#I only saw the movie once last night so I hope this stream of consciousness is accurate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rocketmuse · 3 years ago

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I thought I'd share my playlist for the anniversary of the boathouse kiss. :)

Song translations, MANY thoughts, and timeline under the break.

Noise warning for song 19, Hinahanap-Hanap Kita. 4:23 to the end. Loud high pitched beeps.

YouTube music version to be made soon.

Translations for foreign songs:

Ewan [Dunno] — Apo Hiking Society — Filipino/Tagalog

Amour plastique [Plastic love] — Videoclub — French

Panalangin [Prayer] — Apo Hiking Society/Moonstar88 — Filipino/Tagalog

Hinahanap-Hanap Kita [I'm Looking For You] — Rivermaya — Filipino/Tagalog

This is a collaborative playlist made with my friend.

Thought Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy would be a good starter song. Something about the music. Represents a good start of Alec persuing Maurice, like, hey, I can be yours... Whatcha doin'?

I added Puppy Princess because of the chorus but I know some people don't like that song so... You can skip if you'd like. KISS MEEEEE KIISS ME WITH YIIR EYESSS CLOSED . ALL I WANT IS YOU YEAH YOU. TELL ME I'M NOT FUNNY TELL ME I'M LEGIIIIT

Ewan. OH MY GOD this song is so them. Alec cares for Maurice, and doesn't like not being taken seriously or being treated badly and brushed off.

"I don't know why you're like that, you're difficult to talk to and you're a snob" COME ON IS THAT NOT THEM — Just a smile from you, and I'll be in heaven. Please give me a response, anything but "No idea"... What a perfect representation of Alec's continuous persuit of Maurice, always talking, always trying...

I could go on with every lyric.

Edit: I just realised this song fits so well for Alec's letters and meeting at the museum. Must resist the urge to add the same exact track twice.

So about Touch Me... Some of the lyrics apply better in other versions. Spotify just has this version tho. Touch me, just like that.

All I've Ever Known. Maurice discovered so much that night about touch and sharing and being with someone. He wants to be with Alec. "All I've ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you too. [Hold you close, I don't wanna ever have to let you go. Hold you tight, I don't wanna to back to the lonely life.]" Alec opened up his eyes and he'll never be the same.

Can't Help Falling in Love With You. 'Did you ever dream you'd a friend, Alec? ... Someone to last your whole life...' 'Alec, you're a dear fellow and we've been very happy.'

I'd Like To Walk Around In Your Mind was added from Maurice's perspective. Perhaps it fits Alec too...

I think Love At First Sight has the double meaning of the literal title, as well as "wouldn't you like to kiss her" perhaps being... Something Maurice would hear.

I Don't Dance. Based on this post/edit. Please watch this video oh my God.

Pink in the Night. Alec yearns for Maurice in the boathouse. He hasn't come. He hears his heart breaking tonight.

Every lyric is perhaps pulled straight from Alec's brain, to be honest. I remember seeing a post with this song in other contexts with them too. So yes, a few meanings.

Amour plastique. Alec reminiscences on the night in the Russet room. Why hasn't he come?

In my mind, everything goes wild. I lose myself in your eyes. I drown myself in the vagueness of your loving gaze.

And at night I cry tears that stream down my cheeks. I think of you only when the days ends, only when my sad demons descend upon my mind, into the bottomless abyss.

Waiting in the boathouse at night, when the day ends.

I ring out in kisses all down your chest. Lost in the avalanche of my heart astray. Who are you? Where are you?

The moments of then repeat in his mind. Where is Maurice?

I suppose Hopelessly Devoted To You and I'm A Fool To Want You are self explanatory. Maurice should really come... Alec really toughed it out, 2 days he spent in the boathouse, really wanted to see Maurice, really knew they had something, and doesn't want to be treated like a dog. Generally, his 1st letter.

Moon Song. My friend said they added it as a general love song. — Why do you treat me like this? Why didn't you come to the boathouse? — Alec's 2nd letter as a whole. Plus bits of 1st.

And you pushed me in, and now my feet can't touch the bottom of you. ... So I will wait for the next time you want me, like a dog with a bird at your door.

Ewan would fit here tbh.

Panalangin. My only prayer in this lifetime: to be beside you, to be together with you, that's my prayer.

"I since cricket match do long to ... place both arms round you and share with you, the above now seems sweeter than words can say."

And this heart won't allow if you will be away from me, my love, please listen.

It also fits the end of museum.

I Want You. Maurice, can you come to the boathouse already? Alec has no power to teleport you there. I hold one card that I can't use.

I found you. I found the door, but when I stepped through, there was no floor. He found Maurice, bit he's not being here for Alec.

You're coming back And it's the end of the world We're starting over And I love you, darling And I am done, dear

Alec wishes this would happen. Also, he does come back later and they love again over, and "it is finished".

Credit for suggesting the next two songs goes to @beatle-capaldi!!! He also wrote was in quotations!

English Summer Rain

The Most Radical Thing To Do

Hinahanap-Hanap Kita. 1st letter, he's looking for Maurice. Thinking about them together.

In my thoughts and dreams, in every turn of destiny, I look for you. Also applies to that hotel/post-hotel feeling. I look for you, even if I try to forget you, saying goodbye, looking back...

Wildest Dreams. They think a lot of each other. They share once more. But they must say goodbye. Alec saw this coming. Maurice hopes that Alec will remember him like this.

I Hear a Symphony. Alec truly opened up Maurice's eyes. Maurice was meant to be with him. He helped Maurice, changed his life. But now Alec is leaving on ship... Or is he? The symphony leads into...

An orchestral sountrack. The Boathouse. Unfortunately the Maurice soundtrack is not on spotify. It's on my personal YouTube music version. I added it because it just captures the boathouse the only way the sountrack itself can.

The Word of Your Body (Reprise). MLM people have moment of romantic tension, which culminates in confessions of love. Just had to add it. "Haven't you heard the word of your body?" perfectly describes Alec gifting and showing Maurice the wonder of truest physical affection and love. He lets Maurice be okay with himself, and again, changes everything. Every lyric is perfect.

Also, sorry JBW, I like other versions more... Too bad Spotify is mean.

I See The Light. Yeah. Every lyric. Maurice is Rapunzel. Movie Blond too. Both the morning at Russet room and the museum. And the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything is different, now that I see you. "By now they were in love with each other consciously."...

Suddenly Seymour. Suddenly see more, yeah? Clive = ass and someone gives him affection for once, wow! Sidenote, I want to sing this with them and their accents... Suddenly SCUDDER...

Helpless. Musical theatre songs seem to be good retellings of their love story. It's why they belong in post boathouse. Summaries and retellings. They're also good at conveying love they'd feel for each other in general, all times ever. Like loving men, retelling a story.

I'll Cover You. Cute love song feat. gays. I like to imagine them dancing around, declaring their love and devotion for each other. Walking and dancing around like in the original scene, sometime post canon. In my own imagination, I thought of Alec as Angel and Maurice (Christopher) as Collins.

Video Games. They must love spending time together. I thought this to be Maurice POV. Only worth living if somebody is loving you I mean, come on.

It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do. I tell you all the time, heaven is a place on Earth with you.

Un sospiro. I headcanon that Maurice picks up the piano and plays for Alec. Perhaps he picked it up bc of/after Clive, but now can play it for someone who gives a shit.

Something about the melody reminds me of them. And then it gets more intense... A bit like the passions of love, showing up in sharing and touch and more, too.

Liebestraum. I mean, it means love dream/dream of love. I just had to. Also I just like Liszt.

Take Me Up With You, Dearie. This song is just so sweet... So soft... Edwardian to boot... I love how quintessentially 1909 it is. Discovered it in a YT video. The thought of them getting married makes me cry. This song in general makes me want to cry, it's so romantic, tender, and exudes my favourite era...

Let us float, float, float through the clouds, and just have a lot of fun. We'll go up, up, up as two and then come down as one.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder. We Belong Together. I always imagine Maurice and Alec slowdancing to songs that come on the radio together, when the 1950s hits... Alec probably rests his head on his shoulder as this plays and they dance...

I'm using a lot of ellipses, am I secretly Rupert Graves?

Welcome to the 70s and 80s. They love dancing together and being with each other. Now, Panalangin can be a happy song. My only prayer for this lifetime ... To be together with you. And this heart won't allow if you will be away from me.

Just the Two of Us. What a nice, vibey song. Great title, great scenario of them dancing to this...

Tiny Dancer. Your Song. MLM people in the 70s + Radio, being happy and in love with each other. — I just thought I should add some Elton. A different friend, and I, like him. Maurice sings to Alec, "And you can tell everybody this is your song." That I put down in words how wonderful life is with you in the world.

Electric Love. Fun fact: this song got me to share the playlist. Got me thinking about them and their anniversary again. The funky busy instrumental describes well their passionate love. The highs of electric LOOOOOOVE describe the intensity of them.

Alt text continued: themselves together under and the love. And the love. The song has its own tension and it perfectly pictures their own tension. So yeah, this is THEIR song quite literally.

Sorry if my music taste is perhaps basic. I just made it for when I hear songs that are Them.

Falling for Ya. Alec falls for Maurice. "I saw you when you first drove up, Mr Hall..." Something about Maurice, right? Plus really nice vintage vibes with the music. The bit about Into your arms and it's a secure sure sounds like Maurice. Awh, they're falling for *each other*...

Rainbow Connections. Gay and bi people. Marriage. Everything that Maurice and Alec went through to get here, where they were meant to be. Clive. Working for Clive. Leading up to now.

All the things that had to go right, all the things that had to go wrong, that lead us to the place where we were going all along.

On the YT version there's a soft/jazzy cover of Panalangin here. Because they're old and spending time together and being happy. What a throwback, a defined meaning in their lives over time.

Still Into You. After all these decades... Old and grown, together... True soulmates... Two men can defy the world... Maurice and Alec still roam the greenwood. Imagine Maurice meeting Alec's mom in this context. If only.

Postmodern Jukebox cover, because they are a quintessentially 20th century couple. They exude vintage.

Some piano playing for Alec. Soft, tender, romantic, emotional, true. Feels like nighttime. Feels like Maurice and Alec. And a throwback to the pre 1914 world as well. Claire de Lune feels like... A credits of life piece. Time spent in the early 1980s. Nocturne feels like that too, but more romantic. Smidge less nighttime. Ah yes, Gymnopédies. The truest credits feel of them all. None of these actually are credits for Maurice and Alec, but I struggle to find the word for this feeling. But yeah. These all have Them vibes to me. Piano of the time just does I suppose. Glad to be reminded of them at any time.

What a long playlist. Like going through almost their whole lives together. 1:52 hrs. Almost like a movie. Imagine that. A full movie of THEIR lives... But leaving to the imagination was a good thing. Led to this such action. Thank you E.M. Forster.

Timeline:

1. Pendersleigh

4. & 5. Russet Room. Night, then Morning

9. Cricket

10. Boathouse Nights

18. The Museum

20. The Hotel

21. After

23. The Boathouse

24. They Still Roam the Greenwood

I just like to imagine them dancing to songs on the radio, for decades to come...

#maurice 1987 #maurice 1914 #maurice #maurice hall #alec scudder #Spotify

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leelysian · 4 years ago

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Unwell

genre: slight angst with fluff ending, implied crush au, one shot

pairing: female reader x best friend!Minho

word count: 1.4k

context: you're terribly sick, you haven't told anyone but your best friend somehow knew something was wrong when you wouldn't reply to his numerous texts.

A/N: this may or may not have turned into a rant because I was sick for the past few days akskakdksks

Seasonal flus were the worst. Slightly chilly from hot or slightly warm from cold and suddenly your body decides, “You know what? I don’t vibe with this weather. I’ma just break down.” You had a mild fever and a cold. While the fever was mild, it was annoying because you weren’t sick enough to just pass out for hours and having a cold meant your nose either:

Dried up like the Sahara which ended up burning your sinuses and it felt like your skull was on fire.

Got blocked like the path between the North and South Korea; nothing got in or out which meant breathing through your mouth which also dried up.

Runny like the Amazon river, there’s crumples of tissue paper all over your floor. Your nose was red, rough and raw from blowing so much, the delicate skin was irritated.

Here you were, slumped on your bed with the covers on top of you but a leg and an arm sticking out because it got too hot to be fully under the covers and too cold to be fully without. Sleep eluded you the previous night, you just couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t gonna happen. Somehow you’d fall asleep only to wake up a little while later, and end up tossing and turning in your bed. Because you were unsuccessful in your attempts to get a good night’s rest, you woke up with a pounding headache from your eyelids to the back of your head. Your whole body ached.

Leftovers in your fridge were finished so you forced yourself to get up and heat some instant noodles to eat with your meds. Water tasted bitter. Your appetite vanished. Eating was agonising because afterwards you felt suffocated, an invisible pressure on your torso prevented you from breathing fully, your lungs not taking in air fully so your breaths were short. Hell, peeing was a chore. At least you weren’t on your period, maybe if that happened, you’d actually die. Imagine having to frequently change pads/tampons and underwear while feeling like you got ran over by a truck. Were you overreacting? Maybe. But it was allowed at this point.

So in short, you were suffering since the past two days. You were absolutely miserable. You wanted to cry but crying meant your nose getting runny then eventually blocked and then a headache so you sucked it up. You brought a hand to your head to massage your head because it hurt, grimacing by the tangles and the grease. You reached for your phone, unlocked to see various social media notifications which you cleared and messages from your friends which you also elected to ignore and reply to later. Playing a playlist with slow music with medium volume and dropped it back on the bed, you closed your eyes and let the soft melodies flow into your ears in hopes of helping you forget about your headache once again. This is how you held on to your last shred of sanity but you failed to hold on to your consciousness and fell into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up to a cold compress on your forehead, your room clutter and mess free, the windows open and something nice smelling. You thought you were dreaming when a face you know all too well walked into your bedroom with a bowl. “Minho? what are you doing here? Get out. I’m sick, you’ll get sick too.” you rasped. “Well, about time you acknowledged my existence, even if it’s to tell me to get out. I should’ve been here earlier, maybe it would’ve been helpful if you told me you were dying in your pigsty of a room.” he snapped. He put the bowl on your nightstand, you realised it was water, he was probably going to replace the cold compress.

“You look terrible.” he said. “Gee, thanks.” you retorted. “You need a shower.” he advised. “Nooooo.” you whined and snuggled further into the covers. “Come on, y/n, there’s no way you’ll get better if you feel disgusting. I’ll help.” He said and snatched the blankets. “Minho, stop. You’ll get my germs.” He sighed and rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry about it now come on.” he said and helped you sit up then suddenly with strength you didn’t know he had he carried you princess style to the bathroom and you yelped. “Jeez y/n you’ve lost so much weight.” he tsked. “Do you think you can wash your hair on your own?” he asked as he sat you down on the counter. “I’ll be okay.” you replied tiredly. “If you need help, just ask.” he said and adjusted the water temperature in the shower then left.

You took your time showering, the first five minutes just standing under the warm water which opened up your sinuses, having the steady stream of water beat down over your back and easing your sore muscles. You washed your hair slowly, so as not to tire your arms out. Stepping out of the shower, you felt immensely better, finally able to breathe a bit easier. Drying off, you wore your fluffy bathrobe and walked out to see a big shirt (one you ‘borrowed’ from Minho) and pajama shorts laid out on the bed. Thankfully, he didn’t lay out underwear for you. You dressed up and got settled back in bed, already tired again.

You unlocked your phone and saw the concerned texts from Minho because you weren’t answering them or his calls and felt guilty. A knock resounded from your door, “come in.” you said and Minho walked in with a tray. “Well well, finally I see y/n and not a corpse.” he teased. Whatever was on that tray smelled heavenly and your stomach rumbled. He put the tray down on your lap and he brought the back of his hand to your neck to check your temperature. “Hm, your fever has probably gone down but I think it’ll be back.” he notes. The whole time you stared at him. “Hey. I’m sorry I ignored your texts.” you said and twiddled with your thumbs, the guilt unbearable. He took your hands in his own, “It’s fine. I’m sorry for snapping. I was just worried and scared. I thought you actually died at first glance and I panicked.”

He turned to the tray and lifted the lid from the bowl, “It’s chicken rice porridge. Eat up and take your meds.” Your eyes were still downcast, “I can’t I feel horrible afterwards.” and you explained in detail. “It’s probably acidity, clearly you’ve been eating junk and it’s not sitting well in your stomach. This won’t cause you discomfort. At least eat a little bit. Please? For me? I made this for you.” he said and used the signature kitty eyes. You looked up and he’s already holding a spoonful of the warm concoction. You hated when he pulled the look on you, you could never say no to those eyes but then again you didn’t want to because that porridge looked pretty darn appetising. You opened your mouth and Minho fed you the gloopy goodness.

You could’ve just eaten yourself but you quite liked being pampered so you said nothing. Minho carefully spoon fed you the whole bowl, blowing delicately on the first couple of spoonfuls until the rest became tepid. Halfway through the bowl you felt full so you told him you didn’t want to eat anymore but he pulled the kitty eyes again, and now you’re stuffed. He handed you the glass of water and meds which you gulped down and went to clean up. He came back and stood awkwardly in your doorway. “You’re leaving already?” you asked sadly. “Do you want me to?” he asked back. “No grab my laptop and come watch Spirited Away with me.” you pouted. He smiled, got the laptop from your desk, grabbed one of the sweatpants he left from previous times he’s been to your place to change into, and then settled in bed next to you under the covers.

You took one of your many pillows and settled your laptop on it and settled back. “Hey, Minho?” you called. “Hm?” he enquired. “Thanks for taking care of me.” you smiled softly. He was going to say something snarky but decided against it and said, “It's alright.” About half an hour into the movie he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder and he looked bewildered to see you’ve fallen asleep on him, breathing softly. He turned off the laptop and placed it on the ground before wrapping his arms around you, placing your head over his chest and reclining back. He looked at your sleeping face with soft, adoring eyes and a gentle smile. He gently rubbed your back with one hand when suddenly you stirred and threw your arm over his stomach. Slowly, he too, drifted off to sleep with dreams of you and him together.

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miceandmonsters · 4 years ago

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Orc Boyfriend - Ronar

Male orc x female reader; 5.5k

friends to lovers; first time

You met Ronar first year of college, bonding during a particularly frustrating class taught by an elf who thought a tweed blazer made him a good teacher. What started as mostly the two of you attempting to teach yourselves the required material and swearing creatively, bloomed into your closest friendship during school--one that even lasted past graduation. It, of course, helped that you’d stayed in the same city, both finding jobs and setting up lives less than twenty minutes from each other. You texted or spoke nearly every day and hung out almost as often.

More than once, over the years, both of your families had wondered/pestered about why the two of you weren’t more than friends. Your response never varied over the years. Ronar would always shoot you a pointed look, and you’d return with an exaggerated eye roll that would make him laugh quietly, and the conversation would move on. What you had with Ronar was good. After seeing more than one of your friends from school marry and then end up broken-hearted but a few years later, you were grateful to have Ronar’s dependable, constant, warm presence in your life. And you were nearly able to convince yourself that it was enough.

Nearly.

It was the little things about Ronar that felt the most damning. His loose smile right when he was on the cusp of tipsy to drunk. How he held open doors and helped carry groceries and picked things from tall shelves for you and anyone else he ever came across in need of help. The way the artfully selected beads in his dark braided hair glinted in the sunshine. His ass in wet swim trunks--you were only human after all and you thanked every god you’d ever heard of that he was definitely not. His serious expression when he was concentrating on his work, eyebrows knitted together and one thumb idly pressing against a tusk. It all added up to you being helplessly fallen for your best friend.

You probably should have said something already. You probably should have said something five years ago, honestly. Because now it felt like there was too much momentum, you were going too fast, too steady to try and jump tracks now. Couldn’t seem to quite get that thought through your thick head, but you were working on it. Or at least trying.

In the meantime, however, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let your wildly inconvenient feelings compromise your friendship with Ronar. He obviously didn’t feel the same, but he was still very nearly the most important person in your life. So you were there for him, through thick and thin, doing your best to deny your heart and support him like he supported you.

You had plans to go see a movie together one night after work, when he texted you as you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

‘hey. would you be sad if i don’t want to go see that movie tonight?’

You frowned and dashed off a reply. ‘not really. everything okay?’

‘work was shit. dont feel like going anywhere.’

‘why don’t you come to my place? I can make spaghetti with pink sauce’

The little typing bubble appeared and disappeared a few times as you got out of our car and headed to your front door. Just inside your apartment, you got a reply.

‘i do like pink sauce’

‘see you soon’

You dropped your purse in its usual pile near the front door and headed to the kitchen, opening up the pantry cabinet to pull down--crap. You scoured through a few other cabinets, hoping that perhaps you’d just somehow overlooked or misplaced the required ingredients. Unfortunately, you had not. You were completely out. And there were only three ingredients to begin with. You dashed back to your purse and barely remembered to lock the door behind you before you ran to your car to go to the nearest grocery store.

Of course there were a million other people also trying to get last minute dinner supplies as well at the store. But you returned to your apartment in record time, noticing that Ronar’s car was parked a few spaces down. Thank gods you gave him the spare key when you moved in.

You stepped through the front door to find Ronar splayed across your couch, as if he’d crossed the threshold and taken all of five steps before dropping face first into the cushions. Bad day at work indeed.

“Hey, Ro,” you said in a low voice. There was some sort of muffled return of the greeting. “Had to stop by the store real fast… you good?”

His hand lifted up to form a thumbs up for a second, then dropped back down to its place on the carpet.

“Okay.” It would be amusing if he wasn’t miserable. You went into the kitchen and set about the familiar pattern of spaghetti and pink sauce. After a few minutes, Ronar wandered into the kitchen, frowning at life in general and still in his work clothes. You hardly ever saw him in a suit. It was a good look on him.

He joined you, leaning against the counter across from the stove, arm brushing your shoulder in the process.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, tipping your head to look up at him.

He loosened his tie and a long sigh. “Not really. Just… the usual bullshit.” He shrugged off his suit coat, tossing it and the tie haphazardly to your kitchen table.

You patted his arm. “That sucks. Do you… want a hug then?”

He looked over then nodded, wrapping you in a tight hug and tucking his face into your hair. Hugging your orc best friend was one part being wrapped in the most comforting grip you’ve ever known and one part trying to hold the sun. He was warm and solid and just absolutely the best hugger you’d ever met. You hoped that he found hugging you half as wonderful as you did and at least a little bit soothing. When you pulled back--his hands momentarily sliding across your waist, you noticed--he smiled down at you.

Yeah, you were totally doomed.

“So do you want to hear my plan for tonight?” you asked, turning back to the stove to stir the sauce and keep yourself from making all sorts of embarrassing giggling noises.

“Always,” he replied, coming to stand behind you and resting his chin on the top of your head.

You chuckled, but didn’t push him off. “This will be ready in about ten minutes or so. And I have ice cream in the freezer--it might be a lil freezer burned, but I think it’ll be okay. And I noticed yesterday that that show you like is now streaming.”

