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sunsetchicane · 7 months ago

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Postcards - Part 1 [LN4]

lando norris x journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 10k

summary: The one where everything begins. You are working a gala and run into Lando Norris. A whirlwind evening brings you to a crossroads, your budding new relationship hanging in the balance.

warnings: tiny bit a swearing here and there, slight sexual innuendo, angst, all around pretty mild (for nowww)

author's note: I am so excited to start this series!! I have been planing and scheming and I can't wait for you all to see it unfold. Releasing part one is completely surreal. As always, feedback is appreciated, so please let me know of any questions/concerns/comments you have. Lots of love and I hope you enjoy!! [xoxo elle]

December 2021

With trembling fingers, you smooth out the fabric of your evening dress. You’ve done this countless times already, but another time can’t hurt. After checking yourself over in the mirror once more, running your fingers through your hair to make sure it looks right, and dabbing on a little more lip gloss, you exit the bathroom to rejoin your colleagues.

The event space sparkles around you with seasonal cheer. For the last few weeks, you were volunteered, without your consent, to help your department put on a charity gala. Since you were the freshest hire, it made sense that you were put on tasks that didn’t exactly fit your job description.

When you started working for a prestigious international publication based in Monaco, you expected to jump right in. You were an eager early graduate ready to take on the world at the ripe age of 21. Since you walked into the office on your very first day, you itched to grab your camera and hop on a flight anywhere to start chasing a story. Instead, you’ve spent the last few months being assigned to this and that around the office, slowly climbing your way up the metaphorical totempole.

Was it egregious at first? Most definitely.

Being in one place for an extended amount of time has never been your thing. You did two years of university on campus, but quickly grew tired of it. So, you switched to online and finished up in record time, all while hopping from place to place. However, you’ve slowly grown accustomed to seeing the same people everyday and making friends along the way while working in Monaco. It surprises you how fond you’ve become of this place. You’ve never called anywhere home, but this city has become as close as you think you’ll ever get.

Picking up your camera bag and black leather binder, you make your way towards the bar where the rest of the team set up shop. As you walk over to the huddle, you take a minute to truly admire all the work put into this gala. The giant arching windows of the event space are dressed in white and gold silks that match the table cloths and decor. Glittering lights hang from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the large room. Candles line every table, causing the glasses and white porcelain plates to sparkle in the sultry lighting. There’s a dance floor in the front of the room, behind which is a short stage filled with the hired band’s instruments. And finally, there’s your favorite part. On the far side of the room, a silent auction is being held. There are tables lined with exclusive works from your company. There are first editions, rare prints, iconic autographed pieces, everything that makes a journalist or a collector want to combust. Finding all of the works that are on auction tonight was an incredibly difficult task, but equally as gratifying. It all looks just how you imagined it – exactly how you planned it.

Stealing a few more seconds for yourself, you snap a few shots of the details. The lighting gives the photos a sensual cascade of warm colors. You adore the way they look and can’t wait to capture more moments as the night goes on.

You hear your name being called from over by the bar. Snapping out of your creative stupor, you briskly walk over to the small crowd of your coworkers. They’re going over final checks to make sure everything is in order before we open the doors in an hour. Bobbi, serving as point for tonight's event, delegates tasks to everyone. As they’re assigned a duty, they bugger off to execute it as quickly as possible. After everyone leaves, it’s just you and Bobbi.

“You need to work your camera so hard tonight that you have to invoice the company for a new one.” She says pointedly, her tone firm and commanding. Bobbi has the ‘scary leader’ bit down to a science. However, you’re not afraid of her. She’s genuinely a great person, not to mention a brilliant writer, and also the closest friend you’ve probably ever had. She’s a couple years older than you and has been a bit of a mentor over the months that you’ve worked under her. She’s the no-nonsense to your fully nonsense life. In short, she keeps you grounded, humble.

“Working her like a racehorse, boss.” You confirm, nodding and giving her a mock-serious face.

“Don’t call me that.” She says while collecting her things into a neat pile. “And wipe that look off your face before it gets stuck like that.”

That puts a small smile on your face as she walks away. You watch as she stops here and there, straightening things out or fixing a wrinkle in a table cloth. Quickly, you snap a couple shots of her when she’s not looking. She looks effortlessly classy in her black dress and heels and slicked back black hair. You can’t help but hope you look as put together as her. But the chances are good you most definitely don’t. A word to the wise: if you’re going to live in Monaco, learn how to dress. Everything here is to the nines or not at all.

The next hour until the doors open is quick, maybe too quick. You’re in a bit of a tizzy as the guests start arriving. There are countless paparazzis and journalists waiting alongside the carpeted stairs that bring the guests to the front doors. You stand stationed inside to capture the night in candids. Your photos will be used in the next publication, so you have to do well. There’s a lot riding on your performance tonight. No pressure, right?

Glittering people slip through the doors, spilling into the event. You watch from the edges and shadows as their mouths fall open at the splendor. They lean into each other and whisper about the decor and ambiance. It makes your heart race, wondering exactly what they’re saying. It’s the nosy journalist in you that needs an answer to every question.

When the moment feels right, you snap pictures as discreetly as you can. It’s your job to be invisible amongst the party-goers. These people are here for charity and to socialize. The money that they haul in with them is far more than you could even bear to think about. It drips from them as they walk; it tumbles from their pockets, unnoticed. Celebrities and politicians and everyone in between has been invited tonight. There’s a tight feeling in your chest as you take picture after picture of the wealthy. There’s a large disconnect between you and these people. Not so long ago, it was a great day if you ended up with three meals and clean clothes to wear. Now look at you–taking pictures of men who wear watches that could finance the rest of your life.

As the time slides by and the sun settles itself into the horizon, the flow of guests has nearly stopped. A few tailenders slip in before the doors close, signifying the real beginning of the night. The music plays quietly in the background, but is nearly drowned out by the chatter that rises from each and every table. There are groups of people standing and socializing, a few people slung along the bar, and the rest are seated at their assigned spots. Sighing, you let your camera fall to your side for the first time since the first guest arrived. You’ve been working the room, snapping shots of any and everything that catches your eye.

You walk back over to the foyer, seeking out one last shot before the meal is served and toasts begin. As you walk, you adjust the settings on your camera so you’ll get the shot just right. Without checking around you, you bring the camera up to your eye to test the settings by taking a couple photos. Immediately, your eye catches on someone in the viewfinder. He’s standing along the wall, his head ducked down into a glass of champagne. His eyes are scanning over the bustling crowd of people. You can only see him in profile, but he looks nearly perfect leaned up against that wall with the icy glass pressed to his lips. His black suit glitters in the soft lighting along with his eyes. His skin is a warm tan, working blessedly well with the lighting that surrounds him. Quickly, you zoom in and frame up a better shot of just him. The shutter snaps shut a few times. As it does so, you watch in horror as the man starts to turn his face toward you, looking right down your lens. You capture it all in a line of photos. His furrowed frown melts into a sly smile as he catches you photographing him. He laughs a little while shaking his head.

When you finally take a moment to look at him, you find that you actually know him. Well, know of him. Bobbi’s son has forced you to sit down and watch Formula One reruns with him on multiple occasions. The face of one of his favorite drivers is this face in front of you. Lando Norris, Formula One driver for McLaren. And by the looks of it, a total cocky bastard. A cute bastard, but bastard nonetheless.

Needing to escape this situation, you try to remember why you were over here. You can’t believe you got so distracted so quickly. Thinking briefly, you remember the photo that you need to take. Just as you turn around to find the shot, a voice rumbles in your ear. His accent is acutely British and sends a wave of chills running down your spine. He’s unnervingly close, his breath hitting your ear and neck. It should make you terribly uncomfortable, but it doesn’t.

“Did you get my good side?” He asks smoothly, a hint of humor in his voice. As you turn to face him, there’s a cheeky smile plastered onto his young face. Seeing him this close, it strikes you now just how young he is. He can’t be much older than you, if at all. His hazel eyes are bright and glinting with humor as you stare him down.

“That depends,” You muse, folding your arms over your chest. “Which side is that?”

“You tell me, you’re the professional.” He shoots back with a wink while gesturing at your camera with his glass of champagne. You catch yourself before rolling your eyes, it’s too early to be harassing the guests. Instead, you decide to play his little game. You’re always up for a game.

Bringing your fingers to tap against your lips, you hum in faux concentration. Tentatively, you take steps to the right, examining his left side.

“No…” You say, expressing that it wasn’t his “good side.” But it’s simply not true, all of his sides are good sides. Pressing on, you take a few steps to your left to check out the right side.

“No,” You say again, a little more firmly. Instead of standing in front of him once more, you continue to walk around him.

“Ah!” Humor is clear in your voice as you stop directly behind him, staring at the back of his head. His hair is fluffy, but styled nicely for tonight. His neck is long and thick, causing his suit to bunch at the collar just slightly. His hands are tucked together behind his back, his glass dangerously close to spilling the remaining contents. You have to admit that he’s quite cute. The internal admission makes you blush to yourself.

“This is perfect.” You joke, trying to shake off your thoughts about him. You bring your camera out to take a couple shots of him. His head turns to the side just enough so you can capture a sliver of his face in your last photo. Once you’re done snapping pictures, he turns around with his tongue tracing over his front teeth. There’s a coy smile that plays on his pink lips. He takes your joke in stride, the humor most definitely not lost on him. You like a man who can take a joke.

“Jokes on you, I know I have a lovely backside.” He says quietly while leaning in to you slightly. One of his eyebrows pops up while he grins at you. You scoff a little while shaking your head. He’s nearly exactly as you’d imagined him. The way his eyes sparkle captivates you, drawing you in. In this lighting it's hard to tell exactly what the color of his irises are, but it’s a challenge you would love to take. You think about holding him close and slowly piecing together the puzzle that is Lando Norris.

Just as you’re about to make a witty comment about his backside, the feedback of a microphone turning on pulls your attention away. Suddenly, you remember that you’re not here to chat and flirt with the guests. You’re on the clock. Chiding yourself for being so easily distracted, you quickly switch the memory SD card in your camera for a new one.

“Duty calls,” You say quietly to Lando, “Excuse me.”

He blinks at you a couple of times, unsure of how to proceed. It looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to dash out on him. The thought makes you laugh. Everyone should expect you to dash out at the first chance. Though, as you look into his eyes, for the first time in a long time, maybe you don’t want to run. And that scares the shit out of you. Before you do something you’ll definitely regret, you turn on your heels to escape to anywhere but here.

“Make sure you send those to me. I love a good ass pic.” Lando calls to you as you walk away. In spite of yourself, you send him a grin over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your job, but you catch your eye wandering. Whether it be of desire or compulsion, you weren’t completely sure, you look for him in the crowd of people. You search for him in the photos you take. His smile has etched itself into your long term memory, his charming demeanor dances across your mind. Savoring every time you get a half glance of him or just a piece of him in one of your photos, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever speak to him again.

The gala drags on. Party-goers get drunk and spend copious amounts on things that most of them will just hang on a wall to glance at occasionally. Staying to the edges as you’ve been told to, you watch in on these people. As you do, you feel something odd settling in your chest, a feeling that you’ll never belong here truly. It’s not a foreign feeling to you anymore, not after everything you’ve been through. However, rejection is rejection. All you are to these people is a silly girl with a camera, a wallflower, the help. A wave of emotion crests in your mind and crashes down into your heart. The overwhelming feeling of needing to run away from here, to escape these people and their frivolous lives takes over all of your senses.

Checking the time, you decide that you’ve done your part. It’s late into the night and the gala seems to be winding down. Sliding along the walls of the room, you make your way over to the corner where Bobbi has been looming all night. Her eyes scan over a paper in her binder as you sidle up next to her. She gives you a half glance before continuing to read whatever is in front of her.

“Leaving?” Bobbi says in that specific Bobbi way that makes you feel caught. You blame it on the fact that she’s a mother. Hence why you can’t help but feel like a small child caught in the act.

“Uh, if that’s alright with you, bos–Bobbi.” You stammer, feeling a little out of sorts. You usually aren’t the stumbling and bumbling type. Bobbi doesn’t miss it. She side-eyes you carefully, analyzing you from head to toe. After a couple of seconds of feeling like a circus spectacle, she sighs and closes the black binder in her hands.

“Go,” Bobbi says as her hands drop to her sides. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Relief floods through you as the words come out of her mouth. You’re so pleased you think you could actually kiss her on the mouth. But that would be highly unprofessional while on the job. Instead, you thank her verbally.

Dashing off, you collect your bag and coat from the room in the front. You carefully tuck away your camera into your bag and pull out your wallet. The party continues behind you as you pull your jacket on, sling your backpack over your shoulders, and all but run out the front doors.

December air crashes into your lungs as you slip into the night. You savor the fresh way it fills your lungs, replacing the stifling heat of the party. Taking the stairs in twos, you bound towards the street to hail a taxi. You don’t have a car and biking here in a dress didn’t seem like a great move, so a taxi was the best you could do.

A few people line the street, standing scattered along the sidewalk in front of the event. The valet kiosk is busy with a few people who seem to be fleeing the party early as well. Smiling to yourself, you can’t help but wonder what is driving each of these poor souls home so soon. What are all of these people running from?

Your eye is caught by a flash of yellow. Raising your hand and reaching out onto the street, you attempt to wave down the taxi. You watch as it slows down and pulls in right behind a car that’s just been pulled up into the valet area. The sleek sports car hums with power that you’ve only recently become acquainted with. Monaco’s collection of cars seems to be endlessly vast and magnificently sexy. In the low lighting, the black car nearly fades into the night. Only the gleaming highlights of the reflective carbon fiber exterior and the glow of the headlights and taillights give away its shape. Your eyes are glued to it, wondering if the rattle in your chest is from the rumbling engine or just your stuttering heart. It’s no surprise when you didn’t notice him stride up next to you.

“Wicked, huh?” Lando says, standing just off to your right. For a few moments in your mesmerized state, you don’t recognize him. His eyes are on you, but you still haven’t peeled your eyes away from the car.

“Yeah,” You agree absentmindedly as you drag your eyes over the vehicle. Everything has faded into a blur, even your waiting taxi a thought of the past.

“Wanna ride?” Lando offers, the words tumbling out of his mouth. With that, your mind snaps back into focus. A frown falls over your face as you turn to the man standing next to you. There’s a warning poised on your lips, ready to tell off some stupid man that just because he has a fancy car, it doesn’t mean that he can just get whatever or whoever he wants. The second your eyes lock with Lando’s, the venom you were ready to spit is gone and lost. His eyes are wide and his bottom lip is pulled into his mouth as he looks at you. Your jaw goes slightly slack and for the first time in a long time, you’re speechless. You really aren’t on your game tonight. Chiding yourself, you shake off your inhibitions and try to fall back into your normal self.

“I mean,” Lando says while shifting from foot to foot and clearing his throat. “Would you like a ride home?”

Pink has started to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. A pinched and slightly embarrassed expression covers his face. It surprises you slightly. You thought that he was all bravado and classic arrogance. This display of sheepishness has caught you by surprise. Once more, you recognize just how young he is–how young both of you are. Teenage blushing and awkwardness haven’t completely left you yet. Something about it warms you in a way that you desperately need.

Glancing over at your taxi, you weigh your options. But there really isn’t a choice here, is there? Not taking Lando’s offer would be a slap in your own face and a shame to all of your core truths. There’s something deeper at play as well. It feels as though you’re looking into the eyes of fate, your destiny being drawn out before you. Plus, it kinda helps that he’s cute.

“Take me away,” You say, a genuine smile coming to your face. He blinks at you once before returning your smile in full force.

“Come on then,” He says while beckoning you to follow him. In a few brief steps, he stops in front of the passenger door and pulls it open. The butterfly doors lift up, exposing the luxurious interior. You think you might combust.

“I’m Lando, by the way.” He says, one hand holding the door and the other extending toward you. There’s a slightly smug look on his face. Narrowing your eyes at him, you slide your hand into his. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched. His skin feels warm against yours, his fingertips branding prints into the back of your hand. Sparks fly out from where you’re joined together, goosebumps cascading over your skin. Never have you had a physical connection make you feel this way, let alone a handshake. Something flickers to life deep inside of you. Lando’s touch has just awoken something that you didn’t know was there, but now cannot deny the existence of.

With your hand still in his, you tell him your name. To your delight, he repeats it back to you. The way it rolls off his tongue, painted in his accent, makes you want to drop to your knees. Sweet like honey is the way it feels to be in his presence.

“Pleasure,” He says. It doesn’t sound like a casual remark, though. It sounds more like a promise. The thought makes your stomach do a flip.

“Likewise,” You say, your voice coming out soft as velvet. The way his eyes are watching you makes you feel alive. Every nerve ending in your body is standing at attention, ready for whatever comes next. You might call yourself a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and this adventure with Lando has you buzzing.

“Hop in, love.” Lando says before finally dropping your hand. Butterflies flap in your stomach at the casual endearment. Sending him a small, crooked smile, you slide into the seat in front of you. After closing the door with careful hands, he rounds the car and joins you inside behind the wheel. The hum of the engine fills your ears as you allow yourself to analyze the interior. Black surrounds you, lit up by red LED lights placed around the console and dash. You tuck your bag by your feet before strapping yourself in with the seat belt.

“Where to?” Lando asks, his hand reaching out. For a split second, your heart starts to race, thinking he’s reaching out to take your hand. It would be a bold move, but not one you’d be opposed to. But he stops short, his long fingers resting over the gear stick. Flicking your eyes from his hand to his face, you tell him your address. He nods and then pushes the car into gear, leading the two of you off into the night.

Now, you should probably have thought twice about sharing your address with a total stranger, but the truth is, you don’t know how long you’ll actually be living here. In your mind, everything is temporary. Permanence has never been a rule in your game. So, sharing your home address with someone you just met and somewhat have started to trust doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Plus, you don’t think Lando has the stomach to be a serial killer, so he has that going for him.

“How long have you been in Monaco?” Lando asks, his eyes not leaving the road. Taking the opportunity to stare at his side profile, you contemplate how to answer.

“A few months. I started a job here with the company that hosted the event tonight.” You say, shrugging and turning your head to watch the buildings fly by. Lights dance across your eyes, streaks of it blurring into the cityscape around you. You’ve never been in a car like this before. It’s mesmerizing, the way the sound and feel of it mixes with the visual, causing a sensory explosion. Powerful is the only way you can describe it. You wonder how it feels to harness such power. The man next to you does it so frequently, it’s no wonder he is the way he is. This understanding makes you feel warm, like without asking or him telling you, you’ve started to see him. It’s a brand new experience for you to feel this way in a personal matter.

“What exactly do you do there?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts. You can feel his eyes on you now. The thought of him stealing glances at you while his eyes should be locked on the road makes little fireworks go off in your chest.

“I’m supposed to be a journalist.” You sigh, falling back into the deep cushion of your seat. “But right now, I’m just working my way up.”

Lando hums in acknowledgement of your struggle. Something tells you that he knows exactly what you mean. It feels so odd to be so comfortable with him, to know that you're being understood too. It scares you a little. Getting close is dangerous, you might end up getting burned.

“Wait!” You say as your eyes catch on a familiar sight. “Pull over here.”

The 24 hour grocery shop near your apartment has become your closest friend. On late nights, you sneak over and peruse the ice cream section. Tonight seems like the perfect occasion to stop by and grab a sweet treat. There’s nothing quite like an impromptu casual ice cream date.

Casual, right?

Casual.

Lando laughs to himself a little, but does what you ask, pulling into a parking space in front of the shop. You send him the sweetest smile you can muster up. He looks up and down your face, his lips slightly parted. The image of kissing those lips flashes across your mind but is gone in an instant. You can’t do that. You barely know him and would hate to give the wrong impression. Of course you’re attracted to him, but nothing can come of this. All this can be is a little bit of fun.

“Come on,” You urge, your hand falling on the door handle. You both exit the car and hurry inside the shop. Mindlessly, you grab Lando’s hand to lead him over to the aisle you’re desperately needing. But, in your hurry, you don’t miss the way he swallows hard when your fingers wrap around his. Having your hand again feels completely natural, as if the two of you had known each other for years.

Instead of dwelling on the deeper meanings of things or contemplating the intense energy between the two of you, you scour the ice cream shelves.

“Ice cream tells you a lot about someone.” You whisper to the man next to you, exaggerating your reverence to the frozen food section. Eyes flickering up to his, you’re pleased to find him looking at you. There’s a smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth.

“Really?” He coos sarcastically.

“Yeah, so just know I am judging you on what you choose.” You fire back. He smiles now, the apple of his cheeks and the slightest of dimples popping out. Shaking his head at you, he carefully approaches the freezer. He doesn’t drop your hand, however. Your interlocked fingers hang between the two of you while he contemplates his decision. Casting one last glance at you, he yanks the door open and snatched his choice.

Without being asked, he presents you with his selection. It’s peanut butter pecan. Bringing your free hand to your mouth, you try to stifle your laugh. He furrows his brow, looking terribly offended.

“This is objectively a great flavor.” He defends weakly.

“If you’re geriatric, then definitely.” You shoot back, your voice weak with suppressed laughter. He shakes his head at you, tucking his tongue into his cheek.

“Go on then.” He says while gesturing wildly with his ice cream in hand. Smiling widely, you take all but two seconds to pluck your favorite from the shelf. With no little amount of flair, you show him your far superior pick.

“Cookie dough? So basic.” He says incredulously, looking completely underwhelmed.

“I think you mean ‘classic.’” You correct, tilting your head to the side. Even when he’s perturbed, you can’t help but admire him. Somewhere along the way, he lost his tie and undid the top button of his dress shirt. His hair is messy now, unlike when you first saw him. He must have been running his hands through it. You wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair.

“I think not.” He scoffs, mimicking your head tilt. Rolling your eyes, you drop his hand to shove his shoulder playfully. You breeze past him towards the checkout. But before you turn the corner around the aisle you glance back at him.

“Come on, mister. We have to get you back to the retirement center before anyone notices.” You tease before finally slipping away. Laughing to yourself, you make your way to the only open checkout counter. The older gentlemen standing behind the counter watches you approach with kind eyes.

“Bonsoir, Anton,” You greet him with a smile before handing him your pint of ice cream. Anton works the night shift frequently, meaning you and him have become very well acquainted.

“Bonsoir, mon cher.” He says back in a soft voice. He scans your ice cream into the system just as Lando comes up right behind you. His chest presses into your shoulder as he leans forward to hand his ice cream to Anton. It occurs to you like a tidal wave that you never want him to move. Having him pressed against you feels like heaven on earth. It’s so right, so warm…

And then it’s gone. He backs up off of you and slides around to pay. Anton hands him the ice creams along with a couple of plastic spoons. Swallowing hard, you glance from Lando to Anton. From the corner of his eye, Anton watches you. You pop an eyebrow at him. He gives you a look that says not bad. Shaking your head at your friend, you can’t help but smile. Anton is right. Not bad, not bad at all.

“Au revoir,” You say with a wink.

“Se comporter,” Anton whispers. “Au revoir.”

Behave. Smiling wildly, you catch up with Lando who’s waiting at the end of the counter. He hands you your ice cream and spoon, which you take gratefully.

Exiting the shop together, you stand basking in the glow of the shop’s lights that stream through the windows. You peel the lid from your ice cream and open up the package to the plastic spoon before shoving a bite into your mouth. When the cold snack hits your tongue, it sends a chill through you along with a fabulous wave of flavor. Ice cream at night in December might not have been your most practical idea, but damn was it delicious.

“So, Lando,” You say once you’ve swallowed, bumping your shoulder against his. “What is it that you do?”

He’s in the middle of spooning a bite into his mouth when his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. The spoon hangs in his mouth for a second while he tries to formulate his answer. You can see the ‘you don’t know who I am’ look on his face and hope desperately that he doesn’t voice those thoughts aloud. Of course you do know who he is, but you still want to hear him tell you.

“I’m a driver.” He says vaguely, his eyes falling back to his ice cream. Pressing your lips into a line to refrain from smiling, you loop your arm into his. You begin walking down the street, lugging him after you. He doesn’t complain, but simply follows your actions, striding alongside you.

