esparza #my writing

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panfishonthefly · 4 years ago

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Fly Tying Friday: The Wee Frog

When it comes to topwater flies for panfish, anything goes. That is one of the things I love about warm water fly fishing. Panfish, bass, and other warmwater predators like pickerel and pike are not concerned that your offering is not an exact replication of the last thing they ate. If it looks alive and can fit in their mouth, they will often have a go at it.

The lack of demand for realism in fly patterns is one thing that sets warmwater fly fishing apart from trout fishing. We are far more concerned with matching the hatch and delivering a proper presentation in the trout world. Warm water fly fishing is a more rough and tumble affair. Fly selection based on whim and fancy can be just as effective as attempting to match what the fish are currently eating.

Looking into one of my warmwater fly boxes, you see a lot of whim and fancy. Garish colors like chartreuse, fluorescent yellow, bright pink don't often occur in the natural world. Based on the contents of my fly boxes, you would think that panfish live in a world filled with psychedelic colors. There is no doubt that these brightly colored, un-natural looking flies work. If they didn't, they would not take up so much room in my fly boxes. However, if you look close enough, you will find more natural-looking flies mixed in with that kaleidoscope of colors.

Maybe the decades spent chasing trout keep me coming back to more natural-looking flies that imitate the things that panfish eat. I enjoy tying and fishing patterns like damselflies and dragonflies, two essential food items for warm water fish. Also mixed in with the odd-looking foam and hair creations, you will find a smattering of flies that you can readily recognize as terrestrial insects like hoppers, beetles, and ants. The natural-looking flies that stand out the most are the frogs. My frog patterns are instantly recognizable as the amphibians that are meant to represent.

Everyone knows a bass or a pickerel has a hard time ignoring a properly presented frog pattern, but panfish? You can make the argument that most adult frogs are too big of a prey item to be eaten by most panfish. However, there are smaller species of frogs whose habitats mix with that of panfish. In my area, the Northern Cricket Frog is one such example. While technically a tree frog, it does not take to the branches but prefers a more aquatic existence. They are often found along the muddy banks of ponds and slow-moving streams. As an adult, they range in size from three-quarters of an inch to an inch and a half, which firmly puts them in the size range of something big bluegill would try to eat.

If you search the pages of this blog, you will find several small frog patterns that I tie and fish exclusively for panfish. Most are created using a foam or preformed body. The fly pattern in today's post has been teased in a few recent posts and on social media. Each time I show a picture of it, I receive messages and emails requesting more information on the pattern, so I figure it is high time I share it with the world.

This pattern is tied using flat foam. I have tied small frog patterns using flat foam in the past but have never been entirely satisfied with them. Thin 2mm foam does not have the bulk needed to imitate a chunky little frog, and the thicker foam I have worked with in the past was tough to work with on the small scale in which these flies are tied.

After joining Semperfli's team of fly tiers, I was introduced to a new type of foam. Semperfli's flat foam is a closed-cell foam, but the air pockets or cells are larger than what is found in most fly tyers foam. This characteristic means the foam compresses easily. Their foam is also remarkably strong and resists tearing quite well. Because it compresses so well, I can use thicker foam, in this case 4.5mm, to create a frog body on hooks as small as a size 12. Combine a body made from this thick foam and Pat Cohen's Creature Frog Legs; you have the perfect panfish-sized frog pattern.

You could tie the fly very simply with just those two materials, but I like to add an underbody that adds a little sparkle and movement by using a material like Semperfli Straggle String or Straggle Legs. It gives the fly a finished appearance along with added color, movement, and flash. Rubber legs are a must because a topwater bluegill fly without rubber legs doesn't feel right.

I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of warmer weather and the return of my favorite pastime, topwater fishing for panfish. There is something about bluegill taking a fly off the surface that puts a smile on my face every time. Finally, it appears my wait is over, and mother nature has warmed things up to the point that my favorite fish have returned to the shallows and a looking up for their next meal.

One of the things I love about fishing tiny frog patterns for panfish is the take. Bluegills often slide under a topwater fly and suck it off the surface with an audible slurp. Not the case with a frog pattern. They seem to know that this type of prey can elude them if they're not careful, and they grab them off the surface with a vengeance, more like the take of a bass. I am often surprised when a big bluegill comes to hand, mistaking the violent take for a bass.

Fishing Frog Patterns

When fishing frog patterns, I prefer to cast parallel to the bank instead of casting out into the middle of the pond. Frogs are found along the bank, seldom straying far from it, and this is where I find these flies to be most effective. My favorite way to fish them is to slip on a pair of hip boots or waders and walk out a short distance from the shoreline. I then slowly make my way along the shore, casting ahead of me as I move. My first cast will put the fly as close to the bank as possible. I then fan out my casts until I reach a point 10 -15 feet from shore. I will then move down the shoreline a short distance and repeat the process. Fishing from a float tube or kayak is also a good option for this type of fishing as you can bring the watercraft close to the shoreline and use the same method. Fishing from the bank is usually problematic as there are generally too many obstructions to grab a fly line or rid tip.

A plus side to fishing frog patterns for panfish is that you will attract predators like bass and pickerel. Even though a size 12 frog is not much of a meal for a bass, they seem to recognize an easy snack and seldom pass it up. I have found that pickerel are so fond of these tiny frogs that I refrain from fishing them in waters where they are present in good numbers as I lose far too many flies to these toothy predators. If tiny frog patterns are not part of your topwater panfish arsenal, they should be. Give them a try; you won't be disappointed!

Pattern Recipe:

Hook: Size 10 or 12 Firehole 618 or comparable hook

Thread: 6/0 Semperfli Classic Waxed Thread in the color of choice

Frog Legs: Cohen’s Creature Fog Legs size micro or mini depending on hook used

Underbody: Semperfli Straggle String or Straggle Legs

Legs: Round Rubber

Body: Semperfli 4.5mm Flat Foam in the color of choice cut in a teardrop shape using a foam cutter or trimmed by hand with scissors, craft knife, etc.