“Real Orc Wives of Forik City??”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh HELL yes!” He immediately thundered back into the living room. “It’s no Mountain Road Dwarf Truckers, but ROWFC is a classic.”

You heard the noises of him desperately searching for the remote and then the start up noise of your tv. Never down for long, that was Ronar. You smiled down at the sauce as you kept stirring, reminding your wayward, pattering heart that he was always like this.

Shaking it off, you pulled the cheese from the fridge, sprinkling a generous handful into the sauce. Then you pinched a bit more, tipping your head back to sprinkle it into your mouth.

“I saw that,” his voice came from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, grinning at him.

“You didn’t see nuthin’.” Then you took another pinch. He growled, tossing the remote aside, and jogged back to the kitchen, the obvious intention to steal what was rightfully yours in his eyes. “Nononono--” you protested, trying to block him by turning away and bending over to protect the valuable commodity. But he just leaned over you, laughing and easily engulfing you to snatch the cheese from your hands.

“Hah!” he proclaimed, triumphantly holding his prize over his head and out of your reach.

“That’s not very fair.” You rested your hands on your hips and frowned up at him as he grinned down at you.

“All’s fair in cheese and war.” And then he dumped half the bag in his mouth. Thinking of nothing but reclaiming the bag, you jumped up at him. Finding a foothold at his waist, you hauled yourself up over his broad shoulder as he continued to laugh. You reached for the bag that he was still holding out of your reach, but then--

Your foot slipped. The world lurched backwards. You gasped. Adrenaline shot into your bloodstream.

But Ronar’s large arm swung around your back, catching you before you slammed against the floor. His worried face filled your vision, eyes wide and terrified. For a moment that lasted a thousand years, you both just stayed frozen in that position--him bent over and holding you while you clung to him. Only the sounds of both your heavy breathing filled the air between you two.

Despite the nasty fall you’d almost taken, all your brain could notice was how close his face was. How close his face was, and how full his lips were. You bet that they’d be awfully nice to kiss, even better to nibble on. Your gaze darted from them up to his warm brown eyes and back down. Would he groan? Would he growl? Would he bite you back? Oh gods, you hoped he would.

Stop. This was your best friend, you couldn’t just--

All thought was immediately stopped as suddenly, without any warning at all, Ronar closed the short distance between you. It still took another full second for your mind to catch up with reality and spread the message to the rest of your consciousness that Ronar was kissing you. Ronar was kissing you.

You sucked in a startled breath. You were just starting to notice that his lips were every bit as gentle and supple as you’d ever imagined, when his eyes shot open and he pulled back with a soft ‘pop’. Your world reeled as he abruptly straightened up to standing, pulling you with him. It was all you could do to hold onto his broad shoulders and blink widely at him. Had that just actually happened?

“I’m so sorry,” he said, distraught and shaking a little. He put you back down on your feet and stepped back, hands running through his dark hair. “I don’t-- I shouldn’t have… oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He clapped a hand over his traitorous mouth and paced away, still stuttering half-apologies. You, meanwhile, had managed to finally put your head back on your shoulders. Ronar had kissed you. Ronar had kissed you. A very stupid grin spread across for your face for a moment, before you saw him still backpedaling and panicking. You grabbed his arm and made him face you again.

“Ronar!”

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. We can just pretend that never hap--” You stopped him by smacking your hand over his mouth.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you asked, your voice suddenly gone soft.

He stared down at you for a very long moment, you could see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the potential fall out for every answer. That feeling you certainly understood. But finally, thankfully, he nodded.

A smile broke out across your face. “Then shut up and kiss me.”

Ronar’s eyes went wider still, but he edged the final half-step towards you. His hand traced from your shoulder down to your elbow, your waist. Achingly slow, as if he was worried that he’d somehow spook you, his head dipped down towards you. Finally, your lips met in the kiss you’d spent years dreaming about. And it was better than you’d ever dreamed.

It started gentle, testing almost--wading slowly into this new world you both had apparently been wanting to venture into. But surely, you both relaxed into it, familiarity turning novel in the best way. His hands drifted back to your waist, but quickly slipped around to draw you fully into his arms. You traced your tongue across the seam of his lips, and they opened for you eagerly. The kiss immediately turned deeper, more demanding.

You finally gave in and caught that lucious bottom lip of his between your teeth. He let out a low throaty moan that would fuel your imagination for weeks and picked you up, holding you tight against him. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist as your fingers threaded through his thick, dark hair.

Dimly, you were aware that Ronar was carrying you through the apartment, making a beeline for your bedroom. Good. Any other destination and you might have had to stop kissing him. As it was, you didn’t stop as he kicked the door open, you didn’t stop as he sat down on your bed, and you didn’t stop as you pressed him back onto the mattress--ending up on hands and knees over him but still kissing.

He pulled you flush against him when he sat up after a minute. You hadn’t had a chance yet to change out of the dress you’d worn to work, so when he sat up you definitely noticed that he was already half-hard inside his slacks. Since he’d responded so well to your nibbling, you pressed your luck and ground against him. He groaned, and his hands moved down from your back to squeeze your ass. Oh gods yes.

Then he broke the kiss. “Is this… actually happening?” he asked, looking wide-eyed at you. You were both panting.

“Dear gods, I hope so,” you answered, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to his tusk and then down along his jaw. He melted momentarily under your attentions, but pulled back again far too soon.

“Do you… want this to happen?” His brows were drawn together in concern, and you could see more than a little trepidation hiding in his eyes. Your heart melted all over again.

You nodded and cupped his cheeks. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Despite the world-ending makeout you were halfway through with him, the confession came out a bit bashful. “I want you. All of you.”

A smile broke out across his face along with a breathless laugh. “I-- I thought it was… was just me.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“We’re both idiots, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly before he kissed you again, more exuberance than passion. But it was so wholly Ronar that you couldn’t help but love it. His hands drifted down to the hem of your dress and tugged upon it.

“Take this off then?” he asked, his voice gone just slightly rough.

You rested your arms on his shoulders, fingers twirling through his hair. “What’s the magic word?” you replied, smirking just a little.

He let out a half chuckle, half growl that shot straight to your core and was just entirely unfair. “Take this off now,” he ordered, hands dropping to the backs of your thighs, kneading the flesh slightly.

“Bossy,” you quipped as your toes curled. But you grabbed the hem and pulled the dress off in one fluid motion, tossing it away. His gaze swept over you, and he blew out a long, slow breath, shaking his head slightly.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he finally said, eyes meeting yours now. “Damn beautiful.”

You would have laughed, but he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat that somehow sucked all the air out of your lungs, out of the room, out of the world maybe even. His kisses trailed slowly south as his hands moved north from your thighs--squeezing your ass again, apparently he was fond of it--up your back to pull at your bra strap. Gods, yes. You were so eager to really get this party started. But he paused half-way through.

“Is this--” he started to ask.

“Yes!” You interrupted enthusiastically. He grinned and started to lean back towards you for more kisses. You noticed then that you were about to be nearly naked, and he was completely clothed. He kissed around the edges of your bra as you felt him undo the main strap. Somehow, despite his wondrous distractions, you unbuttoned his shirt, stumbling a little on the last few as he slipped your bra off your shoulders.

“Take this off,” you said, tugging on his shirt and not letting him pull your bra the rest of the way off.

“Now who’s bossy?” But he let go of you long enough to unbutton the last button and toss his shirt the way your dress had gone. You’d seen him shirtless a few times before, and it’d always made you weak in the knees. Thank goodness you were already sitting as the hard-packed muscle under deep emerald green skin came into view. You threw your bra off and ran your fingers through the smattering of dark hair in the center, taking in as much of him as you could in a long, quenching gaze.

“You look like you want to eat me,” he said in a quiet voice, half a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. You simply raised an eyebrow in response and thoroughly enjoyed the surprise that washed over his face followed by a low groan. “Why in the seven hells did I not say something five years ago?”

You pushed him back on the bed, kissing up his throat and jaw to catch the pointed tip of his ear between your teeth. His hands gripped your ass again. “Because we’re idiots, remember?” you purred into his ear.

“Right, I forgot.” Tracing your tongue over his ear made him murmur your name, fingers still kneading your flesh. Dipping down you indulged in another long held fantasy, biting his neck--not hard enough to even bruise, just enough to not be a kiss. He let out a toe curling growl and then unceremoniously, pushed you off him and abruptly stood up. You might have been worried that you’d somehow done something wrong if he hadn’t immediately started pulling off his pants.

They were about halfway down his hips when he noticed you looking, admiring really. He grinned. “Enjoying the view?”

You would have had a quip, you always did, if he hadn't dropped his pants right then, gifting you with the stunning view of All of him for the very first time. Very proportional, wonderfully toned, sweet-merciful-gods-was-he-actually-just-sculpted-from-marble All of him.

“Fuck,” you managed, staring wide-eyed.

He was so beautiful when he laughed. He was even more beautiful as he prowled up the bed towards you, intention burning in his eyes.

“Are you always commando under your work pants?” you asked, physically having to pull your eyes away from him for a moment.

“Does it turn you on if I say yes?”

“Yes.”

He cupped your face and gave you a look that made you know his answer was going to be snarky. “Sorry to disappoint you, I’m just between laundry cycles.”

You sighed and shook your head. “A crushing blow.”

He kissed your cheek. “How will you survive it?” Then your jaw.

“Barely, but elegantly.” Your ear. Your neck. Words were… more difficult, but you pressed on. “They’ll… they’ll make a Lifetime movie about me. Your aunt will want to watch it.”

He paused his trail down your body to grin up at you and laugh in his throat, affection in his gaze. Then he resumed his frankly miraculous work, settling down on his stomach before burying his face into your breasts with a contented sigh. For a long moment, he just remained there, kissing softly, his breath sliding across your skin. Then he lifted his hand and took your breasts gently in hand. He rolled the soft flesh under his palms, circling thumbs over your nipples. His expression was utterly enraptured.

“I’ve been wondering what you looked like, felt like for years,” he said in an nearly apologetic tone. Your response was cut off when he captured a nipple between his lips and suckled, before nipping ever so lightly, making you jolt up and gasp in response.

“Fuck, Ro.”

“Not yet. I want to savor this.” He punctuated his sentence by running his tongue from one breast to the other, making a very undignified whine come from the back of your throat.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

He answered by taking the other nipple in his mouth and sucking soundly while looking up at you. Damn, that should be illegal. Then he pulled back with a soft ‘pop��. “You love it.”

Your fingers threaded into his thick hair, and, in lieu of saying something terribly honest right now, you pulled him back up for a bruising kiss. He settled down next to you, and his fingers plucked at your underwear.

“You mind if I take these off?” he asked, running a finger just under the band.

“Please.” And finally the final barrier between you two was removed. He caught you in a deep kiss, tongue caressing over yours artfully, as the tips of his fingers traced up your inner thigh. His hand cupped you, making you groan into the kiss--it’d been so damn long since it was anyone else’s fingers down there but yours. Much less anyone that you’d wanted like him. Then he parted your folds, both of you sighing as he discovered how wet you already were. His forehead rested on your temple as he carefully mapped you, skimming and teasing and making you whimper all at the same time.

He started indirectly, taking the undulations of your hips and soft cries as guidance for how you wanted to be touched. You gripped his arm, curling in towards him. Gentle yet insistent, his fingers circled your clit, building sparks of pleasure that were quickly catching flame. But still, it wasn’t quite enough.

“Ro, please,” you whimpered, pressing a needy kiss to his jaw. “Please. I--I want you inside me.”

He shifted his hand so a thumb was pressed to your clit and you sighed a long breath as he slipped one finger inside you, thick enough to feel filled with just that. Still--

“Not what I meant,” you huffed, rocking your hips to set a tempo.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. “I know what you meant. We’ll get there. But I want to see you cum first.” You looked up, meeting his intense, hungry gaze. “I want to know that I was the one who made you feel that good.” That made you clench around his finger, and he sped up the pace a little more.

You were so close already, you could feel the coil tightening in your lower stomach. And though his plan sounded pretty damn good, you wanted to do something first. You wrapped a hand around his heavy cock that was trapped between you, and he groaned.

“Cheater,” he hissed, his hips bucking as his fingers stilled.

“You knew this already. You’ve played Battleship with me.”

“Longest Sunday of my life.”

In retaliation, he added a second finger inside you and pressed against your front wall, distracting you thoroughly from anything else other than his wonderful fingers.

“Ronar,” you cried, your voice quivering as a shudder ran down your spine. Nearly there--

“That’s it. Cum for me, love. Please.” Somehow it was the ‘please’ that finished you off. Your orgasm shot from your core, cascading down your limbs, making you clench and let out an inhuman noise as you quaked. But Ronar was right there, holding you through it, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you.

Till eventually, you grabbed his hand, stilling his movements immediately. He kissed your temple again and slipped his fingers from you, just holding you as you panted and came back down to earth. Somehow in all your fantasies, you hadn’t thought about how wonderful this part would be. Afterglow felt very literal in his arms. Ronar was wrapped around you, his lips on your temple, his fingers tracing a mindless pattern across your hip. It was just so good. Eventually, drowsily, your eyes opened, and your hand skimmed up his arm. He was smiling when you looked up at him.

“Was that good?” he asked, honestly. “It looked good.”

You chuckled and nodded. “It was good.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you softly and pulling you closer. His hand slipped up into your hair as he kissed you, again and again, never rushed, never hurried. He was an even better kisser than he was a hugger or anything else. You thought for a minute that you could happily die here, just spend the rest of your days being kissed by Ronar and held in his arms. Till you shifted closer to him and you felt his still hard cock brush against your thigh. Ooh, right, you had better plans than even this.

You spread your legs just enough for him to slip between them, and he pulled back with a hiss. His breathing had just shifted to something deeper as he looked at you.

“Ready to go again?” you asked, smirking a little. Your hand trailed down his side to mimic his earlier actions across his hip, so close but not quite there.

He nodded. “Please. I want… you. I want you.” There was such earnestness in his eyes that you stopped teasing him for a moment, and, in fact, you had to kiss him for it. But the time for sweet and slow was over for now, this kiss was heat and desire and left you both breathless.

“How do you want me?” you asked between kisses you pressed along his jaw.

He pulled you on top of him and then sat up--the casual show of his immense strength was still toe-curling--putting you at eye level with him in his lap. “Like this?” he asked, a hand cupping your cheek. “I want to see your face.”

“Gods, Ronar…” You shook your head and laughed just a little.

“What?”

“You! You’re just…” You struggled to find a word to encapsulate it all, but had to give up. “Wonderful doesn’t even begin to describe.”

His thumb stroked your cheek for a moment, then he added, “How about damn wonderful?”

That made you laugh as you kissed him again, your arms wrapping around his neck. He groaned as his length was trapped between you, but he just held you close. Then suddenly he jerked back.

“Crap, do you have any condoms? Or--or…” His eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I guess I can run down to the store--”

“Ro,” you said, stopping his worry spiral. “I’m on the pill, it’s okay.”

“Right.” He heaved a breath and offered you a lopsided smile in apology.

You chuckled. “You really think you could have fit back in your pants right now?” To emphasize your point, you took him in hand and circled your thumb over the head.

“It wouldn’t have been--shit, oh don’t stop--p… pleasant. But I’d do it for--” The sentence drifted off as you lifted yourself up on your knees, moving with obvious intent.

Ronar’s eyes were wide and wondrous as he looked up at you, both of you hovering in the moment of anticipation. You memorized his face, never wanting to forget it at this exact second. Then you sank down upon him.

It was a slow process as even with your preparation, he was still larger than anyone else you’d ever been with and you weren’t looking for any painful sensations right now. But you found yourself slowing down even more just to watch the revelations wash over Ronar’s face. Pleasure looked perfect on him.

It was more than a minute before he was fully inside you, your hips flush to his. He pulled you close, hands rubbing across your back as he murmured gentle half-phrases of encouragement and compliments.

You took it slow at first, more rocking than anything else. Just focusing on every sensation that you were feeling right now--his hands on your back, his breath on your neck, his chest pressed to yours. Though you were going for barely a minute before he whispered, “Wait.”

You immediately stopped, meeting his gaze. “You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Just changed my mind.”

You didn’t have a chance to be concerned as he quickly lifted you up and set you back on the bed, leaning over you and kneeling between your splayed thighs. “Mind if I lead?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You smiled. “By all means.”

He kissed you once more then guided himself back to your entrance, pressing in slowly and watching your face intently. But you were ready for him--desperate might have been the better word. When he was fully sheathed, you pulled him down so he was resting on his elbows. You were surrounded, protected, safe and adored under him. And as he rocked into you, a relieved sigh left you. His gaze never left yours as he built up a rhythm and you did your best to match it. But soon he out paced you, so you hooked your heels around his waist and let him wash over you.

You couldn’t believe that this was finally actually happening. You’d wanted him for so long and now here he was--in your bed, between your thighs, looking at you like you were the world’s most beautiful sunset as he was driving you to your second earth-shattering orgasm of the evening. The waiting and the longing and the heartache just made it all seem so much sweeter as he dipped down to kiss you.

“Ronar,” you whispered, your voice tight with emotions and delayed gratification. “I--I--”

“I know, love.” He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closing and brows furrowing in concentration. “I’m so close. Can you wait for me?”

Your response was just a high-pitched whimper that quickly turned into a prayerful chanting of his name as his pace suddenly picked up. Your grip tightened on his biceps as he neared his peak and you were teetering on the edge of yours.

“Please, please, please, please,” you whined through gritted teeth.

He caught up to you with a kiss, sending you both over the cliff in each other’s arms. You shuddered and cried out as he spilled into you with a heavy moan. For a moment, everything was radiant and glowing and perfect. It was just Ronar and you. Even as reality filtered slowly back in, the world was better than the last time you saw it, surely. It certainly felt like it was.

Ronar relaxed momentarily on top of you, and there was something deeply safe and secure about feeling the weight of his body on yours. His cheek brushed across yours, back and forth, for a minute, and he let out a deeply contented sigh.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, starting to pull himself up and off of you.

“Don’t be. I love this.” And you pulled him back down. His arms slipped under you to hug you tightly, his face buried against your neck, tusks pressing against your skin.

You stayed like that for several minutes, his arms around you, your fingers tracing soothing patterns across his broad back and occasionally slipping up to comb at the ends of his dark hair. It was deeply peaceful there. Though the sound of some very angry hissing coming from the kitchen broke the quiet atmosphere.

“I think dinner might be ruined,” you said with a chuckle.

He lifted his head and grinned down at you. “We can always order something.” He carded his fingers through your hair. “Or I could, um… take you on that date I’ve been meaning to ask you to for a long time.”

A corner of your mouth lifted up. “How long?” you asked, intensely curious.

The deep green blush across his cheeks got a little darker. “Since the first time you rolled your eyes.”

“Wasn’t that like twenty minutes after we first met?”

“Approximately. Yes.” You would have laughed if you didn’t see how serious he was. Oh. He dipped his head to brush his lips across yours. “How about you? Or was it when I kissed you back in the kitchen?”

You shook your head slightly. “Remember back in junior year where we stayed up all night talking at the picnic table and then got donuts right when the shop opened at 4 am?”

He nodded.

“You had whipped cream on your cheek and bags under your eyes. And the sun was rising behind you. And that was it for me.”

Warmth bloomed in his eyes, and he smiled. “Guess I need to make up for lost time then. Can I take you out this evening?”

“Please.”

Masterlist

[Thanks for reading my first monster boyfriend! <3, mice]

#monster boyfriend #monster lover #orc boyfriend #exophilia #orc #lemon #friends to lovers

778 notes · View notes

rawmeanderson · 4 years ago

Text

pretty please ― thursday.

ft. Kevin Hayes.

plot: with Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy all gone from New York and the new season about to start, everyone gets together for a long weekend. warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of anxiety/depression. word count: 4.9k notes: this is a slight AU I suppose, in the sense that the pandemic doesn’t exist here bc escapism, y’know? basically, this takes place in August 2020, where there was no pause and the season ended normally. also, this is kind of forgetting the fact that Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy didn’t live together during the last season they were all together in New York but whatever. Y/N is also plus sized!! title is from Pretty Please by Dua Lipa. there’s also more notes at the end!

Rain was hitting the windshield, the sky gloomy and grey as leaves on the trees outside the car. At least the weather was playing into your mood.

“Last time I checked, this was the only rain we’re supposed to get all weekend thankfully,” Sophie said from the driver’s seat as she adjusted the speed of the wiper blades. When she glances at you, you force a slight smile, nodding in acknowledgement. She looks like she wants to say something else but doesn’t, and you turn your head to look out the window.

The dread and disinterest swimming in your stomach, the car ride that seemed to go on endlessly reminded you of all the times your mother had driven you to your dad’s during the summers. You’d sat in the passenger seat then just like you are now, anxious, irritated, and on the verge of begging her to turn around.

You hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, knowing it was meant to be a last hurrah of sorts. Thursday to Sunday at a lake with friends sounded great in theory, but the changes that would be happening in the weeks that followed were what scared you. The finality of it all.

“I’m glad you decided to come, Y/N,” Sophie told you, and you could feel her glance at you again. She had been your roommate for almost 10 years now, since the start of college, and she knew you were doing your best not to spiral.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, opting to nod like you had earlier as your gaze drifted to your lap. Running your tongue along your teeth, you tried to think of something to say that would ease the tension in the vehicle. Un-crossing your legs, you shift in your seat slightly as you hear Sophie exhale a quiet sigh through her nose.

She knows your feelings aren’t personal, that you’re not blaming her for moving on with her life, but your general sadness about all of it weighed on her either way. She was right there, but that didn’t stop the preemptive pangs of loneliness that hit your stomach.

In the last two years, every person you’d spent most of your time with had left New York, until Sophie was the last one. And in two weeks, you’d be the only one left, leaving you feeling as grey and sad as the weather outside.

After chewing on the inside of your cheek for a while, you pick a piece of invisible lint off the fabric of your shorts. You’d meant to buy new ones before the trip since most of your pants cut into your waist anymore, fueling your self-consciousness. “I’ll...I’m sure I’ll feel a little better once we’re there and I’ve been able to take a nap,” you tell her, trying your best to sound optimistic about it. Blaming your bad mood and distantness on being tired, classic.

Sophie glanced at you and nodded, accepting what you’d said despite knowing you as well as she does.

It would’ve been hard to argue about it, considering you’d both been up before 5am to make this 4 hour drive. You’d left the city around 6, the car packed with the bags for the weekend, plus a good number of totes of Sophie’s stuff for Jimmy to take back to Buffalo with him. There was still about an hour left in the drive, and the iced coffee you’d chugged at the start of the drive had done nothing but make your heart race soar as you fidgeted in your seat.

Sophie had always been the early bird, with the two of you poised to be some of the first people to arrive at the lake. Jimmy and one of his buddies had gotten there last night, with everyone else slated to show up in the early afternoon. The only reason you’d agreed to leave so early was because Sophie promised to let you nap as long as you wanted once you got there. You were grateful that would allow you to avoid people for a while.

For what was left of the drive, Sophie didn’t speak, letting you sit there in your tired sadness as music hummed through the speakers.