“What does a driver do?” You pry, wanting to get a real answer out of him.

“Drives,” He smirks. Rolling your eyes, you have to admit you walked into that one.

“If you continue to be so vague with your answers, I’ll have to assume you’re a getaway driver. Are we talking full ‘Baby Driver’ here? Or more ‘Fast and the Furious?’ Just so you know, I’m not really a fan of career criminals–” You ramble and badger him verbally to get him to open up a little. Sometimes all you need to do to get answers is just annoy someone.

“I’m not a criminal!” He interjects, a little dumbfounded at your verbose display.

“Would a free criminal admit to being a criminal?” You ponder aloud before shoving another bite into your mouth. His eyes are on you. You pin him with a quizzical look to further your point. He shakes his head and pops another bite of ice cream into his mouth while you continue to stroll down the street together.

“You’re–” He starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Still waiting for an answer. Yes I am.” You say, finally looking up at him with serious eyes.

He gazes down at you softly, his lips drawn to the side as he bites the inside corner of his mouth. You can tell he’s slightly giddy about what he’s going to say to you. He’s gauging your reaction carefully. You flash him a small smile and wide eyes.

“I’m a Formula One driver for McLaren.” He says casually then waits for your response. Honestly, you’re sort of surprised that he didn’t lead with this the entire night. His cockiness is clear, but that’s sort of to be expected when you are one of only 20 people that do what you do. It’s not an excuse or a free pass for arrogance, but it makes sense. You’ve entered the part of the night where you’re going to expose his true colors.

“Oh, that’s cool.” You say equally as casually, downplaying the massive deal that he is. It’s not like you aren’t impressed with him, because you are. But there’s a game to play here and rules to follow. He blinks rapidly as his plan starts to fall to pieces in front of him. It’s borderline hilarious to watch his bravado splinter. He flounders slightly, scrambling to pick up the pieces of his failed move.

“That usually works, right? Telling girls that you’re this international racing star?” You say, putting his failure in the limelight. Red flushes into his cheeks, only slightly noticeable as you pass under the warm glow of a streetlight. He catches on then, his nervousness and embarrassment fading slightly.

“Yeah,” He says, shame being conveyed in his monosyllabic answer. Slyly, you glance up at him, a smirk playing across your lips. It’s fun to make people squirm a little. It makes them realer, more human. A guy like this who spends his time in the public eye deserves to be unleashed into pure, unadulterated humanity every once in a while. Your incessant teasing allows him that freedom.

“Did you know?” He asks after a quick pause, his face pinched into a frown. Instead of answering, you look away and take another bite of ice cream. Scoffing, he stops walking. Slipping your arm out of his, you swing around to stand in front of him. He’s glowering at you. It makes you laugh.

“I knew,” You admit while popping the lid back onto your ice cream. “My friend’s son is obsessed with you.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. You opt out of telling him that you’ve seen all of his races and post-race interviews from this past season. Maybe that’s why you feel like you know him so well. No other reason makes sense.

“Why did you harass me into telling you?” He asks while plucking your plastic spoon from your hand to dispose of in a nearby trash can.

“I don’t think I harassed you into anything. But, habit, I suppose.” You say while shrugging. It’s the best answer you can give him. You really did want to see the way he acted and get the real answers that you were searching for. There’s a lot to learn about someone in the way they talk about themselves. When he comes to stand in front of you, he has a crooked smile on his face. Relief washes over you when you see that he’s not actually upset.

“Journalists,” He huffs dramatically before flashing you a show-stopping grin. You bite your bottom lip as you gaze into his eyes. They’re bright and glittering in the night, a beacon of light in the darkness. You blink up at the man in front of you, feeling slightly dazed. He’s stepping closer, invading your space. It makes you go completely still. For all of his thinly veiled arrogance and annoying charm, you can’t help but feel drawn in by him. There’s a man inside of those defenses that you’re desperate to see.

But he isn’t a story to be hunted down and peeled apart, he’s a person.

It occurs to you then that this is highly dangerous. The feelings that have been stirring in you all night because of the man standing in front of you are the type that you always avoid. Growing connections and reaching out to people puts them at risk. There’s never a moment where you’re not thinking about leaving or what’s coming next. You can’t allow yourself to put people in the line of fire. It’s not that you don’t care about people; it’s about not allowing people to care for you. Once you run out of their lives, never to return, you’re the one responsible for their broken hearts if it goes too deep.

This situation with Lando is a prime example of the thing you’ve always feared. You can tell that Lando is starting to care. He cares about how you see him; he cares about the way your hand fits in his; he cares about the way you smile at him. It crushes you. In a world where this should make you over the moon, you feel six feet under. Tonight is a one night thing. It has to be. It’s the only way to keep you both safe.

So, you do what you do best. You run.

“It’s getting pretty late,” You say, taking a step back for safety. It physically pains you to say the words out loud, knowing they’re a prerequisite to an unavoidable goodbye. You have to remind yourself that a little bit of pain now is worth it to spare everyone from a heartbreak.

Lando is taken aback by your sudden shift in mood. It’s understandable. Just seconds ago, he was moving in after spending a lovely time with you. Now he’s being rejected. When a small flash of hurt paints his features, you want to wrap him up in your arms and explain to him why you’re doing this. But you know that he’ll just question and fight you. So you don’t explain yourself, you just let him work through his emotions alone.

Alone.

The word echoes through your mind as Lando just nods. Without another word, you both turn back the way you came to return to his car. Suddenly, the chill of the winter night that you had avoided with banter and affection, seeps in. It reaches its icy hands around your heart and squeezes. Even though you’re standing right next to Lando, you feel utterly alone. It hurts for now, but you know you’ll find comfort in the familiar feeling once again. You always do.

Lando drives you the rest of the way home. There are few words that pass between you and not one smile. You have to fight yourself not to crack a joke or tell him that you don’t really want to go home. You wish that you could stay out with him all night, talking and laughing and smiling. But you can’t. Some dreams are meant to stay dreams, wishes meant to stay wishes.

When he pulls up to your building, he tosses the car into park. It surprises you a little when he turns to you fully. His eyes are narrowed and searching. You know exactly what’s coming.

“So this is it?” He asks firmly, demanding an answer. Everything inside of you rebels against the end. You struggle to confirm the worst, the words choking you. It’s been a long time since a goodbye was this hard. You’d let it get too far this time and there’s no one to blame but yourself.

“This is it.” You say, nodding your head and dropping his gaze. Nervously, your fingers fidget with the lip of your ice cream lid. There’s a few moments of silence that solidify your point. It’s not a choice; it’s a necessity. He’ll understand that in time and so will you.

Not being able to take another second of sitting in his presence for fear you might go back on your own decision, you grab your bag and push the door open. As you stand and sling your bag over your shoulders, you watch as he watches you.

“Goodbye, Lando Norris.” You find yourself saying. Goodbyes are your specialty, so why does this one feel so unnatural? You can’t help but feel like you’re a fate from the ancient Greek myths, cutting off your own thread of destiny.

“Goodbye,” He says, the shears of fate coming to a close along the tie that connected the two of you.

You shut the door and turn your back on the car. Every single step away feels like a hike up a mountain. A personal sort of gravity tries to yank you back towards him. It would be so easy to fall into his arms, into a kiss that you’ve been dreaming about since you first laid eyes on him.

Instead of giving into ease, you cast one last look over your shoulder before hiking the rest of the way to your apartment.

The eternal feeling of never again settles into your bones.

—

Sitting at your desk, you lean your cheek against your fist. It’s Monday and you’re, unfortunately, sitting in your office at work. Today’s agenda consists of going through the thousands of photos you took at the charity gala. The part you aren’t so in love with about being a photographer is having to go through the tedious work of selecting the best few photos out of a massive sum. It’s monotonous and tiresome after a few hours and you still have a few hundred more to just look through before you even start editing.

Sighing loudly, you toss yourself back in your chair. You’ve been sitting here for too long and you’re starting to get antsy. You need a change of pace.

With your laptop in hand, you waltz into the break room to grab a snack before walking yourself to the stairs. Swift steps carry you all the way up to the roof. Some fresh air sounds like exactly what you need. You wedge the door stop between the frame and the door before carefully propping it open just a crack. Getting locked out would be highly embarrassing.

It’s an unusually nice day for late December, the sun poking out through the clouds and the wind nothing but a small breeze. You beeline for the spot on the edge of the roof that connects to the stairway building. It blocks the wind and gives you a great view of the city.

You sit on the edge of the roof, leaning back against the brick wall that encloses the stairway. Your legs dangle freely over the side of the building while your eyes slip over the Monaco skyline. It’s late in the day and the streets are starting to fill with post-work day traffic. Closing your eyes, you listen to the loud hum of city life.

After a few moments of indulging yourself, you crack open your eyes to begin working again. Firing up your laptop, you resume searching through your photos. But, something in the top corner of your screen makes you stop your scrolling. It’s a little blue folder that you’d made earlier today. On a whim, you collected all the photos that you took of Lando and put them into a folder. A few were actually really great shots that might end up being used in the gala piece. Others that you took weren’t anything special to an outsider.

But, to you, they meant more.

Your heart still carries the dull ache of your night spent together. His smile and laugh still float across your memory. Frequently, you think of him, of his touch. Every part of it was so slight, but it felt perfect. Small moments coalesce into a memory that won’t be soon forgotten. It’s not let you stop thinking about him, constantly opening up the “LN” folder you now have saved on your laptop just to relive it. You find yourself again daring to wonder if this would be the first and last time you would see him. It’s completely out of character for you. Everything about him and this situation is unnerving.

Part of you is unable to let go of him as you have done with everything else in your life. Staring at the photos of Lando, your mind starts to formulate a plan. Jokingly, he asked you to send him that photo that you took from behind him. There are several photos, but your personal favorite is when he started to turn towards you. His profile was captured, exhibiting his nose and lips perfectly. His neck is strained, causing his muscles to pop. And his hands, his gorgeous hands are tucked so neatly behind his back and clutching that champagne glass so perfectly that you can’t not admire them.

Tossing your other work to the back burner for a minute, you open up your editing application and go to work fixing up a couple of things on the photo. When you’re finished, it’s a glorious black and white picture that makes him glow like a sunspot. Appreciating your own handiwork, you save the photo under a new name into the same folder.

Without a second thought, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts before finding the right one. Your call to the PR department is answered within seconds. One of the girls you know who works answers and introduces herself. You greet her warmly before getting down to business.

“I need the address of one of our PR recipients.” You say into the receiver.

“Sure,” She says happily, the small noise of a clicking keyboard can be faintly heard in the background. “What’s this for?”

“I had a request for a print to be mailed to him.” You tell her a half truth, not wanting to get in trouble with anyone. “I told him that I’d take care of it myself. You know how these guys can be.”

You hear her mumble in agreement. People who personally request specific prints from us can be quite picky about how things are handled. You know this little bluff will help you streamline the process of getting Lando’s address.

“What’s the name?” She says.

“Lando Norris,” You hum to her sweetly, not wanting to jeopardize your mission. The other end falls silent while she goes about looking him up. Your breathing is uneven and slightly nervous. It’s not your first time toeing the line, but bending the rules never fails to get your blood pumping. You love it.

“Found him! Emailing his info to you now.” She says in her sing-song voice. You fist bump the air in success.

“Thank you!” You say before ending the call. The email pops up on your laptop screen immediately. Wasting no time, you open up the application and favorite the email so it won’t get lost. Then you start to compose an email of your own. Scribbling down a few things and uploading the photo, you send it off into cyberspace.

Once more, you scroll your contacts until you find the name of a friend who works in printing. You ring him while chewing on your nails.

“Hello?” He answers, the whir of machines is loud enough to make you strain to hear him properly.

“Michael! Could you do me a favor? I have a guy I need to get a print to ASAP.” You chirp into your phone.

“What do you need?” He sighs, sounding far away and distracted.

Smiling to yourself, you give him the specs. You wanted a large canvas, matte print. Nothing too crazy, definitely doable on a tight schedule. He confirms what you need by repeating it back to you and then lets you know that he got your email.

“Pick it up tomorrow.” He says shortly before hanging the phone up. You make a mental note to pick up an extra coffee for Michael tomorrow as a thank you.

Happily, you go about finishing your work for the day. You can hardly wait to return to work tomorrow to get your gift sent off to Lando. He’s an international address, so the sooner the better.

You’re a little unsure if this is a good idea. Reaching out to him this way is dangerous. It opens doors that you’ve already shut tight. There’s no closure to be had because everything is already done. There’s no point in exploring this any further because there’s no future here. The only future you have interest in is where you’re going next.

But, there’s still this pull to make contact again, even in just a small way. It doesn’t mean anything. At least you have to keep telling yourself that until you believe it.

When you finally feel like you’ve hit a good place to pause for the night, the sun has already set and the cool winter night has wrapped up the city in front of you. Sighing, you take a minute to enjoy the brisk chill of the season. Part of you wishes for snow, but the more rational part of you is glad for clear roads.

The trip down the stairs and to your desk is quiet. The office has been all but deserted, leaving only you and a couple night-owls waiting to call it a night. You make your way to your cubicle, ready to get out of this place for today. Slipping your laptop into your bag, you check over your desk to make sure you have everything. Right before you leave, you scribble on a sticky note to remind yourself to pick up Lando’s print in the morning. It seems useless though because you don’t think that you would ever forget. Once you have it pasted on the corner of your monitor, you turn tail and leave the office in the dust.

Bursting out into the cool Monaco night, you can’t help but feel a little more alive when you escape the office. A deep breath fills your lungs as you make your way over to your bike. It’s the last one in the stand. You unlock it swiftly, mount it, and head off towards your apartment.

The streets of your city are starting to fill once more. Nightlife in Monaco is stretching its arms and blinking its tired eyes. From afar, you watch the expensive cars and people line the streets. There’s no better place to people watch. As you fly by on your bike, you catch only the sped up version. It reminds you of your night with Lando. At this point, everything reminds you of the short time you spent together. Your heart aches to return to that night, to feel the warmth you’ve been missing since you left him in his car in front of your apartment.

It pains you to stop at the grocery store that you and Lando visited, but you need something to eat. This has become somewhat of a nightly ritual, grabbing food on your way home from work. It’s like a tiny adventure to end your day. But since this place is now tainted with the memory of Lando, it feels less joyful and a lot more melancholy.

Grabbing some supplies for a sandwich and your favorite drink, you decide that’s sufficient for tonight’s meal. Just as you’re about to pay the cashier, which you’re infinitely glad isn’t Anton, something across the shop catches your eye. It’s a small kiosk of brightly colored cards. They’re postcards. They must have just put them out because you haven’t seen them yet. A small smile breaks across your face as you ask the cashier to give you another minute.

Postcards have always been a little obsession of yours. When you bounced around from place to place as a kid, you would always grab a postcard from wherever you ended up. There’s something comforting about carrying a little piece of everywhere you’ve been with you. You left lingering pieces of yourself in those places, so it seems only right for you to return the favor. The symbolism is painfully applicable to you and Lando. There’s a piece of you that will always live for him.

Carefully, you select two postcards before rushing back to pay for all of your things.

With revitalized fervor, you bike the rest of the way home. You tie up your bike and bound into your apartment building. Once you enter your apartment, you carelessly sling your backpack onto a chair while plopping the grocery bag onto the counter. You snag a pen from the side pocket of your bag and fish out the postcard you specifically chose for Lando from the grocery sack.

With a small smile on your face in spite of yourself, you write him a brief note on the back of the card. As your pen glides across the surface, your plan lurches into action.

Little do you know just how far this game will go.

—

Lando leans against the door of his apartment with his eyes closed. He’s finally returned to Woking after a much needed holiday to some remote island in the middle of nowhere. As much as he loves to vacation (and trust that he really loves vacation, all the girls and parties and days laid out on the beach), he’s glad to be home. He was distracted the entire time he was away, and not in the way he intended. His thoughts were focused on something that was gone and lost: you. No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t shake the memory of you. There was something there, something worth pursuing. But you had said goodbye in a way that made it clear he would never see you again.

His head throbs as a tension headache spreads through his temples.

Plopping his bag down in the foyer, he promises himself to take care of it later. Right now, he just needs to find his lovely bed. His eyes search around his apartment in awe, wondering if it has ever felt this good to be home again. Maybe he can find real solace here.

He stops looking around when his eyes land on an oddly shaped package. The logo on it is familiar. Remembering suddenly that it’s the publication that hosted the gala a few weeks ago, he grows hopeful. Maybe it’s from you.

Memories from that night flash into his mind for the thousandth time. The first time he saw you, drawing your camera down from your face after sneaking pictures of him, he knew that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. He was even more impressed by the fact that you weren’t mortified that he’d caught and teased you about photographing him. Instead, you teased him right back. It made his heart race. You made his heart race. Every part of you was perfect to him–the way you laughed and smiled, the way you looked in that dress that hugged your body just right. He loved the way you spoke. You were unafraid in a way that he’d never seen. Attractive doesn’t even begin to describe you. You were all encompassing, a force of nature that he was in awe of. Meeting you was one of the best and worst moments of his life.

Embarrassment crashes down over him. After spending time together, you had said goodbye in a way that was so final. There would be no reason for you to reach out to him by sending a package. His hope extinguishes.

Striding over to the package anyway, he scoops it up to bring it into the kitchen. He cuts through the packing tape carefully before prying the cardboard open. When it falls away, he’s met with something large and wrapped in protective paper. There’s a card taped to the wrapping, his name etched onto the front. With gentle fingers, he peels it off and tears open the envelope. The postcard that he pulls out is a photo of large white ships on stunning blue water with “Monaco” written in orange. The orange is a near perfect match to the papaya of McLaren. Flipping the postcard over, he takes in the minimal writing scribed onto the card.

Heard you’re a big fan of an ass pic. Hope you enjoy.

Your name is written next to the short message with a couple of decorative little hearts. Lando’s face lights up as he reads over the words again and again. You sent him this. His thumb traces over your name before he whispers it aloud to only himself. Desperately, he wishes to see you again. There’s a deep ache in his chest that hasn’t left since you said goodbye.

Setting the card down with care, he then begins to unwrap the gift. When he sees a stellar black and white photo of himself at the gala, he can’t help but grin. He’s turned away from the camera, his slender back on display. It must be one of the photos you took when you were joking with him about his ‘good side.’ The memory makes a flame flare up in his chest. He really hopes that you were checking him out when you snapped this particular shot. This is better than he could have ever hoped for. For a minute, he just admires the photo of himself. He looked good. You were one hell of a photographer. He didn’t realize something so simple could be so cool or done so well.

Setting the canvas down, he looks back and forth between the postcard and the photo. You’d set aside time to do this for him. The hope that he’d been trying to kill since he saw you glance over your shoulder at him before disappearing into your apartment building flares to life with fortified strength.

He’d been too afraid that night to make his feelings known and he’s been kicking himself for it ever since. A million and one ways of running after you have crossed his mind since that night. For all of his thinking and wishing, he hasn’t done anything about it. But you have. Maybe the goodbyes that passed between you weren’t as final as they once seemed. In this new light, he sees your shared farewells deteriorating. Doors once closed are starting to crack open. He’s determined to make the most of it.

He’s determined to get you.

[postcard #1]

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the-100-days-of-junkan · 2 months ago

Text

Day 97

Smile by Kayleen756894

Same as when we covered Burning Lungs, check the tags for this fic before ya jump in cause it gets pretty dark even within the first chapter.

It’s a big day for the project people, I mentioned back on Day 60 that there were three fics that I consider directly responsible for this entire thing since they’re what set me on this path of a comically large amount of Junkan. And today we FINALLY talk about another one of them, even if I admittedly did cover a little bit of my history with this specific story during Day 60 for the sake of context. Apologies if I repeat myself a few times!

The previous few days I’ve been covering fic first, then the art. For this day however I’m going to cover the art first, along with any other bonus facts I have, and THEN i will do my best to adequately sing the praises of today’s stories.

Also let it be known that the music I put on while I read through the whole fic in preparation for today’s ramble was “LEASE” by Takeshi Abo. 10 hour loop too. Someone will find that funny probably, maybe even you!

(This is another long one, get ready)

Before I address the art I might as well have a little fun and discuss the order I decided to do these in, interesting I know.

Days 91-92 were easy, the first Soft Fic and the first fic to use the Non-Abusive Tag, they had to be the opener. Day 93 was one of the longer stories so I did that one first, since I did read each story before working on the art. From there it’s a pretty simple pattern of “Short Fic followed by a longer, more serious fic that I gotta psyche myself up for.” And it was done pretty much with todays subject in mind, but we’ll get for it.

You’ll notice I have two different art pieces today, the reason is simple. I wasn’t very happy with the initial art, so I made a much more direct adaptation of a scene from the first chapter to go with it. And in a rare instance I can also bring you some early versions of the initial piece!

From the initial sketch you can see that this was supposed to be a proper cover for the story, as I wanted to feature scenes from each of the three chapters, that middle shot is one I’ve had in my mind since the first time I read the story. Those who have read the fic can probably recognize each one. The second image was almost the final version of this. I scrapped the lower portion of the art for a few reasons. The flames of burnout were miniscule but still present, though rest assured these would not come into play until after the point of when the fanfic art is all finished. Secondly, when I was supposed to work on this art, a power outage hit my house. This also meant that in terms of making the art I only had the first chapter read, anything else was purely memory (Like I said though, I read the full fic for todays ramble, rest assured). And thirdly, I kinda, just thought it didn’t look good? And as you can see this version had details cut despite how far into the process it was, fully removing the expressions outside of the two smiling. Cause y’know . . . “Smile.” Plus in retrospect the eyes, while striking compared to the rest of the art, look kinda fucking silly?

Why didn’t I like the end result? Honestly I think I was just in a bad headspace at the time due to the combination of the power out stressing me out, and just generally speaking my mental health has never been the most structurally sound aspect of myself. I’m good at drawing, not so much being well put together. Looking at it now, while I think the piece is a bit esoteric and might not be what I’d make today for a piece based on this fic, I like it a lot.

And at the end of the dead even if I didn’t like how the first one turned out, I’m pretty happy with it! Even with perfectionist brain bitching at me that I could have done Junko’s hair a bit better at the given angle. Just a straight adaptation of Junko and Mikan’s first kiss from Chapter 1. The most interesting note on it’s creation is that I had to make last minute changes to Mikan because I realized her hair needed to be a lot shorter and more well put together, as earlier in the fic Junko does fix it up a bit.

Oh! I did also send the second pic to the author herself as a way of introducing myself and showing appreciation, so that’s a bit of added sentimental value! Kayleen’s an absolute treat by the way, super fun to talk too, great insight on writing, you should absolutely check out the rest of her writing! I’m not in most of the fandoms featured say for RWBY, but based on the quality of her writing on the Danganronpa side of things, I feel confident recommending anything she’s published in the past, present, and future!~

Speaking of writing, I should probably like. Talk about the god damn fic, huh? Well. Nope! I still have more fun facts!

I almost didn’t adapt Smile! I knew for certain that Kayleen needed a spot on this list, it would have felt wrong otherwise. And there were two fics in mind for adaptation.

“Smile”, obviously, and “Soft (But only for Her).” My earliest plan was going to be to just do both. However I only had 8 days to work with, and spoilers, Day 98 is in fact a returning author, so I didn’t want to take up half of my slots on two authors, I wanted to show my appreciation to as many as I could during this string of the event before going back to my own stuff for the last two days. So I thought it over, and decided that Smile was too important to pass up on this project, leaving Soft (But only for Her) for later.

I did have a full plan for it though, unlike Smile where I didn’t really have an idea going into it. I’ll tell you what the plan was gonna be.

Most people would be curious which of the around 30 wonderful one shots I could have chosen to adapt, I’ve already done one of them with the very first chapter in that collection! However you my audience, are not most people. There’s a good chance you’re reading this paragraph, rubbing your temples and resigning yourself to the fact that I was very much going to draw art based on every single piece of that collection. Because yes I was just gonna adapt all of it. Was gonna make a big collage out of all of em, even the chapters that have so much angst I struggle to even read them cause they make me too sad! I’d still do it too. I probably will. When you least expect it.

