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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 315: I Didn’t Expect This to Blow Up

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “guess which plot that you thought was dead is actually not dead and is making a comeback!” and we were all “EVIL HPSC??” and he was all “girl you know it,” and that’s the story of how we got a sexy Lady Nagant flashback with lots of guns and murder. Flashback!Lady was all “gotta murder peeps to preserve the people’s trust,” but then a little while later she was like “actually wait that makes no sense,” and so she shot her evil boss and they sent her to jail. Back in the present, Deku was all “okay fair, the hero system might in fact be a little fucked up, but hear me out... have you considered not helping AFO take over the world so he can murder like a bazillion more innocent people??” The chapter ended with the not-all-there Overhaul finally revealing himself to Deku, and I honestly have no idea where this is gonna go.

Today on BnHA: In what is unfortunately the single worst plan ever concocted by anyone in BnHA, Nagant is all “I’m going to try and get this Deku kid to panic and freeze up by putting someone in mortal danger.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t panic and freeze up at the sight of someone in mortal danger].” Nagant is all “omg no way.” Deku, who is now all of a sudden being so OP that even I have to acknowledge that it’s OP lol, is all “[smashes Nagant’s gun arm to bits]”, which sucks but is also really cool, and which also apparently makes Nagant decide that she actually likes this kid after all. Deku is all “NAGANT I REALLY LIKE YOU AND THINK YOU’RE GREAT SO PLEASE JOIN UP WITH ME AND STOP BEING EVIL.” Nagant is all “aw shucks (✿ •͈ᴗ•͈) well okay then” and everyone is all “( ･◡･) ✰ ( ˆᴗˆ ) ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎)” and then Nagant FUCKING EXPLODES LIKE AN EGG IN THE MICROWAVE AND FALLS TO HER DEATH!!!! except not really because Hawks saves her??? In conclusion, (a) THE FUCK, and (b) AFO TURN ON YOUR LOCATION I JUST WANT TO TALK.

so I have to tell you guys something, which is that barely ten minutes after I made that “please don’t send me spoilers” post the other day, someone replied to the comments in a stunning fit of “tell me that you’re twelve without actually telling me you’re twelve” energy and posted what seemed to be the copy-pasted spoiler summary from reddit or twitter or whatever lol. so here is my good news/bad news rundown of all that

good news: I have very well-conditioned ABORT!! reflexes and have trained myself to immediately look away from the screen (usually in dramatic fashion) as soon as I realize that whatever I’m reading is a spoiler

bad news: unfortunately as I was subsequently deleting said comments, I accidentally read the very last one

good news??: said spoiler was so unbelievably, absurdly over-the-top that I’m almost positive this person was just trolling. like, there’s just no way lmao

bad news: but in the unlikely event that it is true I will absolutely lose my shit I swear to god

(ETA: “NAGANT DIES.” that was the spoiler I read lol. like, literally all I read from the person’s comments was “My Hero Academia Chapter 315 Title: “Beautiful Words.” Chapter starts with...” and then I noped out of there, and then of all the comments to read as I was deleting, it had to be that one lol. I seriously was just like “SURE, JAN.” all “just how gullible do you think I am” sob. but I was wrong. a troll, but an honest troll they remain.

but anyways like I’m pretty sure Nagant isn’t even actually dead lol, so in the end this whole little adventure doesn’t even have a point to it, but for me it was a journey!)

anyway, so there are apparently two versions of the chapter today?? no idea what the difference is, but I’m going to go with the Bean version, because it’s the one at the top and I don’t feel like making decisions today

huh, so Overhaul is actually more coherent than Horikoshi was letting on

look at him having a whole back and forth conversation with her. side note, how is he still this jacked when he’s been sitting in a cell doing absolutely nothing for the past six months

anyway so he says he’ll go with her on one condition. I wonder what that condition could possibly be. do you think it could be the thing he literally hasn’t shut up about ever since he reappeared lol

yep! and damn -- maybe this guy will surprise me after all

still would be nice if you also felt a bit sorry for the little girl you tortured and traumatized, but this is something at least. maybe Deku will yell at him for that other stuff lol

(ETA: also can’t help but wonder if he wants to make amends because he put him in a coma, or because his plan was a failure and ended up destroying the family. just hoping you’ve finally had that “hurting other people is bad” epiphany dude.)

anyways so now Nagant’s arm is transforming again, and this particular transformation happens to be the only truly unsexy thing that Nagant has done thus far so I’m just gonna skip right on ahead lol

aaaaand we’re back to the delirious ranting

buddy. just. read the fucking room, guy

wow she really is aiming at Overhaul, then. those theories were spot-on

damn she’s really out here all “it really fucks with kids’ heads when you kill people right in front of them and make them blame themselves” like yo

I’m picturing her saying all this in a very loud stage-whispery tone while making very significant eye contact with Deku lol

uh oh but wait

um. okay. who’s gonna tell her. Nagant I might have some bad news for you about the kid you’re trying to capture here. specifically about the way he tends to do the opposite of what you’re thinking that he’s about to do

holy shit

so it’s basically just “tap x repeatedly to charge up your attack” lol

and okay, so that’s cool and all, but is anyone else wincing at the thought of what that must be like on his knees. oh to be young

anyway, but so to the surprise of basically no one, Deku did not, in fact, freeze. I am very sorry, Nagant. he’s just like this

LMAO

someone wanna tell me how getting yoloed in the fucking ribs by this fucking slingshot kid moving at literal sniper bullet speed is in any way even remotely better than getting hit by the bullet itself lol

(ETA: this is 10x funnier now that we know the bullet wasn’t even gonna hit him lmao.)

anyway so now Nagant is having an extended “!?!?!?” reaction about how Deku just moved with no hesitation, and I’m starting to get an inkling of fear that the rest of this fight isn’t going to go very well for her and maybe that’s what all the “hoo boy” is about

oh my god Deku are you about to Gomu Gomu no Rocket yourself at her you insane little man

now Three is popping up again and he’s all “I see you’ve learned your lesson and are now only using three quirks at once instead of five” like with all this effusive praise about how great and badass Deku is and sob, okay, yeah. this chapter is basically one of those machines that shoots tennis balls at people, except instead of tennis balls it shoots hot piping discourse

OH MY GOD

YOOOOOOOOOO but also, NOOOOOOOOOOO

lol oh my god it’s literally two opposing reactions at once wtf. do I love this or hate this. like just for once can Horikoshi actually let a badass lady character win their fucking fight without getting their arm ripped off, BUT ALSO fucking look at that absurdly cool “SMASH” onomatopoeia though. it looks like it’s about to float right off the page holy shit that’s some seriously good art

anyway so is this really the end?? do I need to break out my ಠ_ಠ faces

lmao okay yeah I can definitely see how this would piss a lot of people off

he basically one-shotted her and she’s all “damn this kid is so amazing that I’m about to do a complete 180 turn on all of my previous angst” lmao. Horikoshi is really shounening it up today

on the plus side though, maybe this means there’s still a chance for her to join up with him after all? unless that spoiler was true lmao, then all hell is gonna break loose

YESSSSSSS

OH MY GOD AND HE SAYS THE BULLET WOULDN’T HAVE DONE MORE THAN GRAZE OVERHAUL ANYWAY, wow, I’m actually more relieved by that than I would have expected. I mean I would have forgiven her either way, but it means that there was still more hero in her than she was letting on

YES!!! FUCKING YES, THANK YOU

lol but I mean, it’s also like, “oh so today they get to have brain cells”, thank you so much lol. sometimes it’s really hard to tell which times we’re supposed to question these character decisions that seem dumb, and which times we’re just supposed to full on embrace them and switch off our critical thinking

but okay, so in this case it really was Nagant going easy on him on purpose, and not just her fucking up for no good reason even though she used to do this for a living and was the best in the game. and I know in this case it’s probably just Horikoshi giving us some consolation headpats to soften the blow of her losing so abruptly, but you know what, shit. I’ll take it

also you guys the light is coming back into Deku’s eyes again for just a moment here and I’m having feels about it?? the way it still comes back when he’s reaching out to save someone, and following his own hero path instead of the much darker and lonelier Christopher Nolan path that’s been laid out for him instead that he never wanted?? it’s both reassuring and also very sad

YESSSSSSSSSSS

DO IT LADY OMG PLEASE?? PLEASE COME BE HIS NEW IRRESPONSIBLE ADULT SUPERVISION YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO

AHHHHHHH SHE’S GONNA DO IT AHHHH

p.s. I am now absolutely scared shitless that that spoiler was actually true sob. swear to god, I will throw this manga into a fucking volcano. but we’re almost at the end of the chapter and this seems just WAY TOO GOOD to be true fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck f

UCK

NOPE NAH SEND IT BACK, NOPE, NUH UH, DIDN’T ORDER THIS. “GULLIBLE” OKAY FUCK YOU?? “COUNTERMEASURES” NOPE, DON’T NEED ‘EM, WE’RE ALL FINE HERE. WE’RE ACTUALLY GOOD SO YOU CAN JUST GO, OKAY. PLEASE

fuck, lol, I don’t wanna do it. I don’t wanna scroll down what have I ever done to deserve this oh my god

WHAT THE HONEY-ROASTED FUCK

WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT FUCKING VOLCANO IN ICELAND THAT I KEEP SEEING ALL THESE PICTURES OF. WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT. LET’S GO

ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

can someone please give AFO a really good, sharpish kick in the balls. just really let him have it. I’m so tired, what the fuck

-- ARE YOU KIDDING ME LOL WHAT

bro. I was literally going through my Excel folders to find the spreadsheet about female characters in BnHA that I made back when Midnight died. was gearing myself up for a wholeass rant. and honestly I might just let all of that continue simmering on low to keep it warm just in case lol, because to tell you the truth I have absolutely no idea what’s happening right now

my girl straight up does not have a face. she used to have a face. people usually need those, idk. like, even if she’s alive, her gorgeous eyebrows are definitely not making it out of this and I’m gonna throw a funeral just for them

how the fuck did AFO just blow her up?? how did he know what was going on?? and if he had a quirk that could explode people at will, why is this the first we’re hearing of it?? you’d think that might have come in handy at Kamino or Jakku, like what

(ETA: present!me, who’s had more than three hours of sleep and can now actually remember facts about the series, would like to remind past!me that AFO gave Nagant a quirk, and so this is probably just more Vestige shenanigans now on his part. that’s also probably why Air Walk suddenly stopped working out of nowhere. still doesn’t explain why he doesn’t go around blowing people up more often though but maybe he thinks it’s gauche.)

Hawks just straight up out of nowhere. just Mirioed his way straight into the chapter just in time to be too late sob. here I was looking forward to seeing your face when Deku showed up with his new best friend. can’t believe Horikoshi deprived us of that moment

on the plus side, WELCOME BACK, HAWKS’S FEATHERS. I have no doubt that in this chapter of Deku being an almighty threequirk-mastering god, and Nagant losing anticlimactically only to be immediately blown up because girl characters in BnHA can only be cool for one fight and one fight only, there are still some people who are focusing solely on the “how dare Hawks get his wings back when he is a MURDERER this is an outrage what about CONSEQUENCES” discourse, and to hell with all the other discourses lmao

anyway, so yeah. wow. and now it’s just occurring to me that maybe the real reason why Overhaul is there is so he can get a head start on that amend-making by actually doing a good thing for once in his life, and using his quirk to heal Nagant. assuming he can still do that

and so now Horikoshi has got me out here actually rooting for Overhaul. you know what, on that note I think I’m just gonna go ahead and call it a day sob

#bnha 315 #overhaul #chisaki kai #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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divina-yae · 4 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐋𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐭. 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝗼𝗼 𝐓𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝗼̄

❥𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

✹𝘉𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

Requests are open!!

It was obvious in his clinginess, how you were someone that he confided in, even in the way that he spoke to you, that Kuroo truly cared for you, maybe even loved you, if you thought about it.

However, it was in some of the other small things that made you doubt it as well. Before you, it was his ex-girlfriend, Sayaka. For almost a year they dated, the two of them being known as Nekoma’s power couple.

That was until Sayaka was caught cheating by Kuroo and his friends. As one of his best friends, you were in charge of picking up the pieces. And you did. So well, in fact, that five months later, the two of you were the new power couple.

Months had past since then, but the feelings of insecurity still lingered. As much as you would’ve loved to chalk it up too silly, nonsensical fears, you couldn’t.

The overwhelming difference in your relationship and and his Sayaka’s were glaringly obvious. Things he wouldn’t hesitate to do with her, he’d never once brought up with you.

Whereas Sayaka proudly wore Kuroo’s volleyball jacket at every game, you’d never once seen it. The cheesy love notes he had you proof read before he put them into her locker had yet to make an appearance in yours.

All the since deleted posts of Sayaka, hadn’t been replaced with even one of the two of you, no matter how many times he’d made it onto your social media accounts.

It was the small, yet significant things like this that had you doubting good feelings. You’d had a first hand view to how much being cheated on had crushed him. Was it possible you were just a rebound, a replacement of convenience?

With every day your insecurities continued to grow out of control. With his growing responsibilities and focus on volleyball, he was beginning to become distant, only adding onto your worries.

Not wanting to distract him or seem overly clingy, you began to pull away, as hard as it was.

And yet, you still found yourself sitting with Kuroo on his bed. Upon his insistence, he’d placed you in his lap, stating that it’d been far too long since he’d been able to just hold you.

You didn’t bother pointing out that he could only blame his schedule for that.

“(N/N)-chan~” You huffed, amused. “Just call me ‘(Y/N)’, Tetsu, that nickname doesn’t make any sense.

The ravenette chuckled, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. “Aww, but it sounds so cute!” You laughed a little, leaning back into his embrace.

You repressed your shiver when his lips landed on the curve of your neck. “I’ve missed you... I’m sorry for being so busy lately.” The feeling of his lips dragging over your skin with every word banished your negative thoughts, at least for the time being.

You interlaced your hands with his, which were placed on your waist. “I missed you too, baby.” It was almost embarrassing, really, how easy and effortlessly your boyfriend could put you at ease and wipe every insecurity away with just a few words.

You spun around in his lap so you could wrap your legs around him and lean your head into his shoulder. “Tired, kitten?” He teased softly.

You nodded, pushing away your flutters. “How about we watch a movie, yeah? You pick something and I’ll get snacks.” You grinned at the suggestion, a relaxing night being exactly what you needed.

“Deal!” The captain pressed a quick kiss to your nose before gently lifting you up and off his lap so he could get up. “I’ll be right back, doll!”

You smiled fondly as he left the room and you grabbed the remote. In no time, your opened Netflix and flipped through the different categories.

You went to his list and settled on a show you liked. You pressed pause content to scroll through your phone as you waited.

However, Kuroo’s phone buzzing caught your attention. The notification was the last thing you’d expect from his phone.

‘Log in your cycle today!’ From Flo, the very app you used to track your own period. You blinked, nothing short of surprised at the notification.

“I got popcorn and skittles, your favorite~” Instead of accepting the treat, you stared back at him, a question in your expression.

“Tetsu, do you have a period?” He immediately choked on a mouthful of popcorn, his shock rivaling your own.

“What the hell- no, (Y/N)! What even?” You laughed at his dramatic reaction, showing him his phone. “Then why do you have Flo, you weirdo?” His expression turned sheepish.

“Ah... I used to keep track of... Sayaka’s so I could I be prepared to help out. I guess I just never got around to deleting it.”

Didn’t bother to delete it? It’d been nearly a year. Was he still hung up on her? The one who’d broken his heart?

You didn’t bother to tell yourself you were overreacting when you felt your heart all but plummet. Never once had he bothered to do anything for you during your weeklong suffering.

You quickly thought of an excuse, all the while feeling bile rise in your throat. “Shit, what time is it?! I totally forget I have a test tomorrow! I have to go. Sorry to rush out, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Except, he didn’t see you the next day. Or even the day after that. You were going out of your way to avoid him, even going so far as to fake being sick.

Your best friend, (R/N), bright you your schoolwork and was even willing to take it to school for you.

They didn’t pry past what you said willingly and went above and beyond for you. They had truly been your saving grace during these last few days.

You knew you couldn’t hide out forever, but you at least wanted to have your thoughts and feelings together before you saw him.

It was the third day and you were sure that you only had the rest of the day to get yourself together. Your family had caught onto your lack of an actual illness on the first day, but they had been giving you grace. Now, you could tell that you were on thin ice, however.

School had just gotten over, and you were expecting (R/N) to come over to give you your homework and also save you from boredom.

You’d even prepared a quick snack to thank her. Nothing major, just onigiri and some fruit. Just as you went to flip on the television, the door rang.

You smiled, relieved, and bounded over to the door. You opened the door, ready to greet your friend.

“Hey! I made oni-“ “(Y/N)?” A voice interrupted, causing you to snap to attention. Your mouth went dry as you looked up at the one person you weren’t ready to talk to.

“Tetsurō... what are you-“ You started, not at all feeling ready to talk to him. “You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?” You blinked at him, seemingly unable to formulate a coherent response.

“We have to talk. (R/N) told me you were upset, not sick.” Wordlessly, you moved out of the doorway, permitting him entrance.

Here went nothing and everything...

The room was deathly silent as both you and Kuroo stared back at each other. You were sitting at the dining room, each waiting for other to speak.

As much as you wanted to get this conversation over with, the words just wouldn’t seem to come.

“Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?” He pleaded. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to clutch his shaking hand.

“Tetsurō, I- it’s complicated...” You immediately averted your gaze from his face, the hurt in his expression too much to bear.

“I love you, so much, but... sometimes I don’t believe that you love me like I love you...” A pained sound left his mouth but you pressed on.

“I know how much you... loved Sayaka, and I know how much she hurt you, but Tetsu, I don’t want to be a replacement-“

Arms all crushing you to his chest cut you off, arms belonging to a now sniffling ravenette.

“(Y/N), I-I love you so much, and it hurts that I haven’t made it obvious. Sayaka fell in love with the image of me, the thought that I was some... intimidating bad boy. But you know better than anyone that I’m anything but that.”

You felt your own tears gather at his revelation and you held onto him as he continued. “She got tired of being doted on, or me showing her off. She didn’t like that I was... soft. I didn’t want to lose you because of that so I tried to stop,” He admitted shakily.

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “Tetsu, I’ve known you since we were kids. I know you. And that’s the guy I fell in love with. All your ‘soft habits’ are a part of you, and I love all of you. You deserved better than someone who only loved the idea of you, but please don’t let it hold you back from real love.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Thank you, I love you, so much, (Y/N),” He cried.

You placed your hands into his hair and on his back as he whispered teary declarations of love into your skin.

“I’m sorry I avoided you, Tetsu,” You murmured. He exhaled shakily and hugged you tighter. “I’m just glad I have you back. I’ve missed you, Angel.”

You pulled back so you could look him in the face. “I promise you’ll always have me.” His smile was wide and genuine as he pulled you back into his warm embrace.

The two of you stayed there for some time, comforting each other until the disparaging atmosphere faded away.

Once you punched Sayaka in her throat, everything would be perfect.

#haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro angst #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsurou #nekoma #haikyuu #haikyuu kuroo

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kopikokun · 4 years ago

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Snack Run with a Snack༄ j.jh

↳ On your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. You’re a little peeved, but at least Jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.

pairing: idol!jaehyun x camera operator!reader (feat. johnny, jungwoo & doyoung)

genre: fluff, comedy, co-workers to lovers

warning(s): expletives

word count: 3526 words

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: crush (souly had) ✧ mango love (shawn wasabi, satica) ✧ make you feel pretty (lovelytheband)

Request 39: Jaehyun x Staff!Reader during movie night where she’s an extrovert and is close to all of the members.

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Your fortnightly movie nights are always something you anticipate eagerly, no matter how frequent or repetitive they may be. It’s always nice being able to take a breather from the grievous monotony of your daily schedule to just kick back and—essentially—do nothing. You know the rest of the members cherish these ephemeral moments too, because despite all odds, they’ll valiantly try to show up and join you, or at the very least make an appearance. Once, Ten had even barged in, still with his extensions intact.

To be fair, you’re not any better. When you heard that Jaehyun was participating the other day, you had dropped all other priorities just to come over. Safe to say, your roommate was not pleased seeing the state of the abandoned living room.

Your vision sweeps the perimeter of the room. Usually, it’s packed to full capacity, but there are only four others here besides you today.

“The glasses.” Doyoung purses his lips, planting his stare on a startled Jungwoo. “Where are the glasses? I thought I told you to get them?”

Jungwoo smacks a hand to his mouth, the sound of skin against skin so loud that you wince on his behalf. “It totally slipped my mind. Honest to God. I got sidetracked.” He clasps your—an innocent bystander’s—shoulder with such force that you physically jolt forward. Jungwoo flashes you his signature million dollar smile.“Hey, could you be a dear and help me out? I still haven’t decided what movie we should watch tonight.”

“Yeah, sure.” You grimace, already turning on your heel, mumbling, “You didn’t have to hit me.”

“Thanks!” he calls after you. “And sorry!”

His voice cuts through the hurried chattering between Jaehyun and Johnny which comes into earshot as you step into the kitchen. Their mouths move at the speed of bullet trains and Jaehyun’s hands flutter around his pensive face frantically. Maybe it’s the rose-tinted lenses, but the sight endears you. The slightest of chuckles escapes your lips at his delirium.

Their bodies seize, their zealous conversation slipping into a steady silence.

“What’s wrong?” you smirk. “Were you guys talking about me?”

“No,” Jaehyun snaps, so quickly that it almost prickles. “Why would we be talking about you?”

“Ouch,” you pout, masquerading the sting with a frivolous cadence . “How mean.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought you were, uh, clearing the table?” There’s a nervous edge to Jaehyun’s voice which insinuates that he knows something you don’t.

“I was, but then Jungwoo asked me to get the glasses in his stead since he’s too busy fussing over which movie we should watch.”

Johnny laughs. “I should go help him out then, or he’ll be stuck on the selection page for ages.” He pats Jaehyun’s back as he leaves. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

You toss an inquisitive glance at Jaehyun. He turns away, cheeks blooming with colour.

Admittedly, you’re more than intrigued by what Jaehyun had been so ardently conversing about. A small part of you whispers the possibility of it being you, and your heart soars. Now you’re the one getting sidetracked. Of course, you are. This is one of the rare moments you and Jaehyun have shared alone. Although you see him almost daily, there’s always someone closeby; a fellow staff or member of the group. And while you’d consider yourself someone who thrives in social situations, there’s nothing more you desire than a few seconds in solitude with the charming man.

You swing the plywood cupboard door open, extinguishing your idle delusions, the handle cool in your grasp. Three shelves greet your vision; each stuffed full with either miscellaneous tableware or seldom used kitchen utensils. You spot the mug you gave Mark for his birthday collecting dust in the corner and scoff bitterly. And he said it’s his ‘favourite mug’.

Your face screws in bewilderment. Usually, the glasses are graciously arranged on the bottom shelf; easily accessible for the people who are less gifted in the height department (namely you). Strangely, today they are at the very top, shoved deep inside, so far in that you’d think that it had been done with malicious intent. If they were in the middle, perhaps you could’ve reached them with a little extra effort, but given their current position, even on your tiptoes you wouldn’t even come close. The tips of your fingers barely graze the bottom portion of the glass. You huff.

“Do you need help?”

Your head swivels to see a clearly humoured Jaehyun, his eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, someone’s kept the glasses on the top shelf,” you grumble, tenaciously continuing to reach for them despite knowing that you and your height—or rather, lack of it—have been bested. “Must’ve been Johnny. The tall-ass.”

“You’re probably right. It wouldn’t be his first time either.” You groan in exertion. “Hold on, let me help.”

“Thanks, Jae—”

Your eyes widen and your stature stiffens. Just the smell of his aftershave is enough to knock you out.