Thread Treatment: Solarez Bone Dry UV Resin or Solarez Bone Dry Plus UV Resin

Tying Instructions:

The first step is to prepare the body. You want an appropriately sized teardrop shape piece of foam. You can cut the shape out by hand, but I like using a spider body foam cutter. The largest size spider body cutter produces a perfectly sized body for a size 12 frog.

Start your thread on the hook shank and wrap it down to the bend of the hook. At the bend, tie in your frog legs. Note: I add color to the legs before tying them in. I get the best results using fabric markers as the colors will not fade even after repeated dunkings in the water.

Optional: Before tying in the frog legs, you can add a small loop of stiff monofilament. This loop may help keep the frog legs from fouling on the hook shank (something that is seldom a problem on a fly this small), and it gives you a convenient tie-in point for adding a dropper. The legs are then added on top of the loop.

After tying in the frog legs, I bring the thread back towards the eye, stopping an eye length or two from the front of the hook.

Capture a small piece of the wide end of the foam body with thread wraps and lash it down to the front of the hook. When working with foam, don't use a lot of pressure on the first few thread wraps to avoid cutting the foam. Lightly trap down the foam with a wrap or two, then increase the thread pressure with subsequent wraps to further compress and secure the foam. Semperfli foam excels here as it compresses easily without bulk.

Once the front of the body is tied down, tie in a short piece of Straggle String right at the tie-in point for the foam.

Leaving the Straggle String in place, advance the thread to a point mid-shank and tie in a pair of rubber legs, bringing the thread back to the bend once the legs are secured.

Wind the Straggle String down the hook shank, careful not to tie down the rubber leg material. When you reach the frog legs' tie-in point, you can tie it off and cut away the excess.

The final step is to fold the body back and lash it down. Once secured, trim away excess foam (if using a foam cutter there will be a small tab of foam remaining), whip finish, and cut away the thread. A drop of thin UV Resin like Solarez Bone Dry protects the thread and keeps everything in place.

Note: There is probably no need to color the body as the fish likely only see the underside of the fly. Despite that, I always add some froggy-looking spots to the fly because I think they look better, but I doubt the fish care. I usually add custom colors once the fly is completed.

#Wee Frog #topwater #frog pattern #Micro Frog #foam bugs

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permanentcrossfics · 5 years ago

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Rumorbound // h.s.

“Did she send you something?”

“‘Course she did,” he mumbled. “Isn’t that what she always does?”

“What’d they say?” You slid your hand over the back of his neck and rolled your fingers. Instantly, he groaned, and his shoulders relaxed some as you kneaded the tension out.

“Don’t do that,” he said, head swaying. “Know it makes me sing like it’s m’job or somethin’.”

You dropped a hard kiss to the top of his head and wrapped him up tightly, and he squeezed your arm three times. “What’d they say?” you repeated. This time, he opened a minimized browser window on his computer, and the headline blown up to nearly fill the page left you breathless.

“Oh….”

“Yeah,” he said, minimizing the window again. “Didn’t want to tell you, cause I didn’t want you to panic. Can tell your parents not to worry and that it’s all for clicks — s’what I told Mum.”

“You did?” you asked and he barked a laugh.

“Unless there’s something you’re hiding from me,” he said. “Think I’d know f’you were pregnant, though. Not like I don’t sleep with you every night.”

A lump rose in your throat and you again swallowed back rising nausea, palms tangibly sweaty, and you slid your hand from his neck to his shoulder.

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

You’ve got no idea how terrifying this one is. It’s like... yeah. You’ve waited nearly three years to see something new for them, so I hope this satisfies at least a little bit of it. Happy reading to all, and thank you so much for waiting three whole years for it. xx

Whatever it was, it must’ve been bad. Really, really bad.

Harry had been pouring cereal for your son when his phone had trilled on the countertop and he’d reached around you to pick it up.

“Who is it?” you’d asked. It was Sunday, and both you and your son had a claim to his undivided attention until 8:00 at night when he’d eventually have to review his strategy for the week. His rule, not yours — when you’d grilled him about it after the first few times you’d noticed a pattern, he’d mumbled about how you and his son deserved a block of time where you could depend on him, barring hell or high water, and he fought tooth and nail to stick to that with only the occasional swerve.

“Mum.”

He’d held his phone out, squinting, eyes flying back and forth across the screen, and the corners of his mouth had turned down a little more each time.

“What?” you’d asked, picking up the milk before your son could tip too much into his bowl. Harry’s jaw had ticked, square in a hard, dangerous way that clashed with his otherwise soft appearance. None of you had made it out of your pajamas, and his hair was wound high on his head, a little frizzy at the crown. “Love?” you’d prodded when still he didn’t answer.

His phone had clattered to the counter when he set it down, and you’d jumped in your seat.

“Nothing,” he’d said in a way that didn’t sound at all like nothing. “Just some shit they think they can talk about.”

“Harry!” You’d looked at your son who was staring at his father with wide eyes, and Harry had pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Sorry,” he’d said gruffly. “Eat your breakfast. M’sorry,” he’d repeated, kissing your head and resting a hand on his son’s. “Let’s just have a nice day.”

He’d probably had about three bites of his toast, though, before he was clearing his plate and excusing himself.

“Why does Daddy get to leave the table?” your son had asked,

“Because Daddy,” Harry had said, dishes clanking in the sink, “needs to make a phone call.” He’d squeezed his son’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair. “Back in a minute,” he’d said to you and you’d nodded, looking over your shoulder when he made his way to his office, phone in hand.

A minute had passed, and then ten, and when you and your son were both finished, you’d cleared the dishes and helped him wash them, taking another swipe over the plates and bowls with a sponge to get the spots he’d missed.

“Daddy’s supposed to dry,” your son had said when you’d swapped your sponge for a towel.

“Daddy’s busy right now,” you’d said. “Go and get your homework.”

“But I--” Your son had blinked at you mournfully. “I wanted to read my book!”

“Check that it’s done and then you can read,” you’d said. “Off you go, thank you.”

