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sweetkingdomstarlight-blog · 4 years ago

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they were roommates

Warnings - non consensual sex, anal sex, somnophilia, forced drug use

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words - over 2k

A/N - READ THE WARNINGS - I can’t stress this enough. Also if you are under 18 just shoo, bugger off. I wrote this from a prompt on @darkficsyouneveraskedfor stalker writing challenge, the prompt was your roommate isn’t who you thought they were. I’m still super new to writing and this is new territory for me, as always a huge massive thankyou to my beautiful wife @buckyownsmylife she helped me a lot and continues to hype me up.

It’s been six weeks since your friend got a new job upstate and moved out,. You’ve had an advert out for a new roommate but so far everyone who’s applied has either been rude or hasn’t shown up. You’re running low on your savings and would probably accept Satan himself if he could pay his fair share. That’s when your latest applicant knocked on your door.

James was polite and charming, he offered to pay a month up front to secure the room and could move in as soon as possible. You felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders when he moved in later that week, it was a bit odd that he had no friends to help him but he didn’t seem to have a lot of stuff and had himself sorted while you worked in your home office.

The first night he offered to buy pizza and beers so you could get to know each other better, it turns out you two had a lot of things in common and he was easy to get along with. You must have had a few too many beers because your head felt fuzzy, deciding it was time to go to bed. You said goodnight to James and stood up but felt so dizzy you had to immediately sit back down. James was so sweet though, looking after you, he actually picked you up and put you to bed so you didn't have to walk the short distance to your room.

Waking up the next morning you realised you were wearing a t-shirt you didn’t recognise but you didn’t remember getting changed, your mouth felt strangely dry so you got up for a drink. That’s when the soreness hit you, in between your legs, rushing to the bathroom you were confused that you weren’t getting your period and nothing seemed to be different. You assumed you were getting sick and went for hot tea to soothe yourself.

Sitting at the kitchen counter drinking and nibbling on some dry toast, James walks in looking like he’s just been for a run. He grabs a bottle of water and walks over to you giggling “you can’t possibly be hungover you only had three drinks last night” you look up at him smirking and sarcastically respond, “yeah, well, maybe I’m just a lightweight”.

As you get up to clear away your mess he clears his throat making you turn. “Should we have a system for when we have people over in the future?” You look at him confused. “I’m sorry what do you mean? Do you want to bring someone over tonight?”

He chuckles at you, “Well no, not tonight but if you want your friend from last night to come back I can make sure you have some privacy,” he offers you, smirking at the confused look on your face.

“I’m sorry, I don't understand, I went to sleep last night. I didn’t have anyone over.” Taking a step closer, he leans on the counter separating you both. “Then who did I hear you with last night and who did I kick out this morning?” You stare at him open mouthed and scurry off to your room to check your phone for some clues, you feel your chest tighten when you see that you matched with someone last night and invited him over. How could you not remember? You were absolutely mortified, what is James going to think of you now?

Sitting in your home office talking to idiot customers on the phone all day, you try to take your mind off what happened last night. How can you have invited someone over, had sex and apparently stolen his t-shirt without even knowing? You vow there and then you aren’t drinking ever again. However, the end of the week rolls by and it's been the absolute worst, your boss is a dick, your customers are all idiots and to top it off your best friend hasn’t responded to your calls all week and you don’t know why.

You have a quick shower and decide to spend the night binge watching whatever you can find on Netflix when James sits next to you handing you a gin and tonic. “Thanks but I’m not drinking for a little while.” You go to put the drink down but he pushes it up to your mouth

“Don’t be silly, you’ve had a hard week. One drink won’t hurt” smiling at him you take a sip and he’s right, you instantly relax and get cosy on the sofa, ordering chinese and laughing at the show you both decide on. Waking up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth again, you find yourself laying on your bed but this time you have your own clothes on which is a relief. Standing up, you feel a bit weird round the back like you’ve been stretched out with one of your plugs but that’s not possible, they’re hidden in your box under the bed.

You drink a big glass of water and sit on the kitchen counter, a little uncomfortably, but quietly and relax. Something has been off the last week and you can’t put your finger on it, it's always weird when you get a new roommate and you’ve put it down to that but you just sense something isn’t quite right. You lean your head back on the wall behind you and get a surprise when James walks round the corner. “Hey doll, you feeling ok? You looked a bit sickly earlier and went to bed. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You nod at how sweet he was and drink some more water before hopping down. “I’m fine just going to sleep it off.” He takes your glass for you, offering to wash it and says goodnight, watching you walk away very closely and licking his lips as his eyes roam over your body.

It’s been a few weeks now since James moved in, he’s got to be the best roommate you’ve ever had. He pays his bills on time, keeps the place spotless and he’s such a good cook, always making food and drinks for you. It's lucky that he’s so kind because none of your friends seem to be in touch anymore, you message them and even try calling them but no one ever replies.

You sit watching your usual Friday night film with drinks and Chinese takeout, talking to James about both your weeks, tonight though he sits closer than usual and his face seems to light up when you talk to him. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in real life, you’ve never looked at him that way before because not only is he your roommate but he’s so far out of your league it's laughable. You tell one of your stupid jokes and he laughs with his whole body, his arm goes around the back of the sofa and he pulls you in close, hugging into him, you relax biting your lip when he kisses the top of your head.

That was the beginning of it for you both. You had daily movie nights, he cooked for you every day, listened when you got upset that your friends seemed to have dropped you and even encouraged you to start running with him. Everything felt perfect, you still occasionally woke up sore with a dry mouth but James told you it was just your body getting used to all the exercise you were now doing. Both of you had really found each other, loners who just needed someone to listen.

You went down to collect your mail one day and stood talking to your elderly neighbour when she told you how familiar James looked, she couldn’t work out where she knew him from but she praised you on finding such a nice young man who apparently had carried her groceries up the stairs for her when the elevator was broken. Smiling at her you told her to have a good morning and went back to your apartment looking at the thick brown envelope addressed to you, you never really got anything in the post except the occasional leaflet. James had made you a coffee and you smiled at him taking the package in your room to open while you got ready to have a shower.

In the shower you decided tonight would be the night with James, you shaved yourself from head to toe and used your best lotions. Winking at him as you walked to your room, he had a weird look on his face and couldn’t seem to look at you. In your room the envelope had been moved, it looked like it was open too. Bending down to pick it up you hear James behind you but before you can turn around you feel a pain in your neck and everything goes dark.

You wake up with a blinding headache and go to move but your body feels too heavy. “Ssshh sweetheart, don’t move, I had to tie you up for your own safety.” You look at him confused, trying to pull on your wrists but you can’t move.

“James, what’s happening?” Sitting next to you he slips some ice chips in your mouth to ease your dry throat and takes a deep breath.

“You can blame your friend, we were so happy and she had to try and take you away from me.” A tear runs down your cheek, you’ve never heard him talk like this and it’s terrifying. “I told your little friends to leave you alone or I’d take care of them all but they just didn’t listen.” He throws the envelope down and slowly shows you the newspaper clippings and articles they had sent you, apparently he was on the run and considered dangerous, something to do with what happened with the helicarriers that crashed a few months ago.

“I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore,” he says with a smirk, wiping your tears away and tutting. “Don’t be scared of me, I’m doing this for you, for us!” Pulling on the restraints on your feet and arms again he shouts, “Enough!” You stop immediately, scared of what he‘ll do if you don’t. “You were so nice to me on the phone when I first got free, you helped me hire that car that brought me to New York. I hacked into your company's database and found you. Your roommate was easy to convince with a little bit of money and I hired all those people to come and see you so when I finally got my chance you’d want me as much as I’ve wanted you”

“Why didn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?” You managed to stutter out, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“You never leave the house, you stay home all day working then sit watching TV all night, I saw you through the webcam. You really should be more careful.” He smirks before running his fingers over your naked body. Feeling how smooth and soft your skin is he smiles. “Did you do all this for me? Sweetheart, I’ve already had all of you, you don’t have to do anything special for me. I love you just the way you are”.

The realisation hits you and you sob loudly. “Have you been touching me while I sleep?” He tilts his head to the side and looks at you with so much admiration.

“You’re so smart, I’ve been preparing you to be mine. I didn’t know how long it's been since you’ve been with a real man, not those silly little toys under your bed and I wanted our first time to be special. I even set up that fake dating account so you would think you had a guy over on that first night.” He strokes your cheek and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying.

“James I’m cold, can you untie me and we can talk properly, please.” He studies your face for a brief moment before leaning forward and chuckling in your ear.

“You can’t think I’m that stupid baby, oh and you can call me Bucky now. If you’re going to be mine forever we need to get better acquainted.” He drops his sweatpants and straddles your hips. “We’re going to have so much fun”.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier

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drunk-poets-society · 3 years ago

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ok so

this young fella is No. 85 Squadron’s Hurricane pilot Richard Lee. he was awarded the DFC and DSO for his service, just a couple months before he was shot down over the English Channel on 18/8/1940, at age 23, sadly never to be seen again.

details under the cut -

Richard Hugh Anthony Lee was born in London in 1917 (the exact date or month is unknown). Growing up, he went to Charterhouse School.

On September 1935 he joined RAF Cranwell as a Flight Cadet, and graduated in July 1937. He was posted to Debden on June 1, 1938 to join no.85 Squadron at its reformation. He flew Gloster Gladiator biplanes to begin with, before no.85 was re-equipped with Hawker Hurricane Mk1s.

No.85 sqn. Was posted in France to protect cross-channel convoys. On November 21, 1939, while on patrol over Boulogne, Flight Lieutenant ‘Dickie’ Lee scored the squadron’s first victory when he successfully attacked a Heinkel 111 which crashed into the channel and burst into flames. This also scored the Squadron’s first accolade as he was awarded a DFC on March 8, 1940 “for outstanding brilliance and efficiency”

Not much happened over the winter. That was to change, however, when on May 10, 1940, the sound of Anti Aircraft guns and Luftwaffe planes filled the air. No. 85 squadron immediately jumped into action, and within a few minutes, one section of “A” flight, and one section of “B” flight were up in the air. Lee was leading B flight with Flying Officer Derek Allen and Pilot Officer Patrick Woods-Scawen flying as his numbers 2 and 3 respectively. the section attacked a Henschel 126, and managed to severely damage the aircraft, leaving two of its crew wounded.

Later that morning, Lee was flying Hurricane L1779 into combat, leading his section again. They engaged a Junkers-88 at about 15,000 feet. His combat report reads: “after being sighted E/A dived to a very low height. i could only overhaul from astern very slowly. From 500 yards to 700 yards the enemy rear gunner fired continuously. I fired short bursts and finished ammunition closing to 200 yards. No apparent results except black smoke from one engine. My own aircraft shot badly.”

Later that evening Lee shared in the destruction of a Ju-86 with his section. Lee was the first to open fire and set the enemy’s starboard engine on fire. When they landed, ground crew found that he had fired 50 rounds from each of his eight Browning machine guns during the engagement.

on 11/5/1940, the squadron was back in the thick of it. however, this time after a busy morning patrol, Allen and Woods-Scawen returned without their section leader. Richard Lee was missing. He’d been flying Hurricane N2388, code marked ‘VY-R’ over Maastricht when he engaged a Dornier 17P at approximately 1300 hours. His aircraft had been hit by Anti Aircraft fire and he bailed out of his aircraft slightly wounded. Parachuting down, he landed in a field, where he spotted a local man passing by. He asked the man which direction he should travel to get to the Belgian tanks that were nearby. He took off in the direction, only to find out that they were, in fact, German. Lucky for him, his uniform was concealed underneath a smock or overcoat he had acquired. He was believed to be a peasant and was locked into a barn with some other refugees. Thinking quick, he climbed up to a window and noticed a ladder perched beneath it, and promptly climbed out, walked several miles, and hitched a ride with some Belgians before returning to his unit the very next day. The squadron’s diarist reported that “11/5/40. Eight E/A were shot down today. Flight Lieutenant R.H.A Lee failed to return from the offensive patrol covering the advance of the BEF over the Tongres-Maastricht Section – he was reported last seen on a Dornier’s tail at about 2,000 ft.”

On May 22, No. 85 squadron started to return to Debden to re-equip and reform, and Lee was transferred to No. 56 Squadron. The next day the squadron engaged enemy aircraft over St. Omer while patrolling Manston to Dunkirk. he expended all his ammunition in the dogfight that ensued between the Hurricanes and the 109s, before his starboard wing was badly hit. He broke off and returned to Manston unharmed, and aircraft deemed repairable.

On May 27, he flew another offensive patrol from Manston with the Squadron, flying Hurricane P3311. On this occasion he was shot down by Messerschmitt 109s during an attack on Henschel 111s. he ditched his aircraft in the sea and was fished out of the water and taken ashore an hour later.

On May 31, Lee was awarded the DSO. The London Gazette published the following: “Flight Lieutenant Richard Hugh Anthony Lee, D.F.C. (33208) this officer has displayed great ability as a leader and intense desire to engage the enemy. On one occasion he continued to attack an enemy aircraft after his companion had been shot down, and his own machine hit in many places. His section shot down a Dornier 215 in flames one evening in May, and another in the course of engagement the next day. In his last engagement, he was seen at 200 feet at the tail of a Junkers 89, being subjected to intense fire from the enemy occupied territory. This officer escaped from behind the German lines after being arrested and upheld the highest traditions of the Service.”

In June, he returned to No. 85 squadron, under Squadron Leader Peter Townsend. His experience was called upon to help bring the new recruits upto scratch before the squadron was again ready for operational flying.

On June 26, Richard Lee and his close friend Gerald Lewis flew to an investiture where Lee received his DSO and DFC for his service.

Lee’s reputation as a daring and aggressive fighter pilot was quickly spreading around the air force. Peter Townsend’s good friend Flight Lieutenant John Simpson wrote a letter to his intelligence officer, after hearing about the exploits of Richard Lee.

Simpson, who also coincidentally often flew with Patrick Woods-Scawen’s younger brother Tony, wrote “I hear that Dickie Lee has done wonders. You see how these boys, who were always looked upon as being the naughty ones, are doing so well. They needed a war to convince the old gentlemen at Whitehall. Do you remember that Dickie was almost given his bowler hat for low flying? The same low flying has apparently stood him in good stead.” (apparently he had flown through an open barn, but i have no way of confirming or denying that)

In Hector Bolitho’s book Combat Report published in 1943, he wrote of an afternoon spent with Lee, Townsend and Simpson. “Peter Townsend and Dickie Lee had been posted to an aerodrome a few miles from the house… in the early summer, John and I went out to find them… we found Peter and Dickie and took them back to the house. Dickie followed the car on a hellish motor bicycle.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon and we lay on the lawn, the four of us, with a bowl of ice, a bottle of gin, some tonic water and four glasses, and talked the world away. All three, looked older. Both Dickie and Peter had been shot down and a certain solemnity seemed to have touched them. Dickie had changed more than others.

We used to call him Dopey in the old days because he always fell asleep if the conversation took a serious turn. He was already a hero and in most newspapers there had been photographs of him receiving his decorations from the King. The long hell in France had left creases at the corners of his sleepy eyes. But he would have none of our attempts at war talk. He said that he had a date with a blonde in Saffron Walden and that he could not stay very long.

Dickie’s taste in blondes was not always reassuring to his friends, but he was obviously more concerned with his date than with our efforts to make him talk about how he has won the DFC and DSO on his tunic. I remember when he stood to go I noticed a hole in the leg of his trousers where a bullet had gone through without touching his skin.

I suppose that Peter and John and I were a bit pensive, being the older ones, so Dickie yawned and said ‘Well, I must get cracking’ he made one gesture to sentiment before he went. On the day that was declared he left his favourite pictures with me… before his squadron flew off to France.

They were photographs of friends, of aircraft, and one of a spaniel. He asked me for them, so I brought them down from the attic and he flew off to his blonde with them, piled before him on the screeching, violent motor bicycle.”

August 18, 1940 “the Hardest Day” of course, was when Dickie was lost. Flying as Blue 1 in Hurricane P2923 ‘VY-R’ during this patrol, he was last seen by Squadron Leader Townsend and Flying Officer Arthur Gowers ten miles north-east of Foulness Point chasing Bf 109s out across the Channel.

In Townsend’s book Duel of Eagles he wrote the following of Lee’s last action: “Come back, Dicky,’ I called but he was drawing away. Again and again I called, but he kept on. It was useless to chase Huns out to sea; they would be back again the next day. Something had gotten into Dicky and there was no stopping him. We were both low on fuel and I was out of ammunition. There was only one thing to do: turn back”

Like several others, he was gone too soon. Neither his aircraft nor his body were ever recovered. and aside from these mentions, and a few documents, and acknowledgement on the Runnymede Memorial, Panel 6, there isn’t much about him out there. there’s really not much one can do about that either, other than remember, and keep them alive in our thoughts; those who never returned, whose names faded into obscurity.

Source

#my last post was glitching out so i had to make a new one #sigh. i miss him. that 'age 23' really hits hard man #history #ww2 #wwii #battle of britain #raf #1940s #1940 #need i repeat it again ? war bad.#i wish he had a happy ending like charlie and gertie in that other post but alas #also this is all the information i could find about him on the internet #that blogspot article is the only comprehensive source #there's just tiny bits and pieces of him scattered in databases and they're not much use at all to be quite honest #there is only one thing i know right now and that is that i miss him dearly for some reason #even though i dont even know anything about him except all of.... this #and the pictures in this post are all the pictures of him that are out there #i mean there's more but they're just colourisations of these #especially of the one with his pal lewis #and the one in which he's standing with the medals on his uniform #sweet boy i miss him. precious lad.#i say knowing absolutely nothing about him #like he was literally just some guy. he wasn't famous or anything. there aren't even any letters by him out there #so that i can even start to build an accurate profile. i guess all that i have is the photos and mentions #and where are those photos that he took with him ? did they go with him ? or are they in someone's basement #forgotten and neglected. or did they get destroyed ? where are they !#my best hope is that they're somewhere out there in a basement or something along with a pile of letters #his body or plane were never recovered and that makes me want to cry and sob and weep #i pretty much am over my other crush but this man has been on my mind for over a year now #its like sir please

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years ago

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about a girl x kurt cobain

hi guys omg- it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something, and my nirvana obsession has risen once again so what a thought into writing something dedicated to the one and only kurt himself <3 thank you ever so much to the person who requested this, i managed to write something i think i’m somewhat proud of aha

Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 2.165

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Waiting for him to appear on stage for the first time was like a moment snatched out of a drunken stupor: so surreal I had to continuously pinch myself every few minutes for reassurance that this was really happening. With a mind cluttered in thought, it became hard to sit still for as little as ten seconds without being accompanied by an itch to either scratch my scalp in nervousness, or chew on my already bitten nails - attempting to sand off their roughened look from my previous antics. The most I had drunk that night was a couple sips of my gingerish coloured beer - with the room buzzing in anticipation and curiosity for who was headlining the bar tonight, it caused everything that even shifted slightly in its position to irritate me in all ways plausible. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t manage to let anything settle in my stomach without having a sudden rush of nausea bubble up in my throat; it was Kurt’s first performance tonight with his new, reformed band, and being told that he was quite nervous triggered an anxiety in my veins stronger than the pain of the first rush of heroin dousing my body after months of not being able to get hold of it - allowing all my stress, agony and dread to escape my body at an expeditious rate as my body adorned the poison I was granting into my limbs. It was inevitable: Kurt was bound to be nervous before his first performance with new material to a bunch of strangers that had never seen the wonders of his model-face before, and although he had performed many times, a grasp of worry still caught into his hair as he tried to pass the time, like a knot you seemingly are unable to rid of, leaving you with no other choice but to resort to grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and chopping that bunch of hair off. Which he had done many times.

