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aliasimagines · 4 years ago

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It Was You All Along // Dave Lizewski

requested by a lovely anon 💕

Can u write dave x fem!reader where reader Always had a crush on him but he kinda ignored reader bc of Katie but then someone popular asks reader out and he gets jealous and y/n dresses up super hot and he realizes he fucked up

word count: 1809

a/n: i hope this is close enough! ❤️ (i couldn't think of a different title but this one reminds me of Agatha All Along xd)

"Hey, Dave! My folks are gone for the weekend and I thought we could have an X-men watch party. Wanna come?"

"Sorry I can't, I'm hanging out with Katie."

"Again?" you ask a bit louder than intended,causing a few people to look at you in the hallway. You continue with a lower voice "Aren't you like, tired of all the lying? Like, what if she finds out that you're not actually gay, hm? Cause you know she will, eventually."

"Why do you care so much?!" Dave says, clearly frustrated.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Oh why would I? Maybe because we have been best friends since diapers, you stupid asshole!" you say not caring if some students hear you or not, anymore. "But you know what, you are right. I shouldn't care. Go play pretend with Katie but don't come to me, crying when you end up getting your heart broken."

"Don't worry, I won't." he snaps back. And you turn around and leave but not before flipping him off. You felt the angry tears rolling down your cheeks as you zigzagged between the chattering teenagers.

You couldn’t believe how Dave could be so blind! He only had eyes for Miss Perfect. Whom by the way, is a real bitch and would go back to ignoring Dave or calling him a freak if it wasn’t for his little gay act.

Somehow you made your way over to the restroom and locked yourself into one of the booths.

Dave couldn’t even see you as a potential “love-interest”. Eventhough you were the one who always were there for him, you were always there when he called, running to him like a lost puppy. And he couldn’t even care less. And you hate him for it. But you hate yourself more for still liking him.

It’s not like you can do something about it, if you could, you would have. But that’s not how it works, so you are just crying your guts out on the toilet trying not to think about Dave.

In all honesty, you have no idea how you made it through the day. You almost cried during biology but you caught yourself after a few lonely tears. You could feel Dave’s gaze on you but there was no way you would look at him. As soon as the last bell rang you were out of school, hurring past Tod and Marty, not being in the mood for them either.

The next day wasn’t any different, you didn’t hang with Dave, Tod and Marty like you normally do. You didn’t sit with them at lunch, instead walked over to the only empty table you saw and placed your tray there. You mounched on your food, completely unaware of your surroundings until you hear the chair next to you being pulled out. You look up to see Matthew Greendale, resident hottie of the school sit next to you.

"Hey, sorry, it's not a problem if I sit here, right?" he asks. You eyed him suspiciously.

"No, it's fine."

It's fine?! You mentally scold yourself. You never even spoke to this guy, outside of literature in first year. Why would he sit next to you?

"I didn't want to sit with all the other "popular jocks" he answered you unspoken question while taking a bite of his canteen-hamburger. “They’re fun and everything but it’s nice to get away from them sometimes.”

You think of your friends who are sitting a few tables away and you can’t help but agree with Matthew.

“Yeah, I feel you.” you say without thinking.

“Hey..We used to sit next to each other in freshman year, didn’t we? It’s y/n ,right?”

You nod with a smile, honestly being surprised that he remembers you.

“Yeah!”

“I haven’t really seen you around a lot. But when I do you are always hanging with those comic book nerds.”

“Hey! Comics are great.”

He puts his hands up in a defense.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean it as an insult. Some comics are good, my little brother made read one last month. It was actually great.”

“What comic was it?”

“Oh, uhm..It was about some kind of blind dude in a devil costume.”

“Daredevil?” you ask with a giggle.

“Yes, that one!” he laughs too.

The two of you continue talking until the end of lunch break. He is surprisingly fun to talk to and he even offers to walk you to your next class after lunch. You had such a good time you didn’t even think about Dave, heck, you didn’t even notice him literally glaring daggers into Matthew.

“What’s up with you, dude?” Tod asks snapping Dave out of it.

“Yeah, Dave. What the shit is going on with you and Y/N?” Marty asks too.

Dave forrows is eyebrows. Yes, what the shit is going on with the two of you? Every since yesterday's 'fight' with you he can't stop thinking. About how he spends most, if not all of his time either with being Kick-Ass or, rather with Katie. It used to be different. He spent every second with you and he just threw you away so he could maybe get laid. And sure, Katie may be hot as fuck but she is.. Well, she is not you.

"We had a fight, yesterday. I.. And she was right." he explains with a grimace. "But why the fuck is that Greendale asshole is with her?"

"You jealous or something, dude?"

"Wha- Of course I am not jealous! Why would I be? You guys are nuts."

Jealous… The word rolled around in his mouth like a new flavored milkshake he never tasted before.

Could he be… Jealous? He never thought of you that way, you were always his best friend. Just that. But.. The more he thinks about it the more he can't stop that twist like feeling in his stomach.

That night he can't focus on crime fighting. All his thoughts are tied to you. Whether he likes it or not, memories of you keep popping up in his mind. How didn't he notice your beautiful smile before? And your laugh? It's like a beautiful melody. And… Gosh! When did he become such a sappy teenager? Oh and another thing.. He kept trying to think of something else, anything else like Katie for example but he doesn't care anymore!

Dave goes home early with a frustrated growl. The remaining hours of the night he spends with tossing and turning and daydreaming instead of sleeping.

(the next afternoon, Atomic Comics)

Dave bangs his head against the wood table once again. A tired groan leaves his lips when he hears Tod almost choking on his iced coffee.

"What the tunk, Tod?" Marty and Dave ask almost at the same time. The dirty blonde haired boy keeps pointing outside the huge window that they are sitting next to at Atomic Comics.

"Is that fucking y/n?!"

Now all three of them look outside the shop and see you, all dressed up nad seemingly waiting for someone.

"Holy fuck!" Dave whispers. He stares at you, with his mouth a gap before jumping up from the booth they were sitting at and rushing outside the store.

"Y/n! Y/-" he yells almost tripping on thin air.

"Dave?" you question, quickly turning towards him. Damn, you missed him. No! Yeah, you did… "What do you want?"

"What do I- What, can't I talk to you?"

"If you wanted to talk you would have in these past days!" you say. Yes, you might have missed him, but it's not like you're gonna show it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am waiting for my date to show up."

"Your.. Your what, now?!"

"My date"

"You can't go on a date!"

"And why is that, Lizewski?"

"Lizewski? Really, you're calling me by my surname? Are we in such a bad place right now?"

"I don't know, you tell me. Are you going to tell me what i can and can't do, hm?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I just…"

"What, it's fine when you say it but when I do it with you about Katie I'm the bad friend?"

"No,it's just-"

"Sorry. Matt's here." you point to the street across the road where you saw the boy walk towards you. "I gotta go."

You start walking away but Dave grabs your wrist.

"Please, don't." he mumbles.

"Why not?" you snap at him but your expressions soften upon your eyes land on his saddened face.

"I- because I don't want you with him. O-or anyone."

You raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

He took a deep breath before looking around. Matt was waiting patiently by the traffic light so he could cross the road. Dave quickly began explaining.

"You were right. About Katie. I was such a dickhead, I am so sorry, y/n. I am sorry for ignoring you over her and and.." from the corner of his eye he sees the traffic light turn green. "Shit! I don't want you to go out with Greendale cause I.. Because I like you. Like really fucking like you. And oh my god you look so fucking hot in this outfit, not that you're not always hot but holy shit. I know we are just friends and you don't think of me that way but I ju-"

"Oh my god! Do you ever shut up?" you yell before pressing your lips to his. Dave stumbled back a little, but quickly recovered and kissed back. Your hands cupped his face and his hands grabbed your waist in response. You both tilled your heads, deepening the kiss earning loud knocking from Marty and Tod as they watched the whole scene through the window. Not that you noticed any of it. You didn't hear the passing by car honk at you nor the yells or whistles. You also did not notice Matthew walking away with a sad smile after seeing the two of you. Your touches intertwine and you're pretty sure you heard Dave moan slightly which causes you to giggle into the kiss. You both pull away gasping for air. You look down at your shoes, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. Dave scratches his back and looks around nervously only to see his two idiotic friends making kissy faces. He lifts his middle finger for them before clearing his throat.

"So.. Khm.. I guess you like me too?"

You let out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, I do." you say looking at him with a smile.

"That's.. Fuck. That's great." he replied genuinely happy. "Wanna get out of here?"

You nod and you take off. You take Dave's hand and he intertwines your fingers with a smile. Maybe he is truly a superhero. He helps people and he gets the girl of his dreams. The happy ending.

Dave Lizewski taglist : @sethcohenluvr @your-hispanichufflepuff

#dave lizewski x reader #Dave lizewski one shot #dave lizewski imagine #kick ass imagine #kick ass x reader #kick ass one shot #gif not mine #aaron taylor johnson #alias imagines

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kpopxx · 4 years ago

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Spy Games [Chapter 1] : More Than It Seems

Characters: Twice Momo, Male Reader

4579 words

Authors Note: This is literally the first fiction writing I have done since I was a little kid writing stories about a town full of hamburgers. I was inspired to try my hand at writing by the plethora of amazing kpop smut writers out there right now, but by @lockefanfic, @nsfwtwicecatcher, @nsfwflint, and @ggidolsmuts in particular. If there are any similarities between my writing and theirs, please forgive me as I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit “researching” their work.

One thing that amazes me is how the hell everyone cranks out thousands of words with such frequency, as this post isn’t even 5k and it took forever to write. I can’t begin to explain how much respect I have for all the authors out there who can write so much and maintain such high levels of quality.

As a new writer, I welcome any and all feedback! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any critiques, or if you just want to chat!

***

“Coming up on the target now.”

“Roger that, remember the office is on the top floor. Let us know when you’re inside. And remember, no elevators...” teases your handler, Choa.

“Thanks for the reminder,” you reply sarcastically.

You survey the skyscraper against the night sky--it would be impressive if it weren’t one of a hundred just like it downtown Seoul--and wonder what you had done to deserve getting the short end of the stick. Of course, you knew there was a reason to avoid the elevators: they sat directly in front of the building’s concierge and the cameras in the lobby, while the stairwell lay in a remote part of the first floor. The logic behind your impending hike didn’t make the reality any less abhorrent.

“Meanwhile, Seolhyun gets to infiltrate an organization in the Caymans. Just my fucking luck.” you grumble to yourself.

“Oh, stop whining, you big baby,” says Choa, reminding you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

You sneak past the lobby and towards the back of the floor you find the entrance to the stairwell in a poorly lit area.

“Beginning my climb.” you report, shaking out your legs as you prepare to go up.

“Sir, I-I’m getting some interference over comms,” chimes in the timid voice of the girl you knew to be your newest team member, Yoo Jeongyeon. “It could just be local chatter, but I want to make sure it’s not someone trying to listen in.”

“Probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about.” Choa assures you.

As you climb up the stairs, you wonder why anyone would want to listen in on this particular mission. This was a run-of-the-mill operation to investigate money laundering at an accounting firm. You’d infiltrated foreign governments, broken into and bugged the offices of billionaire CEOs, and tailed enemy agents. You could understand people wanting to hear those comms, but this? Either someone wanted something to listen to as a sleep aid, or this mission was more interesting than it looked.

A tip had come in through one of the new girls at the Intel Desk reporting that there was some fishy activity related to organized crime going on at the accounting firm. This was routine and you’d gone on dozens of similar recon missions before: break in, find suspicious intel, get out. But if someone wanted so badly to hear what was going on, the new girl may have stumbled onto something worthy of a promotion. Hayoung, you think her name was. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair along with her well-endowed physique reminded you of a young mother, but her mature beauty belied her young age. You had caught yourself more than a few times fantasizing about her in your off hours…

You stop mid-way in the stairwell, scolding yourself for losing focus. Too often over the course of the last year you found yourself fantasizing about the women in your life. Sure, before the incident with Eunha you had sexual thoughts about your coworkers--you were surrounded by beautiful women, after all. But recently you noticed that your life was increasingly preoccupied with sex: both in your thoughts and the real-life exploits you carried out.

Much longer than a few minutes later, you reach the 63rd floor out of breath and sweating, wishing more than ever that it was you and not Seolhyun lounging on the beach. You take a moment to compose yourself before peeking out into the office floor to see if the coast is clear.

“We may have a problem, boss. Jeongyeon looked into the comms disturbance and someone much more sophisticated than the average joe is definitely trying to tap in,” Choa says. “Jeongyeon’s kicking their ass right now blocking their access, but there’s only so much she can do alone. Eventually we’re going to lose control of this channel.”

“Dammit. I knew something was off with this op,” you grumble. “If they want to listen in to whatever I find, it must be important. We’ll go dark. Recon says this should be a quick in and out anyways. I’ll tag you once I’m out.”

“Be careful. Signal us if anything goes wrong. Just don’t do anything stupid.” replies Choa.

“What do you think they pay me all this money for?” you tease, wanting to put her nerves at ease. “See you on the other side. Over and out.”

You could hear the concern in her voice. Even though keeping you safe was part of her job, you knew she cared about you. You also knew as well as she did that anything could go wrong even in the five minutes it would take you to break in, especially when it appeared that someone knew exactly what you were doing.

You switch off your comms link and head out the door and into the office.

It looked exactly as you expected--rows and rows of non-descript cubicles, with a princely office lined with glass walls occupying the far corner. Jeongyeon had retrieved the floor plan by hacking into the building’s security database earlier in the week, and you knew after her effort tonight in detecting and fending off the comms interference that Choa would want you to acknowledge the work the new girl had been putting in. She certainly was more skilled than the five previous team members you’d fired after Eunha, but you found it difficult to bring yourself to praise her. The Ops Officer position she occupied was a sore point for you, after all.

You deftly pick the lock on the corner office door and immediately sit down in front of the terminal on the desk, logging in with the security bypass Jeongyeon drew up.

Again your thoughts drift to Eunha. Eunha was your longtime Ops Officer--highly skilled, you trusted her more than anyone. It also helped that she was your fiance. It made you sad to think about her; about what could have been, what should have been. Over the past year, you were constantly reminded of her absence by the utter incompetence of her replacements. You suppose it was nice that at the very least, Jeongyeon didn’t give you many opportunities to bemoan her performance in the same way--to remind you of Eunha.

You shake your head, compelling yourself to rise out of your funk and get on with the mission.

As you scroll through files, you stop on one with a familiar signature. Reading its contents, your eyes open wider--suddenly you understand why someone would be interested to listen in to your communications. You quickly save the file to your flash drive and stand up to leave, only to be startled by a figure in the doorway.

“Care to tell me what’s on that?” comes a familiar voice from the darkness that you knew to be Hirai Momo’s. Momo was an agent for a foreign espionage agency--you had as friendly a rivalry as you could have when working for different governments.

“What was the point of trying to hack our comms if you were just going to show up and ask me that?”

“I had no intention of coming until you decided to ghost your girlfriends,” teases Momo. “Besides, I like showing you how much better I am at sneaking around.”

Momo flicks on the light and she comes into focus. The Japanese government made a good decision when they hired her, you think. She was built for the job of a seductive spy. Her perfectly toned legs had a lovely sheen all the way up to her short skirt, while her cleavage suggested that her tits were ready to burst out of her tight, patterned blouse. Where most of your attention was drawn, however, was her lustrous blue hair, which fell to her shoulders.

“I may actually need your help with this, once you see what’s on it,” you say, nodding your head at the flash drive.

“Oh, so you’re willing to give it to me? I thought I was going to have to fuck you for it,” she says sarcastically. You knew behind the humor was more than a nugget of truth, though. Sex had been the primary vehicle for information trading with Momo over the years. You decide to test your reading of the situation.

“Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m giving it for free…”

Momo brings her thumb to her mouth and bites gently as she ponders your not-so-subtle proposition. She takes her turn to look you up and down, making you feel more than a little self conscious in her gaze of judgment. After so many years in the dangerous world of espionage, there were only a handful women who could make you feel so small. Then again, Momo was no regular girl.

Once she’s satisfied she has properly appraised your worth, Momo lets go of her thumb and straightens her blouse.

“Fine,” she says matter-of-factly, “let’s get to it,” unbuttoning her blouse as she walks towards you.

You are surprised by the lack of fight she put up, but you thought it best to keep that to yourself. Her tone reminds you of a business meeting--that is, if you hadn’t seen her pull her top off as she approached you. She sits in your lap on the chair, wrapping her arms around your neck as you meet her lips for a kiss. Momo’s mouth was familiar to you, introduced to you many times throughout your career. It seemed like every time you ran across her you had sex. One thing you adored about your relationship with her was that it was absolutely without strings attached. You fucked for work, but just because it was part of the job didn’t mean you both didn’t enjoy it.

Momo, however, was loath to admit the pleasure she got out of her liaisons with you. Call it pride, call it being professional, whatever--Momo refused to act like sex with you was anything other than work, no different than working in a spreadsheet.

You feel her reach down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them as she sinks to her knees in front of you. You smirk--her eagerness to please you betrayed her air of ambivalence.

Momo wastes no time getting down to business. You are certain the Japanese trained her very well in tender foreplay, but it seems she doesn’t care much for subtlety at the moment. Instead, she utilizes a more direct method to extract your pleasure--one that must have required its own fair share of training--as she spits on your cock before immediately forcing it as deeply in her mouth as she can take it. One, two, three bobs is all it takes for her to reach the base of your cock, her nose buried in your pelvis.

“Fuuuck me, that’s good,” you groan as you hold her head in place for several seconds, and Momo replies in turn with a cough that spits a healthy serving of saliva on to your cock. You release your grip on the back of her head to give her a chance to breathe, but she surprises you when she simply continues to work her mouth on your increasingly saliva-drenched cock, swirling her tongue around your base. Most of the other women you had slept with in recent months would be gasping for air by now, but Momo’s demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. Almost as if she was reading your mind, Momo paused her slurping and pulled her mouth off your shaft--but not forgetting to continue stroking it with achingly deft corkscrew motions.

“What’s the matter? Girls in your department not able to take care of your cock like a real woman?” Momo clicks her tongue and grins. “I’ve told you for years, you’d never be treated so poorly if you came to work for a professional outfit like ours.”

“Shut up and suck my cock.”

Momo shrugs, and gets back to the task at hand. Slobbering even more as she takes you into your mouth again, you pause to thank your lucky stars that you had a job that paid you in part to fuck women like Momo. You gaze upon her face, which has become just as messy as your cock. Momo’s sloppy blowjob has not only left liberal amounts of spit on your cock, but on her face as well--with strands of her blue hair plastered to her cheeks. Even though you thought it impossible, you feel your cock get harder at the sight of Momo’s messy face.

For several minutes, Momo continues inhaling your cock as you find yourself nearing the point of no return, you yank Momo’s head off your throbbing cock in order to prolong your session. A bit too forcefully, it seems, as Momo falls over onto her side.

“What the fuck!” yelps Momo as she picks herself back up, glaring at you. “I suck your cock and you thank me by throwing me on the ground?

“I didn’t mean to, I’m just not ready to cum yet. We both know you would’ve ignored me if I had asked you to stop.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” Momo replies sheepishly. You knew from previous run-ins with her that she loved nothing more than swallowing cum. Even though you had just denied her that favor, you were already thinking about how to make it up to her in a few minutes.

“How about I repay your kindness? Get up on the table and let me eat you.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I’ll get up on the table, but you’re going to fuck me.”

“Someone’s eager to see what’s in this thumb drive,” you tease, inadvertently reminding yourself that this was a transactional liaison. You suspected that Momo’s interest in you extended beyond her desire for the information at hand, and part of you yearned to take her outside of the confines of work. You’re skeptical such a day would ever come, however, given how ambitious Momo was.

You knew her story--she applied for a job in the Japanese spy agency several years ago, making it all the way through the process before being cut at the very end. She ended up receiving an offer shortly after one of the other finalists died in a ‘training accident’, but Momo lived with a chip on her shoulder ever since. She lived and worked with a pathological drive to prove the agency wrong in their original decision to cut her. Already the youngest lead operative in her country’s history, she had an eye on the directorship and seemed destined for it. So, you supposed, it was nice to be able to fuck her before she became famous.

Momo hops on up on the desk, hiking up her skirt to reveal a delicious-looking blue thong that matches her hair. She looks behind towards you with lust heavy in her eyes as she pulls her thong to the side, revealing her glistening pussy--already dripping, you noted.

“I don’t have all night.”

More than happy to oblige, you line your painfully throbbing cock up with her pussy and you can feel the warmth radiating from it. You take a second to appreciate Momo’s incredible physique as your hands graze downward from her upper back, to her hips, and finally to her ass. As you rub it, you cannot help but appreciate how sublimely taut it is.

“Jeeze, you act like this is the first time you’ve seen a woman naked,” Momo jabs, interrupting your reverie.

