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warmblanketwhump · 3 years ago

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safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

------------------------------

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

#sickfic #whump #sickfic prompt #whump prompt #cold whump #lol i rewrote this four times #can i just be chill about whump #no #no i cannot #also it’s cooler today #fall means whump weather #I don’t make the rules

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letstrywritingmaybe · 3 years ago

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Nothing’s Changed

Summary: Technically a 5+5. In which everyone is scheming to get the otp together, but here’s the thing: they’re already together.

A bonus written purely because I do still love this ship a lot. Happy Holidays! I send my best regards and as always, Lots of Love <3

It’s been ten long years, a way overdue Christmas miracle is the only way to get these two insufferable idiots together. Literally everyone in their life agrees they would be perfect together, especially since they’ve both been crushing hard on each other. They just need a little push, or maybe five hard shoves from their well meaning friends. Operation CoAi is a go. There’s just one minor problem… they’re already official.

Ran

It’s winter in the city of Beika, with freezing temperatures enough to send any ill prepared person who dares to brave the cold weather without proper attire into a quivering mess. As the designated mom friend of the group, mostly due to the fact that she’s older than these kids by a whole decade, she decides on knitting all the Detective Boys sweaters this year. She’s just about finished with the project, when the kids arrive for their early Christmas present. They’re meant to wear it for Sonoko’s holiday party next week. She happily welcomes everyone inside, eyes not so subtly lingering on Conan and Ai as they’re the last to enter as usual. She smiles seeing these two, they’re just so cute! Lost in their own world, keeping a minimal amount of attention towards the group, honestly she doesn’t know why they’re not together with how much time they spend with each other.

“It fits perfectly! You guys look great! I have to take a picture! Remember to wear these for the party!”

“… Ran-neechan…”

“Yes Conan-kun?”

“Um… have you been sleeping alright?”

“What Edogawa-kun is trying to say is why did you knit our sweaters together?

It’s true, Ran’s plan was simple. They can’t go anywhere if they’re next to each other, not that they’re ever apart, and maybe it’ll force them to confront their feelings and get together already! Plus they look so stinking cute wearing their getalong sweater, flushed red cheeks and all. She simply smiles, telling them this is not a flaw in design; it's a calculated move.

After finally escaping the contraption, it was time to go home. Naturally Conan and Ai leave together since they are neighbors. Once left alone, they start a silent commute back. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on here, and she’s unsure how to feel. A gust of wind blows past them, making her shiver. She should’ve known better than to wear a thin cardigan out. Ever the gentleman, he quickly takes off his coat to wrap around her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my job as your boyfriend to keep you warm.”

“… but you didn’t tell her.”

“I thought I did, but I guess I must have forgotten… I’m sorry, I’ll tell her next time. Promise.”

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t have to.”

“I want to, I’m not keeping you a secret. It’s exhausting keeping your fanboys away from you.”

“I don’t even complain about your fangirls.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Should I be?”

“Never. Let’s go home, Ai.”

Ayumi

The best presents are ones that are homemade, it’s why Ayumi decides to take a page out of Ran’s book and knit a scarf for her boyfriend’s birthday. Now of course she needs some support, and who better to ask than her best friend? Yes, it is absolutely necessary that Ai also knit a scarf with her. As to what she does with it later, well she has some suggestions. Surprisingly the strawberry blonde takes her advice and gives the hand made gift to Conan. Yet, nothing’s changed. They still act the exact same, which means it’s time for plan B.

“I thought you said you were done with the scarf.”

“I am, this one’s for you, Ai-chan! Here, let me help you put it on… you look so cozy!”

“… is there a reason you made this extra long?”

“Did I? Oh that just means it’s perfect for you to share… Oh look! Conan-kun is here. Just in time for you to go home together! I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

Once again wrapped together, this time with a scarf, Ai lets out a sigh. Conan wears a smug expression, one that she pointedly ignores. Because of this, he refuses to allow her to take the accessory off. Besides, they look so cute walking home all bundled up together.

“So I guess it’s my turn. You didn’t tell her.”

“She’s been stressing over the holidays and making the scarf, I didn’t want her to worry about anything else.”

“Why would she need to worry about our relationship?”

She stays silent, not wanting to voice her thoughts aloud, but he knows what she was thinking anyways. They enter the professor’s home, untangling themselves from each other. Ai takes care to neatly fold up the scarf, she looks up to see the detective’s eyes upon her. He smiles before pulling out a familiar material she knows all too well. She spent nights staying up to make it after all.

“As much as I appreciate Ayumi’s efforts, I still prefer this one.”

“So you don’t have to be tied to me.”

“No, that’s not it. Because you made this one, for me. So of course it’s my favorite.”

Sonoko

There is absolutely no shame in being more direct, what’s the point of beating around the bush and pining when both parties are interested? It wastes too much time and they’re not getting any younger. It’s simple, just kiss and get together; all they need is an opportunity. Luckily for these brats, she’s the queen of creating romantic settings. Her plan is super easy: cover this entire ballroom in mistletoe and since they’re always next to each other, just let the Christmas tradition take over. There’s just one slight problem, these kids have sharp eyes and are somehow maneuvering their way out of the hoard of mistletoes. Darn all their close brushes with death making them extremely observant and cautious. They’re even staying on separate sides of the room.

“You two are making this so difficult!”

“I thought you wanted us to help set up, Sonoko-neechan?”

“You’re hopeless, I’m trying to help you out kid. Now go over there and help Ai-chan.”

“But she doesn’t need any…”

“Go!”

Of course he’s noticed the minefield of mistletoe above them, but Conan doesn’t have a death wish. As much as he would love to just take Ai in his arms and kiss her, she’s not big on public displays of affection. It’s the whole reason why she suggested splitting up the moment they stepped into the room. Guess they have to add yet another person onto the list of people who aren’t aware of their relationship status.

“That was an exhausting three hours. We are never doing this again.”

“You know, she probably would’ve left us alone if you just let me kiss you.”

“And give her the satisfaction? Never.”

She’s still peeved since she had to go out of her way to avoid her boyfriend. How is it no one in their immediate circle knows they’re together? Do they not seem like a couple… but then all their friends are trying so hard to set them up! She’s confused, maybe they’re better off as friends. As soon as the thought enters her mind, it’s almost as if he could sense her uncertainty. Right at her doorstep, free of any holiday decorations and prying eyes, he does the one thing he’s been wanting to do all day. He kisses her, it’s just a simple press of his lips against hers, she melts nonetheless.

“You’re right as usual Ai, I don’t need an excuse to kiss you.”

“For the record, you stole that one.”

“I’ll let you steal the next one, just don’t make me wait too long.”

Agasa

As her adoptive father and longtime surrogate caretaker of their neighbor next door, it is his duty to ensure these two lovebirds do not make the same mistake he did in his youth. What better way than with an invention? One that finds who holds the other end of the red strings of fate, and to keep with the Christmas cheer, it comes with a ribbon that automatically ties the two soulmates together. What could go wrong?

“What did you say this robot is supposed to do again, Professor?”

“You’ll find out soon enough Ai-kun!”

“You’re sure this isn’t going to explode?”

“I triple checked! Wait! Don’t press the button yet, we need to wait for Conan-kun.”

“Why?”

“It um… requires two people to make it work.”

“There’s two of us here right now.”

“Well… oh good! He’s here!”

Before Conan can even ask why the professor needed him to rush over right this minute, disaster strikes. In his haste to get the machine going, Agasa presses the red button way too hard and now the robot is going haywire. The good news is it works, the bad news is it won’t stop. Conan and Ai are the intended targets, which means they’re now wrapped together with a bunch of red ribbons. What is it with everyone trying to force the two of them together?

“I can’t believe this is happening to us again.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t know! I literally come over everyday and we don’t exactly keep our distance when I’m here…”

“I think this is a sign, Conan. None of our friends know we’re together even though we thought it was obvious.”

“What are you thinking then?”

“I don’t know… maybe we should go back…”

“Not a chance. I don’t care that no one knows, it just means I get to tell them. We can do it together, gather everyone and announce it.”

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s better than your plan. You’re not getting away from me that easily. It took me ten years to get you to say yes, I'm not letting anything stand in our way. Especially something like this. Besides, they mean well.”

It’s true, their friends are only trying to help. It just makes her question things, are they really that helpless? She sighs, he reaches over to finish brushing off the last of the ribbon from her hair. He smiles as he cups her cheek, eyes staring at her in adoration. He pulls her close, interlacing their fingers together while keeping her in his embrace.

Heiji

It’s taken him a very long time to realize that actions mean jackshit when there are no words to back it up. After all, it took years before he finally got his girl. Now that he’s way ahead in this race, it’s time to help his friend out. What better way then to coerce a confession out of Conan and record it as evidence? He has the perfect setting for it too, it’s Christmas Eve and everyone is at Sonoko’s party. This should be a piece of cake.

“So… we’re five minutes away from Christmas.”

“Why are you looking at me like that? What are you up to, Hattori?”

“I’m just curious how much longer you’re going to put this off.”

“Put what off?”

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on, Conan! You’re really going to keep her waiting?”

“Who? Ai? She’s not waiting for me. She’s talking to Ayumi.”

“… you already have a plan. You keep looking over at her. Maybe you don’t need my help after all.”

“No, I don’t need your help with my own girlfriend.”

“I knew it! Wait! What! Your girlfriend!”

Conan smiles as he now successfully has everyone’s attention. All eyes are now focused on them in the center of the room, but his eyes are on her. Timing it so that he stands in front of her just as the clock strikes midnight. He takes Ai’s hand and finally lets everyone in on their unintentional secret.

“Yes, Ai and I are dating. Have been dating for a while now. We appreciate your help, but we’re good. Promise.”

The crowd erupts into a chorus of congratulations, they manage to slip away before they’re bombarded with questions as to how it happened. Instead their friends are now trying to prove who gets the credit for helping them realize they’re meant to be. Even though they had nothing to do with it, feelings can’t be forced after all.

“How do you feel now that everyone knows? We are still good right?”

“We are, I don't know what I was expecting but… nothing’s changed. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”

“I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime, but it was worth it. We’re doing fine the way we are, there’s nothing we have to prove to anyone. It’s you Ai, I choose you.”

“Sometimes you really know what to say to a girl.”

She wears a small smile, but it’s enough to send his heart leaping. They can still hear the sounds of their friends arguing in the background, but it doesn’t bother them in the slightest. Nothing in the world could break them apart right now, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Also available on ao3 <3

#CoAi #shinshi #because of course I had to write an extra fic for the CoAi fandom #thank you all for allowing me in your space #wishing you all the best and of course sending Lots of Love <3 #christmas fic #nothing’s changed

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years ago

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Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 4

Good morning, afternoon, evening fam. Hope you all are doing good.

Here's the next installment of Missed Opportunities. There's one chapter left. Hopefully this one will be enough to tide you over to the finale.

Thank you for all the continued support. Love you all.

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Tag-List:

@ajeff855 @vrsidae @greeneyedblondie44 @bbakugaan03 @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @aisling1985 @fillechatoyante @maria-chwan @neoarchipelago @lostghostgirl94 @whovianayesha @mochminnie @fanfics-ig @congurl @ay0nha

Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it’s easy to lose people in the mix and I don’t want to miss anyone!

For previous chapters go here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Word Count: 2,462

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You were violently woken up in the middle of the night. At some point, during the early hours of the morning, you must have rolled over onto your side. The movement caused your bruised body to send a jolt of stinging pain to your brain, immediately causing you to jerk awake.

You squeezed your eyes shut and took deep breaths to ride out the wave of agony. After the pain subsided, you let out a small groan and attempted to situate yourself again. You failed to find any real rest after that incident and faded in and out of sleep until you could see dawn about to break. Through your restlessness, you thought you could hear faint murmurs and reassurances in your ear.

Delirium must have set in, because when you woke up for good this time, you realized you had a blanket covering your body and a heaviness on your left hand.

You lolled your head to the side to avoid the faint rays of sunlight streaming into the room. You blinked several times before peering down at your hand, which you now noticed, was being held by another person.

Remembering the previous night's events, your eyes travelled up the arm of the person holding your hand, tracking all the way until you landed on the person's face.

Zemo.

He was still here with you and apparently had fallen asleep during the night.

You swallowed thickly and not because of the throbbing pain coursing through you. Your eyes flicked up to the nightstand to see the book he was reading placed neatly at the corner.

He chose to stay.

Your eyes moved back to look at Zemo. To really look at him. He seemed so much younger in his sleep. The tense concentration lining the features of his face each day were gone. The weight of his decisions and promises he made to himself given a reprieve. You wondered when the last time was he truly slept.

For all the wrongs he had done, the choices he had made, he did so out of grief and love. He's a complicated man to be sure. For all his darkness, there is still a light that shines brightly in him.

Though you disagreed with his methods of avenging his family, you knew from his actions, that when Helmut Zemo loved, he loved with his entire being. There was no question about it.

For this one moment, you decided to give in. You softly brushed your thumb back and forth against the skin of the hand holding yours. If you could give him one brief second of comfort, you hoped it was this.

You smiled to yourself as you watched Zemo snuffle in his slumber and unconsciously tighten his grip on your hand, but not uncomfortably.

You had the irrational urge to run your fingers through his hair, but he was sitting too far out of your reach. So you settled for continuing to stroke gentle touches along his hand.

His presence was calming. Safe. There was no where else you wanted to be right now.

You looked up to the ceiling to glance at the digital clock projecting the time. 5:42AM. Definitely too early. You wondered if Bucky and Sam had returned from their outing last night.

If you were to guess, you'd think not, because they most likely wouldn't have allowed Zemo to stay with you the whole evening.

You twist your neck up to the night stand and tried to grab your phone with your bad arm. It wasn't your best idea. You had full range of motion again since Bucky popped your shoulder back into place, but the soreness was downright breath-taking, and coupled with your ribs, you were wheezing with effort to retrieve the phone.

Your finger tips manage to grab the edge of the phone. You attempted to scoot it closer to you so you could grip it better. Unfortunately, you ended up clumsily knocking the phone onto the floor with a clatter, arousing your companion out of his sleep.

Zemo snapped to attention immediately. With his years of military experience, it would disappoint you if he didn't.

He quickly assessed the room before his gaze landed on you. The tension in his body released once he realized there was no threat. His eyes dropped to the hand he was holding.

You could see his brow furrow in confusion, as if he didn't know how his hand got to be where it currently was. Zemo tilted his head in thought, eyes never leaving where your hands were joined together. You could see an indecisiveness written across his face. After a beat, he seemed to resign himself to whatever was running through his mind, because he sighed heavily and gave a sad smile. Then he gently lifted your arm towards him to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

"Hi," you shyly responded. Zemo's kiss was just the barest brush of his lips against your skin, but it was electric all the same. You were too stunned by his action to do or say anything else except stare.

"Morning," he rasped quietly. His voice was still riddled with the remnants of someone who had just woken up. He brought your hand back to the bed as he made a move to sit up in his chair more appropriately, "How are you feeling?"

You cleared your throat and licked your lips as you take stock of your injuries before answering him, "Been better. Could have been a lot worse."

"That's not what I asked," he said, clearly unimpressed with your attempt to dodge answering him properly.

"I'm in pain; however, it is manageable," you answer him honestly. You felt he deserved that for having stayed with you the entire evening, and you didn't want him feeling guilty over whatever it was that was eating at him.

You maneuvered yourself to swing your legs over the bed captiously and sort out your stiff limbs without making any sudden quick movements. Zemo silently held out his arm in an offer of assistance, should you need it.

"Are Sam and Bucky not back yet? I can't imagine they would let you stay here and watch over me," you glanced at Zemo, trying to make light of the heaviness hanging in the room. You used your good arm to brace yourself on the nightstand next to you to push off of and stand up.

Zemo lowered his arm and stood up from his seat once he saw you were okay to move about on your own. You saw him turn his head towards the door which was cracked opened slightly before facing you fully.

"They did come back briefly early this morning to check on you. And you are correct, James did, in fact, kick me out, but both he and Sam left again for a few hours. They should be making their return soon. I must have dozed off at some point when I came back to check on you, so thank you for waking me. I would like to avoid a confrontation from either Sam or James," Zemo worded carefully.

You felt as if he were leaving something out, but decided against calling him out on it.

"I appreciate you staying, but you didn't really need to," you replied earnestly, shrugging a shoulder.

"On the contrary, I am the reason you are in the state you are in. It was the very least I could do," Zemo said.

You knitted your brow together and moved to look at Zemo more closely. Lips pursed, it was your turn to be confused.

"I'm not following. You weren't even here when everything went down with Walker yesterday," you expressed slowly and hesitantly.

Maybe it was just too early in the morning to have sensible conversation.

Zemo shook his head and stepped close enough that you could smell his cologne again. He raised his hand to trace the bruise forming across your collarbone.

"Walker was searching for me. And you, you put yourself in harm's way to protect me, indirectly as it was. Whatever your reasonings were, I cannot remember the last time someone was willing to show such an act of resilience, of kindness towards me. And for that, I owe you my deepest and most sincere thanks," Zemo clarified to you. It did not go unnoticed the hidden layer of emotion laced in his voice as he spoke to you.

You could have just brushed his comment off with an excuse that Walker was such a pain in the ass, you refused to give him up on the preface you simply wanted to piss him off.

But that would be a lie, mostly.

Instead you grabbed Zemo's hand, the one that was tracing your battle scars from the previous day and lifted it high enough so that you could wrap your right arm lightly around his torso and your left arm around his shoulders and into a hug.

As you snuggled up against him, careful not to disrupt your injuries, you turned your head so that your nose barely touched his jaw and whispered into his ear, "You're welcome."

Unlike the first hug the two of you shared, there were no death grips this time. This hug held so much more. An acceptance of one another. A promise.

Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from Zemo to peer up at him.

His gaze roamed over your face, searching. He brought his hand back up to rub his thumb gently over your cheek.

He had that look on his face again. The one that looked like he was fighting with himself about something. Then you saw his eyes drop to your lips and back up to your eyes.

Oh.

You leaned into his touch ever so slightly. This was probably a very bad idea, and you shouldn't let this continue.

"Zemo," you breathed.

He dropped his head against yours and dragged the tip of his nose down the bridge of yours.

"Helmut. You can call me Helmut," he murmured.

Your hands were flat against his chest and you hesitate lifting your head to close remaining distance between you to kiss him.

"Helmut," you voiced, the soft resonance of your vocals floating through the room.

You saw him shut his eyes, a small twitch of his lips curl in an upward motion before he opened them again.

He must have sensed your hesitation because he drew back, but only enough to get a read on your face.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have -" he started rambling, dropping his head to reprimand himself.

You draw your hands up from his chest to his neck to prevent him from stepping away. You needed to make sure he understood.

"No, Helmut. That's not - this is okay, I just -" you paused, giving yourself a moment to make sure you word what you want to say to him next properly.

"I can see the conflicted look on your face. I just - I would never," you trailed off, gathering some courage, you drew in a deep breath before continuing, "I would never want to put you in a position where you felt that you were disrespecting the memory of your wife."

There. You had said it. Zemo had been through so much and you couldn't let him kiss you if he still felt like he would betray the memories of his family.

Even if it were for one brief and fleeting moment between you two, you couldn't do that to him. And you wanted him to make peace with everything on his terms, and not just for the emotional roller-coaster you're on, whatever it may be that lies between you both.

You felt him stiffen in his stance, clearly not expecting you to say something like that to him.

He looked at you for a few moments before twisting his head to stare out the window. He had dipped his head in contemplation and turned back to you.

You could feel him shutter a few deep breaths and when you met his gaze again there were tears glistening in his eyes.

His mouth opened and closed, but no words had come out. You could see him struggling with what he wanted to say.

"It's okay. You don't owe me any answers right now," you said. You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

Zemo huffed as he blinked back his tears and shook his head.

"Schatz. You truly are a piece of work," he said, a mixture of amusement and awe heard in his voice.

Zemo opened his mouth to say something else, but you heard the entrance to the apartment open and the voices of Sam and Bucky trailing.

You both turned your head to the door in mild alarm. Without much time, as you're sure one of your friends will be making a bee line to check on you, you start to unzip Zemo's hoodie you went to sleep with last night.

Helmut's eyebrows shot into his hairline and his eyes widened in shock at your undressing in front of him.

You give him an outrageous expression, as you carefully remove your injured arm from the garment and then your other, before handing it to him.

He took the garment hesitantly, a look of confusion on his face.

"An excuse as to why you were in my room, as I'm sure they are going to want to know why you're still in here. There's no way one of them won't spot you leaving. At least you'll have a good reason," you explained rapidly, trying to keep your voice from reaching Bucky's ears.

Zemo nodded in agreement at your cleverly crafted plan, and moved to exit the room. He paused at the door and looked back to you. You could tell he wanted to say something before leaving.

Later. You mouthed to him.

He sighed, but you knew he understood this wasn't the right time to have an extended conversation.

You saw him poke his head out the door before ducking back in to give you a mischievous expression.

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden mood change.

He left your room and could hear him faintly walk down the hall. You turned to walk to your in-suite bathroom when you heard a large clatter and shout from Sam.

"Bucky!"

"It wasn't me! you heard Bucky reply.

There was a snicker and then a door closing from not too far away.

"Zemo!" You heard both Sam and Bucky shout this time. Foot steps followed and some banging on the door down the hall. Hushed whispers could be heard after that.

You continued your journey to a nice shower and some pain killers. Yup. Never a dull moment around these guys.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#helmut zemo #tfatws #helmut zemo x reader #my writing

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sxveme-2 · 4 years ago

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blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Eleven: The One With the Man on the Roof

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3336

All of her life as a mother, Lily has placed Hunter above herself no matter what. She had a long shift at the hospital but Hunter had the flu? She'd get someone to cover. She had plans to go for dinner with Gen, but Hunter had a project due the next day? She and Gen would eat in and help him. Nothing ever, ever, came between Lily's son and her. He was the center of her universe, and she would drop everything in an instant and come to his rescue. That's what moms did right? Make sure their son is safe and ensure the best in the world for him? That's what Lily did at least. She would go to the ends of the Earth and back for Hunter if she had to. No questions asked.

So whenever he called, especially when he was at Scott's, Lily's anxiety shot through the roof. Not to mention, of all things to say, he asked her to come and pick him up. Now, of course, she would not hesitate to go and get him. It was a no-brainer. The only issue was the fact Lily was half an hour away if there was no traffic, meaning whatever was going on at Scott's would have to continue for a solid thirty minutes minimum.

"What's going on baby why do you need me to come to get you?" Lily asked, green eyes darting over her shoulder to look at the group that was still seemingly having a great time. But she caught Bucky's eye, and they stood there for what felt like an eternity. His diamond blue eyes seemed worried, his eyebrows knitted in concern at the scared look on Lily's face as she spoke to her son on the phone.

"The babysitters asleep on the couch and a man keeps banging on the door asking for Dad," Hunter answered, his voice shaky as he whispered, "I have Leila in bed with me but Mom I'm so scared please come get us."

Her stomach did a flip. It took everything inside of her not to drop the phone and sprint to the car, not wasting any time telling anybody what was happening. Adrenaline pumped through Lily's veins as she covered her mouth. Tears welled up in the tear ducts of the blonde's eyes and she made quick work blinking them away. Her throat went dry and all of the salivae in her mouth seemed to disappear. Her son was in danger. And Scott wasn't home. Of course, he wasn't...Lily wasn't sure what else she expected from him.

"Call 911 right now. I'm on my way. Stay where you are with Leila. Do not get off the phone with police," Lily rambled, stalking back over to the group and grabbing the purse she had brought along with her, "I love you Hunt I'll see you soon."

And with that, the line went dead as her son followed his mother’s instructions. The abrupt actions of Lily had caught the Avenger’s attention as they watched her scurry around to find all of her belongings, muttering curse words and not so meek names towards her ex-husband seemingly. Lily was a kindhearted person, she wouldn't even hurt a fly. Yet the moment, nay, the second, it had been brought to her attention that her son was in danger on her ex's watch because he had decided to go to a party? That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. This would become messy if she didn't lose her temper and kill Scott herself.

"Woah Woah Lil what're you doing?" Rose questioned as she placed a gentle hand on her sister's arm. Immediately, Lily shrugged it off as her head popped up to look at her younger sister with tears rolling down her cheeks. A hush fell over the crowd like a heavily weighted blanket as the lights around the roof lit up the sadness and desperation on Lily's face.

