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lovehotelreservation · 4 years ago

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Lineage

Summary: Business or pleasure.

Respite was hard to attain for the Warrior of Light and the Speaker of the House of Lords. Even now, with you and Aymeric oceans away for a belated honeymoon in Costa del Sol, the two of you weren’t exactly free from your duties.

The task?

To sire an heir to the Borel name.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Plus Size F!Reader/Aymeric

YEEHAW

WHEN I TELL U THE WAY I YELLED WHEN I GOT THIS COMM PROMPT ON MY KO-FI FHAKLFHAKLF 🥺💙💙💙💙💙🥺 THANK YOU TO THE DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS CHANCE TO WRITE ABOUT MY FAVORITE BISHOUNEN ELF MANS!!!

I HOPE U ALL ENJOY!!!

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Night had fallen but the air was still so warm, so humid.

The sound of gently rolling sapphire waves washing up onto pristine white sand, the exotic scent of surrounding tropical fauna mingling with the smoky burn of a BBQ bonfire malms away down the coastline, the gorgeously ethereal shine of moonlight above in the onyx sky.

From where you stood upon the polished wooden floor of your private bungalow suite with your window open, you were in the ideal position to take in all the sights, scents, and sensations that elated each of your senses.

Truly, it was a beautiful night to be in Costa del Sol.

Though, one whiff of the salt-tinged ocean air instantly took you back to the snow swept lands of Ishgard.

The city you had since called to be your home.

Something made official when you were finally wed to the one and only Aymeric de Borel.

He was why the two of you were in Costa del Sol in the first place.

Aside from finally having the proper honeymoon that the two of you did not get to enjoy after your wedding--given that the escalated rebellions in Ala Mhigo and Doma called for your immediate presence--there was one specific reason why you were here to admire this gorgeous Costa del Sol night.

Wearing nothing but an exquisite royal blue lace chemise.

It wasn’t too long ago that you had just finished up assisting Stephanivien with teaching a lecture to a new class of fresh-faced machinists at the Skysteel Manufactory when none other than a beaming Haurchefant came sprinting towards you the moment you emerged through the door.

“Many tidings to you, my splendid friend! I wish you great blessings upon the Borel heir to be!”

The first sentence you were prepared for, the second you were not.

“Borel heir...to be?” You repeated as your mind processed just what Haurchefant chirped to you.

Though, before you could ask for what he meant, the towering knight was suddenly made to bow by none other than one irritated Estinien.

“Oi, we were supposed to head out to Aurum Vale already,” he grumbled, just before looking towards you with a look of resigned exasperation. “As for you, it’s better if you hear what lover boy has planned for you himself.”

Without sparing another word to even begin to clarify, Estinien proceeded to drag Haurchefant--who happily offered you his goodbyes with a supportive thumbs up--away while muttering something about sprout greenling paladins who bit off more they could chew.

Your subsequent return to the Borel Manor where your husband was there to tenderly greet you with a loving embrace and tender kisses resulted in his affectionate expression becoming intensely flustered when you brought up Haurchefant’s sudden declaration.

The parchment letter marked with the seal of one of Costa del Sol’s most luxurious resorts that was tucked in his pocket was thankfully still kept as a surprise at the very least.

Thus, with the reveal that soon followed, you and Aymeric took off from Ishgard’s eternal winter to bask in the endless summer of Costa del Sol.

And why you were gazing out towards the evening tropical scenery with a fluttering heart.

After all, tonight was meant to not only celebrate the union between you and your husband, but to begin the journey of bearing an heir to the Borel name.

Though Ishgard was in the midst of a historical change within its society to break from tradition and move towards a more open-minded one, there was still an expectation for the House of Lords’s speaker to sire a child, the pressure of which had been pushing increasingly upon Aymeric’s shoulders during your absence.

While starting a family was a conversation that the two of you had spoken about in earnest throughout your relationship prior to this night, to do so now with the layer of political presumption from Ishgard’s governing body was enough to twist your nerves into knots.

A feeling that dissipated the moment you felt a pair of arms wrap tenderly around your waist.

Body heat exemplified by a recent hot shower emanated behind you, the sensation deepened by a chiseled bare chest pressing right against your back, pushing the warmth even further into your skin through the flimsy fabric of your chemise, of which contrasted with the thicker material of a bath towel that hung securely on sturdy hips.

And even here, in a tropical paradise that was oceans away from the inescapable snow that enveloped all of Ishgard, a delightful shiver still trailed along your body from the words that was murmured hotly into your ear,

“I must send my regards to the hotel staff for their hospitality. I did not expect to receive such a divinely wrapped present after my bath.”

Your head turned back, your eyes soon captivated by sapphire irises that gazed earnestly into yours with affection.

Almost overwhelmingly so.

You were used to seeing love akin to absolute reverence in Aymeric’s eyes whenever your gaze would meet his.

But unlike the light that glinted in his blue eyes from when he helped out off the boat that carried you to Costa del Sol, here on this night, there was a darkened, longing desire reflected in his gaze.

Though you had faced many a foe whose schemes spelled ruin across every inch of the realm, it was now that you suddenly found yourself shrinking back with shyness. Giggling amidst your overwhelmed nerves, you teased in response, “Must you charm me more, Ser Aymeric? Was our wedding not enough?”

“You know I will never have enough of you, darling.”

You froze.

Aymeric’s voice was already so dulcetly rich and deep, but the tone of his words smoldered with conviction.

His embrace around your ample waist tightened, a sigh of utter satisfaction escaping him as he beheld your full physique, his face finding its way to the crook of your neck for loving nuzzles. “Gods, when was the last time I’ve gotten to hold you like this? Every inch of you is divine--how I never wish to let go of you.”

Each word spoken was laced with need, all while his hands began to trail over your body in soft caresses, even while his fingers ached to tear off the lace that kept him away from your bare skin.

He drew away from your neck, calling out your name huskily as his eyes found yours once more. “Will you pardon this enamored fool for his selfishness during this holiday, my beloved?” His face closed the distance between yours and his as he continued, “I am going to savor this respite like nothing else--the beautiful time spent with turning you into the mother of my children.”

“Aymeric,” you moaned, feeling your knees weaken as you leaned further against him. What more could you even say at this point when he had you reduced to such a state by the conviction in his words alone?

While he looked all too pleased from having you already melting in his arms, his expression turned serious as he remarked, “Before we begin, I want to make this clear and certain—by no means are we doing this for the sake of Ishgard.”

His hands rested protectively upon your soft belly, his heart already thrumming with excitement to witness your stomach grow rounder and full with his child upon the months to follow. “As you know, starting a family with you has been something I’ve craved the moment you captured my heart.”

Aymeric brought his lips to yours for a kiss most tender. “We’re doing this out of our own shared volition--the House of Lords finally granting me respite so I can claim you over and over was just a blessing from Halone herself.”

Already overwhelmed and dazed by your husband’s intense and loving resolve, all you could let out was a breathless yet eager, “Yes...our shared will.”

A smile quirked onto his lips. “And so we shall share our love with no restraint.”

And then Aymeric’s lips smothered yours for a kiss that was most far from chaste.

Away from the window, towards the bed.

From bathing moonlight to flickering candles.

The kiss shared with your husband was broken for a moment, just so he could gently have you lay upon the bed.

But the moment Aymeric assumed his place on top of you, he became a man possessed.

A man possessed by his love for you, by his desire to claim your body with his seed.

He meant his words from earlier, his hands tearing into the lace of your chemise like gift wrap.

The composed and regal speaker of the House of Lords was nowhere to be found by the way Aymeric hungrily sought out your lips, his hands fondling your supple breasts, his mouth watering at the thought of soon getting to suckle on your nipples and lavish your core with the needy flicks of his tongue while your thick thighs squeezed around his head.

The fumbling yet earnest virgin during the first time you were intimate together was but a precious memory at this point.

Instead, here was a man who knew exactly what to do to elicit the sweet moans of his name off of your lips.

To make you mewl with each teasing pinch and indulgent kiss to your nipples.

To cause your back to arch in sheer pleasure with the obscenely noisy manner he stroked your sopping core with his tongue, all while his hands happily fondled your plump thighs as they remained pressed against either side of his head.

But that knowledge was how he kept you ever on the edge, making sure you remained a step away from your orgasm.

Never to be outright malicious--such would be an outright sin to commit against you as your husband!

Rather, to ready your body for the long and indulgent night to come.

He did not even spare a moment for you to savor his cock with your mouth, keeping you right on your back.

Long had he waited for this moment, and he was going to save every dribble of his cum inside of you instead.

Your lips parted for breathless pants, your cheeks kissed with red heat, your thighs quivering with anticipation once your husband was finally sheathing the full heavy length of his cock into your core.

The delighted hiss of your name from Aymeric’s lips would be forever imprinted in your memory, as would the tremendous pressure he soon exerted as he soon worked the tempo of his thrusts into something swift in its neediness and fierce in its fervor.

One hand locked onto your hip as he plunged his cock into you, the other reached for your breast to squeeze before he planted his lips onto your nipple once more, his mind already anticipating when he would be able to gulp down mouthfuls of sweet milk once you were showing with his child.

Such an experience had him pushing into your core with even greater intensity, of which dragged out yet another lovely squeal from your lips.

He could not resist from grinning, even with his mouth full of your breast.

Onwards he continued, the viciousness of his thrusts sounding out by the indecent slaps of his balls against your ass each time his cock plunged inside of you.

So free, so unrestrained.

Aymeric felt alive, he felt deeply in love.

His lips left your nipple with a pop as he lifted his head, driven by the desire to catch sight of the look on your face as he felt his orgasm approach, all while your slick core milked his cock even more with your own imminent release.

The helpless pleads for more of his touch, the obscenely yearning look of desire on your face.

Halone be merciful on whatever was left of his self-restraint.

Your name was uttered out at a gutteral low from the depths of his throat.

His eyes caught yours yet again, holding onto your gaze as his thrusts quickened in his frantic need for release.

“My beloved, you already enamor me so with those elegant curves of yours--”

You felt the drag of his hand along your body, cupping your breasts, caressing your sides, trailing longingly over your belly.

“--but then, when I think of you strolling through Ishgard, shining with a maternal glow as you carry around our child…!”

A visible shudder seized hold of his body, his teeth clenching with pleasure as he readied himself for what was soon to come, a reaction mirrored by you as you prepared for your own orgasm.

“By the Fury, I will not let you out of this bed until your womb is absolutely flooded with my seed!”

With a snarl, Aymeric captured your lips in a scorching kiss as he pounded into your core harder, hot sticky spurts of his seed soon being pumped into you with each thrust that continued on and on afterwards.

Your arms hugged around his neck, pulling him close as the two of you relished in your orgasms, the two of you smiling into your kiss.

Tonight would be the first of many spent away from Ishgard, but oh how the two of you hoped to return to your home together with a newfound soul in your belly.

#aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #reader insert #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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sunshinejihyun · 4 years ago

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The Color of Autumn is the Color of Your Love || Jihyun Kim

Author’s note: My second contribution to @mysmessengerdiscord‘s Apple-y Ever After event, using the prompts ‘Pumpkin patch’ and ‘seasonal drinks’

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 2320

Summary: The pumpkin patch wasn’t the only thing you fell in love with

Masterlist

“Make sure you dress warm, it’s gonna be cold outside.” You were standing at the bottom of Jihyun’s steps and you yelled up after excitedly claiming that you were kidnapping Jihyun to go to a pumpkin patch for the day.

“Do you think we should bring back an extra pumpkin so Jumin can carve one as well? We could invite him over and do it outside, so we don’t have to all stay enclosed together.” Jihyun was stumbling down the stairs, almost falling over as he attempted to pull on a brown boot.

“I think he’ll be okay, all he’d do is probably complain about how it was getting him dirty and how it smelled weird.” Jihyun listened to you as he pulled on his right boot and was now struggling with the left.

Once Jihyun had finished with his boots, he nodded and grabbed your mittoned hand in his gloved one. Turning to you with a big smile on his face, Jihyun squeezed your hand softly. “Are you ready to go?”

You squealed as he lead you out the front door. “I’ve been ready since last week when we planned this, you know that this is my favorite part of fall.”

As Jihyun got in the driver’s seat of the car, you admired the way his hair shimmered in the sunlight and how his pale complection contrasted with the bright oranges, reds, and yellows that were decorating the trees. He was breathtaking all the time, but in this scenery he was a piece of art. “Have you figured out what you’re gonna carve on your pumpkin?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet really, have you?” Jihyun asked, slowly backing out of his driveway. Jihyun had always been a careful driver, something that continually drove you crazy as you were an impatient driver, hence why your boyfriend was the one always behind the wheel.

“Not yet, but when I get the pumpkin, I’ll figure it out.” You replied, looking out of the window and relishing in the quiet time you spent with your boyfriend.

Hopping out of the car and stretching your hands over your head, you felt Jihyun’s eyes on you. “Why are you watching me?”

Walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, cold fingers pressing against your warm skin. Jihyun pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You’re just cute, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile dancing across your face. “You’re cheesy,”

“You love me,”

Blushing, you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “I don’t think so. Maybe a strong like.” It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, it was just that you both hadn’t said it to each other and when you did, you wanted the moment to feel right and this wasn’t it.

Jihyun smiled and pointed to a tractor pulling a bunch of people on haystacks. “We should do that.”

Your heart swelled as you heard the hint of excitement in his voice and you nodded your head agreeing. “Maybe they’ll drive us to a smaller secret pumpkin patch where there’s..” you hesitated, trying to phrase what you wanted to say nicely. “Less picked over pumpkins.”

Jihyun once again grabbed your hand and gave $2 to the worker who was counting how many people were getting on the tractor ride.

Sitting on a stack of hay next to Jihyun, you noticed a girl your age looking at him with a small smile on her face. You felt your heartbeat pick up as Jihyun made eye contact with her and smiled politely.

The dark haired girl was wearing a leather jacket that made her complection stand out but you weren’t going to admit that. You also weren’t going to admit that you felt a pang of protectiveness over Jihyun either. The girl blushed and flipped her hair off her shoulder. “I really like those boots you’re wearing.”

Jihyun smiled and placed his hand on your knee. “My partner got them for me so I’d say they like them too.” You nodded your head, heart rate decreasing as your blue eyed boyfriend rubbed calming circles on your leg with his hand. The girl turned away after that, clearly losing interest and Jihyun wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You have nothing to worry about, I hope you know. You’re the only person in my eyes. Okay?”

You nodded your head before resting it on his shoulder and closing your eyes, relishing in the way Jihyun breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. It was calming, and instantly your thoughts jumped back to why you were even at the pumpkin patch in the first place. “Hey Jihyun,”

“Yes, darling?”

“I figured out what I’m gonna do to my pumpkin when I get it.”

Jihyun’s hand rubbed up and down your arm and you were grateful for the little extra warmth he was providing on the chilly October day. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m not gonna carve it, I think I want to paint it.” You replied and Jihyun smiled.

“That’s a good idea, you should do that. It’ll last longer and not rot as fast.” He pointed out and you laughed at the way Jihyun always agreed with you, even when you might not have the best ideas.

“Look! We’re slowing down.” Jihyun pointed out and you squealed as you noted the little farm that was coming into view.

“Jihyun we have to go say hello to the goats. Please!” You tugged on his arm and he let you pull him all the way to the area sectioned off with goats around. “Ah, look! They’re so cute. This little guy wants to be your friend.”

Jihyun looked frightened as a goat had his head in between two wooden bars, stretched toward Jihyun and was trying to chew on the end of his jacket. “Yeah well I don’t think I want to be friends.”

“Aw babe he’s just hungry.” You cooed, reaching out to pet the goat. He nuzzled his head into your hand before retreating back into the pen.

“Hungry for me, and I’m not sure either of us want me to become goat dinner.” Jihyun joked, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He was so cute. I miss him already.”

Jihyun put an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him so that he could kiss your cheek easier, a small form of comfort to ease away the crease between your eyebrows. “Well let’s go find us some pumpkins, huh?”

“This is only the moment I’ve been waiting for since forever, Jihyun. Let’s go!” Jihyun let go of your waist, opting for your hand so that you had more space to move around to look at all your options. You were so absorbed in looking through pumpkins that you didn’t realize that Jihyun wasn’t looking at the pumpkins, he was watching you. The pure joy and happiness on your face was enough to make Jihyun not want to tell you that Halloween was his least favorite holiday, that he’d rather sit inside by a fire watching old disney movies with fuzzy blankets than standing outside in chilly weather and picking out some vegetables that he thought smelled funny and looked silly. “Hm, how about this one?”

Jihyun looked up from a pumpkin he was staring at disinterestedly at and he found you raising a perfectly round pumpkin in front of your body, a proud smile on your face. “I like that one, you should keep it.” Jihyun replied and you happily pulled your pumpkin closer to your body, content that you found the perfect one for you. “Can you help me find a pumpkin to paint?”

You nodded and set off on another search of another perfect pumpkin. Jihyun pretended to turn over pumpkins and look interested. He wanted to paint the one you picked out for him, he wanted to paint what you wanted him to paint. He just wanted to make you happy.

“How about this one?” You asked, pointing to a pumpkin on the ground that was a little lopsided but was a beautiful bright orange and Jihyun smiled.

“I think I could work with that.” Picking it up, he turned back to you. “Is there anything else you wanted to do before we left?”

You looked thoughtful before shaking your head. “Nah, we should probably take a tractor back and get workin’ on making these babies,” You slapped Jihyun’s pumpkin and smiled as it made a loud thumping noise. “Look spooky.”

Jihyun laughed loudly at the weird accent that you spoke. “I have no idea why you’re talking like that but it’s cute.”