You are starting to get annoyed with Momo’s demeanor. It was nothing new, really--she always carried an air of superiority--but it nonetheless grates on your nerves to see her be so dismissive. You are mature enough to understand that at least a part of this aggravation had to do with the fact that you knew Momo slept with plenty of men for work. Not so mature, however, to be able to stifle the primal urge deep inside of you that wanted Momo to see you as the best of all her lovers. More than ever, it seemed that sexual vanity mattered a great deal to your self-confidence.

With a renewed sense of purpose and your cock in hand, you enter Momo slowly with a long stroke until you fill her to the hilt. In unison with your initial insertion, Momo lets out a whine that crescendos as you bottom out.

As you begin to thrust in and out Momo settles in and widens her stance ever so little, which has the added benefit of allowing you to go even deeper into her warm, wet pussy. Momo was not a girl of surprises. Her face was gorgeous, capable of angelic beauty and fiery lust. Her body reflected the many hours she spent in the gym with ample breasts, insanely tight abs, and a toned ass to match. Her pussy feels exactly as sublime as her beautiful face and incredible body suggested. The perfect combination for a woman who used her body to seduce and take advantage of brainless men. You decide to push out your mind the realization that at this very moment, you are in fact one of those men.

You wanted to make sure Momo felt each and every drive into her hot flesh. Momo continued to moan quietly, each breath punctuated with a new thrust and the sound of your skin meeting hers.

“Looks like someone’s gotten real quiet all of a sudden,” you say, noticing her haughty attitude had subsided as pleasure took you both over.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Momo says, looking back at you with rekindled determination in her eyes, “you’re no better than half the guys I’ve been with. I’m here for the file, not for whatever you call this.” She cooly turns her head to face front again, leaving you seething.

Your twinge of annoyance was now a bubbling boil.

You slow down before withdrawing your cock from her warmth--Momo lets out the faintest whine of disappointment, betraying her dissatisfied front.

Just as Momo turns her head again to complain, you quickly slam your cock deep inside her. Momo yelps, and you notice her eyes bulge as you move your hips in a circular motion with your cock filled to the hilt, scraping deep inside her pussy. After several seconds of this you grab a makeshift ponytail out of her hair and yank backwards, causing her to gasp and arch her back instinctively. As much as she bothered you with her air of indifference, you had to admit that the image in front of you was the stuff of dreams.

Taking advantage of the highly erotic sight before you and the increased leverage offered by your grasp of her hair, you began to truly fuck her with quick and powerful strokes.

“Take it, Momo,” you grunted, beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.

Momo said nothing, emitting only breathless gasps from her open mouth. You noticed that their intensity was gradually increasing, so you increased the speed of your shaft penetrating her young, sinful body. You knew she was enjoying this, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you broke her facade. You wanted her to lose herself to you.

You speed up even more, and the volume of your skin slapping together increases as her pussy drips wetter and wetter, mixing with your leaking precum. You are slamming your cock into her now, and Momo has to grab on to the table to steady herself. Slowly but surely her pretense was crumbling.

“You want it, don’t you Momo? You want more?”

“Fuck yeah,” Momo gasps hoarsely, struggling to speak with her hair being pulled, “Give it to me...o-oh...fuck, give it to me!”

Satisfied that she had succumbed to her pleasure, you relax your grip on her hair slightly and lean over to growl in her ear.

“I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna make sure you remember this, make sure every time you’re with another man you wish it was me.”

Momo acknowledges your promise with a deep groan, giving you great pleasure as you resumed fucking her gorgeous body.

Your eyes drift downward to her glorious ass, now shining with sweat and jiggling violently with each crash of your cock inside her. Inspired by the sight, you release her hair and put one hand on her hip and begin striking her ass with your other. Momo shrieks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with lidded eyes while biting her lip to tell you she wanted more.

Again you oblige, and it was quickly becoming clear that lust and pleasure were staging a coup of Momo’s senses. She’s making lots of noise, but nothing intelligible. Nothing but guttural moans interspersed with high-pitched squeals. You continue spanking her ass, alternating cheeks--noticing a deep pink beginning to form on both. She’d most likely be dealing with soreness for several days after this, you think.

“You wanna cum, Momo? Cum for me, I know you want to.”

“Mmmmm...Ah, ah, AH! Unggghh,” comes Momo’s response.

“Come on Momo, fucking cum baby...cum all over this cock,” you shout, sincerely hoping there was no one working in an adjacent floor to hear.

“FUUUUCK!” Momo screams eloquently, suddenly dropping her head as her body begins convulsing. You knew what to expect having slept with her before, but you are nonetheless surprised to see how completely overtaken her body was by pleasure. Her upper body jerks spastically as her legs tremble with your cock plunged deep inside her pussy, all the while letting out a high-pitched whine that turns into a soft whimper. Just a few minutes before she was defiant and happy to throw insults at you...now she was a mewling, writhing mess incapable of speaking. The dark, primal part of you is satisfied by her tacit recognition of your talent.

After a short while, Momo begins to compose herself and lifts her upper body from the table. You take it as a sign to slowly resume taking your cock in and out of her. You decide to give her now glowing pink ass a rest and caress her back, tracing long lines with your nails.

“Mmmmm, that feels good,” Momo says, her eyes still closed, “you fuck me so good.”

You slowly begin ramping up the pace, rolling your hips with each stroke. You want to make sure your cock pleases every inch of Momo’s pussy, and make sure it craves you when she’s alone at night.

After several minutes of this tender, softer version of lovemaking, Momo comes back to her senses. She arches her back again and turns her head to gaze in your eyes as you continue to take her. She begins to move her ass back and forth on your cock in unison with your own strokes.

“Oh my god, you feel so good in my fucking pussy! Every...fucking...stroke!” Momo gasps, the final words punctuated by the force of her majestic ass crashing against your cock.

“You’re a bad girl, Momo,” you tease, “you like being taken and shown who’s boss, don’t you? You like me grabbing your hair and slapping your ass?”

“Yes!” she gasps, “Yes I love it! Mmmmm...I want you to fuck me until you cum. Fuck me until you cum!”

There was no command in the world easier to follow.

Satisfied that you had fulfilled your vain, immature desire to see her acknowledge your skill as a lover, you now focus yourself on extracting pleasure from the young woman beneath you. You settle into a pace with rough strokes, fiercely pounding her over and over. Your pleasure rises with each thrust, aided not only by the mindblowing caress of her pussy, but by the incredible sight of Momo on all fours before you moaning with each strike of your cock inside her.

“Fuck Momo...I don’t think I have much longer, I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!”

“Yes,” comes the response from Momo, “Yes, yes! Fucking cum baby, I want your cum so bad!”

A few more thrusts and you can feel the point of no return coming. For a brief moment you contemplate cumming inside Momo, to truly claim her. You quickly reconsider, wanting to give her what she truly wanted--to swallow your load.

And so, you quickly withdraw your cock from Momo’s now sopping wet pussy and she instinctively turns around and drops to her knees on the floor. Stroking your cock with great fervor, her mouth wide open begging for what was to come.

“Please give me your cum, please, please! I want it...I need it! Cum for me!”

Your head tilts backward as a long groan escapes your lips. Your cum explodes from your shaft, shooting long, thick ropes of semen into her mouth and onto her cheeks and nose. Over and over, your cum splashes on her beautiful face until you finally reach the end of your orgasm, panting and exhausted. Momo’s face is a pornographic picture of lust, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallows the mass of cum you deposited in her mouth.

“I fucking love your cum,” Momo says as she wipes the remaining cum off her face with her finger and promptly brings it to her tongue before swallowing it down as well.

“I’m glad we were both able to get what we wanted,” you say, struggling to catch your breath.

“Speaking of getting what I wanted…” Momo says, nodding her head to the part of the floor where the USB drive now sits, evidently thrown from the table during the session that had just taken place.

“Right,” you say, suddenly remembering you’re here for work, “make a copy and let’s get out of here.”

“Great,” says Momo, still on the floor with a satisfied smile of content on her face, “Hey, I meant what I said about having you join our team. As much shit as I give you, we could really use someone with your talent.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m better off staying put. Don’t think the Korean government would let me live if I tried defecting.”

“Probably true,” says Momo as she begins picking up her clothes, “Never hurts to ask, though.”

***

A few minutes later, you and Momo had both gotten dressed and copied the file onto a drive for her. Momo disappeared into an adjoining hallway and you set off to traverse the stairwell again. As you prepare yourself for the descent, you also steel yourself for the repercussions of giving the intel to a foreign spy agency. With the information you saw in the file, you knew the Japanese would have to be looped in sooner or later. If it was going to happen eventually, you thought it made the most sense to entrust that intel to the agent on the other side you knew would make sure things got done correctly. As logical as it seemed to you, however, you knew it wouldn’t be taken well back at the office.

You click on your comms link, now knowing there’s nothing to fear.

“Hey Choa, I’m on my way back to the rendezvous.”

“Oh thank god! That took forever, I was about to call for a tac team!” Choa sighs with audible relief, “I take it you got everything you needed?”

“Got more than I needed, actually,” you say, nervous about Choa’s reaction to what you say next, “Listen, there’s one small thing you should know...”

“You did WHAT?!”

#momo #twice smut #momo smut #male reader #b/g #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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leviachaan · 4 years ago

Note

would ask for a matchup but i decided to go w/ a headcannon request. how would the brothers or undateables (whichever you’re more experienced at writing ^^) react to MC taking them to ikea? apparently the furniture names are like demon summoning rituals if you try to pronounce them. 👀

//This is honestly so amusing to imagine siajdjks we need to somehow bring them all to IKEA for real

Lucifer 🎲

"MC, stay close to me so you don't get lost. It could be dangerous in this labyrinth" "Lucifer, honey, this is a furniture store" "oh"

You cannot change my mind that this man would be staring at the most gothic yet elegant pieces of furniture ever (I thought of lamps for some reason)

His eyes would be constantly glued on you. You never know what could come out from under those beds, MC.

He would do his best to stifle a laugh from your poor attempt of pronouncing a word.

"Take your time" remarks here and there to piss you off Lucifer you little shit

MC: "These words feel like I'm summoning a demon"

Lucifer: "????? excUSE-"

He ends up buying the gothic lamp. Another addition to his dungeon looking bedroom.

After his fascination for the lamp is over, he would mostly be focused on you and your cute little outbursts of excitement over random things.

"Lucifer, look at all those candles! Don't they look great??" "Of course, my dear"

Your room would be 90% candles the next morning.

And a matching lamp

Mammon💴

For the love of Diavolo

Don't. Leave. Him. Alone.

He will steal buy everything that he finds on his way the second you turn your head away.

The whole building is like a Mammon harem. He needs to buy everything. He needs it, MC.

"How many bucks if I fit this whole table in my pockets" "maMMON NO-"

You bet he would find a way to piss the employees off to the point you two would have to run and hide inside one of the closets.

"Y-you sure must be feeling grateful to be stuck with someone like me inside a closet, human" "Mammon, I swear to everything holy-"

The whole walk would be you having to babysit Mammon and sweet talk him out of buying every object in the bloody building and him criticising stuff.

Mammon: "Who would even buy a bed like that?"

MC: "I like that bed"

Mammon: "I love that bed"

He would end up getting lost and you would have to ask one of the employees to help you search for him.

"Sir, please follow me, your guardian is looking for you"

Leviathan 🐍

It would take l o t s and l o t s of convincing to even bring him out of his room. You had to promise him two nights of TSL binge watching as compensation.

Why go there when we can enjoy the online IKEA simulator?

Would 1000% stick to you like a lost puppy. He's not used to being outside and in such a huge building, please don't leave him alone.

He would shyly hold the hem of your shirt for comfort (would try to hold your hand as well, but if you mentioned it he would be like "ROTF how did my hand get there? LOL!"

At some point he saw you staring at a love seat.

MC, please no

You: >:)

MC, NO

You ended up pulling him down with you on the love seat. Congrats! You broke Leviathan!

He would bury his face inside his shirt like an ostrich, anything to avoid you seeing the ridiculously prominent blush on his face.

He felt pride swelling in him though once people looked at you sitting on the love seat together.

"They are mine. Take that, normies"

Satan📖

He would s p r i n t to every vintage bookcase that caught his eye.

Probably the only one of the brothers to actually look at the furniture.

You would turn away for 0.1 seconds and you would find him sitting on one of the chairs for display already having read 3 of the books meant for props.

"Dear, do you know where an employee is? I want to borrow this book-"

Will definitely try to buy the book

It was an accident, but you got really excited by a small plant and wandered around, leaving Satan behind as a result.

Needless to say, you would find him soon enough as he would be punching through every fake door in his way and yeeting chairs to the Gods thinking that someone kidnapped you.

"DID YOU TAKE THEM???" *insert terrified employee*

You would have to literally tackle him to prevent him from murdering everyone on sight.

You would have to explain his demon form to everyone as part of a Halloween themed party

Even if it's August

Asmodeus👛

If you think this man would do anything else but stare at the mirrors, you are wrong.

"Darling, look how amazing this mirror looks! Oh wait, it's just me~"

If you are interested in actually buying something, he's your demon.

People would actually ask him things, because they would think he works there.

You are in for a 2 hour long presentation for the reasons the pale pink chair fits the shade of your bedroom wall more than the pastel orange one.

He would insist on you two taking pictures in front of absolutely every mirror on display.

He maintains that he did it because he wants to decide which one to get later back at home, but in reality he really wants his phone to be full of pictures of you.

You are the most beautiful thing in his eyes and he wants to stare at you all the time 💖

Beelzebub🍔

Food detected

This hungry boi would locate the cafeteria as soon as you two stepped inside the building.

MC: "We could eat lunch here! But it takes a while to get to the cafeteria and to find it-"

Beel: "Found it "

He's really hungry, but he doesn't want to ruin your date so he will follow you around everywhere you go and patiently wait for you to say it's time to eat.

Poor boi will feel his heart pounding louder than his stomach once you show him a small hamburger plushie with a smile on it and told him it reminds you of him.

MC: "It's cute, just like you!" Beel: 🥺

He bought the plushie and is now officially sleeping with it every night and if anyone dares to touch it, he will eat their hands.

He has to hold back from eating it, but it reminds him of you and he holds it close to his chest every night so he won't have nightmares.

His smile could beat heaven itself once you two sit to eat.

Belphegor 💤

You thought persuading Levi was hard? Take a look at this fool.

You would have to literally b e g this damn cow to get out of his bed and come with you.

You promised him cuddles and naps when you come back so you better stick to your word.

As soon as he locates the beds, you are done.

Not even the three realms together could make this man stand back up.

MC: "Belphie, please, get up"

Belphie: "Make me"

Fun fact: you couldn't make him.

This demon grabbed your hand and pulled you down on the bed with him.

He clang to you like a koala and wouldn't let go no matter what.

You would softly try to remind him that there are people watching.

He would straight up growl at anyone that looked at you or tried to make you two get up.

You were eventually kicked out and Belphie couldn't be happier.

Time to go home and cuddle you.

Diavolo 👑

"So this is how humans spend their time! So intriguing!"

He would act like an excited puppy the whole time. Yes, this man is the prince of hell.

He would be thrilled by e v e r y t h i n g and I mean e v e r y t h i n g.

You two would end up playing hide and seek and he would easily find you every time.

He's a demon, he can smell your scent from 1 kilometer away. That's the only reason he would let you roam around like that without being worried about your well-being.

He can't really hide from you either considering how tall and buff he is.

You would pretend not to see him so you could see that beautiful grin on his face thinking that he hid well. Protect him.

Mentally writes down anything you seem to like so he can buy it for you.

He wants you to feel safe and accepted in the Devildom so he will get you anything he can to make you feel like home 🥺

You wake up the next day with your room fully redecorated and a heartwarming letter from Diavolo thanking you for taking him with you and him hoping you had fun as well with a small smily face at the end.

I'm weak for this man

This took me a while to write, but it was so fun! I hope you enjoyed it! I will try to practise more on writing for Simeon and Solomon and make sure to write about them too next time! Thank you for the request 💖

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

Note

Hewo :3

Saw you write headcanons ❤. Could ya do one of dati g the guys while being yourself a guitarist in another band ??

Thnks

Yus I can UwU

George

I honestly feel like guitar reader with George would be soooo cool and laid back!

Like, honestly any relationship with George I feel would be like a "we're friends first and foremost, and significant others second" deal

So even tho you guys are in seperate bands, there's never like any "ok, but ONE OF US has to be the better one" type of tension/joking lmao

It really is just a lot of you two practicing together, trading tips, and just all around honing your skills together

That said, I could see the two of you needing time away from your band mates a lot and so the brainstorming with each other is a bit of a cover up

It's not that you don't like your band, or him his, it's just that you need your space to recharge and the others can be a bit.... much, being rock stars and all

Anyway, the two of you are very skilled guitarists so there would definitely be plenty ideas worth picking each other's brains for!

I think you and George would've met during the Beatles hamburg days in a little dive type of place

Your careers took off in seperate ways later on, but you both just clicked at the time and so you kept in contact ever since!

Despite how close you are with George, you don't really come in to feature on a song or just hangout in studio with all the boys

Or vice versa for George and your band tbh

Everyone jokes about needing to keep an eye on you both before you run off together and make your own band lol

Secretly, you both have considered it, but you're happy with your current bands and besides you two have your thing going, and that suits you just fine

John

Ok, so not to step on anyone's toes but ???

I personally headcannon reader to be like a slightly, but noticably, better guitarist then John ????

Like things definitely get competitive between you two

At first, John's kinda jelous tbh

I'd just imagine any brainstorming or private practice sessions being a lot of you bouncing ideas off of him and him just being his brutally honest self and not really doing much bonding with you

At first, that is

Bc as we all know, the root of jealously is insecurity! So I think having reader around to encourage the real John out as well as your genuine admiration of his playing skills, would turn his attitude around!!

When it clicks for him, it's like an "um duh" moment where he realizes that you're not out trying to claim the title of "better then John Lennon" or something

Not everything is a competition, and besides, you love him! It doesn't matter who's "more talented"

I feel like you and John met backstage after a show, like maybe you and your band opened for the Beatles or even vice versa!!

He's a little begrudging of it, but from musician to musician, he just had to tell you how great you were that night

After that came a few chance run ins between your bands and before long, you and John figured why not?

I mean, you both at least respect each other's musical talent, why not get to know each other!

You come sometimes to listen in on the Beatles recording sessions, and it's not uncommon for the rest of the boys to kick John off lead guitar and have you "show him how it's done"

It's just a little inside joke at this point lmao

He likes to act all offended and huffy of course, but when you're not around he loves to brag to the lads about how amazing you are, both as a musician and a person!!

The boys can get a little annoyed on occasion when you do come over tho, seeing as recording time sometimes turns into a bit of pissing competition between you and John

But it's all in good fun and also sooo obvious you two love each other and enjoy having a little go at one another from time to time, so they're happy for you both

Paul

Finally, someone who isn't also a guitarist lmao

Of all the other boys, you and Paul compliment each other, musically and instrumentally that is, the MOST

Like John and Paul are the lyrical masterminds always and forever obviously, but if Paul is looking to get a certain tune out? He tries to get in contact with you whenever he can!

It's just that you get him, like John does, but in a different way, if that makes sense. You know?

He'll oftentimes bring his and John's lyrics and a bass sample he's got for it and ask your opinion on the bass playing and even what kind of guitar chords you think would work with it!

Your private practice sessions aren't all work tho, sometimes Paul just serenades you with his bass and his voice and the two of you chill together

You and Paul are DEFINITELY old friends, like from childhood days!!

You've known each other basically since forever, which is how you're able to craft sheet music so well together, but life simply took you in different directions to different bands

Once you two seperated for that while that he was in Hamburg, he realised just how much he missed you and didn't want to be without you or your expertise!

He was 100% going to ask you to join his band, but you had already found your own :/

That didn't matter too much tho, Paul figured the least he could do was finally ask you out so he wouldn't have to be without you!

You've been together ever since

Typically you don't really come to the Beatles studio sessions, but Paul has been known to come over to you and your bands sessions for sure!

Your bassist is just fine of course! But I mean... Who could say no to some tips and input from good ol macca?

The boys poke at Paul a lot for "cheating on them" with you when it comes to writing sheet music, but they can't deny that you come up with really good stuff together!!

Ringo

I think of all the boys, you and Ringo have like the least amount of tension between yourselves lol

Like there's a tiny bit of competition with any other string musician I'd think, but Ringo and his drums are in a whole other field!

Honestly, Ringo is just in awe of you and your skills

Granted, he doesn't really know enough about guitars to dissect the fine details of what makes you so great or compare you to John and George, but I mean... he thinks you sound absolutely incredible!!

Now, he's not the best drummer in the world, but he keeps great time and you love him for it! Especially when you two have practice time together

And he's so pleased to hear that

A lot of the time, Ringo likes to think he plays for you, rather then just with you and that internal motivation honestly helps push his skills to new heights!!