"There's a man at Scott's pounding on the door. That motherfucker went out and left the kids home with a deadbeat babysitter asleep on a couch..." Lily trailed off as the words escaped her lips. Saying it out loud was completely different than hearing her son say it on the phone. It was really happening. Hunter was in danger and his own father wasn't even home.

A part of Lily blamed herself for the events that were unfolding. If she had just listened to Hunter when he asked for her to take full custody over him. To stop sending him to his dad’s where Scott was hardly home. If she had just listened to her heart instead of her head, Hunter would be safe. He wouldn't be in his current predicament. He'd be safe at home, probably asleep in bed with Lily or Joey in his room. She'd be able to keep tabs on him. Make sure he was secure. Healthy. Safe. Out of harm’s way. Whatever you wanted to say. But no, she listened to the doctor inside of her head about the development of children and how a father/son relationship was important. But mostly, she blamed her deadbeat ex that put his children in that situation, to begin with. Not even just Hunter, but Leila. A three-year-old girl who had no business being left alone with a babysitter and her brother. She was a baby, and Scott put his own entertainment ahead of his children.

"That son of a bitch!" Gen exclaimed while jumping to her feet and handing Rose, the only 100% sober one of the trio, the keys to the car, "Thank you for having us but I have a man to murder." The brunette snapped while making a b-line towards the door down from the roof, Rose and Lily following in her tracks.

Rose's hands rested on her older sister's shoulders, rubbing soothing circles. It was something that the two have done for years. Whenever Lily got worked up and her anxiety reached a peak, Rose's soft hands would grip onto her shoulders and run patterns and shapes along the skin. It reminded Lily that she would be okay, that whatever situation that had caused her anxiety to skyrocket, would be over soon and everything would be okay. A reminder that no matter the circumstances, Rose would always be in Lily's corner, rooting for her and cheering her on. And hopefully, this small action would at least help the rapid heartbeat that pounded away in Lily's chest find a steady rhythm. Of course, then the all mighty steve rogers piped up.

"Why don't we give you a ride on the Quinjet? It'll get you there faster." he offered, causing a small tear to roll down Lily's rouged cheeks. Rose, Gen, and her came to a halt and turned back to the group that looked at the mother with worry in her eyes. Before Lily could respond, the Captain spoke once again, "Or at least let one of us come with you...just in case." he finished, nudging his elbow into Bucky's side.

Even when an event like this is going down, steve rogers stays being a little shit.

"Yeah, that may actually be good. We don't know if we'll get there before the police, or if Scott is home," Rose answered, glancing down at her sister, "You know how he is when he drinks, Lil. You can't take him...and much to her dismay, neither can Gen."

Lily's puffy eyes looked up at her best friend who begrudgingly agreed with Rose's statement, prompting the Winter Soldier to jog forward and follow the girls out to the car. Lily took a seat in the back row of the car, holding her arms tightly around her chest as she glanced at her phone, checking the time. Knowing that at any moment, she could get a call telling her the worst. Or worse, getting a call from Scott. Just the idea of his face made anger boil deep within Lily, which resulted in her bundling her hands into fists so tight that the knuckles turned a sickly shade of green. How could he be so irresponsible? They had been divorced for four years. Lily stood up for him. vouched for him to her parents. Convinced her son it's good to visit. To see his dad and spend time with him. But now? God...Lily wished he would just fall off the face of the earth and she would never have to see him again.

-----

Arriving in Brooklyn a solid half an hour later, Lily spotted flashing police lights dancing across brick walls of the apartment complex. The moment that Rose had stopped the car, Lily ran out faster than the flash. She spotted Hunter sitting in the back of an ambulance with Leila and the blonde basically tackled the two children in a tight hug. She held them close, whispering prayers to the good Lord above. Tears streaked her face, causing valleys to open up along her makeup-covered cheek. She didn't want to let go, she wanted to hold her biological child, and one that wasn't even remotely related to her, and keep them out of harm’s way.

"Ma'am is this your apartment building?" a deep voice of a police officer boomed, causing Lily to release the two kids to turn around and see the tall man behind her. His shoulders were broad and his neck seemed to be the same size as Lily's head. Just looking at the stance he held made Lily tense up, her mouth running as dry as the Sahara desert. But it was Hunter’s small hand gripping onto her's, that sent a rush of newfound confidence through her body.

"No, this is my ex-husband’s apartment. I'm this boy’s mother," Lily stated, fumbling through her purse and gripping her wallet. She tugged out her driver’s license for ID purposes, leaning down to kiss the top of Hunter’s head, before returning her worried eyes back to the officer in front of her, "Did you get the person?"

By the tense look on the officer’s face, Lily guessed the answer would be a no. Tears welled up in her green eyes, and Lily dropped down onto the ambulance between the two kids. The mother bear instincts that welled up inside of Lily's stomach were yelling at her to go and find that son of a bitch who scared her little boy. Smack him all the way to next week and make him feel the pain he had caused her and her son. But the rational part of Lily reminded her she would only create more problems if she did that. She would be the one losing custody of her son because they would probably deem her dangerous and arrest her for...you know, assault. For now, she would sit with the two shaken children, and wait for this to blow over and for the police to find the sorry son of a bitch who dared scare Lily Osborne's son. And then take the father of her child to court and receive full custody of Hunter. Because this...this was unacceptable.

But then a small voice perked up. A meek, scared voice of a little girl. shaky. And it came from Lily's left side. Leila. The little girl had spoken, "The roof." This prompted both Lily and the officer's head to shoot to the side, and both spotted a shadowy figure glancing over the edge. Lily gasped and held both children closer to her chest.

The officer called the others to go to the roof. All pulling their guns from their holsters in preparation, just in case the man was as violent and aggressive as the two children had described. As Lily watched, her hands covering her son and Leila's eyes as police stormed in through the front doors. But she spotted someone, what she had believed to be a police officer, climbing up the fire escape. But then the streetlights reflected a silver arm, sending a glare into Lily's eyes. Bucky. He ran up the fire escape with such anger that Lily could sense the aura all the way from the ambulance at the bottom of the apartment building. Whoever decided to attempt a break-in or try some sort of intimidation at Scott's apartment, most likely, had no intention of ending up face to face with the winter soldier.

"Is that Mr. Barnes on the roof?" Hunter asked, surprising Lily. Glancing down, she saw that she had let her hands drop in shock, resulting in both kids becoming witnesses to the scene. Scoffing, Lily covered their eyes once more, ensuring that whatever violence or trauma that would take place would be hidden by her pale and cold hands.

Lily, however, would become witness to the entire scene unfolding. Watching from afar, she spotted Bucky's metal arm gripping the figure’s neck and holding him above his head. A gasp escaped from Lily's plush lips as she squeezed her own eyes shut. She had heard the stories of the Winter Soldier. The assassinations that HYDRA had forced the man to commit. They had made his brain into putty, moulding it to their will so that they could inflict pain and suffering on whoever they deemed deserved it. But Lily also knew that he had been saved. That the chemicals in his mind had been removed by a brilliant scientist whose name became blank in Lily's mind. But seeing him choking the person on the roof, Lily feared he was not better. That he still had those awful things in his head. That he was dangerous. Especially when her child and her son's half-sister clung to her. As well as her best friend and sister watching the scene from the car.

But when Lily forced her eyes open again, she saw Bucky stand to the side of the roof while the police officers handcuffed whoever it was that had committed this crime. A little breath of relief danced past Lily's lips as she watched Bucky retreat down the fire escape, landing on the solid grown with ease. His thick legs carried that gorgeous frame of his towards Lily, and her shoulders tensed out of habit. But the way his facial expressions changed made her realize...he thought she was scared of him now. That whatever he had done on the roof created a new picture of him in her eyes. Sure it did at first, but he corrected it when he stood to the side afterwards.

"They've got him..." his gruff voice stated, steel blue eyes avoiding any contact with the deep greens of Lily's. He became timid, as though any small teasing comment would destroy any shred of confidence in his body. Lily had no idea the effect she had on him. How what she thought of Bucky was a make or break for him. She herself was so reserved. Distant from people. That they were almost two halves of the same whole. But her view of him...he wanted her to see nothing but goodness in him. And a little bit inside of him continued to scream that she only saw the monster that he was.

"Thank you Bucky," Lily smiled, something small and delicate that had the man become weak in the knees. But then she continued, and a small bit of his heart grew even larger and more fond of the blonde mother, "Upstate is a while away...would you like to um...stay in my spare room? Just for the night so Rose doesn't have to do that drive again."

Whether it was the beer that was singing a sweet song in Lily's mind, or the killer adrenaline rush that she was experiencing, her confidence was through the roof. Her fears seemed to disappear in an instant, creating a new side of Lily. Her son was safe and the asshole that scared him was in cuffs. Alcohol plagued a small place in her mind, and Bucky had just shown a new side to him as well. A protective side. One that he seemed to have gained for the Osborne family at the beginning of this story. Whether it was Lily's infectious smile or the way Hunter looked at him like he was the entire world. He had vowed to be there for them. No matter what it was.

"Oh...I mean if Rose doesn't want to make the drive..." the man stated, his voice cracking halfway through as he glanced over at the other two girls that rushed forward to join in on the conversation, "But isn't she staying with you?"

"Nope. Tonight I'm staying with Gen. Girls night or something. And I don't wanna drive. Hate it. Terrible. You have to stay with Lily it's final." Rose rushed, pushing forward and yanking Hunter into her arms, holding the shaking boy as she kissed the top of his head.

Before Bucky could reply, a car came to a screeching halt at the base of the apartment building’s driveway. A yelling man exploded from the car, along with a crying woman. Scott and Mary. Whatever adrenaline that Lily had leftover, shot through her as she jumped to her feet, standing in front of Hunter and Leila between Scott and them. The taller man was huffing and puffing as his hazel eyes scanned everyone around them.

"Lily, move," he ordered, face beet red as he stared down at the woman he cheated on. The anger inside of her eyes startled him at first. The mother’s instincts she wished to take out on the criminal deflecting on to her son's father. A little body pushed past both as Leila ran into her mother’s arms, and neither Lily nor Scott broke eye contact with each other. All of the pain he had caused her seemed to grow to a head, and everything inside of her kept Lily from reaching up and punching him square in the nose.

"You are a father. Scott. The judge granted you partial custody because I asked her to. Because I believed you would finally step up and care and love Hunter. But instead, you leave a deadbeat babysitter home with two children." Lily began, her voice steady and even as her bottom lip quivered, "A son needs his father. And you have been nothing short of an acquaintance to him. So congratulations. You just fucked yourself over."

Before Scott could even retort the smack-down that Lily just dished out to him, Mary piped up. Her voice shaking and broken, "Scott you told me your mother was watching them. Lily I met him at our friends after work, I hadn't come home." she sobbed, gripping her young daughter tight as she walked forward, an apologetic and terrified look on her face.

Lily nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around Mary, holding her close before letting her go talk to the police with Leila. This left Scott staring down at Lily, who had Gen, Rose, Hunter, and the Winter Soldier standing behind her. it took Scott a moment to process the fact a superhero was now standing with his ex-wife and son. And a pang of jealousy shot through him, or maybe rage. Rage that she had moved on. Gotten over the pain he had caused. Or so he thought.

Instead, the longer she stared at him with a death glare, the more memories rushed back into Lily's minds. The way he would stand over her as though he could hurt her. Then claiming it was fine because he never hit her. or the way he would spit names at her after an argument. The way his fists would ball up. How he would punch holes into the wall that Lily had to fix because he didn't want to pay for them to be fixed. Nor did he want to fix them. The times she would place Hunter back down in his crib and then fall to her knees in tears, remembering how he slammed the door and walked out.

"You are done being a father, Scott. I'm taking full custody."

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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The marriage pact - London bits

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 14 | Part 15 London bits | Part 16 >

Disclaimer: some strong language

Author’s note: It was so much fun to do some actual research on Jersey’s history - even though it is only mentioned very briefly in this chapter.

Word count: 1.265

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

One can find and do many things on our Jersey island, its rich soil housing some 107.000 inhabitants. But as it appears, the world has more to offer than multi-horned sheep, lovely beaches and close knitted communities. Today I’m once more writing from the metropolitan city of London, my journey taking me to meet some ex-inhabitants of our beloved Jersey.

In this “Old Faces goes London”, I’ll be visiting a baker who decided to bring his infamous Jersey-rolls to the great City of London, a linguist who strives to keep Jèrriais (our territories unique Norman dialect) alive and I’ll be having a cup of tea with an exporter of Jersey’s very own apple cider. Yum!

And, as time is ticking I will now bid you all adieu. Or, to keep it in the Jèrriais realms;

À bétôt!

Ali

‘Morning.’ Henry pressed a kiss on my cheek while he brushed past me, his hands busy with making toast while I prepped some lunch boxes. It was 6 AM on a Tuesday and, though I was far from awake, I did admit that I felt quite happy being here, in Henry’s Mews kitchen.

In the far corner I could hear Kal hogging down some food after an even more ungodly early doggy walk - from which I thankfully had been spared - and before long the kitchen was filled with lovely scents and we were all enjoying our breakfast.

‘Sleep well?’ I said, keeping my voice down as the walls were rather thin. Henry nodded, cup of coffee hovering beneath his nose, cheeks dimpling with a tender smile. ‘Sure did. Though looks like you are STILL sleeping.’ He laughed. ‘Mmm... I’m very much enjoying this dream, thank you very much. So please, allow me.’

‘Then so I will. So what are you up to today?’ He took a hesitant sip of the far too hot drink, scrunching his nose as he nearly burned his tongue, then decided to put it down, his hands instead moving to cut into the toast, his egg all gooey perfection as it oozed out onto the plate. I could see Kal push his head on Henry’s lap, hoping that his puppy eyes were enough of a persuader to earn himself some bacon. But apparently it was just another part of their morning routine, Henry’s hand near automatically running through the Akita’s fur before returning to his breakfast, no bacon bits shared in the process.

Sweet bears.

‘Going to have an interview with that baker in a little over an hour, then visiting that publisher followed by some work calls. You?’

‘No baker interviews unfortunately,’ He smiled. ‘Just meetings. Meetings, meetings, meetings.’ Henry shrugged, obviously not looking forward to it. ‘Oh..What do you want to do for dinner by the way?’ He inquired.

‘Eh…eat food?’ I grinned, earning an exasperated look from him. ‘Hahah..sorry..but eh..let’s just cook something at home. Shall I cook or..?’

‘Cooking as home is good, sure. And, Ali, honestly..I’m not THAT traditional. Maybe let’s just say that the first person who gets home, cooks? That seems to be more fair.’ He said simply, hogging down onto another huge bite.

‘Very well then, my fair feminist knight.’ I winked, also cutting into my toast, my nose sniffing happily as the savoury scents drifted into my nostrils. Gosh, how nice it was to be with a man that could cook!

—

Still somewhat catching my breath from hurrying from meeting to meeting, I sat before one man called Charles Dunham, his golden nameplate shining proudly on his paper-filled mahogany desk. From the moment I had gotten into his office, it became clear that the old, fat cheeked man was most eager to get me on board; a good cup of coffee and some cookies were moved onto the last remaining bit of his space on his overcrowded desk and before I could even take my first sip of the welcome drink, the offer was already on the table.

‘Simply said; we adore your stories. And from a business point of view we see great potential. You have a solid fan base, and we recently released a similar storybook for adults that sold like hot buns on the Sunday market,’ He grinned happily, throwing three cubes of sugar in his coffee and mixing it with a freakishly small spoon. ‘So we are more than glad to develop this project with you.’

I blinked over the rim of the cup of coffee, hot steam raising up from the porcelain. HOLY DAMN! I let out a soft giggle and smiled. ‘My…alright then. I had expected to have to give you my sales pitch and perhaps a kidney or two. I mean, I even made a whole presentation, but this is far better. Thank you so much for your trust and enthusiasm Mr. Dunham, it truly means the world!’

Mr. Dunham chuckled. ‘And the world better be ready. How about we start editing a first version in the next few months, fine-tune a few things? Oh, and I did have one small question; are these based on actual people?’

‘Some are inspired by a mix of people I know, though all characters are definitely fictional in nature.’

‘Well, perhaps you COULD add a slight reference to Superman, since he’s from the Islands as well. Our readers would surely love that.’

I felt my stomach somersault again. Oh Mr. Dunham..if only you knew.

‘Haha..well. We might have to look into copyrights there, but it sure is true that we, I, adore our homeland hero.’ I winked.

—

Oh the homeland hero. I did adore him, indeed. In fact I craved him really.

The moment I had gotten back to Jersey I felt like I had left a piece of myself back with Henry. Suddenly the air was bleak and my parents house was not my home anymore, the large but comfortable house feeling like but a shell of what it had been just days earlier. And it got even weirder when I was laying in bed.

Here I was, alone, my hand outstretched to the spot where he would lay if we would sleep together. I even tried to sniff the pillow he had slept on, to see if any of his scent perhaps lingered there.

It didn’t.

It had been a strangely eventful day today. First the very early flight, a sleepy Henry - quite unique to find in the mornings - driving me to the airport. And then the near desperate hugs and kisses we shared, followed by a restless flight. And then I had to quickly drop off my stuff before heading to another doctors appointment. This time for one of a more invasive nature; a number of physical tests had to be performed so I could enlist for a sperm donor. My plan B. Just in case everything failed with Henry.

But, in all honesty, it felt more and more like a doom scenario I was increasingly less comfortable with. Did I want to become a single parent, if all of this failed? Was that really my dream? Or was a child just a result of something greater I truly wanted, something I had pushed away and hidden from my still beating heart. Did I actually want something quite different?

Did I want..eh..love, actually?

As I lay there looking at the ceiling, small glow-in-the-dark stars speckling the otherwise dark surface, I came to the bitter tasting realisation that I had not really taken into account that there was suddenly this extra person who had come into the equation. This person I had wild make-out sessions with on my parents couch, as well finding in him the person who offers a listening ear and who would consolidate me and be there during a doctors appointment.

He cared and was obviously not really wanting to leave. And I, to be even more honest with myself, well, I didn’t want him to leave either. I needed to keep him close and listen to him if I wanted this to last.

Rolling on my side I picked up my phone. 11.30 PM. He’d probably be sleeping now. I bit my lip and decided to text him, even if he’d only read it in the morning.

“I just tried to sniff the pillow but your scent is gone. I miss you😢”

Quite immediately a message returned. A selfie, taken with a flash in the starkness of a dark bedroom. Henry’s face sulkily grabbing onto a pillow. “That makes two. I miss you three!”

I giggled, silly bear, then imitated his picture, taking one myself, his pillow squeezed tightly in my arm, head resting on top. “Sweet dreams bear. I’ll keep your pillow safe.”

And then a little voice chat message came in, his silky deep voice filling my heart with joy; ‘Sweet dreams Ali.’

Oh sweet were my dreams indeed.

If only..if only he were here to share them with me.

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madpanda75 · 5 years ago

Text

“Pirate’s Plunder”

Nevada indulges the reader and decides to surprise her with a little pirate fantasy. This could be read as a stand-alone piece but it’s actually a sequel to my Nevada piece- “Fifties Fantasy.” Sorry it took me over a year to finally get to it and forgive my crappy rhyming. 😳

NSFW—Like super NSFW—There’s rough sex, nipple clamps, orgasm denial, spanking, bondage, and a little name calling (kinda got carried away with our dirty trash can) ❤️

Also I think I use this gif in every Nevada fic I have because HELLO, have you seen it?! The sinister smolder 🤤

Nevada’s unexpected surprise had thrown you for a loop—records management, projection data, fiscal year reports—that’s what you should have been focusing on, but instead your eyes kept wandering over to the black velvet box and that cryptic message in a bottle. Grabbing the bottle in question, you popped off the cork and pulled out the note, re-reading it for what must’ve been the hundredth time that afternoon.

Wear this when I plunder your booty -Captain Nevada

A shiver shot down your spine. You crossed your legs, already feeling your core begin to pulse with need, knowing your boyfriend never half-assed anything. Go big or go home was his life motto. Whatever he had planned up his sleeve, you knew to expect the unexpected.

Just when you were seriously contemplating leaving the office early to go home, your co-worker, Emma, approached your desk. “Hey, Y/N. A bunch of us were going over to Keybar after work. Wanna come with?”

“Thanks, but I have plans tonight with my boyfriend,” you replied.

“Ah yes, the elusive boyfriend.” Emma gave you a knowing smile. “Would this have anything to do with that mysterious package you got today?”

You blushed and pushed up the bridge of your dark-rimmed glasses. “Maybe.”

“Well, have fun tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winked and walked away.

One agonizingly slow hour later, it was time to leave. You all but leapt from your chair, snatching up your coat and purse and sprinting to the elevator. “Have a good weekend!” you called out over your shoulder.

You exited the building only to discover yet another surprise, Nevada’s driver, Manny, waiting for you next to a black SUV Escalade. “Manny, what are you doing here?”

“Nevada called me. Said I should come pick you up.” He opened the door to the backseat and motioned for you to get inside.

A sigh blew past your lips. You may have been the girlfriend of Trujillo, but your independence was important to you and Nevada knew that. “Thanks, Manny. Pero I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Home’s just a few blocks away. I can walk.”

Manny chuckled and shook his head. “Nevada thought you’d say that. He told me to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

You knitted your brows in confusion and opened the envelope to find a note. The note looked similar to the one you had received that afternoon. The paper had burnt edges and looked to have been dyed with coffee or tea, giving it an aged weathered appearance. Upon reading the letter, that familiar tingle reappeared from earlier.

Ahoy there, Mami. A treasure hunt there be. A treasure to find that you’ll want to see. Stop being stubborn and get in the car with Manny. Otherwise, I’ll have to whip your hot fanny. He’ll take you to the next clue at the dock. And then you’ll be one step closer to my cock.

You shoved the letter back in the envelope and got in the backseat of the car, looking expectedly at Manny. “What are you waiting for? Vámonos ahora!”

“Por supuesto, we’re on our way.” Manny shut the door for you before getting in the driver’s seat, the tires screeching against the pavement as he pulled away.

*****

You stared out the window while Manny was driving, surprised that he was heading east towards Kip’s Bay. Nevada had several warehouses by the docks at North River Piers which was on the opposite side of Manhattan. You had assumed that’s where Manny was taking you. Instead he pulled into a place called The Water Club on the East River, an exclusive property where celebrities, politicians, and socialites would dock their yachts.

“We’re here,” Manny said, parking the car.

You looked around, completely stunned. “This is where I’m supposed to meet Nevada?”

“Not exactly.” Manny got out of the car and opened the back door for you. “That is where you’re supposed to meet Nevada.” He pointed to a large luxury yacht. The three storied, sleek yacht took up almost half the dock. The vessel was jet black with silver accents and decorative blue auxiliary lighting, giving it a glowing, sexy, and somewhat sinister appearance. If Nevada were to have a yacht, there was no question that this would be it. Several people dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos walked past and gaped, speculating as to who the owner was.

In awe of the behemoth of a ship, you practically stumbled out of the car and was greeted by an older man with a friendly face dressed in a white captain’s uniform. “Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” you stammered.

He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Captain Matthews. Mr. Ramirez is expecting you. Won’t you please follow me?” You shook his hand and followed him, ignoring the hushed comments and shocked faces of passersby.

“Have fun, Y/N,” Manny called out before getting back into the car and driving away.

You boarded the yacht and were greeted by another member of the staff. “Ms. Y/L/N, welcome aboard the Black Pearl.” You bit back a laugh. Of course the ship was called the Black Pearl. “I have a message for you from Mr. Ramirez,” she said and handed you a note rolled up and tied with a black ribbon.

Your hands were shaking as you undid the ribbon. Unscrolling the note, you saw it was another clue.

Welcome Aboard! Keep looking for clues, but don’t get stressed. You’ll find another when you get dressed.

“Perhaps, you’d like to freshen up,” the crew member said.

You looked up from the note, realizing you were still in your office attire. “Oh...ummm I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“Don’t worry. I think we have something in your size,” she reassured you with a wink. You smoothed down your modest pencil skirt and adjusted your glasses before following her down a long corridor.

Your pace slowed as you took in your surroundings—dark cherry wood with gold finishings, marble floors, luxe gold and blood red pillows adorning the furniture. Never in your life had you seen such opulence. The staff member stopped in her tracks and cleared her throat, waiting for you to catch up with her.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickening your steps.

She smiled and opened the door to a large dressing room with floor to ceiling mirrors and a vanity. You saw your suitcase along with your toiletry bag in the middle of the room. “I’ll let you change. I believe there’s an outfit for you in the closet.” She closed the doors behind her.

