#isaac would smash(as he should) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Text

ch. 2 - hustling for the good life

table of contents only reason I had the courage to post this is bc I saw another post that was like “bby you can write whatever you want.” so I did.

dancing is a dangerous game

Natalie comes back with these fluffy silver slides. They’re ridiculously comfortable and you’re not sure how she managed to find them so quick, but hey, that’s Nat for you. Her mantra is, “Comfort first.”

“You have to wear them with me,” she commands. “It’s in my contract. Plus, they go with your dress.”

You scrunch your face at her. “No it is not. I’m wearing my heels. There’s no way you’re getting me in public with those on my feet, much less a party with a bunch of famous people.”

—

“Ohmigod, I fucking love your shoes,” says Keeley Jones an hour later.

Natalie smiles and points her toe. “Thanks!” she replies, “Had to convince this one that it would be fun. And thanks for getting us the invite, Keeley. Means a lot.”

Keeley shrugs. “Not a problem, babes. I’ve known Stella for a bit, and she hosts the best parties. Her boyfriend’s around here somewhere, and he always invites a bunch of his football friends. They’re pretty hot,” she says as she shoots you a pointed look. “Perfect for getting over a recent breakup?” she says pointedly.

You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not really looking for anything right now,” you admit.

“Or ever,” Natalie coughs.

“Fine,” you concede. “Or ever. I don’t really have time for another relationship between Mango and getting ready for the Blue Glass tour. Too much work.”

Keeley nods and says, “Ah. Last relationship was PR, was it?”

“Try last three,” you sigh. “But don’t tell anyone. They were trying to put out the rumor that I was getting engaged, but I don’t think that I could play with someone’s life like that. It’s just too hard. If I were to date again, I’d want it to be real. And private. But…” you shrug. “I’m me. I’ve had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of privacy I currently have.”

Keeley shakes her head. “Well babe, they say there’s someone for everyone but for now, enjoy the single life! Go get a drink then meet me on the dance floor, yeah? My boyfriend isn’t here because he’s an old grump, but I promised him I’d have enough fun for the both of us.”

She talks about her boyfriend so affectionately that is stirs something in your chest. You think Keeley Jones must have the rare luxury of real love, and you wonder what that must be like.

“Come on don’t get all morose on me now, we’re getting smashed,” Natalie says as she drags you to the bar. You raise an eyebrow. “Ok, alright, I’m getting smashed,” she amends. “Keeley swore up and down the walls that this party isn’t going to end up on the internet, and I’m going to take full advantage of that.”

You roll your eyes as Natalie herds you to an in-home bar and pushes her way through tall, muscly men. You admire her faith in Keeley, but you know that you can never be completely in control.

“Do you make espresso martinis?” she shouts above the din. The man behind the counter nods as you give her a strange look. “What?” she asks, “Don’t act like coffee and booze aren’t the best combo since peanut butter and jelly.”

She takes her drink and says, “We should go find Isaac and Stella so you can thank them for having you. You know, meet the hosts and everything.”

“Alright,” you say, “but then we’re dancing the night away. Don’t need to be buzzed to have a good time.”

“But it’s better if you are,” she replies as she grabs your hand once more, weaving through what you assume are famous footballers, actors, and models. You wave to a couple people you know as she ducks under arms, effortlessly taking sips of her martini.

Natalie stops in front of two people you’re pretty sure you’ve never met before, and you’re having trouble placing their faces.

She nudges you as she says, “Isaac, Stella, pretty sure you already know who this one is.”

They smile, and Stella leans forward to kiss the air beside each of your cheeks, which are a little flushed from Natalie’s presumption. You introduce yourself anyway, because you’re not going to assume people know who you are, for goodness’ sake.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” Isaac says. “Fucking mental, you’ve been top of the charts for months now.”

Stella nods in agreement. “Me and the girls have been listening to Mango ever since it came out. I mean come on, Patch is absolutely gorgeous.” She catches your squirm of discomfort and continues, “But you must be tired of talking about all that. Don’t worry, darling, you can dance all your cares away. Everyone here is somebody, so no one cares who you are.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for her perception. “I’ll keep that in mind you say. Oh shit, is that Margaret? I’m going to go say hey. Haven’t seen her in forever.”

You excuse yourself to the other side of the room to grill Margaret about her relationship.

—

The night is sliding by at a glorious pace as you catch glimpses of Natalie flitting back and forth, making new friends and connections that she’s sure to use to your advantage later.

You’ve passed a pleasant hour dancing with Keeley and Margaret but you get tired of it without the buzz of alcohol in your veins. You decide to slip into a corner and observe, relishing the sheer disinterest that people have you. You’re pretty sure you see a Beckham walk by, as well as an actress with a blockbuster summer movie.

Andrew would’ve loved this, you think and you allow yourself to indulge in a memory of your staged romance with the guitarist.

Andrew used to take you dancing. He’d pull you onto the dance floor and put his hands on your hips to help you move in time with the music. He was the kind of person where a touch never felt threatening, and it was actually enjoyable the way he’d slide a hand down your arm to sway you with the music. He’s the reason you can move as well as you do and can actually enjoy yourself without feeling self-conscious.

You think of the song you wrote together, Ice, and how you thought your friendship with him might be the closest thing you ever had to love. Maybe you had just conflated admiration with adoration, but if he decided he had real feelings for you, you think you could have made it work.

But he had his own albums to promote, so your breakup was timed to bring in the most hits. You missed him, but still talked every now and then.

You silently thank Natalie for pressuring you into wearing those goddamn slippers because yeah, they’ve been getting comments, but as people get drunker, they stop caring about what other people look like and more about their own comfort.

You can catch bits and pieces of conversation, familiar voices mixing with the unfamiliar, and it’s soothing for a moment until it’s not.

Without warning, the room is too hot and too stifling, and your skin is tight on your body and you can hear your heart pounding louder than the bass of the music.

Fuck.

You look around for an exit, maybe a door to the backyard or something where you can panic unnoticed. You push your way to the kitchen and see a sliding door. It’s open and inviting, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s outside so you take a step into the cool night air.

There’s a pool, so you take off the slippers, bunch your dress up to your knees, and dip your feet in.

The shock of the water combined with fresh air begins to slow your breathing and you take a moment to appreciate the relative peace, when a voice breaks the spell.

“Too crowded, innit?” says someone in an accent that’s definitely British, but not in a way that you can place.

You turn to see someone sitting on one of the recliners. You must have missed him when you first came out.

“Nice shoes,” he says, getting up.

Don’t sit next to me, don’t sit next to me, you silently will him because anyone closer than three feet feels like choking.

He might be telekinetic because he sits three and a half feet away, trousers rolled up.

“Had the same idea,” he continues. “Isaac throws a mad party, but it gets all crowded and shit. And anyway, I still got training tomorrow. Or maybe it’s today.” He frowns. “Got no idea what time it is.”

You note that he seems to be personal friends with Isaac and that he mentioned training, so he must be a footballer.

He also seems to be perfectly content to fill the silence without your help.

“I’m Jamie, by the way,” he says. “You’re American, ain’t ya? Heard there were a whole bunch of you coming. None of you appreciate good football.” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “Bet you don’t even know who I am, do you?”

You tilt your head to better assess his face in the darkness. You think he might be familiar, but maybe he just has one of those faces.

Jamie obliges your perusal by moving his head to better catch the light. “Don’t matter, love. Stay in Richmond long enough and you’ll see this sexy face all over.”

He studies your face for a moment. “You’re a musician, right? That new one with the album about the fruit.”

You chuckle and say, “I’d hardly say I’m new. That was technically my third album if you don’t count the singles. Did one called Rotary Phone first, but people didn’t pay much attention till the first single on Blue Glass. Turned out pretty good, too. But yeah, my new album has a fruit on it. Not really about mangoes, but…” You trail off. Those are the most words you’ve said to a stranger in a long time but Jamie doesn’t notice.

“Right, yeah, ok,” he says, “I remember your name.”

He pauses before saying it into the night.

You almost shiver.

You’ve never quite heard your name like that before.

It’s a little distorted with his accent, but the way he says it it’s almost- familiar. Like the way a close friend would say it.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply quietly. “Big star, or something.”

Jamie nods. “Hm. Oi, you’re best mates with Taylor Swift!”

That makes you laugh.

“Nah, I’m really not. People just think that because we both play guitar.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before Jamie’s disagreeing with you.

“You have to be good friends. I mean she basically co-wrote half of Blue Glass!”

“Tay was just featured in Creekside. She’s not listed anywhere else.”

“C’mon. Allie Gooding? The bird you have as one of your co-writers? You expect me to believe that’s not Taylor Swift?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Jamie gives you a look. “Allie? Alison? Taylor Alison Swift? It ain’t hard to figure out.”

You scoff as you tell him that he’s reaching. “You sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist.”

Jamie’s still looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, but he changes the subject. “What’s your favorite song you’ve written?”

“Margarita,” you reply without hesitation. “No contest.”

Margarita was on Rotary Phone and is more of a deep cut, but Jamie seems to know it because he nods in approval.

“Mine’s Tiny,” he says. “I like that the words are about his heart but it’s really about his dick.”

You smile. Tiny was really fun to write. “Wait, hang on, how do you know so much about my music? You were acting like you’d barely heard of me.”