Jaehyun’s chest presses against your back firmly. His hot breath tickles your neck; the fine hairs stand on end. His right arm, hugged in the most breathtaking way by a black sweatshirt, reaches forward while his left is planted on the counter in front of you, caging you in. You’ve done your fair share of ogling at Jaehyun’s more than ravishing physique before, but only from afar. At this proximity however, you can individually trace every vein on his forearm. They’re like roots branching across the ample muscle. God, you’re making it very apparent that you’re staring.

While probably not the most proficient, you don’t dispute this method of reaching for glasses. You’re sure Jaehyun knows there are better ways to do this too.

Stunned, you all but stare in what you can only describe as awe at Jaehyun’s side-profile. Sharp lines accentuated by peculiarly delicate features, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel like running your fingers over the curves of his cheekbones, the arch of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow.

Jaehyun’s gaze latches onto yours, his arm still hanging above your head. You swallow dryly before licking your lips. Jaehyun’s jaw clenches, the movement guiding his eyes to them. The counter is digging into your hip.

“I got the glasses,” he breathes, your vicinity means you can practically taste the mint on his tongue.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

Neither of you move farther or closer to each other.

Jaehyun places the glasses beside you. “I should probably go set up the projector now.”

“Yeah, you should.” No, don’t.

He nods curtly, prods the inside his cheek with his tongue and shuffles out of the kitchen. You lean on the counter, recomposing yourself. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. Jaehyun’s lingering aftershave muddles any chance of a coherent thought.

What was that?

Sure, over the past week or two, you and Jaehyun have made your ever augmenting attraction to one another remarkably tangible, but neither of you had acted upon it. Until now.

Dazed, you almost forget to do what you had initially come in here for. You have to literally turn a 180 to retrieve the five glasses which sit innocuously on the countertop; they lay witness to your sins.

“So, how’d it go?”

“Did you do it?”

“Well, technically no, but—”

The four men are huddled together in the middle of the living room, each with equally suspicious expressions carved into their faces. Jaehyun’s back is turned to you as he’s hunched over, almost like he’s sharing some petty gossip.

You set the glasses down on the communal dining table, shift your weight on one leg and perch your hands on your hips like a disgruntled teacher waiting for her class to fall silent. Doyoung is first to sense your presence, nudging Johnny and jutting his chin towards you.

You can’t suppress the snort that courses through you when—simultaneously—all four of them disperse. It looks almost rehearsed.

“Why are you guys acting so weird today?”

Johnny sputters, Jungwoo chokes on presumably his own spit, Doyoung makes a sound which resembles more of a wheeze than a cough, and Jaehyun’s body goes completely rigid.

“We’re not acting weird,” scoffs Johnny.

You’re unconvinced. Just the way the whole room was immediately shrouded in a thick cloud of tension at your question was very telling.

“Yes, you ar—”

“Alright then,” Jaehyun clasps both of his hands together like a middle-aged man in the midst of a conference, “the movie! Jungwoo, what did you pick this week?”

Jungwoo hammers a fist to his heaving chest. “I picked Jojo Rabbit.”

“Oh, Minji noona watched it the other day. She told me it was so good she cried,” Johnny says. “And she rarely—if ever—cries over movies, or anything, really.”

“Why didn’t she and the others come over today? They’re always here for movie night.” By the others, you’re referring to the rest of the staff who are usually present. Being more or less the same age, the members naturally gravitated towards the rest of you; your closeness in years meant that you could easily relate to one another. You’d consider yourself a decently convivial person as well, which was probably another fundamental factor.

Once again, a restless fog congests the room. You seem to have struck another nerve.

Jungwoo tightens his grip on the remote. “They were… busy.”

His spontaneous lie is deplorable at best, but you let it slide.

You assume they think your conjectures have diffused because they seem to share a relieved glance; Jaehyun casts an appreciative smile to the bunch. He clears his throat. You don’t miss the mental exchange between him and Johnny, who grins wittingly.

“How about the snacks?”

All eyes are on you.

Your eyebrows cinch. “What?”

“The snacks,” Jungwoo reiterates. “You’re on snack duty.”

The way he says it makes it sound like you were aware of this. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, we told you in the groupchat,” Doyoung says. Jungwoo seems to be restraining a smile.

“No, you in fact, did not.” Scorned by this blatant accusation, you begin fishing your phone from your front pocket to show the others that none of you had come to that agreement.

Jaehyun’s hand coils around your wrist, halting your movements. “I’ll come.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll come along with you to get the snacks,” his grip loosens, “if you want me to.”

“Oh.” Your arm falls limp to your side. You study Jaehyun’s earnest gaze. “Sure.”

It’s painfully palpable that the rest of the group were expecting this; their lips curling with a smirk of gaiety.

“Great, I’ll go grab some cash.”

You really should have thought twice about letting Jaehyun tag along.

“You should’ve stayed at home.”

“I wanted to come.”

You’re reasonably terrified, both for you and Jaehyun’s sake. Getting recognised out in public is an all too plausible scenario, and you really do not have the resolve or strength to fend off a horde of fans right now.

“Relax, it’s like 11pm. Nobody’s going to be just walking out here. At least, not anybody sober.”

While he makes a valid point, you’re still skittish. “Alright, but keep your head down.”

“How will I see where I’m going?”

Collecting your wits, you reach for his hand to tug him forward. “I’ll lead the way.”

Though Jaehyun is more than capable of staying grounded in his spot, you drag him along with relative ease, like a lifeless rag doll.

“I… was just kidding.”

Not looking back, you say, “Does that mean you want me to let go of your hand?”

Brazenly, Jaehyun intertwines his fingers with yours, strengthening his palm’s embrace. A jolt of exaltation zips up your spine.

“No, don’t.”

The remainder of the brisk walk to the convenience store is spent in exhilarating quietude, one that conveys a hundred messages. Not once does Jaehyun’s hold of your hand weaken.

The intimacy of the store welcomes you wholeheartedly. From its single constantly flickering bulb, that one cooler door with the rickety handle, and to the out-of-order slushie machine, you could peruse this store with your eyes closed. Being NCT’s camera operator first and designated snack buyer second, you’ve been in here more times than anyone should ever have to be in a lifetime.

It’s not the most popular store on the block. Their selection is limited, their interior outdated, but in your humble opinion, they are leagues ahead of any other store out there. Plus, it’s usually vacant, meaning minor risk of being spotted. Other than you, Jaehyun and the single weary employee, there’s only one other person in here, a tattered hood draped over their head. While they’re sketchy in a certain sense, you’re confident that they don’t pose a threat to you or Jaehyun’s safety.

“I’ll go get the crisps and you get the chocolates,” you declare, standing on your tiptoes.

“Chocolates? We’re getting chocolates? We already have some in the fridge.”

“Okay, then I’m getting chocolates.”

Another reason you love this place to bits is because of its prices. Everything is outrageously cheap. The first time you had visited, wet behind the ears, soul bursting with vigour yet pockets embarrassingly empty, you almost cried. You had one of the best dinners of your early adult life in this very store. Sure, it was just a truckload of processed, packaged food, but here’s the thing: it was a truckload. And when you’re as financially stable as a thumbtack balancing on the tip of its point, a truckload of food is a blessing bestowed by the Gods.

So, safe to say, you and Jaehyun definitely got your money’s worth.

In fact, in the time the two of you expended scouring the aisles for tid-bits, a forlorn cloud had consumed the sky. It had started raining. Lightly at first, but the drizzle had swiftly transitioned into a furious storm.

Thunder claps in the distance, the sound so tumultuous it shakes the tiles of the store floor, the vibrations so intense they reach the tip of your head.

“Do you have enough money for an umbrella?” you ask.

“Even with an umbrella, I think it’d be too dangerous for us to go out there,” Jaehyun says, and as if to illustrate his point, another bolt of lightning strikes the Earth. The convenience store trembles. “And no, I don’t have enough money for an umbrella.” From the tone of Jaehyun’s voice, his delight is hidden by the pretense that he too is upset by this development.

“Then I guess we’ll have to call one of the guys to pick us up.”

Jaehyun’s expression immediately turns sour. “I mean, yeah… I guess we could.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have been pouncing at the opportunity to spend some quality one-on-one time with Jaehyun, alas, three other undoubtedly starving men are waiting for your return.

A long, dull white counter, meant for customers to sit and eat at faces the heavy gloom outside. Droplets of rain cling to the glass like fluorescent crystals embedded to cave caverns, before slipping down in a wavering trickle, racing each other to the bottom. You take a seat on one of the plastic stools and Jaehyun takes the one beside you, dropping the bag of snacks to the floor.

“Hello?” Johnny’s sonorous voice greets through your speakers.

Jaehyun stares at you, anguished. To his right, the hooded stranger from earlier slips into the third stool, leaning forward and shelving their chin on a palm. They stare outside the window.

“Hey, Johnny. We got the snacks, but Jaehyun and I have a separate problem.”

“I know. It’s pouring.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Jaehyun looks like he’s about to crumble into a heap of anxiety. “Can you pick us up? We don’t have enough cash to hail a taxi.”

There’s a commotion on the other side of the line; hushed discussion and rustling of fabric. You can’t pick up a lot, only the words, “Yeah.” and “So, that’s what we’ll say?”

“Sorry,” Johnny finally says, after much delay. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

Beside you, Jaehyun visibly perks.

“Car’s being repaired,” he replies languidly. “Mark popped a tyre while learning to drive the other day.”

You groan. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

“God, the car just had to be out today of all days.”

“Sorry, it can’t be helped,” Johnny sighs, a twinge of mischief to his voice. “The matter’s out of my hands.”

“It’s fine. We’ll just… wait it out or something.”

“We’ll try and see if any of the others can swing by and pick you guys up, so just stay put for now.”

“Alright thanks, Johnny. Sorry about tonight.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he says. “Have fun with Jae.”

The call ends with a click before you can probe Johnny further.

“No go?” Jaehyun chirps.

You shake your head. “No, though you don’t seem bummed out about it.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s not often I can spend some time alone with you anyway. In a way, I’m glad.” You bite the flesh of your cheek, face turning hot. Jaehyun turns in his seat, reaching down for the plastic bag. “And, we have snacks to—”

His eyebrows furrow.

“Jae?” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “The snacks?”

“They’re… gone.”

“What?”

“I put them right here beside me, but they’re gone! I swear I—”

The bell above the door chimes as the mysterious figure—the one who had been sat beside Jaehyun mere seconds ago—dashes out, with, lo and behold, a very familiar plastic bag dangling in their grasp.

You point a finger towards them. “They stole our snacks!”

Jaehyun’s head whips around to gawk at the culprit who has already made their way out of the store, head-first into Mother Nature’s wrath. He leaps out of his seat, hell-bent on chasing the person down, practically foaming at the mouth. “Motherfucker—”

This time, you’re the one who grips his wrist. “Jaehyun, wait. It’s not worth it.”

“They just stole all of our snacks! Am I supposed to just watch them get away with them?” he seethes. If not for his genuinely fuming expression, you would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“They already had a head-start, Jae. I doubt you’ll be able to chase them down. And what if someone sees you? How are we supposed to explain why Jung Jaehyun of NCT was sprinting in the rain after a stranger with a bag of snacks?”

His shoulders sag. “But… our snacks… and your chocolate! What about your chocolate?”

“It’s fine. I didn’t even get the version I liked. They were all out of the original ones.”

Jaehyun slumps back into his seat, defeated. “Should we call the police?”

You snicker. “And tell them our snacks got stolen? They’d laugh in our faces.”

“I hate that you’re right. I wish they’d treat snack theft with the same severity of other crimes,” he jests, despite still being obviously disheartened. “Hope whoever that was gets struck by lightning and fucking sizzles out there.” He cards a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jae. I mean, who the hell steals snacks anyway?”

“No, not that. Well, I am sorry about that but what I meant was... I screwed this up.”

“Screwed what up?”

“You know how everyone was acting really strangely today?”

“You guys weren’t being very secretive about it.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it was because they were helping me get us alone.”

Jaehyun’s confession is like the final piece of a puzzle; the final thread to connect all the dots together. “So that explains why everyone collectively decided to not show up today, and why the glasses were on the top shelf, and why you guys said I was on snack duty when I clearly wasn’t! And I bet the car isn’t even busted too!”

He nods, a wry smile etched onto his lips. “The glasses weren’t actually a part of the plan, but in the end, they were in my favour, so I’m not pissed about it.” You flush as the memory floods you. “They did all of that, and yet I still blew it.”

“Who said you blew it?” you say. Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you. “We’re alone right now, aren’t we?”

He swipes his tongue over his teeth. “Well, yeah, I suppose we are.”

“So, just tell me you like me already.”

Jaehyun jerks back in his seat. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew,” you grin, “because, I like you too.”

His face breaks out into the widest smile possible; one that stretches his lips so much that it must ache. “You do?”

“Yes, I do,” you giggle. “Even though you got our snacks stolen.”

By the time you two make it back to the dorm, clothes dripping rainwater onto the carpet, lips swollen from stolen kisses, and smiles teeming with euphoria, the rest of the street is already dark. Johnny, Jungwoo and Doyoung greet you with knowing smiles and playful comments.

“Look, I’m super happy for you guys and stuff but,” Jungwoo gestures to your empty hands, “where the hell are the snacks?”

216 notes · View notes

bcbdrums · 3 years ago

Text

Sand, Snowmen, and Aloha Conversations

A belated entry into whitem's fanfic challenge, to write a Christmas story in the month of July. I took the concept a bit further... Enjoy!

Read on: AO3 FFn

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Sand, Snowmen, and Aloha Conversations

Drakken hefted his bag higher on his shoulder, but it still caught on the too-narrow door as he fairly stumbled out of the airport shuttle and followed Shego to escape the crowd on the discomfitingly warm December evening. The heat further turned his stomach which had already been unsettled from the flight, the shuttle ride, and questionable snacks. He didn't need to look up to see Shego's knowing smirk as the seemingly hours-long debate regarding temperature came back to his mind.

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

Earlier...

"If you'd only put some clothes on..." Drakken grumbled, though it was halfhearted at that moment.

Seated on the floor against the wall of the San Francisco airport and waiting for their delayed flight to arrive, Drakken was sure they were quite the spectacle in addition to being the only blue and green people in the place. Shego was already dressed for their Hawaiian vacation in shorts, tank top, and a thin over-shirt. He himself was dressed for the drizzly San Francisco weather, and that coupled with the air conditioning made the airport very cold.

He had been taunting Shego for hours about her chosen attire, but she had firmly teased him right back that he would be too hot when they reached their final destination. In the present however, she was too cold, so as his back was leaned against the wall with the great window above him, Shego was between his legs with her back leaned against his chest, his arms wrapped around her folded knees and her hands beneath his. He had refused to give up his jacket to her.

"You'll see when we get there. Besides. You can't tell me this isn't nice?"

Drakken rolled his eyes as her fingers laced between his. It would be nicer if they weren't on an airport floor, and people weren't giving them looks.

At that moment, the clerk announced their flight had arrived and the impatient passengers began lining up to board. Shego leaned her head back against Drakken's cheek when he made to move, and he paused.

"You still have time to change," she said with a smirk.

"And end up more blue from the cold?"

"It's actually 'bluer.'"

"Oh har har."

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

Present

Drakken rolled his eyes when he arrived at Shego's side, ready for the teasing to continue, but she was focused elsewhere. He looked first at her face, his brow rising at her pleased and yet peaceful expression. Then he turned and set his eyes on the resort for the first time, and his jaw fell open in shock.

The first sight his eyes beheld was red, and then the warm shine of strings of colored lights. While lacking the familiar pines, firs, and other cold-weather trees that gave him the feeling of winter, the palms and other tropical trees had been decorated with strings of white lights wrapped around their trunks and colored lights strung between them. There were also large bushes lining the walk and one prominent one that had been shaped into a tree, all utterly covered in large red leaves, which Drakken realized with a sense of awe were poinsettias.

His concern that Christmas in Hawaii would be miserable started to melt away, but then his gaze fell upon a billboard lit with floodlights that made his stomach turn even more. The sign professed what he had been telling Shego for weeks was impossible, to "Enjoy Christmas in Hawaii!" but beneath the text were what he could only think of as atrocities: a very tanned Santa Claus sporting flowered swim trunks beneath his open robe, seated in a beach chair with a fruity drink in hand, flip-flops on his feet and sunglasses on his face. Next him stood a trimmer-than-typical Mrs. Claus wearing grass skirt, coconuts, and numerous leis and a hibiscus in her hair.

"Come on," Shego said happily, oblivious to his horror and disgust at the sight in front of him. Drakken watched for a moment as she strolled ahead of him, bag comfortably over her shoulder and her pony-tailed hair swaying behind her as she strode toward the resort in her perfectly weather-appropriate attire. Too many emotions were swirling through Drakken for him to even form a coherent thought, and he merely followed behind her as sweat began to pool at the back of his neck from the heat and humidity.

When they arrived at the lobby, Drakken felt a wave of relief at seeing a massive traditional Christmas tree, but a new disaster met his eyes and he suddenly felt he might lose control of his stomach. True, poinsettias were liberally placed in every direction he could see, but the blow-up snowmen wearing Hawaiian t-shirts, leis, and sunglasses ruined any winter-y aesthetic they may have given.

Drakken heard Shego give a choked gasp, but his closer look at the Christmas tree caused him to forget whatever must have startled her. While the tree was brightly lit and had numerous colored baubles of different sizes, everything else about it was distinctly Hawaiian. Instead of strings of cranberries or popcorn, it had massive flower garlands in white and yellow. He could hardly see the green of the tree for the other various tropical flowers that had been affixed to the branches, veritably concealing that the tree was an evergreen. And worse still was the decoration that topped the tree: Santa, this time without his robe, wearing a brown grass skirt with his round belly on display for the world to see. He still had his red fur hat, but wore no robe or shirt and had only the ukulele in his arms to provide any hint of modesty.

"Check-in is over here," Shego said in a rush, grabbing Drakken's arm and pulling him so hard he had to clamp his jaw together as the upset in his tummy lurched up his esophagus.

He lowered his gaze and went through the motions as Shego handled the majority of their check-in, focusing on keeping his stomach calm as his emotions still swirled undefinable within him. All he knew for sure was that he was too hot, felt like throwing up, and was certain that Christmas was ruined.

The walk to their suite was just as mind-twisting, with more poinsettias mixed in with distinctly Hawaiian decor, including miniature decorated palm trees, some distinctly fashioned to be shaped like evergreens. Once inside the room, Shego dropped her bag on one of the chairs and Drakken watched her seem to relax. What had gotten her tense?

"I'm thinking room service tonight?" Shego said cheerfully as she pulled off her scrunchie and shook out her hair.

Drakken looked at the poinsettia plant on the table and the Christmas...palm in the corner. He stepped further into the room after Shego, letting his bag slide off his arm to the floor as he saw a new atrocity in the form of a decorative sculpture on the nightstand next to the bed: Santa again, in Hawaiian attire, seated in an outrigger canoe pulled by dolphins through crashing waves.

"Shego."

"Hn?" She turned and regarded him, pausing in the middle of re-tying her hair.

"I want to go home."

Shego's eyes narrowed and she frowned, looking almost hurt for a moment before her expression hardened.

"We're not talking about this again," Shego answered, turning away and grabbing the TV remote. "You probably stink under all those layers, so get out of those clothes and take a shower. I'm going to look at the surfing forecast."

Drakken watched as Shego sat on the foot of the bed and crossed her legs, swinging her foot back and forth as she leaned back on her hand and started flipping channels.

The conversation clearly over, Drakken grumbled as he went through the motions of yanking off his jacket and fumbling through his carry-on bag for his toiletries. He was about to protest that he didn't have enough of his luggage to shower, but at that moment a knock at the door heralded a courier with the rest of their things. And so it was about ten minutes later that found Drakken in the opulent shower under the most luxurious stream of water he'd ever experienced, and unable to enjoy it.

He had agreed to Christmas in Hawaii because, as Shego had pointed out, they had never taken a vacation just for the two of them, and they had almost spent an inordinate amount of time in freezing climates due to both his preferences and world-takeover schemes. His argument that they had a lair in the Caribbean was brushed off, since truthfully, she was never out enjoying that beach. And the rocky outcroppings mixed with rough sand weren't really anything that could be enjoyed, anyway.

Drakken hadn't worried too much initially about his favorite holiday being spent away from the snow, until Shego had started discussing all of the tropical traditions she wanted them to partake in. Luaus, surfing, and learning to hula were not among the things he wanted to do while celebrating Christmas. And this new revelation that the islanders seemed content to mock everything about the holiday made it all the worse.

The shower settled Drakken's stomach, but not his mind. He spent most of the time preparing what he felt was a logical argument for returning home, or perhaps going to a mountain retreat for vacation. Cocoa-moo in front of a cozy fire enticed him at least, and he was more than willing to compromise and give her a tropical vacation even if it wasn't his cup of tea...as long as it wasn't during Christmas.

When he emerged from the bathroom, clad in his pajamas, he opened his mouth ready to begin his speech, but Shego's behavior took him aback. She had startled at the sound of the door opening, and was hurriedly changing the channel on the TV. Drakken glanced at the screen to see a weather report playing in the split second before she turned the device off entirely, dropping the remote on the bed and raking her fingers back through her hair.

What was wrong with her?

"How's the shower?" she asked in a rush, nearly fumbling on the words.

"...It's nice. Shego—"

"Good, I'm going to take one and you look here at these."

Shego had rolled back and grabbed a small stack of magazines and brochures from the nightstand next to the bed, and stood up and thrust them in his hands. Drakken looked down to see that the magazines were clearly useless advertisements, but there was also a brochure about sights to see and events they could partake in, and a special one due to the holiday.

"I want to go surfing first thing in the morning, but we should work out a schedule for the rest of the day."

Drakken blinked in confusion between the periodicals in his hands and Shego, who still looked nervous as she moved to her suitcase to take out the things she would need for a shower. He sat down on the bed with a grimace and pushed aside the holiday brochure in favor of a laminated one that looked like it always sat on the room's nightstand and only occasionally had fingerprints wiped off of it. The first page explained the tradition of the Luau, and so he narrowed his eyes and began to read it.

The brochure was extremely detailed, and so intrigued was he by the tradition of cooking a pig underground, that he hadn't even realized Shego had vanished into the shower until he lifted his eyes to ask her a question. He listened for a few moments to the sound of running water through the walls, and then looked down again. In his peripheral vision he glimpsed the holiday brochure, which was embossed with a swim-trunks clad Santa, this time surfing in a canoe over rough waves as the dolphins pulled him toward the islands. Drakken felt a swirl in his stomach and didn't even open it to see what the "special event" on the beach was the next day.

He set all the magazines and brochures back on the nightstand as the weighty thought of Christmas being ruined settled over his mind again. But for Shego's sake...he would have to try. She was clearly set on staying.

He looked for the TV remote in hopes of watching something mindless for distraction, but it wasn't on the bed where he'd seen Shego drop it, nor was it on the TV stand.

A search that took too long and ended in frustration revealed it wasn't on any other surface in the room either, nor under the bed. Drakken was scowling in mystified annoyance when as a last resort he yanked open one of the dresser drawers and then stared blankly at the remote sitting on the wood inside the otherwise empty space.

"Why would she put it in there?" Drakken said to himself as he debated giving up on it at that point and just going to sleep. But he decided to try seeing what was on anyway.

He sat back against the pillows and turned the TV on and after a quick glance at the news station she'd left it on, he flipped the channel. What he saw then caused him to lurch forward, startled. For just a split second, he could have sworn he saw the familiar green, red, and white ending title card of Snowman Hank and heard the final chord of the guitar. But the image changed to a commercial for chocolates instantly with a new jingle to displace whatever else might have logged in his mind.

The bathroom door opened, and Drakken turned with the intent to question Shego about the hiding of the remote and the possible programming on TV that night. But his words failed him when he saw her.