Once you were left alone, you went over to the closet and slid open the door to find a short, skimpy pirate costume dangling on a hanger. One thing that Nevada found beguiling about you were your fashion choices. During the day, you were demure, modest, almost prudish. Today for example, you had opted for a sweater set and pencil skirt with glasses and your hair swept up in a bun. But by night, you transformed into a sultry siren, choosing short, skin-tight dresses, high heels, and bold makeup.

When Nevada first met you at one of his clubs, you were wearing a short red mesh dress with panels to strategically cover your more private areas. “Have to leave a little to the imagination,” you said to Nevada with a flirty smile when he remarked on your dress. The next day he stopped by your office to invite you to lunch and nearly walked past you, doing a double take at your turtleneck and floor length skirt. “I’m a woman with many facets. I can dress like a mousy librarian or be a wanton vixen if I want to be,” you explained. And just like that Nevada was hooked.

After changing, you looked yourself over in the mirror once more. Nevada had chosen an extremely short yet virginal white peasant dress with a sweetheart neckline, lace trim, and bustle. Complimenting the dress, was a black leather corset that pushed your breasts up practically to your chin, thigh-high black leather boots. You had also put on a tricorn pirate hat and the large diamond necklace that he had given you earlier. Swapping your glasses for contacts, you did a sexy smokey eye makeup and let your hair down in loose waves.

In the mirror’s reflection, you spied another rolled up note on the vanity. Unraveling the black ribbon, you unscrolled the paper and read the clue.

Fuck, you hot. Now hark me a fable. There once was a clue who hid by a table.

As if on cue, there was a sharp knock on the door. “Ms. Y/L/N. If you’re finished changing, I can take you over to the dining area,” said a voice from outside the dressing room.

Your pulse was racing as you followed the crew member to the dining room. Every step you took meant you were one step closer to Nevada. The crew member stopped at a doorway and motioned for you to step inside before abruptly leaving. You nervously entered the dark, empty room. One wall on the opposite side was made entirely of glass reflecting the city lights of the Manhattan skyline, casting shadows against your skin.

Nevada was nowhere in sight. That’s when your nostrils were filled with a familiar scent. That smoky, earthy, somewhat sweet scent of a cigar and suddenly you realized that you were not alone. You turned and saw a shadowy figure sitting in the far back corner of the room. There was a red glow from the burnt end of a cigar and smoke billowing around.

That shiver that had been following you all day, once again shot through your core. “Nevada?”

Nevada stood up and stepped out of the shadows, flicking on the lightswitch. “Ahoy there, Mami.”

Very few things in life rendered you speechless and Nevada’s appearance was definitely one of those things. He was dressed in brownish gray breeches, suede black leather boots with a large bell cuff, and a weathered white linen poet shirt, ripped open to reveal his chest, his gold cross glinting against a smattering of chest hair. Over top of the shirt was a faded aubergine waistcoat layered with a red sash and a leather belt around his waist. A wide red bandana was wrapped around his head along with a tricorn leather hat. He even had an earring and wore smudged black eyeliner.

A heat began to pool between your legs. “You look so—”

“Sexy, handsome, ridiculous,” he said with a smirk as he approached you.

“All of the above and then some, minus the ridiculous.” You shook your head in disbelief, Nevada made one hell of a pirate.

He held you at arm’s length, licking his lips as his eyes raked over your form. “Turn around for me. Slowly.”

You bit your lip and blushed, following his command. Nevada groaned and grabbed your hips, pulling you flush to his body. “Mami, you make me wanna shiver my timbers.”

You snorted a laugh and rested your forehead against his chest, your whole body shaking as you tried to contain your giggles, even Nevada began to laugh. “Oye, don’t joke. I’m getting into character and shit.” He lightly fingered the diamond necklace clasped around your neck. “You look so—“

“Alluring, titillating, smoking hot.” You looked up at him and batted your lashes.

“All of the above”—he leaned down and ghosted his lips over yours— “and then some.”

You hopped on the table and spread your legs, revealing that you weren’t wearing any panties. “Want a little appetizer before dinner?”

Just then a bird squawked. Peering over Nevada’s shoulder, you saw a large gold cage with a bright green parrot inside. Squawk “Fuck her brains out!” Squawk “Fuck her brains out!”

You arched a brow. “Looks like the parrot gets it. What do you say, matey?” You sucked on your index finger and trailed it down your body, rubbing soft circles on your clit.

His eyes darkened. In an instant, he reached out and pulled your hand away from your center. Kneeling down, he spread your legs even further apart and kissed a path up your inner thigh. You threw your head back and sighed, “Oh, Nevada.”

He hummed in approval, sucking a mark on your tender flesh as his mouth moved closer to where you needed him the most before he stopped his ministrations.

“Wha-,” you breathed. “No. Why did you stop?”

“Dinner first,” he said, standing up.

You gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to you. “Don’t you want me,” you whined, kissing and nibbling every inch of his exposed skin your lips could reach.

He gripped your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Careful, Mami. You’re playing a dangerous game,” he growled before kissing you hard on the mouth, his tongue tangling with yours, drinking you in. All too soon he stopped with a teasing grin on his face. “Besides, you’ll need your strength for what I have planned.” He moved away to pull a chair out, motioning for you to sit.

You pouted but obliged him. He sat down next to you as a waiter came in with a rolling cart, setting a plate down in front of you and then Nevada. “Grouper. Why am I not surprised,” you softly said, looking down at the delicate fish simmering in a bouillabaisse.

“Why not? We’re on the water. Seems appropriate.” Nevada shrugged and sipped his whiskey, watching the waiter pour you a glass of wine. More focused on your breasts than the wine glass, he nearly poured the wine into your lap. “Eyes back in your head, cabrón or I’ll scoop them out with a spoon and turn them into earrings for her,” he barked at the man.

You cringed. “Coño, Papi. Do you have to be so graphic?” Taking the wine bottle from the shaking waiter, you softly smiled at him. “I think I can pour my own glass. Thank you.”

Nevada rolled his eyes as the waiter scurried away and raised his glass to you. “Cheers, matey.”

You giggled and clinked your glass with his. “Cheers.”

It was one of the most romantic and interesting dinners you ever had—soft lighting, a breathtaking view, and a drop dead sexy pirate as your date. While the food was delicious, you were more interested in what Nevada had in store for you afterwards than the actual meal. How many times do you get the chance to fuck a pirate?

“What’s the hurry, baby? We’ve got all night,” he teased, amused by how you were scarfing down your food. But underneath his cool demeanor, he was just as excited to get you in the bedroom. His cock had been hard from the moment he saw you in that skimpy pirate wench outfit.

“I’m done,” you announced, pushing your plate away.

“Paciencia, Mami. What about dessert?”

“You could have me as dessert.” Sitting up from the table, you walked over to Nevada and straddled him, gasping when you felt how hard he was under his breeches. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s impatient,” you purred, grinding against his erection.

He groaned and rested his head back against the chair, giving into you for a moment before gripping your hips and halting your movements. “Not so fast. You still have one more clue.” Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out another rolled up slip of paper.

Still sitting in his lap, you hastily unscrolled the paper and read the clue:

Well done, Mami. You’re moving ahead. A secret is written where ye go to bed.

“By any chance do you know where the bedroom is?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and planted a searing hot kiss on his lips, running your hands underneath his shirt.

“How about I personally escort you there,” he mumbled between kisses. “Hold on tight.” He gripped the backs of your thighs and stood up from the table with you in his arms. You squealed in surprise and wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing down the slope of his neck, sucking a mark into his skin as he carried you to the bedroom.

*****

Nevada braced you up against the door, his mouth latched onto yours as he turned the knob and walked inside. “Welcome to my Captain’s quarters,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. The bedroom—like the rest of the yacht —was massive and luxurious with a sitting area and a four poster king size bed. He sat you down on the bed’s red satin sheets next to a small treasure chest. “Go ahead and open it.”

Upon opening the chest, you pulled out nylon rope, diamond embellished nipple clamps, and a sleek black vibrator. You looked up at Nevada with lust-filled eyes, your arousal already peaked at the mere thought of what was to come.

He gave you a wicked grin. “Don’t forget the note.”

Peering inside again, you noticed a slip of paper nestled in the chest’s velvet lining. You took it out and giggled when you saw what it read:

Aargh, so you found it. I’m piratey-proud. As a toast to your courage, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll scream out loud.

“Piratey-proud,” you teased. “En serio?”

Nevada rolled his eyes. “Oye, you think it’s easy coming up with all these clues. Coño only so many words rhyme with cock. And just remember one thing.” He got up from the chair and reached for your arm, pulling you off the bed, your body pressed against his. Brushing your hair back from your shoulder, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You may have been on a treasure hunt, but you’re my captive. ¿Me entiendes?”

A shaky breath blew past your lips as you nodded your head. His grip on your arm tightened. “I need you to use your words,” he growled, his nose skimming the delicate slope of your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume.

“Y-Y-Y-Yes, Nevada,” you stammered.

“That’s Captain Nevada to you. And as captain, I think I need to plunder your booty.” He dropped a kiss on the sensitive spot below your ear. “Now strip for me.” Releasing you from his grasp, he sat back down and looked up at you expectantly. “¡Ahora!”

“As you wish, Captain Nevada.” You would have said ‘aye aye, sir,’ but you didn’t think you could manage saying that with a straight face.

You took off your hat then slowly undid the leather corset, letting it drop to the floor. Just as you were about to slide off the short peasant dress, Nevada stopped you. “Turn around.” You blushed and turned your backside to him, sliding the dress off your frame. Goosebumps erupted over your exposed skin. He hummed in approval as he drank you in from head to toe. “Leave the boots on.”

Feeling bold, you widened your stance and bent over, running your hands up the backs of your thighs, spreading yourself for Nevada. You looked back at him and winked. “Like what you see, Captain Nevada. You’re not gonna make me walk the plank now, are you?”

With a crook of his finger, he beckoned you over to him. Swaying your hips, you walked over to where he was sitting. He took your arm and positioned you over his lap with your ass raised in the air, his growing erection pressed against your lower stomach.

“Remember our safe word,” he said, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh.

“Yes. Flan.”

“Good girl.” Nevada smiled. Flan was one of the first dishes you cooked for him and his favorite dessert. Although now he would say you were his favorite dessert. When deciding on a safe word, you thought it was sentimental and also very tongue in cheek.

You pouted and looked over your shoulder, giving him big doe eyes. “How many?”

“How many do you want?”

“Ten,” you blurted out.

“Ok, ten it is. Brace yourself, Mami,” he warned. “Count them out for me and you better not miss or I’ll have to start all over again.”

The first smack delivered on your right cheek caused you to gasp in surprise. “One,” you squeaked out. He mirrored his actions, smacking your left cheek. “Two.” You waited in agony for the third smack. The fourth smack was quicker and the fifth was delivered over both cheeks. Over and over again, he continued to spank you, your body rocking forward with his movements. Each smack harder than the next. You whimpered as he spanked you in the same spot he had previously. “Eight.”

By this point, you were soaking, embarrassed by how turned on you were. “Two more,” he said, smacking your ass so hard you nearly fell off his lap.

“Nine,” you moaned.

His hand trailed down to between your legs. “Such a little slut. Look how wet you are.” He delivered one final smack right on your clit.

“Ten!” you sobbed.

“Good girl,” Nevada praised you and massaged your now reddened globes, admiring his handiwork. His one hand moved to stroke your hair before tugging on the soft tendrils, lifting your head up. “Now get on the bed,” he coldly commanded.

You slowly stood up, your ass stinging and sore from the spanking you had just received and made your way over to the bed. As soon as you had laid down, Nevada stood up and grabbed the rope. Pulling a switchblade out of his pocket, he cut four strands of equal length. He then took hold of your wrist and bound it with the rope before tying it to the bedpost. You watched as he did this to your other wrist and then your ankles, until you were tethered to all four posts, spread eagle and exposed.

Slowly he circled the bed, a smug smirk firmly planted on his face. “X marks the spot.”

You mewled and tried to wiggle in your restraints, aching to be touched, to be fucked, for anything. Your entire body shivered in anticipation. “Captain Nevada, please,” you whined.

“Captain Nevada, please,” he mocked you in a high-pitched voice. Kneeling on the bed, he brought his face to yours, giving you a wild, hungry kiss—nibbling on your lips, sucking on your tongue then pulling away all too soon. His green eyes were practically black, consumed by lust. “You want my cock. You have to beg for it and anyways, I’m not ready to give it to you yet.” He stood up and took off his hat followed by his red bandanna. “First, we’re gonna have a little fun.”

You whimpered as he took the bandanna in his hands and placed it across your eyes, blindfolding you. Your breathing quickened as darkness enveloped you, all of your other senses becoming heightened.

Nevada straddled your stomach and lowered his mouth to your chest, sucking on your nipple, raking his teeth over the hardened bud. You threw your head back and wailed as he did this to both your breasts before taking one of the nipple clamps and clamping it on to your stiff peak, adjusting the clamp with a thumbscrew. You cried out, feeling the sensitive skin being tightened and pinched, walking that tightrope between pleasure and pain.

“That feel good, baby,” he purred, putting on the other nipple clamp.

“So good,” you managed to choke out.

You felt Nevada move as he reached over to the nightstand followed by a buzzing noise. With the vibrator in his hands, he pressed the tip against one of your clamped nipples causing you to nearly scream as he circled your areola. He then dragged the vibrator over to your other breast, repeating his actions. You were a panting mess, lost in the throes of ecstasy when he turned off the toy and moved between your legs.

Spreading your glistening lower lips, he traced your entrance with his finger. “You don’t come until I tell you to or you’ll be in even more trouble than you are now.”

You nodded your head vigorously. “I promise, Captain Nevada. I won’t come until you tell me I can.”

“That’s my good little pirate slut,” he replied and slowly plunged his finger into your sheath, massaging your inner walls. “Fuck, you have the hottest pussy.” Pulling his finger out up to the first knuckle, he thrusted into you once more, slowly rubbing circles on your clit with his calloused thumb. He added another digit, making a v-shape with his fingers as he stretched you. A low primal moan escaped your lips. You tried to buck against him, but being tied up left you completely at his mercy.

A tension began to build in the pit of your stomach. “C-C-C-Captain,” you whimpered. “I’m close.”

He immediately stopped. “Good girl.”

“How many more times?” you breathed

Nevada cruelly laughed. “We’ll stop when I say we stop. Now, let’s try the vibrator, shall we?” With a single click, he turned the toy back on, dragging it up and down your labia before pressing it inside your core. You lost track of how many times Nevada edged you. He would fuck you with the vibrator until your legs would shake then stop and use his fingers, adding another digit every time he felt your walls flutter against him. Every now and then, he would pause and twist the thumbscrews of your nipple clamps, sending a jolt straight to your core.

He watched as you moaned and writhed in pleasure. When he first started to edge you, you would growl every time he stopped. As time passed, your growls became whimpers, pleading for him to let you come. At which he would only mock you and turn the toy onto the highest setting or swipe your clit faster.

Your inner thighs and the sheet beneath you were completely soaked. Your lower lips and clit were red and swollen, having been teetering on the edge for who knows how long. A sheen of sweat had broken out over your flushed skin. “Nevada, please,” you cried, completely forgoing the captain by this point.

“One more time, Mami.” He kissed your inner thigh. “Let’s try four fingers this time.” He filled your pussy with four of his long, thick fingers, thrusting them in and out. The sounds of your wetness and cries filled the room. With his other hand, he switched the vibrator back on and pressed it against your clit while crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, massaging your g-spot.

“STOP! I’M GONNA COME!” you screamed.

Nevada immediately stopped and turned the toy off, moving out from between your legs to lay down next to you. “I’m gonna pull the blindfold off. Ok?” he said with a flicker of warmth to his tone, untying the bandanna from around your head.

You blinked a few times, your eyes readjusting to the light, your makeup completely smudged.

“Awww pobrecita,” Nevada cooed, running a single digit up your body, stopping to tighten the clamps one final time. You gasped, your whole body shuddering. “Que quieres, mi amor. Dime.”

A sob escaped your lips. “Please, Captain Nevada. I wanna come. Please fuck me and let me come on that big fat cock, Papi. Dame tu pinga. ¡Te necesito!”

“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk.” Nevada clucked and shook his head disapprovingly. “Such a slut for my cock, huh?”

“Yes! I’m your little cock slut. PLEEEEAASSE,” you begged as a single tear ran down your face.

Nevada caught the tear on his tongue as he kissed your cheek before making a show of licking all four of his fingers, dripping with your juices. “Mmm, every part of you tastes so sweet.” He sat up and unbuttoned his breeches, moving to straddle your chest as he freed his rock hard erection. “Go ahead, baby. Get it nice and wet.”

His cock brushed up against your face. A single drop of precum oozing from the slit. You lifted your head up and swirled your tongue around the tip, moaning as his musky, salty taste flooded your mouth. Nevada bucked his hips forward, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. You eagerly bobbed your head, tracing every vein, flicking your tongue against the prominent ‘v’ on the underside of his hot and heavy member.

He groaned loudly, almost coming at the sight of you tied up with his cock disappearing past your lips, mascara running down your face and drool dribbling down your chin as you swallowed him down again and again.

“You love sucking me off, don’t you?” he purred.

You whined in response and sucked him harder, gagging as his crown constricted around the back of your throat. He leaned forward and clutched the headboard, feeling his own orgasm quickly approaching. “Enough,” he said in a strained voice and pulled himself out of your mouth.

Grabbing the switchblade he used earlier, he cut the ropes around your ankles and positioned himself between your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. “You’ve done so well tonight that I’m gonna give you a reward,” he said, running his length against your slit, brushing up against your swollen, angry-red, throbbing clit. “You can come as soon as I start fucking this sweet pussy of yours”— he smacked the head of his cock against your knot of nerves, making you mewl in response— “And when you do come. You better come hard for me. I want everyone on this ship to know who makes you feel this good. Cream on this cock for me.”

“Yes, Captain Nevada. I’m gonna come so hard for you. I promise,” you cried.

With a devilish smirk, he guided himself into your entrance, penetrating your core. All the breath had been knocked out of your lungs as soon as he bottomed out. He pumped himself into your sheath. One. Two. Three times and you were undone.

Nevada always seemed to find a way to outdo himself with his bedroom tricks. You had come hard before, but nothing like this—your muscles seized; body contorted off the bed; tears streaming down your face as you screamed his name in ecstasy. Your orgasm was never-ending. You kept coming and coming. You didn’t just see fireworks, the whole damn world exploded before your eyes.

He continued to thrust into you harder and harder, prolonging your pleasure. Feeling your slick walls grip him was quickly sending him over the edge. “Oh God, Y/N! Fuck! I’m gonna come,” he groaned loudly, snapping his hips forward. The sound of wet skin slapping skin reverberated around the room. His stomach muscles clenched as he roared his release, his seed splashing against your cervix. He grunted and moaned like an animal, filling you with his cum, his movements stuttered before sinking into your sheath one final time.

With his cock stilled nestled deep inside you, he slowly removed the nipple clamps. The rush of blood coursing back to your over-sensitive buds caused another orgasm to ripple through you. Nevada shuddered and growled, your pussy milking him one final time.

Grabbing the knife once more, he cut the ropes at your wrists and slowly pulled out of you. You were about to sit up when he stopped you. “Wait,” he commanded, sitting back on his haunches with one hand on each of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide. “I want one more from you. Rub your clit for me.”

Trailing your hand down to the apex of your thighs, you began to rub circles on your clit. Nevada’s eyes were transfixed. “That’s it. I want you to come with my cum inside you,” he purred. Your breath came in short pants as you furiously worked your fingers. A string of curses tumbled from your lips. You didn’t think you could come again, but your body betrayed you and soon you were swiping across your quivering pink pearl harder and faster.

Your eyes slipped closed as your moans became louder and more high-pitched. Nevada slapped the inside of your thigh. “Oye! Look at me! I wanna see that pretty little face come for me!”

You gasped, struggling to focus on Nevada as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. “Oh Nevada! I’m coming! I’m coming!” you sobbed, your fluttering muscles causing his cum to seep out of your wet, pulsing pussy.

“That’s it, baby. Drip for me,” he growled and adjusted himself, already feeling his cock stir back to life, watching you pleasure yourself for him.

You slowed your motions, coming down from your release. Your body melted into the mattress, so exhausted, you could barely move. Nevada hovered over you, kissing you deeply before helping you to sit up, untying your wrists and ankles.

“Do you need anything, mi amor?” he asked while unzipping your boots and gently massaging your calf muscles.

“Some water and your leather jacket,” you softly replied.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” He kissed your forehead and went to a large armoire, pulling his jacket out and going over to the mini bar for a bottle of water. “Here you go, Mami.” He draped his leather jacket over your shoulders and handed you the water. “I’m gonna go run a bath, ok?”

You nodded and took a sip of your water. Sliding your arms through the sleeves, you wrapped yourself up in his leather jacket, snuggling against it. The jacket was comforting—soft and worn and smelled like Nevada, spicy yet sweet. After a rough sex session, he was always attentive to your needs, knowing that the emotions and physical exertion could be a lot to handle. You would often ask for a moment to yourself, just to process what had happened.

Once the bath was drawn, Nevada came back into the bedroom and carried you bridal-style into the bathroom. You slid the jacket off and stepped into the warm bubbly water, your muscles sighing in relief.

Stripping off his clothes, Nevada stepped into the tub with you. Without saying a word, you began to wash each other. Both of you wiped the smeared makeup off each other’s faces. He gently massaged your scalp while shampooing your hair. You lathered his body, feeling his hard muscles relax beneath your palms. When you were finished, you laid in the tub together, your back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around you with nothing but bubbles as a barrier between you; the steam still rising from the hot water.

You looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you for today. It was really wonderful.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, dropping a soft kiss on your shoulder. He held you close for a moment before speaking again. “You know, all this talk about going on a treasure hunt and shit. I just want you to know that you’re my treasure.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow, first the corny clues and now this.”

“Hey!” Nevada feigned offense and grabbed some bubbles with his hand, playfully dabbing you on the nose with the suds. “I’m trying to be romantic. I’m having a moment here.” Grabbing a washcloth, he wiped the bubbles off your face, his expression serious. “Pero, I mean it. Tu eres mi oro, mi corazón, mi tesoro, mi vida. Te amo, Mami.”

Your eyes became shiny with tears at Nevada’s declaration. “Te amo tambien, Papi.” He cupped your cheek, kissing you like he had never done before. The kiss was tender yet passionate all at once. You could feel the love he had for you with every fiber of your being. It made your heart soar. You pulled away a fraction and stared into his mesmerizing green eyes. “Nevada?”

“Si, mi amor.”

“Can we keep the parrot?”

He laughed and kissed over every inch of your face he could reach. “You can have whatever you want, baby.” He sighed in contentment and rested his forehead against your temple. “Whatever you want,” he softly repeated.

That was Nevada for you. He could be abrasive and harsh but there was another side to him. A side only you saw—gentle and loving. He was yours and you were his and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79 @dreila03 @frenchiefoxy @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @scarlettsoldier @amirightcounselor @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @imjustreallynosy @graniairish @ashley-chi @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613 @imagine-all-the-imagines

#Nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez imagine #nevada ramirez fic #nevada ramirez x reader #trouble in the heights #Raul Esparza #raúl esparza

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shillanseva · 5 years ago

Note

(prompt) triple treble with beca having a stutter/selective mutism and their way with communication

@uncomfortable-and-queer I have no idea if this is at all what you had in mind and I definitely when overboard, but here it is. I had to do a little research to make sure I understood what selective mutism entailed but I think I got it so I hope you like this. I really enjoyed writing it. (It hasn’t been edited yet, so there are probably mistakes.)

All she wanted was for him to leave. He stood at her open door expectantly, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing would come.

She hadn’t said a word to him since she was eleven, and he’d left her mother alone, broken, and wondering why she wasn’t good enough. Even before then, she’d said little more than a word or two here and there.

Her mother was the only person who could get a real conversation out of Beca since the time she could talk. And when they did talk, it was about everything and nothing all at the same time. Her mother was her best friend.

When she died, Beca lost the one person left in the world that she was comfortable enough to talk to. It had been breast cancer, which normally, is very curable, but they’d caught it too late. And her health went downhill fast. There was little they could, but make the most of the time they had left together. Her mother’s dying words to Beca were a wish that she would live a life full of love and friendship, a wish Beca wasn’t entirely sure was possible.

She never had the ability to really talk to other people. It just came with the territory. Selective muteness wasn’t as selective as the name implied. Her subconscious made the decisions on who she could or couldn’t talk to. The anxiety was a bitch that way. If Beca wasn’t comfortable, she couldn’t talk. And then when she couldn’t talk, she got more anxious because no one could understand her making her speech block grow. It was a vicious cycle. One she’d been working to jump out of for as long as she can remember.