I feel like you two met totally by accident lol

Like he wandered into your recording studio by mistake one day

"Oh sorry, I heard the guitar and I thought you were George!"

You two share a laugh after he explains himself just a bit more, but you got on so quickly, that the rest is history!

Honestly, the other boys love having you there for their recording sessions

Like seriously, they appreciate you lol

They always tell you Ringo is at his absolute best when you're in the studio, and it's true!

It's to such a point that you've featured as a guest guitarist when the boys play live more then once, just to give Ringo that extra little push

Your favorite spot on stage is right beside him and his drums :)

Bonus:

In the post Beatles era, your Beatle either joins your band, or if that's lost as well, you two form a new group or just a plain duo together!

The transition is a bit of an adjustment period for your Beatle still, but having you there to support them after things fall apart is a HUGE relief

That, and having a familiar face who's also a talented musician to enter a new era of music making with is kind of exciting!

All in all, having you there eases your Beatles post breakup pain and you guys go on to make a couple iconic, landmark albums together ❤️

#beatles headcannons #beatles x reader #the beatles #paul mccartney x reader #ringo starr x reader #george harrison x reader #john lennon x reader #guitarist!reader

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dracusfyre · 4 years ago

Note

Missed this when you first posted it, so, belated but: #12 from the 50 kisses list? any pairing is fine

The prompt from the prompt list was “ Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss,” and I went with winteriron (surprise!). Setting is CA:TFA meets Iron Man Noir. :D (Also on AO3) As a warning the set up took 3k words, which probably explains why I am constitutionally incapable of writing PWPs.

----

Bucky watched Steve leave with the lady in red – Agent Carter, Steve had called her – and felt the sour taste of jealousy on his tongue. Turning away, he downed the rest of his glass of cheap rotgut whiskey and gestured for the bartender to give him another. He hated that Carter hadn’t given him so much as a glance, and he hated that Steve had followed her without question, leaving him alone here at the bar, and he hated himself for caring about either; he should be happy for his friend, shouldn’t he, be happy that he was big and strong, America’s golden boy, a lady’s man, able to jump tall buildings in a single bound. A hero. “From zero to hero,” all the newspapers were saying. Meanwhile Bucky was what? Steve’s buddy, his pal, his childhood friend. Not Sergeant Barnes, a rank he’d earned through being the best goddamn sharpshooter in boot camp and being the most well-respected corporal in his unit when their last sergeant got blown to hell. Meanwhile Steve’s a captain, since presumably “Private America” or “Lieutenant America” didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, grinding his palms into his eyes. This was what he was talking about. When had he become so bitter? He felt full of broken edges inside, jagged and vicious; maybe they’d pumped him full of poison there on that table, and that’s why Bucky felt like vitriol would come spilling out of him at any moment. He wished there was someone to fight right now, wished for the roar of artillery to drown out these thoughts and a bayonet in his hands so he could have some place for these feelings to go instead of building up inside him like a head of steam. His hands fell away from his eyes and he picked up the whiskey again, draining half of the glass in one go and hissing at the burn.

“Hope you’re drinking the cheap stuff if you’re going to chug it,” a voice said from beside him. Bucky jerked, because he hadn’t even noticed that someone had sat down and that’s a good way to get killed, isn’t it? Even here in jolly old London, jolly old safe London, home of Agent Carter, far from the guns and bombs and needles and lasers-

“Hey,” the voice said again, “are you with me?”

Bucky pulled his gaze from his whiskey and dragged it to the man next to him. The man was watching him with bright blue eyes that were sharp but not unkind; he had a hard time meeting those eyes, so he looked back down at the bar instead. “Whaddaya want?” Bucky asked gruffly.

“Good question,” the man said thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky saw him scratch his chin. “World peace comes to mind right now,” he said, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “A good old American hamburger is on the list,” boy could Bucky sympathize with that, “but for right now, I was mostly really curious why you look like your dog died when everyone else is just celebrating the fact that they’re alive.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Bucky said, still staring at the bar. The truth was tumbling out of his mouth and Bucky couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. It was fucked up, he knew that, but Bucky had used up all of his ability to pretend everything was ok on Steve. “I guess I don’t have anything to celebrate.” He punctuated that with another swallow of whiskey and wished he’d start getting drunk already.

“You leave someone on the battlefield?” the man asked after a moment, and the understanding in his voice – not the cloying sympathy he’d heard from others, nothing so soft as an I’m sorry but rather a me too, it’s fucking awful isn’t it – made Bucky’s throat feel thick.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Me.”

The man was quiet for a few moments, long enough that Bucky was sure that the man would just get up leave, and that was good, that was fine, Bucky didn’t want company, he just wanted to be left here to drown himself in peace. It’s not like he was lonely, there were dozens of people in this bar, right? He didn’t need Steve, he didn’t need Dum-Dum or Gabe or any of them, and he certainly didn’t need this random fucking stranger-

“Hey, what do you call a soldier who can read and write?”

Bucky stared at him blankly. “What?” he asked as the man just looked at him expectantly.

“What do you call a soldier who can read and write?” the man repeated.

Bucky blinked at him, but apparently the man was serious. “I don’t know, what?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The man said. “Where does General Marshall keep his armies?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked, but the man just shrugged. “Ok, where?”

“In his sleevies. What’s long and hard and full of seamen?” the man asked next.

“God,” Bucky groaned with a disbelieving laugh, less because the terrible jokes were funny and more because of the self-satisfied look on the man’s face when he said them. “Why the hell are you telling me these terrible jokes? I just came from the front lines, haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Because you’re a soldier,” the man said with a grin, reaching out to flick the rank on Bucky’s collar. “If I told you good jokes, I’d have to explain them.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky said, but he couldn’t help the grin cracking his face.

“That’s more like it,” the man said. “Here, let me buy you a drink. A real drink,” he added, grimacing at the smell of the cheap whiskey in Bucky’s glass.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked after the bartender poured them both something top shelf, at least, as top shelf as it got during war time. “Because if you’re about to tell me you’re with the USO, you might want to rethink your career.”

“How dare you,” the man said cheerfully. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“At you, maybe.”

“I’m Tony,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Bucky,” he said, shaking it. Bucky got a good look at the man this time, realizing just now that he tall and leanly built, dressed less like a man who had gone out for a night on the town and more like someone who had just taken a break from working with his hands and planned to go back to it soon. A mechanic, maybe, or a builder, judging from the nicks and callouses on his hands.

“So are you in London on leave?” Tony asked, sipping on his drink, turning in his seat so he was facing Bucky. “Or are you on your way home?”

Wasn’t that the question? He should be going home, if he had an ounce of brains. “Leave,” Bucky said. He glanced at where the Dum-dum and the others were all still drinking together on the far side of the bar. “And I’ll probably be heading out pretty soon, I guess.” Steve was sure ready to get back into the fight, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d never been one to back down from a fight, even if Bucky had been the one to get the bruised knuckles and bloody noses. He wondered if Steve would be so excited the first time he saw what a German howitzer could do to a human body.

“You got plans before you go?”

Bucky shrugged. “Get drunk and pour myself into bed sometime before morning reveille, I suppose. Why?”

“Well,” Tony said slowly, looking down at his glass and fidgeting with it. “I know you’re wearing a uniform, but I was wondering if you might be active duty.”

Bucky went hot, then cold, with fear at the question, and glanced around to see if anyone had heard. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

“Aren’t we all? There’s a war on out there, and I’d rather get busy living before I get busy dying,” Tony said. “If you aren’t interested, just say so.”

Bucky studied Tony consideringly. “How did you know I wouldn’t punch you in the face just for asking?”

Tony snorted. “I saw how you looked at your friend as he walked out with that beautiful dame. If you’re going to pretend to be something you’re not – or rather, pretend to not be something that you are – you’re going to need a better poker face.”

Bucky took a sip of his drink and turned the offer over in his head, suddenly aware that he hadn’t had anyone touch him, really touch him, in months. His eyes caught on Tony’s hands again and he couldn’t help imagining how they might feel on him. “What did you have in mind?” he said in a low voice.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far, honestly,” Tony said with a rueful smile. “I was out here on a wing and a prayer. But, uh, I got a room at a hotel?”

Bucky looked down at his uniform. Disheveled though it was, it was distinctive and recognizable. “You can’t smuggle me into a hotel, Tony.”

“Right. I have a workshop,” Tony ventured. “It’s not much, but it’s not far.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “Let’s, um…”

“Finish our drinks first?” Tony suggested.

“Sure.” Bucky took a swallow of his drink, now drinking for courage rather than to forget. “Do you do this a lot?”

“No, not with, uh,” Tony gestured at Bucky and Bucky nodded with understanding. “But…” Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Once I’m done with the – this project I’m working on, I’m going back to France. Southern France. So I came out for a drink because my workshop was too quiet, then I saw you, and I thought, he doesn’t seem like he should be alone right now, and when I talked to you, I realized that I don’t want to be alone right now, so…yeah.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked at Tony with new eyes, and saw the tiredness around the eyes, the slightly grim cast to his mouth. If Tony was working in southern France, he was probably with the Resistance, and if there was a more shit job than infantry that was definitely one of them. “Carpe diem, eh?” he asked, and tapped his glass against Tony’s.

“I want to carpe something, alright,” Tony said with a smirk.

“You Americans only want one thing,” Bucky complained, lifting his nose in the air and turning his face away. “You should be ashamed.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, doll,” Tony crooned. “I just want to show you a good time, I promise.” Tony risked a hand on Bucky’s leg, just above the knee, and squeezed, fingers rubbing along the inner seam of Bucky’s pants before he withdrew. Bucky almost choked on his whiskey as he inhaled sharply at the touch, heat suddenly thrumming in his veins. There was a glint in Tony’s eye as if he knew exactly the effect he’d had and was looking forward to doing more of it.

Then his face changed as he glanced up and leaned away from Bucky. “You gentlemen doing alright?” The bartender asked, and they both nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and pay my tab,” Tony said, and passed over way too much money for their bill. “Keep the change,” he said, and the bartender disappeared again.

But the reminder that they weren’t actually alone had been like cold water to the face, and suddenly Bucky was ready to leave. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked. He looked at how much alcohol was left and drank it all, coughing a little at the burn.

“Sure,” Tony said, taking one last swallow of his own before pushing it aside. Bucky stood and hesitated, remembering that the others were sitting by the front door and he’d have to pass them to get out of the bar. Tony touched his arm and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. Night had fallen while they were inside, and it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust; citywide blackout conditions meant that they only had the moonlight to see by, which was a week or so away from being full. “This way,” Tony said, and the hand on his arm slid down until Tony was curling his fingers around Bucky's palm.

The simple touch of another hand in his own made the words get stuck in Bucky’s throat, so he just held on, gripping maybe a little too tightly while Tony led him through the narrow streets and back alleys of London town. Tony stopped as their narrow alley emptied out into a larger street, moonlight gilding the pavement silver. He backed them up a bit, then herded Bucky into a dark corner away from the busier street.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky whispered, wondering if Tony had seen something on the street, like police or other Army officers or something. Instead, Tony just crowded him against the wall, arms coming up to bracket Bucky’s shoulders.

“Can I kiss you?” Tony whispered.

Bucky nodded, then realized it was probably too dark for Tony to see him, so instead he fisted his hands into Tony’s shirt and pulled him closer, sliding his hands up Tony’s chest to frame his face so he could slant his mouth across Tony’s. Tony made a soft hum, deep in his throat, and leaned in until Bucky could feel him from chest to knee. The stone wall was cold against his back, but Tony was so warm, so solid; Bucky suddenly wanted that weight on top of him, pressing him into a mattress. Tony’s mouth was hungry, and Bucky reveled in it; he could taste whiskey on Tony’s tongue and chased it with his own. Tony’s hands were fumbling at his jacket, then at his shirt underneath, trying to find skin. Bucky let go of Tony long enough to help him, trying to pull his shirt out from where he had tucked it into his pants because suddenly he wanted Tony’s hands on him more than he’d wanted anything, ever; this was glorious, it was heady, it was exactly the forgetting that he had been wanting. Then Tony was finally touching him, hands almost hot, the roughness of his callouses as he stroked along Bucky’s ribs making him feel like a plucked string. Relief swelled in him as fire crawled in his veins, making him feel lighter and more alive than he had in months. Tony slipped a thigh between Bucky’s legs and Bucky almost sobbed at the pressure against his aching hardness, especially when he realized that Tony was hard too.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Tony pulled away and Bucky could taste salt on his lips. “Bucky?” Tony said softly. “Are you ok?”

And to his dismay Bucky felt a sob burst out of him, all of the anger and bitterness and joy and loss and fear overflowing like a levee had broken. He felt arms wrapping around him and he buried his face in Tony’s neck and cried into his rough linen shirt. Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him or tell him well-meaning lies like it’ll be ok and you’ll be alright, he just held him close until the sobs trailed away into a stuffy nose and a headache.

Bucky finally straightened, feeling his face burning in the dark. “Christ, I’m so-“ Bucky started, but Tony stopped him with a kiss.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Tony said, digging into his pocket and handing Bucky a handkerchief. Tony’s hands came up to cradle Bucky’s elbows and he rested his head against Bucky’s forehead. “All of that has to go somewhere or it will eat you up inside. I’m glad that I could be here for you when you needed it.”

Bucky grimaced but he had to admit he felt better, like a flood had washed him clean inside. Except, of course, for the embarrassment of having cried on someone he was just about to get off with. “Do you still wanna…?”

“Do you?” Tony asked. They were still cradled in the soft darkness of the night, and Tony’s breath was a puff of warmth on Bucky’s lips; he could smell the whiskey on his breath and the faint threat of Tony’s cologne and what might be grease. There was the faintest murmur of conversation from pedestrians on the big street nearby, but it felt like they were in their own little world here, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear into that as long as possible. So he nodded, knowing that Tony could feel it. “Then I do, too.”

The next morning came all too soon; Bucky sighed with resignation when he saw the clock and realized he’d have to leave now to sneak back to his barracks before morning formation.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Tony offered, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Bucky’s face. They had ended up on a cot that Tony kept in his workshop, which was better than the floor but meant that they had pretty much had to be on top of one another all night in order to fit.

“No, if I get caught then it’s just breaking curfew, getting caught with someone else would just raise more questions.” Bucky kissed Tony’s forehead, the only place he could reach, then started to slide out from under him and get dressed.

“By the way,” Tony said, rolling over onto his back to watch Bucky pull his clothes on, “my full name is Tony Stark.”

“You mean, like the character from the book?” Bucky said skeptically. “Come on. You don’t gotta give me a fake name, here.”

“It’s not fake,” Tony protested. “I am the character from the book.”

“You mean he was named after you?”

“No that’s –“ Tony sat up with a huff, looking outraged. “The books are about me.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That stuff can’t possibly be true, with Atlantis and magic masks and hidden temples and shit.”

“It is. If we had more time I’d show you,” Tony insisted. “And it’s not magic, just science we haven’t figured out yet.”

Bucky thought about blue beams of light that made people disappear as if they’d never existed, and a man who could rip his face off to show just a bloody skull underneath. “I guess,” he conceded. “So you’re a celebrity, eh? Wait until I tell absolutely nobody that I slept with a celebrity,” he said wryly, then did a double take as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, they sent you, a celebrity, into Vichy France?”

Tony winced. “That’s why I don’t tell people my real name,” he said. “It’s not like people can recognize me from the cheesy cover art of those books. I was just telling you so that…you know, in case, after the war – if there is an after – maybe you could look me up.”

“Oh.” Bucky sat down on the edge of the cot and cupped Tony’s cheek in one hand, running a thumb over his cheekbone. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

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gildedmuse · 4 years ago

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So I seem to remember promising more Sora: Warrior Of The Sea Beach Episode. And by "seem to remember" I mean, it's in writing and thus hard to ignore. So despite the fact that none of you care, guess what? You're getting more of this ZoLaw AU.

First off, every member of the cast and crew understands the purpose of a beach episode: to waste time at the beach. Which means that everyone pulls up with swim trunks, blankets, grills and umbrellas. They are basically there to have a beach vacation.

I say everyone. Not Law. Law does not come prepared to party, he comes prepared to be pissy. But like everyone else (Yes, even Mihawk. Though technically only due to Shank's influence. Shanks forces him is what I'm saying. "Hey, even Beckmen is joining in the fun!" / "Benn always joins in these ridiculous games." / "What? My Beckmen? No! He's usually so mature and serious." / "He only seems that way compared to you. Because you are a child.")

The resulting shoot is pretty much pure chaos. Perona and Hancock are more interested in sunbathing than acting. Killer is kicking everyone's ass at volleyball. Franky and Ace are having a grill off to see who makes the better hamburgers and hot dogs (Sanji would totally win except that Pudding-Chan is right there and in a bikini and look, at some point it's difficult to care about things that aren't that.) Zoro and Luffy, meanwhile, are pretty much exactly the children you expect them to be, much to Robin's amusement. Look, she wrote a scene where Sora and Daichi "play wrestle" in the sea, but it has nothing on the actual thing. Because Zoro can often be oblivious and because, you know, Luffy she is sure they don't mean for it to look so homoerotic. It's just a shame Nami isn't here to capitalize on this. She could definitely sell Zoro pinning Luffy to the sand or Luffy wrapping around Zoro like he's made of rubber for more than a few quid.

Law is not enjoy this shoot.

Even when Benn finally gains enough control to start getting actual work done (you'd be surprised how authoritative Mihawk can be even in purple swim trunks) it soon becomes clear that this is going to be a longer than normal shoot. Not because the logistics, just people are not even trying. Ace will just start smiling in the middle of a scene where he shouldn't be smiling, and because Zoro really takes his cues on acting from Ace he'll immediately start smiling regardless of the line. Then Sanji will get angry with them both, which Pudding will think is adorable, thus leading to Sanji forgetting the script entirely to pay attention to her. Perona will tell Zoro off and get too close in his face, which will make Luffy jump in to "protect his virtue" (on order from Nami) which will make Boa jealous because how dare another woman be so close to her Luffy. Which will make Ace and Zoro annoyed which will make Robin giggle, which will distract Franky which will ultimately lead to the effects not working like they should, which will cause Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku to huddle up (definitely not them just laying on the sand and enjoying the day out) which of course gets Shanks and Mihawk's attention. Shanks tries to separate Perona and Luffy while Mihawk gives Zoro and Ace The Look which, despite his still authoritative aura is SLIGHTLY less effective when he's standing there in just swim trunks. Curse Shanks. So in the end, with a heavy sigh, he has to go train instruct Zoro in what he should actually be doing in the scene which somehow ends up with his hands at Zoro's bare waist as he goes through it all yet again.

Law HATES this. Fucking. Shoot.

Which is why he is so close to just leaving, as per Robin's suggestion. They don't need him there. Clearly. They can all get along quite well without him. It's obvious now that Law's real job is babysitting and at this particular location all attempts to be an adult are fruitless.

So Law is all set to leave but then Zoro gets out of the ocean, dripping wet, and heads towards his drink which Law happens to be standing beside. Not watching. Definitely. If anything, glaring. And he tries to keep glaring out at Luffy and Ace messing around as Zoro takes a nice long drink, eyes clearly focused on Law.

Which isn't distracting.

Zoro: Aren't you hot?

Law: *Takes a second to process what that actually means, covering by his continued glare* These are work appropriate clothes, Zoro-ya. Not all of us have forgotten why we're here.

Zoro: *Snorts* RIght. You can't be seen having fun, isn't that so Torao?

Law: *Turning his glare towards Zoro which is maybe a mistake because skin and water and mouth and eyes* I'm only being practical.

Zoro: That sounds boring *Reaching out to grab the end of Law's shirt* You should come have fun with us, Torao. You might even enjoy it. *Sideways smirk that is far too dangerous in nature, anyone with self preservation instincts would run*

Law: *Doesn't run* I… *Is older than Zoro and more experienced than Zoro and always the one to make suggestive comments to Zoro so how is it Zoro has currently got his hands wrapped in Law's shirt while Law seems unable to speak?* I didn't even bring-

Zoro: *Stepping closer, raising Law's shirt up a few inches to show his intent* It's just the crew, it's not like anyone will care.

Law: It wouldn't be very appropriate, Zoro-ya…. *Come on! He's half stripping you down! Be flirty or clever or mysterious or hell just step back and make him stop if you can't come off as at least competent. What the hell is wrong with you? Fuck, he's so close. And there's this trail of water falling from his hair to his lips. Fuck.*

Zoro: Look around. No one here is trying to be "appropriate" Torao. *Steps closer, feeling safe. Feeling cocky. Today has been all sword fights with Killer and sea fights with Luffy and Ace. Can you blame him for being in a good mood? And Law needs to join in, obviously. He's standing up here on the beach looking so miserable and serious. What he needs is to be dragged into the water and force to actually have some fun.* Unless…. *Cocks his head, looking Law over* You can swim, can't you?