When you parked at the massive cabin overlooking a lake that stretched as far as you could see, it was still raining. The sky was just as grey, and it gnawed at you, the perfect cinematic backdrop for what felt like the beginning of the end.

Your mood was sour, and as you unfastened your seatbelt to exit the car, you felt goosebumps rise along your skin even though it was warm out despite the rain. The same worry you’d had the whole drive was still swirling through your head, that your mood and your emotions would put a damper on the trip. You hoped that a nap would help calm those fears.

Jimmy was already on his way out to greet you and Sophie, his smile fixed on your roommate as you open the back door to grab your bag. He approaches with a grin as you’re already making your way toward the cabin.

“Take any room you want,” he tells you, like he already knows that you’re going for a nap. You salute him in acknowledgement, deciding to greet him better later as he continues on to greet his girlfriend.

Your shirt is covered in raindrops by the time you get inside, glancing around curiously. There’s a couple of people hanging out on the sofas that you don’t recognize, but they wave to you either way then go back to their conversation.

After wandering down the hall, you nudge open a door and decide that the room is good enough. There’s a window looking out over the lake, and even as grouchy and sad as you’re feeling, you know it’ll be a gorgeous view when it’s not so gloomy outside. You close the door behind you and unceremoniously drop your bag on the floor while kicking off your shoes. Collapsing into the middle of the bed, you sigh, running on auto pilot as you pull the blankets over yourself.

Shifting around slightly, you’re aware of how the shorts are cutting into your waist and your bra is pinching somewhere, but you’re too settled to do anything about it as you stare up at the wood paneled ceiling. The sound of the rain hitting the roof is soothing, and you let out a breath that seemed to have been held since the moment you got in the car.

Your eyes trace the woodgrain, remembering when Sophie told you about Jimmy’s roommates shortly after she got with him, that they were funny, cool guys that she knew you’d get along with. You’d partied with them first, but it turned into movie nights, casual dinners, enjoying the group of newfound friends that you saw several times a week. With how often you ended up hanging out late or bar hopping in their area, the guest room had practically been designated as yours.

Then Kevin was traded to Winnipeg. Then Jimmy was traded to Buffalo. Then Brady was traded to Carolina. Your found family in the city had practically dissolved within a year, and now Sophie was two weeks away from moving to Buffalo.

You knew there was little choice in the matter for anyone really, that it wasn’t their fault, that it was just how worked, but it still hurt, remembering you’d be the last one of the group in New York. You had other friends that you saw every so often, but it didn’t stop how lonely it all made you feel. Being sad about it made you feel selfish, so you buried it behind frequent naps and iced coffee.

Your internal monologue continued until tears stung in your eyes, and you blinked them away, turning on your side as you willed yourself to get some rest.

By the time you woke up, it was mid-afternoon, and you stayed curled up on your side for a moment. Sun was streaming in through the window as you took a deep breath. You could hear people outside, along with splashing from the lake, and when you rolled over, you saw somebody zip past in a jet ski. After a taking a few minutes to scroll through your phone, you finally get up, stretching as you smooth your hair down.

You came out of your room and found Jimmy and Sophie in the kitchen. Yawning as you approached, Sophie smiled.

“Good nap?” she asked knowingly, and you nodded once you were close enough to hug her.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said, arms wrapped around her. She hugged back tightly, rubbing a hand between your shoulder blades before you pulled away.

You felt better. The nap and the better weather helped kick the sadness out of you. You hated this part, feeling better and realizing how cynical you’d been earlier.

“Good to see you, Slim Jim,” you told Jimmy, hugging him quickly as well. You were happy to see him, deciding to focus on enjoying and savoring the long weekend with everyone instead of being miserable with sadness. Leaning back against the edge of the counter, feeling content, you smile. “Who all showed up when I was out?”

“Uh, some friends of mine, Derek and Amy, showed up, Kev too, and he brought a friend,” he said, glancing down at the water like he couldn’t even remember who was there. “Brady’s about an hour or so out.”

The three of you chat for a while, catching up since it had been awhile since you’d seen Jimmy. He introduces you to the friends of his that were splitting the cabin for the weekend when they come through, and a moment later, you promise to catch up more later, deciding to head outside for a bit.

Outside, the sun beats down on you but you lift your chin to greet the warmth as you walk. It felt particularly good after the heavy rain of the drive in, the humidity from it clinging to the air still.

Making your way to the dock, someone you hadn’t met is standing there, football in hand. Kevin’s on the back of a jet ski with someone else driving, and it didn’t surprise you at all to see him jump off for the football when the man on the dock through it. No surprise, he missed the ball and landed in the water with a splash, and was already laughing when he resurfaced a moment later.

That’s when he spots you, hand shooting up in a wave with a wide smile. “Heyo!” he yells, already swimming toward the dock. You could hear the excitement in his voice, and nervousness pangs in your stomach.

You had only seen him once since he’d been traded a year and a half ago, when he’d been in town for a game and you hadn’t even realized it. Sophie had invited you out, and there he was, happy as ever to see you. You were grateful that the bar had been loud and that Brady had been occupying most of Kevin’s attention. After a drink and a half and a quick conversation with Sophie, you’d taken off, managing to avoid Kevin other than the hug he’d given you as a greeting.

Since Jimmy and Sophie were together and Brady had Gracia, you and Kevin had been the odd couple out, paired together during group activities. It worked out at least, considering the two of you got along great.u seldom hung out once When all three of the guys lived together, the two of you always seemed to be the last two up, chatting or finishing a movie even after the others had gone to bed.

It had felt so natural to hook up with Kevin the handful of times it had happened in the months leading up to when he was traded. Each time had been when you were both the last two awake, lingering on the sofa, usually at least a little drunk. It had always been casual, and you told yourself the only reason it happened (and kept happening) were out of convenience. You’d certainly never seemed like his type, considering almost every girl you’d ever seen him talk to at a bar had the same slender build and the confidence that came with it.

You snapped yourself out of the thoughts, and tug at the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, feeling like it’s clinging to all the wrong parts of your body. Kevin’s eyes are on you still as he climbed the ladder to meet you on the dock, making you feel even more aware of yourself. He paused to grab a towel off the rail, rubbing it over his hair, then settling it over his shoulders. His swim shorts hung low on his hips and you force yourself to meet his eye, happy to see that he was smiling widely at you as he approached.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, sounding as sincere as you could ever imagine. It felt like his smile had grown, and it made it impossible for you not to mirror the expression right back to him. “I’d hug you, but in case you didn’t notice, I was just in the lake.” You had forgotten how deep his voice was, and you tell yourself that it’s the sun that’s making you feel hot all over.

“I’m good with a rain check,” you responded, nodding at him. From the golden tone of his skin, you can tell he’s been outside a lot this summer. He looked great, as always, and you hadn’t expected anything less.

“Good by me,” he told you with a laugh, bringing a hand out to ruffle your hair in lieu of a hug. You laugh with him, not quick enough to stop him. “How’s life been? Man, I feel like I haven’t seen or heard from you in forever.” You don’t let yourself think about his tone, how he almost sounds a little sad about it.

You shrug quickly in response to his question, still grinning. “Things are okay. Nothing’s really been going on, I guess. I miss you guys though.” Your hand comes up to shield the sun from your eyes, tilting your head up to see him better. He’s so tall that looking at him heads on would have you staring at the bit of hair that covers his chest, at how broad his shoulders are, and you were worried that you’d never stop if you started. “What about you? How’s Philly?”

“I miss New York, but damn, Philly’s been great, I can’t even lie about it,” he admitted with a bit of a laugh. It was good to know that he’s happy, and you can feel it radiating off of him. “It’s a good city, and a good group of dudes. And this guy, over here,” he paused, voice a little louder as he motions behind him to the guy who’d thrown the football, “is Nolan. We lived together this year.”

Nolan looked at the two of you, holding up a hand to wave before turning his attention back to talking to one of Jimmy’s friends that’s floating in an inner-tube close to the dock. You were both silent for a moment then before whoever was on the jet ski yelled Kevin’s name, waving for him to come back out.

“You should come swim,” Kevin told you, motioning to whoever it was that he’d be there in a minute.

Your eyebrows rose and you were quick to shake your head, even before self-consciousness dug its claws into you. “Nah, not right now at least,” you said, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “I just came down to say hey, I’m actually going to go chill on the deck and read for a while, I think.”

For a short second, Kevin looked a little disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He instead nodded, smiling again already as his hand came up to your shoulder. “Yeah, gotcha.” It’s hard to ignore how large his hand is on you, the way he squeezes just slightly, his thumb brushing against your collarbone. “We’ll catch up more later.”

“Yeah, of course,” you told him, doing your best not to lean into his hand. Thankfully, he stepped away before your willpower went out, and you watched as he damn near sprinted back to the edge of the dock, jumping into the water in an effort to splash a friend.

You stopped in the cabin to grab your iPad, and on your way out to the back deck, a girl who introduced herself as Amy put a margarita in your hand and hugged you like she’d known you for years. It was a damn good margarita too, you realized as you settled on a lounge chair, stretching your legs out in front of you.

The rest of the afternoon ticks by easily. The margarita is rather strong, relaxing you into the chair as you read for the next hour and a half until Brady showed up. You’d been able to hear laughter and the occasional shouting from the water every so often, Kevin’s voice usually the loudest. Brady, Sophie, and Jimmy joined you on the deck a while later, and the four of you take the time to catch up a little more and figure out how to spend the next few days.

The sun had just stating to set when pizza arrived for dinner. The air is still warm, and someone was already working on starting a bonfire. Sophie was to your right at the picnic table, a little tipsy as she munched on some garlic bread.

Across the table, Brady was talking about his upcoming nuptials. Gracia hadn’t been able to make it for the trip, but you were glad he’d decided to come. Next to him, Kevin interjected with a dumb comment at one point, making Jimmy snicker.

“By the way, Kev, do you need a plus one? Have you been seeing anybody?” Brady asked, turning his head to look at him rather pointedly. It takes everything you have not to snicker a bit, lifting a slice a pizza to your mouth.

“Naah, I’m not seeing anyone,” Kevin responded, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m sure I could find someone to go with, but I haven’t really dated much since Y/N.”

You freeze when he says your name, your mouth already half open to take a bite. What the fuck is he talking about?

“We never dated,” you said, the words more sharp than you’d meant them to be. Your eyebrows have practically shot up, and you look away from him as an awkward silence hangs over the table for a beat until Sophie exhales a laugh.

Jimmy really came to the rescue by changing the subject, and your cheeks were burning by the time you met Kevin’s eye again. He actually looked a little amused, but rather than making you feel relieved, it makes heat curl down your spine.

By the time it was completely dark, part of the group had settled on the sofa and chairs in the living room to watch a movie, while others decided to go on late ride on the lake. It was still plenty warm out, and you’d really hit a stride in the book you’d been working on, so you ended up back in the same chair you’d spent most afternoon in. The line of string lights gives the deck a nice glow to it, and you can hear the buzz of the TV in the living room.

The sliding glass door opens then closes, at you look up to see Kevin walking towards you.

“Is the movie no good?” you asked, tilting your head as you look at him. He had a beer in one hand and a hard cider in the other that he offered to you. The fact that he recognized your favorite brand in the fridge made you smile as you thanked him quietly for it.

“Movie’s fine, just thought I’d come see if you wanted to go for a walk or go hang by the water,” he responded, shrugging as he took a sip from the beer still in his hand.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You shrugged back at him, flashing a grin as you got to your feet. Leaving your iPad on the seat for the time being, you follow him to the stairs, then down the trail to the dock.

“How are things in New York?” Kevin asked after a moment’s silence, and you glance up at him with a skeptical look.

“I thought we talked about this earlier,” you counter, taking a sip of your drink. He scoffed, shrugging beside you as the pair of you started down the dock.

“Yeah, I guess we did, really, how are things?” Kevin’s voice was lower this time, making your back straighten when he looked at you again. “How are you?”

You weren’t expecting such a direct question, and you’re grateful to deflect it for even a moment longer as you take the time kick off your shoes and sit on the edge of the dock. An answer still hasn’t found you, so you take a drink instead of speaking. Kevin watched you all the while as he sat next to you, making self-awareness prickle at the base of your neck.

“Life’s fucking weird right now,” you admit finally, looking at the reflection of the moon on the water. “And it actually kind of fucking sucks too.” Kevin doesn’t respond right away, but when you took a deep breath, his elbow nudged yours lightly.

“You’ll get through it,” he assured you, with such sureness in his voice that you looked at him with a warm smile.

“I know I will. It’s just hard, but I’m dramatic, so of course it feels like the end of an era or something.” Your shoulders rise then fall in a shrug, still looking at him. “And then I feel selfish for even feeling that way to begin with. I know it wasn’t your choice to leave, or Brady’s, or Jimmy’s. I’m trying not to let myself be too sad about it.” You were surprised that your voice remained even as you spoke.

The words hang in the air and Kevin nodded, bring a hand up to touch the back of your shoulder. You feel warm all over as his fingers splay over your upper back, and you find yourself biting the edge of your tongue when tears sting in your eyes.

“I was sad about leaving too. I knew I’d miss the guys, that I’d miss you, but that’s what makes trips like these nice, getting to catch up and just hang out for a few days,” he said finally, his hand still on your shoulder when he met your eye. “I’m honestly surprised you’re not following Sophie to Buffalo.”

Your nose scrunched at the thought and you shook your head, exhaling a quick laugh. “I honestly thought about it, but I know she’s excited to be moving in with him, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to always keep me company or something,” you explained, peeling at the edge of the label on your bottle with your thumbnail. You weren’t sad enough about being alone in New York to justify moving upstate, you knew that much.

“Philly’s not far from New York, y’know. You can always come hang with me and Nolan, and I know there’s a few other guys on the team you’d have a good time with,” Kevin offered, taking a long swig of his beer as his hand finally fell from your shoulder. “Or I could visit you. We could go to that one bakery you like so much, watch movie or TV all day, just kind of chill.”

A wide smile spread across your face. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, taking the chance to nudge him with your elbow. Kevin nodded, still grinning as he nudged you right back. It felt good to be talking to him, to have him close enough to smell his cologne for the first time in a year and a half.

There was another pause, and you both took a drink, the sound of frogs and crickets hanging around you.

“Sorry for putting you on the spot like that at dinner. It was meant to be a joke,” he said finally, taking another drink to finish off the bottle. You glance up at him and it almost looked like he was blushing a bit over it.

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, but Kev, you know we never dated,” you told him, laughing as you finish off your own drink.

“We kind of did!” he responded, laughing with you. “We went out plenty of times!”

“Dude, texting me ‘hey, are you hungry?’ at 11pm, then going to a 24 hour diner does not count as a date.” You snorted, shaking your head. When he caught your eye, he was smiling almost bashfully.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded, holding your gaze. “The next time we go on a date, I’ll make sure you’re aware of it, deal?”

Your response is to laugh again, nodding and looking away this time. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re back on the sofa in their old apartment at 2am. A chill ran down you and you exhaled a breathe, watching the way the water rippled as a breeze swept through.

“I’m really did miss you,” Kevin told you, and from the corner of your eye, you know he was watching you again. Nervousness plucked along the back of your neck, and you kept your eyes on the water. “Like, way more than I miss Jimmy and Brady, honestly.” You don’t fully believe him, but either way, the sentiment makes your heart ache.

With your jaw clenched, you exhaled a breath as your eyes burned with the threat of tears. “I missed you most too,” you assured him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Good.” He paused, tilting his head up to look at the stars for a moment. “Can we watch season two of Fleabag sometime this weekend?” Kevin looked at you a second later and blinked as you laughed.

“Yeah, of course. That’s an oddly specific request,” you said, letting your eyes move over the lines of his face as he shrugged.

“I haven’t watched it yet, I was waiting until I could watch it with you.” His words made you blink, and your throat swelled, hating this rush of emotions now that you’d felt happier for most of the day. You didn’t really know what to say, so you just nodded again, suddenly feeling the urge to lean into him to bury your face in his neck comfortably.

A few months before he had been traded, you’d started the first season at 1:30am after a night of drinking. Brady had been at Gracia’s, and Jimmy and Sophie hadn’t even made it through the first episode. Considering the season consisted of six 25 minute episodes, it was easy for you and Kevin to stay up and watch the entire first season, curled up together on the couch.

You and Kevin had spent the following half hour making out like teenagers until he absolutely begged you to come to bed with him. Feeling heat beside your thighs, you now wish you had said yes, just to have that extra memory.

The two of you spend the next several minutes in silence, sitting side by side on the dock in the dark. You can hear music playing from the cabin behind you and the murmur of voices surrounding the fire pit that was a dozen feet away. Your heart was racing as you fidgeted after a while, trying to ignore the feelings for him that you had buried when he was traded that were now bubble at the surface.

Eventually, Kevin mentioned going up to the house for more drinks, and you agreed, getting to your feet with a sigh. You looked up at him briefly, then toward the house behind you.

“Before we head up, can I cash in my rain check for that hug from earlier?” he asked, running a hand over his hair as he watched you.

“Yeah, of course,” you responded, smiling widely as you walked into the arms he held open for you.

You let out a breathe as he hugged you tightly, your face pressed into his chest. He smelled as good as he always did, and warmth of his hand rubbing over your back had you relaxing into him. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt when he kissed the side of your head once, then a second time.

“It’s gonna be a good weekend, yeah?” he murmured, the words muffled against your hair. It took everything you had not to shiver against him, and you nodded, happy to keep yourself nuzzled securely against him for a while longer.

A FEW MORE NOTES: Well, this fic feels a lot more emotional than I’m used to writing, and it’s one of those things that I really like where I’m heading with this, but I worry about it seeming whiny or wishy-washy, but here it is anyway. How typical of me to vanish for months, then show up with a new story when everyone’s been waiting for Bring You Back to Me’s next chapter 😂 I love whoever of you are still reading at this point, and I hope you enjoy this fic. I loved the first part, but I’m so not used to writing anymore and that, paired with my ever present self-doubt, I’m like “is this fic good at all??? let’s fucking see!!!” and here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️

FRIDAY

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes fic #kevin hayes imagine #hockey imagine #forever terrible at tagging these whoops #pretty please

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

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Taken

Part 2

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N is kidnapped by a perp whose real objective is her colleague and boyfriend Jake. Will he get to her in time?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, angst and more angst

There is at least one big moment in every young woman's life that she regrets immensely. Sometimes it's dating a horrible person and realizing far too late. Or maybe it's that outfit that truly belonged in a dumpster but somehow ended up in your closet instead. My biggest regret was being considerate of Jake's sleep.

We went to his place after work for date night because he'd finally found an old movie we were looking for and I didn't have a DVD player. We've been together long enough to love each other and we do, the topic of living together brought up a couple times before we both realized that neither of us are quite ready to give up our separate spaces yet. So we go to Jake's and we watch a movie.

"In hindsight, this probably wasn't the best mood to set on date night," Jake muttered as he turned to me, wiping a few tears from his cheeks.

"Nonsense! I think ugly crying to a great American heartbreaking tale with my boyfriend is completely romantic!" I countered through chuckles to cover up my lingering sobs, causing Jake to laugh with me.

"You're a riot." He helped me clear my cheeks as well before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I'm exhausted. Wanna call it one? I'm too tired for sexy times but I'm willing to compromise and do hand stuff."

I rolled my eyes playfully at him as I allowed myself to sink into his hold for a moment. "No, I shouldn't stay."

"What? You always stay on date night. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Everything's fine. The surgery scene just reminded me that I'm supposed to drop my mom off in the morning for a minor procedure before work. My mom's house and the hospital are on the other side of town and if I leave from here, I'll have to wake up like half an hour earlier."

"I don't mind getting up with you, babe."

"Jacob." I pushed myself into a sitting position, my tone falling flat so he knew to take me seriously. "You've been busting your ass for weeks now to catch your perp, and you got the next best thing--his right hand man. You deserve every second of rest you can get."

He stared at me for a while, a slight pout on his lips. "Alright, fine." He sighed heavily as he stood, pulling me to my feet as well.

"You'll see me in the morning, I promise. I love you, Jakey."

"I love you, too. See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow is here and I still haven't seen Jake. The windowless cement block of a room couldn't tell me how long I was unconscious, but the ache in my stiff muscles told me it was well past morning. A range of emotions hit me as my eyes focused on my current reality.

Fear.

I feared where I was, of course I did. I can't check my surroundings if it's all just gray walls, the only difference being the rusty chains that held me to one of them.

I feared not knowing who brought me here, how many there were, the intention behind bringing me here.

I feared time. How much had passed, how much I had left. How much of it I'd spent in such deafening and suffocating silence and what would finally disrupt the still air.

Worry.

I worried about not being the only one stolen from what I deemed to be my normal life.

I worried about the mess of blood that hadn't been cleared away from the side of my head.

I worried about the foggy in-and-out single stream of consciousness that I just barely held onto.

I worried about whether or not my mom made it to her surgery or if she spent the entire day in the police station worrying even more than I was.

The thought caused anger to rush in like an uninvited guest.

What could I have possibly done to end up here? I arrest criminals all day long, but none of them are capable of this. I'd love to rip these chains out of the wall and tightly wrap them around the throat of my captor. The thought alone caused the nausea bubbling up from my stomach to turn into something else, something stronger, something that was destined to get me into more trouble.

"You mind letting me the fuck out of here?!"

Like that. That kind of trouble.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere as they announced the arrival of another person. With the knowledge that someone else was in fact here came the return of worry. Or maybe it was fear. I can't quite tell the distinction over the little voice in my head that scolds me for being the thing to break the quiet.

A piece of the wall opened up and spit out a tall figure drowning in black fabric. From the tip of their worker boots all the way up to the ski mask that hid their identity from me.

"You want something?"

A male voice was all I was able to catch. I stayed quiet and kept my head down, hoping my silence would irritate him into talking more.

"What, you lost your tongue or something?"

I still couldn't tell who it was on voice alone.

"Oh, I get it. You want to do this face to face."

I lifted my head just as he ripped off his ski mask, and I quickly bit my lip to stifle my gasp. I recognized that stupid face. Unfortunately for me, he could tell.

"You know who I am, baby?" His steps were the only sound in the hollow space as he came to kneel in front of me. Before I could even blink, he had my jaw held tightly in his left hand, his right hand pushing the end of a blade into my skin.

"Say my name," he practically growled, sending shivers down my spine. I quickly obliged, well aware that I did not have the upperhand in the situation.

"Marco."

"My whole name," he demanded as he pressed further into my skin, responding to my involuntary whimper with a shake of his left hand. "Say it."

"Marco Fallio."

"Good." He quickly pocketed the knife, keeping his gaze on me. "I can't wait to hear you scream that later. It's gonna be fun." He winked as he stood finally, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as he turned his back on me.

"What am I doing here, Marco?"

"I figured since Detective Peralta took my right hand man, I was free to take his."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I saw you two disgusting lovebirds kiss after stuffing my boy inside the back of a cop car." He faced me again suddenly, pulling out a burner phone as he approached me. "What's his number?" He noticed my hesitation and laughed. "You want him to know I have you, right? Or should I just kill you now and send pieces of you until your boyfriend gets the hint?"