Jamie grins. “Didn’t want to freak you out, did I? A pretty girl’s a pretty girl, no matter the fame.”

You laugh at that and he joins in for a moment before becoming serious.

“Oi, but really, are you alright? Saw you come out here with your hand pressed to your chest, like.”

You take a shallow breath before answering with as much sparkle as you can muster.

“Oh yeah, totally. All good.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow and you raise one right back, but he isn’t backing down.

“I won’t press you, but I know what anxiety looks like. Gaffer- er, coach has it pretty bad.”

You’re saved from responding by Natalie staggering outside with Keeley on one arm.

“There you are!” she shouts. “Been looking everywhere for you. See that one?” she asks Keeley, pointing in an exaggerated fashion. “That’s my best friend. My famous, gorgeous, single, bestie.” She notices Jamie and smiles. “You want to date her? She could use a boyfriend and maybe a couple laughs.”

You frown as you get up to rescue Keeley from drunk Nat.

“No, I couldn’t. I’m good. And you should probably get home, young lady.”

That just makes Nat and Keeley giggle. “What is she, your mum?” Keeley gasps.

Jamie gets up too and makes his way toward Keeley. “Oi, Keels, better get you home safe so granddad doesn’t have a fit.”

She peers at his face before patting it and saying, “Jamie? When’d you get here? You trying to get with this one?”

“Nah,” Jamie says, “she wouldn’t be interested in someone like me anyway. Now come on, love, I’ll drive you home.”

He disappears inside with Keeley wobbling on his arm, loudly saying something about how he needs to be nicer to himself.

You sigh and reach for your phone to call the car.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

111 notes · View notes

phantomphangphucker · 10 months ago

Text

Phic Phight - Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome

@atropos_aeneas @Anguished-Lurker @higgidigs @princessfanonanona @Ghostfox_fuyu @armed-with-knitting-needles

No one had ever died, a fact Phantom and all of Amity was frankly proud of, that couldn’t last though… could it? Or was everyone just too changed by everything for them to be undone by death? Either way, Lancer has class to teach and a school to more or less run.

Lancer was well aware of the simple fact that Amity Park was a very dangerous and strange town to live in, and he was also well aware that the reason for that was not just the ghosts; only mostly them. The teens in town had all long since lost any semblance of risk avoidance and had taken to doing incredibly dangerous hobbies; frequent drag races, parkour, rooftop hockey, and actively playing with the smaller ghosts. It worried him some honestly, more so in the early days than now, now it was just simply normal.

Everyone being slightly ecto-contaminated, and thusly much more durable with minor healing factors, gave him some peace of mind at least.

Further, if he’s being honest, Jack Fenton’s driving was far more dangerous than any ghost, known and unknown, to man. He, like everyone else in Amity, firmly believed that who ever approved Jack Fenton’s license, if anyone actually had, should be fired and investigated posthaste. One of the downsides to being aware of the road threat that was Jack Fenton was being too relaxed when there wasn’t a GAV road warning out. Another was not being worried about any other driver's, because surely one insane driver would cancel out the requirement for any other forms of bad driving; everyone would drive like angels to avoid being compared to Jack, drag races notwithstanding. And the last downside was having something of a god complex behind the wheel, if one could survive Jack Fenton’s driving on the weekly then surely they were immune to road-related injuries.

All three of these downsides were exactly why Lancer was currently in this situation. Him get t-boned by a semi -an out of town delivery semi, Lancer notes very pointedly- and was thrown front end first into a fire hydrant… and unfortunately all of Amity’s fire hydrants -and telephone poles for that matter- had to be reinforced both because of ghosts and Jack Fenton.

Now all of that would have been acceptable, more or less, he would have gotten badly injured for sure but Lancer had always had a love for older vehicles; meaning he drove an older vehicle, one without a seatbelt or airbags. In retrospect that was rather foolish to do in Amity, but sue him, he was allowed to take some risks himself too. So instead of smashing his face into an airbag and having a seatbelt to hold him in, Lancer went out the windshield, which thankfully seemed to just pop out since he never really felt it shatter.

So now here Lancer is, groaning and pushing himself up out of a bush, a bush that he is thanking everything that he got thrown into since it must have cushioned the impact. And giving himself a once over, maybe not wearing seatbelts or having airbags in this town was actually a good idea, seeing as there doesn’t appear to be a single scratch on him. His clothing isn’t even torn, at least he doesn’t have to try and replace one of his favourite shirts; it was important to appreciate the little mercies. His car on the other hand…

Pushing his way out of the bush and staring at the wreck, his car is a pancake. Unrecognizable even.

If he hadn’t been thrown out he would certainly be dead.

Explicitly dead.

Vaguely he wonders if he would have become a ghost himself, in this town and with this contamination, it was mostly likely a certainty. Instead, his potentially poor road safety decisions and ecto-contamination had just saved him. Saved him from not just medical bills but potentially death itself. Breathing out slowly, quoting Isaac Asimov, “Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome”, breathing again, “much the same, I was well before and I shall be well again. Any shock, replacing my car, and suddenly facing my mortality; is only a troublesome transitional period”; and breaths again.

He’s aright.

Well. Okay.

Yes he’ll need to check his meager bank account -even these days teachers were still woefully underpaid- to see if he had the funds for a new used vehicle. Then there was all the time researching and searching for something he could both drive and would enjoy driving. But he was o-kay, and that was enough.

He, however, did not have the time for shock or to got to the hospital; he had a class to teach tomorrow and paper work to be done. Daniel was still settling in as a teacher and Lancer will not let that boy-now-man down now after everything Lancer’s done to get him to enjoy schooling again. Especially when his parents still seemed to not truly care about the man, and frankly the odd man was only able to get a job by being too good to refuse to hire… and it helped Daniel actually cared about all the teens. Wanted them to not go through all the troubles he seemingly did; the stories Lancer got often made him feel like he both failed and succeeded with the man at the same time.

Was Lancer distracting himself with his usual worry ex-student? Maybe. But it gets him moving to check on the driver enough to see that the older man’s alright but shaken and calling the emergency line. Lancer would stick around but again, he has school to prepare for.

So instead he walks home. Nothing more nothing less. Doesn’t stop for food. Doesn’t go to peruse the Bookworm’s shelves for new reads, as he had been planing to do. Doesn’t even stop to say high to the nearest gas station clerk. He goes home, makes tea, wraps himself in a blanket, allows himself to watch three episodes of his most recent favourite soap opera, and then finishes winding down with paper work. Grading seniors papers was usually genuinely enjoyable rather than purely tedious or worrying, since seniors took things more seriously.

It’s… a good way to end what could have been a truly horrific day even if he definitely felt a fair bit off kilter.

When he gets up in the morning he doesn’t really think much about still feeling a bit off or the bout of insomnia he had; he had been through a rather traumatic experience after all. He only hopes the lack of sleep doesn’t catch up with him in the middle of the day, he didn’t like being off his game. However, having a tired teacher and vice principle, was better than not having one at all. He’ll take what he can get in this case, he was lucky he was fine at all as it was.

So regardless of the potential looming exhaustion, Lancer hails a cab to work. The cabbie gives Lancer a bit of a strange look but quickly shrugs and takes him to Casper-high without comment; perhaps Lancer should have actually checked his face for any bruising, he did have make up he could have covered any busing with after all…

The ride was blissfully normal, thankfully, at least. Yes Lancer will admit he was a bit nervous about another accident, even if the chance of that happen twice in one week to him was statistically speaking incredibly unlikely. The sun hasn’t risen above the horizon yet, the sky is clear, there’s no ghosts, and Casper-high looks fully intact.

Good. Normal.

However, as he approaches the building, something explicitly not normal and concerningly not good happens. The faintly sparkling ghost shield, the one that mostly protected the school from most of at least the weaker ghosts, the one FentonWorks product that had never caused any kind of issues or damages, the one anti-ghost method of protecting the students that didn’t involve guns, and the one that Lancer had felt the mild tingle of passing through near daily for the past year. The tingle was strange but an easy adjustment, especially for the safety it provided, being ecto-contaminated was well known to be why the tingle happened especially as those who frequented Casper-high had more ecto-contamination than most. The Highschool was, unfortunately, a ghost hot spot after all and frequent decontamination of the grounds and equipment was a must as a result.

Apparently today was the day that the shield decided to be a problem, perhaps the ecto-contamination in him -and likely all the other more senior staff- had simply gotten to too high a level… which would of course mean he’d have to have a conversation with the Fenton’s immediately. Or rather, he should call Daniel, let him know of this issue and to arrive slightly early to check it out, that was a far less painful idea and would involve far less monologuing from the Fenton patriarch… or the man accusing Lancer of being a ghost and covering him in goop for the hundredth time.

So Lancer pulls out his phone with a sigh, eyeing the shield as it rings and he holds it up to his ear.

“Lance? What’s up? It’s still, like, ass-o-clock in the morning there’s no way I’m late. Oh Ancients am I late or something? Fuck”.

Lancer sighs to himself, he never did manage to get Daniel’s language under control. At least he never swore at students… well, he did just not in English, which was good enough apparently. “Language. No, you’re not late. However there seems to be an, issue, of some kind with the ghost shield and I was inquiring if you’d be willing to check it out before I have to deal with Maddie or, forbid, Jack”, then quoting Eat That Frog!, “One of the very worst uses of time is to do something very well that need not to be done at all”.