Whilst time speedily went on, I found myself calming down by a small amount, consoling myself with different types of remedies in solution: downing my drink, ordering another (this time a gin & tonic to spice things up) and repeating the same, before slamming my now empty glass to the table and standing up to get a clearer view of the stage, knowing they were going to come on soon. All that wondered in my mind was Kurt, quickly reminding myself over all the time we had spent together - the times when we had first become friends. I had been introduced to him early last year when Krist had asked me if I wanted to see his new band he was bassing for - and immediately was I enthralled, knowing that once I had laid my eyes on him, I would never be able to detach them from him: a poor man, masked in aristocracy in ways not physical as it may seem. He captivated me. His presence carried such warmth it was able to counter against the sun; your cheeks immediately burning as he locked eyes with you. You instantly wanted to wrap your arms around him, and when talking, you were instantly drawn to his short yet meaningful phrases, laced in passion stronger than an avocado seed. As my eyes were locked firmly together with his, I was able to notice something so pure and wondrous I had been unsuccessful in finding in anyone else: care. A simple emotion, somehow one of the hardest to master. Regardless of what the subject matter might be, he always carried a certain interest to it - constantly having something to say. Even if you found him sitting excluded from everyone else, you could notice that there was something either battling his mind, or inspiring him for something - new music, lyrics perhaps. It’s enticing, it's human. He’s human.

Suddenly, a distorted strum of a guitar abruptly blared through one of the many amplifiers dotted around the small stage at the end of the room. The crowded space was now silenced by the hasty noise, my (slightly intoxicated, yet conscious) head now instantly turning to see what had happened - although I was for certain it was the time I had been most excited for. Little whispers and hushes were the only things you were able to hear for the span of a few seconds as the amp's sound had silenced itself, a small buzz affiliating throughout the room, a couple of heads turning back and forth to see the number of people collectively awaiting to listen to the music of the unknown band performing tonight. My eyes stayed glued to the stage as I pictured his character, standing there in the middle, Krist and Chad capturing the rest of the space, adorned by their instruments - playing along to Kurt’s beautiful melodies. Gazing at his figure, beautifully formed with such masculinity, decorated with concerning parts of emeation, slowly embarking its way through to the middle of the stage - guitar gripped firmly in arm - birthed dozens of baby butterflies inside my stomach, tickling my insides in all sorts of ways. My nervousness resurrected itself once again, as I had come to a realisation that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.

Silence.

No introduction, nothing. From his immediate grace to the stage, I could tell he was nervous; the bright light emitting onto his face allowed me to see his features much more prominently - allowing you to just about to see the small stubble that was forming on his face from his forgetfulness to shave in the morning. However, I wasn’t able to admire his face for long, only for a few seconds before he fixed his gaze to his electric guitar, placing his fingers on specific chords, then turning to stare at his bandmates. A couple looks were shared between them all, a mere roll of the eyes from Chad, a small smile from Krist towards Kurt - for motivation, as the good friend he was. Kurt on the other hand didn’t change his facial expression, only nodding his head at both the boys before switching back to stare at the instrument adorned by his grip, beginning to bob his head slowly - counting himself in. Even from afar I was able to tell that at that single moment, he didn’t carry a care or a worry for anyone but his guitar, focusing all his energy and thought into this one specific thing: the start of the performance.

1...2...3...4

As the music began, a smile branched onto my cheeks instantly. A song I recognised, my heart warming as I realised what was playing. About a girl, the song we wrote together.

Usually, Kurt would write alone, not wanting anyone else’s input and ideas; all the band played was what Kurt had written, for it was truly only his work on that stage, just a few people helping out to put it together in life form. However, there was a significant time after a band practice weeks ago where I had attended due to me having nothing else to do, and watching the three of them play always made me feel content - holding my heart with hope for the new wave of music they were producing. As they were packing up their stuff at the end of the rehearsal, Kurt had slowly wandered off from tidying up and had come up to me, awkwardly wanting to show me what he had written for a random song: hungry for my opinion even when he never really cared what anyone thought of his music. We ended up co-writing that specific song together, the song sounding the room at this very moment. As I stared at Kurt all that was met with my eyes was his entire concentration to perfect everything that he was playing; every move of the finger producing a different sound as he attempted to hit all the ones significantly partnered with the song. He knew I was watching him, that’s why he played this song first and foremost.

Lifting his head up from the guitar, his mouth instantly pressed itself onto the microphone, revealing his raw, raspy vocals. My eyes were physically unable to detach themselves from the sight I was seeing at this very moment. They had performed multiple times before, yet this time, something felt different. New. Almost as if everything pieced in together, and with just a bit of sanding around the edges - they’d be perfect, unlike any band I had ever seen live. Watching the crowd’s attention simply staying undivided towards the band made me feel a sort of elation the morning of Christmas would give you, the sensational feeling hitting you that its the date that brought everyone together; this time the music was the thing that brought everyone together. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing some people bobbing their heads, surprised by their immediate tunes that were being emitted from the song, widening my smile - if that was even humanly possible at this moment. Their fresh, uncensored, gruffy sound was something not many bands at the time even thought about playing - that was for people who were behind their time, Sex Pistols era almost. The feeling that warmed my heart at that moment was something indescribable - illegitimate for words. It felt like a lighter had torched its way into my body, the sharp pain bruising a bright crimson all the way up my torso to my cheeks, a breath hitched back in my throat as I slowly figure out the way to breathe again. The pain that caressed my heart so dearingly was also paired with a strong sense of joy. Happiness. Delighted that the pieces of such a complex puzzle were fitting together.

As a minute or so went on, the crowd slowly began to get more and more into the music, some people now swaying their hips or dancing around with their friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt was beginning to feel, or what he was already feeling. Euphoria at the highest degree, something so strong not even a multiload of ecstasy could even attempt to give you. I found myself singing along to the words quietly, resulting in the people around me noticing that I was the only one who actually knew the song apart from the band. A random guy had turned to look at me, drink firmly gripped in hand, and with his rough attempt to shout over the loud music, whilst pointing towards the stage. “You know them?”

For a couple of scenes everything went still. I stopped moving, my eyes slowly getting lost with the man standing on the stage in front of me as I accidentally ignored the stranger’s question. I continued watching the stage, my eyes focused on Kurt - until his eyes abruptly opened, locking in with mine instantly. Startled, he noticed my starstruck expression, a little grin hanging off his lips. Maybe it was out of arrogance, however I knew he wasn’t planning on taking them off soon - not that I’d be the one to complain. His eyes were bright, glimmering with happiness; filled with life and fertility as they pierced into my soul so daringly, carrying the same devilish want that Adam had been challenged with once told not to eat the apple off the tree - his mind so intrusive he was simply unable to resist. His wondrous orbs carried a hint of impish, vanity, as they were also laced with a hint of seductivity and perhaps a shed of horniness, sudden greed blistering over his ocean-like eyes; he wanted it all, in the most wicked of ways. It would be a white lie if I had said this didn’t make me feel some sort of way; had he never looked at me like that before, I might’ve said otherwise. Perhaps his sudden bursts of confidence spewing out of him made him act this way, regardless, I knew it was something real. His eyes bestowed the same hunger he had initiated into his sudden approach when asking me what I thought of the music he had written, the first time me and him truly bonded together. I seemingly was unable to detach my eyes from him, for my body, heart and mind stayed encompassed in thought of how bewildered I was; in simply over a year, I had watched him grow, become more confident, sanguine, and it was all showing off now. He was staring at me as if the world was ending, and that I was the last thing he wanted engraved in his mind, aiding him into dying in such complacency it was almost as equal as equilibrium in the world of absolute zero. “Yes I do,” I muttered, nudging the unfamiliar person whom I hadn’t even set eyes upon. Feeling his gaze burn into my cheek, I continued to focus my eyes on Kurt, my tongue licking the sides of my mouth as I figured out words to muster. “That’s my boyfriend,”

#kurt cobain x reader #nirvana #kurt cobain #dave grohl #krist novoselic #90s #grunge #nineties #band imagines #imagines #fluff #smut #angst #my writing #grunge is not dead

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

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The Apartment: part 7

▪️for parts 1-6, click here

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, manhandling (?), drinking (reminder that all characters are aged up and are of legal drinking age), ✨SPICY✨ at the end (implied stuff, 16+ probably is best), you might get some second-hand embarrassment...🤭

synopsis: You knew that living with your three best friends, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Bokuto, would be a wild ride. It’s never a dull moment with those three. Let’s just hope you can keep your huge crush on Kuroo a secret when he is only a room away.

a/n: hi friends!! ahh im really excited to post this part (i think it’s my favorite so far) and i hope you all like it too! this fic is going to be coming to an end soon (just a couple more parts 😔) BUT I’ll let you know when the last part will be. as always, my inbox is open for everything and anything you might need and you can still be added to the taglist for this fic💛 okay enough from me, enjoy xx

p.s. [PLEASE LISTEN TO THE SONG ATTACHED EITHER BEFORE READING OR RIGHT BEFORE THE 4th SECTION BREAK, trust me...]

•

Seven: Careless Whisper

You and Kuroo took the train downtown. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, except that you would like it. You were still unsure whether or not this was a date, or just his attempt to be nice to you. Regardless, you liked having Kuroo all to yourself.

You walked down the lightly lit streets. Surprisingly it was busy, people bustling around from restaurants to clubs. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the nightlife.

Kuroo led you to a dark alley, where there was a line of people trying to get inside of a building. Kuroo skipped the line and stood in front of the bouncer.

“Hey back of the line kid,” the guy said. You looked at Kuroo with a concerned expression. Kuroo smiled.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said. The bouncers eyes widened.

“Oh I’m terribly sorry sir. You two enjoy your night.” The bouncer moved from in front of the door to let you two in. You looked at Kuroo, confused.

“Um how did you do that?” You asked. Kuroo laughed.

“Kenma has a lot of connections,” he smirked. You nodded.

Once inside, Kuroo led you downstairs to the scene of blaring music, people dancing, and flashing lights.

“Is this some kind of rave?” You asked.

“You could say that. One of Kenma’s gamer friends owns this club so he lets us come free of charge,” he explained.

“How come you’ve never brought me here before?”

“Well I went with Bokuto, Kenma, and Akaashi once and Bokuto was just a mess so I haven’t been back since. But it’s a good time, trust me.” Kuroo took your hand and led you to the pit.

The flashing lights and crowd of people was enough to give you that extra boost of confidence. You looked good and you felt good, so you knew that this was your chance to get Kuroo to see you as more than a friend. You and Kuroo danced carelessly, as if it was only you two in there. He would take your hand and spin you around, admiring this bolder side of you. You felt every beat of the music bounce off your skin. You felt alive in this moment. Kuroo noticed it too.

After maybe an hour of reckless dancing, you got a little thirsty.

“Let’s grab a drink,” suggested Kuroo. You followed him over to the bartender.

“Two gin and tonics, please,” said Kuroo. The bartender nodded and began to prepare your drinks. Kuroo looked devilishly handsome. The thin layer of sweat on his forehead from all the dancing you two had done and his perfectly messy hair was something you never got tired of looking at.

“Here you go.” The bartender placed the drinks in front of you two.

“You can put that on Kenma Kozume’s tab,” said Kuroo. You giggled.

“Cheers?” You held your drink to Kuroo. He smiled and tapped your glasses together.

“Y/N?” Kuroo looked at you tenderly.

“Yeah?” Is he gonna say it?

“I-uh-”

“HI THERE GORGEOUS!” You felt an arm wrap around you, and it certainly wasn’t Kuroo’s. You looked to see a scruffy guy, obviously drunk.

“Excuse me?” You said, pushing the guy away.

“Woah she’s got an attitude! I like it!” The guy said. Kuroo grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him.

“Hey man, leave her alone,” he ordered. The guy laughed.

“Look kid, I’m sure she’d rather be with a man than a boy right now. So why don’t you hit the road?”

Kuroo became instantly aggravated.

“Kuroo, let’s just go,” you whispered. Kuroo moved to stand in front of you.

“I said leave her alone.” He repeated. You started getting nervous.

“Kuroo please-”

“Come on pretty lady, why don’t you spend some time with me-” The guy grabbed your arm and yanked you towards him.

“Get off of me!” You yelled. Before you knew it, you heard a large CRACK and a CRASH.

Kuroo had punched the guy.

In the face.

And now he was unconscious, on the floor.

You gasped, before being led away by Kuroo.

“Sorry dude but I don’t have time for jackasses,” he said. You and Kuroo ran to the emergency exit, forcing the fire alarm on.

“Shit!”

You and Kuroo ran outside but you didn’t make it too far. You were tripping on your own feet from your heels. Kuroo noticed your hurting feet, and picked you up bridal style, running away from the club.

Everything happened so fast. You were still trying to process what even happened. Kuroo continued to carry you until you got to the train station. You boarded the train and Kuroo set you down in your seat.

“A-are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” You said softly. Kuroo sighed.

“I can’t believe I brought you there, that was so stupid.”

“Hey it wasn’t your fault. That guy was just a drunk mess. And anyway, I still had fun,” you smiled. You took Kuroo’s hand with yours.

“Wait your hand!” You looked to see that his knuckles were bleeding.

“Oh yeah. I must’ve hit that guy harder than I thought,” he laughed.

“When we get home we should put some ice on it, okay?” You said. Kuroo nodded. Kuroo looked a little distraught. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Kuroo blushed.

You took your keys and unlocked the door to your apartment. You headed straight for the freezer, taking a plastic bag and filling it with ice. You went over to Kuroo, who was sitting on the couch.

“Here, give me your hand,” you ordered. Kuroo gave you his beaten up hand and you gently put the ice bag on it. He winced a little at the cold sensation.

“We should probably wrap it with a bandage later too,” you suggested. He nodded. You kept your eyes on Kuroo’s large hand, as it rested on your leg with the ice pack on top. You held the bag in place for him. Kuroo kept his eyes on you, without you even realizing it.

“I didn’t think you had that kind of power in you,” you joked. Kuroo didn’t say anything. He took his free hand and placed it on your cheek. You flinched at his touch and looked at him.

“Kuroo…”

“Y/N…”

You took a deep breath.

“Kuroo I-I’m in love with you. Like deeply in love with you. I’ve never loved anyone but you and I don’t think I ever will. I know this is a long shot and you’ve shut me down before but if I don’t tell you now I don’t think I ever will. You’re my best friend but you’re also so much more to me than that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same but I can’t hold it in anymore. And that night at the party when Oikawa told everyone that I like you, he was being serious because god damnit Kuroo Tetsurou I like you. Well really, I love you.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your face felt like a million degrees. Kuroo didn’t react. He simply leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I know,” he said. Your eyes grew.

“What?”

“I know,” he repeated.

“You know?!”

“Of course I know. I’ve known forever. You’re really bad at hiding your emotions,” he laughed. You were in shock.

“Wait but at the party-”

“I wanted to hear it from you, not Oikawa. I knew you’d tell me when you were ready,” he smiled. Your brain couldn’t process the words coming from his mouth.

“So all this time you’ve just been mentally torturing me?” You huffed. Kuroo laughed.

“Come on Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself. I probably knew you liked me before you did.”

“Oh my god…”

“Well better late than never right?” You looked down and sighed.

“Wait but do you...you know...do you…?” You stuttered out. Kuroo took his index finger and placed it under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Of course I do. I’d be stupid not to. I love you.”

As soon as the words left Kuroo’s mouth, his lips were pressed against yours. Kuroo shook the ice pack off of his hand and pulled you on top of him. He gripped onto your thighs as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. He tilted his head slightly to kiss you better. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Without realizing it, you started slowly rocking your hips back and forth against him. He let out a faint groan. Kuroo then quickly tucked his arms under your legs and picked you up, leading you to his room.

Kuroo laid you down on his bed, hovering over you as he continued to kiss you. You began to unbutton his shirt and tossed it aside. Kuroo lifted your dress over your head and threw it onto the floor. He moved to start kissing and sucking on your neck, doing his best to leave marks on your sensitive skin. You let out faint moans every time he would release his lips from you.

“Kuroo...please…” you sighed. He moved to look at you, kissing your lips.

“What is it baby?”

“I want you,” you said. Kuroo’s eyes grew. He bent back down to kiss you before reaching in his back pocket for his phone.

“What are you doing?” You asked, beginning to unbuckle his belt. Kuroo set his phone down on his nightstand.

“A little music never hurt.”

Kuroo helped you pull his pants down. He hovered above you now just in his boxers. He continued to kiss you passionately, your hands gripped firmly onto his biceps.

Suddenly, the song that began to play seemed vaguely familiar. The saxophone played a tune that you’ve heard before.

Is he playing…

“Kuroo?” You broke away from his kiss. He raised a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what song this is?” Kuroo tilted his head in confusion.

“Uhh…”

“TONIGHT THE MUSIC SEEMS SO LOUD! I WISH THAT WE COULD LOSE THIS CROWD! BABY!”

You put your hand over your mouth to cover your laughs.

“What? What’s so funny?” asked Kuroo, moving from on top of you.

You bursted out laughing. Kuroo’s face flushed red.

“Kuroo, did you make this playlist?”

“No, Oikawa made it for me.”

You began to laugh even harder.

Oikawa you cruel cruel boy.

“Oh Kuroo, this song is a joke…” you cupped your hands on his cheeks, trying to stop laughing. Kuroo pouted.

“That’s the last time I ever let Oikawa give me music suggestions,” he groaned. You giggled, giving him a kiss.

“You’re so cute and clueless sometimes,” you joked. Kuroo smiled, pulling you back onto his lap.