I sighed, closing my eyes as I recited the number to him. I listened to him dial, only opening my eyes again when the ringing stopped.

"Peralta."

It was only one word, but it was enough to break my heart. He sounded so defeated and tired, like the rest I begged him to get did nothing but further exhaust him. The thought brought tears to my eyes instantly.

"Hey Peralta, buddy. Fallio here."

"If you're calling to negotiate your friend out of jail, it's not going to happen. He's going to lead me straight to you."

Fallio laughs in a light way that suggests he was talking to an old friend, and not a detective that wanted him behind bars. "You know, I thought you may say that. So I got something that I think might change your mind."

In a few lightning fast motions, the knife was out again, slicing the fabric of my jeans and the skin of my thigh underneath. A strangled yell crossed the threshold of my lips before I could stop it as the burning sensation pulsated through the newly opened wound.

"Y/N! Marco I swear to God, you better--"

"Yeah, yeah. Talk soon!" He ended the call with a grin, turning his attention back to me. "Don't worry, I'll call him back. Let's have a little fun first."

I want death. I want to die. It seems to be the quickest and possibly the only way to escape Marco Fallio, and at this point, I'll take anything.

Maybe I'll get lucky and survive this, and I'll apply to work for the FBI. With all the cuts and bruises and dried and not so dry blood that now covers so much of my skin, they'll be sure to think I'm tough enough to handle any case.

Or I could quit law enforcement altogether. Become a baker. I'm good at it, and there's less of a chance of this happening again when you're just minding your business and selling fresh food. However, in this baker fantasy I'd still be dating Jake. So this could very well happen again.

Jake. I miss Jake. His name is the only constant thing I remember every time I come back. Every time I open my eyes and remind myself that I'm locked in this room in God knows where for who knows how much time. Jacob Peralta, the only thing I hear in my head as Marco does some other series of painful acts that makes me scream until my throat burns from the force, or until he pushes just a little too far and I pass out again.

"Hey, wake up."

I feel the light but aggressive pats on my face, a long groan pushing from the depths of my lungs and falling out amidst a heavy breath that smacks right into Marco's face immediately. As he has been for the past seconds, days, months, years, he's entirely too close. Which means I'm in for another beating.

His rough hands pull me off my pathetic position on the cool floor and thrust me back first into the wall behind me once again, gripping my jaw to hold my head in place. His thumb forces my bottom lip to part from the top as he begins to carefully pour water into my mouth.

"You're giving me nothing and this is growing old. Time to light some fire under your man's ass."

He pulled the phone out again and talked as I focused on swallowing the water, struggling to keep my eyes open. I felt the phone being pressed to my ear followed by Marco's voice.

"Any last words, Y/N?"

My mind flashed back to the movie Jake and I watched together. The main character's last words were in a suicide note she'd written to her boyfriend. It was a long shot, thinking that Jake would even remember this or that it would help him at all, but as Jake would say, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take!" So I finished swallowing the water and took the shot.

"I knew about everything. That's why I died."

His hand released my jaw as he hung up again, allowing me to slide to the floor again. I could only hope now that I'd done enough. That by connecting the dots he'd realized that I--like the main character--was dying slowly in a cement room underground at the hands of someone else after being forced to craft last words to the love of my life. He'd already found Marco's three warehouses. A little more digging would tell him that two of the warehouses don't have basements, so I must be at the third.

Time zoomed past again as I floated away into unconsciousness, brought out of it once again by a gentle slap to the face. This one felt softer but more urgent. Then came voices, all of them fuzzy except for one.

"Y/N, can you hear me, babe?"

Jacob Peralta. The only name I could think of as I fought through the searing pain of every cut, every punch, every moment of being strangled or burned. The only voice I could hear calling my name as I sat there pathetically and waited to be rescued like some princess caught in a tower.

"The ambulance is almost here, Y/N. Can you open your eyes? Come on, baby, please."

Jacob Peralta, the last person to see me before I became a hostage.

"Fuck, Rosa, her pulse is weakening. What do I do?!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Baby, stay with me, come on!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Sir, we need you to clear the area, so we can properly assess her injuries."

Jacob Peralta. The one who kept me alive.

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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winter-turtle · 3 years ago

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House Of Wolves - Chapter 3 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 3: Hope Is Fatal

(posting now because I'm a dumbass and I forgot to post it here after I put it on AO3)

Bound to a chair, he couldn’t move around too much. He was in pain.

“You need to learn how to be still.”

No, stop.

“The pain won’t be as bad once you stop squirming.”

He tried, but he couldn’t stifle the scream completely.

“Do you think someone else will give you a breather?”

It hurts.

“It’s for your own good.”

Peter’s eyes flew open with sharp intake of breath. He wouldn’t scream. He couldn’t. He’d learned long ago not to do it as it would show his enemies that he was weak.

And Peter wasn’t weak.

His hammering heart started to slow down to a more reasonable pace as his eyes adjusted to the dark, scanning his surroundings. The memory (nightmare?) began to fade into the back of his mind upon taking in the familiar shapes of his room.

When did he stopped thinking about it as a cell?

He was safe. Nobody could touch him here.

But… he didn’t fall asleep here. He didn’t remember walking back here either, so that only meant that someone had to carry him.

Again, he suspected who.

When one spends most of the time in confinement, it was only natural that they had a lot of time to think about things. That’s exactly how Peter was doing. He thought. He wondered. He went over every single interaction he’s had with the heroes in hopes of figuring out the reason why they were… trying.

More precisely why Stark was trying. Yes, the man might be persistent and his stubbornness seemed to turn everything into a disaster as the trip to the gym had proven, but Peter just couldn’t sense any hostile intent.

None of this made any sense. Why would people like the Avengers show any care to him?

“Hurting their own children is not something normal parents do.”

Peter shook his head. Those stupid words refused his mind since they left Stark’s mouth. “Normal parents…” he said softly under his breath, as if testing how the words felt. Normal. How normal parents behaved? How would his life turn out to be if he had normal life?

Then again, he never was normal, was he?

Deciding that the constant swirling of his thoughts won’t let him fall back asleep, Peter slipped from underneath the covers and walked towards the door. Moving around always helped. He stood there for a moment before placing his hand on the handle. What were the chances of it opening?

“Here goes nothing.”

He pushed and to his surprise, the door opened. “Huh.” Okay, so he wasn’t locked, but there was no doubt that the AI was watching his every move. Well, don’t look gifted horse in the mouth, he thought as he walked.

Turn the corner, first window, second window, third window…

Peter stopped before the fourth window. He didn’t get past this point the last time. “Okay,” he whispered to himself, raising his hand, “okay.” Ever so slowly and with bated breath, his hand inched towards the invisible barrier. His heartbeat picked up as he expected the stabbing pain any second.

But no pain came. No stabbing of needles, no sudden lightheadedness and no sudden loss of consciousness. Peter only released the breath when his hand was fully outstretched in front of him.

Peter put his other hand in front of him and took a step forward. Then another one. Then another one and then, when he realized that nothing was about to happed, lowered his hands so he wouldn’t look like a total weirdo that was pretending to walk like a zombie.

Stark kept his word.

Another speck of doubt fell on what once used to be carefully balanced scales, tilting it even more.

More or less, Peter found his way to the gym by following his nose. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the windows under the tall ceiling. The light fell on various machines which in turn threw long shadows all around the room. When Peter was little, he’d been terrified of shadows like these. He’d felt like they would turn into a monster that would drag him away.

And then he’d spent five days in almost complete dark all on his own.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” his mother smiled sweetly after he was let out, tired and with dried tear tracks on his cheeks. “The only monsters in the world are those people who call themselves heroes.”

Okay, no. He was getting side-tracked. A nice workout session was bound to clear his head.

Soon, Peter fell into a familiar routine. Warm-up, push-ups, sit-ups, some gymnastics… it did wonders to his mind. For the first time in four weeks, he felt himself truly relax.

Still, a tiny part of him remained on edge. Maybe it was the childish part of him that somehow remained in him despite the countless attempts to beat it out of him, but he could swear he saw the shadows shift every once in a while. Yet every time he looked, there was nothing amiss – just the same equipment sitting on the same spot.

Peter dropped down from the rings with almost inaudible thump. His eyes closed.

“A bit late for a workout.”

Peter whipped around, pinpointing the source of voice. Black Widow sat on a nearby bench, almost shrouded by the shadows, her gaze trained on the dumbbell in her hand.

So he wasn’t paranoid; it was most likely her who caused the occasional shift of the shadows. But that left one question.

Why didn’t his spidey-sense alert him to her presence?

“I must say, that was quite impressive set of moves.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked instead.

She switched arms. “I live here. Can’t I come for a late-night workout session too?”

Peter opted to remain silent. The woman continued through her set before standing up and putting the dumbbell to its original spot. “Care to give me a hand?” she asked as she lied down on a bench and grabbed ahold of a barbell.

Not a single of her footsteps could be heard, even with his super hearing. Peter found it impressive.

He didn’t know why, but he followed. He got ahold of the metal bar, securing it in case Romanov’s arms would buckle.

“You know,” she began, her voice slightly strained, “I always come here too when sleep seems impossible. Those night when something is keeping you up…”

Silence.

“So, what kept you up? You looked pretty tired at the movies.”

Peter huffed. “What kept you up?”

She shrugged. For a while, Peter thought that was the end of the conversation, but the universe loved to prove him wrong.

“It’s confusing, isn’t it? When two worlds clash and suddenly you are left to question everything.”

Peter didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed. “What do you know?”

“A lot.”

Okay, even if Peter was vaguely aware of Romanov’s background, the answer wasn’t helpful at all. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Despite the warning, despite me saying what I did… you know I could just let go of this barbell and let it crush your throat. Nobody would be able to do anything to stop me.”

“Then by all means do. Feel free. You have a perfect opportunity,” she said, perfectly unfazed.

Peter stared at her as if she was a particularly difficult piece of puzzle.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

Why wasn’t she afraid of him?

The weight gave a sudden jerk down. Peter instinctively gripped it, preventing it from dipping further. His slightly widened brown eyes locked with Romanov’s green, trying to read them, although unsuccessfully. But whatever the woman was looking for in his, she must have found it.

With a final grunt, Romanov put the weight back and stood up. She gave Peter a onceover before nodding to herself and then headed to the door, dabbing her sweat away with the towel.

“Why did you come here?” he asked in lowly before she crossed the threshold.

She shrugged. “Just a late-night workout. Same as you. And with that out of the way, I believe the sleep will come easier. You should head to bed too. Growing boys need their rest so they can get big and strong.”

Peter stared at the spot until he was sure he was alone. His mind was whirling.

Was this some kind of test? It certainly felt like it. But if it was, it brought on a question of whether he passed or not. He didn’t know which option he preferred.

A glint coming from underneath one of the bicycles caught his eye. Peter, pretending to tie his shoelace, picked up the object. A smile slowly spreading across his face at the sight of the forgotten black bobby pin. The hair stuck to it was long, too long, so that ruled out Black Widow as the owner. Peter doubted she would be careless enough to leave this lying here.

Finally something he could use.

He resumed the “tying” of the shoelaces when in reality, he slipped the pin into his shoe. He stood up and left.

Getting the bracelets open took him longer than he would like to admit, but prying small panels off with nothing but a bobby pin wasn’t the easiest task. But here he was, sitting on a bathroom floor, staring at the exposed mechanism. If he was correct, these parts were responsible for dampening his powers.

Peter positioned his wrists so they would be in line with the ends of the bobby pin. He had to do it correctly if he wanted to succeed. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he messed up.

It could shock him unconscious, release a lethal dose of the sedatives… the list went on.

Taking a steadying breath, he curled his hands into fists, and narrowed his eyes in concentration.

“Three, two… one.”

He brough his wrists together in one swift motion, stabbing the exposed areas at the same time. The bracelets let out a single spark of light each and thin trail of smoke.

“Well, that probably short-circuited something else too,” Peter muttered as he closed the exposed areas. You could spot the faint scratches on the sleek silver surface only if you looked for them. After he removed the pin from the soap and tucked it where, hopefully, nobody would find it, he returned to the living area. Had had mapped the field the camera could see, which allowed him to pick the blind spot big enough to test the results.

He placed his palms on the wall. “Here goes nothing,” he said and jumped.

He didn’t fall.

He didn’t fall!

Grin threatened to split his face in two. “Yes! Yes!” he quietly cheered. Wasting no more time, Peter climbed the rest of the way up and nestled himself into the corner. The familiar feeling was soothing him instantly. Well, it looked like he was about to get first full night of good sleep since he ended up at this place.

That was his last thought before he fell asleep, the corners of his lips quirked upwards.

“Friday, is the kid awake yet?” Tony asked from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. When Natasha came to him earlier and told him her night encounter, it actually put him in a good mood.

“I am unable to get my eyes on Peter.”

Tony’s smile froze. “Is he in a bathroom?” The kid didn’t get sick again, did he?

“Negative, Boss. He left the bathroom in early morning hours and then I lost sight of him.”

“Bracelets?”

“I am unable to detect the location from those.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat at that. “Comb through the footage.” With heavy heart, he abandoned the coffee and headed to the kid’s room.

Kid, for both of our sake, but mostly for yours, I hope you didn’t run.

Peter woke up to a sound that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. He let out disgruntles sigh and turned his head to look over his shoulder. To his surprise, he found Stark below him, his arms awkwardly in front of him.

“Why do you look like you’re about to have a heart attack?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re stuck to a ceiling?!”

The brief flash of confusion turned into understanding once he realized where he was. “Oh. Right.”

“Oh? Right?! That’s all you’re going to say about it?! You could’ve fallen!”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark.” Mr. Stark, huh? Now when did that happen? “I won’t fall.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I know,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “My powers, remember?”

Wait-

Oh shit, his powers! Mr. Stark knew caught him. “I, uh…”

Smart, Parker. Really smart.

“Right,” Mr. Stark said slowly, “how about you come down?”

Shit, shit, shit- Peter did his best not to outwardly show his panic. He messed up big time. And when there was a mess-up, a punishment usually followed. What a pity. He went so long without one.

Peter could’ve jumped, but he wanted to savor those precious seconds before the pain came, so he started climbing down. Well, the least he could do was to face it like a champ. Like always.

No place for weaknesses.

“Hey, is everything all—"

New voice.

Peter froze still stuck to the wall. Mr. Stark whipped around. It seemed like the time in the room stopped as Wilson and Barnes’ eyes slid from Mr. Stark’s form to him.

Maybe if I don’t move, they won’t see me, Peter thought.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not supposed to do that,” Wilson said warily and to be fair, Peter couldn’t blame him. He did attack the man before.

Peter soundlessly lowered himself to the ground, the slight shift of the two newcomers’ bodies making Peter’s own tense in response. He will defend himself should he be attacked.

Mr. Stark stepped in front of him, shielding Peter from the view. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Leave us. We’ll join you shortly.”

Wilson leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of Peter. The boy didn’t need to be a telepath to know what was going through the man’s head. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go.”

The man looked like he wanted to protest, but Barnes’ hand on his shoulder stopped him. The former Hydra assassin nodded towards the door. Wilson, though reluctantly, relented. “Okay.”

Once the two were out of the sight, Mr. Stark turned to face Peter and took a step towards him. Here it comes. Peter lifted his head, his jaw clenched as he waited for the blow to land. Will it be a slap or punch? Will it be just his face that gets struck or his torso too? Will he get kicked once he’s on his knees?

Two arms sneaked around his body, one around his arms and one burying itself in his hair, made Peter turn into a statue. But no pain came. The touch was… gentle, actually. The hand in his hair began to cradle through his curls. It felt like someone pulled the plug and all of Peter’s tension went down the drain.

“I’m not mad,” Mr. Stark murmured into his hair, startling Peter and making him free himself from the hold before he could sink into it fully.

“What was that?”

Mr. Stark quirked one eyebrow. “Me saying I’m not mad or the hug?” When Peter didn’t reply, the curiosity turned into a small frown. “Did you ever get hugged?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, plenty. All-all the time,” Peter rushed out, but the lie sounded fake to his own ears.

“Right, as I was saying, I’m not mad, but I have to ask – how did you disable it?”

Peter decided to take the risk and merely shrugged. He fully expected Mr. Stark to press further for the answers, but the man only nodded and said, “Okay. Now come on, breakfast is on the table.”

Peter could only blink after the man. Mr. Stark didn’t strike him. Mr. Stark didn’t strike him! Peter messed up, did something he shouldn’t have done… yet there was no beating. Not even after he refused to say how he disabled the bracelets. All those things would get him pretty beaten up back home, what the hell?

Safe, his mind whispered.

Peter mulled over the word. Safe. Yes, he was safe, wasn’t he? Mr. Stark stepped in front of him, shielding him with his own body. Mr. Stark hugged him.

Nobody could touch him if he was near Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark meant safety. Safety felt nice.

Peter decided he liked Mr. Stark.

The day was spent by the kid glued to the TV, watching one sci-fi movie after another. The rest of Star Wars saga, Alien, Back to the Future, Jurassic Park – it didn’t matter. It was like he tuned out the rest of the world, only acknowledging when someone joined him on the couch with brief glance. Tony couldn’t help the tiny smile at the sight of childish wonder in Peter’s eyes. With all of the training his parents had put him through, there was no doubt that the boy had any time to just… be a kid.

Tony decided not to do anything about the bracelets. That was another point he wanted to bring up – trust. And besides, if the kid wanted to run, he would have done that the moment he disabled the power dampener.

He made a note to clean and basically child-and-villain-proof his workshop. He wanted to see on what level the kid was despite never attending school. He had to have some knowledge if he was able to disable them.

The whole confrontation refused to leave his mind. Peter looked like a deer caught in a headlight once he realized he was sticking to the ceiling. Like he was expecting him to lash out.

The addition of Mr. and Miss in front of their names came as a pleasant shock. Well, except Steve. Steve was still called Call-Me-Steve. And to Steve’s annoyance, the rest of the team took on the nickname as well. Still, it helped to ease the atmosphere between Peter and the group.

The efforts seemed to start paying off, because the kid basically imprinted on Tony like a duckling, checking from time to time if Tony was nearby.

When Tony found Peter sleeping in the same corner the next day, he had a comfy hammock installed there. Though he thought the kid would appreciate it, it was also mostly for peace of Tony’s own mind.

And as it turned out, he was right. Peter’s whole face lit up once he spotted the little nest.

Tony’s heart flooded with warmth.

Tony craned his neck up. “You sure like that book, huh?”

Peter, sitting on a ceiling, glanced over the top before returning his gaze to the pages. “It’s alright.”

Over the days of interacting with their little charge, Tony believed he became fluent in the teen. He never expressed outward joy and Tony for some reason suspected that it was because of the kid’s fear of having the object of his joy taken away. That, or he didn’t know how to properly express what he was feeling, which Tony found relatable.

Another round of laughter came from the group huddled near the TV. The team had taken up watching the aforementioned PSAs, making their local fossil cover his face in embarrassment. Clint was bent over, holding his sides. “Aw, man, these are hilarious.”

“Play the one about reproduction. You can see Call-Me-Steve’s soul leave his body in that one,” Peter said without looking away from the page. Eventually, he looked, but not at the group. He looked at Bucky, who was only half-attempting to hide his staring. “Why are you staring at me so much?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Peter’s eyebrows knitted together. “Uh, okay? For what exactly?”

“For trying to kill you.”

“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down? Many people tried to kill me. As you can see, they didn’t succeed.”

Bucky shifted, bowing his head slightly. “I tried… as a Winter Soldier, I was given the order to kill you shortly after you got your powers. I’m sorry.”

Aside from the rowdy group going crazy over the videos, everything was quiet in their little corner.

“Eh, it’s no big deal,” the kid said, making both men turn to him. “I don’t remember it at all, you obviously failed as I’m right here, so… no hard feelings on my side.”

“But I—”

“If you want to hear ‘I forgive you’ from me, then fine. I forgive you. You can cross my name off some list if you have one, but I literally couldn’t care less.”

Tony watched as Barnes’ shoulders fell in acceptance and mentally added him on a list of people that Peter started to slowly warm up to. First it was Natasha, then Rhodey and then Clint being, well, Clint, got jealous and practically started to buy the kid with chocolate. He puffed like a peacock when Peter told him ‘you’re not so bad’.

But Tony knew he was still number one and nobody could take it away from him.

His idle scrolling through SI documents that Pepper labeled as “important” got interrupted by an alert lighting up on his watch. Peter’s vitals were all over the place for the past five minutes.

Peter hadn’t moved from his spot on the ceiling, but it didn’t escape Tony how hunched over the book the kid was, wide eyes furiously going over the page and lips slightly parted. “Pete?” Nothing. “Kid?” Still no response. “Must be hell of a book,” he muttered under his breath.

A broom in the corner caught his attention. Shrugging, he grabbed it and then poked Peter’s side. The effect was instant. The kid yelped and if it wasn’t for his stickiness and quick reflexes, he would’ve fallen. “What the hell, Mr. Stark?” he cried out as he slightly swinged from side to side.

“Breathe!” Tony said, exasperated. “Or you’ll faceplant on the floor when you pass out.”

“You almost made me fall!”

Tony poked the kid’s ribs with the broom handle. “Well, what was I supposed to do? You didn’t react to anything else!”

“Well, maybe I acknowledged you with a hum but your old man ears didn’t catch that.”

Tony let out dramatic gasp. “You sassy little shit,” he said, flipped the broom over and began to playfully whack the boy with it. Peter giggled – actually giggled – and moved out of the broom’s reach. Tony gave chase, eliciting more giggles from the kid. “I’ll let you know that I’m not that old!”

“Whatever makes you feel better, old man,” the kid replied cheekily.

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Kids these days have no respect,” he grumbled. “Just breathe next time.” He went back to the documents, aware that Peter was following him to stay close.

And just when Tony thought that everything went well, of course it had to go to shit.

Tony heard the kid draw in shuddering breath, noticing that he made it through the book. But that wasn’t all that caught his attention. No, he tried and failed to decipher the emotions that rapidly flashed across Peter’s features. In one flash, Tony could’ve sworn that the kid was about to cry.

Just as fast as it appeared, it disappeared, Peter closed the book shut, jumped down, threw the book on the table and stormed from the room. Tony grabbed the book in hopes to find what had upset the kid since he enjoyed it so much. He flipped to the last page and he immediately understood.

“What was that about?” Rhodey asked.

“I’m going to get that girl from that bookstore fired,” he muttered angrily, passing the book to Sam’s waiting hands. Hope was apparently one of the themes; that was the reason Tony got it in the first place. “No wonder he’s upset with an ending like that!”

Sam passed the book to Natasha. “Well, it is a trilogy. If you wanted cliché happy ending, you should've gotten some standalone. Or different author.”

“Tony,” Steve said, “don’t—”

“What, Steve?” he snapped. “Don’t bother trying? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No.”

Tony stopped.

“I wanted to say that whatever went wrong this time, you’ll be able to fix it. You always do.” Tony stared, dumbfounded. Steve continued. “I had my doubts before, but after seeing you two earlier… I was wrong. Whatever you need, we’ll help.”