Law: I - *It'd be nice if he could swallow right now because it definitely feels like he's going to start drooling. That damn water is curving up on the underside of Zoro's lower lip and he's so close. Law could lap that up for him. Could pin Zoro down and just….*

Zoro: *Beaming* It's alright. Luffy can barely swim, either. *Nods out to the water where currently Luffy is splashing around, riding on Ace's shoulders*

Law: *Eyes go to Luffy and Ace for once second and when he looks back Zoro seems so much closer.*

Zoro: *Still smiling even as he starts to peel off Law's shirt* Come on. *Tugging him by the arm, despite the fact he's still in his jeans and no wait he didn't agree to this!* We'll go together.

Law: *Manages to get Zoro to stop long enough to peel off his jeans so he's down to his boxers, which Zoro flushes at and isn't that what he meant? He can't be so inexperienced. Fuck, Law just wants to ruin this boy, he really does. But then Zoro is back to shoving him towards the sea, happily announcing to Ace and Luffy that he has a fourth and what does that even mean? What has Law gotten himself into?*

It turns out to be an overly competitive game of chicken (both Ace and Zoro really take it far too seriously while Luffy is clearly there for fun but also will break Law's nose if it comes down to it). Which means Law has his legs wrapped around Zoro, whose hands are curled up around his thighs and this could not get any worse.

He thinks.

Totally unaware that Robin has her phone out and is capturing this entire magical moment. And when Franky sits beside her asking why she's filming them fighting she just gets this smile that makes him want to unask because he knows Robin.

Mihawk has to eventually call the boys out to shoot a scene. He stands at the edge of the water with his typically displeased look. Law would feel so much more ashamed if Zoro hadn't chosen to just drop him slightly so Law's legs are wrapped around his waist, and carried him out of the water like that. Law tries to give his boss an apologetic look but it's difficult when he's so wrapped around Zoro, and Zoro's hands keep finding new places on his legs to hold him up. (And maybe Mihawk shouldn't look at actors who work for him that way. And maybe Mihawk should spend less time instructing Zoro. And maybe Mihawk can go to hell because Law has called dibs on this one. This one is his.)

(Also, thank you for this opportunity, Mihawk-san)

(Also, did Zoro really need to flash that smile at Mihawk? Did Mihawk's face just soften slightly? Isn't he like twice Zoro's age? He should really-)

Then Zoro drops him on the sand, and he's leaning over Law, practically on top of him. All other thoughts basically stop.

Zoro: *Beaming* See? Wasn't that better than just sitting around?

Law: *Forgets how breathing works for just a moment, and is way too out of breath by the time he recalls the process. So his mind goes into default Defensive Mode. He frowns* You just wanted a chance to beat Mugiwara-ya.

Zoro: Well… *Shrugs, like obviously. That isn't really the point, is it? Since he chose Law?* You did well Torao. For a beginner.

Law: *Crossing his arms across his chest, which is difficult with Zoro right there. Looks to the side, determined not to give a single inch* I don't like being used Zoro-ya.

Zoro: Right. *Frowns, pushing away from Law* It was Luffy's suggestion anyway.

Law: *Carefully glancing back* What was?

Zoro: *No longer looking at Law* To come get you. Tch. Like I would ever want to pair up with you, Torao. *Pushes off the sand, stalking off towards Mihawkk and the shoot*

Law: *Pushes himself up onto his elbows, watching Zoro go. Can't help feeling like he really messed up.*

Robin: Perhaps you should be more careful with our stuntman's feelings.I suggest next time you be more honest with him.

Law: *Doesn't jump at Robin's sudden appearance next to him. Totally.* There won't be a next time. This is a pointless waste of an episode and the studio will see that.

Law: *As an afterthought* And I was honest.

Robin: *Sets a hand on Law's shoulder in a quiet moment of commiseration*

Also Robin: I have it all on tape if you wish to watch it back. *Leaves*

Law: *Hates this fucking episode*

Law: ….. *Maybe wants to examine that tape.*

#sora warrior of the sea #a redhawk production #the zolaw headcanon nobody asked for #zolaw #zoro x law #roronoa zoro #one piece #one piece au #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #beach episode #the zolaw au nobody asked for #maybe people shouldn't engage me in conversation #conversations with internet people

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rawdoggingmentalillness · 3 years ago

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“If this is the worst thing that happens to us, we will live”

I put off doing this post for a while because I knew it would drain me so, so much emotionally. I did not want to rush it because I wanted to be able to truly articulate my feelings into something that would help me grieve this incomparable loss while also exposing the light that she shined in this world.

At the end of January, I lost my favorite person my world has ever known. She was my very best friend and the first friend that I ever had. She had many names; Nana was how I came to know her. Others knew her as Mary Frances, or mom, or Fanny, or Mrs. Carr, the faithful schoolteacher and librarian that would never hesitate to discipline when she saw fit.

The bond the two of us shared is so incredibly hard to put into words. The easiest way to explain it would be to simply say that I was her favorite just as much as she was mine. She was not ashamed nor afraid to admit that I was her favorite either, and that only added to our relationship. The amount of hours I spent with that woman is probably somewhere in the tens of thousands (I think that’s a lot; the two of us never were good with math). Countless hours spent by the pool or in front of the tv, or, much too often, secretly at a restaurant or in a drive-thru somewhere. I have so many incredible childhood memories with nana- much too many to accurately describe and list without unintentionally leaving one of the best ones out. However, the biggest impact she has left with me is all the things she taught me along the way. So many invaluable lessons that will stick with me until I leave this earth. That is my goal of writing this- to delve deep into the way that this woman’s knowledge is engrained in everything I do. Every single soul that she came into contact with in her 86 years of life would be forever changed from that point forward.

Whenever we would be complaining about something she was doing, she would never fail to reply with “When I’m gone, you’re going to wish I was here to *do said activity warranting complaint*”, and, dammit, if that woman wasn’t right again.

I miss the way a room lit up when she would enter; whether we knew she was coming or not, her appearance instantly made things more lively. I miss the way she was not very skilled in the kitchen, but she knew this and would never hesitate to admit the fact while offering to go with you to buy food from someone or somewhere who did know what they were doing. I will give credit where credit is due, though, she could make a mean ham sandwich. I miss the days where she would get up in the mornings just to take me to school before I could drive. She would do this in the summer as well- getting up at the crack of dawn to take me to football workouts and then waiting for me so that we could eat before I had to go to basketball workouts immediately after. I miss that she would come to my junior varsity basketball games, even when no one could come with her, just so she knew I felt supported. I miss the days at her pool that she so dearly loved, filled with all of her family and favorite humans that loved her just as much. I miss the way she would be running around the house whenever company was there, making sure that everyone had anything and everything they needed or wanted and that anyone present felt included. I miss the way she would decorate for every single holiday- I’m talking Valentine’s Day placemats to Santa Clause toilet seat covers that made it virtually impossible to urinate standing up. I miss shopping trips to Dillard’s and and having to match her pace on the walk to the food court, which would be much quicker than her normal gait. I miss rides in the countless, consecutive white Honda Odysseys- or, when I was old enough to drive, driving her around because that was easier than hearing her say “so you’re just going to sit there and let your eighty-some-odd year old grandmother drive you around”. I miss that she would never give up a free meal, even if that meant she had to suffer through hamburger steak at the local American Legion. I miss her phone calls and pictures on Sundays to let me know she wore her Auburn scarf to church after they had won. I miss the outfits she wore that matched so perfectly- she had quite the extensive collection of shoes in her 80 years, much of which were the same style but different colors. I miss her two favorite outfits: the white turtleneck and windsuit combo or the denim shirt and denim pants with the denim purse to match. I miss the conversations in her sacred living room, filled with stories of the past that made her the woman she came to be. I miss how she would blatantly tell you if she did not think you looked your best; from asking if I needed to go see her hairdresser, Mayumi, to letting me know that the pants I was wearing “surely aren’t the nicest pair I own”. I miss the habitual ordering of her unsweet teas, and god help anyone that accidentally brought her a sweet tea. I also miss her ordering Long Island iced teas when she was feeling particularly dangerous, which she would complain was too sweet and/or strong and proceed to water down after every sip she consumed. I miss how she knew the daily specials for each day of the week from every restaurant within a 10 mile radius from her home. I miss having to come down to her house and help her put in her contacts because she could not make her keep her own eye open; us helping would only, in turn, make it more difficult because she would end up fighting the process more with us than when she was doing it herself. I miss getting into her car and hearing god-awful conservative talk radio, and then trying my very best not to get her feathers all ruffled up about our conflicting political opinions. I miss bringing her almond Hershey’s bars that she would eat despite whichever diet she was trying to keep. I miss watching her, essentially, slap her phone with her fingers when trying to type or scroll, and getting upset when it did not work exactly how she intended. I miss how she was always trying or offering to help with a task, even when it was something she would never be able to physically or mentally do- she just wanted you to know that she was there and would do anything ever asked of her because that was the type of person she was. I miss her voice. I miss her smile. I miss her laugh. I miss her hugs, her touch, her infectious personality. I miss her with every ounce of my being, and I never thought I would have to go through this life without her by my side, coordinating where and when we were going to have our next meal.

She would always tell me “you will wish you were half as smart as I am when you are 80″, and, you guessed it, right again. What she lacked in knowledge or wit, she made up with tenfold in wisdom and understanding of how the world works. I like to believe that she lived to see everything in this world that she wanted to see. I definitely believe, if she were here, she would say she has lived the happiest and fullest life any old woman could dream of. She loved her kids. She loved her friends. She loved her grandkids, especially, and there was not a single thing she would not do for anyone she cared about.

She understood what truly mattered in this life, and I think that is why she was so deeply etched into everyone’s lives. She was so perfectly content with her little house and pool that everyone would come to for hot summer days or any holiday on the calendar, and we were all overjoyed with the chance to go there because we were always met with good spirits and the overall essence of being extremely cared about.

I could go on for days about you, Nana. The things that you taught me, or did for me, or that I miss, or that I remember, but all of it contributes to the fact that you will always be a part of my life- all of our lives. I only wish you could have been at your funeral to see everyone’s lives you impacted. I wish you could have seen all the beautiful flowers and heartfelt messages attached. I wish you could have seen how good your hair looked because I know that would have been the first thing on your mind.

You always talked about your burial plot in Tennessee, and everyone remembers the extremely morbid picture you have with it that you thought was so funny, much to the disappointment of others. You talked about having a bunch of strong men in the family to be pallbearers when that day came, but that was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

I carried my very favorite person to her forever resting spot, and watched as they lowered you into the ground. We all said our goodbyes and went our separate ways to try and return to our lives, but I don’t know if I, myself, will ever be able to. An integral part of my life left me that day. I look up at the sky sometimes, and try to think of you looking down on me, proud- or possibly upset with current hairstyle choice. But that’s not where I truly see or feel you.

I feel your presence in the decisions I make. I feel you in the way that I view life’s situations. I see you in the color yellow, which you so much enjoyed. I feel your positivity reaching out from my memory of you.

“If this is the worst thing that happens to us, we will live” you always said. I do my best to live by that every single day. I pray we get the chance to meet again one day, Nana, because I want nothing more than to hug my favorite person just one more time- and you don’t have to slip me a $20 bill this time.

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noctisfishing · 4 years ago

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What Do You Treasure?

Day 6 - Treasure

#noct writes taiora week 2020 [ 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 ]

@taioraweek for more Taiora love! @noctisfishing for Taiora/Digimon writings and more. :)

Setting: Digimon Adventure tri.: timeframe / Canon Divergence

Tags: Fluff, Humor

Other Characters: 01 Chosen Children and Digimon Partners

Notes: My challenge for this was to separate this prompt theme from a multi-chapter fic that I’m still working on. ;) Like a few of my other fics, I pictured everyone in high school in this one.

Basically, everyone has their own answers. ;D

~*~*~*~*~*~

“What do you treasure?”

Sora arrived home after school one afternoon with that question lingering on her mind. The teacher had posed the question to the class during a discussion about a novel in which the students were assigned to read.

“Is it an item that has some meaning to you? A place you’ve been? A friend, or a loved one? There is no wrong answer.”

When she met Piyomon in the living room and asked her, she responded right away.

“It’s you, Sora!” Piyomon leapt into Sora’s arms and nuzzled her beak against her. “Meeting you and becoming partners is the greatest treasure I could ever want.”

“Oh, Piyomon…”

Sora smiled and held her partner tightly, knowing that she felt the same way.

She thought about calling Taichi to ask how he would respond. She already knew what she would tell him.

But she also couldn’t help but wonder what her friends would say.

~*~*~*~*~

The moment Taichi arrived home and asked Agumon the same question, he responded without any thought.

“Hamburgers!”

“Hamburgers?” Taichi repeated.

“Can we go get some later?”

“We just had some with Sora and Piyomon the other day!”

“They’re so delicious, I could have them every day!”

Taichi laughed, shaking his head. “You sure never get tired of them.”

He went into his room to set down his school back on his desk chair, and he noticed the picture frame on his desk with his friends and their Digimon partners. Sora was standing next to him, and he remembered that the two of them were laughing together at the time the picture was taken.

He wondered if the answer was that easy to tell.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Who do you treasure, Yamato?”

Sora with Piyomon sat on Yamato’s couch as she asked him the question. Gabumon sat in front of her, lifting his paw toward her and laughing playfully as she gently waved his paw up and down.

“Are you thinking about sensei’s question, too?” Yamato asked quietly while he tuned his bass guitar.

“Yamato might not tell you,” Gabumon added. “But you could probably make some really good guesses.”

“I’d rather you not.”

“He’ll tell us if he wants to,” Sora replied with a smile. She didn’t want to push Yamato into talking about something he was uncomfortable with.

She saw that Gabumon was eager to talk, but he kept quiet as he beamed at Yamato fiddling with warm up chords. She didn’t have to ask to know that Gabumon and music were his treasures.

Yamato paused his playing and looked as though he had just remembered something. “I was supposed to call Takeru today to help him with something.”

Both Sora and Gabumon both knew that Takeru was another one.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I can’t just choose one pair of shoes!”

Taichi had caught Mimi on her way home as he and Agumon went for a walk.

“So, you treasure your shoes?” Taichi asked.

“My whole closet, actually. I do have a favorite dress and cute boots - oh, and just paired with the right necklace and earrings? Ah! It’s an outfit that I cannot live without!”

“Then, your treasure is something you can wear. Something, not someone.”

Mimi looked at him from the corner of her eyes in suspicion. “Why? Do you treasure someone, Taichi?”

“Well, uh…”

Taichi went red in the face the longer Mimi stared him down. He could tell that she was reading his mind.

“I don’t have to answer that!” he stammered.

“I’m sure you’ll admit it when the moment’s right,” she said with a wink. But then, she let out a giggle that sounded less mischievous. “It’s Palmon for me. And you, and all of my friends. The Digital World, too. It would be hard to deny that for any of us.”

Taichi smiled back. “That’s true.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Peace and quiet.”

Sora smiled with hesitation the moment Jou responded harshly to her question at his front door. “I’m sorry, Jou,” she said. “We must be bothering you.”

“Relax, Jou!” Gomamon added, jumping onto his arms. “Sora never comes here to make any trouble.”

Jou sighed, suddenly looking remorseful. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Sora. I’ve just been stressed.”

“It’s okay. Entrance exams are sure to be stressful.”

“Don’t worry,” Gomamon said with a cheerful smile. “I’ve been here to root for him when he needs it!”

“I’m sure you have been!”

“I should make you some tea! I already have the kettle going for Jou!”

Gomamon jumped off from Jou and disappeared from the door, leaving Jou to chuckle timidly. “Don’t feel like you’re intruding,” Jou told her. “Please, stay for tea. Gomamon will whine if you leave now.”

As Sora sat down at the table with Jou and waited for Gomamon, Jou had decided to answer her question.

“I don’t know where I’d be without Gomamon,” he said. “He truly is my best cheerleader.”

“I see,” replied Sora. “But I imagine ‘peace and quiet’ is still a true answer?”

“Yeah… Taichi and Agumon can test me on that. They showed up earlier and asked me the same question.”

“Oh…” Sora held her hand to her mouth to try to stop herself from laughing. “I’ll be sure to talk to him about it later.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“My treasure?” Koushiro asked Taichi, his eyes transfixed on his computer screen as they both sat in his room.

“You know, something, or someone… that could have a special meaning to you.”

“Well, I think that’s an easy answer for me.” After clicking a few times on his computer mouse, Koushiro pushed himself away from the keyboard on his desk. “Tentomon, for one.”

“Koushiro-han…!” Tentomon replied on the side, and Taichi could swear his face was glowing redder than the shell on his body.

“And… my parents, too.”

Koushiro sat in his chair as though deep in thought.

“That makes sense, Koushiro,” Taichi assured him with a smile.

Koushiro remained quiet, but Taichi heard Tentomon clear his throat loudly and shift himself next to Agumon.

“Just try to stay away from his harddrive,” Tentomon whispered to Agumon. “He almost imploded when I nearly dropped one of it parts as he was building it…”

“Ooh, gotcha!” Agumon whispered back.

~*~*~*~

“Patamon… and Yamato, of course!” Takeru replied with a cheerful smile to Sora.

“I figured you would say that,” Sora said, giggling.

“He probably would tell me he’d never talk to me again if I told him.”

“But he would still talk to you again a minute later!” Patamon said chiming in, sitting on top of Takeru’s head.

“You must be really interested in everyone’s answers,” Takeru added.

“It’s nice to know what can make someone’s eyes light up,” replied Sora.

Patamon made a squeak, and Sora noticed that Takeru had been looking above her for a few moments.

“Has anyone asked what it is that you treasure, Sora?”

“Not yet.”

At that moment, Sora realized where Takeru and Patamon had been staring, and Sora moved her hand up to her hair, lightly running her fingers through her locks.

“Think he’ll figure it out?”