Daniel laughs, loudly, “okay, okay, that makes sense. I’ll be there sooner than you’d expect me to be, ‘cause Amity is ‘like that” and all. If it’s really jacked up then I’ll have to get them to take it down though”, grumbling, “since I’m not allowed to have the codes or blueprints anymore”.

Lancer frowns faintly, those parents of his had absolutely no trust in him anymore, yes Daniel was ‘pro ghost’ unlike them and yes Daniel was also a prankster known for messing with things, but that didn’t really matter. Daniel was a genius in his own right, about ghosts and tech and space, he just didn’t agree with them, which made him a fool and a risk in their eyes. Lancer shakes his head, “unfortunate. I’ll see you soon then”. The phone clicks off and Lancer settles in to wait.

Daniel shows up not even three minutes later, weirdly quick, almost concerning actually, but that was normal for him. It was something to do with his and the towns contamination making it so that he nearly teleported unintentionally around when he wanted to go somewhere specific, the towns ecto-energy snagging onto his and pulling him along… or at least that’s the explanation Daniel was going with at least.

Daniel is waving at him with furrowed brows and a possibly pinched -it was hard to tell with Daniel- smile, the man does eye the shield some as he gets over fully. Daniel humming, “well it’s not on fire”.

Lancer grimaces, that would be much more concerning, “is that possible?”.

Daniel shrugs, “I mean maybe, their base substrate before filtering and whatnot is super flammable. I’m not allowed near it for reasons”, and smirks to himself in that way that tells Lancer the man intentionally set something on fire with it. Daniel looks back to him, and yes his smile is definitely pinched, “let’s, uh, walk over to the control box”, gestures over Lancer’s shoulder and starts walking without waiting for a response.

Lancer just watches him go for a beat, a little thrown off, something was up and something being up with Daniel was never good. Having to catch up a little, even if Daniel wasn’t exactly going fast since he knew that Lancer wasn’t what anyone would call a fast walker, “alright, what’s wrong? I can tell something is bothering you”.

Daniel glances at him before running a hand through his hair, his other stuffed into his pants pocket, “Lance… there ain’t a great to say this-”.

Oh. On Shakespeare’s grave, that is an incredibly bad thing to hear Daniel say. No one, especially Daniel, says that there isn’t a great way to say something unless the something is either very bad, very annoying, or very upsetting. Lancer’s silently hoping for the ‘very annoying’ option.

Daniel’s hand moves down to rub his neck, making Lancer feel more worried; hair fiddling plus neck rubbing plus Daniel was extremely ominous. Daniel continues speaking, “-see the thing is, right, it’s, ah- well there is problem, and the problem does involve the shield”.

Lancer is going to start sweating at this point, “Chicken Soup For The Soul, just tell me, Daniel. You’re going to give me a heart attack with all this beating around the bush. That is terrifying from you”. The last time Daniel had skirted around an issue and problem like this was when a, swear on his Anne Rice collection, full blown ghost invasion happened.

Daniel’s laugh is awkward and nervous, once again an ominous sign, how bad was this going to be? “Okay that’s fair, ha”, rubbing his neck some more before halting his steps and eyeing Lancer as he too stops, “look, it’s not the portal, Lance, it’s, uh, it’s you”.

Lancer blinks in a way he knows is a bit owlish, “I’m not sure I follow?”, how was it himself? He’s fairly certain he hadn’t had any recent run ins with ghosts or general ectoplasm? And thanks to his insomnia he knows there was no ghosts being thrown through his bedroom walls without his awareness. So his ecto-contamination shouldn’t be noticeably any worse than it was on Friday?

Daniel makes a range of faces, confusion, sadness, worry, amusement, and absolute bafflement, “have you just, not looked in a mirror today? Have, Lance man, how have you not noticed? I-what”, turning away and almost wheeze laughing at the air, “what am I supposed to do with this?”.

Oh maybe near death experiences could have a more ghostly side effect in an ecto-contaminated town perhaps? And maybe he definitely should have thought about using some make-up, he must be bruised then. He puts a hand to his chest and sighs, “is my face just bruised up? I did get into a bit of an-”, and cuts himself off due to a bit of spastic full body twitch. It’s… he’s never felt anything like that before and he absolutely does not want to actually talk about the accident. Maybe he did have some shock? More trauma than he expected? Frowning, now he’s worrying himself.

Daniel looks back to him and winces, not in a confused or worried way but rather in a knowing way, “yeah um, don’t try talking about it, I don’t need to know the how. That’d be rude of me”, and sighs, looking up at the sky. Lancer is now more worried because Daniel did not care about ‘being rude’, Catcher In The Rye, the man made a point to be rude sometimes. Daniel doesn’t give him a chance to interrupt, “okay, so, you do not have bruising, yay?”, Daniel looks awkward even if he’s still looking up at the sky, “it’s more that, well, you’re, you know or not I suppose, glowing”.

What.

Lancer blinks harshly, shaking himself off a little from that spasm earlier before responding, “I’m… glowing?”. Lifting a hand and inspecting it, his hand looked normal to him?

Daniel laughs at the action and Lancers confusion almost fondly, then shaking his head and pulling out his phone, holding the turned off screen up to Lancer’s face.

In his reflection Lancer… is, in fact, glowing.

He’s actually glowing.

His eyes are a light baby blue.

Glowing baby blue.

…

Is… is that why the cabbie was staring?

…

What.

Daniel pockets his phone, grabs Lancer by the arm, and basically drags Lancer over to a bench to sit down. Lancer’s a little too confused and concerned to do anything, the reminder of Daniel’s odd strength is a bit of a distraction at least.

What does this mean?

Why is he glowing of all things?

How is he glowing?

…

He feels fine.

He does feel fine right?

His clothes fit him like normal.

The ground under his feet feels the same… or maybe does? Is he… lighter perhaps?

…

Oh.

He’s… not breathing is he?

He’s not breathing.

He’s. Not. Breathing.

He is not breathing and Daniel’s just… sitting next to him… waiting?

Waiting… for him? To figure that out?

To figure out that he’s not breathing? That something is very wrong?

Why isn’t he-?

The accident.

The car crash.

Him getting thrown through a windshield.

Fahrenheit 451, he didn’t feel the windshield shatter because it didn’t.

The windshield didn’t pop out or shatter, but he still went through it.

He…

He died.

He died, didn’t he?

Death.

…

He only realizes absently that he’s shaking, that’s… understandable. He… Swallowing and moving to rest his elbows on his knees, folding his hands over his mouth and chin, “I’m… dead?”.

Daniel nods, Lancer doesn’t see it but he knows the man nodded anyways, “yeah. Yeah you are”.

The confirmation is a bit awful, actually. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”, and actually looks at Daniel.

Daniel shrugs, eyeing Lancer some back, “I guess that depends on what you’re gonna do about it? You’re here, not in the gz. You remember yourself, you life, teaching, all that”, Daniel gestures out to the town loosely, “and Amity does have enough free floating ecto to support the standard ghost”. Lancer swallows while Daniel gestures at him, “you’re human passing”, smiling in a way that’s definitely supposed to be reassuring, “technically, no one has to know, or no one else has to at least. De-glow spray is a real thing FentonWorks makes and it does actually work as intended. And you’re old enough you can just start wearing glasses all the time without people really questioning it; just with ecto-lenses in them”.

Lancer blinks, he- does he want that? He wants to teach, of course, teaching the young to appreciate the written world has always been his passion. “I… don’t know”.

Daniel nods like he expected that response, “well, you don’t have to make a choice really. Not immediately anyways. You could just pretend you’re not, you know, and just push the existential crisis off till later. I can easily get you de-glow and glasses before school actually starts. Maybe say I did something stupid again and blew up a few more microscopes, so I’m your assistant for the next while as punishment”.

Lancer’s not so mild freak out is being steamroll somewhat by the reminder that Daniel was disturbingly good at and quick on his feet about making excuses and spinning stories into believable lies. It’s a… skill, just a concerning one to have. “That’s- alright. Okay”.

Daniel nods readily, “well if you want my opinion, moving to the gz is a fucking stupid idea. You know that ghost are not inherently dangerous, or violent, or bad; like my folks claim. So I don’t need to tell you that me playing assistant is not me making sure you behave”, rolling a wrist, “more… actual assistance I guess. Guidance. Advice”, shrugging, “weird that that’s for another teacher instead of the kids this time, but eh”.

… Lancer stares at him a little, this was… way too normal of a reaction. Yes Lancer himself wasn’t having a… complete melt down, but that was supposed to be… normal… for ghosts. Ghosts liked being ghosts.

Shakespeare’s grave he’s a ghost now.

…

Which is, possibly, alright. Okay. A ‘he’ll get used to it’ situation rather than a genuine soul crushing tragedy.

He definitely can’t be leaving Amity to retire now though…

That was unfortunate.

…

Shaking his head, back to the point, Daniel was being too calm about this. Way too calm. Yes the man was familiar with this… this subject but still. “Daniel, you’re, awfully calm about this. All of it”. With helping. With having advice at the drop of a hat. With his favourite teacher being… dead.

Has this…

Has this happened before?