For now though I really wanna draw something based on Chapter 25 when I have the time. I wanna draw art based on a lot of other fanfics actually, I’ve just been pretty swamped. But rest assured, to those of you who’ve written a Junkan fic and weren’t featured. Rest assured, I have my eyes open, I’m always looking that tag over, and there were definitely some stories omitted that I really wish I could have included IN the project. Give it time. My self control grows weaker by the day!~

Okay, okay. NOW, I should be able to talk about the fic. Probably.

So I’ve told this story before, but now you’ll get to hear it in a bit more detail compared to before. Will hopefully not be too repetitive for ya’ll!

So once again we jump back a few years during say, 2020, MAYBE early 2021. I find a fic that includes Junkan when I was simply trying to find Ikuzono. It ends up being pretty cute and makes me curious, “I thought this ship was super toxic? How is this one so cute?”

So, I look around the tag, still not sure how to Navigate AO3 even after gaining a lot of experience through the power of many late night tokomaru binges. And as you already knew or could guess, I came across Smile.

At the time it only had 2 chapters, which normally might have turned me away at the time, I wasn’t a desperate animal like I am today. However I guess I either ignored that, or just didn’t care, too curious to see what else this ship could entail.

So here I am, sitting in my bed, writing this ramble, trying to figure out once again how to talk about one of the fics that set me off on this obsession with Junko and Mikan as a softer, loving couple. That and also a fic that is much more serious in terms of its tone and content, as this fic, like Drowning, is one of the only fics in this stretch of the project that is definitely set in the main canon of DR. Serving as essentially a new origin for Junkan as a couple prior to the tragedy.

I’m sure I’ve said before that when it comes to how I view Junko and Mikan’s relationship, that Val’s work is basically the primary blueprint for how I interpret and portray them. However that’s for the Non-Despair AUs, while there is some bleed over in how I handle Canon portrayals (And I admittedly haven’t done a lot with a serious interpretation of that), in my brain this story, Smile, is the blueprint of how I view a canon timeline version of Junkan. That might just be bias from it being the first fic I read that like, but it does kind of help that this is just one of the most excellently written interpretation of these characters I’ve ever bared witness to.

The first chapter was originally supposed to be a Standalone according to the Author’s Notes, and it really works as one! It’s a very complete story that’s super well put together, and ends very satisfyingly if you just stop after finishing it. I’m extremely glad it continued, as I don’t think my obsession would have come to fruition when it did if not for those following two chapters. But maybe I’m wrong cause this fic certainly knows how to hook you on a ship!

I was god damn mesmerized reading the first chapter. This has to be one of the saddest takes on Mikan’s character that I’ve ever read. Burning Lungs comes close however we never get to actually see things from her perspective, that’s all from Junko’s outsider point of view. Here we get to see it all from Mikan’s perspective, all of it, the sad stuff, the extra sad stuff, the stuff I don’t really know how to talk about because I’m inadequate with this kind of subject matter. And some gay panic, because it’s not Junkan without at least a little gay panic somewhere in the mix.

Junko is really god damn good in this first chapter, she’s god damn good in the whole fic but we’re talking about chapter one right now so i’m specifying. She has such a mysterious aura around her the entire time, and not just the obvious “Oh she’s planning the tragedy behind the scenes,” but also the mystery of how she feels about Mikan! It’s something left up to viewer interpretation in the first chapter, and to a much lesser extent the following chapters (I say lesser extent cause it does eventually lean into her having real feelings for Mikan, just being super confused by them. At least that’s how I look at it). Everytime I read one of these stories that serve as an origin point for these two’s relationship, it’s always really interesting to see how things initiate. It’s pretty much always Junko initiating of course, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fic where it was Mikan who made the first move? If there is I’m having a severe lapse in memory it seems, or I’ve misinterpreted! The point of course being I really like the way Junko handles things here, saving Mikan from her darkest point, all that good shit!

And the kiss? I drew it for a reason, it’s amazing. From the buildup to the way Mikan has a rare instance of boldness and grabs Junko’s tie? The grabbing the tie part makes my brain explode, the fact that Junko herself was surprised by it is even better. I love it whenever Mikan can actually get Junko surprised or flustered. It’s great!

I feel like I should be more detailed, more meticulous, but it really is a struggle trying to be in depth when discussing something this good, I wouldn’t consider it my strong suit?

So let’s try moving onto chapter 2! I do at least have a story with this one but that can be for when I finish desperately trying to talk about the chapter itself.

It’s lovely! Big shock! We get to see the two of them just acting like a normal couple for a bit, and even better we get to see the two partaking in some sleepy cuddles. That scene also does one of those Junkan things I fuckin love where Junko just, fucking reads Mikan’s mind. I know that’s not what she’s doing but also it’s funnier to put it that way. I just like Junko putting her analytical ability to use by reading Mikan and understanding her finer details. It can be used in all kinds of ways, cute ways, funny ways, saucy ways, but this might just be my favorite way? Her being able to tell when Mikan’s about to spiral and snapping her out of it quick.

Their date is lovely by the way, love the drive there, the conversation is just a treat. And I really like the reference to the grenade scene from the DR3 anime, I might not have fond memories with that series like, at all, but that one clip of Junko tossing the grenade and Mukuro (We’ll get to her) catching it is just a really fun bit of energy. It’s also just fucking funny because it reads like they practiced that shit for like 2 fuckin weeks- Sorry, distracted. Anyway I think the scene is both a fun reference, and another good way to kinda remind of us the darker parts of this storyline underlying the softer surface. Junko is in fact trying to burn the world down, she just also happens to have a tooth rotting-ly sweet relationship with a very sad nurse. The moments where Mikan unintentionally peers into that world, whether hearing an explosion or seeing the red roots of Junko’s true haircolor, I love it all!

Great moment with Mikan helping that kid from bullies, always love to see Mikan flourishing in these stories (foreshadowing)! I think it is very funny that the small child just immediately clocked that Mikan and Junko were dating, the kid either has a crazy gaydar or Mikan and Junko are the least subtle people alive . . . okay yeah it’s that second one.

The following scene is great too, fuck those parents, and fuck yeah to Junko coming in for the clutch as she is one to do in this fic. The kiss to follow? Fantastic. Junko’s joke about exhibitionism? Also fantastic. The part where Mikan says she’s gonna go see her parents- Fuck.

Okay so, I’mma make the assumption that if you’re this deep into my ramble you’ve probably read the fic already. And if you skipped out on the fic due to the subject matter noted in the tags, you can probably already tell by my apprehension that everything in this fic from here on out is like, the opposite end of the spectrum from all the sweet (albeit ominous) stuff we’ve had up till now. And you’d be correct, and I quite frankly don’t know how to talk about it, like, at all. There are parts of this that I do wanna talk about from this and the following chapter, but also I feel neither confident nor comfortable explicitly discussing what happens to Mikan here. Even if you can probably already tell.

Still, I must show my respects to the literature and it’s author, so I will do my best. Apologies if I fumble here.

I’m still not gonna talk in depth about Mukuro here, but I do like the conversation leading up to this scene, before Mikan shows up. It’s something that was going to inevitably come up, because yeah, Junko can make Mikan fall deeply in love with her, but that won’t exactly prepare her for being complicit in the apocalypse. There’s a part of me that’s curious what her gameplan was before the end of this chapter happens, how was she going to try and turn Mikan over to her side 100% and make sure she’s ready. The world will never know.

Junko’s great at the end of this chapter, not just the comfort she provides. But the way she, in the words of the story, Snaps. That line? That stuck with me when I first read this. I think it’s the moment that confirmed for me personally, that yeah, Junko does love Mikan even if she doesn’t understand it. And it wasn’t just that moment that stuck with me, it was the whole fic by this point.

That’s right, it's story time. So when I found this fic, there were only two chapters. And I wanna remind ya’ll that before this fic I read a fic so silly, soft, and fluffy that it made me question what this ship could be. Jumping from that, to this was definitely . . . Whiplash?

What happened after that is fun, because I don’t fucking remember. I think unironically the amount of stress that ending put me under just from the shock of it, made me fuckin black out?? Which by the way, huge kudos, it takes some really fucking good writing to get me so invested that I get real life stressed as shit because of bad things happening to the characters. But anyway, I didn’t actually just, black out from stress. But everything after that is so blurred that it’s borderline incomprehensible, I try to remember past that point, and it’s like looking at memories put through a paper shredder before being put back together by a toddler doing a handstand.

All I can say for sure is that starting from the morning after, I was obsessed. I woke up, and kept fucking checking to see if Chapter 3 was out yet. I hadn’t checked the time of the latest update, I still barely fucking understood how AO3 actually worked. I’m pretty sure it was through this fic that I learned that when a fic updates it moves to the top of the page for a given tag. This was also way before I had an AO3 account, so I couldn’t just subscribe or bookmark it. I’m sure I read other fics at this point, probably including Kayleen’s other works? But the timespan between Chapter 2 and 3 feel like white noise, whatever I read didn’t exist in my memories by the time that story ended. And god damn did it end.

When Chapter 3 popped up, it was late I’m pretty sure. I don’t know what I was doing at the time, maybe looking at manga online, talking with friends over discord dms, failing homework over online school, maybe even doing some of my own writing since i’m pretty sure this was back before my passion for it died out. Whatever it was, I dropped it fucking IMMEDIATELY. I needed to see this ending, I needed that catharsis.

So I layed in my bed, in a house I was still new to, and read the god damn chapter.

It was perfect. One of the first times to my knowledge where I’ve had the satisfaction of reading an unfinished fic and getting to actually see it end.

Where do I start, what do I even say? Anything I say just kind of boils down to “Junko and Mikan are perfectly written and I love their interactions and also god dammit I feel so bad for Mikan.”

The scene on the rooftop is great, I remember in one of Kayleen’s other fics Mikan shows concern for Junko’s eating habits, so getting to this scene and seeing the reverse was nice. And like, god, Junko’s so good in this. I get she’s trying to start the end of the world but she’s doing such a fucking good job here. Sure, she asks Mikan to kill her parents right after this, which might not be the most normal way of helping your girlfriend through a severely traumatic experience, but that’s just Junko y’know?

Should I talk about Mukuro now? I should probably talk about Mukuro now, I really wanted to wait like one more scene but fuck it we’re talking about Mukuro now.

Have I ever really talked about Mukuro in the context of Junkan? I know I’ve definitely made note of her, and I’ve obviously included her in these pieces with varying degrees of prominence. But I don’t think I’ve ever noted how I think she’s is one of the most interesting and amazing assets of Junkan as a ship. Calling Mukuro an asset feels like a disservice, but I lack the words to adequately describe what I mean here.

The Despair Sisters are already one of the most interesting dynamics in Danganronpa, and a pretty versatile one at that based on the various interpretations I’ve seen of these two. And I think adding Junkan into the mix is just lovely, because it adds an outsider perspective, but not just that, it’s the outsider perspective of someone who’s closer than anyone else due to Mikan dating Junko. Bonus for the contrast of Junko pampering Mikan and shit talking Mukuro, even if I believe that shit talking is just a very layered way for Junko to express that she does care about Mukuro as a sister.

And I think Mukuro and Mikan is a really fun dynamic too! I love the idea of Mikan finding love through Junko, and then in turn getting a second person in her life that cares about her. Mukuro being Mikan’s bodyguard bare minimum is great, protect that sweet little nurse you desaturated girliepop you. But I think the way their dynamic can evolve overtime as Mikan continues to date Junko is great.

Mukuro getting to see firsthand how Mikan is changing Junko for the better, even if it’s in a canon timeline where Junko’s still like, very locked in on the apocalypse. She’s getting to be happier in a more genuine way, which I’m sure Mukuro would be grateful for, and that just makes her caring about Mikan’s wellbeing all the better.

Plus like, something I don’t think about often, at least not until very recently, but if Junko and Mikan are dating, and inevitably get married. That does just kinda mean Mikan and Mukuro are sisters in law. And, I fuckin love that? Mikan not only gets an amazing relationship with Junko, but she also just gets to have a sibling, something that to my knowledge she doesn’t have in canon. It’s that found family stuff that I love, even if the found family in this case is a bit more literal rather than just being a metaphor. And Mukuro gets a new sister, one who cares about her just as much as Junko, but is just significantly better at expressing that by comparison. I think Mukuro would really appreciate having a sister who like, hugs her without slinging an insult, or just getting any kind of open, visceral appreciation without having to read between the lines.

I love to see Mikan with plenty of friends, she has a bunch of dynamics that I appreciate. But I also have a lot of appreciation for the idea of Junko and Mukuro being the only people she cares about, the only people she needs to survive.

Where was I- Oh right.

Kayleen’s depiction of Mukuro and her dynamic with our other two primary characters is amazing. Spectacular even. Fucking perfect perhaps. It does everything I love about the Despair Sister’s dynamic without bordering into uncomfortable territory like some facets of the main canon does. But what I especially love is her dynamic with Mikan in the few moments we get to see them interact. A protector, a friend, and eventually a sister to her, it’s amazing. The scene when Mikan wakes up to Mukuro watching over her while Junko is away is phenomenal, and I love Mikan’s concern for her given the way Junko treats her, which does look pretty bad without the deeper context. The moment at the very end of Chapter 2 where Mukuro just heads off to (I assume) kidnap Mikan’s parents after just sharing a look with Junko, it’s another one of my favorite bits in that scene.

And of course, the scene that lead me to start yapping about Mukuro like that out of fucking nowhere, her talking to Mikan about Junko’s test. It’s great how she tries to help Mikan come to a decision without forcing anything. But also finally giving some more confirmation that Junko definitely feels something for Mikan, expressing how many changes in her demeanor she’s noted. And the reveal that Junko routinely struggles with Nightmares whenever Mikan isn’t around?? Fuck I love that. God dammit.

I feel like I should talk more about this scene, but I feel like I kinda did? To an extent? A lot of what I just said about Mukuro’s place in this dynamic kinda sums up a lot of the great things about this scene. So I suppose we move on.

The buildup to the big scene of this chapter is wonderful of course, not much to say there. And I admittedly just really want to talk about the scene that follows.

Because god it’s everything I was hoping for when I finished that second chapter and had no idea whether I’d see this scene or not.

The reveal is great, and as grotesque as I anticipated. I do cringe a little reading some of the details, not the modern dickhead definition of cringe either I mean the “Oh god fuck that’s brutal” kind of cringe. And it is so perfectly contrasted by Junko being Junko, love the idea that Junko and Mukuro just nabbed up these people and didn’t explain a goddamn thing until this very moment where they finally figure out that this crazy bitch is dating their daughter. Mukuro punching Mikan’s dad in the face was fucking great too.

And the buildup to what comes next, is so god damn good. It feels weird out of context celebrating it, but the scene where Mikan breaks? Fucking spectacular. The distortion on the word Red hits like a fucking truck, and also speaks to my childhood of being a creepypasta kid because i’m like, half sure that’s the zalgo text filter, correct me if I’m wrong of course. Point is it was an out of nowhere detail that perfectly emphasized the tensity of what’s about to happen.

And I can go on another tangent now, because this is something I have had no opportunity to talk about during the entire duration of this project. At least not to my memory or knowledge.

I love Angry Mikan. I love the Mikan that snaps and is fully over the edge, not willing to deal with anyones bullshit. I of course have criticisms of Chapter 3 in DR2, but Mikan’s reveal of her true self, or I suppose the herself prior to the NWP, I love that moment.

I’ve never depicted Angry Mikan before, but someday I really want to. So until then I take great enjoyment in seeing such a rare side of Mikan, which itself is even rarer in these fics. I think counting this one there are only 3, maybe 4 other fics off the top of my head where we get to see Mikan fully lose her temper. Now of course, I could be suffering another lapse in memory, or I just haven’t read the other stories that feature it. I only think I’ve read like, 90% of the Soft Junkan out there, I can’t confidently claim I actually have for certain, so maybe I missed it!

Point is, seeing Angry Mikan is a treat. And here especially is fucking amazing, the verbal teardown, the havoc of it all. It’s great. And Junko just adds to it with her sheer excitement (which is putting it lightly given some of the dialogue), getting to see Mikan finally become, from her perspective, the best version of herself. Someone who can survive alongside her.

When things start moving, it’s amazing. A small moment I really love, and the moment I was originally gonna wait for to talk about Mukuro with. Her offering up an assortment of firearms from “Her personal collection.” is just, weirdly wholesome? The things I get to say talking about this ship I swear. I dunno, it feels like such a small, personal moment and offer that only Mukuro could provide, and feels like the perfect cap to Mikan and Mukuro’s dynamic throughout this fic.

Also, fucking enamored with the the presence of a Rocket Launcher. Funniest alternate timeline sitting right there, imagining Mikan with a fucking rpg over her shoulder is hilarious.

Junko offering the reverse side of the weaponry coin is lovely too of course, but it’s the wonderful stuff I’d already expect with Junko, so much less of a pleasant surprise like Mukuro. I do appreciate her keeping a knife used on Mikan’s father as a trophy though, imagine that over the fireplace.

Anyway I don’t know how I could really explain to you why the torture scene is nice. It’s catharsis, it’s just catharsis. I don’t even remember how fucking long I waited to read this moment but it was so worth it, Junko and Mukuro joining in to help setup equipment was also really cute . . . i feel like i shouldn’t be calling segments from a torture scene cute. Hm. Well anyway, I can say that while I appreciate its existence, I’m also glad Kayleen chose not to drag it out for too long. Ironic coming from the most excessive bitch around here, but it probably would have been a bit much if it took up the grander majority of this chapter.

Which means we say goodbye to Mukuro and return to our regularly scheduled Junko and Mikan moments.

And yeah what do you want me to fucking say, it’s amazing? Because it’s amazing as fuck, yeah. I’m running out of ways to just say how fuckin much i love this, but i’ll persevere best I can.

I mentioned way earlier that I love it when Mikan catches Junko by surprise, and we get more of that here. Though in this instance I think it’s better to describe that this is the first time Mikan just gets the upper hand on Junko, who’s struggling to fight back in the conversation because she’s already struggling to figure out her feelings. And it’s really lovely to see Mikan fighting past Junko’s own insecurities, especially when she regards herself as a bad girlfriend. It’s great, and it’s more of that role reversal I love.

The book analogy near the end of this conversation is so good, it’s sappy as fuck but that’s why it’s good. And Junko leaning into it despite how lame it is makes it all the better, and I only noticed on this recent reread that there’s even a cheeky V3 reference as well, clever!~

The kiss is of course great, and I think i’ve just fully fucking run out of ways to talk about how much I love Junko and Mikan kisses in these stories. Thank god there isn’t one in tomorrows fic- getting ahead of myself.

Rip to Scissorhands, thanks for the gay but you will not be missed.

God damn amazing fic, so well written. It’s one where I have to be in a very specific mindset in order to read it, as that middle chapter really does stress me out enough to be a bit of a roadblock. But admittedly this most recent reread wasn’t the worst compared to the previous few times. That said the fic definitely had it’s effect on me like usual, my body felt all kinds of wild ways, my heartbeat was a lot more intense, breathing a bit wacked out, my nerves up. The whole shebang, so good fucking writing. Equally bittersweet considering that, at least I assume, the normal events of DR are going to follow this story, even if not immediately. So Mukuro’s gonna die, Junko’s gonna die, and then Mikan’s going to have her brain undespaired and probably lose all her feelings towards Junko (Though I will admit, the idea of Mikan after the actual events of canon still having feelings for Junko while not being a remnant is pretty interesting).

However, I can live with that. It’s still an amazing story even with main canon in consideration, and I think I’ve run out of things to say here.

Tomorrow is the last fic based art in the event, Days 99 and 100 are all on me. And by process of elimination you probably have an idea of what Day 98 is, you may even know the exact fic.

I said there were three fics that were vital to me reaching this point in my life, being this obsessed with Junkan as a ship.

The Third Fic, Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed, is the fic that sent me spiraling into brainrot to the point of snapping and drawing art of it behind closed doors, eventually snapping me into drawing more Junkan than I imagine most if not anybody ever has.

The Second Fic, Smile, is what got me obsessed with the ship in the first place, of course only enough to enjoy reading it in secret, which would lead me to EYED.

All that’s left is The First Fic, which you’ll see tomorrow. The fic that made me bother to even give this ship a chance in the first place. Hilariously, I will probably not yap about it nearly as much as the previous two, even if I love it.

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

#danganronpa #junkan #junko enoshima #mikan tsumiki #enomiki #junkomikan #junko x mikan #enoshima junko #tsumiki mikan #shipping

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crosbyism · 3 months ago

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Postmortem: Next Generation’s Best

whew, what an ordeal that was to write. I started out writing it several months ago, drafted what ended up constituting about 20% of the final post, and then let it sit for a while. Within the last two weeks, I was finally inspired (and had the time) to take it out of the attic and strip it down and retool it in order to write the final post. I think I spent at least 40-60 hours on it in total, which is quite a lot for just under six thousand words.

I think my main worry is that it’s too dense. I really chewed on a lot of these thoughts and topics during the writing process, and I know it’s just jam-packed with a lot of very intense material in a very tight space. I didn’t necessarily have the patience to draw it out more (and lengthen the wordcount by doing so, rip) and I think it works really well as it is, I just worry about a lot of nuance or some of the points I made getting lost in such density.

I rarely get so massively nervous about posting my work, but I think part of it might be that this one is definitely firmly in the category of non-fiction. I took the liberty to tell some of those stories in what I found to be an interesting way, but none of them are fictional— or even fictionalised. The amount of articles I hunted down about Eric Lindros’ near-death experience and Wayne Gretzky’s rookie season in order to get all the details right…

by the way, I still can’t stop thinking about Eric Lindros. What an absolute horror show that man had to live through. It’s also deeply interesting to me that twenty years later, Jack Eichel still had to fight with team management about medical issues. I guess these issues aren’t solved yet in any sort of way, but it’s crazy to look back at Lindros and then look at all the contemporary fights about the right to medical autonomy that’re still going on twenty years later.

Around the time I hit the 5k mark, I finally got over the denial of how long the post was and accepted that I’d probably have to put it over on ao3. The tumblr posts work better than I thought they would, but I do think the best way to read it is probably doing the “Entire Work” view over on ao3.

I don’t know why, but I definitely resisted the idea of putting it on the archive at first? for some reason I feel like meta posts are more for tumblr, although that’s probably a little silly. it’s an archive, after all, and there’s plenty of meta posts on there.

I do think that once I get around into turning it into a little podcast, that’ll be the best format for it. god knows how long that’ll be though, the longest thing I’ve recorded so far was under 3k and that was over twenty minutes of audio. I guess the whole thing will probably end up being close to an hour. I’ll see.

Right after I finished posting and adding links to everything I had this moment where I was like “I should’ve called it “LEGACY” and had each of the six parts be referred to by one letter in the word”. Then I proceeded to kick myself because it was too late for it. Missed opportunity. Ah well. You win some (finish the monster piece of non-fiction you’ve been sitting on for a while) you lose some (let the perfect title and naming convention for the parts slip through your fingers).

I’m definitely dying to get some feedback on this thing that I’ve poured so much time and energy into. I had this despairing moment right after hitting post that was like “Why did I write this, this is absolute garbage, no one will get this or care about it” but then I bullied myself into going to bed since it was two in the morning. Like with all creative endeavours, I guess I’ll have to be patient.

#ngb #kookwritesthings #i still had some thoughts to get out so. here this is

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geeks-universe · 2 years ago

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Kiss of Death pt. 5

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

“Good morning, Viscount,” you greeted warmly from behind a large plate of food.

The night before you’d snuck away to meet Graham, letting him give you a quick once over to make sure there were no lasting injuries. All things considered, you felt pretty good. You’d managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and now the only thing keeping you from tackling the day was the overwhelming hunger battling your stomach.

“Princess,” he answered, evenly- cautiously.