“Huh. Never would have thought that we would see eye to eye, but… thanks, Cap. I appreciate it,” Tony said, and he meant it. But now onto more pressing matter. “Okay, I’m gonna go talk to him, make sure the kid’s okay.”

“Wait!” Clint called out, making Tony stop. “A bit of advice from seasoned dad to a new dad – if you push a teenager to talk when he doesn’t want to, you’ll do more harm than good. You have to let him blow some steam off first. And until then,” he opened a vent hatch and pulled out a chocolate tablet from now not-so-secret stash, “here.”

Tony accepted the sweet treat. Clint must really want to help if he was willing to pass up on an opportunity to bribe the kid into liking him. “Thanks, Clint.”

He was almost out of the room when he turned around so fast it almost gave everyone a whiplash.

“Hold on… what do you mean a new dad?”

In the darkness of his room and in the comfort of his hammock, Peter made up his mind. He was running away. He didn’t know where exactly he would go since his parents most likely changed the locations, but he could go to some of their old hiding spots. Those places still had running water and provided safe cover from the weather. Food will be a trouble, but he could figure that part out once it came to that.

He glanced at the chocolate in his lap that Mr. Stark brought him earlier and then threw it into the hammock because he couldn’t reach that high up and Peter refused to come down. He set it aside and jumped down.

He’ll miss the taste.

He’ll miss the comfort of the hammock.

He’ll miss Mr. Sta-

Peter firmly cut himself off. No. He had to stop this before he got in far too deep. Because if he dared to hope that things could be better, it would simply get taken away from him anyway. Hope was fatal. Better to spare himself the pain.

Assuming that all doors were locked for the nigh, Peter found a stairwell and bean to climb up in a search for the roof. Then he could scale down the wall and leave all of this behind.

He found the door at last. With a sense of finality pooling in his stomach, he gripped the handle and pulled the door open.

Peter looked up and stopped.

It was a good thing that Tony wasn’t asleep when Friday alerted him that the kid was on the roof. He put on one of his old zip-up hoodies and headed to his destination, not knowing what to expect. Aside from the time in the gym, Peter never wandered the Compound at night.

He opened the door and whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t a pair of feet hanging in front of his face. Ducking underneath them, it didn’t take long to find the rest of the teen. Peter was sprawled on his back above the door. “A bit late to be outside.”

“There are so many,” the kid whispered, pure awe in his voice.

Tony looked up at the inky sky littered with millions of tiny bright dots. “There sure are. Not a cloud in sight. Perfect time for stargazing,” he said as he leaned on the wall next to Peter’s legs. “You’ve… never seen the stars?”

“I never really left the city. You can’t see this there with all that light pollution. Plus, when we were doing night missions outside of the city, it was always on cloudy night for maximum cover.”

Yeah, that would make sense. Though Tony couldn’t help but feel queasy at the memories of being up there. It was enough to make his skin prickle.

“You’ve been to space, right? During the battle of New York.”

Dang, the kid had to bring it up. But he was talking with Tony willingly, so he wouldn’t let the chance go to waste. “Yeah. I was.”

“How was it?”

Terrifying. Traumatizing. Nightmare and panic attack inducing. “It was… big. Vast and dark.”

“I would like to see it one day.”

Tony huffed. “Let’s hope it will be under better circumstances.”

“Thank you for closing that portal. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”

“Wait, you were there?”

“Of course. Like every person in New York.” The kid paused, seemingly contemplating to elaborate. “I was outside when the invasion happened. I wasn’t fast enough to hide in the safehouse and those things cornered me. I fought but more and more kept coming… and then they all fell. The portal closed.”

Tony found himself sitting next to Peter. He pushed the memories away in order to focus on his young charge. “Wait, that was you?”

Peter glanced at him. “Huh?”

“There was a part of the city where we weren’t fighting, but we found a bunch of Chitauri that were incapacitated before the mothership was destroyed. That was you, wasn’t it?” But none of them were killed. That planted some serious doubt about Peter’s claims that he killed someone. Sure, he was way younger then, but child soldiers killed since very young age. Plus… “There were several civilians claiming that some enhanced human had saved them.”

The kid averted his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just protected myself.”

Lies. Tony never thought he would be grateful for those. “Well then,” he said with small smile, “whoever saved those people is a hero.”

“I didn’t save anyone.”

“I didn’t say that.”

More silence. About half a minute passed before Peter sat up, still looking up at the sky. “Do you really think that I can change? Despite everything I’ve done?”

The vulnerability in those words made Tony’s heart ache. “You just have to have a little bit of hope.”

“Hope is fatal.”

“Is it though?”

Peter shrugged, then shivered.

“Are you cold?” Tony asked.

Peter wrapped his hands around himself and shook his head in amusement. “The spider part of me doesn’t exactly like the cold.”

Oh. Right. Spiders can’t thermoregulate. Tony immediately shrugged off his hoodie. “Here,” he said as he wrapped it around Peter’s shoulders.

With wide eyes, Peter pulled the hoodie tighter around himself. “I- I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this… or understand.”

“But you’ll learn.”

A brief hesitation. “But I’ll learn,” Peter repeated. “Thank you.”

Tony’s heart leaped with joy. A grin threatened to betray how he truly felt, but thankfully, he got saved by the kid’s stomach rumbling loudly. He laughed. “Hungry?”

“A little bit,” Peter muttered, his cheeks dusting pink. Another loud rumble could be heard. “Traitor,” he muttered, looking down pointedly.

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair. “Let’s get some food into you then. Nothing is better than the good old midnight raid of the fridge.”

They tinkered in comfortable silence in Mr. Stark’s workshop. If Peter counted correctly, tomorrow should be five-week anniversary of his capture. When he compared his current-self with his past-self, it was almost unbelievable how much has his attitude towards the heroes changed.

Where there used to be struggles and attacks and rude words, now there were group meals and playful banter. Peter still struggled with that one, but as Mr. Stark had said, he’ll learn.

And oh how Peter was willing to learn, especially in Mr. Stark’s workshop. So much technology in one place. It was a dream come true! Yes, he had restrictions because of his villain status, but he still made the most of what he was allowed.

Peter dared to say that he was… happy.

A sound of muffled explosion made his head snap up and not a second later an alarm started to blare. “What’s going on?”

Mr. Stark brought up a footage Peter couldn’t see. “We’re under attack. Don’t worry, just… stay here, okay?” he said, and with that, he was gone.

The tightness on Mr. Stark’s face, along with the churning of his stomach, gave Peter a pretty good tip on who was attacking. More explosions could be heard over the alarm. They were louder. Closer. Like they were on…

The roof.

Peter was torn. Why now? His own words echoed in his head.

“They’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Dammit.

Mr. Stark told him to stay put. And he wanted to obey, he really did, but… the sound of the battle went on for too long.

Peter knew what he had to do.

With his features set with determination, he headed out of the lab, but not before slipping a metallic disc into his shoe. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he pushed the pulled the door to the roof open. Unsurprisingly, he was met with the sight of a battlefield. There were dents in the roof. Charred spots from where the explosion went off. Even some bloodstains.

“Peter?” he heard Mr. Stark say. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay put!”

Peter didn’t get the chance to reply. “Spider!” He knew that voice. That was his mother’s voice. “What are you waiting for? Come on!” Peter spotted her on something that resembled a helicopter. His father was piloting, but still shot small rockets at the heroes on the roof.

“Peter, don’t,” Mr. Stark pleaded, shooting from his wrist gauntlet.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and gulped. Then he began to sprint across the roof towards his parents. Someone tackled him.

“Pete, kid, listen,” Mr. Stark said, “you don’t have to go with them. Remember what we were talking about? You can be better! Don’t throw everything away. Please,” he choked the last word out.

But he knew what he had to do. So, flipping the man easily off of his body, he took off running once again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if it could be heard through the lump in his throat. Peter came to the edge of the roof and jumped. His hand clasped around his mother’s extended one.

“Now!” his mother yelled at the same time as their hands connected.

An electric blast went through the tower, rendering all electronic on the roof useless. Peter heard the clang of Rhodey’s metal suit as it hit the ground. Peter risked the glance over his shoulder at the people he left behind.

“Nice one, Richard!”

“You were great too, hun!”

As always, no praise for Peter. A sudden stabbing pain came from around his wrists. Peter set his lips into thin like. “I forgot about these,” he muttered.

Well, he guessed he deserved it.

Darkness swallowed him.

#marvel fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson

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breadreballion · 5 years ago

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Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019). I was so excited to watch this movie, after hearing a lot about it on social media. Queer movie, period movie, example of female gaze, etc. All this created an upheaving excitement in me, making me more and more curious as in what does all these terms really represent and how can it be turned into cinema. I had to search a lot, to find this movie on a streaming platform, fortunately, found it on Mubi app. I had a different kind of curiosity related to this movie, thinking, will it help me answer questions I'm looking answer for? Will it satisfy me in a way that I will feel comfortable watching any sex scene without flinching? Really had a lot of questions, and a hope, that this will be different. And it is. I watched it over a two-day span, because it was almost impossible for me to watch in one sitting. Portrait of a lady on fire is a perspective-changing movie, so much so that it turns away the male gaze, and presents the female gaze. What isfemale gaze? Men and women see the world differently, and the world we live in, men's point of view is considerd default, with women also being ascribed that vision of men. As the noted 19th century feminist scholar Simone De Beauvoir wrote,

"Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with the absolute truth."

Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex.

Hypersexualization of women's body, focus shots on breast, the way women are dressed, to look seductive, are just the tip of iceberg as in how male gaze dominates the media we consume. This movie is refreshing in this sense. Firstly, there are no men in this movie, in this plot. A movie about women, directed by women. Women's life, though dominated by men, too exist in thier own sphere, wity thier own character, autonomy and worldviews. In this movie too, Heloise, Marianne, and the maid, Sophie, had thier independent life, independent stories, yet so intertwined. These women, despite having obvious class differences, make such simple relationship, helping each other out, reading, that this looks such a beautiful example of female solidarity; and the movie is such a perfect example of our lives, destiny decided by society- but women just finding thier ways to live, to enjoy, in whatever hidden way they can. Heloise marriage is fixed; one knows it right from the start of movie. The whole purpose of Marianne is to draw a portrait of Heloise for her future suitor, about which Heloise has previously rejected the previous painter and destroyed their efforts because she didn't see her real self in those portraits. Marianne is asked to draw Heloise in a way in which Heloise never gets to know that she's being painted. She accompanies Heloise on walks, spends time with her, observes her, and paint her. Here starts a masterful portrayal of female gaze, how through Marianne eyes, we can see how women observes women, they look at each other, what they focus on, what not. This is refreshing to see in any movie, because women are often for being portrayed for vanity in movies, being an element of sexual contentment. As John Berger has said in "Ways of Seeing"-

"Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. This determines not only most relations between men and women but also the relation of women to themselves. The surveyor of woman in herself is male: the surveyed female. Thus she turns herself into an object -- and most particularly an object of vision: a sight"

Movies like Portrait of a lady of fire has two expectations to fulfill- that they are "queer" movies, representing queer people lives- an expectations which is not the case with normal heterosexual romantic movies. The representation has to be very careful in queer movies- as they speak and represent a community. Often this has failed, creating harmful narrative, like in Blue is the Warmest Color- which is a good story of two women, but the director has put so much explicit sex scenes, that too made to sell it as "lesbians fetish." The scenes were so toxic that the actresses themselves while filming them felt most uncomfortable and violated- but the movie is famous around for its sex scenes, and seen as a representation of queer cinema, but ironically it does more harm to queer narrative- as it is a movie made on heterosexual assumption of homosexual lives. As in most movies, women are just there as secondary character, either as an eye candy, or to push the plot for Male character. When Berger says above, "the surveyor of women in herself is Male, the surveyed female" he is talking about how this male dominated, heterosexual narrative rule women's body and their daily performances and how women present themselves, often not to comfort of their own self, but to satisfy the males around. This experience is all to real for most women. All of us has changed our posture, our way of sitting, the way we speak, the language we speak when we are around men, to look more feminine, to look desirable. Movies also, sometimes consciously, most of the times unconsciously promotes this. The norms of femininity, what looks good, what not, etc. and pushes them onto women. Portrait of a lady on fire also does away with that- the raw scene, of Sophie's abortion- and it's recreation later, in a way shows the lives of women as it is for them- no hiding, no airbrushing. Their real experiences depicted as they are felt. This movie is loosely centered around the Greek story of Orpheus, who journeyed to the underworld to plead for the return of his dead wife, Eurydice. Hades, god of underworld, allowed Eurydice to follow Orpheus back to the world of the living, but delimited Orpheus’s sight: if he turned back to look at her, he would lose her forever. Orpheus looked, and was punished with the kind of loss that cracks you open. The movie has a scene, in which Heloise, Marianne and Sophie are reading this story- and they disagree, one saying that he shouldn't have looked, so that his wife could be saved, and other saying that everyone wants a last look of their lover- it's very natural. This story, like the movie, the most crucial element to its core is the act of "seeing". The story of Orpheus depicts how look, how seeing can kill, especially that seeing which is forbidden, unacceptable, but here, instead of lust, desire, is involved, beauty is involved, that seeing is a risk to be taken.

Modern movies have lost the aspect of romance, of falling in love. What is portrayed is love at first sight, or unrequited love, where one partner is aware, other is not. Also, since we live in a hetronormative world, most movies unconsciously have a hetronormative aspect to it- how men and women navigate the start of a relationship, and their desires are often quickly fulfilled in events like one night stand, or getting drunk or making out. This heterosexual romance has been so normalised by society, it is often overlooked that romance, desire and falling in love for homosexual couples is different. The women in this movie, Helenoise and Marianne represents that. The time to know each other, slow building of desire, in a soft, genuine and yet so sensuous way. Looking, observing, and pining.

Portrait of a lady on fire is a refreshing take, first, because for the first time I have found the representation of female gaze in any media I have consumed. The way a woman looks at another woman. Being fed male gaze by popular media throughout, I was surprised to notice sometimes while watching this movie, I felt my eyes focusing on those parts of characters which in scenes later, focused by the camera. The gaze of the female director felt like my own. I saw myself represented. One more thing I enjoyed is pining. The slow build-up of desire, the realization of falling in love, getting to know each other. Desire in its pure, unadulterated form.

Watching this movie was once in a lifetime experience. I felt it is my movie. My own. An experience which I never expected. The subtle way topics like abortion, women's friendship, the looming prospect of marriage and of course the art is covered. Looking helps in falling in love, we all know that. But how looking helps in getting to know each other, deeply, movingly and in an forbidden way- is this movie. The love, the romance and ofcourse, in all the right ways- a queer love story is handled. The movie is God tier. I will end it here now, with these lines of Mary Oliver which this movie reminds me-

“You do not have to be good, You only have to let the soft animal of your body, love what it loves.”

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bright-n-daisy · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Could you write a Chris Evans x Reader story? Maybe something where the reader can’t have kids but keeps it a secret and says to boyfriend kids she does not want any which leads to Chris breaking up and a week later his brother Scott (and readers best friend) talks with him about the infertility and Chris is completely shocked and then a really fluffy ending? :)

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, infertility.

A/N: I hope you like it. This is unlike things that I read, and to be honest I never saw myself writing something like this. Enjoy!!

It was Thursday night. Thursday night is always movie night for you and Chris. You were both sat on the couch, his arm around your body. You were small in comparison to him, but cuddling was your favorite because your bodies always fit together perfectly.

It was Chris’ week to choose, lord knows if it was yours you would have chosen any other movie. He chose the movie Instant Family.

A family had been on both of your minds lately, but for different reasons. You both had been warming up to the idea of thinking of starting your family. So you went to the doctor to see if everything would be good to get started. As the smallest corner of your mind feared, the doctor confirmed, you couldn’t have kids.

The movie had just finished when Chris looked down and asked

“You ok? You seem a little tense.”

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” You lied.

“Yeah me too.” The smile on his face grew incredibly large. “Hopefully its the same thing.”

“I’m not sure it is.” You mumbled.

“I know we’ve only started dropping hints about it, but I’m just gonna say it. I think we should really start trying to have kids.”

“Chris... I don’t think I want kids.” You lied to him once again, you thought this might be easier for him to hear.

“What?” Chris got up from the couch, looking surprisingly offended.

“I said I don’t think I want kids.” You didn’t even realized you said those words until you saw the look on Chris’ face. It sent you to tears.

“Y/n, just last week we were joking about names, and which neighborhood we’d move to once we had kids.”

“I know, I know it’s just-”

“- Just what?” He interrupted. “What changed? What exactly from last week changed?”

“I just didn’t think you could handle it then.” The lies were pilling up.

“Oh I couldn’t handle it?” He was almost yelling, you flinched at every word he spoke. “Once again I ask. What. Changed. From. Last. Week.”

“I don’t know.” you stood there crying.

“I think I’m gonna stay at Scott’s tonight.”

You were crying so hard at this point you didn’t even realize he had left.

The next morning when things calmed down, Chris went downstairs to get breakfast and saw Scott sitting at the counter.

“So, what happened last night?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know man. All of the sudden she doesn’t want kids. It led to a fight, and I left.”

“What? That’s insane Y/N loves kids?”

“Yeah I thought so too. She just doesn’t want any with me.”

“I mean you guys can always adopt, you guys do realize there are other ways?”

“Scott, what are you talking about? Why would we adopt if she doesn’t even want kids?”

“Chris, she cant have kids.”

“What?” Chris’ expression changed from annoyance to sorrow.

“She didn’t tell you?” Scott said, looking guilty.

“No.” Chris said, grabbing his coat off of the coat rack. Scott didn’t even have to ask where he was going.

You were still sat on the couch from the night before. The tears had now dried, but you couldn’t stop the thinking. You stream of consciousness stopped as soon as you heard the door open and saw Chris walk through.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” You said, staying on the couch, Chris was still walking your way.

He sat down in front of were you were sitting, and grabbed a hold of your hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You could see the tears now forming in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You said, not being able to make eye contact with him. You could feel your eye start to rewet with tears.

He grabbed a hold of you face with both hands to ensure that you were making eye contact with him.

“You could never disappoint me Y/n.” Without thinking your head found the crook of his shoulder. He held onto you as you cried.

“There are other ways to have kids Y/n.” He assured you.

“I love you Chris.”

“I love you too.”

#chris evan #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction

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jungle321jungle · 4 years ago

Text

Blood Letters

Writing letters which are not meant to be sent can be therapeutic, at least that is what people claim. Logan thinks it is to an extent, but he finds the subject matter of the letters to be of far more consequence.

Or, Logan dreams about murder.

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

Note: Lots of blood and death mention things of all sorts

~~~~

Blood Letters

Dear Janus,

I am writing this letter which is addressed to you in order to sort out my own thoughts. Patton recommended this method to me in order to “get out my feelings in a positive way”. He claims that writing a letter addressed to myself or no one at all with all my thoughts is nearly on par with saying them aloud. Roman agreed and then recommended burning the letters upon completion to get rid of any trace of my problems. However, Patton suggests I keep them. I am still not sure which I will do (I had also asked Remus who only suggested I set myself ablaze), so I will decide upon finishing. Oh, and before I go further, I do apologize for how disjointed this letter will be. I am told that the less structured and closer to a stream of consciousness I am, the better. This has yet to be proven.

Now, I have chosen to address this letter to your Janus rather than myself, given part of my issues seem to stem from you. I assure you, that I am not blaming you in any regard. I am entirely to blame for my own compulsions, and I accept that. But I hope that by addressing the concerns between us that lie solely in my mind I can expel them entirely. Quite frankly I do not expect much from this, intrusive thoughts are not such a simple concept after all- but I have not told my friends the ongoings of my mind. I do not wish to concern them, nor do I wish to seek professional help for multiple reasons. For one I do not have the time nor money, I spend much of time working to pay for my grandmother’s nursing home bills, also I-

It occurs to me that I have been prattling on about my reasons for writing the letter as opposed to writing how I feel about you, so I shall commence doing so.

Given this letter is not intended to be read I have no need to sugar coat my words.

I am in love with you Janus, and more than that- I want to see you die.

I am not partial to the method of your death. I have had dreams where you suffocate, drown, bleed out, and more- all of which were as spectacular as the last. In the first dream you and I had been walking down the street with our friends. The group hadn’t been talking about anything of true value to my knowledge, but I do recall the way it ended. You and I had fallen to the back of the group, walking in silence. And I did not see why it was that you lingered when we crossed the street- but I did turn to see you take flight once the car struck you. For a moment I was filled with nothing but fear. My heart was racing, and despite being a dream I was struggling to breathe. Upon waking I assumed my reaction was because I saw someone die. But after the second dream where I watched you bleed out and suffocate after your throat was slit, I understood that my heart racing wasn’t due to fear, it was something closer to intrigue. And from there my feelings have only grown more intense.

Whenever I see you Janus- or dream of you- I fall for you even more.

I am not sure what else I can say in this letter, so I suppose I shall end it here. I am still unsure what I will do with this short letter, but I suppose it is not that important.

Yours,

Logan

~~~~

Dear Janus,

I hadn’t intended to write you a letter again.

After I wrote (and kept) the first, I found the dreams and urges decreased greatly. And I was happy to feel a “normal” love for you, but now weeks later I found they have returned in full force and I am not entirely sure why they have. Perhaps it was on account of me spending more time with you. I greatly enjoyed our trip to the mall. I am not one to believe in fate, but I think it is a wonderful coincidence that we both happened to run into each other. And I think it speaks yards that you suggested we shop together. As we did, I found myself staring at your face so often when you weren’t looking. I think I stared so much that if I held any artistic talent I think I could sketch every ridge of your face and its scars with accuracy, and still not hold a candle to your general beauty.

I wish I had artistic talent, if I did I’d render the versions of you I see only in my mind.

Your eyes wide and terrified. Maybe with burst blood vessels. I can’t help but wonder what you’d look like with your scars open. So many times I have wanted to ask you how you got them- I want you to explain to me every detail. Well enough that I can picture it myself and savor every moment. But I know if I ask I would push you away. And that’s the one thing I can’t do. I won’t jeopardize my chance at seeing you. Because at this point I’m not sure how well I’ll fair without you.

Yours,

Logan

~~~~

Dear Janus,

The dreams are back.

This time you fell from a building. Your limbs bent at strange angles with a vacant yet shocked looked in your eyes. It was beautiful Janus. More so than your face alive.

I can’t explain the beauty I see that no one else ever can. But I wish I could.

Yours,

Logan.

~~~~

Janus,

It’s the middle of the night. 3:41 am according to the clock on my nightstand.

You were dead again. That’s nothing new. What was new however, is that this time I was the one who killed you.

I’m not even sure how- or why.

I’m still tired yet running on adrenaline, I can’t make sense of my own thoughts. All I know is that I saw you lying in a pool of your own blood, and I was holding the knife.

I need to get some air.

Logan

~~~~

Janus,

It’s only been a week. And I killed you again.

I used a baseball bat. I watched your body lurch with each strike.

I continued even after I knew you were dead, because each time I hit you it seemed the blood sprayed about you like a frame of red. With your beauty pictured in its center.

I wonder what it will be next time.

Logan

~~~~

Janus,

I’ve never told you that I’ve been to prison, have I?