She had donned a nightgown he had never seen before, deeply cut in the front in a V and asymmetrical from her hip down to mid-thigh on the other side. The fabric was iridescent, shining dark blue and teal as she walked, and it was also translucent, revealing she'd chosen to wear nothing else beneath. Her hair was fluffed behind her as she'd chosen not to wash it.

"I think we're due for a little...relaxation, before bed," she cooed with a smirk. Drakken continued to stare at her, from her face clear of all makeup and showing her natural beauty, to the natural beauty of the rest of her highlighted by the nightgown.

Before he knew it, he was blinking back again at the TV commercial as Shego had slid behind him on the bed, her body pressed against his back as she began to gently massage his temples.

"Oooh..." was the sound that came out of him, and he almost blindly turned the TV off and tossed the remote before reaching back to set his hands on Shego's knees and begin slowly rubbing his hands up and down the smooth skin.

Shego shifted to set her legs alongside both of his, giving him access to more of her as her hands also traveled down to his shoulders. Everything else forgotten with the warmth of his wife pressed against him, Drakken felt a rush as he turned around to hasten her intentions for the evening. She hummed in delight and slid down as his lips met hers powerfully and he knelt above her, the world forgotten.

"I think..." Shego said breathlessly, "we should continue this in bed."

Drakken chortled and made to get off of her, but as he turned his head he came face to face with the figurine of Santa Claus in the outrigger canoe, pulled by dolphins over the waves, the bearded man's painted eyes looking right back at his with mirth.

"Drakken? Drakken? Uh, getting into bed? Drakken?"

"I...I can't."

"What?" Shego said in annoyed confusion.

"I can't with...that thing looking at me."

Shego groaned. "Drakken..."

"And that...thing over there," he said and gestured to the decorated palm tree. "None of these things are Christmas."

"Dr. D...." Shego whined as Drakken sat up fully and moved to the other side of the bed.

"It's my favorite holiday, Shego. I don't mind enduring this...tropical exile, but can't we do it any other time of year?"

He cast a scowl at the tree in the corner once more before looking back to Shego, and he recoiled at the look on her face. She looked near to tears, but the anger in her eyes was fighting for dominance. He realized suddenly he might have gravely miscalculated, but Shego didn't give him a chance to reconsider his words.

She threw back the blankets on her side of the bed and crawled beneath the covers, turning out the light with so much force Drakken was surprised she didn't break the switch. He blinked at her form in the dark as she shifted around repeatedly to try to get comfortable, finally settling on her side.

"Tomorrow morning we're going surfing," was her only response through the dark, her voice muffled by the blankets.

Drakken watched the too-quick rise and fall of her shoulder as she breathed. After several moments of indecision, he finally sighed and crawled beneath the blankets himself. He would give her her tropical vacation... But forever after, Christmas would be done his way.

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

A good night's sleep, thankfully, had helped with the start of a new day. Drakken still felt his favorite holiday was a loss for the year, but worse was the idea of an upset Shego for days or even longer. So he kept his mourning about Christmas to himself and instead greeted her that morning with his best smile as soon as he felt her shift in the beginnings of wakefulness.

Shego was surprised, blinking blearily up at him as he imposed above her, but her hands instinctively and sleepily gripped the fabric of at his shoulders.

"Merry Christmas Eve," Drakken said, before continuing the greeting with a kiss.

To his relief and joy, Shego responded, and from there they picked up where he'd forced them to leave off the night before.

Later, after the joint shower Shego insisted on—for time, was the excuse—and then a quick continental breakfast, they were back in their room with Shego hurrying him to dress for the surfing.

"Are you sure I won't need a wetsuit?" Drakken asked.

Shego's groaned reply told him he'd asked that question too many times since leaving the lair.

"The water is warm... And the waves aren't that choppy, even you should be able to handle them."

"Need I remind you that I have achieved many a death-defying stunt, a number of them at your side."

"And I'm not going to be babysitting you to make sure you don't drown or get eaten by sharks while you—"

Shego stopped short as Drakken held up his swim trunks in front of him with a smile.

"Where...did you get...those?" Shego asked slowly, her eyes wide and her expression incredulous.

"On ePier," Drakken said with a half-grin, admiring his one-of-a-kind Snowman Hank swim trunks.

"Wait...wait is that what you were freaking out over that one time?"

Drakken glanced away guiltily, and Shego continued.

"When you were going to spend half the funds for our new plan on something but I stopped you and you lost the bidding and had a tantrum?"

Drakken huffed as he changed into the swim attire. "Thanks to you I had to hack the website..."

"For...those?"

Drakken looked up to see her expression had changed from one of shock and annoyance to one of amusement.

"What?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"They're so...so..."

Drakken glanced down.

"Old fashioned," Shego finished with a choked sound, holding back laughter.

The swim trunks were shorter than the modern styles he'd seen in Shego's magazines, and the material was different as well. The design had Hank's face directly in the front, his red nose centered and handlebar mustache leading to where the shorts split in the middle for his legs. The rest of the design was a teal backdrop with falling snow. Truthfully, Drakken wished the beloved character hadn't been split in the design, but they were the only adult Snowman Hank swim trunks ever made.

"Probably for the best he never had the carrot nose."

"What?" Drakken said, looking up.

Shego blinked at him and then shook her head. "Never-mind... Don't forget sunscreen. We'll be more likely to burn when we're on the water."

Drakken checked that they had everything they would need in the large beach bag as Shego changed, distracted from his task by stealing several glances at her as she changed into a new suit—black and patterned over with teal tropical leaves and red and pink flowers, all of which set off her skin tone beautifully.

"Got everything?" Shego asked as she pushed her sunglasses onto her face.

"Mm-hm," Drakken said automatically, still staring as Shego slipped a wrap on over her suit and dropped a straw hat onto her head.

"Then let's go."

Drakken tried to focus on Shego's surfing instructions as they walked the halls, keeping his eyes on either her or the floor as to avoid seeing the abominable decor that was a sad mimic of his favorite holiday. Poinsettias were ruined for him forever, not that he had ever liked them much to begin with, and he was struggling not to now view Christmas trees and lights as mere commercial trappings as opposed to the joyful memory-inducing traditions he had grown up with and cherished all his life.

They exited the hotel and continued the short distance to the beach, where Drakken noted with mild interest a stage had been set up for a concert later, and there were a few tents and a massive blow-up snowman at least twenty-five feet high that he could only see the back of from that angle. Drakken tried not to cringe and hoped there wasn't too much more non-traditional holiday decor to distract him from trying to make Shego happy on her desired vacation.

They walked amid a crowd towards a surprising number of vendors' tents and where the surfboard rental was located. But when they arrived finally on the beach and could fully view everything, they both stopped short. Shego recoiled with a cringe of disgust, while Drakken's eyes widened and his face bloomed into a smile of unbridled joy.

The giant blow-up snowman was in fact...Snowman Hank. A quick glance around showed that many of the vendors were selling Snowman Hank merchandise, some of which was new that Drakken had never seen before, while another tent had a sign that clearly said "vintage." The banner above the stage read "Hank-a-palooza" and Drakken realized that a number of tourists were wearing Snowman Hank t-shirts, had Snowman Hank inflatables, and were carrying a variety of other merchandise. In the two nearest tents they saw small TVs playing the beloved movie.

"I..."

"Why...?"

Neither of the couple had a chance to further their thoughts, as a passing man suddenly noticed Drakken's swim trunks and approached him.

"Dude! Which tent did you get those at? The vintage shop said they haven't seen those in years!"

"I...bought them on ePier," Drakken answered haltingly.

"Aw man... I won a pair there once, but somehow after the bidding had closed someone else snuck in a higher one. Must have been last second."

Drakken swallowed and gave a nervous smile.

"Well, see you at the show tonight!"

"Wait," Shego interjected, and Drakken thought her voice sounded a bit hoarse, "what show tonight?"

"You mean you don't know?" the man answered incredulously. "It's Hank-a-palooza! Oh you're tourists, huh..."

Drakken nodded, looking past the man at a person in a Snowman Hank costume that must have been absurdly hot in the heat and humidity on the beach, standing next to a snow-cone stand and delivering the product to eager children.

"Yeah we do this every year, man! At first it was small, sort of a cult gathering thing according to everyone else around. But after the show stopped airing on Christmas Eve...it exploded! And it got even bigger once we got permission to air the show on local networks."

Drakken thought to the night before and Shego's hiding of the remote. He glanced at her, his brow raised in question. She hurriedly looked away and began fidgeting with her hair.

"Tonight the Rocky Mountain Boys are playing all the songs from the movie, and after the concert we'll have a midnight screening on the beach!"

Drakken felt a fresh bubble of joy rise up inside of him and he grabbed Shego's arm in glee as his feet began dancing in excitement.

"Like a drive-in?"

"Yeah, but just laid out on the beach man! Best of both worlds!"

"Ohhhh will they serve cocoa-moo and peanut butter stickies?"

"Dude," the man scoffed, "we can't watch Snowman Hank without his signature Christmas treats!"

"Ohhh goody! Shego! Christmas is saved after all!"

Shego pulled against Drakken's hold on her arm slightly, and though she wore sunglasses he could see the barely concealed grimace on her face. But her look couldn't burst his bubble of happiness as he considered that he'd still get to have one of his most important traditions, and in a bigger way than ever before. The only way it could be better is if they would be curled in front of a fireplace on a snowy evening.

"...Yeah," she finally said, drawing out the word. Drakken felt the first twinge of worry as she used her free hand to pry at his fingers on her arm. He released her then and stared at her hidden eyes in concern. "Right now we're going surfing, so," she turned a fake smile to the man who had joined them, "thank you so much!"

And with that, she grabbed Drakken's elbow and dragged him in the direction of the surf board rentals.

As they walked there were a number of comments and call-outs from passers-by about Drakken's vintage swim trunks, and he acknowledged them enthusiastically. But it seemed that Shego's grip became tighter each time. Drakken couldn't feel too concerned though at seeing more Snowman Hank decor and memorabilia than he'd ever dreamed. They passed tents with speakers playing his favorite songs, and it lifted him back into the holiday joy he had feared lost on the vacation. He felt hope for the first time that perhaps he could do both—give Shego the vacation she wanted, and still enjoy Christmas.

When they reached the surfboard rental stand, Shego finally let go of his arm.

"You didn't put on sunscreen yet, did you," she said with an edge, beginning to fumble in their bag.

"No... But, Shego! We can still enjoy Christmas!"

She turned toward him suddenly, lowering her sunglasses and revealing the fire in her eyes.

"We are not lying on the beach tonight and watching a singing snowman on a giant screen. I was trying to get away from all of that!"

Drakken recoiled, all of the warmth inside him fading to something chilled even as the sun continued to heat his skin.

"You...? You don't like Chri—"

"Come on, it's our turn," Shego cut him off and strode past him to the stand, her sunglasses hiding her eyes again.

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

Throughout the day of surfing, hula lessons, and partaking of tropical meals including something disgusting called poi, Drakken found he missed the previous day when he had only been cringing over the island's defiling of his favorite holiday and mourning the loss of his favorite traditions for the year. Now it was worse, with the fear that Shego loathed his favorite holiday.

He had spent the day putting on a brave face, both to make Shego happy and also in hopes of bargaining for Snowman Hank that night. Some of the island activities had even been fun. He didn't know yet what she had planned for Christmas day, except the traditional exchange of gifts and a Luau for dinner in the evening. Since he had been going along with all of her whims, he didn't think the one night of watching his favorite movie was too much to ask for. He just needed the opportunity to bring it up. And perhaps find out why she didn't like Christmas, too.

The sun was already setting, it being winter, and the air was a little less humid. He suggested a walk along the beach, and Shego, who had been in good humor since their surfing that morning, readily agreed.

With clouds layered across the sky, the sun was well-hidden and shades of violet directly above morphed down into reds, pinks, and finally gold at the horizon. The light they walked in the slow-rolling surf was already fairly dim, and Drakken allowed himself to forget about his concerns as he simply enjoyed the feel of his wife's hand in his and her warmth at his side.

This feeling only grew when Shego drew near to him and set her head on his shoulder, her arm moving to wrap around his waist. He matched the gesture and was glad they had found a secluded area, hidden by trees and some volcanic rock as Shego stepped up on her toes to kiss him.

"Mmmh, sit with me," she said softly when their lips parted, and before Drakken knew it, she was drawing him down into the break of the waves on the sand. He didn't mind, as they had just finished another round of surfing until the light grew too dim, and he drew her close as she settled between his legs, knees drawn up to her chest in a position reminiscent of that at the airport the morning prior. He set his legs beside hers and wrapped his arms around her, and she nestled back against him.

Drakken took a deep breath.

"Shego?" he asked as a wave broke over their feet and dampened the bottom of their suits where they sat in the sand. "Why don't you like Christmas?"

Shego stiffened slightly in his embrace, but after a moment she relaxed. Her hair was draped back over Drakken's shoulder and it tickled his arm where the breeze blew it. She leaned back to glance up at him slightly, and then looked back out at the waves slowly rolling up the beach.

"It's not that I don't like it," she replied with a sigh. "It's more...I've had enough."

"Had enough?" Drakken pressed, unsure what she meant. They had never gone as overboard as he wanted to during villainy out of necessity. One year in fact he had even forgone almost everything for the sake of a world domination plan, so he wasn't sure how to interpret her words.

"Yeah. It's all too commercial. I'm not even sure why you enjoy..." Shego gestured idly as if to the array of decor he would have liked to put up, "all of it. And..." she said through a breath, "I'm not sure how to...how to do all those things, either."

Drakken furrowed his brow in thought. "Don't know how to do it?"

"You know how my family grew up. And then after the comet, everything was different... We didn't do these...big extravaganzas that you like. And I'm sorry Dr. D., but it all just feels fake anyway."

Drakken thought again, and as he was about to reply Shego drew another breath.

"The cheap little holiday things my family did were enough anyway. Christmas wasn't about all the lights and traditions, it was about...being with each other."

The last was nearly mumbled, and Drakken wondered what sad memories of the past she had drug up to be able to answer him honestly. He watched the slow roll of another wave across the sand as he held her closer, drawing a breath through his nose before giving his own response.

"That's a lot of why I enjoy the traditions."

"What?" Shego asked, looking up at him.

"Because they were things I used to...do with my family. With my mother. And...sometimes I think I remember putting strings of popcorn around a tree as my father held me up... But I might be imagining that."

Shego shifted a little to see him better, her eyes encouraging him to continue.

"I think it's...the memories everything carries," he concluded, meeting her eyes, his brow twisting upward as he hoped for her understanding. Shego met his gaze with wide eyes for a moment before she looked down with a grimace.

"You really wanna go to that thing tonight," she said with a scoff.

Drakken blinked, the hope falling to worry. "Please, Shego?"

He watched as her look gradually seemed to soften then, her eyes alive as they clearly raced over something she was processing. Finally, she turned to look up at him.

"Just this—"

"Oh, thank you Shego!" he said, giving her a squeeze and mushing her face against his jaw.

"Just this one thing, though," she finished, her voice a bit muffled.

Drakken nodded, her damp hair rubbing against his cheek. Things wouldn't be the same or the way his heart wanted, but at least he could still have Snowman Hank...and bigger and better than ever before.

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

Shego leaned back on her sun lounger, watching Drakken. He was swaying in a line of other people, his arms around them and theirs around him as the final song of the concert was played from the stage and everyone sang along loudly with them. After that there would be a short break before the movie would begin, and Shego had taken the opportunity to get in line for hot chocolate and snacks before the rush, and so was already settled and waiting for the raucous event to end.

She glanced at Drakken occasionally in the minutes following the wild applause as he happily chatted with fellow fans of the cartoon snowman, but it wasn't too long before they all went back to their own groups, or joined the massive crowd now seeking refreshment. Shego was looking up at the lights strung between trees when she finally heard Drakken's feet running toward her.

"You're going to kick a bunch of sand up here!" she protested, sitting up quickly in the dark.

"Shego! If we don't hurry they'll run out of—"

Shego's holding up of the cups of hot chocolate stopped him, and she watched him study the beverages in her hands and then the plate of peanut butter stickies on the blanket next to her, along with some other treats she had procured that she would enjoy.

"Is that mango?" Drakken asked as he sat down in his own chair and settled in across from her.

"Yes," she said, handing him his cup.

"That's not really in the spirit of the season," Drakken protested mildly.

Shego gave him a look. "In case you forgot, I'm not really in the spirit of the season."

Drakken's face fell slightly, and Shego mentally kicked herself. She thought back over the day, and how he had gone along with everything she wanted to do without complaint.

It was true she didn't like cartoons. Especially ones with singing animals and anthropomorphized objects. It was an interest she simply couldn't share with Drakken. And she had been rather bothered herself by the non-traditional decor, both for the fact that she had been trying to escape commercial trappings, and also that everything she considered 'Christmas' had a strange different spin to it that made her feel even more out of place.

All she had wanted for the holiday was the beach, and him.

"Tomorrow night is your Luau," Drakken said, breaking through her thoughts. His voice was slightly unsteady. "I'm curious about this cooking a pig underground... But I don't want to try poi again."

Drakken grimaced at the thought apparently as he picked up a peanut butter sticky and took a bite. His face cleared then as he smiled, but Shego still saw hints of worry creasing his forehead. She thought again to everything he had done for her that day, to give her the Christmas she had wanted.

"But first, we have the morning," she said carefully, drawing his attention. "We can have room service bring us...whatever we want for breakfast, and I have some gifts to put under the tree for you. Even if it is the wrong kind of tree."

Shego watched as Drakken hesitated to respond, his eyes revealing his uncertainty over her gesture.

"It would be nice if it were a morning like this one was, too," she said, standing up suddenly to squeeze into his chair next to him.

Drakken's face flushed, and he only responded by looking at her curiously as he swallowed down the treat with a drink of hot chocolate.

Shego let her gaze fall for a moment. "Sorry...if I ruined your Christmas."

Drakken set his cup down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to lay across his chest.

"You didn't," he said with a warm smile.

Shego could taste the chocolate on his lips when he kissed her, and the warmth that bloomed in her chest was not from the hot beverage they had partaken in. She wanted to take the moment further, but Drakken broke away suddenly and she watched his eyes lift and his face brighten with joy.

"It's starting!" he said with glee, giving her a squeeze. Every hint of disappointment or uncertainty was gone from his face as he looked at the large, colorful titles being projected across the giant screen strung up between palm trees. Shego couldn't help herself but to chuckle. She had chosen this man, after all.

"Oh, Shego, could you hand me my cocoa-moo?"

Shego reached down to the blanket and carefully passed him his beverage and then moved the plate of snacks to rest on his thigh where they could both reach them. She took a sip of her own drink before nestling down against his shoulder, the strains of the song that was becoming familiar finally registering in her ears.

"'It's not the turkey and the stuffing, nor the gifts around the tree,'" Drakken began quoting along with the opening theme. "'It's a warm and fuzzy feeling, that begins with you...?'"

He stopped and looked down to Shego, his brow raised. The dialogue of the movie had continued on—something about putting away petty problems—as he stared into her eyes with nothing but love. She felt the warmth in her chest again and returned his look as she leaned up to kiss him, her lips brushing his as she completed the spoken lyric.

"'And me.'"

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babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t you forget about me (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader)

Prompt: What if everybody forgets who you are?

Word count: 1,4K

Warnings: Mention of sex

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ reader

Category: Fluff

Masterlist

- “This is weird, can we watch something else, please?”

Matthew moved his arm around the couch until he found the remote control. (Y/N) turned to him and raised an eyebrow, a little confused. There was a red carpet interview with Gubler on the screen, nothing they had never seen before. Why was Matthew being so shy?

They were in their pajamas, it had been a very long and exhausting week for both of them: Matthew had just arrived from Monte Carlo after being part of the TV Festival, and his girlfriend had just completed writing the manuscript for her new book. Neither of them had slept much in the latest days, so their only plan was to stay on the couch in front of the television, in their pajamas, eating ice cream.

It had been a lazy day, which they deserved. Lots of movies, making out and napping.

- “Where is all that shyness coming from, “Mr. Let’s take pictures with no pants on in the middle of the street and upload them to every social media available”?”

(Y/N) had to ask and Gubler chuckled, scratching his eyes and not saying a word for a moment. He was too tired to do anything, probably too tired to have that conversation too.

- “I just don’t feel like seeing my face on the screen”

- “I like seeing your face on the screen”- she teased and poke out her tongue to him. Matthew smiled and caressed her legs with his thumbs sweetly.

She was sitting on his lap and his arms were wrapped around her protectively. They hadn’t been together in over a week, and all they wanted was to keep each other as close as possible.

- “Really?”- he questioned with a smile.

- “Yes, and I also like seeing your face in some other places”- Gubler looked at her and ran his tongue through his lips slowly.

- “Like where?”

- “My screen lock”- the girl answered and smiled innocently- “On the pillow next to me every morning… on my phone when you call me”

- “That’s sweet”- he leaned and left a tiny little peck on her lips.

- “And most of all, I love seeing your face between my legs”

(Y/N) whispered in his ear and Matthew Gray Gubler blushed. Somehow, after all those years, they could still make each other nervous, and fill their stomach with butterflies.

- “I love being there too”- his voice was low and his lips rubbed hers slowly. She giggled nervously and looked into his eyes.

- “If your face looks so good everywhere, then why do you get so shy to see it on tv?”

- "Really?”- he raised an eyebrow and cut (Y/N) a smirk- “You wanna go back to that instead of talking of my face buried between your legs?”

- “I’m just curious… and I’m still sore from last night, and earlier today, so I need a little break from that… give me another hour and I’ll be ready to go

Matthew laughed and nodded. Yes, he might have been a little rough on (Y/N), but only because she liked it… and he enjoyed it all too much.

- “Fine, but we’ll revisit that thought in a while, ok?”

- “Yes, daddy”- she answered and bit her lips, giving him the most playful smile possible.

- “Don’t tease me…”- his hand tightened on her waist and leg, moving her closer (if possible) to him, nearly leaving bruises on her skin. Again.

- “Sorry, daddy…”- (Y/N)’s words left her lips quickly making him groan, and she had to make her best to hide her excitement at the reaction. She was sored, she was tired, but she was always ready for some more rough sex with Matthew.

- “Are you sure you wanna wait?”- Gubler murmured and she nodded- “Damn!”

- “Just a little bit…”- he sighed defeated and kissed the tip of her nose

- “Fine”

- “I’m gonna make more tea, do you want some?”

- “Tea? maybe”- he made a pause- “Cookies? definitely”

- “I’m pretty sure there are no more cookies left”

The couple walked to the kitchen, and immediately Matthew went through all the cabinets and pantry, searching for cookies.

- “I told you, we are out of cookies”- (Y/N) looked at her boyfriend, who seemed actually upset- “But, I can bake some”

- “No, Bunny, it’s ok”

- “Come on Gub, we can kill some time before you can hide your pretty face between my legs again”- she teased and smiled- “Besides, baking cookies take less than half an hour, give me a hand and pass me the flour and the sugar… chocolate chips? oatmeal and raisins? snickerdoodles? what do you want, honey?”

- “Chocolate chips, no questions asked”- Gubler grabbed the flour, sugar, and chocolate chips from the pantry and left them on the island.

- “Great, just give me a few minutes and you’ll be eating fresh homemade cookies”

Matthew stared at (Y/N) baking. She was humming a song and mixing all the ingredients in a bowl. He couldn’t stop smiling at the scene. He felt everything in his life could fall apart, but if he could just stay with her in their kitchen, cooking, and talking, everything was going to be ok. Always.

- “What if everybody forgets about me one day?”

Matthew thought out loud. He was eating chocolate chips as (Y/N) put the baking sheet with cookies into the oven. The question came out of his mind unconsciously. He actually didn’t even know where that thought was coming from.