You blushed as Jihyun complimented you. “Thanks, you’re kinda cute too sometimes.” You joked and grabbed his hand. Jihyun rolled his eyes as he followed you back onto the tractor taking you closer to where he parked his car.

“I had a lot of fun today.” The silence was broken as Jihyun pulled into his driveway. “Can’t wait to paint our pumpkins tomorrow.”

“Me too, hun. Thanks for going along with me, I know it wouldn’t be your first choice of a date..” It was now or never. Your heart was beating so fast; all you wanted to do was tell him you loved him, but you were afraid he wouldn't say it back or wouldn't feel the same. “Hey, I just-”

“I love you.” Jihyun blurted out so fast it didn’t even register what he said until he repeated it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jihyun.” You whispered back as you leaned over in your seat to give him a peck on the lips.

“The perfect ending to the perfect day.” Jihyun whispered against your lips.

“This is where the day ends?” You pouted, leaning your face in close to his and brushed your nose against his. Jihyun’s cheeks were red from the heat blaring in his car. “But I’ll miss you.”

Jihyun hid his smile by biting down on his lip and rubbing his nose against yours affectionately, just like you did a moment ago. “You’re more than welcome to come in and watch Halloweentown with me. I could make some hot chocolate?” Jihyun offered, hoping not to sound too excited in case you didn’t want to.

Without responding you opened the car door and hopped out before making your way to Jihyun’s and opening the door for him. His laugh sounded out across the block as you grabbed his hand and helped him down out of his seat. “Let’s go!” You tugged on his hand all the way up to his doorstep and waited patiently while he selected the right key on his keyring to unlock the door and let you both in.

“I’ll start on the hot chocolate, you wanna grab the blankets and turn on the TV?” Jihyun’s hand was resting gently on the small of your back and kept sending shivers down your spine, making it hard to concentrate. “I’ll hurry, you’re shivering.” Softly kissing your cheek, Jihyun’s lips lingered for a moment before he removed himself from your side and strolled toward the kitchen.

Making your way to the living room, you picked the top off of the ottoman and grabbed the fall colored blankets Jihyun had recently filled it with and you threw them all haphazardly on the couch before crawling underneath one and queuing up Halloweentown on the TV mounted to the wall.

“Well don’t you look comfy,” Jihyun observed. He had come inside and changed and was now wearing a mocha colored turtleneck sweater and some joggers. The sweater clung to his shoulders and chest in a delicious way that let you observe all the muscles underneath.

He handed you both the cups of hot chocolate and you took them, waiting for him to settle in and drape a blanket over himself before taking a large one and throwing it over both of your laps. He then reached to grab his hot chocolate, his fingers grazing yours lightly as he did so. Taking a sip of your drink, your body immediately filled with warmth and you snuggled into Jihyun’s side, looking up at him with an adoring smile crossing over your features. “You’ve got some whipped cream,” you gestured to his top lip and he went to wipe it off but you caught his hand and leaned up to suck the sweet cream off his lip. “I got it.” Jihyun’s cheeks were tinted red, this time not from the cold and he ducked his head to kiss your forehead before quietly pressing play on the remote and starting the movie.

Jihyun’s soft snores filled the room as the movie credits rolled across the screen and you smiled softly before pushing his hair out of his face. “Love,” he didn’t stir so you gently shook his shoulder and he sleepily picked up his head. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Nodding and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Jihyun gripped your hand tightly as you led him to his bedroom. “Will you stay the night?” He asked once he had crawled into bed, head already resting on the pillow. “It’s so late and I don’t want you to take a bus home this late.”

Silently you went around to the other side of the bed and crawled in, snuggling close into Jihyun’s chest and letting out a happy sigh as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you.” You said, cheeks darkening in the darkness of his bedroom. “I’m never going to ever get tired of saying that.”

Jihyun’s nose buried in your neck, kissing once softly on your collarbone. “I’ll never get tired of hearing it. I love you too.”

As you drifted to sleep, the autumn colors of the swirling leaves and pumpkins mixed with the bright contrast of Jihyun danced across your thoughts.

#mysme discord #jihyun kim #jihyun x mc #jihyun mm #jihyun mystic messenger #v mm #v x mc #mystic messenger fan fiction #zen mystic messenger #mystic messenger

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

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Family Vacation

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Yukiné, Yato, Hiyori Iki

Hey, everybody! I am super happy to present my story for When Gods Wander: A Noragami Travel Zine (@noragamitravel)! The zine is free to download, so be sure to check out the zine’s social to snag a copy of the PDF and enjoy all the wonderful content it has to offer!

Yukiné narrowed his eyes as he straightened up in the train seat, craning his neck to peer over the treetops framing the tracks. As he stretched as much as the cramped compartment would allow, he could just barely discern the pyramidal accents of the old Shinto and Buddhist shrines peeking above the emerald canopy of the forest. He plopped back down into the seat with a disappointed huff and crossed his arms.

Yato had insisted on traveling to Nara for their “family vacation” or whatever, but so far, Yukiné was less than impressed with the historic city. If you could call it a city; right now, it just looked like a bunch of trees. Seething from the anticlimax, he slid his gaze to his right, where Yato was leaning over the armrest, trying to flirt with Hiyori. Bitterly, Yukiné wondered if this was less about “spending time with family” and more about Yato desperately trying to impress Hiyori.

“Why did I have to come along then?” Yukiné grumbled to himself as he sagged down into the seat. He blanched when he caught a glimpse of Yato pursing his lips at him out of the corners of his eyes.

Oh, crap. I didn’t mean to say that out loud! Now he’s gonna gripe at me like some grumpy old man.

Before Yato could scold him, however, the train attendant cheerfully announced that they were approaching the Nara train station. Yukiné sat up again and looked out the window; the forest had thinned considerably to reveal well-tended gardens and paved roads framed with ornate fencing. They sprouted like snakes from the station to disappear behind corners in the maze of buildings, gray rivers sluggishly flowing through the collections of green grass and decorative rocks and bright green mosses. The pretty scenery was an improvement from the neverending expanse of trees, so Yukiné found his curiosity piqued, at least a little.

“Ah, I’ve never been to Nara before,” Hiyori trilled excitedly as soon as they stepped out of the station. She clasped her hands by her cheeks as her eyes sparkled with delight. “Wow, it’s so pretty! I can almost feel the history,” she chortled. Yukiné rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his cargo pants pockets; the novelty of the gardens had already worn off, leaving him sulking again.

“Hey!” he grumped with Yato elbowed him hard in the ribs. As the god flashed him a chastising glower, Yukiné scowled and rubbed the likely bruised spot on his side. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for? You and I both know you’re just trying to get in good with Hiyori!”

At his bold— and loud— accusation, Yato gasped and looked suddenly at the girl. Thankfully, she was as oblivious as ever, prancing over to a tourist center attendant who was handing out free maps. Yato scowled and clapped his hand over Yukiné’s mouth and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

“You’re such a brat, you know that? Just be grateful that I brought you along at all!”

Yukiné wriggled about, prying his mouth free of the grip so that Yato’s hand clenched his chin instead. He gave the god a dour scowl, so deep that the pink of his gums bared.

“Eh? Why should I be grateful that I’m a third wheel, huh?” he countered. Yato smirked sordidly, an artery bulging in his forehead as he struggled to maintain his composure. Yukiné turned up his nose disdainfully. Before either of them could continue bickering, Hiyori trotted up brandishing the map brochure, her cheeks flushed with elation.

“Yato, Yukiné, there’s so much to do!” she gushed as she flipped the map open to show them. Her index finger traced a path across the laminated paper. “The nice lady said that if we follow this route, we can see most of the heritage sites here.” She turned the map around to appraise the various locations, eyes shining.

Yukiné found himself relaxing just a little. It was hard to be irritated seeing Hiyori so excited. Even if Yato had dragged him along to play like he didn’t have any ulterior motives, Yukiné supposed it was all right as long as Hiyori had a good time. She deserved that.

So, he kept his resentful comments to himself as they wandered throughout the historic city of Nara. He mostly flitted along like a ghost, half-listening to Hiyori’s avid gushing and Yato’s lame attempts to be relevant. The temples were pretty cool, he had to admit, as he appreciated the ancient architectural craftsmanship and the surrounding gardens. Still, Yukiné really didn’t care for any godly beings other than Yato and could only derive so much enjoyment from musty old buildings, so after about the third temple, he was finding himself pretty bored. It was around this time that they entered Nara Park.

“Park” was a generous designation; it was really a series of interconnected paths leading to the other, grander sites. The roads were framed by short, stubby wooden cylinders chained by iron links. As Hiyori paused to debate which part of the park they should visit first, Yukiné found his mind wandering to a debate of his own. Maybe he should have blown off the “family vacation” to hang out with Kofuku and Daikoku instead; they’d be a heck of a lot more interesting than this, and maybe Daikoku would be nice enough to make him a snack.

Yukiné nearly jumped out of his skin when something nudged him in the forearm.

“What the—?” Gasping, he looked down to see a spotted deer with velvety antlers looking up at him with expectant, shiny black eyes. He blanched in confusion, looking around wildly to see that a small herd of the animals were engaging visitors all along the path. His frazzled mind failed to articulate that these were the deer Nara was known for, but thankfully Hiyori came trotting up before he could make a total fool of himself.

“Ahhh! So these are the famous spotted deer of Nara! They’re so pretty!” she crooned in delight. The deer just continued to stand idly beside Yukiné as she stroked its white-spotted, russet fur appreciatively. After petting it a few seconds, Hiyori looked at Yukiné with a bright smile. “They’re quite tame, Yukiné! Try petting it!”

Yukiné looked uncertainly at the small deer chewing on grass in front of him. It didn’t seem aggressive. Reluctantly, he reached out to gently stroke its flank. Its side twitched, making him recoil in fright, but the animal didn’t move to attack him. Again, he caressed the deer’s side. An excited smile slowly worked its way onto his lips as the deer allowed him to pet it.

“Hehe… It’s soft…” Yukiné chuckled quietly. He jumped as the deer suddenly moved to butt its head softly against its leg. “Wh-what’s it doing?” he squeaked to Hiyori, who just giggled.

“Relax! It probably just thinks you have some deer crackers. Wait here; I’ll go buy some, Yukiné.”

“What? Hiyori, no, don’t leave!” Yukiné protested in a high-pitched voice, but the willful girl had already abandoned him in search of the crackers. He froze stock-still in the middle of the path as several deer began to nose at his cargo pants pockets and snuffle at his hands. “Hehehe… Nice deer… Hiyori will be right back with some crackers… Please don’t eat me instead!” he fretted, sweat rolling down from his wavy blond hair. He looked up to see Yato lounging on a bench with an assuaged grin on his face.

“The hell you laughin’ at, Yato?”

“My cute little Regalia,” the god responded, his smirk deepening with amusement. Yukiné scowled, sorely tempted to whack that shit-eating grin right off the god’s face, but he was too nervous around the deer to make any sudden movements. Thankfully Hiyori came hurrying back with several packs of crackers in her hands.

She yelped in surprise as the deer suddenly surrounded her. She held the crackers up as they insistently nibbled at her clothes and craned their necks in attempts to get at the treats.

“Heehee! Patience, patience! Let Yukiné feed you, too!” she laughed, completely unbothered by the deer swarming her. She stretched out her arm to hand Yukiné some of the crackers, which he took reluctantly. Several of the deer splintered off to demandingly paw at him instead. He hastily drew one of the crackers and held it out, and one of the deer immediately clamped down on it. Crumbs rained from its lips as it devoured the wafer, making snuffling noises that had Yukiné chuckling.

“Heh… That’s it…” Yukiné said skittishly as he held out another cracker. Another deer claimed it as its prize, shouldering another out of the way. Yukiné hurriedly procured another for the disgruntled smaller deer that had been denied its treat. Little by little, he became more relaxed, feeding the animals with a happy smile. It wasn’t long before he ran out of the deer crackers.

“Wah! I’m sorry, guys, I don’t have any more!” he laughed as they nosed disappointedly at his pockets and clothes. One of them tried biting down on the pom-poms of his hat, which he had to hurriedly yank out of the way before it could be coated in goopy deer spit. After a minute of hassling him, the deer figured out that he had no more food and trundled off down the path to harass other park visitors. Yukiné watched them trot off with a beaming smile.

“Wasn’t that fun, Yukiné?” Hiyori asked breathlessly as she trotted up.

“Yeah!” he confirmed with a bright smile. He brushed the crumbs from his shirt as Yato sauntered up. Yukiné grunted as the taller boy slung his arm around his shoulder with a self-satisfied sigh. “Knock it off, Yato!” he whined as Yato knocked off his hat to affectionately tousle his blond curls.

“I can’t help it! My little Regalia is so cute <3” he cooed. Yukiné scowled in disgust as Yato nuzzled his cheek endearingly. “I’m so glad you’re finally enjoying our family vacation, Yukiné~ You were making Father oh-so-sad!”

“Get offa me, ya creep!” Yukiné protested and squirmed out of his hold to stomp a few paces down the path. Yato watched him with watery eyes and a wobbling bottom lip before making grabby hands at Hiyori. “Oh, don’t pull that crap!” Yukiné fumed as Hiyori took the god into a comforting hug.

“You sleaze!” Yukiné snorted as Yato flashed him a triumphant smirk over the oblivious Hiyori’s shoulder. Really, is Hiyori that much of an airhead?

“Hiyori-chaaaaan, why is our son so temperamental? Am I a bad father?”

Yukiné rolled his eyes and turned his back, mentally blocking out Yato’s wheedling. Instead, he watched the deer as they demanded crackers from travelers or lounged under the shade of the trees dotting the park. As he watched the quiet, graceful animals, the annoyance melted from his tense body, and a serene smile appeared on his lips. Unprompted, one of the deer trotted up and butted his hand, nuzzling into his palm. Yukiné petted it eagerly, relishing how soft its fur was.

Well, he thought with a small smirk, at least there’s something worthwhile about this trip. Even when Yato and Hiyori finally pulled him away to resume exploring the various temples, Yukiné felt buoyed by his interaction with the local deer.

Not a bad family vacation after all, he had to admit.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#noragami #noragami fanfic #iki hiyori #hiyori iki #yukine #yato #noragami yato

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renywrites · 5 years ago

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Drinking Buddies

Hey all! I've re-joined a fandom that is near and dear to my heart and I wanted to write something for all of these lovely people. Welcome to Good Omens!!

I'll be taking a break from Voltron for the time being, I need a change in scenery. Sorry to all those who are here specifically for that!

Without further ado; please join me and some drunk demons.

It was the one time a year where Heaven grouped together as a congregation to have their annual Great Plan meeting, where everyone was briefed on the vague idea of what could be happening in the coming year. Nobody was quite sure what to do now that the Apocalypse…. Hadn’t happened. Thus the vague meetings.

It was also the one time a year that Gabriel and Aziraphale dropped their respective demon partners at a bar and left them to their own devices for a few hours.

Despite popular belief, Crowley and Beelzebub got along quite well when there was alcohol involved. On this one day, they were reluctant friends instead of boss and subordinate. It was nice to have a change. Besides, it was also one of the only days that the Prince herself actually banished her flies and ran a comb through her messy hair, all for the sake of a few hours.

“Your Angel left you, too?” Crowley asks after they’d both gotten their drinks and sat in respective awkward silence for a few minutes.

Beelzebub scowls at her drink, a little more intensely than usual. “Yezzz. He’zzz running the damn thing.”

“You should’ve convinced him to cancel.” The snake scoffs, sipping his wine and glancing at the door. Twenty minutes in. This was going to last an eternity.

“I tried! He told me to buzzz off. Bloody angels and their bloody meetings.”

“Amen to that,” Crowley mumbles into his drink, ignoring the dirty look that earned him. Maybe he was picking up a few too many of Aziraphale’s linguistic habits. “So how is Hell doing, after you-know-what?”

“It’s more Hellish than usual, no thanks to you.” She scoffs. “Incredibly hot. Chaotic.”

“You should come and visit Earth more often, you might like it.”

Beelzebub rolls her eyes, knocking back the last of her drink and flagging over the bartender. “You sound like Gabriel.”

He makes a face, shaking his head. “Eugh, I make it a habit not to sound anything like him. Please don’t insult me like that.”

The Prince gives him a smug smile. “You dezzerve to be knocked down a few pegzz.”

Crowley ignores that. “Seriously, Beelzebub, your terrible Highness — coming up here may do you some good. You can… air out, as it were.”

“I quite like my office.” She says dryly, glancing up as the bartender pours her another drink. “It’zz familiar.”

“You’re festering.” He grins.

“I will not hezzitate to throw my drink on you, Crawley.”

“My name is Crowley,” the demon hisses, his yellow eyes flashing.

Beelzebub grins, tilting her head. “That’zz what I said.”

He considers her a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he sighs heavily, shaking his head and turning back to his drink. “You’re still insufferable, I see.”

“The best of us never change.” She waves a hand. “How izz that Angel of yourzz?”

Crowley pauses, a dopey smile spreading over his lips at the thought of his Angel. Ah, Aziraphale… “He’s… He’s wonderful.”

“Dizzgusting.” She says flippantly.

The smile vanishes, replaced with an irritated scowl. That seemed to be a constant when he was in the Lord of the Flies’s presence. “And what about yours?”

“What, are you expecting me to get all mushy?”

“No, of course not.” He scoffs. “The Prince herself showing emotions? Preposterous. You don’t have a mushy bone in your body, Bee.”

“If I even have bones.” She says absently.

“If you even have bones,” he agrees. “But no, really, how is the Archangel Fucking Gabriel?”