When he’d stomped off, you’d taken a deep breath and swallowed back the queasy feeling threatening to rise before slipping towards the office, and it was there you found him now. He was at his desk, hunched, typing furiously on his phone, and you hesitated, leaning on the doorframe before knocking on it gently.

“Harry?”

“What?” He didn’t look at you and you frowned, pushing away to come up close behind his chair.

“What’s going on?”

He sighed, putting his phone down in front of his keyboard, and he rubbed his face.

“It’s nothing,” he said behind his hands. “Just not summat I feel like having Mum email me about.”

“Did she send you something?”

“‘Course she did,” he mumbled. “Isn’t that what she always does?”

“What’d they say?”

You slid your hand over the back of his neck and rolled your fingers. Instantly, he groaned, and his shoulders relaxed some as you kneaded the tension out.

“Don’t do that,” he said, head swaying. “Know it makes me sing like it’s m’job or somethin’’.”

You dropped a hard kiss to the top of his head and wrapped him up tightly, and he squeezed your arm three times.

“What’d they say?” you repeated. This time, he opened a minimized browser window on his computer, and the headline blown up to nearly fill the page left you breathless.

“Oh….”

“You did?” you asked and he barked a laugh.

“Unless there’s something you’re hiding from me,” he said. “Think I’d know f’you were pregnant, though. Not like I don’t sleep with you every night.”

A lump rose in your throat and you again swallowed back rising nausea, palms tangibly sweaty, and you slid your hand from his neck to his shoulder

“She asked, you know?” he said. “If it was true?”

With a headline like that, you’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t batted an eye.

“And what did you say?”

Harry chuckled again. “What do you think I said?” he asked.

“No?”

“That,” he nodded, “and I might’ve snapped about them being bonkers. Said we’re not in the place for that, and she should guess as much instead of poking me on a Sunday.”

Oh.

“Not ready for what?” you asked, heart in your throat.

Harry twisted in your arms and looked up at you, and you stood up slightly to look at him properly. “For a baby,” he said, clear green eyes flickering across your face. “Are we? Just got things settled, didn’t we? Be nice to have some time just us. Don’t you think?”

He didn’t want another baby — not what he’d said, but all you could hear, and you held your breath, speechless, when he stood with a groan and wrapped you in a hug. You pressed your nose to his shoulder and stared over it into the distance while he buried his against your hair and inhaled deeply, ears ringing and stomach turning. “Sorry I was a dick before,” he said.

Wordlessly, you nodded.

“Come on.” He kissed your temple. “I’ll get back to this later. Let’s go have a good morning.”

Except it wasn’t a good morning. It was the very worst possible morning — day, afternoon, evening and night — you could’ve imagined, and it would be for a long time.

He thought you weren’t in a place for a baby, and all you could think of was the stick that’d turned blue weeks ago and that’d paralyzed you but left butterflies in your stomach to match the single one inked onto his.

You’d meant to tell him, well and truly, it was just… you’d wanted a plan. It should’ve been more special than it was the first time around. The last time — the first time — you were pregnant, you’d been overwhelmed. You’d cried telling him, and not out of joy, but because you’d been terrified neither of you could handle it and that it would be disappointing when he was knee deep in album preparations. He’d had a career, and it was still so young — you couldn’t take him away from it to ask him to be a father, and you had your own plans, too. When you’d busted out crying, he’d taken you to bed and gotten you tucked in before crawling in with you, and it wasn’t until you woke up to his face in your neck that he was able to confess he was unbearably happy. Maybe the timing was a little shit (and maybe now you both knew why), but he was going to be a dad.

Now, you thought, you were fucked. Whether the rumor mill had spun the wheel and this was the next headline they’d pieced together in a game of hangman or they’d gotten a bullseye some other way, you couldn’t know. But now he knew without knowing, and it hadn’t come from you. Admitting it to him while he was foaming at the mouth wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined telling him — in fact, you couldn’t imagine it at all, and that’d been the problem, hadn’t it? You couldn’t imagine telling him. If you could, you’d have done it already, because you’d have known how.

And now he’d told you that you weren’t in the right place for a baby and he wanted you to himself for a little. Nice, in theory, and if he’d told you that two months ago, you’d have been on the same page. As it was, you’d ruin his vision this time for sure, and where the rational part of your brain said he’d be thrilled for a baby, the less-so portion agonized even watching him read to your son for the better part of the morning.

“One more,” your son said calmly from his father’s lap, book open wide in front of both of them.

“Said that three chapters ago, didn’t you?” Harry mumbled, turning the page anyway and flashing a grin at you. The most patient man there was, but would he be when he had to juggle a young child and a baby with different needs?

“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” you said, unfolding your legs and standing from the couch. Harry looked at you, the ghost of his grin still on his face.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Not sure,” you said, running your hands over your neck. “Just going to get out.”

“You feel alright?” Gone was humor, and his eyes bore into you with such intense scrutiny that you almost believed he was the Superman your son had dubbed him.

“Fine,” you said. “Just think it’s a nice day—“ Harry’s eyes flicked to the window being pelted with rain behind you— “and I want to stretch my legs.”

“Do you want company?”

You shook your head. “Stay here,” you said. “Finish the story.”

Not ten minutes later, you were dressed in jogging bottoms and a jumper, and you tugged your shoes on by the backs of the heels.

“When will you be back?” Harry asked.

“Not sure,” you said. “Have my phone, though, and the keys.”

“Don’t be gone too long,” he said when you leaned down to kiss him.

“Won’t be.”

“Love me?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. For a man who’d avoided saying it back for who knew how long after you’d come home from hospital, he certainly wasn’t shy about demanding it now. “Know I do.”

You could feel his eyes on you all the way to the door, but you didn’t look back, because if you did, you’d crack.

***

The last time you’d gotten pregnant you’d come here, too. You weren’t sure it would do the trick this time, or that your reception would be as warm, but if there was anyone who knew, or who had once known, the insides of both your heads….