- “Forget like… we all suffer from amnesia somehow, or…”

- “What if people don’t like my work anymore, and everybody forgets my name… and I’m just Matthew”

- “I like Matthew”- (Y/N) smiled and turned to him- “I actually love that guy”- he looked down, playing with a few chocolate chips on the table before putting them into his mouth.

- “Do you want people to forget who you are?”- he shrugged at the question, feeling (Y/N) standing in front of him, kissing his chin.

- “Sometimes I see those interviews or pictures of me and think: that ain’t me”

- “Why?”

- “‘Cos… it’s still weird to do that, I guess”- Gubler was whispering, and rambling. Maybe he was too tired to have a coherent thought. Maybe he was finally trying to understand why he was always so uncomfortable watching interviews of him on tv or magazines.

- “It’s part of your job, we all have something that’s not…”

- “I don’t hate to do it, I just don’t feel comfortable when I see it”

- “We don’t have to see it… we can see Shemar instead, did you ask him where he gets his eyebrows done?”- Matthew burst out laughing immediately and turned to his girlfriend, who was grinning at him.

- “What? it’s a really important question! I need answers, Matthew Gray!”

- “Fine, fine, I’ll text him”

- “Thank you, now set the timer… and let’s find something to do for ten minutes”- she walked to him and rubbed her lips against his neck, licking and biting it slowly.

- “You know what I can do in ten minutes”

- “I would never forget what you can do to me in ten minutes…”- (Y/N)’s hand played on his hair and moaned against his lips as he kissed her sweetly at first, to then change to lust, wrapping his arms around her tighter, running his hands underneath her pajama in no time.

- “I’m gonna make sure to refresh your memory anyway”

It only took Matthew a second to grab (Y/N)’s thighs and pull her up against the wall. His lips didn’t leave her skin, kissing every inch of it and leaving a trail of bruises from her lips to her breast in no time. The girl felt the urgency in his action and moaned at his touch. But before he could go any further, she pulled his hair gently and forced him to look at her.

- “I don’t think people are gonna forget about you, honey”- she reassured him with a sweet smile- “You are too awesome at what you do, and you make so many people happy every day, you make the world a little better”

- “Thank you”- he murmured and sighed

- “And no matter what, I promise I am never going to forget who you are, Matthew Gray Gubler”- the sweetest smile appeared on his face and his cheeks blushed a little. He just stared at his girlfriend, carefully tugging some flicks of hair behind her ear.

- “You are not, and even if fell, hit my head and I lose all my memories, I am certain I would remember you anyway”

- “I bet I’m not easy to forget”- he whispered jokingly and she agreed instantly.

- “Really?”

- “I better get used to having you close then.”

- “Really, you are not gonna get rid of me”- Matthew leaned over and kissed her.

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler reader #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #i want him to be my daddy #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #mgg is my daddy #mgg fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader #babymetaldoll writes

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abreathofthewild · 4 years ago

Text

I Need A Hero, Chapter 1/?

Summary: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

Word Count: 11559 (I have no idea either, trust me)

Warnings: non-main character death, mentions of alcohol, some thematic elements, eventual smut.

A/N: I have so many people I could tag on this post, so many. For now, I'll just say thank you to @spacelabrathor for allowing me to use this idea and to @itssimplydior for going above and beyond in helping me grammar check and just being a great hype person. Thank you thank you thank you! And thank you to everyone who has waited so long for this. I have an amazing circle of friends on here. I hope this first chapter was worth the wait!

Edit: The banner is by the amazing @frankiemorales who designed this moodboard because she loves the story so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Links: Thor Odinson Masterlist and AO3 Version

Skyscrapers cut through the blue sky like ancient monoliths; they weren’t ancient at all but the way the sun glinted off the glass and steel of their structures made them look like modern interpretations of old gods. Car horns and shouts and ongoing conversations hummed through the air, the constant buzz of life an undercurrent that was all at once hard to ignore and easy to be lost in. There in the middle of it, beneath the heartbeat of the city, you sat in an office chair trying to clear your head around a different type of ringing in your ears.

Your grandfather had passed away. Your estranged grandfather. And yet here you were, listening to his attorney tell you that he had willed you his ranch. The ranch you had spent almost six summers at as a child. The ranch where you had learned to ride a horse. The ranch where you had learned how to skip rocks and climb trees. The ranch where you had decided that one day you’d have a big ranch of your own, “just like Grandpa”.

“Miss? Miss, are you still there?” A breath rattled from your lungs as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry, I can imagine this is difficult but were you able to hear me on the line? Hank has passed away and he’s left you his ranch. We’ll need you to come sign some paperwork. There are some stipulations that I’d rather discuss in person. Then you’re free to get the details settled to sell it if that’s what you want.” Another pause.

“Um, yes, I’m sorry. I heard you. Can you email the initial documents?” The barely-managed response felt odd on your tongue, stiff.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure we can manage that. I’ll have to apologize, things move a little slower around here so sometimes it slips my mind that electronic signatures are an option now. Like I said though, the final details will need to be worked out here, in Dove’s Reach.” After that, you tuned out; the man’s voice on the line seemed to drone on. Your brain honed in on “it’s not really in a state to sell” and “I’ll put you in touch with a licensed appraiser just to make sure”. Then the call ended and you realized somewhere in there you must have hung up the phone but you honestly couldn’t remember.

A ranch. A whole ranch. 500 acres of rolling hills in Montana. Your breath caught and you quickly brushed away the tears that had welled in your eyes, pursing your lips and glancing at the paperwork spread in front of you. There was so much work to do here with the Harrison case. Your eyes roved from the physical documents to the spreadsheets on your computer screen and back again. It would be foolish to take time off now when you were so close to finishing it up. You could see your father’s frown as if he was standing in front of you.

And yet… Your grandfather hadn’t been a part of your life for so long. In the beginning, when your parents had told you abruptly that Grandpa had done something bad, been mean to them, you took it hard. Seven years old is a horrible time to lose a grandfather who taught you how to milk a cow and showed you the wonder in the small things. But as you got older and your parents became more embroiled in work, more distant, you put it to the back of your mind. You were still young enough that you had no choice but to take their word for it. The thoughts tripped around your head like a broken record; you felt a little queasy. You wiped brusquely once more at a stray tear and, taking a deep breath, turned to your monitor. You minimized one tab and opened another, preparing to write an email. It was a little more difficult than you had anticipated though and ten minutes later when your assistant walked in reminding you of your 2 o’ clock, you startled from a blank daydream and an even blanker screen. Your surroundings rushed back in around you on a pinpoint vortex and all at once, you knew you had to go. Regardless of parts of the will needing to be handled in person, something split in your heart. Right now, your place was at the ranch.

“Reschedule that appointment please. Let Clark know we’ll be switching it over to a Zoom call. Actually, cancel the rest of my appointments for the next two weeks. I’ll let you know if I need you to move anything around after that.” She widened her eyes but nodded all the same, turning and exiting your corner office with purpose. You began typing out the email to your father letting him know that you’d be taking advantage of all those vacation hours you had stored away for a rainy day. You would take the Harrison case with you and could easily finish it remotely. It would be on his desk by the deadline. Your rainy day was today but despite the circumstance, you were beginning to catch the feeling that there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The ranch house flashed across your mind’s eye and you blew out a breath from your lungs you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

You clicked send and stood, throwing on your coat and gathering the necessary paperwork from your desk. You let your assistant know you were leaving and walked out the door, not bothering to pay attention to a few pairs of wandering eyes who watched as you entered the elevator and headed down to the ground floor. With each minute of descent through the high-rise building, you felt your heart beat faster. It felt like there was a balloon in your chest waiting to burst. Your heels clicked on the marble floor and as you pushed through the doors into the spring air of New York City, you felt just a little more alive than you had moments before.

The redeye flight and extra two-hour drive put you in Dove’s Reach before the sun had completely risen. Last week if someone had told you that you would be standing here right now looking at your grandfather’s ranch house with the notion that you could fix it up, you would have laughed in their face. But as the sun rose in the east, it felt as if anything was possible. To the north was a range of mountains that could have looked menacing, but from your vantage only served to leave you in awe. The immediate land was just miles and miles of green fields that met with forest. The trees were behemoths; the sun bathed everything in a rich golden light adding unbelievable depth to the scene before you. The air smelled clean and fresh and alive.

You resisted the urge to pinch yourself because if this was a dream you never wanted to wake up. There was your grandfather’s house right in the middle of all of it. It still held the country charm that you remembered but there was so much that was… off. From what you could see with the naked eye, the wooden fence was sagging and falling over in a lot of places. The barn was missing slats of wood and one door hung precariously on its hinges. The house was a relic, the paint dry and peeling. You knew your grandfather as a strong, stout man who even in his older age was capable of running a whole ranch. The state of things now left a hollow feeling in your stomach and left so many questions unanswered.

A suitcase, carry-on, and laptop bag was all you had with you as you took the key from under the mat and opened the front door. It groaned loudly as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while but it made you smile to know that your grandfather had left the key in the same place after all these years. You walked to your left into the kitchen and set your keys on the counter. The familiarity of it all suddenly made you pause with a sudden sense of Deja Vu. The magnets on the fridge, the little table with four wooden chairs, and an old fashioned clock hanging on the wall that had faded from a once dark blue. The checkered yellow and white curtains were rolled up above the farm-style sink and an old mason jar with some dried flowers sat in the sill.

You found yourself choking up as you realized your grandfather’s coffee mug, the big one with some western painting of a bucking bronco, sat ready next to the coffee pot. You walked over to it and cradled it in your hands as the feeling washed through your bones that it was your mug now. There was so much you remembered about him and yet so much you never got to know, never would know. It nagged at you as the realization began to set in that there was so much to get done to sell this place. And after it was gone, there would be nothing of your grandfather left. A shaky sigh escaped from your lips.

Sleep. Right now you just needed to sleep. You made your way upstairs, the wood groaning in protest as you went, and headed to the right where one of the two guest rooms were located. Again, it was like a museum, in a state of preservation. With a wrenching in your stomach, you wondered if he’d ever had visitors after you. The bed sat against the opposite wall under the window and the sunlight filtering in passed the tree outside left dappled patterns on the patchwork quilt. You brushed your fingertips across it and marveled at how soft it still felt.

The room smelled faintly of dust so you cracked the window. You were rewarded by the cool breeze laced with the scent of pine wafting gently into the room. It was the beginning of spring but mornings were still chilled with the end of winter. You were pretty sure that in the shade of various trees on your way in there were small drifts of unmelted snow and the dried grass in the fields outside had sparkled with frost. You flopped down on the bed, covering yourself with the knitted throw that was tossed across the bottom.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you had a distinct feeling that you had always lived here. The thought crossed your mind as you edged into sleep that maybe you should stay.

It was well past noon when you startled awake. This time, it felt like there was a weight on your chest. You cracked your eyes and let out a small ah when you were greeted by a plump silver and white cat with green eyes sitting on your stomach. It chirruped when it realized you were awake. The cat hadn’t been in the house when you arrived (that you had seen). Maybe it climbed the tree and hopped in the window. Either way, it had been a long time since you’d last had a pet (your long hours didn’t allow for it back in New York) and your heart did a light skip as you scratched behind its ears. Its purr sounded like a motorboat.

The breeze coming through the window was a little warmer now and after a while of trying to stay lost to the world outside, you knew if you didn’t get up right then, you wouldn’t feel motivated to do so for the rest of the day. And there was a lot to do. With an exaggerated grunt, you deposited the cat on the other side of the bed. It sat there licking a paw and periodically giving you an irked look. You let out a small snort and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and began writing down your goals for the day.

The main one was a basic grocery list (you were pretty sure there was nothing in the fridge or cupboards), and now getting some cat food. If you remembered correctly, the actual town was about another half hour from the ranch in the opposite direction you’d come. You stood and winced as pins and needles prickled up and down your legs from sitting cross-legged on the bed. You glanced at your computer bag tucked in next to the desk on the floor. The Harrison case would have to wait.

Main Street hadn’t really changed much from what you could remember of your time here. A lot of red brick and dark wood. It was quaint and about as small-town as you could get. Something lurched in your chest when you pulled to a stop in the grocery parking lot. Everything was so foreign to how you lived in the big city but at the same time… it sang of a home you had not experienced before. Part of you thought it was a shame that you had to go back in two weeks. You brushed the thought aside as quickly as you allowed yourself to feel it. There was no use indulging that line of thinking and besides, it was the first day. You were sure you would feel differently at the end of that time after you’d put in the work that would be required.

The grocery store was bigger than you remembered; you were pretty sure it had been expanded. Maybe the town wasn’t as little as it used to be. A cartful of basics and what felt like 500 mental notes later, you brought your groceries to the front. You daydreamed for a moment as the steady beep of the register sounded in the background.

“You’re not from around these parts, are you darlin’?” You came back to yourself, shaking your head. The woman ringing you up was older, with short-cropped white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her name tag read “Rose''. “I thought so. We don’t get many people around here that buy tofu. Is it any good?” She wrinkled her nose in such a way that made you giggle. You shrugged your shoulders.

“There’re a few different ways I make it that taste pretty good. I’m not vegetarian or anything, I just like all sorts of foods.” She brightened at that; you guessed there were also not very many vegetarians in Dove’s Reach either. “I’m actually here to handle my grandpa’s estate. He just passed away…” You trailed off, surprised by the lump that was suddenly in your throat. Her eyes widened just a bit before she reached out to pat your hand.

“Do you mean Hank? Was Hank your granddaddy? Yes, he must be, I can see you have the same eyes now. Well, I’m so very sorry, hon. He was a good man. It seems like only yesterday he was here picking up groceries.” There was a tear in her eye now and it made you wonder how close the two were. “It had actually been quite some time since he was able to make it in here on his own. Months at least.” Months? So he had been sick for a while. Why hadn’t he told you? Rose saw the look flash across your face. “Oh,” she breathed out quietly, “you didn’t know, did you?” She clucked her tongue as you paid. “That Hank, always thinkin’ he didn’t need help. We were all surprised when he finally had Jonesy coming ‘round to do things in town for him. Jonesy was his attorney, you’ll probably be speaking to him soon, I’d reckon. Well, if you need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

You grabbed your bags and put them back in your cart. There would be time to ask Rose questions about your Grandpa later, you hoped. But right now, you needed to focus on getting help with the ranch.

“Well actually, Rose, I’m looking for some help to fix the ranch up. Do you know anyone off the top of your head?”

Rose had told you to go across the street to On The Wings of A Dove, the local hang out after a day’s work had been finished for a lot of folks. It was surprisingly modern with an old feel. Deep red brick, exposed black pipe, and low lighting. The smell as you walked in the doors made your mouth water. Luckily the owner, Gus, was in and was more than happy to help a young lady such as yourself.

“Thor! This lady here needs some help fixin’ up her ranch to sell. You lookin’ for work?” You glanced in the direction the portly man was facing, down the bench, and around a couple of other patrons. A man leaned out and smiled in your way; the flash of white teeth made your heartbeat stutter.

“As a matter of fact, Gus, I just finished up at the Finch’s farm helpin’ them with that young colt.” He stood and walked over to you. If he looked big from a distance, there was no denying it now as he moved into your space. You looked up at his face and the golden hair framing blue eyes was enough to make your brain go foggy. He held out a hand, the chorded muscle across his chest and in his broad shoulders evident even with such a small movement. You took it and something bloomed in your chest when his hand enveloped yours. His skin was rough with calluses. It was warm and a vision flashed across your mind unbidden: those hands grasping at your face, roving down your arms, across your chest, gripping your hips, and moving lower… You shook your head and tried to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

“The name’s Thor. Thor Odinson. How may I be of service, pretty lady?” Normally, someone being so forward would irk you. But somehow hearing Thor say the words “pretty lady” in a slow drawl didn’t bother you in the least. You offered him a smile back, quirking your head to the side. Taking inventory. He couldn’t be much older than you if he was older at all.

“Thor Odinson? That’s an interesting name.” He nodded, ducking his head and running a hand through his hair. It looked ridiculously soft to the touch and you had to stop yourself from snorting in good-natured annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am. My family comes from the Old Country. They wanted a strong name for a strong man. Gus said you’re lookin’ for help though?” He crossed his arms and leaned in, the white t-shirt he was wearing stretching across his chest. You forced your eyes to move back to his face where you were met with a little crook of his lips. You were pretty sure he saw that but there was no embarrassment in the knowledge. “I can help you do just about anything. Pick your poison.”

It was a lot. And you were certain there was more than you even realized with your knowledge of how to run a ranch being zero. You listed off how the house needed a good cleaning but you could take care of that. It probably needed a new coat of paint inside and out. Several of the shudders on both stories needed repairing. The barn looked pretty run down but you hadn’t gotten up close to it yet. One of the doors had definitely been hanging crookedly on its hinges. Then there was the fence… You could probably use more than two people for that. You had no idea of what state the ranch hand cabin was in. You looked up at him and gave him a shrug. His eyebrows were up near his hairline as he leaned back and whistled.

“Boy, we’ve really got our work cut out for us, don’t we? Well, I think we’d better start with those things you mentioned first. Trust me, if there’re other problems we’ll find ‘em real quick. Might cost ya a pretty penny. Are we tryin’ to stay within a certain budget?” He looked you right in the eye and Lord help you, it had been a long time since someone looked you in the eye with any sort of sincerity. You were used to working with less-than-savory types in your corporate world. You cleared your throat and shrugged again.

“Not really. If we fix it up good enough, there won’t be a loss. It’s a pretty place. Just needs some TLC. And the land is worth its 500 acres in gold.” The silence was palpable but not in an uncomfortable way. Thor leaned in and you caught a slip of his scent. Sweat and leather and woodsmoke. You took a deep breath, pulling the smell with it. You realized he was listening. He wasn’t just hearing your words, he was taking them in and mulling them around in his brain. “But wait. Does that mean you’ll do it? We haven’t even talked about wages or anything like that.” He waved a hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes.

“We can talk about that later. What matters is you need help and we like to help people ‘round here. Maybe that’s not somethin’ you’re used to where you’re from? It’s all right though. I’ll introduce ya to small-town hospitality. When are you wanting to get started?” You threw him a sheepish grin before glancing down at the floor as if the pattern there was the most interesting thing in the world. If your parents could see you now, you knew they’d be appalled. Thinking of doing the work yourself, of hiring someone you literally just met and someone who was only suggested to you by a cashier at a grocery store. It was a little ridiculous you admitted but you brushed the thoughts away.

“Tomorrow? You can stay in one of the guest rooms in the house. There’s a ranch hand cabin but I have no idea what it looks like. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been a working ranch in a while so there’s really no telling what state it will be in…” Again, he held his hand up slowly, politely putting a stop to the words pouring from your mouth.

“The cabin is just fine. I don’t need much anyway. Depending on how long I’m there, the only thing I ask is to bring my dog, Tucker, with me. He’s as good a help as any man I’ve met and twice as friendly.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Well, all right then. Sounds like everything is as settled as it gets for now. Can I get the address from ya? I’ll head over around 5 PM, get settled in if that suits your plans for the rest of the day.

“Perfect.” You smiled as he shook your hand again.

It occured to you that this is the first contract you’d ever made without a signature on paper and yet somehow, it felt like the most foolproof one as well.

It didn’t take long for Thor to settle in. He had insisted on taking the ranch hand cabin despite your protesting. When the two of you looked it over, it wasn’t as bad as you would have guessed it to be, even though there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. You searched through some of the cupboards and luckily came up with a spare sheet set. You took the old one to wash, holding your breath against all the dust motes that flew into the air as soon as you took the sheets off.

“Tucker didn’t want to come?” You asked with a teasing tone,one that Thor responded to with a laugh. He took his baseball cap off and roughed his fingers through his hair. He shook his head.

“No, ma’am. We’ll see how things go here but guessing by the fence line I saw on my way in, he’ll definitely be coming to stay here with me. Don’t worry, either way you’ll get to meet him. He’ll be tickled pink.” Again, a duck of his head that made you wonder how someone could have such good manners. You looked down, shuffling your feet. That seemed to be a regular thing for you now as well. Not being able to look someone in the eye? Not a good look on a big time lawyer. But you had an excuse, right? You glanced up through your eyelashes as he turned away and looked around.

He stood tall, straight-backed. You absently wondered if it was from riding horses. He probably looked great on a horse. He was no longer in just the white shirt from earlier but his Carhartt jacket didn’t swallow him, it just somehow emphasized how big he was. Every movement brought that into sharp focus. The floor creaked beneath his boots as he flipped switches on and off, watching with concentration as each lightbulb somehow still worked. They took a few moments to crackle on but crackle on they did. And with each one his smile somehow got bigger. After a little while of inspecting the little space he turned to you again.

“This will do just fine. No worries need be wasted on my behalf. Tomorrow I’m thinking we should head down to Redwood Hardware and see if we can get an order in for some fence posts. They might have some in stock already but the amount we’ll need is probably not gonna be in store. You might also wanna consider hiring other help besides me. I stand by my work ethic but we’ll get the job done a lot faster with more people.” You blew a breath out of your mouth and pursed your lips. He was closer in an instant, placing his hand on your shoulder. He lowered his head to make sure you would meet his gaze. It threatened to take your breath away. “I know it might not seem like it right now, but we’ll have this place up and running, sale-worthy in no time. A place your granddaddy would be proud of.”

You did meet his eyes then, glancing back and forth between them. You nodded. If anyone was going to tell you how a thing was going to go and you would believe them… It was going to be Thor.

The day came when it was time to actually set up the new fence posts instead of just staring at them with a certain bit of dread each day when you went outside. The sky was a blue that seemed to go on forever and the air itself smelled alive but still, you stood, hands on your hips, ticking off all the other things you could be doing. There were loads of things. But Thor stood next to you, a smirk on his face and you knew there was no way you could put off starting this any longer. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“It’ll be alright darlin’! It’s a lot of work, hard work, but you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right there every step of the way to help ya out.” Again, the uncanny wave of reassurance swept over you at his words and so it was you found yourself climbing into the passenger side of his old Ford and marveling at what pristine condition it was in. The last couple of days you’d been driving your rental car; there was an old Jeep in the barn but it needed more repairs than you could focus on at the moment. You’d seen his truck the day he drove up to the house and the days after but you hadn’t seen the interior and you were impressed.

You didn’t know many hyper-specific details about any vehicle but you guessed this one was old and yet… the seats were a rich brown leather, worn in certain places from use but not split. It even had a sheen to it still, as if he wiped it down on a regular basis. There was one little piece of plastic up near the passenger air vent that was slightly cracked but the rest of it still shone as close to new as it would ever get again. A reddish brown darker than the seats but just as fine. Nothing had been replaced or updated it seemed, just kept in the same condition it always had been. But looking around, you knew it had been used. It had worked many long years. You quirked your mouth and glanced at him as he shifted the truck into gear and drove through the gate, driving along the rutted pathway that ran along the length of fencing. The field stretched out for miles and miles beyond you in gentle sloping green hills. There were some wildflowers starting to sprout up but from what you understood, it was nowhere close to peak season yet. The fence closer to the buildings was in better condition; the farther away from there you got, the more obvious it became that the ranch had been non-operational for some time. As it was apt to do regularly now, your mind wandered. You were lost in two vast landscapes, one physical, the other in your memories. It took Thor slowing and then parking at the point where the fence literally ceased to exist to bring you out of yourself.

The two of you hopped out and started grabbing supplies. After figuring out how much you wanted to get done for the day, the two of you started in on the fence posts. Or more like Thor jumped right in and you took a split second to watch him as he began working. Almost immediately he shrugged off his flannel; he was in a simple white tank top and those ridiculously well-fitted Wrangler jeans and boots. Even the gloves on his hands looked slightly tight as if his hands were too big even for the large size. His motions were smooth and concise; he turned away from you, leaving his back on full display. You leaned on your post hole digger for a minute, taking in the way all the parts of his body worked together. From the muscles in his arms, the ones chord across his shoulders and back, all the way down to how his hips swayed with the movement.