Her therapist had told her that the way to get past selective muteness as an adult was to eliminate as much anxiety and stress from a scenario as possible and eventually the words would flow. Beca got the point, but as with most things, it was easier said than done. So, now she was standing there in her new dorm room on her first day at college, staring at her father who was waiting for her to say something to him, and she just couldn’t.

She watched him cautiously as thoughts flitted through his mind as he decided what to do. Eventually, he seemed to realize that Beca just wasn’t going to say anything to him—not that he wasn’t used to it. It had been almost eight full years since he heard her voice.

“Alright Beca,” he finally sighed. “I guess I’ll be heading out. Shoot me a text if you need anything.”

Beca nodded her head and waved her hand slightly. Her dad hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. “Really, if you need anything, please reach out. You don’t have to be alone here Beca.”

Beca sighed and nodded again. She knew her dad meant well. Now that she was grown, she couldn’t exactly blame him for not making the relationship with her mother work. They fought constantly. That’s not what a relationship should be—at least she assumed it shouldn’t be. She’d never had a functioning relationship to look up to while she grew up.

Her dad left the room without another word, and Beca turned back to the few bags she’d tossed on the floor when she had arrived on campus. The first thing she pulled out was her mixing equipment. It was already set up with her lap top on her desk in the corner of the room. All that was really left was some clothes and small items. She didn’t have a lot.

Her roommate had already been there and left the minute Beca entered the room without so much as a hello, which was fine with Beca because less talking meant Beca was less likely to come off as a freak for not talking. She found that being silent tended to unnerve people. She had at least developed the ability to push body language through the block so as long as no one tried to really talk to her, she would be fine.

Beca hummed softly to herself as she pulled her clothes from a torn-up, frayed duffle bag on her bunk. Mostly plaid button-downs in various dark shades, and a few pairs of jeans made up her wardrobe. Nothing fancy. Beca just wasn’t a fancy person because a; dresses and dress clothes just fucking sucked, and b; the only fancy occasions she’d gone to (forced) were family events which were basically as rare as blizzards in Atlanta, Georgia. Not that she cared, family wasn’t really a thing to her without her mother.

It only took another fifteen minutes for Beca to put the finishing touches on her unpacking. She thought about sitting down to start working on some of her unfinished projects, but decided against it when she felt her stomach rumble violently. She probably should figure out where the dining hall was. No way was she going to live off ramen.

Beca had to (begrudgingly) admit that Barden’s campus was beautiful. She grew up in the Pacific Northwest, not too far from Seattle, and wasn’t used to the amount of sunlight that came from living in the South. It was hot. Way too hot for the skinny jeans she wore, but she’d deal. She didn’t even own a pair of shorts.

According to the campus map she’d downloaded onto her phone (to avoiding looking like a lost freshman,) the dining hall was only supposed to be on the other side of the quad. The quad that was currently busting at the seams with activity fair booths and over-eager student org types. She shook her head knowing she didn’t have much of a choice, she might as well face it head on. It’s not like she actually had to pay attention to anyone. She’d just keep her head down and move quickly.

Or so was the plan—until a hand thrust a flyer in front of her face and Beca nearly fell backwards from the suddenness of it. She looked up to find the brightest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. If Beca hadn’t been so captivated by them, she probably would have thought they were kind of ridiculous, cause seriously who has eyes that blue? But, as it was, Beca was captivated. It took a second to shake herself out of her stupor in order to take in the rest of the woman who had stopped her. Her red hair was like something straight out of a magazine, falling in generous waves and framing her face.

“Would you like to join our music group?” the redhead said quickly with a voice that almost made Beca shiver with its sweetness. Her eyebrows rose as she looked down to exam the flyer in front of her. The Barden Bellas, huh?

“We’re an all women acapella group. We sing covers of songs, but do it without any instruments. It all comes from our mouths!” Beca smiles at the oversell the woman gives her. She was cute, in a crazy girl-next-door, had-too-much-sugar kind of way, but Beca had no desire to join any on-campus groups. She was only here for a year to appease her father before she went off to LA to try and make it in the music industry. If Daft Punk could make it without speaking more than a dozen words than so can she. “There are four groups on campus—the Bellas, that’s us. We’re the tits. The BU Harmonics, the High Notes, and the Treblemakers.”

The woman’s smile faltered as she looked in their direction. The group in question was standing towards the edge of the quad aggressively singing towards people as they passed by.

“I’m Chloe, by the way. I am one of the co-captains and behind me is Aubrey,” she said returning her dazzling attention to Beca. Beca glanced behind Chloe to see a blonde woman with what seemed to be a perpetual frown on her face. “Are you interested in auditioning?”

Beca quirked a smile at Chloe and laughed softly, not even realizing it. Honestly, she kind of felt bad. Chloe was friendly enough and it felt kind of like kicking a puppy to say no to her, but come on? Acapella? It was pretty lame. Beca feel another pair of eyes on her as she shook her at Chloe and tried to hand back the flier.

“Aca-scuse me?” the other woman, Aubrey, said approaching the pair from behind Chloe. She’d seen Beca laugh and shake her head at Chloe and her protective instincts flared against the tiny brunette.

“What’s wrong with synchronized lady dancing to a Mariah Carey chart topper?” Her voice was incredulous as if Beca had just insulted her god, which based on that little comment was probably Beyonce. Beca just smirked at the older woman and her eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Sensing a building tension between the two, Chloe stepped lightly in front of Aubrey and spoke again. “We sing all over the world and compete in national championships.”

So? Beca made a face which bordered the lines of pity and amusement.

“We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center you bitch,” Aubrey said. The silence of the other woman was irritating her. How could this girl rile her up without even a word? Chloe had reached out and grabbed her hand gently whispering a soft “settle” to the blonde. Beca’s eyes raised slightly at the strangely intimate exchange but didn’t have time to read too much into it before Chloe was speaking to her again.

“What Aubrey means to say is that we’re a close-knit, talented group of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year.” Beca could have sworn Chloe’s eyes got bigger as she spoke, like fucking puppy-dog eyes, they were so huge. “Help us turn our dreams into a reality?”

Beca really did feel like she was kicking a puppy now. She smiled sadly at the redhead and avoided Aubrey’s eyes as she shook her head. She set the flier onto their table as she walked away, hoping to find a part-time job in the throng of tables.

Chloe was following Beca’s path curiously as she weaved through the crowds of people. “She didn’t say one word to us, did she?” Chloe suddenly realized and turned to look at Aubrey. Aubrey shook her head.

“No, she didn’t.”

“Weird,” Chloe said softly to herself.

“She’s probably one of those freak loner types,” Aubrey said with a scowl. “Definitely not Bella material.”

“She was cute though,” Chloe said gauging her girlfriend’s reaction as she said the words. “In an alternative kind of way.”

“Cute.” Aubrey scoffed. “With all those ear monstrosities, it’s hard to believe she doesn’t have a prison tattoo to go with them.”

“Aubrey,” Chloe said laughing gently.

***

Beca managed to find a radio station booth later that day and signed up for an internship. The details were pretty vague, but she was given a time and place to show up the next day and she was pretty excited. Excited enough that she completely forgot why she left her dorm room in the first place. It wasn’t until an hour after she got back to her room that she remembered she still needed to eat.

Her first day of classes was also the next day. She was feeling pretty conflicted about them. Since she was only planning on being at Barden for a year, she had only signed up for fluff classes—the 101s. None of them interested her though so she debated if she would even go to them. The only thing professors did on the first day of class was hand out a syllabus and let you leave, and most of her syllabi were posted online anyway.

Eventually she decided, fuck it, and went to class anyway. She would have rather stuck around her dorm and messed around with some of her mixes, but her roommate had been glaring proverbial daggers at her for two hours by the time she finally left, and it felt like a breath of fresh air to get away from Kimmy Jin. Beca didn’t think she would ever get to the point where she could say anything to her roommate anyway so she was content to let Kimmy Jin hate her.

By mid-afternoon, Beca was nearly jumping out of her skin at her proximity to other people. She could handle herself fairly well in smaller groups or large groups for short periods of times, but 101s were huge lecture hall classes spanning an hour or more. And she had multiple of them in one day. She couldn’t wait to get back her dorm so she could escape for a while.

Her excitement for the radio job had waned some in the exhaustion that came with her anxiety. It was still there, don’t misunderstand, but she knew she’d have to deal with people when she got there, and that is exactly what she didn’t want right now. Like yeah, she got that it was a part of the job, but there was only so much she could take in a day.

It hadn’t turned out as bad as she thought it would though. She was able to get across to Luke that she was nonverbal, and he seemed totally down with that—something about it making her less annoying than the other undergrads trying to get time in the booth. And Beca didn’t think the other new guy even noticed or even stopped talking from the minute he got there to the minute he left. He seemed nice enough, and the fact that he could carry on a conversation by himself without needing Beca’s response was definitely a bonus.

Life carried on like that for another week or so. Beca would get up in the morning and skip class until about four in the afternoon when she’d go in for her shift at the station. When she wasn’t at the station, her eyes were glued to her computer screen arranging, mixing, and sometimes even composing new music. She was fine with the routine. It got her through the day with minimal exposure to other people. That is until the second week of class when her father texted her at eight in the morning asking why wasn’t in her philosophy 101 class.

Beca knew she needed to answer. If she didn’t then he was just going to show up at her dorm room again, and then who knows how long it would be before she got him to leave.

How did you even know? Beca shot off the text and started gathering her stuff to go shower.

You don’t need to know. Why aren’t you there?

She snorts and sends back a response knowing it’ll likely piss him off. I’m posing an important philosophical question: If I don’t actually go to class, will that class still suck?

When he didn’t respond for another five minutes, Beca actually started to get worried that he was coming to her dorm—that is, until a massive paragraph popped up on her screen.

Beca.. I know you’re mad at me and I get it. But you need to get an education. The music industry isn’t so forgiving and someday you might need a backup. You’re missing out on so many experiences by staying in your dorm room. It’s supposed to prepare you for real life. And you’re supposed to create memories here. Do you even have any friends yet?

Okay, so that one hurt a little bit. She knew she was a loner, but he couldn’t exactly blame her. Who wants to be friends with the weird mute kid who wears too much eye liner? She’d had this fight with him at least a dozen times before she got to Barden. All she wanted to do was go to LA, and she didn’t get why he couldn’t accept that. Another message popped up on her screen:

Just try something. Anything. Put yourself out there. A job at the radio station with three weirdos doesn’t count. Just do something with real people, and if in a year, you still want to run off to be some big time music producer then I’ll help you move to LA.

Beca had to do a double take at her phone. No way was he saying that? Was he serious? It was that easy?

But you have to pass all your classes.

Beca sighed in defeat. There went her idea to just skip out on her classes until she could leave. She shot off an “okay” message to her dad then grabbed her towel and toiletries to head to the bathroom.

The bathrooms were usually pretty empty at this time of the day as everyone was off to their classes or the dining hall by now. There were the occasional stragglers like Beca who didn’t give a crap about their morning classes—or they’d won the lottery and didn’t have an early AM class. None of them were in the showers that morning though, at least that Beca noticed.

She hummed Titanium quietly to herself as she hung her towel on a peg outside of the shower curtain and tossed her soaps into the shower and set the water on hot before shutting the curtain. As soon as the curtain was closed, it felt like a wall and dropped Beca was free. The words to the song rang out loud and clear through the tiled room as Beca closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the hot water against her chest. She was so absorbed into her own little world that she didn’t notice the jingle of the curtain being opened until a squealed “Oh my god” startled her from her reverie and she flew into the back wall of the shower trying to cover herself up.

“You can sing!” the excited voice shrilled. Beca glanced over her shoulder to see the red head, Chloe, from the activity fair standing behind her—completely nude. Of course, this would happen to Beca. The first time she gets to see a hot girl naked and it’s practically assault. Beca tried to hold her shampoo bottle up to cover her chest as the girl’s eyes started to roam a little bit. She reached out and tried to close the curtain but Chloe just ripped it open again. “How high does your belt go?”

Beca didn’t answer and instead tried too look anywhere but directly at Chloe, which Chloe wasn’t making any easier as she rambled on about the song Beca was singing. Beca was pleasantly surprised to know that Chloe knew who David Ghetta was even though Titanium was playing constantly on the top 40 stations.

Beca snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Chloe say something about her “lady jam” and she scowled at the girl. Said scowl intensified when Chloe asked her to sing it for her and Beca quickly shook her head.

“No, not for that reason,” Chloe said quickly. “Look, I’m not leaving here until you sing so…”

Beca shook her head again, trying to breath deeply and control the anxiety building in her stomach. After waiting for what felt like an hour, only really about thirty seconds, Beca quietly sang the first words of Titanium’s chorus. Her voice getting stronger with each passing beat. She heard Chloe’s voice join in on the harmony and she almost melted a little because it was like really good. And she hadn’t sang with anyone since her mom so it felt kind of special that this random naked girl she’d met once before was able to cause this level of comfort in Beca.

Beca smiled a little as they finished the chorus, and she almost forgot that she was completely naked until Chloe glanced down for just a second. Beca raised her eyes back to the ceiling again and looked away from Chloe.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, laughing at Beca’s shy response. “I’m pretty confident about all this.” She gestured down her body.

“Look,” Chloe said. “I get that you’re this like quiet, mysterious type, but your voice rocks. You should try out for the Bellas. Auditions are Saturday okay?”

Beca nodded, still refusing to look at Chloe even as she handed Beca her towel. This was absolutely crazy. Why in the world would she go to this audition now? Chloe had assaulted her in the shower. Who does that?

And yet, four days later, Beca found herself pushing open the exit door to the backstage of a small auditorium. She felt crazy even being here. She had never been able to sing in front of an audience before, what made her think she could now? She could feel the anxiety pushing adrenalin through her veins and she took a few calming breaths as she approached the stage.

“That was the last audition of the day,” a voice said as Beca peaked her head around the corner to look out at the groups seated in the auditorium. They were fairly easy to tell apart because they all sat separated from each other. Chloe and Aubrey were seated near the front and Aubrey had just begun shuffling a stack of papers together when Chloe caught Beca’s eye and yelled out, “Wait there’s one more.”

Chloe smiled hesitantly at Beca who took another deep breath and walked out onto the stage. She gave small smile and wave to Chloe before sitting down directly in front of the two co-captains. Beca hadn’t known she needed to prepare a song, but she knew one that her mom had taught her that she could easily sing on the fly so long as she could actually get herself to sing. She noticed a cup of pens on the desk in front of her and glanced cautious at Aubrey and reached out of it. After a second Aubrey gave a small, confused nod, and Beca grabbed the cup from the table, gently pouring the pens onto its surface in the process.

Beca sat back down against the stage and sighed heavily. She could do this. She knew she could so long as she just kept herself calm. Her therapist always told her that getting past her block was all about reducing anxiety.

She looked up to see Chloe smiling still at her and she felt her shoulders fall a bit as tension released. There was some impatient shuffling echoing towards the back of the auditorium, but Beca chose to drown it all out in exchange for keeping eye contact with Chloe. Those brilliantly blue eyes kept her focused for so long she didn’t even realize when she’d finished the song—nor did she notice the steel-melting glare Aubrey was directing towards her.

Without a word, Aubrey handed an audition application to Beca to fill out, while Chloe excitedly told Beca that she would hear from them by the end of the day and to be prepared—which Beca found cryptic as fuck.

After Beca had left the auditorium, Chloe turned to her girlfriend happily. “See, I told you we would see her again.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit that Chloe was right. Despite her outwardly hostile reaction toward Beca, the girl still intrigued her. After Chloe explained how she’d “stumbled” onto Beca singing in the shower and the girl still wouldn’t talk, Aubrey had pulled out her computer and done two hours worth of research on muteness. Chloe had teased Aubrey that she had a little crush on Beca, but Aubrey had stoically ignored her girlfriend in favor of pouring herself into rehearsal planning for the Bella’s.

“She still doesn’t look the part of a Bella,” Aubrey said not withholding the disdain she felt for Beca’s “alternative” style.

“We can cute her up,” Chloe said smiling. “She’s already tiny so she’s like half way there.”

“Those hideous earrings will have to go,” Aubrey added as she slid a stack of audition forms into her bag.

“Newsflash Aubrey,” Chloe sighed. “Of all the girls we auditioned today, like two of them would have fit the traditional Bella look. We should be looking for good singers. That’s the part that matters.”

Aubrey sighed. Chloe had a point. And at least with Beca, reducing the girl’s eyeliner was most of the battle to make her look like a Bella. But she didn’t like Beca. She didn’t like the way she looked at Chloe and she didn’t like that Beca wore a perpetual smirk like she thought everything around her was just vaguely amusing.

Later that evening found Beca standing in a dark room with a hood over her head, Chloe’s warning echoing through her head. She could hear Aubrey talking about some oath which sounded completely ridiculous to Beca. Who even cared who slept with who, and where was Aubrey going to get these wolves to rip out their vocal cords if they did sleep with a Treble?

When Aubrey’s cult initiation was finished, Beca found herself being ushered back into the van with the other girls and driven to a spot nearby on campus where a party was already violating noise ordinances.

“Welcome to hood night,” Aubrey said as she set the van into park. She glanced back through the review mirror and caught Beca’s eye. Her facial expression was entirely neutral which made Beca uncomfortable. She could already tell the blonde didn’t particularly like her and she had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with the way Beca couldn’t take her eyes off Chloe. It’s not like she meant to do it. Chloe was just the only person in the room that seemed to ground her. Beca knew better than to get attached though so she decided to just avoid Chloe. An idea that Chloe made extremely difficult to follow.

Beca remained off to the side for most of hood night. Acapella people turned out to be a little rowdier than she would have anticipated, and even then, large crowds weren’t Beca’s thing. Chloe had attempted three separate times to get Beca to come down and join the party and each time Beca had shook her head and grimaced. Jesse’s attempts to get her to socialize were just a futile.

He approached her about an hour after she got there, already three shades to the wind, and started talking about their “aca-children.” Beca nearly trip him backwards down the stairs just to get him to shut up, but she smiled to humor him just so that he wouldn’t push the conversation too hard. Of course, he did anyway, and Beca could see Aubrey across the amphitheater glaring at the Treblemaker. Beca found it all highly amusing and decided to play into it a little and smile more at Jesse just to get a rise out of the blonde. She knew she would regret the interaction with Jesse later, but she just didn’t really care right then.

Eventually Jesse got bored of talking and moved back down into the amphitheater to dance with the other aca-people. His retreat was followed quickly by Aubrey’s arrival. The blonde came to stand next to Beca without a word and handed off a red solo cup filled with whatever backwash swill college kids consider beer.

“Parties aren’t your thing,” Aubrey stated after a few moments. Beca shook her head. Never had been and likely never would be.

“Mine either,” Aubrey continued. “But Chloe manages to drag me to a few of them every year.”

Beca watched Aubrey cautiously. She was slightly confused as to why the blonde was even talking to her. Aubrey’s eyes tracked Chloe as she socialized across the party. She never stood in one place to long because there was always someone new to talk to—ever the social butterfly, Chloe couldn’t just leave without meeting everyone.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Aubrey blurted. Beca smiled and laughed a little. She somehow got the feeling that Aubrey wasn’t the type to blurt so Beca’s silence must have really bothered her. “What’s so funny?”

Beca pulled out her phone and gestured for Aubrey to grab hers as well before snatching it from the blonde’s hand and adding her number. She sent herself and then handed the phone back to Aubrey who took the phone cautiously, like Beca had just rigged it to explode.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask mutes about their emotional trauma? Beca sent back trying to keep a straight face.

“Th-that’s not what I meant?” Aubrey burst, and her face flushed red. “I’m sorry. That was so rude. It’s none of my business.”

Dude chill. I was joking.

Aubrey looked up and saw that Beca was smiling at her, the teasing glint evident in her eye. Aubrey scowled but then smiled slightly at the younger woman. “That was mean.”

You should have seen your face though.

Aubrey smacked her on the back of the arm lightly. “Is-is that normally how you talk to people? Through texting?” Aubrey asked. Beca could tell Aubrey had a lot of questions which made her hesitant to respond. But there was also a voice. And the voice in Beca’s mind was usually right so texted her back.

Only when they’re worth the effort. Beca winked at Aubrey when she looked back up from her phone. Aubrey’s blush returned, but she just hummed in response to Beca. She felt like she had already pushed the younger woman for information more than she should have. They just met after all. Aubrey couldn’t just dump all her questions and curiosities off on her the first time they talked. Aubrey was so distracted by her curiosity that she forgot that not twelve hours ago she was glaring holes through Beca’s skull for staring at Chloe.

Beca relaxed next to Aubrey. It seemed like the blonde wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe a little intense, but she was kind of cute when she was flustered. She could see why Chloe liked her if this is what Aubrey was like one-on-one. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out the two were a couple. Beca could just by the way that Aubrey had reacted to her earlier that day.

Hey. I wanna apologize for earlier today. I didn’t know about you and Chloe. I just… I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been able to do that audition with out her.

Aubrey reread the text a couple times. She and Chloe weren’t exactly out on campus so that Beca had figured them out was surprising.

“You’re observant,” Aubrey said quietly. Beca just nodded her head. It was sort of obvious. When you don’t spend your time talking, you spending it listening and watching. Beca had become some what of an expert on body language.

Your secret is safe with me.

Aubrey hummed. “Chloe has a way with people,” she admitted. “She exudes calm while somehow being the most bubbly person in the room. She was able to talk me down from a panic attack less than an hour after we met.”

Beca blinked at the admission. Sure, Aubrey was intense, but Beca had figured that’s just how she was—not that it was side effect of another problem.

I get it. I haven’t sung in front of another person since I was 11… She wasn’t sure why she was telling Aubrey this. Beca didn’t do friends so why was she telling the blonde her tragic backstory. Usually Beca ran before she ever had to become personal. But if Aubrey was surprised at the admission, she didn’t show it.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Aubrey said. Beca wondered briefly if it hurt for her to admit it. “We’re… lucky to have you on our team.”

Flattery will get you everywhere Posen. Aubrey snorted as she read the text, and Beca couldn’t help but think it was cute. They stood together for another fifteen minutes before Aubrey decided to retrieve Chloe who, in the middle of her drunken dancing, had gotten a little too close to some hedges at the edge of the amphitheater and gotten her hair stuck.

Beca felt like she’d made a valiant attempt at “partying” by this time and decided to walk back to her dorm. Other than the nerd party happening behind her, campus was quiet which Beca appreciated immensely.

The following day was the first Bella’s rehearsal. Beca managed to drag her carcass out of bed in time to get to her philosophy class, but by the time she got to rehearsal she felt completely drained. Aubrey didn’t make it any easier on her either. After drop kicking two of the new freshmen, she pushed them into running laps around the rehearsal space. Exercise had never really bothered Beca, but she was so tired that day that when Chloe finally called rehearsal, Beca just dropped to her knees for a few minutes to recover her breath.

Rehearsals continued much the same way for the rest of the week. The other Bellas pushed back some on the cardio, but after exhibiting a glass-shattering high-G that lasted nearly a minute, which she attributed to their excessive cardio, Aubrey was able to hush a majority of the complaints.

Aubrey was a drill sergeant in rehearsals. She was a cold perfectionist with a failure complex, and Beca found herself growing irritated with the blonde each passing day. They learned about Aubrey’s blunder the year previous in their second rehearsal, and Beca couldn’t help but sympathize with Aubrey—they had similar problems that manifested in different ways. But what she couldn’t sympathize with was the grueling four-hour rehearsals that left her hoarse and sore at the end of the night. Beca’s voice wasn’t used to this much exercise and she was really beginning to struggle with the rehearsals.

Aubrey finally realized Beca’s struggle when they got to the second week of rehearsals. She felt bad that she hadn’t noticed it sooner, but Beca had never made any complaints. In fact, of all the girls, Beca was the easiest to work with because she never complained, which, Aubrey conceded, was probably unfair to Beca since she didn’t talk.

“Beca, bring your phone” Aubrey called as she waved Beca over at the end of their sixth rehearsal. Chloe watched them curiously. Beca had not sounded her best that day, and she was worried at what Aubrey was about to do. But instead, what happened left Chloe utterly dumbfounded.

Beca walked over to Aubrey with her head hung slightly, fully expecting to get laid into. Aubrey put two fingers under Beca’s chin to lift her gaze from the floor. “How is your throat?” she asked softly. Beca’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “What? I care,” Aubrey laughed at the astonishment on Beca’s face.