Even unsmiling, Gemma was still less intimidating than her mother. Maybe because you remembered when you and he were first getting involved and Gemma had been openly and skeptically critical where Anne had been all smiles to try to make you at ease. The Senior Styles Sibling’s sullen and surly stare was old hat for you.

“Hey,” you said when she opened the door.

Gemma nodded, dark hair curtaining her face, eyes bright — in contrast only if not color — but no less intimidating underneath her strong brows. “Do you want to come in?”

The house was warm and you kicked your trainers off, the canvas soaked through to the socks.

“Made you a cup of tea,” she said. “It’s in the living room.”

“Thanks.”

You stepped around a cat and bent to run your hand over their tail on your way to the couch.

“Thank you for seeing me,” you said, settling into the plush cushions.

“Figured for something like my brother knocking you up again I should make the time.”

Gemma held a steaming cup out to you, but you froze.

“What? I—“

“You said you needed some advice,” she said. “We haven’t spoken since you shacked up with him again, and the last time you needed advice, you were either pregnant or thought you were.” She shrugged. “Plus, Mum nearly burst my eardrum with her hysterics.”

You stared and Gemma nodded towards the cup.

“It’s not got any caffeine in it,” she said. “Figured you’d want to save your allowance for when you’re desperate. And I’m going to burn my hand off if you don’t take it soon, so—“

You grabbed it from her and held the handle gingerly, inhaling the peppermint scent wafting through the air.

“So,” Gemma said, sitting back. An offended meow interrupted followed by her cat springing onto her lap, and the animal settled after kneading their mama’s thighs a few times. “What’s he done now?”

Half a beat passed. “He said we aren’t in a place for a baby.”

“Are you?”

“Whether we are or aren’t, there is one.” You swallowed back a lump in your throat.

“Does he know?”

“Wasn’t keen on telling him when he all but said he didn’t want one.”

Gemma fixes you with a look over her cup. “That’s not true.”

“He said—“

“You swore he wouldn’t want one last time, either,” Gemma said. “And he was the happiest he could be when you told him.”

“He said he wanted time just the two of us,” you said. “Think a baby might throw a wrench in those gears.”

“He’s got nine months to prepare,” she said. “That’s nine months of time, and then after that, boom, baby.”

You took a deep breath and regretted it instantly when the peppermint fumes burned your nose and your stomach curled.

“Do you really think that man would be upset if you said you were giving him another child?” she asked. “He loves babies. He loves his babies more than anything.”

“I’m going to be sick,” you whispered, setting the cup down with a thunk and careening off the couch. The toilet was too far, but you made it to the bin in the kitchen just in time, and you coughed and retched, turning up what little you’d managed to choke down from breakfast.

Not seconds later, a hand rubbed your back, and you took deep breaths before warbling, “Don’t know if peppermint agrees with me this time.”

“I’ll toss it,” she said. When you were sure you were done, you straightened up, gulping, and made for the sink.

“Thanks,” you said weakly, turning on the tap. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok.”

You rinsed your mouth out, and when you were done, you turned and leaned against the sink.

“I don’t want to ruin it,” you said softly. “I… God, I don’t want to ruin anything for him, I’ve done that enough.”

“What else?”

You looked at her, but Gemma blinked.

“You know what,” you said.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. Can’t know for sure unless you say it.”

Heart pounding, you met her unflinching gaze, the cool look in her eyes making a chill roll down your spine.

“I walked out on him.”

“You did,” Gemma agreed quietly. “Really fucked him up.”

Heat flooded you and you gripped the edge of the sink. You shouldn’t expect her to miss her chance, however gracious she was being.

“But all he wanted back was you, and he took you back the first chance he got,” she said. “I don’t think there’s a thing you could do that would put him off, and a baby would be the least of it.”

You took a deep breath.

“He’s always wanted more children with you,” she said. “He told me that. Oh, yeah,” she said when you looked at her. “Loads of times. Mostly when he got pissed after his weekends were up. You wouldn’t be ruining anything for him, love.”

Eyes stinging, you struggled to open your mouth with the confidence you’d be comprehensible. “I just… want him to have what he wants,” you said. “Whatever that is.”

“What he wants is you,” Gemma said. “Look. Your hormones are haywire, and you can’t see it, but you’re overreacting. What he wants is his family, and you’re giving him that. So, come on.”

You huffed.

“Rip the bandaid off and tell him. The sooner he knows, the better. He’s only gonna get himself in trouble with the tabloids trying to shut them down in the meantime.”

Staring at a speckled spot on the tile, you whispered, “Missed this.” When you glanced up at her, Gemma’s mouth was set but her forehead was smooth and her brows were uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah, well….”

You cracked a smile before she went on.

“Meant it when you said you’d always be my sister,” she said. “You fucked up a little, but so did he. If it’s sorted between you both then I’ve not got much more of a leg to stand on, have I?”

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” you said. “I was--”

“I love my brother, but he’s a prick sometimes,” she said. “Mum knows it when she can take her rose-colored glasses off long enough to see it. Anyone could tell he was leaving you too much, I just think….” Gemma shrugged. “No one expected you to go quite so far.”

You plucked the edge of the countertop with your nail and bobbed your head. “Me neither.”

“Just don’t do it again.” For the first time, Gemma’s voice was thick with emotion. “Rat him out to me and I’ll kick his ass. D’rather not lose my sister and my brother again, if you don’t mind.”

Mreow.

You laughed wetly and sniffled, wiping your nose and looking at the cat winding between Gemma’s legs.

“Told you it’s not polite to interrupt.” Gemma bent to scoop them up. “Come on, let’s all of us get something nicer to drink.”

***

The flat was quiet when you returned, and your chest was tight when you wove your way through it in search of him. A quick peek inside your son’s bedroom showed him fast asleep on his bed for his nap, and you backed out to quickly pad down the hallway.

His father was in bed with his laptop propped on his thighs, still in his pajamas, ankles crossed.

“Thought I heard you come in,” he said before looking over the top of the screen, squinting eyes relaxing.

