#i heard someone describe it as 'finding fiction that makes the same noises as the shredder in your head' once

[arthurdrakoni]

Seen and Not Heard is an audio drama that makes the bold choice to depict the experience of deafness in an audio medium. And it does so quite well. This is my review.

Audio drama, and audio fiction in general, is the last place you’d expect to find people who are deaf or hard of hearing. Despite this, there are a surprising number of such individuals involved in the world of audio drama. And it isn’t just fans. In fact, @seenandnotheardpod is an audio drama created by a deaf individual. 

Seen and Not Heard follows a young woman named Bet Kline. She has recently lost most of her hearing as a result of an unspecified illness. The series follows a few weeks in Bet’s life as she tries to navigate her now mostly soundless new life. She has to deal with her rather insensitive mother. She meets a nice young man named David, who might be more than he appears. More than anything, Bet has to decide what she wants out of her new life. 

I first become aware of Seen and Not Heard when it got recommended to me on that “You Might Also Like” section of the Apple Podcast app. The first thing that stood out to me was the title card. You see a circle of hands using sign language. That, plus the title, clearly indicated that this would be something involving deafness. A non-fiction podcast about deafness would certainly be odd, but not necessarily out of the question. But this was recommended based on my recent listening. Surly, it couldn’t be an audio drama about deafness, could it? I tapped the cover art, and sure enough, that’s exactly what it was. 

I admit that this show had a certain dancing bear element to it. It’s not everyday that you find an audio drama where the main character is deaf. Oh, but that’s not the only unusual feature about Seen and Not Heard. You see, it is also created by a deaf individual. Series creator @saucymincks, who uses they/them pronouns, is legally deaf. They describe themselves as being exactly halfway between fully hearing and fully deaf. So, they have some hearing, but it is less than optimal. They often get help from their friends to make sure that the audio from their podcasts is correct and up to snuff. And yes, that’s podcasts plural. Caroline Mincks has made several other podcasts besides just Seen and Not Heard. They have also worked on several other audio dramas, and have helped make transcripts for several shows. Speaking of which, transcripts are available on the Seen and Not Heard Twitter account. 

And Caroline isn’t alone. As it turns out, there are a surprisingly high number of deaf and/or hard of hearing individuals who enjoy audio dramas. They come because the shows all seem interesting, and they want to take partake in them. Just the same as hearing people do. This is why it is important to include transcripts with your audio dramas. Without them, it is very difficult for deaf and hard of hearing individuals to enjoy audio dramas. Also, transcripts are very handy for people who write reviews of audio dramas. 

Now, prior to listening to Seen and Not Heard, I’d had a less than stellar experience with depictions of deafness in audio dramas. The only other time I’d seen deafness in audio dramas was in The AM Archies; which is season six of The Bright Sessions. There’s a scene between a hearing character and a deaf character. The deaf character communicates using sign language, which is conveyed by a series of barely audible wind rushing noises. I actually had to rewind multiple times to just to figure out what the hell I was listening to. It didn’t help that Lauren Shippen bragged about how groundbreaking the scene was on Twitter. She came across less as someone who wanted to sincerely depict deafness, and more like she was cynically trying to virtue signal. It also didn’t help that the characters only appeared in that one scene, and had no impact on the plot.  

I went into Seen and Not Heard with an open mind, but I was fully prepared for it to be terrible. Much to my surprise, Seen and Not Heard proved to be quite well-written, and took great care to execute it premise in an entirely audio medium. There is strong feeling of sincerity and genuine care being put forward. This is clearly a very intimate subject for Caroline Mincks, and they wanted to do the topic of deafness proper justice in an audio medium. I alway give points to those who act with sincerity and genuine conviction.

We get a few scenes where we actually get to hear what things are like from Bet’s perspective. It sounds like she has her head underwater. I could kind of make out a couple words and phrases, but I was fairly lost during those scenes. Of course, that’s the point of those scenes. We’re suppose to sympathize and empathize with Bet’s struggles. Bet communicates verbally both in interactions with other characters and her internal monologue. Bet was not born deaf, so presumably she remembers the mechanics of talking. It is also mentioned that she can lip read, and can somewhat better understand people if she’s facing them. She does enroll in a sign language class. She’s the only actual deaf person in the class. Pretty much everyone else has family of significant others who are deaf or hard of hearing. 

I do wonder how much of Seen and Not Heard is autobiographical. It didn’t escape my notice that Bet and Caroline Mincks share a number of similarities. They are both Jews from northern Virginia. Many of the foods that Bet cooks and eats are also ones I’ve seen Caroline mentioning cooking on Twitter. They also seem to be fairly similar in terms of personality. There’s also the obvious similarity that they are both deaf to the same degree. 

There’s a bonus episode where Caroline Mincks gives advice on how do write deaf characters, as well as a bit about what it is like to be a deaf audio drama creator. They said it is considered rude to ask deaf people how they became deaf. Be that as it may, given all of the other similarities between Bet and Caroline, I can’t help but wonder. I also wonder how much of the plot draws from Caroline’s own life. There are some differences, like how Caroline identifies as non-binary, while Bet identifies as female. However, I also don’t know how Caroline identified when Seen and Not Heard was made. 

I should also mention that, in addition to being the series creator, Caroline as provides the voice for Bet. Caroline gives a very earnest and heartfelt performance. It was quite clear, as with everything else, that this was a very personal subject for Caroline. Caroline also assembled a team of very talented voice actors to help bring the other characters to life.

Caroline has hinted that we might be getting a season 2 of Seen and Not Heard at some point.  I’m certainly on-board if that does come to pass.

Have you listened to Seen and Not Heard?  If so, what did you think?

Link to the full review on my blog: https://drakoniandgriffalco.blogspot.com/2022/07/the-audio-file-seen-and-not-heard.html?m=1

[innerangeltoadlover]

4. So I was diagnosed a thousand years ago at 25 and from that time on I existed in a world of stupor and the early years were especially hard. There is nothing quite like taking meds and sleeping pills and still being awake at 4am. It’s actually the worst feeling I’ve experienced in the medication side of the illness - being alone with your thoughts and having them spiral in unending repetition is difficult to describe but the added feeling of physical coldness paired with sweating that chronic insomnia brings makes the chirping of birds at sunrise an unhappy occasion. There is also nothing like having to go to bed at 10 pm because your sister is visiting with the newborn every fortnight and hearing the baby crying at 6am and hearing your sister making gurgling noises to get him back to sleep and then hearing her snoring and then hearing her waking at 8am and then hearing her shouting in the kitchen about how lazy I am and knowing it's going to be a really hard day because I’ve spent the night awake. To the layperson the answer to insomnia is always the same : just go to bed earlier! I have heard this so many times it is like an anthem of people's complete ignorance of mental illness. Being exhausted does not guarantee a good night's sleep and in my case I find being tired more often than not guarantees a cycle of insomnia that also guarantees a day of couch sitting but no sleep - that’s real insomnia - it’s continuous. Since being diagnosed I have also never experienced a night's sleep without being medicated which is kind of hellish when I see it written. I’m including this because it illustrates how hard recovery is and how fragile we are in those early years and how bad it is to have to endure someone who is not interested in helping you to wellness. I probably should have gotten support from my sister who is a nurse but I may as well have been sitting on the couch eating chips all day .

Certainly it is difficult to be around a person who has a mental illness especially if you lack empathy however the effort I was making to help out was met with hostility and stereotypical statements about ‘craziness’. It was only after the Court case that we understood that my sister was returning home and telling her husband I was abusing her. Why would she do this? Throughout her relationship with her husband our family has been actively involved in my sister’s life by means of scapegoating. Though she wanted very little to do with us keeping contact fulfilled the same fiction by which the relationship and initial attraction began- that of victim and saviour. Returning home with an abuse story allowed her to initiate feelings with her husband that were obviously extremely important. This lie is the reason we ended up in Court and with a diagnosis of schizophrenia to support this scenario it was easily enabled. However as my story will show the above scenario was used when it was convenient and was contradicted in the next mood change. There was no steady theme in my sister’s abuse as she was an opportunist and I could never see what was coming next. My sister’s ability to be quick off the mark would be seen by herself as an asset however when it is used against not only me but our whole family it’s nothing short of disgusting. I think there was also an element of resentment that I was living with my parents and stealing the limelight from her and her kiddos even though my input was minimal . I always had it in my head that she should count herself lucky that she had not inherited an illness which had generational impact in our family and act accordingly but I don’t think that fact had any impact - I was just a fucking annoyance . However I also must be cautious about my abilities in interpreting human behaviour - because unlike ‘normal’ people i have been trained by therapists to disregard all that I observe because of my diagnosis (this has worked well) .

[sparxwrites]

I'm not sure if you've answered something similar before (I can't find it if you have but knowing tumblrs terrible search function that's not saying much) but why do you write such dark sexual stories? What is it that you find so appealing in these twisted tales? Please understand this is from a point of good faith - I'm not judging and I enjoy dark stories and erotica both, only seperately. I'm just morbidly curious as to why you enjoy the combination as I see no appeal in it personally

oof, just a nice easy question to answer on a friday night, anon. okay. there’s a lot of answers to this question, depending on how personal i want to get and also like... which stories you’re talking about.

some stories i write that could be considered “darkly sexual” are categorically erotica. stuff involving weird, niche kinks, or monsters, or “dub-con” (which is not a real thing, i know, it’s a fantasy erotica thing)... the appeal there is, idk, whatever the fantasy is. they are, in my mind, written as fantasies - a fic where a character doesn’t want sex and then ends up "enjoying” having a monster lay eggs in them is obviously not what happens irl. eggs aside, no one ends up actually enjoying sexual assault. they’re written (from my side) with the air of “irl this would be Utterly Reprehensible, but what i’m essentially writing here is like... a roleplay session between two consenting partners where i am both partners”. it’s all fantasy! it’s all fake! it’s a bdsm scene or whatever where they’re both pretending/playing a role, except it’s just me writing it out with little finger puppets (either for my amusement/titillation, or the amusement/titillation of others).

then there’s... Other Stuff. see also, a lot of my percy and ripley fics. and i find it interesting that people often read those as fetish stuff because, whilst they do have sex in them, those are fundamentally horror stories. the appeal i get out of them is the same as whump/darkfic. when i write about horrible, traumatising sex where one person clearly doesn’t enjoy it, that is not a sexual fantasy for me. characters roleplaying at it, sure, me playing fingerpuppets with it, sure. but something deeply and fundamentally focused on the trauma and violation of that kind of thing is not, for me, sexual (and if what you’re getting off on is the actual nonconsent, rather than the playing at/silly version of nonconsent, i have some questions/concerns. this seems like a weird and not-really-there line, but it’s surprisingly obvious and disconcerting when someone/a fic crosses it tbh). what i get out of that is a deep sense of catharsis. i’ve gone into why i think i (and others) get this catharsis a little in my meta tag and this specific post - but, at the end of the day, i don’t exactly know. 

i think, perhaps, it is that i am a very sad person sometimes, and a very angry person sometimes, and in real life i spend a lot of time keeping both of those things hidden and pressed down, and... there has to be some kind of release valve for those emotions. with fiction, i have a safe way of managing that, both reading and writing - i can be both aggressor and victim, no one gets hurt (i find the thought of hurting people abhorrent; i nearly passed out once because a stranger was in pain from a dislocated shoulder, despite the lack of visible injury. hyperempathy is wild), i get to work through a whole bunch of psychological shit from various stuff i won’t go into... i often refer to writing as a release, or a valve, or a way to ease the pressure inside my head, or a form of venting. 

as to why sexual assault often shows up in these stories... i do frequently write whump without sexual assault, but it’s also like. a) a bunch of personal stuff that i don’t give enough of a shit to talk about, but it’s there, and b) sex and sex-adjacent stuff (often rape and assualt, but even consensual stuff!) has such a fascinating way of crystallising character/power dynamics, or stripping people bare, or exposing vulnerability, or dragging up really awful, messy, scary, painful, confusing stuff. and that makes it often a really good target when you (like me) want all those emotions in your writing because you’re using it as a pressure-valve vent, and as a way to safely experience and work through them. writing about difficult or traumatic relationships to the self, the body, to sex and to other people... sex is really good for all of that stuff. idk.

also, sometimes fics end up a weird mix of the two. i can’t think of any off the top of my head for cr, but for yogs (my previous fandom) i wrote a handful of things for a character that was essentially straight out of a horror movie and another monster character, with some real questionable consent stuff. 50% of that was “this is horrible and manipulative and just. really fucking Awful” and 50% of that was “hrnghghgh tentacles hot” so like. yknow. my brain is a weird mess i guess, is the takeaway message here.

(sometimes, there’s also an element of “can i get myself into this headspace” or “this is an interesting technical exercise” - i wrote something a while back about ripley masturbating to the memory of torturing percy, and that falls into this category. that wasn’t a fetish/fantasy thing, that was a character study, using sex as a medium to work through ripley’s obsessive, violent thoughts and strip away the veneer of imparitiality she so loves to pretend she has.)

idk how well this explains it - this is something i spend a lot of brain-power analysing on a regular basis, because i am constantly nosy about how my brain works and why it works in these weird, angular, fucked-up kinds of ways (not just with writing, the adventures of being autistic means i spend a Lot of time analysing myself to make sure i’m calibrating my interactions with other people correctly). i still haven’t entirely worked it out, and a lot of the stuff i have worked out is personal/messy enough i both don’t want to and can’t be arsed to explain it to strangers on the internet. i hope it’s given a Bit of an explanation tho, and if there’s a specific fic that prompted this comment, feel free to ask me about it specifically, bc i might be able to offer a little more insight as to my thought processes for like... a specific example i guess.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[spockandawe]

Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting. 

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned. 

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

[nafeary]

“Just Shut Up.”

⚬ Pairing: Yukimura Sanada/Reader

⚬ Characters: Yukimura, Reader

⚬ Word Count: 1.2k

⚬ Genre: Fluff, a tad bit of Angst

⚬ Warnings: Tiny description of a bruise

⚬ Event: 500 Follower Milestone Celebration [Requests Closed]

✧✎ Prompt: Requested by @juminly

2. “I was supposed to confess first!”

✧✎ A/N: Attempt #2 at writing flash fiction—failed. I’m hopeless brrrr. Anyway, my dearest penguin mum, I hope you enjoy our prickly tsundere. Everyone, please take care, eat, drink water, take your meds, and sleep 💜💜💜 I’m sorry this took so long

“You’re too cold,” he claimed as he positioned his head a little above your lap. Despite the harsh voice, his tawny orbs sought for permission before following through with his intention. “Give me your hands. You’re so clumsy, you’d end up getting sick if someone isn’t there to keep you warm.”

The last you saw of his handsome face was the crimson tint his cheeks harboured—mirroring your own flushed ones. It was short-lived, however, as he turned away from you with a heated huff.

You two had found yourselves in a tranquil meadow, away from prying eyes, and you were leaning against a tree, bathing in the dimming light of the sun. Sunset cast a golden glow as it peeked around branches and leaves, reflecting off of dewy drops. As it was wonted to be, bickering had found its way into the conversation, yet it quieted down once you took notice of the merchant‘s fatigue—but your head was full of noise.

It hadn’t taken long for his breathing to steady, his body much too exhausted to disregard this opportunity. And yet, his hands tightly clasped yours, sharing their warmth with you as though you were trapped within a fortress of cashmere blankets. You managed to sneak one hand out, lightly brushing it through his chestnut strands.

“And you’re too warm, Yuki. You don’t even seem to realize that at times.”

You hadn’t meant for these words to tumble past your lips; however, the maelstrom of your mind had different intentions. Your eyes widened for a split second, making sure that the addressed man was still tightly asleep. Relief washed over you in waves, bringing your free hand to your heart, only to feel it bellowing within your chest.

It’s not that you didn’t mean what you had said—there was so much more enveloped by your heart, begging to come free in the hopes that these feelings might find reciprocation. But you couldn’t just confess to Yukimura... it wasn’t that easy. You’d frequently burnt the midnight oil the last few weeks, weighing the pros and cons. It was either living in puzzlement, dense fog making you uncertain of anything and everything, and regretting the missed opportunities, or risking the exposure of your heart’s conquest while also risking its prosperity.

But... there shouldn’t be any menace if he cannot hear you speak, because you were certain of one thing: you couldn’t keep your thoughts to yourself anymore.

“Everything about you is warm. Most people would probably say that you tend to act cold, but the underlying intentions... they only reflect the sun itself,” you began your confession. Despite your initial anxiousness, you weren’t as afraid as you’d anticipated. In contrast, you could almost feel your heart pumping as steady as the ocean tides.

“You just have to know how to decipher your prickly words, and one would realise just how pure your intentions are.”

Never before had words flown out of your mouth this easily, any restrictions and insecurity lending them wings.

“When I’m around you, my heart loses control. My head spins and I feel fluttery, like it's full of butterflies. You make me feel... invincible—all my fears, all my anxiousness just vanishes when I’m at your side. You make me feel like I belong.”

How would he react, were he to acknowledge these feelings? Would he laugh it off, concluding it to be a jest? Would he pull you close, telling you to stop being so needy, with his cherry lips brushing your ear?

Would he... would he reject you?

“There are so many things I love about you, from your tactlessness to your awkward self-expressing. I—“ you stopped your rambling, taking note of something rather frightening.

Yukimura’s ears were red. So red they could easily rival even a blooming field of roses. He couldn’t possibly be awake?

He couldn’t be.

Adrenaline still holding you upright but the hidden anxiousness returning and settling in your mind, you rested your hand against his silken tresses once more, feeling him twitch against you. “Yuki... you’re awake, aren’t you?”

You felt him inhale. Once. Then twice. Perhaps, he was simply dreaming, an embarrassing occurrence responsible for the red rushing to his ears? Oh, why couldn’t you just shut up for once?

That’s what you theorised, at least. But he proved you wrong, swiftly raising his head as if he were a cat doused in water. Miscalculating his momentum, however, he hit your chin, making the back of your head collide with the tree’s bark.