“Can we still…?” he begged. You laughed and kissed his head.

“Yeah...just please, turn this song off.”

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @lilnuances @tetsoleil @cloudswritings @foxyyychan @tamaguchi @jessie9008 @bitandbytes @yeehawnana @166cm @bigchaosenergy @tumbledor3 @captain-janeway @answer-the-sirens @simpletype @ysatrap @stinkybitch1919 @starry-magicshop @graykageyama @keomoon @freyafolkvangr @myherotrashbin @anejuuuuoy @amgoldena @aisawa-reo @moonlightaangel @bokutory ]

#willow.🌸#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #hq kuroo #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurō #bokuto #oikawa tōru #the apartment.🌸

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brockadoodles · 4 years ago

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illicit affairs - a. matthews

AN: So this was actually the first folklore series fic I wrote, back when the album came out. I just never posted it because honestly I was scared to get mean, shitty anons for writing it. Because on my old blog, I always got rude shit about him. But like, so many people have asked for me to write for Auston and I wanted to so, fuck that, I’m posting it. Special shoutout to @broadstbroskis and @woah-were-halfway-there for hyping me up into posting it. And of course, miss @hockeyboysiguess who has known about it the entire time.

Word Count: 1886

Warnings: ANGST, literally no happiness, also cheating sorry, and mentions of drinking.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies and it dies and it dies A million little times

It had started off innocent, a way to fill a space in your heart while he was away, it was never supposed to become anything more. You should have known it was wrong, you should have known you were demolishing your relationship that never really had any problems in the first place. You could lie to yourself, blame it on the insecurities, blame it on the loneliness, but you could never blame him.

Auston wasn’t around all of the time, the nature of his job sending him away multiple times a week for months out of the year. He loved you, and by all accounts, he did everything right. He spent as much time on the phone with you as he could, being there in every way he could when he wasn’t physically in Toronto. By all accounts, he was the perfect partner.

You pushed away from the loneliness, the inner workings of your mind reassuring you things were fine. That you were happy, but happy people don’t emotionally invest in someone who isn’t their partner. They don’t do what you did.

Auston was with his team in California, a two-week-long trip that had you feeling more empty and alone than you had ever felt. You did everything you could to busy yourself, counting down the hours until he would call, hoping that the sound of his voice would bring you back to the happiness you once knew with him, but it didn’t. When he called, all you could focus on was the photo on your nightstand with him, one of you on his back after a night out, drunk smiles on both of your faces. You didn’t even recognize the person looking back at you in the dark frame. You didn’t even hear anything Auston said that night. All you felt was empty.

It was November when it started. A night out that led to the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. You saw him from across the bar, instantly recognizing the boy you once knew. He was everything that Auston wasn’t, and you found yourself nostalgic about the friendship you once had. He was shorter than Auston, smaller. His hair was light and Auston’s was dark. His blue eyes didn’t look at you with love like Auston’s, they looked at you with a lust behind them that made you feel wanted in a way that Auston couldn’t. Your heart wasn’t with Auston anymore, and all it took was a slap of nostalgia to pull you back from a relationship that at one point you thought you would sink without.

He came over, gliding up to you with ease. Conversation and drinks flowing freely. The gin was getting to your head, but your judgement had been clouded by more than just a shitty mixed gin and tonic.

His hand came gliding up your jeans, his fingers delicately along the rips of the black jeans, Auston’s favorite pair of jeans on you. You were relishing in the feeling, tuning out the noise of the bar, focussing on the guy in front of you, the guy that was everything that was wrong. Your phone was lighting up with texts from your boyfriend that you didn’t care to open.

“Are you seeing anyone?” The words slipped from his lips, fingers sliding further up your thigh. The question should have been enough to snap you out of it, to remind yourself that what you were doing was wrong. But it didn’t, because you didn’t care about your boyfriend who was currently miles away, sending you what were likely sweet goodnight messages. Instead, you took the hammer to your relationship and took someone else into your bed.

You should have known better with each text, flirtation, and appreciation evident in every word. You should have known better when texts became calls that had you sharing the most intimate details of your life. Never reveal that you had a home, one you shared with someone who had been your partner for the last three years. One who went away thinking nothing was ever wrong between you.

Calls evolved into dates, where you’d dress up in your most beautiful clothing, a spritz of the perfume Auston always said he loved. Dates became going home with him, hands roaming, stolen kisses in the elevator up to the home you shared with Auston.

You should have known better every time you put the photos of you and Auston in the drawer, never to be seen as another man sank into you each night you were otherwise alone. Each time you claimed it was the last, trying to convince yourself that once Auston was back you would stop. But you never did.

You were throwing things around in the closet, looking for something specific when you found it, the item that caused everything you were haphazardly doing to come crashing to the surface. The small black box that should have been the beginning of a life with someone else.

You held the small, velvet box in your hands, tears blurring your vision as you opened it. The ring was everything you would have ever wanted. A simple, yet beautiful diamond staring back at you. The ring glistened, a shiny reminder of everything you had done the last six months, every time you emotionally and physically left your own relationship, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. Telling yourself Auston was away, and you were lonely. The most heartbreaking thing about it was that he trusted you, he fully trusted you, and you took that trust and threw it as far as you could, at the time not caring about the consequences.

Tears blurred your vision as the reality of your mistakes set in. Auston loved you, wholeheartedly. He did all of the things that people do when they’re in love. He took you home, he brought you into his family, he wanted a life with you. He knew you, only to be disadvantaged by a career that prevented him from being around all the time. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and you wrecked him anyway. The worst part was that he had no idea about any of it. He didn’t know that you had slept with someone else. He didn’t know that you had been doing it behind his back for months. He didn’t know about the late phone calls, the secret meetings, who you brought into your bed while he was away. He didn’t know that your heart had left long before that.

You choked back a sob, carefully putting the ring back where you found it, knowing full well you had to tell him. You couldn’t marry him, not after what you had done in the last six months.

When he came home and tried to kiss you in greeting, you pulled back. You pushed his body back from you, eyes diverting away from his as you spoke.

“I found the ring.” You whispered.

“Shit, I mean that’s not how I wanted to give it to you, but-”

“I can’t marry you, Auston. I’ve been with someone else.” You couldn’t look at him, you couldn’t look at his face twist and his eyes fall. You couldn’t look at the personification of his heart shattering right in front of you even though it was your hand crushing it.

“Has he been here?” Auston pinched the bridge of his nose, his own tears starting to form clouds in his eyes, hoping more than anything that the answer was no.

“Yes.” All he saw was red as you said it.

“What do you do with these while he’s here fucking you in our bed?” He spoke, his voice dull and full of disappointment, grabbing the photo of the two of you from the bedside table, the one you carefully tucked away each time. You couldn’t stop the sobs coming from your body, pleading with Auston that you were sorry. That it didn’t mean anything, that you never wanted to hurt him, even though your words meant nothing at this point.

He threw the picture frame at the wall, glass shattering all over the floor, a final representation of the now nearly four-year relationship that you threw away one night at a bar six months ago. His eyes were red, tears flowing freely.

“How long?” He asked, covering his eyes with one hand trying to steady his own breathing. You made no move to answer him, instead of looking down at the ground. Shame and guilt filling your heart, Auston was nothing but good to you, and you threw it back in his face repeatedly, for months.

“How fucking long? He repeated, growing frustrated with your lack of an answer.

“November.” You whispered, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Auston looked at you, then walked into the closet, throwing things around before coming back with what you assumed was the ring in his hand. He tossed the box onto the bed in front of you, looking at you like you’d never seen him look at anyone before.

“Here, you can have this. Fucking pawn it for all I care.” His voice was cold, a tenor you had never heard him use with anyone, let alone you, and you couldn’t even blame him for it, all you could blame was yourself.

He didn’t say anything to you as you packed a bag. He didn’t say anything as you cleaned up the shattered picture frame from the bedroom floor. Auston didn’t have anything left to say to you at all, his own mind was still trying to work out how he had missed it. How he could have been better to you so that you didn’t need to look for comfort from someone else. He didn’t say anything when you left that night, or when you came back a week later to move out the rest of your stuff, letting you walk out and take your mistakes with you.

He didn’t stay in that room anymore, instead, he slept in the guest room. When the season ended, he caught the first flight back to Arizona and didn’t look back. He spent four years looking back for you, and now he had to learn how to live with his own broken heart and the mess that you made.

You only saw Auston once after that, at a bar, nearly six months after. The guy you had cheated on him with had been long gone, and you had spent those six months trying to understand what you had done. You were trying to piece yourself back together with a guilty conscience and a hole in your chest that had you feeling lonelier than you ever thought you were capable of feeling.

You made eye contact and watched his face fall, turning quickly away from you back to whoever it was that he was with. You downed the rest of your drink and closed your tab, walking out and closing the chapter on the illicit affair you had for good, a drunken promise made to yourself in an attempt to never be as lost as you were again.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #folklore series #nhl imagine #auston matthews

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anjanettexcordonia · 4 years ago

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Ties That Bind

**Trigger Warnings**

DARK DARK DARK

-NSFW/Mental Health/Violence/Rape Minimal fluff if any at all tbh.

***If you are sensitive to any of these please do not read.

Pairing: Liam x MC, Liam x Riley, Drake x Olivia

Word Count: 4,189 (I know its forever long but its worth it in my biased opinion)

This is my first time writing any kind of fiction. I was inspired by all of you amazing writers! I received positive feedback on this chapter so I’m hoping you all like it too! Its very dark and very very twisted. I can not emphasize it enough.

**READ WITH CAUTION**

Excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings.

This will be a six part series. I do not have a timeline for when I will post. (I’m a mom & work full time)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

“Riley it’s time to go, My Queen.” Liam yells from the first floor of their quarters. “Drake & Olivia are already almost to Lythikos with our children and we are still at the palace! Let’s goooooo my love!”

Riley & Liam were preparing to head to their Valtorian Estate for a night before heading to the United States for a week long excursion at their Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. The Biltmore was their American private residence. Left to her after the death of her mother. They went twice a year just the two of them. Their children had never stepped foot on the property. Much less America. Riley hated America. She used the country only to satiate her needs. Her father and sister never visited the Biltmore Estate. Her father primarily lived in his penthouse in New York. Her sister never left their childhood home in the Hamptons. The Biltmore was hers to do with as she pleased.

Riley and Liam make their way down to a blacked out Cadillac Escalade waiting for them in the Royal private exit of the garage.

“Liam, let’s call Drake & Olivia one more time before we get to Valtoria. You know after tonight we won’t be communicating with anyone for a full week.” Riley winked at Liam.

My God this woman is my everything. How did I survive without her? Liam thought.

Liam pulls out his iPhone and scrolls to Olivia's name and hits call.

“Yes your majesty,” Olivia purrs into the phone.

“Hello Liv, just checking on the kids. You and Drake know Riley and I will be incognito for a week. Remember if it’s an emergency reach out to Hana and Maxwell. Do not contact us unless it’s literally life or death.” Drake yells through the phone, “Li we do this twice year every year since the first little squirt you two brought home. We got this. By the way what exactly do you guys do in America that you’ve never told us?”

“This trio is a joy. They are perfectly fine. Uncle Max is on his way with Auntie Hana. This should be a Mary Poppins nightmare.” Olivia chuckled.

“It’s just our special time. Not as King and Queen of Cordonia but as husband and wife. That’s all.” Riley replies. Liam squeezing Riley’s thigh at her smirk, knowing full well that wasn’t exactly true.

“Tell our babies we love them, and take care of and protect them while we’re gone. Don’t let Max feed them too much sugar. They will never sleep!”

Always,” Drake softly spoke, “Uncle Drake and Aunt Livvy are going to show them how fun we really are!” Ellie squeals in the background at her Uncle.

Liam & Riley end the call with a sigh of relief. This trip was going to be catalyst. They both knew they were coming back to Cordonia forever changed.

Three hours later Valtoria came into view. The sun was beginning to set over the cascading waterfall behind the large castle. Riley and Liam had been catching up on last minute emails before they arrived. They had an understanding between each other that during their two weeks a year no work was allowed. No cellphones other than 1 for emergencies only. No laptops no tablets of any sort. They completely unplug.

Bastien stopped the suv in front of the large estate. Liam hopped out running around to hold the car door open for his wife. HIS Queen.

Gladys met them outside the door.

“Your majesties” Gladys dipped into a low curtsy.

“Hello Gladys” Liam replied. Is everything ready for our stay tonight and departure in the morning?”

“It is.” Is there anything else Your Majesty requests?”

“No thank you Gladys.”

As they walk towards the entrance of the large French Gothic style castle, Liam scoops Riley into his arms bridal style and walks her across the threshold.

“Good night everyone. Gladys have our usual chicken tangine, apple butter bread, balava & chocolate cake left in the kitchen. Everyone is excused for the rest of the night.”

Gladys nodded her head at her King’s command and curtsied as he walked up the grand staircase.

“Thank you, Gladys!” Riley yelled down at her.

Gladys and Bastien both knew what that meant. Get out now. Do not come back until sunrise under any circumstances. Gladys and Bastien were the only two who knew. And also who knew why.

Liam carried his bride to their suite. Their bedroom at Valtoria was protected. They had it modified during their engagement. No one was allowed entrance. Gladys was the only person granted entrance for 2 hours to clean after each visit. And only under the watchful eye of the Queen herself. This belonged to them. They maintained this room. Not staff. Not like the palace.

The entrance of the door was built almost as a panic room. A large heavy blast proof door protected the entrance. A Handprint scan of both the King and Queen were the only way of access to their master suite. That entire room was reinforced. It was safe. Nothing and no one was coming through to hurt them. If they ever needed protection, this is where they would bring their family. For now, it wasn’t for their family. It was a source of healing and triumph. It was terror and torture. It was love and pain.

Most of the other service members believed they were simply paranoid. Ruling a country you had a right to be paranoid, is what they told themselves when they walked by the master suite. Some were curious about what was behind that heavy steel door. No one ever attempted to sneak peek. They knew better. No one could explain it, as the king and Queen were very kind and fair people, there was a vibe or an energy that everyone could feel from them. It was uncomfortable. Sometimes there was no emotion from either of them. Hollow blank stares & flat monotone voices. That rarely happened. And when it did, their week vacation was close. Whatever they did during those 2 weeks out of the year made them better each time.

🍈

Liam flashes his million dollar smile down at his wife as they enter. His manhood already dancing in its confines. They enter their bedroom and swiftly close the door. Their bedroom in Valtoria is for them. And them only. No one including their children are granted access. And for good reason. The master suite of Valtoria has a large four-poster bed. Above the bed hung a large medal bar suspended from the ceiling with leather arm straps. arm and ankle straps hung from each corner of the bed. The walls were adorned with shelves of Belts, gags, riding crops and rope. There were shelves of weapons large & small daggers and swords.

The walls were a deep maroon. It was still exceptionally regal but with a darker contrast. This is not a place most people would be comfortable walking into. Most people except the King & Queen of Cordonia.

Liam kicked the door shut with a force that made the door trim rattle. He tossed his Queen on to the bed, climbing on top of her. He pulled her full lips into his mouth and breathed her in. He could never get enough of her. How did he survive without her? Without her touch? Her voice? Her scent? He never needed anyone except her. Only her. Forever her. No one could calm him like she could. She was his safe house and his haven. He could do things with and to her no one else could understand. Her crystal blue eyes darkened into the depths of the ocean only for him. He knew her. He was her. They were one. Not only in marriage but spirit and soul. They were connected.

Riley stared up at her husband taking in every perfect feature and every invisible flaw, only flaws she could see. Only flaws she could love. She understood him. She never had to ask why. She was never afraid. It was Game, Set, Match the first time she locked eyes with his deep dark painful eyes. She could sense him before she ever knew him. Her long honey blonde hair pooled around her head as she sank into his fiery kiss. He was the only man she ever willingly kissed. The only man she allowed to ever touch her body. He worshipped her. He was her breath. She couldn’t breathe without him filling her lungs. He filled the deepest parts of her. Parts only he knew existed. Parts that were created not born. Evil. In every sense of the word.

Fourteen Year Old Riley.

“Mother, why are you crying?” Riley watches her mother standing in her large walk-in closet pouring herself another drink.

“Just go away Katherine Riley.” Ashley sighed. Riley could her the sadness in her voice. Usually her mother just ignored her.

“Mother I..I.. I think it’s best we all stay at school for the summer this year.”

“I SAID GO THE FUCK AWAY! WHAT DONT YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT?”

Riley felt the sting of tears in her eyes and she quickly turned to walk away.

“Wait Katie” Ashley sighed. “It’s time we had a conversation. You're old enough now & after the things you’ve seen and heard throughout your life, it won’t come as much of a surprise to you, I believe.” Riley turned around. Eyeing her mother not sure what to make of this conversation.

“Your father & I had what you would call an arranged marriage per se. People of our status in life, it’s not uncommon. We dated some. A short while I suppose. Coming from the families that we do it’s important to ensure that our wealth will always continue to grow, we married after a few months of dating.” Ashley took a long sip of her gin & tonic. “To our parents' delight. Not ours. Not mine.”

“Immediately after we married things changed. I was a virgin & I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted to love my husband first. He stole that from me in the most horrific of ways. And you were the product of that. When I look at you, that’s all I see. I see violence, blood and stolen innocence. Each of your siblings were the products of the same. Violent and brutal attacks. Each time left me broken. After the last assault he shattered my pelvis and ruptured my cervix. I can no longer bear children. That’s all each of you are to me. Your father is evil. An evil which you’ve never known. Next time he will kill me. I’m leaving tonight.”

Riley stood stunned. Trying to wrap her mind around what this woman in front of her has told her. She couldn’t understand. She knew her father tortured her mother. She had her the screams and the slams at night. She saw the blood stained carpets and walls in the stairwell in their Hamptons beach house. She knew her father was evil. All too well. Ashely has no idea the hell her children had been going through. He tormented them as well. He would sneak into her room in the middle of the night when the screams finally ended and watch her. Her brothers never spoke of their trauma but she knew it was there.

“Can we come with you Mother?”

“No.”

“Can you wait until after my birthday? It’s tomorrow Mother?”

Riley wasn’t sure why that memory had flashed through her mind. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“What is it Riley?”

“I was thinking of the night before he killed her. Random I guess.” Liam leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“My King” Riley sighed, holding his forearms in her grasp.

“Yes My Queen?”

“Are we prepared for our return to the estate?” She asked, leaning into to bite his shoulder as he hovered over.

“We are. Our gifts are already waiting for us. They were delivered this morning. They are being fed and groomed as we speak my love. I’m ready for our warm-up before the real work begins.”