An eagle cried out overhead and you moved in about ten feet away from him. You wanted to think that you knew how to do this right away just from watching him. The soil was no problem. It was soft and dark and easy to dig. The smell curled through the air and reminded you of being a kid, when the most you had to worry about was if the dirt was the right consistency for a mud pie. But after a few tries, you realized you must be doing something wrong because your hands kept slipping and Thor had already moved past you to dig and place two more wooden posts. Still, you don’t say anything just yet. You were determined to do this.

As the day waned on, slow as molasses, you could feel him watching you. He didn’t move in to stop you, didn’t tell you you were doing it wrong. He let you struggle. There was a war inside of you at that moment, part of you wanting him to jump in and show you how and the other part being refreshed by him letting you figure it out. That inner monologue went on for a while before he nudged you and handed you a bottle of water. You stopped, relieved. The sun was somehow high overhead now. For every one post you were finishing with difficulty, Thor was getting two done. Frustration flared over your whole body. He cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair.

“I noticed it looked like you were havin’ a bit of a hard time diggin’ the post holes. Would ya like if I gave ya some pointers?” You watched him, the earnestness in his blue eyes, and nodded. A smile lit up his face and you wondered how many people got to see it. It was bright and put the endless Montana sky to shame. “Perfect. Let’s eat lunch now and then I’ll show ya a thing or two.” You munched on the turkey sandwiches you had thrown together, sitting on the ground in front of the truck where there was still some shade. The ground was cool beneath you, the air around you smelt like something that should be written about in a book; the earthy smell of grass , the distant hints of pine, the promise of wildflowers. Thor was sprawled out next to you but not in an overbearing sort of way. He just took up a lot of space. You tried not to concentrate on the fact that your knees were touching.

“So your granddaddy left you all this? I’d be pressed to sell it. It’s too bad ya can’t keep it.” You stiffened before catching yourself quickly, though you were pretty sure he had noticed He took his last bite before standing up. “You’ve got a life back home though. It’d be hard to leave that behind.” He held out his hand and you accepted it, wanting to push that cagey feeling behind you. He looked off in the distance, hands on hips, then back to you. “Well, ya ready for those tips?”

“Yes, sir.” You brushed dirt off your backside and put your gloves back on. “It is too bad,” you mumbled. Mumbled because you were too afraid that saying it out loud would change something for you. “That I can’t keep it, I mean.” He turned to you, not the least bit of surprise on his handsome face. But there was understanding there. He got it. You grabbed your post hole digger and went ten feet from the last post readying to dig the new hole. Thor watched your position for just a moment before you heard his footsteps come up behind you. And then he was standing there, at your back. If you took one half-step back you would be met with his chest. The day was warm but heat radiated off of him like a steadily growing fire. Something pooled low in your belly and your mouth went dry as he moved into your space and then you were flush with him.

His arms came around yours, his hands engulfing your own. His breath was warm near your ear as he rumbled “No, darlin’, like this.” He shifted your hands from the middle of the handles to the top. You were hyper aware of the way his arms felt around you, acutely aware of his scent. Sweat, and musk, and dirt. “That way you have more leverage and you’re not leanin’ over when it goes in the dirt.” He stayed like that for a moment, probably only seconds, but it felt like longer. You heard his breath catch from behind you before he slowly removed his hands, backing up just a pace. You immediately tried to retain the feel of him against you, the way his voice settled into you when he spoke. The way his smell engulfed you, making you feel like the safest person in the world. When was the last time you had felt that way?

Your limbs moved slow, as if your body was now full of lead. He moved back in again, briefly, sliding his boot between your feet and nudging them just a tad bit farther apart. “That’ll help too,” he said. And this time, when you raised the digger up and heaved down, you immediately noticed a difference. While it didn’t necessarily feel easier, it definitely didn’t hurt as much and your body didn’t feel as stiff, didn’t feel like it was being pushed into an awkward angle. You took a couple more plugs from the earth, digging down far enough to keep the pole stable and when you stood straight and looked at him, there was that grin written all over his face again. This time, that smile leapt to your face.

Thor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, red with a white paisley pattern, and raised his hand, slowly, as if he was touching a wild animal, wiping a streak of perspiration from your cheek. “That’s my girl! Keep that up, we might not need help like I said before,” he exclaimed with a wink. Time seemed to slow to a halt. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. The words thundered through your brain, down out your limbs, between your legs. That’s my girl.

You looked down at your watch, surprised to see the hands tick forward without delay. As the day went on, a thought tickled at the back of your mind, like a horses’ whiskers on your palm. It’d be easy to be his girl.

The night came in cold enough that you were filled with relief when Thor stood to his full height and stretched, slotting the post hole digger in a pile of soil and suggested the two of you call it a night. Goosebumps had already peppered your skin and the breath coming from your mouth was visible in the air. You nodded and stretched a little too, trying to ignore that stiffness you knew would turn into full-blown pain by tomorrow morning. Thor watched you quietly as you slowly put your jacket on; he glanced from the ground then to the sunset when you looked his way. You let out a small barking laugh and almost immediately regretted it, wincing as the cold night air ripped its way into your lungs.

You managed an uncomfortable grunt as you stuffed your gloves in your pocket and Thor grabbed the keys to his truck. You examined your hands; your palms looked like one huge blister. The skin was bubbled and inflamed and if you were being completely honest, it was one more thing you really had no idea how to take care of on a scale like this. Thor started the truck and even though it was only a ten-minute drive back to the house, you were already thankful in anticipation of him cranking the heater just a bit. It would hopefully be a small relief for the contracting sensation in the muscles along your shoulders and arms and back.

There was not a whole lot to gather since the only portion of the fence that went up today was the posts; still, you moved in to help him by grabbing some smaller loose supplies and your post hole digger. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the way he noted you navigating around your raw hands. It took a moment but soon he was wandering over to you and taking the items from you, nodding his head kindly to the truck. You mumbled your gratitude as you got in, frustrated with yourself. It was only the first day but Thor was already picking up your slack. You watched him from the passenger side mirror as he slammed the tailgate shut. There was not a bit of annoyance in his expression. You had small inkling you were being a bit too harsh on yourself.

When he got in, the truck groaned and immediately the cab that felt huge and open before now felt full; crowded but not in an unpleasant way. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as he settled in. He didn’t shift the truck into gear right away but instead sat back, gazing out the windshield at the sunset. Even from your vantage point, it was stunning. The sky was a variation of colors from deep black-blue, to a soft blue, to pink, to orange. The sun slipped back below the mountains to the north and west and the only detail you could make out on them now was their peaks; they were in shadow and looked like a great set of black teeth.

The light coming into the truck had softened, illuminating the planes of Thor’s face. The slip of his golden brown hair, the strong cheekbones and slope of his nose, the clean jawline that now had a five o’ clock shadow. It was quiet, save for the lulling roar of the truck engine and somehow you knew in that second, you wanted more of these moments. Your brain hadn’t quite latched onto how you would get them but you were going to try. Maybe it was Thor. Maybe it was the gentle heat in the cab with the chill outside. Maybe it was the clean smell of spring scented air. Maybe it was a hard day’s work that was so different than the long hours you kept at home. Right now, it didn’t really matter. You sat back with a sigh of content, able to ignore the subtle aching in your limbs. Finally, Thor let out a gentle hum, a sound you guessed actually reverberated through his body.

“When we get back to the house, we’ll take care of those hands, all right?” You nodded and he shifted the truck into gear, turning back the way you came this morning and it was suddenly all you could do not to reach out and rest one of those hands on his arm.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of Thor’s truck as he dropped you off at the front of the house, telling you he was gonna take a shower and then he’d be back up to bandage your hands. You tried to tell him you would take care of it, really, but he insisted. Deep down, you knew you had taken care of blisters on your heels before but nothing like this so you gave in, hiding a smile as he drove the truck down to the other cabin.

When you got to the bathroom, it took every effort not to just quit and wallow right there on the old tile floor but after a few struggling moments, you peeled your clothes from your body and stepped into the warm water, ignoring the stinging of the wounds. It took a few tries with washing off the dirt of the day, with every contact with soap intensifying the hurt in your hands. As you stepped out, you knew you’d be popping some Advil tonight; it would be foolish not to, you guessed.

You threw some leftover chicken noodle soup on the stove and plopped unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs, leaning your head against the wall as you relaxed. The fact that you hadn’t worked on the Harrison case for two and half days now nagged like a trapped rat at the back of your mind. Your laptop was currently upstairs though and there was no way you were forcing yourself up those steps again until you absolutely had to. Instead, you checked your emails on your phone, briefly scanning over the subjects on each of them and filtering out the spam. You set it back down with satisfaction. You’d just worked one of the hardest days in your life and you guessed it was probably going to remain tough from here on out. Despite that, you felt more nervous energy bubbling in your veins.

You decided to pull out the old maps you had found at the little desk in the living area. The house was small compared to the expanse of the land itself. Your grandfather hadn’t been a person who needed extravagance, that was for sure. Maybe you’d convert one of the guest rooms into a study. It would certainly be a lot easier to spread out property maps in an office rather than a little desk in the living room. You put little x’s where you thought the boundaries were. You were somewhat familiar in your work life with reading property maps but these… the maps were old enough that you were second-guessing if the plot already marked was accurate. Another thing to put on the to-do list for a town run. Land maps would be public record, especially in a town as small as Dove’s Reach.

A knock on the front door snapped you out of your thoughts. You hollered that the door was unlocked as you rolled the maps up and put them back on the desk out of the way. You ladled soup into bowls, setting them back on the counter to cool just a bit. You heard him knock his boots on the door jam outside and then set them with a thump just inside the door as he ambled into the kitchen. You reprimanded yourself as you turned and got caught off guard again by his size. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the wood of the kitchen entrance, completely filling it up, quietly surveying your movements. You thought he was zoning out but you were not entirely sure.

“Uh, I hope chicken soup is okay,” you let out. His eyes met yours and he nodded enthusiastically as he shot you a dazzling smile. You gave him one back. “Somewhere else just then?” He nodded and you took one bowl at a time to the table, a heavy cloth in between your skin and the bowls. You hissed as the edge of one of the bowls caught a patch of the blister, the hot ceramic making the burning more intense than it should be. Thor was behind you immediately, taking the bowl and steadying it. It was a good thing because you were certain you couldn’t have prevented a spill at this point.

“Let’s take care of those blisters first. Looks like that soup is a little too hot to eat just yet anyway.” You nodded as he placed a gentling hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you to the chair you were sitting in earlier. The pain was pretty bad at this point; you had taken Advil about fifteen minutes ago but it hadn’t taken effect yet so here you were, miserable, and trying to fight the hot tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing. Thor cleared his throat. “Did your granddaddy have a medicine cabinet around here?” You took a shaky breath and pointed to the little doorway off the kitchen.

“There’s one there in the laundry room on the opposite wall from the door.” He stepped away from you and into the little room. You could hear him open the cabinet door and rummage around. You hadn’t looked in there yet to see what supplies were available but you doubted any of it was still usable. Yet here was Thor, a huge grin on his face, some bandages in one hand and a questionable-looking jar in the other.

“I knew if your granddaddy was as much of a working man as you had mentioned that he’d have some of this here with him. Best ranch and farming remedy for just about anything.” You knew the look on your face was one of clear skepticism because he laughed, a deep booming thing that made you want to listen over and over again. “I know you city folk probably like to go to the doctor’s for everything but let me tell ya, if we put this on your hands twice a day and keep them all wrapped up, those blisters’ll be gone in no time. Three days tops,” he murmured as he finally looked at the ragged state of your palms. He was moving slower again, pulling out a chair and placing it right in front of you.

He sat down and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, your breath hitched when he caged your knees with his own. “Let me see ‘em up close, darlin’” he breathed as you held out your hands for closer inspection. He let out a low whistle as he gingerly took one, then the other to examine the raw skin. He rubbed a small circle on the inside of your wrist and you were acutely aware of every little detail as his calloused thumb against the soft skin there elicited an erratic heartbeat. He sat like that for a moment before seemingly catching himself; leaning back and reaching over to open the jar of salve. It was not a bad smell but you wrinkled your nose a little at it. He glanced over at you and smiled.

“This might hurt a bit. But it’ll help.” You nodded and braced yourself just a little. The balm itself didn’t sting but the contact of fingers on the blisters definitely did. There was no use hiding your grimace so you just let yourself go, taking deep breaths and letting them slowly out through your mouth. He was so gentle. This close and with his concentration on your hands, you allowed yourself to watch him unhindered by the threat of getting caught. His fingers were steady and slow and he was so sure of himself. You found yourself leaning into his touch, holding your breath. After he was satisfied with one hand, he took the roll of bandage material and slowly wrapped it around your palm, down around your wrist, and back up again to secure it in place.

“You did real good today,” he said quietly, still looking down, almost as if he was unsure he should say it. As if he thought you may not want his opinion. A smile spread across your face as you let out an exasperated groan.

“If you say so,” you replied, willing him to look up at your face to see that you mean it. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned to you then, looking back. Searching. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and creep down your neck and something leaped in your belly. He was so close. You could see his eyelashes. See how his eyes weren’t just one shade of blue but several different ones. You could smell him. A similar scent to when you first met him but also mixed with a fresher element from his shower. You could smell his wet skin and how it went from a day of work to warm water to the chill outside to the warmth of your house. It made you want to lean forward and bury your face in the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

You must have been staring a hole into him because he bit his lip then leaned back, finishing up with your other hand before grabbing the supplies and heading to the laundry room. “I do say so,” he rumbled from the little room. When he came back out again he’s smiling. His hands were on his hips and for whatever reason, it was exactly the release of whatever emotion that had transpired moments ago. You laughed, grabbing some bread slices and dropping them in the toaster. They popped up and you spread on some butter, ushering him to sit back down.

The conversation was easy, more idle chatter than anything else. Questions about each other’s lives. How long had he lived here? All his life. When did you know you wanted to work in law? As long as you could remember. You wanted to help people at the heart of it. How did he learn to train horses? From his daddy and his grandaddy before him. Would you ever consider keeping the ranch? The question caught you off guard and a rush of emotions flowed just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. Your pause told Thor what he had guessed the moment he saw you go to work on the land that morning.

“Of course I would,” you murmured as you pushed your empty bowl aside. You leaned onto the tabletop, one arm across its surface and the other supporting your face as your eyes stared off into space. “I just… I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me right now. If it had fallen into my lap under different circumstances or at a different time, maybe. But now? I don’t think so.” Your words trailed off and sounded empty even to your own ears. But as you glanced back up at Thor, there was no judgment there. Looking into his eyes, you could almost imagine a future here.

A future here was a dream though. A dream you were not keen on indulging. You tossed him a smile and grabbed the bowls to put them in the sink. Dreams were good. They could keep a person going. But you were already living a dream back home so you plastered your best convincing expression on your face just as he stood and brought the toast plates to the sink. You watched as he washed both of the plates, slowly, like he was waiting for you to amend your words. But you didn’t and he thanked you for dinner and headed for the door.

You followed him to it, leaning in the doorway as he stepped outside into the cold night air. He zipped up his jacket and turned back to you, a curious expression on his face. If he had thoughts about any of the night’s conversation, he didn’t voice them. Instead he just gave you that lopsided grin and bid you goodnight. Without a second thought, you reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned to you, looking at where your hand held on and then back to your face. You let go immediately.

“Um, thanks for… for today? For your help. Thanks for your help so far. I really appreciate it.” He chuckled low and quiet, a sound that seemed to continually get under your skin, and warmed you up from the inside out. He nodded.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” You watched from your place as he stepped off the porch; you could still see how his breath fogged up the air. “Good night,” he called over his shoulder.

You did not retreat into the warmth of the house until the darkness swallowed him up.

“This is ridiculous. What do you mean there’s a stipulation?” Another ten days had gone by and you were just now getting around to meeting with your grandfather’s attorney. Thaddeus Jones was emblazoned on the golden placard on his desk. The man before you did look like a Thaddeus but at the beginning of the meeting, he had insisted that you call him Jonesy. He sat back in his chair with a look somewhat like that of a golden retriever being scolded.

“Well, your grandfather wanted to give you time to… enjoy the little things in life again. He thought that maybe you’d need a break from all the hustle and bustle in New York. As such, in his will he specified that you could only sell the ranch if you stayed there for one year. If at the end of that year you decide that you still want to move forward with the sale, then you are more than welcome to and will receive any and all profits made from said sale. If, however, you have a change of heart, the ranch is also yours to run as you please. But if you decide to sell any time before then, all profits made from the sale will go to our local youth program.” There was no use trying to hide the stunned expression written all over your face. You had to stay here for a year? How were you even supposed to go about this without feeling torn about one thing or the other? You weren’t in it for the money. You knew that with a certainty that sat deep in your gut. And donating to a youth program was a great use of anyone’s money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought this wouldn’t be so complicated.” Jonesy nodded solemnly, his round spectacles sitting towards the tip of his nose. “I thought this would be a sign and done deal. I thought I wouldn’t feel so conflicted about leaving,” you finished quietly and suddenly it was as if the air had been punched from your lungs. There it was. There was the real reason this whole thing felt so ludicrous. It wasn’t the stipulation itself--it was the fact that you were actually considering it. You glanced out the vaulted window of Jonesy’s office. It was on the second story of his building and gave you a sweeping view of Dove’s Reach. It also gave you a focused picture of the huge storm brewing outside. Massive cumulus clouds gathered not so far away, the heart of them dark and foreboding. It mirrored the storm in your heart.

“I suppose the good news is that you have a while to make a decision. I’ll just have you sign some preliminary papers today and then you take all the time you need. It is a lot to take in but your grandfather was a good man, one of the best. I’ve known him since we were young colts ourselves. I’d like to think he knew what he was doing when he made this decision.” It was difficult to argue with any of that, considering you didn’t get the chance to know him better yourself. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Thank you, Jonesy. I really do appreciate it.” You bit your lip and glanced outside again. “That should work for today. I have a feeling I should be getting hom--getting back to the ranch before that hits.” You pointed and Jonesy watched you for a moment before nodding.

There really wasn’t much for you to sign at this point. Mainly papers about you having seen the will and that you had a knowledge of what was going to come of it. You gathered your copies and shook Jonesy’s hand before leaving; you were instantly glad that the two of you had decided to speed things up a bit because as soon as you exited the building, a cold gale hit you in the face, ripping back the hood of your jacket and nearly blowing your hair out of its braid. It would have been twice as cold had Thor not given you direction on which clothing was worth spending money on. You gave him a call, letting him know you were on the way back. It was a new routine, one that you had started. It felt good to have someone to stay in touch with. It was unlikely you’d get lost in such a small town, but still.

“Drive safe, darlin’. The closer you get out here, the harder the wind’s blowin’. I already put all the tools away and got most of the larger open spots on the barn boarded up. Also dropped some buckets on the front porch just in case. From what I could tell, the roof seemed pretty sounds but just in case.” A pause. “How did the meeting go?” You sucked in a breath.

“Different than how I thought it would go. I’d rather talk about it later though. I’m thinking I’m gonna head straight to bed when I get back. It’s just a lot. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drive back was definitely worse than the drive out. Wind and rain pelted your vehicle, so much so that by the time you got home your knuckles were white and your hands were aching when you released the steering wheel. Thunder rumbled closer and closer and lightning flashed in the distance. A warm bath and warm pajamas were currently at the top of your list. Then bed. You smiled when you saw there were indeed buckets on the front porch, all mix-matched colors and various sizes but they would do if the roof started leaking. At least you wouldn’t have to be scrambling to find anything if it did. There was also a note taped to the door, scrawled in surprisingly loopy handwriting.

Grabbing some clothes and things from my place, won’t be back for a couple hours. Call if you need anything :)

You smiled and stepped inside, glad to be out of the weather. As you turned again to glance out at the land, the sky darkened visibly even as you stood there. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Your phone screen was too bright in the dark space of the living room. 8:30 PM. The power had gone out and it had taken you a little bit of time to scrounge up some candles to keep things lit. You knew you should just go to bed but quite frankly, you knew that wasn’t a possibility. The storm raging outside was unlike any storm you’d experienced before. Sure, there were big storms back in New York but this… the wind and rain was coming down so hard, you were sure the roof was going to tear off. It was doing surprisingly well right now but with each big gust, the whole house groaned. The thunder and lightning were even worse. The sound of both was so close, so loud, so frequent that your ears were ringing. There was no way to research now with the internet out but you were pretty sure you had read something about lightning being able to strike you in a house.

You paced, already familiar with the location of the furniture, every wall, every corner. It was a comfortable dance around the couch, passed the coffee table, to the window by the fireplace and back. A flash of lightning burst in the sky, illuminating every contour of the layout of the house. Almost immediately the clap of thunder sounded like some ancient drum and despite the logical part of your brain telling you it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine, you dropped to your knees.

“Holy shit,” you breathed through clenched teeth. Your hands were shaking as you brought the phone to your ear. Thor was probably already asleep. He had gotten back about an hour ago and was a naturally early riser because he somehow was able to fall asleep early every night. He was probably asleep--

“What’s wrong?” The sleepy gravel in his voice sent shivers tripping down your spine. He had been asleep. But those two words were still calm. Concise. Protective. You were silent. Now you felt stupid.

“Uh, it’s--it’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you. I can’t sleep. This storm is pretty wild. Um. I thought maybe you’d still be awake and wanted a drink but it’s fine. We have--” You didn’t know if it was your rambling or if he sensed the fear in your voice.

“I’m comin’ up.” That was that. A dial tone. He had already hung up. There was no chance for you to object. You waited by the front door, listening to the rain and watching for more flashes of lightning. You heard Thor’s heavy footsteps as he came up the porch steps, saw him as a flash of lightning illuminated his outline from behind. You hastily opened the door. He hesitated for a moment, only long enough to watch as you nearly leaped out of your skin when another boom of thunder cascaded about you.

He stepped into you, wrapping you up in a hug. It was unexpected but you felt yourself sag into him. His jacket was wet from running through the rain so he slipped it around you and suddenly you were enveloped in warmth. You buried your face in his chest, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head, rubbing his hand down your back. You took deep pulls of his scent as his voice rumbled above you, into you from his chest.

“Aw, it’s just a little lightnin’, darlin’. Just a little storm. You’re safe. Nothin’ to worry about, I promise. You’re safe.” He kept murmuring it as he nudged the door shut behind him with his boot. Murmured your safety into existence like a mantra. As you rested there in his arms, your hands under his jacket around his back, you tried to remember the last time you felt this way, like nothing could touch you in the world. The house could crumble around you and you would be fine. In his arms, you would be fine. You gripped a little tighter, noticing with mirth how your hands could barely touch around his abdomen.

“How about that drink?” You said it into his chest as he stilled above you, breathing in slow and steady as he nodded into the top of your head. You reluctantly backed up from him as he slipped passed you into the living room making straight for the fireplace. He had it roaring as you brought two glasses of whiskey on the rocks and set them on the coffee table. You sat, dragging the blanket around your shoulders and allowing yourself to zone out while you stared into the fireplace. The crackling of its embers still couldn’t drown out the maelstrom outside, however. Thor took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. When he sat next to you, the couch sagged under his weight. He took a sip of his drink before sitting back and opening his arms in invitation. You didn’t wait this time, instead scooting over to nestle up against him. Heat radiated off of him.

“Did you know the diameter of a lightning strike is actually only about the size of a quarter? Think about that, that big ol’ powerful force of nature the size of a coin.” No you didn’t know that. Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder. This time you didn’t jump. “And thunder can actually be heard as far away as twelve miles from the actual strike.” Another sip of whiskey. “Lightning can also strike outside of the rain zone. Those strikes are called anvil crawlers.” A log shifted in the fire and your eyes drooped. He chuckled quietly as he intoned “In Norse mythology, the sound of thunder supposedly comes from my namesake as he rides his chariot across the sky.” You offered a lazy smile even though he couldn’t see it.