You smiled thinly and unzippd your hoodie before throwing it in the laundry hamper by the dresser.

“Good walk?” he asked and you nodded.

“Was good,” you said. “Had a good talk.”

He arched an eyebrow but you shuffled closer and bent to kiss him. “I’m going to shower,” you said.

The hot spray took the London chill out of your bones, and you kept yourself wrapped in your towel when you returned to the bedroom.

“Did you have a good afternoon?” you asked on your stroll around the foot of the bed.

“Finished the book,” he said. “Don’t think he knew what was happening with it by the end he was so tired.” Harry chuckled and you smiled.

“Think he just likes hearing your voice,” you said.

“Can put a CD on for him….”

“Harry.”

“Maybe get a couple of streams up online. Rack my numbers up some, manipulate the charts….”

You rolled your eyes and he snickered, shutting his laptop while you moisturized your arms and legs.

“Where’d you go?” he asked.

You looked at him and then your fingers again. “Gem’s.”

He was silent, and you knew that was one of the last answers he’d expected.

“Did I do summat?” he asked at last and you shook your head.

“No,” you said. “Just needed to talk to her.”

Harry nodded. “I do that sometimes,” he said, and your heart twinged, the image of him drunkenly droning to his sister about everything he wanted but couldn’t have fresh in your mind. Heaving a sigh, he set his laptop on the bedside table. “Finally got a hold of Jeffrey,” he said. “He’s gonna see what he can do.”

Now or never, right? Well, not never, per se — sooner or later, a bump would make itself known.

“You should call him back.”

Harry cocked his head and you blamed his confusion on the pinched way the words came out. You clearer your throat before looking him head on. “You should call him back,” you said, “and tell him not to do anything.”

It was so quiet that not only could you hear a pin drop, but your son’s tiny tosses and turns in his room down the hall. Harry’s brow furrowed a little deeper with each passing second, and your eyes welled until tears spilled over, heart pounding in your trembling fingertips. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he cleared his throat, but his simple, “Love?” was still gruff and cracked at the end.

You huffed but nodded curtly and he closed his own watery eyes. Hands fisted in the duvet, he took deep breaths, nose and cheeks turning progressively redder.

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” you whispered after a particularly sharp inhale. “And then you said we weren’t in a place….”

He opened his eyes, red to go with the rest of him by that point, and shook his head.

“Dunno if we are or we aren’t, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t—“ his voice broke again and you choked a whimper down. “Did you think I—?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and just like that, the dam broke. The anxiety over telling him had increased tenfold with not knowing how he’d react, and now that you’d told him, the pressure was off, at least proverbially.

The sheets rustled and the bed creaked before he wrapped your shaking shoulders in an embrace. You sobbed into his neck — ugly, sucking sobs that made you cry harder, because you weren’t even that upset, it was just… relief. You were so, so relieved to tell him and that he’d taken it….

Harry cupped the back of your head and rocked you slightly.

“I didn’t want to cry this time….”

Harry shook underneath you, and it was only when you heard his chuckle you realized it was from humor and not emotion.

“It’s not funny!” you wailed.

“Gonna do this to me every time?” he asked. “Know we can never tell any of ‘em, right? ‘Mumma’s nose ran away from how upset she was—’”

“I’m not,” you choked. “I’m not up—”

Your breath hitched and for the first time since your anxiety had gotten the better of you — for the first time since you’d peed on that stick and felt nervous from the idea of telling him — you felt it. Happiness. Pure, unbridled joy, because you were having a baby with the man you loved. The father of your son was going to be the father of your baby, and you couldn’t be more thrilled if you tried.

“We’re having a baby,” you whispered.

Harry squeezed you tighter and kissed the top of your head. “My baby and me,” he murmured and you sniffled. He pressed several more kisses to your hair. “Gotta call off the hunt.”

“Later,” you said into his neck and he nodded.

Just like the first time, he tucked you in bed and crawled in after, arm around your waist and head on your breast. Your son would be up soon, but you were so… so tired.

It was only his gentle kisses to your belly that pulled you from your doze. You cracked your eyes and looked down at the top of his head, bun askew, and watched him pressing ones that were so soft you could barely feel them while he kept one palm spread wide. When you scratched the base of his neck, his eyes snapped to you, and you could see how pink they were and how the tip of his nose matched.

“Can’t ever tell them.” You cleared your throat and smacked your lips. “Daddy’s nose ran away from him.”

Rather than retort, Harry snuffed a laugh, but he nodded, eyes welling. You rubbed the back of his neck and reached for his bicep, and after a few tugs he crawled up your body to sprawl out next to you.

“You’re going to make an amazing dad.” An echo of a conversation from a lifetime ago between the same two people who were somehow entirely different.

“Gonna….” Harry paused. “Gonna be an amazing mum. I wouldn’t… wouldn’t want anyone— anyone else to….”

You turned into him and after searching for his mouth for a moment, you kissed, the first kiss since you told him. You could feel his emotion pouring into you, and you rolled back, pulling him with you, and he tensed above you.

“Is this—?”

“Yeah….” You cradled each cheek with your palm. “Yeah… yes, please….” You exhaled slowly. “Just want to be close for a bit.”

“S’the door locked?” he asked. “Hang on, I’ll….”

He clambered off you and tested the knob before flicking the lock, and when he climbed back in bed with you, you pulled his jumper up, shivering when his warm, bare skin touched yours. His pajamas were next, but even when he was naked, there was no rush. You gulped for air even as he sucked patches of your skin into his mouth. He was everywhere, yet nowhere, and when he finally shifted and pushed inside, you gasped under your breath.

“Ok?” he asked, voice shaking even more than his arms. You nodded and he adjusted again before sinking in with some control. “Shit—!”

Harry trembled, and you stroked the back of his neck. “It’s ok,” you whispered. “I’m ok….”