You both groaned in pain, Yukimura holding the crown of his chestnut mop while you rubbed at the spot that hit the wood you were leaning against. But in spite of that, bubbly giggles erupted. Yuki first looked at you with perplexity, yet he soon joined your laughter. “You’re such a strange woman,” he said with a slight smile, settling across from you.

You stilled, applying pressure to the pulsing pain. “I’m the strange one? You’re the one that unapologetically hit me.”

“It was an accident!” he exclaimed, the furious blush returning once again. “Besides, it’s because you—“

He stopped himself from continuing, reminding you that he must have heard your confession—at least a part of it. You wished you could simply peek into his mind. Yuki merely continued to stare at you incredulously, his irises minuscule and his mouth slightly agape. About to nervously wring your fingers together, you noticed that your other hand was still tightly held by his.

“I’m... did you hear what I just said—“ A crack in your voice halted your timorous stutters. You didn’t even notice that you’d started play with the fabric of your obi when Yukimura pulled your hand towards his kneeling form, enfolding it just like your other one within his hands, chasing away the cold fronts that had started to pour upon you.

Maybe it was because Yuki didn’t immediately turn sour or attempt to disparage your sentiments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he blinked at you, but it didn’t matter. When it came down to it, he never failed to carefully pick his words.

Perchance your trust in him was foolish, but your trepidation ceased regardless.

“Dummy,” he muttered with a slight pout before averting his gaze, “I was supposed to confess first!”

“Huh?”

“You heard me!” he shouted a bit more forcefully, lifting his face to meet yours.

“So what if I told you that I want to be together with you?” Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fluttering around, creating a sensation that could only be described as extreme exhilaration.

“I’d tell you that I want the same thing,” he admitted, his tone deepening, and the amber in your cheeks sparked with surprise. “In case you didn’t catch it the first time... I—I like you, too.”

Mirroring his earlier actions, now you were the one staring at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Is it that shocking that I like you?” Your slight nod prompted him to let out a sigh, bringing your bonded hands just in front of his heart. “Do you feel this? I knew you were difficult, but stop looking like a fish and just accept this.”

With the gentle tang of pine in the air, you wriggled a hand out of his tight embrace to set it on his shoulder, burying your face against his warm neck. His heart was still beating just as furiously as yours, and you nuzzled deeper into his locks of chestnut.

You felt a soothing pat at the back of your head, another arm coming around your back. “I’m sorry I hurt you earlier.”

“You should be.” In contrast to your words, your smile was no more menacing than the butterflies within yourself.

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added or removed): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[gaemkyuu]

I’m Right Here (Owen Joyner x Fictional Character

Warnings: anxiety attack and self-deprecation A/N: Sorry this one took so long! The fictional character has been shamed for her anxiety from her parents. The experience of an anxiety attack is based on the ones I have. It’s different for everyone. Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

I’m Right Here

“Hey Jade! Wait up!” Jade was walking out of her trailer and on her way to her car, until she heard Owen call out for her. She paused and turned around to face the tall blonde, who stopped in front of her slightly out of breath. He bent slightly over his knees, catching his breath and still in costume.

“Aren’t you supposed to be filming a scene right now?” she cocked her eyebrow at him and rested a hand on her hip. They were on set filming for Julie and the Phantoms season 2, and Jade was brought in as a minor character as a part of Carrie’s posse. She didn’t have any major dialogues save the one or two quips her character had, so she was mostly there for the dance portions. That often meant she was able to leave set earlier or she had less days on set than others.

“Yeah, they’re setting up, but I wanted to catch you before heading out” Owen started to shift his weight from leg to leg and began to avoid eye contact. Jade felt butterflies in her stomach but immediately tried to suppress them, knowing that what she hoped was happening was probably not. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, only for them to be deflated. “You got any plans Tomorrow night?”

“Just snuggling with my dog and drinking wine while singing karaoke” she mentally facepalmed herself at her honesty. She just sealed the deal on being forever single. Owen fidgeted and the air between them became awkward, no thanks to Jade’s awkward confession.

“Listen, I was wondering, and you can totally say no, if you wanted to maybe go to dinner with me? That’s if dinner is something you do, not like eat, because I’m sure you eat dinner, but if you don’t I’m not judging you. I mean like dinner dinner, y’know?” the boy looked frazzled and a little desperate to stop his verbal diarrhea from making him look even stupider than he did in that current moment. 

“Like a date?” Jade hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but then again, a girl had to know. Owen gave her a sheepish smile and a nod yes, instantly filling her with excitement. “YES! Uhm... I mean sound great. I’d totally love- i mean like to go on a date with you” she blushed furiously, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate or too excited.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7?” she nodded and he smiled turning around and jogging back to set. Jade felt like she could fly or bench press a bus. She always tried to deny having feelings for him, but whenever she was asked she would stumble over her words and everyone instantly knew. Savannah and Tori often teased her about her feelings and pushed her to ask him out, but she was too nervous. Correction, she was too afraid to be rejected.

Jade never thought of herself as anything more than a plain and ordinary girl who happened to be able to dance well. She wasn’t overly pretty but she wasn’t hideous either, and there were very little standout qualities. Most people described her as quiet, mousy with a pretty smile, but nothing ever more than that. She believed she got it from her family as they too were described similarly. Her mother was a dentist and her father worked at a law firm. She was an only child and they have always lived a comfortable life, so naturally Jade never had any interesting stories to tell. She was just your average plain Jane.

The drive back to her apartment was full of joy and she blasted the music in her car as she drove, singing along to every tune. She was extremely excited to go on this date and her enthusiasm carried on as she bounced to her apartment door and inside. Placing her keys on the counter by the door, she went to her closet to pick out the best outfit. Looking at the array of clothing, she picked out a few and sent them to her co-stars/best friends for their opinions. Unfortunately, they both had different ideas as to what she should wear that night.

Sav: go for something cute and conservative! Southern boys like all American girls!

Tori: go for something a little sexy Cali girl. Like I’m a good girl but I’m also capable of being bad too

Sav: for the first date? Idk...

Tori: Sav, do you really think Owen is only about them all American girls? He was the one talking about how peaches were a brilliant emojis for butts

Sav: point taken.

Sav: go for something that best represents you!

Jade: a paper bag?

Tori: really?

Tori: you are more than just a paper bag J

Sav: we gotta go, Kenny’s calling places. I’m sure what you’ll pick will be fine! Send us a pic!

Jade frowned that her friends couldn’t chat longer to help her, but she knew she had to do this on her own. After filing through clothing, she finally found something she liked but noticed that she had spent an hour picking an outfit. Owen would be by in two hours, meaning that she had to speed up her process if she didn’t want to feel rushed!

 She slipped stepping into the tub to take a shower, smashing her elbow on the towel bar. She quickly tried to rub the pain as she cursed under her breath. She had no time to be clumsy! She started her shower up and gracefully hopped in this time, hoping to avoid any further injury. After doing her daily hygiene routine, she applied the hair mask and wrapped it up in a shower cap, applying her face mask right after. She noticed that her legs felt the slightest bit fuzzy and cursed herself for not shaving in the shower. Quickly glazing at her phone for the time, she slathered on shaving cream and attempted to shave her leg using her bathroom counter, which was a mistake. She slipped, nicking her leg on the way down, bumping her head against the wall too.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, not a big deal Jade” she comforted herself. “Stick a Band-Aid on it and just wear jeans!”

She began to wash out the hair and facemask, making a mental note to patch herself up after. As she patted her face dry, she opened the medicine cabinet to grab a Band-Aid, when the lights shut off. Fumbling around for her phone, she quickly turned on the flashlight to find a Band-Aid and her bathrobe. Slipping on the robe, she made her way to the apartment breaker. Nothing had tripped on the breaker panel, but the power in her suite was completely shut off.

“That’s fine! You’ll just have to go with your natural curls instead of spicing things up with a straightener!” she could already feel the nauseous and claustrophobic feeling in her chest creep up on her, but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Now was not a good time for her to have an anxiety attack. She had an hour and fifteen minutes before Owen came. Plenty of time... right?

Making her way over to her closet, she began to look for another outfit that would look good with the jeans that she had picked out. She tried on top after top, but nothing seemed to fit right. Giving a huff in frustration, she sat on the bed to take a deep breath. She had to get going if she was going to have enough time to do her makeup, but it seemed like life had other plans. All of a sudden, the fire alarm in the complex went off, indicating that everyone was being asked to evacuate. She jumped at the noise and quickly threw on a sweater, grabbing her passport, wallet, documents and phone before exiting the building with the other residents. 

It turned out to be a fire drill that was scheduled to happen last week, but Jade had completely forgotten about it. They all had to stand outside while the fire marshal cleared the building and checking the safety of it. By the time Jade had made her way back into the building and up to her suite, she had 30 minutes before Owen came over. She hated the outfit she was wearing, her hair was a mess due to the wind outside and she had no makeup on!

The feeling in her chest increased gradually as she rushed around the house, doing her best to multitask. The power came back on when she entered the suite, so she tried straightening her hair as the curls were a mess, but she underestimated her multitasking skills. She burnt herself multiple times as she tried to do her makeup and hair at the same time. It didn’t help that the bottom half of her hair was straight and the bottom half wasn’t, and her eyeliner was uneven. Looking at herself in the mirror stressed her out even more, so she washed her face and decided to restart. The alarm on her phone notified her that Owen would be at the door in 5 minutes, and that’s when everything bubbled over. Looking at her messy face, half done hair, wet shirt and jeans, she sniffled until the tears welled over. She sank to the bathroom floor feeling like an idiot. No normal person would be this upset over their appearance, so why was she? Would Owen think she was weird because of this? Would he even want to go out with her? Her breathing increased and she started to feel her ensuite close in on her, signaling a full blown anxiety attack.

Jade wasn’t comfortable talking about her anxiety. Her parents often made her feel like she was overreacting or seeking attention whenever they happened, but they never understood that if Jade had the choice, these things wouldn’t get to her. This feeling that you need to escape, but you don’t have the energy so you’re just a buzzing ball sitting in a deep dark hole. She would often cry during her attacks, ashamed that she lost control and ashamed that she got to this place. Her friends would tell her to seek professional help for it, but she waved them off knowing that if she did see someone, it would make things worse between her and her parents. She loved them a lot and often sought for their approval, and doing this would work against the hard work she put in to make them proud.

“Jade?...unlocked...hope that’s okay?... helloo?....dead?.... Jade?”

“Jade? Hey... Hey you’re okay...”

“Jade? It’s Owen.”

“Squeeze my hand if you hear me”

“Okay good. I want you to breathe with me”

“You’re doing great”

“That’s it”

“Breathe in for five, out for five”

“In five”

“Out five”

The murkiness of the voice became clearer and clearer as she regained control of her breathing. She began to feel a warmth enveloping her and holding her firmly. She wasn’t in the bathroom anymore but rather on the sofa in her living room with the balcony door open, letting in a cool breeze. 

“Jade?” She focused her attention on the blonde boy who sat beside her, his arm currently wrapped around her and the other holding her hand. “Hey” his smile was warm and understanding, but Jade couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. Seeing this, Owen knew immediately what was happening. Before the apology left her lips, Owen had already began to speak.

 “You have nothing to apologize for... Is this the first time?” She bowed her head sadly, wiping away the tears and shaking her head no. In this moment, she felt like a little kid getting into trouble, bracing herself for the disappointment she caused.

“Listen, I know how you feel. Your anxiety? Your panic? I feel it every day. You don’t have to be ashamed in front of me. Hell, you shouldn’t have to feel ashamed in front of anyone. Everyone goes through this right? Well obviously, in their own ways and not like you and me, but I think you get the point” his rant elicited a small chuckle from the girl. “Want to talk about it?”

Jade nodded her head, feeling comfortable around him. She recounted her struggles since getting home to the razor to the power to the fire drill up until their current moment. Owen was silent and attentive the entire time, hanging on to every word that came from her mouth.

“I mean, I’m flattered that you put in all this work to go on a date with me, but seriously, and I’m not saying this to like get on your good side or anything, but you don’t need all the makeup and stuff. You’re pretty pretty on your own” she smiled at his comment, grateful for the compliment as it made her feel better.

“Thanks, I’m sorry I ruined our date” he scoffed and shook his head, moving to the kitchen counter picking up the flowers he had brought for her.

“I was going to give these to you at the door, but seeing as the plans have changed, you should probably take them and put them in some water?” she blushed at the gesture and took them gratefully from him. As she puttered around the kitchen for some sort of vase, he tapped away on his phone. “Do you like pizza?”

“Owen, I LOVE pizza” he grinned back at her and tapped a couple more times on his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing date night to us.” he replied simply, locking his screen and plopping down on the couch, clicking through the apps on the TV. “Alright, so you’re gonna show me your favorite musical and I will show you mine”

Jade thought that in order to make a good impression on a first date, you had to look perfect. Owen that night helped her see that when two people like each other, Pizza and Musicals are all you need on a first date.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

A Mere Mortal - Chapter Two

A/N: This story is based on the prompt : Vampires cannot enter a house without your permission, but what if your landlord’s a vampire? It’s his house, he’s just letting you live there. Part of the Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles. I’m super nervous about this one, so feedback’s most welcome!

Series Masterlist

Tags : @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @ladyacrasia​

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 1670

Warnings: Foul language. Smut in future chapters. 18+ content!

Taglists open! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future chapters.

...

Bucky’s POV

I noticed a car pull up in the square just as I was about to head back home. I stopped to see who I assumed was (Y/N) step out of that car. I was standing at the far end of Chapel Street, I knew she couldn’t see me.

My enhanced eyesight being an advantage, I hid behind a tree and watched her every move. She was beautiful in the most unconventional way. She looked around the town with a child-like curiosity. I suppose she’ll grow to love the town.

The breeze made her hair blow care free in the mid-morning sun. The whiff of her tea tree and lavender shampoo made its way to my nostrils. The scent made my head spin and I had to stop myself from approaching her right then and there and introduce myself. I decided to send her a ‘welcome to Dewsbury’ text instead, as I turned to return home once again. I’ll meet her soon. I have to.

…

Looks like a lot of luggage. You’ll be exhausted after all that moving. Why don’t I come over with a welcome drink? It’s about time we met (Y/N) – James B

As you read James’ text, you couldn’t help but feel a little weird. He seems to be aware of everything, very stalker-ish. But the rational side of your brain intervened, it’s a pretty small town, word must’ve gotten around about the moving trucks and the ‘new girl’, so you shrugged it off and got to work.

About two hours into unpacking, when you were just about done, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was coming over.

He said he’d come by didn’t he? Something must’ve come up, you defended his absence in your mind. Since when were you waiting around for a guy to show up? That too someone who you’d never actually seen in person. It was the damn voice. Okay maybe you were reading too much into it.

Shaking your head to derail your train of thoughts, you looked around your new house proudly. A low rumble in your stomach announced that you were famished. You figured you’d go to the grocery store that was a ten minute walk from the house and buy essentials.

So grabbing a warmer jacket, wallet and keys, you stepped out.

The walk to the store turned into a jog as the wind had turned brutal. The sky was painted in beautiful twilight colors and you couldn’t resist taking your phone out to get a picture.

You heard a shuffling sound coming from your right. You stopped and looked towards the woods, hoping to spot the source of the noise. You found nothing. As you turned back you swore you saw a shadow move through the woods from the corner of your eye.

Before you let panic set in, the rational part of your brain convinced you that it was your mind playing tricks on you. It might have been an animal of some sort.

You kept your gaze on the ground as you picked up the pace, but suddenly bumped into a tall figure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see­-

Your head snapped up at the voice, recognizing it immediately. The same voice that you found oddly calming over the phone. The voice that made you dream about what the person behind it looks like. Now you had finally come face to face with your landlord.

“You must be (Y/N). We meet at last.” He replied offering you his hand as a warm smile played on his lips.

The initial shock evaporated as you had to mentally shake yourself from getting lost in his steel blue eyes.

He had a well chiseled face with a neatly trimmed beard adorning it, and light brown hair that looked way too fluffy. You found yourself wondering what it’d be like to run your fingers through them.

Your eyes trailed over his body, he wore a white button down shirt tucked neatly in black pants and he was wearing oxford shoes. What’s with the formal look, you thought.

“Uh y-yes I am. It’s nice to finally meet you Mr Barnes.” You clasped his hand in yours and immediately felt his freezing cold skin against your much warmer hand. He must’ve sensed that as he broke contact at that moment and shoved his hand back in his pockets.

“I was coming over to say hi. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah I’m actually headed to the grocery store. I figured I’d buy some stuff for the house and get stuff for dinner you know.” You replied, looking at the ground, hands buried deep in your jacket as well.

“Of course. Do you mind if I accompany you to the store? I could probably answer some questions you might have about the house. Unless you want to do it another time.”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for your reply.

You agreed, surprised initially, and started walking down the road in silence.

You kept glancing at each other after every few minutes followed by an awkward smile. No this cannot turn into one of those horribly awkward meets, you decided you’d do something.

“You were gonna show up two hours earlier.”

“What?” James looked at you perplexed.

Of all things you could think of, you decided to come off as a desperate woman who was waiting around for some guy to show up. Great. You cringed internally.

“I mean, I got your text about two hours ago saying you’d be coming over and then you didn’t show up. Not that I was waiting or anything. Just you didn’t show up. Which is fine.” You continued to ramble trying to cover your embarrassment with some more.

He was amused looking at your flustered state, finding it quite endearing. He laughed before saying, “Oh right I did. I was about to leave the house when one of my old pals showed up. We got to talking and I completely forgot to call you to let you know I’d be late. Sorry about that.”

What he didn’t say, was the fact that Loki showed up at his house unannounced, like he always did. He had met you at the library earlier that day and was intrigued by your demeanor. He wouldn’t shut up about you and described you like an object of wonder which made James worry about you. He’d have to keep Loki away from you. If only it were easy. Loki was known to get his way once he set his eyes on something, or someone.