The Prince cackles, throwing back her head. “He’s an azzhole! Juzzt like normal.”

“I never expected anything less.” Crowley rolls his eyes. How Aziraphale had put up with him for so long was a mystery to him — and it was an even bigger mystery how Beelzebub didn’t smite Gabriel where he stood every time he opened his mouth. Perhaps she was just attracted to rude dumbasses.

“He’s quite good in the bedroom, too.” She says, eyeing a couple in the corner who were making out like they would die if they didn’t spend their time swapping spit in a bar.

Crowley short circuits, the breath leaving his corporeal form. Then he smacks his hand on the counter with a triumphant, “I knew it!”

She gives him a flat look, but there was a hint of color creeping up on her sallow cheeks. “What? Did you place betzz?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I believe I won. My dear Angel owes me.”

“Azz if you two aren't fucking.” Beelzebub grumbles into her glass, glowering at him.

“In my defence,” Crowley holds up a finger. “It most definitely is not as frequent as you and Gabriel.”

“So that’zz your problem!” She grins, jabbing him with a bony finger. “You need to get laid.”

“He’s quite soft, he doesn’t do well with frequent, er… activity.” He quips, shaking his head.

“Your job is temptation, right?”

“Well, sure.”

“Then tempt him, you idiot!”

“But…” Crowley entertains this thought a moment, then makes a face. “But he’s so soft…”

“A little too zzoft, if you ask me.” Beelzebub rolls her eyes.

“He’s an Angel!” He scowls. “They’re soft by disposition!”

“No, I think yourzz is juzzt a zzpecial case.” She rolls her eyes, her finger tracing over the rim of her glass. “I must’ve mizzed that model.”

“Gabriel was just designed to be an ass.” Crowley huffs.

The Prince’s eyes go a bit hazy, and quite possibly… dreamy? “He does have a nice azz.”

“Oooh… was that an emotion?” The demon gasps in mock surprise. “Does the great Lord Beelzebub have feelings?”

She scowls into her drink. “Zzilence, imbecile.”

“I’m impressed,” he coos, leaning forward and looking over his glasses at her, eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you going soft, Bee?”

“I’ll zzmite you.” She says flatly, eyeing him.

“I’m already damned.” He snorts, leaning back and picking up his drink again.

“You’re a damned fool, that’zz what you are.”

“Perhaps,” he muses, looking up at the TV in the corner, following the sport with hazy eyes.

“I don’t see how Aziraphale puts up with you.”

He glares at her. “He — He loves me, thank you very much. He’s a very good individual.”

“How quaint.” Beelzebub drawls, rolling her eyes.

Crowley eyes her shrewdly, pursing his lips. Then he huffs. “Tell me about your Gabriel.”

The Prince, who had been taking a sip of her drink, chokes and splutters with a fantastic lack of grace. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve, giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “What aboutmy — my Gabriel.”

The demon grins lazily, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, anything.”

“Are you asking about my zz— my sex life?” She buzzes, concentrating on her words, metaphorical hackles raised.

“Heavens, no!” Crowley cackles. “I couldn’t care less what you get up to in the bedroom. What I mean is,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Does he make you feel warm and fuzzy, your highness?”

“What?!” She squawks, flushing darkly, her gaze darting around. “No! Of course not!”

“I’m only kidding, relax.” He laughs. There was no need to suffer the wrath of one of Hell’s finest. “But really, what’s it like? Do you get along?”

“We get along well enough.” The Prince offers reluctantly. “He’s quite affectionate.”

“Is he?” That was hard to believe.

“Oh, yezz.” She nods, chewing on her lower lip. “Alwayzz wanting to touch me. He likes teazzing, too. The brat.”

That was shocking. Beelzebub was a prickly little thing. Many a demon had lost fingers for even brushing against her accidentally. “Is that so?” He muses, then gives her a wicked grin. “I’ll bet you love it.”

“You can’t prove that.” She says hotly into her drink.

He snorts. “No, suppose I can’t. Does he come into Hell to see you or do you go Upstairs?”

“What, you think I’d go up to that blasted place?” She scowls. “He comes to me. As he should.”

“How odd,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Gabriel doesn’t seem to be the type to come to Hell willingly.”

“He’zz quite willing when I’m through with him.” Beelzebub chuckles. “Angels are rather good bottomzz, aren’t they? Or does your Aziraphale step up?”

“What?” The demon laughs. “No, he doesn’t have an ounce of dominance in him! Although he is quite loud.”

“Yours is loud? Unfair.” She whines.

“It took some coaxing,” Crowley says smugly, unable to help feeling a tad superior. “But it was worth the effort.”

“I’ll take that into conzzideration.” She muses. “Although Gabriel isn’t as zzoft as your Angel.”

“Yes, Aziraphale is quite a soft boy.” He says fondly.

“Gabriel is a little piece of shit boy.” Beelzebub groans. “Speaking of — they should’ve been done by now. What’zz taking zzo long?”

“I don’t know.” He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe they’ll be here soon.”

“They better be.” The Prince mutters, squinting at the clock.

Aziraphale and Gabriel walked into the bar they had left their Demons in to find them drunk and getting along… alarmingly well.

“An’ then I said… I said…” Crowley was slurring. He looks up just in time to lose his train of thought and brightens, looking more like an excited puppy than a fearsome demon. “Aziraphale!”

“Heeeeey — it’zz the piece of shit boy!” Beelzebub crows, in a loud and loose fashion that was definitely nothing like her usual disposition.

“Oh, dear,” says Aziraphale, “they’re quite drunk.”

“Wonderful,” Gabriel says, his expression pinched.

“What did you get into, love?” Aziraphale asks fondly, walking over and steadying Crowley when he reaches for his Angel.

“Nothin’.” He gives him a dopey grin, his eyes shining from behind his glasses, which were knocked askew.

“Gabriel!” The Prince snaps. “Get your bitch azz over here!”

“There’s no need to be rude, Beelzebub.” The Archangel sighs, walking over to his own mess of a demon.

Crowley was looking up at Aziraphale like he’d hung the bloody moon, a dopey, drunken smile on his lips. The Angel chuckles softly, cupping his face and brushing his thumbs over his cheeks lovingly. “I think you’re quite drunk, my love.”

“Psshhh,” Crowley wobbles in his seat, waving a hand and accidentally swatting Aziraphale. “Naw… Jus’ a lil — hic — a lil…” He trails off, getting distracted by the smattering of freckles across the Angel’s nose. “Hmm…”

Meanwhile, Gabriel was in a similar position, trying to persuade Beelzebub it was time to go home as well.

“You alwayzzzzz… alwayzzz ruin my fun,” she pouts up at her Angel, her dark eyes bleary and her cheeks flushed from drink.

“I believe you have plenty of fun on your own, Bee.” He sighs, prying her off the barstool and slinging her over his shoulder. “Come on. Bedtime.”

“See you next year, Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls after them. “And, er… Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He sighs over the Prince’s drunken giggling. “You as well.”

The Angel turns his attention back to Crowley, who’s eyelids were slipping shut as he sagged against the counter. Aziraphale pays the tab, adding a hefty tip for the troubles the demons likely caused.

“Come on, my love,” he says as he helps his demon off the barstool. “Until next year.”

“Next year…” Crowley agrees, stumbling along as his Angel takes him home to tuck him into bed and nurse his impending hangover away.

#renywrites #hi im alive #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #beelzebriel #beelzebub #gabriel #ineffable bureaucracy #ineffable husbands #drinking #female pronouns for beelzebub

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doomonfilm · 4 years ago

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Review : Mank (2020)

Tastes may have changed during the new millennium in regards to film, and while it may no longer stand alone as the film of films, there was a time when the Orson Welles epic Citizen Kane was almost a shoo-in for spot number one on best film lists. By that rationale, making the decision to make a movie about the so-called ‘greatest film every made’ would seem like a bit of a fool’s errand... even more so when you take into account the many portrayals and stories that surround Orson Welles. If one was to climb this seemingly unsurmountable mountain, the direct approach does not seem like the most rationale one, and it was this stroke of genius that more than likely led the prolific David Fincher to create a modern day masterpiece in the form of Mank.

After a car crash puts him in recovery from a broken leg, screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman) is tasked by radio star turned director Orson Welles (Tom Burke) to write his next film, for which Welles has been given complete creative freedom by RKO Pictures. While dictating the script to his secretary Rita Alexander (Lily Collins), Mankiewicz (affectionately referred to as Mank by his friends and peers) reminisces on his time at Paramount and MGM Studios, his relationships with studio head David O. Selznick (Toby Leonard Moore), newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst (Charles Dance) and his mistress Marion Davies (Amanda Seyfried), the political machinations of Irving Thalberg (Sam Troughton) to undermine Upton Sinclair’s (Bill Nye) run for Governor of California, his troubled relationship with MGM studio head Louis B. Mayer (Arliss Howard), and the death of his director colleague Shelly Metcalf (Jamie McShane). Alexander immediately sees the comparisons in the script to Hearst, with whom Mank has a vendetta, yet despite warnings from all parties connected to the film and his life, Mank pushes forward in the creation of the controversial film.

Mank does a fantastic job of portraying a man with a healthy balance of personal demons and secretive actions that is dead set on writing a hit piece to bring down the man synonymous with American media. As a writer and orator, Mank has a deep understanding and hidden fear in regards to the power of his words, and a regret that surfaces when these powerful words hurt those that he cares for. With no true life-altering stakes on the table, the pressure in Mank is created by the limitations of an already outdated and stifled Hollywood machine sitting at the height of its powers, and the drive to create honest, moving art outside of said limitations. As a man, Mank stands on principles built by a history of tangible changes he has made on the humble, and it is strengthened by the consistent backlash he faces for these actions, and the combination of these things leaves him with a visible and seething resentment for Hollywood. Once Mank’s resolve is built up to the point that he can no longer be harmed, the focus turns toward punishment and manipulation of those close to him, which serves as a reminder of how the Hollywood system can find you irreplaceable in one moment and wholly disposable within the next.

On a subtext level, Mank is a movie about movies, and is hyper-conscious of the ‘script-to-screen’ process in a way that informs the narrative while also analyzing it deeply. David Fincher manages to transport his cast (and in turn, us as viewers) to a completely different time, landing us somewhere between a reimagining of Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard and a dark take on Singin’ in the Rain. The film also gives us insight into how creatives were able to wrestle creative independence away from a dominating and overwhelmingly controlling studio system. Despite being a clear big budget, Hollywood-level production, the film is honest about the intentions of the Hollywood system, with Fincher’s version of Louis B. Mayer speaking directly about the commodification of emotions, be it Hollywood being “the business where the buyer gets nothing for his money but a memory”, or how “what he bought still belongs to the man who sold it.

As a film that examines a film which in turn examined an altered version of reality, the historical observations have surprising weight to them. The way that Louis B. Mayer idolized the character and power of William Randolph Hearst is prominent throughout the film, giving viewers and film fans even more of an understanding why Citizen Kane was viewed as such a problematic film at the time it was released. By comparison, Mayer was willing to ignore a similarly power hungry manipulator in the form of Adolph Hitler, but only due to how it would impact his German box office returns, and on no grounds of principle. Mayer and Hearst also viewed Upton Sinclair as a direct threat, specifically due to how Sinclair portrayed Hearst in his prominent book The Jungle, so in turn, the duo found ways to undercut Sinclair socially and politically through the power of manipulated media : the social, entertainment, news and political power games the men created in the form of propaganda served to ruin Sinclair with no regard for the moral fallout it left on the studio side. In turn, Mank’s attempt to take power back was crystalized in the form of his Citizen Kane script.

Mank is an attempt at an ambitious but subtle companion-piece to Citizen Kane that works surprisingly well, mainly due to the ways that its throwback style compliments Welles’ forward thinking innovation. Despite being a modern day film, Fincher seemingly went through great lengths to present it in an old school manner... the film looks, sounds and feels like it used dated techniques, such as area mics, rear projection, visual expositional setups and a touch of German impressionism. I personally found the ‘cigarette burns’ digitally-inserted (I’m guessing) at the end of each ‘reel’ a satisfying touch that almost nobody will notice. The costuming, set design and score are deeply immersive... at times, I forgot that I was watching a film that was not even a year old. Speaking of the score, the way that Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross were able to make it so period-specific is an achievement in its own right, as it brings an enhanced sense of life and attitude to our perception of the film, while informing on what we see in a way that many modern day films now shy away from. The writing is snappy and witty, calling back to a bygone era without drowning in tropes, and giving the actors just enough to work with without venturing into the realms of overacting or chewing up the scenery.

Gary Oldman continues to display an amazing talent for completely inhabiting the skin of his characters, losing himself in a way that not many actors are able to, while leaving enough of himself in the performances for us to marvel at his abilities. Amanda Seyfried is a pleasure to behold in Mank, with her incredible growth as an actress on full display, including a wonderfully entertaining Brooklyn accent. Tom Burke does everything short of looking exactly like Orson Welles, capturing the youthful vigor and excitement of the director while also managing to display shades of the domineering character traits he became infamous for. Arliss Howard and Charles Dance lean into their larger than life portrayals of powerful men with little to no regard for the ‘common man’. Lily Collins serves as a dramatic foil to Oldman while managing to display deep personality traits of her own. Other notable performances come from Tom Pelphrey, Ferdinand Kingsley, Jamie McShane, and a surprising appearance from Bill Nye, with Tuppence Middleton, Sam Troughton, Joseph Cross and a few others chipping in with strong support.

2020 has been a strange year for film, and as a lover of the theater experience, I’ve found that my viewing of films, especially new releases, took a severe nosedive this year. I can say with complete honesty and certainty, however, that even if I’d seen every film of the year, I’d still stand behind my feelings that Mank is the film of the year. I wholly expect it to clean up at every award show next year, and it will serve as a perfect benchmark when compared to other films of 2020 that I haven’t seen, specifically as to whether or not they are worth seeing. David Fincher continues to make brilliant work, and even after a six year hiatus, he has returned like he never left.

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koganphrancis · 5 years ago

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Ernie & Bert Are Planning A Wedding

OR: My thoughts on Episode 11

Everything just hurts. Let me start with the “previously on” segment. Yeah, we finally get an Ian/Mickey intro, but it’s just like so many of the other intros-random characters outside yelling at viewers. Since there’s been little to none intimacy for this couple this season we couldn’t have caught them in bed? Or in mid-kiss? Nope. Ian can be drinking yet another beer tho. Pretty sure those meds we saw when Sandy grabbed Mickey’s dick all those episodes ago now was Mickey’s gerd medication. Ian’s clearly not being written as taking medication at all (yet again).

But as usual, I digress. The show starts with a somewhat cute reminder of how the Gallavich house is within running distance of the (now torn down in real life, RIP) Milkovich house. Unfortunately it’s Terry who reminds us. Ian’s watching Terry screaming up at the house while Mickey’s...off doing something without Ian. Seriously, whatever the opposite of “joined at the hip” is, that’s what these epic soulmates are this season :(

Anyway, Mickey walks downstairs and Ian unhelpfully informs him, “Your dad’s here.” Mickey says yeah and goes out to see Terry. Ian gives one more peek thru the curtain but must decide that Mickey’s in no danger, since next we see him, Ian’s sitting in the kitchen casually chatting with Lip about something that’ll never happen (Lip moving to Wisconsin).

Outside, Mickey and Terry draw guns on each other while Terry’s just now (?) trying to figure out where Mickey went “wrong” and turned out gay. Um, I know Terry’s been busy with prison and running his illegal enterprises (whatever they might be), but he’s just now trying to catch up on what he learned literally years ago when he walked in on Ian and Mickey having sex?

(Gif credit: jackorowan)

The scene at least gives us an iconic Mickey line, “I definitely love one,” but is it too little too late? It’s enough to send Terry on his way for now, after one last threat. Mickey calmly goes back inside, says “mornin’” to Ian and Lip, and starts to make himself a bowl of cereal. I list all that out to stress how non-stressed he seems. Ian says, “So, how’s your dad?”, and just like the, “Hi, Mr. Milkovich” and “Was Mickey adopted?” conversation Ian had with Terry in S9, so far everything is being written to show how this is just normal family life when it comes to Terry. But by the next scene the show will want us to buy that something entirely different is going on and I just don’t understand why they can’t find a narrative and stick to it. In the days since the episode aired, I’ve read so many head canon posts about how understandable it was for Mickey to flip out after seeing Terry, and how that brought all Mickey’s past trauma to the surface and of course it turned him into a groomzilla, but I just can’t agree that that’s what the show either set out to do or accomplished. Mickey’s been working for Terry, he’s been around him-it’s one of the few things about Mickey’s life the show has shown us since he’s been out of prison. Everyone in Terry’s world that they’ve shown is perfectly comfortable talking about the fact that yes, some people are in fact gay. Terry’s peers in prison, Terry’s own relatives-why suddenly in Episode 11 is this “a thing”?

Anyway, the scene continues after Mickey quips that he doesn’t think Terry will be his best man. Liam joins the scene and there’s very cute, well executed banter where Ian, Lip, and Mickey tell him they can each forge Frank’s signature. It’s a tantalizing glimpse of what the season could’ve been if these guys were allowed to all be in scenes together.

Mainly thanks to Myles’ AV Club review, I know that for whatever reason, the show decided to do a one month time jump between the engagement episode and this one. WTF? It doesn’t even make sense-it means somewhere that woman holding Frank captive was feeding him and clothing and bathing him? That Liam hasn’t been to school in a month because Frank hasn’t been around to sign him in? As if that wouldn’t have had CPS showing up at the Gallagher house (that has to be red flagged in the system by now)? Debbie being toyed with by that mother and daughter has been going on for weeks at this point? The only thing the time jump did that I care about was rob us of seeing Mickey and Ian telling people they were engaged. We deserved a little scene of Ian and Lip talking about it at least-give Lip the opportunity to ask Ian what changed his mind about marriage and give the audience the opportunity to hear some sort of explanation. “I heard some guy I know Mickey didn’t care about putting him down and I just knew then and there I had to marry him,” doesn’t quite cut it.