Riley’s stomach groaned.

“I’m ready. We can eat when we’re finished.”

🍋

Liam pulled Riley to her feet. He tugged her top above her head. He was thankful she wasn’t wearing a bra. He leaned down taking a taut pink nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge until it was a hardened peak. He showed the same attention to the other nipple. Riley pulled Liams t-shirt over his head. She always worshipped her playground. She licked her way between each sculpted ab. Liam gripped her hair as she slid his sweatpants to the floor. She leaned on her knees engulfing his engorged length in her mouth while she swirled her tongue all the way down his shaft. She slowly eased him out of her mouth and stood back up.

“Fuck Riley”

“I just needed to taste you my King.”

Liam bit his bottom lip as he pulled her sweatpants down. Leaving her lacy black thong on her hips.

They walked hand in hand to the large bathroom. The bathroom sleek and modern. Liam felt the warmth of the heated floors on his feet as he lifted his Queen into the tub. He grabbed a bottle of baby oil off the counter. He poured a generous amount into his hands and covered Riley’s body in oil. He gently lifted her from the tub carrying her back to the bedroom. He climbed the small steps on to the bed standing on the mattress. Riley lifted her arms into the arm straps suspended from the high ceiling. Baby oil kept her skin protected and also made it more of a challenge for them.

Once she was firmly secured into the arm and ankle restraints with only the medal bar for her to grip onto, Liam stepped off the bed.

“My Queen, what pray tell interests you tonight?”

“Torture me Liam”

“As you wish my Queen, safe word?”

“Celeste My King”

Liam smirked at her chosen safe word. Oh Celeste will know who her king is too when we’re finished with her. Won’t she my Queen?

Liam grabbed a riding crop from the wall and smacked Riley hard across her bare ass. Thong still in place. Riley winced as she heard the crack of the crop against her slick skin.

“Please my king”

“Shut up, you don’t speak until I tell you to open your filthy mouth for me”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Liam pulled a small dagger from the bedside table. The handle adorned with red rubies in the shape of W & K. King William Constantine Rhys & Queen Katherine Riley Vanderbilt Rhys.

He ran the dagger along her torso up to her neck tracing old subtle scars.

“Open your mouth baby” Liam whispered.

Riley opened her mouth. She could feel her core pooling. Moisture threatening to drip down her thighs.

Liam slid the dagger over her flattened tongue flipping it over in her mouth. He slid the dagger down her chin to her throat. He pressed the dagger more firm into her skin causing her blood to bubble to the surface. He sliced gently to her belly button. Riley wincing in pain but loving the feel of cold dagger dragging down her flesh.

Liam knelt to his knees and clasped his mouth around her nub. Still holding the dagger against her thigh as he gripped her. He dragged the knife across her sex and sliced her underwear in two.

Liam delved his fingers into her sex as hard as he could. He swirled his tongue around clit. Liam pumped and curled his fingers in out of her fast and hard. His rock hard length dripping precum.

More Liam Don’t stop.” Riley screamed.

Hearing Riley scream made Liam abruptly stop completely. Fingers still inside her, Liam pulled his head back to look up at her.

“Did I tell you to speak?”

Sliding his fingers out, Liam grabbed the crop and slapped it hard across her dripping pussy.

“You speak when I say. Next time I won’t be as calm with you.”

“Fuck you Liam” Riley screamed, Venom dripping from her lips. She was seething at his refusal of her release she so desperately needed.

Riley covered in welts from the crop and dried blood across her torso, Liam unhooked each restraint.

“What the fuck Liam? We aren’t finished playing.”

Liam slapped her hard across the face with the crop. Riley’s head falling to her shoulder. Fire burned in Liams eyes as he watched the blood drip down the corner of her mouth. Riley reached for the dagger as Liam crashed his mouth onto hers. Riley could taste a mixture of copper and salt on his tongue.

Riley dragged the dagger across Liams thigh drawing a bit of blood. She reached the hair on the nape of his neck and pulled hard. Liams neck snapped as she slid the dagger across his jugular.

She dragged the dagger across his chest, ripping his chest open watching the blood drip down his chest to his abdomen.

Liam has enough. He needed her now. He had everything he needed from her. He pulled her into his taking the dagger from her and throwing it on the floor. The slight scabs that had formed from the congealing blood on her sternum ripped open with friction of their bodies rubbing together. Liam slammed Riley into the bed. He grabbed her ankles and spread her as far as apart as he could before slamming his hard cock into her waiting center.

Riley screamed in pain and satisfaction. Her manicured nails digging into back as deep as she could grasp him.

“I’m not holding back My Queen.”

Liam pumped into her hard and fast. He put one hand on her stomach pressing down, the other hand securing her leg as he continued to massage her walls.

Riley ran her fingers across the dripping blood mixed with sweat. She slid her bloody fingers into her mouth eyeing Liam.

Liam leaned his head down and licked the blood pooling between her breasts and crashed his lips into hers. He felt Riley’s wall fluttering knowing she was close. His cock tightened as she came underneath him. Liam wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed as his thrust became frantic. Riley’s eyes were wide seeing the power and fire in his eyes.

Riley tried to say Celeste. She couldn’t breathe. He was choking the life out of her without even realizing it. He was pumping hard concentrating on his thrusts as his cock disappeared in and out of her glistening walls.

“I. can’t. let. go. Riley.” Liam spoke between breaths.

Riley understood. He physically couldn’t let her go. Even if he did kill her. It wasn’t malice or hate. This was raw pure love. This is what he needed from her. From his wife. And this is what she needed. She needed him to bring her to the brink of life and pull her back at the same time. This was them.

Liam found his release deep within her. He released her neck right as everything went black. Riley’s eyes fluttered open with a satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you so much my Queen.”

“I love you Liam.“

They laid together on their white silk sheets breathless. Both of their minds running towards the following week.

“We should get cleaned up my love. We’ve made quite the mess I suspect.” Liam whispered.

They both slowly rose from the cloud like confines in a state of stupor.

They made sure to always have white sheets to see every drop they spilled from each other. They’re bodies marked from each other’s carnal pleasure. A release unlike any they’ve shared with anyone else.

“My King you did well. Let’s leave the sheets for tonight.”

“Very well my Queen. I’m not finished with you yet. We will have a week before our next release.”

The dawn crept through they’re tightly drawn curtains. Riley stretched reaching for her husband but found his side of the bed cold. Riley slowly rose from the bed. Still naked and marked from their endless night. Riley made her way to the shower to find Liam soaking in the tub.

“Join me?”

Riley slid in front of him feeling the sting from her open wounds that covered her body.

“We have a long flight to states in an hour. Are you ready for this Riley?”

“Liam It’s time. It’s time to take off our masks and savor the tastes of revenge. Of freedom.”

“This is our last time. We need to take our time with them. Please don’t make it too quick like last time with Madeline.”

“My king, I take offense.” Riley huffed. “I gave you the release you craved with Madeline. Her life was a sweet release for me.”

An hour later the King and Queen bordered their private jet to American hand in hand.

Biltmore Estate

“I can’t believe I’m doing this for these twisted fucks. Fucking monarchs just get to do whatever they want with whomever they want.” Anthony muttered to himself.

Anthony was the groundskeeper. He took care of everything for his King and Queen during their stays. And they paid him handsomely. He primarily resided at the estate to maintain the grounds as well as the estate itself. The estate held many secrets that he was tasked to solely hold.

“Please” a raspy voice called out.

“Shut up Celeste. Your King is on his way.”

Celeste let a muffled cry as she heard the bars slam shut.

“I’ll be back to get you cleaned up when I’m finished with Ashley and Amelia.”

The private jet landed at the airport in Raleigh North Carolina. Liam and Riley made their discreetly to an SUV meant to take them to their estate.

“Your majesty King Liam” Anthony bowed.

Liam rushed in. “Hello Anthony, you are dismissed. I’ll need the keys to the Bowels please. Our gifts are secure and ready I presume?”

“Yes your majesty, they have been cleaned, fed, and await you. I will take my leave now.”

Riley waited in the suv until Anthony left. She couldn’t maintain a stoic facade during their times away. She spotted Anthony’s car pull away from the estate headed to the servants quarters. Riley rushed out and straight to Liam pulling him into a lustful kiss. They made their way to the nicknamed Bowels, a cellar that has been retrofitted with cells. They hold Liam and Riley’s victims as well as their aggressors.

“Wait Liam, why is Anton here?”

Riley looked on the computers outside the cellar doors in the security room. They were only supposed to have 3 women. She didn’t understand. What was Liam up to?

Liam smirked. Suddenly a loud knocking was coming from the front doors. They glanced down at the monitors. Riley’s eyes widened when she saw the fiery red hair standing in front of the cameras.

“Liam uh where are our children? Please...”

“Riley. They are with Max and Hana in Lythikos. Leo will be there soon to help with them as well. Don’t worry my love. Now to explain about Drake and Liv. They needed to see the truth. About them, about us. I’m ready to share parts of our true selves with the family we created.”

Riley nodded. She was not in a teaching mood.

“Private now Liam.”

“What Riley? What’s the problem?”

“The problem? How can we be US with them? I’m not here to teach them how to become sociopaths like us Liam. Fuck.”

“Relax baby.” Liam only used the baby pet name when he was confident in his prowess.

“Fine. They better not fuck this up and I’m not holding back.”

The two couples made their way to the cellar door. Liam held Riley’s hand while he unlocked the door. The electronic key and palm scanner both sprang green in sequence. Drake and Liv quickened their breath.

“We have a ritual guys if you don’t mind standing back. And you can join if you like.” Riley calmly stated.

Liam and Riley stripped naked. Liam pushing Riley against the cellar door in a hungry kiss. Liv admired the marks and scars the two in front of her were covered in. Some old, some new. She was intrigued. Drake’s breath quickened. They joined their best friends in the nude. Liam and Riley glanced behind them noticing Liv and Drake in the same fashion. None of them faced with the pain they had felt at sometime or the other. The abuse. The abuse that twisted them into who they were. Not who they had become.

The door opened. Celeste gasped seeing her half brother, sister in law, the scarlet duchess & the commoner walking through the door naked. Celeste had no idea what circle of hell she was about to enter. Nor that there were others destined to meet the same fate she would soon come to meet. At the hands of her King and his Queen.

“Hello Cece” Liam laughed in a voice unrecognizable to the others in the group yet all too familiar to his wife.

The demons have come out to play.

#theroyalromance #kingliam queenriley dark twisted triggerwarnings mc kingliamxmc drake olivia

49 notes · View notes

sunnypogue · 5 years ago

Text

post grad - part one (jj maybank x oc)

pairing: jj maybank x original character

synopsis: she’s your modern day college graduate: good at school, bad at the whole after-school thing. recent grad margo jean walker was told her whole life she was destined for greatness - straight a’s, top of her class, full ride to columbia - until she graduated. now, she’s hiding out in her grandmother’s outer banks estate, attempting to figure out what her “life plan after college” is supposed to look like. on her journey to self-realization, she finds herself enveloped in the life of jj maybank - a high school dropout, bumming with his childhood friends in a beat up shack on the coast. two people, one town, zero plan.

warnings: drinking/cursing - probably an eternal warning with my writing.

a/n: straight up haven’t written a thing in fandom in like, five years. jj maybank (a perfect character) has singlehandedly dragged me out of my fic writing slump - that’s one inspirational motherfucker.

part one brought to you by that one opening scene where jj was mowing a lawn shirtless. cinematic gold.

anyways, this is a classic “gifted girl is told she’s gifted her whole life and then she gets out of school and realizes she has no idea what the fuck she’s doing so she runs from her problems” meets her antithesis + his pals. there will definitely be some stronger warnings down the line, if you catch my drift.

I’m also 1000% team “JJ’s name is short for John because it was too confusing having two John’s around so they compromised with JJ and John B” thanks.

pogues + kooks featured are all 21+. it’s called post grad for a reason, folks.

enjoy xx.

_______________________________________________

post grad

“Margo, if you lay out any longer, you’ll freckle up. Your nose is completely covered!”

Margo hummed, wriggling her body enough to face in the general direction of her grandmother’s voice. She blindly stuck a hand out from her chaise chair, slapping aimlessly until she felt the familiar bill of her worn baseball cap, before dropping it onto her face.

“Is that better, Mimi?” Her voice, rough from disuse, was muffled from behind the cap.

“Slightly. It would be nicer if it wasn’t that damn Yankees hat.”

Margo grinned, hearing the exasperated amusement in her grandmother’s voice. Although a long time resident on the coast of North Carolina, her Mimi still carried a torch for her hometown Boston teams, often recounting fond memories of nosebleed seats at Fenway, or listening to Bruins games on the radio. She claimed one of the reasons she remained on the Outer Banks is that she couldn’t bear to show her face back in Boston, knowing her granddaughter was a Yankees fan.

Margo couldn’t help but poke fun at her any chance she got.

“Sorry Mimi. Would you rather I freckle?”

Mimi peered over the rims of her cat-eye sunglasses, observing from a safe, shaded perch. “You know, neither of these things would be a problem if your mother hadn’t married your father. You’d be freckle-free and a Sox fan, without a doubt.”

Margo ripped her cap off, squinting towards her grandmother. “My heart would always find their way back to the Yanks. And I think my freckles give me character!”

Mimi pushed her sunglasses back up, glancing back down at the dog eared book in her lap. “You got the attitude from your father too.”

Margo grinned, white teeth splitting across her warm face. “Now that’s a bald faced lie, Mimi. You know exactly who I got the attitude from.”

A loud laugh burst from the older woman, setting her forgotten book to the side. “Yes, unfortunately I do. I was hoping I could pawn another one of your traits off to your father’s side, but I suppose I have no one else but myself to blame for your…,” She paused, looking for the proper words, “…quick wit.” She drawled, her muddled Boston accent blending with the Carolina.

It was Margo’s turn to laugh, a similar burst to her grandmother. She swung her legs off the chaise chair, before standing and padding over to her grandmother’s shaded spot.

“I think I got my affinity for gin & tonics from your side too.” Margo quipped, grabbing Mimi’s empty cup. “Refill?”

Mimi sighed, glancing at the glass tumbler in her granddaughter’s hand. “I suppose. Lighter on the gin this time though, dear. You about knocked me out with that last one.”

Margo laughed, turning towards the screen door that lead inside, “I got my heavy hand from you, too!”

She could feel her grandmother’s eyes roll from behind her.

Margo made her way to the wet bar, a familiar and friendly sight in her grandmother’s home. She quickly went through the motions of making two gin & tonics, mixing Hendricks with Fevertree, before topping with two limes �� the only true way to enjoy a G&T. As she moved to retreat back to her sunny spot on the chaise, her stomach grumbled, reminding her it was time to eat something, or her heavy hand might knock her out too.

She pivoted towards the kitchen, setting the tumblers down on the island before venturing into the walk-in pantry to grab a snack. As she exited the pantry, her peripherals caught something moving in her front yard, relatively unusual for a Saturday afternoon. She turned to face the floor to ceiling windows in the foyer, hands clutching an unopened back of pretzel sticks, before squinting to make out the figure on her Mimi’s front lawn.

Outside her grandmother’s home, was a man, mowing the space rather methodically. He was tall and tan, and Margo could almost describe his shirtless upper half as glistening, like a bad paperback romance. The arm of his silver aviators were clenched between his teeth, as he pushed the mower through the thick grass, muscles flexing.

The sound of crushed plastic startled Margo from her gaze. She swiped her forearm across her face almost instinctively, confirming she wasn’t actually salivating from watching the mystery landscaper at work. Tossing the now-crushed pretzel sticks to the counter, she quickly grabbed the melting drinks, and hustled outside to her grandmother.

“Took you long enough, Margo Jean. I thought college would have made you more efficient in your cocktail-“

“Mimi.” Margo interrupted, clutching a drink in each fist. “Mimi, who – who IS that outside your house?”

“What?” Mimi startled, sitting up in her seat. “What do you mean who’s outside my house?”

Margo sat next to her grandmother, passing her a drink. “The guy mowing your lawn – who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Margo watched as her grandmother sighed, settling back into her seat. “Oh, you mean John.” Her grandmother raised the cup to her lips, taking a long sip.

“What do you mean, John?!” Margo squawked. “I’ve been living here for a month and I’ve never, ever seen him before!”

Mimi peered over her sunglasses again, looking at her flustered granddaughter. “Darling, are you alright? You look flushed. Maybe you should stay out of the sun.”

“I’m fine, Mimi. It just surprised me, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to see a random man in our front lawn.”

Mimi hummed. “Honey, he’s harmless. He’s been helping me out for a couple years now – a local boy, from town. He’s usually here on Thursdays, while you’re at work.”

“Oh.” Margo took a long sip of her drink, relaxing a bit. While she was partially worked up by how upsettingly attractive the landscaper was, she had to admit she was a bit frightened by the sight of a random man on her grandmother’s property. It had been just her and Mimi at the estate for the past month, and a new face was a bit shocking.

“You know, I think he’s about your age. Sweet boy, always offering to help around the place after your grandfather passed.”

Margo placed a comforting hand on Mimi’s arm, sensing the distress in her voice at the mention of her deceased husband. Mimi patted Margo’s hand briefly, before standing and clapping twice.

“Come! Come on, this is a great opportunity.” Mimi flitted into the house.

Margo scrambled to her feet. “What do you mean, a great opportunity?”

“A great opportunity to meet some people your age. I know it hasn’t been easy, but John is just the nicest boy, and I think it’ll be good to have a familiar face other than mine on the island.”

“No! Mimi, I don’t need more familiar faces.” Margo ran to catch her grandmothers’ thin arm, slowing her progression towards the front door. “Please, I know plenty of people here. I have you, and Jennifer, and Mr. Picard. That’s all I really need, for now.”

Mimi pulled a face. “Sweetheart, I love you dearly, but that was a pathetic showing right there. You’re going to cite your boss and the neighborhood gate guard as your friends?”

Margo matched her Mimi’s face, scrunching her nose. “Look, I never said they were close friends. But I know people! I know people. I don’t need more people.”

“Nonsense. Now, come on, let me introduce you. Oh, don’t give me that face, Margo Jean, you won’t be betrothed to the guy after a simple introduction.” Mimi firmly grasped Margo’s hand, tugging her towards the front door. “Now, be nice. Don’t give him any of that New York attitude you love to display towards everyone in this town.”

“Mimi, I thought we agreed my attitude came directly from you. Don’t blame my – hey!” Margo stumbled through the now-open front door, coming to a graceless stop on the first porch step.

The mower came to a stop, with the still-shirtless operator turning towards the front door.

“Mrs. S! Anything I can help you with?” The landscaper yelled from the far edge of the lawn.