“Okay.” Was all you managed, not really sure why you spoke up in the first place. You decided to remain silent for the rest of the walk.

…

A worn out signboard of Fred’s Family Mart came into view after a while. It had a faulty light on the right side of it which was flickering constantly. The street was relatively empty except a few people walking in and out of the pubs. The wind making the leaves rustle gently with a distinct whooshing sound, made it look like a typical thriller scene setting.

You stepped in, James followed closely behind. The store wasn’t huge, but it was big enough and had practically everything you could possibly need.

“So (Y/N), tell me about yourself.” James asked as you picked a trolley and walked further into the store.

“Well, I’m a writer. I love to travel, that’s kinda obvious I guess. Not a lot of family, none that I’m close to anyway. My parents split up when I was twelve, and I chose to stay with my Dad. He runs a publishing house, so I was always surrounded by stories which slowly nudged me into writing.” You said while picking through cereal boxes, stopping every now and then to look at him.

“Wow a writer that’s fascinating. What do you write about?” he seemed genuinely interested.

“Mostly fiction. I’ve written a few thriller short stories. New places and towns like these always serve as an inspiration for me. I’ve always had a thing for horror though. The whole paranormal and mystical genre is my jam. I know it sounds weird right?”

He looked at you with a surprised expression as he grinned and added, “No no not at all. It’s good to know. I’m just used to girls saying they’re into romance or comedy at least. Never horror though.”

You were nothing like he imagined you to be. It just made him want to get to know you more.

“That’s such a cliché. I don’t blame you though. But I’m here to break the stereotype.” You said sending a wink his way as you picked out some veggies and fruit, feeling more comfortable around him now.

“Tell me about Dewsbury, Mr Barnes.”

The way you called him Mr Barnes made it difficult to not imagine you saying the same in a different scenario. A very different scenario. He wondered how much of that confident woman persona would differ in the bedroom, if it would. You seemed like someone who’d like to be in control of every situation. That’d be fun to explore, he thought. Perhaps he could teach you…Before his cock expressed interest in that subject, he shook those train of thoughts away and replied.

“Well there’s a lot that would be of interest to you here. This town’s full of rich history and myths. And please call me Bucky, Mr Barnes makes me sound like a sixty year old.” he replied, as you both made your way to the checkout counter. A tall man stood with a bored expression on his face, as you started unloading the trolley.

“Alright Bucky. Myths you say, that’s already got me hooked. What kind?” You asked him with excitement clearly visible in your eyes.

You missed the man and Bucky exchanging a knowing look, as you were busy picking out a flavor of gum that the side of the counter displayed.

“Dewsbury is notoriously famous for vampires (Y/N).”

…

Next Chapter

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me”: Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 1

A/N: Please enjoy getting caught up in this love story :) 

Like / reblog and let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for the next chapters to come .... 

thankyou my loves and don’t fook with the peaky blinders! ;) xx

It’s the usual smog and cold air as I make my way down town, dirt and gravel roads crunching beneath my heels. Mostly, I concentrate on trying not to lose my footing and dodging the young boys who are playing tag in the street. But there’s a very small, tucked away portion of my brain who is constantly, subconsciously, thinking about him. Michael Gray. Even though its months since the day he left, months since I’ve seen or heard from him, it still feels strange to walk these streets without his hand locked firmly with mine. These days I just bury my hands deep in my coat pockets, trying to distract myself from how empty they feel. And from how fucking cold it is.

I round the last corner, away from the houses and straight into the Main Street. Busy and bustling with people leaving and entering businesses, horse and cart, cars all adding to the noise. In a crowd of people, a familiar face sticks out.

Polly Gray. Standing outside of the train station. A smile falls over my face immediately upon spotting her. If there’s one woman I love like my own mother, it’s Polly Gray. When Michael and I began dating and he first brought me home to his family, Polly opened her arms to me like she’d known me her whole life. Like I was already Michael’s wife. They all did.

But when Michael left for America, he didn’t just cut of communication with me. He cut of communication with everyone. Even his own family. The only way we knew he was still alive was through the rest of the staff Shelby Limited has in America. Apart from that, Michael may as well have been dead. Or at least we were, to him. Despite this, Polly and the Shelby’s didn’t just cast me off like I was a dead weight. Like an extra person that they didn’t need the burden of hanging around. Once you’re in the Shelby family, you’re in for life. I still work at the pub for Tommy. Still come around every Sunday for roast. And I know part of it is the guilt that Polly feels for what her son did to me. To us. To our love. But I know she genuinely loves me, too.

Only a few meters away from her now, I call out to her, waving my hand.

She turns towards my voice with a smile, but the moment her eyes fall over me, it disappears.

“Isabelle, my darling…” she greets me with a smile that just doesn’t seem… right “What are you doing here?”

I furrow my brows “Well I could ask you the same thing, standing outside the train station of all places” I chuckle softly but she just gives me that same, nervous smile.

“Poll, what’s wrong?” I look around suspiciously, for someone who might be causing her to act like this “Is there someone here that shouldn’t be?” It’s a rare occasion that Polly Gray acts anything but confident and calm.

When I look back to her for an answer, she just stutters. Glancing between me and the entry to the station anxiously, she shakes her head.

“Um, now isn’t the time darling, maybe you should go-“

But before I can even figure out what on earth has got her acting this way, the answer to my question walks out of the station lobby and into the street.

Michael.

Suddenly, the obnoxiously loud street becomes muffled, everything sounds like I’m listening from underwater.

Once our eyes lock, he freezes in his tracks, like someone hit the pause button and now all either of us can do is stare at one another.

“Shit” I hear Polly hiss under her breath beside me.

6 months. 6 months of nothing. No calls. No letters. No explanation. 6 months of anticipation. Crying myself to sleep. Making myself sick with worry. Wondering if he ever loved me at all. And how he could just leave me like this. Did he feel bad at all? 6 months has all come down to this moment. And here he stands. Alive and well. A little older. A little more well dressed. And perfectly fine.

Michael.

Acutely aware of my pounding heart, my breath begins to quicken too, my chest rising and falling rapidly beneath my dress.

And if my complete shock or lack of oxygen hasn’t made me completely delusional, I begin to see the smallest hint of something in his eyes. Like a flicker of light through a crack in a concrete wall. It’s gentle. Warm. Hopeful. Is it a smile? Or… love?

“Michael, baby?” A heavily accented woman’s voice cuts through the heavy air around us like a knife.

And just as fleetingly as the look came, it is whisked away. Before I got a chance to read what he’s even thinking after seeing me, the girl he was supposed to be in love with, for the first time in 6 months, the page was ripped away.

It’s replaced by a cold, empty stare and it soon dawns on me why. The heavily accented voice calling his name belongs to someone. Arrogant and proud, she strolls out into the side walk and straight to Michael, placing a possessive hand on his shoulder.

Like watching a car accident, in which my heart is the car and every moment that follows is another piling up on top of it, I can’t look away.

She’s tall, slender, blonde. And she leans into Michael, pressing her red lips against his cheek. The cheek that I used to kiss like that. Leaving a faint lip stick stain like I used to.

My eyes lock with Michaels and again I find another hidden message behind them. Does he look… guilty?

“Baby?” The American demands, her sharp and commanding voice finally snapping us both out of our trance.

“Yes honey, sorry” Michael apologises quickly, dragging his eyes away from mine as he turns to the woman with a smile on his face.

“Well aren’t you going to introduce me?” She chuckles, with a hint of irritation behind it.

He stares at her, his mouth parted ready to speak, but no sound follows it’s lead. The woman gives him one final, warning glare and Michael swallows, turning back to Polly and I.

“This is Gina… Gina Gray”

My head shoots to Polly immediately, and she just shakes her head at me. Polly must have already known. How long has she known about this.

She doesn’t say anything but her her eyes are screaming.

‘I’m sorry’ they cry.

Gina. Gina Gray. Gray.

She’s Michael’s wife.

“Sorry, do we know you?” She asks me pointedly, right as I’m trying to understand what has unfolded in a matter of minutes. So she doesn’t know about me? Michael hasn’t told her. He never mentioned the woman he has been in love with for 4 years. Never crossed his mind? Was our love not worth a mention? Was I not worth it?

I feel Michael’s eyes burning into me as he waits for me to answer, but what am I supposed to say?

‘Oh I was just your husbands lover before he left for America, where I never heard from him in 6 months, but apparently he met you and now you’re married so I guess I’m just some jaded ex lover’

Michael never was a man of God, but I bet he’s praying to whatever God is listening right now. Praying that I don’t reveal his secret. Expose his big lie. Reveal his double life?

“This is Isabelle,” Polly’s voice pushes in very suddenly, but as she goes to continue, Michael cuts her off before she even can.

“A family friend” he interjects quickly, almost tripping over his own words with urgency.

A family friend.

If there was a moment to describe the feeling of twisting the knife once you’ve already been stabbed, this was it.

The sentence rattles around in my brain. How can he just stand there, look me in the eyes, and call me that.

Maybe if we had of broken up before he left, then he would be justified in calling me nothing but a family friend, if he doesn’t want to say I used to be his lover. His girlfriend. His person.

But I clearly remember how he made love to me the night before he left. How he kissed me at the station before he left. How we both cried and held each other, almost causing him to miss the train. And I know he remembers it too. But yet here he stands. With my heart in his hands, and clenching it tightly as he calls me nothing but a family friend.

I’m suddenly painfully aware of the silence between us all, and realise I haven’t spoken once this entire time.

“Yes, sorry” I nod quickly “I’ve known the family a long time”

“How sweet” Gina replies with a tight smile, as she looks me up and down.

A feeling of sickness washes over me the same way her eyes do. I don’t belong here. Standing like a complete fool as Michael and this woman, his wife, pretending to be someone I’m not, just as much as Michael is.

“I’ll let you guys get on your way” I shake my head “I’ve uh, I’ve got a shift to get to anyway”

Gina nods with another sickly sweet and clearly fake smile, and Michael just stands there, still watching me nervously.

“Bye Poll” I breathe at Polly who is biting her lip, doing a terrible job at hiding the distraught look on her face. I can’t even imagine what mine looks like.

I give one last nod at them all, my eyes catching Michaels for the last time as I begin to walk away. My legs feel like lead as I force myself to walk away from them, moving from the spot I felt as though I was frozen to.

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Monika/Reader piece for a lovely anonymous commissioner, with a few unfortunate implications coming towards the end. It was nice to write something a little different from my usual style, and I almost forgot how well this game was written... my adoration of Doki Doki Literature Club is rejuvenated, to say the least.

Word Count: 4.0k

TW: Implied Stalking, Physical Threats, and (Non-Graphic) Violence. 

It was a fixation. That was the best word to describe it.

A fixation.

In itself, the game hadn’t been anything special. Shocking, sure, absolutely horrifying at points, but you were seasoned veteran when it came to horror, a connoisseur of all things dark and demented. That was the downside when it came to warnings. All those labels and reviews were necessary, especially with how a game like Doki Doki Literature Club presented itself, but it kept you on the edge of your seat. If you’re waiting for something bad to happen, you’ll never be surprised when something bad does happen. Just disappointed that it didn’t turn out to be worse.

Either way, you played through the dating-simulator, blushing when Sayori confessed and jumping in your seat when Yuri’s obsession boiled over and having all the responses you were supposed to when unfortunate things happened to people who didn’t really exist. You were painfully precise about these things, never daring to veer off the trodden path, even in a game that couldn’t really be failed, and when it came time for your fun to end, you knew what you were supposed to do. You’d delete Monika’s file, restart the game, and watch things play out. That was it. Three easy steps. Three mindless steps.

Three steps you didn’t think you’d ever actually go through with.

You knew you wouldn’t as soon as you saw it. Monika, a character you hadn’t paid any mind to, sitting right in front of the screen, taking up your monitor in her over-done, oppressive glory, the mood only made more dramatic by just how late it’d gotten, how dark your room was by now. It was a picture, you knew that, something someone had drawn and edited into a game, and yet… it wasn’t, at the same time. There was a connection, as unprecedented as it was unearned. An attraction, albeit one you couldn’t name the source of. A fixation.

There was that word again. Fixation. An undeniable, unreasonable fixation.

Monika seemed to know as well as you. The fact that you’d been staring at the same frame for far too long probably helped her to reach that conclusion, pre-scripted or not.

"Hey, have you ever heard of the term 'yandere'?"

You had, in passing. You’d never paid too much attention to it, though, not enough to be able to pick the definition out.

“It's a personality type that means someone is so obsessed with you that they'll do absolutely anything to be with you. Usually to the point of craziness..."

The idea appealed to you, interested you. Lingering on it for a moment, you let yourself fall into the word. Yandere. You liked that. Yandere.

"A lot of people are actually into the yandere type, you know? I guess they really like the idea of someone being crazy obsessed with them. People are weird! I don't judge, though!"

Well… you wouldn’t want someone to be obsessed with you, you were sure. That seemed like too much attention. It’d take too much effort to keep them interested, and it’d probably be dangerous to entertain a stalker like that… Yeah, you were sure. You didn’t want anyone to be obsessed with you.

But, Monika didn’t exist. She wasn’t dangerous. She didn’t have anyone else to give attention to, and you wouldn’t have to worry about her judging your interests. Even if someone found out, you could just blame it one a glitchy file that won’t close. There wasn’t a risk.

“It's not like I could ever actually kill a person… Just the thought of it makes me shiver. But, come on… everyone's killed people in games before. Does that make you a psychopath? Of course not."

Right. It was just a game. Liking something fictional didn’t make you weird or perverted or… a Yandere for Yanderes, you supposed. It was a dirty little secret. A guilty pleasure. It was normal. Or, it wasn’t anymore abnormal that the disgusting investment a lot of people had in blood-splatter and gore, anyway.

“But if you do happen to be into the yandere type… I can try acting a little more creepy for you. Then again, there's already nowhere else for you to go, or anyone for me to get jealous over."

She didn’t have anyone else in that isolated, tiny world of hers. It would’ve been lonely, if she was real, and for whatever reason, your empathy found that fact too heart-breaking to ignore. And you didn’t really want her to ‘act more creepy’, she was fine as she was, so… that made it a little better, didn’t it? You might’ve just liked the companionship, how close she wanted to be to you. It was an artificial intimacy, and who wouldn’t like intimacy they didn’t have to return?

“Is this a Yandere girl's dream?"

If that's a Yandere’s dream, then your situation must be a Yandere-Lover’s dream. There was no harm, no foul, very low risk and a very high reward, even if it did come in the form of a one-sided, directionless conversation. You thought about finishing the game, speeding through the process and never bothering to think about Monika or Yanderes or Doki Doki Literature Club again.

You thought about it, rolling the idea over in your mind like an antique in need of inspection. You thought about it, scanning over Monika one more time, and turned your monitor off without closing the game. You’d decide tomorrow, before class, or when you got home. A few days of self-indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

Least of all Monika.

Least of all you.

~

You didn’t close the game.

Not before you left, not after class, and certainly not that night, when the urge hit you to play though her dialogue until your eyes forced you to stop. You didn’t bother reading, the next morning, something you sorely came to regret as you sat in your first class of the day, little to do save for staring at the clock and wondering what you should do after school, despite already knowing what the outcome would most likely be. Your teacher was out, today, for the first time all year. She’d bragged that she never missed a day, but you didn’t care enough to raise anything more than a few curious questions. Concern was too much, considering how often accidents happen.

“Do you have a pen?”

A light voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you glanced towards the desk in front of yours, immediately meeting eyes with the girl seated there. You’d never noticed her before, not to any exceptional extent, brown hair and murky eyes making for an unremarkable combination. You simply nodded, reaching down and beginning to search through your bag, talking to fill the silence. “She didn’t leave work for us, right?” You asked, sticking your hand into a random pocket and coming up empty. It was weird, but you tried another. Monika always had a pen on her, it was part of her character design. “I think the assignment on the board was old… it was there yesterday, too.”

She chuckled, as if you’d made a joke. A funny one, judging by how long the noise lasted. “I know that, but…” She trailed off, just long enough to lean onto your desk, attempting to peer over it. “Clubs are demanding, aren’t they? I’m not even a council member, but Debate still has me doing more work than the President.” She let out a heavy sigh, as if the optional dedication had been forced onto her. “It’s all supposed to be extemporaneous -- unplanned, y’know? That’s what used to make it exciting. Everyone was speaking from the heart and everyone minded their own business. It was a competition, but it wasn’t personal.”

You hummed, lightly, closing that compartment and opening another. “And it is, now?”

“Oh, definitely.” There was a subtle emphasis on every other word, it seemed, a passion for nothing in particular breaching whatever she felt like talking about. You could see why she must’ve made a good speaker. “That’s what happens when you start thinking about things too much. They started announcing the topics ahead of time, then people started writing out their arguments, and now you can’t take a side without attacking the other.” There was a pause, a tap to her cheek. A moment to think. “You have to phrase it a certain way, or else it is personal. If you keep things objective, the other side will follow along. It’s amazing how suggestive people can be, when you make an effort to guide them.”

“I wish you would guide me in the direction of a fucking pen,” You mumbled, eliciting another giggle, the sound muffled by a palm over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it usually doesn’t take this long. It’s like they all just, I don’t know, phased out of existence or something.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The disregard came casually, without hesitation. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was as dedicated to her cause as she seemed. “Check the main pocket. You probably kept dropping them in the first place you saw without noticing.” You blinked, glancing up to frown at her, but she just shrugged. “A lot of people do it. If you haven’t caught on, I don’t have a whole much to do ‘cept watch them.”

You didn’t pry further. This was the first time you’d heard her voice, too, so it was fair to assume she wasn’t much of a socialite. “About your club,” You said, bringing the conversation back to a topic that didn’t have to do with how often she stared at your classmates. “Why don’t you quit? You don’t seem to like it very much.”

“Who knows?” She frowned, closing her eyes well she spoke. “I’d have to find another to join, and there’s no guarantee I won’t just keep running into the same problem over and over again. I think about making my own, sometimes, just because I’d be able to make rules against that kind of thing.”