But so much for what should have been. In the next scene, Mickey slaps down a pile of wedding magazines and drops the news on Ian (as he hands him a beer) that they’re going to have a “wedding wedding”. Mickey needs a headcount for the reception venue-clearly money is no problem, so working for Terry all those intervening weeks must’ve been lucrative.

In a rare instance of the show actually cluing us in on someone’s thought process, Mickey says flat out that he now wants a “real” wedding because his fuckhead dad threatened to murder him-again-cuz he’s gay. So, see? AGAIN. What’s different this time? It’s like the show NEEDS there to be a reason, a mitigating circumstance, for two men to want to get married. They can’t just let Mickey and Ian have the natural progression of their relationship leading to a lifetime together. It’s so offensive. And again, for viewers that have been invested in this relationship for so long, it just hurts. Mickey’s doing this as a big FU to his father rather than as a big ILY to Ian. That’s OOC for sure-Mickey’s always put loving Ian first in his life.

In planning the wedding, Noel does get some great moments. Talking about the “little shits that light the candles”, and his choice of wedding song, and confronting the homophobic old bitch at the florist. And the literal scenery chewing he does at the wedding chairs rental place was, I’m sure, quite fun for Noel as an actor. BUT-the only moment we get where Ian seems on board/with Mickey in any of it is at the florist before the bitch sets Mickey off. Otherwise Ian’s like a casual bystander in all this-and that’s just not in character either. Why can’t they both be into making these decisions? Why, even if Ian truly couldn’t give a shit about seeing Mickey happy about these little details-why can’t they at least be affectionate with each other? I don’t expect Schitt’s Creek level adoring looks, but I do expect Gallavich level. Ian used to look at Mickey with awe even when Mickey was being his Mickey-est. Why aren’t they allowed to show that anymore?

I will say, I did love the stargazer lily thing-altho it’s all the more frustrating to realize this week’s writer must’ve watched at least the fan compilation video of Gallavich to know that detail was a very sweet throw back-why couldn’t they also write some kisses and hand holding in too? But anyway, “Beyond Blue” and Mickey looking touched when Ian said he liked the blue ones-we needed a lot more moments like that this season. Why everything’s getting crammed into these final, rushed episodes is beyond me.

Now I have to bitch again about what was wrong with the florist scene. Yes, I’m sure there are plenty of people like that woman in the world. But there are also plenty who don’t oppose same sex marriage. Why is it always such a big deal on Shameless? Either everything’s gay or nothing is. They’ve given us an entire squad of fire fighters who are gay. Debbie clearly can’t walk five feet in any direction since the show decided she was gay without her finding a woman DTF her. Ian had-what was the ridiculous number?-7 million Instagram followers when he was Gay Jesus. So ONE homophobic old lady in a flower shop means disaster? Ian knows how to look shit up on his phone, he proved that looking for wedding statistics. You mean to tell me he doesn’t know how to check Yelp reviews to somehow find a gay-friendly florist in a city the size of Chicago?

Mickey did get a couple of funny lines in that scene (killed me when he called her Grandma), but, again the show is throwing too much in the blender. Is the scene supposed to be that funny? If Mickey is dealing with past trauma, this is just adding to it. And Ian, who is supposed to know Mickey better than anyone (including the viewer) isn’t acting worried about him, he’s acting like he’s being dragged all these places against his will. So where’s the comedy in that?

Next there’s a scene of Mickey walking down the sidewalk and glorious natural light, looking like he’s glowing. It immediately gets ruined by Ian stopping in front of a store window full of bride mannequins and looking at them and then after Mickey, with the visual implication strongly suggesting that Mickey’s the “woman” in their relationship which is so outdated in 2020 that the show and the network should have to pay a fine.

Then we get the chairs meltdown, which gives us the truest line, “Why does everything always have to SUCK?” You’re singing our song, Mickey. Then the show proves that point for the millionth time by having Mickey call the chairs guy the R word-twice.

In the next scene, Mickey’s called in the always reliable important character of Mand..um, Sandy because Ian’s of no use to him. WTF? Mickey is still talking up grandiose wedding plans and Ian’s still trying to figure it all out. He tries to ask, “This is still about Terry, right? You don’t give a shit about weddings...” Mickey interrupts him to ask where his ring is. Ian has to stop and think and realizes he must’ve left it on the sink. He runs off before Mickey can tear him a new one. Mickey throws his pen down and says to Sandy, “I can’t even.” Sandy replies, “I can see why you called,” but on Twitter fans have pointed out her lips appear to be saying, “Is he even into this at all?” WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. After all Ian’s marriage issues, why is Mickey bulldozing ahead and not noticing what Ian seems to be feeling AT ALL. (Which appears to be that he’s once again regretting this whole marriage thing.) Why does the show make the two of them so blind to each other’s feelings now? WHY? Now that Lip’s living in the RV, do they even share a room anymore? They act like they never, ever talk now. There is such a disconnect hanging over the short time they are shown together in every episode. Not to mention they’ve been desexualized to the point of being a couple of Ken dolls. John Wells must be so thrilled he doesn’t have to sit thru dailies of them physically touching anymore. I’m willing to believe he hired someone to Jeff Giloolly Cam’s leg so he could have Mickey and Ian get engaged and married without any love scenes at this point.

In the last scene, Ian and Mickey are at The Alibi and Ian’s (having a beer) making one last attempt to simplify the wedding. After another “it depends who’s the bride and who’s the groom” eye-rolling moment, Ian asks, “Can’t we just be Ian and Mickey?” I guess not, when it comes to this show. In the past Ian would’ve loved Mickey’s tension away for him-letting Mickey find his release in multiple orgasms, not in wedding planning. Now all he can do is hire some guy with a guitar to show up at the bar and sing Mickey’s wedding song-and “sing” is a very generous term here. Props to the show for not having an amazing singer just show up out of the blue, but, for the love of my bleeding ears, couldn’t they have found less of a screecher?

Mickey is, at first, freaked out by this guitar playing weirdo coming near his booth, but when he recognizes the song he asks, “How the fuck did you know that?” The guitarist replies, “Little bird told me” indicating Ian, and then unfortunately goes back to the song and soon finds himself way out of his range. Mickey gives Ian a soft look, Ian gives Mickey one of the smiles he only ever has for Mickey, and Silver Tree becomes JW’s favorite director ever by not even letting us see them holding each other’s hands-that’s below the camera line. For all we can prove, maybe Ian and Mickey were just reaching for the salt shaker at the same time. Personally, I would’ve ended the episode with Ian and Mickey metaphorically and literally getting on the same page-they go back to the house, their double bed is covered in Mickey’s wedding magazines and color swatches and seating charts and whatever other wedding prep detritus. Ian, seeing it all laid out like that says softly, “Are you really doing all this for Terry?” and Mickey says, “Course not, it’s all for us. We deserve it.” Then they flop down on the bed together and get to kissing, right on top of it all.

But no, can’t have them intimate or even on the same side of a booth. So, you’d think that happy-ish ending we did get means Mickey’s out of his Terry-induced panic, but scenes and stills for the season finale will disabuse you of that hope.

My final thought is: I’m wondering how much, if any, of these wedding details we’ll see. The show is too cheap now to spend money on a church wedding with those gorgeous stargazer lilies and the little shits that light the candles. Plus why would you have Living On A Prayer sung again when you used it in this episode? Will one of them-or both of them-walk down an aisle? They’ve already got their rings and have been wearing them-I don’t see them wearing multiple rings each. If the show had any guts at all, it’d have them exchange cock rings at the ceremony ;P Will we even get to see the wedding part or will they go straight to some sort of brawl/reception? And, sadly, I’ve felt from the first time I saw pictures of them driving off in the Mercedes that we’re not going to see them get to consummate the marriage. I hope I’m wrong about all of it, but I won’t be surprised to be let down utterly-either by what they don’t or what they do show :( See ya on the other side!

#IanandMickey #Season 10 Episode 11 #Recap #It's a heartache nothing but a heartache

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hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

Note

newmann prompt for the summer words: 3. swimming and/or 8. fireflies! thank you!

3. Swimming and 8. Fireflies

from summer prompt memes here

me writing this was just. like. Manic Pixie Dream Newt

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

“Oh, Newton, don’t,” Hermann says. “It looks filthy in there. There’s probably all sorts of bacteria, and garbage, and...”

Ignoring him completely, and taking great joy in ignoring him completely, Newt wiggles out of his t-shirt and throws it at Hermann; Hermann swipes it aside just before it hits him right in the face. He scowls at Newt. “It’s not full of bacteria,” Newt says. He kicks off his doc martens. His socks follow. “Stop being a drama queen.”

“Snapping turtles,” Hermann says. He pushes his glasses up just to squint suspiciously at the pond. “I’m certain those are in there, too.”

Newt does a little more wiggling out of his jean shorts, then tosses those at Hermann too. He snaps the elastic waistband of his boxers. “What do you think?” he says, and grins teasingly. “Should these also go?”

“Have some decency, will you?” Hermann says. He goes beet red (visible even in the dimming light) and ducks his head. Newt has no clue why; one, there’s no one else around for Hermann to act scandalized for, and two, it’s nothing Hermann hasn’t seen before.

He laughs and snaps the waistband once more before retracting his hand. “I’ll be ten minutes. Just enough to cool off, okay?”

Hermann’s never been the outdoorsy type, not like Newt, who’s been rolling around in mud puddles and poking slimy things with sticks since before he could tie his shoes, but he managed to coax Hermann out of the apartment with promises of a picnic and drawing him up a bath later to investigate one of the nearby walking trails. Nice and easy and relaxing, but with plenty of interesting scenery--enough for Hermann to get some exercise without straining himself, but for Newt not to get bored. It really was nice, and Hermann held his hand the whole time, which is a definite bonus.

The trail also ended at a clearing with picnic tables and a dock out onto a large pond, and Newt intends to explore that pond before it gets too dark, by God.

“We’ve still got to make it home, remember,” Hermann calls out after him as he makes a beeline for the dock.

“I know!” The parking lot is literally five minutes from here. They’re gonna be fine.

He does a cannonball that turns into more of a belly-flop when he actually hits the water, and once his feet touch the bottom he starts to think Hermann may have been onto something. It’s a little...slimy. And murky enough that he can’t see his legs. And it kind of smells like dead fish, which means Newt is going to smell like dead fish, which means Hermann is gonna be ticked off when he inevitably stinks up the car. “Shit! It’s gross in here, dude,” he shouts. He waves his hand through the water. It’s thick.

Hermann’s made himself comfortable at one of the picnic tables; Newt can see him pulling out a mildly squished sandwich from his fanny pack. (Because Hermann, of course, wore a fanny pack, no matter how much Newt groaned and plead that they were going to be in public.) “I did tell you,” he shouts back, and then says a bunch of stuff Newt can’t hear, probably grumbling under his breath about man-eating bacteria or trash again or how he’s always one-hundred-percent correct about everything ever.

Newt paddles around a little bit and cools before he decides he’s had enough of weird plants and tiny fish brushing past his calves and climbs back up onto the dock, which creaks ominously. Then he gets another surprise: the entire lower half of his body is stained a vague green-brown, and when he swipes his fingers through it until he can see his regular skin tone, pond mud comes off thick. “Gross,” he repeats.

“You’re not getting into the car like that,” Hermann says the moment he’s within non-shouting earshot.

“Dick,” Newt says affectionately. “Toss me my shirt.”

Hermann takes a long, slow bite of his sandwich and chews just as slowly before he finally obliges.

Newt manages to get most of the mud off with his shirt, but he’ll need a shower to get off the rest (he doubts Hermann will let him slip into that promised bath with him), and his poor t-shirt is almost definitely ruined. He’ll have to go without it in the car. As for his boxers-- “Newton!” Hermann says, and chokes on his next bit of sandwich. “I said not to--”

“Oh my God, relax,” Newt says--seriously, it’s nothing Hermann hasn’t seen before--and pulls his jean shorts up in their place. He adds his muddy boxers to the pile with his muddy t-shirt. “There. Uh.” He shifts, making a face, and pulls on the zipper a few times. “It feels a little weird, but... Hey, can I have my sandwich?”

Beet red once more, Hermann nods and goes back to digging around in his fanny pack. He removes a bottle of Advil, a stick of chapstick, travel sunblock, five pieces of Newt’s favorite candy, and some cool rocks Newt found in the grass and gifted him today before he’s able to pull it out.

By the time they’re finished eating and Newt’s tossed their tin foil food wrappers into a nearby trash can, it’s dusk, and fireflies are beginning to come out. He catches one in his hand on the walk back to the picnic table. “Look at the little guy,” he says. He shoves his cupped palms under Hermann’s nose, and the firefly lights up immediately, almost as if in greeting. “It likes you.”

“It’s a bug,” Hermann says.

“It’s a bug, and it likes you,” Newt says. The firefly flits off. “Oh. Bye!”

Newt runs around and catches a few more like he’s ten all over again, and it’s fun, even if his shorts are making everything a little uncomfortable. Eventually he realizes Hermann’s watching him; there’s a big, dopey smile on his face. Hermann’s always smiling at Newt when he think Newt can’t see. It’s cute.

Newt smiles back. “You ready to go home?” he says.

“Hm?” Hermann says. He blinks. “Ah. Yes.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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jenomark · 6 years ago

Text

Floor Plan

○Pairing: Jungwoo x Reader (Female) ○Other Members/Characters- X ○Genre- fluff ○Warnings: a kiss ○Word count: 2,666

→Summary: You’re moving into your very first apartment! The night before you’re set to move in, Jungwoo goes with you to check the place out. Conversations start and soon enough you’re questioning your place in the world and your relationship with Jungwoo.

______________________________________________________________

Moving out on your own is scary. You thought you would be prepared enough to take the final step alone, but you’ve been feeling unsure of yourself, lately. This world is big, and although you think you know what kind of person you are, you’re not sure where you belong.

“You know, you’re the only person who offered to help me.” you said.

Jungwoo adjusted the box he was carrying. “I’m not surprised. Your other friends are always too busy for you.”

His words stung. These days, your old university friends didn’t pick up your phone calls, or they sent one-word texts as a reply.

Lol

Yea

Sorry

You told yourself it’s because they are busy finding their own place in your post-university life. Your mother told you when you were a child that this day would come.

People move on, she said. You can’t keep people. You have to let them go.

And you would have accepted this as fate and kept going on your path, but their pictures with each other were always on social media. You didn’t know what you were supposed to think about it , just that it hurt to never be invited anywhere.

“I’m sorry, “ Jungwoo said. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“No. It’s okay.”

Shifting the box into one of his hands, he rubbed his thumb against your cheek with the other and gave you a smile that showed his two front teeth.

“Really,” you said. “It’s okay. I wish they would tell me what I did wrong, or at least let me go instead of letting me beg for friendship.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” you said. “I feel like they’re all laughing behind my back whenever they hang out without me. I’m forever that loser picked last in gym class. Like, were we never friends? Did I daydream all those years? Some of them were there for me at my worst times and they’ve even met my family. I should probably stop asking to hang out. I’m doing this to myself, aren’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” Jungwoo said. “You have a kind heart.”

“I would forgive them so easily,” you said. “I had plans for this milestone in my life. I was going to invite them over to my first apartment and we would play games and get drunk. There would be housewarming gifts and chips. Things would be how they were always supposed to be. I guess that makes me a fool.”

“ I don’t think it makes you a fool.”

“You’re just feeling bad for me.”

You stopped in front of the door to your new home and placed the box you were carrying at your feet. Jungwoo did the same, albeit comically. As you placed the key in the lock, he looked up and down the narrow hallways.

“ Why did we come here at night?” he asked. “This place gives me the creeps. Is this how I die? I hate horror movies.”

“I need to make sure I have everything all mapped out for when we come tomorrow with my things.” you said.

“More plans,” Jungwoo said. “Unsurprising.”

You opened the front door. It felt like the two of you were standing in front of a walk-in freezer it was so cold. Jungwoo poked his head inside the darkness and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Maybe having plans can be a good thing.” he said.

You stepped inside the dark apartment and dragged your box in behind you. You pulled out a few candles and lit them with a lighter, placing them around the apartment.

“Your electricity doesn’t work?” he asked, hovering in the doorway.

“No,” you said. “My dad is coming tomorrow with his friend to fix it. I talked to the guy renting out these places and he was going to send an electrician, but my dad is weird about those things. He would rather do it himself. I think it’s his way of showing me loves me.”

You placed the lighter on the counter and motioned for Jungwoo to come inside. He grabbed the box and took three steps in before he stopped.

“I’m scared.” he said.

“But I lit candles.”

Sensing your eagerness, Jungwoo let his face relax into a smile. He put his box next to your box (they’re hugging! he said) and looked around at the candlelight making shapes against the wall.

“ It’s …..homey.” he said.

“I know it’s small.”

“It’s a shoe box”

“And there is no working lights right now.”

“We’re going to die any minute.”

“But it's my first place and it was really close to my job.”

“Are you happy?”

“I think so?”

“Well, that’s all that matters,” he said. “ Now, let’s eat.”

Jungwoo plopped himself onto the hardwood floors and hugged his knees to his chest. You shut the front door and sat yourself across from him. As you were taking containers out of a bag, he watched you intently.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked.