Daniel’s face actually manages to pale a little, giving Lancer an answer to a question he didn’t have to ask. This has happened before.

To who?

How’d they handle it?

Were they handling it at all? Or just ignoring it?

If literally anyone dies in Amity do they simply… become a ghost instantly?

Daniel sighs, shoulders straightening some. Lancer has a feeling he’s going to find out something that he’d rather not. He wants to know if this has happened to anyone else, but he doesn’t really want to know who. Daniel’s voice is calm, even, neutral. Speaking as he’s looking out at the town, “I suppose you’ll find out one way or another, ghosts are gossips”, Daniel eyes him, blue becoming green, “I’m not ecto-contaminated”.

Oh.

…

Daniel was… dead? That’s…

There’s no other world for it other than awful. Even if he doesn’t even have to ask if the man’s okay with it, Lancer knows he’d have to be with how he talks about ghosts and death, but that doesn’t make it less awful. Lancer stares at those green eyes for a beat before looking to the ground, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly, “how long?”. Even if it was okay to ask how he wouldn’t want to and not just because it would be unpleasant to know, it also feels… wrong somehow.

That’s probably a ghost feeling, isn’t it?

Daniel’s voice remains even, the question seemingly not bothering him, “my how and when is easy to figure out, so I mind being asked… less. Still mind it but I’m not going to assault someone over it. My, accident, was the talk of the whole school after all”.

Lancer grimaces, right, The Accident, with a capital A, if he wasn’t a bit… out of it then he would have put that together himself. “Apologies, you’re right, that… should have been obvious”.

Daniel shrugs, “that’s fine, you’re not exactly okay right now and just had some seriously fucking mind blowing news dropped on you”, then, of all things, he laughs, “though if you had just used a damn mirror this conversation would have happened a lot earlier”.

Lancer can respect the attempt to lighten the mood, even if it feels a little… insulting. “And I suppose I wouldn’t have confused the cabbie”.

“A cabbie actually drove you here? What the Zone is wrong with that cabbie?”, and barks out a laugh, “this town is crazy. Granted that’s kinda my fault but oh well”.

Lancer gave up trying to convince the man that it really wasn’t a long time ago, and looking Daniel over… he had milked that ‘ecto-contamination’ lie for all it was worth. Because, now that Lancer knew that was a lie, Daniel being… a ghost was obvious, wasn’t it? The pointed ears hidden barely by wild hair that’s a little too black. The fangs that were practically shown off when he laughed or smiled; which he did a lot. How pale his skin was, nearly seeming translucent under the right light. The sharp pointed nails that have caused an unfortunate amount of damages; his beaker dropping problem made a lot more sense now as well. Quoting Flannery O’Conner at the teen, “It does not take much to make us realize what fools we are, but the little it takes is long in coming”.

Daniel grins at him, “you and your book related quotes, man”.

Wait, was Lancer going to start dropping things to?

Shaking his head and taking a breath… or pretending to he supposes. He should try and figure all this out, he’s not sure he could actually handle it if he started… floating suddenly.

Being told he is and looks like a ghost is one thing. Suddenly floating or shooting out ecto-beams was another matter entirely, one he’s positive will give him a complete break down.

… He could see how this would be easier to deal with as a teen. Teens were adaptable, might find some aspects cool; Amity teens adjusted to ghosts far quicker than the adults after all.

Daniel’s starting to look a little concerned again, so Lancer pipes up, “am I going to have your beaker dropping problem?”.

Daniel scrunches up his entire face, “you will never let me live that down, will you”, grumbling incoherently to himself before addressing Lancer again, “no. Probably not”, squinting, “you feel like a normal ghost, so the abilities ghosts have shouldn’t act up out of your control on you”, running his neck, “I mean sure, you’re definitely going to doing things without noticing. That’s unavoidable. Things just come too naturally to ghost, you know?”, shrugs, “but, for me, my accident was aggressively unique and resulted in me very much so not being a normal ghost”, pouting a little, “hence all the poor poor beakers that no one will let me forget about”, pouting more, “and all the problems keeping my pants up, and most of the burnt homework, and my little bathroom problem-”

“This is why you go to the bathroom constantly?”. One of his biggest mysteries, solved. Lancer actually would rather not have that one solved, if being dead was the why.

Daniel rubs his neck while standing up, “yeah? Surprise I guess? You really don’t have worry about a similar issue though”, shrugging, “and I guess there’s some benefits, part of the reason all the ghost attacks don’t cause more damages, or Ancients forbid, deaths, is because I’m officially classified as an endangered species. Meaning genuinely endangering my existence is a crime”.

Lancer sighs into his hands before pushing himself to stand up as well, definitely noticing how much easier doing that was now. No knees aching, to spine cracking… no heavy drag from gravity. He does not like that he has to make a point to reassure himself that he is not floating. Eyeing Daniel , “that’s, a little concerning, Daniel, but I suppose I should be happy about you having specific protections”.

Daniel rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah yeah, doesn’t stop them from trying to ‘socialize’ with me by picking fights”, pointing at Lancer, “which, word to the wise, if some ghost tries to pick a fight just tell them no. Do not fight them, they take that as an invitation to keep doing it. No hitting them with fire extinguishers, or chairs, or tires, or baking trays, or that one time you somehow hit Skulker with The Box Ghost. At least off of school grounds anyways”.

Lancer frowns, “why is it okay on school grounds?”.

Daniel gestures for Lancer to follow him, resulting in them walking in the direction of the shields control panel, Daniel probably had a way to deal with it considering everything. Daniel talking as they go, “well you’re the vice principle, and as far as I’m aware the principle is not a ghost. Meaning you’re the senior one here, so here’s your territory. You’ll worry all the ghosts if you don’t smash Technus’s ass with a candle jar or something, when he inevitably starts crawling out of the speakers for world domination again. And then they’ll start babying you and you don’t want that, it is very annoying”.

Lancer feels a little confused, but well ghost behaviour often didn’t make sense… which was unfortunately ominous now. He does not want to lose the ability to relate to the staff and students… but… there’s nothing he can actually do about that.

Wait, if he remembers correctly, which he usually did remember his conversations with Daniel well since it encourage the boy-now-man so much, then ghosts only really ‘baby’, well, child ghosts. “Am I a child now”. What?

Daniel stops walking, bending over and puttimg his hands on his knees, wheeze laughing, “oh man! Ha! Yeah, yeah Lance you are”, standing up straight and snickering a little, “since you are, or were really, an adult before you won’t be a child ghost for long, so don’t beat yourself up about it too much”. Daniel is very clearly mocking him, Lancer’s willing to let it slide like usual.

At least once they get to the control panel all Daniel has to do to short it out long enough for both of them to get through, by shoving his hand intangibly through it. The man does it like it’s nothing, like it’s normal and not tied to an… untimely death. Which is oddly comforting, though Lancer seriously doubts he’ll ever be that okay with any part of his body going through something.

Daniel seems to agree with Lancer’s thoughts, “I guess I’ll be showing up at ass-o-clock all the time now, to let you in and everything”, shrugging, “eh sleeps for the weak and the living”.

Right.

The insomnia… which was not actually insomnia. He just… doesn’t need sleep anymore. That was going to take some time to get used to, but at least he’d have more time for grading and paperwork. Which might be quite nice actually. “You don’t mind?”.

Danny shakes his head as Lancer unlocks the school, “naw. Intangibility is stupidly unsettling in the beginning, not gonna expect anyone who actually remembers being alive to just up and start using it willy nilly. Plus you don’t know what wires to intangibly disconnect without even looking at, unlike me”.

Lancer gives him a bit of a glare for the blatant bragging, even if he does agree that he does not want to be using that ability himself, ever maybe.

Once they get to Daniel’s staff locker, which Lancer is guessing has stuff to help him not obviously be… a ghost, the man shoves his hand through the door instead of opening it; and pulls out a can, a box of lozenges labeled ‘echo soothers’, and, yes, some glasses. Daniel offering them over, “the de-glow works just like bug spray, smells like cotton candy for some reason though. And glasses are glasses, I don’t need to explain that. The cough drop looking mother fuckers will get rid of that whole echoing voice issue, even if yours is barely noticeable at all”.

Lancer eyes the items a bit before taking them, “I guess it makes sense you’d have this on school grounds”.

Daniel blinks before smacking his forehead, “oh no, I don’t have to use this stuff normally, it’s more in case my typical bad luck strikes and I need it suddenly”, rubbing his neck, “one of my unique species abilities is the ability to look human via shapeshifting. I’d need a lot more than just that to look human passing otherwise”, gesturing to his ears with his pointed nails and grinning enough to show fang, “obviously it’s not perfect but eh. At least my skins not teal this way, that would be a pain”.

Lancer’s a bit jealous honestly, however strange or not using a ghost ability like that would be he’d still be using that one. Lancer sprays the can on his hand a little experimentally, oh okay he hadn’t realized his skin was tingling until it stopped tingling. Odd. Well… at least the tingle wasn’t noticeable enough to wind up being distracting.

Daniel eyes Lancer’s hand and nods with a smile, “it’s working”, looking to Lancer’s face, “the tingle that you absolutely hadn’t noticed earlier gone now?”.