Again, you brightened, and not only because your fingers found something tubular and plastic. “You want to start a club?”

“Yeah, but it’d have to be about something fun.” She rolled her wrist, not noticing when you held out a thoroughly abused pen. “Like, about music or art or…”

“Literature?” You suggested, eagerly.

She scowled, shaking her head, muttering something about her distaste. She said it’d been months since she read a book, years since she’d written something original. Even the idea was alien, to her.

And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be disheartened.

She’d taken the pen, after all.

~

“Whatcha starin’ at?”

Her tone was playful, posture following in suit, the girl rocking back and forth on her heels as she waited for you to snap out of your stupor. You hadn’t meant to zone out, to stare at the dense collection of apartments and condominiums in front of you, but there was just something so familiar about the collection, something you couldn’t put your finger on. But, a hand waving in front of your eyes brought your attention back to the real world, regardless of whether or not you wanted it too.

You were still getting used to having another person around, honestly. Your new friend took a shining to you quickly, settling to let you trail after her like a lost puppy whenever you didn’t have something better to do. She’d offered to show you a shortcut to your train-stop, today, but you were having your doubts about how well she knew the route. It felt like you’d been walking down this same road for ages, now. Like it was a loading screen you didn’t have the connection to overcome.

You took a step forward, standing a little straighter. Attempting to check if the buildings would still be there when you changed perspectives. “Has this neighborhood always been here?” You asked, tilting your head. Still there. “I don’t remember seeing it, until now.”

“As long as I’ve been alive,” She replied, not seeming to take you seriously. “Besides, how would you know? You lock yourself up whenever we’re not in class.”

You huffed, sending a quick glare in her direction, the diversion taking more effort than it should’ve. “I get out occasionally, I’ve just been--”

“Busy with a new game?” She rolled her eyes, setting a swift pace and signaling for you to follow. “It’s not a ‘new game’ if you’ve been working on it for the past two weeks. I’m going to come over and finish it for you myself, one day.”

You were tempted to interrupt her, to contradict her diagnosis, but… you had been playing through Monika’s dialogue for a while. There were so many options, so many routes and monologues, but you’d exhausted most of them. She didn’t hold the same… uniqueness she once did, for lack of a better way to put it. You certainly weren’t tired of playing yet, but you were starting to realize you would be, one day, possibly sooner than you’d anticipated. You’d need something new to focus on, something new to satisfy that itch in your chest, the one that seemed to form every time you were away from your computer for too long. You wondered if there was something similar - Yandere was a genre, technically. There had to be more content, even if you had to look for it.

You resolved to do a more in-depth search once you got home.

“...I’m working on it,” You mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek. Hesitantly, you scanned over her, speeding up to stay at her side as something caught our attention. “When did that start?”

She raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously, already aware of what you were talking about. It was tied back, today, done up painfully tightly and secured with a white hair-band. Her hair was too short for it to come off as elegant or sophisticated, but the way it swung as she walked was cute, and the effort that’d been put into pinning each strand into submission was admirable. She caught onto your approval quickly, locking eyes with you as she spoke. “I’m trying to impress you, idiot.”  

You blinked. She blinked. You blushed, stuttering out something stupid, and she punched you in the side, laughing.

“I’m kidding, (Y/n), don’t freak out on me.” You tried, unsuccessfully, to do as she demanded, earning you another blow, this one coming in the form of an elbow thrown into your rib cage. “What? Can you only accept confessions from 2-D girls, now?”

“It’s just…” You shoved your hands in your pockets, attempting to hide your distress. “It’s just different. I wasn't expecting it!”

“Exactly, it’s different.” She smiled, throwing the offending pony-tail over her shoulder. “Little changes have been doing me a lot of good, lately.”

~

‘One day’ had come too soon.

You knew it would, eventually. You’d been expecting it, in fact. Back-ups had been prepared, a new game and an older series to watch and a few stories on the… riskier side, made by people with too much time and similar interests, and for all intents and purposes, you were ready. It was natural. People got tired of things, of characters and plots and seeing the same face every day, and you knew you would get tired of Monika too, eventually. She was wonderfully written, but no character could be entertaining for… how long had it been? A month? Two?

You needed to check the date more often. Time always seemed to get weird, slowing down and skipping ahead so awkwardly when you spent most of the day in front of a screen.

You guessed the date didn’t matter, though. You were still in the same position, either way, your head resting on one hand while the other laid over your mouse. You’d been staring down Monika’s character file for far too long, but not nearly long enough, at the same time.

It felt like this should be a bigger deal. Like there should be a ceremony, a commemoration, something to mark the occasion. Should you celebrate? Play a funeral dirge? Every action felt inappropriate, but none felt quite as inappropriate as not taking one at all. Absentmindedly, you quit the game, a reaction based on reflex alone. You had a few times, in the beginning, but you still checked Monika’s dialogue. A parting interaction, you rationalized. The final interaction.

"Okay. I'm just going to accept the fact that you need to quit the game once in a while. I'm starting to get used to it, anyway."

Oh, god, she sounded like a clingy girlfriend. You guessed that’s what she was, but she was never this… passive-aggressive.

"Besides, it makes me happy that you always come back..."

You perked up, at that, your favor easily swayed. Maybe you could wait one more day, just give this whole thing another shot--

“But I shouldn’t have to be happy when you come back.”

You hadn’t pressed anything, that time. She shouldn’t have been talking.

“I know you have your own life, and I know you need breaks, but… it’s a really horrible feeling. And since I try to make you feel the best you can feel, you should want to make me feel good, too!”

Except, you didn’t want to make her happy. She was a fictional character, one you didn’t want to be lectured by. Monika seemed to catch onto that as soon as you thought it, though.

“And since you have to want to make me happy… it must be a glitch in my character file. That makes sense. Whenever it happens, it almost feels like I've been killed or something."

It was meta, a little concerning, but your empathy had been all-but drained dry. It wasn’t like you’d felt bad for leaving Monika in the first place, honestly, but an appeal to that non-existent sympathy wouldn’t earn her many points.

"If you could figure out what's causing that, I'll love you forever~"

Yeah, right. Sure she would. Monika would absolutely love you, forever and always, to eternity and beyond. May death do you part.

You didn’t hesitate, this time, deleting her character file and exiting the game. 

You didn’t really feel like playing through the final scene. ~

How long it’d been since someone used this part of the school?

‘Empty’ didn’t quite cover the expanse of nothingness in front of you. The floor was tinted grey with scuff-marks and dirt, unused tables pushed against the walls and chairs that weren’t fit to be sat in stacked on top, forming barricades between shutter-covered windows and yourself. The door had stuck, despite the key in your hand, and everything seemed to make a truly awful creaking sound when touched. The only thing that looked new (relatively new, at least) was the teacher’s desk, dark faux-wood unscarred by whatever’d torn through the rest of the room. Even the lights seemed to feel the effect, dim and flickering, some already succumbing to the pure dullness that permeated the air. It was abandoned. Desolate.

More similar to another classroom you’d acquainted yourself with than you felt comfortable admitting.

“Some people say it’s haunted,” She started, closing the door behind her. You heard the ring of keys jingle, the lock sliding back into place, but you didn’t bother turning to face her. “A lot of people, actually. Rumor’s that a group of underclassmen girls used to sneak at night and do all sorts of satanic stuff. It’s why no one uses this building, anymore.”

“They have to be joking,” You countered, taking a step towards the teacher's desk. You ran a finger along the surface lazily, wiping the resulting dust build-up onto your shirt. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. Someone probably just thought it’d make a good campfire story.”

She approached before replying, her bag having been discarded somewhere along the way. With silence as unusual as it was between the two of you, you couldn’t help but laugh, turning and getting ready to tease her for being scared or believing in something so supernatural. You opened your mouth, but the joke died and turned to ash on your tongue before it could make it past your teeth.

There she was, like you knew she’d be. Hair up, uniform perfect, and a bright smile pulling at the edges of her lips. As cheery as it ever was. As blinding as it ever was.

The carving knife in her hand almost rivaled its shine.

She took another step towards you, and you took one back, hitting the desk abruptly. “You’re acting like you’d know anything about the real-world, (Y/n).” She was giggling, again, flexing her grip on the knife’s hold. You considered attempting to run past her, making a break for it, but the key was still in her blazer’s pocket. You glanced down, searching for your phone, but its outline was gone and its weight was equally as absent.

Like it’d disappeared into thin air.

It hadn’t, though. Your aggressor laughed one more time, holding up the device in her free hand before dropping it to the floor and crushing it under her heel, the resulting crack sending a spike of something dark into your chest.

“You don’t know shit about the real world,” She said, waving the blade around haphazardly. Another step forward, this one all-but closing the distance between the two of you. “All you think about are… games and fake girls, never what’s right in front of you. We’ve known each other for four years, but I had to hospitalize someone before you’d do so much as look at me.”

Four years. Four years. You hadn’t noticed her before a few months ago. “Listen, I just didn’t think we were that close--”

“I know.” This time, the knife came down. It missed your side, but not enough to save your shirt, a tear forming and something crimson spreading outward from the small cut. The sting came a second later. You wanted to move, to scream, to run, but it was all you could do to remember to breathe as she went on. “You didn’t think we were close. You didn’t think I was worth getting close to. That’s why I started wearing this fucking costume.” She ran a hand through her pony-tail, fingers catching on her hair-tie. The band was practically ripped from her scalp, snapping before she discarded it. “I’m not even a brunette. I thought dying my hair might get your attention, and… it did. Of course it did.” She paused, shrugging, and you remembered how to inhale. “But, that doesn’t matter now.”

You relaxed, ever so slightly. “It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t.” Her grin was back in a moment, your hopes dropping as soon as they’d arose. “Because the two of us are going to stay here until we know each other, or… until you know me. As well as I know you, at least. Then, we’re going to leave and I’m going to be your girlfriend. It’ll be so sweet, right?” The tension in her shoulder’s lessened, dissolving. But, that edge was still there, and you doubted it’d dissipate any time soon. “You probably don’t even know my name. I’ve never heard you use it before.”

Your eyes widened, the realization hitting you later than it should’ve. “Monika?”

“No, not Monika,” She answered, softly, her smile taking on a more disappointing note. She brandished her beloved knife, and your heart dropped into your stomach. “But, you don’t have to worry about getting it wrong. We’re going to work at it until you love me just as much as you love her.”

[ravenbloodau]

The Voyages of Ker'Tak and Skye

Ker'Tak's ship had landed on Earth, as ordered by the High Concil of Planets. They were ready and eager to explore this once uninhabited planet..

Or, what they had *thought* to be an uninhabited planet. Turns out the whole planet was teeming with intelligent life. Humankind, is what they introduced themselves as on an old satellite that the High Council had found.

Ker'Tak was relatively young, so their crewmates sent them out to scout amongst the younger generations of humans. Diguised, of course, to prevent fear amongst the younglings.

Their curiosity was peaked when they heard someone talking of a celebration of one of the younglings.

A "birthday party" celebrating the Human known as Skye Lafayette. Everyone appeared to just be calling her Skye, however.

"You should come, Eric," Human Gia, Skye's twin sister, as Ker'Tak gathered. "Eric" was his cover name, "she'd enjoy your humor!"

"Thank you Gia, I think I will attend," Ker'Tak nodded quietly. They were nervous, needless to say. Human younglings were so energetic, so spontaneous, and much stronger than their adult counterparts.

"Great! The party is Friday!" Gia waved good-bye as she ran off with other human younglings.

Ker'tak waved back, and watched as Gia ran with her pack.

They felt a strange warmth flush up in their face, as if this meeting meant something. These humans were small, insignificant, often useless.

Ker'Tak couldn't and didn't understand why the High Council was so interested in humans and their homeworld after the first reports were sent in.

"Keep observing, Ker'Tak, the younglings will be the ones we learn the most from," Ket'Sa ordered, "Who knows? Maybe these humans have more ability than we give them credit for."

Ker'Tak took that to say the High Council could use them as manual laborers. It seemed they had the ability for such work, and were significantly shorter than the Si'Tians.

Despite what little they knew about humans, however, Ker'Tak felt oddly at home amongst them. The members of their pod always called them strange, emotional, and at times impulsive. They took the insults as compliments and pressed on in their mission.

Friday, October 3rd rolled around and Ker'Tak found himself on the doorstep of Skye and Gia's abode. The loud noises from inside startled Ker'Tak, but they thought for a moment, pausing at the door.

This was a custom of humankind, they should be kind and respectful. They should knock.

They knocked cautiously, patiently waiting for a reply. Ker'Tak was startled by the sudden appearance of an identical youngling to Gia. It was Skye, they were sure of it.

The messy red streak in her hair and the oddly bright expression Skye carried, as Gia described her, caught Ker'Tak by surprise. They put on their best smile.

"Hey, is this were Skye's birthday party is?" Ker'Tak beamed awkwardly. Of course it was, they had made sure of it, but Human Skye took no notice of their fumble.

"Yep! You've got the right place!" She laughed it off, "You must be Eric, Gia told me about you! It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Skye!" Her introduction was quick, and she held out her hand to Ker'Tak.

Ker'Tak, unsure of exactly how to commence the "handshake" took Skye's hand. She shook their hand firmly, with a sort of glowing confidence.

This somehow got Ker'Tak to relax, and smile a little more genuinely.

"My name is Ka- Eric," Ker'Tak was almost caught using their true name. Skye laughed as she invited Ker'Tak in.

"Alright Ke-Eric, come in! We've got plenty of food, games, and a cake that'll be all set in a couple of minutes!" Skye led them in.

The atmosphere of this living-den was rather warm, disarmingly charming in it's own sense. Ker'Tak found themselves relaxing as they ate and talked alongside the crowd.

They laughed with Ker'Tak, telling their own jokes and making fun of silly things humans do. Ker'Tak learned that humans celebrated their dates of birth every year, using that to determine age, instead of every cycle around the sun at the same time each year for everyone.

The oddly decorated cake caught their attention, as it was decorated with symbols and letters from ancient languages Ker'Tak had seen before, and nearly everywhere they turned, something reminiscent of space and interstellar travel seemed to pop from the decor.

*You look like a Monkey*

*And you smell like one too!*

The songs ended, and Skye blew out candles that signified her age. Kar'Tek went to "use the bathroom." They had no intention of bathing, however.

Unfortunately, the current tech they were using to hide their appearance was running low on charge.

Kar'Tek had to find a reason to return to their ship before their cover was blown.

Gia's voice came from beyond the door.

"Eric? Eric, dude, you alright?" Gia called. Kar'Tek didn't answer as they tried to find something to work with to get away from the party.

"I am alright, just washing up!" Kar'Tek lied. The device around their wrist beeped loudly and the illusion dropped.

*No no no no no not now, I have to return to the ship* Ker'Tak stared into the mirror, now frightened by what the human younglings could do to them if they found themselves staring Ker'Tak down.

"Eric? Is that a blood sugar monitor? Are you sure you're alright?" Gia didn't give Ker'Tak time to answer, "Skye! Get the bathroom key! Eric's in trouble!"

"Eric?" Skye's voice bounced around the small room, "I'm coming in," Ker'Tak heard a small whisper, *"Please be decent."*

Skye stepped into the bathroom, closed the door and looked up from the floor. Her jaw dropped as Ker'Tak started to tremble before her.

"Eric?" Her voice dropped a tone as she reached out to Ker'Tak, "Is that you?"

Ker'Tak looked at Skye, and very *very* cautiously, they answered her.

"Human Eric did not exist, in truth. I am Ker'Tak, a Si'Nian, from far past your star. I was told to come and study humankind, under the orders of the High Council of Planets. I apologize for any inconvenience and any worry I may have caused you, Human Skye," Ker'Tak apologized, trying to keep their gaze to Skye's.

She seemed stunned, but neither fear nor shock was the overall emotion conveyed. It was awe that seemed to etch itself into her features.

"Ker'Tak, that explains earlier..And all those jokes, you were trying to understand," She whispered as her hands moved up toward her mouth, "You...You're incredible."

Ker'Tak was taken aback by this remark. Ker'tak was *below average* for their species, and this human youngling saw them as *incredible*?

"I believe you are mistake, Human Skye, I am below average for my kind, in height and emotional control. I am, as my colleges say, impulsive," Ker'Tak admitted ashamed.

"Impulsive isn't a bad thing, nor is being emotional," Skye started almost immediately, "You're incredible to me, and you would be to my friends."

"I do not believe your colleagues would appreiciate my being here, especially after I have disrupted such a special day for you and your pod-mate," Ker'Tak was still nervous, although Skye was a progressive and uniquely brave human youngling, they couldn't be sure of the other's reactions.

"Well, Ker'Tak, I can frame this as a planned part of the event, I am a sci-fi nerd. I can get you out of the house as long as you can stay a little longer. Are you in any pain?" Skye was concerned, it was showing in her expression.

Pain? Why would she be worried about pain? Does she really not know what Ker'Tak was capable of? Why was she being so kind to them?

"Ah, no, I am not in any pain Human Skye, I simply used an device that manipulated the light around me," Ker'Tak reassured her, still unsure of how to proceed, "I can stay longer, but how do you plan to get me out of your living-den?"

"Oh, I can tell them that you're in cosplay-" Skye paused, "we humans like to wear complicated outfits for the sake of fun, some of us mirror TV shows or fictional characters we enjoy, others come up with entirely new ideas and use them to create a series of costumes in order to tell a story."

"This plan involves telling your colleagues that I am in "cosplay"? Does that mean anything significant to them normally?" Ker'Tak inquired, rather confused as to how this plan could work.

"No, not normally, but they'll think it a nice touch to the space theme I've had going for this party, not much of it's accurate though, based mostly on science fiction," Skye admitted, halfway between her normal hue of peach and a bright red.

Ker'Tak nodded, understanding what she meant, and what she was trying to do.

"I am not insulted, in fact, it's rather curious how humans managed to invent the exact same language as another race we know as the Shin'Khan. But that is a discussion for another time," Ker'Tak let their worries lighten, maybe Human Skye was right to come up with such a simple plan, after all, she knew her kind better than they did.