His eyes were scanning your body, and it only took you a second to realize why. He was searching for visible evidence of some forbidden escapade he had no doubt conjured.

Your absence had been noted, you knew, but you had informed Daphne you were just retiring early. Anthony hadn’t believed it.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention to the woman on your left who had just sat down a plate of warm pastries.

“Sorry for my abrupt departure last night,” you explained, your voice soft. “Liana escorted me back to your home.”

Liana, the maid in question, froze momentarily.

Her dark eyes assessed the scene, and you desperately hoped she’d connect the pieces. Liana was a highly trained assassin who had spent a lifetime learning how to read body language, the same way you had.

She was nearing her mid-twenties, and already had an impressive list of feats she’d accomplished in the Order. The Bridgertons didn’t know that, though. She played the role of your companion, a maid that had been with your family since she was a child. Technically, it wasn’t a lie outside of what her true occupation was.

But, your father was adamant she accompany you, and considering you had no maids of your own, the role was the most natural choice. Not that Liana was particularly happy about it.

“Too much dancing, I’m afraid,” Liana nodded sympathetically, and if you didn’t know her as well as you did, you might’ve actually believed her.

The dry look on your face did nothing to sell the story, but Anthony was satisfied with the answer, relieved you hadn’t left with another man.

“Did you enjoy any of the suitors?” Daphne asked politely, but the nearly imperceptible upturn of her lips spoke of something you didn’t quite understand.

“They were…” You couldn’t fight back the grimace. “Nice.”

Daphne laughed in return.

“In time I’m sure you’ll find the perfect match, as my Daphne has,” Violet said sweetly, and then began trying to extract details of how her relationship with the Duke was progressing.

You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the young woman as she practically glowed talking about the Duke. You hadn’t met Simon yet, hadn’t really had the chance, but the way she spoke of him made you appreciate him a little more. Daphne was absolutely besotted by him, and it caused a twinge of longing in your heart.

Like the Bridgertons, you were raised in a house filled with love. Granted, your parents were both assassins, as well as royalty, but the love they had for each other- and, by extension, you- was real. For a brief moment, you wondered what it might feel like to be in love with someone, to trust them with the whole of who you were, to feel safe. You wanted to shed the armor you wore around your heart, if only for a minute, to remember what it felt like.

Then, you could see your mother’s eyes as the light faded from them. You could feel your father’s agony as he held onto you, screaming at the world that had left you without a mother, the same pain burning your heart in the confines of your chest.

The deep scar just above your bellybutton flared to life, and you felt the wonder turn to ash in your mouth.

You couldn’t let yourself go through it all again.

You couldn’t love.

“I shall meet you at the park for the promenade at noon, I’m afraid I have business until then.”

You didn’t miss the confusion that flashed in Liana’s expression.

You did not, in fact, have business.

Graham had very explicitly banned you from your duties for the next week. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew better. Him and Liana were the only ones that knew you were there against your father’s wishes. He truly did think you’d gone to search for a husband.

If he’d known the truth he never would’ve let you step foot in London.

So you played the part for your father as well. Your steps were a bit heavier than normal as you walked away from the Bridgerton family, feeling the presence of Liana close behind.

“(Y/N),” she hissed against the sudden burst of wind as you opened the door.

London was as bustling as usual, and for once, you found yourself among them, rather than watching from the rooftops like some kind of hidden savior.

We work in the dark to serve the light, indeed.

“No work,” you assured her, letting yourself get lost in the crowd.

Liana, however, stayed closed by your side. She kept her gaze on you, and, when you passed a hidden alley tucked in the dark corner of a considerably quiet street, she pulled you to the side.

“What is it?”

She had been your closest confidant since you were a kid. Despite her being a number of years older than you, you’d always been the best of friends. When you were young, you trained together every single day, learning the art of your craft side by side. Now, most days you didn’t get the opportunity.

“Memories,” you offered, pushing back against the panic that quickened your heart.

You forced yourself to focus on the ground, a steady reminder that you were here, no matter how much your mind tried to drag you to the past.

“Your mother-“

Her voice was so cautious, like it’d caused her pain to utter the two words. It had, you were sure. Your mother had been a parent to her as well, and the pain of her loss cut deep.

“Don’t.” You breathed, your vision swirling as you felt the familiar darkness crawl up your spine. “Please.”

Liana released a sigh, then pressed her fingers beneath your chin. She searched your gaze, reading your expression. You didn’t know what she was looking for, nor what she would find, but after a moment she seemed satisfied with her assessment.

“Don’t let them break you.”

She was gone in a few swift movements, propelling herself onto the shoddy roof of the rundown building. Just because you were sidelined didn’t mean she was, and you knew you couldn’t be bitter over it when your entire operation depended on all of you.

So you took a brief moment to steady your breathing, deciding maybe you could embrace the role you’d play for the next week. Being an assassin had always come first, and royalty second. It’d been that way since you were just a kid, learning to defend yourself with dull blades.

Your parents hadn’t meant to let you train at a young age, even planned on delaying telling you about their extracurricular activities, but after your father had been gravely injured and had stumbled into you, they’d explained it all.

Truthfully, you were too young at the time to understand what it all meant, and, perhaps, if you were older, you might’ve chosen not to go down the route you did. After all, not everyone in the Order went on missions, some simply supported the Assassins. In recent yours, that’s what your father more or less became. He’d never been as quick or skilled as your mother, and after her death, he’d strayed from that path altogether, save the occasional need to don his Assassin robes.

You stretched, mindful of the stitches in your side, and jumped back into the fray of proper society. It was a role, you reminded yourself, one you might even have fun with if you let yourself.

It took you roaming around for a couple of hours to realize you would not, in fact, have fun with the charade. Every store you tried to enter gawked at the idea of you walking around without a chaperone. When you weren’t getting stared at for being unchaperoned, you were getting stared at hungrily by suitors hoping to get you in compromising situations.

By the time you had trudged back to the Bridgerton home to prepare for promenading in Hyde Park, you were in a sullen mood- a mood only made worse by the fact that there was still an impending conversation you owed Benedict Bridgerton.

You bathed yourself quickly, and dressed in a pastel green dress. It reminded you of the rolling hills outside your home, and the memories were enough to make you throw it on. Some days, you really did miss your home.

You knew, however, that you’d grown out of it. Your time as an Assassin, especially one as skilled as you, had taken you around the globe. The long, golden hallways and intricately painted ceilings felt foreign to you now. Perhaps the feeling of longing you felt wasn’t for your home specifically, but rather the feeling you experienced when you found home.

You puffed out a breath, deciding a walk to the park would do you good. You were getting much too sentimental this day, and it was only a matter of time before your past forced you to listen.

The walk to the park wasn’t far, and the gentle breeze of the wind reminded you of the times you’d spent high above the ground, perched just a nudge from the edge of a drop that would surely kill you. A week without being an Assassin.

A week without being you.

Daphne was the first to see you arrive, and she had a wide smile on her lips that you found yourself returning. She was a sweet girl, and you liked to think that in a different world, one where you weren’t indoctrinated into the Order at such a young age, you might’ve been more like her.

“Your highness,” she greeted sweetly, drawing the rest of her family’s attention. “It is wonderful to see you.”

Her voice was so genuine it made your heart squeeze in your chest. All of your friends were Assassins. As such, you’d all been a bit more distant, death hanging over your heads like a rain cloud, waiting for when you least expected it to strike.

“It is wonderful to see you too,” you replied in kind, and found that you did mean it.

You cleared your throat.

“Is your Duke planning on making an appearance?”

She didn’t comment on your use of the word ‘your’ but she definitely reacted to it. Pink tinged her cheeks, and she offered you a meek nod, so unlike her normally carefully spoken self.

Noted.

You tilted your head in Benedict’s direction, steadfastly ignoring the curious look Anthony was shooting you. He was connecting non-existent dots in regards to you and Benedict, but you’d let him do so, if only because he couldn’t know the truth. And, perhaps, in an effort to keep a distance between you.

“Benedict,” you called, your voice a little softer than normal. “You promised a stroll around the park?”

His momentarily confusion was shook off as he understood what you were alluding too, nodding far too enthusiastically. Whether he realized it or not, he was selling the idea that there may be something more than friendship between you. A quick glance at Anthony confirmed he believed so too, if the scowl on his face was anything to go by.

You ignored it, however, instead looping your arm through Benedict’s and leading the two of you to somewhere a little quieter. You waited until you were sufficiently outside of earshot before you began speaking, and even then, you scanned the area to make sure there were no wandering eyes or ears.

“About the other-“

“I was in a fight,” you said, watching his expression carefully.

He didn’t falter, as if that’d been one of his suspicions. He nodded slowly, cautiously.

“Okay,” he drawled, “Why?”

You sucked in a breath, pulling him towards a lovely rose bush. To anyone of the outside, it looked simply as if you’d stopped to admire them. Truthfully, you’d taken a minute to gather your thoughts.

“What I’m about to say, you cannot repeat.”

Before he could reply, you hissed out, “Ever.”

He swallowed, then paused.

“I promise.”

Your eyes hardened, one hand holding onto your forearm, atop the bracers your hidden blades were concealed in. You hadn’t been able to put the weapons down since you got to London.

“Do you think peace and freedom can coexist?”

If he was confused by your question, he didn’t show it. His answer was near immediate, and perhaps you knew what his reply would be before he even voiced it.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “I don’t see how that answers anything, though.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers along the bracer. It wasn’t visible under the fabric of your dress, and if anyone wondered why you wore sleeves in the warm weather, nobody asked.

“There’s a war,” you spoke slowly, allowing him to digest your words. “For as long as history itself, a battle between freedom and order. My family… we fight for freedom.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning in a titch to examine you closer.

“You… fight?” He inquired, shaking his head the smallest bit. “What war? What are you talking about?”

“Assassins and Templars,” you breathed, watching as his eyes widened, not in recognition of the institutions, but in fear of the word you’d used.

Assassin.

It was an ugly word used to describe an occupation associated with greed and death. He didn’t know about the Order, though. Didn’t know that the Assassins you knew weren’t murderers without a cause, but defenders of the very freedom he enjoyed.

“You’re an-“

“Assassin,” you answered, quick to wrap a tight grip around his arm when he made to turn around.

For whatever reason, or maybe stroke of luck, he believed you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t associating you with the Order, but rather the occupation.

“Let me explain,” you breathed out, making sure to keep your voice even and gentle.

Even though he looked ready to dart away and take his family with him, he nodded once.

You blew out a breath, carefully letting his arm go. He rubbed at where you’d grabbed, and you realized perhaps you’d been holding on a little too tight.

“The Assassin Order is an ancient creed built on the idea of freedom of choice,” you explained, letting your carefully placed mask drop.

You didn’t fight the expressions on your face, nor did you keep your body language unnaturally still. For the first time since you’d known him, you were expressive.

“We don’t kill for money, Benedict,” you said, “Nor for political gain. If we kill,” his eyes widened at the word, “We do so as a last resort to protect others.”

“You’ve killed before?”

He sounded unnaturally small, like a child telling his parents he had a nightmare. You held his stare, praying he could see the sadness deep in your soul.

You hated killing.

It never, ever got easier.

But, you would darken your soul to protect the world from the ugly truth the Templars tried to spread.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes shining with a guilt Benedict couldn’t understand.

He puffed out a breath and ran a hand down his face, unable to look into your eyes anymore. He could see the sadness there, the heaviness of the guilt and torment you carried.

You weren’t a bad person. He’d known that, and learning of who you were didn’t change that. It did complicate it a bit though.

“I won’t tell them,” he finally spoke after a particularly long pause. “My family, I mean.”

You were both staring at the roses now. To him, the deep red reminded him of the colors of love, like the still-beating heart of a lover. To you, it was the color of blood, the same sticky heat that stained your hands from the years you spent devoted to your cause.

In that park, you both stood in silence, two people who were starkly different, but perhaps, who could understand each other in a way nobody else could.

The romantic who, despite his station in life, only wanted to create, to make beauty in a world that severely lacked it- and the Assassin who, despite spending a lifetime of fighting, wanted to feel safe again.

Even the wind acknowledged the shift in atmosphere between the two people who actively rejected the roles they’d been born into as it calmed down, it’s caress more like that of a lover than it’d been all afternoon.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you murmured.

He linked his arm back through yours, offering a bit of comfort in the torrent of your thoughts. Slowly, he tugged you back towards where his family was, his pace nearly stopping before he got too close.

“Is it lonely?”

The question took you by surprise, and you looked up at him to find, not horror, but concern. You couldn’t understand how he’d been able to accept you so quickly, but you desperately clung to the feeling.

“Constantly,” you answered sadly, the curve of your lips echoing the melancholic declaration.

Anthony had approached the two of you while you answered, and, despite surprising Benedict, you’d already noticed him. With some amount of amusement, the second son noted that particular bit of information.

“Princess,” he said stiffly, without the normal amount of warmth and affection, or ire, you noted dryly. “Benedict.”

His brother’s name was a warning, and the younger of the two was quick to scurry away with a half-hearted excuse.

“Viscount,” you inclined your head.

He paused for only a brief moment before, with a little bit too much aggression, he asked, “Are you courting my brother?”

There was a hint of mischief as your smile grew, and you gazed up at Anthony beneath your lashes.

“That, I dare say, is none of your business.”

His expression turned even more foul, and he all but growled your name.

“No, my dearest Anthony,” you slipped a hand around his bicep and squeezed, your stomach doing a gentle flip when he visibly relaxed at the answer. “I am not courting anybody.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must seem at least the slightest bit interested in my suitors, lest word get back to my father,” you joked, unable to bear the intensity with which he was staring at you.

He opened his mouth, as if to tell you to stay, but you slipped away before he could, your heart pounding in your chest. You glared at the spot, like you could will it to slow down.

Anthony Bridgerton was not, and could never be, an option.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine

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angeliahuffman · 1 month ago

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October of 2024 was the last time I posted. It was a reblog at that. I'd say it's been much longer than a minute then yeah?

Hello again... I'm not Johnny cash.

Updates in life for me:

I left trey at the end of March in 2024.

To be more descriptive he was on house arrest yet still cheating on me behind the garage with his dad's baby momma.

He got punched in the mouth 8 times and then I went and packed my things. I also bleached every piece of clothing he had including his socks and underwear.

After that craziness I moved back in with mom which I was happy about. Her health was beginning to decline faster and faster.

While at moms I did a tremendous amount of healing and self care.

Mom and I also healed a lot of the damage that was done in the past.

I began dating someone new on august 25, 2024 and his mother passed on November 4, 2023.

New guys name is Derek. He is the first dude any of mom's kids have ever dated that she had nothing but love for. She thought the sun came out of his ass every morning.

My granny passed away in August of 2024.

My granny's husband (not my real grandfather but you'd never know if I didn't tell ya) passed away in October of 2024.

Mom passed away at home on November 4, 2024 @ 7:50 am.

Not even 24 hours after mom passed all of my family on her side decided that I no longer existed as well. This included my two baby sisters.

I didn't even attend moms memorial service. I couldn't.

I have been all over the place since all this and have lost almost everything.

I no longer have even one single plant.

My sisters and mom's husband refused to allow me a copy of the death certificate and any of mom's ashes.

Since all of this happened I have been aimlessly stumbling around trying to regather myself.

This has proved to be incredibly difficult considering that I've been too depressed to function more days than I haven't.

Now that we're all caught up, I hope y'all are doing well. Please spare me the condolences. All of that probably sounds horrific but I assure you that things are beginning to get easier. I am working through all of it and making my way back to an at least half ass stable position. One I plan to begin documenting again for the folks that have been here since the beginning. (I love yens.)

I am also thinking of starting a project that will take form as a blog. I won't reveal any details until the whole thing is already in progress. Just know, I've got a good feeling about it.

I'll update y'all again sometime soon. In the meantime stay peaceful and stay safe.

-A.

#mental instability #i don't give a fuck #im mentally ill #pottymouth #mentalheathawareness #i feel empty #anxi4ty #borderline personality disorder #post traumatic stress disorder #bipolar disorder #adhd #mental health matters

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fionnaskyborn · 1 year ago

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I really hope this one autocrops on the feeds of everyone who comes across this post. If not, too bad. I am sitting you down with me to tell you about what I fondly call my bitchless% speedrun. Here, grab some chocolate. We'll be here for a while.

So, if my notes, physical and digital, serve me right, I've been on the journey to unlock Side Ops Mission 068 in Peace Walker since at least last December. The path you need to take to unlock this mission is a long, winding road - I might make a more detailed post about the process itself, but I'll give you the basics straight away.

In order to unlock Mission 068, you need to S-rank Mission 119, in which you fight the final boss of the game on the highest difficulty (five red skulls, formally known as European Extreme difficulty). In order to get that, you have to beat the previous AI weapon bosses, ALSO on the highest difficulty. And in order to even stand a chance at beating the third boss, let alone S-ranking the Peace Walker/Aurelia fight, you need to obtain the schemes for the most powerful rocket launcher you can develop, which have a SEPARATE unlocking pattern which weaves through a dozen OTHER missions. I'll spare you the details and skip to the good stuff.

In March, I finally, FINALLY, created the M37 Dragon, which deals a whopping 70k damage per hit. After that, I haven't touched the game in six to seven months (from mid-March until tonight). Figured that I'd complete the two remaining fights very quickly with a weapon this strong, and with the fast encroaching midterms, I wanted to leave them for a time when I could savor every moment. That time, for various reasons, did not come until this night. On the already bygone Saturday night, I decided to tackle the Cocoon Custom (the last highest difficulty boss you have to beat in order to unlock The Big One).

Much to my surprise, I completed it first try, and with an S-rank, no less! Now, you might be wondering why I'm surprised considering the amount of power I hold. Allow me to show you what Cocoon looks like.

THIS THING IS A GODDAMN MOBILE FORTRESS WITH MACHINE GUNS ON EVERY PIECE OF METAL THEY COULD POSSIBLY ATTACH THEM TO AND ENOUGH ARMED MISSILE PODS TO LEVEL A LARGE COUNTRY IN ITS ENTIRETY. IT'S AS TERRIFYING AS IT LOOKS! The damn thing got me killed at LEAST seven times on normal, and I'm pretty sure I'm lowballing the amount!

^ PLAYER FOR SCALE, BECAUSE THIS THING IS GINORMOUS AND IT DOES NOT MESS AROUND

At any rate, I beat it first try. Great! Now all that's left is the final boss herself.

This goddamn monstrosity was felled in two attempts, not counting the times I quit the mission to change my loadout.

The first attempt was four minutes over the twenty-minute mark required for the S-rank, which earned me a B rank. The second one, with the ideal two-rocket-launcher-and-the-M134-Gatling-Gun loadout, landed me at fourteen minutes. Being able to shoot the damn thing while it has its EMP radiation field up (which renders missiles useless) sped up the process by a LOT.

Once that happened... It was done.

I did it.

I have finished what I started on December 4th, 2022.

Mission 068 was finally playable for me. And I did it in one night, in some two hours. Due to how insanely quickly I beat the two bosses, I had a brief crisis, which I successfully managed to snap myself out of.

And why is mission 068 so special in the first place, you ask? What could possibly be worth all that effort?

You get to take this here fellow on a beach date. That's literally all there is to it. (Hence, bitchless% speedrun.)

No sane person would ever struggle this much for something that silly. Fortunately, I have no sanity left in my brain and I love Blorbo From My Videogames so very much. So I'm not as much of a completionist as I am Utterly Deranged.

It's for a damn good reason, though. I want to see my boy happy because I know what happens in Five and I know that everyone's having a Godawful Time in Five but ESPECIALLY him, so, cringe as it might be, I want to make sure he smiles as much as he can and has as much fun as he can before that happens, dammit! He deserves it!!

The date missions in Peace Walker have a special system in which you earn your mission rank (from D to S) based on the affinity level you get to with the character you visit the beach with before you complete the mission. There are various things you can do to raise a character to raise their affinity level. Kaz is a bit special, because you can raise his affinity level by fighting him. You can kick his ass as much as you'd like and he'll be having the time of his life while you do that. I remembered while I was typing this that there is a line you can use to get him to attack you, but I didn't want to change my player lines - went in completely blind, unprepared, and, most importantly, unwilling to beat my boy up for affection points. I was so incredibly stubborn about this. No, fuck you, I am NOT going to punch my favorite little man. "But that's half the fun-" I do not care. I ain't laying a damn finger on him. I was completely prepared to finish the mission with a terrible rank, despite the fact that he did find my lines of choice enjoyable. Until I ran out because you can only use them so many times before you start repeating, and you can only repeat lines so many times before the guys get bored of it. At some point he started saying "Okay, I get it!" in an incredibly frustrated tone of voice (my_girl_is_mad_at_me_i_hope_i_die.jpg), and that's when I made the call to call it a day and wrap the mission up.

I came ready to do a "pacifist run" even if I did so at the cost of getting a poor result at the actual mission.

So I want you to try and imagine the amount of serotonin that shot through my entire being after I heard the S-rank jingle playing and got this result.

One hundred is the max affinity level.

"YoU hAvE To BeAt MiLLeR uP To gEt An S RaNk-" POWER OF PURE GODDAMN LOVE BE UPON YE

fellas.

#logs #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! TAKE THAT!!!!!!!!! POWER OF FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE AND ADORING A BLORBO BE UPON YE!!!!!!!!!!!!

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evan4ever · 2 years ago

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Better Than Me

Warnings: Angry distressed Kai, past memories of abuse, smut/sexual indications

a/n: mostly Kai’s perspective, flashbacks, might be kinda confusing sorryyyy

—

It’s been 3 months since Kai ended things with you. It was truly a selfless act, breaking up and kicking you out for your own safety. But it’s Kai, it never comes out that way.

“You don’t belong here”

“You don’t fit”

“You’re a liability”

“You could never amount to what this group needs”

“I don’t want you anymore”

Every word hurt. Sure, you weren’t as good at killing as the rest. You had a ways to go. But you tried your best and you figured Kai would teach you like he did the rest of the members. But instead, he kicked you to the curb. Didn’t even kill you like he would anyone else. Threw you out like you were nothing.

And you spent the last few months picking up the broken pieces of yourself and putting them back together. You never went back, Kai made it clear to stay the fuck away, that he didn’t want to see your face again and if he did, it would be ugly. You knew what he was capable of, so you stayed away at his request.

Kai, on the other hand, was a fucking mess. He was angrier than ever. Scarier. The members walked on eggshells around him. They didn’t understand why he broke up with you only to become even colder than before. If you truly made him as unhappy as he said, wouldn’t that mean with you being gone, he’d be better? Nicer? No, Kai wasn’t capable of being nice, they knew that. But they definitely expected anything but this.

It was late tonight. Kai ended the meeting and everyone went their own ways leaving Kai alone in the basement. Silence filled his ears, and that made his mind race. Memories filled within him. He was at his all time low, he hated everything around him, everyone around him that wasn’t you.

He looked around the empty room, his eyes landing on his empty, unmade bed and his heart instantly aching at the sight. 3 months ago, you would be in it. Ready for him to come to you, ready to take care of him after his stressful day and after every meeting. Now empty and sad looking.

• flashback •

“You’re kidding?!” You gasped in shock while laying in bed, your arms around Kai holding him to your chest while his arms were wrapped around your body.

“Not in the slightest.” He grinned to himself proudly. He had just told you what he had found out one of the members had done.

“And then what?” You urged him to continue while one of your hands fingered through his hair gently, soothingly.

“I killed him, of course. Couldn’t have a big mouth running around the city like that.” He shrugged against your body, snuggling into you more which allowed you to wrap your free hand around him tighter. This was normal for you two, always ending your night talking about the happenings that the day held. You loved hearing him tell you all about his day, and he loved how interested you always were. It was so comfortable that it became a routine.

“Never. How’d you kill him?” You tilted your head, interested in all the details. Another thing Kai loved about you — you wanted to know everything. You wanted to know the most gruesome details and it was empowering to him. Maybe the fact that you talked him up. You always fueled his ego and he fucking loved it.