“No. Nothing's wrong.”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

“I’m just happy I came.”

You handed Jungwoo his cheeseburger and wondered how you had managed to find someone like him at the right time. When you left school, you were a little aimless. You moved back in with your parents and tried your hardest to get into the job market. Every day you took the train into the city to “beat the pavement” as your dad put it. With the interviews and the frustrations piling up and the stress threatening to break you, you spent the train ride home encased in your own misery.

“Do you remember the day we met?” you asked him.

“How could I forget?” Jungwoo said, licking cheese off his thumb. “It was the best day of my life.”

You didn’t see him at first, but he said he saw you. When you pressed him for more details, he told you he’d never seen someone look so sad. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you, either. He would spend his commute thinking about how he could make you smile, but he kept to himself because he was shy and didn’t want you to make you uncomfortable.

“What was my general appeal? I can tell you what yours was. You have a perfect smile. I can tell people trust you easily. ” you said

“You looked lonely”

Your face fell. “Is that it?”

“How many times do I have to tell this story? You know I love you.”

“Until I feel less bad about myself.”

Jungwoo laughed. “Is this the story we’ll tell our kids?”

“Oh, definitely.”

The story started off the same: it was nighttime. Jungwoo, who always said you met around quarter to 8 at night, was wrong. You knew the right time because you had looked at your phone beforehand and that is when you noticed him sitting across the aisle, on the opposite side. It was 9:13 p.m. He was wearing a dark denim jacket and his hair was dyed copper (a mistake, he had said ). It’s not that you were attracted to him, because attraction meant a lot of things to you, it’s just that he stood out. Usually, people on the train blurred past like the scenery outside of the window, but Jungwoo sat motionless. He was pretty, and his legs were so long they bumped into the train table. His eyelashes were thick, his lips full and pouty. He was beautiful.

“Do you know that when the train stopped, I really thought we were going to die?” Jungwoo said.

“You cried! I had never seen anyone react like that.”

The train had stopped, jerking you both a little. There was no one else in the train car but the two of you, so all you could look at was each other. When it came to a full stop, Jungwoo moved from his seat and sat across from you without saying anything. You had never seen anyone move like that. Jungwoo moved so delicately that you were mesmerized.

“I was terrified,” he said. “I was on that train every day and it had never stopped like that. And it was dark. And raining.I thought for sure a mass murderer was going to come out from the shadows with an axe.”

You giggled at the memory. He had looked like a child sitting across from you. His bottom lip stuck out like he was going to burst into tears and his eyes grew wide. You didn’t know what to do, so you offered him your hand. It was something your mother did for you when you were young to soothe you.

“I’m really affectionate. I liked it.” he said.

Both of you sat in the darkness of the apartment, chewing your food in silence. Jungwoo gazed out of the lone window in what was meant to be your living room. The view was of the brick building next to it.

“We never found out what happened.” you said.

When Jungwoo brought his attention back to you, he got this odd look on his face. You knew his expressions well enough to know that he was thinking hard about something. The two of you weren’t dating. You had never entertained the idea. You hung out occasionally when you were both free. He would call you up and ask you out to lunch. You would text him to see how he was doing. There were moments that made your heart swell, when you would meet up again on the train whenever your new work schedule allowed it. Now that you lived within walking distance, you were not looking forward to seeing him less. Life without Jungwoo seemed like a life you didn’t want to live at all.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“It is,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Let’s not talk about the past. Let’s talk about the future.”

Jungwoo stood up and paced around your living room. You loved when he was chaotic like this. He enjoyed making people laugh, whether it made him look like an idiot, or he brought you in on the joke. He had a way of speaking that made you listen, that made you feel good on the inside. He bounced when he walked, his hands moved animatedly, and his face lit up when he had a brilliant idea.

“There is no bedroom in this place?” he asked.

“There is not. My bed will be somewhere in this room.”

“This place is hardly big enough for a mouse,” Jungwoo said. He made mouse ears with his fingers and tilted his head. “Where do you plan on putting it?”

“ I was thinking by the window, but now that I’m looking at it, I’m not so sure.”

“What if…” he said “ We put it right here.”

He stood in the spot where you were going to put your couch. You shook your head no. That spot was a place where a couch should go and nothing else.

“Close your eyes and imagine it,” he said.

“If I close my eyes, how can I imagine it?”

Jungwoo walked over to you, grabbed your hands and pulled you to your feet. You almost stumbled over onto him, but he set you right. Jungwoo always set you right.

“Close your eyes and no peeking.”

You did as you were told. There was something about Jungwoo that made you see life a little differently. When you told your mother about him, she asked if the pair of you were dating. When you said no, she seemed surprised. There was never any plan to date, and although the thought invaded your mind often, you were just going to be friends.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Don’t look!”

You heard his shuffling feet all around you. By the sounds of it, you could tell he was digging around in the boxes you brought. The only thing inside was a few kitchen utensils and dish towels. Truth is, you don’t own much furniture or any appliances. You were moving into this apartment without a clue of what really went into surviving your own first place. You read in an article somewhere that people living on their own sometimes forget simple things like sugar and dryer sheets. You made a list somewhere of what you would need to buy once you were settled.

“Can I look now?” you asked.

A whoosh of air hit you as Jungwoo came up behind you . He was so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“Just wait.” he whispered.

Jungwoo brought his hands up to your eyes and covered them. This was the first time his hands touched you since that day on the train. Back then, it was easy for you to let him touch you because you could control it. His hands were soft and warm. Feeling his skin on yours now gave you a feeling of loss that scared you.

“ Don’t think too much about it,” he said. “If you overthink, you’ll ruin it.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to just really imagine it. Forget your plans.” he said. His voice was close to your ear and it brought shivers down your back.

“Okay.” you said again.

When Jungwoo removed his hands, it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the scene. Nothing had changed in the room: It was still bare and cold and small. When you looked down at the floor, Jungwoo squealed in delight. He moved in front of you and waved his hands in the air like he was a salesman.

“The bed could go here. It’s perfect. It would tie the room together.” he said.

On the floor, spoons, forks and knives were laid out in a rectangle to mimic the size of your bed. He had folded his jacket into a makeshift pillow and placed it at the head of the bed.

“Can you see it?” he asked. “The vision.”

Jungwoo stepped inside the “bed” and laid down on the floor, placing his head on the pillow. He patted the floor next to him. You didn’t join him. Instead, you walked around the perimeter and tried hard to think about it.

“I’m not sure…”

“About me, or the bed?”

His words made you stop in place. Jungwoo smiled his two-teeth smile as a way to break the tension in the room, but it was still pulling you to shreds. Quietly, you stepped over the silverware barrier and laid down beside him. The two of you looked up at the ceiling, heads inches apart on the pillow.

“What do you think would happen if you stopped being in control?” he asked. “ If you stopped trying to get people to like you, if you stopped doing things the way you think they should be done, and if you finally did all the things you wanted to do? Don’t think about it. Answer truthfully and honestly.”

Jungwoo turned on his side and rested his head in his hand . He was so close to your face you could turn your cheek and your lips would be on his lips. It didn’t occur to you how much you wouldn’t mind kissing him until then.

“I think ….”

“Wrong. Try again.”

You always avoided the topic of you and Jungwoo, feigning disbelief when someone suggested you should date. Maybe there were a lot of reasons you didn’t understand for doing that, but the one that sticks out to you most is that you never expected him.

“My world would implode.” you said.

“Only small parts of it.”

You turned your head. You pressed your lips against his lips softly. The kiss was exactly how you thought it would be and also nothing like you thought it would be. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to stop being who you are, but you knew that if you wanted to, you had a perfect place to start.

#jungwoo #nct #jungwoo fanfiction #nct fanfiction #kim jungwoo #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream

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idea-garden · 5 years ago

Text

oneshot #8 - when you’re tired of breaking other hearts

Minseok/OC

Written by @idea-garden

Requested by several anons

SMUT / 18+ / cheating / angst / violence? / dirty talk /

3,811 words

Minseok is a cheater. How will SooRi deal with this?

If you like this like it, reblog it, and follow me!

This is trash.

ALL PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS | RULES | ASK | MY WRITING

‘I hope you’re gonna wear something sexy for me…’

Choi SooRi eyes scanned the message multiple times with a wide grin.

Kim Minseok.

They weren’t really a thing, but SooRi would make time in her busy schedule for Minseok to stop by and blow her back out or rearrange her guts.

This weekend would be no different. SooRi had a long-standing event marked on her calendar. Her friend’s, Jung Jessi, birthday was this weekend. She was very excited to have something fun to do for the first time in a while. So excited, in fact, she decided to arrive a day early. It was also a chance for a mini-escape. Jessi decided to have a smaller get together at their family’s lake house.

SooRi packed up her car with a large overnight bag and a neatly-wrapped gift. She couldn’t keep the smile from spreading over her face as her phone vibrated. She already knew who it was.

‘Keeping me in suspense, huh? Am I going to have to spank you for that?’

‘Keep feeding yourself these delusions…,’ she punched back quickly.

The ride was a comfortable one. Sure, it was a touch on the lonely side, being in her car for a two hour drive. However, she made it fun between blasting hits from the 2000s and fielding phone calls from friends and family.

She sighed with relief as one of the signs she passed was the actual location of the party. SooRi made record driving time simply by packing her purse full of snacks and limiting fluids.

Her eyes widened in awe of the gorgeous scenery. The trees were tall and full, the lake was a radiant, clear shade of blue, and the lake house was an imposing structure. She wouldn’t have minded living there as her full-time residence. It was beautiful, isolated, and situated in a cute little town outside the major metropolitan areas.

She hopped out of the car and pulled her bags over her shoulder, gingerly carrying the birthday gift. SooRi bought Jessi the latest model Keurig, since she could never seem to stop fawning over hers.

The holographically-wrapped present must’ve attracted the attention of her host, as the young person ran out to greet her before SooRi’s feet could firmly plant themselves anywhere near the doorstep.

“SooRi! I’m so happy you’re here! Here, let me help you with these!” Jessi reached out for the bags, tempted to only stop at the gift.

“Thanks,” SooRi followed the younger woman inside. “This place is nice. How come this is the first time you’ve invited me out here?”

“This is the first time I’ve been allowed visitors that weren’t blood relatives. You know how my parents are...a mess.”

“I’ve heard,” SooRi couldn’t help snorting a laugh.

“Yeah, they mean well. Enough about them! You’re the first one here, which means you get first pick of the rooms!”

The pair ran upstairs inspecting the best rooms in the house. SooRi settled on what she figured was usually Jessi’s room, an overwhelming space that was just barely smaller than the master bedroom.

“I can’t believe Junmyeon didn’t get here before me.” SooRi plopped down on the neat bed with her bags.

“You did. Take a victory lap, champ. Junmyeon wanted to make a trip out of it. He’s gonna get here later with Jongin, Kyungsoo, and Minseok. I don’t think you’ve met him before.”

SooRi’s mouth dried, but she quickly righted herself, before her keen friend noticed her change in demeanor. “Kyungsoo?”

“No! I know you know Kyungsoo, silly! I was talking about Minseok.”

“The name sounds familiar.” ‘Very familiar. In fact, I think I’ve screamed it a few times.’

“He was at Baekhyun’s new year’s party, this year. Maybe, you met him there and forgot?”

That was where it all started for SooRi.

Minseok was a suave bastard that knew all the right things to say to get in her pants. Kim Minseok had full lips that spewed shit, but tasted like candy. He was the complete opposite of what SooRi had in her mind a med student should be. He was a frat boy in grad school, essentially. She on the other hand was a much more stable individual, working on a master's, and not getting blackout drunk every weekend.

Nothing seemed to matter when they were together. They made each other feel good. Besides, Minseok claimed their hookups helped him revise his anatomy notes.

She figured that was a load of bullshit, but with a passion for education, she was happy to do her part in preparing the country's next generation of physicians.

The time passed quickly as the two women made a few last-minute adjustments to prepare for the deluge of guests that were to descend on the cabin soon.

SooRi could only hope she was being discreet as she messaged Minseok back and forth, smirking wildly at his every response.

Early the next morning, SooRi was jolted out of her sleep by the sound of a honking SUV and four, rowdy boys. Irritated, she laid in bed with her eyes closed, refusing to move a single muscle in the hopes she could resume her rest. It wasn’t until she could hear her friend greeting her boyfriend emphatically that SooRi’s heart began to race.

‘Oh god. He’s here. Now?! I’m not even lucid, yet.’

She bolted out of bed, zipping around to the bathroom. SooRi became more frantic as she heard the group ascend the stairs. She snatched the scarf from her hair, pulling her wild curls into neat spirals that framed her round face.

There wasn’t much she could do to her oversized tank top and sleep shorts before Minseok neared her door. She could hear her friend directing each man to their room.

"Who's in here?" SooRi swore she could feel him smirking as he spoke.

"Oh, SooRi! You'll meet her later, she's great."

"Oh, I bet." The low growl in his voice made goosebumps come over her skin and her cheeks flush.

The shuffling of feet and doors closing brought her heart rate down to a fairly normal range. She had avoided potentially resembling a homeless beggar, that was three years deep in a heroin addiction.

The day drug itself at a devastating crawl. SooRi and Minseok had to pretend they'd only just met, while casually eye-fucking across the room. More and more people entered the space, walls seeming to close in a little more as each person joined. By night, everyone sat around in the den, music lowering as Junmyeon and SooRi brought out Jessi's birthday cake.

The pair started the traditional 'Happy Birthday' and soon the rest of the guests joined in on the song. Junmyeon punctuated his elation with a quick peck on the cheek, urging her to blow out the candles and make a wish.

Minseok slithered behind SooRi as she stood back viewing the sweet moment.

"If I was the birthday boy, I'd wish for you bent over in front of me and covered in frosting."

"I'll skip the yeast infection, thanks!"

"You should trust me, I'm practically a doctor, after all."

Minseok couldn't help the deep chuckle he made as she scoffed at him.

"You're probably right, that it's not the best wish. I'd be sorely disappointed that my cake wouldn't taste nearly as delicious as you."

SooRi's eyes scanned him and the immediately vicinity. Trained to the floor, she looked behind Minseok.

"What are you looking for, babe?" She chewed the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. She couldn't help how much she liked it when he would use any affectionate term for her--no matter how small.

"Just checking for any secretion on the floor. It’s amazing how you don't leave a trail, to be so greasy, Minseok. It's impressive."

"How about we sneak off to your room for a minute, and I can give you much more to be impressed about?"

Her thighs clenched tightly, while her mouth dried. She tried to respond, but a hoarse croak met his ears before she could get her bearings.

"You know, you're lucky you're cute," SooRi winked at him before turning on her heels and heading towards her room.

'Am I a joke or just desperate?' The thought crossed her mind for only a second, when a gust of Minseok's cologne hit her nostrils.

He smelled great. If there were pheromones in the air, they definitely belonged to him, and he was purposely trying to fuck her up.

The pair burst through the room as an awkward unit of twisting limbs.

Minseok’s cool hands slid up her smooth back to lift her crop top up, both of their arms stuck in the fabric as they continued to kiss. The fiery kisses ceased for a moment just long enough for him to strip her out of the top and her flowing, palazzo pants.

He lifted SooRi in his arms and she took no time to wrap her legs around his tall body. They made it to the bed and he dropped her gently on her back.

His nimble fingers flicked her clit a few times, his smile growing wider as she became more desperate for him.

“Looks like you’ve been ready for this, huh?” His head dropped to her chest, tongue peeking out to swipe her nipples, fingers still dancing between her folds.

“Fuck me already,” she smirked at him through hooded eyes.

“Ask nicely, my sweet.”

Minseok pulled her nipples gently through his teeth, before kissing a path up to her neck.

“Minseok, can you please take your dick out and fuck me?” SooRi stated with clenched teeth.

“Better, but not great. We’ll work on it,” he winked, but followed her command.

He unbuckled his jeans and dropped them just low enough to reveal himself. His large hands ran over SooRi’s smooth thighs, pulling them apart.

Minseok cut his eyes over her, biting his lip at the sight. His lowered his head, tongue darting out to brush over her clit. He stiffened at her needy little whimpers and he lapped at her sensitive nub.

He wanted to bury his tongue inside her, but liked the fact that she was much more assertive than usual. He took pity on her squirming body and decided to give in. Minseok lined himself up with her entrance and eased his length inside her.

She winced at the foreign feeling. It’d been too long since they’d last been intimate. He was always so busy with something.

Her moans were breathy and hoarse, but uniquely her. Minseok grunted already ready to fill her with his baby gravy. SooRi felt amazing latched around him. His hips snapped at a faster pace, becoming more brutal as her moans grew louder.

“That’s it, baby,” a thin film of sweat covered his forehead.

His nails dug firmly into her thighs, becoming rougher and losing self-control. SooRi lifted her legs, pulling her knees to her chest, opening herself even more to Minseok. He pawed at her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

The room was stuffy with the heat of their bodies bucking wildly. His release crept up, bubbling at the base of his abs.

SooRi gasped with excitement as Minseok’s hand closed around her throat. His grip grew firmer with his need to orgasm.

She grinned as he hissed when she drug her nails over his chest. “I’m close, Minseok.”

He was thankful for that. Her tight, wet heat was about to milk him for everything he was worth.

“Cum for me, baby. Cream on my dick.”

SooRi winced and contorted her expressions as the wave of pleasure flooded her body. Her manicured fingers wrapped around the muscular arm holding her throat. Her body shook with primal convulsions. There was nothing left, Minseok had taken it all.