"So you're willing to go through with the plan?" Skye asked and Ker'Tak nodded,patiently awaiting her instructions, "Ok, just, act ummm, I wouldn't say natural, but honestly just be yourself."

That was it? That was the plan? Ker'Tak nodded, now slightly concerned in Skye's certainty for saying these things, but they went along with it anyway.

"Skye? Is Eric alright?" Gia called to her sister.

"Yes! He's alright! In fact," Skye started to open the door, "Oh move out of the way!" Gia laughed as the crowd parted to give them room to step out of the bathroom.

Ker'Tak was hesitant, but the stepped out of the bathroom and awaited the reactions of Skye's peers.

The gasps of awe got Ker'Tak to open their eyes, and the younglings cheered and laughed.

"Eric! Skye! This is amazing! How did you get the costume in? And look that that makeup, it's amazing! You guys out did yourselves!" Gia laughed, "It looks so real."

Ker'Tak felt a wave of anxiety wash over them as Skye took one of their lower hands. She mouthed the words "It's ok. You'll be okay."

They nodded, and proceeded to continue the act of being Human Eric.

They proceeded to mess around with younglings, too, tapping them here and there as the festivities went on without a hitch.

Ker'Tak fell into the comfort of being themselves amongst the human younglings, but they choose to linger close to Skye. They didn't know it at the time, but that sense of security meant something significant to their species.

It meant that they could be accepted, and accept humans, as they were.

Towards the end of the evening, around 2000 hours, everyone had been dismissed from the gathering except for Ker'Tak.

"Hey Eric, I can walk you home if you want," Skye offered to escort them out of her living-den, most likely to protect them from any hostile humans.

"I would appreciate that, Skye," Ker'Tak walked towards the door and opened it for Skye.

Walking down the dim street, Ker'Tak found themselves distressed, looking down at Human Skye more and more often.

"Human Skye, if my crewmates discover that I have been seen like this, they may try to eradicate your memory of me," Ker'Tak admitted upon pausing under a street light.

Skye looked back at them, and smiled.

"I'm ok with that, I just want to make sure you get back alright. You've given me one of the best days of my life, Ker'Tak, and I hope to one day repay the favor, even if I don't remember you," Skye was kind in her response, but also greatly saddened by the fact that she would forget Ker'Tak.

They were truly remarkable to her, even if she knew very little about them. She found their way of speaking, their way of conveying emotion to be unique, and as powerful as any human expression of emotion.

Ker'Tak's distress grew as they saw Skye's eyes start leaking water.

"Human Skye, are you in distress? I did not mean to upset you!" Ker'Tak panicked a little, reaching out to the youngling, "You do not have to repay me, and I doubt that you will ever see me again after tonight."

"That's just the thing," Skye mumbled through her tightened throat, "I *want* to remember you, and get to know you better. It would be selfish though, not to take you back to your ship."

Ker'Tak was taken aback by this. They knew humans bonded easily to other animals, like the wolves and bobcats of the Earth, but to have "pack" bonded to them.. So quickly.. It was remarkable. The High Council certainly could not take such a bond away, not until they could study it further.

"It is possible you won't have to forget, Human Skye," Ker'Tak started, gingerly taking up Skye in their arms, "I could bring you back to the ship, and explain to them the events of tonight, and how you aided me to escape."

Skye sniffed halfheartedly taking up Ker'Tak's lower arms. Quietly she nodded.

"Lead the way."

Ker'Tak and Skye walked together quite a ways into the woods to get to Ker'Tak's ship. However, it is always hunting season in the backwoods.. *Especially at night.*

A gunshot was fired toward the two, and Skye let out a yelp of pain. Ker'Tak flinched, and in ducking behind an old wall in found just nearby, they saw Skye stumbling over. Something was dripping down her arm and chest.

"Ker'Tak..." The weakness in Skye's voice brought panic upon Ker'Tak. They debated the use of their comm, it would make sense as someone was hurt, badly by the looks of it.

Ker'Tak lept over, their legs moving springing them forward enough to catch Skye and get back out of the line of fire behind another wall.

"*KER'TAK, WE'RE BEAMING YOU BACK UP IMMEDIATELY*" Their Captain told them, and they were beamed back aboard the ship, Skye still wounded in their arms.

The wounded youngling let out a sharp cry, crying weakly as she struggled to breathe.

"OUT OF THE WAY! CLEAR THE WAY! WOUNDED HUMAN!" Ker'Tak landed with a running start, brushing past the Captain and rushed toward the medbay.

Immediately the Captain followed them, and watched as Ker'Tak worked to heal Skye's wound.

"Ker'Tak, my lung, the bullet's in..." Skye's vocals broke off into violent coughing as Ker'Tak managed to pull out the metal shrapnel in her side.

"Rest, and do try and hold still. This will hurt," Ker'Tak told Skye and she nodded. The sheer anguish on her face as they stitched up her lung and her skin almost got Ker'Tak to stop.

But they stitched her up and injected a growth steroid to speed up the process and avoid scarring. She would need to stay overnight, for safety's sakes.

"Ker'Tak, this human was harmed how?" The Captain asked as Ker'Tak closed the pod Skye was in.

"Another Human shot her with a primitive gunpowder weapon. Originally the weapon was aimed toward me," Ker'Tak admitted, "Human Skye was escorting me back to the ship after my disguise was dropped."

The Captain stiffened as they looked over at Human Skye.

"She's seen too much of us, you know we have to preform a memory wipe," The Captain began. Ker'Tak stopped them.

"Captain, Human Skye has expressed much *discomfort* in losing memories with myself involved. She is comfortable with us, in fact, she and her peers were very comfortable with me in my original form, even if they believed it to be a disguise," Ker'Tak looked over at Skye, "She saved my life."

"She...You called her Human Skye?" The Captain's expression dropped to a painful concern.

"Yes Captain," Ker'Tak nodded as the Captain looked them over.

"Well, Ker'Tak, it is time we contacted the Humans openly. Your comfort amongst them and their younglings confirms not only their intelligence and sympathy, but also their compatibility for the High Council's regulations and recommendations," The Captain smiled at Ker'Tak, "Well done, Doctor."

"Well done?" Ker'Tak asked, befuddled by their captain's sudden congratulations, "What do you mean?"

"I mean congratulations, you have offical made First Contact with the Humans, according to their knowledge. As of this moment, they will become a part of the High Council of Planets, join their fleets, learn from us as we may learn from them," The Captain spoke boldly, "You have introduced an entire species to an endless Universe."

Ker'Tak paused for a moment, then looked back at their Captain.

"Thank you, Captain, but I do believe I should take care of my patient first, before we send our official reguards," Ker'Tak nodded.

The Captain allowed it, so Ker'Tak took a uniquely close care of Skye that evening, talking to her about the many ways things were about to change.

"Does this mean I won't have to forget you?" Skye asked as 0800 hours rolled around. Ker'Tak nodded, which caused Skye to smile.

"You will not have to forget me, or anything else about last night's events, or today's, or tomorrow's. In fact, if anything, we may be working together from here forward, Human Skye," Ker'Tak tried to wrap their mind around it, working with a human female, "Even if you are deemed a weak, useless human female, I like to entertain the thought of working alongside you."

Skye smiled, trying to not give show as to how harshly that last remark came off.

"That's good, Ker'Tak, I'd like to think that of you as well."

They started talking as the world became captivated by the starship and the arrival of the Si'Nians on Earth.

Everyone wanted to talk to the girl who had saved and alien, and all across the galaxy, everyone wanted to see what the doctor had discovered in the human race that made them decide it was time to reveal what was *really* out there.

And here the two were, sitting in the medbay of the starship, mid-afternoon, talking to each other as the bright rays of daylight filtered through the window.

This was going to be an exciting ride.

[beyoncesdragon]

title: tongue tip trip

➳ pairing: harry styles x reader, best friends to lovers trope but a bit different. 

➳ summary: Harry eats edibles and you come to the rescue...despite almost four months of no talking and zero communication. 

➳ warnings: Harry eats edibles, swearing and some fluff, it’s also fan fiction so its ✨unrealistic✨ okay, also its 1AM I wanna sleep 

➳ a/n: I love this one tbh. but please don’t do drugs children 

Jeff hardly ever called you. Even when Harry and you had still be close, him calling you was a rarity. But when he then did, you couldn't help but feel a bit worried at the sign of his user ID flashing up on your phone. This time was no exception, but besides worry there was also surprise and a whole bunch of uncomfortable memories and unsaid words. You hadn't heard from him (or Harry) in weeks. Sure, Jeff and you still sometimes texted a bit, you also were still in good contact with Claire and especially Mitch and you still got along. Harry and you...well, that was a different and longer story.

Harry and you used to be very close friends. Means, helping him what socks to choose before performing-close friends. You had met a year in Harry going solo, you a simple assistant engineer and him the highly praised Popstar. The two of you had quickly bonded over a few glasses of chilled white wine in the humid air of Jamaica and soon your friendship blossomed in the most beautiful ways. Well it did until you, obviously, started to feel a bit more for the singer. Now, that alone wasn't a problem itself, the fact that Harry knew (you had told him after a few weeks of awkward suffering) wasn't either. The problem was that Harry acted like a dick to anyone you brought around, up to the point where you seemingly couldn't ever date again. Of course Harry wasn't a straight up asshole to them, he still had a reputation to maintain, but he knew how to get under their skin. Just toying with their self-confidence and subtly making them feel like the biggest losers. Oh and, the absolute worst part, all whilst having a girlfriend himself. Which eliminated the possibility of him having feeling for you as a reason why he acted like a jerk. And that angered you more and more and it all escalated in a big, nasty and hurtful fight, around four - five months ago. Since then you hadn't talked, texted or seen each other.

It had been a big change of habit not to get up and first check the phone for messages of him, or simply FaceTime him to check up on his schedule. No spending time at cafes or at the studios with him and the rest of the team. Lucky thing you had other jobs running, on other albums and in other studios around Malibu than his.

He was currently recording music at the Shangri-La studios in Malibu, maybe ten minutes from your flat by car. Which had been described as a "lucky and obviously unplanned extra" by Harry himself, followed by a cheeky grin. You had just rolled your eyes, but secretly happy that he had cared about you being near during his writing process. But now it only left a sour aftertaste in your mouth.

With a sigh you pulled the key out of the ignition and picked up the phone. You figured you could also wait in the parking lot for a few more minutes.

"Hello?"

"Sweetheart? Jeff's here..." you hummed softly, leaning back. 

"Hello there Jeff. Everything alright?" you could hear him cough slightly, before he answered with a weird lilt to his tone. He sounded somewhat stressed out. "Yeah, everything's fine...how have you been?" you shrugged lightly, inspecting your nails. 

"Fine. Working and stuff. I guess same for you?" he was quick to agree, again with that weird cough. 

"Everything okay Jeff? Something happened?" you finally asked, tired of his obvious tip toeing around the real issue. He knew that you weren't so stupid to believe that Jeff had just called you to check up on you at five in the afternoon.

"Well not...quite. I - uh...it's because of Harry. Now, listen, I know the two of you did not part in like, the best ways but..." you couldn't help but close your eyes with a slight wince, "...but you've got to believe me, it's an emergency, kinda." You just sighed. 

"Kinda?" he hummed, saying nothing for a few seconds. "Do I need to talk to him?" you asked into the silence. Jeff was quick to say no however. "Uh...rather not, actually." You blinked surprised. 

"Rather not? Is he drunk?" not that this would be a first, Harry being drunk caller by nature. If he was lucky he then would find himself calling someone like Paul, his old bodyguard, few months ago maybe you, just not one of his exes or someone else you probably shouldn't call anyways – especially not drunk. But this time it didn't seemed to be like that, since Jeff answered hesitantly. "Not exactly, no." your frown deepened at his words, feeling slight annoyance creeping up. "Jeffrey! What's the matter? Is he hurt? In an accident? Called his ex? Called Zayn? What is it? Just tell me already!"

Jeff sighed deeply. "He's high." A relieved huff left your lips. That wasn't half as bad, wasn't it? "That's it? Little weed hurts no body, besides I would've been more concerned if he would've drank. Besides, he almost never does weed..." Jeff interrupted you quickly. "Not exactly weed sweetheart. You remember the uh, edibles I told you about, the ones we stored in the fridge..." A deep groan escaped your lips.

"Are you kidding me?" you groaned, shaking your head. "Well no. However, he accidentally bit of his tongue tip, few minutes ago." Your hand dropped from the steering wheel and smashed down and you accidentally honked, immediately getting confused and outraged looks from the cars passing by.

"He did WHAT?" you meant to hear a smile in Jeff's voice, underneath all the layers of just mild concern. "Yeah's a little unfortunate." you just huffed. A little unfortunate, if that's what they decided to call it, then fine. Nonetheless, Harry should probably visit a doctor. "Can he still sing?" you asked, somewhat defeated. The noise behind Jeff increased, you assumed that he was entering the studio again. "Hold on a sec...can you hear him?" And oh how you could hear him.

He was singing, no yelling on top of his voice, trying to outmatch the speakers that were thumping Paul McCartney's "Too Many People", though unmistakably mumbling a little. Just the sound of his voice made your heart clench in pain a little.

"Yeah I can." You mumbled, wishing for Jeff to talk over Harry's voice again. "So his career isn't in danger right? Means I can just..." Jeff sighed deeply, pleadingly. 

"Y/N, please...he needs medical care." You pouted displeased, spinning the car keys in your fingers. "And you cant drive him because...?" this time he definitely laughed. "What do you think? Harry being the only one on drugs?" you shrugged. "You don't sound like you would bite your tongue off..." he just huffed. "That's because I only had a glass of white wine, but never drink and drive..." you let out a loud laugh, starting your car. "Oh sure! And don't mix drugs with alcohol, right?" he chuckled softly. "Course not. We're that responsible, you know." you just hummed unconvinced, sighing again.

"Okay fine. I'll pick him up." Jeff released a long breath before thanking you warmly. "Thank you so much, angel...how long will you take, you think?" your eyes darted from the rear-view mirror to the road behind the parking lot, before you shifted the reverse gear again to leave the parking.

"About 10 minutes? Maybe?" you guessed, eyeing the traffic suspiciously. It wasn't rush-hour just yet, but there were still plenty of cars on the road. "Okay...oh hi Harry." You immediately tensed up, swallowing hard when you heard Harrys deep voice again.

"Who y'takin to?" Harry spoke as if he had a full mouth, trying not spit out its content. "Oh just...Y/N." Jeff answered truthfully. Harry then said something you couldn't quite understand before Jeff ushered him to go away again with the words; "She'll come in a few minutes anyways." It made you swallow heavily; had Harry asked to talk to you? You stopped the thoughts and focused on the road again. "I'll see you in five." And with that you hung up.

❦

Harry and Jeff were already waiting in front of the studio when you pulled up, Harry having a bloody cloth pressed to his mouth. They looked like father and son, right off the principal's office for starting a fight on campus. It almost made you laugh. Then your eyes met and the amusement left your body as quickly as it came. You were not ready to face him again, even after all those months.

"Thank you so much Y/N, I owe you...you good H?" Jeff asked as he opened the passenger door. "Yeh, m'fine, fanks." Harry mumbled, eyes darting up to meet yours, just to look away immediately. "We'll be back soon." You sighed, not yet ready to properly greet Harry. Or look at him, for starters. To be fair, he wasn't doing any better. "Sure. I hope he doesn't bleed on your seats." Jeff joked, well aware of the weird tension. You just shrugged, waving him goodbye. "See you in a few Jeff." Or not, but you didn't know that yet.

The ride was almost completely silent expect for the time where you asked if he was okay and he mumbled a "yeh". The radio was filling the silence and you were glad for it. The songs weren't that good at the moment, you just wanted something to be loud and talking, even if it was just the obnoxious radio host who kept cutting off the songs. That was until "Change" by RM and Wale started to play and you perked up immediately. A happy smile crept on your face as you recognised the tune. You yourself had helped with the song and you proudly acknowledged the credit they gave you. You hadn't expected it to be played over here in America, but you were happy it was. Harry had obviously noticed your change of behaviour and carefully peaked over.

"Y'know tha'shong?" you nodded, momentarily forgetting that Harry and you hadn't interacted the last ten minutes. "Helped write it. With Namjoon, aka. RM and Wale." Harry nodded slowly. "Ish Namjhoon f'om...?" he tried and you nodded. "BTS? Yeah." He just nodded again. The next second Wale already mentioned BTS in his verse and Harry huffed. "Oh."

"I've sheen - seen the pictures of you n'him." you quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, he was nice." Harry nodded again, another stolen glance into your direction. "Lishten..." he started but you cut him off. You already knew what he was about to say anyways.

"Let's not have this conversation now Harry. Please. Let's talk when there isn't blood gushing from your mouth." He nodded, but his shoulders relaxed a little bit. After all, he was glad you were up to talk, even if it wasn't just right now, but a bit later on. He had time anyways. He peaked over again, taking in the sight of you. Your hair was now longer than last time and your face somehow sharper – maybe you had lost weight. Also, there was a soft frown etched in between your brows, and there wasn't this soft glow you've always carried in your eyes. Long story short: You looked worn out and stressed, and Harry couldn't really tell if it was because you were sat in the same car as he was, or if it had to do with something else that was going on.

"How're ya?" it slowly got painful to speak, the edible was definitely wearing off now, but Harry still tried. He had missed your voice after all, it didn't matter how cold your tone had become. Just at the mentioning of that Namjoon you had sounded more like the Y/N he knew.

"I've been okay. Had lots of work...different countries and continents. S'been a busy few months." You felt unsure as how to talk to him, of you were fully honest. Should you say that you had absolutely hated working in Malibu since the fight? Should you say that you hadn't slept properly because you hated having fights with friends? Especially close friends? He probably knew anyways. Harry always knew somehow.

"I wont ask you about yourself until your tongue is patched up again, though. So you better shut up Styles." He chuckled softly, and the hint of the old Harry and Y/N relationship seemed to spark up again. The last five or so minutes were spent in silence again, but comfortable this time.