Daniel was so used to this that Lancer’s honestly a bit in awe. His former student was effectively becoming his teacher now. Strange but something of a nice comfort actually. Lancer nods and at Daniel’s ‘well go on’ gesture sprays himself entirely and puts on the glasses.

Daniel nods more so to himself, “yup, works. Figured. Congrats on being human-passing”, and gives Lancer a silly little thumbs up.

Lancer nods back, he would definitely be upset if he had to skip teaching because of this. So maybe Daniel’s suggestion to just go about his, well, ‘life’ as it were, as if nothings really changed was what he actually should do. Though, “my appearance is still going to change though, correct? Over time?”.

Daniel grins wide and points at his teeth, “oh definitely, I’d say sorry but that won’t change shit. All adults have fangs and claws; most have the ear points too. You might get lucky and that’ll be it and it’ll all be small, or your skin could change colours or you could develop something unique to you. Like Ember and The Lunch Lady have their fire hair, and Technus doesn’t have legs at all-”.

That would be extremely unfortunate. Lancer’s not sure he could even deal with that, part of his body being on fire or not having legs or growing another limb perhaps.

Daniel puts his hands together and gestures with them, “-but I highly doubt that, unique looks are usually tied to, well, the how of death. Like, my upper left side, arm included, is more electricity than physical matter. The permanent bed head’s also a unique trait, not just me being lazy”.

“Do you at least still brush it”. Lancer’s a little… disturbed by part of his former students body being electricity…

Daniel rolls his eyes before flopping down on the lounge room couch, “of course not, why the fuck would I do that? It wouldn’t do me anything”.

“Language”.

That just makes Daniel smirk, “glad to hear you’re doing better”, blinking and going a little wide-eyed before digging into his pockets, “oh! Right!”, pulling out two pods of death wish coffee, “I brought coffee, want one?”, and gets back up to turn on the coffee machine.

Lancer sighs, “regardless of the fact that the school, and principal, is too cheap to supply us with free coffee pods, no. I know you and I know that is far too caffeinated”.

Daniel laughs as the old machine sputters to life, “what’s the worst that’s gonna do? Kill us?”.

Oh F.Scott Fitzgerald, the morbid jokes make an unfortunate amount of sense now. Lancer also is slightly disturbed that Daniel actually has a point with that comment/joke.

Daniel waves Lancer off without looking at him, “besides, ghosts are made out of and need energy, caffeine is energy. There’s no such thing as too much. Ancients, the more the better really”.

Again, Lancer doesn’t like that Daniel has a very good point. “I think I’ll still have to decline, Daniel”.

“Eh, your loss”. The man taking a sip of the extremely hot liquid that closer resembles molasses than coffee, “delicious”, turning to Lancer, “so, I’m assume we’re are actually going with the ‘I’m your assistant as punishment’ thing? Because frankly if you do start doing something explicitly ghostly I’ll probably notice before you will. And since I am very firmly stronger than you and you are baby, I can easily just exert my own pressure enough on you to make your body cut it out”.

Lancer’s… not too sure how to feel about that statement. Part of him seems to actively dislike the entire notion, but it’s… better than him suddenly floating in class. Gravity nullification was the most basic feature of ectoplasm and thusly ghosts, so there’s no way he can’t do that… as unpleasant as that thought was. “And you can… do that easily?”. Okay, yes, that is indeed disturbing.

Daniel’s chuckle is mean. Intentionally mean, “one thing about my species is we’re abnormally powerful and don’t have to expend our ecto on sustaining our form, so yes. Yes I can”.

Considering the fact that part of why ghosts were very specifically Amity’s problem was because ghosts couldn’t be in the living world outside of Amity for too long, as they would run out of ecto-energy to maintain their form. If Daniel’s… species didn’t have that problem then that would make them incredibly dangerous. “It’s… probably for the best you’re rare, then”.

“No shit. Oh and since you’ll find out via gossip any way, and since he really can’t give me shit these days, the mayor? Yeah dead as a doornail too”.

Lancer sighs into his hand, “Wuthering Heights, that… that explains a lot actually”. Lancer always thought the mayor looked and acted rather strange, and not in a positive way. Also explained why such a rich man became the mayor of a random small town… and how.

“I know right? He’s the same as me though, so don’t go comparing yourself to him at all. Also he is stronger than you so don’t be stupid please”, glancing to the clock, “well it looks like everyone else is probably gonna be here soon”.

Lancer glancing to the clock too, “right. How long does the, de-glow, last?”. The mayor being stronger than him is needlessly unsettling, more than it should be he thinks? Or not?

…

Right. Ghosts normally get unsettled by stronger… ones.

Especially because Mayor Masters is definitely the type to causally beat a teacher up…

… Alright okay, he’s going to be avoiding the mayor to the best of his capabilities in the future. He already disliked the man so he’s not bothered by staying away from him.

“Twelve fucking hours, great longevity, I know. So what we doing first? Because I absolutely do not have your schedule memorised”, downing some of his ‘drink’ and pointing at Lancer, “don’t even try to claim that surprises you”, putting the hand down onto his hip, “also, if Mayor Bastard decides to bother you, just tell me and I’ll tell him to fuck off. Regardless of us being antagonistic and constantly threatening and messing with each other, we are actually vaguely friends. Frienemies, with a mild familial relationship perhaps. He’ll listen, or I’ll just make him if he doesn’t”.

Lancer sighs at the man, “I’d tell you not to be so hostile to the mayor, like I always do, and that you’re encouraging his behaviour in return. But if you’re both, ghosts, then I suppose it’s only natural”. Those two tended to behave like it was physically impossible for them to be genuinely nice or kind to each other. Every word, look, or action was either snide, insulting, or down right murderous; also strangely fond most of the time. He often chose not to question it, outside of finding it concerning that he never heard that same undertone of fondness towards Daniel’s own parents. “And I’ll be substituting for Joshep’s chemistry class first, then I’ve got simple desk work, then I suppose I’ll be ‘sitting in’ on your ecto-ology class, then lunch of course. Everything after that is just more office paper work till my English class”.

Danny nods and follows after Lancer as they leave the lounge, “cool, cool. I will not remember any of that”.

Lancer sighs, unsurprised but still, turning and waving at Penelope as she comes in through the doors, “morning, Penelope”.

She nods respectfully, “morning, William, Danny”.

Daniel flips her off.

Very professional.

At least he knows she won’t complain but Lancer still glares at Danny, “language”.

Daniel pouts at him, “boo. Let me have my fun”.

Though in truth he’s happy Penelope doesn’t have any… abnormal reactions to him. This whole situation, him being a ghost, was going to be rather nerve wracking for a while. Making him fret and worry over others possibly noticing he’s changed, or over his body doing things he’d rather it not do at all, or over himself changing especially without him realizing it, or even over ghosts treating him different.

“Don’t worry too much about people noticing now, you’d be surprised how little people notice. Heck, I walk through trash cans in public and telekinetically untie people’s shoes, no one notices shit”.

Lancer jerks, startled, “you’re still going to manage to startle me all the time, aren’t you?”. Weren’t ghosts supposed to be able to pick up on each other and tell when others were going to do things? “Also please refrain from doing that stuff, at least on school property”. Though yes, he was worrying about that and yes, he’s aware that people can be rather oblivious. Even he himself, apparently; since he never noticed Daniel’s apparent death.

Daniel laughs, “no. It makes the kids laugh and makes the bullies think they’re all cursed, as they should feel they are”, shrugging as they get to Joshep’s classroom, “and yes, I will keep startling you. I am actively more unnerving and startling to ghosts, since I can hide my ecto-signature as easily as I can disguise myself. Which makes me all that more of a threat, since ghosts instinctively rely on that sense so a spooky that can sidestep it is inherently unsettling”.

Lancer actively frowns at that as he rearranges Joshep’s desk enough to be personally usable, that man never kept things tidy enough. Joshep was better than Daniel though, regardless of how little that actually meant. Daniel’s classroom was a bio-ecto-hazard.

Which might not be a problem for Lancer now… meaning he can forcibly clean the man’s space without Daniel having a reasonable excuse as to why Lancer could not do so due to all the excessive ecto-contamination.

A little positive, he supposes.

Watching as Daniel flops down lazily in the designated assistants chair, yawning tiredly. The yawn doesn’t seem faked, leaving Lancer wondering just how good at faking human Daniel was. Raising an eyebrow, “are you actually tired or keeping up an act?”. Lancer certainly didn’t feel tired, even if he should… if he wasn’t…dead.

Daniel rubs his neck awkwardly, “ah yeah, it’s another species thing. I get energy from sleep, so I still need it. Same with food and water”.

Lancer’s brow furrows, it was almost like he was actually still human, or rather still an alive human. That entire notion fills him with a mix of both jealousy and pity. That would be terribly confusing but… still being alive would be…

Hmm.

Alright, it seems that this is the whole ‘okay with being a ghost’ feeling. Strange. He’s not sure if it’s a good or bad… feeling.

Susan sticking her head in stops him from questioning Daniel further, “there you are, I only have thirty-two spare pencils instead of thirty-six”, her noticing Daniel and smiling in that insulting way she often does, “oh someone’s on assistant duty again, so how about you get me some pencils?”.

It takes more effort than normal not to frown or sigh at the woman. Right, ghosts responded emotionally more so than humans did. Another adjustment he’ll have to deal with.