Thor continued on with more various facts about thunder and lightning and the storms that brought them. The taste of the whiskey sat light and spiced on your tongue, and your eyelids became heavier as you relaxed into him more. The fire burned steady and even though the storm continued to rage outside, at a certain point Thor’s voice faded into nothing as you fell asleep.

You woke up to the sun shining directly in your eyes. You groaned, shielding them from the crisp light and instantly regretted taking your hand out from under the blanket away from your heat source… Thor was stretched out behind you on the couch. It could barely fit the two of you but his arm was locked around your waist, caging you in. His breath came slow and steady on your neck. You could hear the rooster calling from his coop by the barn, hear his hens clucking about him. The cat you still hadn’t named was curled up on the rug by the fireplace, the embers almost completely died down. Thor took a huge breath, tickling the hairs on your neck as he rumbled something into the skin there. Your heart ballooned in your chest.

“I guess my facts weren’t that interestin’, seein’ as how we both fell asleep. Want some coffee?” You nodded as the two of you sat up. The cat chirruped from his place on the rug. He stood and arched his back in a stretch as well, coming over to the two of you for his morning pets. You both reached down to touch his hand, your hands meeting in the middle. Thor offered you a sheepish grin as he stood. “Uh, coffee is… ?”

“In the cupboard above the pot.” You smiled back, not bothering to hide any of the warmth in its shape. You stood, letting the cat out the front door. He seemed a little indignant at the fact that it was so wet outside but his ears swiveled and he was out the door and racing down the steps. You added some kindling and more logs to the fire, satisfied as flames leaped into existence. Thor handed you a mug of steaming coffee, with cream and a little bit of brown sugar. How he knew how you liked your coffee you didn’t know. But you liked that he knew.

The storm had cleared. A peek of blue sky could be seen from the window. With the clear sky came clear thoughts. It had been two weeks already since you had come to Dove’s Reach. Two weeks since you learned you had the rights to a whole ranch. A day since you had learned that you had to stay here for a whole year if you wanted to see any profits from selling. And only a night since you had realized that a year was no time at all.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor #thor odinson #cowboy thor #western thor #i need a hero #inthorantine writes #i did it!!!!#i finally am posting it!#i hope chapter 2 will be just as good

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the-currian · 3 years ago

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T7!

lmao this entire fic is full of inside jokes. originally made for the Filo A3!/Genshin discord I’m a part of as part of the server bang. it’s already been uploaded there, so i decided to fix it up a bit and upload it here as well^^

i may not be active anymore in the server; i’m more of a lurker now, but i’d like to dedicate this to the server members. you guys gave me lots of good times and things to smile about & look forward to during a time when i was trying to pick myself up. thank you <3

One event that Izumi brushes off as the daily shenanigans that come along with being the director of the Mankai Company has a bigger impact on her actors than she thought.

or:

The director is clueless to the thirst/advances of the company. The troupes struggle. The director remains oblivious.

It all started with a towel.

Living in a dorm along with over twenty young men, surely there would be no shortage of needs for day-to-day life… or so Izumi thought. Staring at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror has made her realize that perhaps she’d overestimated the dorm’s supplies.

‘Maybe if I’m quiet enough, no one will notice me sneaking back to my room.’ She thinks to herself in dismay, tugging at the bath towel that just barely covered the more…indecent parts of her body.

‘It’s just my luck that my bathroom sprung a leak.’

Thus, Izumi was forced to use one of the communal bathrooms shared by the actors. Of course, she’d made it abundantly clear that no one was allowed to go in while she made use of the actors’ facilities (Izumi’s also fairly sure that Sakyo had stressed that no one was allowed even remotely near the communal bathroom while she were there) but the thought of walking back to her room with nothing but a towel on made her anxiety skyrocket.

‘I should’ve just waited for my own shower to be fixed.’

Being too used to having her own private bathroom, Izumi had developed the habit of only grabbing a towel from a cabinet before heading off into the showers since it’s directly connected to her room. Why bother bringing new clothes into the bathroom and risk getting them wet when she could just change in her own bedroom?

Obviously that logic was null in this scenario – what with the trek she now has to make back to her room from the communal showers, and only in a towel! Moreover, the towel was obviously intended for only covering the lower half of men, if the short length was anything to go by.

Mulling it over, Izumi weighs the pros and cons of walking through the dorm’s corridors in only a towel to shield herself, then allows herself a few minutes to sulk over the decision made. Taking a deep breath, Izumi steels herself before slowly creaking open the bathroom door, peeking for any bystanders. Seeing none, she carefully tiptoes back to her room.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As she makes her way through, Izumi feel like every step echoes throughout the halls and she instinctively tightens her grip on the towel, desperately trying to draw it tighter and more securely around her. Thankfully, Izumi is able to make it to her room without incident – she really needs to thank Sakyo for clearing the area later – when suddenly, as her room is less than a meter away, a shadow darts into her field of vision.

Already tense and on edge from the situation she found herself in, Izumi lets out an ear-splitting shriek and all hell breaks loose.

Footsteps come thundering her way and Izumi’s brain short-circuits as the whole company suddenly appears in the corridors, all of them calling out “director” or various other namesakes in worried tones.

Izumi struggles to form a coherent sentence to tell them that she’s fine and for all of them to stay the hell away please and thank you, when the shadow from earlier who she now identifies as Misumi in the middle of a triangle hunt cheerfully calls out,

“Oh, director! Did you have a nice bath?”

The corridor goes eerily quiet, and Izumi feel several pairs of eyes focused on her state of dress – or lack thereof, rather.

Masumi and several other of the younger members faint almost instantly. Most of the adults’ faces flush bright red as they stammer out apologies, while some others politely avert their eyes.

One thing is for certain.

The entire company is suddenly reminded that their director is in fact a very attractive, very single, woman.

As all the men seem to be distracted by their own mental turmoil, Izumi takes the opportunity to slip into her room. After making sure the door is securely locked, she deflates and slides down against the door. The shuffling of footsteps fades away, signaling the company members’ retreat, and Izumi’s mind takes its sweet time to process what just occurred.

Once again, the Mankai dorms are filled with Izumi’s ear-splitting shriek, only this time the members are wise enough to leave her be.

By dinnertime, Izumi figures she’s calmed down enough to let bygones be bygones.

“Thanks for the food!” she forces herself to say in a cheery manner, tight-lipped smile giving her away.

She’s honestly still feeling a bit apprehensive by the stares she receives over the dining table, but her actors fall back into an easy conversation. Izumi, on the other hand, finds herself half-heartedly poking the eggplant tempura that she normally eats with gusto as a side dish to her beloved curry. Something about the atmosphere makes her feel uneasy as if there’s some sort of unspoken tension that everyone but she has figured out.

Again, Izumi feels everyone’s eyes on her as she abruptly stands up. In her haste, the chair screeches against the floor and her tableware clatters noisily, making herself the unwanted center of attention.

“I…I’m not feeling that hungry tonight.” Izumi mutters, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Mustering up the last of her dignity, Izumi shuffles out of the room and goes straight to her bedroom, making sure the door locks.

Unbeknownst to her, mere minutes after she’d cleared the vicinity, Sakyo abruptly calls for an all-troupes-on-deck meeting. After clearing the dining area, the large group of young men make their way over to the living room and try their best to get comfortable amongst one another, the room suddenly feeling very cramped with everyone in the room at the same time.

In front of them all, the only one standing, Sakyo paces back and forth as he strategizes the best course of action to approach the situation. He comes to a sudden halt and the group’s attention is immediately focused on Sakyo, with the younger ones’ backs stiffening as they straighten up in an unconscious sign of deference.

“We do not speak of the incident that happened earlier this morning.” Sakyo’s voice comes out quietly but threateningly as he levels a glare at each and every occupant of the room. “We make the director feel as safe as possible in our presence. Got it?”

Not bothering to wait for a response, Sakyo stalks out of the room. Slowly, the actors disperse and go about their usual nightly activities, but fuelled by the reminder of the spectacle that had occurred that morning gave them some other plans in mind.

“Tangina mo, Banri.” Itaru swears under his breath as his character is suddenly left for dead in the middle of a space station. The culprit was none other than Banri, who had Itaru and the other players in the server fooled.

“What was that, Chigasaki?” Chikage questions with mild interest from his side of the room.

Itaru takes out his phone and opens up another game to play as he waits for Banri to inevitably win as the impostor in the game.

“Playing a game with some strangers online. Picked up some lingo from these Filo players that Banri and I happen to clash against a lot.” Itaru elaborates with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Hm. I do wonder how you or Settsu intend to win the director over when all you do is mess around in those games of yours.”

Itaru’s fingers hover over his phone screen for a split second as he processes the older man’s words.

“…Excuse me?”

“You are aware of what the... ah, towel incident this morning has caused, aren’t you?”

“Sakyo already told us to not bring it up.” Itaru says calmly, but Chikage notices his roommate’s ears redden at the reminder, and is pleased to see that his goading has its intended effect.

“Of course.” Chikage concedes. “However, the younger members of the troupe can be quite rash.”

Itaru lightly drops his phone onto his desk and runs his fingers through his hair as he grudgingly turns to his roommate. Itaru hastily ties his bangs away from his face and levels what he hopes is a neutral stare at Chikage.

“Not my job to keep the kids’ thirsting under control.” He says, then turns back to face his monitor.

“I suppose…”

With that, Itaru starts playing his game again as the subject matter is dropped.

“But perhaps it’s not the kids you should be worrying about.”

…or so he thought.

Again, Itaru takes the bait and bites out, “What exactly are you trying to say, senpai?”

Chikage changes his expression into one of feigned innocence. “Nothing, really. Ah, I do hope you don’t mind having curry for lunch tomorrow. The director and I will be cooking together all morning.”

Itaru is about to stand up and retort, fed up with Chikage’s subtle remarks, when a loud noise blares from Itaru’s computer, causing him to curse and swiftly turn back to his screen. “Shit, you’re distracting me from my game. Do me a favor and go back to being the absentee roommate for a while.”

With an amused chuckle, Chikage acquiesces to his roommate’s request and heads out, closing the door behind him.

Itaru slumps back against his chair as soon as the older man is gone and puts on his headset. Taking a quick glance back before clicking it on, he speaks in a low voice,

“Hey, director, sorry for muting my mici. Let’s get back to the game, shall we?”

The next morning, Chikage walks into the kitchen with a special bag of spices in hand. However, seeing another member of the company already in the kitchen with the director has him narrowing his eyes and his mouth curving down in displeasure.

“So first we have to roast the eggplant before we dip it in the egg?” Izumi asks her companion.

Chikage takes in the sight of Omi leaning in quite close behind the director with the excuse of supervising her work, and a twinge of annoyance bothers him.

“That’s right.” Omi confirms, drawing even closer to Izumi as he points to the long, purple fruit. “But before that, we peel the skin off after it’s done roasting.”

The tall college student is practically caging Izumi as both hands reach from either side of her to demonstrate how to peel the eggplant. At this, Chikage decides to make his presence known.

“I was under the impression that it would only be the two of us making lunch, director.” he butts in, frown replaced with a sharp smile.

“Oh, Chikage!” Izumi calls out as she casually slips out of Omi’s arms, oblivious to the pout on Omi’s face as she does so. “Don’t worry! We’re still making curry for lunch. It’s just that Tasuku got a bunch of eggplants from helping out at a farm, so we’ve been trying to figure out different ways to cook them. I believe this dish is called tortang talong? Anyway, Omi insisted that he help me out with lunch today! I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, Chikage.” Omi echoes, looking completely unapologetic as he says so.

Not one to back down, Chikage completely ignores the younger man’s backhanded apology and instead turns his attention to the director.

“Here.” he says, holding the bag of spices out to Izumi. As she takes the bag from Chikage, his hands linger on hers for much longer than strictly necessary, causing her grip on the bag to fumble. A blush quickly creeps onto Izumi’s face.

“Th-thanks.” She stammers, hastily pulling her hands back as soon as she’s gotten a firm hold on the bag of spices.

The three adults cook in the kitchen with an awkward silence that Izumi just can’t figure out the root of. An unspoken tension looms over and she can’t bring herself to speak up. Lost in her thoughts, Izumi picks up a roasted eggplant then yelps at the heat of the newly roasted fruit, burning herself. Before Izumi can act, Omi grasps her wrist, inspecting her hand.

“Be careful, alright?” he says gently, guiding Izumi over to the sink and sticking her hand under the running faucet.

Izumi involuntarily shivers, and she’s not so sure if it’s because of the temperature of the cold water or if it’s because of the tender way that Omi handles her.

“Let Omi and I take care of the rest, director.” Chikage’s voice comes out harshly, snapping Izumi out of her thoughts. He hands her an ice pack and she takes it with a grateful smile.

“That’s probably for the best.” Izumi agrees, then turns off the faucet. As she leaves the kitchen and heads over to the living room, Izumi can feel the tension from earlier return tenfold and quickly hightails it out of there, deciding that she didn’t want to know, nor did she want to get caught up in the crossfire.

“So it’s curry again today, huh.” Tenma says dejectedly as he settles at the dining table.

Most of the other company members mumble the same sentiment but ultimately sit down.

Citron’s eyes light up as he spots the other food dish on the table. “Not to worry, everyone! It appears we are also having Tasuku’s eggplant for lunch!”

Several of the actors give Citron a blank stare.

“Somehow, that just doesn’t sound right.” Taichi says, and Juza nods in agreement.

“Oh, director! What happened to your hand?” Tsumugi blurts out, immediately picking up on the strange way Izumi held her chopsticks.

Izumi blanches and reflexively cradles her hand to her chest, closing herself off from the young men to spare them from worry. “It’s nothi–“

“Izumi accidentally burned herself while preparing lunch.” Chikage immediately speaks over her.

“Uwah!” Muku cries out. “Director, you shouldn’t be using your hand, then! You might irritate the wound and then it might get worse and then you’ll have to retire from being director because your–“

“Hey, hey, chillax!” Kazunari reins in Muku before he can start spiralling into catastrophizing Izumi’s minor dilemma. “The solution is obvious, Mukkun! All I have to do is feed Izumi her lunch! Her dinner, too, probs!”

“If anyone is feeding the director, it’s gonna be me.” Masumi asserts.

“Now hold on a minute. “ Izumi begins to protest.

“Fufufu~ How about it, director?” Azuma says, offering his own eggplant to Izumi with his chopsticks.

The dining room is quickly filled with the clamor of various members insisting that they be the one to feed the director her lunch.

“Boys, settle down!” Izumi yells over the cacophony of voices. At the authority in her tone, the young men back down and turn their attention to Izumi. “No one is going to be feeding me my lunch but myself.”

“But director, I must insist that we protect your hand from–“ Homare insists, then cuts himself off as he shrinks back from Izumi’s intense glare.

“I’ll just eat with my other hand using a fork.” She says before turning to Sakyo. “Sakyo, if you’d be so kind, could you cut my food into smaller pieces for me?”

“What a kid.” He grouses, but obliges to Izumi’s request, a triumphant glow in his eyes as he challengingly looks at the other members who are about to protest.

With the problem solved and the members (relatively) under control, lunch proceeds as normal – well, as normal as possible – for the Mankai Company.

“I’m really sorry to bother you two like this.” Izumi addresses the two men in her room later that afternoon. “I know I should probably get a professional to do this, but I just don’t want a repeat of yesterday happening anytime soon.”

All three occupants of the room’s faces heat up at the reminder.

“It’s fine.” Tasuku mumbles, determinedly looking at anywhere but Izumi.

“Right!” Tsuzuru chimes in, eyebrow twitching in betrayal of his true emotions. “Since Tasuku and I are both used to doing odd jobs, this’ll be a cinch.”

“Alright, then.” Izumi says, then opens the door to her bathroom, ushering the two young men inside. Tasuku and Tsuzuru take wary steps, toolboxes in hand, feeling a bit apprehensive about invading Izumi’s private space.

“Go ahead.” Izumi encourages, noticing their stiff posture. “I have nothing to hide! No dead bodies or horses or any other weird things like that.” She jokes, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere.

Neither of the actors deign to give her a response, and instead set down their toolboxes, pulling out wrenches, screwdrivers, flashlights, and the like to figure out and solve the leakage.

Izumi silently watches as the two men deftly handle the tools. She finds herself entranced by the way their arms slightly flex while their fingers nimbly maneuver their tools as they tinker away at her shower.

Realizing her train of thought, Izumi lightly slaps her cheeks as she feels a blush rising to her face.

‘Get a hold of yourself! They’re just here to fix your shower–‘

Izumi’s mind comes to a screeching halt as Tasuku lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat off of his brow, unknowingly (?) allowing her to catch a glimpse of his abs. Similarly affected by the heat as they work, Tsuzuru rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off his lean arm muscles along with the veins that slightly protrude from his forearms as they flex whilst working.

“I-I’ll leave you to it, then!” Izumi barely manages to squeak out, face glowing bright red, before fleeing the bathroom.

Tasuku and Tsuzuru spare a quick glance back at her retreating figure before going back to work, identical smirks on their smug faces.

Later that evening, Izumi’s shower is fixed without incident and she’s ready to relax after all the shenanigans of the day.

‘Nothing like a hot shower to wash the stress away before going to bed.’

This time, she makes sure to check the towel’s length, ensuring it’s long enough to cover all the important bits. After a few seconds of contemplation, she also grabs a bathrobe.

‘Just in case…’

Izumi lazily undresses herself before settling under the stream of warm, steaming water. A satisfied mewl escapes her lips as she feels herself unwind, her body relaxing in the warmth of the shower.

She allows herself a few minutes of comfortable silence in the shower before grabbing her shampoo to start lathering when the water suddenly turns ice cold. Her eyes widen at the sensation as she instinctively jumps away and lets out a screech.

Within seconds, the actors’ footsteps thunder down the corridor over to Izumi’s room. A sense of déjà vu comes over her as she hears several shouts of, “Director, are you okay?!” and “What’s going on?!”, coupled with loud banging on her (thankfully) locked door.

Izumi lets out an exasperated groan.

‘I knew I should’ve just gotten a professional to fix the shower.’

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! act addict actors #A3! Actor Training Game #a3game #a3! scenarios #a3 #a3 act addict actors #a3 actor training game

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stardustryewriting · 4 years ago

Text

New Year’s Revelation

When Marco and Ace talk about their respective crushes, they're both surprisingly mostly sober. They give Thatch a headache anyway.

Also on AO3: here

New Year’s Eve on the main ship of the Whitebeard Pirates - and on every minor ship, Marco was sure - has always been a big thing. While they couldn’t do the fireworks tradition, because of the safety on board, and because neither Marco nor Newgate trusted their drunk crew mates with it, they did virtually everything else. Which always included drinking like it was the end of the world, eating a banquet that seemed to get larger every year and just generally partying like the were no worries in the world. New Year’s Eve has always been a big event.

And then Ace came along.

Suddenly they didn’t only have to celebrate making it through another year, but they had a birthday on top of it. Well, it was Ace’s birthday, but everyone else ate and drank like it was theirs, too. Marco was torn between reprimanding them (some of them had to stay sober, in case they were attacked, but no one seemed to understand) and joining in as lively as they were, because Ace seemed to be truly happy. And Ace’s happiness was something to behold.

Not that it was a rare occasion. Ace was almost always seen with a smile on his face. (When he wasn’t sitting over a ton of navigation maps, his forehead wrinkling in concentration and he was cute then, too.) But usually there was some kind of darkness underneath it. Like Ace carried a secret big enough to be his doom, one day. He knew, in fact, that Ace did have a secret, he refused to tell them about. But he also knew, that Ace told Pops and Pops said not to worry about it. It was a big thing for Ace, but it wasn’t something that would impact the crew. Marco trusted Pops and he trusted Ace, so he wouldn’t be prodding. Even though he couldn’t help but be curious.

But on nights like these, when Ace once again proved that he could eat more than half of the crew together, and laughed with them like he’s always been a part of their big, weird family, Marco didn’t have the heart to try and coax something out of Ace. He was so happy, his smile so radiant, Marco could spent the entire night just looking at him from afar. In fact that was his plan for the night, until Thatch came along. How his brother could afford not being in the kitchen, with the rate their food was vanishing, was beyond Marco. But he hadn’t had a good talk with Thatch - that didn’t involve either of their divisions or the provisions needed for the celebration - in days, so when his brother took a seat next to him, he didn’t want to talk about the kitchen.

„You know, today would be the day to finally kiss Ace“, Thatch said, grinning like a madman - or like someone trying to get a raise out of his brother - and Marco decided he would much rather talk about what’s happening in the kitchen. Not that that was likely, now that Thatch has already started a conversation about Ace. Which seemed to be Thatch’s new favorite thing to talk to Marco about. (And Pops’, and Izo’s and Vista’s and even Jozu’s. They should find another topic to gossip about in Marco’s opinion.)

„Nah, with the amount of alcohol he’s consumed, I’d rather not“, Marco argued, in hopes Thatch would accept this better, than his usual argument.

(I’m twice his age, Marco would argue. We’re pirates, Thatch would shrug it off, like it gave them a free pass for everything. It didn’t.)

„You“, Thatch said sternly instead, pointing an accusing finger at Marco, „are just a coward. You know Ace can’t get drunk. His fire burns the alcohol. Or something.“ Or something. Even though Marco was the ships doctor, he never quite understood how the alcohol vanished from Ace’s body. He just knew that most of it did, in fact, get lost, so getting Ace drunk usually involved an amount of alcohol that would haven even killed Pops in his prime. Not that that ever stopped Whitebeard from trying to drink with Ace until they were both wasted.

„Alright, I’m a coward“, Marco agreed easily, because really it wasn’t as insulting as Thatch thought it was, „my point remains, I’m not kissing anyone tonight.“

„Who is Marco not kissing?“, Ace asked, looking at Thatch with a curiousity only someone as young as Ace could still possess. Marco really needed to stop drinking, he didn’t even feel Ace coming over to them. But also, other than Thatch he didn’t falter in surprise, he just tensed up. Unfortunately Thatch seemed to find his voice faster, than Marco could come up with some kind of coherent answer to Ace’s question.

„Someone he’s been having a crush on for a really long time.“

„Marco has a crush?“, Ace asked, sounding surprised and Marco would have liked to argue about that. Yes, he has feelings, too, thank you very much. But this talk was going into a dangerous direction, so instead of protesting Marco had to look to divert their attention elsewhere. Ace might not be the fastest on the uptake, but he was smarter than people gave him credit for, and Marco wasn’t really interested in finding out how fast Ace could come to a conclusion with minimal evidence. That was if Thatch wouldn’t spill the beans before that.

„Yeah, he’s been pining for so long, it would be funny, if it weren’t that pathetic“, Thatch answered dramatically and made a show of throwing his arms around Marco’s shoulder and giving him a look full of pity. He really did spend too much time with Izo.

„He thinks he’s not good enough, so instead of being a man and confessing, he pines. It’s the worst“, Thatch added and Marco had the sudden impulse to knock him into the ocean.

„That’s bullshit“, Ace protested rather passionately, „Marco is a great guy. Who wouldn’t think you’re great?“ And really, it warmed Marco’s heart that Ace would defend him like that. Especially considering that barely over a year ago, Ace’s goal was to kill Pops and effectively end the Whitebeard crew. But still Ace didn’t know what he was talking about.

„It’s not that. There is just an age difference that I can’t ignore“, he tried to explain. And reached deaf ears again. Ace really did fit in with them, all too well.

„So? We’re pirates“, he shrugged, not unlike Thatch always shrugged that argument off. Thatch looked entirely too pleased with himself sitting next to Marco, gloating as if he wanted to say I told you so.