❦

Luckily Harry did not go recognised by anyone else than the Doctor. And the doctor probably only realised fully, because she asked for the name. Harry, still not fully functionable, had then looked over to you, expecting you to do the talking. Which made sense, of course, but truth behold, he had just forgotten his middle and last name. And the address of the place he was staying at (the studios) was completely wiped from his memory. He was lucky you were with him. It also turned out that he had completely bit off a few millimetres of tongue, a clean bite. You had almost gaged at those words and Harry had supressed a grin. It meant that Harry needed no stitches (apparently it was sort of possible to stitch a tongue back together), but daily check-ups and cleaning or cleansing of the mouth was mandatory.

"Check the injurie daily for changes in appearance or feel. Wounds in the mouth that are clean and healthy may appear light pink to white." She had started to almost exclusively talk to you, aware of Harry's partly delirious state, giving you all the information you needed to patch him up a bit. You nodded slowly.

"Alright. Just...how do you cleanse the mouth?" The Doctor gave you a kind smile. "Very easy. Rinse the mouth with a saltwater solution after eating to ease pain and keep the wound clean. That is very important, so the wound doesn't infect. The saltwater solution is just one teaspoon of non-iodized salt mixed in one cup of warm water." You nodded slowly. "One last thing: if the colour of the wound changes, starts bleeding again, swells up or you notice a visible deformity, immediately come back. Also, if the pain intensifies and does not improve within two hours of taking over-the-counter pain medication, such as ibuprofen or acetaminophen, have somebody call us, or better come around. That is all we can do right now."

You were almost happy when you could leave the hospital with him, especially because Harry now grew tired and needy. You weren't sure if the disappearing edible had that effect or if you had just forgotten how clingy Harry could get, but you had troubles getting him to let go of your arm and sit into the car. And your deeply hidden and buried feelings for him slowly made an unwanted comeback, and you were not quite excited for that. You should've known that they would come again, after all, you never really got over him in the first place.

Harry insisted on you staying the night. He blabbed something about risk of getting kidnapped and abused at night alone (not entirely wrong, sadly) and him not letting his friend leave at hours that late and also he apparently needed you if something happened again. He just wouldn't admit that he couldn't let you walk out the door because he feared you wouldn't come back. as if you could just do that after today. But whatever it was, you did stay. In one of the three bedrooms of the Studio you had claimed a bed, and even got some spare clothes for sleep from Claire herself. You had called her, asking for them, as they had all already left.

Just when you thought you were done for the day, teeth brushed and dressed in Claires 1975 shirt size XL, you hear a knock on your door. "Come in?" You knew it was Harry, that wasn't the part that surprised you. the part that surprised you, was that it was Harry with a tray and on that tray were cups and kettle and it smelled like camomile tea and honey. And cookies, with chocolate chips even and some grapes.

"Hi." He just whispered, embarrassment written all over his face. "Hi?" you weren't sure how to react to this but quickly patted on the bed next to you. "Wanna sit down? Or wait, sHit down, as you would say it." He giggled softly, before he nodded and carefully sat down opposite of you, balancing the tray carefully between the two of you.

"I figured it would be better to talk now in peace? If you're up to, f'course." You couldn't help the small smile that crept onto your face. "Shure." You mocked his lisp and he huffed at that, swatting his hand into your direction. "Shtop it really hurt." You just rolled your eyes at him, motioning towards the tray between the two of you. "That's very cute by the way. I love camomile tea with honey." He grinned smugly. "I know." The tea steamed softly when he poured it into the cups, his brows furrowed in concentration to not spill it on the sheets. You watched him with a fond look in your eyes. You hadn't been fully aware of how much you had really missed him in all these months. Right now it felt like the feeling was overwhelming and would crush you out of a sudden.

"Everything a'ight?" Harry's concerned voice ripped you from your thoughts and you blinked quickly. Your eyes had started to water and you looked away embarrassed. "Yeah...guess I just missed you." his eyes immediately went soft, and he set the cups down on the tray. 

"I missed ye too." He said, sounding a bit helpless. You cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly. 

"Okay so what happened that day; Harry I want to sincerely apologise. What I said went too far." He just smiled softly. "I should've went first. S'my fault after all, let's not beat around the bushes. I am sh-sorry. I shouldn't've said all those things, it was truly horrible. You're not clingy, you don't ever bothered me and also, the men you brought around weren't all dicks. And yes I did ruin it purposely." He couldn't even look at you anymore, shame so obvious in his face and voice and body language. "It's fine...I could've dated anyone anyways that time." You tried softly, swallowing down the "Still can't, believe me, I tried." He just shook his head. "No, really Y/N, that was extremely hurtful and inappropriate and I was the biggest...dick to do all that. I am so sorry. You had all right on earth to walk out like that. and to call me a heartless, self-absorbed douche, I guess I deserved that...that and all the other things you called me." that did make you laugh a bit.

"Arrogant son of a bitch? That one?" he grinned softly. "Exactly that one. I uh, used that, by the way. In a song, I hope you don't mind." Your eyebrows shot up at that. "You called yourself an arrogant son of a bitch?" He nodded sheepishly. "An arrogant shon of a bitch who can't admit that he is shorry, and I quoted that." you laughed now, loudly. "Bit harsh, innit?" he shrugged, coquettishly raising the tea cup to his lips. "Heard it from shomewhere." You just hummed softly, lifting your cup as well.

A deep sigh rose your chest as you looked at him again, that bright flicker in his eyes again, that lopsided smirk he wore so well. You knew that your crush was back on fully, but right now you didn't even minded it. Harry gave you a small smile, the mischief slowly draining from his green eyes. he seemed to catch on to that shift of your emotions and carefully placed his cup down on the tray, before then carefully placing the tray on the floor and opening his arms. 

"C'mere?" you did, immediately.

And for the first time in months you could fully relax. Surrounded by Harry's scent in Harry's arm and listening to Harry's heartbeat. Completely absorbed and surrounded by everything you loved. "Sorry." You mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, feeling how his arms tightened around you. "Me too. I fucking misshed you." you chuckled softly. "Misshed you too, shon of a bitch." His laughter sent vibrations through your body.

"About that Korean dude..." Harry suddenly asked, making your peak up to him. "Namjoon? What about him?" he cleared his throat. "Just...did you like, date or something?" you grinned softly. 

"Pretty sure he had something going on with a girl the time I was over there. Maybe he still has. Why? You wanna scare him off again?" he just laughed. "I don't do that anymore. I was just...curious you know. You've always had a thing for these Korean men." You grinned softly.

"Are you now talking Stray Kids or Bangtan or EXO or GOT7..." Harry groaned, "so what. You got something to say about that?" he shook his head. "Course not." You hummed. "And what do you mean, I don't do that anymore? Why did you even do it, like in the first place?" Harry sighed very deeply at that.

"I guess because...okay, promise you listen to the end and don't get upset with me too much, yeah?" you frowned, a bit mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to follow. 

"Okay? Promised."

"Alright, now...I think I couldn't just...let you be and date who you want because I am a very selfish person? I know I know, you probably think: but selfish about what and I can only confess...probably you? No, not probably, I am sure." The words were bubbling out of him as if someone flipped a switch and now he couldn't stop anymore. "I couldn't see you date someone else and...give them all of your attention. And I know, I myself was in a relationship during that time, I know, but I just...I can't describe it." Your eyes grew wider and wider with every hasty rambled sentence and your lips were slightly parted. "It was as if was...jealous, which is weird because I wasn't into you then, no offense please, I mean I had a girlfriend..." 

"Hold on, what do you mean, wasn't into you then?" you cut him off and Harry literally froze. His eyes went wide with realisation and his mouth opened, as if he would try to reply something; but there was no sound. All he could think of, was one word, all in capital letters and blinking red: fuck.

"I uh, did I say then?" you clicked with your tongue, an amused grin flitting over your face. 

"You did." A blush now covered his cheeks and he cleared his throat eagerly. You moved away from his embrace to get a better look at the man sitting in front of you. 

"You did say then. Something changed?" your tone was joking but hidden beneath the layers of sarcasm there was a flicker of something else...hope.

"I...I mean I don't...would it be like...do you still feel the same?" you didn't immediately answered, trying to process what you were hearing. After weeks of pinning and then months of not talking at all, he was confessing – or somewhat confessing – that there was a chance that he now actually liked you back? How was that even possible?

Harry however read your silence as something else than confusion and being overwhelmed with the situation. His face fell from nervous to disappointed and hurt, though he tried to mask those emotions quickly. "Which is of course fine and like, obviously you don't, I mean..." he spoke, and it wasn't entirely clear if he was talking to you or himself.

"I didn't even answer H." you mumbled, tilting your head. "Of course you di- wait what do you mean?" there was this same spark of hope in his voice as there had been in your voice. "If I told you, that nothing changed, what would that mean?" you breathed after a second of hesitation and staring into his wide eyes, filled with fear, nervousness, hope and...vulnerability. At your words there was a small smile that started to tug on his lips, like a light igniting his eyes. 

"It would mean that I...uhm, I would then shoot my shot?" you couldn't help it.

"Was that hard to say?" he blinked confused. "Shoot your shot..." you teased and he groaned loudly. "Oh hush, you are unbearable." You giggled, winking obnoxiously. "You decided to eat those edibles. Also, I am worth a shot, no?" he huffed, leaping forwards to pull you back into his arms. "Oh definitely..." you grinned up at him before your breath hitched in your throat at the realisation of his sudden closeness. Eyes flickering to his lips you just waited. But when he leaned in you cleared you throat softly, making him halt. "Before you do that...just please tell me why now." He never moved back just pressed his lips together for a second, thinking of the right choice of words. "In those month where we didn't talk, I had a lot, and I mean a lot of time to think and reflect about the whole situation. About you, about how I felt about you and your partners, how your confession had changed the way I saw or felt certain things...also, Jeff's talked a lot with me about it. The fight and stuff. And then when I saw you again I just...knew? I don't know..." you cut him off with a short nod. 

"Okay that's good, now kiss me please." He just laughed before finally, finally closing the gap between the two of you.

And your lips on his made him feel better, lighter and higher than any fucking edible could've ever made him feel.

here are flowers for u, if u rly read this ily 💐💐💐

➳m.list   ➳h.s. m.list   ➳wattpad

[toutallyahoe]

Hopeless Romance ~ Mary-Beth Gaskill (RDR2)

Requested By: --

A/N: more than fucking 6000 words yall

im dead

never thought ill get to write 6000 words just for one fucking one shot

i thought itll only be until 4000 or 5000 words but NOPE! THE GREMLINS IN MY MIND IS LIKE 6000 BITCHES

but anyway, i love her so much help asdfghjklworijcjjxjdb

─────────────────

Mary-beth let out a fond sigh as she took her eyes off the book she was holding and looked dreamily at the view of the lake. The young woman had finished her chores earlier and Miss Grimshaw finally let her off the hook and Mary-beth immediately took her chance to read a book she had been reading for awhile now. The young woman sat comfortably on the grassy ground as her eyes looked at the blue waters of the lake. It was a breathtaking view, Mary-beth had to say. The waters seemed to have some sparkling glow as the rays of the sun hit it just perfectly. The calm breeze passing by and making the leaves of the trees dance with it.

Mary-beth closed her eyes and deeply inhaled the scent of the fresh open air of the land, then sighing in content. A soft cheerful hum leaving her lips as she softly smiled. This was a nice day. It was not sunny-- rather that it was a bit cloudy which seemed to be a perfect weather to spend near the lake that was close to the camp and read her book. The calmness of the area was rather enjoyable. There were no loud noises, not like in the camp. As much as Mary-beth loved everyone in the gang, finding them as a family and such, the young woman liked to have some peace and quiet now and then.

Mary-beth opened her eyes, the smile still on her lips as she looked back to her book. The printed text on the pages of the book made Mary-beth smile dreamily as she thought of what if she had her own journey like the woman in the story. Now, it was a common knowledge that Mary-beth Gaskill was an absolute hopeless romantic. She loved the thought of those romantic moments she had read and adored when she get to see those romantic endeavors in real life.

The young woman always felt her heart leap when she get to see those romantic gestures and courtship. She can't explain it but Mary-beth just loved those. It was like a light in her own dark world. Something to look forward to despite her life being dangerous. After all, an outlaw life isn't the most well loved one.

The young woman let out a hum as she imagined herself as the woman in the story she was reading. The story was at first boring if Mary-beth had to be honest, but it was because the plot of the story seemed to be close to the same of some of her other books. Yet, it still captivated her. Especially how the love interest of the woman was introduced. The leading man as Mary-beth imagined to be handsome, very handsome with the way the woman in her book described. With how the man's eyes filled with determination and passion and how he acted to the woman in the story with such soft and tenderness despite him being someone of higher status than the woman who was merely a maidservant.

Mary-beth had to be honest, the man in the story reminded her of someone in camp. Someone who was dangerous and rather terrifying at times, yet he was also kind and had that tenderness she sees when he would talk to... her. That someone was named [Name] [Last name].

Mary-beth fancied him if the young woman had to be true to herself. He was a bit rough around the edges as he was an outlaw like herself, but he was more dangerous than her. Mary-beth merely pickpocket and lie. He on the other hand, had killed and slaughtered people. Of course they were either the law that were chasing them or O'Driscolls and other gang but he was still a man who can not be crossed with. But then again, Mary-beth saw more than what other's had missed. The young woman saw how [Name] adored animals, especially his horse who he always looked after and he enjoyed to play a harmonica and would play in occasions if he was requested to.

Mary-beth remembered the time when she first heard him play the harmonica. The moon was shining bright along the twinkling stars in the night sky. The young woman was off to go back to her shared tent with the other ladies since she had to walk away a bit to do her business when she had heard the soft sound of the harmonica as she passed by the campfire where the fire was still burning bright. Looking around, Mary-beth was surprised to see the new member of two months sitting underneath the stars on a stump of a tree. His back turned to her as the sound of the harmonica came from his direction. If Mary-beth remembered correctly, the tune he was playing was a song called "Oh My Darling, Clementine".

[Name] played well. He seemed to know the tune of the song and Mary-beth stood there with a soft smile on her lips as she saw him tap one of his feet on the ground along the tune he played. It was that night that Mary-beth saw the quiet and reserved outlaw express himself through the tune of the harmonica.

As the young woman softly hummed and got lost to her thoughts, Mary-beth failed to hear the sound of something approaching her until it was too late.

Something had grabbed Mary-beth's shoulder from behind. The young woman was surprised with a hint of fear swirled inside her as a loud shriek left her lips. Mary-beth felt the thing taking off whatever was on her shoulder as Mary-beth hastily stood up and turned around to face who had touched her. Her book getting thrown on the ground yet she did not care for she was afraid on who or what had grabbed her. Mary-beth was readying herself to confront who, only to see a very familiar man. Specifically, the man who she had unconsciously thought off.

"M... Mr. [Last name]!" Mary-beth had said in surprise. Her freckled cheek flushed with embarrassment as she saw the outlaw nodded his head at her. "You surprised me," she had said as her hand was placed on her chest, where her heart is as she felt her heart beat fast from the fright she just had. She was surprised, no doubt about it and [Name] noticed it.

"Ma'am," [Name] had said as he tipped his hat to her direction as a sign of politeness and greeting. "Apologies 'bout that but I have been callin your name for awhile now," he had said. Mary-beth felt her cheeks heat up with his words. Has she been in her head that long?

[Name] raised a brow when he saw Mary-beth looked away from him. "Really sorry again," he had apologized again. The outlaw look around and let out a quiet hum. The place he found Mary-beth was pleasant. [Name] look at Mary-beth again and saw something on the ground. Eyebrows furrowed as he realized what it is.

"Ah," [Name] had exhaled as he approached near the young woman and picked up  the book she had unintentionally dropped on the ground when she had gotten scared. Raising to his height as he looked at Mary-beth in the eye.

"Sorry but you seem to dropped this," he said as he offered the book which Mary-beth let out a gasp and hurriedly took it from his hands. [Name] watched amused as he watched the young woman inspected the book closely, making sure it wasn't damage or so from being thrown to the ground. When Mary-beth had made sure the book had no damage whatsoever, she sent the man a look. Silently telling she did not appreciate the scare that cause her book to be thron on the ground.

"You seriously need to stop scaring a lady, Mr. [Last name]," Mary-beth pouted. "I would have not forgiven you if you had damage my book from it," she said. Mary-beth saw the outlaw crack a small smile at her.

"Well, the truly sorry again for the lady," he had said with amusement laced in his voice. His eyes, oh those [Eye color] eyes that Mary-beth swore she could only see in fiction or her silly imaginations were real. [Eye color] eyes that seen so much horror still has that unwavering spark in them that made the young woman's heart throb inside her chest. "But the lady should also have been alert in her surroundings. You never know when an animal will pounce on ya," he had said.

Mary-beth let out a laugh as she playfully slapped the outlaw on his arm. The outlaw send the young woman a small amused look that she happily returned with a large grin on her lips and glee evident in her face. "Oh?" Mary-beth had said. "Like you, Mr. [Last name]?" The young woman had teased as a chuckle left the man's lips as he shakes his head at her. Mary-beth beamed as she took pride on managing to crack up a chuckle from the man.

You see, [Name] [Last name] was still a reserved man. He preferred to be alone at times and the camp respect that with the occasional times of the resident Irish loud mouth Sean Macguire trying to get the outlaw out of his 'shell' as the Irish man had put it. Bothering the man until he gets threatened at most times. And both the Callander brothers who seemed to enjoy [Name]'s overall being, actually trying to get the man to spill more of his past that he seemed to avoid talking about and also just dragging the quiet and reserved man on jobs.