Daniel rolls his eyes, “oh eat my socks, Susan”, he does get up anyways though, eyeing Lancer who waves him off; surely Daniel can grab pencils before any students began to show up.

So Daniel leaves, downing the rest of his ‘coffee’ in one go and tossing the cup,

…

Now he’s alone with his own thoughts for the first time since finding out that he died yesterday.

…

It’s a good thing he didn’t stop to actually talk to that truck driver, the poor old man would have had an actual heart attack. As it is the driver would have to live with killing someone.

…

Did-

Did he leave a… body behind?

Interview With A Vampire, he’s going to have to check for that, isn’t he?

He really does not want to do that, or see that.

What if… that needs to be buried? A… funeral? Grave?

Leaning his head down and massaging his temples, this is all a little much. He can’t even tell if he actually does or doesn’t want those things. The… funeral and grave. Laid to rest.

For Shakespeare’s shake he was still here! And all of… that would eliminate any possibility of keeping this to mostly himself.

What did Daniel do? That’s certainly unkind to ask.

But the thought of not having that, of the idea of his… body being left out in some compacted heap, is deeply disturbing. He’s sure Phantom has gone on record saying something about ghosts and burials, of being respected, of not being… physically disturbed. So this disturbed feeling is likely natural, and understandable he supposes.

He’d be disturbed even without this odd instinct towards disturbia.

…

Lesia comes in before Daniel gets back, “oh, subbing for Mr. CampBell, Mr. Lancer?”, and sits in her assigned seat.

He makes a point to look up and smile at her, regardless of his current unsettlement, “indeed, Ms. Lute, he had an, unfortunate, interact with a sentient ghost plant”.

She cringes, whispering, “get wrecked, I guess”, before actually responding in proper to Lancer, “sorry to hear that”.

Lancer’s hearing has definitely improved, he can’t honestly see a negative to that. “And I’m sure he’d appreciate your sympathies”.

Thankfully Daniel comes back in, looking at Lesia and pouting, “oh how dare you get here before I got back, my luck belong’s in P̸͇̓a̶͉̕r̴̹̐i̴͚̅a̷̭̽h̸̙͘’̴͚̏s̵̼͛ ̷͈̉a̸̜̒s̵̩̚s̷̥̔”.

While Lancer’s a little stunned by being able to understand that from the inside? of himself? Lesia purses her lips together and is clearly trying not to laugh, “in trouble again”.

Daniel shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he meanders over to the assistants chair, “eh, you set one too many things on fire, and those things just happen to be thousand dollar microscopes, and suddenly everyone’s out to beat the s̴͚̿h̸̗̾i̶̹̇t̵̖͗ outta you”.

Lancer makes a point to sigh tiredly at the man, who winks smugly back. But regardless Lancer has to push his worries and crises to the back as more students begin filing in, school has begun.

At lunch Daniel had made a point to tell Lancer, in ghost speak -which was still rather strange to understand so easily now. Instantaneous language retention was a wonder-, that Daniel could apparently duplicate -which solved a few odd stories he’s heard- and had one such duplicate go and check the… morgue and around town for any signs of.. of Lancer’s remains.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Lancer’s not sure if that was… good or bad. If he was relieved or not.

Daniel’s theory, which was slightly disturbing but probably for the best to be true, was that the ecto-contamination in him consumed or broke down his… body in an instant so as to have the needed energy to instantly create his ‘new’ ghostly one.

On one hand this meant he didn’t need to fret about someone finding or touch his body. On the other hand any sort of funereal or burial could never happen, whether it was wanted or not; it somewhat rather was, if he was being honest with himself.

Daniel’s response had been to just consider his body having been effectively buried within the ether of the Zone, ‘like mine!’ he’d said, with cheer.

Apparently the man’s young body had been completely disintegrated in his own ‘accident’. Which was extremely disturbing and saddening.

Daniel said not to let himself be bothered by that, as if that would make it so that Lancer wouldn’t mourn the fact.

Lancer hadn’t even had time to mourn himself.

Should he… make a shrine perhaps? Or just have his favourite diner regardless of not ‘needing’ it now? Should it be a big deal or just causal?

He really didn’t know.

Before Lancer had gone home for the day Daniel had made sure he knew he could call whenever, and while Daniel might sleep it was a lot less and he didn’t mind interruptions.

Lancer… did somewhat want to take him up on the offer. To call and ask how he was actually supposed to deal with this. Beyond whether he wanted to ‘play human’ and keep his ‘life’ how it was, or not.

There was neither research to find nor books to read on the subject, on how ghosts mourned themselves and dealt with death, at least there were none that weren’t extremely biased and ecto-phobic.

How did Daniel put up with hearing this sort of cruelty from his parents all the time? He’d wondered that before he knew of Daniel’s ghost status and he only wonders about that more after.

At least the only report on ‘his accident’ he could find was about the ‘mysteriously vacant car’ and how it ‘being empty’ was ‘strange but welcome luck’.

That… made him want to cry, or be sick, a little bit.

No one noticed

No one noticed his death.

That was… awful. Sad. Painful.

But it was also rather the point, wasn’t it?

No one noticed Daniel’s either, not in any real way.

He wheezes breathlessly a little and massages the… strange spot of feeling in his chest.

…

Alright. Okay.

He should call Daniel.

Moving enough to pick up the phone, making sure not to knock over his tea.

Daniel responds instantly… he must have been waiting for a call. “Was wondering when you’d call. You good? Not too much existential horror?”.

Dr. Seuss, the understanding in that tone hurt and comforted more than he’d like. “I’m not sure, but I definitely need to talk about anything”.

Daniel laughs a little, but it’s not a happy thing in the slightest, “yeah I get that. Dying’s easy, but deaths a bit of a bitch. I saw the news report, by the way, and I know you looked for it even if you really shouldn’t have. Focusing on reactions or what happened is a really bad thing to do. People will let you down and you will spiral about the how and when and why. So don’t. Let the shit you enjoy distract you to your cores content, that’s kinda the whole point of being dead anyways. Obsessions and all that. Find all those things you love and the thing yourself screams and cries for, and do ‘em. Go from one to another and circle back again, keep the circling going and you’ll be cool; you won’t spiral. And there’s absolutely a difference between the two”.

“Have… you? Spiralled?”.

“… of course, I never had help or guidance. Another spook to turn to, until it was kinda too late. But hey, things got undone and made alright, so it is what it is. I’m alright, I’m good enough to keep on keeping on”.

“That’s, not as pacifying as I think you mean it to be”.

“Course not, you should know by now that there really isn’t any sugarcoating me and my everything. Life, and death, gave me a right shit hand. But this call ain’t really supposed to be about my dumbass, Lance”.

Lancer smiles ruefully a little at that, “well talking about you, my favourite problem ex-student, is as good as any distraction from everything, from no one really… noticing”.

Daniel laughs again, “you’re not wrong. But you should focus on yourself some, we’re egocentric things. And I’m not going to say something like ‘but I thought that’s what you wanted’ because I know that’s both true and painfully not. I’ve broken a lot of shit over that same train of thought, especially since Sam and Tuck… never really mourned any part of this. But if you want Jazz’s opinion? Write. Write shit down. Which with you being all book-loving might work out better. Make a poem or something. I tried the journaling thing once and wound up just taking a bite out of it and setting it on fire”.

That… wasn’t a horrible idea. “I’d say that’s concerning but I know that you have some trouble with your anger”.

“I’m well aware and doing precisely nothing about it…”.

They spend more than half an hour half-heartedly bickering about Daniel’s poor anger-management issues, neither have anything in the argument but it was still grounding.

And if maybe Lancer started floating a bit and didn’t notice, then maybe that’s okay. He… was less bothered than he’d thought he’d be when he realised what he was doing.

Daniel congratulated him in earnest and then word vomited -as the man would say- about the stars and that time he went to space.

It was good.

It was nice.

Daniel, like always, was too kind. Even the students saw that.

It made him sad but it made him better too.

Like being reminded how it feels to be warm by someone or something too cold to feel it at all.

Death ain’t no big deal in comparison.

End.

prompts:

Above all else, Danny became a high school teacher to help students: he wants to help the victims of bullying, the near-dropouts, the kids who need to use school as an escape from home. He sees himself in all of them, and tries to be the adult he needed at their age. He also became a teacher because, as it turns out, teachers have a WAY easier time getting away with sudden bathroom breaks (which may or may not coincide with ghost attacks and subsequent Phantom sightings) than students do. "Ah yes, because going in circles and spiraling are very different directions." More of Danny's ghost side starts to show in his human form making it harder to hide the truth "What do you mean this isn't safe, I'm already dead" Becoming more ghostly Fangs On Sunday, Lancer was thrown through his windshield in a nasty car accident. Miraculously he walked away without a scratch. On Monday, he had a hard time getting through the school ghost shield on his way to class.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phandom #phicphight24 #danny #mr lancer #character death #angst #existental #advice #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #gothmoth #phantomphangphucker

24 notes · View notes

thenerdparty · 6 months ago

Text

Twisters film review

Written by Shawn Eastridge

Let’s get the important stuff out of the way first: between starring in Richard Linklater’s Everybody Wants Some with Tyler Hoechlin and now with David Corenswet in Twisters, Glen Powell has worked with TWO Supermen in the past decade. A true honor and privilege, and one I hope he doesn’t take for granted.