“My bare hands, baby. The worst way to go, don’t you think?” He moved his head back a bit so he could look up to you, your eyes immediately looking down to meet his.

“Oh yeah. Watching as the man before you holds any air from your lungs, feeling that fear fill your body with every attempted gasp, knowing your life is coming to an end and being dragged out for minutes? The worst.” You explained your take on suffocating, not that you’d know for sure but how you’d imagine it. “And you, watching the life slowly slip away from your victim, the one who went behind your back and threatened everything you’ve worked so hard for? There’s no other way to do it.”

Kai smiled up at you, his head tilting to the side now as he admired his beautiful freak. All he could think was how did he get so lucky? You were never scared of him, and that was a win, because he knew the others were. No, you stood proudly as his side through every kill, every fight, every torture. You were a goddamn godsend.

• end of flashback •

Kai’s jaw clenched hard as he shook the memory from his head, his hands running through his hair and down his face trying to wipe all the feelings that came rushing back. This has been happening for awhile now. He did so good in the beginning, not thinking about you or what he had with you. But as time went by, memories began flooding him and despite his hardest efforts to keep them away, he was no match, and all he could do was keep trying.

He let out a small huff before finally making his way to his desk. He needed to find some documents, that was on his agenda for the day and something that had been discussed during the meeting, so he figured that would keep him occupied considering he had no idea where the fuck he put them last. Most of the important papers and documents and files were always placed on or in his desk somewhere, so it was a start. He began flipping through all the papers that were spread across the top of the desk, picking through them as he eyed each one for the title, but found nothing. He opened drawer after drawer repeating his previous actions, picking through everything within each drawer and slamming each one shut when he still failed to find what he needed.

He opened the last drawer and immediately stood up straight from his crouching stance, swallowing hard as he stared down at what was now in front of him. Pictures. He nearly forgot how to breathe as he remembered taking them and hiding them from you so you wouldn’t take them when you packed your belongings to leave. Each one a picture of the two of you. From selfies you took of you alone, selfies you took with him, Polaroids he took of you, pictures of you two together that someone else, likely Winter, took. They filled the entire drawer alone.

He didn’t know exactly why he took them. He was supposed to let you go, but for some reason he couldn’t bare the thought of not having some kind of reminder of your relationship. He couldn’t bare the thought of you taking the pictures just to throw them away or burn them with your memory of him. So he took them and hid them from you, pretending not to know where they were when you asked before you left.

And now, as he stared down at them, he felt the rage build. He pulled one from the pile and gazed down at it as another memory filled his head. The picture was a selfie you had taken of yourself and him at the mall, your arms around him and kissing his cheek so aggressively. He chuckled at it, remembering how happy he was in that moment. You brought him to Victoria’s Secret so he could pick out a new lingerie piece for you, you wanting him to pick out his very favorite.

• flashback •

“Come onnn..” you urged, pulling him with you into the overly feminine store. Kai groaned but allowed you to pull him and guide him around. He was disgusted by the amount of estrogen the place was filled with, but was happy seeing your wide smile and hearing your occasional giggles. Not to mention, knowing he’d get to fuck you in whatever he picked out later was a bonus. “Okay! Pick anything you like. What do you want to see me in?”

Kai looked around at the multiple sets in front of him, eyeing them intensely trying to imagine you in every piece. Each one sexier than the previous and making him hard just thinking about you in them. “This one.” He grabbed the deep navy blue set, of course being the most revealing. You grinned and took it from him before taking his hand again and leading him to the dressing rooms, entering one while he stood in front of the now closed door. Kai shoved his hands in his pocket and swatted uncomfortable while he waited for you, avoiding any and all eye contact from other females in the area.

“Okay, almost done… okay! Ready?” Kai hummed a response to you, his eyes flickering to the door as you opened it so he could see you from inside. His eyes went wide when he saw you, not yet taking in the set on your body but because others might be able to see you, quickly entering the dressing room and closing the door behind him. You took a step back a bit confused, your eyebrows furrowing while you stare at him. “Wha—“

“Someone could’ve seen you.” He cut you off, almost angrily. You tilted your head a bit, but he continued. “You’re for my eyes only.” His eyes darkened then as they traveled down your almost naked body hungrily, a low groan escaping from his throat. You pressed your lips together tightly while you gazed up at him through your lashes seductively.

“Well then, what do you think? Is this the one?” You questioned, doing a quick turn around for him so he could take in every angle. He watched, his eyes never leaving your body.

“I think I need to fuck you right here, right now” he practically growled, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him only to back you up against the wall, his lips on yours roughly, wasting no time in pulling his pants and boxers down enough to release his member so he could fuck you hard against the dressing room wall, no mercy or care for the other beings that could hear.

• end flashback •

Kai remembered the way you felt, the way you tasted and the way you sounded so perfect. If there was one memory he didn’t want to lose, it was that one. The ecstatic feeling, the adrenaline, and laughing as you were kicked out. He smiled when he thought about the fact that you dressed yourself with the lingerie still on, running out as you were both screamed at. You got a free lingerie set and he got one of the best fucks of his life out of it.

He set the picture down gently on top of the desk over the other papers, sucking in a sharp breath as he rested his palms on the desk and leaned on them. His eyes closed as he once again tried ridding himself of the thought of you, but to no avail. You were stuck there like a sliver embedded in his heart. He told himself over and over that he wouldn’t miss you, but if a lie alone could kill, he’d be dead and buried 6 feet under.

The harder he tried to stop thinking about you, the more memories flooded. Your hair in his face, the way your innocence tasted, the bed he laid in at night getting colder and the constant pretending that he could ever forget you. It was like a tornado in his head at this point, the picture of you in his head finally pushing him over the edge.

The little switch in his mind flipped and Kai lost it, swiping all of the papers and items off of his desk sending them crashing to the floor before grabbing the desk and flipping it easily with a loud thud as it broke into pieces on the ground.

“Fuck!” He screamed, kicking the pieces of wood multiple times before turning and punching his wall, his fist going straight through it. He pulled it back and gazed down at it, his fist now bloodied. His jaw clenched at the painfully good feeling it gave him, immediately throwing his fist into the wall again making a new hole. Then again, and again, and again.

He pulled himself back, already out of breath but needing to break more shit. He grabbed on of the broken legs of the desk and turned around, swinging it into the TV that was placed on a TV stand and sending it flying, beginning to beat the TV stand next before kicking it as well. He grabbed his computer and flung it into the wall with another loud crash, grabbed his nightstand lamp and threw it into another wall next.

Everyone could hear from above him, but no one dared to check on him or interfere, for fear of their life. Not even when you had entered the home and made your way to the basement. Some wanted to object, tell you that you were making a mistake by going down there, that you were the last person he would want to see. But everyone stayed silent and watched you disappear behind the basement door.

You could hear the crashing and the pained screams from Kai. Your heart hurt even though you had no idea what this fit of rage was about, definitely not thinking it was about you. You had came back after all these months because you had forgotten a few of your belongings and it took all this time to get the nerve to go redeem them. You wouldn’t bother if they weren’t important, but you needed them. And walking in on a silent house full of quiet people only sharing glances at one another before your ears filled with the muffled noises from below and deciding to check on him.

You still loved him, therefore if it killed you to make sure he was alright, so be it.

But just as you turned the corner to find him, you were nearly struck with the bedside table that Kai had just throw, a gasp leaving your mouth as you ducked and nearly hit the floor to avoid being hit. You blinked a few times before bringing yourself back to your feet carefully, your eyebrows raising high as you saw the state of the room. Everything was broken. Glass was shattered. And when your eyes landed on Kai, your heart sunk. Both of his hands bloody and bruised. It took everything to finally lift your eyes to his, his already on you.

Though they weren’t angry. They didn’t hold an ounce of anger in seeing you. No, they were full of surprise and despair.

He was broken.

But why? Surely it couldn’t be over your relationship ending. He was the one who ended it, after all.

“Why are you here?” He finally spoke, clearing his throat and recomposing himself so he was standing straight, trying his best to look intimidating. But you weren’t intimidated. You were just worried.

“I forgot some things..” you began slowly, looking around the mess of a room again before clearing your throat and wrapping yourself in your own arms, “I was just going to grab them and go..” you nodded. “Are you okay?” You whispered out after a few moments of silence, Kai’s eyes quickly looking away from yours.

“Fine. Get what you need and go.” He waved you off as he turned to his bed and stood before it. You watched him carefully, deciding to slowly make your way to him when he didn’t move another muscle. He heard your shuffling of each footstep and felt your presence grow closer, and he wanted to tell you not to touch him, to fucking leave him alone, but he couldn’t get it out. He was desperate to feel you.

When he didn’t move or object your closeness, you slowly raised your hand and rested it on his shoulder. He tensed under it, but quickly relaxed and that was your sign that he was allowing you to comfort him. You rested your other hand on his other shoulder and gently rubbed down his biceps and back up. Within some minutes, he relaxed his body more into your touch, allowing himself to lean back into you. You rested your head on his back, continuing to comfort him.

It felt so good to feel him again, and him feel you. The last 3 months have been nothing but hell for you both and this was all you needed. Kai silently cursed at himself for giving in and not sticking to his word. But he needed to feel you again.

You slipped your arms underneath his and allowed yourself to hug him from behind, his head falling back slightly as he held your arms tightly to him. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling as his mind raced, knowing this was the last thing either of you should be doing.

He felt so guilty. You were so good, good to him, good for him — and he was so bad. Bad for you. He knew that, and he hated that you couldn’t see it and he couldn’t make you.

You heard him let out a big sigh but didn’t move from your position.

“You deserve much better than me.” He spoke quietly. You swallowed hard at his words, but only hugged him tighter.

Maybe so. But you didn’t care. You loved him, you needed him.

—

Tags: @evanpetersmood @witchsbitchestime @demxnicprxncess @yes-divine-ruler @shjjpm @evanpsrealwife @iruzias @jangsuzchap @quicksilversg1rl l @submissiveforahsmen @angelmenace @lovelizzie-blog1 @justa19 @daylas-life @simp4petermaximoff @totta69

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starbuckie · 4 years ago

Text

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

challenge: 1k writing challenge by @bubblebuckys

prompts: “wanna fuck?” “i don’t want to ruin our friendship.” “i won’t.” “i will.” and the situation of your car breaking down on the way to your best friend’s wedding but luckily, they offer up their asshole sibling to take you the rest of the way of the very long road trip.

pairing: college!bestfriend’sbrother!bucky barnes x reader

words: 5.2k words

warnings: SMUT 18+ (car sex, protected sex, spanking, choking), angst, fluff, bucky is a grumpy lil nerd, reader is gonna be annoying the fuck out of him

summary: y/n is going to stab becca barnes for ever introducing her older brother to her. also for sending him to pick her broken down car from a musty side of the highway. but she can’t help but thank whoever got bucky barnes to dirty talk like it was his job in the two years since she slept with him last.

a/n: happy 1k dya!! i’m so happy for you and so happy that i could help you celebrate your big milestone with this fic. i absolutely adore college bucky and this was just so fun to write. this is not beta-read and any and all mistakes are mine. just a reminder to reblog and leave comments, it really helps a lot with motivation so i can create more content without wondering if people actually enjoy it. so without further ado, please enjoy<3

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Just ten minutes ago, Y/N had been speeding down some highway under the burning afternoon sun, sunglasses perched on the tip of her nose like some old Hollywood type starlet. Her heart had been lighter, her smile had been wider, and her foot had hurt a hell of a lot less because she wasn’t kicking the shit out of the car’s now-flat tire.

“Fuck!” Sweat beaded at her forehead on the side of the highway as the cars speeding behind her took no sympathy to her situation. A rock sat behind the car, such a small item that obstructed the road, but she hadn’t noticed it until it punctured her front left rubber and sent her slowing down. The old car rumbled to a stop and since then she’d managed to push the stupid piece of junk to the weed covered side pavement, bringing the rock with her so no other hopeless bastard would get stuck in her predicament.

Clive- actually, was it Clive? Yes, yes it was Clive, Utah that she was stuck in. Clive was pretty far from California. As Rebecca Barnes’ best friend, she was obligated to carry out her maid of honor duties. Which she did, pretty damn well if she said so herself. The eighteen year-old girl and her boyfriend had made a snap decision in the spring of their freshman year of college to get hitched, and with that quick decision came the quick planning. A rustic July wedding in Tahoe, quite aways from Brooklyn, but the couple had insisted, wanting to be closer to the schools they’d be transferring to that coming fall. Every other event, the bachelorette party, the dress fittings, the excessive amount of partying on the other hand had all taken place on the Upper East Side in Manhattan.

Y/N had fulfilled every wish, from helping to send out invitations and picking out decorations and setting up guest tables in between her classes as a sophomore in college. It still boggled her mind how her younger best friend had grown up so quickly, and how the time seemed to only pass quicker as the wedding approached. Planning took place during sophomore finals, and June was dedicated to the quaintest details. She’d taken two weeks of vacation from her job at the small deli corner in Queens to road trip her ass across the country, and though Y/N herself was normally extremely unorganized she had to give props to herself for pulling her shit together for her best friend’s wedding.

But the last step, the most important step, was actually being there for the wedding, and now she was fucking up all of her hard work. Of course, the event was two days away, but Tahoe was also sixteen hours away and there was no service within twenty miles that would be able to fix up her car quick enough to get back on the road in time.

For once in a near perfect five months, Y/N was completely and utterly fucked.

With a loud groan, she lifted her arms from leaning on the hood of the car and opened the driver’s door. She landed in the seat and dug through her Kate Spade purse for her phone. Becca’s name came up as her first emergency contact as it had been since wedding planning began, and she clicked on it immediately.

Y/N held the phone up to her ear, listening to the drawled-out noise of the call, biting her lip in anticipation. The bride was probably busy preparing for the rehearsal dinner the night after or at the spa, but regardless, the ringing stopped and the light, chirpy voice of Rebecca soon-to-be Carmichael-Barnes came through the speaker.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up? There anything wrong?” Y/N was a little offended that her best friend immediately assumed the worst, but maybe it’d make the delivery of her news easier.

“Kinda? A stupid rock blew out my front tire, so I’m kinda stranded in Utah.” It was dead silent on the other end of the phone, and she could feel disappointment radiating from her best friend. Becca had taken a big risk with Y/N- she wasn’t known for being the most reliable, because she was carefree and a trademarked wild child, but she had done everything perfectly up until she got stuck on the side of the road. A heavy feeling of guilt sat at the bottom of her chest and she fought off tears as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, Becca, this is supposed to be your big event, and I just fucked up being the maid of honor while you should be relaxing.”

“It’s fine, Y/N, we’ll think of something, please don’t worry. There’s gonna be a simple solution-” The pitch of her voice went up an octave as an idea popped into her head. Y/N could just see the smile that took over her best friend’s face, and she fought the urge to hang up because Barnes’ ideas were not known for being brilliant. “Oh, babe, I’ve got the perfect solution! I literally just got off the phone with Bucky, he’s half an hour behind you. Still don’t understand why you two refused to come together because you're coming from the same city and…”

Truthfully, she did not give a damn as to the rest of what her best friend was saying. Becca probably was rambling on and on about the reasoning as to why the two wouldn’t carpool, but Y/N could only try to imagine what being in a car with Bucky Barnes for seven hours or more would be like.

“Alright, I’ve just texted him now! He’s getting gas but will be there soon.”

What.

“Becca, no, he really doesn’t have to do this, I can call the company and wait here-” Anything besides being in a car with your asshole brother.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Y/N, it’s fine. I need my maid of honor here by tomorrow to celebrate my last days as an unmarried woman.” Without leaving room for Y/N to speak, she sped up her words, finger hovering over the button to hand up. “Bye! I love you! Bucky will be there in thirty minutes!”

The call went dead, and Y/N had half an hour to prepare for Bucky’s arrival.

She started by calling the nearest towing company, negotiating to bring it to the motel at the border of Utah and Nevada. It was about three or four hours west, but she figured that she could survive that long in a car with Bucky.

Her next order of business was to repeatedly smack her head onto her wheel, waiting for death to take her before Bucky did.

And that was exactly how he found her, slumped over like she’d been shot dead. Bucky honked twice, gaining her attention as she shot up with a glare. She turned around, seeing a man wave at her through the front window of his car. Barnes.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself from the hot car, stepping out into the equally hot air as Bucky did the same, and-

Oh Lord. Only two years since she had seen him last, and James Buchanan Barnes looked good.

He was taller, at least four inches taller than she had last seen him, and his once-long hair had been cut into a fluffy, shorter style, matching his stubble way too well in a messy, but cute way. And his muscles- his arms were bigger. So. Much. Bigger.

He donned a ratty Star Wars tee and a pair of black jeans, a pair of dirty combat boots at his feet. But he looked good in it. Fuck him.

“Buck.” Y/N sniffed, trying her best to keep a neutral expression.

The boy- no, the man responded with a similar face, offering nothing but a tight-lipped smile as he slammed the door shut. “L/N.”

There it was.

She snorted at the snark he shot at her, grabbing her luggage out of the back of her car and loading it into his. “We can leave the car here, I called the towing people and they’re gonna bring it up to the next motel.”

That seemed to surprise Bucky and it showed. His face was caught with pinched eyebrows and parted lips. “You called before?”

“Yeah…” Y/N answered slowly, “why do you sound so surprised?”

“That’s just not your thing.” His answer just stewed with sass and it pissed her off more than ever. She swore there was smoke coming out of her ears.

He pried her duffel bag from her clenched hands harshly, nearly smirking out how irked she visibly looked. With a childish pout she dropped the rest of her bags to the dusty ground (probably more hurtful to her than to him, though she’d never admit it) and stomped to the passenger seat.

He followed soon after, plopping in behind the wheel with a heavy sigh and grabbing his sunglasses off the dash with his prosthetic hand. She watched him, how he acted so normal when their situation was everything but, and failed to keep herself from speaking her mind.

“Those glasses make you look like a douchebag, Bucky.”

He stuck the key in the ignition, keeping his eyes on his movements intently and choosing to actively ignore her taunting. The car took off after a few sputters, and they were back on the road.

The first three hours, playing Bucky’s favorite Utah radio station (“Why do you have a favorite Utah station?”) as they ignored each other in bliss. The sun had begun to set, pinks and orange swirling in the sky to give off golden light across the barren land.

Y/N snapped photo after photo- it was so pretty that she had to- but that’s when she started admiring Bucky again. This time she didn’t even try to be subtle.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” Bucky questioned quietly.

“Just wondering how you kept your looks up so well.” Y/N scoffed, brushing off his question. “Only two years into college and I look like I haven’t slept since I was ten. I mean, look at these fuckin’ eye bags…”

She inspected her face in the mirror, prodding and poking at the skin. “I think you look just as pretty as you did in highschool, sweetheart.” Bucky commented.

His words woke dusty butterflies up from their slumber, their delicate wings wildly flapping around in Y/N’s stomach. It took all of her willpower to not deflect his compliment, and she mumbled a thanks under her breath.

They didn’t speak for an hour after that.

It was only once the sun had gone down and the moon came out to play did Siri warn them that the motel was coming up. Bucky’s hands hadn’t left the wheel either, keeping to a stoic expression and nearly still posture as he drove the two of them. Y/N was yawning, fiddling with her phone without a thought in her bored head, up until a song she hated came into the station they were listening to.

She leaned forward to switch it, but it turned classical and she had to groan. Her fingers tapped different parts of the screen, just begging to find something pleasing to listen to. His selection was shit.

He hit her hand away from the console, his disgruntled face concrete. “Stop touching that, it’s not a damn video game.”

“Not my fault you enjoy shitty old music.” She grumbled and hit her head against the back of her seat, turning slightly to admire Bucky’s concentrated face. Not much had changed since high school. A bit more scruff and darker circles under his eyes, but Bucky Barnes was still attractive as hell. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the motel sign in view, about fifty feet up. “Wanna fuck?”

She watched as his eyes widened and his hands fumbled with the wheel, skewing out of the lane. Cars behind him honked angrily at his mistake. Bucky’s face had turned an adorable shade of crimson, the blush rising to his forehead and down his neck barely visible in the night. Once he’d regained control of the car, he trained his eyes back on the road with a sharp glare. “I don’t want to ruin our… friendship,” he grunted.

Y/N snorted, throwing her arms behind her head and yawning. “I wouldn't call four hours of not killing each other in a car friendship, Bucky.” She didn’t catch his small frown, how his shoulders slumped as he finally pulled over into the small motel parking lot. “I won’t, if that’s what you’re really worried about.”

“I will.”

“Just wanted to get some fucking dick, but leave it up to you to ruin something simple as that.” Y/N spat back.

It was nearly cinematic, the way the music died down and the tension rose. The car came to a full stop, Bucky suddenly too aware of the angry glare aimed at the side of his head. “What the hell are you talking-“

“Oh, don’t act stupid, Bucky. Who was it who upped and left that morning, Bucky? ‘Cause I certainly know I was the one sitting and crying on the half-empty bed.”

And just like that, she was thrown back into the full rage and sadness that the summer before college brought her.

They had both been seniors, both not quite popular and most definitely excited to get out of New York. He was an MIT-bound nerd, early admittance and everything, but she was slowly breaking down and falling behind in AP physics. They’d met each other before, with ten years of friendship with Becca there was no way that they couldn’t have run into each other. But it was only when Winnie Barnes suggested that he tutored her did they become close.

Y/N had been mortified of getting a tutor at age eighteen, she should’ve been going out and enjoying what little bit of highschool she had left, but both her mother and Bucky’s had insisted. So it began with the library after school, fingers tracing sentences on a textbook and Bucky whispering formulas across the table.

She didn’t know when or how she started actually listening to those whispers, or when they started to make heat rise to her face or her heart beat a little faster. He didn’t know when the loud, energetic girl with attention issues started to grow on him either.

Over the last remaining months of school, her grades progressed as did their friendship, which was bordering on something… else. He’d come over to her house, she’d go to his and no longer did he tutor her. They’d watch Netflix, hell, Y/N even got Bucky to knit with her, and no one else batted so much as an eye. Graduation passed, and summer just brought on more time for the two of them to spend together.

It was the night at the drive in. Both of them had never spoken of it, but the way that they stared into each other’s eyes for just a second too long as Summer Nights blasted through the car radio spoke what they had wanted to say for so long. Soon enough they were driving home at an alarming speed, holding hands and giggling like idiots through the halls of Y/N’s empty house.

The night was made of shaky hands and fumbling around. Slow movements and sweet whispers of reassurance, getting caught in a night-long romance that neither of them knew would end so abruptly the next morning.

“I was just trying to protect you, sweetheart.”

Y/N scoffed, “From what exactly, Bucky? You broke my heart instead, so great fuckin’ job with that.” She tried to hide her tears with ill-fated words, but he knew she didn’t mean them.

“Hey,” he grew defensive, finally unbuckling his seatbelt so he could sit up in his seat to face her. It was only then did she realize how much Bucky towered over her still in the small car, his head nearly hitting the roof at full height. “It wasn’t easy for me either, you can’t blame that shit on me, Y/N.”

“Well as far as I can remember, you were the only one not willing to take a chance on us, asshole.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, you’re not being fair.” Bucky spat.

“It’s cute that you wanna talk about this now like adults finally, two years after it happened. You had so much time to call me about it, but you just had to save yourself from your consequences, right?” His silence answered her instantly. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, trying to stop the ache in her chest with any anger she could grasp. “Typical. I’m Bucky Barnes, I kiss peoples asses and I can’t confront anything I fuck up-“

She barely had time to process Bucky’s hands lifting her over the seat, but she had just enough mind to feel his chapped lips against hers. It was after he opened his mouth against hers, his tongue delving between her lips, did she notice the sensation of two hands on her skin, one cold, one warm. His touch lit her skin up, nerves rattling at his touch as she reciprocated the kiss with ferocity. Her hands flew to his cheeks, massaging the stubble scratching at her palms until he pulled away. Though his heart was nearly beating out of his damn chest, he couldn’t help the fond chuckle that came upon seeing Y/N’s swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. “You never just shut the fuck up, do you?”