Yes, it had already been almost a year that [Name] had joined and some of the members of the Van Der Linde gang still don't know much of the [Hair color] haired outlaw. He seemed to avoid the subject of before Hosea and Dutch brought him in one day along with Arthur like a plague. The Van Der Linde gang still remembered [Name] looked absolutely skinny and malnourished when the three men had brought him in. Mary-beth remembered him almost falling off of Arthur's horse when they ride inside camp and was quickly carried into a tent to have him lay and rest in a cot as the man seemed to not point what was real and what was not at that moment.

Mary-beth only heard bits of pieces on what Dutch had announcement to them when Miss Grimshaw and Reverend Swanson tried to patch him up with the cuts and bruises littered on his [Skin color] skin as her mind was filled with worry to the poor [Hair color] haired man. Dutch had said that they had found the injured man locked up in a basement on a house they had robbed. It made Mary-beth's heart seek for the poor man who who knows how long he had been stucked in a dimly lit, rotting old basement and probably even was dehydrated and starving for days with how skinny and malnourished he looked when his body was carried pass by her.

"Ah, trust me ma'am," [Name]'s voice cut through Mary-beth's reminiscing of the past as she snapped her head to look at the direction of the man. The young woman's breathe hitched as she saw that rare sly grin the outlaw had sent to her. "I'm more of any dangerous animal here," he had chuckled as he had took off his jacket, leaving him in only the old blue dress shirt that seemed to have its colors fasing from age. The man then had placed his jacket on the grassy ground. The outlaw did not minding the young woman's eyes curiously looked on what he was doing as he then offered one of his hand to Mary-beth. "Ma'am," he had said as he sent the young woman who looked at him curiously with her eyes gleaming at him.

Mary-beth giggled at his words. The young woman clutched her book tight as she felt her heart fasten its beating when she took [Name]'s hand with her own that was not holding her book. The young woman noticed how gentle and tender the man's hold on her hand. It, again, reminded her on the man in the book that was gentle and soft to the woman in her book. The warmness of [Name]'s hand on her's made Mary-beth softly smiled when the man had guided her to sit on his jacket that he discarded and placed on the ground as he then took a sit beside her, not taking a space on the jacket he laid but on the grassy ground to have the young woman more space on the clothing.

"My, what a gentleman you are, Mr. [Last name]," Mary-beth had laughed as she sat comfortably. The young woman sent the man beside her a large grin as he raised a brow at her. "And here I thought you are a dangerous animal," she teased. The young woman's smile widen when she saw the corner of the outlaw's lips twitched upward, a smile threatening to make its way on his lips yet he turned away to avoid looking at her. The young woman still knew he was smiling though as she stared at him.

"Well, Miss Gaskill, I can be civilized at times," he had said as he turn to look at her again. Amusement gleamed in his [Eye color] eyes that the young woman noticed with how there proximity wasn't too far away. Again, those [Eye color] eyes that Mary-beth knew had seen so much pain and agony stoll had that burning spark in them. That burning spark that she find enchanting.

"It seems so," the young woman had softly laughed as she shakes her head while the man had a small smile yet it disappeared when she stopped shaking her head in amusement and looked at him again. Mary-beth saw [Name] let out a sigh as he turned to look at the large lake in front of them. The young woman looked at him for a moment and then following his lead. Again, the lake was still both beautiful and calming with the breeze passing by and disturbing the waters of the lake, creating small waves as the leaves of the trees and some flowers in the land dance along the wind. The sun having to be blocked a bit with the clouds that were passing by to shade the area.

There was a comfortable silence as Mary-beth turned her gaze on her lap where she had placed her book. Opening it again, she went back to the page she had thankfully still bookmarked and continued reading. Her losing to her book again as the outlaw beside her sent a quick look at her to see she was reading. He watched Mary-beth for a second or so as he felt himself crack a smile.

The [Hair color] haired man had to admit, Mary-beth looked beautiful. She always was. Through those first two months he didn't interact much with the other members of the Van Der Linde gang when he joined, he still noticed her. Mary-beth stood out like a sore spot for him. The outlaw saw the young woman beside him to be too pretty and rather too nice to be an outlaw when he had recovered and officially joined. Despite him not really interacting much with her in those few months, he had always noticed how she acted in the camp. Polite and kind. A rather obvious none outlaw attitude.

[Name] hummed as he remembered his first time officially interacting with her and not just say greeting and when passing by in camp. His very first conversation with her was when he had caught the young woman listening to him play with his harmonica that he had asked Arthur few days ago. The outlaw had noticed Mary-beth listening to him play for the past few nights but he did not have the courage to call her out on it. It was that one night that he finally mustered up the courage and looked at the direction of Mary-beth usually listening to him when he had finished playing and had called her out. It was rather awkward at first as the young woman seemed to stutter out a lot amd tried to explain herself when he just cut her off and asked her if she wanted to listen to more.

It was another night. Rest of the camp seemed to be asleep already aside from Bill who was grumbling in his station that was near the entrance if the camp that he was in guard duty that night while the [Hair color] haired outlaw sat at the log near the center campfire of the camp. It was late at night already with the night being dark yet the moon and stars shone brightly down while the embers of the fire from the campfire were the only source of light [Name] had besude the lamps in tents and wagons to aid anyone still awake in the nights. Taking out the harmonica out of his pocket, he let out a sigh as his ears picked up some footsteps behind him but then stopped. The [Hair color] man knew who those footsteps belonged too as he recognized ut was that same footsteps beling to someone in camp that had been listening to him for awhile now. Shaking his head, [Name] let out a sigh as he placed the harmonica on his lips and blew.

That night, the outlaw had choose to play a more somber and saddening tune of the song The Streets of Laredo on his harmonica. Lost in his own world as he played, a few feet away, a certain woman had peeked her head from the tree to see him play.

The young woman that stood a few feet away from him, away to not be easily seen (especially hiding behind a tree) yet not to far away to not hear the man was playing. Mary-beth couldn't help but hum a little bit with the tune the [Hair color] haired man who's back was facing her to be playing with his harmonica. Of course, Mary-beth knew what he was playing. It may have took a few seconds to familiarized herself with the tune but she still recognized the tune of The Streets of Laredo playing.

With quietly humming the underneath her breathe and closing her eyes. The young woman felt calmed. Yes, it was rather creepy on what she was currently doing. Stalking and hiding herself just to hear a man she barely talked to play a harmonica in the dark of night when she could have just asked to sit beside him in the campfire. It honestly made the young woman remember that thing in her book where a young prince was riding by an old castle with a large wall protecting it despite the wall was already old and covered in moss and vines when he had heard a beautiful voice overwall the wall.

Mary-beth remembered the prince in the book, curious who's voice he had heard that was so lovely had dismounted his horse and climb the old wall with the help of the vines that covered it. As he reached the top, he saw a beautiful maiden with hair as black as coal and skin as white as snow with lips as red as he color of rose. He listened to the maiden sang that lovely melody.

Looking at what she was doing now, the young woman bit back a smile to form on her lips as she also felt laughter bubbling up inside her, threatening to come out and blow away herself from her hiding place as she seemed to realized that she was the one doing the prince's role on listening while the beautiful maiden's who was singing role had fallen into the [Hair color] haired man who was playing his harmonica still in that somber yet alluring tune yet it was slowly getting quiet.

"I know you're there," [Name]'s voice cut through the air like a knife as had stopped playing his harmonica. He turned his head behind him and faced the direction on where he fully knew the young woman was hiding. Mary-beth snapping out of her thoughts and realizing she had been caught let out a quiet shriek leaving her lips as she went back to hide behind the tree. Her face flushed with red as she felt her heart beat quite fast in her chest. Trying to take deep breathes to calm herself down, Mary-beth poke her head a bit to see if the [Hair color] haired man was still looking at her direction. Her face flushed more in embarrassment as she saw that he was still looking at her direction.

"Um... g-good evenin!" Mary-beth stammered as she saw the man gave her an unimpressed look. His [Eye colo] eyes held no sort of emotion that she can see but if she was more closer, the young woman would have seen that small spark of amusement in those eyes of his.

"Evenin," [Name] had greeted back with a rause brow as he turned his body fully to face the young woman. "Now, why are you still awake Miss Gaskill?" The man had asked. Mary-beth let out a nervous giggle as she played with her hands behind the tree that she was still partially hiding.

"I... uh... th-this was not-- I was n-not-- uh... erm..." Mary-beth stammered out as she tried to explained herself. The young woman can feel her face already heating up more as she saw the [Hair color] haired man still looking at her. Mary-beth could not explain. She does not want to. This was already embarrassing enough and saying that she was stalking and listening to him play for awhile now? The young woman felt dread as she still embarrassed herself more of thinking uo ways to try and explain herself. "Um... I-I was... Mr. [Last name]! I-I did not mean... erm..."

The [Hair color] haired man seemed to have gotten either fed up or impatient with the young woman's flustered stuttering as he turned himself back to face at the burning fire of the campfire. Mary-beth bit her bottom lip as she saw what the man had done. Was he mad? He didn't had yelled at her for minding her own business nor question her on what she was doing hiding behind a tree. But still, it made the young woman fear what the outlaw think of her now.

Mary-beth stood behind that tree for awhile as she contemplated if she still would try to continue embarrass herself by trying to explain why she was awake in the middle of the night and hiding behind a tree to listen to him play or just go back to the other women that were sleeping in their tent to avoid embarrassing herself more. As the young woman contemplates, [Name] took a quick look behind him again as see that the young woman was still there. With a sigh and a click of his tongue, he decided to invite her to his side.

"Miss Gaskill?" The outlaw had called. Interrupting the young woman degrading herself in her thoughts as Mary-beth snapped her head at his direction and realized that the [Hair color] haired man had called her.

"Y-yes?" Mary-beth had said. Her voice raising an octave from her nervousness. Was he going to shout at her? Be angry at her for being this creepy woman that was stalking him behind a tree in the middle of the night? Does he think she was creepy or weird? What if he--

"Do you want to sit and listen to me play?" Mary-beth but her bottom lip as she had tried to hide her joy from his words. Frantically nodding her head to his question, the young woman saw [Name] raised his hand and gestured at her to come closer. "Well? What are you waitin for?" He had said as he turned his head back to look at the fire. Mary-beth let out a sigh of relief as she realized the [Hair color] haired man was not angry at her. The young woman finally stepped out from her hiding spot as she happily approached the outlaw that was sitting on a log. Taking her place beside him as she was close, the young woman smiled at him when [Name] had look at her way for a minute or so.

"Any request?" Mary-beth had heard the man beside her grunted as she saw him placed the harmonica on his lips, ready to play whatever she would asked. The young woman felt something inside her flutter as she heard his words. Thinking, the young woman smiled as she had finally decided a certain song for him to play.

"Oh my darling, Clementine... if you don't mind," she had said. Mary-beth did not miss the small smile that formed on [Name]'s lips as he heard her request. Nodding at her answer, he started to play the song the young woman had asked for him to play. Now, there was a reason why Mary-beth had asked specifically for "Oh My Darling, Clementine" for [Name] to play. It was the very first song she had heard him play with the harmonica many nights ago.

As [Name] played the tune of the song, oblivious to the young woman's thoughts nor the stare she still had at him, it was peaceful. As the tune of the harmonica [Name] played, after awhile he had heard the young woman beside him quietly hummed until Mary-beth had sang the song as he played on. With the young woman's sweet voice accompanied by the lovely tune of the man's playing of the harmonica, it was that night, the two felt close to each other with a single song.

The [Hair color] haired man snapped out of his thoughts as he felt pressure on his shoulder. The man had tensed for a bit until her calmed down and thought that it was perhaps Mary-beth's doing. Turning his head, [Name] saw the young woman beside him had placed her head on his shoulder. He was right, it was indeed Mary-beth. Looking at thr young woman, [Name] noticed small content smile on her lips as her eyes still on the book in her hands.

"I hope you don't mind, Mr. [Last name]," Mary-beth had softly said as she haf briefly sent a quick look at the man beside her. Mary-beth felt her face heat up a bit as she saw the [Hair color] haired man was looking at her. Looking down on her book, the young woman bit her bottom lip out of nervous as she waited for the man to shrug her head off of his shoulder or say anything to her. Yet nothing. Mary-beth only heard [Name] let out a hum at her words as he still looked at her.

The outlaw noticed a small flush in the young woman's freckled cheeks yet did not comment on her bold actions nor the color flushed on her face. Instead, the [Hair color] haired man let out a sigh as he then placed his head on Mary-beth's. Looking at the lake in front of them, [Name] couldn't help let his lips formed into a small content smile. The two stayed like that for awhile. Silent yet it was a calm and peaceful one. Content they were in that moment.

"Oh," [Name] had said as he sat up right. The young woman beside him was surprised a bit with his actions that she took her head off of his shoulder and turned to look at him. A confused and curious look plastered on Mary-beth's face as she saw the [Hair color] haired man shuffled a bit as he seemed to be patting his upper body down. Seemed to be finding something until [Name] let out a grumbled that Mary-beth had not caught.

"Are you alright?" Mary-beth softly asked as she saw the [Hair color] haired outlaw shoves his hand on the pocket of his trousers and seemed to let out a relieved sigh. [Name] had ignored the young woman's question in favor to take out whatever was inside his pocket which Mary-beth had to be honest, she was quite curious on what got the [Hair color] haired man to be that way.

"I almost forgot this," Mary-beth had heard [Name] gruffly had said as the young woman saw him pull out the thing in his pocket. "I thought you might like it," [Name] had said as he presented the thing to the young woman. A soft gasp left the young woman's lips as her eyes widen at what the [Hair color] haired man had pulled out. On his [Skin color] hand, there was a necklace. A beautiful golden chained necklace with a lovely pendant that was shaped like a heart. The young woman noticed a bright red ruby gemstone in the middle of the golden heart shaped pendant. It was beautiful. The necklace looked absolutely beautiful and Mary-beth felt her heart hammered as she gaped in awe at the jewelry.

"I-I... Mr. [Last name]..." Mary-beth had softly had called out as she tried to look at the man in the eye. The [Hair color] haired man awkwardly cleared his throat as he avoided eye contact at the young woman beside him. Mary-beth bit her bottom lip when she saw his actions. There was a red taint bloomed on her freckled cheeks when she saw how this gruffy, big, and scary outlaw shied away from her eyes.

"Oh, Mr. [Last name]," Mary-beth had softly had said as she placed her book on her lap as she then gently grabbed the outlaw's hands that was holding the jewelry to her. A soft and greatful smile on her lips as she saw her action had gained the man's attention to her. "Y... you shouldn't have..." Mary-beth had said.

"Yeah... well, a lady like you deserve somethin beautiful," the [Hair color] haired outlaw had truthfully stated as his eyes soften with how he saw Mary-beth looked in absolute awe at the necklace. "Turn around," he ordered as the young woman did as told. [Name] moved some of the young woman's brown locks away from her neck, careful not to touch her skin as he did. Mary-beth decided to help the man out, grabbing her hair and raising it a bit away from her neck, the [Hair color] haired outlaw took that chance to  carefully slip the necklace onto Mary-beth's neck.

"I... it's beautiful, Mr. [Last name]," Mary-beth had breathed out when the man had finished tying the necklace on her neck. Letting her hair down as she stared at the jewelry, Mary-beth gently touched the pendant and smiled. Turning herself back to face the [Hair color] haired man who waited for her reaction, she sent him a large beaming smiled. Seeing her smile, the [Hair color] haired man nodded at her.

"How... how can I ever thank you?" Mary-beth had asked as she felt the [Hair color] haired man's hand squeezed her hand.

"Well... if you want..." [Name] had started as he looked at the young woman in the eye then turned to look at the lake. Taking his hands away from the young woman's hold which honestly seemes to disappointed Mary-beth with his action but still listened to his words. "I... uh..." Clearing his throat, [Name] sent a quick look at the young woman beside him.

"May I court you, Miss Gaskill?" The outlaw had asked. The young woman froze at his words as the [Hair color] haired man waited for her answer. Mary-beth couldn't believe it. Did... did she heard him right? Did she heard him ask for her permission to court her? As Mary-beth tried to process his words, the [Hair color] haired outlaw assumed the young woman's silence for the worse as he let out a sigh. Rising one of his hand and running it throught his [Hair color] hair, he let out another sigh again.

"You know what?" [Name] had said as he lowered his hand and instead formed both of his hands into a fist. Mary-beth's silence seemed to make him regret his decision to say thise words to her. To ask fo courting her. Clicking his tongue, he shakes his head in regret and dismay. "Let's just forget thi--" [Name] didn't get to finish his words as he felt a huge force pushed him onto the ground as something wrapped around his neck while there was weight on his chest.

"Shit!" The [Hair color] haired man let out a hissed of pain from the rough landing on the ground as his back ached from the pain he felt while there was also some heaviness on his chest. Looking down, the outlaw let out a surprise noise when he saw and realized who had caused him to be pushed down the ground. "S-shit! Miss Gaskill?" [Name] asked, surprised at the young woman who's face buried on his chest yet her arms wrapped tighter on his neck. Hesitantly, the [Hair color] haired outlaw wrapped his arms around the young woman.

"Is... are you... okay?" The outlaw had softly ask. Rubbing the young woman's back in a type of way to ease whatever she was feeling. The [Hair color] haired man assumed she felt something in the lines of sadness or perhaps fear? [Name] don't know but he tried his best to console the young woman in his arms.

"Miss Gaski--"

"Yes."

The outlaw blinked. One... two... three... four...

"Pardon?" The [Hair color] haired outlaw dumbly asked as he looked down at the young woman who finally stopped hiding her face on his chest but instead looked up at him. [Name] noticed small tears on the corner of Mary-beth's eyes yet he was more focused on the large smile on her lips. She was beautiful.

"I said, yes," Mary-beth had said. "You may court me, Mr. [Last name]," she continued as she laughed when she saw the man looked like he was frozen for a second until a smile broke onto his lips.

"I... I can?" He had breathlessly asked. The [Hair color] haired outlaw seemed to be in disbelief and Mary-beth couldn't help but laugh at his expression. Did he thought she won't say yes? God, this man...