Am I the only one who’s paying attention to these things? Does this mean I have a Superman problem? Yes and yes? Great. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, on to the review!

Twisters is the latest in a batch of sequels that arrives at least two decades later than it should have. (I’m looking at you, Top Gun: Maverick–and don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F.) Maybe I’m just out of the loop and the world has been clamoring for a sequel to the 1996 box office smash, but I have a sneaking suspicion that by the time we officially reached the 21st century, it wasn’t near the top of anyone’s cinematic wish list.

That said, when the Twisters trailer dropped during Super Bowl Sunday, I was more delighted than I’d ever expected to be. (I’m almost positive it had something to do with the added “s” at the end of its title.) That initial delight grew into genuine excitement when I learned the film was being helmed by Lee Isaac Chung, the writer and director of one of my favorite films from the past decade, Minari. (That 2020 release, nominated for six Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Director, was lost in the midst of the pandemic, and is well-worth seeking out if you missed it.) But how would Chung fair helming a multi-million dollar blockbuster sequel? Would his tendency towards low-key human drama be drowned out by the genre’s demands for rip-roaring special effects to appease the popcorn-munching masses? Would he truly put the “s” in “Twisters”??

If Top Gun: Maverick proved anything back in good ol’ 2022, it’s that you can have the best of both worlds: a sequel that not only goes above and beyond expectations but delivers an effort superior to its predecessor. Look, I get a kick from watching Twister as much as the next person. Its special effects still hold up, Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt are a charming duo, and it’s lovely to see a pre-Boogie Nights Philip Seymour Hoffman doing his best Bill and Ted impersonation. But it’s no masterpiece (disasterpiece?). There was always plenty of room for improvement and Twisters rises to the occasion with more thoughtful storytelling and better drawn characters and emotional conflicts. It’s not particularly nuanced, but its heart’s in the right place, and how often can you say that about your average modern day blockbuster? And while Twisters is no Top Gun: Maverick (for one, it doesn’t have the benefit of Tom Cruise insisting that they take on real tornadoes. Wait, how has no one pitched that movie?), when it comes to crowd-pleasing, heartfelt, pulse-pounder blockbusting, Chung and his amazing cast and crew manage to get the job done and then some.

Sure, Twisters’ characters and their relationships with one another are relatively simple and straightforward. Its screenplay, written by Mark L. Smith (The Revenant), based on a story by Joseph Kosinski (director of the aforementioned Top Gun: Maverick), hits just about every plot beat you’d expect. In fact, I’d go so far as to say there might not be a single genuinely surprising moment in this entire story. It’s likely your average moviegoer (a.k.a. Mom and Dad) could call the film’s plot beat for beat from the get-go. But that’s okay! Mom and Dad are allowed to get one right every so often! Chung and Smith aren’t out to revolutionize the genre. Twisters is more of a refinement of the disaster movie formula, and it improves upon its predecessor in nearly every respect.

Besides, whatever shortcomings are evident in the script are cushioned not only by Chung’s confident direction but a top-notch cast led by Daisy Edgar Jones (Normal People, Where the Crawdads Sing) and 2024’s go-to leading man Glen Powell (Top Gun: Maverick, Hit Man). These two are genuine superstars and manage to effortlessly carry this massive, multi-million dollar effort on their shoulders. Rounding them out is an excellent supporting cast, featuring Anthony Ramos (Hamilton, Transformers: Rise of the Beasts), Sasha Lane (American Honey), and Brandon Perea (Nope, The OA). There’s even what threatens to be a stock “along-for-the-ride” journalist character, whose portrayal by Harry Hadden-Paton (Downton Abbey, The Crown) is so sincere and genuine you end up loving him as much as the rest of the raucous crew. These performances are strong enough to elevate the material, grounding it in an emotional reality that might have collapsed in on itself in lesser hands. Kudos to Chung for never missing an opportunity to home in on these characters’ small emotions and character beats, humanizing the whole enterprise.

But what would Twisters be without its tornadoes? And you’ll be pleased to know Twisters’ action delivers, providing solid thrills that end up being more involving than your standard blockbuster. Working with seasoned cinematographer Dan Mindel (Star Trek ‘09, The Force Awakens) and top notch sound and VFX departments, Chung does an expert job of dropping the audience right smack-dab in the middle of nature’s gargantuan terrors. The thrills are more visceral and hard-hitting than the original. And yes, while this might have something to do with the massive improvements in special effects in the nearly 30 years since Twister was released, it also has a lot to do with Chung’s documentary-esque approach to capturing these sequences. It’s a MOVIE THEATER movie in the “go for broke” way you want it to be.

FINAL VERDICT:

Despite its plot contrivances and simplistic characterizations, Twisters has thrills and heart to boot. It’s simultaneously a throwback to the days of simpler, straightforward cinematic thrill rides and an exciting, forward-looking venture that suggests more on the cloudy-skied horizon. As for me, I’d follow Daisy Edgar Jones and Glen Powell into any tornado and I can’t wait to see David Corenswet switch gears and save people from tornadoes in James Gunn’s Superman next year. (And you thought I was going to conclude this review without referencing Superman. Oh, how little you know me.)

I award Twisters 3.5 flying cows out of 5.

#twisters #twister 1996 #twister #film review #movie review #movie recommendation #cinema #film #movies #review #glen powell #daisy edgar jones #anthony ramos #david corenswet #superman

7 notes · View notes

beevean · 8 months ago

Note

https://youtu.be/Ruw9fsh3PNY?si=NshIPOku6uJ0git7

A more fitting ending to Lenector

youtube

On one hand, I know that thematically, N!Hector going on a violent rampage would be negative character development: it would be him overtaken by the same anger that lead him to kill his abusive parents and isolate himself off the human world, and not only it would make his arc just as much as a waste of time as it is in canon, it would be too tragic, and he deserves the peace that was gifted to N!Isaac without effort.

................ but fuck if seeing his hammer smash into lenore's and carmilla's skull wouldn't be immensely cathartic <3 hey if taka and sumi, who had a more believable tragic backstory, got impaled and pissed on without the story sparing an ounce of pity for who are supposed to be survivors of slavery and abuse...

In all seriousness, you know what the Lenector finale should have been?

tl;dr leave. Just leave. He starts his arc cooped up in his own home afraid of the world, he finishes it ready to face the world. People always say "oh he should have been like CoD Hector" as a shortway to say "he should have kicked more ass", and I understand where they come from, but I mean it as "he should have realized he deserves unconditional love and freedom, not just the scraps that a vampire can dust off her table".

This is also partly why I compared N!Hector trapping Lenore in a cage out of (very misplaced and ultimately disastrous) love and protection with Hector leaving Isaac alive in a more ambiguous gesture that might mean that he's more concerned with his own freedom than spilling any more blood. Hector went from "We respectfully obeyed, to cling to" to fighting tooth and nail to get away from the only place where he was allowed to exist: it's both cathartic to see him rebel against his dehumanizing environment, and tragic because he's throwing Isaac under the bus in a selfish way. N!Hector's arc, similarly, should have been about him learning how to stop to cling onto others and find a direction in his life, instead of going "sure why not" at everything that gets proposed to him, up and including human culling (and no, "writing a book about his mistakes" can't be a direction in his life). Yet another reason I find the only development he has, learning how to love "properly" by letting his abuser kill herself because she wanted to stop feeling bad about herself, underwhelming and disrespectful.

Much like him cutting off his finger to break the Council's control of his Night Creatures and opening his escape channel only served to allow N!Isaac to fight by himself because he needed to have that epic moment, N!Hector's supposed character development is never about him, and that is because he has stopped being a character.

#anti netflixvania #hector castlevania #maybe he gets to *think* about smashing her skull in #as a treat <3 #especially after cutting off his own finger #both because now he *can* hurt his mistresses and because fuck it he had to mutilate his hand because of her #but ultimately he makes the decision to leave her alone #not out of love for her. but love for himself #and if the choice has enough conflict i can feel its weight more #i know this answer got more serious than intended #but i'm having a bad case of big thinks #sorry :p

7 notes · View notes

mr-divabetic · 10 months ago

Text

"You can go around all your life singing stuff that’s just basically a song,” Shirley Brown said. “But I think you are supposed to relate to what’s happening—inner feelings.”Shirley Brown sang in church in West Memphis, Arkansas, until she was discovered at age 14 by Albert King, blues guitarist and singer, singing at the Harlem Club in Brooklyn, Illinois. She worked with Albert for a period of nine years (where he was her manager), and rubbed elbows with Soul luminaries such as Johnnie Taylor and Little Milton. Blues legend Albert King persuaded Shirley Brown to sign with Stax Records and release her smash single “Woman To Woman.” Soul Express describes Woman to Woman as a milestone in the history of Southern soul music. Starting with a dramatic rap, it tells of a woman determined to hold on to her man and tell it over the phone to her rival. Hello, may I speak to Barbara. Barbara, this is Shirley. You might not know who I am, but the reason I'm calling you is because I was going through my old man's pockets this morning and I just happened to find your name and number. So, woman to woman, I don't think it's being any more than fair than to call you and let you know where I'm coming from.”