In succession, Minseok stumbled backwards slightly and exploded over her thighs. The stream of fluid practically leapt out to the rhythm of the music blasting downstairs. SooRi continued to twist as he drained himself over her.

“Damn, I’ve missed you.” They spoke in unison.

Minseok took a seat beside SooRi, pulling her close, for what felt like an eternity before they cleaned themselves.

The pair traveled back to the rest of the party. Minseok had his hand at the small of SooRi's back, holding her closely as if she were his. She smiled up at him and he returned with a brighter one.

They looked off to the guests dancing and chatting with each other, choosing to stay off to the side with each other.

Minseok tucked a piece of hair behind SooRi's ear as she discussed her plans for the future. Her cheeks grew pink and his touch sent her heart aflutter. Their conversation grew deeper, soon the surroundings weren't even noticeable.

A surprised shriek brought their attention to the source. The door opened and the color drained from Minseok's face.

He took a healthy step away from SooRi and eased into the most awkward, hostage situation smile you'd ever see.

The host enveloped a smiling woman, greeting her enthusiastically, showing her around and introducing her to other guests. SooRi looked in her direction, but didn't think much of it. She paced closer to Minseok as he remained preoccupied with the whereabouts of the newcomer.

As if he felt her body felt encroaching on his personal space, he inched away.

'Well, fuck me, I guess.'

The stranger made it around to SooRi and Minseok. His eyes shifted like he was a bank teller that was the inside man for a bank robbery.

"Hey, babe."

SooRi could've been cast in a remake of The Exorcist, the way her head turned to hear Minseok more clearly.

"Hyuna, this is one of my friends, SooRi."

Being the hospitable type, she smiled politely to Hyuna and carved Minseok's heart out with her icy stare.

"Nice to meet you. I didn't know Minseok had a sister!"

"He wishes his genetics were this good! I'm his girlfriend," Hyuna was not irritated in the slightest.

"How long have you two been together?"

He had better have just met her in the last ten minutes.

"Hmm... what? About eight months now?"

SooRi was completely gobsmacked. That was around the same time Minseok proposed their friends with benefits relationship. A sinking feeling overcame her. She felt the pit of nausea pool at the base of her stomach.

Sure, they weren’t an item. But, she did have the absolute bare minimum bit of decency to not sleep with someone romantically attached to another person.

Besides, he played her.

Hyuna puffed her cheeks up in curiosity at the growing-distant SooRi.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, SooRi! I want to catch up with the birthday girl for a bit."

Minseok hung back after Hyuna disappeared into the crowd, "You have a lot of nerve, Minseok."

SooRi gave him an icy stare--one that suggested if he wanted to keep his testicles--he should keep it moving.

Minseok had appeared on her screen for days now. Incessantly texting and calling her, SooRi lost respect for the man each time her phone rang. She briefly considered chucking her phone out of the window.

It made her sick how much she actually liked him. She was even more disgusted by the fact that she couldn't see through his bullshit.

Now, here she was watching YouTube videos of proposals in her underwear, while Mary J. Blige, the queen of hip-hop pain, playing in the background.

Feelings? Gross.

Unconditional romantic love? Absolutely fucking disgusting.

Yet, here she was--like a sucker--craving it and so much more.

A dull pounding could be heard past the ruckus of the various sounds. She paused her videos and lowered her music just enough to hear the rustling of whoever was outside of her door.

The beating on her door resumed. She looked around for something to do some damage with, but found nothing. Whoever was outside, might have been getting bum rushed.

She swung open the door, ready to fight.

It was only Minseok.

She tried closing the door as fast as she could manage, all with an audible groan. Unfortunately for her, he wedged his foot in the door before she could get it closed. He squeezed himself into her apartment, but SooRi tried in vain to keep him out.

"I miss you."

"That's all you can say? After everything?"

"I'm sorry. I broke it off with Hyuna. I didn't want to string anyone along...anymore."

"I'm glad you were able to clear your heavy, burdened conscience at everyone's expense."

"I deserve that."

"Really? Because I've been hitting the bag at the gym more, and I think you deserve some of that."

"Then hit me."

"...What?"

"If it means I have a chance of you forgiving me, giving me another chance, not trying to crush my rib cage in your door, I'll do anything."

She raised an eyebrow and circled him suspiciously. Once she was in front of him again, she pushed his shoulder.

He stood like a statue, only returning a weak smile, giving her permission to carry on. SooRi pushed his other shoulder, testing once more to make sure he wouldn't react.

Nothing.

A surge of emotion coursed through her as her hand connected with his cheek. Minseok winced, but did nothing more.

"I hurt you. I can take anything you want to do to me."

SooRi slapped him again, "You don't get to do that. You don't get to say the right things, and make me not want to hurt you."

"Hurt me, SooRi. Make me hurt," Minseok took her hands and brought them to his face again.

Her eyes watered at the action, but she wasn't in a crying mood. She forcibly pulled his body in front of her sofa, and pushed him back until he fell on the plush furniture. She straddled him, crashing her lips into his.

"Fuck you, Minseok."

He grabbed at her body, pulling her in for a more passionate kiss. She tangled her hands in his thick hair, tugging on it to halt his kisses.

"God, you drive me crazy," he muttered against her lips. "You're all I can think about. This whole fucking time I've been trying to get you out of my head and I can't."

His warm hands found the cool skin of her abdomen as he inched her flimsy tank top up. He might not have deserved her, but damn if she didn't want him right now. She released her grip on him to let her shirt slide over her head. He kissed her breasts gently, leaving little bruises over the sensitive orbs.

Minseok kissed her again and SooRi could feel his fingers pushing her panties aside.

"You're so fucking wet, baby. I need to be inside you. I miss the way to pull me in, grip me. How warm and soft you are, writhing around me. Let me in, SooRi."

God damn, he was nasty. SooRi nodded without waiting for him to finish. She needed him just as badly. Working on his jeans took just a matter of seconds; she was pretty used to about every pair he owned anyways.

"God, it's so wet for me...," she brought him out of his sentence mid-thought, stroking his length.

Minseok always turned to putty when she teased him with her hands. He was far too predictable, at least when he was horny. She smirked watching him harden in her hands, but wasted little time once he was at attention. SooRi hovered over his member, while he lapped her wetness off his fingers.

They kissed again as she sank down his shaft. He groaned into her mouth, as her face contorted in pleasure. Her hips rolled involuntarily to get more of him inside her. She'd craved his touch for what felt like a century. Her hands rested on his shoulders, as if she was trying to push him further into the couch.

Her hips met his, slapping together with wild abandon. SooRi's eyes rolled back as her hoarse moans turned into desperate cries. Her thighs burned, the tense muscles pushing through the pain to bring her to her orgasm.

His broad hands let go of her waist to crack down over her ass, chiding her for slowing her speed. But, if Minseok thought he was in charge, he was in for a rude awakening.

SooRi pinned his roaming hands just above his head. She stared deeply into Minseok’s eyes, slowing her movements to a tortuous pace. His mouth dried in awe at the confident woman before him. He’d never realized how hot it was to have someone take control of him--be the dominant one.

He loved it. And if that meant being SooRi’s submissive pet, then so be it.

“Min-- I’m gonna--,” the words were stuck in her throat as the euphoria crashed over her. It felt like her whole body was on fire. As if her howls weren’t boisterous enough, she really made it a point to put on a show for Minseok. Bliss cascaded from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. SooRi could hardly feel that her body was still moving atop Minseok.

She pressed her mouth against his and he opened to her, kissing her hard, both of them pouring all their unspoken words into the physical expression of need and desire. SooRi's entire body shuddered with the impact of the emotion she felt from him and she dropped the hold restraining his hands, wanting nothing more than to fold herself around him and show him that his heart was safe with her.

A moment of frustration crossed his features, before morphing into a pleased smirk. Working herself over his tip, she took deep pleasure in hearing those rare, needy boy moans she loved so much.

“Please, baby,” he said breathlessly.

He cupped her breasts in both his hands, while she bored holes in him with her stare. “I need to bottom out in you.”

“Then, do it.” SooRi shuddered with the chill of excitement at him begging for release.

Minseok wrapped his arms around her body, holding her flush with his chest, pulling her down on his dick. He snapped his hips upwards quickly, completely sheathed inside her with each stroke. Grunting and gritting his teeth, he slammed into her one last time as his thick fluid sprayed her insides.

They heaved sighs of relief as they awkwardly separated themselves to snuggle on the couch. Minseok gently ran his fingers through SooRi’s disheveled hair.

He gnawed on his lip unsure of what to say next. He liked the feeling of being close to her like this. He didn’t want to fuck up any chance he had at having moments like these with her again.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, SooRi.”

She wondered how long she’d get to enjoy the moment before she was harshly slapped back into reality.

“I know.”

ALL PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS | RULES | ASK | MY WRITING

#my writing #smut #exo #exo minseok #exo xiumin #xiumin #minseok #kpop #kpop smut #exo smut #exo imagines #kpop imagines

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lightsburnbrite · 6 years ago

Text

Such a Thrill: Part 7

“I know, Mama. I’m sorry.” Karina held the phone away from her ear but could still hear her mother clearly.

“Karina, it’s Christmas. Do you mean to tell me that you can’t separate yourself from your school or work or whatever it is that’s keeping you from seeing your family on Christmas?”

She sighed before moving the phone back to her ear. “No, Mama. I had said my visit was going to be short because of an internship at the museum that I’m starting. I’m not coming home because I’ve got the flu or something and right now I can barely tolerate standing for longer periods of time so I don’t want to risk traveling. Or infecting you and Papa.”

Now she added a few coughs for good measure. Karina had briefly entertained the idea of telling their mother that Marius was being a complete ass to her but that wouldn’t really make much of a difference. She figured she was over exaggerating it, but Karina always felt as though her mother sided with Marius more often. He was fine to go about playing football and modeling but it was expected that she complete schooling beyond her Abitur to an advanced degree.

“Fine.” Karina could practically hear her mother’s disapproving look through the phone. “But I expect that your father and I will be invited down once you are over this…flu as you call it.”

“Yes, Mama. Of course.”

Once she had told her parents she wouldn’t be coming home, Karina felt like she could finally relax and focus on her own plans. While she was exaggerating her symptoms and her work load, removing traveling across the state definitely gave her a better time frame to work with.

After visiting a few friends, Karina set to work on pulling together a collection for a private collector. One of the things that she was learning through her collegiate career in studying art history was that there were two types of people who sought the services of a curator; those who adore a certain artist or piece of work and want help in finding it or those who look to build a private collection as a status symbol. Some fellow aspiring curators that she had met along the way had developed opinions against status collectors, but Karina figured she was not in a position to turn down professional opportunities. When her advisor sent her the request from a man who lived just outside of Bogenhausen which promised a large commission, Karina immediately agreed to it.

***

As Leon had thought, he didn’t have any contact with Marius until they both arrived at the house they were renting with a group of friends. When they did see each other, Leon smiled but Marius only grumbled.

“What was that about?” Michel elbowed Leon, laughing at the current drama.

Leon shrugged, Michel was more of a friend of a friend so he wasn’t going into any detail. “I kinda broke up an argument between he and his sister and took her side.”

A disapproving dude came from somewhere else in the house but Leon couldn’t tell who it was.

It was later by the time everyone made it to the house and the group watched a movie before splitting off with some going for drinks and others deciding to check out the town. Leon felt like all he had been doing lately was driving or flying so he really just wanted to find a bed and pass out. Before he fell asleep, he called Karina but there conversation was punctuated by her own yawns so he told her to go to bed, knowing he wasn’t far away from that himself.

It almost made Leon laugh at how well Marius had been avoiding him over the week but inevitably, a busy ski lift meant they were stuck together.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Leon kept his eyes ahead and his voice neutral. “Do you think I’m going to be awful to her or something?”

Marius laughed blatantly at the thought that his concern for Karina was driving his disdain. “I couldn’t care less about what happens to my sister. But now you’re going to spend all your time with her and I really don’t want to see her anymore than I need to.”

“That’s kind of a shitty thing to say, you get that, right?” Leon glanced around, choosing to look at the scenery surrounding them instead. “I’m here now, yeah? I didn’t bring Karina with me so it’s not like I can’t spend time apart from her.”

Leon wasn’t going to mention that the only reason Karina wasn’t with him was that she had declined his invitation.

“She just doesn’t seem like your type.” Marius blurted out.

He scoffed at that. “I don’t have a type and I love your sister. Get over it or don’t, I don’t care anymore.”

After a lengthy pause, Marius cleared his throat. “What was wrong with Mathea?”

“Nothing.” Leon turned to look at Marius now. “It just wasn’t there for me. Look, I’ve thought Karina was cute for a while now but when you brought her around over the summer and I spent some time with her, she just makes me happy. I want to be around her all the time and that’s not something I could say about Mathea.��

Marius shook his head in disbelief. “But Mathea is gorgeous, she-”

“Are you in to her?” He couldn’t help the puzzled expression on his face, nothing about this conversation was making sense to Leon. “Talk to her then. You don’t need my permission or whatever.”

“It’s not…I’m not…” Marius stammered on until his gave his head a final. furious shake. “I don’t like it. I don’t want the two of you seeing each other.”

Looking away, Leon rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. But I’m not going to break up with her just because you don’t like it.”

The top of the mountain came just in time. Marius pushed off and moved a few strides forward before turning bak around. “So you’re really going to choose her over me?”

Leon had to force himself not to laugh. “I don’t want to, but if you’re going to make me then yes.”

***

Over the next few days, Karina met with Hans Friedrich to determine what exactly he wanted. At first, she was led into a larger open hallway that had floor to ceiling windows on one side and a huge blank wall parallel to it. She smiled to herself, it reminded her a little of Marwin’s study, before realizing that she had not thought of Marwin in a long time. Karina briefly entertained the idea of sending him a letter, letting him know that she was happy and wishing him well, but ultimately thought against it. Leave well enough alone, she thought.

Armed with the dimensions of the hallway and an almost non existent budget, Karina got to work in finding different pieces that would work well both in the space and together. She didn’t devote her entire time to it but she found it helped to keep her occupied while she was waiting for Leon.

Karina was working in her makeshift office in the back of her apartment when she heard her front door open. Thankful that she had taken her socks off and had better traction in her bare feet, she raced to the door and practically crashed into Leon as he was putting his bag down.

He let out a little “oof” as he soon laughed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I missed you too, Mausi.”

Karina turned her head just slightly so that she could speak instead of having her face buried in his chest. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” Leon played with her ponytail briefly before he gave her a squeeze. “It felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, the landscape was beautiful.”

Closing her eyes, Karina sighed as she realized that she’d only have Leon’s company briefly before he’d be gone again. She slipped her hands under his shirt and let her thumb drag against the small of his back as she looked up at him. “Good. I’m deliberately not asking about Marius, just so you know.”

“Ok.” He laughed again before giving her the briefest of kisses. “I will say nothing about him then.”

Leon smirked when he noticed Karina frowning at the lack of contact. Leaning in, he kissed her again, only this time, he wouldn’t be satisfied with just a peck. Karina rested her hands on his face as she pressed her body against his, smiling as she felt his hand grip her backside.

A knock at the door elicited a growl from Karina as she pushed away from Leon and slunk towards the door. “Fucking…I just want to spend some time with you before you have to leave again and who the fuck is…”

“Relax,” Leon playfully chided Karina as he made sure he didn’t look too disheveled and followed her to the door.

Karina opened the door to see a woman standing with a small crate on the ground next to her.

“I have a delivery for Karina Müller.”

Karina stared at her for a moment. “I don’t understand, I didn’t-”

“Marwin Strohmann arranged for the sale and transport. I have registration papers for you to complete as the owner and her health records are in there as well.” With that, the woman lifted the crate and handed it to Leon before nodding a goodbye and walking off.

“What the fuck?” Karina turned around to look at Leon. “That bastard.”

By now Leon had opened the crate and was cuddling a fluffy ball of black, tan, and white fur. Finally, he looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”

“He told me, when I was mad at him because he wasn’t affectionate, that if I wanted someone to sit at my feet and lick my hand then I should get a puppy.” Karina softened as soon as she saw the puppy in Leon’s arms. “I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it.”

Leon moved closer and held the puppy up to Karina so she could lick her face. “Maybe he just wanted to do something nice.”

Smiling, Karina took the puppy from Leon and then leaned against him. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore.”

That got a laugh out of Leon. He would have been thrilled to never have to hear about Strohmann again but he knew this was only the beginning. “Then don’t think about him. Think about what you’re going to name her.”

“Elsa.” Karina said definitively. “That’s her name.”

Leon stroked Elsa’s ear before she started to chew on his finger. “Why Elsa?”

“Didn’t you just tell me to let it go?” Karina smirked, as if Leon should have known better than to ask. “It only makes sense.”

They had planned to go out for dinner but Elsa’s arrival had changed their plans. Karina made dinner and then they watched some tv and generally hung out on the sofa. When Leon glanced at his watch and stood up, Karina tried not to frown.

Leaning over, he kissed Karina on the forehead before letting out a little yawn. “Alright Mausi, I’ve gotta be on a bus by 8 tomorrow. Time for bed.”

“How long are you going to be away?” Karina debated about standing, but Elsa was currently asleep on her lap. Eventually, she gently slid her off and followed him towards her bedroom.

“About a week.” Noticing her growing frown, he placed his hand on the back of Karina’s neck and kissed her before taking a step back and smiling. “It’ll go by quick. And now you’ve got a little fuzzball you keep you company.”

Karina sighed and nodded. “I know, it’s just I put together a display for a collector and he was having a party to show it off. He asked me to be there and I was hoping you’d be back in time to go with me.”

“I’m sorry.” Karina didn’t even need to see Leon’s face to know that he was genuinely disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to be there. “Next time. I promise.”