"Yes, you can, you silly man," Mary-beth had giggled as [Name] had sat up right and looked at her in the eye. Mary-beth saw those [Eye color] eyes of his filled with joy, and it made her more happy with it. "Now, how about you give a lady a romantic kiss for a start of your courting?" She had teased as she heard the man chuckle.

"I didn't think you would ask for a kiss on the start," the [Hair color] haired man had said as he unwrapped his arms off of her and instead had his hand placed on the young woman's waist. The outlaw was rather surprised on the young woman's bold words yet a smile on his lips when Mary-beth laughed at him. Shaking her head, Mary-beth placed herself more comfortable by sitting on the man's lap, her smile still on her lips as she faced him.

"I'm not," Mary-beth confessed with a grin. "But I'll let this one slide," she said as she felt the [Hair color] haired man's hands squeezed her waist a bit. "You better show me a good courting though, you silly man," she ended as she leaned close to the outlaw. Mary-beth's couldn't help but giggle when she heard [Name]'s chuckle leaving his lips.

"I will," [Name] had said as be saw the young woman leaned closer until their lips touched. It was a soft and quick kiss as Mary-beth immediately then parted with her freckled cheeks flushed a bright red hue. The [Hair color] haired man was no exception as he felt his face heat up from the young women's action yet a soft smile on his lips.

Mary-beth felt the [Hair color] haired man to place his head on the crook of her neck as he hold her close to him. "Come with me to town tomorrow?" The young woman had heard him muttered as she couldn't help but softly smile at his words. She always wanted to go to the town near their camp yet have not gone to for she was busy doing her chores that Miss Grimshaw had assigned to her and the others girls, not to mention no one will take her unless there is a reason for her to go into town since some of the men are very busy.

"I'd love too."

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I have the week off of work! Expect some updates in the next few days!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter VI - The World’s First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip

She’d managed to rid all the tension from her shoulders after a steaming hot shower with a lovely lavender-scented shampoo and was now strewn out across her bed with the book she’d been reading from the library. She didn’t have much planned for the day, simply wanting to refrain from causing any more distress between the others and herself. But when someone came knocking at her door, she didn’t feel like she had a choice but to open it. She was met with the eyes of intrigue himself.

“Will you accompany me for the day?” Alex merely asked. “Where will we be going?” she questioned in turn.

“You wanted to know all about my hotel. So, I’ll show you what I can, writer. Meet me in the service room behind the lobby when you’re dressed.” Looking down at her figure clad only in a soft white robe, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She saw the corner of his lips quirk up, before he sauntered back down the hallway towards the elevator. Cheeky bastard.

Having decided on wearing a long skirt with a pristine white blouse to maintain some form of professionality, she grabbed her notebook and pen and made her way towards their one-sided agreed upon meeting point. When Nick was greeted by her ‘good morning’ and with the sight of Alex holding the door to the back room open for her, he gave them a look of complete bewilderment, which Alex simply deemed to ignore. She shrugged and held her notebook a bit closer to her chest before stepping through the doorway.

The room wasn’t very large. In fact, most of the space was occupied by a large desk, filing cabinets and most prominently; television screens. They showed different camera angles to hallways and other communal areas, such as the library and dining hall. It was clearly live, because she could see Matt taking Mardy out for a walk in the gardens and Nick behind the counter, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door they’d gone through. Alex took a seat at the table that held all the electronics and cables and motioned for her to do the same.

Hesitantly lowering herself on the chair next to him, he seemed to be waiting patiently until she’d opened her notebook on a blank page and her pen had revealed its ink when she scribbled down the date on the top right corner. She looked up at him and saw a look in his eyes she could only describe to be the hesitancy of a man who was desperately trying to place his trust in a stranger for the first time in years. She felt it was her turn to take the initiative. “When did the hotel first open its doors?” she decided to start with.

The simple question seemed to bring him back to focus, as he cleared his throat. “About twelve years ago, I’d say it was.” “That’s quit a while. I’m guessing you were rather young to be opening a hotel,” she noted, silently scribbling her pen across the paper in the meantime. She didn’t dare look away from him. He nodded and grumbled a chuckle. “Young, and very inexperienced. Even though I’d had everything planned out from the start, it turned out to be a lot different in practice than what I’d expected it in my head to be.”

“In what way?” He thought about it for a moment. “I guess I had to learn that I couldn’t do everything beforehand and that I had to make more direct decisions on the spot. Although, I was very lucky to have Miles and Matthew at my sides. They were with me every step of the way.”

She smiled softly. “Matt told me about your school years with him and Miles.” “He did? Yeah, we go way back. Bit ridiculous to think I made him promise to come work for me if I ever opened a hotel. Poor lad never stood a chance choosing a different career path. Miles, however, he’d always expected to become my business partner.”

“So, it hadn’t really been Miles’ initial ambition to become mayor?” Alex shook his head, “No. He’d always had a knack for politics and as you well know he’s socially very capable. But if it hadn’t been for his position today, I think this hotel would’ve remained a pipe dream.”

She hummed, letting her eyes wander over the wide array of television screens. “This is your office?” she wondered. “Of sorts,” he replied, “Though Nick often finishes his paperwork in here. It’s where everything is filed.”

“Doesn’t the noise ever bother you?” The slight static hum appeared to be constant and she felt like it derived the room of its peace. “It would most certainly drive me insane.”

“Ah, the exotic sound of data storage. Nothing like it, first thing in the morning,” he quipped with satire. “No, I think I’ve gotten used to it over the years. I don’t really hear it anymore.”

“Have you always had cameras around the hotel?”

“No. We didn’t think it was necessary for a long time, but certain events proved otherwise.”

“Events you’d rather not talk about right now.”

“You’re really getting the hang of this, writer.”

 He took her to see the library next, and their walk was silent until they were once again behind closed doors. “I didn’t mean to be secretive, but I did borrow a book from here,” she admitted, shuffling to one of the plush seats near the fireplace. “I know,” he replied, making her look at him in surprise. “I’ve read every single one of these books. They’re all classics, because I’d never let a bad piece of literature enter this room without my permission. You just happened to take one of my favourites, which I can only commend you for.”

She knew the plot of the book from memory and couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk spread across her face. “You like cheesy romance novels?” she teased. “Laugh at me all you want, writer,” he replied, “But it was you who specifically chose that book to borrow out of all of the ones in here, which means I’m not the only one guilty of fancying a good love story.” “Alright,” she admitted, “What other genres do you prefer when you’re not swooning over Mister Darcy?”

He snickered at her banter. “I take interest in science fiction.” “Intriguing. I suppose great minds do have a wild imagination.” “Was that a compliment I heard?” he inquired. “Don’t get cheeky now, mister Turner. We’re both still testing boundaries here.”

He told her all about the becoming of his grand book collection; of how he’d initiated his fondness of reading through his mother’s literature shelves until he’d gone through them all and started sticking his nose in bookshops and libraries. “When the hotel gained more popularity, some regular guests seemed to pick up on my hobby and I’ve only ever received books as thankful parting gifts from that point on. I’m rather relieved, because I was getting sick of flowers and champagne bottles from people with horrid taste.”

“You really do sound like a ritzy hotel owner now.” “I’d rather be ritzy than be in the rubble.” She raised her brows at him with a silent inquiry at his remark. “Don’t say it,” he muttered.

It was when they winded down a staircase she hadn’t seen before did she unravel her notebook again. During the beginning of their conversation she’d only written down the facts and dates, until she’d decided her memory would suffice for the rest of their conversation. Up until he’d taken her to the lower level of the hotel, which managed to fascinate her to a great extent. “What is this place?”

She knew what it was on first glance but wanted him to elaborate on it. “It used to be a bathhouse,” he told her, “but the previous owners were never able to maintain it. It’s a long-term project of mine to restore it.”

It looked very worn indeed, but the vines that protruded the walls and the moss overgrowing the smooth pillars reminded her distinctly of the Romantic art in the paintings she’d seen across the halls of the hotel. There was a large pool in the middle, and though the green substance that most likely used to be clear water obtained a lot of algae’s, it was alleviated by the gorgeous flowers floating atop their lily pads.

The grimy pastel-coloured tiles in blues and pinks were illuminated by the soft light appearing through the ceiling window in the back of the room, which had a few cracks here and there. She walked around one of the separating walls and found an array of bathtubs lined up to the side, decorated with rusty showerheads and crooked room dividers.

“It’s gorgeous. I’m glad you haven’t decided to tear it all down,” she breathed in awe. He hummed, “I have thought about it. But I’m legally not allowed to since it’s been deemed a piece of ‘cultural heritage’ by the mayor himself.” She snickered, “So, Miles didn’t want it to be torn down.” “Let’s just say it was a mutual understanding.”

She gave him a look and took a step around the next corner, but then no longer felt the ground beneath her foot. She could start to feel gravity pull her down until a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back, causing her ankle to scrape against what she now recognized to be a large crater she was meant to have fallen in. Alex pulled her flush against his chest and she let out a deep breath of relief, her heart a pounding mess against her ribcage. “I understand your curiosity is getting the better of you now that I’m answering most of your questions, but it wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit more careful.” His breath tickled her ear and his husky voice was like a musical echo throughout the room. “Thank you, mister Turner. I think I’ll be alright now.”

He slowly let her arm slide out of his hand. “Were you hurt?” “Just scraped my ankle. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head. “Let’s get it sorted. Can’t have you limping around my hotel. It would ruin my reputation.” “To who? All of the other guests?” “I will push you back into that pit if I have to, writer.”

She was still able to walk well enough, but they decided against taking the stairs this time and took the service elevator instead, which lead them straight to the kitchens. He’d rummaged through a few cupboards before finding the first aid kit. She sat upon the counter and lifted her skirt a tad to inspect the damage.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut it off, miss.” She smacked his arm and he let out a bark of laughter. It was deep and vibrant, and it gave her more joy to hear it for the first time than she’d expected.

Yet, as he cleaned the wound and wrapped her ankle with a soft bandage, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of grief towards the evident wall he hid his emotions behind. It added to the long train of thoughts she was already dealing with right now, and she couldn’t say she was particularly pleased with it.

A silence washed over them as he finished his work and it gave her the opportunity to really look at him. Not just his appearance, but taking in everything he was.

“What will you do if you can’t save this hotel?”

He took long enough to form an answer that she’d almost thought he’d gotten upset with her again. Instead, he replied in a quiet voice that deeply saddened her to the core.

“I really don’t know.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 76

Whew!  Enormous Family Dinner is finally done!

This took 2 more chapters than I originally planned, but I feel that holds pretty true for any good conversation you have among your found family... it just never wants to stop!

As always, thank you to @satan-parisienne for being so very, very patient with my ‘hurry up and wait’ style of requesting feedback, especially while you haven’t felt the greatest.  You are far better at pointing out “yeah, but this makes sense to LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE” than anyone I will ever know.  Also, @baelpenrose for helping me nail some of the dialogue, along with keeping me on track with all the bits and bobs I try to include in a single chapter.  Between the two of you, I feel like a better writer every day.

To give an idea of how crazy this chapter was to write, content warnings include mentions of:

Food Painfully spicy food Witches (non specific) Burning witches (the fact it happened) Sex (non explicit) Drugs Paranoia Food aversions

To be clear, none of this occurs on screen with the exception of the foods.  But it is all referenced in the conversation within the chapter, so just in case I wanted to make sure to mention it here. I also tried to tag it all.

I managed to calm myself down while Conor and Maverick dragged Sam to get more food.  As I wiped the last of the tears from my eyes, Alistair was dutifully telling Arthur some of my more humorous antics.  The dry humor and deadpan delivery threatened to put a smile on my long-lost friend’s face.

“It was ginger tea, not green tea,” came Tyche’s voice and she snatched a curried-vegetable wellington out of my hand. Stuffing it in her face, she turned to the teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher. “If you ever do or say anything unpleasant to my sister, if you make her even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, I will end you,” she advised jovially.

“I can’t exactly return that threat,” he pointed out, nonplussed. “I probably know more about your reputation than anyone on this ship except Sophia, and I’m not brain-dead enough to think you’re going to hurt her.” He paused before clarifying. “Necessary kicks in the ass notwithstanding. Hey - “

“You have to earn that privilege, professor,” she interrupted.  Draping herself over a chair - there weren’t any arms, how was she doing that? - she turned to me. “I like Parvati.  Guerilla protest artist in the body of a goddess.”

“Fortunately, humanity progressed past a point where we burn witches at the stake,” Arthur rued in agreement.  “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure Ms. Fletcher wouldn’t have made it out of infancy.”

“Certainly no Refugee Guernica,” I agreed with a sigh.

Grey sat down and nodded a greeting before adding “I have come to burn your fields and steal all your women.”

“Our dear Councillor Kalloe certainly seems to worship at that altar,” Alistair commented before I could stop sputtering at the sudden show of humor.  His face was entirely innocent when our heads whipped around collectively. “What? There is not enough soundproofing in the several galaxies - “

A dark hand swatted at his face as Derek objected. “Not in front of the dumplings,” he signed before swatting at Alistair some more.

“As a former warlord, I feel like I should object to that,” Arthur directed at Grey. “I mean, I may have burned a few fields, but I never stole all the women…”

I sighed with feigned wistfulness. “I don’t think Parvati had to steal anyone.  They probably marched behind her happily, with desperately high hopes.”

Several nods exchanged around the table before Arthur cleared his throat. “Speaking of witches…” He glanced pointedly at Tyche. “I managed to find something from Earth already in the consoles, and I am well aware that Sophia is insane about spice.” More than I did, my sister immediately perked up. “This is something I got to try exactly once in the Before, and it’s definitely not for the faint of heart.”

“Berbere,” I murmured.  I could remember him telling me about it afterward.  It was the hottest thing he had eaten in his life, at least at the time.

He nodded in confirmation. “Exactly.  But, just a warning before anyone rushes off to try this: it isn’t just spicy in the Scoville sense, this is spicy in the Dune sense of the word.”

A few confused looks exchanged around the table.  I threw looks at both Tyche and Arthur asking for permission before explaining. “In the fiction series Dune, there is a drug that is only found naturally on a planet called Arrakis.  The drug is nootropic, anti-gerial, and mutagenic, primarily allowing for expanded consciousness, ability to understand fifth and sixth dimensional navigation, and in limited cases, ancestral memory. Although the actual name of the drug is melange, the common name is simply ‘spice’.”

Arthur mimed applause; he had heard me mention my tendency to spout information like a walking encyclopedia, but this was the first time he had seen it in person.

The confused looks cleared up slightly, but there were still more than I would have liked.  Grey gently raised a hand for attention. “And… You actually want to eat this?”

I nodded fervently, as did Tyche, although Arthur tilted his head back and forth. “I mean… I believe after the meal I… experienced… I used the phrase ‘what unholy fire did I just put into my body’, but hey. It was delicious, even if the experience was a little closer to fiery transcendence than was altogether comfortable.”

Tyche snorted. “Burning witches at the stake, you mean?”

Ahhh… that was why talking about Parvati made him think of berbere.

“Just don’t give it to Derek, I’m begging you,” he responded. “This is not the ‘understanding eyes of kindly folk who burned witches alive to save their souls’ kind of thing. This is more ‘being consumed in the unholy fire of the most delicious thing you can imagine and seeing the fabric of reality in the process’ kind of thing.” Shuddering dramatically, he glanced at Derek. “Something tells me you would try to hack reality, and we kind of need that to just keep working right now.”

A sudden expression crossed Tyche’s face that I could only describe as looking like the physical manifestation of a click-noise. “Transcendent… I’ve noticed several people on the Ark - and I mean easily over a hundred - acting strange lately.  This can’t be related, can it?”

My neck ached in sympathy for the way it would have snapped around, had I not been facing her already. “You’ve noticed it, too?”

Derek tapped the table emphatically, requesting our attention. “Noticed what?”

“People have been unusually antisocial,” Tyche clarified. “Instead of greeting strangers, they look at me skeptically when I say hi.”

I nodded in agreement. “Even people who were very casually friendly in the last year or so, suddenly just nod and duck away to whisper furtively. It would be one thing if I had done something that clearly had a negative impact on the crew, but… I mean, I even see people who are carrying portable habitats for Else eyeing me weirdly.”

If Arthur had cats’ ears, I swear they would have been pricked as far forward as possible - for someone who was suspicious as a default, he looked curious enough to die for the satisfaction of an answer. “How large are these groups? Have you noticed any frequent meetings? Do you ever see people from several groups interacting? Are they quieter when you - or any other outsiders, I guess - approach?  Is it always the same people?”

My head spun as I tried to parse out answers. The questions had come rapid-fire, and I realized abruptly that Arthur, for all our digital interaction in the Before, wasn’t used to my auditory processing issues.

Thankfully, our Knights of the Dinner Table arrived from a successful quest, laden with several plates of tidbits and small cups of hot soup.  Tyche and I glanced at each other, silently agreeing to suspend the discussion of odd behaviors, before I spoke. “Soup isn’t on the menu, guys.”

“Special request,” Sam insisted carefully. “We all like miso, and it helps digestion.”  Without waiting for approval, he took one bowl, scooped all the tofu out and added it to a second bowl, and handed the first bowl to Derek. “No mushy,” he promised sincerely.

I restrained the urge to gape.  Never had I seen Sam assert himself like that, and it honestly made me insanely happy to watch.  Looking around the table, I saw the slightest twitch of Grey’s mouth. “It is very healthy to be clear about what you want, and builds friendships when you do so for others.” 

So they were the culprit behind Sam coming out of his shell. Interesting. “Cheers to insurrection,” I murmured, toasting with my half-gone bloody mary.

“And soup,” Maverick added cheerfully as he accepted the cup with extra tofu.

Not even bothering with the spoon, Conor actually toasted with his soup before downing it in one swallow.  “Slainte.”

Thankfully, Tyche and Grey both took much more graceful sips from their small bowls. 

Quickly, I sent a message to Arthur to send his questions in writing so that I could answer them fully.  Derek also made quick gestures with his datapad, seemingly asking the same thing. 

Everyone ignored Derek slipping half his bao back on Sam’s plate.

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