„I’m twice their age. I’d feel like a cradle robber“, Marco tried to argue with Ace again and it was entirely too reminiscent of his usual arguments with Thatch, and Pops and Izo.

„There is someone else around my age on the ship?“, Ace asked excitedly and Marco felt like he messed up. Ace wasn’t supposed to know that. At the same time Thatch’s palm met his forehead with quite a lot of force behind it and he muttered to Ace: „Be glad you’re good-looking.“

„I am good-looking“, Ace answered with a confidence that he usually had to play, but that was entirely real this time, „it’s one of my few redeeming features. People especially like my freckles.“ Yeah, Marco could see that. They were cute and fit right onto Ace’s face, even though they made him look even younger. What was Marco even doing here? Prying on their youngest crew member, that’s what.

„Yes, you are“, Thatch agreed, „but you are also way too slow on the uptake.“

„Well, what’s the uptake here, then?“, Ace demanded sounding increasingly frustrated, whereas Thatch looked like he just lost all hope in humanity. Marco could admit that Ace was a bit slow-witted right now, but it still was adorable to him.

„Forget it. It could hit you in the head and you still wouldn’t see it“, Thatch announced and then stood up, „I’m going back to my kitchen.“ And suddenly Marco was alone with Ace, who still seemed determined to find out who Marco’s crush was. Curse Thatch, for bringing it up.

„Come on, we’re friends right? You can tell me. I promise I will take it to grave with me!“, Ace declared and while Marco believed him, there was still no way he could tell Ace. Not if he wanted to keep face in front of him, anyway.

„It’s not that important, go back to celebrating your birthday. I promise you’re not missing out on anything here.“

„Alright, I tell you about my secret crush and then you tell me about yours. That way it’s fair and you can be sure, I will keep your secret“, Ace declared and didn’t even wait for Marco to agree with him, before he continued, „My crush is someone, who is in love with someone else. Not that it matters, as soon as they find out who I really am, they would avoid me anyway.“

„They don’t know you’re a pirate?“, Marco asked surprised, because you would have to be really detached from the pirate world to not know Ace is a pirate. He was a notorious rookie, he was offered a place among the Seven Warlords and he fought Jinbei for five days straight. He also made a name for himself as Whitebeard’s Second Division Commander already and he only had the spot for a few months. If you were even remotely knowledgeable about pirates, there was no way you never heard of Ace.

„They know I’m a pirate, they don’t know the other big thing. The one only Pops knows“, Ace explained and Marco could feel the curiosity again. Damn Ace and his big secret.

„You think that’s big enough to make someone hate you?“, Marco asked, because he really couldn’t imagine it to be. Pops would have told him, if it was something that big.

„I know it is. People hated me for it all my life. It’s not even my fault.“

This secret of Ace just got more confusing the more information he got out of him. Luffy knows, Ace had told him once and it didn’t really surprise Marco. Ace loved his little brother to pieces. Luffy wasn’t mad about it either, I don’t know why I thought he would be. Which was the confusing part, because apparently Ace expected the entire world to him for this secret and Luffy was the singular exception to that. That must be some kind of brother Ace had.

„Honestly, I don’t think there is anything that would make me hate you“, Marco said to Ace instead, because he seemed like he needed it and because it was true. Ace was such a sunshine, with so much sadness lurking beneath, you just had to love him. It’s not like Marco had much of a choice in that matter and the rest of the crew adored him, too.

Ace seemed to think about something and it was quite between them for a long time, before he whispered: „Even if I was the Son of Gol D. Roger?“

„Even then“, Marco answered without hesitation, „It doesn’t matter where you come from, anyway, we’re -“

„- all children of the sea“, Ace finished, seeming somewhat relieved, „Pops said the same thing.“ And then he smiled that brilliant smile at Marco, that seemed to take his breath and Marco didn’t even have the time to consider that Ace really was the son of the Pirate King, because he was so beautiful, illuminated only by the dim lights on the ship and Marco really was smitten.

„So, you don’t hate me. Too bad you’re still in love with someone else“, Ace said, seemingly not catching the implications of his own words. But Marco did. And suddenly the only thing he could concentrate on was how soft Ace’s lips looked, and how his freckles brought out the sad look in his eyes - that really shouldn’t be there, Ace looked better smiling. And how much he desperately wanted to kiss Ace.

So he did just that.

And only mid-way trough, when his brain caught up with his actions he realized that never asked for permission So, interrupting their kiss he asked: „Do you want to do this?“ And instead of answering, Ace reclaimed his lips more passionately than before and made it into an even deeper kiss.

#marace #marco x ace #whats their ship name #someone tell me #marco the phoenix #marco the pineapple #portgas d. ace #thatch #pining #mutual pining #getting together #i literally have no idea #i just wrote that

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lizacstuff · 4 years ago

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(1/2) At this point, I feel like talking about the last seven episodes of SCK is a bit moot, considering that the amnesia plot is done and the team of writers responsible for most of it is gone, but I am curious to get your opinion on whether you feel Serkan actually fell in love AGAIN with Eda. I personally don't feel that Eda and Serkan had enough meaningful interaction to suggest that he re-fell in love. There was definitely more "telling" than "showing" and the heart "remembering..."

(2/2) ...what the head didn't. I know I'm probably splitting hairs, and at this point, everyone is happy he regained his memory, so who cares? But I'm just feeling very unsatisfied with the storytelling. Meh.

Oh, I disagree. Well somewhat. See, I think they 100% showed us that Serkan fell back in love. However, I do agree that it was very unsatisfactory storytelling, and that they’ve exhausted me to the point that I’m also beyond really caring. I think we’re all beyond caring, because the truth is these writers dropped the ball so hard during this arc that I’m embarrassed for them. They were handed a slam dunk romantic story and they fell flat on their faces.

That being said I think they gave us plenty to suggest that Sekan fell in love. IMO it was obvious in episode after episode. You say they did more telling than showing, and I think its the opposite. They did plenty of showing. What they didn’t do is tell us straight out. Think about it this way, if Serkan had verbally admitted in this episode that he loved her prior to getting his memory back, say when asked by either Aydan or Engin, would we be having this conversation?

The problem is they didn’t do that and instead relied on what they showed us. And I think they showed us, in individual scenes, Serkan falling in love with Eda pretty much in every episode. The problem is that every episode, and sometimes in the very next scene in the same episode, they seemed to start him over back at square one so it was very disjointed for the viewer. We’d have a romantic, emotional scene and then he would suddenly be a giant dick in the next scene without exploring on screen what was going on in his head. I think the writers themselves thought he was reacting to his trauma and guilt and manipulation and reacting against his blossoming feelings for Eda (ala ep 3) but they were lazy and clumsy and didn’t spend time and give us that insight so it just felt like whiplash. The execution of this story was appalling, I can’t believe how badly it was done (those writers suck) but the bones of it was all there.

Think back as far as episode 30. At breakfast he’s fixated on Deniz, very jealous, but is not remotely threatened or bothered by his own fiancé’s ex-fiancé who is right there. Then there is the bridal style carrying her, it was like a primal need he had in that moment to help her, and then that fireplace scene! Oh the fireplace scene. Now, I’m not arguing that he fell in love with her during that scene, but that was a very intense, very emotional, very romantic scene that showed that he was open to her, drawn to her, intrigued by her and experiencing feelings he didn’t understand. It pretty much opened the door for everything that came after and paved the way for how quickly he was going to fall for her again.

By 31, I’d argue that he was over 2/3rd of the way to being in love with her. He overhears Eda making plans with Deniz for that evening, so he invents a reason to go to his cafe, lies to his fiancé, stays all day until he can drive Eda home ensuring she doesn’t spend the evening with Deniz and then they have an adult, emotional conversation. Then they do the same on the boat, engaging in intense, emotional conversations, and when it’s over, he sends his fiancé, who has been missing, on her way so that he can sit there and think about Eda. Do you do that over someone you don’t love? Seriously? At the end of the episode when Eda’s wedding day was announced, he looked like he’d been run over by a truck. Again the only explanation for that reaction is deep, deep romantic feelings.

By 32, I’d argue that he was all the way there, but did not have the tools to recognize the emotions or deal with them. For the LOVE OF GOD he was sleeping in his office clutching her wedding invitation. What other explanation is there for that, other than that he was in love with her? Would you do that when your business associate announces a wedding date? I’m guessing no. Then he spent the whole episode fixated on Eda and in turmoil. The coffee shop. Finding out she was in trouble and going back to the office to help. Being pleased that she fell asleep on his shoulder. Playing in the snow. He never would have thrown that party for Selin if Deniz hadn’t manipulated him into it by guilting him and telling him that Eda was only really happy now because he’d ALMOST DIED in a plane crash. However, the second she was in trouble he ghosted the fiancé on her birthday and went to rescue Eda and proceeded to be vulnerable with her.

In 33, they reset him again via Selin’s guilt, however he still was fixated on Eda, questioning her about her feelings for Deniz, going to find her at the flower shop and doing something entirely out of character for old Serkan by sitting down to make terrariums with her. Telling Engin that her scent was driving him crazy. Having Melo set up the dinner. And then kissing her. Again, this was very poorly rendered by the writers because none of the connectors between scenes really flow or make sense, but what they were trying to go for was that no matter how much guilt and emotional manipulation Selin laid on him after finding him sleep snuggling with Eda in the cabin, and no matter how upset he was that Eda remembered their great love, but could still discard him so easily, he couldn’t forget her and was constantly thinking about her and wanting to spend time with her. Even after seemingly having Selin’s version of Eda verified by Ceren. Would he do any of that if he wasn’t in love with her? Again, I don’t think he could identify that feeling and admit to it, but that doesn’t make the feelings he was experiencing less real.

And in 34 it was pretty much full on. He doesn’t stop thinking of her for a minute in that episode. He’s fixated on wanting her to admit her relationship with Deniz is fake. Now he might tell himself that it’s because he wants to win their little battle of sexual tension, but really it’s that he so badly wants it to be true. He so badly wants for her to not have moved on from him. Eda screws up in this episode and lies to him about loving Deniz during a very sincere conversation, if she’d come clean, maybe he could have admitted his own feelings.

By 35, he’s full gone. He’s frantic when she fell off the yacht, way more so than Deniz who says he loves her. He was ready to leap into the sea, in the middle of winter, when they were probably no longer anywhere near where she went in, and then he leaps off that thing before it was fully docked in order to get to her and make sure she was okay. Wanting to jump in the water is the irrational reaction of a frantic man worried for the woman he loves.

After that, the wedding prep drives him crazy. She drives him crazy. After seeing her in a wedding dress, he’s close to a full on panic attack and his heart practically fails on him. Even when they’re high on cake and tea, and being very close, he can’t let go of the fact she’s getting married the next day. He spends the whole episode clutching her necklace and brooding over it. It’s eating him up, but he won’t admit to Engin or Aydan that he’s in love with her, because he thinks she’s happy with another man. However, that doesn’t make those feelings any less real.

Would you walk on the docks at night starring longingly at a necklace of someone you didn’t love? Come on. He was fully back in love with her by at least 32, they showed it very obviously, they just didn’t tell us. The writers were able to give us plenty of great individual scenes that very clearly illustrated his feelings, they just weren’t able to put together a coherent narrative that told that story in a satisfying way. They suck, and turned what could have been a very romantic and lovely story into a disjointed mess but they didn’t ruin the characters. What Serkan was doing in every single scene, against all odds and attempts at abusive manipulation, was falling in love with her.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal kapimi #edser #serkan bolat #sckask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sck 1x35 #asklizac #anonymous

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doshmanziari · 4 years ago

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Musical Offerings for the New Year || What is “Radical Music” in 2021?

Near the end of 2020, a bunch of musicians populating a chatroom, including myself, each submitted ten minutes’ worth of our work to another musician, Chimeratio, who generously compiled it all into a set totaling nearly ten hours.¹ The work didn’t need to be new; just what we thought might best represent our abilities/style(s) and/or perhaps what we were especially pleased with. The set premiered in late January. Since I have some tentative plans for reorienting Brick By Brick this year, while not overriding its emphases, I wanted to share that music with anyone who’s interested.

I compiled the four videos into a playlist, although you can also access them individually: here (1), here (2), here (3), and here (4). If you care to, and are on a computer, you can also view the accompanying chatlog and read people’s responses from when they were listening to the live broadcast.

The compulsion for this project was sparked by excited discussions over and usage of the term “digital fusion”, most helpfully propagated by Aivi Tran, designating a computer-based body of work that for years lacked the rooftop of a commonly agreed upon genre-name. While describing my music has never been a big concern, even if it’s usually felt impossible (what, for example, is this? or this? I dunno!), I’ve appreciated how the spread and application of this term has brought together people who may have felt isolated.²

As “digital fusion” gained designative traction, I witnessed the activity in the aforementioned chatroom explode over the course of a few days. Before, a day’s discussion might’ve been a few dozen messages; now, there were dozens of messages every half-minute. This had positive and negative ramifications, the negative being that conversations often proceeded at a pace of rapidity which precluded concentrated thought. Eventually, I bowed out because the rapidity exceeded my threshold for meaningful interaction; but I was glad that significant invigoration was going on.

I wanted to share this music also because it intersects with thoughts and talks I’ve been having stemming from the question, “What is ‘radical music’ in 2021?” This was stimulated by a 2014 talk given by the writer Mark Fisher, wherein he contends that, were we to play prominent “cutting edge” music from now to people twenty years ago, very nearly none of it would be aesthetically shocking, bizarre, or revelatory (think of playing house music to an audience in the early 1960s!). Fisher also observes a trend of returning to music which once was seen as the future -- as if, deprived of a shared prograde vision, imaginations turn hazily retrograde; ergo, genres such as synthwave or albums like Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories.

It isn’t my goal here to argue about the “end of history.” Fisher’s time-travel hypothetical, however, rings loud and true to me. Visible musical radicalism has, for at least a decade, been strictly extra-musical, in the sense of songs like “This is America” or “WAP”, where one’s response is primarily to the spectacle of the music video, the performer’s identistic markers, and/or the manner in which the lyrics intersect with (mostly US-centric) ideological hotspots. Musically, there is really nothing radical here. Any vociferous condemnations or defenses of a song like “WAP” deal in moralizing reactions to semantics or imagery: how progressive or regressive is the political aspect? how propelled or repelled are we by the word “pussy”?

It would be a mistake, and simply wrong, to assert that the only music one can enjoy escapes the parameters outlined above; and my inability to coherently categorize some of my own music hardly raises that portion to the status of radicality. But the question here pertains to what is being made, and I think that if we’re going to seriously consider the nature of truly radical music today, we do need to question if such a quality can prominently exist when our hyper-fast consumerist cycle seems to forbid not just sustained, lifelong relationships to artwork but also the local, unhurried nourishment of creative gestation. Now, in my opinion, there are good, even great, examples of radical music still being made in deep Internet-burrows, and for evidence of that I would offer some of the material contained in the linked playlists. Moreover, I’d say that this quality can exist in part because these little artistic communities are so buried.

Let me share a quote that another person shared with me recently:

For culture to shift, you need pockets of isolated humanity. Since all pockets of humanity (outside of the perpetually isolated indigenous people in remote wilderness) are connected in instantaneous fashion, independent ideas aren’t allowed to ferment on their own. When you cook a meal, you have to bring ingredients together that have had time to grow, ferment, or decompose separately. A cucumber starts out as a seed, then you mix it with the soil, water and sunlight. You can’t bring the seed, soil, water and sunlight to the kitchen from the get-go. When you throw those things in to the mixture without letting them mature, the flavor cannot stand out on its own. Same thing with art and fashion. A kid in Russia can come up with a new way to dance, gets filmed on a phone, it goes viral quickly but gets lost in the morass of all of the other multitudinous forms of dance. Sure it spread far and wide, but it gets forgotten in a week. In the past, his new art form would have been confined locally, nurtured, honed, then spread geographically, creating a distinct new cultural idiosyncrasy with a strong support base. By the time it was big enough to be presented globally, it was already a cultural phenomenon locally. This isn’t possible anymore. We’re consuming too many unripened fruits.

The main impression I have here is that radical music today will, and must be, folk music. Our common idea of folkiness might be the scrappy singer strumming a guitar, but my interpretive reference rather has to do with the idea of a music being written, first of all, for one’s self, and then shared with a small-scale community, which in turn helps the artist grow at their own pace. This transcends a dependence upon image, the primacy of acoustic instrumentation, or the signaling of sincerity versus insincerity. It is a return to the valuation of outsider art, so rare nowadays. As someone who I was recently in dialogue with wrote, “Where can you find new genuine folk music? Pretty much just with your friends, imo. Even then, the global world is so influential and seeps into any crack it can find. I think vaporwave was radical and folk for a while. Grant Forbes made that music way before the world knew about it.”

Sometimes, a lot of fuss is made over what’s seen as “gatekeeping” within certain communities. It can be, depending on the context, justifiable to question and critique this behavior. At other times, the effort of maintaining a level of exclusivity, of retaining an idiosyncratic shapeliness to the communal organism, can be a legitimate attempt to protect the personal, interpersonal, and cultural aspects from the flattening effect of monoculture. Hypothetically, I welcome the Castlevania TV series and Super Smash Bros. Ultimate having introduced new and younger demographics to Castlevania. In actuality, stuff like “wholesome sad gay himbo Alucard”, image macros, and neurotic “stan” fanfiction being what’s now first associated with the series makes me want to put as much distance as possible between my interests and those latecoming impositions.

The group-terminology David Chapman uses in his essay “Geeks, MOPs, and Sociopaths in Subculture Evolution” is kinda cringey, but some of the cultural/behavioral patterns he lays out are relevant to the topic. Give it a look. If we cross his belief that “[subcultures] are no longer the primary drivers of cultural development” with our contemporary consume-and-dispose customs, we’re left with the predicament of it’s even worth attempting to bring radical/outsider art beyond its rhizomatic habitat. This is troubling, because it would mean that artistic radicality no longer might not only refuse to but cannot encompass cultural upheaval. It would be like if dance music were invented and -- instead of progressively permeating nightlife, stimulating countercultural trends, and ultimately being adapted as the basis for pop music globally -- only were listened to via headphones by a few thousand people on their own, stimulated a group meeting once a year or two, and never affected music beyond a niche-within-a-niche. That’s a very sad picture to me.

⁂

¹ Chimeratio has also maintained an excellent blog on here dedicated to looking at videogame music written in irregular time signatures, far preceding higher-profile examinations like 8-bit Music Theory’s video on the same topic.

² For myself, creative isolation has had its uses, because it has led me down routes that are highly personalized. The isolation can be dispiriting too. Although a lot of my music is videogame-music-adjacent, almost none of it uses “authentic” technology, such as PSG synthesizers or FM synthesis; and the identification of those sounds is fairly important for recognition.

#music analysis #radicalism #digital fusion

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

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step out! do what you want (chapter five)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung  side pairings: established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: angst, violence, mention of firearms, description of graphic injuries, profanity, more dirty smut (including a threesome again, but this time with double the penetration lol and double the lack of protection) because I am trash. also, jisung is a bratty little shit because of course he is. drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. word count: about 6,500 also posted to my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter five: do you want to live forever?

recommended tracks: haunt // bed by the 1975, devil in the details by placebo, nevermind by dennis lloyd, cypher part 3: killer by bts rapline, boxer by stray kids, hyung by dumbfoundead, black swan (stranger things mashup) by bts/seokjinnie, call on me by eric prydz; boom by nct dream; roller coaster by tomorrow x together, how do you sleep? by sam smith, obsession by exo, after hours by the weeknd, part time god by the bad dreamers. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter took forever and a year for me to write. hopefully, it’s up to everyone’s standards after that cliffhanger! (don’t worry, I brought back some good ol’ smut because I’m a skanky hoe.)

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

“I don’t miss from this close.”

The world stopped as you stared down the barrel of Changbin’s pistol. His face was emotionless, staring down at you, waiting for you to say something - specifically, he wanted you to say the right thing.

You’re unable to form a coherent sentence, unintelligible noises come babbling up from your throat, too terrified to even plead for your life. Tears start building up in the corner of your eyes as your body starts to tremble.

Jisung shakes his head, standing in between both of you. He lifts his hands to the air, slowly stepping in between Changbin’s pistol and you. “Changbin-hyung,” he says, his voice shockingly calm. “It’s not her fault. I don’t have definitive proof, but I will risk my life for her on this.”

Changbin’s expression doesn’t change. He rolls his eyes up to meet Jisung’s and moves his arm to aim the pistol at him, touching the gun to his forehead as he cocks it. “You’d bet your life on it?”

“Jisung,” you manage to weakly squeak out. The tears that had been building up start pouring down your cheeks, unable to be stopped. First, you had almost lost Christopher. Now you were about to lose Jisung.

“Absolutely.” Jisung is reserved, stoic in his resolve. “I need you to trust me, Changbin-hyung. Please.”

Changbin scoffs, rolling his head to the side. He disarms the pistol, tucking it back into its holster. He turns back to Jisung, running his tongue over his teeth. Suddenly, he winds up a punch and decks the silver-haired man right in the face, causing him to land on the floor with a thud.

“What the fuck?” Jisung shouts, grabbing his face.

“Don’t you ever do that to one of your superiors again. Your hyungs’ orders are absolute, even if you disagree with them. If you ever interfere like this again, I will break your fucking kneecaps.” Changbin spits out, rubbing his knuckles. “Got it?”

Jisung squints at Changbin in disbelief, but nods his head. “Understood, hyung.”

“Good. As for you,” Changbin looks directly into your eyes, taking a couple of steps closer until he’s at the edge of the bed. He grabs your jaw with a firm grip. “If I find out that you’re working for them, I absolutely will kill you. No questions asked. I don’t care if Jisung or Chan protest. Nobody fucks with my family. Nobody fucks with me.”

His words, laden with venom, cause your blood to run cold. You weakly nod your head, as best as you could with his hand holding your jaw in place. He lets go of your face with an aggressive push. Changbin turns away from both of you.

Jisung sits up, looking at you with a mortified expression. You could feel his sympathy from where you sat, knowing that he was as terrified as you. He’s about to open up his mouth to speak, but Changbin beats him to it.

“Minho found out that your phone was being tracked. Said he added his number to your phone, unlocking it after guessing your passcode a couple of times. It concerned him, so he was able to gain access to your phone and take a look remotely. He just found the tracker while I was at the hospital with Chan.”

The realization that your phone had compromised you had caused your heart to drop to your stomach. It was your fault that all of you were in this mess, that Christopher was holding on to his life in the hospital. Your face falls, and you hold it in your hands. How was this possible?

“I’ve got a burner for you,” Changbin says, tossing a basic phone on the bed in front of you. “There’s nothing fancy about it, but it has our numbers in it in case you need anything.” You weakly nod your head in acceptance.

“What’s happening with Chan-hyung now?” Jisung speaks up, working himself to his feet. He wobbles a bit, then walks to the bed, sitting down next to you. The spot that Changbin punched is starting to bruise up.

Changbin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He unceremoniously flops on to the foot of the bed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Chan is fine for now.” You allow yourself a sigh of relief. “However, the bullet damaged his clavicle and he lost about a litre and a half of blood. I’m sure he’ll be released in no time, but he’s going to be out of commission for a while. “

You were relieved that Christopher was going to be okay, but waiting was going to be hell. “What do we do now?” You ask Changbin, hoping that you can make yourself useful.

He swivels his head to look at you and sighs deeply. “Honestly? I’m not totally sure yet. I just need the three of you to stay here until I figure more of this shit out.”

And wait you did. Time passed a snail’s pace while you waited in the small apartment. Felix was there for a few days, but didn’t say much. He was replaced by Seungmin, and he shared some entertaining conversations to pass the time. The next week, Minho was there, and you were relieved to see a face you recognized. He helped everything seem to go a bit smoother with his witty humour.