Sora laughed. “I’m sure he will.”

~~~~

“My stupid, adorable Onii-chan, of course.”

“Staaahhp,” Taichi said, pushing Hikari away from trying to pinch his cheeks. He had returned home, where she sat in the living room with Tailmon.

“This one, too.” Once Hikari stopped, she picked up Tailmon and nuzzled the top of her head.

“Is it really that easy?” Taichi asked. “Everyone responded with answers that seemed to roll off of their tongues.”

“It’s not too hard to figure out, Taichi. Even if you are afraid to say it out loud, the answer just comes to you.”

Taichi grimaced. “I didn’t say anything about being afraid.”

The doorbell rang. Hikari looked at Tailmon, and Taichi looked toward Agumon. They weren’t expecting any guests, and their parents weren’t going to arrive home until later.

Sora was at the door when Taichi answered, with Piyomon standing at her side.

“Hey, Sora,” Taichi said, finding himself happy to see her. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, well…” Sora had met eyes with him, but suddenly looked to the side with a shy smile. “I’ve been going around asking everyone a question, and I think it’s your turn.”

Taichi was taken aback. He had returned home after getting hungry, but he had planned to call Sora right after he had dinner.

He wondered if it was the same question he had been asking all afternoon. He watched her bring her hand to her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear, and then, he noticed it; a red shiny gem clipped in her hair on the side.

It was the hair clip he had given her for her birthday one year. He didn’t realize that she would keep it for so long.

He realized that that must have been something she treasured, just like how...

“I treasure you, Sora,” he said aloud. Somehow, his realization at that moment urged him to say it, and it seemed to tumble out of his mouth.

With a nervous laugh, she turned to face him again with a wider smile.

“I treasure you, too, Taichi,” she replied.

Even with the sizzle on his cheeks, he couldn’t have been happier.

They stood face to face, suddenly laughing at each other. He knew that she had been nervous to say it, too, but he found relief knowing that saying it aloud wasn’t as hard as either of them thought, after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bonus:

Taiora brought their Digimon to a burger place and Taichi ordered the avocado burger that Mimi had told him about earlier. Mimi found out later and got upset that they went without her.

#taioraweek2020 #taioraweek #taiora #digimon fanfiction #sora takenouchi #tai kamiya #takenouchi sora #yagami taichi #chosen children #digidestined #noctiswriting #prompt fics #noct writes taiora week 2020 #taiora fanfiction

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thebeatleaesthetic · 4 years ago

Text

A conversation Hunter Davies had with McCartney in 1981, months after Lennon's murder. McCartney complained about the media's portrayal of him as inferior to Lennon and shared his hurt at comments made by friends that appeared to underline others' impression of him as insincere. McCartney was later disappointed that Davies chose to write about the conversation, which he thought was a private discussion.

[From the 1982 revised edition of The Beatles: The Authorised Biography, Hunter Davies]

It’s slightly lengthy, 3.4k words. It reminds me a bit of the Lennon Remembers interview - very insightful. It does feel like a sensitive moment in Paul’s life, he mentions hurting and feeling hurt by many people. Here’s ~200 words from it if you’re not yet sure you want to read the whole thing (or skip ahead if you are):

"No one ever goes on about the times John hurt ME... People keep on saying I hurt him, but where's the examples, when did I do it?... It's just always the same, blaming me...

"We were always in competition... But that was in compositions. I can't understand why Yoko is saying [I hurt John the most]...

“Perhaps I hurt people by default...

“I was never out to screw him, never. He could be a maneuvering swine, which no one ever realized. Now since the death he's became Martin Luther Lennon...

“We grew to be equals. It made him insecure. He always was, really...

“If we had to start listing all the times when HE hurt me....

“John and I were really Army Buddies. That's what it was like really. I realize now we never got to the bottom of each others souls...

"I still get slagged off for it. In the history books, I'm still the one who broke up the Beatles...

“I didn't hate John. People said to me when he said those things on his record about me, you must hate him, but I didn't. I don't...

“[John] could be wicked. But I'm always sensible. That's me. I would never say the things he said...

And the entire excerpt I found:

▀▀▀▀

Not long after John's death, I had some strange conversations with Paul. He seemed so upset by so many things, not least of which was John's death. This was in May 1981, and I jotted down in a diary some of the things he told me. John's death had grown into a sort of cult, with instant books appearing, and the papers were still full of it. Many people, in praising John, were at the same time putting down Paul, or so it appeared. He felt he had already been criticized in a book that had just been published, written by Philip Norman, a fine writer and formerly a colleague of mine on the Sunday Times. I had helped him, letting him see all my files, when he had come to talk to me, saying he was writing a book about the sixties as a whole. None of the Beatles had in fact given him any interviews for his book, subtitled "The True Story of the Beatles." Paul rang me on May 3, 1981, and went on and on for over an hour, all about how hurt he was. He had already been moaning at length to my wife, as I had been out walking on Hampstead Heath when he had first rung. He said he was fed up with all these people going on about him and John and getting it all wrong. Only he knew the truth. It wasn't anything like the things being said. Paul had a go at me for having gone on some TV program after John's death. In my tribute to him, I had said that John was more the hard man, with the cutting edge, while Paul was more soft and melodic. But what had really got Paul upset that day was an interview with Yoko in which Yoko was quoted as saying that Paul had hurt John more than any other person. Paul thought they were amongst the cruelest words he ever read. "No one ever goes on about the times John hurt ME," said Paul. "When he called my music Muzak. People keep on saying I hurt him, but where's the examples, when did I do it? No one ever says. It's just always the same, blaming me. Could I have hurt John MORE than anyone in the world? More than the person who ran down Julia in his car? "We were always in competition. I wrote ‘Penny Lane,’ so he wrote ‘Strawberry Fields.’ That was how it was. But that was in compositions. I can't understand why Yoko is saying this. The last time I spoke to her she was great. She told me she and John had just been playing one of my albums and had cried." So why don't you ring her up, I suggested, and find out if she really made that remark? "I'm not ringing her up on that. It's too trivial. It's not the time. I wouldn't ring her up on that." What did he think then might have hurt John? “There's only one incident I can think of which John has publicly mentioned. It was when I went off with Ringo and did ‘Why Don't We Do It In the Road?’ It wasn't a deliberate thing. John and George were tied up finishing something and me and Ringo were free, just hanging around, so I said to Ringo let's go and do this. "I did hear him some time later singing it. He liked the song and I suppose he'd wanted to do it with me. It was a very John sort of song anyway. That's why he liked it, I suppose. It was very John, the idea of it, not me. I wrote it as a ricochet off John. "Perhaps I hurt people by default. I never realized at the time John would mind. At Ringo's wedding (the previous week) Neil happened to say to me that Mimi was upset I'd never contacted her after John's death. I'd never even thought of it. I don't know Mimi. I probably hadn't seen her for about twenty years, since Menlove Avenue. I was just the little kid that hung around with John. We didn't get in her house. "Anyway, I rang her up, in case she really was upset, and apologized for not ringing, saying I hadn't got her phone number, and she was terrific and we had a good chat. We discussed Philip Norman's book and she didn't like it either. She said I should write and complain. I told her I'd been writing letters constantly, but I'd torn them all up. She said I should do something about it, stop all this sort of thing. "'In an earthquake you get many different versions of what happened by all the people who saw it. And they're all true.' That's what I wrote in one letter. But how can you get the full story from someone who WASN'T there, nor has talked to the main people? But I tore that one up as well. "Nobody knows how much I HELPED John. Me and Linda went to California and talked him out of his so-called lost weekend, when he was full of drugs. We told him to go back to Yoko, and not long after he did. I went all the way to L.A. to see the bastard. He never gave me an inch, but he took so many yards and feet. "He always suspected me. He accused me of scheming to buy over Northern Songs without telling him. I was thinking of something to invest in, and Peter Brown said what about Northern Songs, invest in yourself, so I bought a few shares, about 1,000 I think. John went mad, suspecting some plot. Then he bought some himself. He was always thinking I was cunning and devious. That's my reputation, someone who's charming, but a clever lad. "It happened the other day at Ringo's wedding. I was saying to Cilia [Black] that I liked Bobby [her husband]. That's all I said. Bobby's a nice bloke. Ah, but what do you REALLY think Paul? You don't mean that, do you, you're getting at something? I was being absolutely straight. But she couldn't believe it. No one ever does. They think I'm calculating all the time. "I do stand back at times, unlike John. I look ahead. I'm careful. John would go for the free guitar and just accept it straight away, in a mad rush. I would stand back and think, but what's this bloke really after, what will it mean? I was always the one that told Klein to put the money away for tax. "I don't LIKE being the careful one. I'd rather be immediate like John. He was all action. John was always the loudest in any crowd. He had the loudest voice. He was the cock who crowed the loudest. Me and George used to call him the cockerel in the studio. I was never out to screw him, never. He could be a maneuvering swine, which no one ever realized. Now since the death he's became Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn't him either. He wasn't some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker. "For ten years together he took my songs apart. He was paranoiac about my songs. We have great screaming sessions about them. "In the beginning he was a sort of fairground hero. He was the big lad riding the dodgems and we thought he was great. We were younger, me and George, and that mattered. It was teenage hero worship. I've often said how my first impression of him was his boozy breath all over me---but that was just a cute story. That was me being cute. It was true, but only an eighth of the truth. I just used to say that later when people asked me for my first memory of John. My first reaction was very simple---that he was great, that he was a great bloke, and a great singer. My REALLY first impression was that it was amazing how he was making up all the words. "He was singing ‘Come Go with Me to the Penitentiary,’ and he didn't know ONE of the words. He was making up every one as he went along. I thought it was great. "He became so jealous in the end. You know he wouldn't let me even touch his baby. He got really crazy with jealousy at times. I suppose I've inherited some of that... "It's true I didn't care for Stu, but I wasn't against him personally. He just couldn't play bass. That was all there was to it. I had a functional, ambitious-for-the-group sort of objection to him. He knew he couldn't play. I was the one that told him to keep his back to the audience, as that photograph shows. I didn't want him out to get the bass job. Stu himself left us, to stay on in Hamburg. John asked George first to play bass. I've checked that with George the other day. He remembered it well. George refused. So he asked me. I got lumbered with playing bass. It wasn't my scheme. "It was the same with Pete Best. I wasn't jealous of him because he was handsome. That's all junk. He just couldn't play. Ringo was so much better. We wanted him out for that reason. "The idea of Brian's murder is crazy, but all that merchandising trouble was true. We got screwed for millions, but in the end it wasn't worth suing everybody. We'd never get it all back and it would take such time. We knew most of them would still in the end get away with it. It was all Brian's fault. He was green. I always said that about Brian. Green. "We knew he was gay, but it didn't matter. For awhile he didn't know we knew, and we pretended it that way. It didn't matter. We never discussed it with him. He kept it very private. It didn't matter. We might make faces at each other behind his back, you know if someone was dressed up in drag. We'd try to catch Brian's eye, to see if he was blushing. But we didn't say anything. It was all affectionate. As for that drawing with Brian in the middle of a row of kids in the Cavern, SALIVATING, that is not true. I've heard of artistic license, but that's ridiculous. The other drawings were meant to be true, as they started with one based on a photograph, so you took this as being true. It's just part of trying to build up Brian's gay thing. He NEVER sat in the Cavern. He never mixed anyway. He just stood at the very back, so no one could see him or knew he was there. There was no salivating. "I idolized John. He was the big guy in the chip shop. I was the little guy. As I matured and grew up, I started sharing in things with him. I got up to his level. I wrote songs as he did and sometimes they were as good as his. We grew to be equals. It made him insecure. He always was, really. He was insecure with women. You know, he told me when he first met Yoko not to make a play for her. "I saw somewhere that he says he helped on ‘Eleanor Rigby.’ Yeah. About half a line. He also forgot completely that I wrote the tune for "In my Life". That was my tune. But perhaps he just made a mistake on that. Forgot. "I understood what happened when he met Yoko. He had to clear the decks of his old emotions. He went through all his old affairs, confessed them all. Me and Linda did that when we first met. You prove how much you love someone by confessing all the old stuff. John's method was to slag me off. "I've never come back at him, not at all, but I can't help hide my anger about all the things he said at the time, about the Muzak, about me singing like Englebert Humperdink... "If we had to start listing all the times when HE hurt me. Doing that one little song on my own, compared with what he said about ME.... "When you think about it, I've done nothing really to him, compared with that. Anyway, he did the same with ‘Revolution 9′. He went off and made that without me. No one ever says all that. John is now the nice guy and I'm the bastard. It gets repeated all the time." But until John's death, I said, the general image was that you were the nice guy and that John was the bastard. Neither of course was true, not completely. Things will soon shake down. Don't worry. Keep cool. "But people are printing FACTS about me and John. They're NOT facts. This will go down in the records. It will become part of history. It will be there for always. People will believe it all. "Anyway, me, George, and Ringo have promised to be nice guys to each other from now on. When we meet and talk now I never mention Apple. I've learned that. Any mention of Apple just leads to rows and slagging off... "I apparently hurt George Martin by default as well. I didn't know that till I read his book. I didn't let him do ‘She's Leaving Home.’ I rang him up, but he was busy, couldn't make it for two days, or two weeks or something, so I thought what the hell, if he can't fit me in, I'll get someone else. I was hurt at the time, which was why I got someone else. Now he says I deliberately hurt him. Well, if that's the only hurt I've done him... "John and I were really Army Buddies. That's what it was like really. I realize now we never got to the bottom of each others souls. We didn't know the truth. Some fathers turn out to hate their sons. You never know. "At Ringo's wedding, I happened to go to the toilet, and I met Ringo there, at the same time, just the two of us. He said there were two times in his life in which I had done him in. He said that he'd done himself in three times. I happened to be spitting something out, and by chance the spit fell on his jacket. I said there you go, now I've done you three times. We're equal. I laughed it off. It was all affectionate. It wasn't a row. It wasn’t slagging off. He just suddenly said it, and we moved on. But NOW, I keep thinking all the time, what are the two times that Ringo thinks I put him down... "I suppose we all do that. We never publicly come out with little hurts. George told me the other day of a time I'd hurt him. He's done worse, I think, like saying he'd never play guitar with me again. "I was very upset when they said I was just trying to bring in Lee Eastman, because he's my in-law. As if I'd just bring in a member of the family, for no reason. They'd known me twenty years, yet they thought that. I couldn't believe it. John said, 'Magical Mystery Tour was just a big ego trip for Paul.' God. It was for their sake, to keep us together, keep us going, give us something new to do... You were justified over the Klein case. In the end, they all came around to your opinion. You won in the end. I'm sure the truth will come out this time. So just wait, forget it... "Yeah, we lost four million dollars every year. Legally, we were mugs. I still have Lee Eastman, and he's made a fortune. For me, I was forced to sue the Beatles, in order to prove what I knew. I didn't want to. I went up to Scotland and agonized for three months, cut myself off, before I decided it was the only way. To sue the Beatles. It was a terrible decision. "I still get slagged off for it. In the history books, I'm still the one who broke up the Beatles.

"I didn't hate John. People said to me when he said those things on his record about me, you must hate him, but I didn't. I don't. We were once having a right slagging session and I remember how he took off his granny glasses. I can still see him. He put them down and said, 'It's only me, Paul.' Then he put them back on again, and we continued slagging...That phrase keeps coming back to me all the time. 'It's only me.' It's became a mantra in my mind.

"I have some juicy stuff I could tell about John. But I wouldn't. Not when Yoko's alive, or Cynthia. John would. He would grab, go for the action, say the first thing in his head. We admired him for that. It was honesty; but it could hurt. And it wasn't really all THAT honest. He KNEW he could hurt. He could be wicked. But I'm always sensible. That's me. I would never say the things he said. "No one else knows the truth, such as it is, that's the trouble. I was talking to Neil the other day, having a laugh and remembering some incident, a funny story. We remembered everything exactly, what we said, what I was wearing, that someone had a fan. We were absolutely exact on seventy-five percent of the story, except on one vital thing. I said it took place in Piccadilly and Neil said it was Saville Row. I can see it so clearly, every detail as it happened---and so can Neil, yet it's in different places. "Until I was about thirty, I thought the world was an exact place. Now I know that life just splutters along. John knew that. He was the great debunker. He'd be debunking all his death thing now. "I can't really remember the sixties anyway. I went through it in sort of a purple haze. The other day we are at a place, me and Linda, and this gorgeous blonde came up to me and flung her arms around my neck. 'Remember me, Paul?' I said ‘Hmmm, yeah, now let me see...’ but I had no knowledge of ever seeing her before. 'But Paul, we made love in LA.’ Oh. I said, 'Really. Meet the wife. This is Linda. ‘Scuse us, we'll have to go...' “It happened before of course. It was before I was married. It can be dodgy, but Linda's a good skin." Why don't you write it all down, or tape it all, put down what YOU think was the relationship between you and John, exorcise it once and for all, then stick it in a drawer and forget it? "I might. I did that after being in jail. I've written my feelings about that. I wasn't allowed pencil and paper in jail, and it was all I wanted, so when I came home, I wrote it straight out. I don't know what to do with it. I don't want that usual publishing scene. It's just for me. It's about 20,000 words. Linda and one or two other people have read it and think it's good. I got a private printer, just to print for me one copy, one only. I've got it. I just wanted a plain white cover, and inside just black words on white paper. On cheap white paper. I wanted it like an Olympia Press book. Just a cheap little thing. It fits in the pocket, just six inches by four. I did for a time think of publishing a few and selling them off the back of a barrow. Telling no one, just suddenly selling them in the street, for a few bob. But I don't want a big thing. Then I heard that some pop musician had ready done this, so I didn't want it to look like copying. So I just have the one copy. I'll let you read it sometime. Tell me what you think. "As for me and John, yeah, I might write it down. You know I helped him with his first book. That's never been mentioned by anyone. Not by John anyway..."

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mfingenius · 5 years ago

Note

Hiii~~~ if you’re still taking on requests, could i request a drabble please (or headcanons idm!!!) on the friendships that grows between draco and ron and hermione (and others if you want!!!) after him and harry start dating? maybe from harrys pov? and a scene with draco and rose/hugo with smitten harry would be a lovely bonus to add hehe~ thank you and have a wonderful day love!!!

I hope you have a wonderful day too babe

Alright so it took me ALL day to write this bc I kept getting pulled away from my laptop for one reason or another AND it turned out much longer than expected BUT here it is :DD

——————-

“This is a bad idea.” Draco says. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Love, it’s going to be alright.” Harry assures. “Ron isn’t going to say anything.”

Harry knows that for a fact, because he knows Hermione spoke to him about it. She warmed up to Draco much faster than Ron did - and much faster than Harry expected. It helps that, in a lot of ways, they’re very similar. He’d pointed it out to Ron; they’re both passionate of their beliefs, and stubborn, and clever, and Harry and Ron both stopped making the list right there because both of them had gagged, realizing just how similar their significant others were. Both had been offended afterwards that the other had gagged at their partner.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t like Hermione, of course he does! She’s one of his best friends, practically a sister to him, which is why he doesn’t ever want to think of dating her. In fact,-

“Harry!” Draco’s tone implies that it’s not the first time he’s said it. “I’m not worried about the Weasel.” He is, Harry knows, but he’s not going to point it out. He doesn’t fancy sleeping on the couch. “I just don’t think this is a good idea. They have children. I don’t - I’m not good with children.”

“You’re great with Teddy,” Harry points out. “He loves you.”

As does every other child they know; they’re attracted to Draco’s shiny hair, Harry thinks. Or maybe it’s his eyes, and the way he laughs. His lips. His shoulders, the very kissable nape of his neck, his legs. His kindness, the gentleness of him in the morning. The way he likes for Harry to wrap himself around him at night, holding on tightly. His breath taking arse-

Those are the reasons Harry’s attracted to him. Right.

No, he honestly doesn’t know why children love Draco, but they do; it helps, of course, that Draco loves children too. He makes silly voices and faces at them, lets them touch his hair, and his eyelashes even if he hates people touching him. He tickles them, and carries them on his shoulders, and they seem to be able to tell that Draco is willing to do all those things for them. They gravitate towards Draco, squealing, and laughing, and batting their long eyelashes at him as if they know Draco’s helpless towards them.

Harry thoroughly enjoys watching it. He thinks Draco will be a natural, when they have children of their own. Not that he’s mentioned that, because he doesn’t want to freak Draco out, even if they’ve been dating for a year now, and Harry’s planning to ask him to marry him. Which is exactly why Harry needs Draco and Ron to get along now.

The ring is in the drawer of his desk in the Ministry, because he thinks if he left it at home, Draco would find it.

“But Teddy’s different.” Draco says. “Sirius is my cousin, and Lupin at least tolerates me.”

Harry doesn’t say that Remus does more than tolerate Draco; he’s quite similar to Sirius, which means that Remus has a sort of… irritated fondness for his wit and petulant sarcasm.

“And Hermione likes you,” Harry reminds. “And Ron will come around, I promise. Please?”