“Oh, no John, thank you! Do you mind coming over here for a second?” Mimi gripped Margo’s shoulders tightly, as she felt her granddaughter jerk away.

“Jesus, Mimi, you didn’t even let me cover up.” Margo hissed, her eyes trained forward on the male ambling his way up the long path to the front door.

“Oh stop, you two are practically matching with your outfits right now.” Mimi glanced at her granddaughter’s light blue swimsuit, before looking at John’s outfit, consisting of black shorts and a pair of ratty boots. “Even playing field.”

Margo huffed, crossing her arms across her stomach. “This is not how I wanted to be –“

“What’s up Mrs. S?” John asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps. His silver aviators were hooked into the waistband of his shorts. “Everything alright?”

“Oh yes John, everything is fine. I just wanted to introduce you to my granddaughter.” Mimi squeezed Margo’s shoulders. “She’s in from New York and staying with me for a while.”

John laughed, his sharp teeth settling into an attractive grin as he glanced at Margo. “And how the hell did you end up with a granddaughter from New York? She not going to let me put up the Sox flag for you this year?”

Mimi snorted. “Margo’s a good girl, she would never deprive her grandmother of such a thing. We try to forgive her for her New Yorker-tendencies – she didn’t stand a chance with her father’s early indoctrination.”

“You know, I am right here. Mind if I speak for myself?” Margo huffed.

Mimi squeezed Margo’s shoulders again, continuing her conversation, “Anyways, John, this is Margo Jean. Margo Jean,” Mimi paused, gesturing to the boy. “This is John.”

Margo stepped forward, shaking her shoulders out of her grandmother’s death grip before sticking her hand out. “Hi, John. Margo Jean Walker.”

He grinned, grabbing her hand in his, joining the two for an uncomfortably sweaty handshake. “Margo Jean Walker. That’s a lot of name for one girl.”

Margo released her grip, looking down her nose towards him. “Well you don’t have to call me all three. Margo works just fine.”

His grin intensified, as he matched her stare. “Margo Jean Walker.” He repeated. “Alright. I’m JJ. No one around here calls me John. Well, except Mrs. S.”

“It’s a nice name, John, I don’t see why all of you kids have to go by names that aren’t your given names. It makes things confusing for old biddies like myself.” Mimi looked at the pair in distain. “Margo’s always been Margo – the consistency is nice.”

“Margo Jean Walker.” JJ hummed, eyes dancing over the girl. “Consistent New Yorker.”

Margo and Mimi let out their matching laughs simultaneously. “Yeah, that’s it.” Margo giggled. “Consistent New Yorker.” She popped her hands on her hips, offering the boy a toothy smile, her eyes squinting. “Well, it was nice to meet you, JJ-not-John. Thanks for helping Mimi out. Saves me from having to figure out…that.” She gestured towards the idle mower.

He followed her eyes, glancing back at the machine he left at the top of the lawn, mentally snorting at the thought of the bikini-clad girl pushing the mower across a half-acre of grass. “Yeah, it’s probably for the best that – oh.” He turned back as he spoke, just catching a glimpse of her cheeky bikini bottoms and long hair, as she slipped inside.

Mimi tutted, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of her granddaughter. “Don’t mind her, she’s just bent-out-of-shape because of the move. She’ll warm up more, eventually.”

JJ sighed, sliding his sunglasses back on. “No problem, Mrs. S. Need anything else done around here? Just about finished with your lawn.”

Mimi patted her frosted blonde hair, quickly glancing over the state of her lawn. “Looks great, hon. Nothing else today, but I’m thinking of expanding my garden in the backyard.” She took a long sip of her drink, before continuing. “Are you available to take on a project this summer?”

JJ faltered, thinking about the time constraints a project would have on his summer. He had to consider things – his friends, his surfing, his three other jobs. “Uh, well –“

“I’d rather you take the job, John,” Mimi started. “I don’t particularly want strangers around my house, especially if my granddaughter’s going to be frying herself poolside all summer,” Mimi scoffed. “Her poor skin.”

JJ paused, considering the pros of working in the company of Mrs. S’s leggy, bikini-clad granddaughter all summer. “I mean, that sounds –“

The older woman shoved her cat-eye sunglasses into her hair, taking three steps down her porch to be eye level with the blonde, who remained stationary at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll pay you double.”

A tan hand flew out, forearm adorned with tattered bracelets, freckles and the occasional scar. “You’ve got it, Mrs. S.”

Mimi smiled, primly shaking the boy’s hand. “Great. You’ll start next week, Saturday morning?”

JJ suppressed a groan, trying not to think about the morning boat ride he’d undoubtably be missing out on. “Sure, sounds great. How long do you think it’ll –“

“A couple weekends, maybe. I won’t hoard you the whole summer, John. God knows the other ladies in the neighborhood would riot.” Mimi grinned, patting his cheek. “And they already don’t like me very much, so let’s try to keep them on my good side, alright?”

JJ exhaled, relieved he wasn’t signing his summer away. “Absolutely, Mrs. S, although I can’t think of a single reason why someone wouldn’t like you.” He finished, offering a shit-eating grin towards the older woman.

She barked out a laugh, flapping a hand around as she turned to open the front door and grab her purse. She pulled a handful of bills out of her envelope wallet, pressing them into his palm. “Here, you kiss-ass. For today and a cash-advance for selling your soul to me for a couple weekends.” She grinned as his blue-eyes widened, staring at the money. “Now get out of here, enjoy the rest of your day.”

JJ’s feet faltered, as he started walking towards the lawn mower, his head still looking back at the front door. “Th-thanks, Mrs. S! Yeah, I’ll see you next weekend. Thank you! Thanks!”

Mimi smiled, wiggling her fingers at the boy as he rushed to put the mower away. “See you Saturday, John.”

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx #obx jj #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rudy pankow #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x oc #outer banks netflix #obx netflix #post grad

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alwaysmychoices · 4 years ago

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Today, I had this idea for the ending of another project I’m working on, and I couldn’t sleep until I had written it out.

Because I am nowhere near finished with this project and wanted to share it, here it is. It has absolutely nothing to do with Ethan Ramsey (sad), but it is my ending to a story I came up with that mirrors Ethan x MC.

You may not know Ellis and Ben’s story, but here’s their happy ending.

I thought about turning back at least a hundred times.

I imagined running through the airport during my layover, demanding an outrageous ticket back to London. I imagined catching a cab and walking back into his apartment only to find him reaching for his keys to come after me.

That image got me through the eight-hour flight, but when I landed in New York for my layover, I didn’t book another flight. Instead, I bought a cup an overpriced cup of coffee – strong, black, and secretly sprinkled with sugar, just like he liked it – and posted a picture to my Instagram story. For the rest of my layover, I checked to see if he had seen it yet.

He hadn’t.

I don’t know why I was surprised.

I gave him every opportunity for him to ask me to stay, and he never did. Instead, he wished me luck, kissed my cheek, and waved my cab off as we drove to the airport. He made it very clear that he didn’t want me to stay. Instead, he wanted me to go off and have all the adventures I could. He wanted me to remember the last year as one of those great stories you share in crowded bars, when your European escapades feel particularly exotic. He was a stamp in my passport, and I was a pleasant surprise.

Benjamin Clark didn’t mean for me to look back. He gave me no reason to hope, yet I did anyway.

I almost turned back before boarding my flight to Charlotte. I let myself have one last fond daydream of returning to him and spending the fall by his side, but at the end of the daydream, I still knew that winter would be a mystery.

Benjamin Clark wasn’t the kind of person you run out of an airport for. If you did, you would only be disappointed in the end.

We weren’t a grand romance. We were, at best, a humorous coming of age film with an exotic locale.

So, I flew home. For a few months, I lived with my parents and applied to every job I could find. While I waited, I hit up childhood friends and visited my old haunts. Sometimes, I would post photos and watch my notifications to see if he liked it.

He did once or twice.

He even viewed my story a handful of times, but he knew better than to message me.

In October, I got a job in D.C., and with two suitcases and a lively early 2000s playlist, I drove up alone. I rented a small bedroom from a friend of a friend, Jessica, in Alexandria, and as soon as I met Jessica, I decided we would be friends. She helped me unpack, and to celebrate my first night, we went to a nearby bar.

It took me four tequila shots for me to message Ben.

He didn’t reply until my sixth.

I didn’t realize it was five in the morning in his time zone. Even if I had, I don’t think I would have cared.

In the middle of a crowded bar, I told Benjamin that I was going to unfollow him and that I wanted him to unfollow me, too.

I don’t know what he felt when I did that. I like to think he was just as heartbroken as I was. Because I don’t know, I get to tell myself whatever I want. Some days, I need to think that he was devastated and enjoyed the remaining connection as much as I did. Some days, I need to think that he was just being nice.

Whatever it was, he messaged me back that he understood.

After a minute, he added that he would miss me.

I didn’t respond to that.

Instead, I unfollowed him. I deleted our DMs. I unfavorited his contact. I deleted our text thread.

I never thought about flying back to London for him after that.

I still harbored the fantasy that he would come to me, though…

I kept all the pictures. I even put one on display in my room. His back was turned to the camera, so I could tell myself that it didn’t mean anything when I taped it to my corkboard. I said I just liked the view.

Of course, Ben was an integral part of the view. Maybe even better than the view.

I lived in that apartment for a year. I went part-time at my job and started grad school. I wanted an apartment closer to campus, and Jess moved with me. I took special care of packing that photo, but when I got to my new apartment, I never displayed it. It lived at the bottom of my desk drawer, safe but out of sight.

I started dating someone that semester. His name was Daniel. He was a classmate, and everyone in my life loved him. We were together for six months, and in that time, I only posted one photo of him. When I posted it, I watched to see if Ben would like it. He never did. I took that photo down when Daniel and I went our separate ways.

In the year following, I cut four inches off my hair, repainted our kitchen, and made new friends. I started drinking gin, and I changed my coffee order. I was close to finishing my masters, and I was already looking for jobs all over the city. I even flirted with the idea of leaving DC, though I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I didn’t think about Ben much during that time. I doubt he thought of me either.

If I was a woman who believed in fate, I might think that there was some grand plan that brought me to that dive bar in April.

But I don’t believe in fate. I believe in coincidences, and it was one grand coincidence that I accepted a friend’s offer to meet at a bar downtown. It was also a coincidence that my friend was late and that, while waiting for her, I took a seat at the crowded bar.

It was even bigger coincidence that the man trying to get around me to order a vodka tonic was Benjamin Clark.

Three years after Ben kissed me goodbye in London, he looked exactly the same…

And even more startling, he looked at me just like he had all those nights before in Sarajevo, like he was astounded how much he liked me standing beside him.

“Ellis?” he was so happy to see me that I instantly forgot the last three years I’d devoted to moving on from him. I was happy to see him, too, if just a little more wary than he.

He was thirty now, and I could see the age on his face when he stood close. Experience etched his skin around his eyes, but after years of frowning and scowling, his smile lines hadn’t been touched. He was still infuriatingly handsome, even more so now that his hair was longer.

“Ben?” I couldn’t erase the amazement from my voice, nor could I do anything other than stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

He invited me back to his table, and against my better judgement, I joined him.

There was a woman waiting for him. She couldn’t have been much older than me, but she had a bronze, sultry glow I had always lacked. I immediately worried she was his girlfriend, but she was so friendly to me that I soon let the thought go. Either she wasn’t his girlfriend and didn’t care who he brough to their table, or their relationship was so strong that she wasn’t intimidated by me in the slightest. Either way, there wasn’t much I could do.

He introduced me as an old friend, one that was “one of the best” in our field. It was a complete lie, and I called him on it. He met me when I little more than an intern at an NGO he didn’t even work at. If he wanted to brag on anyone, it was himself, because he was the one who trained me.

He rolled his eyes and ordered a vodka tonic and a mojito for me.

Mojitos had been my favorite drink when we knew each other.

“You’re being too critical,” Ben corrected me with the same voice he used to use when I made a mistake at work.

“You’re being too generous.”

“You were full of potential, even when you couldn’t work a coffee maker to save your life,” Ben scoffed, and not for the first time, I was offended.

“I didn’t burn your fucking coffee,” I asserted forcefully.

The first day we met, he said I burnt his coffee, and I hadn’t.

“Yes, you did,” Ben insisted.

“No, I didn’t!”

We argued for a while.

At some point, my friend arrived, and sensing I didn’t intend to leave this table, she introduced herself and took a seat next to the beautiful tan woman. They talked among themselves as Ben and I disagreed.

He argued that I had been the one who messed up the paperwork for the festival in Belgrade. I called him a liar.

We made peace when he offered me a drink but said we had to stop fighting if I took it.

I seriously considered not accepting that mojito.

But I did.

And he asked what I was doing in D.C.

I told him my story – the job, grad school, my impending graduation, and my tiny apartment at the end of the metro line.

“And you?” I asked, already half-done with my mojito. He had hardly taken a sip of his vodka tonic. Always a slow drinker.

“Moved here a few months ago,” he explained, taking one tiny sip that made me hate him, “I took a job downtown.”

I raised my eyebrows accusatorily, “Downtown?”

“I didn’t sell out,” Benjamin stopped me before I could even suggest it.

I raised my hands innocently, “I didn’t say you did.”

“You were thinking it.”

He was right. I was.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you’re happy,” I was telling the truth, but I also hoped he would give me every detail so I could finally decide whether or not he had actually sold out.

“I am,” Ben watched me, rightfully suspicious.

“That’s great.”

“You’re judging me,” Ben accused.

“I am,” I boldly confirmed, “I distinctly remember being warned time and time again not to sell out, but look at you…” I shook my head like I was ashamed of him. I wasn’t. I really was happy if he was happy. I just liked to torture him a bit to make up for all the times he had judged me.

As I predicted, Ben was outraged.

He spent the next hour justifying his career and his decisions.

Our friends left us at midnight. I honestly had forgotten they were even still there.

Near one am, I was convinced and gave him my approval. He knew he didn’t need it, but he seemed happy to have it.

It was surprisingly easy to be with him.

I always thought that, if I ran into him again, I would be awkward and pained. I thought that, once you loved someone like I loved Ben, you could never encounter them casually again. I was wrong about that. Sitting and talking with Ben felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I only stumbled once.

That was at 1:30 am, when he checked his watch and told me that he would need to get home soon to check on Porter.

I recognized the name. It was a name we came up with together. It had been a blisteringly cold winter day, and from the comfort of his kitchen, we dreamt up ridiculous, silly names for the dog Ben dreamed of having. At the end of the conversation, we settled on Porter, short for Portobello Mushroom. Ben poured me a second cup of coffee, and I asked him why he didn’t just get a dog if he wanted one.

He told me that he wasn’t ready. As long as he kept moving across the continent every year or so, he couldn’t take care of a dog. His career wasn’t stable enough for a dog, nor was he.

When he got a dog, he was ready to settle down.

Now, he had the dog…

I didn’t mean to, but I did it again.

I dreamed up a future with Ben. I allowed myself to hope for him. I began to long for his attention and affection.

I was scared when I realized it. One night had erased three years of work.

But I didn’t stop doing it.

When we parted that night, I wanted to ask him to come home with me, but I didn’t. He kissed my cheek, helped me in my Uber, and waved me goodbye from the pavement. It was exactly the same scene as when I last saw him in London.

I felt ridiculous for hoping for more.

He followed me on Instagram that night.

He texted me the next morning.

I met him in a coffee shop after class, and I stayed so long that I had to cancel dinner with Jessica.

I would love to say that I never saw the rest coming, but that would be a lie. I knew.

I knew that coffee would turn into dinner, and that would turn into nights in his apartment. Playful texts in the middle of the day would turn into celebrating our first anniversary. My drawer in his apartment turned into dominating half of his closet, and playing with his dog would turn into claiming Porter just as much as Ben did.

Two years after our grand coincidence, I got a job offer in New York, and I walked home slow that day. I didn’t know if our sweet little fairy tale extended beyond the District of Columbia. The first time, he hadn’t asked me to stay. But this time I asked him to come with me.

Three months later, we packed our life into a U-Haul, and from the passenger seat, I looked over at Ben and had the distinct feeling that I might just get to look at him for the rest of my life…

#writing #short story #couple #happy ending #non choices

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borisbubbles · 5 years ago

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32. AUSTRALIA

Montaigne - “Don’t break me”

youtube

🤡 KLOUN 🤡 🤡 KLOUN 🤡 🤡 I MOU KLOUN 🤡

HA HA HA HA -- Afrodyti Fryda -- Jessica Charro

Normally I wouldn’t be ranking Montaigne this low, actually :o I do feel like there is *some* potential to be had from her entry and it could’ve been reached greatness in Rotterdam, but since ESC has been cancelled, we’re going to see none of it. So, all I have to go by is the live AD version I just posted, which... I lowkey dislike? Let’s dissect this sucker.

Song Analysis

Every once in a while, we get that sort of avant garde-esque entry where I’m like “Okay, I get what you’re doing and I like the idea but the execution, babe. It just ain’t there.” I think “Don’t break me” might be the new textbook example of that archetype? I know some media love portraying “Don’t break me” as... what was the Wiwi headline again?

The problem is, it don’t add up.

Like, what exactly is alternative about this entry? Not the music, despite the statements claiming otherwise. Montaigne wrote this song together with established “indie” songwriters DNA, hits of other ’indie’ miracles “Don’t come easy”, “Tonight again” and “#WeGotLove”. “Don’t break me” is equally indie, that is to say, not indie at all and blatantly mainstream. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, (DBM is hands down the best song DNA have produced for ESC) but don’t sling LIES at me.

Secondly, the staging, we need to address the staging, hunties cuz boy it ain’t holdin’ up. (lol I’m merely channelling Wiwi Adams because that’s what the spirits whisper to me - that is to say, pink gin & tonic). There are some *conceptual* strong points to me, clearly spliced in to fabricate some perception of free artistry, but the execution of it is lacking. In lay man’s terms: IT’S SO FUCKING INCOMPETENT OMG I should stan... but don’t because, well.

Et tu quoque, Sennek?

Montaigne herself said she styled her marionette-frock after mr Mime (Mimes aren’t marionettes? Am I missing something?), but it’s Not Very Effective when your style is more inline with Grundel Toad. YES, One Shot Camera Angle, yes super artsy and creative were it not for the fact that Trijnwreck Oosterhuis already pioneered this and it came off similarly feeble.

I however am not *that* offended by “Don’t break me” or its act as many others appear to be though. Again, the song is decent and it’s mostly brought down by a lack of performing experience on Montaigne’s behalf. While not good, it’s salvageable at the very least.