Gradually, Harry adjusted until he was on his forearms and his chest was against yours as he thrust gently, shallowly. Sweat trickled down your back and between your breasts, and you breathed deeply over his shoulder but kept your legs hooked up high around his waist. This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t, it was…. Making love sounded too dismissive for what this was, but it was the closest you way you could think to describe it when he was actively distracting you from finding anything better.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “Y’like… so amazing.” His breath hitched and he shuddered, slowing to a stop, but there was no telltale wet feeling that followed. Rather than whine, though, you raked your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed the shell of his ear. Despite his efforts, he was heavy on top of you, and it was all you could do to keep breathing, but asking him to move off you was a non-option — not now.

When at last he did, though, you rolled with him until you were both on your sides, limbs tangled and his pelvis still pressed tightly against yours after some adjustment. Breathless in a new way, you smiled lightly when he grabbed your wrist and pressed a kiss just inside it and trailed new ones over your palm and fingertips. “M’sorry,” he mumbled, lips pulling at the corners with his quiet laugh. “M’sorry, I c-can’t—”

“I know,” you whispered, breath catching in your throat and corking a joke about how it wasn’t enough you were keeping his bun warm in your oven, but now you had to keep his cock warm, too. “It’s ok.” You pressed your forehead to his and scratched his cheek lightly. “It’s nice just to….” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “To be close.”

“Yeah.” Harry closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and his cheek dimpled with his grin. “Shit. We’re havin’ a baby.”

You laughed. “With ten fingers.”

He looked at you then, eyes clear and warm, and in that moment? You didn’t know how you’d ever doubted he’d be anything other than happy. Never had he ever looked at you with so much love you could touch it.

“And ten toes,” he said. “And a baby mouth, and two eyes—” He touched your nose. “And a nose just like their mumma’s.”

“I love you.” Your eyes welled up again, but rather than hide them from shame, you sniffled openly.

“I love you, too,” he said, pulling you closer and running his hand along your back. “I’ll always love you — doesn’t matter what I do or don’t do, what I say or don’t.”

“I know.” You swallowed back a lump in your throat. “I know that now.”

Harry touched your chin. “Not gonna leave you alone in this. I promise. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Gemma’ll kick your ass if you drive me away again.” You choked on your laugh and he kissed your forehead.

“Don’t doubt it.”

#harry fanfic #harry one shot #harry x reader #harry blurb #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #original writing #permanentcross #permanentcrossfic

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fluorescentpipedream · 4 years ago

Text

David Bournecelli

Dimitri frowned as he crouched beside his cousin David as the boy seized. With one hand resting on the younger boys’ shoulder to slightly hold him in place, Dimitri’s eyes shifted from David to his father Liam, and then back down again. David’s back was arched and his arms were prone across his chest, he appeared to be in pain with his eyes fluttering and his breathing coming in labored gasps. Spittle was forming in the corner of his mouth when Liam urged Dimitri to roll the boy over onto his right side.

“He tends to vomit during or after.”

Dimitri frowned and rolled the boy over slightly onto a small blue pad that was lying beside him, though all that came out was the foam in his mouth. The seizure lasted about a minute and a half, David’s breathing slowed and his cousin loosened his grip as he felt his body relax. Dimitri pushed David’s brown hair back on his head and sat back on his heels, looking up at his father.

“He has those often?”

“They’re sporadic, and sometimes worse.”

“Damn.”

After a few minutes longer sitting with him, Liam and Dimitri retired into the kitchen to talk a bit more, leaving the boy with his nurse. On any normal day, David would be able to get himself cleaned up but at the moment he leaned heavily on the aid who pulled him up into a sitting position. Once he was sure David wasn’t going to fall over again the other man started cleaning up the blue pad and asked the more embarrassing question of whether he needed a change of clothes this time. David shook his head before dropping it into his hands, curling his fingers into fists before relaxing again. He was doing so well.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat he gestured for the other man to help him to his feet, which he did and half followed the boy to the closest bathroom, staying close but not too close. Stumbling into the room, David grumbled slightly, unable to make his hands do what he wanted them to before giving the aid a sad look. He felt like a lost puppy, needing someone to help him use the bathroom for Christ sake! The nurse, Tony, only gave him a sympathetic look before helping him get his pants down so he could at least do that. Leaning forward slightly so he didn’t make any more of a mess of things David stared down at the floor. Tony was leaning against the sink, ready to help him move again if he needed it, but otherwise giving him a little privacy.

“Hey...at least you made it this time”

“Mmf”

Tony laughed but it was an uncomfortable sound, like he didn’t know how to react. Considered David was 19 years old and had to wear diapers because of his brain damage and the resulting seizures, making it once was an accomplishment. Even if it felt minuscule.

“Hey...you okay if I leave you alone a minute? I’m gonna go get you a change of clothes.”

David shrugged, taking hold of the handle beside the toilet in case he fell off of it, and turned his head away from the door. Tony wasn’t gone long, and seemed surprised when he came back and found David standing at the sink, though leaning heavily against the counter.

“Got your hands washed?”

He nodded and ran a slightly wet hand through his hair. It took him a minute but David realized Tony was holding a clean henley and a pair of pajama pants.

“Looks like Syl got your Pokémon ones back, I found the black shirt with the yellow stripe you like too. You wanna get a bath? It might make you feel better”

David took a breath, trying to find a word but one never came. Instead he nodded and gave Tony a surprisingly happy smile, given the situation. As his nurse started the water he pulled a small, flat blue chair out of the closet and snapped it in place in the tub. David had a hard time standing or even holding himself up at times, the seat was padded and anti slip so he couldn’t slide off of it. He had used a shower chair the first day he was here but had fallen off of it. If it wasn’t for the damaged pride and embarrassment the situation might have been funny.

His bath was uneventful. Tony sat on the closed toilet seat after pulling the shower curtain a little to give David a little privacy at least and had really only helped him when he’d gotten in and back out. Lately, his uncle Liam had been helping him with this, every other night after all the other carers had gone home, but it was kind of nice listening to music and Tony telling him about his girlfriend, Samantha and their plans.

“You sure you want to hear the trials of Christmas shopping in Times Square?”