Draco sighs. “Fine. Yes, alright. I’m ready. Okay, let’s go.”

Harry laughs at Draco’s sudden decisiveness, and they walk through the floo and straight into Ron and Hermione’s living room.

“Draco!” Hermione says warmly, immediately hugging him. “How are you?”

She hugs Harry, too, and she accepts the flowers they brought for her.

“Good,” Draco says, swallowing. Harry thinks that, considering how arrogant and condescending he was in school, his nervousness is adorable. Of course, he’s never said that; he doesn’t want to end up hexed. “And you?”

“Good,” Hermione smiles. “Ron is outside with the kis and the grill - go to him, will you, Harry? I’m still nervous about him being around Muggle things. And Draco, you come with me.”

Harry nods, and watches fondly as Hermione drags his boyfriend away from him. He goes out to the patio, smiling when he sees Ron roaring playfully at Rose and Hugo, making them squeal and run away, laughing.

“Hullo,” He claps Ron on the back, and Ron turns back to him, smiling.

“Hey, mate.” He says. They hug, and Ron turns back to the grill, already warm. “How are you?” He hesitates, looking a little disgusted as he continues, “And, err, Malfoy?”

Harry bites back a laugh. Though Ron and Draco don’t dislike each other anymore, per se, they don’t like each other either, though they’ve developed an odd friendship that mainly consists of friendly insults rather than real ones.

Ron’s a good friend though; even if he truly despised Draco, he’d never say anything rude about it to Harry.

“We’re good,” Harry admits. “And you and ‘Mione?”

Before Ron can answer, Hugo and Rose spot Harry.

“UNCLE HARRY!” They roar together.

Harry smiles and braces himself for the two little hellions that come barreling into his arms, expecting to be lifted up; he doesn’t disappoint. He takes them each in one arm and spins them around until they’re squealing and laughing and begging to be put down.

When he does put them down, Hugo goes to play with Crookshanks - who recently had kittens - and Rose blinks her warm brown eyes at him.

“Is Draco here?” she asks excitedly. She’s never met him before, but since she heard of his existence as Harry’s boyfriend, she’s been excited to meet him.

“Yes,” Harry nods. “He’s with your mum, but I don’t know if-”

Rose doesn’t bother to let him finish. She toddles into the house quickly, and Ron shakes his head lightly.

“Honestly, it’s good that they’re finally meeting.” He says. “I don’t think I can take another week of her asking me after the ferret.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. He tried to get Ron to drop the ‘ferret’ nickname, but Ron said that he’d drop it when Draco stopped calling him ‘Weasel’. It hasn’t happened yet.

“She’s going to love him.” He says. “Kids always do.”

“I know.” Ron says, seemingly resigned. Harry smiles fondly, and then checks the door to see if Draco or Hermione are near. He can’t see them inside the house, and he shifts nervously.

“I’m going to ask him to marry me.” He blurts out.

“What?” Ron yelps, jerking. The hamburger he was in the middle of flipping flies to high and lands on the grass. Ron doesn’t seem to care. “Marriage?”

Harry scowls lightly. “Lower your voice, they’ll hear you.” His scowl fades, and he smiles lightly, anxiously. “Yeah. I want to marry him. Do you think he’ll think it’s too soon?”

Ron blinks. “Well, you’ve only been dating for a year. I don’t think I’d be ready. But I can never figure out what the hell Malfoy is thinking, so I don’t know what he’d think.” He looks around and lowers his voice. “I didn’t know you were this… serious about him. I thought it was like a - a fling.”

It was. The three months of their one-year relationship there was no commitment; they were shagging. That was it. And then Harry had wanted more, and Draco had miraculously agreed, and here they are, seven months later, living together and with Harry wanting to propose.

“We’re living together,” Harry points out.

“Well, yeah.” Ron says, rolling his eyes. “But you spent three months shagging the guy and insisting that it didn’t mean anything even though it clearly did.” Harry gives a sheepish smile, and Ron looks empathetic. “Look, if you - love him-” he looks constipated as he says it, and Harry hides a laugh behind a cough. “Then you should go for it. As much as I’d rather I hadn’t, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s in this as much as you are, if not more. I don’t think he’ll say no.”

Harry doesn’t think there’s any way Draco’s in this more than he is, because he doesn’t think it’s possible to love anyone more than he loves Draco; he appreciates Ron’s adivce, though. He’s gotten better with feelings now that they’re older, and his advice is always reliable.

“Thanks, mate.” He says. “I-”

The patio door slides open, and Hermione steps out, levitating plates and silverware behind her. Draco steps out then, Rose balanced on his hip; she’s babbling away and petting Draco’s hair at the same time, while he nods and seems to carry a conversation with her even if Harry knows - from experience - that Rose usually doesn’t allow anyone to get a word in when she’s talking. She seems to be pausing thoughtfully whenever Draco adds something, and Harry’s pleasantly impressed.

“Hey babe,” He grins, catching Draco by the waist to press a kiss to his lips, which makes Draco go delightfully red.

Both Rose and Ron gag, but Hermione merely smiles softly, and Draco grins.

“Don’t kiss him, Unlce Harry,” Rose protests. “He’s paying attention to me now.”

“He can pay attention to the both of us,” Harry says mildly, but Rose shakes her head stubbornly.

“No!” She says. “Only me!”

Harry grins and says, “Alright, alright. I’ll stay away from him, I promise.”

Rose seems satisfied. She ends up sitting on Draco’s lap or on his hip throughout the entire evening, which means that Harry doesn’t talk to Draco until they’re saying goodbye to the Granger-Weasley family.

“Ferret,” Ron says.

“Weasel.” Draco says in return.

Hermione rolls his eyes and kisses both Harry’s and Draco’s cheeks, and then takes Rosie from Draco’s hip.

“Don’t you want to sleep over, Uncle Draco?” Rosie asks. Ron sighs, resigned, and Hermione stiffles a laugh on Ron’s shoulder. “I can continue telling you about Nargles.”

“I have to go home, Rosie,” Draco says. “But I’ll come over again whenever you invite me.”

“Alright,” Rosie says. “You’re invited tomorrow.”

Hermione does laugh then, and Ron glares at the ceiling. Draco smiles, too, and Harry hugs his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“He’s mine tomorrow, sweetheart.” He says. He doesn’t have any particular plans, yet, but he doesn’t think he can go two days without speaking to Draco at all, which is what’ll happen if Rosie hogs him to herself again.

Rosie sighs, resigned, in the similar way that Ron does. “Fine. I’ll share him with you.”

Hermione laughs again, as does Draco. Ron smirks, and says to Harry, “You have competition now, mate.”

Harry merely grins. “Thank you for sharing him, Rosie.”

He kisses her forehead - with a promise to see her again soon - and him and Draco step through the floo, back into the living room of their flat.

“Rosie loved you.” Harry says.

“I loved her, too.” Draco admits, cheeks flushed happily. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, and Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s waist. Draco’s cheeks heat further, and he looks away. “Do you - do you think that is - do you - do you want that with me?”

Harry blinks at him widely, and apparently takes too long to answer, because Draco tries to pull away.

“I - forget it I shouldn’t - I didn’t mean to freak you out-” He begins, and Harry shakes his head quickly.

“No!” He says. Then, “Yes! I mean - I - you didn’t freak me out, I do want that with you, I just didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t know if that was what you wanted, and-”

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, grinning.

“I want all of that, with you, Draco Malfoy.” He says. “Everything.”

Draco grins, blush deepening. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Harry nods, pulling him closer again. “All of it.”

He kisses him deeply, and Draco melts into his arms.

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

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Femme: 07

[MASTERLIST]

Important: I am looking for an editor, if anyone is interested. I am focused on writing so as not too lose motivation. If you are interested please message me.

Summary: The year is now 3019. Women were going extinct, cryogenics was the only hope for society. Now Femme Industries is the provider of Females, they use computer analysis and algorithms to match a femme to her male applicants. It is common for femme’s to match with multiple applicants. When you match with seven handsome young men, it is a challenge. But you love a challenge.

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, Kwon Jiyong (GD) x Big Bang, GOT7 x OC, Eventual TXT x OC

Rating: Fluff so far

Warnings: none

Length: 1.5k words

Yoongi had emerged from his room now wearing a black shirt and sweat pants. At this time the front door opened and Hoseok and Jimin stepped inside they looked tired and they quickly showered and changed again before sitting down at the dinner table.

“Where did you go?” Curiosity got the better of you, you wanted to know where the two had gone. Placing dishes on the table the two boys grinned cheekily. Jin sat down and everyone began eating. Hesitating at the sight of the colour of some foods you watched them eat.

“Jagiya, why you, are not eating?” Hoseok asked he was sitting on your left. Namjoon and Hoseok were comfortable with speaking English and were quite good at it, but, every now and again they would add an extra word or say something slightly out of order. It was cute and never failed to make you smile.

“I don’t know what this is?” You said innocently gesturing and that set off a chain reaction. Each of them trying to hold a straight face, Jin clueless at the head of the table continued eating.

“That’s just Jin’s cooking, Pass the tteokbokki” Yoongi said monotonously. The table was in a fit of giggles. Jin slapped his hand on the table with a loud cry and began throwing gestures and lecturing the group. Jungkook and Taehyung on either side of him began ducking away from the violently swinging appendages.

“I meant Korean food, I don’t know what it is, everything looks tasty and that’s the problem. That red dish looks spicy and I’m a big baby when it comes to spice. I want to try it all but, I am nervous.” You took a deep breath. “Alright tell me the names of the dishes”

“This one is Bulgolgi it just is beef, and then you have tteokbokki a little spicy rice cakes, sukju namul and sprout salad, Kimchi we have at every meal spicy fermented cabbage, your soup is Gulguk um oyster soup” Namjoon smiled gesturing at the dishes and you tried each of them and was pleasantly surprised by the flavours and textures.

“I like the tteokbokki, and it’s not too spicy, but is it okay if I don’t have the soup, I tried some and it’s a little too fishy for me. Not that I won’t try again its best to keep trying foods to become accustomed to them it is just a strong flavour, that I am not used to” You blushed, not wanting them to think you were picky or acting like a stubborn foreigner. Jungkook took the bowl happily.

“Here you have this, it nice” Jimin smiled handing you his bowl, it was different. You tried to politely decline not wanting to take it from him, but he wouldn’t let you give it back. “You eat make me happy”

Blushing you ate slowly. It was a simple chicken soup. He asked you if it was nice. Thanking him in Korean made them all giggle and cover their mouths calling you cute in Korean. Dinner ended happily and you all sat in the lounge. Taehyung sat beside you and smiled he pulled out a small bag he grinned.

“I got you a present, to welcome” he smiled and you grinned and opened the black present bag. Inside was a large black and gold photo album each page was empty. Admiring the beautiful cover and the quality of the paper you smiled. At the bottom of the bag was a very expensive looking camera with a bow on it. “For you, we take photos together”

You leaned over and pulled him into a hug “thank you so much, this camera is amazing. Everyone keeps giving me gifts you are going to spoil me”

“I also have welcome present for you, very very uh careful” he handed you the long box it wasn’t very wide you gently opened it and inside was a glazed red rose, every edge was finely outlined in gold.

“Jin this is beautiful, you are all so thoughtful, I love all your gifts, so much” You said feeling your eyes begin to get watery. Each of them had taken the time and effort to make you feel welcome in their house. Now you felt mediocre, you have given them nothing.

“When you can’t see this flower” Jin gestured to his handsome face and then gestured to the rose “you can look this flower”

Gently wiping away a few traitorous tears. They were all smiling at you with a sparkle in their eyes. Jimin placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a gently squeeze.

Carefully taking the new presents to the room you arranged all the gifts and using Jungkook’s laptop you uploaded it to your social media and responded to questions people had. The video had 20,000 views and you were pretty amazed by the positive response.

Explaining to the boys about the video you made, asking if that was okay. They all seemed to have positive reactions and they all wanted to be in the video’s you took a picture of all of them while they watched your first video. Yoongi made fun of the music I had chosen and told me he could make something better. Taehyung told me he would help edit the intro and the video’s as he stated he was an expert. After that everyone seemed to shower and head to bed.

You woke quite early to someone walking around. Jimin was awake the sun wasn’t even out. Tiredly shuffling into his embrace. He said good morning in Korean his voice was deep and made you blush. His watch beeped and he went to pull away. He spoke to a tired Jin who had dragged himself into the kitchen and made himself a tea.

Jin nodded and pulled you from Jimin, laying back against his chest his arms wrapped around your middle. Wishing Jimin a good day at work he ducked his head and left. He was finishing up making breakfast and ate around you, until you made an ‘ah’ noise and he started to feed you as well. Taehyung stepped out and quickly took his container of breakfast and gave you a hug before he left for an early morning photo shoot you just managed to tell him to have a good day as the door clicked closed.

Jin’s watch beeped and he straightened his tie, pulled on his jacket and slid his bag over his shoulder. You repeated the well wishes and stood there continuing to eat your breakfast. It was cold and kind of lonely, you walked over to the window and saw the sun rising lighting up the city. There was a noise from the neighboring apartment. Stepping out onto the balcony, you saw the boys talking around the dining table and you called out.

“Kai” You called and he turned and spotted you the boys ran out to their balcony reminding you of little puppies. With a bright smile you waved, their smiles were so big you wondered if it was painful “Good morning!”

“Good morning Noona” they said in unison waving until Yeonjun got their attention showing them his watch. They all looked upset and turned to tell you they were late for school. “We got to go, have a nice day”

Stepping inside to see Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok eating breakfast. Hoseok gave you a tired smile. They each headed out at the same time, so you saw them to the door.

When the door shut, you felt lonely once more. You spent your day researching Korean packed lunches. You found out enough containers for each of them and you made one the rice and meat and salad in the bottom container and the top you made fruit skewers.

You finished, jumping when you heard a yawn from the hallway. Yoongi scuffed his feet along the ground, looking dead to the world. Boiling the kettle and turning to look in the fridge. There was no breakfast for him and he frowned.

“Yoongi, I made this would you like to try it?” He turned and looked at the two containers and nodded taking them to the bench. He was eating but he didn’t look happy. “Is it bad? I thought I could make you all lunches for work. I just don’t know what people like”

“It’s good” he hummed, “Jin like meat and strawberries but no strawberry flavor. I am uh not picky. I like lamb, you know sticks and Galbi. Hobi can’t eat sour things, he like seafood and Kimchi fried rice. Namjoon like the sweet .He hate seafood and bean. chimchim no like seafood many. He like meat and sweet food, uh like the fruits.”

“hyungie is the very much picky eating. He hate bean, peas sour and spice, but loves uh strawberry, hamburgers, Jajangmyeon, you know Jajangmyeon. Jk like meat, Hotteok, it’s a pancake and lamb stick.”

You began writing it down. Yoongi always seemed indifferent and cold, but you could tell he cared a lot about all the members of the house hold. Especially when he used the cute nicknames when addressing each of the members.

Femme Media 07

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years ago

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The Girl Next Door (Part 10) - Don’t Break

Summary: The reader takes Dean out on his surprise date and she feels herself growing closer to him. When she and Sam are late getting home one night that week though, Dean gets a bad feeling...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: language, medical emergency

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

Reader’s POV

“Jack,” you said the next day just after lunch. He was out on the front porch, writing down a few things on a list. “Whatcha doing?”

“I was working on copying over a few of those old recipes for you,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, ruffling his head as you hopped down the step. “I’m busy with Dean for the day but you want hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner? Winchesters are making ‘em and apparently they come with bacon as if that’s surprising.”

“Sure,” he said. You stopped after a few feet, glancing down at the keys in your hands. “Go enjoy your date, sis.”

“Are you okay hanging by yourself today again?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’m good. I promise,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take another bike ride.”

“Alright. Be safe,” you said. “Make smart choices.”

“Go on your date, dork,” he said. You gave him a quick wave before you slid into your car, parking out front of Sam’s, Dean ducking outside and into the car with a baseball hat on his head.

“Ready?” you asked.

“For my surprise date? Been looking forward to this all weekend.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, laughing as you pulled him out of the passenger seat. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. “I may have heard from a little birdie that Dean Winchester was quite the baseball player in high school and his favorite minor league team of all time is the Springfield Cardinals who just so happen to be playing a special game in Kansas City today which is like super close to Lawrence and guess who got us some tickets.”

“I haven’t been to a game since I was like, eight,” he said, smiling at you. “I...how-”

“Sammy comes over and hangs out when I bake sometimes while you’re at work. Eileen says social interaction and testing his memory is good for him. Apparently you also convinced Sam to jump off the roof of your shed when-”

“Forget that. This is awesome!” he said. “I’ve been wanting to see a game for years but never got around to it.”

“Well today’s your lucky day then, ain’t it Winchester?”

Dean was all smiles when you walked back to your car that evening, Dean tossing a ball up and down in his mitt you’d borrowed from Sam. He spun around and looked back at the stadium, smiling and giving you a hug as you moved to get in the car.

“This was great. I can’t believe I caught that foul ball and...and this was so awesome. Thank you. I never had someone take me out on a date before and you like blew it out of the water, sweetheart,” he said.

“Didn’t I tell you that you deserve nice things too, Dean?” you said. Dean leaned back, eyes flickering around your face.

“I don’t remember the last time I was this happy,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy to be honest.”

“You got a lot more happy days ahead of you. I promise.”

Dean’s POV

“Hm,” hummed Dean, plopping down on his bed that night, closing his eyes as he faced the ceiling with a smile.

“Have a nice date earlier?” asked Sam. Dean didn’t bother to open his eyes but nodded, Sam slipping inside and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her at dinner tonight.”

“She took me a on a date today and it was so thoughtful and simple and fun,” said Dean, throwing his arm over his face. “I sound like a teenager.”

“I remember you coming home and talking about girls when you were a teenager. Never quite saw this reaction though,” teased Sam. “You know, Jack and I talked tonight and if you two want to ever go out you know, not on the weekend, Jack doesn’t mind sticking around here, keeping an eye on me. Hopefully I get cleared on Friday to start staying home alone, watching TV again.”

“We’re like the misfits,” said Dean, smiling under his arm. “We got brain trauma, relationship issues, workaholic tendencies, mental institution stays...us four are like a soap opera. Not to mention you’re falling for your nurse.”

“I was thinking of going out on my own date soon, depending on what the doctor’s say,” said Sam.

“Good for you, Sammy. Jess would be proud of you,” said Dean, moving his arm away. Sam nodded, fiddling with his hands. “She would be proud of you, Sam. I am.”

“Work’s a long way away for me again but...I’m not going back to the way I was. I’m not burying myself in it again. I want to pick Avy up from school and play with her, cook her dinner every night. It’s not your job to do those things for her. I think...I think I want to get away from the big business stuff, help the little guy. It’s why I signed up in the first place. You know, help people starting their own business and what’s involved, help people like Jack who didn’t know they were…”

“Being abused?” said Dean. Sam nodded, Dean turning his head. “I’m pretty sure he knew Sammy, after a while. But how low do you think he felt to not say anything? He probably thought he deserved it.”

“I talked to Gary at the firm for a little bit this afternoon. Obviously don’t say anything to anyone but there was another person that popped up from Bryerwood. If Jack’s ever ready to talk about it, I think there’s a real case there for him,” said Sam.

“Give him a little time. Maybe bring it up in a few weeks, see if he’s ready to talk about it again,” said Dean.

“He’s more relaxed now than when we first met him,” said Sam. “I think Cas and Y/N are really helping him.”

“You know how mom and dad used to fight about money a lot? We didn’t have the greatest example of a healthy relationship growing up,” said Dean. Sam nodded and lay back against the bed, looking over to Dean. “But I never for a second doubted that mom and dad didn’t love us. They were not perfect parents and dad and I fought more than once, pretty bad too. But they hugged us, told us good job for doing good in school, they never told me it was wrong to want to be a mechanic, they never told you that it was wrong to want to be the first Winchester to go to college.”

“What’s your point?” asked Sam quietly.

“Can you imagine how fucked up the two of us would be if our own dad didn’t hug us? Dad’s not a warm and fuzzy guy but Y/N and Jack don’t even remember getting a hug from theirs. He’s their dad. I’m just saying...maybe we’re luckier than we knew,” said Dean.

“Boys,” they both heard from the door, their father stepping around the corner. “Mom and I are going to head home if that’s alright.”

“Yeah. Thanks for hanging out this weekend,” said Sam. He nodded, John giving them both a smile. “You’re free to stay the night though. It’s getting kind of late.”

“No no, that’s alright,” he said, turning to head out. “Boys.”

“Hm?” hummed Dean, sitting upright, Sam doing the same.

“I know...I wasn’t a perfect father. I wasn’t even a very good one most of the time. Mom and I know we fought too much, took too long to sort all that out. Dean you were already a man by that point. We screwed up that part,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “But we have always loved you. Both of you.”

“We know that, dad,” said Sam. “We love you too.”

“Alright. Night boys,” he said. Dean waited a moment and followed after him, catching up with him on the front porch. “What is it, Dean?”

“I’m sorry I told you to stay away from him when Sammy was in high school,” said Dean, swallowing hard. John gave a quick smile, tilting his head. He cupped Dean’s cheek, running his thumb under his eye.

“Don’t ever apologize for that. It’s one of my worst memories and one of my proudest,” said John. “Sammy was better off without me for a while there. I’m sorry you had to be his father when I couldn’t.”

“I snapped at the hospital,” said Dean, pursing his lips. “A few weeks ago-”

“Dean. Don’t apologize for that either. Sam gave that authority to you to make decisions for him, not to us. He trusts you. He trusts you far more than he’ll ever trust me and that’s okay, Dean. You made all the right calls that night, all the hard calls. Sammy might not be alive if I were in charge. You knew how strong your brother was. You’ve always known. There’s no hard feelings, Dean,” he said.