It was years ago, not long after I came out, my father had kicked me out and my grandmother took me in. She had been waiting for me outside of my job, and when I exited the building I saw two men look at me before they ran off. They stole her purse. She was injured and she told me not to go after them, so I didn’t at the time. But I tracked them down. I only did eighteen months for two counts of assault. I probably would have done more had I not caught them they were attacking some other old woman. It was only eighteen months, plus time in jail awaiting sentencing, but it’s not something I wish to repeat. I don't want to lose my freedom.

Just as I don’t want to lose you.

So why do I dream of your death- of your murder?

Why is it that killing you is both what I want and what I fear most?

Logan

~~~~

Janus,

You gave me a hug today when the group all said goodbye.

And when walking back to my car, Virgil teased me for liking you. I wasn’t aware that anyone knew that I cared for you. He told me to ask you out, but I’m not sure I deserve that much. But when I told him so he didn’t understand. I made no effort to explain because I can’t expect him to.

I can’t expect anyone to understand the fact that when you hugged me, I had to ensure my hands went around your torso and not your neck.

Logan

~~~~

Janus,

In my dreams your blood has texture.

It is thicker than water, but I can’t quite identify what it’s viscosity reminds me of. But there are also small bits to it. Bits is the wrong phrasing. I am not sure what the proper word is, perhaps chunks? No that seems wrong as well. Whatever the word, I believe it is a result of your tissue mixing with the blood. This is only conjecture though, the dreams never last long enough for me to figure it out.

One thing I do I know however, is how white your bones look in contrast with the blood. They appear like porcelain- no like beautiful white pearls. They’re luxurious, and priceless.

Logan

~~~~

Janus,

I should leave.

I should go elsewhere. Somewhere far away where you are not within my reach.

But I shouldn’t leave my grandmother. I go visit her every other week. She looks forward to those visits.

Do I have to pick between the two I love?

How does a person do that? No. That’s not the right question. The right question is why am I leaning towards you?

Logan

~~~~

#10

Janus,

I don’t know how far I should go. Where is far enough that I don’t see you when I close my eyes? Because no matter what you’d always be a distance away. And if I travel somewhere there is always the risk that I will take the journey back here.

Where is far enough?

Right now I can only think of one place where I cannot hurt you, but while I know I could take your life, I am too much of a coward to take my own.

Logan

~~~~

#11

Janus,

You seemed annoyed when I cancelled our plans leaving you to see the movie with Remus alone. But I don’t know if I could sit for two hours beside you, without wanting the light in your eyes to dim. I couldn’t go. Not when I’ve already found a new job and a new place to stay.

I’m going to leave for your safety. So I can’t jeopardize it now.

I hope you enjoyed the film.

Logan.

~~~~

#12

Janus,

I leave today. I have not told anyone where I am going. And I’m sure my sudden disappearance will come as a shock to our friends, but that is the least of all evils.

It took months, and it took me till today- the day I am leaving- but I have finally decided what to do with all these letters. I can only hope it is the right choice.

I am sorry Janus.

I am sure those are words you do not wish to hear- or read. But they are true. I am sorry, who I am and whom I’ve become. And at this point it might sound strange, but even so I wish you happiness and life. I wish you life.

Perhaps more than I wish for you death.