David leaned forward enough that Tony could see his nod, before pushing himself back again. The story was mundane but it was still something David felt that normal people might do when they’re talking to a friend. Probably not while the friend was naked in a bathtub but...it was something. Once David was clean, he leaned forward again and showed Tony his hands, once again trying to find the words but not being able to.

“Turnin into a prune, are we?” David narrowed his eyes but Tony only laughed, grabbing an oversized towel which he wrapped David in when he managed to push himself up. “Score two for today, you’re doing pretty well, man”

Can’t normal people get themselves out of a bathtub without help?! David thought, but could only shrug as he was helped onto the toilet seat. Tony had a hair brush, a pair of underwear with one of the double thick pads already inside and his pajamas. David frowned at the pad but put it on, just in case. His clothes were a little big on him but that was how he liked it, especially when the cuffs of his sleeves went over his hands. Ariel had called them sweater paws and he hadn’t been able to get that out of his head since.

Once dressed, Tony helped him put on a pair of anti skid socks and followed David back out of the room, though after seeing the boy was okay, he returned to clean up the bathroom. David used the wall to help him stand up and curled part of his sleeve around his right hand before putting it in his mouth, biting on just the corner. Using the wall to guide him, David shambled into the kitchen where his uncle and cousin Dimitri were still talking and apparently it was about him because when he came in, they both stopped and turned their attention to him. Liam stood and wrapped David up in his arms, giving him a calming hug. For his part, David leaned into the older man and nodded to Dimitri before exiting the room again. He wasn’t more than a few steps out when they’d started talking again.

“So, what happened to him? Why is he like that?” He heard Dimitri ask. David sighed and slowly made his way to the living room where he found one of the girls, Ariel, sitting beside his blanket.

“I put your blanket in the dryer for a few minutes to make it more comfortable for you...do you want to help me with my beading again?” David smiled softly and nodded, sitting cross-legged on the weighted blue and green blanket and waited patiently for Ariel to get out the wire and beads for him. In the kitchen, he could still hear the two talking but it was somewhat muffled by the soft Christmas music that was playing on the radio across from them.

---

Liam sighed, picking up a cup of coffee before answering his son. “I found out about David only a few months ago, and in that time, we haven’t been able to find out much. He has the birthmark common in members of our family that can shift, but I’ve yet to see him actually manifest an animal form. I’m afraid the electro-shock and abuse he suffered at the hands of my brother might have destroyed any chance he’d have.”

“He’s never changed?”

“Not that I’ve seen. I think the mark may be the reason he was in that horrible hospital in the first place. His “treatment” there made him violent and prone to those seizures. Poor boy can’t even speak.”

“At least you and Sylvia have him now.”

“True.”

“And we love him like a son.” Sylvia sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, shaking her head softly. “He seems to have taken a liking to Ariel, and she’s been bringing him out of his shell a little. David’s such a shy boy.”

“I’m still convinced that if he could find a way to channel his form it might help him, but I have no idea how we’re supposed to trigger it. Most just do it automatically.”

Dimitri frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to wrack his mind about how he might be able to reach his cousin. “I may be able to do it, but I’ll need to talk to him.”

“I’m not sure he can speak.”

“Then we’ll have to do it another way. Is he open to telepathy?”

Liam started to say something then stopped. “I’m not sure...I talk him on occasion as the sheep dog, especially when he’s having a rough spell, but I’m not sure if he’s aware that he can communicate to me through his mind.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Dimitri excused himself from the table and walked into the living room for a moment, watching his cousin and Ariel as they were working on multiple branches of a wire tree. David had started working with Ariel a few months ago when she had come in from helping Rebecca with something outside and found him playing with her wires and beads. He’d mostly just been restringing the same four beads over and over until she had sat down and showed him how to make little limbs of the tree. He enjoyed it enough that she had helped him start making his own tree and in time it became something that the two of them would do together. It was calming and quiet and there was no way to really make a wrong type of tree. Dimitri was watching them for a few minutes before he interrupted Ariel’s school drama story to speak to David.

“Hey sweetheart, can I have a minute with David?”

“Um...yeah sure. Do you want me to clean this stuff up?” She gestured at all the cut wires and bead chips but Dimitri shrugged.

“No, it’s fine, I just need to borrow him for a moment.”

“Okay.” Ariel leaned in and lightly kissed David’s cheek, making him smile up at her as she left the room. Dimitri moved over to where David was on his blanket and knelt down in front of him.

“I don’t think we were properly introduced, my name is Dimitri...I’m Liam’s son.” And one of Rebecca’s friends, and the alpha of his family... For his part, David rolled his head to one side before raising it and gave Dimitri a soft nod, acknowledging him and his introduction. He had tried a few times to pick up sign language but he could never remember all of it, so he’d just stuck with the app on his phone. Unfortunately, that was in his bedroom.

“I know you have a hard time talking...I want to try something, if you’ll let me?”

In the course of talking to his father, Dimitri had learned that David didn’t like to be touched by hardly anyone and if someone did touch him, he had a tendency to react violently. David sighed and put down the wire he’d been twisting and looked up at Dimitri, nodding his head. He was a little annoyed he’d been interrupted and was expecting his cousin to talk at him, like so many people had before.

“Lay back on the blanket, I’m going to put my hands on either side of your head.” David raised an eyebrow but scoot back and did as he was told, turning his head towards the Christmas tree, staring at the bright lights dancing among the ornaments. Dimitri moved and did exactly as he told David he was going to, crouched down near him with his hands on either side of the boy’s head and closed his eyes.

“Just relax...this is how we’re going to talk.” It was sort of like a dream walk, David closed his eyes and settled back on his blanket, his head still turned towards the tree but resting slightly against his cousin’s socked foot. Dimitri closed his eyes as well. “Try to think of a room, or somewhere we could talk...anywhere you want.”

David thought for a moment before the room started to take shape in his mind. It almost resembled the room they were currently in, but a lot bigger and emptier. There was a couch that seemed like it was further away than it actually was and a large window with snow plastered against the panes. Dimitri smiled though kept his eyes closed. In his mind, David was sitting in the window seat, looking out at the snow and wearing a large knitted sweater and a pair of black pants.