His words took a moment to register with her, and he could tell the moment it clicked in. Eyebrows furrowed adorably, she opened her mouth to spout some more shit about how he had no right to kiss her after everything that had happened (they both knew she would pretend to have hated it), but all he could focus on was the stupid button on her jean shorts.

He cupped her cunt through the rough material, and her train of words stopped at the contact.

She was fucked.

Her hips bucked into the heel of his palm, her lips finding home on his once again. Fingers worked diligently to unbutton her shorts, both of them shoving her bottoms just low enough to straddle his thighs. She dove for his zipper, biting Bucky’s lower lip when he laughed at her struggle.

“I can smell you, sweet girl,” he smirked against her lips, “you’re really worked up, ain’t ya?”

“Shut up,” she retorted, slapping his cheek. Oh, no one had ever done that before. He liked it. “When did you learn to talk like that anyways? You weren’t nearly this good last time.”

“We were fuckin’ virgins, Y/N, I’ve learned since then. Turns out that girls in college hump anything that breathes, got quite the experience in a few years.” Her hands paused in smoothing over the burn of his cheek and his grin grew even wider when he realized she was going green. “You jealous, sweetheart? Got no reason to be, only ever thought of you.”

He lifted his hips to drag his jeans down his thighs, and good God, she did not remember them being that muscular and her pussy was just dripping for them. For him, because then he took off his shirt- fuck, he had to have lifted in the last two years. There was no other explanation for the thick, corded abs that took over his torso. Definitely not there before.

Her hands slid down his chest, finding rest against the burning hot flesh that had been revealed to her. She let her fingers dip into the scars that littered his left shoulder, those she remembered as bright as day. Their beauty, how she kissed them and told Bucky how gorgeous he was with everything he hated about himself.

She pulled away from his mouth, just for a minute, and let her lips trace that same path down the angry red lines. His eyes fluttered shut at the light contact, basking in the peace her presence brought his guilt and being.

But as soon as the moment was over, her eyes met his again, only to fly shut as she slammed their mouths together again. Teeth clattered against each other as she palmed over his erection, caged inside his boxers. Oh, he was straining. A wet patch formed on the fabric, showing him to be just as needy as she was.

Without another second to waste, she slipped her cold fingers under the elastic, feeling Bucky jolt when she wrapped her hand around him. He was hot and leaking in her hand and when she finally pulled him out of his boxers, well, she had to keep from her jaw dropping open.

His head painted an angry shade of red, precome smeared all over and she couldn’t fight the urge to tease him. Gripping him in a loose fist, she twirled her thumb around his tip, eliciting a loud groan from Bucky. She jerked him slowly, making sure to apply pressure to the prominent veins that ran up his shaft.

Pulling a condom out of the cup holder- she’d ask him about it later- she ripped it with her teeth and inspected it for just a second to make sure it didn’t tear. Bucky had to chuckle at her cute little pout as she put it up to the light of the night, her elegant features just illuminated in the moon. When she was satisfied with the quality of the condom, she rolled it on him, slowly and tortuously, so he could feel the drag of it in full sensitivity.

Her face lowered to his- with his sweat-beaded forehead, reddened cheeks, and mouth puffing out quick little breaths- and he let her think she had him. Lips taunting his with the little smirk he knew all too well, she believed that she had him under her control.

Then, before she could even catch his movement, his metal hand moved to her throat, fingers pressing at the sides, and the tides flipped. He was the one smirking then- grinning like a hyena when he saw Y/N’s eyes roll back. Her chest was heaving, hips mindlessly rutting down onto his, just begging to have him inside her, and he had her right where he wanted her.

Bucky took her silence, that very rare occasion she wasn’t mouthing off, to line up his cock to her entrance with her free hand. His warm hand sliding up the inside her thighs, he snaked it around her hip, and with one movement, guided her hips down his length. Both of them let out a moan at the intrusion.

It felt so good and natural. Maybe Bucky was lying about the other girls, he probably just watched too much porn in his dorm room to learn that type of dirty talk. He didn’t know really where the dominance came from, but what he did know was that it was doing both him and Y/N wonders by the way her cunt was clamping down on his dick.

She made herself comfortable on his cock at first- after all it had been since that summer two years before that she’d been with someone: him- but after the delicious burn of him went away, she was bouncing up and down on his cock like a desperate whore. Bucky readjusted his prosthetic hand around her throat, pressing harder on the junctures and praying to God that they’d bruise later on. Her gurgles, her body instinctively begging for breath, made him grin, and he smacked her ass harshly one, two, three times, just to make sure she got the message that he was in charge. It may have been two long years without each other, but he was dead set on proving to her that he wasn’t planning on leaving her- never again.

“C’mon, darling, I know you can move better than that, go a little faster.” Bucky groaned.

He dragged her lips down to his by the hand wrapped around her throat, letting their tongues entwine as he slammed her hips down onto his cock. She let out a high whine into his mouth, finding it in her to bite down on his lip as her eyes met his hungrily.

Bucky continued to bring his hand onto her ass one after another, his slapping falling in tandem with that of their skin clapping together. “Bucky, oh- James,” she groaned after he hit her again, “you feel so good.”

Her knees hurt, digging into the edges of the cramped car seat, but she made no move to adjust them. Both of them were too caught up in each other to pay the space they were in any attention. Bucky’s hand trailed down her throat, moving under her shirt to feel up the soft skin of her stomach and sliding the fabric up. She whined at the coolness of his hand on her collarbone, feeling the warm air of the car peak her nipples into little buds.

The more her sweat slick torso that was revealed to him made his mind reel, and he was forced to pull away from the intoxication of her lips to taste her skin too. “Honey, you’re so, so fucking gorgeous,” he groaned against her sternum. He bit, licked and nipped, sucking to make sure dark bruises would show up, biting lightly on her nipples and marking her in every right. “Taste so good too, no one’s ever as good as you.”

Even though her mind and body were on a high of ecstasy and pleasure, his words gave her a sense of renewal, grounding her to that moment in the car with him. Her hips were losing rhythm- she was close and her lower stomach was bundling up inside, just begging to find release.

He could feel her desperation to let go too- he needed to just as bad. Bringing his right hand down to her clit with a harsh smack, he let two fingers rub her wetness around the sensitive bud, teasing the swollen flesh over the edge.

His hips snapped up into hers when her knees began to fail her, heaving with slow breaths as he staved off his orgasm for hers. “You can let go, darling, I’ll take care of you just fine.”

The feel of his calloused fingers against her clit sent her over the edge. Her hand grasped at the closest thing, slamming against the window with its freezing condensation under her palm. Her cunt clamped on Bucky’s cock with wild ferocity and her head fell back, leaving her neck exposed for him to bite down on as he chased his own release.

She continued to ride him, sensually and slowly, and soon enough he was coming into the condom, groaning praises about how she felt wrapped around his dick. He kissed her delicate skin, soothing his marks with chapped lips and pink cheeks. “You look so pretty when you come, sweetheart. ‘M so glad you were so good for me, like you were made to take my cock. God, I love you so much.”

When her cunt finished milking his cock, the soreness kicked in. Bucky lifted her off of his cock from her armpits, letting her slump forwards tiredly on his chest. She was nearly asleep, even with her sweaty hair and come leaking out of her swollen pussy, her eyes drooping heavily. Bucky wanted to clean her up, to care for her and talk with her about how much he missed her, but he could tell she needed to sleep.

Moving his lips to hair, he whispered quietly. “Hey, darling?” She hummed in response, and he could feel her eyelashes flutter lightly against his bare chest. “You wanna get cleaned up? You can get some rest in the backseat, I’ll watch out for your car.”

She sat up, rubbing her eyes blearily with pouty lips. Bucky didn’t know where they stood; he wanted to kiss her so bad in the moonlight, but he stood against it. He helped her pull her panties back up her legs, the jean shorts following behind. He wrapped up the used condom, sneaking out of the car to toss it in the trash without anyone to see him in the parking lot.

By the time he came back, Y/N was wrapped in one of his sweatshirts, curled in a fetal position in the backseat. He took a minute to look at her, longing to lay by her again.

Y/N sensed his eyes on him. His stare was never exactly subtle. “Come over here, James,” she yawned, “you make a comfy pillow.”

She sat up and before she could even fully understand what was going on, he tackled her into the seat, pressing her body against his as she squealed. “You’re squishin’ me, Buck, can we move around?”

His face flushed, and once again he was reduced to being a blushing, stuttering mess around her. “Oh God, yeah, m’ sorry.”

He laid back on the seat with his head crooked against the cold window, gesturing for her to lay on top of him. She complied happily, resting her head right under his chin, her ear right above his comforting heartbeat. Neither of them really felt sleepy anymore, the full force of what their sex was to them hitting them so suddenly. “Honey?” Nothing in response. “Can I tell you something?”

“Buck, can we talk about this tomorrow-”

“I can’t wait to talk about this tomorrow.” He recoiled at the desperation in his voice. Clearing his throat, he tried to start over again. “‘M sorry about that. I just wanted to tell you, before we fucked, like when we were driving but I was being an ass and still now, I guess-” he huffed out a sigh, lost for words as he encompassed the feeling of having her body pressed against his. It had been two years after all. “God, I’m just fucking this up, aren’t I?” Y/N nodded and he chuckled at her blatant honesty.

“I’m not good at emotions. I guess that’s why I left that night, but it’s just because I’m a huge fuckin’ coward. Was scared how big my feelings for you were and that we were goin’ to different colleges, but that doesn’t seem so scary anymore. It’s easy to say this now, ‘cuz I love you and nothing is keeping me back from saying it anymore.”

Those words. She’d been waiting to hear those words in her fantasies for two haunting years, and now that she had- it just made her the happiest girl on the planet. But she couldn’t let him get away with what he did so easily. Y/N grinned against his chest, lifting her head up to kiss his scruffy jaw. “You said that already, Buck.”

“What?”

“Told me you loved me already.” She shrugged.

“When did I- oh.”

You look so pretty when you come, sweetheart. ‘M so glad you were so good for me, like you were made to take my cock. God, I love you so much.

His cheeks reddened again, embarrassed that he had gotten caught before his big planned speech, but Y/N grabbed his hand and kissed it before resting it over her chest.

“But for the record, I love you too. It’s been a long to years without you, Buck.” She smiles. closing her eyes and burrowing herself farther into his chest. “Now get some shut-eye, we’ve got some shit to talk about tomorrow.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #college!bucky #college bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #bubblebuckys1k

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natewriteslol · 3 years ago

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Hey! Could i request the dorm leaders with an esper MC? Kinda like Mob psycho or Saiki k :) and maybe they don't really use this ability of theirs that much since in their world they're literally a teen who's trying to live a normal life(like Mob basically), so nobody knew about their psychic powers except Grim since the mirror said that he couldnt sense any magic in them(i'm pretty sure that psychic powers don't really count as magic but idk lol).

Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna write it! :)

A/N: Ooh this was a fun one! I haven't watched Mob Psycho (I know about that fine ass blonde man-) but I have watched Saiki k and I loved it, still need to finish it tho jlafljhdas

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

P.S: I’m so sorry this is so long omg but I guess this is a strong comeback-

Warnings: none except for language

Riddle:

-You wanted to stay as far away as possible from him

-Riddle was part of the trio of people you wanted to stay away from: Riddle, Vil, and Azul

-Riddle paid so much attention to fine details that if something was up, he'd definitely notice it

-But unfortunately you were best friends with the two goobers of Heartslabyul: Ace and Deuce

-And Riddle had started to pay attention to you and your habits, and something was off with you

-It's almost as though you tried too hard to be normal, like Jamil

-And he could never let something like that happen again, so yes he was watching you

-One day you accidently slipped up and was irresponsible with your powers

-Grim was bothering you since he got into a deal with Azul for tuna and they were standing outside with the twins, since Grim lost

-You told him to fend for himself and teleported, however you didn’t plan where you would go

-And you teleported into the Heartslabyul dorm

-What sucks is that your teleportation power was literally flashy with a bright ass green light every time you popped in somewhere

-Just when you thought you were lucky since the whole dorm was uninhabited...except for Riddle who watched the whole thing

-He was completely shocked, he didn’t know what to say other than “What did you just do?!”

-You explained to him, and that just pieced everything together

-How you solved overblots with such ease, and that one day you had a “strength potion to test for Azul” was such bs!

-Riddle ends up keeping your secret, since he values your privacy but if you do something major and mess up then he will tell!

-”I understand but please be more careful with your powers. I need to institute discipline and you are no exception, Y/N.”

-He really does care about you and doesn’t want you to be found out

-Goes the extra mile to cover for you often, and in exchange you help him out with things :)

Leona:

-He didn't really care about you at first but as you started to hang Jack and Ruggie, Leona started to get more suspicious

-Your scent had proven that you had some trace of magic, but Leona just couldn't put his finger on it

-So he sent Ruggie after you for a couple of days

-If you were a threat to Savanaclaw, Leona would crush you

-But Ruggie had only reported back that everything with you was perfectly normal

-"Just give it up Leona, they're just an ordinary human. The scent is probably weird because they're from a completely different world."

-But Leona still had that feeling, so he was keeping an eye on you

-You had made a deal with Crowley to keep your powers secret to solve problems on campus (it did cut repair costs and handymen costs in half so-)

-Your new quest was to rid the forest of the Angolo fungus that was manifesting into living fungus blobs

-The one thing that gave you away was Grim, as you both had to stop by the Greenhouse to read some info about the fungus

-The cat beast was being far too loud, not understanding why he had to go and mess around with the icky fungus

-You simply replied “It’ll be quick, I’ll just use Hydrokinesis and dry out the fungus since they’re mainly filled with water. They become fertilizer once dried so we can just leave them there.”

-And there Leona was, ears perked up once he heard your voice

-Hydrokinesis? What are you talking about?

-So he set off, following you to the forest

-You started to fly, turning the once green and lively fungus to brown dust while Grim napped against a tree

-Leona for the first time in the while, was left speechless

-Once you noticed him, you realized you had to talk to him

-Confronting him later on, luckily Leona didn’t spill to anyone

-He promised to never tell anyone about what he saw, and had no clapbacks for what you had to say

- Leona doesn’t even benefit from this secret...besides mayyybee one day asking for your help if his pride lets him

-By the Great Seven why does everything have to not be in his favor-

Azul:

-Another one who you have got to be careful around, since he’s incredibly observant

-More observant than Riddle

-Azul noticed that you’re an incredibly average person, and were incredibly relaxed even during the most stressful situations

-And almost every single time whenever you were in a tight spot, it works in your favor

-Just how is that possible? Solving overblots left and right? Every single time you disappeared the infestation of magical beasts are gone?

-One day, you were getting picked on by a three guys, their stature far above yours and incredibly strong. How could you possibly win?

-Just as he was about to scoop in a save you, you slammed one of the men into the concrete, taking on the other two by electrocuting them, the blue lightning buzzing in your palms

-They were completely knocked out, dusting off your palms and picking up your things only to face Azul’s eyes

-After giving an explanation of what that was, he was still speechless

-Azul at first was incredibly shocked and then since Azul is Azul... later on realized this had benefits

-He could just blackmail you to be his new bodyguard!

-Oh how he always manages to bend life to his will-!

-So you could just wipe his memory... or turn him into stone...nvm

-You’re now Azul’s arch nemesis since you end up saving people from his scamming and you’re basically untouchable and there’s nothing he can do about it

-But he does find your great strength admirable (and a lil hot, I mean what can u say seeing someone floating in the air with electricity flowing through them is a nice look okay Nate shut up)

Kalim:

-Oh Kalim my beloved

-He just thinks that you’re incredibly talented and a little mysterious

-You have your little quirks and he has his! Who is he to judge?

-Until one day you wanted to make the load lighter on Jamil, since the berries that Kalim had requested for were only in season in one country

-You decided to just teleport and then come back with the berries so Kalim wouldn’t be pouty

-You were outside the door ready to teleport when last minute you felt a hand on your shoulder

- “Oh Y/N you forgot-!”

-And there both you and Kalim were, in a berry field thousands of miles away from the Scarabia dorm

-Kalim screams, falling to the lush green of the field

-What happened?! Where are we?! How did you do that?!

-You quickly gathered all the berries at light speed, making sure that you got back before Jamil realized that you were gone

-Kalim wasn’t scared of you, rather impressed that you were able to keep a secret for that long, he could never!

-You’re already super cool, and on top of this you have otherwordly powers!

- “It must’ve been stressful living your life like this! But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

-Yes he sometimes asks you to perform some of your powers for him, sorry Y/N-

Vil:

-While you were his friend, he was incredibly suspicious of you

-Even though you wiped everyone’s memory, he still had the faint memory of when he was in overblot mode of you blasting him with a beam of light

-Vil was incredibly upset as one of his assistants had mixed up his items, and left one of his vital skincare items on the set of where they were filming a new commercial

-It was being shipped and would take 3 days to reach NRC

-His mood was horrible and you had to do something about it to give grace to the Pomefiore dorm

-So you went to the second story of the Pomefiore dorm, ready to use Apport (the power to pull anything before you)

-However, Vil felt incredibly guilty

-He was acting like a child and he shouldn’t have taken it out on the people who he loves and values

- “Y/N, how I was acting was incredibly inappropriate and- is that my moisturizer? How did you get it?”

-Starts freaking out as this was impossible as it was on it’s way from being shipped from another country

-This was the last straw for him ther was no justification for this that wasn't done by some form of magic

-He takes you to his room to make you sit down and give him an explanation for this

-Once you finished, Vil understood but was still freaked out

-He cares alot about keeping your powers a secret and will cover for you

-"So my aport powers need to exchange something of equal value so... I exchanged it with that Scucci purse over there-

-"MY LIMITED EDITION SCUCCI PURSE?!"

-He loves you, but you're dead to him, Y/N dear

Idia:

-Before he knew you, he didn't really notice anything off with you

-A little quiet sure but he minded his own business, he had bigger things to focus on

-Until you hung around Ignihyde more often for a project, fixing a huge generator by yourself for one of your partners for a project

-They took a break only after you told them that they could and apprehensive went to go get food and water

-Anyone with eyes could see that there's an overbearing amount of energy flowing through the fairly large sized cube

-Wait, you were wearing no gloves, you could get electrocuted! Why would have your bare hands on something like that?!

-Just as he was able to yell, it was too late, your whole body was flowing with the bright blue energy... and then you let go

-You were walking completely fine, you went and held a random wire on the ground, placing the electricity inside

-The static from your hair was gone, and you looked completely normal. . .

-Just what the hell are you?

-He did hours of research trying to figure you out, even sending Ortho to monitor you

-Yet there was nothing, you were just a “regular teen”

-Was ready to get S.T.Y.X.S on your ass- (is that too soon to joke abt my bad overblot boys-)

-Until one day he caught you again bending electricity to your will

-Is incredibly impressed with your power (lowkey wanting to experiment on you)

-After he realizes that you can read minds Idia is so damn frightened

- “O-Okay I promise not to say anything, just don’t tell anyone what I’m thinking a-alright?!”

Malleus:

-You were one of the only people who he trusted

-Malleus had always detected some form of magical aura that was otherworldly from you and it never seemed to fade

-And it wasn’t often, but it was almost like you knew what he was thinking

-Whenever he was deeply upset he felt a twinge of energy from you, and then you would insist and help him out with his problems

-And he flat out says “Are you reading my mind, Y/N?”

-You had never been directly outed like this before, you felt horrible

-You never read people’s minds unless it was very necessary

-whenever Malleus felt deeply gloomy you felt like it was important to just read his mind and help him with the problem

-You explained it to him and apologized, but he wasn’t upset

-In fact, he was smiling?

- “It seems like we have alot of things that we’re hiding from each other. But... you always had the best intentions whenever you used your abilities”

-He let out a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “And, I know that I’m quite stubborn with revealing my feelings.”

- “I will keep your secret as long as you keep mine, Child of Man,” the dragon fae said, you both shaking on it

- “I always had a feeling that you were special, but I never thought it would be something of this caliber...”

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caramelcuniculus · 1 year ago

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Worry not Winter, for this path was going to be an exact few minutes long! It was just enough time for the golem to collect his bearings, take deep breaths through lungs that weren't there. He knew nothing would happen; it never did. And yet, the emotions begin to invade into his mind and soul each and every time. It didn't matter the amount of times the same relics were seen, the memories always resurfaced. At the beginning, the nostalgia is oftentimes positive, a staple of adrenaline and adoration the archaeologist of old once held. Then, the hate and depression would follow, and the cycle continued. While it lasted, Des was planning to live in the ecstasy. Just for a little while longer. An unseen smile formed on the guide's face. "I wouldn't dare to do something here. The Garden of Healing holds the world's finest lifeforms, ones that haven't been seen in centuries. Both animals and plants alike call this sanctuary their home, and I have little doubt that'd differ now." Their head turned to look at the cavern's wall, basking in the bare yet meaningful display of pure mineral. "The world could've gone through multiple extreme changes after the Azran put the Garden here, and even then, that would not change a thing. Not unless someone solved the seal and found their way in here, which is unlikely. It takes true archaeological skill and a deep knowledge of the Azran civilization to have even the slightest idea to open this passageway, and even that isn't enough." Des began to recall the thoughts and sights of one Jean Descole, one piece of her puzzling existence. She was armed and ready to rip out the entire town of Misthallery to get inside the Garden of Healing, and in the end, she failed. There would be no need to go into full detail regarding that event in her life. Even though it had been literal hundreds of years since that occurred, it still carried incredible weight that would stick with her for the rest of her life. Or, as long as her vessel remained in-tact. Was Winter even aware that she wasn't human? She couldn't deny some wit and smarts behind the round glasses, but maybe he were like herself when it came to a hypothesis. It needed to be proven before being correct. Simon would've had that same mindset too, wouldn't he? That was when he was reminded that this wasn't his Simon. The boarders of Winter's kingdom... of course. "Cruel is one way to put it." Des went silent for a moment before scoffing. "I implore you to not get any ideas regarding this place. The Garden of Healing may be on your land, but this is something that must be preserved. If it were to be touched too much by unfamiliar hands, one of the remaining pieces of Azran history will be lost. It may be a haven, but it doesn't protect those inside from outside intrusions. Security is most important here, to leave this place and its legacy alive." By the time the golem had finished their speech, the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter, both of them finally reaching the fabled Garden of Healing. Des gasped; once again taking in its majesty. Life stretched out as far as the eye could see. Plant-life flourished, creatures and critters roamed the nearby land. A waterfall fell inside a beautiful, shimmering lake at the heart of it all. They weren't kidding when they said this was one of the most beautiful places on this earth. Des hoped Winter was starting to understand their attitude now. "Take a look around, Winter! Embrace the prospecting life left behind by the ancient Azran!"

Her eyes might've not been watching him, but she was still listening. Des felt she needed to; the king would've made his way here soon enough. She wished it could've been a bit longer, or at the very least, enough time for her to get the entrance open. Oh well. The golem found his call of concern interesting. What happened to the boastful egotism? Would you not care for what happens to someone who opposes your views and leadership? Maybe this was all some sort of game to him, that none of her words held any weight. No matter the truth of the matter, everything would soon be set in stone, and there would be no need for any of this. And almost as soon as he announced himself, Winter was right at their side. How was he so fast? More importantly, how was he so quick enough to denounce a find as valuable as this? Even if this were just the entrance, did he not see the gold plaque? Or do riches not matter to this king? Fortunately for them both, the Garden of Healing didn't nor would ever have a price tag. Des would soon show Winter exactly why he should forever keep it that way. "This may be its coordinates, but I assure you, we've not yet arrived." Something like this was obvious; there weren't any signs of a garden in the nearby area whatsoever. Whatever eased any of Winter's highest woes, or provided his eager entertainment. "Impress? Fine then. What lay beneath this puzzle will be the most enchanting sight you'll ever lay eyes on." It hadn't been an extremely long time since she's had to put this together; other worlds had other Gardens. Though, it had still been a handful of years since the last. The associated riddle was known by heart, but hearing it again would help her solve it quicker. "O traveler to paradise! The winged sleepers yearn to dance. Only by touching the four fruits," which they'd tapped with their fingers on the crest, "can you awaken them." One by one, all four birds had their eyes light up; halfway there. "Bird of illusion, raise your beak high! And so you shall lead our traveler into the sun-kissed paradise." The golem flipped the doves accordingly, putting together the Azran's first discovered legacy within the middle of the winter wonderworld. One final turn and the ground beneath both of them shook. Des pulled themself away from the golden ground, the sight of the periwinkle king reminding them that they weren't alone. They were beginning to feel plagued by Aurora's absence. The crest opened itself slowly, and revealed the path to the Garden of Healing. Aurora should be here. "At least I have someone to show this to," he mumbled under his breath before turning towards Winter. "This leads into your world's version of one of the ancient Azran civilization's legacies. I hope you've had yourself a recent history lesson, or else you'll be shown into a whole new world." Des turned back to the cave that awaited them. "Come." And so, he stepped foot within the long pathway towards a longer-lived legacy.