Beca pulled out her cell phone and tapped out a response that Chloe couldn’t see from across the rehearsal space.

“I figured as much,” Aubrey said, nodding at what she read on her phone. Aubrey turned around and ran to her bag a few feet behind her and pulled out a grocery bag. Chloe had wondered what that was earlier today. Aubrey had left it sitting on their kitchen table and Chloe had looked through it just out of curiosity. It contained some pretty typical sore throat remedies—stuff like honey, tea, and lozenges. Aubrey handed the bag straight to Beca. “These should help some. Do you have a humidifier?”

Beca shook her head while Chloe looked on like Aubrey had just picked Beca up off the ground and piledrove her into the concreate. Beca discretely smirked in Chloe’s direction before returning her attention to Aubrey who was talking about the benefits of sleeping with a humidifier.

“I have one from when Chloe had strep throat last year if you want to borrow it?” Aubrey finished. She watched Beca tap out a response and then read her phone. “Okay, I’ll drop it by later tonight. What’s your dorm number?”

Beca sent Aubrey a quick response which caused the blonde to laugh, “You wish, Mitchell.”

The laugh from Aubrey made Beca smile which made Chloe smile as well. They rarely saw a genuine smile come from Beca. It was beautiful—blindingly so to Aubrey who froze when she felt her heart skip a beat. Chloe didn’t miss that reaction, and she frowned slightly.

“So those were for Beca?” Chloe asked when she’d finally left the gymnasium. Aubrey looked a little like a deer in the headlights at being caught.

“Yes,” Aubrey said. “I realized last night that a four-hour rehearsal was more vocal activity than Beca has had in a month. I wanted to be prepared in the event that it became too much for her. Which it did. You heard how her voice cracked today.”

Chloe’s heart softened at the kindness her girlfriend was showing the younger Bella. “Who would have thought, Aubrey Posen, certified softy,” Chloe tried to joke, though the smile didn’t quite seem real to Aubrey. She could see the fear in Chloe’s eyes, and she immediately felt terrible.

“Chloe,” Aubrey said walking over to where her girlfriend stood ready to leave. She reached hand up and brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail during rehearsals. “You know I love you right?”

Chloe nodded and smiled. Of course, she knew Aubrey loved her. “It never hurts to hear you say it,” she whispered and leaned her cheek into the hand that now rested there. Aubrey pressed a sweet kiss against Chloe’s lips and Chloe said a quiet “I love you too” before they pulled apart and left for the night.

Whatever was happening between Aubrey and Beca weighed heavily in Chloe’s mind though. She didn’t even know they had each other’s phone numbers let alone that Beca had active conversations with her girlfriend. She felt sort of left out actually. Chloe was normally the one who made friends first, not Aubrey.

After a few more days, Aubrey could sense the growing fear in Chloe as she spent more of her attention on Beca. It wasn’t on purpose, but Aubrey couldn’t help the feeling of protectiveness she developed for the small Bella. She felt a kinship with Beca over their issues with anxiety, and it was nothing against Chloe, but Aubrey was sure that Chloe had never felt that level of internal conflict. Or, at least, Chloe had never been debilitated by it. And it felt so good to finally have someone in her life that understood it, even if she and Beca never talked about it.

Aubrey didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until she received a text from Beca about “needing her” and Chloe had nearly collapsed into tears when she read it off the blonde’s home screen. Aubrey had spent the next hour reassuring her distraught girlfriend of how much she loved her and that her and Beca were just friends. Obviously, there was more they needed to talk about, but even Chloe knew that for Beca to have texted Aubrey for help, it must have been important. Important enough that Chloe tagged along out of fear for the younger Bella. While Beca hadn’t necessarily opened up to Chloe the way she had with Aubrey, Chloe had still managed to climb her way past a couple of Beca’s walls. The constant physical affection had worn her down embarrassingly quick. But Beca tried not to read too much into it because Chloe was just like that. She was affectionate with everyone. It didn’t stop the butterflies though.

Chloe and Aubrey arrived at Beca’s dorm about an hour and a half after getting her text. Aubrey felt bad that they didn’t leave sooner, but Chloe had needed that time from Aubrey, and as her girlfriend, Chloe was priority number one.

Aubrey knocked on Beca’s door and called out her name. It opened little more than a second later, and Aubrey’s arms were full of a trembling Beca.

“Beca?” Aubrey asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

There was no response from Beca. She wasn’t going to release Aubrey even if her life depended on it. Beca had been having an extremely hard day. It was the anniversary of her mother’s death and she was having a hard time dealing. She’d done her best during rehearsal that evening to hold herself together, but the minute she was alone in her dorm room, it had all come crashing down on her. The loneliness, the doubt, the anxiety. It all hit with the force of a semi-truck.

Aubrey, sensing that it would be some time before Beca calmed enough to be responsive, walked the girl backwards until they could close her dorm room door, and then lifted the girl up onto her bed and climbed up beside her. She curled into Aubrey’s side like she was trying to disappear. Chloe was watching it all with pain in her eyes, but she realized it was the pain of jealousy. It was pain caused by seeing someone you care about in pain. The realization caused something to click in Chloe and she understood Aubrey’s concern for the girl. Even if there were feelings involved, being there for Beca was about just that—being there for a girl who didn’t really have anyone else.

Chloe hopped up onto the bed next to Beca and scooted as close as she could get before dropping a kiss onto Beca’s shoulder. They sat like that for half an hour before Beca stopped shaking and her breath evened out. Aubrey thought she must have fallen asleep until Beca sat up and jumped down off the bed to grab her phone. She tapped out a quick message and both Chloe and Aubrey pulled their phones out when they heard separate dings.

I guess I owe you guys an explanation huh? Beca couldn’t even look at them. She was staring at the floor.

“Sweetheart, you don’t owe us anything,” Chloe was the first to talk. “If you’re upset, we’ll be here for you, no strings attached, no explanations required.”

Beca went to respond, but Aubrey leaned forward and put her hand over the screen after sensing the response she was about to get from Beca. “She’s right, Becs,” Aubrey said. “You don’t owe us anything. We are here because we both care about you—so much,” she added. Aubrey linked eyes with Chloe and at that moment all the confusion they had regarding Beca cleared away, and Aubrey knew they had an understanding about the role Beca held in their life. They would need to talk about it soon, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered right now was making sure that Beca was okay.

“But,” Aubrey continued. “If you want to talk about it, we will listen.”

Beca watched the two girls in front of her. They were having a silent conversation, and something happened between them because Beca watched the clarity that swept across Chloe’s face. It almost felt like the sunshine coming out after rain, and Beca had realized how closed off Chloe had become recently around her. Beca hesitantly reached out and grabbed Chloe’s hand to squeeze it for assurance. Surprised, Chloe met Beca’s eyes then glanced down at their joined hands. Beca had never initiated before. Beca turned her eyes to Aubrey’s and took a deep breath trying to quell the storm in her stomach. It was almost like Chloe was lending her strength, because Beca could feel her voice, ready and pushing to be free. Feeling compelled to speak was a strange feeling for Beca, one she hadn’t felt since her mother was alive.

Beca swallowed heavily. “M-my mom d-died t-today,” she stuttered and pushed her gaze to the floor feeling a blush creep up her neck. Aubrey felt like the wind was knocked out of her at the sound of Beca’s voice. Chloe, still holding Beca’s hand, pulled the girl into a crushing hug and sighed into her shoulder. She didn’t know what to say to the younger woman. She didn’t feel like it really mattered what she would say anyway. It’s not like she knew what Beca was going through. She was so overjoyed at hearing Beca speak that anything she managed to say would probably be inappropriate anyway.

Aubrey made eye contact with Beca over Chloe’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. “For telling us. I know how hard it must have been to share with us.”

Beca knew she wasn’t just talking about her mother, but she just nodded. The compulsion she felt to speak had waned after her utterance, and now she was left to speak silently again.

“Chloe,” Aubrey said sternly. When she didn’t get a response, she tapped her girlfriend on her head. “Let go of the poor girl, she probably needs to breathe.”

With a quiet laugh, Chloe released Beca and leaned back. There were tears in her eyes and she wiped at them quickly. “Sorry.” She smiled. “I’m a crier.”

“Somehow, I don’t think she’s surprised,” Aubrey said smiling at Beca who shook her head and tentatively returned the smile.

“Are you okay?” Aubrey asked watching the maelstrom of emotions that was swirling behind Beca’s eyes.

I think so. The response popped up on Aubrey and Chloe’s phones.

“Do you want us to stay?” Chloe asked. She could see the hesitation in Beca’s eyes. “We would like to stay anyway. We would be too worried to go home now…”

The admission seemed to surprise Beca, but she didn’t question it after seeing the sincerity in Chloe’s eyes and the barely-there nod from Aubrey.

Beca grabbed her laptop and shuffled back onto the bed. She tried to sit beside Chloe to avoid being between the couple, but Chloe promptly pulled Beca over her lap and back between her and Aubrey. Beca flushed a little bit, but didn’t argue. She opened the laptop and pulled up her Netflix account before typing into a note on the side of the screen asking what they wanted to watch. They spent the night huddled together on the twin-sized bed watching some reality tv show that Aubrey and Chloe insisted that Beca needed to see. At around midnight, both girls noticed that Beca seemed to have passed out between them, leaning heavily against Chloe, leaving them to stew in their thoughts together.

“What do you think this means?” Chloe was the first to break the silence. Aubrey just looked at her waiting for her to continue. “I mean, she spoke today Bree! That’s got to mean something right?”

“I think she trusts us,” Aubrey said quietly as she examined Beca’s face. The brunette was peaceful right now. There were no worry lines or smirks, she was just relaxed. Chloe nodded, another question on the tip of her tongue.

“What does this mean for us?” Chloe’s eyes avoided Aubrey’s, instead choosing to exam one of Kimmy Jin’s posters on the far wall. When Aubrey didn’t answer, she returned her gaze to the blonde and raised an eyebrow. Aubrey’s face was soft as she looked at Beca. Chloe could clearly see the love in her eyes, but this time she didn’t feel jealous.

“It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want it to,” Aubrey said locking her gaze onto Chloe’s.

Chloe sighed. That didn’t really help her figure out what was going on. “You’re going to fall in love with her, Bree.”

“I already love you,” she said without missing a beat. “What about you? I’ve seen how you look at her Chlo. You get all gooey, just like you do with me.”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. She passed a hand through Beca’s hair, and the girl hummed in her sleep causing both women to smile. They met eyes over her head and Chloe nodded. “I guess yeah, I could see myself falling for her. But she doesn’t need me the way she needs you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Aubrey said gesturing to Beca’s hand which had fisted Chloe’s t-shirt. In fact, Beca was only a limb movement or two away from full on koala hugging Chloe, and it made Aubrey laugh.

“So, what do we do?” Chloe asked as she laid her hand over Beca’s on her stomach. “I love you Aubrey. Nothing, no one, is ever going to change that. I’ve always planned on marrying you and spending the rest of our lives together.”

Aubrey smiled and leaned over Beca to press a kiss to Chloe’s forehead. “Nothing is going to change that,” Aubrey agreed.

“Are we willing to go for it then?” Chloe asked.

“Maybe we should clarify what you mean by go for it first?” Aubrey said, ever the thinker.

“Like, do we tell Beca that we’re sorta falling in love with her?” Chloe clarified.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Aubrey said. Her eyes were cast down and her shoulders sank as she said it. “Every time you looked at me like I was betraying you for Beca, killed me a little. I never meant to. I just have this feeling,” Aubrey said and paused. “It’s like—”

“You want to protect her,” Chloe finished. “You care about her Aubrey. It’s okay. I care about her too… I think we should just do it.”

Aubrey looked at her, not quite sure if Chloe was serious.

“I don’t want to live my life wondering Bree,” Chloe said. “If this could be something, I want to know it. And then, if it doesn’t work, we will still have each other.”

Aubrey nodded. “Okay..”

“Really?” Chloe’s face broke out into a grin and she had to keep from squealing quietly, afraid of waking the sleeping Bella. Aubrey nodded again with a smile. Chloe’s own was infectious.

The two women did their best to readjust themselves so that they all could sleep laying down on Beca’s single bed. At this point, there was no way they were leaving the younger woman alone—not that Beca would let them. The second Chloe had tried to move, Beca’s other hand caught her shirt in an equally tight grip. It was honestly the cutest thing either of them had ever seen. But it made things a little more difficult for Chloe to lay down. She took it in stride though. Eventually she was able to maneuver herself and Beca around so that she could lay straight back pull Beca onto her chest leaving enough room for Aubrey to sleep beside them. Neither of them even thought to wonder where Beca’s roommate was.

The next morning Beca woke sweating from the amount of heat surrounding her. She tried to sit up only to be caught by an arm pulling her back down. Aubrey it seemed had pulled Beca off of Chloe in her sleep and now the three were spooning with Beca in the middle. Aubrey mumbled something about it being too early and Beca glanced behind her to see that her alarm clock read 9AM.

She groaned. Her dad was going to kill her for missing class again, but the thought was soon forgotten when Aubrey pulled Beca even tighter against her and laid a sleepy kiss on her forehead. Beca blushed brightly and was thankful that neither girl was awake to witness her struggle.

After a couple more minutes of trying to escape Aubrey’s grasp, Beca gave up and settled in to wait until the girls work up. Chloe was the first one to stir about twenty minutes later. She turned in her sleep to see Beca pouting slightly at her and she had to keep from laughing at her.

“Aubrey has a death grip in the morning,” Chloe whispered. Beca rolled her eyes like that was the most obvious thing Chloe had ever said. Aubrey moved slightly in her sleep and Beca’s eyes went wide as she glanced down slightly. This time Chloe really did laugh. Aubrey had managed to slip her hand under Beca’s shirt and was resting against her stomach, just over her belly button.

“Alright Aubrey,” Chloe finally said, full volume. “Time to let poor Beca go. You’re going to give her an aneurism if you keep this up.”

Aubrey’s mouth formed a smile as she opened her eyes. She’d been awake most of the last ten or so minutes having woken during Beca’s last attempt to get away. “Sorry,” she whispered. Beca shot her a glare. Aubrey wasn’t sorry at all and grinned.

Aubrey released Beca, despite wanting to lay there forever, and sat up to run her hands through her hair. Beca jumped around Aubrey and off of the bed. She grabbed her phone before stumbling out of the room. Chloe raised her eyebrows after Beca, but turned her attention to her phone when she heard it ping.

Had to pee.

Chloe laughed. “She’ll be right back.”

“Remind me not to sleep in jeans again,” Aubrey said as she slid off the bed. Lines dented the skin across her stomach and she rubbed them with a frown.

A minute or so later Beca stepped back into the room with a small smile on her face. She scratched the back of her head before looking up at the two women who had spent the night in her bed.

Sorry you guys had to sleep on my tiny bed.

“No problem, Becs,” Chloe said practically bouncing on the mattress. “We wanted to be here.”

“Actually,” Aubrey said, eyeing Chloe on the bed and the way Beca seemed particularly fascinated with the floor. “We kind of want to talk to you.”

Terror flashed across Beca’s face and she started to type a message onto her phone. Aubrey let her finish and glanced at it before facing Beca.

“It’s nothing bad,” Aubrey said and reached out to grab her hand. “I promise. In fact, hopefully, it’ll be something pretty great.”

Beca raised an eyebrow first at Aubrey and then to Chloe, hoping she would explain.

“It’s good,” Chloe said reaching out to grab Beca’s hands from Aubrey’s. Beca nodded slowly, allowing Chloe to pull her up onto the bed. Aubrey grabbed her desk chair and pushed in front of Beca before taking a seat.

Aubrey cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of herself. “Chloe and I,” she said glancing over to her girlfriend. “Realized something yesterday, or last night rather. We know this may seem like a shock, but you’ve come to mean a lot to us in the last three weeks.”

“Like a lot, a lot,” Chloe added. Aubrey smirked because she knew the redhead was trying so hard to keep herself from bouncing next to Beca. Then she nodded and returned to Beca’s gaze.

“You know we’re together,” Aubrey stated and Beca nodded her head. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re pretty much the only person who does know,” Aubrey added. “And we were wondering how you feel about us?” Each word Aubrey spoke was long and drawn out and Chloe almost felt the need to smack the back of her head to shake the words out.

Beca tilted her head back with a sigh. She hoped they would never bring this up. She was embarrassed. She shouldn’t have feelings for one woman in a relationship, let alone two.

“Becs, just be honest with us,” Chloe said tipping Beca’s head down to meet her eyes. After a second of eye contact with Chloe, Beca reached for her phone and typed out a haste message.

I’m sorry. I never meant to feel anything for either of you. I mean, I barely know you. What kind of crazy person falls for two women in a relationship with each other?

Aubrey quirked her lips as she read the message. This could work. They had a chance. “Beca,” Aubrey said. “We don’t want you to feel guilty about anything. We wanted to know because we genuinely care about you.”

“Like, care, about you,” Chloe tried to clarify, but only succeeded in making Beca more confused.

“What she means to say,” Aubrey said after sending a sharp look Chloe’s way. “Is that we both have feelings for you—romantic feelings.”

Beca let out a heavy breath and her eyes widened as she looked at Aubrey. She wasn’t serious right? Like, that wasn’t a thing—that couldn’t be a thing could it? She breathed deeply trying to calm her over-excited heart. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears and she almost felt a little faint, but then Aubrey was there in front of her holding Beca’s hand to her chest and she felt her breaths slowing down. She gave an apologetic grimace to Aubrey as she pulled away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Aubrey said. “We did kind of just spring this on you with no warning. We’ve had a little time to get used to the idea.”

What does it even mean if you BOTH have feelings for me? Beca typed.

“Well,” Chloe said, taking the lead and speaking a little clearer this time. “We were hoping you might like to try dating us.”

“Both of us,” Aubrey added point between them. “But we would still be dating each other as well.”

Like a three-way.

Chloe smirked and opened her mouth to say what Aubrey anticipated as a lewd comment so jumped in ahead of her.

“Yes,” she explained. “We would all be dating each other. We would make up ground rules and communicate to make sure that no one feels left out or jealous, of course.”

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Aubrey continued. “If you need time to think about it, we understand.”

Beca nodded her head. I don’t think I need time.

“Oh…” Aubrey said. Disappointment marred her facial expression as she assumed the worst.

Ask me again.

“What?” Aubrey said, staring at her phone.

Ask me again. She repeated.

“Beca,” Chloe said hopefully, catching Beca’s blue eyes with her own. “Will you be ours?”

“Okay,” she said.

#pitch perfect #triple treble

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tartxglia · 5 years ago

Text

Body Shots // Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x Reader Genre: Smut Requested: Kind of? Words: 3.2k+ Warnings: Body shots but not full smut

The wooden front door does a surprisingly good job of muffling the sounds of the party going on inside the dorm. You can hear the upbeat melody of the beginnings of I Like It all the way from the lift down the hallway, feel the faint bass of it vibrating the floor as you step in front of the door. You don't bother ringing the doorbell, much less even knocking, and just move to open the door.

Immediately you're hit with Cardi B's fourth verse in the song, you know for sure because she raps 'They call me Cardi Bardi, banging body'. The song is much louder now that it's no longer muffled, and the bass travels throughout your whole body, especially your chest. The Stray Kids dorm is dimly lit, the projector otherwise used to watch movies now projecting light onto a disco ball for party vibes. The boys were celebrating the end of their first world tour, and they chose to invite a few close friends and host a small party in their dorm.

Off in the living room, you see a small crowd, and you can only assume it forms around Hyunjin who might be performing his choreography for this song. Just as you're closing the door and taking your shoes off, you're greeted by Jeongin who walks out the kitchen with a drink in his hand.

"Noona!" His smile makes you soft inside and you find yourself automatically smiling back.

"Jeongin, you get cuter every day." You ruffle his hair in affection before engulfing him into a tight hug. When you withdraw, you eye the cup in his hand.

"That's not alcohol, I hope," you tease the cute boy. His eyes widen and he stutters, looking like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm kidding, you can do whatever you want Jeongin-ie."

He breathes a mock sigh of relief before regaining his smile, then he's pulling you towards the living room. "We were wondering where you were, Hyunjin hasn't stopped whining." You chuckle at his commentary, having no doubts that your best friend and fellow SOPA classmate–now graduate–would behave like that.

"Oh and," he leans a bit closer now as if preparing to tell you a secret, "Felix was secretly hoping around about it too." This time he chuckles as he sees the red flush of your cheeks even in the dim lighting. There was always something going on between you and Felix, it had just never...been touched on. Or even brought to light for that matter.

Now that you were lead closer to the living room, you confirm your suspicions that it was Hyunjin who was gathering everyone's attention.

Told that bitch I'm sorry though,

He's dancing to the pre-chorus of the song, his moves both sharp and fluid and easily attracting the gaze of any onlooker with how beautifully he executes the dance moves.

‘Bout my coins like Mario,

You put your shoulder bag down onto the closest flat surface, pulling your phone out of your pocket and sliding it next to your bag.

Yeah, they call me Cardi B,

You push up the sleeves of your loose oversized sweater and tug down the ends of your leather skirt for the last time before jumping in next to Hyunjin.

"I run this shit like cardio!"

Your shout jars Hyunjin a bit, and he turns shocked to see you dancing along next to him but his body continues the choreography unconsciously. You move in sync with him, the dance moves encoded within the tiniest molecules of your body and executed without hesitation nor active thinking on your part. The two of you enjoy each other’s presence–the dance a form of greeting towards the other–and basking in the deafening cheers of the crowd around you.

Your duet with Hyunjin is smooth despite its spontaneous nature, the two of you had danced together a countless number of times and the charismatic energy between you is the result of it. You interact with each other as you dance, smiling or winking, and weaving the other into your freestyle sections of the dance. All too soon, the choreography is over once the chorus finishes, and Hyunjin and you exchange a high-five and a side hug.

“L/N Y/N, can you ever make a normal entrance?” Hyunjin has you still trapped under his arm as he questions you. The two of you laughing as he leads you towards some of his members.

“Y/N wouldn’t be Y/N if she did that, now would she?” Jisung answers for you, meeting you and Hyunjin halfway with two cups in his hand. He extends one for you and you take a sip, accepting the non-alcoholic soda.

“What? You boys got no alcohol?” You tease him and the two other members standing beside him; Felix and Minho, wondering how they were planning to survive the night without any alcohol.

“The alcohol comes out later babe,” Jisung replies, sending a wink and a flying kiss your way and you can only laugh at his actions.

“Yah, you ever stop flirting?” Felix is quick to jump to your defense and your heart does a little thing when you finally face him. He’s wearing matte leather pants and a thin black full-sleeve crewneck that’s tucked inside. His blonde hair is parted somewhere down the middle in a messy comma style look, beautifully framing his sharp face. He finishes the look with his accessories; a long thin chain necklace with a small pendant, and his metal dreamcatcher earring on his left ear–your favourite. Okay, now your heart was doing more than just a little thing.

“Yah, when did you make plans for a couple outfit with Y/N?” Minho is quick to jump into the conversation, snatching up the opportunity to fluster both you and Felix. He teasingly nudges Felix beside him with his elbow as the group looks at you, in your matte leather skirt and oversized knitted sweater, and Felix, in his matte leather pants and black crewneck.

Felix is flushed and a stuttering mess, and you’re not in a much better state under Hyunjin’s arm as he squeezes you closer and makes teasing noises. You groan and cover your face with your hands, only causing Hyunjin, Minho, and Jisung to laugh harder. Through the thin gaps between your fingers, your eyes peak through to easily find Felix, gauging his reaction to this whole situation. Your eyes meet to see that he was already looking at you, and he sends you a cute sheepish grin–eyes sparkling, cheeks puffed full and all–and you send one back, both your hearts fluttering.

It was past midnight and the party was still going on. Time really flew by as you danced some pre-debut songs with Minho, chatted with Jeongin about his last school year, and debated about the Marvel Universe with some of the other boys. They had long since ordered takeout–which was gone in the blink of an eye especially with Chan inhaling all the food in his field of vision–and were now left with the dilemma of to order or not to order supper.

Someone brought up the idea of chimaek and many of you agreed, especially since the younger members had called it a night when the clock struck 2AM. So here you were, sitting in a circle on the floor with Chan, Minho, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix playing a game of dirty truth or dare–an idea brought to light after a good bunch of you were at the very least tipsy. So far, you had been playing it safe with truths, saving the dare until you felt you were confident enough (with alcohol in your system of course). You thanked the lord for not getting any terribly embarrassing truths yet, god knows how many of the boys already know about your crush on Felix.