It had to have been about two, maybe three, weeks since your altercation with Changbin. You had avoided checking the days, since you knew that would just make everything go that much slower.

“Hey, bunny?” You heard Jisung’s voice call for you from the bedroom. He walked into the living room, staring at his phone, as he came to sit next to you and Minho.

“What’s up?”

“It’s Changbin-hyung. He’s coming over and wanted to make sure you were awake.” Jisung sets his phone down on the coffee table, then relaxes back into the couch and sighs. “He didn’t say what it was, he just said it was important and he’d be here in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Huh,” Minho sighs, checking his phone as he leans back into the couch. “He hasn’t even told me. It’s probably something pretty important, then.”

The next twenty minutes dragged on as slowly as humanly possible. You, Jisung, and Minho all sat on the couch in silence, staring off into the wall.

“That’s it,” you hear a calm, soothing voice come from behind the front door. The three of you all snap your heads in that direction, and, as Jisung stands, his phone goes off. “No, you can’t - goddammit,” the voice calls again as the door handle rattles.

Jisung grabs his phone, checks it, then shoves it into his pocket. “It’s locked,” he says, advancing towards the front door. He fumbles with the lock a bit until it clicks and recedes into its cavern. “I listened to you this time, hyung,” Jisung says with a smirk as he opens the door. His face falls as soon as the door opens all the way, shocked at what he’s seeing.

“Since when do you listen?” The voice that drifts through the door is familiar, and it makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. A cold sweat comes over you as you stare at the doorway.

It’s Christopher.

Your feet start to move before you even register it. It’s almost like your brain is on autopilot as you beeline your way into his arms.

“Ow,” Christopher groans as you squeeze his ribs, “injured shoulder, injured shoulder.”

“Oh my god,” you hastily let go of Christopher, then take his face into your hands. “It’s you. It’s really you. You’re alive.”

Christopher smiles, then leans down to kiss your lips. “Hey, baby. Don’t worry, I can’t be taken out that easily.” Jisung comes closer and leans his elbow on Christopher’s good shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” the silver-haired man quips. “And here I was worried you were actually gonna die for a minute.” Christopher groans and rolls his eyes at Jisung.

“Come on,” Changbin says, placing his hand on the small of Christopher’s back and ushering him to the couch. “Let the poor guy sit down.”

“Ah, Bin,” Christopher grumbles as he walks with Changbin, “I’ve been resting for two and a half weeks straight. I don’t really need to sit down that badly.”

“I don’t care,” Changbin says, guiding the blond-haired man to the cushion. “I need you at peak condition as soon as I can get you there” He sits down next to Christopher and motions for you and Jisung to sit down. “I have important news.”

Jisung sits on the floor behind the coffee table, letting you have the spot next to Christopher on the couch. Minho leans up against the wall and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I found the person that’s been tracking you,” Changbin says as he stares into your eyes. “You’re absolutely positive you’re not involved?”

You vigorously shake your head. “Of course not. Why would I want to bring harm to a bunch of guys I barely know?”

“Because,” Changbin says, slicking his hand back through his hair. “You know who the threat is. You know them very well, actually.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare Changbin down.

“It’s your friend Minji.” Your eyes fly open and you sit back. “I don’t know if it’s just her, or if it’s something more than her, but she’s involved. You sent a pin of your location to her your first night with Chan, and that’s how they found you both.”

Your head was spinning. There was no way that Minji could ever or would ever want to hurt you. Right? “There’s no way that’s true,” you manage to squeak out, staring at the floor in disbelief. “Minji would never involve herself with something like that.”

“But she did,” Changbin sighs. “Like I said, I don’t know if it’s just her or not. It’s going to take some time to figure everything out, but once I do, I’m taking care of it.”

“Taking care of it?” You perk up cautiously.

Changbin hums, then looks to the floor. There’s an awkward silence as you wait for him to speak up. “She won’t be an issue anymore.” Christopher turns to look at him, then swivels his head around to look at you, eyes wide with shock.

You furrow your brows as you look at Christopher, then to Changbin. Your jaw drops as you realize exactly what he means. “No,” you manage to whimper out, then jump to your feet. “You’re not going to kill Minji, are you?”

Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes. “I already told you,” he says, standing up to be eye-level with you. “Nobody fucks with my family and nobody fucks with me. She’s a threat and needs to be eliminated.”

“How can you even be sure?” You’re practically yelling at Changbin now. There was no way that your friend was really in the middle of all of this.

“I have my sources,” Changbin grunts, folding his arms. “You’re not going to be able to change my mind on this. Besides, how do you think you ended up at the same place as Hyunjin and Chan that night? How do you think both of them got shot within a couple of days? It all adds up. She was using you as a cog in her machine.”

There was no way this was true.

Changbin reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, then flops a stack of papers on the table. “If you don’t believe me, then look at this. I have copies of her text messages from the week prior to the Itaewon house party, along with some other damning things in there. Why do you think you were caught up in a picture with Chan, but she wasn’t in a picture with Hyunjin? Both of you were at the same party at the same time. Bit suspicious, isn’t it?”

You start to thumb through the papers Changbin provided. Sure enough, the copies of the text messages Minji had sent to an unknown number proved him right. Starting from a couple of nights before you both went to that party, copies of conversations the two of you had before the party, including the messages you had sent each other after you parted, and the message with Christopher’s apartment’s location forwarded to some random number.

It was mind-boggling. You had known Minji for over a year now, so to be betrayed like this was a shock. She was your first and only friend you had from work. How long had she ben planning this?

The papers fell from your hands as you grabbed your face. “This can’t be true. There’s no way,” you whispered, falling to your knees. “Minji would never do this to me.”

“She did, though,” Changbin said with a sigh, folding his arms. “I don’t know if she intended for you to get involved in all of this or not, but here we are. I’ve gotta take care of this.” He reoriented himself, making eye contact with Minho and Jisung. “Can I trust this,” he motioned in a circle in front of you, “to you?”

You see Minho nod from the corner of your eye. Changbin starts to make his way for the door, but you instinctively reach out and grab his pant leg. “Please,” you whisper, unable to look at him, “please don’t do this to her. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Changbin groans heavily, and you swear you can hear him roll his eyes. “You saw the messages. I don’t know how else to convince you that your so-called ‘friend’ is not who she says she is.” He tugs his leg free from your grasp and continues walking to the door. “I’m not risking this, not for the family. Chan and Hyunjin were already injured, and that grievance is too large for me to forgive.”

He opens the door, and closes it with a slam. You swear you heard him apologize, but it easily could have been a figment of your imagination.

“Baby,” Christopher says, softly, reaching his good arm out to grab your shoulder, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do once Changbin sets his mind on something, especially if it’s something to protect the family.”

Your eyes fall on a piece of paper in front of you, and you grab it in your hands, pulling it to your face to look at it. The paper has screenshots of text messages from Minji’s phone number transcribed on it.

Yeah, she’s there now.

Best thing that could have happened, now we know where he is.

No, I don’t care. She’s expendable.

It’s orders from the top. You need to take BC out. It’ll dismantle their whole group.

Why the fuck didn’t you kill him? I just got word that he survived.

I’m going to have one of the guys kill you then clean up your mistake.

The messages from Minji seem surreal. You had no idea that she had this side to her. How much had she been hiding all this time? Did she really believe you were expendable?

Jisung leans down next to you, whispering your name. “It’s okay, bunny,” his voice is soft as he reaches up to rub the tears off of your face. “We’ll get through this.”

Christopher groans on his way to the floor, but he makes his way down right next to you. “Sung is right, baby. This is just a blip in the road. We’ve got you.”

Minho’s phone goes off, and he walks past the three of you. “Looks like Binnie changed his mind and needs my help. I’m going to take off, but Jeongin will be here to watch over in an hour or something.”

You stare at your hands, noticing they don’t even feel like an extension of your body anymore. They’re just there, somehow attached to your body. Nothing even feels real at this point. This entire month has been an absolute shitshow, and nothing could really surprise you at this point.

“What the fuck,” you manage to squeak out after a tense silence. “I thought I knew Minji.”

Jisung pulls you to his arms, tightly gripping your shoulders. “There’s no way you could have predicted this. I bet she didn’t even plan to have you be a part of this at first, that’s just the way it happened.”

In the back of your mind, everything started to fall into place. You very distinctly recall Minji pressing you to come to this stupid house party, even though you weren’t feeling it. “Minji,” you grumbled as you applied your mascara, “I’m not gonna stay for very long. I’m just gonna go in, have a drink or two, then leave. Is that fine?”

“Yes! Yes, babe, that’s great,” Minji said with a smile, winking to you in the mirror as she applied her last layer of lipstick. “Nobody wants to show up to a party alone, and nobody wants to leave a party alone. Maybe we’ll find some cute guys while we’re there?”

When you were at the party and she ducked off within minutes, it didn’t make sense. “Oh, I just saw my ex, I’ll only be gone for a minute,” she said, but she disappeared for the rest of the night. Now, in hindsight, everything made sense. She knew that Hyunjin and Christopher were at the party, and you were lucky enough to capture Christopher’s attention. She may not have intended for it to happen, but it did, and she was probably beside herself with excitement.

You shook your head, frantically running your fingers through your hair as you pulled yourself from the memory. “What the fuck is happening? How could she use me like this?” You broke away from Jisung, turning around to look at both him and Christopher. They just exchange concerned glances with each other and say nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You exclaim with a loud sigh, falling back on to the floor and staring at the ceiling. Your eyes were burning with tears that stung of your betrayal. Minji was your only friend from work, the only friend you really bothered to make and keep since you moved here. To be betrayed by her like this was another level of pain.

“Bunny,” Jisung whispers, grabbing your arm. “It’s going to be okay, maybe not right now, but we’ll get through this.”

“You don’t understand, Jisung,” you yell at him through tears, “Minji was my only close friend. After you and I split, she was the only real friend I had to vent to. To know that my entire friendship with her was a fucking lie?”

Jisung sits back on his heels, biting his lip and turning away from you. He mouths something to Christopher, but you can’t make out whatever he says. You don’t care at this point, honestly, because this whole situation is a nightmare.

“Alright, alright,” Christopher sighs, working his way to be closer to you. “No more of this pity party. It’s not on you to feel bad for her behaviour. She’s the one that fucked you over, now you need to acknowledge it and move on.”

“Chan,” Jisung starts, a bit of shock to his voice, “don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

You want to agree with Jisung, but you know that, deep down inside, Christopher is right. You drag your hands over your face and sit upright. “He’s right, though,” you say with a groan. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. She fucked it up on her own accord. I can be mad at her for this later.”

“That’s the spirit,” Christopher says, wrapping his good arm around your shoulders, “I’m not saying don’t be angry. Absolutely, let yourself be angry. But we need to figure out what we’re going to do next, alright?”

The three of you chatted for a while, and eventually Jeongin showed up, bringing some takeout from a pasta restaurant just up the street. It was a relatively uneventful dinner, some jokes springing up between the acquainted men, leaving you a bit out of the loop as you sat on and watched.

Your mind couldn’t help but travel to think about if Changbin had found Minji yet. If he found her, was she dead? You could swear that you heard her whispering your name on the wind as it drifted in from the window.

“Hey,” Jisung waved his hand in front of your face, “Are you alive in there?” The voice you were hallucinating wasn’t Minji’s, it was just Jisung, saying your name over and over as he tried to get your attention. “I was worried you had mentally checked out on us. How are you doing?” He reached his arm around you, his hand soothingly rubbing on your back.

“Oh,” you manage to squeak out, “yeah, sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Alright,” Christopher says, looking at Jisung as he stands up. “I have an idea. But I need you to grab her and bring her with, since I’m out of commission.” Christopher ducks off into the bedroom without waiting for Jisung’s response.

“Way ahead of you,” Jisung smiles, turning to Jeongin, “sorry, man, it’s gonna be a busy night without you. You cool?”

The young man with black hair waves his hand in the air dismissively as he pulls out his phone, stretching out onto the couch. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, “I’ll keep myself plenty entertained. Maybe I’ll watch one of those American programmes on TV. Brush up on my English or something.”

You’re about to open your mouth to protest, but Jisung scoops you up in his arms and throws you over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says with a perk in his voice, “we could all use this, just a little break from reality.” He brings you into the bedroom, tossing you on the bed next to Christopher. He closes the door behind him, then flops down on the bed in between both of you.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Jisung perks up, asking Christopher specifically. The blond laughs, bringing his hands behind his head.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Christopher says with a cocky smile on his face. “I can’t really do much, though,” he whines, “but I don’t mind watching you two entertain each other while I sit back.”

“You heard the man,” Jisung smirks as he rolls over on top of you. “He wants a show, so I guess we gotta give him one.”

“Oi,” Christopher interjects, “I would just like to point out that I never said you had to do anything. But, it would be nice to have a little fun. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen you guys and I could really use the stress relief,” his voice trails off as he leans back onto the headboard. “I’m fine with just taking care of it myself, too.”

Jisung crawls up to the spot right next to Christopher. “I want to watch,” he says with a wide grin as he looks at both of you.

“I don’t care,” Christopher sighs before moving to undo his jeans. “I’ve been waiting for this for far too long.” Jisung leans over to Christopher, lightly grabbing his face.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” he says with a giggle, “I’m just teasing. We’ll help you out.” Jisung presses his lips to Christopher, motioning for you to hurry up with his free hand. Christopher pushes back into Jisung, grabbing his hair with his good hand.

You watch the guys wrestle with each other a bit before you wiggle your way up into Christopher’s lap, completely undoing his pants for him. The blond groans with relief into the silver-haired man’s lips, clearly relieved to be free from the restraint of his pants. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” the blond mutters, “like, you’re not my type, Jisung, but,”

Jisung bites down on Christopher’s bottom lip, hard enough to make the older man squeal, “Yeah, are you really gonna complain about it right now, though? Because I’d be happy to stop.”

Christopher glares at the younger man, “I’m injured. Can you give me a break?”

“Aww,” Jisung mocks Christopher, jokingly pushing in his cheeks with his fingertips. “Poor boss, thinking that getting shot on the job is such a good idea. Bet that’ll teach you not to get shot next time?”

You balk at Jisung’s words, looking at him with wide eyes. Did he really just say that to his superior? Christopher catches your eye, noticing your shock. “Don’t worry,” he groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Jisung is a brat sometimes. I’ll let him have it for now, but he knows he should watch his tongue. Once I’m recovered, you’re fucked.”

Jisung scoffs. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try, tough guy.” Christopher whips his head back in disbelief, about to say something, but you interrupt both of them, sticking your hands in their faces.

“Can you save whatever this is for later?” You try to plead, but Jisung simply rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, I’ll stop whenever Chan-hyung clearly stops enjoying this,” he says with a smirk, looking down at Christopher’s lap, then up to you. Chris groans, gritting his teeth at Jisung’s nickname.

“The nickname, I told you,” he starts, but Jisung brings his finger to Christopher’s lips.

“Shush,” he whispers, and replaces his finger with his lips for a quick, soft kiss. “Come on, it’s your turn to do something, bunny, give him something to finally shut up over.”

Watching your (maybe?) ex-boyfriend tease your (maybe?) current boyfriend was a lot for you to mentally (and physically, in some regards) handle. Christopher turned to you, his eyes half open, and his mouth slightly agape.

“What is it?” You softly whisper, positioning yourself directly on top of Christopher’s lap, placing your hands on either side of his jaw, angling his face to be just under yours.

“Come on,” Christopher whines, grinding his pelvis up into yours, “you know what I want after all this time.”

“It’s only been a couple weeks,” Jisung quips, smirking at you as he leans up against the headboard. “Doesn’t seem like that long to me, no?”

Christopher groans and digs his good hand into your thigh. “Are you both seriously going to make me beg for it?”

You and Jisung eye each other, giving each other a smirk before turning your attention back to Christopher. “We can’t push you too hard, “ you say with a slight whine, grinding your hips down into his, “it would be bad for the healing process.”

Christopher rolls his eyes at you, giving you a completely deadpan look. “Are you fucking joking?”

“Oh!” Jisung gasps with feigned despair. “It could be too much physical activity if you move around too much. We can’t bump your arm around or anything, it would probably cause problems.”

“Oh my god,” Christopher whines, “I’m not gonna move my goddamn arm, I promise. Can one of you please just help me out here? My good arm has been out of service since I went out, and now I have both of you taunting me? Fucking kill me before I have to go through any more of this.”

“Okay,” you simply say, leaning down to give Christopher a deep, needy kiss. “Just promise you won’t move your arm around at all. If one of us does something that makes your arm hurt, you need to tell us, alright?”

Christopher rapidly nods his head, “Yeah, yeah, fine, just please,” he pleads with a whine, grabbing your hip with his good hand, “I want you so badly. I want to be inside you right this second. Please.”

The look that he gives you when he pleads with you makes your soul melt. It must have an effect on Jisung, too, because he makes a pointed effort to adjust himself in his spot. “I wanna watch you unravel Chan, baby,” he whispers with a devious grin. “I love that he wants you so badly.”

Christopher reorients himself against the headboard, releasing your hip from his grip. He grabs Jisung’s shoulder with his left hand, digging his fingernails into the younger man’s skin. “If you keep making comments without actions, I swear to god, I am going to rip your -“

Jisung shakes his hands in his superior’s face. “Sorry, sorry,” he pleads, “what do you want me to do?”

“Here,” you say, pulling Jisung closer to you. “Just let your hands roam around me. I’m sure you’ll elicit a reaction out of me that will pique Christopher’s interest.” Jisung nods his head to the side, agreeing with you, as he gets behind you. He helps you sneak all of your clothes off, and, by the look on Christopher’s face, it seems to be working.

Once Jisung slides your panties off, you open up the front opening to Christopher’s briefs, and waste no time mounting yourself on his cock. It’s a bit uncomfortable, since you didn’t really think ahead and prepare yourself, but you grin and bear it anyway. The look that Christopher gives you makes all of your discomfort melt away.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, letting his head fall back on the headboard. Jisung comes up from behind you, sinking his teeth into your neck and letting his hands grasp your breasts. He isn’t very subtle about it, but he’s pressing his cock up against your back, grinding up against you for some sort of stimulation.

“Looks like that’s exactly what our Chan needed, hmm?” Jisung groans into your ear, “You seem to be enjoying yourself, too, baby, yeah?”

You somehow manage to whine out some semblance of agreement, and it causes both Christopher and Jisung to tense.

Christopher rolls his head up, looking both of you in the eyes. “I have an idea,” he whimpers, “but it’s going to involve effort for both of you.”

It took effort, but within a few minutes, with a lot of lubricant that Jisung somehow managed to find, and stretching, you somehow are able to fit both Jisung and Christopher inside of you at the same time. Jisung puts in most of the physical effort, since it’s hard to find the will to get yourself to move, but it really does feel incredible.

Below you, Christopher seems to be having an otherworldly experience. His eyes are shut tightly, and he’s grabbing onto your waist with a vise grip. Jisung has one of his arms wrapped around you as best as he can, his hand stretching up in the space between your breasts. You’re trying your best not to lean up against Christopher with too much pressure, but you feel like your body is going to give out if either he or Jisung lets go of you.

When Jisung starts moving, that’s when you lose all semblance of self-control. Your voice refuses to be restrained, and you’re sure every neighbour in a twenty kilometre radius can hear you praising every deity that has ever existed. The pressure in your abdomen, albeit a bit uncomfortable, feels miraculous. You’re shouting out Christopher’s and Jisung’s names without even intending to, and the effect it’s having on them is obvious.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna,” Christopher groans deeply, letting up one thrust before he collapses into himself, moaning your name as he begins to paint your insides. “Holy fuck,” he groans again, looking up into your eyes, grabbing your face and guiding you to look at him.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, before you feel Jisung dig into your sides. “Baby,” he whines, “this is so much, I’m gonna come,.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder so hard, you’re positive you start bleeding, but you don’t care at all. In fact, you welcome it.

You aren’t really sure what you tell Jisung, you just know that you welcome it. He hastily drags one of his hands down to your clit, rotating it just enough to bring you over the edge with him.

You try your best not to collapse on to Christopher as your muscles give out. Thankfully, somehow, Jisung is able to keep a hold of you, pulling you backwards on to him. The three of you take a long moment to catch your breath, before Jisung pulls you off of Christopher and back onto him.

“What,” Jisung breathes out, “the fuck was that? Did we seriously just do that?”

Christopher lets out a small cough, then a throaty laugh. “Holy shit. That seriously happened?”

You don’t really have much to say as you come back to your senses. However, you bolt upright with a look of terror in your eyes. “Oh my god,” you say with a hushed tone, “Jeongin heard us.”

Jisung lets out a cackle. “Ah,” he says, reaching out to pull you back down to his arms, “when I stepped out there earlier, I told him to go take a walk for a little bit, that we’d be fine and he wouldn’t wanna be around for what was about to happen.”

“Crafty bastard,” Christopher retorts from his spot, letting out a couple soft chuckles.

“Hey,” Jisung groans, “you may doubt me, but I have my moments, sometimes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Christopher groans in response. “Can you grab me a paracetamol or something? My arm is fucking killing me.”

You quickly sit up, instantly regretting it due to the the spinning effect you feel. “I’ve got it,” Jisung says from behind you, rolling off of the foot of the bed, digging around in one of the drawers of the dresser. He pulls out a bottle and tosses it at Christopher.

“Thanks,” the blond says, taking out a couple of small pills and swallowing them with no qualms. “Now get back here, baby,” he says to you, tossing the bottle onto the nightstand next to him, then opening his good arm to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any water?” You ask him as you shakily pull yourself to his side.

“Don’t worry about me,” he grumbles, rotating his right arm around a bit. “Hey, you too, Jisung, get over here.”

Jisung snickers, snuggling up to your back. “What, you’re feeling soft for your blood brother?”

Christopher rolls his eyes and scoffs. “No. That was just an experience I never thought I’d cross off my list.”

“You love me,” Jisung chuckles, tossing the blanket from the end of the bed over the three of you.

“Shut up,” Christopher retorts, deliberately not offering him an affirmation or a denial.

A couple more weeks end up passing, and both you and Jisung try your hardest to help Christopher heal up his shoulder. He’s stubborn, though, trying to make things as difficult as possible at every turn. There was one time the three of you were fooling around on the couch, and Christopher nearly injured his arm even further, forgetting he couldn’t put any load-bearing weight on it. It was a crisis averted, but still a nuisance.

There were a couple of other minor problems that popped up, but the three of you had managed to laugh it off. It was weird, really, it was like you were dating both of them at the same time, but nobody really cared. Nobody got overly jealous, probably because the three of you were stuck in a small apartment together and had no other sense of release from each other.

It wasn’t a bad thing, though. You all had a strange way of working around each other’s quirks. The three of you could also sleep comfortably together on the bed, with you and Jisung alternating between the middle spot. Jisung and Christopher didn’t really know what exactly they were, but they went along with whatever it was anyways.

Sometimes they were basically dating, and other times they couldn’t stand to be around each other. It was weird when Jisung would walk past Christopher, give him a kiss on the forehead, and then continue to walk by like nothing happened. Neither of them ever really addressed it, which was peculiar, but it was what they did, and you learned to accept it.

Regardless of whatever was happening between the three of you, you made it work, and that was good enough for you. Once you were no longer in danger of being killed, and once Christopher was back to full health, the three of you could start to work towards a new normal.

It had to have been about a month since Christopher was released from the hospital, that was when Changbin came over next. It was a Saturday morning, early and unannounced. Christopher was the one that woke up to the text message from Changbin, letting you know of his presence.

Christopher didn’t have time to wake you up, only to let Changbin, Felix, and Jeongin in. You heard the three of them come through the front door, and Changbin invited himself into your bedroom.

“Get up,” he said with an assertive tone, staring you down from the doorframe. “We’ve found her. We’ve found all of them, and we need to go.”

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