Logan.

~~~~

“You have a package.”

“Who from?”

“I dunno.”

He gave a frown as he took the package. It was a small box, a bit smaller than a shoe box and in neat handwriting on top was his name and address but the name on the return address had been rendered unreadable. Maybe something had spilled and scratched it in transport. He stood from his seat, and moved to the kitchen setting the box on the table before retrieving a knife to open the box. When he had, he found envelopes inside- each one bearing his name and a number on the front.

“Did someone send you a box of letters?”

“I’m as confused as you are, Virgil.” He dumped them out, his eyes scanning until he found the envelope marked number one. The letter inside thankfully didn’t seem long, but it held the same neat scrawl. “Dear Janus, I am writing this letter which is addressed to you in order to sort out my own thoughts...” he trailed off his eyes scanning the lines in confusion- before he froze. He read it once. Twice. Three times, before Virgil had snatched it from his hands.

Janus could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears, and he felt bile rise in his throat- but even so he reached for number two.

“It’s sick,” Virgil said finally, throwing the last one down the table.

Janus didn’t reply as he reached for the closest one- number seven- but Virgil put a hand on it stopping him.

“Don't. Reading them once was bad enough.”

Janus moved his hand away as his eyes drifted to the ceiling above him- but on the whiteness of it he could only see the words he had read. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. But now he could almost hear Logan’s voice.

“I used a baseball bat... Your blood has texture... A frame of red.”

“I know we joked that Logan left without a word because he got into trouble but...” Janus trailed off as he took a deep shuddering breath, and when he spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he?”

Virgil didn’t reply, but Janus could hear as he moved about the room before he finally spoke. “...I’m calling the police.”

“And tell them what?” He demanded, looking back to Virgil. “Tell then that someone I thought was my friend actually dreams of killing me? To tell them that he’s now vanished into thin air? He could be anywhere Vee. Anywhere!”

Virgil didn’t reply but he turned so Janus couldn’t see his face. “I’m calling.” He didn’t bother to say anything more, he only took a step out of the room as he dialed, leaving Janus alone.

Alone with the letters.

Alone with his thoughts.

Alone with his fears.

And alone with the hope that Logan would never come back.

#jaz's oneshots #blood #gore #tw blood #tw gore #murder #death #character death #tw death #tw character death #love letters #pining #loceit #one sided attraction #unrequited romance #unrequited pining #unrequited crush #tw suicide #suicide mentions

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jae-sch-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Make It Up To You

Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (platonic), Scott McCall x Reader (romantic; not main pairing), Melissa McCall

Word Count: 1,908 (My TEEN WOLF fics ten to be longer than others, don’t they?)

Genre: flangst (my specialty)

Summary: Stiles has been ignoring the Reader, and she thinks she must have done something to warrant it. Will she find a way to make it up to Stiles, or will the friendship be lost?

Warnings: avoidance and being ignored (I’m pretty sure that’s it for this one)

A/N: I found this in my Google Drive and realized I had never posted it, so here we are. Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are my own and no one is to blame for them but me, myself, and I.

“Hey Scott, can I talk to you for a second?” you say as you approach your boyfriend in the hallway after school.

“Yeah, of course,” Scott says as he grabs some books from his locker and puts them in his book bag.

“Do you know why Stiles has been avoiding me?”

“I don’t think he’s avoiding you. Maybe he’s just been really busy,” Scott said as he grabbed your hand and the two of you began to walk toward the locker room.

“No, he’s definitely been avoiding me. If I go somewhere he is, as soon as I walk in the door, he seems to be done with whatever he’s doing there and leaves. The only place he hasn’t done that was in history today, and I have a feeling he would have left if he could have.”

“Y/N, maybe it’s just coincidence. Stiles is a busy person who usually has issues with staying still, in a good way, obviously, you know that.”

“I know, but still. I can’t shake this feeling that he’s definitely avoiding me and it kinda hurts. I just thought since your his best friend and the pack leader, you would maybe know something.”

“Sorry, I wish I could help more, but I have to get to practice.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you say. “Hey, do you think I could stay and watch your practice? I wanna be able to catch Stiles after.”

“Of course it’s okay. I’ll try to make sure he stays so you can talk to him. Then I’ll give you a ride home after, okay?”

“Thanks, Scott.”

“Dude, what’s going on with you and Y/N?” Scott asked in the locker room before practice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about man,” Stiles said as he pulled on his practice jersey.

“She says you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say ‘avoiding’. More like ‘staying as far away from her as possible’.”

“Stiles…” Scott began, “you need to talk to her. She’s really hurt that you haven’t talked to her.”

“Scott, I can’t do it, okay? You don’t wanna know why either. Just trust me on this, okay?”

“Stiles, I do trust you, but my girlfriend, one of your best friends, is hurt. You can’t keep this up forever.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, “but I can try.”

“Y/N wants to talk to you after practice. At least come and listen to her,” Scott said as the two went out to the field.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll listen to her.”

“Thanks, man.”

After lacrosse practice was done, Scott met you in the parking lot with Stiles.

“Here ya go, Y/N. Stiles is here to listen to you, and you will, won’t you Stiles?” Scott asked Stiles and he just nodded.

“Okay, Stiles, I don’t know why you aren’t talking to me or why whenever I walk into a room you walk out. I don’t doubt that you have a good reason for ignoring me because you always have a good explanation to back your actions. I just want to know what that explanation is. So please, Stiles, I’m begging you, tell me why you’re ignoring me. Just tell me, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Siles just stood there in silence, staring at the ground. He couldn’t even look at you, that’s how much he knew he had hurt you.

“Fine, I see how it is. Whatever the hell I did, it seems to be so bad that you won’t even tell me what I did. So, whenever you decide to talk to me again, please do.”

You started to walk away with tears in your eyes. You had no idea as to what you did to deserve the cold shoulder from Stiles, and now you were even farther from finding out how you could make it up to him.

“Wait, Y/N!” Scott called. “I said I would give you a ride home, remember?”

“It’s fine Scott. I think I’ll just walk home now. Thanks though.”

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Scott said with both anger and confusion as soon as you were out of sight.

“What? I said I would listen to her. I never said anything about actually talking to her.”

“If you won’t tell her, then you gotta tell me, Stiles. I need to know why you won’t talk to her. I won’t tell her, I promise, but after what I just saw, I need to know, Stiles.”

“Y/N, honey what’s wrong?” Melissa asked when you walked through the door with tears streaming down your face and without Scott.

You said nothing as you wrapped your arms around Melissa’s neck and held on tightly. She didn’t say anything, she just held you in the way she knew you needed to be held.

You could have gone home to your own parents, but you preferred Melissa. She seemed to understand you better. It probably had something to do with the supernatural issues that she knew about since you and your own parents never had the whole “my boyfriend’s a werewolf” conversation.

“Okay, for me to help you, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s going on,” Melissa said as she looked into your bloodshot eyes.

“Stiles won’t talk to me and I don’t know what I did wrong!” you cried.

“Okay, come on,” Melissa whispered as she pulled you to the couch. You curled up in a ball and lay your head on her lap.

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Yeah, I gave them a call on the walk over,” you say quietly as Melissa began to run her fingers through your hair. Before you know it, the reigns of sleep pulled you into darkness.

About an hour later, Scott and Stiles walked in the door and Stiles was holders a container with your favorite ice cream.

“You two better have a good explanation as to why I was the one to comfort your friend,” Melissa said as she pointed a finger at Stiles, “and your girlfriend,” she pointed to Scott. “She came here crying her eyes out and now she’s passed out on the couch. You two. Explain. Now.”

“Mom, I swear, we can explain. Stiles was telling me why he hasn’t been talking to Y/N,” Scott started.

“Yeah, and then we were coming up with ideas for me to make it up to her,” Stiles continued.

“Fine. Scott, get Y/N upstairs and into bed. Stiles, you’re gonna stay right here. I have a few things to say to you.”

Scott carefully picked you up and carried you upstairs to his room and Stiles stayed with Melissa, slightly terrified of what was to come.

Once Scott was upstairs, Melissa turned to Stiles.

“Okay, spill. What the hell happened between you and Y/N?”

You were asleep in Scott’s arms on the bed when Stiles came upstairs.

“Dude, your mom is not happy with me,” Stiles said when he entered the room.

“Well, yeah. It’s my mom we’re talking about, and the topic is Y/N. What else did you expect?”

“Nothing I guess. Dude, let’s just wait to talk to her tomorrow. She’s asleep and I really rather not wake her. Then she’ll be even madder at me.”

Scott fell asleep on the bed with you and Stiles lied on the floor at the foot of the bed. He felt so bad about the situation that he didn’t even let Scott make something for him to sleep on. Stiles was awake all night trying to come up with even more ways to make up for what he had done.

When you woke up the next morning, your first thought was “coffee”. However, Stiles stopped you before you could get out of Scott’s room.

“Y/N, I really need to talk to you,” Stiles said as he blocked your access to caffeine.

“Funny, considering you didn’t even want to utter a word to me yesterday,” you gritted through your teeth as you tried to get past Stiles.

“Please, Y/N. Just let me explain. I want to make it up to you, okay? I really do. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. Please, please, please. Just let me tell you what happened.”

“Fine, but first, you have to go get me coffee.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Stiles rushed out of the room and came back about ten minutes later with a cup of coffee in his hand. You were sat on the desk and after you received your drink, you stared at Stiles, waiting for him to tell his tale.

“Okay, so back when I was being possessed by the nogitsune, I hurt you. I didn’t want to, I hope you know that, but I still did. That… that thing had my thoughts. It wanted to hurt as many people as it possibly could, so it chose you to be the victim. If it hurt you, it knew that it would hurt the rest of the pack, especially Scott, since you’re his girlfriend. It would hurt Melissa, too, because everyone knows she sees you as a daughter, and me because I consider you to be one of my best friends. Y/N, I am so sorry for treating you the way that I did. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to face you after what I did, so I avoided you. I am so, so sorry.”

“Stiles,” you said quietly,” it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything. It was the nogitsune’s fault, not yours. Yeah, sure, it might’ve been your body, but it wasn’t your consciousness. I know you wouldn’t hurt me intentionally. Sure, maybe you didn’t handle the situation in the best way after it happened, but now that I know why you did what you did, I’m not as upset about it.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Just be my friend again. That’s more than enough for me.”

“Deal,” Stiles said as he pulled you into a hug. “We did bring ice cream home last night; want some?”

You nodded your head and Stiles went to get the ice cream. You sat by each other and watched a movie on Netflix as you waited for Scott to wake up.

When Scott finally stirred awake, he saw the two of you sitting next to each other, laughing at whatever joke was just said in the film.

“Good, you guys made up. Now, Stiles, what are you gonna do to say you’re sorry.”

“I’m just gonna be her friend again, man. She told me that was enough.”

“Are you telling me that we came up with a whole list of things you could do, and you’re not going to do any of them?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Stiles said with a smirk.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Aw, Scott,” you said as you walked over to him and placed a kiss on his cheek, “you could still complete that list. You know I wouldn’t mind.”

“And you know that I love to spoil you.” Scott wrapped his arms around you and pressed little kisses all over your face.

“Come on you two. I thought this was gonna be about me finally talking to Y/N again,” Stiles whined.

“You’re right. I’ve missed you, Stiles,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” Stiles said before wrapping both you and Scott in a hug.

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faunahudson · 4 years ago

Text

love in a bottle | sauna

WHO: Sawyer Hudson and Fauna Hudson - @sawyer-hudson

WHEN: 14th of February

WHERE: Hudson Apartment and the Beach

WHAT: Sawyer and Fauna do a cute valentines gift exchange

WARNINGS: too much cute

Though not their first Valentine’s Day together, Sawyer wanted their first one as as claimed couple to be as special as he could. Admittedly, he got this idea from TikTok, and fully knowing Fauna would have seen it, made sure to have a back-up surprise for her. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” He greeted her when she came back from her workout with Alexis, a peck on her lips. “Fancy walking Bingley on the beach? Show off our amazing loving family?”

Fauna had never liked Valentine’s Day before Sawyer, usually she’d just bought a Tesco’s box of chocolate coated strawberries, watched Pride and Prejudice and called it a night. But now she couldn’t help but love the cheesy movies, the heart shaped balloons and the over large stuffed animals. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She responded happily, unable to stop herself from stealing a second peck. “I’d love to handsome, let me just change my hoodie. You mind getting our precious son ready to go?”

He laughed against her lips. "I'm sorry, who's hoodie?" He asked teasingly, pinching the familiar material momentarily, before letting go. "Of course, take your time." Sawyer said, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss against it, leaving the room to come face to face with Bingley, sitting up excitedly as if he already knew something good was happening today. "Hey buddy, c'mon, shall we go to the beach?" Sawyer asked in his 'dog-dad' voice, grinning when Bingley barked back as if to say yes. Once they were ready and waiting for Fauna, he scooped up the large dog as if he were a small puppy. "You think I can sneak you into the Valentine's Day party tonight?" He asked him, who whined in response. "Maybe dress you like a little cupid? You'll be stealing hearts if I do that."

“Oh yes.. Our hoodie.” Fauna responded with a wink. “I’m always telling you Sir, you’re more than welcome to borrow my clothes.” The little brunette teased before slipping back into their room. She ended up stripping off all of her clothes when she got through, deciding she looked like a sweaty mess. Trading them in for a fresh sports bra, his HUDSON hoodie from high school and some leggings. She leaned against the door watching him momentarily with their dog. “God you two are cute? You sure you don’t want to just spend valentines together?” She teased lightly.

“If you wanted me in a little crop top and skirt you should have dressed me that way for Switch Week,” Sawyer had teased in response. He let out a low whistle at the image of her in his high school hoodie, an affectionate grin on his face at how much she drowned in it. “I mean as amazing as a date Bingley would be,” He said, “I also think he’d get too overexcited at the chocolates being passed around campus today and we don’t want an emergency trip to the vet do we buddy?” He asked the dog who just barked in response, wiggling to indicate he wished to be released. Sawyer set him down and he raced towards Fauna, almost toppling her over with the sheer strength he had. “Hey buddy calm down we don’t walk you knocking your mom over,” He warned lightly, before reaching over to Fauna, planting a kiss on her cheek as he steadied her from being knocked off her feet by their dog.

Fauna giggled when he whistled at her as he spotted her. “If you like this you should see what I’ve got planned for later.” She told him thinking of the heart covered lingerie set and cute valentines dress she had tucked away. His affectionate worrying about Bingley made her smile even softer. “No your Mom would like to avoid taking you to the vet for anything but check ups.” She agreed, bracing herself a little as the dog raced over to her, running her fingers over his silky ears. Grateful when he steadied her. “Bingley is the only soul alive I wouldn’t be jealous of if you took them as a date.” She told him as they headed for the beach. “Otherwise it would be a trip to mermaid lagoon im afraid.”

"I can't wait to to see it," Sawyer promised her, "Honestly I'm...intrigued by this party. What can be done with a unlimited amount of money the hostess has." He didn't know Sugar all that well, but from her brief stint dating Finn, and her interactions in general, she tended to just throw money around without a care in the world, Even with his own new-found wealth, Sawyer and Fauna knew how to budget, and did their ball with a spending limit, so he was interested in what a party with no budget would look like. He let out a sigh when the hard concrete of the path turned into the soft sand these beaches were famous for, and he took a moment to appreciate how lucky he got, how amazing his life was. He laughed at Fauna's threat, pulling her in closely. "You know I wouldn't be able to stand by as you took various prospects under, so maybe be a bit more sneaky." He said with a wink.

Fauna nodded. “I’m beyond hype to go to this Sugar Motta party, girl bought a lemon farm on a whim.. I’m sorta imagining giant heart cookies like the one from bridesmaids.” She explained, squeezing his hand just a little as they reached the beach in their secret message to one another. Giggling just a little as he pulled her into his side. “Oh Sir.. you don’t think I’d be silly enough to tell you where I was going.” The little submissive smiled. “I’d take the Wendy Bird or Lad somewhere nice and quiet to drown them. Then I’d come home and tell you how handsome you were and just how much I loved you.” She declared. “Honestly though, I’m so lucky to have you and not have to share you.”

Sawyer laughed. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it was more of an Alice in Wonderland, Queen of Hearts situation.” He said, imagining everywhere having a love heart caricature placed on it somehow, including warped furniture shaped like it. “It’ll be nice though, and it’s good that Rory and Finn have a gig too.” He mentioned. As much as he enjoyed teasing her about her willingness to do whatever it took to keep Sawyer to herself, the Dominant knew he’d do the same for Fauna. The idea of anyone else having her saddened him, and he felt comfort that they were on similar wavelengths. “I’m so lucky not to have to share you either, we’re Fauna-and-Sawyer, there’s no want, need or space for a third party.” He squeezed her hand back. “Wanna bet who’s faster catching a frisbee, you or Bingley?” He then asked, grabbing the plastic disc out of the backpack he carefully put together late last night.

Fauna made a little hum of interest. “I mean I would like to see that, especially if they had a variety of jam filled cakes and treats. I love strawberry jam.” She said hopefully, as she pictured playing cards dangling from the ceiling and Sugar in a large gold crown. “It is good, it always makes me happy when someone gives them a gig. DFS is one of Rorys big passions and.. well... I always like to see him up and doing something he enjoys.” The little brunette replied, he probably didn’t realise just how much she enjoyed his little confirmation that he only ever wanted her. That she was more than enough. “Nope, just you and me forever oh love of mine. Besides there’s no room in the bed now that Bingley keeps trying to sleep in between us. I woke up to get a glass of water the other night and he had his paws on my shoulders.” She giggled, and then glanced at the frisbee forever competitive even with the dog. “I mean he has stronger legs.. so he has an unfair advantage.”

"Are you hinting at wanting some strawberry jam?" Sawyer asked with a large smile, "Because I'm sure there's like...an ocean-side café somewhere that does the whole British afternoon tea thing with strawberry jam and scones," He pointed out, gesturing a bit further up the beach,"and I think there could be an outdoor table if we schmooze enough on this fine day of St. Valentine." "The band's really good, and if they're wanting to take it to the next level, it's perfect exposure for them." The Dominant agreed, pouting at the dog as Fauna describe their sleeping arrangements, "He's very affectionate, but he's the laziest pup known to man, his whining when I take him out on a morning is reminiscent of having to get you up for your workouts with Alexis." He alaughed, "I think you stand a fair chance against him," Sawyer disagreed, "Even if you don't, he likes to be chased." And with that he flung the frisbee down the beach. "Fetch!" He called out with a laugh.

“I mean I wasn’t.. it was more of just a stream of consciousness.. but now that you mention it that sounds so cute Sir!” The submissive responded excitedly, skipping just a little at the thought of getting to sit in a little ocean side cafe with him having a cream tea. “I’m sure that with the power of our love and a small green tip we can make it happen. I’ll show you the proper order for putting the jam and cream on your scone.” Fauna responded excitedly, thinking that she would also insist on cutting his scones into heart shapes. “He’s just a baby, he can’t help being tired!! He needs his sleep.” The brunette defended, reaching down with a little hand to pet over their dogs head again. “Hmm. Well yes he does like to be chased.” She agreed, and then took off down the beach after the frisbee. Bingley chased enthusiastically out in front, and got there long before her.

Sawyer laughed, "I'd hope so, I wouldn't want to embarass you for eating one incorrectly," He teased. "Maybe there'll even do a puppucino for that one," He mused, "He needs to get up like everybody else." Sawyer's heart burst everytime he saw the affection for the dog in Fauna's eyes, hearing it in her voice, and he was so grateful to have her in his life. That fate brought them together, and gave them this life. Sure it wasn't perfect, it wasn't idyllic, because they were human and had to face challenges and issues. But they got thse moments, that both worked extremely hard for, and for that he would do anything to get another one, and another day with her. When she was distracted chasing Bingley, he got the other item out of his backpack, an aged bottle that was inspired by a TikTok he saw. He had placed a note in it, including writing out one of his favourite poems, aged it with a teabag, furling it over with a bracelet that had their birthstones on it, intertwined together. He also included a loveheart charm to represent the day, to be added to her collar, and a small pick 'n' mix bag of sweets Rory helped him pick out. He ran up to place it on the shore, packing wet sand around it, before running back to his usual spot, just as Bingley came racing back, bounding up to him, almost knocking him out with the frisbee he managed to collect.

Fauna leaned up on her toes and kissed the underside of his chin affectionately. "You could never embarrass me Sir, I knew what I was getting into when I chose an American as my forever." She'd stopped herself from saying boyfriend, because it always seemed a little too insignificant for what she felt for Sawyer. He was so much beyond just a boyfriend or even her Dominant, he'd showed her what it meant to be happy, how to be more healthy and helped her to find her voice and beyond loving him she was just so grateful to him for all of that. Bingley of course had gotten to the frisbee long before her, but he gave her an affectionate nudge on his way back to Sawyer as if to say. 'Come on Mom'. She chased him back, breathless by the time she returned to the tall boy. "He beat me.. obviously." The little submissive pouted. "But it wasn't a competition." She specified to herself, leaning against Sawyer. "Honestly it's good I do Alexis' hell work outs so I can keep up with our bouncy son."

Sawyer smiled fondly at Fauna’s little reminder, mostly to herself, that the chase with the dog was not a competition, and he leaned down to kiss her on the top of her head. “Well second place is still good,” He assured her, “it is just our luck we’d have the world’s most hyperactive dog but I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He thought back to how shy and timid Bingley was the day they brought him home from the shelter and how he blossomed from a nervous animal to their boisterous boy they had grown to love. He took Fauna’s hand, glancing at where the bottle was placed, wondering the best way for her to notice it without being too obvious.

Fauna decided not to disagree with Sawyer on the subject of second place still being good, mostly because she believed that her Dominants attitude was better than her own when it came to competitions. "I mean we're both energetic people, so it's good he ended up with us. It'd be sad if he was with people who didn't take him for long runs and wrestle him in the living room. But I'll be honest I canne believe you were worried he might not want to run with you." The girl giggled, petting over their dogs ears. Leaning against Sawyer as he took her hand.

"I believe in fate and destiny," Sawyer mentioned with a shrug, "I just know we were meant to end up with him." He laughed at her comment about his worries regarding him running, reaching down to give their dog a ruffle on the back of his neck, tossing the frisbee again for him to chase after, making sure to pull Fauna closer so she knew not to chase after it this time. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing," He told her, glancing over to the bottle where it had caught the sun, shimmering like a rare jewel. If she didn't notice it soon enough, he would have no choice but to pick it up himself for her, and tell her, gently, she might need her glasses prescription strengthened.

Fauna nodded. “I didn’t used to, but the longer I’ve been with you.. the longer I do.” She told him honestly, it wasn’t an entirely new sentiment. She’d described in detail to him her tween optimism that had melted into teenage nihilism after Charlotte, which somehow had come full circle back to total and utter belief since she’d found him. “It is-“ She started before she followed his eyeline and saw something glinting. “Is that for me?” She asked excitedly, before she pulled him over. Kneeling in the sand to pull the things out. Carefully brushing the sand off, and making a gentle. “Oh.” Of excitement when she saw the bracelet and note inside. “Sir this is so lovely.” She said affectionately, as she went to uncork it. Gently running her fingers over the outside.

Even though he had heard it a thousand times in a thousand different ways, Sawyer would always feel a bit of his heart break when Fauna alluded to her past. The suffering, the torture, how people didn't even treat her with basic decency and dignity. But today wasn't about recalling the bad times, it was about celebrating the good times, and the love they had shared within these past couple of years. Whatever she was about to say was lost on both of them when she noticed the gift, and he couldn't help but laugh as she dragged him over with excitement, watching her reactions carefully. "I can't take credit for the idea, but I think you like the sentiment of us living out a Tik Tok more than anything," He teased. "And don't worry, I have another bottle chilling in the fridge for you back home full of something you do like, if you're not satisfied with this one."

Fauna waved her hand when he said that he couldn't take credit for the idea, eagerly getting on her knees in the wet sand to pull out of the note and read through the poem with a little smile on her face. Rolling the bracelet onto her wrist, she held it up to let it sparkle in the light. "You made it so much better though and I do love the idea of us living out a Tik Tok. I'll totally be posting about this later" She encouraged, carefully running her finger over the bracelet now on her wrist. "These are our birthstones right?" The brunette quizzed, and then squeaked when she saw the charm for her collar. "Thank you so much Sir! You've got me so many things. I love them." Standing up, she stood on her tip toes so he knew she wanted to kiss him. "Almost as much as I love you."

Sawyer often had moments where he wished he could capture it all in a photograph, or some sort of living memory similar to the pensieve in the Harry Potter series. This was definitely one of them, watching Fauna's eyes light up in wonder as she navigated through the contents of the bottle. "I'll look forward to all the thirst traps on my Book Tok account," He teased. Sawyer had relented a while ago, and agreed to have Fauna make him a TikTok, originally just for him to post recommendations and literary memes, but had somewhat snowballed to a lot of unhinged comments, especially once they had made the connection he and Fauna were a couple. "Yes," He confirmed, "I think the colours really compliment each other well. It's as if the universe is telling us something," Sawyer winked, leaning down to kiss her at her signal. "I love you too."

Fauna carefully put the poem and the charm back into the bottle not wanting to lose them in the sand, slipping the candy into her pocket for later. "I mean you are the king of the literary thirst trap.. You should see the comments under the Darcy hand clench." She teased back happily, before kissing him long and hard. Using her new advantage to wrap her legs around his waist, and arms around his neck so that she was clinging to him like a little koala. "I'm somewhat sure that our names are written in the stars somewhere." She told him honestly, running her hand over his face. "I didn't think to bring your present to the beach, but it is wrapped up very nicely for you at home."

Sawyer could feel himself blush at the mention of the scene, thinking back to how amazed at how much his phone could blow up at just random people on TikTok thirsting over him. But he didn't care about any of that, when he had Fauna here with him. The only person he'd ever need, really, wrapped around him like he was, as certain people would say, a giant tree creature. "You know the whole 'written in the stars' phrase is a misquote," He said, before he could stop himself, "From Julius Caesar, the play, I don't know if he actually said the quote. But I agree, we were truly destined for each other. I can't wait to get us home then," He said with a chuckle, "You do have the better wrapping."

Fauna kissed both of his cheeks all along his jaw and chin for good measure and then looked at him with interest. “Oh?” She responded. “What’s the real quote then? My tutor would be super ashamed of me if I was misquoting.” The little brunette teased, whistling for Bingley who had been rolling around in the sand. “It’s the surgeon hands, they make me very precise and steady with most things.” She explained, lifting one hand from around his neck to show him. “Though I didn’t actually really wrap these gifts, I found these really cool 1960’s Valentine’s chocolate boxes online and used them instead.”

It was as if it was an automatic response, Sawyer's eyes fluttering shut in serenity whenever Fauna's lips made contact with his face. An action so soft, proving how safe he felt with her, how much he trusted her completely. "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings," He quoted, "As said by Cassius in Julius Caesar. Is it fate that drives us to do things, or a weakness within us as humans to act against our will? The phrase has been quoted and misquoted so many times, analysed to the point of exhaustion, it somehow led to 'written in the stars', which I prefer anyhow." He laughed at her explanation, watching her hands carefully, as if they'd do some sort of trick to prove they were surgeon hands. "That does sound cool, let's hope there wasn't any chocolate inside when you received them. 50 year old chocolate does not sound like the most delicious Valentine's treat."

Fauna listened to him quoting with rapt attention, Sawyer always claimed he was a terrible actor but the little brunette didn't really think that could be true. Not with the way that he read things, with such rich and deep emotion. Despite her interest in literature she'd never much cared for Shakespeare until she learned that Sawyer could quote it by heart, now she took every opportunity to hear the century old words. "I like it both ways." She confessed. "I especially like the quote about human weakness.. very earth shattering." She giggled, tapping him on the nose with the end of her finger. "There wasn't no, and someone had cleaned them well because they smell all perfumey."

He squeezed her hand as she confessed her preference for both analyses, because that's what he truly loved about literature. No one opinion was set in stone, and everything could be open to interepreation. "Me too, keeps me grounded." Sawyer admitted, often using this quote his own reminder that he didn't have to be mythologically strong to be perfect. That it was human to make mistakes sometimes. "Ah, vintage perfume. I wonder if it'll remind me of my grandma." He wondered, "You know the one, visited at Thanksgiving? Definitely where Finn's inherited such a unique train of thought." He teased.

Fauna smiled softly as he squeezed her hand, always feeling a sort of warmth low in her chest when he did so. “Of course that’s what you think of to keep yourself grounded.” She smiled fondly, wondering how she got so lucky. “Ah yes! Lovely Lady definitely gave me an insight into where Finn came from. Did not understand that I was joking about the placemats looking good enough to eat.” The submissive remembered. “You want me to walk back to the apartment or am I getting a free ride?” She asked, fluttering her lashes a little for her preferred outcome.

Sawyer laughed. "In all fairness, we all know you will eat absolutely anything, no matter what," He teased, "I believe when we first met you even referred to yourself as a raccoon?" He squeezed her hand back, feeling completely enamoured with her in this moment, maybe just slightly influenced by the love in the air this Valentine's. At her hinting, Sawyer playfully rolled his eyes. "I think I can arrange a ride for you," He said with a shrug, as if he hadn't completely given in, "Piggyback, shoulder carry, or bridal carry, Kitten?"

She giggled along with him, though she also gave his arm a playful poke. “I mean it’s true I am a racoon, and I will eat basically anything.. except I’ve discovered that I fully detest that spray cheese in a can that you have in this country.. I’m half convinced that it isn’t for human or raccoon consumption.” The little brunette responded, her thumb smoothing over the back of his hand. “Bridal, I want to be able to look into those beautiful brown eyes of yours.” She told him with a slightly love sick smile.

Sawyer laughed, the spray can of cheese a fond snack for him in his youth, he and Finn bringing disgust to the rest of the clan for how much of the stuff they could put away. “Probably not,” He agreed, “but I enjoy it.” At her request, the Dominant bowed, before sweeping her up without further warning. “Anything for you, Ms. Hudson.” He said, making sure he was supporting her correctly, before leaning down for a kiss. “I love you so much. Thank you for an excellent Valentine’s Day so far.”

Fauna wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You know it's true love when you still desire him even after he declares his love for spray cheese.." She admitted and then giggled as he swept her off her feet, Bingley barking excitedly as he did so. Accepting the kiss with a little sigh of delight. She really hoped that he would like the jacket as much as she thought that he would. "I love you more than I could ever tell you, thank you for my gorgeous presents."

He playfully nudged her for her comment, smirking a little when her smart-mouth elicited a squeal instead, trying to manoeuvre carrying her safely, and keeping Bingley from excitedly jumping up on Fauna's lap to also be carried. And though it was a moment of chaos, it was absolutely perfect all the time. "Thank you for accepting them, and even though I haven't seen mine yet, I'm sure they're amazing and I love them as well." He promised her, playing with a tendril of her hair. "Onwards?"

Fauna clung a little more tightly to her boyfriend as he moved her away from their dogs eager paws, and nodded with a peaceful and fond express. "I mean if you don't love them, I'm lucky enough to have a very talented mouth that's basically a get out of jail free card for all gift giving." She joked and then just looked at him for a moment, silently thanking whatever cosmic force had allowed him into her life. "Onwards." She agreed with a grateful sigh.

Sawyer rolled his eyes at her teasing. "That's very true, and I am very appreciative for that little mouth of yours." He promised her, whistling at Bingley to follow as he carried them away from the beach. "I hope my mouth has the same talents, as I don't think I'll be able to top it next Valentine's Day." He joked. "Yes, Ms. Hudson." He said, with a playful eye roll, content and happy with where their life was, at this current moment.

#(( adventures with sawyer ))

1 note · View note

wewillwriteyou · 5 years ago

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could you do 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 from fluff for ben hardy please? like a short timeline of the relationship. sorry if it’s too much

Thank you anon for the request! 💕🥰 I’m extremely sorry it took me so many days to write this, but I wanted it to be good and special because the plot was so cute so I worked very hard on it! I really hope you’re going to enjoy it as much as I loved writing it! 🤸🏽‍♀️💋⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

Plot’s request: Short timeline of Ben and Y/N’s relationship

Fluff [2], [3], [4], [5] & [6]: First date + First “I love you” + Moving in together + He/she proposes + Wedding day

Warnings: fluff, a lot of FLUFF! This is written following the memories and the feelings of Y/N, so get ready ‘cause Joyce’s stream of consciousness got nothing on me (this basically means that “scenes” change fast, because they follow the trail of memories Y/N is thinking about, so don’t panic if you feel lost and confused at some point, in the end, it’ll all make sense I promise); maybe some language here and there, but this is pure asdfghjkl so safe territory, everybody

Characters: Y/N (fem! reader) & Ben Hardy

Word count: 4.1K it’s long Iknow lmao

Written by: @sweetgcreature

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Check out our masterlist to read other stories!

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Your hands were shaking, as you were trying to adjust a rebellious strand of hair that was curling itself behind your ear. A few glitters glued themselves on your fingertips, falling down your perfectly styled head.