#dismalice #ic; des

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Cat and Mouse Game - Fred Weasley

Title: Cat and Mouse Game Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, mentions of masturbation, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, unprotected sex A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Fred Weasley and very few of them are innocent. This is like 95% filth with some fluff thrown in at the end because I love Fred Weasley and he’s my only source of serotonin.

Tags: @tonksichu

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They’ve been playing the same game of cat and mouse since their Hogwarts days. They’d take turns leaving flirty notes for the other to find, grabbing the other’s hand under the table at dinner, pulling the other into a dark corridor for a few minutes of stolen kisses. Not much has changed between them since then, although their games are far less innocent.

“Mail’s here!” Verity calls from somewhere in the shop.

Fred doesn’t move a muscle, his focus completely taken up by the potion he’s stirring in front of him. He and George have been working on a new product for weeks, a candy infused with truth serum that only lasts for one question – the perfect addition to any game of truth or dare. They had planned on launching it next week, but they’re still having problems getting the formula of the truth serum just right.

“For fucks sake,” he mutters to himself when a puff of black smoke rises out of the cauldron. “Too much dandelion root.” He shoves himself away from his desk, stalking over to the sink so he can start over again. He’s so focused on scrubbing that he doesn’t hear George come in.

“Not going well, eh?” George asks, chuckling when Fred drops the cauldron, clearly startled by his brother’s sudden presence.

“I’m going to make you wear a bell for Merlin’s sake. You scared the shit out of me,” Fred groans, picking the cauldron back up. He rinses it one more time before stalking back to his desk. He’s about to start working again, when he notices that George is still standing in front of him. “Did you need something? Or are you just gonna stand there to annoy me?”

George smiles at his brother. Partially because he finds his frustrated demeanor amusing, but mostly because it’ll annoy Fred further. “Oh, I just popped in to bring you your mail.”

Fred rolls his eyes, getting back to work. “Just put it in the tray, I’ll get to it later.” He gestures lazily to the incoming work tray on the corner of his desk, which has started to pile up. He’s going over his notes so he can adjust the amount of dandelion root for the fifth time, when George shoves a letter into his line of vision.

“Actually, dear brother of mine I think you’ll notice that this particular letter requires your immediate attention,” George snickers. He drops the letter on the desk, and with a waggle of his fingers he’s gone.

Fred had only gotten a glimpse of the envelope, but as soon as George has closed the door behind him he pushes his work aside to pick it up. He recognized Y/N’s delicate writing immediately, he had become quite familiar with it during their time together at school.

In fact, he’s been waiting for this letter for the past three weeks. That’s how it is with them. One of them is the aggressor while the other waits for the next letter, waits for the details of their next meeting. It had been Fred’s turn to wait, and wait he had. Most nights he found himself laying in bed, hand around his hard cock thinking about the things he and Y/N had gotten up to during their last rendezvous.

That’s the one thing he truly misses about his days back in school, how easy it was for him to force her hand when he was tired of waiting. He knew her too well, knew how to get under her skin. Whenever he missed the feeling of her hand in his, or when he had nearly forgotten what the inside of her mouth tastes like it was all too easy to get her to make her move. All it took was some innocent flirting during breakfast, usually with Angelina Johnson, and by lunch time there would be a note in Y/N’s delicate scrawl detailing their next meeting time and place on his pillow.

But now he truly has to wait for Y/N to need him. They had gone longer than three weeks before, but that had been during the war, when it was too dangerous to play their game. Fred knows that he could always break their little game, he could owl her any day and have her in his bed that night, but he enjoys the chase, it’s part of the fun.

His mind wanders as his fingers tear at the envelope, wondering which of their games Y/N had chosen for them, silently hoping she had chosen his favorite.

Sometimes their game was romantic. They’d meet at a fancy muggle restaurant, all dressed up. Fred would wine and dine her for hours before he’d take her back to his. Their sex was always slow and intimate. Fred would make sure she could feel all of him and wouldn’t stop until his name was dripping from her lips as she came. He’d kiss her slowly as he came insider her, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

Other times, their game was quick and dirty. They’d meet at a hotel room in London and from the second the door was shut behind them they were all over each other. They’d both be naked in a matter of minutes, their hands roaming each other’s bodies and Fred’s mouth leaving marks on her wherever he can. Their sex was quick and hard, both of them usually on their lunch breaks. Often they came together, and Fred’s lips wouldn’t leave her skin until they were back on the bustling streets of London and parting ways to go back to their lives.

Fred’s favorite game by far was the perfect mix of the others. They’d meet at a muggle club, just a few minutes apart from each other. Fred would arrive first and grab a drink from the bar before settling at a table. When Y/N would enter they’d lock eyes, and the game would truly begin. Y/N would spend the evening doing as she pleases: drinking, dancing, and most importantly, flirting. Fred would watch her from his spot, jealousy and arousal building up in his stomach. He’d let her push it and just as some unsuspecting muggle is trying to get her to leave with him, Fred would swoop in and remind her just who she belongs too. Their first round is quick and dirty, usually in the toilets of whatever club they happen to be at. Then he’d apperate them back to hers, and they’d spend the rest of the evening tangled in the sheets of her bed, kissing softly as he ruined her.

Fred fumbles with the envelope as he pulls the piece of parchment out, too excited to be careful. A grin spreads across his face as he eyes scan over the few words written down. She had chosen his favorite game, and he couldn’t wait to play.

Malibu. Tonight. 10:30.

Y/N stands in front of her open closet in nothing but a dressing gown, nervous butterflies in her stomach as she contemplates what to wear. Upscale muggle clubs are not her usual stomping ground and she wants to look perfect, so she’s at a loss for what to wear.

Of course, she could have picked one of their other games. She had plenty of dresses she felt confident in that would have been perfect for a night at a muggle restaurant, but it had already been three weeks since she’d seen Fred last, and she didn’t want to wait any longer for a reservation to open up. A lunch time meet up would have been perfect as well, since her and Fred managed to get naked in under 10 seconds her clothes wouldn’t matter, but she needed longer than an hour with him.

Plus, this particular game is Fred’s favorite, and she needs him nice and riled up for the night she has planned. They’ve only played out this game two other times, but both times Y/N was barely able to walk the next day.

She decides to go with something white, for a few different reasons. For one, Y/N had bought a white silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly last weekend and seeing her in something new and tight will rile Fred up even more.

But mostly, she knows that seeing her in white awakens something carnal in Fred. Y/N had once made the mistake of wearing a brand new set of matching white bra and panties to one of their meetings, and after Fred had ripped her panties off he fucked her hard, growling in her ear about how innocent she looked in white, but that they both knew what a dirty slut she was for him. He had made her cum so many times that she cried from the overstimulation, the only downside was that she had to replace her ruined panties and they had been quite expensive.

Y/N grabs the new white dress out of her closet, a shiver running down her spine at the memory. Three weeks is far too long to go without having Fred both in her bed and just in her life generally. She makes a mental note not to wait that long next time as she heads over to her dresser. She opens the top drawer, trying to decide which pair of panties would really get Fred going.

“Well, if I’m being honest with myself,” Y/N thinks out loud, quietly. With a wicked smile she slams the drawer shut. “No panties it is.”

Fred is already nursing a whiskey sour at a table when Y/N strolls into the main room of the club. Their eyes lock across the crowded room, and after sending her a sly wink his eyes trail down her body.

“Holy hell,” he groans, the grip he has on his glass tightening. He can already feel himself getting hard in his trousers just from the outfit Y/N is wearing alone. Fred can tell by the way the lights reflect off of it that the tight piece of fabric clinging to her every curve is made out of silk, his absolute favorite. The fact that it’s white drives him even crazier and he quickly downs his drink, needing to calm himself down.

From where Y/N is standing at the bar Fred has the perfect view of her bum. He absent mindedly signals for a waitress to bring him another drink, his eyes trained on Y/N. Fred has to stifle a groan when her dress rides up the back of her thighs as she leans forward to shout her order to the bartender. He’s fully hard in his trousers now as he thinks about how badly he wants to feel those thighs wrapped around his head.

Just as a waitress sets another drink down on Fred’s table a young man with tousled blonde hair comes up behind Y/N, blocking his view.

He takes a sip of his drink. “Let the games begin.”

Y/N feels someone come up behind her, and a moment later she can feel them press up against her. “You come here alone?”

She smiles to herself before turning to the stranger. There’s no doubt that he’s attractive, and Y/N knows that she had positioned herself directly in Fred’s line of sight, so she knows that he’s watching their exchange.

“I did actually,” she drawls, her hand running down the length of the glass the bartender had just set in front on her. “Was hoping to find someone that piques my interest here.”

The man’s eyes follow the languid movement of her hand on her glass for a moment, before he looks into her eyes with a smirk. “Oh really? Any luck so far?”

Y/N takes a sip of her drink, willing herself to keep her eyes on the man in front of her instead of searching for Fred’s. The alcohol burns her throat as arousal begins to build in her stomach. She knows Fred is out there, watching her intently as she flirts with someone who isn’t him. But they both know who she’ll be going home with, and that though alone has her pussy aching.

“I think so,” Y/N responds, her voice dripping with arousal. It’s not due to the man standing in front of her, but he doesn’t need to know that. She looks him up and down, taking notice of his strong hands and long legs. She nods to herself, almost saying ‘yeah, he’ll do.’ She downs the rest of her drink quickly and slaps some muggle money down on the bar. “Care to dance?”

Fred’s eyes are trained on the dance floor, his second drink abandoned on the table next to him. He’s too focused on Y/N, watching her hips sway to the beat of whatever muggle song is playing. Her back is pressed up against the front of the bloke that approached her at the bar, and his hands are gripping her hips. They’ve been dancing like that for at least 30 minutes and Fred feels like he hasn’t even blinked, he’s too entranced by Y/N.

His cock has been aching in his trousers for what feels like hours, and his stomach is a pit full of arousal and jealousy. On one hand he finds Y/N’s actions downright dirty, and he knows he’ll be thinking of how good she looks tonight next time he’s alone in bed and desperate for her touch. On the other hand, he wants to be the one dancing behind her, gripping her hips so tightly he leaves bruises to remind her of him for days after.

Fred clenches his fist, his eyes trailing up Y/N’s body to her face to try and calm himself down. They’ve only been at it for 45 minutes and Fred already wants to storm over and claim Y/N. The first time they had played this particular game Y/N had been shy, and Fred had watched her flirt with a few different guys before she had settled on the dance floor with one. He watched her with him for the better part of two hours before he intervened, no longer able to stand the fact that it wasn’t his hands gripping her bum.

The second time Y/N was bolder. She had spent only 30 minutes at the bar talking to a bloke before they moved to the dance floor. Fred had managed to watch for over an hour that time before his hands ached to touch her and he sent the muggle man Y/N had been with away.

When he first entered the club that evening he had planned on waiting longer. Y/N had made him wait three weeks, and he planned on punishing her by making her wait for him. But now that he’s standing there, watching her move in that sinful white dress against someone who isn’t him he can barely stop himself from stomping over there and taking her right in the middle of the dance floor.

Usually he can contain himself. She’s always driven him mad, but he enjoys their little game too much to break the rules. He loves the uncertainty of the chase, it’s what had drawn him in all those years ago at Hogwarts. Not knowing what the next note would contain, not knowing how long she would make him wait, not knowing what wicked plans she had made for them. Y/N was just as unpredictable as Fred and that usually drove him crazy in a good way. But now, as Fred watches her grind up against some stranger he would give anything to know what’s going on in her mind. Fred isn’t sure if it’s because it’s been three weeks since he last saw her or because she looks absolutely ethereal tonight but he’s ready to end their game early and take his woman home.

Luckily for Fred the song Y/N and her partner had been dancing to fades into another, and the pair head back towards the bar. Fred adjusts himself in his trousers so his arousal isn’t so obvious, before he throws some money on his table.

“Time to end this game.”

A light line of sweat has begun to drip down Y/N’s back and she can feel the wetness of her pussy coating her thighs. Her and Darren, she had managed to remember to at least ask the name of the poor bloke she planned on blue balling, had been dancing right in the middle of the dance floor where Y/N knew Fred could see. She could feel his gaze on her as she moved her hips to the beat which did nothing but heighten her arousal.

“So, what are you drinking?” Darren asks as they reach the bar once again. Y/N had suggested they get another drink, needing to take a break from Fred’s stare.

Y/N can smell Fred before she feels him. He’s always smelled the same, like cinnamon, fireworks and something Y/N can only describe as home. She’s about to respond to the question when she feels someone press up against her back. Fred grabs her hips tightly and Y/N has to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

“Actually, I think she’s had enough to drink,” Fred answers for her as he pulls her even tighter against his chest. His voice sends waves of pleasure through Y/N’s body, and she tries to subtly rub her thighs together to try and get some relief on her aching pussy.

Darren glares at Fred, and if Y/N wasn’t so turned on she probably would have laughed. “Oi, mate, d’you mind? We’re having a good time together.”

Y/N can feel Fred’s chest rumble against her back as he laughs, clearly unphased by what Darren had said. She feels Fred lean down, and a shiver runs down her spine as his lips lightly caress her earlobe.

“Is that true, baby? Were you having a good time with him?” Fred whispers in Y/N’s ear before he begins to press light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I was, yes,” she admits, with a nod, her voice shaking with arousal.

Darren looks like he’s about to tell Fred off, but Fred’s lips stop their movements on her neck so he can whisper in her ear again. “But what about me, baby? Are you ready to have a good time with me?”

Y/N is barely able to nod before Fred is spinning her in his arms and kissing her deeply. She can hear Darren say something rude as he stalks off, but her mind is too full of Fred to register it. Fred trails one of his hands down to Y/N’s bum, giving it a tight squeeze, and when she parts her lips to let out a soft moan he takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth.

When Fred breaks their kiss a few moments later Y/N is breathless, her cheeks tinted pink. She chases after his lips, desperate for more but Fred grabs her chin. Her eyes flick up to meet his gaze, and a tingle of pleasure runs through her pussy at how dark Fred’s eyes are.

“You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N,” he growls into her ear. “You show up here in this,” he pauses so his fingers can tug at the bottom hem of her dress before he continues. “Knowing that I can’t touch you.” Fred trails off for a moment, letting his lips press slow kisses up and down the column of her throat. “Such a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

Y/N lets out a whine, letting her head fall back so Fred’s lips have more skin to kiss. “Just wanted to look pretty for you is all,” she gasps. Fred’s mouth had found her sweet spot and started to slowly suck at it.

Fred hums against her neck, his hands wrapping around her waist. He pulls her body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so Y/N can feel his hard cock press up against her. “You look so pretty baby. And so, fucking dirty. Grinding against some random bloke while I watch, putting on a show for me.”

Y/N is soaking wet at this point, Fred’s words and actions only turning her on further. She pulls his face away from her neck, unable to contain herself anymore. She presses their lips together messily, moaning as Fred’s soft lips move with hers. Their kiss is uncoordinated, but Y/N doesn’t care. “Need you, Freddie. Need you so bad,” she whines into his mouth.

Fred kisses her for a moment longer before he forces himself to pull away. Y/N’s mouth is intoxicating, and he could spend hours just standing there and kissing her. But his cock is aching and Y/N needs him and he can’t deny her anything.

In the blink of an eye Fred has lead them away from the bar and is pushing Y/N up against the closed door of the women’s toilets. He presses their lips together hungrily as he grabs her thigh, hitching it around his waist to give him access to her core.

Y/N moans into Fred’s mouth as they kiss, his right hand gripping her thigh tightly while the other trails up her other leg towards her pussy. A smirk forms on her lips as Fred’s hand inches closer to where she needs him most, knowing that he’s about to discover her little secret.

“You dirty little slut,” Fred growls as he breaks their kiss. He had planned on teasing Y/N by softly rubbing her clit through her panties, but when he finally reached her folds he was met with her dripping entrance. He rubs her exposed clit with his thumb, causing Y/N to let out a long whine. “Look at you. Trying to fool everyone in your little white dress. Pretending you’re so innocent while your pussy is bare, anyone able to get a glance.”

Y/N is barely able to speak, her breath coming out in hard pants as Fred toys with her clit, his index finger beginning to slowly circle her entrance, just barely letting the tip of his finger enter her heat. She opens her mouth to respond, but a moan comes out instead as Fred finally lets his index finger sink fully into her.

“Is that what you were hoping for? Hm?” Fred asks as he curls his finger, smiling when Y/N clenches around him. “Hoping someone else would get a flash of your sweet pussy? Hoping someone else would notice and get a turn with you before me?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, her mouth running dry as Fred adds another finger. Her fingers dig into Fred’s shoulders to try and steady herself as his thumb starts to rub her clit harder. “N-no,” she manages to stutter out a few seconds later when she remembers how to speak. “Did it for you. Only for you. Only want you.”

Fred buries his face in Y/N’s neck to hide the blush that has started to tint his cheeks. Even though they’ve never defined their relationship Fred knows that Y/N doesn’t see anyone else while they’re apart and he doesn’t either. But hearing that she only wants him makes him want to say things he’s felt since he was 15 years old. So he presses kisses into the hot skin of her neck instead, because it’s not appropriate to tell someone you love them for the first time while you fingerfuck them in the bathroom of a club.

“’M close,” Y/N breaths, one of her hands leaving Fred’s shoulder to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She can feel her climax approaching quickly, and with one more curl of Fred’s fingers against her sweet spot she’s tumbling over the edge, Fred’s name falling from her mouth.

Fred fingers continue their movements, his touch much lighter and slower to help her through her climax. When Y/N’s breathing has somewhat returned to normal Fred slowly removes his fingers and presses one more kiss to her neck so he can look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen.

“God you’re so beautiful,” Fred whispers, kissing her deeply once again. He pulls away a moment later, pressing their foreheads together. He’s painfully aware of how hard he is in his trousers and he grinds against Y/N’s bum, trying to get some kind of relief.

Y/N giggles at Fred’s actions, bumping their foreheads together lightly. “You gonna take me home and fuck me? Or should I go find that bloke from earlier and see if he’ll give it to me?” she teases.

Without another word Fred is gripping her tightly and apperating them away.

As soon as they land in Y/N’s flat Fred reattaches their lips, keeping it slow and intimate. Now that the rushed part of their evening is over Fred wants to take his time with her. He moves them to her bedroom slowly, Y/N’s fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

They reach her bed just as Y/N has worked the last button of Fred’s shirt, and he breaks their kiss so he can lightly push her back onto the bed. He rids himself of his shirt before he crawls over Y/N and reattaches their lips in a heated kiss. He grabs one of her knees and pulls her legs apart, settling in between them.

“Take this off,” Fred demands, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress. “ I wanna see all of you.” As Y/N takes of her dress Fred fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing it before moving on to his trousers. He falls back onto the bed so he can kick the rest of his clothing off, his cock finally getting some relief from its tight confines.

Before Fred can crawl back on top of Y/N she’s straddling his waist. She acts as if she’s going to kiss him, but at the last second she turns her attention to his neck and starts peppering kisses along the exposed skin.

Fred’s hands come up and grip Y/N’s hips tightly. “You’re such a tease.”

Y/N laughs into Fred’s neck as she kisses it, causing Fred to chuckle as well. While there are many parts of a healthy sex life Fred loves and enjoys, kissing is certainly in his top 3; which Y/N is fully aware of. They had once spent over an hour in one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways with Y/N pressed up against the wall as their lips moved together. It was one of the first times they had met in secret, and Fred still gets butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about it. Which he does far more often than he’d like to admit.

Fred lets her kiss and suck at his neck for a few moments longer before he flips them over, causing Y/N to squeal both in delight and surprise. Fred bites at her shoulder momentarily before he starts to peck her lips several times.

“I was gonna ride you ya know,” Y/N says with a soft laugh in between kisses. Fred laughs as well, one of his hands coming up to cup Y/N’s cheek while the other starts to massage one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her nipple. “Fuck, Freddie. Feels so good,” she moans.

Fred pulls away from her slightly so he can look Y/N in the eyes. “You do look exceptionally pretty when you sit on my cock, my love.” Fred pauses, his thumb rubbing her cheek as a pink blush spreads across it. “But tonight, I want- no I need.” Fred’s sentence is cut short as Y/N grabs him by the neck and brings their lips together.

She kisses him slow, letting Fred take the lead and lick into her mouth. Y/N doesn’t need Fred to finish his sentence, she already knows what he was trying to say, because she feels the same way. After an evening full of teasing and putting on a show for each other there’s nothing either of them want more than to be close to one and other.

“Please, Freddie,” Y/N begs as Fred’s fingers begin to pinch at her other nipple.

Without another word Fred hitches Y/N’s left leg up on his hip and lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly with a roll of his hips, both of them letting out low moans. Fred doesn’t stop moving until he’s fully buried inside her, his lips coming up to suck at the skin just below her earlobe.

“Feel so good, baby. Always feel so good. Oh God-,” Fred’s words cut off with a groan as Y/N clenches around him. Fred rests his forehead against hers so he can look her in the eyes. He pulls out of Y/N halfway before he pushes back in, slowly starting to fuck her. “God I love you.”

Before Fred has a chance to regret what he’s said Y/N is kissing him hungrily, her hips moving to meet Fred’s thrusts. She breaks their kiss to let out a whine as Fred’s thumb starts to rub slow circles on her clit in time with his thrusts.

“Merlin that feels good,” she breaths, tilting her chin up to kiss Fred briefly. “Not gonna last much longer,” she moans.

Fred speeds up his thrusts as he hitches Y/N’s leg higher on his hip so that he’s hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. “Me either, love. Come for me baby.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N is coming, her toes curling and nails scratching down Fred’s back from the pleasure as she moans his name. Her walls spasm and clench against Fred’s cock, helping him to reach his climax. Her moans are cut off by Fred kissing her deeply as he reaches his own high, emptying himself into Y/N.

Fred slows his thrusts down, helping them both come down from their highs, his mouth still moving against Y/N’s softly. After a few final thrusts he slowly pulls out, and rolls onto his back, his hands gripping Y/N’s waist so that she rolls with him and their kiss doesn’t break.

They just lay there kissing for a few minutes, Y/N’s hands tangled in Fred’s hair while his hands rub circles on her hips. Y/N pulls away first, her breathing heavy and her cheeks flushed red. Fred smiles at her and brings one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

They sit there for a few moments in silence, just looking at each other. Fred feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he studies Y/N’s familiar features. After tonight he’s more sure than he’s ever been, he doesn’t want to spend another moment with out her in his life.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Fred says quietly, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment.

Y/N kisses him briefly. “That I look pretty sitting on your cock? ‘Cause I’ve known that for ages,” she teases.

“Well yes I did mean that,” Fred says with a chuckle before kissing her again. “But that’s not what I was talking about. And it’s okay if you-”

He’s about to say something else, when Y/N lurches forward to kiss him. “I love you too you idiot. Always have.”

When Y/N wakes up the next morning and turns over she’s disappointed that Fred isn’t in bed next to her. While they never usually spent the night together, last night had been different and she had fallen asleep last night dreaming of what round three would consist of in the morning.