#leon goretzka #such a thrill

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years ago

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CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 2/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Alcohol use & overconsumption, mentions of some PG-13 activities with other partners but that’s the extent!

A/N: SO. I decided that once a week was too slow. So I decided two chapters a week should be a good schedule!

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 |

He figured he’d wake up at an airport, with Liam rousing him as he parked the car and herded Killian into the terminal to make their way to whatever gate for whatever destination his brother picked. A quick nap was all he needed.

“Let me choose,” Liam had said. “It’ll be a surprise.”

It certainly is a surprise to lift his head when the car comes to a stop. He looks out the window, but instead of seeing long-term parking, he’s looking at trees. With a confused grumble, Killian lifts the sunglasses off his face and peers around, unable to focus on anything the signs say, or figure out where the bloody hell they might be. He wants to ask Liam where they are, but the sudden stop in motion means that his stomach and equilibrium are in disagreement, and before he can question anything, he’s throwing open the door to lose the rest of the liquor left in his stomach from his last night out on the town.

A woman walking a Pomeranian looks on aghast, but he only notices that once he’s straightening up. He makes eye contact briefly, grimacing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He wonders if he should apologize or wave it off, but before he can do anything, Liam is nudging his arm and Killian turns to see the bottle of water he’s being offered.

The woman is forgotten, and Killian closes the door before adjusting his seat upright and accepting the water. “Thanks,” he croaks out, carefully twisting off the top with the bottle propped between his knees before lifting and just barely remembering to not chug it. “Where are we?”

“A rest stop. I need to use the facilities and figured some cold drinks would be nice. That’s the last bottle I brought on the road.”

“There are no rest stops on the way to the airport, so let’s try that again. Where are we?”

“Maine. Just crossed the border a bit ago, actually.”

“What, Logan wasn’t good enough for you? Thought you’d save a penny by driving to the middle of bloody nowhere and flying out of there? Please tell me the plane has an engine and isn’t powered by pedals.”

“We won’t be needing an airplane this time around, brother.”

At this news, Killian slips his sunglasses back on his face so he can scowl without squinting. “Please, do continue.”

“We’re about an hour from our destination. I thought we’d try something new.”

“What happened to that grand European adventure you proposed last week?” Killian interrupts, throwing his hand and prosthetic in the air in agitation. “What about visiting home and family and all that rubbish?”

“You honestly didn’t want to go visit Aunt Milly, did you?”

“No, but I did envision a night or two in my old stomping grounds. Couple good rounds in the pubs and such.”

“This will be much better, I think,” is what Liam ends up responding. There’s an underlying hint of ‘for you’ that he doesn’t say out loud but Killian still hears it. Suddenly, he’s thinking of some dry town or a rehab facility and it takes everything he has to not lose his temper out the door with his breakfast (okay, so there was no breakfast in there, but the point remains…)

“Well, go on then,” he finally responds. “What’s to be found in the bloody state of Maine?”

“It’s called Camp Hope.”

Killian groans – a theatrical sound that knows no boundaries – and resists the urge to crumple this half-full bottle in his hand. “Please don’t tell me you’re sending me off to some alcoholics’ dry camp.” It’s all his worst nightmares come to fruition.

“Nothing of the sort, actually. Just a place for adults to go and meet new people and learn new things.”

“Brilliant,” Killian deadpans. He pauses a moment, searching his memory for something. “Oh bloody hell, this is that damn pamphlet that was in my mail last week, isn’t it?” Liam just chuckles while he slides further into his seat to endure the rest of the drive. He hopes above all hopes that the flask of rum he packed in his suitcase will last the whole length of time they’ll be at this stupid camp.

Summer camp for adults, he grumbles internally. Is he bloody mad?

But he can’t say anything out loud. What will he do, demand that Liam turns around? It’s a week or two, at most right? That’s how most camps usually last, if memory serves.

He manages to stay awake the rest of the trip, with no other objections from his stomach. It’s not until they pass through a small town – if you can even call it that – that he speaks up and asks about lunch.

Liam pulls up outside a ramshackle little diner, a small patio with tables dotting the front beyond the small wooden arbor over the walkway. Inside the diner, every table is filled, and there are luckily two spots left at the bar that they take up as they walk in. An older woman with white hair and an arched eyebrow takes their order, glancing through the spectacles balanced on her nose when she reads it back to them.

“Give us a couple minutes, dears. As you can see, we’re a little busy with the camp traffic passing through.”

They both nod, Liam in an amicable way and Killian’s short and jerky, as he realizes he needs something in his stomach to sop up the rest of his hangover. He excuses himself to the restrooms after two waters are placed in front of them, and he wanders the narrow back hallway to push through the door.

The odd thing about this place is that it still somehow feels homely without him ever having stepped foot inside before. It’s temporary comfort though, with the thought that he’ll be going to some kind of weird adult camp for a couple weeks. He’s picturing barren cabins, or worse, tents. He shudders at the thought of communal showers and a lack of temperature regulation.

When he returns, the food is already placed in front of his seat. “I thought she said to give it a couple minutes,” Killian idly comments as he settles back in and starts picking at the fries.

“Apparently, she was quite literal about that time length.” Liam’s happily chewing away, and Killian shrugs once before starting on his own food.

It turns out, small-town diner-types are delicious. It’s been a length of time he can’t even recall since he’s eaten something this genuinely home-cooked that wasn’t made by his brother. He hums in content as he finishes, managing to smile despite his earlier unhappiness at the circumstances he found himself in. Liam smiles back at him, motioning to the proprietress to inquire about desserts while Killian watches people filter in and out.

During the short time they’re in the diner, there’s a never-ending change of faces around them. People order, they eat, they pay, then they’re gone and someone else is taking their place. And the whole time, the woman who insists they just call her “Granny�� keeps cool and calm. All of her workers do, too, from the wait staff to the kitchen, which they can see through the window where the food is placed before quickly being whisked to the appropriate guest. The big city establishments could learn a lot from this woman, in Killian’s opinion, and he tells her as much as they pay and stand to make their exit.

She smiles, then, her whole face taking on that grandmotherly appearance that Killian never knew he craved in his life, and her eyes crinkling. She tells them to have a good time and to stop back in on their way home, looking like she’s this close to patting or pinching both their cheeks when they finally say their farewells.

As they get back on their way towards camp, Killian even warms up to the idea a little bit. “Tell me more about what you’ll be subjecting me to, brother.”

“From the website, it looks like they have heaps of options. Pretty much everything we would’ve gotten to do if we’d ever gone to Camp Sherwood back home. I’m particularly looking forward to kayaking and hiking. Did you ever stop to think how city we’ve become since moving here?”

“No, not particularly. But I also tend to stick to three or four locations while you’re the one always wanting to try something new,” Killian remarks, even going so far as to throw up air quotes at the end and mimic his brother’s exuberance when he’s trying to badger Killian out of his solitude.

“You’re turning into a miser at such a young age,” Liam says, reaching over and trying his hardest to ruffle Killian’s hair without taking his eyes off the road. He’s able to easily swat away the affectionate move and chastises Liam to keep driving all in one go.

So it’s a miracle that he’s smiling when they pull up and Liam tells the parking attendant at the end of the drive that they’ll be booking for the summer pass. The poor thing looks startled when, from the passenger seat, Killian goes all high-pitched and screechy when he demands to know, and she would later quote, “what the bloody hell they’re going to do for a whole summer?”

“You’re the worst brother!”

“You agreed to the whole summer when it was Europe,” Liam says calmly, guiding the car through the lanes until he finds an open parking spot. “The scenery might not change as much but that doesn’t mean we can’t find new things to do the whole time we’re here. Live a little, Killian. And do it adventurously. You’ve a whole list of new things to try now.”

“Aye, tell me, how many of those can you do with one bloody hand?”

“Plenty,” Liam responds succinctly. “I’ve looked through the whole list, little brother. I wouldn’t bring you somewhere if you couldn’t do anything while we were here. You have to trust me on this.”

Killian grumbles in response. A lot. But he still gets out of the car at Liam’s prodding and slings his backpack over his shoulders. There’s a young man at their assistance in the blink of an eye, helping them load their bags onto a trailer attachment on the back of a golf cart. Liam immediately strikes up conversation with the attendant, who introduces himself as Henry.

“This is my first summer as a full-timer but I’ve been driving the carts for two years,” he admits, his voice just beyond that dip that happens after puberty, and Killian wonders if they should worry at all for their safety in the hands of what looks to be someone still in middle school. As if reading Killian’s thoughts (or perhaps the blatant expression on his face), the lad smiles and climbs behind the wheel. “I’m eighteen,” he informs them, motioning for Killian to slide onto the backseat as Liam is already occupying the front one.

With a move that he’s absolutely sure is for his benefit, the cart takes off at a fast clip, jerking Killian on the seat just once. He turns his head in time to see the absolutely innocent look on Henry’s face, but a shit-eating grin on Liam’s. A few curse words may be muttered under his breath, but mostly, he just settles back and shuts up.

A broad sign arches over a main entrance, which Killian doesn’t see until after they’ve gone under it. He twists in order to read it backwards, but Killian can still see the carved letters proudly proclaiming a welcome to Camp Hope, and he does his best to swallow his apprehensions again. They stop briefly in order for Liam to check them in for their accommodations. Killian joins him, handing over the required identification when asked and sliding back onto his seat when it’s clear he’s no longer needed.

Liam dumps the welcome bag in Killian’s lap upon returning, and he opens the tote long enough to extract one of the two keys and hand it up to Liam. There’s also what looks to be a map of the grounds, various schedules, and some free merchandise. He fishes out a bottle opener in muted glee, because if there’s a bottle opener, then surely there are bottles to be opened.

True to his word, Henry zips them across the camp with ease, passing several other carts on their way back from delivery. He points out various buildings that they’ll need, including an explanation of the color coordination on the map that Killian’s yet to look at. Yellow is the main lodge, according to the lad. Green buildings are for outdoor activities and related. Blue buildings are for indoor hobbies.

“Can I tie-dye a t-shirt while I’m here? Macramé?”

“If you’d really like, yeah,” Henry responds, completely nonplussed by Killian’s sarcasm. “There’s a crafts building that offers a variety of classes, like pottery and painting. And yeah, even things like tie-dyeing.” There’s another sly look from their driver, but Killian doesn’t respond, instead choosing to let him have that point.

The whole place is bigger than Killian would’ve figured; for one, it takes them much longer to get to the cabin designated as theirs and it’s only after they’ve passed a few other clusters of similar cabins. Henry informs them that the small, hotel-like sleeping center is located north by the parking lot, intended for those guests only staying a matter of days.

They’re in the unfortunately named Dwarf Camp, which seems to have eight cabins in almost a perfect circle.

“Snow couldn’t let go of the fairy tale theme when they reopened the place,” Henry explains, as if either of them had asked. “So these ones are all named after the dwarves. There’s a cluster of bigger cabins for groups that’s named after the fairies from Sleeping Beauty, and the camp next to yours is named after Ariel’s sisters.”

“Wait, if these are named after the dwarves, why are there eight?”

Henry raises an eyebrow at Killian, his lips quirking up in a smile that makes him look even younger but wiser than his years. “Haven’t you ever heard of the eighth dwarf?”

“You must be joking.”

Henry doesn’t respond to that, just slows to a stop outside a cabin at nearly the farthest end of the circle. Through the trees, Killian can see the water beyond, and it’s the first time he feels like Liam did something right. Looking at the placard above the door, however, he groans. At least they didn’t get Cabin Grumpy, he decides.

They’re waved away to unlock the door and head inside, which Killian takes no issue with. He does grab his backpack and the welcome tote, using his own key to unlock the surprisingly sturdy door and swinging it inward.

The common area of the cabin is more spacious than Killian would’ve expected, taking up the entire front of the building. Henry explains the specifics as he hauls in their bags, asking which room to take each suitcase as Killian glances around at the efficient use of space. There’s a kitchenette on one end, a small table with two chairs tucked against the front wall with the picture window above it, and a living room with a couch in front of a modest television set.

“Killian?” Liam’s voice jolts him out of his examination, and the look on his brother’s face tells him that wasn’t the first attempt to get his attention. “I asked if you wanted the room on the left or the right.”

Henry is still standing there, expectant look on his face and one large suitcase propped beneath each hand.

“Whichever has a better view of the water,” Killian says, and Henry jumps into action when Liam indicates which bag to take to fill that request.

With their bags delivered, Henry returns to the front of the cabin, pausing just inside the door. Liam hands him a bill for a tip, and Henry beams harder at him if it’s even possible. “I’m the junior concierge for this cluster, so if you need anything at all, my number is listed on the contact sheet over here.” With one last wave, he’s out the door and jogging back to the cart, presumably to aid with another check in.

The whole interior of the cabin is decorated in knotty pine, down to the furniture, but it all speaks of age. Everything has a fine sheen of remodel on it, but the whole structure seems to be much older than Killian would have originally wagered.

At the clearing of Liam’s throat, Killian turns again to see his brother standing in the kitchen area, holding the cabinet open and pointing inside. “See? I even asked for them to stock a few specialties for us.”

Peering in, Killian barks out a laugh. There are two bottles inside (amongst a few other things he’ll inspect later): one is a bottle of his favorite rum, and the other is Liam’s whiskey of choice.

“I suppose that comes close to answering if this place has a bar or not,” Killian says as he gestures to the bottles. “Go on, then. Let’s give it a proper toast.”

Obliging, Liam pulls two glasses out of another cabinet, pouring a small (so small) measure into each one before bringing them over to the table.

“To a summer of discovery,” Liam says, clinking his glass against Killian’s.

“Aye, or something like that.” It’s not the most rousing toast he’s ever heard, or given, but it does the trick in a pinch and they sip instead of take them as shots. It’s early, and while Killian normally has no qualms about drinking at any time of day, let alone in the afternoon, he also knows he’ll want to unpack and change and give his brother the illusion that he’s not as much of a fall-down drunk as he used to be.

As it turns out, the first thing Killian does upon his arrival at Camp Hope is take a nap. The bed, while not as big as the one he has at home, is soft and inviting. The cabin is still cool enough that he only has the fan on and the windows open, with the faint sounds of water moving just beyond the trees, and it all combines with the hangover and travel experience to serve as the perfect lullaby.

Liam’s rustling in his own room and the living room is what finally brings him back to awareness, and just in time for his brother to push open the door the rest of the way and smile brightly at him.

“Good! You’re awake. Dinner will be served in the main lodge starting in half an hour. Shall we get cleaned up and see what the rest of this home away from home has to offer us?”

“We don’t have to eat every meal with total strangers, do we?”

“Of course not. That’s why we have our own kitchenette. But unless you’ve packed a whole meal’s worth of groceries in your bag, we do need to eat tonight.”

Amidst a little more grumbling, Killian follows by example and goes to one of the shirts he managed to hang. Navy blue, minimum wrinkles, button down for dressy, yet casual, just in case – he decides it’s a good choice and only goes to shut the door as he shucks off what he wore in the car and changes into something a little less rumpled. He saves the shirt for last, going instead to the washroom after Liam is done in order to splash his face with water and brush his teeth and hair.

Dinner is noisy; that’s the only way Killian can think to describe it. There are droves of people milling about the main lodge, all huddled around the host’s station waiting to be seated. He manages to keep it together through the wait for their table, and even when he keeps getting jostled by people passing by.

He holds steady all the way until they’re back in their cabin for the night, not even remembering what he ate, only that he did, before closing himself away in his room and drinking from his flask until its empty. Luckily, he’d wished Liam a goodnight when they walked in, making it clear he was done socializing for the evening. He could go out and get the bottle in the kitchen, but that’s too much effort. This will do for tonight.

There were too many people – questioning eyes, loud voices, unfamiliar faces – and it all compounded into an anxiety Killian didn’t know he had. The habits he sticks to at home are filled with strangers, as well, but at least there are always less of them. It’s always on his terms. This… this is something he hasn’t dealt with in a long time.

He falls asleep to the muted sound of the water trying its best to soothe him, even if he’s still wondering how he’ll make it a whole summer at this hellish place.

The next day begins bright and early, with Liam trying to rouse him to go to breakfast.

“Just grab something for me on your way out?” He puts on an expression just a little helpless, a little pouty, and Liam readily agrees.

Somehow, from that moment onward, he’s able to avoid what he views as the worst of the camping experience. While Liam gives him daily run-downs of the activities and lessons going on around the camp grounds for the day, Killian loses himself further and further into the bottle (plus a couple more he manages to get his hands on) in the kitchen cabinet.

It works out well; Liam keeps himself busy all hours of the day with one thing to the next and Killian keeps himself drunk or close to it as much as he can.

After a week, he manages to find a system and a schedule to stick to in order for Liam to remain happy with his absence. Killian notices that if he cleans and otherwise keeps the place tidy, Liam doesn’t even try to get him to participate. And Killian is always attempting to keep the pantry stocked, but going to the market request is almost worse than going to the main lodge, in his opinion.

It’s located directly next to the building and no one ever seems to move with urgency from the large board with all the numbers to write down on the order sheet. He just wants to write his list, submit it to the attendant inside the kiosk, and leave, but it usually takes him twice as long as he wants it to. On this particular trip, he accidentally tramples the back of someone’s heel. He barely manages to avoid getting hit by a long braid of blonde hair belonging to that heel, ducking and offering a hurried apology as he hastens to the other side.

“So many bloody people,” he mutters under his breath, just doing his best to find a place to prop up and mark his items off so he won’t have to do this again for another couple days.