“Okay! Okay!” Jisung is slurring his words a bit but he’s not gone just yet, “Next player!” Then he’s spinning the bottle, all six of you watching in anticipation until it finally comes to a stop facing Chan. Now everyone is watching Chan as Jisung presents him the options; truth or dare?

“Dare.” His voice is firm as he speaks and you wonder whether the confidence is coming from the alcohol in his system. Jisung pulls up the dare deck, splaying our the cards in front of Chan and allowing him to randomly draw one.

“Take off your pants and show your boxers to everyone,” Chan reads out and the five of you whoop and holler causing Chan to chuckle, “and let the person in front of you decide whether you keep it off or not.”

“I’ll say it now, you have to keep them off.” Minho is assertive with his decision, only causing all of you to laugh at the situation Chan is in. He groans and throws his head back, leaning on his two hands resting behind him and unraveling his legs from the criss-cross position.

Chan breathes out a sigh as he gets up, his hands finding the waistband of the black cargo buckle pants he wore. A part of you was already enjoying the sight of Chan in that, but you let him continue, cheering him on with the rest of the guys. Chan’s eyes meet yours for a second, a light flush on his cheeks as he realizes you’re the only girl in the group but he keeps going as he tugs his pants down then finally off. He throws his arms up wide, a somewhat prideful and somewhat embarrassed look on his face, taking in the now louder hooting and hollers as he stood in his black boxers.

“Yah, don’t enjoy the view too much Y/N,” Hyunjin voices out loud, teasing you and you raise your hand in surrender trying your best not to focus on the bottom half of Chan. He sits back down and takes the bottle, spinning it on the floor, the sound of glass on wood slowly dying down as it stops to...you.

Fuck.

The boys are cheering, a couple drumming the floor in excitement before Chan turns himself to face you, ready to ask “Truth or Dare?”

“Y/N hasn’t done any dares so far,” Minho outs you in front of everybody, you face him with your jaw dropped and a look of betrayal.

“You gotta do dare Y/N, we’ve been playing for half an hour already!” Jisung exclaims from beside Minho. He starts up a small chant, chanting ‘dare’ continuously and you give in. You were gonna go for it anyway.

“Okay, dare. Hit me.” You smirk back, facing chan who grabs the dare pile and extends it towards you. You stretch out with your hand to reach the pile, ending up on your knees in a crawling position and you don’t miss the sweeping glance Felix gives your figure.

Once you’ve pulled a card out, you sit back down on your ankles, reading the written dare out loud, “Body shots on the person sitting to your left.”

God if you thought the boys were loud before, they were pushing it now; hollering, cheering, and whooping at the fact that you had to do body shots on Lee Felix. Your eyes slide over to him sitting beside you and he’s laughing along with the boys, feeling fewer inhibitions thanks to the alcohol running in his veins. By the time you’re facing the other boys, you see Minho sliding back down with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a shot glass in the other, and Jisung flashing you the salt container in his hand and the innocent smile on his face. Hyunjin walks in later with a sliced piece of lime in his hand.

“Are you...okay with this?” You turn to face Felix, questioning if you had his consent first.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” a soothing smile stretches on his face and you melt, wondering how you could do body shots on this adorable guy in front of you.

“Okay lovebirds, prepare yourselves. Romeo, lie on the couch.” Chan directs Felix and he’s quick to do as he’s told, unquestioning the choice of nicknames. “Y/N, you wanna do the honours?”

All of a sudden, it’s like the alcohol in your system pooled together to give you a final boost of confidence. You stretch out your hand in Minho’s direction, asking for the bottle of tequila and he and the others quickly pass you everything you need for a shot. The boys cheer you on as you unscrew the bottle, pouring the tequila into the shot glass. You take the shot first, feeling you’d need all the confidence you’d get, then pour another one.

“Okay boys,” you lift the full shot glass, facing the boys with a smirk on your face. “Where does this shot glass go?”

“Chan?” Jisung questions, letting the guy who spun the bottle decide.

Chan exchanges a sly gaze with Minho, his eyes finding Felix and smirking as he voices out, “Gotta be between the thighs.” The boys are screaming, squealing, hollering–you name it. For a moment you lose your confidence, but you don’t let it show. Instead, shrugging as you turn to face Felix sitting on the black leather couch waiting for you.

The smirk is still on your face as you stand up and walk towards Felix. For the sake of your dignity, you choose to try your best to ignore the four boys sitting behind you and watching the show. When you’re standing in front of him, you reach forward, your hand pushing Felix’s shoulder so he lays down on the couch. From behind you hear the boys squeal, but the sound is distant at this point as your eyes focus on Felix, the two of you in your own bubble.

He reciprocates your smirk with his own, laying down as you commanded him to and getting comfortable. You kneel down beside him on the floor as your hands go to the hem of his crewneck and pause. With your gaze, you ask for his permission and when he nods to let you continue, you begin to roll up his top. Your hand brushes the skin of his abdomen as you push his sweater up to his chest. The light tingling making his abs clench and unclench, your eyes feasting in the sight before you.

Fuck, you take back what you said about Felix being adorable. He was hot too. Who knew he was hiding such a gorgeous sight under his clothes? Without you realizing, your fingers trail the ridges of his abdomen. Tracing the three horizontal ab lines–you counted–and watching your finger dip up and down accordingly. Then, your finger reaches the main center ridge and you pause.

Your eyes look up to find Felix’s and you hold his gaze as you drop your face down close to his abs. Your tongue touches the bottom of the ridge, and you watch as Felix hisses, feel his abs clench beneath your tongue. You drag your tongue up, licking the middle line of his abs and tingling feeling between your thighs intensifies at the taste of him.

The moment feels like it stretches forever, but it’s only a matter of a few seconds and you withdraw your head. Your hand reaches for the salt sitting beside you and you shake out the salt onto the long path you’d just licked. You probably didn’t need to lick his abs to have the salt stick on him, especially considering how deep his ab lines were, but you did it anyway and you had no regrets.

You put the salt back down and grab the shot glass. Your hand taps the inside of his thigh, telling him to lightly spread his legs and you can slide the glass in the gap between. The glass sits a little below his crotch and you’re not surprised to find a tent in his pants. If anything, you make sure to graze his crotch as you withdraw your hand, serving to further tease him and enjoying the way he groaned your name.

You giggle as you move to his face, your own hovering above his and you slip the slice of lime into his mouth. You give him a quick wink and then duck your head back down.

You don’t hold eye contact with Felix this time as you lick his abs again, licking the salt you’d previously poured on him. You enjoy the strangled moan that leaves his lips, loving the feeling of his abs clenching from the sensation of you licking him. As soon as you’ve licked up all the salt, you travel down, your head facing his crotch area. Your mouth dips down and grabs the shot glass between his thighs, your lips teasingly grazing his thighs and the tent in his pants. You pull the glass out, using your hand to help drink your shot before putting it down somewhere on the floor. You swallow the drink in your mouth then seal your lips over his, sucking on the lime that he holds between his teeth.

You pull back with the lime now in your mouth, the sound of the boys wolf whistling and cheering finally coming to your attention. But you only pull back to chuck the lime somewhere out of the way before you lean back down and kiss Felix, properly this time. Your hands are on either side of his head on the leather couch, supporting your weight, and your lips dance with his. Your head is spinning, your heart is thundering but you keep kissing. At some point Felix holds your wrist, tugging you towards him and pulling you to straddle him on the couch.

He reciprocates the kiss with a fiery intensity that you felt you’d never get enough of. His tongue slips inside your mouth and the two of you are making out. In his dorm. In front of four of his members. But he doesn’t care and neither do you, instead only focusing on the lingering taste of tequila in your mouth. His lips feel hot on yours, his tongue dancing with yours inside your mouth and you’d kiss him forever if you could. Sitting on his lap, his one hand on your hips, the other pulling you down closer to him.

But the moment is quickly interrupted by Chan, arguably the most mature in this situation who calls out loud enough to break the two of you up. You pull away from Felix, your lips already missing the feeling of him, but you realize the situation and cringe in embarrassment.

You groan and try your best to hide, burying into Felix’s chest which only rumbles in laughter like the four other boys behind you. He sits up with you still cradled on his lap. His arm is wrapped around your waist and holding you to him, using your body to help hide the situation he now has in his pants.

When you finally pull your head up, the boys are beginning to pack up and call it a night. Each helping to straighten out the living room a bit before dispersing into their rooms. You finally turn to face Felix, pushing away the shyness that is taking over you now. For a moment you’re content just staring at him, his eyes telling you everything you’d need to know, answering all the questions you had for him. Just as you go to finally say something, you’re interrupted by Chan’s muffled voice drifting away as he walks down the hall.

“Your night’s probably not over but try to keep it down! And use protection!”

A/N: rip if my body shot and kiss scenes are a bit awks ;-;

#zyawrites #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids felix x reader #stray kids lee felix x reader #skz felix x reader #skz lee felix x reader #body shots #lee felix #felix lee #stray kids smut #stray kids felix smut #stray kids lee felix smut #skz smut #skz felix smut #skz lee felix smut

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seasinkarnadine · 5 years ago

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42 catradora

42. I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having

B: “So tell me about yourself.” His words appear in bold white text across the phone screen set in front of him. There are a few errors, but the live transcribe app he’s downloaded manages a better job than many others she’s had to experience. (A: This isn’t a date.) She texts rapidly, because she is not giving him a modicum of hope in that department. She hits send and looks up at him expectantly. There’s a sort of deer in the headlights expression on his face for a few moments before his phone catches his attention. He reads over her message before turning back to her and smiling. B: “I know.” The words appear in a scroll, sometimes scrubbing back to self correct. “I want to get to know you better." (A: What do you want to know?) B: “Were you born deaf? Do you have any siblings? How long were you a police officer?” (A: No, I could hear until I was 13. That's why I can speak and still mostly be understood. I remember what the sounds are like. I still remember how I sound.) She reaches for her coffee mug and takes a sip. It's delightfully hot. That's about all she can say though; Barre put in too much milk and sugar. She wonders if Catra would make it the same way. B: “Do you miss it?” (A: Miss what? ) B: “Hearing.” She thinks of Catra throwing her head back and laughing. (A: Sometimes.) (A: What is your first name, anyway?) She's only a little embarrassed that she hasn't asked sooner. B: “Rock no. Rock Oh. R O C C O, Rocco. Rock O. Barre. R O C C O Barre.” A waitress stops by to ask if everything is to their liking (at least Adora assumes so; it's hard to read her lips in the dim light of the cafe), and then moves on. At least it's nice and warm inside. A sudden storm has washed over the city and the windows of the shop weep with rain. B: “So, do you have a boyfriend?” A: (No. I’m gay.) Hasn’t she told him this before? B: “Girlfriend, then?” She almost says yes, if only to get him to stop asking. Instead, she takes a sip of her sickeningly sweet coffee. (A: Were you born in the city?) She asks him, because she feels like she should at least put in some kind of effort. B: “No, just outside of it. Most of my family is still out there, though. Are you deaf? Because of the white fever?” (A: Yeah.) B: “How did your parents take that?” (A: I never knew my parents.) B: “That’s unusual or maybe not that unusual--I mean what do I know really. Were you in a foster home or something?” (A:I was adopted by this older woman named Razz. She took care of me.) B: “Did she already know ESL? Or did she learn when you lost your hearing?” (A: We learned together.) Adora bites the inside of her cheek. It’s been too long since she went to visit Razz’s grave. B: “That’s great, though, I mean, that you had someone to do that with--hey! Teach me how to sign my name?” “B-A-R-R-E.” She signs. B: “Wait, I missed it--again?” And because it seems like he is genuinely interested and not simply trying to be polite, she walks him through each of the letters. It takes him a few tries, and he’s painfully slow, but no more than any other person first learning their signs, and the way he grins with pride at the end makes it worth it. (A: You’ll be fluent in no time.) She texts. B: “It’s great to learn new languages. I mean I only know the one really but I have this one uncle who knows like 10. He is a doctor. He didn’t used to know as many but when the White Fever happened there were a lot of patients who didn’t speak the same language because I guess some of the hybrids have a language entirely of their own or something? So he decided to learn some. Did you know that they were the primary like uh what’s the word uh carriers for the first wave? If it weren't for them. We could have contained it so much faster more them died, right. A friend of mine told me it’s beat they're not clean.” The way it was taught to her in school, the hybrids were largely responsible for the initial spread of the Fever. Some scientists posited that it was because most hybrids don’t take showers or bathe in the same way that humans do, but there’s never been any real substantial evidence one way or another. Nevertheless, the rumor started that hybrids are inherently dirty, and it’s been a reputation they haven’t been able to shake. They are filthy. They’re flea-bitten. They carry diseases. But. Adora remembers watching the painstaking hours Catra spent brushing through her fur. She remembers Catra, back split open, trying to peel off the dirty sheets of her bed. She remembers her trying to wash the dishes with her knuckles cracked. (A: Not all hybrids are dirty.) Adora texts. It feels weak. B: “Uh I’m sure they’re not, not all of them, but still enough. And I mean they’re behind this gang war, too, right I mean they’re very violent. My uncle he. My other uncle I mean not the same one who was a doctor. This uncle was carjacked a few weeks ago by some hybrids can you believe that? I mean I don’t blame the cops I know you guys are doing the best you can, right, with the resources that you do have after all but it’s hard because there sure are a lot of them they kinda breed like rabbits don’t they? My dad’s friend told me that for every human baby born there are two hybrid babies born.” It’s at that moment that Catra walks through the door. She’s wearing a heavy jacket with the hood up and Adora does not think she has ever been more beautiful. Adora waves frantically, ignoring the way that Barre turns his head. “Fancy meeting you here.” Catra signs from across the room.Catra removes her coat and shakes rain water out of her shaggy mane. She’s wearing fishnets beneath her ripped jeans and her hands are adorned with fingerless gloves. Her yellow-blue gaze flickers to Barre and back. “In need of some rescuing, princess?” B: “Oh, uh hi uh are you a friend of Adora’s?” He’s turned in his chair and is holding out his hand in greeting. Somehow it still feels like he’s looking down his nose. Catra stands across from where Adora’s seated and for a moment there’s this open, unguarded expression of longing. Adora’s still trying to determine if she’s actually seeing it or if she’s projecting when Catra blinks and the shutters come down once more. Her face is a mask. She sits down on the arm of a plush red chair immediately adjacent to Barre. B: “Hey...is everything alright?” He asks, brows knitting together. “What are you doing with this joker?” Catra signs, expression completely impassive. “I owed him a favor.” She admits. “Is this a date?” Catra raises her eyebrows. Something like a smirk curls her lips. Oh no. “This is not a date.” She cannot have Catra thinking she’s on a date with someone. “Does HE know that?” She asks, eyes firmly on Adora even as she jabs a clawed thumb in Barre’s direction. B: “Adora is she bothering you?” (A: Barre, this is my friend—) but before she manages to hit send she sees new text has appeared in white on Barre’s phone. “I’m her girlfriend.” Catra sits on the arm of the chair, calm as can be, like she hasn’t just dropped this bomb in the middle of the cafe. B: “Oh.” Barre says. Then, “OH,” his eyes go wide. B: “I’m--I’m Rocco Barre, from work, with Adora, I mean I work with Adora, this is just coffee between friends--but I’m sure you know that, because you’re dating and you probably talk about all that sort of stuff,” he rambles. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed. He holds out his hand again, as well. B: “I am sure you are perfectly clean and very hygienic. I mean you came in out of the rain so you know, you had a shower already today!” “Has this guy lost his fucking mind?” A smile curls at the edge of Catra’s lips. There’s something less...sour, about it this time. “I wouldn’t say he’s crazy, but he’s definitely an idiot.” “I hate him.” “Okay he’s not THAT bad. Be nice.” “He called me dirty.” “Like I said. He’s an idiot. Hang on—” Adora starts to type up a message on her phone, because she knows what it’s like for people to make false assumptions about you. A: “Some hybrids use combs and brushes for their fur instead of taking showers, because they don’t sweat the same way that we do.” She looks up from the message she’s typing to see that Barre is trying to talk to Catra. Keyword, trying. She looks to be completely ignoring him, apart from the occasional reflexive ear twitch. He turns his attention when his phone (presumably) pings, notifying him of the message she sent. B: “Oh! I mean wait really is that really. Some of them clean themselves like. Wait. So they don’t sweat spike we do?” “Would it be easier if I translated?” Catra wonders out loud, signing as she speaks. “Your device is...a little inaccurate.” She reaches forward with a claw and taps at the screen of Barre’s phone. He frowns for a moment, then looks to Adora. B: “I mean I guess so what harm could do right Adora?” From the look on Catra’s face, quite a bit. But how can she say no? She shrugs. B: “Sorry you are the first deaf person hive really talk to to so this is very new to me” “You’re the first deaf person I’ve met so this is new to me.” Catra translates. Adora admits it’s much easier to look at her than squint at the text on Barre’s phone. “A lot about this whole experience is new to me, actually. The two of you make for an unusual couple.” Barre states and Catra signs. He keeps looking at her while he’s speaking. It’s awkward because Catra’s sitting immediately next to him so he’s constantly craning his neck. “How long have you known each other?” “We met yesterday. We’re getting married tomorrow.” Catra responds curtly and Adora kicks her shin. “I asked you to be nice!” “How can I be nice to someone who looks like what this guy looks like?” Which isn’t an answer at all really and yet somehow exactly what Adora expected. Barre speaks up again. “I am sure that the wedding will be very beautiful.” Catra translates.. Adora can’t tell if he is joking or not. “We’re not actually getting married.” “Ohhh.” His left leg bounces up and down and he considers this new information. Two seconds of this and Catra apparently loses interest, reaching over to Adora’s coffee. She cradles it in her palms for a moment before taking a sip. “This isn’t how you take your coffee.” She scowls. B: “What are you smiling at?” Barre asks, and Adora blinks a few times to shake away the feeling of warmth in her chest. (A: “Something silly Catra said.) “How do you know that’s not how I take my coffee?” She asks Catra, who is still holding her mug. “Well for starters, it’s consumable.” “Why did you drink it if you know you hate how I take my coffee?” Catra just shrugs, and Adora rolls her eyes. “Also are you going to translate or not?” “You are such a needy girlfriend.” Catra rolls her eyes. Adora tries her best to push back the feelings of warmth and affection that swell in her chest. “What were you two talking about?” Barre asks through Catra. “How she needs to get her hands off of my coffee.” Adora answers. B: “Those are the consequences of being in a relationship though haha you share your coffee!” Even though Catra is translating, Barre’s phone is still out. Which is good because what Catra says next has nothing to do with coffee. “He says that you should give me whatever I want and that also I’m going to take you home and push you against a stall and kiss the fuck out of you.” Heat immediately rushes to her face. “I--I’m—” she stutters out loud. C: “Oh would you look at the time! I just realized that there’s somewhere we need to be. Thanks so much for this--whatever your name is. Bye!” Catra’s words appear on Barre’s phone in time with the grin on her face. B: “Aw this too bad. Thanks for coming! We have to do this again sometime. Catch Ah can come too. Have a good—” day! At least that’s what she assumes he says. Catra grabs Adora’s shirt collar and tugs her away before she can finish reading. “Bye! Thanks!” She squeaks, helpless to do anything but follow Catra . She’s never been happier to step out into a rainstorm.

#she ra #spop #ask #technoskittles #ask game #42 #drabble #original #original content

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franklyshipping · 5 years ago

Text

Day 9 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

Day number nine here we are! Now let's say hi to the sweetest, cutest tickler on the planet! LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @googlee-green @ericleederekson and @erik-lee-derekson

Now, gift-giving is all well and good….but I think we can all agree that there’s a certain thrill and extra joy when it comes to secret gift-giving. You get the thrill of seeing someone open your gift and see their reaction without them having any pre-dispositions or inclinations to pretend to like it so you don’t feel bad….plus, seeing the joy on someone’s face when they get a surprise gift is so beautiful. Also, specifically for the egos, seeing Gooper in a little remote powered sleigh delivering all the presents around was just too adorable.

Here he came now, zooming along and having the absolute time of his life, honestly I’m a little jealous. He was wrapped in cotton wool and had a mini knitted Santa hat on top of him as he zoomed into one of the living rooms, ringing a little bell on his sleigh as he squealed and yipped, so he could get the attention of the person he was delivering to next. Today, it was Eric Derekson. The timid man initially jumped at all the noise, but soon giggled and eagerly came over to sit cross-legged next to the sleigh.

‘H-Hey you, hard at work huh?’

Gooper let out a noise of affirmative, before hopping out of his sleigh and dragging over the gift that had been in the little trailer he’d been pulling about. Eric’s eyes suddenly widened when he saw that it said HIS name on the label.

‘F-For me? R-Really?’

Gooper bounced with a happy squeak, adoring how surprised and happy Eric looked. He bonked his hand softly, before squealing farewell and leaving the room, onto his next little quest. Meanwhile, Eric was left sat with the gift before him. It was a square shape, and frankly the way it had been wrapped was just absolutely pristine, it didn’t look like any sort of finesse a human could achieve! Eric took a breath….before unwrapping it; beneath the paper was a box….and inside the box was the most beautiful flower crown Eric had ever seen.

‘O-Oh my….w-wow….’

Eric gasped as he tenderly brought it out of the box, and he let out an excited squeak when he saw that a note came with it, a note written in perfect handwriting with a dark green biro pen.

“Dear Eric Derekson,

I am your Secret Santa, Merry Christmas. I hope that the gift is to your liking, since I am aware you have a love of nature. The willow base, pine garlanding, and snowdrop flowers that make up the crown are all synthetic, but have been infused with the realistic scents of the foliage they are based off of. This means that the crown will never diminish in vibrancy or scent, and you may keep it forever.

Yours affectionately,

Your Secret Santa.”

Eric very nearly had tears in his eyes….it was the most beautiful thing he had even seen, and it was the most beautiful gift he’d literally ever been given. He sniffled and smiled as he settled it on his head, letting out a happy gasp as he felt over it all; it all felt so real, and knowing it would last forever just made it all the more perfect. I’m sure you’re all wondering who the giver of this gift was, well, you’ll be please to know that he was actually watching Eric from a nearby doorway. Google Green was smiling happily as he watched how happy Eric became from receiving his gift; he was about to turn away…but then….the door creaked.

‘H-Hello? Someone there?’

Eric had heard the creak, and stood with furrowed eyebrows as he approached the doorway; Green didn’t move fast enough, and soon was faced with a crowned, smiling, and curious Eric Derekson.

‘Green? What are you d-doing hiding behind the door?’

Green blinked a few times, and cleared his throat as he decided that the most tactical approach was non-disclosure of information, as well as evasion.

‘Nothing. That is an interesting garment, where did you get it?’

He nodded to the flower crown Eric was wearing, which made Eric smile and light up; he was so eager to talk about it to anyone who would listen.

‘Oh, it’s from my Secret Santa! It’ll last forever and the scents and textures will never go away! I-I love it so much, b-but I really wish I knew who sent it to me so I could t-tell them….’

Eric pouted softly, he loved the whole concept of Secret Santa, but he also wanted nothing more than to thank the person who gifted him the flower crown, he wanted to show them how grateful he was and how much he loved it. Green cocked his head at Eric with a fond smile, he was such a sweet human, deserving of so many nice things.

‘I am sure that when they see you wear it with such joy, they will see how much you love it Eric. Particularly since they were already acutely aware of your love of nature.’

Eric smiled for a moment at Green’s sweet words….before furrowing his eyebrows at the android. ‘’Love of nature’’….that phrase was written in the note that had come with the gift, though it could have been a coincidence….but Eric’s curiosity got the better of him.

‘You uh….seem to know about this p-person’s thoughts….do you know who i-it was that gifted me this?’

Green’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second….he had certainly not expected Eric to be so incredibly perceptive. Green tensed a tad as he saw how Eric cocked his head at him curiously, very much like he was undertaking an analysis. Green knew that if he wanted to maintain the secrecy, he had to be careful.

‘I do not…I….I was simply theorising the gift giver’s mind-set aloud.’

Now, if Green had said that sentence without the pause in the middle, Eric would have believed him without a doubt. But that stutter, that little hint of hesitation, showed Eric that Green was not being as truthful as he was making out. Eric couldn’t help but grin up at the android playfully as he raised an eyebrow at him.

‘O-Oh? Y-You don’t sound very sure….’

Eric took a step towards Green, making him step back nervously since he was unsure of Eric’s intentions. Green knew that Eric had seen through his fakery, and now Green could see Eric’s grin getting wider and wider; the android replied very speedily though, he wasn’t going to give up on maintaining his secrecy.