However, I’m more annoyed that this (decent) mainstream song is being sold as innovative and mold-breaking, neither of which it actually is. This is the root of the problem imo. The utter denial of "Don’t break me’s” own mainstreamness and the desperation to prove the opposite.

And honestly, this even applies to Montaigne herself? Her appearance, creative decision making and hell, even her own social media posts read a bit too much “How To Be Different For Dummies.” to really make it believable. ”I AM ALTERNATIVE. HERE’S MY PORTFOLIO OF UNCONVENTIONAL HAIR COLOURS AND UNIBROW STYLES TO PROVE MY POINT SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO TALK TO ME. WANNA SEE MY ARMPIT HAIR? I JHERI-CURLED IT YESTERDAY.” Her brand of off-beatness feels shallow and uninspired because it is. She being conformist with regards to her own nonconformity and that makes her a bigger slave to societal norm than you and I.

NF Corner

Lol this was not a great Aus Decides. Sadly the standard wasn’t nearly as high as it had been last year. I cheered *FOR* Montaigne at the time, that’s how bad it was. There were several *atrocious, easily last in this ranking had they won”-entries she needed to slay (DIE JACK! DIE MITCH! DIE CASEY!) and she did. A pity my interest very quickly evaporated, but oh well, such is life. Fortunately there were a few... decent-ish entries that I’d like to share. Don’t hold you breath, though - this selection had no Electric Fieldses.

Vanessa Amorosi - “Lessons of Love”

youtube

“Lessons of love” almost completely passed me in studio - I liked it mostly because “Absolutely everybody” was a BOP and I was edging for a good performance, which... Vanessa delivered honestly. CRAWLING OUT OF A CAR CRASH <3 The one-woman vocal bidding war she engages in once the first chorus hits. The rainy drizzle <3 The song’s merely adequate but Vanessa’s affect and the staging are enough for me. A ballad that in fact isn’t boring and provides a host of tiny little gems I can cling onto for three minutes, what a treat!

Now I’m mentioning ballads, (um, this is about Aus Decides 2020; of course ballads are being mentioned), this one was pretty good too.

Didirri - “Raw Stuff”

youtube

“Raw stuff”, like Vanessa’s song, completely passed me by in studio version (except, I didn’t even bother simulating appreciation here - disheveled, homely men aren’t my thing, cf.: Salvador). “Oh a stripped down power ballad with personal meaning” well am I ever not interested?

And then the live disarmed me, lol. I have NO idea why but it just clicked for me. iDidirri managed to give it certain sincerity, a certain pathos that I could empathize with and the staging (which was highkey good - Non-boring piano ballads! The Concept!) provided me with enough sustenance. I also firmly believe that had “Raw stuff” made it to an actual ESC stage, it could’ve won the whole thing - it has that Salvadorian quality, minus the pretence. Alex Callier quaking in his boots rn.

But anyway, the ONE song everybody and their dog loved was of course also a fave of mine. It is, of course,

Jaguar Jonze - “Rabbit hole”

youtube

CHASE ME IN TO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

From pretty much second one Jaguar IMMEDIATELY unleashed her inner psychotic weirdo self, flailed her body around on designer furniture (dislocating her shoulder!!! what a trooper), LITERALLY tore down the walls around her and snagged every wig in the audience. SHE’S A JAGUAR, A MARE, A GAZZELLE

*THIS* how you indie. Not Mundaigne’s safer-than-seclusion puppetfest. You inject genuine personality quirks into your song and performance, don’t give *a single* fuck about what other people think. And like any good indie song, you aren’t rewarded for your nonconformist attitude by “professional” juries. 😁

and now she has coronavirus! STAY STRONG GIRL :( (lol she streamed a jam sessions a few days back, I’m fairly certain she well) WLU!

Australia 2020 & Australia 2021

“Don’t break me” is one of those entries where qualification *entirely* depends on how good or bad the live was. Usually you can tell whether X will (not) qualify UNLESS their live is much worse than expected (or better if they’re a projected NQ). This does not apply to Montaigne; The “Don’t break me” we saw at Aus Decides definitely *would* have NQ’d, but who knows about the modified, improved version. It could’ve Katherine’d itself, it could’ve Sennek’d itself, it could’ve KMH’d itself. Who the f knows and I ain’t gonna spec on it. What I do know is that the subpar singing and dancing would not be present in the final product because, you know, rehearsals. The real hurdle for “Don’t break me” was something different: namely Montaigne herself and her compulsion to break the mold by not breaking it at all. All the decisions w/r/t the staging and styling can be traced down to her and these decisions suck because they are being made for the wrong reasons. Like, you don’t *NEED* tryhard symbolism when your (actually pretty goodish) song already possesses good and transparent lyrics. It’s okay to be MAINSTREAM, Montaigne, it is OKAY to be Mundaigne. Don’t let your ego get in your way. LOVE YOURSELF, sweet Jessica and BE YOU!!! For all our sakes...

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

Australia deserves a few senheads, I think. Not many because, yep, a whole NF with self-composed songs and they STILL went for the ballad that had a DNA co-writing credit. SIGH. However, I do believe the *funk* of Montaigne’s ordinary uniqueness, and how it bled into mainstream indie song, is kind of a Freaky! thing (it’s similar to how Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”, a song about irony, contains zero examples of actual irony - which ironically enough makes it one of the most ironic songs ever penned), if a severely diluted one. Oh well, beggars cannot be choosers, I guess.

Score: 1 Senhits out of 5.

#Eurovision #Eurovision 2020 #Eurovision Song Contest #Australia #Montaigne #Don't Break Me

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authoressskr · 5 years ago

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Howlite and Hearts

Characters: f!Reader, Melanie (OFC), Tania (OFC), James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, James Rhodes

Warnings: Language and no Beta :: Word Count: 8,465

This was written for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge!! I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same, just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion??

Prompt: “You said you would come back for me.” Bolded in text below.

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

With the reemergence of Captain America and his dragon, it has helped scientists and theorists who now believe that the dragon and human bond is stronger than initially thought. Steve Rogers, known as Captain America, and his dragon Rak, were frozen for nearly 70 years and both proved to be in perfect health with an unbroken bond after thawing from the ice. Several theorists are pointing to a pieced together story found in Egypt about a man who was thought to be dead during a war, his dragon dying alongside - only for the pair to wander through the desert for nearly two years before arriving in Constantinople. The pair nearly died of dehydration several times but emerged with a stronger bond than before. The man claimed to the writer that it seemed as if after his trouble, he and his dragon experienced more than an emotional bond. It was as if they were linked in their minds and hearts. Whatever the case, it seems as if the bond between human and dragon is strong, it can always be strengthened. The only bond that is stronger - most noted and pointed out - is that of a matched pair with both dragon and human with their mates, protecting each other.

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You slide into the restaurant’s plush booth, smiling across the table at your best friend of nearly 13 years as you toss your purse further onto the bench.

“How was work?” You ask as you settle in, your dragon climbing from the inside of your jacket where she’d been resting earlier to drape her long body over your shoulders while your soulmate’s dragon settles his bulk over your feet under the table, his tail curling around your leg.

“Awesome. Matt finally asked me out.”

“Ooh! Congrats! When are you two supposed to go out?”

“Saturday!”

“Nice.” Your conversation pauses as the waitress appears, cheerfully asking for your drink order as a little yellow head pops out of her apron pocket.

“Iced tea and water, please.” You request, fingers coming up to scratch under Cloud’s chin.

“Gin and tonic, please. And water, as well. Thank you.” The waitress bounces off, high ponytail bouncing. Mel leaning a bit forward with a grin. “We could double date.” A deep growl sounds from under the table, making you chuckle.

“Godzilla says no.” Mel frowns at the table before shifting her brown eyes back to you. “He’s a good boy,” You coo before continuing. “He’s just keeping an eye on me until we’re reunited with my soulmate.”

“You gotta stop letting him do that. And you can’t reunite with someone you’ve never met.” Mel mutters as the waitress arrives with your drinks. You both thank her as she withdraws her pen from her apron, causing her little dragon’s yellow head to pop from the black apron pocket again.

“What can I get you ladies?”

“May I get the alfredo with chicken and mushrooms, please?”

“Side salad or soup?”

“Salad. Italian dressing please.”

“Of course! And you?”

“Shrimp carbonara. And a side salad for me as well. Ranch. Thanks.”

“I’ll get that out in a jiff!”

“Semantics. He and I will finally meet. Godzilla will be reunited.” Stroking his lifted head under the table a few times before he settles back into place again.

“Did your time off get approved?” Mel switches the subject before taking a hearty sip of her gin and tonic, both of you thanking the waitress as she sets your salads down before bouncing off again with a big smile. Melanie’s long serpentine jade dragon slithers from her purse, using a little flap of its peacock-colored wings to get it to the tabletop and chirps until Melanie surrenders all her croutons to him. “Bread thief.” She mutters as it chomps happily away.

“Yep!” You mutter cheerfully around a mouthful of greens. “Two freakin’ weeks! Soooo happy and ready for this road trip.”

“Model employee, you are.”

“Thank you for that high praise, Yoda.”

“When I finish this salad, I’ll dig out my proposed itinerary outline for the trip. I’m already so excited! Five days and we’ll be on vacation!” She does a happy little wiggle, Linus mimicking her with his little jade body. You both giggle at his antics.

“Did Tania get off? I text her on Monday and she said it was ‘Pending’ in the system.”

“Yeah, she texted me yesterday morning to say she got it off. But her brother’s wedding is on Saturday. In Dallas. So she’ll fly out late Sunday afternoon so we can all start out from San Fran on Monday.”

“Keep her hydrated Sunday night. Got it.” Your bouncy waitress reappears to whisk the salad plates away, promising the food will be out in just a few minutes. Godzilla’s heavy tail thumps against your leg and the booth, making you grin at your chunky boy. “Is Chinatown on your itinerary?”

“I keep forgetting you’ve never been there before…” She digs her little notebook from her purse and hands it across the table to you. “I’ll add it to the couple of days when we come back.” Cloud nudges at your jaw as you read through the daily logs.

“I like it. Taking our time everywhere. Plenty of adventure and time out for the fluffernuggets.”

“You call them by the weirdest names...” Mel mutters with a big smile as the food arrives, thanking the waitress before you take a long drink of your tea.

“They love them.” You take a couple pieces of chicken and pass it under the table, Godzilla happily chomping as you pass a piece to Cloud. “And jealousy is an ugly thing, Mel.” She passes a piece of shrimp to Linus, his little fingers on his wingtips holding onto the shrimp to tear it two.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“So, what are you gonna wear on -” An older couple walks by, the woman tutting as she sees Godzilla’s tail under the table. You can see her counting and mentally steel yourself.

“Three.” She mutters loudly to her husband, who gives a solemn nod and steers her away. You feel a hand on top of yours, a gentle squeeze making you turn your attention back to your food.

“She’s just an old hag who doesn’t know anything.” You nod.

“She just really brought down my happy mood.”

“Then we’ll a couple drinks and go to that bookstore you like.”

“You always know the right thing to say to me.” She snorts, making you grin at your oldest friend.

“I should fucking hope so by now, honey.”

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Bucky and Sam sit on the patio closest to the hanger, playing poker when Steve comes around the corner, tapping on his phone.

“How’s it going today guys? Missed our morning run.” He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk.

“We stayed up drinking loooong after you left last night.” Sam chuckles out, throwing a card down and picking up another.

“Alcohol doesn’t affect Bucky.”

“I slept in and didn’t drag my ass out of bed that early in solidarity.” Steve snorts but nods.

“Yeah. Okay, pal. Keep lyin’ to yourself.”

“I can and I will,” Bucky replies, using his vibranium hand to scratch the scruff on his jaw with a lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Hey, guys! Uh, I mean Mr. Rogers, sir. And Mr. Barnes. And, um, Mr. Wilson.”

“You don’t have to -” Steve starts, shaking his head at Peter’s formality.

“Nah, I think I like being addressed as Mr. Barnes.”

“Just stick to first names, kid.” Sam orders, tossing down another card and making a face at Bucky.

“Right. I can do that. Mr. Stark asked me to come and get you,” Steve pushes off the wall. “Mr. Barnes. Uh, Bucky, sir.”

“Okay.” Bucky grins before laying his cards on the table. “I win. You’re cookin’ me breakfast for the rest of the week.”

“Damnit.” Sam curses as he tosses his cards onto the table.

“See you all in a bit. Lead the way, kid.” Peter leads Bucky down to the lab he built for Bruce, the two farthest walls projecting documents and a few pictures of the West Coast of the United States. Bucky carefully scans the walls as Peter eagerly announces Bucky’s arrival.

“Ah, Barnes. Just the man I sent the kid for.” Tony comes around a table and points to the documents on the left wall. “What do you see?”

“Intel on a Hydra base by the Washington/Canada border. You think it’s active?”

“I wouldn’t have. Except for this morning, the power kicked on there.” Bruce comes into the room behind Bucky, pointing to the map as Tony zooms in on the border.

“We only know this because Fury cleared that particular base after he became director. He set up sensors to alert S.H.I.E.L.D. to any unwanted visitors.”

“And I hijacked all their sensors, systems and alerts,” Tony add smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So you want me to go scout it?”

“No, I’ve sent a suit to go do some recon. I want to know everything you know about this base… Anything they might’ve had there. Any reasons you can think of to why they’d attempt a reactivation there.” Bucky gives a little sigh before he walks up to the wall, flipping through each piece of intelligence information, racking his mind for any and all information he possessed on that base.

“Smuggling arms from Russia would be my best first guess...my second would be the terrible answer of human trafficking.” He then begins to explain the ins and out of the base, what he remembers being at the base and some of the areas they used for experimentation there.

“Jeez.” Bruce exhales loudly before rubbing a hand over his face, his dragon lifting its head from the chair in the corner, looking quizzically from Bruce to Bucky. Tony taps his fingers on the tabletop across from Bruce, thinking.

“Okay. We’ll wait for the suit to report back before alerting the rest of the team.” Bucky nods, casting an envious glance towards Bruce’s now sleeping dragon. The quick look makes Tony’s stance soften a little, something unnoticed by Bucky as he turns to leave. “Wait.” Bucky turns himself back around. “I’ve been scanning for a dragon that matches your descriptions and archival photos.” Tony has a ghost of a smile dancing in his eyes as he drops this bomb on him.

“That’s why you don’t have a dragon?” Peter pipes up from the other side of Bruce.

“Mine didn’t go into the ice with me like Steve’s. He probably ran away from the base when I fell from the train...I don’t think Howl has survived to now.”

“And you couldn’t have survived a fall from a train. Steve couldn’t have survived the ice-cold grip of the Arctic.” He leans his butt against the table he’d just been tapping on, arms crossed over his chest with a smile. “Yet here we are, Barnes.”

Bucky clenches and unclenches his jaw, fear curling in his gut at the question he’s about to ask.

“Did you find anything?”

“Got two hits so far.” Bucky’s heart stutters in his chest. “One in Scotland, the other in California.” Tony gives a sly smile as Bucky gives a firm nod, turning to leave with his human hand clenched tight.

“Hydra first.” He manages to grit out before opening the door, ready to escape to the woods just outside the base to get his thoughts straightened out.

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“Portland here we come!” Tania yells as you start the rental car, making you laugh as you pull onto the road, heading to the freeway entrance.

“I can’t believe it’s been two months since all three of us have been together!” You say excitedly as you merge onto the freeway - officially starting your road trip to Portland.

“Two months too long!” Mel yells from the second row.

“So, Tania, you gotta fill us in on your brother’s wedding!”

“Ugh. Ultra small. They just had her immediate family and our immediate family plus, like, his two idiot best friends and her best friend.” She pauses, shoving a handful of thick black curls away from her lovely face. “Beautiful though.” She sighs out with a small smile on her face. “Almost exactly the colors I’d like to do for my wedding one day; light blue and black, with silver accents. Dinner was delicious! Whew! Glad I wasn’t interested in getting laid, cause all that food was too good to pass up.” Mel nearly snorts behind you as Tania continues. “A nice long dinner, some light dancing and a few rounds of shots between siblings and friends. Then I got to tuck myself into a plush hotel room, watch ‘The Wedding Date’ and nod off to sleep.”

“I think that’s the least stressful wedding you’ve ever told us about.” You remark with a quick look at Tania.

“That’s cause this is my oldest brother. Typical big bro. Looking out for everyone else. Dated Katherine for like 3 years before he popped the question. He thinks everything through. Unlike my younger brothers. Those two are idiots.”

“Hot idiots.” Mel pipes up from the back as you and Tania make faces.

“Nope. Nope. Nope.” Tania says seriously before half turning in her seat. “So, how did your date with Matt go?”

“All he wanted to talk about was work and who I thought was going to get the new promotion...How he was waiting for his soulmate after three bad relationships. Total bust.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Need me to find a coffee shop before we officially head out of town?”

“Nah, she ordered a dessert to go at her busted dinner and I’ve bought her like four cups of coffee since yesterday.” You interject, watching Mel’s face break out in a big smile in the rearview mirror. Tania’s dragon slips from the folded down third row up to the front, crawling into her lap and sticking its head out the window, the soft black hair on its head and back twisting and turning in the breeze.

“Our first stop?” Tania asks Mel, stroking a hand over Falkor’s black wispy hair.

“Wherever you want it to be.” Mel grins out, brown eyes meeting yours in the rearview.

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It was about two hours down the line before Linus began chirping and growling, so you pulled over at a roadside area and let all the dragons out to go the bathroom and explore. You stake out a nice shaded bench to watch the four dragons play with a pair of Golden Retrievers. Dragons tended to love cats and dogs, and this was also a good chance for them to get out some of that pent up energy.

Tania demands a few selfies set against the coastline views and you suggest one with the dragons rolling around with the dogs, making you all laugh. After nearly fifteen minutes, you wander over to the middle-aged couple with the dogs, introducing yourself and thanking them for letting their dogs wear out your dragons. A few pleasantries and a loud goodbye, followed by some pets for Thelma and Louise, you herd the dragons up the hill to the bench for some water and a few snacks.

“That was a workout for everyone.” Mel chuckles, patting your back as you all head back to the SUV.

“Laugh it up. Next time wrangling is up to you, Melanie.” She just laughs as you climb back into the driver seat.

“Next stop, Fort Bragg.” Mel pipes up, holding her cell phone up for Tania to see.

Luckily, it only takes another two hours to get to Fort Bragg and the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, where Mel had mapped out your first official stop on the road trip.