“I…” said Dean, turning around, his father’s hand sliding to his shoulder when he heard a laugh in the air. Y/N and Jack were on her front porch, the pair of them cracking up at something.

“Parents mess up, Dean,” said John. “Even your friends parents I’m sure. But kids have a way of doing okay despite all that.”

“For all the times we fought and argued and said I hate you...” said Dean, still looking over. “Even when I thought you wanted me gone forever...I knew you didn’t. Way down but I knew. Those two over there...I’d take your parenting over what they had any day.”

“Call us if you need any help with Sammy, alright?” he said. “Any time.”

“I will,” said Dean, giving him a smile. “Drive safe.”

Five Days Later

“Uncle De?” asked Avy the next evening. Dean lifted his head up from watching the summer storm, Avy taking a seat on the front porch beside him. “Something wrong?”

“No,” said Dean, staring next door, turning his head. “So, you going to binge watch some movies with your daddy tonight? The doctor’s said his head is getting a better even faster than they were expecting.”

“We still can’t play outside,” she said with a frown.

“No but daddy can read you bedtime stories and play other games again the doctor said this morning,” said Dean, running a hand over her head. “And he can be home by himself so that’ll be good.”

“Are you gonna leave?” she asked.

“No, no. Your daddy and I talked and I’m going to stay here with you guys through the summer, maybe longer. He can’t drive a car for a long time so I’ll be around. Plus I like living here,” he said. “But you remember what I said about if Daddy acts funny when I’m not around?”

“I call you and go get Y/N or Jack next door,” she said.

“That’s right. Call me and we’ll make sure he’s okay,” said Dean, watching Y/N’s front door crack open. He frowned, Jack jogging over in his raincoat, dropping his hood when he hopped onto Sam’s porch.

“Hi Jack!” said Avy.

“Hey Avy. Can I talk to your Uncle alone for a minute?” he asked. Dean nodded and urged her inside, Jack smiling until Dean pulled the door shut, his face falling. “Y/N’s not home yet.”

“Yeah. I know. We had a date. She was running Sam to the store with her earlier. They’ve been gone a while,” said Dean. “A few hours now.”

“She’s not answering her phone,” said Jack. “Or Sam.”

“I know,” said Dean as he stood up. Jack glanced to the dark rainy night sky, pursing his lips. “Hey. Don’t freak. There’s a six year old on the other side of that door. She’s been through enough shit the past month. She doesn’t need more.”

“What do we do?” asked Jack. Dean stared at the front door and pulled out his phone.

“Hey Cas...can you do me a favor?...I’m fine, just Avy needs a last minute babysitter...Sam and Y/N went out earlier and they’re not home yet...I’m sure they’re fine...yeah...well I had this same feeling that night and...no, no, we’ll drop her off...it might be all night...it’s probably nothing...I owe you one...yeah, well, I still owe you one,” said Dean, hanging up the phone. “Alright. Go lock up your house and meet me back here. I’m dropping Avy off and we’ll go look, alright?”

Jack’s gaze went down to Dean’s phone when it lit up again with a different name, Dean following it. He’d spoken to them enough lately that he put the number in his phone.

County North Hospital.

Reader’s POV

One Hour Earlier

“So, you taking Eileen someplace fancy tonight?” you asked Sam on the way home from your shopping trip.

“Does Eileen strike you as the fancy place kind of girl?” laughed Sam. “But yes. Well, it’s casual-ish too. I was going to bring her to Winslow’s.”

“Oh, nice. I’ve never been but heard it’s yummy,” you said, pulling onto the highway. “I like that gray dress shirt you got. The one with the little charcoal specks. Wear that with some dark jeans, your black beanie, she’ll be all over you.”

“I just realized today was the first time in a month I went to the store, went anywhere besides our houses or the doctors really,” said Sam.

“Well no one said it’d be easy but you’re doing a lot better, Sam. We can all tell. You’re more alert, happier. Before you know it, you’ll be driving around on your own again,” you said.

“Thanks for taking me today...and helping with the clothes. Been awhile since I’ve been on a date,” said Sam, rubbing the back of his neck. “A work shirt is too formal.”

“I understand,” you said. “You got some casual but nice stuff. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see a Winchester boy pick out three flannel shirts though,” you laughed.

“We like our flannel,” said Sam, staring out the window at the dark edges of the road. “Dean really likes you, you know.”

“I really like him,” you said.

“I’ve never seen my brother this way with a girl. He trusts you. He doesn’t do that with girls. Not after the stuff his exes said,” said Sam.

“I’ve had this conversation with your brother before Sam. I don’t care what other people think of him. I care what I think and I think, he’s a really good guy,” you said, tapping your fingers against the wheel.

“I wish we could have been friends without me needing a whole horrible accident,” he said with a laugh.

“Life’s funny sometimes,” you said. “Jack’s gonna babysit tonight but I…” you trailed off, Sam suddenly jerking in his seat. For a second you thought he was having a seizure but he grabbed the wheel and turned it hard to the right as your brain registered what was going on in front of you. A tractor trailer on the other side of the highway was halfway through the median, jack knifed and heading straight for you.

It ended up hitting the back portion of the car thanks to the turn Sam did, not straight into the driver’s side which you didn’t really have time to be grateful for. One of your hands was out in front of Sam, the both of you jerking against the seatbelts as the car flipped violently. Your hand got hit between something hard and Sam’s head, most likely the dash if you had to guess. You shut your eyes and when you opened them, you were upside down, airbags deflating, glass and metal all over. Your body fucking hurt and you couldn’t see a thing.

“Sam,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt, some piece of metal or console pushed in so you couldn’t quite see him. “Shit. Sam, say something.”

You groaned when you dropped to the roof of the car, climbing out the drivers window. The truck was stopped and on it’s side. Both sides of the highway were backing up now. You couldn’t see all that great in the rain and the dark but you dragged yourself around to the other side of the car, Sam grumbling as he pulled himself out the passenger window.

“Sammy?” you asked, kneeling down and pulling him over to the front of the car and into the light from the head beams. You ripped off his beanie and looked at his head, Sam shaking it as he gave you a thumbs up.

“I’m alright. Head feels in one piece. At least I feel alr-” he stopped. You moved to lay him down into a recovery position but he just put his hands on his shorts and started fumbling with his belt.

“Calm down, you’re-”

“Your leg,” he said, ripping the leather out of the loops. You stared down, seeing blood. You were expecting it to be honest. Your leg hurt a lot and you knew there must have been a cut.

It was gushing though, the pins and needles feeling hitting you fast. You stared for a second while Sam slipped the belt on under your leg and around you, cinching it tight.

“Probably femoral artery if I had to guess. Could be popliteal too,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ah. Okay, that hurts now. The adrenaline’s wearing off. Shit. Oh boy. I lost a lot of blood in the car I think.”

“Chicks got more blood right? You’re okay,” said Sam, pressing down on your leg.

“Yeah, chicks got more blood,” you said with a laugh. “Learn that one in school?”

“Biology. Jess took biology. She was going for nursing. I thought she was cute, figured I better try to impress her,” said Sam.

“I’m probably going to pass out but don’t let go of the pressure if you can help it Sammy. I ain’t ready to meet her just yet,” you said. Sam nodded, putting a hand on you when you started to lean back. “Remember to tell them you had brain trauma and what medi...the uh...the…”

“Okay,” he said as you lay back on the ground, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Okay. Just hold on, Y/N. It’ll be okay.”

Dean’s POV

Present

“Sammy,” said Dean, giving Sam a big hug from where he sat in his hospital bed a few hours later. “I thought I told you I never wanted to see you in here again.”

“Since when do I listen to you,” said Sam, pushing Dean back. “I’m okay. Bumps and bruises. They did a head scan and everything. Really. I’m okay thanks to Y/N.”

“Y/N?” asked Dean.

“She had like a super fast reaction, shot her hand out in front of me, stopped my head from hitting the dash. I don’t know if she broke her hand or not but the doctor’s said it probably stopped me from cracking my head open,” said Sam. “You go and see her yet?”

“No. They won’t talk to me. I’m not family. Jack’s trying to get answers but she was his power of attorney or something and not the other way around so no one’s telling us anything,” said Dean.

“Hey. Go find Doctor Franks. I saw him not long ago. Ask him if he can find out for us,” said Sam.

“I will. Uh, Avy’s with Cas for the night,” said Dean, moving to take a seat.

“Alright. You go find out what’s happening with Y/N. I’m okay until mom and dad get here. Seriously, go get answers,” said Sam.

“Did...do you know anything at all?” asked Dean.

“...She was bleeding a lot. They took us in separate ambulances. I don’t know what happened after, Dean. I’m sorry,” said Sam. Dean smiled though and ran a hand over his head gently.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ll go find out what I can and let you know.”

Two Hours Later

“Here,” said Jack, handing a cup of coffee to Dean. He shook his head, Jack taking a seat on the bench beside him. “At least we know she’s still in surgery.”

“How are you so fucking calm about this?” said Dean, glaring at Jack. “She’s your sister.”

“I know she acts like she’s the older one a lot but she’s not. You’re not the only one that’s younger sibling was in an accident tonight,” said Jack. “And I’m freaking out. I’m just putting on a brave face.”

“Who for?” scoffed Dean.

“Same reason you’re sitting there bouncing your knee with that hard ass look on your own face. I deal with my shit on my own. I don’t cry in hospital hallways. I just don’t,” he said.

“Me either,” said Dean as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Text me if the doctor swings by.”

Jack nodded and Dean headed down the hall and for the elevators. He was familiar enough with the place and was quickly out the back door and across the parking lot, stepping into the woods a ways, finding the log on the ground that’d been there a month ago.

It was raining more now but Dean didn’t care. He still sat down and got wet, resting his head in his hands. He felt a shudder run through him as he took a deep breath and gripped one of his legs.

“Please, please let her be okay. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her be okay. Please.”

Twenty minutes later Dean slipped back inside, wiping off his face as best he could, stopping in the bathroom, eyes a little red but he could pass it off as being tired. He stopped in the cafeteria before he headed upstairs with some hot chocolate for Sam and Jack.

Sam was sleeping in bed, their parents there with him now, Jack still on the bench outside his room, sipping on the coffee Dean had turned down. Dean nearly took a seat when he saw Doctor Franks appear around the corner, Jack up on his feet.

“She’s out of surgery. It went well. It was a clean cut on her leg so they were able to stitch her up. Muscle wasn’t damaged in her leg so she should be up and around fairly quickly,” said the doctor.

“What about her hand?” asked Jack.

“Bruised, swollen and wrist is sprained but not broken. She has a concussion but that was expected. A few bruised ribs too but the car took most of the damage for them both,” he said. “They want to observe her for the night but she can go home in the morning along with Sam. They both need rest and try to keep her off stairs and her feet for the next week or so.”

“She’s okay,” said Dean with a nod. “Okay.”

“Can we see her?” asked Jack.

“Once she’s moved out of post-op but I’ll come find you two when that happens,” he said. “This could have been much worse. Let’s be glad it’s not.”

“Thanks doc,” said Dean, taking a seat on the bench with a sigh.

“How does she not hate me,” said Jack, sitting next to him. Dean turned his head, Jack staring across the hall. “When I was overdosing, she must have been scared to death. And I did that to myself. This...this is terrifying, sitting here, knowing you can’t do anything.”

“Jack,” said Dean. “Let it go. You’re not that guy anymore. I know you’ll never scare her like that again.”

“No, never,” said Jack, staring at him. “I wish I could take it back.”

“You can’t, Jack. But you can move past it. I know you haven’t been home long but she’s going to need you to step up and be her big brother again. She’s going to need all of us to help,” said Dean.

“I can do it,” he said with a nod.

“I know,” said Dean, patting Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You want something to eat?” asked Jack around three in the morning. Dean shook his head, sitting on the other side of the bed where Y/N was sleeping. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Dean gave her a smile when they were alone, running his hand over her head.

“Thanks for saving, Sammy, sweetheart. I owe you one,” he said. She stirred and sighed, nuzzling her head against his hand. “I’ll be quiet now. You sleep, Y/N.”

Reader’s POV

There was a slightly chemical smell in the air as you woke up, disinfectant that made your nose twitch. You blinked a few times, Jack snoring in a chair on one side of you, Dean laying his head on his arm, fast asleep, holding your hand in his. Facing forward you caught Sam with a few cuts on his cheeks, eating what looked like breakfast out of a styrofoam box in the chair at the end of the bed. He smiled and gave you a little wave.

“I’m guessing I didn’t die then,” you said, holding up your hand, seeing the bandages on it but no cast. You flipped up your blanket on the one side, spotting a bandage high up on your leg. “I’m also guessing your brain is still in functioning order?”

“Mhm. I live another day to eat crappy hospital food,” he said, wolfing down some eggs. “Always had good omelettes here though.”

“These two alright?” you asked, nodding to the both of them. Sam hummed around his mouthful of food.

“Yeah. I don’t think they finally crashed until like four or something. Our parents our passed out in my room. You want some water?” he asked. You nodded, Sam setting aside his food and grabbing the pitcher off the table. Dean shifted in his seat, rolling his head once the other way, turning back to you and briefly flashing open his eyes. They shut and flew open in the next second, your hand moving to run through his strands.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a smile. “Oh shoot, Sam. I bet your new clothes are ruined.”

“Told you she was fine,” said Sam, Dean’s eyes darting around your face.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, gently running a finger over your cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a scratch or two,” you said. “Sorry I missed our date.”

“We’ll go on one tonight. I promise,” he said. You smiled and saw Jack wake up, a sigh of relief escaping him.

“Hey. You weren’t worried or something, were you?” you teased. Jack scowled, pointing a finger in your face.

“Don’t do that again,” you said.

“My driving was impeccable. Ask Sam,” you said.

“We just got shitty luck,” he laughed, popping a piece of hash brown in his mouth.

“So when can I get out of here?” you asked.

“Soon. Let’s maybe talk to a doctor first before you go wandering off.”

“Thank you for our date tonight, Dean,” you said from your bed, a pizza box between the two of you, a movie playing on the TV.

“Eh, near death ain’t cancelling our plans,” he said. You giggled, nibbling on another slice, his head resting on your shoulder. “Thanks for not dying last night.”

“Thank Sam. He’s the one that got his belt on me,” you said.

“You saved each other,” he said. He was quiet for a few minutes as you finished your food, wiping off your hands when you were done eating and turning off the TV. He sat up and moved the box to the floor, you rolling over closer to Dean when he returned, careful of keeping your right leg away.

“You okay?” you said quietly. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

“You better not,” he mumbled. “Mine.”

“You don’t go anywhere either,” you said snuggling down against him. You shut your eyes, his long fingers moving the hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. He traced around a small cut under your right eye, gently kissing your other bruised cheek.

“Don’t you get hurt like that again,” he said quietly. You nodded, Dean tucking your head under his chin with his arm around your back.

“I want you to stay,” you whispered. You didn’t open your eyes but felt another kiss on your forehead.

“You sleep,” he said. “Wake me up if you need something.”

“Sam?” you mumbled.

“Our parents are there and you got hit worse than he did. I was staying no matter what,” he said. “Do you want some medicine?”

“No. I’m fine. Just want to lay down with you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, sweetheart. We can do that.”

A/N: Read Part 11 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #au #mechanic!dean #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction

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sgt-revolver · 4 years ago

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ULTIMATE Beatlemaniac Tag!

I was tagged by @ourladylennon and @johns-prince to complete this questionnaire. Thanks for the tags, I honestly really enjoyed answering these questions.

How long have you been a fan?: I’ve been a fan for as long as I can remember. I always loved hearing their music on the radio and my music teacher was a fan, so he’d regularly play their music in his lessons and on one occasion I saw like the first 30 minutes of A Hard Day’s Night. I think I only got as far as the scene with John in the bath before he turned it off. But it’s only been during the last 2 and a half years that I’ve listened to them more often, and I’ve finally listened to all the albums all the way through. Now I’m a huge fan and can’t live without their music.

Favorite Beatle: John. It’s always been John for me, even back when I was a kid he was my favourite.

Favorite era for music: I’ll always have a soft spot for their early-mid era music, around 64-66 is my absolute favourite.

Favorite era for lewks: Teddy boy and the whole of 1966 for me. They simply looked so fucking cool around those two eras. The teddy boy era was just hot with all the leather they wore and how they tried to make themselves look ‘tough’, and during 1966 that entire year seemed to be a huge transitional period which mixed with their earlier career and how they looked later on.

Favorite song: This changes, and I do not have only one favourite song. I’ll always love Strawberry Fields Forever, it is always up there as one of my favourites. Same with I am the Walrus. I also love If I Fell, Nowhere Man, In My Life, I’m Only Sleeping and Something. There’s more but this answer will be too long if I keep going.

Favorite album: Revolver, no question. My username is based off it too.

Unpopular/Controversial Beatles opinion: Not necessarily unpopular but I really don’t like Yoko Ono as a person. I wish she didn’t try to make herself part of the band, it’s actually really infuriating. I don’t like to talk about this sort of thing so I’ll leave it at that.

A song everyone loves but you dislike: Ok I don’t necessarily dislike these songs, but I think Hey Jude and Let it Be are overrated.

A song everyone dislikes but you love: Run for your Life, Blue Jay Way and Revolution 9. I’m not really sure why Blue Jay Way isn’t well liked its underrated imo.

Your fantasy involving The Beatles: Seeing them live in concert, before they become big and go to America, preferably in Hamburg or at the Cavern Club. It must have been amazing to be able to be where they started out before Beatlemania, the atmosphere omg yes please. After the show I’d try to do anything I can to meet them, but I suspect I’d end up being so starstruck it would be painfully awkward, but it would be so worth it.

Tell us about the moment you knew you were a fan: There is no one moment I knew I was a fan, but I guess I realised I was a big fan when I listened to their albums all the way through, and I enjoyed them. There’s also the time when I watched the Eight Days a Week documentary and I couldn’t help but love them so much.

Did you ever have a genuine ‘The Beatles suck!’ phase before becoming a fan?: Nearly. This was after I became a fan but a long time ago, I kept hearing constantly how they’re not that good from people I know irl and it almost got ingrained in me for no reason at all. I’m glad I didn’t have that phase, otherwise I would be beating myself up for it now.

Favorite Beatles book: I haven’t read any yet, but I really want to and I’m not sure where to buy any (I’m a bit iffy about buying off Amazon)

Thoughts on the old generation of fans: They can be a bit full of themselves, but I like hearing their stories and their preferences on their favourite albums. Most of the older generation of fans I personally know seem to love John and hate Paul, so I automatically think they’re all the same but I know that’s not true.

If Hollywood were to make a high budget Beatles biopic, what is one thing you desperately hope they include?: I’m personally unsure if I want a Beatles biopic as I know they’ll mess everything up but I want them to include the strong bonds formed with each other and that they never actually hated each other.

Do you read/write fanfic?: I read a lot of fanfic, but I’m not confident with my writing ability so I don’t write anything. Yet.

Are you the only one in your family/friend group to enjoy them?: Both my mum and my dad claim to be fans. My step dad loves them though, yet every time I bring it up with him when he mentions them he ignores me completely, and its painful. My friends either think they’re overrated (they’ve probably only listened to Hey Jude, All you need is love and Yesterday) or they just don’t care/don’t know who they are. And if anyone I know is interested in them, they just mansplain everything to me so I can’t really enjoy listening to them or talking about them with others irl.

Are you a shipper?: Yeah I am.

Favorite movie starring/made by them?: A Hard Day’s Night.

Do you believe in McLennon?: I believe they were soulmates, definitely.

General opinions on McLennon?: They loved each other, there is no doubt about it. The signs are obvious, like the eye fucking, how they were literally inseparable for years and their LSD trip they had together. I do think it was mostly platonic though, and that any romantic attraction was one sided from John. I think Paul was oblivious to some of John’s feelings for him during the 1960s and that upset him.

If you got to change ONE thing about their history, what would it be and why?: The break up, they hurt each other’s feelings so much from all the suing and fighting they were miserable. I would make sure they ended things more amicably and I’d make sure Allen Klein does not get a look in at all during 1969. Seeing Paul get hurt like that is awful.

What song has the best vocals?: This is a real hard one to answer, but I’d say Twist and Shout, Helter Skelter and Norwegian Wood.

What song do you feel had no effort put into it?: Wild Honey Pie.

What is a well talked about moment in Beatles history you genuinely believe to be false?: Yoko wasn’t fully responsible for the break up the Beatles. I believe it was everyone’s fault to some extent, some more so than others. I think John caused the most damage to the band as a result of him putting in nearly no effort and having Yoko on his shoulder every day. Ringo quitting for two weeks is when I believe things were really starting to fall apart, and they never really recovered from that.

What is something you KNOW to be true, but often gets erased in their history?: John was bisexual, he’s pretty much admitted it as well. It gets dismissed constantly though. All of the Beatles were nice, amicable men who had their flaws and did what they can to become better people. None of them were gods, and none of them were inherently terrible people. John and Yoko’s relationship was toxic and incredibly unhealthy. They weren’t as happy together as the books and the Lennon estate make them out to be.

Least favorite look from a Beatle(s): John’s Sgt Pepper moustache. It just didn’t suit him, but then there was his beard from 1969. The beard looked disgusting and way too messy. I don’t think he made any attempt to keep it clean and that he just didn’t give a fuck about it, he just left it there to get worse and worse each passing day.

Favorite look from a Beatle(s): Shea Stadium, on all of them. But when John’s sweaty and his hair is a mess, he just looks fantastic. I also love the suits all four of them wore in Cincinnati in 1966.

I’ll tag @princessleiaqueen @theliverpoolsoldier @underwallsandbridges and @latinxbeatles and anyone else who wants to do it. Don’t feel like you have to do this, but I love reading everyone’s answers :)

#tag games #the beatles

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bangtan-et-al · 5 years ago

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somnium finis 02.

—word count: 4,557