‘I am absolutely, positively, irrevocably sure, I assure you Eric.’

That made Eric stop approaching the android, and Green furrowed his brows curiously as he watched Eric start to think to himself. The usually timid man was gaining a burst of determined confidence….he was going to find out from Green who had gifted him the flower crown, and he was going to do it via any means necessary. Eric then developed a soft, and incredibly cute, little smirk as he quietened his voice.

‘Well u-unfortunately….I-I don’t believe you!’

Before Green knew it…Eric had lunged at him, giggling his heart out as they tumbled to the floor, Eric ending up on top of the surprised android. Green’s cheeks flushed a soft lime colour, but before he could even inquire into Eric’s intentions….Eric showed him.

‘Eric-AHA! Nohohoho noho I-Ihihi dohohon’t knohow ahanythihing!’

Eric had wriggled his fingers into the android’s ribcage experimentally, since it was common knowledge that all the Googles were ticklish in their own ways; Eric was so glad Green had this attribute too. Green burst into hearty giggles as he tried to curl up into a foetal position, his hard-drive repeating the same thought: Just try and withstand it.

‘I think you’re fiiiibbing! Just tell the truth and I’ll stooop!’

Eric teased as he continued to tickle. Eric was the sort of tickler who giggled or laughed along with whoever he was tickling, he just couldn’t keep his happy giddiness to himself. It made it so much worse for Green, having Eric giggling and grinning down at him, it made the temperature of his cheeks rise as he squeezed his mossy eyes shut.

‘Ihihihi ahalreheady hahahave!’

Eric let out a little sigh, tutting down at Green as he rubbed his thumbs into the gaps between his ribs; he could tell he was going to have to spend a lot of time on the stubborn android’s sensitive spots…but Eric was more than happy with that.

‘Oh I don’t think so, I know you’re hiding something! Just tell me what you know, and this can aaaall be over….’

Eric dimmed his voice into a coo, which made Green feel particularly flustered indeed. He had his arms tucked tight into his sides to try and hinder Eric, but he was devilishly dextrous; thus, Green was trapped with tickles and teases. He looked up at Eric as he grinned cutely and whined pleadingly.

‘P-Plehehease! Thehere’s n-nohohothihing t-to tehell!’

Eric hummed as he looked down at Green….once again, it was the android’s stammers that meant Eric knew he was still being a little fibber. Eric lowered the tone of his voice playfully as he replied.

‘Huh, that’s funny….since you always seem to stammer more when you’re lying!’

As Eric finished speaking, he dug all of his fingers into Green’s ribcage, wriggling them and tickling deftly as Green burst into wide-eyed cackles. Plus, Green felt that he couldn’t fight back out of worry that he might accidentally hurt Eric with his higher-than-average human strength! All he could do was continue to project denial.

‘NOHOHO! I-I-IHI D-DOHON’T!’

Eric raised a teasy eyebrow down at Green as he giggled affectionately, he just thought Green was far too cute. Eric eagerly leaned over the android more, hoping to look intimidating as he purred with a dangerous, foreboding twinkle in his eyes.

‘If you lie one more time….then you’re REALLY gonna get it!’

Green gulped. He was absolutely very much feeling intimidated by Eric right now. He could sense that Eric was making some form of threat, but Green was so flustered that his words ended up coming out of him so frantically before he had a chance to consider them.

‘BUHUT IHI HAHAVEN’T BEHEEN LYING!’

At Green’s mirthful cry, Eric stopped the tickling. Green only gulped more, because he knew Eric wasn’t doing it out of mercy, he was doing it out of shock. Even Green was understanding that his little attempts at lies were weak and transparent, and the android’s eagerness to maintain them was only making Eric more eager to tickle the truth out of him. Green knew he’d “screwed up big time” in addition to “really landing himself in it” as he knew many of the Ipliers would say. Eric was amazed at how stubbornly Green was clinging to his little fibs….but he was actually kinda happy about it, because Eric found that he was enjoying tickling Green very, very much.

‘….now you’ve done it.’

Eric tutted as he smirked down at Green, making the android’s cheeks darken to a more forest green…before the android shrieked and his blush became a mossy green. Why? Because Eric Derekson had unleashed the wettest, tickliest raspberry at the side of Green’s neck EVER!

‘AAAHHHH! OHOHO GAHAD NAHAT THAHAHAT!!’

Eric concurred that Green was particularly susceptible to this tickling technique, due to his new laughter, and so just gave him more and more and more.

‘You don’t like raspberries?! But raspberries are so good for you Greeny!’

Green let out a crackly wail at the nickname, even though it was merely his name with an extra letter added, it still affected his emotions and sparked even more flusteredness. He also felt flustered at Eric’s insinuation that the tickle technique was ANYTHING like its fruity namesake.

‘NAHAHAHAT LIHIHIKE THIHIHIS AHAHAHA!!’

Green tossed his head about, squeaking through his laughter as he felt Eric giggle into his neck. Eric adored how susceptible Green was to the raspberries, they were Eric’s favourite tickle technique to do on others because it was so silly and goofy. Eric loved tickling people in general, making people laugh like that just made him feel so happy and confident; also, teasing people was something Eric took great pleasure in.

‘But it makes you laugh so much! Plus, I looove how wriggly you are underneath me, you’re such a sensitive cutie pie!’

Eric cooed as he raspberried behind Green’s ear, which only made the already squirmy android wriggle about even more, he just couldn’t keep himself still because of all the sensations coursing through his system. On top of the tickling, Eric’s teasing was really getting to Green. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his fists clenched, his toes curled, all his muscles tensed, and he had embarrassed shuttering noises coming from his throat as he cried.

‘SHUHUHUT IHIhihihit…ohohahaha….’

Green let out a gasping sigh of relief when he felt Eric lean up and away from his tender neck, which was now tingling beyond belief. Eric giggled as he looked at the panting man beneath him, amazed he’d resisted the tickles for so long…but Eric was determined; he just had too much love and gratitude to give.

‘So, are we ready to talk yet? Or do I really have to torture you?’

Green weakly opened his eyes as he glanced up a Eric, and to see the usually meek man smirking and practically nose to nose with him….it did things to Green. First off, Green suddenly found himself encapsulated by Eric’s features. He could see the soft dimples in his cheeks, the soft brown freckles on the bridge of his nose, the way his caramel eyes gleamed and glimmered. Green felt his mouth go dry as he was distracted….but amongst it all, he had an epiphany. He realised he was deriving enjoyment from spending time with Eric with all this playfulness, so Green decided that he wanted to be playful back. He smiled up at Eric, before pointedly pursing his lips and turning his head away. Needless to say, Eric was a) pleasantly surprised, and b) even more eager to coax out what Green was hiding.

‘Ohhh so you think you’re a tough android huh? Y-You think because I’m little ol’ Eric Derekson that I can’t get what I want out of you?’

Green didn’t know how, but even with his little stutters, Eric sounded more intimidating than even a displeased Darkiplier. Green nibbled his bottom lip and kept quiet, but trembled when Eric giggled and trailed his fingers down his torso slowly. Green knew he could grab his hands and make him stop….but he didn’t want to.

‘Last chance Greeny…last chance to talk….before I go in for the kill.’

Eric whispered, grinning so widely as he teasingly tapped his fingers over Green’s tummy and waist. He heard miniscule whines coming from the sweet android….but nothing else. Honestly, Eric felt like this experience with Green was a beautiful Christmas present in of itself.

‘Well….I tried to be nice.’

Eric said with a resigned sigh, before he took a leap of faith on his instinct, and dug into Green’s hips. His instinct was right too. Green let out a wild scream as he arched his back, before being consumed by deep, crackle-filled laughter. It was his death spot. Eric had found his death spot…and was tormenting it.

‘AAAAAHAHAHAHA NAHAT THERE NAHAT THEHEHEEERE!!!’

Eric giggled with delight as he massaged Green’s beautifully exposed hipbones evilly.

‘Oooh I hoped this was gonna be a bad spot! Come on now Greeny, you know you can’t hold out on me!’

Green, despite his hopes, knew that Eric was right, and that just flustered him all the more as he thrashed and bucked with a growing desperation.

‘PLEHEHEHEASE EHERIC AHAHAHA!!!’

Eric grinned his boyish grin as he leant down to Green’s ear, so he could purr in that teasingly innocent voice of his.

‘Tell me….just tell me what I want to know…’

Green had saline fluid building in the corners of his eyes as he laughed and whimpered.

‘OHOHOHO GAHAHAHAD!!!’

He was an absolute mess of mirth the poor guy, he knew he was reaching the end of what he could tolerate, so before Eric could tease once more….Green admitted all.

‘IHIHIT WAHAS MEHEHE! THE FLOHOHOWER CROHOWN IHIS FROHOM MEHEHEEEE!!!’

Eric’s eyes widened as he stopped the tickling immediately. His lips were parted in awe and shock…did he hear that right? Eric could feel his cheeks heating up as he whispered in a breathless voice.

‘Y-You? Y-You….m-made this for m-me?’

Eric slid off of Green as he posed his question so that the android could sit up, which he did. Green felt bashfulness creeping up on him as he straightened his spectacles and smoothed down his hair…he felt so nervous, but he replied nevertheless.

‘Aha….y-yes. I….I-I have observed you m-many times tending to th-the plants you own, and your intense joy was unmistakable. I wanted to emulate it for you, a-at the very least.’

Green bowed his head, oh goodness, this is why he’d wanted it to stay secret! He’d been so nervous as soon as he’d found out Eric was the person he was gifting for, Green had brainstormed for hour after hour on what someone so perfect and good like Eric would like as a gift. He was still nervous now, doubt creeping into his thoughts-

‘Y-You are the s-sweetest person i-i-in the whole w-wide world Greeny! Thank y-you so much….’

Those thoughts however, were pushed aside by Eric’s words….and his very sudden, loving hug. He’d launched himself at the android and wrapped his arms around him as tears built in his eyes….he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined someone putting so much effort and care and detail into something for him. Eric felt like it was the best day of his life, especially when Green hugged him back and buried his face in his shoulder. After a little while of relishing in Eric’s human warmth, Green softly whispered.

‘W-Would you perhaps…ah…like to c-come to my room for further cuddling?’

Eric giggled as they briefly parted, and nodded without hesitation.

‘I-I’d love that.’

That made Green smile and stand up, before offering Eric his hand, which he accepted. Once they were both stood….they didn’t let go of one another’s hands, instead, they interlaced their fingers together. Then they went off to partake in the sweetest, secret snuggle session that has ever existed.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

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peace-coast-island · 4 years ago

Text

Diary of a Junebug

A week full of weaving, sewing, and embroidery

It’s been a while since I’ve done arts and crafts. Lately I’ve been focused on drawing - traditional and digital - and improving my skills in that area. Journaling helps a lot in terms of that, especially when I’m trying to come up with creative spreads so it’s not just a wall of scribbled words. It’s amazing to see how much your art style has shifted over the course of several months.

I don’t know if I’ve found my art style yet but I’m starting to see what I tend to gravitate towards. I still have a lot to learn and the possibilities are endless. Who knows what my illustration style will be like a year from now?

Until Cecelia came to visit the camp earlier this week I hadn’t realized that it’s been forever since I last touched my sewing machine. Back in the day I used to make plushies with Cecelia for her shop when it was just starting out. It was a lot of fun creating cute plushie designs and then bringing them to life with fabric, thread, and stuffing.

That’s what I love about art - taking a bunch of stuff and creating something new and unique with it. With nothing but a pencil and paper, anything’s possible!

Daisy Jane and Cecelia have been working together a lot now that Daisy Jane’s becoming more serious about opening her own shop. Cecelia’s been running Coconut’s Grove for over seven years, selling handmade goodies like jewelry, keychains, art prints, pins, stationery, and knitted goods. It’s a lot of work running your own business so mad respect for Cecelia being a pro at it.

To help Daisy Jane get some exposure as well as have a taste at what it’s like being an independent business owner, Cecelia wants her help to release some limited products for the holiday season. So for the past few weeks they’ve been designing notepads, clay pins, and sticker sheets.

By now most of the designs have been finalized so they’re pretty much ready for Cecelia’s next shop update. Daisy Jane’s art has really flourished since coming to the camp! It’s hard to believe that what was once a pipe dream for her is slowly becoming a reality.

With Cecelia here, I figured we should have an arts and crafts week. Since campsite events became a regular thing, arts and crafts day has been kinda put on the back burner. I didn’t realize how much I missed doing them until we started planning out this week.

Since I wanted it to be chill and low-key, I decided to spread it out to a week instead of just a weekend. I actually like it better that way, probably since my inspiration tends to come in spurts. So spreading things out over the course of a week gives me time to really get inspired as I prefer to think things over before starting. Also that means we can take on crafts that’ll take more than a day to complete like ceramics and textiles.

This week’s arts and crafts themes are embroidery, sewing, and weaving. Other than cross stitch, I’m a newbie when it comes to embroidery. I don’t know why, but I never got around to learning how to embroider. I mean, I can do some basic stitches like the running stitch and blanket stitch but for whatever reason I never actually made something. It’s just one of those things that’s always been on my to-do list but ends up getting lost in the shuffle. At least now I got to finally give it a whirl!

In a way it’s kinda like drawing. A lot more freeing and enjoyable than cross stitch - probably because I don’t have a pattern to follow. It’s been years since I’ve done cross stitch and maybe I’ll pick it up again someday, but it looks like today’s not the day. Speaking of which, my mom’s picked up the hobby again after taking a break for a couple years. Now she’s halfway done with the project she’s working on and it’s looking great!

Weaving’s a new thing for most of us, except Cecelia and Maple. I’ve done basic weaving like with paper and the elastic band thingies as a kid, but not like with legit looms and such. It’s fascinating to watch and learn about, as well as watching those threads weave together into fabric. It takes patience but the end result is worth it!

I’m definitely going to look more into weaving and textile making. I wasn’t sure if it’s something I’d be into but it’s got my attention. Maybe if I’m brave enough, one day I’ll tackle making an entire roll of fabric or a rug or something big. Maybe I’ll even try to make some intricate patterns if I’m feeling extra courageous. That’s something to consider in the future once I master the basics of weaving.

Sewing’s one of those things I occasionally enjoy doing even though I’m not the best at it. My mom’s like a professional, as in people - family, friends, acquaintances - used to pay her to alter clothes. She’s the reason why me and my friends never had to get our clothes taken to a professional - because she’d alter our clothes for free. For someone with short legs - like me and my mom - pretty much most of our pants have to be cut. Same with Daisy Jane, Emmaline, Robin, Serena, etc. - short people who would be constantly tripping over pant legs if it wasn’t for my mom.

Aside from making plushies, I rarely use my sewing machine. I’ve learned the basics of altering clothes from my mom so if I need to, then I’ll use the machine. For the most part I prefer sewing by hand just because it’s easier. Aside from fabrics the only other time I’d sew is for bookbinding, usually a basic saddle stitch or coptic stitch. I think I do a decent job at sewing but compared to my mom, my stitches aren’t the most straight or even.

I try, but sometimes it just doesn’t want to come out right. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so reluctant to try embroidery. At least with embroidery the crooked stitches add to the charm, which I quite like. I find myself drawn to an art style that’s imperfect and clearly handmade because I think it gives character.

In between crafting sessions, we enjoyed the fall weather as much as we could. It’s getting cold now and most of the leaves have fallen. Maybe I’ll pick up knitting again and make mittens, scarves, or hats. If I’m really feeling it, maybe I’ll finally try to make a pair of socks.

Is it weird that I’ve been knitting for like, what fifteen years, and never ever made socks. Like most people associate knitting with socks because socks are, well, knitted. Except a) I don’t really like knitting with four needles and b) I’m not into socks. Also the yarn I have on hand isn’t suited for socks. Speaking of which, what yarn type/weight do you use for socks?

The weather this week has been on the warm side, so I’ve been embroidering outside. I’m living out the cottagecore aesthetic - as if I wasn’t kinda already doing that by living at the camp. There’s just something so peaceful about doing needlework outside, especially when inspired by nature. I can now see why embroidery is associated with fall - it just feels right.

Think of all the possibilities one can do with a needle and thread! I’ve just opened the door.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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letterboxd · 5 years ago

Photo

The Last Artists.

“From the outside it seems like this dream scenario… but the truth is it took years working on drafts and wondering if anyone would ever read them.” —Joe Talbot on The Last Black Man in San Francisco.

A love story to San Francisco, to one grand Victorian house in particular, and to a life-long friendship, The Last Black Man in San Francisco was many years in the making. And it paid off: Joe Talbot picked up the Best Director prize at Sundance 2019 for his debut feature, a story drawn from the life of his best friend (and the film’s leading man), Jimmie Fails. A close-knit family of creatives grew around the project, and became a vital support system for Talbot when his father had a stroke just weeks before the shoot. Since January, critical accolades for the film have snowballed. Most recently, it appeared in our ten highest-rated features for the first half of 2019.

Letterboxd reporter Jack Moulton took the opportunity for a lengthy chat with Talbot about his remarkable debut feature. The interview contains a virtual masterclass in first-time feature film development (and the persistence required to see it through), along with some never-before-seen images shared exclusively with us by Joe. Also: some plot spoilers, which we’ve left until the very end.

Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails in 2014, photographed by Talbot’s brother, Nat Talbot.

Thanks for agreeing to a good chat with us. Are you on Letterboxd? We have our suspicions that you might be. Joe Talbot: Yeah. I love it. I found Letterboxd before we shot the movie. I use it to save movies to watch for later and look up movies people recommend. Occasionally I read the reviews of films I’ve just watched, they’re often really thoughtful.

Can we share your username? You could be the next Sean Baker. The one I have right now is more of a lurking profile so it’s not very formal. I made one that’s a little more presentable for you under my name.

Are you in San Francisco right now? I am. If you can hear my heavy breathing, I’m actually walking up one of the steeper hills that Jimmie and Montgomery crest in the movie and see the skyline. That’s what I do for every interview, I like to walk up the hill to put me in the film. Just kidding, this is the first time I’ve done it. I’m just walking with a friend and we’re about two thirds of the way up. Woo!

We’ve just published our halfway top 10 of the year. The Last Black Man in San Francisco is in second place, between Avengers: Endgame and Booksmart. How does this make you feel, and how do you cope with reviews (whether they’re full of praise or criticism)? Wow, that means a lot. I find the reviews informative, though have to admit I don’t read too many of them. In general, it’s great to know that there are people that love movies enough to get into debates and write passionately, either about how much they loved them or didn’t like them at all. Having platforms like Letterboxd and finding those communities online can be really great, even if they’re not made up of people in your city.

Given that the film has relatively low stakes—it’s not life or death, it’s house or no-house—what gave you confidence that audiences would connect to Jimmie’s story? I don’t know if we were ever confident. You never fully know. You hope that if you share something that has meaning to you then it will have meaning to others. That was our guiding light.

We finished the movie four days before the Sundance screening, so that was the first time watching it with any audience. I looked over at [Plan B producer] Jeremy Kleiner when the movie ended; he said “the tweets are good”. I looked around and realized the whole audience were on their phone as soon as the credits rolled.

I only had a short film play at Sundance before [American Paradise in 2017, also starring Jimmie Fails] so I didn’t realize part of our culture now is the need to immediately respond to something—but luckily they were nice. It will be much more anxiety-inducing going into my next feature now that I know how all this works.

We wanted to make something that captured the San Francisco that we grew up in and feel very strongly about. We’ve travelled to Chicago, DC, New York, LA, and Atlanta with the film and I was surprised to see how much people were connecting to it. In a way, Jimmie and I say it is unfortunately universal because it means the same things are happening everywhere.

This idea has lived with you and Jimmie for a long time. Can you talk us through the journey of the film? We’ve been informally talking about it for at least seven years and it’s gone through so many incarnations. We always envisioned it as the first feature that Jimmie and I would make after many years of making short films together. This story felt big enough in scope and there was a lot that we wanted to cover.

We wanted to tell a story about Jimmie and this Victorian home he once lived in and make it a valentine to the San Francisco we grew up in, that we see as being lost. We also wanted to celebrate all the wonderful people who are here that make this city what it is. That’s a big part of what we are afraid of losing: the very people that make San Francisco ‘San Francisco’.

An alternative poster for the film, illustrated by Akiko Stehrenberger.

We both lived with my parents for five years—we ran our operation out of the living room there. The first thing we did was shoot a concept trailer for Vimeo. It was a five-minute piece of Jimmie skating through the city telling his grandfather’s story, much like the [feature’s] opening sequence, though I filmed it hanging out of the side of my brother’s car.

Afterwards we got emails from people saying they wanted to help; they would become our core collaborators on the film. Khaliah Neal, Rob Richert, Luis Alfonso de la Parra, Natalie Teter, Sydney Lowe, Prentice Sanders, Fritzi Adelman, Laila Bahman and Ryan Doubiago. They spent years with us, hashing out the script over my parents’ kitchen table and working with us to create a look-book, run an ambitious Kickstarter campaign, write grant proposals and so on.

We felt like these oddballs—the last artists in San Francisco. You get a lot of noes along the way, having never made a movie before, so it was the emotional support that helped us persist through the difficult times. We were excited to be learning together, as a group of mostly first-timers, and were constantly making things.

Our look-book was very elaborate, thanks to our stills photographer Laila Bahman. We built it as a website and staged the scenes as if we were filming the movie, with costumes and heavy art direction. We knew people we pitched were probably seeing materials from other filmmakers who were further in their careers and probably better writers than us. We knew we needed to show the world of the movie so that executives’ imaginations wouldn’t be running off with thoughts of Michael B. Jordan or Donald Glover; that this is Jimmie and this is the plaid shirt we want him in and this is his Victorian. It’s his story.

That helped us get into the Screenwriter’s Lab at Sundance, but I didn’t get into the Director’s Lab, which I was initially bummed about because I really needed that experience. Our Kickstarter was very successful and those backers created a grassroots ground-swelling around the movie that pushed it forward, even though it was difficult in pitch meetings as we weren’t the most bankable pair in such a risk-averse industry.

In a last-ditch effort, my crew and I decided to do our own Director’s Lab instead. We felt if it doesn’t work now then that might be it for Last Black Man. I’d never made a proper short with a budget before but a producer named Tamir Muhammad, who had a short-lived venture within Time Warner called OneFifty, gave us the money to make what would become American Paradise. It gave the crew a chance to get in the trenches together before moving on to a feature, and show the potential of what we could do.

The team who’d assembled from our concept trailer years before all worked on American Paradise, from Khaliah Neal, Rob Richert and Luis Alfonso down the line. We worked with production designer Jona Tochet and even the sound team of Sage and Corinne (who would all go on to work on Last Black Man). In a city increasingly devoid of artists, we felt we’d found our people.

The short was different from Last Black Man, but features Jimmie playing the same character. After it played in Sundance it got the attention of Plan B’s Christina Oh. They took a big leap of faith on us, only having ever made that short. There’s not a lot of people willing to do that.

Khaliah, Christina and Jeremy approached A24 and we were in production two months later. From the outside it seems like this dream scenario of having the incredible indie studios Plan B and A24 behind us, but the truth is it took years working on drafts and wondering if anyone would ever read them. I think the extra time we had helped, because if we had the chance to make it two or three years ago, I don’t think we would have been ready.

Jimmie Fails and the creative team behind ‘The Last Black Man in San Francisco’ at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival. / Photo: Sue Peri

What was the first movie you made with Jimmie when you were teenagers? The first half-decent thing we made was a movie that my brother and I co-directed called Last Stop Livermore. I am actually in it alongside Jimmie and that was my first and only time in front of the camera. I learned my place pretty early on.

Didn’t you have a cameo in Last Black Man? I swear I saw you. I did have a cameo. As long as I’m not speaking, I’m okay. But even then when I just had to look at Jimmie once it was very difficult for me to do. I needed four takes for that shot, ha ha. I’m much more comfortable on the other side.

Jimmie, however, was really good in [Last Stop Livermore]. We made it while I was in high school before I dropped out, and it got into the San Francisco International Film Festival. Like everything we do, it’s based on something that happened in real life when a friend and I felt like we were fish out of water, going off to meet some girls in the suburbs.

That attention the film got, however minor, encouraged us because until that point only our family, friends and my high school teacher had seen our movies. Oh and Jimmie still had a flat-top—just thought I should add.