After admission and grabbing some lunch at Rhody’s Garden Cafe, getting a bowl of clam chowder in a bread bowl and two lamb gyros for Godzilla and Cloud. You give Godzilla a whole one and carefully cut the other into thirds. You give a third to Cloud, putting a travel dish of water between the two before digging into your lunch. Tania joins you next, Falkor perched on her shoulder and eyeballing the two smoked tempeh gyros on her tray with glee. Mel is the last to join with a bowl of tomato basil bisque, a side salad and a lamb gyro for Linus. You discuss the flora and fauna already surrounding you, the faint scent of the ocean blowing through a few times while you all enjoyed lunch.

Forty-five minutes later you’re looking out over the Pacific Ocean, eyes closed at the serenity of it all; Godzilla pressed against your left leg while Cloud is curled around your neck. You knew your soulmate couldn’t feel the contentedness you felt, but you hoped he could.

That was the same thought you had as you laid curled up in the king-sized bed later that night with Mel hogging the covers on the other side.

I hope wherever you are, you’re safe and know that we miss you and want to meet you, soulmate.

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“Suit came back negative.” Tony points to the screen running the video in the Debriefing Room. “No human traces. Followed the electrical lines back to the main breakers and … nada.”

“Nothing at all? Then who turned the power back on?”

“Still don’t know. There were no fingerprints on the breaker boxes or on the doors to and from that area. The only sign anyone had been there at all was in the semi-buried loading dock to the west of the actual facility’s blueprints.”

“So what’s the plan?” Wanda asks, looking from the footage to Tony.

“I think we should all go there. Clean out whatever S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t and then inspect that buried loading dock.”

“All of us?” Rhodey repeats, leaning back in his seat, trying to ignore Peter’s too excited looking eyes.

“Well, most of us. Leave the broken ribs twins here and Banner, of course. Vision and Rhodey will cover the outside, Steve and Wanda will go to the secret loading dock while Bucky and Sam locate wherever the loading dock’s exit should have been. I’ll recheck the systems, download all the information - if S.H.I.E.L.D left any on the servers - and I’ll call in Rhodey to do the heavy lifting, if need be, of machinery or files we locate.”

“When do we leave?”

“First thing in the morning. Better light for the Tin Man and Birdboy to search in.”

“So considerate,” Sam mutters loudly, rolling his eyes as he looks at Steve.

“Rest up team.” Steve dismisses everyone, Bucky still sitting in his chair, staring at the screen without really seeing it. Steve’s brow furrows, leaning forward in his own chair. “You okay, Buck?”

“Tony tell you he thinks he might’ve found my dragon?” Steve’s jaw drops open. “Guess not.” His entire face changes, his blue eyes lighting up and a smile growing.

“That’s great!” When Bucky doesn’t react except a nod, Steve’s dragon flits from his perch on the back of his chair to land before Bucky, letting a high pitched squeal out until Bucky offers him his hand. The ruby-colored wyvern scampers up his arm until it is able to nuzzle under his jaw.

“Thanks, Rak.”

“Don’t get too excited, Buck.” Steve snarks out, pursing his lips before leaning back in his chair.

“It’s just a lot to deal with. I thought he was dead...I thought I would just be alone, ya know?”

“You don’t gotta be alone now though. You’ll get Howl back.”

“Tony said a woman had him.”

“Your soulmate.” Steve’s breath out so reverently it sent shivers down Bucky’s back. Bucky rubs a hand tiredly over his face.

“I guess.”

“But you hope not.” He clenches his jaw before shaking his head at his best friend. “Jesus, Bucky.”

“I know, Steve. You act like I don’t fucking know.” Rak tugs sharply at a piece of Bucky’s hair at the tense air between the two men, hissing loudly when he drops his hair. Bucky turns to glare at the dragon. “Listen here, pipsqueak, I don’t need it from you too.” Rak blows a little puff of smoke at Bucky before launching off his shoulder to flit out of the room. “Stevie...it’s just a lot. All of a sudden. I mean, damn, there is no easing into it either. Tony just fucking laid it on me this afternoon and -”

“It’s all you can think of now. I get it - trust me Buck - but I wish I was in your shoes.”

“Still different shoes, Steve.”

“Shuri worked with you. You got a good therapist now. Don’t have as many nightmares or sleepless nights...I don’t see why you think you wouldn’t or don’t deserve a soulmate. You’re one of the best people I know, Bucky. Then and now.”

Bucky just sighs again, dropping his head into his hands and tugging on the long strands with frustration.

“It’s not that I’m not excited.” He begins softly. “It’s just that the cons right now outweigh the pros.”

“How exactly?”

“I am a formerly wanted Hydra assassin.”

“They cleared you of all charges against the Vienna bombing. They cleared you for helping me and the guys against Tony. But go on, drama queen.” Bucky raises his head and rolls his eyes at Steve.

“And it’s go off, Steve. I’m over a hundred fucking years old.”

“So am I. We look like we are in our thirties. Maybe she likes older men.” Bucky scoffs at his best friend’s smile.

“I haven’t seen Howl in seventy plus years.”

“Rak and I were in the ice for nearly that long. The bond doesn’t lessen by circumstances or distance. You two are a pair.”

“Alright, we both know someone else came up with that.”

“Coulson,” Steve admits with a rueful smile. “Words are still true.” Bucky rubs his hand over his face again with a sigh.

“Yeah. Yeah. Well, I guess we’ll find out after this mission.”

“I guess we will, pal. And apologize to Rak. He didn’t do anything to you, you bully.” Bucky and Steve both push themselves up from their chairs, making their way from the room.

“I’ll give him some pepperjack. You know he loves his cheese.”

“No more cheese! You aren’t the one who has to sleep with the little gas ball.”

“RAK!! CHEESE!” Bucky yells as he takes off for the kitchen, the little ruby dragon running to catch up at top speed behind the supersoldier as Steve shakes his head.

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You were all up just before sunrise, walking down the abandoned Glass Beach. Tania had been up the night before, googling things to do in Trinidad when she’d stumbled upon an article about the sea glass remains in Fort Bragg. And honestly? What’s better than an empty beach in the morning with your best friends and your dragons happily bringing you seashells, pieces of driftwood and harassing seagulls? Not much.

After an hour or so on the beach, you all make the quick trek back towards town for a large breakfast, where Godzilla swallowed a whole plate of eggs and sausage before looking up at you with big sapphire eyes. You’d given in - you nearly always do - and given him a piece of your toast and Mel had given him one of her pancakes.

“Chunker.” You mutter around a sausage link, giving the other half to Cloud as Godzilla amps up the begging eyes. You don’t give in this time. But Tania does - giving him the last bit of her omelet.

Forty-five minutes later, you’re all headed towards Trinidad. It’s an almost three-hour drive, beautiful and hugged quite close to the coastline. The windows are down and the music is up, with the sea air swirling around the cab.

You arrive, everyone tying on their tennis shoes to trek out to look at the enormous redwood trees that California is known for. You snap a few pictures as Godzilla attempts to follow Cloud and Linus up a Redwood, but his little glider wings aren’t as helpful as they should be. He turns those big blue eyes up at you, with Falkor perched on his back, both looking so sad.

“Oh, Lord.” You mutter as you bend over, “Okay, you gotta help.” His head bobs eagerly before you heft Zilla up, letting his claws lightly dig into the tree to help claw Falkor and himself up. Once he gets above your head, he manages another twenty feet or so before launching off the tree and gliding back down to the forest floor. His little teeth are barely seen in what you have come to learn is his smug smile. “Yes, you did amazing. Glad to be of help.”

You refuse to help him up a bigger tree, so he begins climbing every fallen one you all come across until Mel taps out about a half hour later. You all get back to the SUV, then find a place for lunch before continuing on into Oregon. A quick stop at the state line for a photo op and letting the dragons wander around for about fifteen minutes, Tania gives a sharp whistle to round them up so you can continue on your way.

You get just past Selma when a huge rainstorm blows in. It takes an hour and a half extra to get to the next town of Wilderville. Then have to go another 9 miles to get to the nearest hotel. Mel ran out to get some late lunch/early dinner since the rain wasn’t letting up at all.

An old Godzilla movie is on, Zilla swinging his tail excitedly when he hears Godzilla’s roar through the tv, imitating him happily in his deeper tones.

“That’s why you call him that?” You shrug at Tania’s question, chuckling at all the dragons watch Godzilla battle King Ghidorah enraptured.

“My mom just always called him that. She said cause they both got cankles.”

“They do!” She squeals, withdrawing her pajamas from her luggage. A drenched Mel struggles in a handful of minutes later. She stopped at the little grocery store, getting a small pack of tea bags, some honey, and a little tray of sausages and cold cuts for the scalies. Fried chicken and some salad for you three as you look up how long the storm should last and if there are any road delays ahead.

“So, after tonight do we go to Cannon Beach or Astoria? We all know which I prefer.”

“Yeah, Y/N we know you’d rather go to Astoria.”

“HEY, YOU GUYS!” You shout happily in reply.

“Well, I think Astoria would be good too. There are trails - providing it’s not too wet after this storm - plus museums, cute little shops downtown, antique stores, Lewis and Clark National Historic Park and a waterfall. That’s not including the Goonie house, which we’ll go see for Y/N.”

“Okay, so if it’s mostly clear by like, I don’t know, 5 am then I say we head out for Astoria then. My only thing is that we are kind of off the path Mel first planned. Do we head to Bandon then up to Astoria? Cause it says,” You withdraw your copy of her itinerary. “That it’s about 5 hours from Bandon to Astoria. And right now, it’s almost 3 hours to get back on Highway 1. We could do 8 hours, provided we stop enough to stretch our legs and let out the fluffernuggets.”

“I say we do the 3 hours to get us back to Bandon. Then the next day we’ll head to Astoria. When we are done in Astoria, we’ll head to Portland to grab a hotel for the night and explore it the next day. We aren’t in a rush.”

“That’s right,” As you nod in agreement with Tania, Mel continues. “This is only day two.”

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“Found anything?” Sam’s voice comes in through his earpiece, giving a little grunt as he shoved a part of a fallen tree out of his way.

“Looks like the exit. Covered in moss, leaves and a few fallen tree trunks that must have rolled partially down here. I’m about a click away from where we started.”

“Finally! Two damn days of looking...all this green blurring together. I’ll be there in a few seconds to help.” Bucky tears at the moss and vines around another trunk as he grunts out an “Okay” over the comm before Steve’s voice replaces Sam’s.

“Rhodey, Tony, Wanda and Vision are inside now, so I’m coming out to help you and Sam.”

“Gotcha,” Bucky replies, straightening up with a groan. “I got two trunks out of the way, but the last one is massive...I think the wall is behind it, and we should be able to follow the wall to the collapsed exit.”

“Roger that, Tin Man,” Tony confirms. “The last of the debris is nearly clear on this side. Wanda waved most of it away after we did the heavy lifting.”

“Right. Yes, that was exactly what happened...” Wanda’s voice is heavy on the sarcasm, making Bucky grin.

It’s nearly an hour later that Bucky and Steve manage to dislodge the trunk enough to comfortably get behind it to search the moss-riddled wall. Sam has Redwing searching along what they think is the wall, while Rak and Blackbird - Sam’s onyx little dragon - scramble along the base of the wall.

“Anything yet, Stark?” Bucky settles himself on the large log, fingers sliding into his damp locks and tying them back while they wait for Tony’s reply.

“Well, I haven’t found a secret door yet…”

“What Tony means is: yes Steve - we’ve found a mangled wall panel. Looks like it was smashed.” Bucky snorts at Wanda’s continued sass.

“I am working to fix the panel. Tony has gone back to divert the power to this end of the base.” Vision’s voice fills the comms just before they all hear a loud crack.

A rumble from the stone looking metal door shakes the ground around them as it attempts to roll itself up. By the time Tony makes it back to the dock, the door has managed to heft itself halfway up. Bucky eyes the door warily. He’s seen Indiana Jones...

“I hope we didn’t just do all the hard work for the bad guys,” Sam mutters as Rhodey, Vision, Wanda and Tony all join them carefully on the forest side of the door.

“We should blow it up,” Bucky remarks, Rak crawling up his pants and tact vest to settle on his shoulder. “That way we’re sure. The base is empty - all that’s left in there is old medical equipment I wouldn’t let anyone use, some desks and some chairs. We blow it up and then we just set up surveillance around the base and around Portland.”

Rhodey huffs out a breath in tandem with his dark emerald dragon, looking from Tony to Steve.

“I agree with Bucky, man. We get rid of the base then we get rid of the lure of any fractured HYDRA factions. Then we head to Portland for some delicious food at Proud Mary Cafe.”

Tony gestures at Rhodey, “Is that the place with the crab omelet?”

“Yep.” Bucky’s mouth waters a little at the mention of an omelet, only have a couple power bars since they’d started this morning. Portland sounds delicious at this point.

“Damn, that was almost decadent. Okay, I’m sold on Portland.” Steve rolls his eyes, making Tony smirk as his crimson and amber dragon clamors up his armor.

“We have gotten all files that were left behind. As well as documenting the whole base. We have no need for it if we are not going to occupy it.” Vision redirects the conversation back to the base. “And surveillance along the way, from here to Portland, would be excellent to execute for further knowledge on any HYDRA or other evil entities in the area. As Bucky and Rhodey have stated.” Bucky nods as he pulls a little leftover piece of jerky from his vest to give to Rak, who lets out a happy trill before Wanda reaches over to scratch the top of his head.

“Alright - you heard the Tin Men! Let’s blow her up.” He gestures back towards the half-open door. “Rhodey?”

“Tones, man, I’m gonna buy you a whole tableful of those omelets.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Jesus. Are we like that?” Bucky mutters to Steve, smiling as Rhodey selects his weapon.

“Worse,” Sam mutters from Bucky’s left, making Steve and himself chuckle before they all head back up the hill in an effort to avoid most of the dust and debris.

“Jealousy is an ugly thing, Sam!” Bucky calls out as Sam and Wanda rise into the air, both of them sporting big grins before Rhodey launches into his destruction of the base.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“I’ve never had such pretty looking pizza!” Tania exclaims as it’s laid on the table, Godzilla’s tail thumping excitedly against your leg under the booth.

“Edible flowers and mushrooms? Ick.” Mel makes a face before picking up a piece of her fennel sausage pizza before picking up her fork and spearing a piece of the pansotti pasta to give to Linus.

“Well, we can have breakfast wherever you want.” You placate before handing a slice under the table before picking up a piece for yourself. You only got two bites in before Cloud drags it from your hand to devour it by your wine glass. “Apparently I am too slow for you, scaly.” Taking a healthy sip of your wine, you look across the table at Tania. “I saw a flag when we were walking earlier for the Portland Japanese Garden. We should check that out. The dragons like it when they can roam. Looks serene too.”

“As long as I don’t gotta hike, I’m golden with whatever,” Melanie mutters around another piece before handing one under the table for Zilla.

“If we do the Lan Su Chinese Garden, it has a teahouse!”

“Ooh, that sounds nifty Tania!”

“There’s also Powell’s City of Books. An entire city block worth of books.” Mel smiles over the rim of her glass at you. “And a hell of a coffee shop inside too.” Tania laughs, jiggling Falkor who is balanced on her shoulder, nibbling at her slice of pizza.

“If Y/N went in there, she might not come back out!”

“You say that like that’s a bad thing!” You defend, taking the last slice of your shared pizza with a playful glare at Tania.

“Think of all the money you’d spend.” Mel joins in.

“But then I’d have books…” You mutter around your mouthful.

“Your tiny little apartment can’t handle any more books.”

“That’s true,” You concede with a little sigh. “But that doesn’t mean if we have spare time, we can’t go and look!”

“Knew that was coming! Knew it!” Mel cackles, Linus giving her a judgemental look from his perch on the pasta plate as her hand slapped a few times on the table beside him.

“Well, I should fucking hope so by now.” You add smugly, taking a sip of your wine as Tania pulls out her phone.

“Okay. So what place do you want to do for breakfast, Mel?”

“I set up a reservation for breakfast for tomorrow at Proud Mary Cafe. One of the guys at my work, Tomas, says it’s the most delicious place to eat. So I set it up the day we left San Francisco since he mentioned it usually has a waitlist.”

“Holy crap,” Tania says softly as she peers down at her phone. “This food sounds decadent!”

“Read us a bit.” You request as you settle a little more comfortably into your seat.

“Savory french toast: Buttery portabella mushroom, smoked ricotta, chipotle charred greens, paprika crumb, croissant brioche, poached egg.”

“Whew. That sounds amazing!”

“Crab omelet: Singapore chili crab omelet, spicy noodles, bean sprout, and Asian herb salad, crispy onions.” She continues, licking her lips. “God I love crab.” With a shake of your head she looks up, “This is one I know you’ll want. Dutch honey hotcake: Vanilla and ricotta hotcake, mandarin segments, caramel, baked cheesecake, dutch cookie, honeycomb.”

“That’s a fancy pancake right there,” You say, handing Cloud the last piece of pansotti before reaching across to Melanie’s last slice, tearing it into thirds for Linus, Falkor, and Godzilla.

“Maybe pavlova? It’s a classic Australian pavlova with matcha, baked rhubarb, rhubarb syrup, and, ooooh, a custard cream. Damn. We should just order one of everything. It all sounds wonderful.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that!” Mel giggles out as the waitress comes over to ask about any ice cream desserts. “No thanks, we probably need to walk off what we just ate!”

“So,” Tania begins as the waitress goes to get the check. “We gonna walk for a bit then grab an ice cream cone while we’re out?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that!” You chuckle at Mel’s words, sliding the waitress your debit card when she returns.

“Or coffee.” You add.

“Or coffee. Man, I love me some coffee.” Mel replies with a grin, all of you standing after you sign the receipt, leaving a hefty tip for the waitress who had added some sausage on the side of the pasta for the scalies. “Let’s go find a coffee and ice cream place...then a park for the dragons.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tania agrees, tucking Falkor into her oversized handbag as they exit the eatery, all of them taking a deep breath and headed down the street.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When they checked into The Benson last night, Bucky was exhausted. Exhausted but hungry. The food nearby was outstanding, though both Rhodey and Tony both kept saying it wouldn’t be as amazing as breakfast. Sam had rolled his eyes, remarking that everything tastes “amazing” to Steve and Bucky who had grown up with boiled cabbage and then hadn’t eaten for nearly seventy something years.

“One thing they don’t need to be - food critics,” Sam had finished as they’d stepped out into the evening air.

“I had plenty of good food back in the day when I was in Italy and France, thank you very much Mr. Won’t Pass Up A Big Mac.” Bucky sasses back, shoving his metal hand into his pocket. He takes about four steps when he felt a tingle up his spine. His head moves subtly from left to right, scanning the people around.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice is soft, straightening up when he sees Bucky’s posture change. All of them are on alert now, but none sure what they’re looking for.