Y/N is halfway through cursing Fred out in her head when she notices an envelope sitting on the pillow Fred’s head had been cradled against only a few hours ago. She grabs it, letting her finger trace over her name written in Fred’s messy scrawl on the outside before she tears it open.

My flat. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that and every single day for the rest of forever. 6 pm.

Love you forever and always.

Y/N scans her eyes over the words several times, letting Fred’s message sink in. She smiles to herself as she falls back against her pillows, her hear swelling with more love than she ever thought possible. “Game over.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley smut #Fred Weasley x reader #harry potter #golden #fw #Harry Potter fanfiction #Harry Potter imagine

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en-hale-archives · 4 years ago

Text

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

————✧————

(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

————✧————

None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

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whumping-in-the-wings · 3 years ago

Text

Finally another installment of Traces! I really did not mean for this piece to take quite so long, or to disappear for almost two weeks before I posted it, but, since it’s the first real whump-focused piece of the story (at long last) I wanted to make sure I gave it its due and made it the best it could be before sending it out into the world. Hopefully you enjoy, and I promise, updates should come a lot sooner from now on! (The next one, in particular, is very exciting for me on a personal level, so stay tuned…)

CW: branding, restraints, dehumanization, descriptions of injury (slightly more graphic than usual for this story), brief non-detailed mentions of slavery

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @finaldreams1106, @redwingedwhump (and as always, let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the list!)

Traces: Part Four

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Sheer dumb luck, Sterling Cambrey had long since decided, was the only explanation for a great many things in Sir Aubrey’s life.

On the night of the centaur hunt, Cyra was one of those things. By some miraculous stroke of that endless good fortune, it turned out that Aubrey’s stubborn, cynical stablemaster had gone to the fair in the next village over and wouldn’t be expected back for several days, making it difficult for her to object to the lord of the manor’s latest undertaking. Oh, she’d certainly have something to say when she came home to find a centaur in her stable, but by then Aubrey would have already started on whatever he intended to do with the beast, and there wouldn’t be much Cyra could do to stop it.

Sterling would never have risked it. An irritated Cyra was still a force to be reckoned with, even if her irritation had no real effect. But then again, Sterling would never have risked trying to capture a centaur at all. Risk was simply not something Sir Aubrey Gravesend took much notice of; for one reason or another, it had always passed him by untouched.

And now, two days later, here he was, attempting another effort Sterling would never have dared to: making his wild captive undeniably his own.

“Maybe you ought to wait a day or two longer,” Sterling ventured, watching with no small amount of apprehension as a burly groom and a pair of wide-eyed stable boys struggled to force the centaur stallion to his knees in the middle of the manor yard.

It seemed as though they had underestimated the creature’s strength; it had been two days since the hunt, and at Aubrey’s orders the centaur had spent them without food or water. But despite that and the angry red arrow-wound still marring his black coat, he was resisting their efforts as fiercely as he possibly could. They’d blindfolded him, a common trick for calming horses; on him it had had exactly the opposite effect, sending him into a frenzied half-panic that left all three of the servants bruised and cursing. If the lord of the manor’s pet project was going to succeed- which was looking more unlikely by the minute- it would not be by the usual methods. To Sterling’s mind, the only option was to try a harsher tack: a few more days’ starvation, a good beating, make the price of resistance too steep to pay and take the danger out of the task-

Aubrey, however, brushed his squire’s words of concern aside with his usual easy confidence. “It’s been long enough. Half the fun is seeing him try to fight it. Although-“ his voice rose to a sudden sharpness on the word- “it would not be taking nearly this long if these fools had any idea what they were doing.” He cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out to the groom. “Use that wounded leg against him, clodpole, I put an arrow in it for a reason!”

They watched the struggle for a few more moments, Aubrey scowling in annoyance as the centaur showed no sign of giving up. “Ugh. I need Cyra back.”

“Oh, she’d have it all done in short order,” Sterling agreed. “Just as soon as she finished rattling off ten thousand colorful descriptions of reckless idiotic lordlings with more ambition than sense, who have never thought twice about anything in their lives and are apt to die of their own stupidity before they’re half the man they’d like to be-“

Aubrey punched him lightly in the shoulder, though his lips twitched upwards in his familiar half-smirk. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point, and hers.”

“And it’s a fair point. But that won’t stop you, will it?” It was not a question that needed an answer; they both knew already what the answer was.

The groom, now red-faced and sweating profusely despite the cold of the misty grey morning, decided to try something else. Changing his grip on the rope around the centaur’s neck, he cracked the end of it sharply across the creature’s face. The centaur, by some sort of instinct, had sidestepped a moment before, avoiding the full force of the blow; if he’d taken it straight across the face, it might have broken bone. Even as it was, his cry of pain blended seamlessly with Aubrey’s growl of frustration. The golden-haired lord leapt off the wall where he and Sterling had been watching, stalking across the bare manor yard in a few quick, angry strides. “Let me,” he said roughly, seizing the rope in one hand and striking the nearest stable boy aside with the other.

It was over quickly after that. Though the centaur clearly knew where the true danger lay, redoubling his resistance as Aubrey’s fingers closed around the rope, Aubrey understood the task at hand far better than the trio of servants had. Instead of trying to drag his prisoner forward, he drove him backward, forcing the centaur’s weight onto his injured leg. On his feet, the centaur was dangerous, but once he’d been thrown to his knees, it wasn’t difficult to keep him there.

“You see?” Aubrey stepped back, the only sign of the struggle a bit of a catch in his breath. “It’s that simple. Do you suppose you can manage to hold him, or will I have to do that myself as well?”

Shamefaced, the three servants quickly assured him that they were more than capable of what was needed. Usually, Aubrey would have gone on haranguing them for a little longer, making his displeasure known, but today he didn’t bother. His attention was solely on the centaur; the servants were unimportant, no more than tools to help him do what he had set his mind to doing.

Though not the only tools that would be used. “Sterling,” Aubrey called out, “the iron.”

“Right.” Sterling knew Aubrey well enough by now to have a sort of instinct of his own when it came to the other man, and he’d already started moving toward the brazier set up a few paces away. The heat contrasted oddly with the chill air of the autumn morning, and he had to turn his eyes away from the thin tendrils of smoke curling up from the crackling coals, joined by a shower of sparks and ashes as he took hold of the heavy branding iron and lifted it free.

The Gravesend mark was the stylized and much-simplified head of a lion, given to some ancestor as a recognition of bravery in battle long ago, when the family had been much more meaningful to the world than it was now. Aubrey was fiercely proud of it, vowing to someday restore that mark to its former glory every time he strapped on his shield for a tournament. Watching it now, glowing a bright, ominous gold at the end of the iron as if it still held a little of its old power and importance, Sterling wondered if it might not be too early to be putting that mark on an untamed, unpredictable creature like the centaur. If he had been in Aubrey’s place, he would have waited until the beast was well and truly broken, well and truly his, before he marked him as such. There was certainly a risk involved in doing it sooner.

But Aubrey was Aubrey and risk was nothing, so Sterling only put the iron into the other man’s waiting hand. It surprised him a little when Aubrey didn’t turn and pass it off to the groom, but a moment later he could almost have laughed at himself for being shocked at all. Of course Aubrey was going to take matters into his own hands. He shouldn’t have expected anything less.

Now that Aubrey had gotten the stallion to the ground, the three servants had proven able to hold him there, but he had still managed to shift enough to extend his injured right leg a little, to keep it from being pinned under his weight. Coincidentally, in doing that, he’d placed himself just where Aubrey wanted him. A visible shudder ran through the centaur’s body as Aubrey dropped to his knees beside him and put a hand on his hip, a few inches above the arrow-wound, the same place where every horse in the stable bore the same brand. It was oddly gentle, that touch, almost affectionate, as though Aubrey was dealing with a newborn colt and not a formidable blunder of nature who might lash out at any second. He ran his fingers over the black-brown coat, not testing the beast as the other hunters had on the first night, or prodding at the wound the way Sterling had, but simply making his presence felt.

And the moment the centaur seemed to grow used to that presence, the moment he relaxed a little beneath it, Aubrey moved with the speed of a thrown lance, replacing his own gentle fingers with the blazing heat of the golden-glowing iron.

The centaur, blinded as he was, had no knowledge of what was coming, no way to steel himself against it, and the first touch of the metal on his skin ripped an all-too-human scream from his throat. The mark was made at that first contact, but Aubrey held the iron down for far longer than needed, pressing deeper with a ruthless, relentless force, holding steady even as the centaur thrashed and the three servants struggled to keep him down.

It was a long, long moment, and the mist in the air had turned thick with the smell of burning, before Aubrey finally eased the pressure and stepped away, leaving a second red, angry wound above the first he had inflicted. The centaur’s chest was heaving, his nostrils flared, and for just a moment Sterling wished he wasn’t blindfolded, if only to see the hate and fear that must be burning in those eyes as hotly as the brand.

The groom shifted his grip on the rope again, the two stable boys stepping aside, but Aubrey’s voice stopped them all in their tracks. “Who said I was finished?”

He was smiling that devilish half-smirk again, the most dangerous of his smiles, as he snapped his fingers at the two boys. “Take his shoulders. And you-“ he addressed the next words to the groom- “keep a grip on that rope and don’t let him move.” He glanced over to Sterling, answering the squire’s wide-eyed look with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “No sense in leaving the job half done, is there?”

Sterling only shook his head. Risk. Such a risk. But he knew already that Aubrey would take that risk, that he would walk away from it with the Fates still smiling on him as benevolently as always, the closest a mere man could come to invincible.

The servants hurried to do as Aubrey had said, forcing the centaur’s shoulders forward, baring the back of his human half. For a second time, Aubrey began with a gentle touch, gathering up the long, sweat-dampened dark hair and laying it to the side as a maid might have a lady’s, exposing the back of the right shoulder. Another common place for a brand, but not the brand of livestock- the mark of a slave. Half man and half beast, that was what the centaur was. And Aubrey, it seemed, had no intention of leaving either half unmarked. There would be no part of the creature that did not belong to him.

This time there was no need to prolong the ordeal, no need for any force. The human half was weaker, more delicate, and the damage was done before the centaur’s second scream of pain had fully left his lips. He collapsed, sobbing for breath, as Aubrey lifted his hand and stepped away. But it no longer mattered how far away Aubrey was; his touch, his presence, would still be felt now, in the two lion-marks still glowing faintly gold. His presence would always be felt, even when the glow had faded, even when the years had faded the brands into nothing more than faint traces of scars. Still there. Still felt. Remembered. Aubrey took so many of his risks in his quest to be remembered, and he was not likely to stop taking them until he’d reached that goal. Until he’d made his mark, not just on a centaur, but on the world.

He crossed back to stand beside Sterling, tucking one arm around his squire’s shoulder and propping one on his hip as he surveyed his handiwork. “There,” he said. “Now the whole country knows who his master is, and soon enough he’ll know it too.”

“If you’re lucky,” Sterling cautioned, almost automatically, and he didn’t have to see Aubrey’s smirk to know that it was there. Luck, it was said, was a lady very particular about who she chose to ride with. But, poor country knight or not, it seemed she would always ride with Sir Aubrey Gravesend.

And, if Aubrey had his way in the coming days, it just might be upon the back of a centaur.

#whump #whump writing #medieval whump #fantasy whump #nonhuman whump #centaur whump

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mrs-march-ahs · 4 years ago

Note

how the evans would act when they have a crush on u ^^

How The Evans Act When They Have A Crush On You & How They React When You Tell Them You Like Them Too

Award for the longest title goes tooooo... me!

JAMES SUCKS BUT I MAKE UP FOR IT BY DOING BOTH KYLE’S AND A DETAILED KIT

Two other requests-

Could I please request how the Evans would react to their best friend (reader) admitting they're in love with them?

Heyo! I’m not sure how this would go but how would the Evan’s react to a nervous/insecure reader confessing to them?

-I hope this is satisfactory, even though I don’t think it’s what you two wanted<3

Enjoy! :)

Tate

-Would always just be interested in you

-Wanting to help you, watch you, talk to you, just constantly be around you

-But he’d also be insecure whether he was annoying you, so occasionally he would make himself invisible and just watch you

-Whatever hobbies you had, he’d love to watch you do them, paint, draw, write, play games

-If you played any instrument he would love to lay on your bed and listen to you, no matter how good or bad you were

-He would leave little sweet messages on the chalkboard and leave little post-it notes for you to find

-They would have fun little facts about birds or other trivial stuff but you would find them cute

-The occasional fact about something romantic, like ‘Every time you kiss somebody, your heart beat increases by 10-15 beats per minute’

-He might go a little far and leave a message like ‘Your dress looked pretty’, which you would find creepy since you didn’t know Tate was a ghost

Kit

-He thought of ways to tell you how he felt but because it seemed like your family was gonna live in the murder house for a while, cause you were all settling in well, he didn’t want to risk losing his friendship with you, since you were the only ghost with whom he really got along

-You walked down to the basement and said his name in a sing song voice, “Tateeeee”, “Come out come out wherever you are!”

-He showed up and you asked him if he wanted to go out on a real date

-He was obviously nervous, because you didn’t know yet that he was a ghost, but when he hesitated and you looked upset, he said yes right away

-You ran up and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush and laugh, and whilst you were at school, he got some things ready and got candles and a table cover so make your kitchen look like a restaurant

-He ordered McDonalds delivery and got your chicken nuggets under a serving platter for effect

- “We are dining on, nuggets of the chicken”

-Although you were a little disappointed and wanted to go out on a real date with him, you found his effort cute

-He definitely played footsie with you under the table the whole date

-Definitely walked you to your room

- “Well… this is me…”

- “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe”

-Kissed you

oh my god I got so carried away

-You would first meet Kit when you first come and move to Massachusetts

-One day you want to venture out and get an taxi to go to town, only a few minutes later to realise you don’t have your wallet

-You awkwardly tell the driver that if takes you back home quickly, you can get money and you will pay him right away

-But since Boston men aren’t usually so sweet, he just kicks you out, leaving you to wander the motorway alone late at night, far away from your home and hoping to quickly find somewhere to go

-Eventually you stumble upon a gas station, and as you walk up, a hand appearing on your shoulder makes you automatically turn around and push whoever touched you to the ground

-The man in blue uniform gets up slowly with his hands up defensively, “Hey hey, didn’t mean to startle ya, miss”

-You apologise, feeling stupid for this kind of encounter, but he doesn’t seem to mind as much as you’d think

- “It’s always nice to see a woman able to protect herself”, he smiles

-He offers to drive you home, and you thank him dearly, explaining to him that you don’t have a car yet, having only just moved here

-He offers to take you to buy one, knowing an awful lot about cars, and to convince you further, tells you that any man working in a car salon will try to sell a single lady a piece of junk for a high price

-You agree, thinking that the offer is sweet, and he takes you to buy yourself a car, to make the date even more fun, Kit tells you to pretend you’re an old married couple

- “Miss Walka over here needs a car, good Sir”

-At some point while looking at cars, Kit holds your hand and you don’t even notice

-He negotiates a good deal with the salesman, and you get a car together

- “Your husband just got you an awfully good deal, Madam, he’s a man who deserves a good meal and a cold beer if I’ve ever seen one”, the salesman laughs, signing the last of the papers before handing Kit the keys to your car. “Oh, he’ll get more than that”, you say to tease Kit, before smiling at him sweetly. Kit blinks at you, before turning back to the salesman and shaking his hand. As the two of you walk away, Kit looks at you in disbelief, the thought of your dirty words clearly plastered in his mind. “Did ya mean what you said back there?”. He says, as he opens the car door for you. “Whatever do you mean?”, you act stupid. “I was just pretending to be your wife, Mr Walka”

-When he has a crush on you, he gives you sooo many compliments

-Little dirty innuendos

-Would definitely call you and talk to you late night on the phone until one of you fell asleep (house phone if they had them)

-He’s the kind of person to tell you that he got a visit from a cute dog earlier at the gas station and it made him think of you

Kyle

-Every time you go to get gas from Kit, he gives you only a little amount, so you have a reason to keep coming back

-One time when you go get gas from him, you forget your wallet again, and he teases you about it

-He lets you off and pays for your gas

- “I owe you, Mr Walka”

- “How about a date?”

-You smile at how confident he is, and nod excitedly, having been waiting for him to ask you for a while now

-Kit winks at you and waves as you drive off, completely melted inside about finally getting his girl

-Even though he’s always confident, he’s still a little shy and awkward around you when he sees you in class

-If all of his friends are in a class messing around, throwing stuff, being loud, and you walk it, he tells everybody to shut up because there’s a lady present

- “Hey careful, make sure you don’t throw it at her”

-It’s not until he sees you at a huge party, that he’s confident enough to go up to you

-Even though he’s more than happy to flirt, he’s just not confident enough to do that last step and ask you out somewhere

-He’ll bring you a drink and talk and flirt with you, and you’ll definitely get the hint

-He slowly lifts his arm up and stretches it over you, trying to do the classic yawn move, hoping you won’t notice or mind. You look over at him and narrow your eyes in fake suspicion.

- “Didn’t you come here with a movie star? Surely you get handsome men bringing you drinks all the time?”, he says, motioning to the drink in your hand.

“You calling yourself handsome?”, you tease him. Kyle laughs a breathy awkward laugh and nods. “Well yeah”

-When you do ask him for a date, he insists that he take the initiative to plan what you two do

-Clearly wanting to make a good first impression, he’d take you somewhere interesting

-Aquarium, in which he’ll make up clearly fake facts about the fish just to make you laugh

-Bowling, just so he can tease you about how much you suck

-Mini golf, so, even though you know how to play, he can wrap his arms around you and help you put

-And if he does take you to the movies, you aren’t spending a dime

-He’ll also wrap his arm around you not-so subtly

Franken Kyle

“Whatcha doin there, hm?”. Kyle leans into your ear and whispers.

“Just in case you get scared, you can cuddle up to me”

“Kyle we’re watching the Lego movie”

Jimmy

-You’re a witch at the academy, and with Kyle’s very slow progress to getting better, both Zoe and Madison are getting slightly tired of having to constantly take care of him

-But you don’t mind, finding his Frankenstein state cute

-Whenever he stumbles into the kitchen by himself you always help him make food

-If he’s ever struggling with anything, he usually comes to you, knowing you’re the most patient out of them all

-Then, one night, all the teens in the academy go to a party, while you lay in bed

-But when the rain starts to get really heavy and the first thunder growls, Kyle rushes into your room, before slowly knowing and peaking his head out, clearly scared

-You let him come and lay with you, rubbing his back to calm him down

-Although no real words are spoken, it’s from that moment that you decide to take on all responsibilities relating to Kyle, the good and the bad

-He’s admired you from afar for a very long time, ever since the first time you joined the circus

-You were incredibly flexible, and always showing off to everyone and practicing on stage

-He would always come and watch you practice, cheering you on more than anybody else

-You called Jimmy ‘my cheerleader’

-It made him blush every time

-Amazon Eve always told him to just ask you for dinner, but the only thing that stopped him was the thought that you wouldn’t want to go out and be seen with a freak like him, especially since your body looked so normal that you didn’t have to hide anything

-Eve and Paul reminded Jimmy that it’s him who’s always the most confident in going out into the real world, and he mustn’t be scared

-When they all plan to go to a diner together, as a protest to being shunned from society, you find his leadership charming and happily go with them

-Even though you all get kicked out, you calm Jimmy down and take care of him when his dad beats him up

James

-You wipe the scars on his face and tell him how brave you think he is

- Trying to gain confidence, you take a deep breath before making the move. “Maybe the two of us should go to that diner”. Jimmy looks up at you, as if he expects you to keep talking. When the nerves hit you all at once, you begin rambling. “You know cause if the two of us go and they’re okay with that then maybe we can start going with the others one by one, and then you know we’ll ease our way back into society and stuff”. You laugh a breathy laugh, but Jimmy says nothing. With every silent second passing, your heart begins to break. But luckily for you, Jimmy speaks up. “Wait, are you asking me out? Like… on a date? To the diner?”. “What if I were?”, you quietly reply. He smiles wide and pulls you closer to him, “I’d love that”.

-James is definitely the least subtle

-Constantly giving you compliments, kisses and gifts

-Opening every door for you and listening very carefully to everything you say

-He doesn’t want you to even think about another man, so he overwhelms you with every way he can show you he likes you

-I can imagine him organising a big ball or event at the hotel just so the two of you can dress up and go together

-He is also the most confident out of them all, although he is a softie around you, he has no trouble asking you anything he wants to you

-He’ll kiss your hand a lot and you’ll eventually get the hint

Kai

- “I would be most delighted if we were to make our relationship more official, and vow fully loyalty to one another”

-You agree and he is over the moon

-Once the two of you are in a relationship, the compliments, kisses and gifts don’t stop

-He will give you your space without him, but when the two of you are in the same room together, he treats your precious time together as if it’s sacred

-He will approximately 43 seconds into your relationship begin planning how he’s gonna kill you

-You can tell Kai likes you when he’s harsher on you than he is on other members of the cult

-He’ll be pissed at you for being a distraction for him

-He’ll definitely tell you when he’s impressed with you, when you murdered somebody or helped him plan something

-Even though he definitely would not want it

-If you proved to be smarter than him in any aspect, he’d be furious

-You’d be sat on his sofa while he’s talking to you about having to kill Sally because she’s getting in the way of him winning city council

- “Samuels looked at where she lives, and it has no back doors, no nothing, it’ll be impossible to get in her house without smashing windows and causing attention”

“Why don’t you get Ally to go to her first? If Meadow convinces her to go to Sally to talk about the cult, then the front door will be open”. Kai looks at you with angry eyebrows. “We’ll sit in the car and wait for a few seconds, she’ll let Ally in, won’t lock the door straight after her, and then let them talk for a minute before we just walk right in”

-His ego won’t let him take suggestions from somebody below him, so even though he wants to be proud of you for being smart, he’s mad

-He’ll sit for hooours trying to think of any other solution he physically can think of, to not go with what you suggested

-Around the cult, he’d treat you like everybody else though

- “Y/N’s idea was brilliant, Ally just walked in and they walked straight to sit down, she didn’t lock the door”

-He’d praise you to encourage you to think of ideas, which he would later be mad that you have

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

-You’d find out how he felt about you during pinky power

-After being suspicious that he may have feelings for you for a while, you realised this is the only way to truly find out how he feels without him trying to manipulate you

-He’d ask you about something deep, and you’d latch on after he finishes a sentence to ask him your question

- “I have a question for you”

“Go ahead”

“How do you feel about me?”

Kai stays silent and continues to look you in the eye, taken aback by the question but not wanting to show it.

“When you’re with me, how do you feel?”

“I think you have real potential, you’re strong-”

“I’m not asking the Divine Ruler, I’m asking Kai, Kai Anderson”

He takes a deep breath before unintentionally breaking eye contact for a few seconds to think. You wait anxiously for the answer, and with every second passing you know what it will be.

“You’re special”, he starts, looking you in the eye again. “You’re valuable to the group, and to me. And I think you’d be a great… mother”. The last catches you off guard, not expecting Kai to be a family man or to think about this with you.

“You… you want me to… have your children?”

“I think our children would be indestructible, strong, powerful, decisive. They would be the seed of the better future”. Although it was a little forward for somebody you’ve never even kissed, you were beyond flattered, knowing how specific Kai is with traits in people.

“Let’s make a baby”, Kai says.

“Whoa whoa”, you laugh and unlink your pinky with his. “We’re not even dating, Kai”

“Why date if children is the ultimate purpose?”

“Then don’t look at is as dating… look at it… as getting to know the mother of your future children”

-Kai would love this and you’d soon end up dating

-And have like 6 kids

@milly-louise @amourtentiaa @kitwalker02 @tatestripedsweater @therenlover @maria-akira @tatesimper @thxc0untessesgl0ve @mossybank @ahsxual @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan @kitwalkerangel @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt @blackbat2020@elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

As usual, if you wanted to be added or taken away, dm me or comment!! I won’t mind! <3

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