You sighed and decided it was a lost battle when you saw the curl flee again. A shaky little laugh trembled on your lips as you studied your reflection in the rounded mirror; your lips were beautifully glossed and you didn’t dare to touch the make-up on your eyes, being too afraid to ruin everything.

When you heard a few voices getting closer to your room, you closed your eyes and inhaled sharply.

The guests in the garden were vividly chatting together, waiting for your big entrance.

The scent of delicious food had never left your nostrils from the moment you had stepped into your parents’ house.

The footsteps on the stairs got noisier. But nothing could overpower the loud pumping of your heart.

You breathed in and out again, feeling yourself sliding into your own world, slowly into the past and getting lost into your memories …

… the door swung open, making you jump and causing your hand to draw a black line all over your right eyelid. You sighed and surrendered, sitting properly on your rug.

“Emma, I hope it’s very urgent. Like, tell me the world is ending right now. Otherwise, start running!” you announced, rotating your body to look at your roommate.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but – she stopped talking and looked behind her shoulders, before stepping inside the room and closing the door – he’s here” she whispered, walking closer to you.

“What?!” you exclaimed, immediately getting up. You rushed through the door and spied the little living room at the end of the hallway; you could see a tuft of blond hair popping up from the sofa. The second his head slightly moved to the side, you disappeared again inside your room.

“No. Don’t scream. Don’t panic - Emma shushed you, stretching her arms towards your body to calm you down – now breath with me. Inhale. And exhale” she was struggling not to burst into laughter and you could sense the hilarity in her voice.

But you followed her improvised yoga’s teacher skills and breathed heavily a couple times before massaging your temples. She then patiently guided you to the wardrobe and, with her help, you soon choose the outfit and adjusted your make-up.

“Now, you go out and get the boy, okay? He’s here for you. He likes you. And, remember – Emma got serious for a moment, pressing her hands on your shoulders – not too much tongue during the first kiss”

“Emma! You nasty!” you screamed and laughed at the same time. After a few more giggles, she hugged you tight and let you go to finally meet Ben.

Seeing him walk in your living room, as he smiley admired some photos, seemed so surreal. You gave your eyes the chance to look at him one minute more, before coughing a little to recall his attention.

“Oh, hi! – his smile could light up the entire room – you’re beautiful” he shyly admitted, getting closer and bending down to give a small kiss on your already blushing cheek.

“Thank you – you lowered your head a bit – should we go?” you proposed, stuttering a little bit.

“Sure – he agreed and immediately got closer to take your jacket inside his hands – here, let me help you with this” he caringly said, sliding the coat on your shoulders.

“Wow, what a gentleman” you joked, perching yourself on his arm as you walked towards the door.

“I want to impress you. That’s the only goal I’ve set for tonight” Ben admitted, as you stepped outside the apartment. You chuckled and laid your head on his shoulder while you started walking down the stairs.

“Then consider me impressed”

The cold winter’s wind hugged your two figures as you exited the building. Ben wrapped you in his arms, trying to protect you from the cutting breeze that was not-so-gently caressing your already red face. Luckily he had parked just a few steps down the street and soon you were warming yourself inside his red car.

As he started the engine, a familiar melody filled the air and you snapped your head in his direction noticing he was already smiling.

“You remembered!” you said with a childish tone. Ben smiled even wider and, keeping the eyes on the road, he replied:

“Sure! How could I forget? You’re always talking about Queen” his fingers reached for the radio to turn the volume up. You started to nod your head and, soon, you were already singing along to Somebody to Love, making Ben chuckle and hum the song in chorus with you.

The car-ride didn’t last long and in a little while you were able to spy the edifice where you knew the cinema was located. Your heart started to beat faster again and when Ben parked the car and the silence fell between you two for a second, you were ready to bet that he was able to hear your heartbeat as well.

You stared into each other’s eyes for what he seemed, both, an eternity and an instant, then Ben smiled one last time before stepping out and walking towards your car’s door to open it for you.

Needless to say, that he didn’t even let you start searching for your wallet inside your bag, as he had already extracted a few banknotes from the pocket of his trousers. And needless to say, that he didn’t give in to any of your attempts as you tried to persuade him and let you pay at least for the pop-corn.

“Just know that the feminist inside of me is pretty angry at the moment” you commented, with a small smirk on your face as Ben kept the door open for you to enter the theatre. He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but you could see his lips were already curving into a smile.

“Why?” he then asked, as you both sat down in the last row adjusting the pop-corn on your respective laps. You shrugged your shoulders and started to eat.

“Because I don’t need a man that pays everything for me. I can perfectly handle my expenses on my own” you were obviously exaggerating, adding a sassy tone to complete the whole discourse. But you were curious to see his reaction.

“Good to know – Ben nonchalantly replied, throwing a bunch of pop-corns inside his mouth; he spied your surprised face with the corner of his eye, before turning his head to face you – this is just the confirmation I needed to hear”

“What confirmation?” you asked, mirroring the same smug expression that was painted all over his face.

“Well, if you’re an independent woman that clearly doesn’t need a man to entertain herself, you accepted my invitation just because you like me. Or, to be extremely precise, you have an enormous crush on this incredibly attractive boy that is now talking to you” Ben was clearly flirting. He had crashed any kind of barrier you had built until that moment and inside your brain a thousand of alarms were ringing, causing you to short-circuit.

In easier words: you were speechless and blushing, as you couldn’t unglue your eyes from his.

The lights went off, partially hiding your embarrassed expression. A little laugh from Ben trembled in the dark, as you abandoned yourself against the back of your seat, hoping you could disappear then and there.

You were sure your feelings for Ben were obvious, but you didn’t know they were that obvious.

Suddenly, while you were sinking inside the spiral of your thoughts completely forgetting about the movie, you felt a gentle hand place itself on your leg. You snapped your head in Ben’s direction and, for a moment, you thought you had seen him flinch a little bit as if he was unsure of his movements.

You reached his knuckles with your trembling fingertips and laid your palm on the back of his hand. He didn’t hesitate and intertwined his fingers with yours.

A sigh of relief left both of your mouths as you settled into that new kind of grey area, where you weren’t black nor white, where you hadn’t decided yet what kind of relationship was yours. You were just two human beings enjoying the moment.

The movie was pretty boring and, in more than one scene, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Ben’s sarcastic jokes about the two protagonists.

“Oh c’mon, who speaks like that to his girlfriend!” Ben commented again, once you were stepping outside. Your hands still casually intertwined.

“I don’t know, maybe someone who is deeply in love?” you asked, batting your eyes to sound as cheesiest as possible. He giggled and pulled you closer to his side, putting his arm behind your shoulders.

Once you got in the car the electricity that had fallen between you two was more than obvious; and, as Ben drove through the night, you noticed how both of your faces were lightened up by a ridiculously gracious smile.

When you recognized your neighborhood you weren’t able to hold a disappointing puff. You weren’t ready to let him go; you would have loved to stay in his car forever. Or at least, all night.

Ben noticed your serious face but didn’t say anything. He simply parked the car near the sidewalk and turned the engine off, letting the silence wrap you two once again.

“Y/N?” he then said, making you turn around to look at him. You hummed in response, giving him all your attention.

“I know we met just a few weeks ago and I know that this is only our first date, but – and he stopped to look right back at you – but I like you. A lot”

You let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Ben, I like you too!” you said in a rush, feeling yourself freer by the minute. A big, warm smile appeared on his blushing face and you couldn’t help but giggle.Every trace of hilarity soon dissolved, when his thumb met your lips parting them.

Ben inched towards you and you did the same, giving him the chance to delicately caress your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whisper as his fingers were drawing patterns on your face. You repeatedly nodded, not able to say a word in that precise moment. Ben smiled one last time, before closing his eyes and sweetly locking his lips with yours.

You both inhaled sharply and let your emotions run free, as you savored every inch of his mouth so perfectly pressed against your hungry lips …

… your fingers caressed the back of his head, causing him to lazy groan between the kisses. You proudly smiled and pushed him down on the mattress, straddling his lap. His hands fell on your booty, playfully squeezing it.

“So eager. And it’s only seven in the morning” you flirted, breaking the kiss and sitting on his lap. Ben laughed along and caressed your naked hips; you traced his abdomen with your fingertips, tickling him then and there.

“You leave me no choice. Look at you – he worshipped you, trying to sit properly on the bed to have his face on the same level as yours – we’ve been dating only for three months and I’m already crazy about you” he added, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

You blushed and cupped his face to gently transport him into another passionate kiss. Ben smiled and kissed you back, encircling your body with his arms to have you glued against his chest.

“Mmm … I love you” you accidentally mumbled against his mouth, but the realization of the words you had just pronounced struck both of you at the same time causing your kiss to suddenly end.

You instantly flushed until the tip of your ears, as Ben was staring at you with his lips agape. You had never dared to say those three words because you had grown up with the idea that having a crush and loving someone are two completely different things. And Ben knew this.

“What? – a smile had started to creep on his lips, as he reached your face to caress it – are you serious?” he asked, getting thoughtful for a moment.

“Yes – you immediately replied; there was no point in lying, the truth had been exposed – I love you Benjamin Jones” you chuckled, very aware of how much he hated his “real” name.

“God, I love you too Y/N Y/L/N! I fucking love you!” he didn’t hesitate and kissed you again. He soon made you roll on your back to tower your half-naked body with his, as the kiss got more passionate by the minute.

“I can’t believe you actually said it” Ben commented, starting to kiss your neck and causing you to moan softly. Your hands were caressing his muscled back, as you let him pleasantly torture you in your favourite way possible.

“Me neither” you giggled when his hair tickled your hip. Ben smiled and kissed the inside of your thigh, hungrily looking up at you.

“I love you” he then whispered, positioning a chaste kiss on your lower belly. You warmly smiled down at him, letting his face rest on your right palm. But, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, the phone started ringing in the living room.

Ben rolled his eyes and groaned, hiding his face on your stomach. You burst out laughing and tugged at his messy hair.

“C’mon, be a good landlord and go answer the call” you said between the giggles, obliging him to get up. He looked like an annoyed child and, once he was standing near the bed, you smirked and mischievously laid down on the mattress again.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back” you flirted, patting the empty side next to you. Ben swallowed and rushed towards you, to bend down and leave a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“Damn you” he commented, running outside the bedroom. You chuckled, scrolling your head, before abandoning yourself on the bed staring at the ceiling …

… rapid steps reached the ringing phone and a quick hand grabbed it before it was too late.

“Hello? … yes, it’s me … yes! Finally, I’d add – you chuckle, resting your shoulder against the wall and taking away a couple of beads of sweet that were slipping down your forehead – there’s still a lot of work to do. Like, in every corner there is at least one box full of stuff that needs to be reordered and we’ … what? Tonight? I don’t know Emma – you said, extending your neck to spy your boyfriend who was struggling with the paint roller – the house is a literal disaster! Maybe tomorrow? … okay, perfect. Now I have to go or Ben will end up covered in blue paint very soon”

After the usual salutations, you ended the call and ran down the hallway just in time to save the paint’s container that was about to fall on the ground.

“Thank you! – Ben sighed relieved and puckered his lips, waiting for a kiss that did not hesitate to come – who was at the phone?” he then asked, taking the big brush in his hands again and adjusting the stairs near the wall to paint the uppercorner.

“Emma. She wanted to come and visit us tonight – he snapped immediately his head in your direction, making you giggle – I obviously said no, don’t worry” you added, taking a brush as well to retouch some parts then and there.

You worked non-stop for other two hours, but the proudness to see the perfect result you obtained with the freshly painted room had no price. You both stood side by side, with your arms crossed on your chests, admiring the perfectly renewed wall in front of you.

Ben rotated his head to look at you and you noticed, so you turned around to meet his gaze. He wrinkled his nose and you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You have something on your face” he inclined his neck, squinting his eyes to study your features.

“Where?” you asked, starting to palpate every inch of your cheeks searching for a trace of paint somewhere under your eyes and near your nose. It was at that moment that you saw his smirk and, before you could stop him, he had placed his dirty palms on both sides of your face.

“Here” he laughed looking at your furrowed expression covered in blue and white. As he was almost rolling on the floor you noticed an abandoned brush in the corner. You quickly caught it and drew a perfect blue line in the middle of Ben’s face.

His mouth opened in disbelief, while it was finally your turn to burst into sonorous laughter. Soon Ben’s hands wrapped your waist and you found yourself screaming in amusement, as he carried you on his shoulder until he reached the living room (the only furnished room of the house) where he let you fall on the sofa hovering you.

“You little minx” he laughed, kissing you. You giggled, putting two of your fingers inside the collar of his t-shirt to pull him closer. After a few kisses and chuckles, Ben rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

You breathed heavily, caressing his face.

“We did it” he said in a whisper, touching your nose with his. You could feel tears of joy pinching your eyes. You kissed him again, this time slower to savor every second of that perfect moment.

“Yes. It’s impossible for you to get rid of me now that we live together” you joked, as you both found yourselves crying and laughing simultaneously.

“Poor me” Ben commented, before starting to pepper all your face with sloppy kisses. You started giggling again, hugging his shoulders to have him as close as possible.

He kept tickling every inch of your cheeks with his parted lips, slowly moving on your neck, then your shoulder, down your arm …

… he kissed the back of your hand again, for the hundredth time that night.

“Ben. We’re in public” you protested between the chuckles, adjusting his bowtie. Again.

Ben rolled his eyes and intertwined his fingers with yours, as you were both stuck in what seemed an endless queue to reach the elevator. Millions of little lights were shining above your head and you still couldn’t believe you weren’tactually daydreaming.

Visiting Paris had always been one of your burning desires. And being there with Ben, hand in hand waiting to go on the top of the Eiffel Tower to eat in one of the fanciest places on earth was even better than what you had always hoped for.

Eventually, your turn came and as soon as you reached the top you literally felt your breath stop in your throat. It was the most beautiful view you had ever seen in your entire life. You completely ignored the waiter that wanted to show youyour way to your reserved table, and almost floated to the nearest balcony.

As you stepped outside, a gentle breeze passed through your hair and your eyes got lost in the city’s skyline. Ben walked closer to you and, once he was exactly behind your back, he laid his chin in the crook of your neck encircling your waist with his arms.

“So? What do you think?” he asked, grazing his lips close to your ear. You scrolled your head, still overwhelmed by the beauty of Paris.

“This is … this is insane – you commented, wiping away a couple of tears that were starting to fog your sight; you heard Ben giggle and after he had kissed your cheek, he distanced himself as you found yourself randomly rumble andinvoluntary express your thoughts – you know, a part of me was sure you wouldhave proposed or something here in Paris, as it happens in thousands ofrom-coms. But then I thought it was too cheesy, even for someone like … you” that last word dying on your lips, as you turned around and saw Ben kneeled down in front of you.

A big, shy smile had appeared on his face, while the chatting from inside the restaurant got quieter. Everything got blurred, the time froze in the moment your eyes met his.

“Maybe it’s cheesy. And it’s also very predictable, I’m aware of that. But you know, I thought that, since everything started at the cinema, while we were watching a terrible romantic movie, it would have been funny ending up in the same exact situation” a nervous laugh escaped both your mouths, as you were quick to dry your crying eyes.

“So, here I am. Behaving as the protagonist of the cheapest film ever just to ask you if you, Y/N Y/L/N, would like to marry me?” Ben said, extracting a little velvet box from his trousers and opening it to reveal a shining ring. You covered your mouth in disbelief, nodding imperceptibly.

“Yes, Ben! Yes!” you finally replied, when you saw even the slightest shadow of preoccupation trespass his face. In a moment you were in his arms, while everyone around you was clapping and cheering you two.

The confused claps got heavier and heavier …

… they transformed themselves into knocks. The door creaked and you came back to reality.

Your mom made her entrance into the room, positioning herself behind you and looking at your reflection. She tried adjusting the curl inside your styled hair, as you had done previously, but without success. You both started to laugh, as she pressed her hands on your shoulders.

“Are you ready?” she rhetorically asked. You looked at her in the eyes using the mirror as a shield to hide all your mixed emotions. You didn’t answer and got up instead, walking towards the window.

You moved the curtains and saw all the people gathered in the garden waiting just for you. Ben was already there, trembling as a leaf and nervous as he had ever been in all his life.

“Sure” you whispered, with your heart full of love. Your mom was visibly moved as she accompanied you down the stairs and near the big, doubled-glassed window that led into the garden. Your father was already waiting for you with tears in his eyes. You kissed both of them and waited for your mother to get to her seat and for the wedding march to start playing.

When the first note trembled in the air, you squeezed your father’s arm, who held you back as you both stepped outside. Everyone got up, looking at you. You could recognize a few faces: your mom, some of your relatives and friends, Emma and her boyfriend.

But you had eyes only for Ben, who was trying so hard not to start crying at the sight of you all dressed and emotional while you were walking to reach him.

Every trace of fear had disappeared the moment you recognized in Ben’s eyes the same young boy that was absentmindedly watching your photos, wandering in the living room of your old flat.

The same boy that had kissed you in the car after your first date.

The same boy that had remained speechless hearing you admitting your love to him, a random Sunday morning as you were both lazily kissing in his bed.

The same man that had painted with you the wall of your first house.

The same man that had flown you to Paris just to propose to you.

That same man you had loved for so many years.

He was there. Wiping away a few tears after he had removed the wedding veil from your face.

He was the one. And in that precise moment, as you were staring eyes in eyes holding your hands, everything seemed perfectly right. Everything seemed simply perfect.

Ben got closer and kissed your cheek before you both diverted your attention to the priest. He leaned down again to whisper in your ear:

“You’re gorgeous”

You blushed as if it was the very first time.

“What a gentleman” you commented under your voice, looking up at him with just the corner of your eye.

“You know; I want to impress you. That’s the only goal I’ve set for the rest of my life” he responded.

You shared a knowing gaze. Nobody could hear you, but it didn’t matter because nobody would have understood that exchange of words. You smiled, as tears reached your eyes, and answered:

“Then consider me impressed”

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Did you like this story? Check out what else we’ve written on our masterlist!

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monikea · 5 years ago

Text

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy

[Disclaimer: this is not a review. I’m not a reviewer and have no idea how to write these; this is just a note to myself that I will be able to read when I’m 60 years old and which I share here, as paper might burn but the Internet never forgets :D]

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, The Shed, NYC, 12-19 May 2019

New scene

Enter Ben Whishaw as Norma Jeane Baker

I’m not sure what to focus on here – the play or the fact that I FINALLY WENT TO NEW YORK. This past week was so full of, well, everything to me. I always dreamt of leaving Europe for a trip, but only recently managed to save money for that. I have been tremendously sad not to be able to see Ben in ‘The Crucible’, to the point that during the last show I sat on a beach in Spain and couldn’t focus on how lucky I was to be on a beach in Spain – all I wanted was to be in the Walter Kerr Theatre.

The funny thing is, if I were now to choose between ‘The Crucible’ (I saw a recording of it in NY Public Library last week) and NJBoT, I’d choose Norma Jeane without thinking twice. I saw this play 7 times in a row which, I think, speaks for itself.

In the end, I was so lucky as to go to NYC for 10 days with my Ben family, as I like to think of them, people who I know from Ben’s Facebook fan group. I will never take it for granted and it wouldn’t have been the same without them. To go to New York, for over a week, with my best friends, to see Ben Whishaw 7 times in a mind-blowing play – I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. I won’t name them here, as I’m not sure they wish to be mentioned, but one of them kindly offered to host some of us, and I was even more lucky to stay in a real Manhattan flat. In all fairness, this is what made the entire trip possible – or at least what made seeing Ben 7 times in a row from up close possible!

The pace was rather insane. Last time I slept so little was 10 years ago when I went on a summer camp to Portugal, where I was going to sleep at 6am and waking up at 8am to go to work. Just being in New York didn’t allow me to rest. Finally, after so many years of hoping, I was in the city of my dreams, a city where I could name all the buildings and streets without ever being there, just because everyone does know them right? After all, we are being bombarded with images of New York through different movies, series, songs, books. And this place actually does exist and is not just a Hollywood creation. We started every day bright and early (thanks to the time difference it felt like waking up at 12pm) and went off to see the city. Then, every night, we took subway 7 to Hudson Yards to go to The Shed. The only night we didn’t do it was Monday, when there were simply no performances – but trust me I’d have gone if they took place.

That’s enough about Fritz Lang and the city.

The first time we saw the play (12 May) I sat very far, I believe it was the 4th row from the back. Since I then saw it 6 more times, it wasn’t a massive loss, but overall I’d say two things: 1/this play had to be seen from close up, as the lightning was so dim, otherwise you wouldn’t see what happened on the stage and 2/ this play had to be seen multiple times. I truly believe seeing it just once wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like Shakespeare that everyone kind of knows and knows what to expect. I like to compare this play to Hamilton, which is my obsession number 2 (after Ben), where the text is so rich and full of references and innuendos, that it is actually best to come see the show already knowing the lyrics and backstory from listening to the soundtrack. Same happened here, the language or the text worked alongside the actors and I think if you just saw the play once, it wouldn’t make much sense and you’d miss a lot of its beauty. I was already familiar with the story of Marilyn before seeing it (although I did some extra research, read Euripides’ ‘Helen’ etc.), but I heard some people didn’t even know that Marilyn’s real name was Norma Jeane – good luck with that! Anyway, I digress. As we sat very far, I remember I had to lean forward and really strain my eyes to see what was happening. I could barely notice Ben painting his fingernails (it was more that I already heard he was doing it, which made me notice – otherwise it was too dark to see!) or couldn’t get the details of his lingerie or dance. The sound wasn’t bad, but I’d say in this play the visuals are equally important and I completely missed that part. So I spent the first performance pretty much hoping that the next one – where I was supposed to sit closer – would already come.

About 30 minutes after the show has finished, we spotted Ben coming down the escalator. We actually chose deliberately to go on that day (12 May) as that’s when we expected (and weren’t wrong 😉) that he’d win a BAFTA for his performance as Norman Scott (Norma, Norman… his best roles, trust me) in A Very English Scandal. He was alone and about to leave the theatre, but had a while for us – we congratulated him on the BAFTA, to which he just said ‘thank you’ (I’m quite sure he himself got to know about it only minutes beforehand) and then I talked to him about NJBoT, which was the first time that I managed to talk to him about the show at hand. All the previous times I met Ben, I was talking to him about his previous shows or just telling him general thanks. I don’t remember exactly what I said that Sunday, but it surprised me that I managed to say something about Norma. Most importantly, I asked if I can hug him and he just said ‘sure’ and my biggest dream came true and I hugged Ben for a while . He is the sweetest, kindest human being and has so much patience for his fans.

For the second performance, in the end with my friend we decided to exchange seats for even closer ones, as we didn’t want to go through the pain of seeing so little again. Oh Greek gods, what a difference did it make. I finally saw what was happening on stage! On Tuesday it still wasn’t the 1st or 2nd row, so couldn’t see Ben’s face very well, but oh my. I suppose here I will start my general thoughts about the play, irrespective of the day I saw it, as from Wednesday onwards I was sitting pretty much always in the 2nd or 1st row (just once – will get back to that). If I were to describe all remaining 6 performances in detail, this would become a book, not a Tumblr note and not sure anyone would even read it!

This play was everything my poor heart could hope for. Ben finally plays the main role (which is even more prominent since there are only 2 actors on the stage) and there is nothing to take your attention away from him. Renée only emphasizes his powerful presence on stage and in fact one of my impressions after seeing the play and having read it was that they both play the same person. After all, Norma says ‘I am my own chorus’ – and Renée was her chorus. Reflecting her/his thoughts (I will continue using the pronoun ‘his’ as in the text the character is designated as Norma Jeane, but on stage I think Ben played a male playwright, who only gradually becomes Norma), never negating anything, but giving him new ideas, as if they were formed in his brain and took a tangible form as Renée. I think there can be many interpretations here, but I particularly like this one, also because in the text of the play only one character is mentioned – Norma Jeane. Renée’s character isn’t mentioned anywhere in the text and was obviously added just to make it more stage friendly. It was really hard for me to take my eyes away from Ben throughout the play, but when I finally managed to do it, it was amazing to see how they exchanged looks and this interplay of emotions was what made it even more amazing.

The play tells a story of a playwright who creates a replica of Marilyn Monroe out of himself – both visually and mentally. He is mourning her and hires a scribe to write down his stream of consciousness about Norma Jeane. He gradually drops his own male clothes to put on the entire Marilyn attire, which is a beautiful… replica of what was worn back in the 50s (the longline peach corselette and matching panty girdle – not for the faint hearted!) together with Marilyn’s white fluffy mule heels, later on changed to her Seven Year Itch strappy sandals and the iconic white dress (there is an additional layer of white underwear that Ben puts on the girdle); ultimately he wears also the platinum white Marilyn wig. On the mental side, he gradually descends into the depths of Hades and ultimately kills himself, like Marilyn did. In the meantime, he plays ukulele (just like Marilyn), has numerous mental breakdowns, perfectly imitates her delicate dreamy voice (and that of Truman Capote), mocks Arthur Miller’s dimpled white buttocks and dances the entire sequence from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’ (see here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOkv4jV1-Bo) – more about that dance later on. One remark here – this play spoke so much to me because since I remember I always took style inspiration from my favourite bands and later on actors – even now I proudly wear my black Kanken, inspired by Ben. So yes, I completely understand Ben’s character here. He also adds the breasts, hips and bum padding underneath his lingerie (and moves like a ballerina) and here I must brag, but a kind message to all people who LAUGHED mockingly at it – please go back to primary school and… just stay there. There are two actors, who, in case you don’t realise are real people and laughing off at what they do onstage is just horrible. In case you laughed out of embarrassment, fine, I get that not everyone has to be comfortable with Ben Whishaw applying fake butt under his undies, but for god’s sake, please express it differently than by laughing and commenting. Or laugh internally. Or I don’t know. Good lord. And no, that wasn’t a moment which was supposed to make you laugh, like for example Ben imitating Capote’s voice.

There is this beautiful moment, about 30 mins after the show begins when Ben plays the ukulele and sings ‘I am that Persephone, Who played with her darlings in Sicily, Against a background of social security. Oh what a glorious time we had. Or had we not? They said it was sad. I was born good, grown bad.And isn’t that how it always starts, this myth that ends with the girl ‘grown bad’?, and Renée continues: ‘She’s in a meadow gathering flowers twirling her own small sunny hours’. (I might be a barbarian, but I truly don’t understand people who were like – wow, he dared sing on the same stage as Renée Fleming! – I am a newborn Renée Fleming fan, but come on people. He’s Ben Goddamn Whishaw :D). Suddenly the mood changes dramatically, when everything becomes dark and Ben says in a sinister voice ‘When up rides a man on black horses. Up rides a man in a black hat. Up rides a man with a black letter to deliver’… I don’t know how he does it but in this moment I see Hades in a black robe (yet Ben is still in his peach corset) who came to do something unforgivable. The entire story changes then, when Renée exclaims ‘rape’. ‘Rape is the story of Helen, Persephone, Norma Jeane, Troy’ they continue. Renée then sings ‘War is the context and God is a boy. Oh my darlings, they tell you you’re born with a precious pearl. Truth is, it’s a disaster to be a girl. Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’. That’s what they always say, isn’t it?

She sings it again just at the end of the play when Ben’s Norma Jeane dies and at that point I wasn’t crying, I was ejecting bodily fluids. Apologies to those sitting around me.

Back to Ben’s dance. This play is full of what in Polish I’d call ‘smaczki’ – little flavours that make this play the most tasty dish ever served. Ben’s voice changes, whenever he imitates someone; Renée’s gorgeous singing; the music which was composed uniquely of Renée’s mixed voice; the funny moments, which can so suddenly and unexpectedly turn into the most frightening scene, when in the middle of mocking Arthur of New York and Sparta, a phone rings and everyone is terrified. There’s an enormous amount of language play (language is a third actor on the stage, with gorgeous explanations of the etymology of Greek words – in fact, Ben has an English-Greek dictionary on the desk), there’s Ben playing ukulele and singing, there’s putting on makeup, there’s changing clothes, there’s shouting and throwing things around and then there’s the dance.

My god what Ben can do. WHAT THIS MAN CAN DO. He is so ethereal, lithe, yet with well-toned muscles and he suddenly starts to give this beautiful coy dance, where throughout he hides his face in charming embarrassment and smiles sweetly to Renée. This is one of the moments when I am almost angry that I have to translate my soul, as it would be so much easier to find perfect words for this in Polish, but at least my head is full of them. Writing about this dance (or this play) is anyway as futile as dancing about architecture. Ben looks perfect then, he is just perfection personified. With his little smile, his peach corselette (some other note here on Tumblr said that ‘Ben Whishaw should just exist in this corset’ and yes, he should), his bottle green male pants and the fluffy heels (the connection of the female corselette and the male suit pants is just… send firemen). On top of that, Renée sings like an angel and my brain is so overstimulated from listening to all those language games and being in New York to actually experience it that… (where are the firemen?!)…

But the thing is – and that’s why this play is so amazing – that when you actually find the superhuman power in yourself not to focus on Ben’s dance only, but to also listen to the song they play to it, your brain suddenly registers that something doesn’t fully stick – the music is super cheerful (note: it is not the same music as the one in Marilyn’s video from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’) – it’s a typical 50s song with blurred voices, but the text is rather morose and it goes like ‘Dirt is matter out of place, matter out of place. A poached egg on your plate at breakfast is not dirt. The poached egg on page 202 of the Greek lexicon in the library of the British Museum is dirt. Dirt is something that has crossed a boundary it ought not to have crossed. Dirt confuses categories and mixes up form’ (I researched a bit and there’s an entire book on this topic, ‘Purity and Danger’ by Mary Douglas, where the main point being analysed is that what is regarded as dirt in a given spot is any matter out of place. What was considered clean in Sparta, wasn’t clean in Troy and vice versa. That’s the gist. Anne Carson I love you.)

Noone cries like Ben Whishaw. It really hurts all parts of my body to watch this. And it is so beautiful to watch Renée being concerned about him and the state he found himself in. One of the most beautiful scenes in the play is when Ben sits down at his desk and Renée very delicately takes his head in her hand and applies the fake eyelashes to his eyes, singing in a way that makes my heart break. There is so much love in this scene and acceptance and will of help and saying: I’m here for you and I will go with you on this journey.

And then suddenly you see he starts to take the pills and swallowing them with the fake theatre champagne and that’s when I start ejecting bodily fluids again. Renée comes back with her ‘Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’.

I suppose this text I wrote now will never be finished as memories and new realisations will keep on coming back to me and that’s where the beauty of this play lies – it’s an endless fishing ground for references and innuendos, interpretations and new things to be understood. But, enough for now.

I talked to Ben 3 more times after the play, on 14, 17 and 19 May. I now barely remember what I said precisely, but on Tuesday I told him how utterly enchanted I am by this play and that it talks about so many important things to me and doesn’t seem strange at all. Sunday was mad, as one can expect after the end of a run, with a long queue of fans (I gave Ben bright red roses, thanked him for the umpteenth time and complimented his new shirt, which he bought on Friday – don’t ask how I know it, I’m just a very careful observer LOL. He is my style guru, so I had to haha). With my friend we even managed to chat to the CEO of The Shed, Alex Poots, who was so amazed that we saw Norma Jeane 7 times, that he took out his iPhone and asked us to record a video where we recommend the show (bit late for that on the last night, but he can rest assured that I will be back!).

But Friday was just something else. Perhaps it was the power of red wine or the fact that Ben was going home alone and not with Mark or friends, but we approached him together with quite a few other fans and I swear to god, we had the funniest ever chat with him. To put it briefly, Ben was surrounded by around 10-15 fans and chatting to us in a very lovely, cheeky way (I love his sense of humour. I love everything about him, but that night it was just too much). Like imagine it. Someone asked him ‘Ben, what is the perfume that you wear?’ and he goes ‘Oh, it’s this, wait, I’ll show you’ and he took the perfume out of his tote bag and demonstrated it to everyone, gaining a round of ‘Awwwwwwww’. I still can’t believe it happened haha. One of my friends asked if he saw and liked Bjork and they chatted a bit about it and then Ben asked us if we did see her too, to which I replied ‘no, because we saw ANOTHER SHOW’. I could see that he was thinking and then suddenly it clicked, but I guess by that time he was perfectly aware that some of us saw it 7 times haha. He also told us ‘Don’t sit again in the first row, I can see you all’ (that’s what I meant when I said I will get back to the issue of sitting in the 1st row :D). Sweet lord. Best week of my life.

Exeunt omnes singing.

#normajeanebakeroftroy #BenWhishaw #reneefleming #theshed #nyc #annecarson #marilynmonroe #arthurmiller #helenoftroy #persephone

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