“Just had a feelin’...”

“Like a ‘we’re about to get sniped’ feeling or more like ‘deja vu’ feeling?” Rhodey queries as he watches a group of men cross the street.

“Like something important is gonna happen feelin’.”

“I think he means an innocent feeling or an about to be ambushed one, Sgt. Barnes.” Vision adds, his eyes moving from the building behind them to Bucky. Bucky sees a flash on white, low to the ground up the street a little, but it’s lost in the foot traffic soon after he spots it.

“Nothing malicious. Just an odd, but nice feelin’.”

“Next time, lead with that.” Tony claps him on the shoulder before moving in the opposite direction, talking about a steakhouse with the most flavorful clam chowder he’s ever had. Wanda pats his arm before trailing after Tony and Vision, a small smile gracing her face.

When they’re seated and drinks have been ordered, Bucky still can’t shake the feeling. The light conversation is interrupted by Tony’s phone.

“Uh huh. Yep. Oh really? Did you activate the satellite feed? Uh huh. Bout an hour or so, I would venture to guess. Okay. Yep. Let me know. Thanks, Bruce.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Tony, who is eyeing Bucky with interest.

“Did you tell them?”

“I told Steve.”

“Well then, I’ll catch everyone else up.” Bucky manages a nod just before Tony begins. “After getting first-hand descriptions, photos, plus information from both HYDRA and SHIELD - I began looking for Bucky’s dragon. I started from the base where Howl disappeared then branched out from there. And then one day it hit me -”

“Here we go…” Sam chuckles out, bracing his elbows on the table as a waiter appears with their drinks.

“Where would a dragon who has seemingly lost its human partner go?” Tony pauses dramatically, taking a healthy sip of his whiskey. “To find it’s soulmate.”

“So you’re saying you found not only his dragon but his soulmate?” Rhodey takes a good swig of his beer. “Damn.”

“I’ve narrowed it down to two women, just from satellite footage, you understand. One in Scotland, one in California. I asked Bruce to keep an eye on them while we were gone. Apparently, our California candidate has disappeared. Nowhere in the state.”

“You think something happened to her?” Wanda questions, looking from Tony to Bucky, who has his jaw clenched harder than is probably healthy.

“Nothing bad.” He takes another drink. “I don’t think. Bruce is readjusting the feed to get her last location and that should take about an hour. So, by the time we finish our dinner, we’ll have an answer.”

“Excellent.” Vision smiles encouragingly at Bucky, who gives a tight-lipped smile back as a mouthwatering steak is set before him. Suddenly his hunger isn’t as all-consuming as it was before...

God, Doll, I hope you’re safe wherever you may be...I don’t know if I can take it if you aren’t…

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There are quite a few people lingering outside the establishment and a few shopfronts down, settled on benches and scrolling through phones while they wait. It’s cooler than you had expected, the storm you’d encountered earlier in the week still lingering. In a few days it’ll be warmer, something the dragons will appreciate but you will not.

Proud Mary Cafe opens at 7am, but the dragons and Mel had other ideas, and you’d all gotten up right before 6. Mel and Tania had showered the night before, so you hopped in only to be interrupted by Godzilla howling for you through the door. You had to hop out to crack the door open so he could reach you, resulting in the hot water to peter out to lukewarm water in those two minutes. Tania had insisted on doing your hair, like she had many a time in college, letting you slap on some sunblock and then minimal makeup while she twisted and coerced your hair how she wanted. Herding the dragons downstairs and over to the park for some pre-breakfast walkies had woken you up better than the two cups of coffee Mel had already downed.

You’re about to enter the cafe when Godzilla shoots off down the street, you and Cloud both calling out after him. You shove your purse at Tania before tearing off after him, silently cursing his damn monitor-like body as his short but powerful legs carry him away. When you see him, he’s at the end of the block sitting on some poor man’s chest.

“I’m so, So, SO sorry!! He never does this!!” You wrap your hands around his thick black collar, attempting to tug the two hundred plus pound dragon off the man. “Bad Zilla!! Bad!! Off the nice man!!”

“Zilla? As in Godzilla?” You huff, still tugging, finally looking at the man standing beside you. Holy shit it’s Iron Man.

“Off.” The man grunts from under Godzilla, who happily obliges, his thick marble-looking tail wiggling so hard his entire body is moving along with it.

“Holy shit. You tackled an Avenger. Apologize!” You hiss at your wayward dragon, Captain Rogers helping the man up. And holy shit are you glad you said that while you could because of the specimen before you is drop dead gorgeous. Dark hair that’s hanging just past his shoulders with the most intense blue eyes you think you’ve ever encountered. He’s a good head taller than you with just enough scruff covering his cheeks to look almost sinful with his pink lips. Cloud’s sharp nails dig into your shoulder, kicking your mind back towards the fact that Godzilla just tackled the unsuspecting Avenger. “I’m very sorry, Sergeant Barnes. Godzilla has never done that before. He’s been acting off since last night. Must be all the time in the car for the last few days. I really am very sorry.”

“Told you it was a vacation - you owe me fifty bucks.”

“Shut up Tony.” Captain Rogers glares at the billionaire before smiling at you. You turn your attention back to Mr. Barnes.

“No need to apologize. I’m sure he just sensed me last night - like I sensed him.” The dots all suddenly align in your head, releasing your fingers from Godzilla’s collar.

“Oh.” You breathe out, tears coming to your eyes as you look down. “Why didn’t you say something?” He huffs, his tail wiggling dying down before snorting angrily at the super soldier’s boots.

“It’s gonna be that way, Howlite, pal?” Sgt Barnes kneels before the dragon, holding out his flesh hand.

“You said you would come back for me.” You say, causing those intense blue eyes to find yours, while you give him a small sad smile before letting your gaze drop to Zilla - Howlite. He swallows hard then nods, smiling at his dragon.

“I did promise you I’d be right back, didn’t I buddy?” Godzilla eased a little closer, Cloud switching shoulders so she can be closer to her mate, glaring at the former Winter Soldier. “And I meant to...I didn’t mean to...for things to happen like they did. But I’m glad you left. I don’t want you to see me that way, ever. And I don’t want to think about what they’d have done if they found you. You were the best, Howl. You did right and ran. I’m sorry you went seventy years without a home,” He swallows again, blue eyes shining with tears that are being fought back.

Godzilla - Howl, you mentally correct yourself again - moves closer to you, nudging your leg with his muzzle before stepping forward to rub his scaled face into James’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t worry, Sergeant Barnes. He wasn’t alone that long.” Howl is trying to shove his entire hefty body into his owner’s kneeling form, the super soldier’s smile is bright as he welcomes him, trying to wrap himself around the dragon in turn.

“Thank you.” He says gently, but with a light shining in his sapphire eyes. “Okay. Okay. I gotta introduce myself.” Howl happily disengages, his tail thumping happily against the pavement as James straightens up. His hand stretches out towards you, an unsure smile tugging on his plush lips. “James Barnes. Bucky...Bucky Barnes, actually.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You take his hand and both of you inhale sharply at the sensation of your skin touching for the first time. He hasn’t released your hand - not that you’re complaining - so you use your free hand to push a piece of hair out of your eyes. “We were about to have breakfast.”

“What a coincidence! So were we! Proud Mary Cafe?” Tony pipes up, sporting a huge grin.

“Um, yeah, actually.”

“Wonderful. We’ll all have breakfast together. Get to know each other.” Tony gestures towards where you’d run from, Bucky giving your hand a small squeeze before releasing it, his cheeks pink as you both realize you’ve just been staring at each other with dopey smiles painted on your faces.

Bucky walks closely beside you, although not as close as Howl who is pressed right up against his leg as he walks, your arms brushing against each other comfortably as you make your way to the cafe entrance...as if you’d walked like this a hundred times before. And it’s nice - this feeling of finding your soulmate, of finally being able to talk to them and to touch them. In fact, your fingers are nearly twitching with the need to touch him. Bucky holds the door open for you and then pulls your chair out for you when you’re all taken back to the now joined tables. This is all you could’ve asked for.

Plus you did have that week and a half left of vacation time...

Tagging: @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

#taras5kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #authoressskr writes #bucky barnes au #dragon!soulmate!au #marvel fanfiction

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nicolewrites · 5 years ago

Text

i can’t believe you’ve done this

The stupid roommate au continues. This time, featuring drunk Sylvain and Ingrid and exasperated Felix. also, the vine title trend continues but i have no idea how much longer I’ll be able to keep that up. @tsunnychan and @shining-jul-of-hope and @mishspelled, please enjoy this nonsense...

Rating: T Genre: Friendship Characters: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Felix Hugo Fraldarius Words: 2,042

Ingrid goes through a break-up and Sylvain suggests a haircut. / roommates au

AO3

Sylvain was reclining on the couch in the living room, getting his ass kicked by a level 9 computer character when the main door to the apartment opened. He paused the game and sat up. Felix was at fencing practice and Ingrid was on a date. No one was supposed to be home. He slung an arm over the back of the couch and tilted his head to see to the front door.

Ingrid was tugging her boots off, looking like she was torn between murdering someone and bursting into tears. Sylvain dropped his controller and vaulted over the back of the couch, walking towards the front door.

“Ingrid?” he called.

Her head jerked towards him, her braid swinging over her shoulder. She brushed her hand quickly under her eyes and straightened up. “Sylvain,” she greeted icily in reply.

He folded his arms. “You’re not supposed to be back until much, much later.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and brushed past him, heading for the kitchen. He trailed after her, wracking his brain for what was happening. The only reason she would have been home this early was if her date had gone horribly wrong. But, Sylvain liked Ignatz. He and Ingrid had been seeing each other for almost a month and she had nothing but good things to say about him. It didn’t really fit.

Ingrid was pulling a beer out of the fridge by the time that he made it into the kitchen. Sylvain leaned against the counter and watched her take a few heavy drinks from it. Finally, she sighed and placed the can on the counter, tugging on her braid like she did when she was feeling anxious.

“We broke up, if you really have to know,” she muttered.

Sylvain blinked. “I thought things between you were going well.”

Ingrid frowned and took another sip from her drink. “I think that’s the problem. They were going well, but not amazing.”

He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “Do I need to kick his ass?”

She gave him a withering look. “No. He’s moving to Derdriu to attend a prestigious post-grad program.” She shook her head, laughing to herself. “And I’m the one who convinced him he should be applying there.”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows. “You encouraged your boyfriend to apply to a school outside of the city where you both live?”

Ingrid paused, digesting his words. “Yeah, I guess I did, but I’ve seen his work. He needs to go there.” She drank from her can again and then frowned, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here?”

Sylvain blinked. “I guess a little? Our air conditioner is kind of shit.”

Ingrid huffed and pulled the elastic off the end of her braid, untwisting her long, blonde hair. She flipped her head upside down and gathered it into a loose bun at the crown of her head. Sylvain watched her, almost entranced by the fluid, shiny length of her blonde hair.

“My hair’s heavy,” she complained as soon as she had tied it up properly.

“You could always cut it,” he suggested before he thought twice about it.

Ingrid blinked at him and touched her bun absentmindedly. “Cut it?”

Sylvain imagined Ingrid with short-hair for a moment. Short hair like Leonie’s old haircut wouldn’t suit her, nor would Bernie’s style. Something medium-short that hung around her chin would, though. It would be strange because Ingrid had always had long hair, but it would certainly be an intriguing style. He shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, I know your hair has always been long, that was a stupid idea.”

Ingrid pressed her lips together, looking pensive. She sipped from her beer again. “I’ve heard it’s cathartic,” she mumbled.

Sylvain stared at her.

Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. “Felix chopped his hair off after,” she trailed off, her throat closing around the name and Sylvain nodded.

Felix had hacked almost seven inches off his long hair himself after his brother had died. Mercedes had also cut hers after she had graduated from medical school, ridding herself of nearly 12 inches of hair, saying that it was simply time for a change.

“Mercie would probably cut it for you if you really wanted it done,” Sylvain suggested.

Ingrid nodded. “Yeah, but now that you say it, I almost want to do it right now.”

Sylvain grinned. “I mean, if you trust me with a pair of scissors near your head, I could do it.”

Ingrid laughed. “I think we’d both need to be way more drunk for that to happen.”

Sylvain winked at her and walked past her to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of gin and placed it on the counter between them. “I’ve got tonic water,” he commented casually.

Ingrid drained her beer, placed the can by the sink and took the bottle of gin from him. She tipped it, appraising the clear liquid inside. “This is the good stuff your mother bought you for your birthday, isn’t it?”

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s going to get drunk eventually. Why don’t we make a night out of it?”

Ingrid’s lips tilted into a small smile. She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “If you fuck up my hair, I will murder you.”

Sylvain grinned broadly and reached into the cupboard where they kept dishes, pulling out two glasses. He walked to the fridge and brought out two cans of tonic water and a lime. He tossed the lime to Ingrid and she washed it in the sink while he measured a generous two shots of gin for each glass, topping them both off with tonic water.

Ingrid grabbed a knife from the sink and carefully cut the lime in half. She squeezed it over both glasses, dripping in a healthy amount of lime juice. Sylvain picked up both glasses and passed one to her. She took it and he tapped their glasses together.

“To break-ups,” he said cheerfully.

Ingrid rolled her eyes and took a long drink. “Please, do not compare my relationship to any of your break-ups.”

Sylvain took a sip from his glass. “Ouch, Ing, are they really that bad?”

She gave him a dead stare over her glass. “We’ve had three girls try to break into our apartment because they were so mad at you.”

He chuckled to himself. “To be fair, I never considered any of those three to actually be a girlfriend.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and drank again. “Not sure you’ve ever had a real girlfriend.” She paused, staring at the glass in her hand. “That’s really fucking good gin.”

Sylvain laughed. “It is, isn’t it?”

Ingrid sipped again. “How much does a bottle of that cost?”

Sylvain considered it for a moment. “Almost 200 dollars if I remember correctly.”

Ingrid almost choked and her eyes went comically bug-eyed. “What the fuck?” she exclaimed.

Sylvain winced. “Remember, my mom bought that for me.”

“God, you’re such a rich kid,” Ingrid huffed.

Sylvain winked and took another drink from his glass. “You’re drinking it too.”

She flushed. “It’s good,” she muttered, taking another drink. “You’re the one who likes top-liquor and wine. If it wasn’t for you, the fridge would literally just be whatever beer was on sale.”

Sylvain shook his head and grabbed the bottle of gin, heading for the living room. “And that’s a damn tragedy. I drank enough shitty beer in college, I don’t need to tolerate it anymore.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she followed him. “You were in a frat, Sylvain, I don’t know what you expected. Whiskey on the rocks every night as you sat around a fire in Godfather-esque armchairs?”

He sat on the couch. “No, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I voluntarily joined the frat and I knew exactly what I was getting into. It just means I can appreciate good alcohol when I drink it now.” He topped up his glass with another ounce of gin.

Ingrid sat next to him and threw her legs across his lap as she reclined, just staying vertical enough that she wouldn’t spill her drink. “I suppose,” she conceded.

Sylvain picked up his controller and waved it at Ingrid. “Smash?”

She snorted. “I’m bad enough at that sober.”

He shrugged and unpaused the game. His character was immediately drop-kicked off the stage and the announcer called the end of the match, advertising his loss. Ingrid laughed next to him. Sylvain laughed at himself and quit to the main menu, shutting his console off. He drank from his glass. The gin was much stronger thanks to his top-up, but it was smooth and very pleasant to the taste.

“So,” he continued, “what’s our plan tonight? Get drunk enough until you want me to cut your hair?”

Ingrid drained her glass and gave him a challenging smile. “One more drink for me and I’m there.”

Sylvain drank the rest of his glass and reached for the bottle on the coffee table. He poured himself a double shot and offered it to Ingrid. She poured herself a 1.5-ounce drink and tapped her glass against his. Sylvain grinned at her and sipped the gin. Ingrid tossed it back like a shot and her eyebrows knit as she scrunched up her face in mild disgust.

Sylvain laughed at her. “Oh come on Ing! You can do it with tonic, but not straight? This is the good stuff.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just trying to get drunk faster.”

It was a fair point. She was the one who had just been through a break-up. Sylvain tipped his glass to her in solidarity and drained the rest of his glass. He could already feel the alcohol fog creeping through his mind. Normally it took a lot more alcohol to get him drunk, but the equivalent of five shots in very quick succession did the job well enough.

Ingrid swung her legs off his lap and placed her glass on the coffee table. She stood up and swayed briefly, obviously already feeling the hit of the booze. Sylvain’s hand shot out to steady her, landing on her back just above her ass. He quickly retracted his hand, moving out of the dangerous territory. He absolutely couldn’t touch Ingrid there, no matter how good her ass looked in skinny jeans.

She crossed her arms and looked down at him. “Well? Are we doing this?”

He grinned.

Felix got home an hour later and found the two of them on the couch, Sylvain’s head in Ingrid’s lap. He dropped his fencing bag by the door and just stared at his roommates. “What the fuck?” he muttered.

Ingrid looked back, grinning. “I got a haircut,” she said brightly, touching the much shorter ends of her hair.

Sylvain closed his eyes and let Ingrid continue playing with his hair. He was absolutely drunk enough to enjoy her gentle touch and not be mortified like he would have been sober. He lifted a hand and waved it over the back of the couch towards the apartment door.

“I’m a professional hairdresser now!” he called brightly.

Felix groaned. “What is wrong with both of you?”

Ingrid shrugged, brushing her fingers over his scalp. Sylvain smiled at the feeling. “Ignatz and I broke up. I thought it might be cathartic.”

Sylvain heard Felix curse faintly. “I thought you two were good?”

Ingrid hummed. “He’s moving to Derdriu. We agreed it was for the best.”

Sylvain sat up, gently pulling out of Ingrid’s touch. His head was still foggy from the alcohol. They’d had a couple more drinks since they started in order to stay well and truly drunk. He grabbed the now one-quarter full bottle of gin off the coffee table.

“Want some really expensive alcohol?” he offered to Felix with a grin.

Felix’s eyes narrowed and he looked between Ingrid’s choppy hair and the bottle in Sylvain’s hand. He snatched it and drank for a few seconds straight from the bottle. He shook his head out and placed the bottle on the counter behind him.

“I’m going to need that if I have to fix your hair, Ingrid,” he muttered. “Come on.”

#the writing section #sylgrid #sylvgrid #roommates au #r: t #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #felix hugo fraldarius #c: sylvain jose gautier #c: ingrid brandl galatea #c: felix hugo fraldarius #words: 2.0k+#fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #f: fire emblem #ship: sylvgrid #nicolewrites

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