—prologue: A plane sinks into the Pacific Ocean, leaving the world mourning the loss of the 118 passengers on board. Seven of those passengers being the members of the famous K-pop band BTS. At least, that’s how it seems.

—genres: Idol AU, Mystery, Psychological

—contains: Themes of fluff, angst, smut, depression, and anxiety. Mentions of divorce and the use of strong language such as name calling and cussing.

—chapter: 01. 02.

—note: Guys, I got so many notes on the last chapter in so little time! For someone starting off, every like, reblog, comment, and follow means so much to me. I rushed to get this next chapter out to keep the momentum going! Enjoy!

…

A long silence hung over everyone. Jeongguk was the first to speak.

“So… we’re dead? Is this like the afterlife?” He stared at his hyungs.

Jimin nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “No, this isn’t right. There’s no way we’re dead. We can still feel pain, these bodies are physical!”

You were scrolling through your phone, looking at all the articles you could find on the crash. You tried commenting or messaging, but nothing would go through. You thought it was odd, seeing as you could use Google just fine.

“Guys, this isn’t the afterlife. Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi piped up. “I think it’s all a cover up story.”

“A cover up for what, kidnapping us? What’s the point? Wouldn’t the main reason for it be to get a ransom? You can’t ransom someone who’s dead.” Hoseok reasoned.

Namjoon had his eyebrows furrowed together, deep in thought. The other boys kept going back and forth, some speaking with panic, others trying to speak reason.

You had visited your mother’s Facebook page and found she had made a post about the plans for your funeral. Friends and family were commenting underneath. There was post after post about you, and the life you lived. Pictures from your childhood and group photos with friends taken only weeks ago. Your heart was breaking. What tipped you over was Appa’s long post he made talking about all the memories from over the years. He translated it to English too, so everyone could read it.

‘Dear daughter, your time was cut too short… My greatest love… In all the years…’ It went on and on. It was all the things he said or didn’t say to you, and all the love he had for you. You mother wouldn’t even bother writing such a post.

You didn’t realize, but tears were falling down your cheeks silently.

Taehyung was the first to notice. “____-ssi?”

This was all too much to process right now. The emotions were overwhelming, and being with BTS was not helping. You stood up and ran back to the bedroom you had woken up in.

“____-ssi!” Namjoon called for you, but none of them chased after you. Why would they? You weren’t their first priority. They didn’t trust you. They had to protect each other and stick together because that’s who they were. BTS had each other and they were inseparable.

That just made you feel even lonelier.

The people who loved you thought you were dead. The seven people you’ve looked up to saw you as a potential threat. You were trapped in an unknown place, for a reason you didn’t know, or how you even got there.

You slammed the door and slowly fell against it, sinking to the floor. Your breathing quickened and your chest felt tight. You started shaking uncontrollably. You’d never had a panic attack before, so you weren’t really sure how to handle it. You just stayed right there, curled into yourself, waiting for your lungs to work again.

‘I’m completely alone.’

…

“I don’t trust her, she could’ve been put in here to observe us, or turn us against each other or something.” The usual optimistic Hoseok was the one being the most pessimistic towards you. Had this been any other situation, he would’ve been the first to stand up for you.

But now his brothers’ lives were on the line, and they came first.

Taehyung shook his head. “She’s just as scared, if not more scared than us. She’s alone, we aren’t. Who knows, what if we’re the reason she’s here? What if she got caught up in something because she was on the same plane?”

“I see where you are both coming from, but it’s unwise to push her away or trust her just yet. We need a game plan.” Namjoon was trying his best to keep everyone at peace, a task proving to be very difficult.

Seokjin was in the kitchen rummaging around to see what all was available. “It’s fully stocked. None of the packaging has been opened on the food either, it’s all sealed. I’d eat this sooner than I’d eat the hamburger.”

Jeongguk paced a small line in the floor. Yoongi and Namjoon were trying to figure out an escape plan. Hoseok sat on the couch chewing a hole in his thumb. Jimin was exploring the space, looking for possible exits or clues.

Taehyung stared back at the hallway you had ran down. The others were probably right, he shouldn’t get too close, he shouldn’t be putting himself in your shoes, he shouldn’t be replaying your crying face in his head, but he couldn’t help it.

He stood and left the others to find you.

“Tae, don’t! We need to stick together!” Jimin called out for him. When he didn’t listen, he followed behind him. He wasn’t going to let his friend make a stupid decision.

At least not without him.

Taehyung tried the door you came out of first. He knocked on it. “…____-ssi? Are you in there?” From just behind door he could hear quiet, short breaths. “I’m coming in.” He tried opening the door, but it only opened a crack before it stopped on something solid.

He realized you were sitting on the floor crying to yourself. Jimin caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t just storm off like that-”

“Shh, not now.” After Taehyung hushed him, the sounds of your sobs reached him. It pulled at his heart strings, and he felt himself soften up a little.

“We’re here for you. Do you want to talk about it?” Jimin asked. He was beginning to see things from Taehyung’s side.

You moved over a bit so they would be able to open the door. Taehyung slowly opened it and then sat down next to you. Jimin stepped into the room, and sat on the other side of you. You had regained control of your breathing before they came, but you were a crying mess, surely looking horrible in front of two of the most beautiful men you’d seen in your life. Today couldn’t get any worse.

“…how old are you?” Taehyung questioned, trying to get conversation going and maybe get your mind off of what was happening.

You sniffed. “I-in Korean years I’m 23… 1997.”

“So the same age as JK, we’re both 25. I’m not sure how much you know about us, but we’re good people. Everyone is just scared right now, I promise they aren’t as mean as they seem.” Taehyung reassured you.

Jimin was hesitant to talk, but seeing your shivering form opened him up a little. “We’ll figure this out. Whatever is happening, we’ll get through it. Joon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung are really smart. Jin-hyung is resourceful. Hobi-hyung is clever. The rest of us are younger, but we’ll still do our best.” He was comforting you as much as he was himself. He wasn’t sure of much, but if there was one thing he knew he could be sure in, it was the other members.

“Yeah! So don’t worry, we’ll get out of here.” Taehyung hesitantly put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re American right? I don’t know if you take comfort in these things, but you can call me Oppa if you want.”

Your eyes widened but then you offered him a small smile. “Are you comfortable with that? We only just met.”

“Of course it’s okay. You can call Jimin Oppa too.” He nudged Jimin to agree with him.

Jimin was a little reluctant, but gave in easily. “S-sure. Why not? Could we call you ____-ah?”

You nodded. They were going out of their way to comfort and befriend you, even in these circumstances. They really were the people you knew they were. “I’m sorry for running away, I’m just overwhelmed right now. I was looking at my family’s posts about my death, it was just too much. ” You opened up. You were still teary eyed, but not the blubbering mess from earlier.

“You don’t need to apologize. If anyone gets what you’re going through right now, it’s us. We’re in this together.” Taehyung finished and offered you a smile. His big, boxy smile that you had only seen in pictures until this point. It was even more enchanting in person.

Jimin held out his hand to you. “Come, let’s go join the others, okay? We’ll stand up for you in there.” He looked you in your eyes, and tried to show as much sincerity as he could muster.

You blushed a little when you took his hand and stood up with him. You couldn’t help but notice his hands were so tiny that they were about the same size as your’s. Taehyung stood up with the two of you as well, and they walked you back to the main room. Namjoon looked at your tear-stained face apologetically. Yoongi and Hoseok still looked at you apprehensively. Jeongguk was nervous around you, so he couldn’t even bring himself to look you in the eyes.

Seokjin called over to you from the kitchen. “____-ssi, want to help me cook something? I’m sure you’re getting hungry too.” He smiled and waved you over. You were hesitant to go over and squeezed the hand you were holding. Hand you were holding…

You were still holding Jimin’s hand.

You let go quickly. “Sorry!”

He shook his head and smiled. “It’s okay.”

You went over to Seokjin quickly to avoid anymore awkwardness with Jimin. “How can I help, Seokjin-ssi?”

“Are you handy with a kitchen knife? I need some vegetables cut.” He asked simply.

Hoseok’s head snapped over to the two of you. “We are not giving her a knife!”

“Namjoon is more dangerous with a knife than she is.” Seokjin snapped back.

“Hey! That’s true, but you don’t have to bring it up!” Namjoon crossed his arms in defense.

Hoseok scoffed. “I can’t believe you guys.”

Hoseok’s attitude was quite off putting. He was usually such a ray of sunshine. You rarely ever saw him get angry, no matter the reason. Sure, they had every reason not to trust you, but you least expected him to be the most aggressive.

You and Seokjin worked quickly. He had you prepping the vegetables for the stir fry while he cooked rice and prepared the beef. “You know what you are doing. Did your mom teach you?”

“My mom doesn’t like to cook much, but my dad taught me how to make all kinds of Korean dishes. When he would come visit, cooking was one of our favorite things to do.” You smiled at the memory.

“See guys? The kitchen is the best place to bond! But will anyone come help me cook? Nope!” Seokjin addresses the others in his whiny voice.

“We don’t want to bond with you Jin-hyung.” Jeongguk smirked a little as he teased him. As their banter went back and forth you realized Seokjin was trying to lighten the mood. Everyone was so stressed, but now even the nervously pacing Jeongguk was smiling and teasing his Hyung. You also realized that he wanted to break the ice with you, and make you feel more comfortable in a natural way. You never saw him as the oldest, but in the most subtle way, it showed.

You finished up and everyone moved to the table to eat. An awkward silence fell over everyone. It had been hours and hours, and none of you were any closer to figuring out how to get out of there. Taehyung, who was sitting next to you, nudged your arm and whispered. “Doesn’t Gukkie look like a rabbit when he eats?”

“You know I can hear you.” Jeongguk glared up.

Taehyung smirked a shit eating grin. “Good.”

Yoongi straightened in his chair. “Rather than play, we should be working on a plan.”

“Yoongi-yah, they’re just trying to lighten the mood. Maybe you should lighten up too.” Seokjin soothed.

“Fine, let’s all just skip around the prison and play house while the entire world mourns our deaths!” Yoongi threw his napkin on the table. “You can’t expect me to act like everything is fine and normal when it’s not.”

Taehyung’s face darkened. “…you’re right Yoongi-hyung. It’s not normal. Here we are sitting helplessly with no way of contacting to outside world, and no hope of getting out of here anytime soon. We don’t know what they are going to do to us, we could be waiting to die.” Everyone stared at him, shocked by his sudden mood shift. No one spoke as everyone started thinking about the worst outcome in all of this.

“But, I don’t want to waste my last moments in despair about our situation, and I want to hope for a tomorrow.” The sudden maturity he was speaking with was so unlike the happy go lucky Taehyung who was trying to befriend you. Then it made sense. From the beginning he chose to be positive about this. To be positive about you.

Namjoon nodded in agreement. “I couldn’t have said it better. Everyone else with Taehyung?”

“I am.” You agreed.

Jimin smiled and patted Taehyung’s back. “Always.”

Jeongguk and Seokjin nodded with smiles. Then everyone looked to Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi sighed and paused. Then he nodded lightly. “You’re right.”

“I can’t disagree with that.” Hoseok smiled for the first time since waking up in there. It was relieving to say the least.

“Good. Okay, so here’s the plan. Let’s find out just how much that request screen can do. How far are its limits? Then, everyone get a regular night’s sleep, and we’ll attack tomorrow when it comes.” Namjoon laid out the plan now that everyone was rallied.

Taehyung had finished eating, so he got up and went over to the screen first. “I know what I’m asking it for!” He typed in 'xbox one x’. After a moment, the voice chimed.

“Request granted.” And then a brand-new Xbox One X came out of the slot, still in it’s packaging. Jeongguk jumped to his feet and ran over.

“No way! Try requesting something really expensive, I wonder if there is a limit.”

Everyone was finishing their food as fast as possible to join them, all in awe of the mysterious screen.

You walked over, an obscure idea in your head. You reached up and typed out 'dance studio’.

Taehyung looked at you confused. “____-ah, I don’t think it works like that-” he was cut off by the sound of machines whirling. The sound was coming from the other side of the wall near the kitchen.

After a few moments, the wall opened up, revealing a new hallway. Everyone ran to see what had changed. The hallway abruptly ended, but had a door on the left side. You opened the door, and were taken aback. There before you was a real dance studio. Mirrors, and even a sound system to play music on.

“How is this possible?” Hoseok marvelled.

You had a thought. “It might have already been here. We just needed to request for it to be opened up.”

Yoongi was already back at the screen. He typed in 'exit’.

“Request denied.”

“Maybe try requesting a weapon or something for self-defense.” Hoseok offered.

“That could be more dangerous than it’s worth. And we wouldn’t have the element of surprise either.” Yoongi pointedly looked at the leader, the oldest, and the maknae line.

“We could just have Yoongi-ssi hold onto it. He’s the best candidate.” You stated. Yoongi stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

He nodded. “Everyone agree?” There were no objections, so Yoongi punched in 'gun’.

“Request denied.”

'Taser.’

“Request denied”

'Bat.’

“Request accepted.” A baseball bat rolled out of the slot. Yoongi picked it up and noted it was solid wood.

“Okay, no pissing off Yoongi-hyung.” Jimin half joked as Yoongi swung it a few times to test its weight. He rested it on his shoulder and stepped aside gesturing someone else to request something.

Seokjin walked over and typed in, “Emergency kit.”

“Request accepted.”

A first aid kit with special trauma gear pushing out of the slot. “Just in case. We need to be ready if something happens.”

Everyone continued requesting items. Some useful like food and emergency supplied, but mostly things to fill their rooms like clothes, desks, PCs, and toiletries. Everyone explored the place more and found each of the eight bedroom were exactly the same. They each had a bed, closet, and their own bathroom with a sink, toilet, bathtub, and shower.

Soon, night had fallen, not that you could see it, but it was reflected by the time on everyone’s phone screens. It was still in the last time zone you had been in for LA. You all noted it might be helpful for deciphering your location later, but for now, everyone went to bed.

Instead of everyone going to their own room, most of them opted for sleep with each other. Jimin and Hoseok, Taehyung and Jeongguk, Yoongi and Seokjin, the only one who chose to be alone was Namjoon. He said he had a lot to think about, and needed space. You would’ve preferred not being alone, but sleeping with hot men was a big no. You didn’t need to add sexual tension to your list of things to worry about.

The hours rolled by, but you weren’t able to get any sleep. Your mind was racing and spiraling on useless worries. When 1 am came around, you got sick of just lying in bed, so you put on your leggings, a t-shirt, and left the bedroom. You walked around the fancy living space and found yourself wandering into the practice room. It was so dark, but you didn’t want to turn on the main lights, you might ruin your chances of sleeping completely. Instead, you found the room had mood lighting, and turned it on instead. It kept the room dim, but light enough to see. You figured it was for setting the mood of a dance.

Dancing. That might tire you out enough to sleep. You thought about dancing one of the many BTS choreos you had learned, but seeing as you were trying to hide that fact you were a fan, that might not be wise. Instead you put on Dancing in the Dark by Joji. You needed to vent everything.

When you were younger, your mother had put you in so many different classes. Hoping to keep you time occupied enough as to have another excuse why you couldn’t see your dad. Piano lessons, cello lessons, singing lessons, etiquette lessons, ballroom dancing, contemporary dancing, math tutors, english tutors, the list went on and on. As weighed down as you were back then, one of the things that helped you vent your frustrations was music. Singing it, playing it, writing it, dancing to it. It filled a hallow place in your soul.

The song started to move you. You flowed with it, a mixture of controlled movements and fluid ones. As the words alined with your thoughts and feelings, your face contorted with emotion. You were wrapped up in it, you didn’t even open your eyes, knowing the likely hood of you knocking into something was low in the gigantic practice room.

You didn’t notice there was a pair of eyes on you.

Jimin watched from the door, stayed back as to hide in the shadows. He couldn’t sleep. He needed to get up and clear his head a little.

He saw he wasn’t the only one.

Jimin was entranced by you. You were obviously a trained dancer. You jumped, rolled, and spun around with practiced ease. It reminded him of his highschool days when he practiced contemporary dance. He caught a glimpse of your face. Eyebrows laced together and lips slightly parted as you breathed in sync with your dancing. How could that be faked? You were under the assumption of being alone.

He knew right then and there you were genuine. Admittedly, his kindness had been faked until this moment. To him, the safety of the others came first. His members were his brothers, his chosen family. They meant the world to him. He wouldn’t put anything before then, not even himself. Not even you.

And yet, he found himself thinking he wanted you to be a part of that too.

The song changed. Idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish started playing.

You embraced the notes with every turn and shape.

'Beautiful.’ He thought. He was torn between leaving you and joining you, but settled on the latter.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” Jimin stated as he walked over.

You stopped immediately and paused the music. How long had he been watching? The Park Jimin, professional dancer just saw you dance. You might die of embarrassment.

“Ah, Jimin-ssi! I didn’t know you were watching.” You blurted out.

He shook his head. “Not 'Jimin-ssi’. Call me Oppa. You can relax around me, you know? I don’t bite.”

With the look he was giving you, you begged to differ. He was wearing skin tight jeans, and a baggy sweater. He didn’t have any shoes on, and his almost jaw length hair was pulled into a ponytail in the back similarly to how you had seen it in the Black Swan dance practice. A playful smirk pulled at his lips, and one hand was resting on his hips. Jimin was looking like sin itself, but in the softest way possible. You expected no less of the idol.

You dodged his correction with your own statement. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might try to tire myself out. Please don’t mistake my flailing around for dancing.”

He laughed at that. “Flailing? That was anything but. You’re obviously a trained dancer, give yourself more credit. You’re really good. I was actually wondering if I could join you.”

“I-I don’t know about that… I was just about to go to bed…”

“You look wide awake though. I can’t sleep either. Wouldn’t you keep me company?” He tilted his head and placed a pout on his lips. Surely there was some rule that stated that was cheating.

You gave in. “Alright, but I’m sure I’m no where near your level.”

“Hey, that don’t matter. I’m not the greatest dancer-”

“Lies.” You cut him off before he could finish.

He giggled, or was that angels singing? “It’s true! There’s tons better than me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still enough it. You obviously enjoy it, don’t let me stop you. I’d rather dance with someone who can feel the music like you over a trained robotic dancer any day.”

You blushed at his words and some of your self-consciousness melted away at his kind words.

“I wanna teach you one of my dances. Have you heard Promise? It’s my single.” He pulled out his phone and typed it in.

“No, I haven’t.” You lied.

“I choreographed it for fun, but I won’t ever perform it. It’s not hard, you’ll pick it up really easy.” He played the song, and you held in the urge to sing along. “It starts off with you standing sideways. One leg relaxed behind you, and all you weight on the other. Your arms are outstretched in front of you and crossed at the wrists with palms facing up. Lean back without shifting your weight and look up.” He instructed you with such precision, it was easy to follow along.

As you reached the chorus, there was a quick, fluid motion with your legs you could quite copy. “Almost but you need to lean back. Your body shouldn’t be aligned.”

You shifted. “Like this?”

He walked over and put his hands on your upper arms and pulled you back gently. “Think about leading the motion with your arms, rather than your body.” The shift had you looking up at him while he stood behind you. Everyone always teased his height, but your 5'3 standing next to his 5'8 had him nearly towering over you in this position. You moved through the rest of the motion just to break the stare.

“Perfect! Just like that.” He was impressed with how quick of a learner you were. You had a high attention to detail, just like he did, so within the hour the two of you were already doing run throughs.

By 2:30 am, you were both sitting on the floor panting a little as you took a break.

“I should be tired, but I haven’t danced like this for a little while, it just makes me want to do more.” You admitted.

He nodded. “I get that. It’s not often I dance what I want to dance. Most of the time it’s over practiced choreography that is very taxing to do. Concert after concert, it gets to where it’s not challenging, and you’re ready to move onto the next thing, you know?”

“That’s what dance class was like. Always doing the same thing. Dancing for the next competition. After 10 years of it, I just quit. Not because I didn’t love it, but because I wanted to dance what I loved, what I wanted to do. I was also 14, and starting high school, so I was ready for something new.” You found it was so easy talking to him. Your thoughts came out so easily.

He looked you in the eyes as you spoke and listened attentively to your every word. “You’re half Korean, did you ever think of becoming a trainee?”

You shook your head. “I was very Americanized. My possessive mother wouldn’t let me go visit my dad, and refused to let him teach me Korean. I only started learning it by the end of my senior year of high school. Though, if things were different, I think I would have. I had everything I needed for it. Singing lessons, dance lessons, and I had a passion for it. Still do.”

“Well, you have the training, it’s not too late. If… When we get of of here, you should pursue it. It’s too late to get into a group probably, but you could make a really good solo artist. You’re a halfie too, that’s really attractive in Korea, you’d do well.”

“You really think so?” You perked up. You didn’t really have a career in mind, since college was about reclaiming a part of yourself rather than the degree. You love music, doing it for a living sounded like a dream.

He smiled at your reaction. “Of course! You even have a foot in the door now. You’re friends with Jimin of BTS.”

A warmth spread in your chest. All the loneliness from earlier that day was gone. Jimin made you feel like you finally had a true ally. “Thank you… That really means so much to me.” You giggled. He laughed lightly at the sound. You both just sat there, stupidly laughing an giggling for no reason. You both needed it.

“Haha! What- what are we doing?” You managed to get out

“I- haha! I don’t know! You started it.” He hit you playfully. “I’ll stop if you stop!”

“I can’t!”

By the end of it you both were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling while shoulder to shoulder. The giggles dissolved into the dim practice room as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

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