The film features the most important house of the year [Editor’s note: at least until the rest of the world sees the Parasite house, designed by the great Namgoong]. How did you find Jimmie’s house and what made it the house? It took us over a year and a half to find the house. We combed the streets with my co-producer Luis Alfonso de la Parra and production designer Jona Tochet and knocked on doors. In hindsight, a more efficient way would have been to use Google Maps but this way we could see inside the houses.

Unfortunately, the interiors would usually be gutted and have IKEA furniture and granite table tops. As a filmmaker, it was depressing, but as a native San Franciscan it was heartbreaking because the details inside all these beautiful houses were destroyed. It’s a thing that a lot of real estate agents do when they flip houses.

We ended up going back to a house that I had driven past as a kid on my way to elementary school. My mom, my brother and I would pick out our dream Victorian houses on our family car ride since we couldn't afford a proper one. I went back to one of the houses that had always stuck with me. After we found that house, it felt like we had cast a major character in the movie.

When we first knocked on the door of the house that would become Jimmie's home in the film, an older gentlemen greeted us and within seconds beckoned us inside. As we entered, we found a home that had not been gutted, but instead had been lovingly restored. Jim, the homeowner, much like Jimmie, the actor, had spent more than half of his life working on the house.

He carved the witch hat you see in the movie shingle by shingle and did the honor of putting it on the roof himself. He fixed the organs you see in the film and built Pope's hole in the library. In many ways, he felt like the spirit of San Francisco.

As a now elderly man, we would have understood him declining our wants to film there -- or charging a buttload to help him in his retirement. Instead he welcomed our big crew into his house and charged us next to nothing. I still don't fully know why, but I can imagine he saw shades of himself in Jimmie's love for this Victorian.

In the years we spent location scouting, we would also meet people on the street that we put in the movie. Dakecia Chappell was working at a Whole Foods in the confectionery section, near a ‘potential Jimmie’s house’ around the corner and she was just really charming, so I offered her the ‘Candy Lady’ part in the film. We met the mover who tells Jimmie the homeowners are moving out late one night at a taqueria on Mission Street. This extra time allowed us to capture the little details of what our San Francisco is like.

Even after your major backing from Plan B and A24, was there a point on set where it felt like everything was falling apart? I’m sure there are directors that aren’t plagued by the self-doubt I had. I didn’t go to film school and I felt isolated in San Francisco since a lot of the filmmakers have left for Los Angeles or New York. I was feeling this imposter syndrome. You’re both really joyous and grateful that you finally have a chance to make a movie, but also feel the weight of the city and wanting to honor what’s happening to people there. In every stage you have big and little freak-outs. The only thing that got me through it were the people around me. They bring perspective when you might not have it.

A couple of months before we shot the film my dad had a stroke. He survived, thankfully, and he would say half-jokingly “I survived to see the movie”. My parents struggled as artists themselves in their lives and yet they created this loving home that allowed us to make the movie. I look up to my Dad a lot, so when that happened that was really scary, and it happened during the height of the pandemonium of prep.

By that point our creative collaborators felt like family and they did everything for us. They came over to my house, brought us food, did as much as they could to take work off my plate so I could be with my own family. That always sticks with me when I remember tough times. You could say it’s just a job, but they treated it like so much more. So while it sounds corny, I think the spirit which comes with people being so loving and kind becomes imbued in the film.

Very glad to hear your dad is okay. The scenes with Jimmie’s parents are so powerful; you really get a greater sense of his isolation. It’s amazing his mom agreed to be in the film as a fictionalized version of herself. How did you and Jimmie sketch those scenes? The scene with his mom is loosely based on something that happened. Jimmie was raised mostly by his dad and he’s very close to his parents now in a way that’s very different from the relationship that he had with them growing up. He and his dad have worked through a lot.

Jimmie Fails as Jimmie. This and the header photo are by Laila Bahman.

It’s hard to pack in all the complex details that makes someone who they are because you don’t have enough screen time to do that sometimes. These elements were pulled from the walks we’d take during the earliest developments when the idea was more informal and we’d talk about Jimmie’s family.

One story that Jimmie always recalled both humorously but also quite painfully was about the guy who had driven off in the car that he and his dad were living in at the time. We thought it would be funny if there was a character who never acknowledged that he’d stolen the car but claimed that he was still borrowing it. We knew Mike Epps would be the perfect person for that. It was a story that came from a kernel of truth but took on a life of its own.

Why was Jimmie’s dad pirating The Patriot, of all movies? The tonal juxtaposition made us laugh. Ha ha, it was in the public domain.

We loved the score. What are some of the soundtracks that inspired you while making the film? The Last of the Mohicans, The Day of the Dolphin, The Claim, Batman (and also the animated TV show’s score actually rivals Elfman’s), and Far From the Madding Crowd.

You’ve spoken in another interview about how you and Jimmie fear friendships like yours aren’t possible with the type of gentrification that’s going on. However, nowadays you can meet some of the important people in your life over the internet. Could the bonds we make online compensate for what’s being lost on the streets? I think the internet is a double-edged sword. It both brings people together that you could never have met, such as how many of our closest collaborators first found our concept trailer online. But I do fear it also plays a part in people developing shallower, less intimate connections. I have friends who I love who will go to events seemingly just to get a good Instagram photo out of it. I’m sure I’ve suffered from similar instincts. That scares me.

Montgomery adds so much tenderness and insight to the film. Given he’s Jimmie’s best friend and he’s also an artist, is he your avatar in the movie? How did the casting of Jonathan Majors inform the development of his character? Montgomery is actually not based on me. Jimmie and I have a friend from the Bay named Prentice Sanders who is one of the more original people we’ve ever met. His spirit influenced the first shades of the character. When Jon came on he took those early sketchings to a whole new level, creating his own backstory, mannerisms, and interests.

On the vanity in his room, Jon decided to put up Tennessee Williams, August Wilson, Barbara Stanwyck, Canada Lee, Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison as inspiration. He had a hand in every little detail. In fact, Jon and Jimmie became very close in real life. They still talk nearly every day.

Warning: the last section of the interview contains spoilers, including for the endings of both ‘Last Black Man’ and ‘Ghost World’. This is your last chance to back out…

How do you direct Jimmie? I imagine you can read each other’s minds at this point. Yeah, there is a weird unspoken connection between us, as we grew up together. Knowing each other for so long allowed us to be vulnerable around each other. As a director, inevitably there are days on set that are stressful, scary, and tense, so being able to go for a walk around the block together to recalibrate and feel present was helpful.

This film asked something much different than anything we had done before. We’d never written a feature script and most of our shorts were ad-libbed. Honestly, everyone broke their backs to make this. Cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra was a hero. Nobody phoned it in.

But more than anybody, we asked the most of Jimmie. There’s a scene where he’s across from his real mother and the bravery from both of them to do that set a tone that everyone on set sought to honor.

Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails on the set of ‘The Last Black Man in San Francisco’. Photo by the film’s cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra.

Your collaboration with Jimmie has been so strong for such a long time. Is it a relief for you or maybe a sadness that this phase with him is nearly over? It doesn’t feel like it’s over yet, but I’m sure when it does there will be a little bit of sadness. The movie continues to sell out theaters on a Wednesday afternoon in San Francisco and opened in the little neighborhood theaters that indies barely make it into and it's playing alongside Toy Story. There’s a feeling in the city now that’s hopeful.

It’s been wonderful to witness because I feel like we’ve been working through our feelings about San Francisco in making the movie, and in some ways Jimmie leaving at the end feels a bit like us, how perhaps we can’t be here anymore. I’ve only ever lived in San Francisco my entire life but maybe it is time to go somewhere else.

However, in putting the movie out there I’ve seen so many more natives that feel like people I grew up with 15-20 years ago. People who I thought had been lost but are still out there, fighting to exist somehow through all the changes. I feel like part of me is falling back in love with San Francisco again and I think that feeling is going to go on for a long time.

A lot of people are contacting us saying that they left the theater and they just started writing their own scripts, or writing poetry, or sending us paintings that were inspired by the movie. In a city that is increasingly difficult to exist in as an artist and not always inspiring, this always means something to us.

On the film’s ending: to you, where is Jimmie going? Jimmie is going to start his legacy somewhere else—to fully be himself and start anew, following the footsteps of his grandfather. And it’s more fun to shoot it that way than have him ride away on a BART train.

One interpretation of the ending we’ve heard is that it was all in Mont’s head, and in “reality” it ended on a more tragic note. So some viewers felt it as hopeless, but you in fact intended it to be more hopeful? I think we wanted to leave it open to interpretation. I talked to Thora Birch [who has a small role in Last Black Man] about the ending of Ghost World, because that always left an impression on me. I interpreted it as a suicide when I saw it as a teenager and she had told me that she felt that way about it too, but there are also people who thought she was going off to art school. I feel our ending works in the same way.

I don’t see any interpretation of it as invalid, but what your relationship is to your city affects what you bring to it. Either way it’s a bittersweet ending, because it is a loss for Jimmie and Mont’s friendship, and for the city. Like, San Francisco doesn’t deserve him anymore.

Discover the films that inspired the look and feel of ‘The Last Black Man in San Francisco’.

#the last black man in san francisco #joe talbot #jimmie fails #danny glover #san franciso bay #gentrification #sundance #sundance2019 #letterboxd

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girls-scenarios · 6 years ago

Text

To Feel Human (Part 1)

Idol: Irene (Red Velvet)

Prompt: Could you make android au with Irene and fem!reader? The reader created Irene and wanted Irene to learn about human feelings. Although, sometimes Irene feels like she’s a burden to the reader and leaves temporary. At the end, she comes back they love each other ❤️

Writer: Admin Lee

A/N: Ok this is gonna be a pretty long one, which is why I separated it! I already have most of the second part finished, I’m just working on the ending. Anyways, I took some liberties with this one, but I hope you like it! This one has been super enjoyable for me to write, and I was very inspired by one of my favorite fics: Zeitgeist by leeyoobin on AO3!

Part 2

It started as just an off-the-wall idea, in the living room of one of your friend’s house, Yeonjung’s, to be specific. Along with the rest of your closely knit group, including Yoojung, Yuha, Eunwoo, and Jihyo, you had talked of AI’s, their advancement, etcetera. This was shortly after college, when you had finally earned your Bachelor’s degree in Bioengineering, and a Master’s in mechanical engineering. With an adoration for movies like Ghost in the Shell, and an affinity for problem solving, this was able to motivate you enough to begin a new project: making the first android for personal use. Unfortunately, you weren’t the first with the idea and skills needed to create true artificial life. However, so far the androids on the market have been widely restricted, kept only to be used by large-scale companies with supervision, the military, and other government operations. So, you felt the compulsion to take the risk of creating one more suited for use by the average person. And after a few days of thinking it through on your own, you ended up pitching the idea to Jihyo over lunch.

“You want to...What?”

“Well, I didn’t think it’d be a bad idea, you know? Someone to keep the average person company, help around the house, take care of pets... Stuff like that.” You explained, trying your best to sound reasonable about the idea.

“That sounds great and all, but what about the parts? And the facility we’d have to use to build it in? Half of the things we would need would most likely be illegal for regular people to get..”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “How about Eunwoo’s girlfriend, Kyulkyung? She has some corporate connection, I’m sure.. She’s not an heiress for nothing.”

“I- Ok, we could ask, but it’d probably be a stretch, even for her,” Jihyo replied, always the realistic one. “And I’m assuming you won’t be able to do this alone, so I’m texting the rest of the group, just to see if they’re interested.”

A week or so later, Kyulkyung was able to text you, voicing her enthusiasm for the project, as well as her ability to obtain what your group needed. She was more than happy to help, and coupled with Eunwoo’s impatience, they were able to discreetly transfer some packages of parts and tech to a borderline-abandoned company warehouse near the small town you lived in.

Everything was now sitting in boxes in the now less-empty warehouse. With the help of your friends you took the time to meticulously go through and somewhat organize the amalgamation of parts you had received. There was also a rather large one that you had yet to open. Weird, because Kyulkyung had never really said anything about a package that big. Nonetheless, your curiosity got the best of you and you opened it up.

A discarded android was what you found. Telltale light on its temple blank, lifeless. You had never been this close to one, really, and found it fascinating that something could look so human. You turned in Jihyo’s general direction and got her attention.

“Hey, Jihyo!” You called, and she turned away from what she was doing, walking over to where you stood. “I didn’t know this would be a repair-job, did you?”

“Oh, yeah. When Kyulkyung suggested the idea of fixing up a deactivated droid, she said it’d be easier on all of us. No one would really look into it if something irreparable were to go missing, so she just took this,” She gestured at the inactive android. “and said it’d be more efficient to just fix it up. A lot more inconspicuous for the company, too. Sorry, maybe I should’ve mentioned it.”

“No, it’s fine! You’re right about it seeming easier, I was just surprised,” You explained, eyes still locked onto the body in front of you. “Since we only have to fix it up,we should finish a lot faster, don’t you think?” You could see her nod out of the corner of your eye, and she walked off to resume her work.

Taking note of it’s features, you saw it was a female model, not too hard to tell. Its skin looked soft and pale, and this surprised you, but made sense after thinking about it. Maybe the people that worked with them often wanted to feel more at ease, so the appearance was made to look lifelike. It’s hair was relatively long, and dark in color. You knelt down in front of the container, reaching out to touch the body lying in front of you, but stopped yourself mid-reach, now realizing the gashes and dents in the model (most likely one of the reasons why it was in the scrap pile). Deciding it was a better decision to take care of everything else before dealing with the android, you shut the box gently and went to ask your friends what they needed help with.

The week had finally ended, and you and your friends worked day and night to get the warehouse up to par. There was a platform set up with wires and tubes to hold the android while it was being worked on and programmed, a couple of shelves stocked with spare parts in the corner, some computers and generators, and the android itself - still in the dark, hard plastic container it had arrived in. Not ready to unpack it quite yet, your group took the weekend to relax and prepare for the hard work to come.

Upon meeting again Monday evening, a matter needed to be taken care of before you all could begin: would the android stay here in the warehouse, or would one of you take it home with you once it was completed? Lottery was as good a method as any, and you all put your names in a small box that Yoojung had picked up. After a bit of shuffling the names within the box, Yuha grabbed a slip of paper. She then read aloud:

“(Y/N).”

Looking up from paper, she smiled and jokingly commented, “Have fun getting the robot used to that beast of yours.”

You laughed, imagining how your dog - a Newfoundland named Walter - would act around someone new in the house.

With that now taken care of, you began work once again. This time, finally ready to start working on the android. Eunwoo opened up the box attempted to pick up the body inside.

“Damn, this thing is heavy.. Yoojung, could you bring a rolling cart or something?”

“Sure,” She replied with a chuckle, then within a minute, brought back something the android could be moved more easily on. “Here you go.”

They both managed to get the droid on the cart, and in half an hour, hooked up all the wires from the android to the computers nearby. Then came the more difficult part: repairing the android itself. Not an impossible task, however, it was quite daunting. From what was on the container it arrived in, the model seemed to be a CX100, which didn’t necessarily matter to you outside of which parts were correct. So after finding the model type, you worked on getting familiar with the software Kyulkyung sent with the rest of the tech, hoping to figure it out in enough time to get a diagnostics test run soon. It was getting later in the day though, and your friends had obligations outside of this, so they were gradually saying their goodbyes until it was just you. However, you didn’t mind this, and understood they had lives of their own. Unlike you, who had a flexible schedule working from home (you wrote articles and edited for a science-related magazine). This was one of the few exciting things happening in your life right now, and you didn’t want to waste the time you had.

4 hours had passed since you were left alone. You were still messing around with the computers and getting a handle on the general anatomy of the android in front of you and were now feeling comfortable enough to begin tinkering with the programs necessary to work on the robot. Getting the diagnostics software package up and running, you look at the data now popping up on the screen in a list based on importance of the issue. There were several biocomponents that you found were damaged, as well as a critically low amount of Thirium 310 (a type of liquid that circulates energy and electronic info throughout the android). The software showed which of the synthetic organs were damaged in a 3D model of the robot, so it was a lot easier for you to search the boxes and containers for the parts that it required. You left them out to be cleaned, along with a sticky note listing what they were and how to properly clean them, as you had read over the procedures in a document that had also accompanied the software. It would make more sense to do it tomorrow anyways (when you weren’t running on two Red Bulls). Not exactly known for being a night owl, the work was going starting to go a little slower, even with the help of energy drinks. So you decided on calling it a night for now, figuring that you had accomplished enough for one evening.

The next two weeks went by surprisingly fast, and there was an impressive amount of productiveness despite everyone’s schedules getting busier as the year was drawing to a close. It was nearly the end of September, and as the temperatures dropped, your spirits certainly didn’t. The android was nearly in full repair, with the parts being cleaned and replaced, Thirium replenished, gashes and dents mended. You all felt more than accomplished at your progress, considering that all was left was putting some final touches on the programming. Collectively, you had all decided that an android with a capability to be gentle, courteous, reliable, and helpful would be one of the best options for a robot with the intent of personal use. Therefore, the appropriate behavioral abilities were added into the matrix. However, with parts of the company’s system still being there, you discovered the android had already been embedded with a neural net - thus giving it a way of thinking, of being, similar to humans.

Now, for the moment you had all worked so hard for. With the programming complete, the android was ready to be activated. The small group that had put an insane amount time into this project was now all gathered around the small platform where the android was kept while being repaired. Kyulkyung had taken a day off to join the ensemble, just as excited to see the finished product in action.

“So, it’s really going to act like a normal person?” She spoke up, inspecting the multiple tabs still on the computer screens that surrounded the platform.

“I mean, that’s what we’re hoping for, for the most part. I think what we were working towards was an ability to act like someone you’d see every day - or a friend even.” Yuha explained, typing some things into the computer before shutting down a few tabs. “Those were just some diagrams of what needed to be fixed.” She stated, turning back to face the group in the rolling chair she was lounging in.

“Are we ready to start it up, then?” Yeonjung inquired. “I want to see how it acts when it wakes up!”

“Yeah, I think so. Eunwoo, would you do the honors?” Jihyo asked, gesturing to the button on the laptop that would start the android up.

“Sure can!” She exclaimed with a thumbs up, jumping over to the monitor. “Everyone ready?”

You all nodded your heads, eager to get the android running. The anticipation was killing you for sure because you knew it would be staying with you tonight. Eunwoo pressed the key, causing the computers to whirr with activity. The temple light on the android lit up a bright blue, and its eyes opened.

“I am model CX100, how can I help you?”

You spent the next hour or so going over all the basics: making sure the programming was compatible with its neural net functions, checking to see that the body was moving correctly, and testing things like vision and other sense modifications that you had improved upon. The android complied with every request you made of it without a hitch, and soon, you were finished. By this time it was already dark, but the group couldn’t help but be enamored with the artificial intelligence. They spent at least an extra hour asking it a plethora of questions, to which the robot answered all of them to the best of its ability. However, before it was time to take it home for the night, you held a quick meeting.

“(Y/N) just be careful, okay? Try to keep its presence on the down-low, we don’t need anyone getting suspicious, especially since it’d be Kyulkyung’s job - and potentially our careers as well - on the line.” Jihyo stated seriously. You understood, of course, getting caught would only end badly for you all. So you nodded, promising to keep it out of sight as much as possible.

With that out of the way though, everyone soon broke off from the ensemble to head home, leaving the android in your hands.

“Ok, CX100, we’re going to go to my house where you’ll stay for the time being. I have an extra room where you can stay, so that won’t be an issue.. And maybe tomorrow we can get you some more clothes.” You explain, now aware that the only thing it was wearing was a hospital gown. Functional for setting up, yes, but maybe not for everyday wearing. Figuring it’d fit in some spare clothes lying around at home, you didn’t think it would be much of an issue for the ride there.

“Thank you.” Short and to the point.

Maybe you’d just need to warm up to it.

You arrived at your house without a hitch and opened the door for CX100. The two of you then walk up the small pathway to the large wooden door of your two-story abode. Maybe you didn’t need all the space, but you got it for a deal, and though it was a little rustic, you enjoyed the tranquil atmosphere it had.

“Wait here a second, I have a dog.” You stated, not wanting the android to become too surprised at your rather large pet. “He’s a Newfoundland, so he’s kind of big, but he’s really sweet so don’t worry too much.”

You then opened the door, inviting the android in first before following soon after, closing the door behind you.

“Walter!” You called.

Within a few seconds, your Newfoundland was bounding down the stairs, and jumping right into your arms. He covered your face in kisses before looking up at the new house guest. Walter slowly stepped over to where CX100 was, sniffing and wagging his tail as he got closer. The android seemed to dislike him, a sour expression on its face as it backed up into your coat rack near the door. Sensing the robot’s discomfort, you called your dog back over to you before telling him to go lay on the couch in the living room adjacent to the entry. He understood and trotted away.

“He’s a bit much, I know.. But I’m guessing dogs aren’t your favorite now, huh?”

“I can’t say they are. He’s very large and… eccentric. Though I will become accustomed to his presence, as I assume he is your pet.” It answered monotonously.

You nodded and beckoned CX100 to follow you to its room, one of the spares you had in the house. It was the closest to yours, so you’d be able to easily check up on it overnight if needed.

“Feel free to move some things around, change it if you want. It’s your room now, so please make yourself at home,” You mentioned softly. “I’ll be downstairs for a minute to feed Walter, if you need anything, let me know.” And with that, you left the android to get settled.

The night carried on as usual, save for the addition of your guest. The droid acclimated quickly, and you watched it find its way around the house like it had been living there forever. Its modified features were definitely making themselves known now: the photographic memory, use of its senses, etcetera. This was promising news, and you would definitely have to keep your colleagues posted.

Once it finally came time to go to sleep, you contemplated asking CX100 to spend the night in your room, if for nothing more than to keep an eye on it for its first night outside of the makeshift lab. You came to the conclusion that, yes, it would probably be a good idea to keep an eye on it overnight just to make sure its sleep sequence went smoothly. Although it doesn’t need as much sleep as a human does, you concluded that the android would need more time tonight to process the day’s activities.

Walking to its room, you knocked once before opening the door. CX100 was sitting quietly on the bed, seemingly staring off into space. You cleared your throat to get its attention, which snapped the android out of its thoughts; this prompted it to look up at you.

“Would you mind if you stayed in my room? It’d just be tonight, I wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure everything is running normally.”

“Yes, it will not be a problem,” The android answered. “Would you like me to relocate myself now?”

“Sure, thank you.” You were completely ready for bed so, you followed the android out into the hall, turning off the few lights that were still on as you went.

Soon, you were able to watch as the android went into its dormant state with Walter cuddled up next to you as the blue light on its temple went from a constant glow to a dim flash of color about every 10 seconds.

You now felt relaxed knowing that everything had gone smoothly for the night, and that there had been no problem whatsoever with CX100, albeit its slightly reserved personality. This wasn’t really a problem per se, however, the delay in showing the emotion you hoped it was capable of would most likely take some time.

Upon waking up in the morning, you noticed two things; One: CX100 wasn’t in your room any longer, and two: Walter wasn’t there either. You promptly got up and went downstairs, only to find your dog lazily napping on the floor underneath the kitchen table, and CX100 cooking breakfast.

It noticed your presence, and looked at you from over its shoulder. “Walter has been fed, I assumed two cups of food was adequate for a dog of his size,” It stated, looking back down at the bacon that was sizzling away in the pan on the stove. “and I’m in the process of preparing breakfast, is that alright?”

“Y-yeah, definitely. Thank you.” You replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was still relatively early, 7:26 to be exact. Going to the fridge, you grabbed some juice, along with a cup from the cabinet nearby, and went to sit down at the kitchen table. After a few minutes, you spoke up.

“Don’t you think getting called CX100 all the time is boring?”

“I have not. It is the name of my model, should I not address myself as such?” It inquired, setting the now cooked bacon on a plate, along with some eggs and a biscuit.

“That’s true, it is. I just thought, maybe for something a little less suspicious in case we were to go out of the house, would an actual name be nice?”

“If you think it is a choice that would benefit me, then please do.”

“Do you want to decide? On both whether you want one or not, and what your name would be?” You questioned, genuinely out of curiosity, but also partly for the purpose of testing its mental abilities.

The android seemingly went into deep thought for a moment and looked down at the wooden floor. It hadn’t necessarily had to make a decision of its own before now, but now given the chance, it hesitated. It was built to be more human, had the capabilities to suggest, decide, request - the list goes on. The LED flashed yellow, just for a moment, before assuming its normal, blue glow.

“Irene.” The android stated, now making eye contact with you. “I would like to be called Irene.”

#red velvet #irene bae #irene #bae joohyun #red velvet scenario #irene scenarios #girl group scenarios #girl group scenario #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

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