“There you are...”

“What did you want to talk about?” David’s inner voice was clear and direct, something that made Dimitri happy to hear.

“You...mostly. Do you know what happened to you?”

“I know I have two brothers...one of them ran away because he was put in the same place I was, because he’s different, like I am too.”

“So you know?”

“I know I’m strange.” In the front of the mental image of David appeared a floppy ear grey rabbit. Dimitri raised an eyebrow and crossed the large room quickly, looking down at the animal before he raised his eyes back up at David. “I think this is me,” He said, without even needing to be prompted. Dimitri lightly scratched the rabbit’s head before turning to face his cousin again. “But I don’t know how to make it work.”

“It can be hard the first time... Especially with everything you’re dealing with.”

“I don’t want to get stuck...but the man I am in my head isn’t the man I am. And...I don’t know what to do with that either.”

“The man you are in your head....this is you David...”

“I can’t talk when I’m awake.”

“That was probably because of what happened to you but you are still this person...and it’s not impossible to become this in that world...”

“How do I become the rabbit?”

“I’m not really sure how to make the transformation happen, all those that can are usually just able to imagine themselves as their animal and they become it.”

“What about you?” David looked up at Dimitri with wet green eyes flecked with gold. Dimitri looked at him for a moment and straightened himself up, thinking about the massive wolf form he held. He was the alpha of the family, and in such was a massive grey wolf/man looking creature. The creature materialized behind him and Dimitri smirked. “This is me.”

“Scary.”

“Yes...it can be. But I’m the alpha in our family, taking over for my father.”

“But he’s a sheepdog.”

“Now he is, when he was younger, my father was a large white wolf like this one. He changed his form to something more suitable to his age and personality.”

“You can do that?” David looked down at the rabbit, trying to imagine it as something else but as much as the image shuddered, it never changed. He made a frustrated noise in the conscious world and tried to pull his head away form Dimitri. Relaxing his grip only slightly, Dimitri lightly rubbed on his cousin’s head to calm him.

“It’s something you learn later. Why do you think you’re a rabbit?”

“I-I don’t know. I just think I am.”

“Well...the symbolism of a rabbit is vulnerability, kindness and always being aware of your surroundings, I guess that’s what you prefer to be.”

“Vulnerable and anxious. Great.”

Dimitri laughed and the massive wolf laughed too.”

“Please don’t do that...” David had shirked back from the wolf and in the waking world he tensed up again, his hands suddenly flexing and curling into tight fists. Dimitri slowly let his grip on his cousin fade carefully, since he was getting upset. Leaning back from him, he lightly brushed David’s hair from his face and gently shushed him.

“It’s okay...you can open your eyes now..”

David opened his eyes and blinked a few times tears forming in the corners and pushed himself away form Dimitri. In his mind, that massive wolf was still there, bearing down on him. He looked up at Dimitri and made a face before shaking his head.

“What’s wrong, David?” Dimitri frowned and attempted to close the gap between him and David but when the younger boy tried to push himself further away only to fall over in a huff, he stopped.

“I’m sorry...I wasn’t trying to scare you. I had hoped we could talk like that.”

“N...N” Dimitri suddenly looked at him and gave him a soft smile, he was actually trying to speak. David didn’t finish the word, hoping Dimitri could get the jist of ‘no’ without him having to push it that far. He curled up on the edge of the blanket, hiding his face behind his arms and waited for the silence to return...there was a ringing in his ears again and he felt like the world was going to swallow him whole. While this was going on, Ariel had come back again and looked between the two before kneeling beside David and lightly touched his hair.

“I think you scared him, Dimitri....I think you should leave him alone now.” David nodded under her soft touch and curled tightly in on himself. Dimitri let out a sigh and nodded, starting to get up again but laid his hand on David’s waist, softly rubbing on him.

“I’m sorry, David.” Dimitri left the living room again and looked at his Syl and his father. “I ended up scaring him instead...I think he’s able to speak but not willing to though.”

“Did he say anything?”

Dimitri shrugged, sitting back down at the kitchen table again. “He’s a gray rabbit, vulnerable and shaky, afraid of everything including his own shadow.” Liam dropped his head and shook it, leaning back in the chair and watched as Ariel was carefully trying to get David to relax again, slowly rubbing on his back so he’d calm down.

“I can see it. I suppose we’ll have to try something else.”

“Leave him be, both of you. We know now he does have a form, we’ll either get to see it one day, or we won’t. But pushing him is only going to make it harder on him. David suffered through his entire childhood, he’s only been here for a few months, he might come out on his own but trying to break him down isn’t going to help anyone.” Sylvia said as she set down a fresh cup of coffee for Dimitri. The two men leaned back again, watching David slowly unravel himself, laying his head in the younger girl’s lap as she played with his hair.

“I suppose you’re right, love.”

“He did say one thing...the man he is in his head, isn’t the man he is. I’m not sure what that means”

Liam shook his head. “I’m not sure either...what did his mental form look like?”

“Exactly the same.”

---

With his head in Ariel’s lap, David chewed on the cuff of his shirt, his eyes open and wearily stared at the bright lights of the tree across from him. He wasn’t feeling well and having someone in his head hadn’t helped much with the static sound taking over his hearing. The garou form had scared him more than it should have and he felt like a trembling little creature, not a rabbit anymore but a little field mouse, scared of the giant animal that was trying to eat him. He felt far away from where he was, though could still pick up the soothing circles Ariel was rubbing on his shoulder and side. Letting out a shaky breath, he felt tears finally falling down his cheeks and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the soft lullaby Ariel was singing. She had been abandoned by her family too, not because she was broken but because she liked magic and seemed to be a natural witch. In a way, David could feel it coming off of her, consistent waves of comfort rolling over him like a gentle wave. The tension in his shoulders started to fade as he took in a slow deep breath, the static starting to fade from his hearing.

#character #solo #harry styles

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sandyanusha56-blog · 4 years ago

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