He just barely manages to avoid that same blonde after he hands in his slip, side-stepping and almost knocking himself off balance in a Hail Mary move to avoid running into the woman again. He glances up for just a moment, another apology dying on his lips as he sees her face, her eyes, that one skeptical eyebrow, the tempting upward tilt of her lips where there’s definitely the hidden kiss of Peter Pan lore.

Because he turns so fully to see her, Killian slams directly into the side of the lodge. With a curse, and with his embarrassment coloring all the way up to the tips of his ears, he leaves as quickly as he can and hopes to never see the lass again.

-x-

Normally, when Emma gets to camp, her lessons go one of two ways, with some exceptions.

Either the guests start off as shit dancers and get better once everyone gets into the swing of things, or it starts out okay but dips rapidly as everyone tries to get their shit together. Sometimes, rarely, things start off great and stay great.

This year defies all previous experiences at camp, so far. Things start as shit and don’t get better. No one gets their shit together. Her toes are bruised and just below a point of bleeding, and will actually bleed if these guys don’t stop staring at her tits long enough to learn the dance steps she’s trying to teach them. Her left ankle is still healing from where some guy caught the back of it the week before, which isn’t helping.

Okay, it’s not all bad. The staff rec lodge parties are what get her through each week. Although David and Snow would largely frown upon her actions, she’s snuck into the storage closet two weeks in a row to neck like a teenager with two new staff members. There’s no actual rule about fraternization with other staff members (mostly because her brother and sister-in-law are realists even in the face of their never-ending optimism); guests are strictly off limits but as long as it’s not on camp time and they aren’t in the middle of the Main Lodge, the owners pretend like they don’t have a bunch of horny, overly hormonal adults working for them for a whole summer.

So while everything else during the day can currently go to hell, this is what she has to look forward to at the moment.

It’s different now at twenty-eight than it was when she was a junior counselor. She only fools around with the ones that get her rhythm, and she makes sure they don’t work anywhere near the dance studio. She doesn’t even know their names – she finds the less she knows about somebody the better it is. Knowing more is kind of like naming a wild animal: she doesn’t want to get attached.

They all share responsibility for closing up the rec lodge; this is Emma’s week to be the adult, so after making sure the lodge is cleaned and locked up, Emma begins her short trek back to her cabin. The living arrangements have been the best part of camp, so far. While both of her possible partners have asked to come back to her cabin to finish off the evenings, she’s declined both of them. This is one bed she wants to herself, and no staff debauchery is going to change that.

She’s just about to make the turn up the path to her cabin when she spots a shoe on the path. People losing shoes is a real thing that happens all the time around here, but that’s not what stops her. This particular shoe is still attached to someone. In a rush, Emma’s by the side of who she assumes is a camper.

Oh shit, is her first thought, followed by why didn’t I take that damn first aid class with Ruby last month? But all it takes is a quick scan to see he’s breathing, he’s not visibly bleeding, and if she gets just an inch closer she’ll be able to practically inhale the rum he’s all but soaked it. The smell of liquor wafts off him like he dabbed it on as cologne.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Emma chances to ask. If he’s injured and she can’t see it, she’ll have to go to the on-call medic and she really doesn’t feel like dealing with Victor right now. She gently prods the camper’s arm, poking a finger into his bicep. She does another visual sweep, this time for her own records instead of trying to find signs of injury or life.

He looks a mess, sprawled in the mulchy underbrush just to the side of the path. His clothes look a little wrinkled, his hair is just a touch past disheveled, and his jaw is slack and open as he emits a loud, saw-like snore.

“Oh, come on,” Emma mutters, digging her finger in a little harder this time. “Hey, get up!” One, two, three more jabs using her whole hand to shove his arm this time, and then he’s jolting. The snore cuts off and his eyes blink open, wide and wild and confused with too much alcohol. His gaze barely flits across her before he’s looking back up at the trees – his expression changes to one of disgust after he sees those, for some reason.

“Bloody hell, I’d hoped it was all still just a nightmare. Stupid arse brother of mine, stupid summer camp for adults,” he opens his mouth to damn something else of his experiences but seems to remember he’s not alone. He focuses on her as much as he can, going so far as to close one eye. “Aye, but you’re quite real, aren’t you?”

She can’t help it. She bursts out laughing. Through her fits of giggles, she manages to spit out that he looks like a pirate. “We could give you a proper eye patch and a hook and you’d fit the title perf- oh, fuck, I’m so sorry!” It’s only as he struggles to sit up during her amusement that she catches the fact that he only has one hand, the left one catching the stray lights from the safety lamps along the pathway. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at his face to gauge how lawsuit-y in trouble she is, but all that greets her is vague confusion.

“Is the pirate joke because of the hand or the rum?”

“Actually, it was because of the way you were talking and because you were squinting at me. And yeah, also the rum. I didn’t even realize the hand thing until you sat up.”

He looks down at his own false hand, now propped in his lap, still with one eye closed. “Huh. All right.”

“Okay, buddy. We need to get you back to your cabin or room, whatever.”

He makes a sound of aggravation, even as Emma moves to help him stand. “Back to that bloody cabin and my brother snoring through the paper-thin walls.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re hammered enough that you won’t even notice it once you hit that bed, pal.”

“Killian.”

“What the hell is a Killian?”

“I am a Killian,” he says with a dramatic finger jab to his own chest. Emma catches that hand and pulls, trying her best to balance out when he stands and tilts forward. They almost end up back on the ground but she steadies him at the last second.

“Nice to meet you, Killian. Now which way do I go?”

“It’s only polite to give your name in return, love.” Even though she tries to pull him towards the cabins, he digs his heels in, now surprisingly steady in the face of his stubbornness.

She grinds her teeth, wanting nothing more than to be in her own bed. Her first lesson is scheduled for 10am and it’s close to 1am at this point. She can see those hours subtracting as she stands there so she gives in easier than she normally would. “Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Swan. Seems rather fitting for someone so feisty and graceful, from what little I’ve seen.” He smiles, and his eyes clear a little, and Emma has to hold her breath and count to ten because holy shit he’s gorgeous when he looks like that. It helps that the lights catch his eyes just the right way and she’s enchanted by the blue, and with the way his lips quirk up so he’s smirking at her, and the way his eyebrow arches as if it’s moving independently from the rest of his expression.

Her mouth opens to respond, but that’s the exact moment that her new friend Killian lurches forward and throws up. In a perfect world, it wouldn’t have happened at all, but in her perfect world, it could’ve at least gone off to the side.

Nope. All the way down her front. All the way. Her only thought that rises above the grossed-out aspect is that thank god she didn’t just get done performing, because if this had been a dance costume, no one would’ve convinced her the murder wasn’t justified.

“Cabin Bashful,” he grumbles out meekly, barely able to make eye contact. “I’m terribly sorry, lass.”

It’s as they begin the very long, very awkward walk back to Cabin Bashful that Emma realizes that he’s the guy that she ran into in the grocery kiosk last week. When she ran into him there – or rather, when he stomped on her heel and then slunk away as quickly as possible – he was hunched in a way that she’s not used to seeing at the camp. The guests are usually here for a break, so most (if not all) of the campers she’s met in the last so many years, have all been happy. Pleasant, at the very least. So that’s two strikes against him in Emma’s book.

Once she makes sure he’s safely back in his cabin, Emma hastens back to her own and immediately strips down. The clothes and shoes all go in a bag to be washed in Storybrooke the next day. She rushes through her shower, brushing her hair and letting it fall loose to dry while she sleeps. It’ll be a mess, but it would’ve happened anyway as the humidity keeps ramping up with each new day.

And she was right; by the end of her early lesson with a man hoping to impress his girlfriend back home, Emma’s hair is poofing out around her head. The majority of it is balled up in a bun but she feels like she has to look as frazzled as she feels.

She relinquishes the studio to Tink after her lesson, happy to get back to her cabin and wash up again. It’s not that it’s too hot yet – this is June in Maine, not Georgia, after all – but it’s still her favorite part of the day to shower off the sweat and change into clothes that don’t expect a workout. With a scrunch of her nose, Emma looks at the bag of clothes from last night and wonders if Ruby has anything to go to town. She wants to visit Granny and check their studio email account, anyway, so she might as well make a trip of it.

The staff lodges are swarming with activity, with various leaders and volunteers going in and out of the row of connected cabins. Ruby is sharing a cabin with a hiking pro, Mulan, and the door is wide open when Emma walks up the three steps that lead to the door.

“Knock, knock!” Emma calls as she walks up, smiling when the sight of Ruby sprawled on her bed greets her. Her nose is buried in a book, something Emma is used to seeing on calm days with Ruby.

“Hey, stranger! Nice moves last night!”

“I do my best,” she says, preening just a touch. Ruby snickers while she sits up, throwing her book on her nightstand. “Where’s Mulan?”

“Beginner hike today. She’ll be back in a couple hours. I’m going with her on one of the intermediate hikes next week. Already broke in my new boots and everything!”

“You certainly seem to be getting into the camper spirit this year.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize how much I needed a break from dancing and waitressing until I got here. So, what’s up? What brings you up the hill to my cozy abode?”

“Laundry run. Had a drunk guest throw up all over me last night.”

She’s sure Ruby doesn’t mean to laugh so hard or so loud, but Emma just sighs and takes it. “Oh, that would’ve been hilarious. I mean,” she pauses, trying to look apologetic, “awful. Must’ve been awful.” She just barely manages to hide her grin as she gets up and starts collecting a small sack of laundry. “Do you have any lessons for the rest of the day?”

“Not until after dinner. So I’m going to the laundromat, maybe eat lunch in town while I check email.”

“Bring me back a peach muffin,” Ruby instructs, handing over her laundry bag and a handful of quarters.

The drive into town is peaceful, and Emma makes sure to roll the windows down before she gets going so she can feel the wind whipping through the cab of her car. Also to make sure the bag of clothes in the backseat doesn’t smell up the interior.

Once the washer load is going and she’s said a prayer to the shoe gods that her slip-ons will survive, Emma heads to Granny’s with her computer. Halfway through her grilled cheese sandwich, Emma finds an email that she definitely was not expecting.

The sender is one Regina Mills, an old associate from Boston who moved to Portland, Maine a few years ago to open her own high-end hotel. The subject? Hiring potential full-time entertainment.

Emma scans the details that Regina has sent her way, talking about an audition period of sorts. There’s a line of events that she’s holding for the grand opening of the Mills Regency and each one will act as an audition of sorts. Emma and Ruby have been invited to participate, and a preliminary date and time are included in the message. It’s still a month away, enough time that they can schedule in some practices in the evenings when lessons are over for the day.

Before she even leaves town (muffins in hand for Ruby and a bag of food for David and Snow) Emma is already running through routines they could potentially do, what costumes they brought with them, and her mind is whirling.

She’s bubbling over to share the news when she gets back, but Ruby is either in the studio with a lesson or out on an adventure. Either way, she leaves the muffins and clean laundry in her friend’s cabin and practically bounces off to hers. After dropping off her own laundry (thankfully her shoes didn’t get ruined in the dryer), Emma heads off to the Nolan cabin to drop off their food from Granny.

Snow is busy at her desk when Emma walks in, and she holds up one slender finger to have Emma wait while she enters some number or another on the spreadsheet open on her computer. Once she’s hit the save button, she’s out of her chair and coming over to embrace Emma tightly before taking the bag of food from her.

“How’s it going? Have you had a lot of lessons so far?”

“You have my numbers on that spreadsheet, Snow. You already know I’m usually swamped during my available lesson times,” Emma says, a wry grin crossing her lips as her sister-in-law starts unpacking the containers and sorting them before sliding them into the fridge. Emma is actually surprised there aren’t labels for which day of the week each item should be consumed by on the clean shelves inside.

Snow is fastidious, at best, and anal retentive at her worst. Her summer may be filled with camping adults but the other months are taken up by being, very aptly, a school teacher. She has color coded files for everything, and the disposition of her namesake.

“Yeah, well, I like to hear it from the source sometimes. How’s Ruby?”

“Throwing herself into every activity possible. You know, the usual summer-Ruby-schedule.”

“I swear, she gets more out of this camp than some of the campers,” Snow says. She pauses in her task, opening one of the containers and inhaling deeply, a look of pure bliss crossing her features. “Please tell me you’re going back to town soon because I’m going to need more of Granny’s potato salad before the week is up.”

Emma chuckles, nodding when Snow holds up the container in invitation. Soon there are two plates on the table, along with forks and napkins, and Snow is hurrying back again to deliver glasses of homemade blueberry lemonade. She just ate her own lunch, but this is a meal she won’t say no to.

She doesn’t mention the job opportunity; David and Snow have been trying to get her to move closer to home for ages now and she doesn’t want to get their hopes up, in case she and Ruby don’t get a spot. Moving to Portland would be beneficial in so many ways, not limited to their proximity to home and the living expenses. She would be willing to give up bail bonds chasing if she didn’t have to worry so much about making rent and utilities every month.

So instead, she and Snow talk about the summer that still stretches ahead of them and the upcoming school year. They talk about the junior concierge employees that just got hired in. One of them, Henry, has been chasing Emma’s heels since he was a child. He’s on his first summer as concierge to a full group of the cabins and she thinks she’ll have to check in on him soon, but Snow assures her he’s doing a great job already.

“I met one of his campers last night. I’ll have to tell Henry to keep an eye on him so the guy doesn’t drink himself to death.”

Snow’s eyebrows pinch downward in a worried look, one that Emma knows all too well. “Is this someone I should be concerned about?”

“No, no. Nothing scary or threatening. Just a guy that likes to drink a lot. I’ll give Henry a heads up, just in case.”

“If you say so,” Snow responds. “Just let me know if anything happens again?”

“Of course,” Emma promises, reaching across the table to squeeze her sister-in-law’s hand. “So, Henry is in charge of the dwarves, and Violet is junior to the Neptune sisters. Who’s in charge of the fairies?”

“Jefferson is still doing most of the work, but he’s training Grace so she can save up some money and add the experience to her college applications. She’s determined to be an RA in her dorms wherever she ends up.”

“Where did we get such an awesome group of people?” Emma wonders out loud as she stops herself from licking the plate clean.

“Storybrooke,” Snow answers, grinning as she pushes her empty plate away and folds her arms on the table in front of her. “What time is your next lesson?”

“Not until later. I lucked out and had an empty schedule during the afternoon so I could take some time in town today.”

“David should be done checking the zip line structures. Wanna take the cart and go get him? I know he’s been hoping to run into you.”

Opening a camp for adults in the age of the internet has been the greatest thing ever, in Emma’s opinion. Especially after someone suggested last summer that they open a GoFundMe to purchase a small fleet of golf carts to get around the campsite easier. From the Nolan cabin to the zip lines would normally take longer than she would want to devote, but using their personal cart means that less than ten minutes later has her all the way in the woods at the end stop of the lines.

David is probably prouder of these than he would be if he had a piano prodigy as his own kid. He’s also the All-American Boy Scout type, so he spends once a week inspecting every single inch of the cables and platforms, every piece of gear used on the lines, and all the netting that acts as a failsafe in case he somehow misses a detail and something were to go wrong.

Just as Emma is pulling up, David is walking towards the clearing, his smile widening and his face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Finally, I get visual proof that you’re real. I was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination again,” he says as soon as they’re close enough. After Emma hops out of the cart he repeats the tight hug he gave her before camp opened – the last time she was able to do more than just text him – and her heart squeezes at the way his hand comes up to cradle the back of her head. He’s not even her biological brother but sometimes the bond between them feels so close she forgets he’s not a blood relative. And that’s okay with her.

“I’ll give you a ride back to your cabin. Tell me all about your camp time so far.”

True to his word, David takes the wheel and steers them back the shorter distance to her cabin, listening to the few stories she’s amassed for this camp session so far. It’s barely even a month in, but she still has plenty to tell.

“The air conditioner in the studio needs checked again,” Emma remembers as they pull up in front of her cabin. She only really remembers because she can hear the cooling system rattling loudly from where they are, and it’s been on the fritz lately. It was fine when the summer began, after she cleaned the studio from the ceilings down, but now that it matters it seems the damn thing wants to quit.

“I’ll try to get Leroy out as soon as possible, but I think it’s time to buy a new unit to replace the original one. Maybe even try to work central air into the budget for next summer if we can stretch the life of that sad, little unit.”

Emma beams at the possibility. “You better mean that. The only thing this studio lacks compared to our space in Boston is the reliable cool air.”

“If all I need is good air conditioning to keep you in Maine, I’ll get right on it,” he says, letting the engine idle as he ruffles his hair. “I gotta get back. I gave my lunch to Henry today for being such a good apprentice at inspecting.”

“Go. Go to your wife and all the food from Granny’s you could ever ask for,” she says, hopping from the passenger seat and waving goodbye as he goes.

“Hey!” Just as David pulls away, Ruby’s voice is pulling Emma’s attention in the other direction. “What’s this message you left about a job?”

“Ah! You got your muffins, then. Good. Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Instead of heading for the studio, Emma motions for Ruby to follow to her cabin. She still has to put her laundry away and change for the other lesson she scheduled for the day, so she figures it’s easier to cover all at once.

Just as Emma had done upon reading the email, Ruby’s excitement grows with the news about a possible full-time job. While they both love Boston, Ruby has just as much at stake to move closer to home. It would mean being closer to Granny, and visiting more often. It may not be their Broadway dreams, but it would be regular exposure where they could still set up a studio for lessons if they choose.

Ruby’s mind whirls along with hers, and by the time Emma’s cabin is back in order with all her laundry put away, they have practice time set aside for that evening after dinner. They have new routines to try out, and choreography to plan, and just a month and a half to prepare for their trial run.

Chapter 3

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff

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