Woman to Woman, lovingly referred to as the soul soap opera, was written by James Banks, Henderson Thigpen, and Eddie Marion. The songwriters offered the song first to Inez Foxx, who passed on it. “She didn't want to do it. She felt like the rap part in the beginning of the song was for a male artist, and a song like that with a rap would be better for a person like Isaac Hayes," James Banks told Soul Express.

The song's recording took more than one session. But Bobby Manuel, who played guitar on the sessions, said, “The recording session (for Woman to Woman) was magical. We all knew it was a hit record. Everybody was really excited." Shirley was nominated for a Grammy for Best R&B Performance, Female, but Aretha Franklin and Ain't Nothing like a Real Thing won that year. Millie Jackson, who was also nominated in the same category that year, told QuestLove on his podcast that Aretha should have been excluded from being nominated in that category because her recording failed to meet the qualifications.

"Woman to Woman" reached No. 1 on the R&B charts and No. 22 on the pop charts. The song proved so popular that Country Music legend Barbara Mandrell covered it, and Lonnie Youngblood talked to Barbara and blew his horn on the mid-tempo answer song, Man to Woman. A year after the song's success, Stax Records folded. Shirley Jones chased her dreams to New York City, where Clive Davis signed her to his Arista Records label. . “I was one of the first soul singers he (Clive) signed. I was there before Whitney and Aretha. Clive said that if we could ever get the right material, we could have a hit. But he felt that the material was too Southern. He didn’t want that Southern soul sound. Clive and Shirley Brown didn't see eye-to-eye in the direction of her music. "Clive Davis wanted me to do a Bette Midler song or something like Barbra Streisand. I could probably sing those kinds of songs, but I didn't feel them." In early 1977, Shirley’s first Arista single, a soul ballad called Blessed Is the Woman (With a Man like Mine) was released. “I’ve always been a great admirer of Aretha Franklin,” Shirley Brown admits. Some people feel that Shirley Brown and Aretha Franklin are similar to the Isaac Hayes/Barry White situation." Some people speculate that Clive felt she sounded too much like Aretha Franklin and he jeopardized her career to boost Aretha's. “Clive wanted to make Shirley like Whitney, "says Bobby Manuel. "He wanted to take somebody that had those chops, who could sing like that… and take them pop. The marriage really didn’t work. He was sending us pop songs, and she just wasn’t into them.” Luther Vandross loved Shirley Brown. I would buy up all her albums in the UK for our tour bus and his dressing room.

After Shirley left Arista, she signed with several other labels. She still continues to make beautiful music. Some wonderful songs in her catalog include “I Ain’t Gonna Tell”, “Love Is Built On A Strong Foundation,” and the soul ballad, "I Need Somebody to Love Me."

#Shirley brown

2 notes · View notes

randomvarious · 2 years ago

Photo

Today’s compilation:

Rhythm & Blues: 1967 1991 R&B / Soul / Funk

Man, an album like this should just remind you how much of an abundance there was of terrific R&B and soul joints that were floating around throughout the 60s and 70s. And back in the early-to-mid-90s, Warner and Time-Life Music teamed up to release a series of compilations that would document some of R&B and soul's greatest hits from that era, dedicating a CD's worth of tunes to each year from 1955 through 1976. And this release, as you could guess from its title, takes on the very important year of 1967.

1967 was the year that birthed, quite possibly, the single-greatest hit in the entire history of the rhythm & blues genre: "Respect," by Aretha Franklin. Not only is it just a stunning knockout punch of a song that officially launched Aretha Franklin into the stratosphere herself, but it's also a song that was sewn into the fabric of both the feminist and civil rights movements for equality. It's a song that marked a paradigmatic shift for the course of popular music, but it also played a much more important role in serving as an integral part of the soundtrack to US societal progress. It is completely indispensable.

And that's what this album dutifully kicks itself off with, followed by another enormous hit in Sam & Dave's "Soul Man," which was co-written by Isaac Hayes after he was inspired by what he saw during a riot in Detroit, in which the black-owned buildings that were labeled with "Soul" were left intact.

Almost every song on here is fantastic, but those two are especially important, because they wound up transcending the goal of just being good songs. Other tunes on here were definitely sonically superb, but they weren't nearly as politically potent, and weren't intended to be anyway.

But on here you'll find an entire grip of R&B and soul tunes that made 1967 what it was: a deluge of Motown, a stack of Stax, a handful of Atlantic (led by two Aretha Franklin hits, of course), and a smattering of successes from some much smaller labels.

Nearly all of these tunes were huge commercial smashes too, but a couple of them still remain a little bit obscure. For example, Freddie Scott's "Are You Lonely for Me" topped Billboard's R&B chart, but it barely scraped the top 40 on the publication's Hot 100. And it was only one of two songs in Scott's entire career to make the top 40 in the first place, released on producer-executive Bert Berns' small subsidiary label, Shout Records.

And another relative obscurity is the album's plaintive closer from Toussaint McCall, whose "Nothing Takes the Place of You" proved to be the most successful single of his career, reaching only #52 on the Hot 100, but #5 on the R&B chart. Released on Ronn Records, a sublabel of Shreveport's Jewel Records (a label whose compilations I have a lot of), its combination of McCall's foundational organ and piano, and his soul-reaching, resigned despondency, makes it the most unique song on this compilation, as the others tend to be far more unreservedly fiery, upbeat, and/or lovey-dovey. And it's also a staple of some of my very own soul playlists, like my 1960s one and my Louisiana one. (Note: it’s mistitled and misattributed on Spotify as “Making Nassau Fruit Punch” by African Music Machine, so if you go to follow those playlists and don’t see “Nothing Takes the Place of You” on there, that’s why 😅.)

Ultimately, this CD only has 22 songs on it that end up clocking in at an hour, but you'd probably need a multi-disc release to really capture all the R&B and soul greatness that took place in the year of 1967. This is still an excellent place to start if you're something of a novice to this excellent classic music, though.

Highlights:

Aretha Franklin - "Respect" Sam & Dave - "Soul Man" The Esquires - "Get on Up" Martha and the Vandellas - "Jimmy Mack" The Temptations - "You're My Everything" Gladys Knight & the Pips - "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" Otis Redding & Carla Thomas - "Tramp" Aretha Franklin - "I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You)" Aaron Neville - "Tell It Like It Is" Four Tops - "Bernadette" Jackie Wilson - "(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher)" The Bar-Kays - "Soul Finger" Freddie Scott - "Are You Lonely for Me" Wilson Pickett - "Funky Broadway" Arthur Conley - "Sweet Soul Music" Cannonball Adderley - "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy" Linda Jones - "Hypnotized" The Supremes - "Love Is Here and Now You're Gone" Peaches & Herb - "Close Your Eyes" Toussaint McCall - "Nothing Takes the Place of You"

#r&b #r & b #rhythm & blues #rhythm and blues #soul #soul music #funk #music #60s #60s music #60's #60's music

8 notes · View notes

forzasedici · 1 year ago

Note

i love it that you reblogged the “get to know the blogger” post bc i saw you reblog a lot of “le belle et la bete” gifs and was curious about your general taste/favourite films 👁️👁️

this is going to be so long i'm sorry but i just love talking about it so let's start!

i'm going to highlight some of the movies from my favourites list on letterboxd aka the movies that butter my bun:

— Skyfall (2012) and 1917 (2019) both directed by Sam Mendes are honestly great movies with Skyfall for me being the best Bond movie and 1917 as one of the best war movies. What made 1917 one of my favourites was the watching it at cinema experience plus the reveal in the end is just *chef's kiss*

— Tarantino movies. Like that's it. I know a lot of ppl don't like him but for me he's one of the best writers and sure has his problems but you cannot deny his work is great. Inglorious Basterds for me take the cake as his best movie with Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill: Part I being up there as well. One of his underrated movies is definitely Jackie Brown which I've loved.

— Period dramas. Another one of my fave genres. Emma. (2020) being one of my favourite movies. Emma (2009) is also a great adaptation albeit it is a series. Pride and Prejudice (2005) and (1995) are great as well. Little Women has recently grown on me way more and remains my favourite Greta Gerwig movie. Another underrated movie for me is Ophelia which as the title says focuses more on Ophelia from the play Hamlet. It's really well done and I've enjoyed watching it.

— This one is also a period drama but it is a bollywood movie so I wanted to highlight it. Jodhaa Akbar is a MUST watch such a good movie it's insane like I'm sorry you have a sword fight sequence between two lovers and you have won me over.

— Let's get franchises out of the way. Obviously Marvel movies are some of my favourites with Avengers: Infinity War, Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Thor: Ragnarok which are in my top 3. Both Black Panther movies and Spider-man: No Way Home are taking honourable mentions. For their series my favourite has been Moon Knight. (Sony gets their cookies for Spider-man: Into the Spider-verse and obviously Venom because come on now eddie and venom are otp y'all don't get it like i do)

— Next big franchise is Star Wars. Original trilogy: Empire Strikes Back. Prequel trilogy: Revenge of the Sith (I'm an Anakin girlie unfortunately) and Sequel trilogy: The Last Jedi (Rian Johnson supremacy). Series: Obi-wan Kenobi (i cried). Honourable mention to Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (i also cried).

— Since I mentioned Rian Johnson let's expand on that because the man just gets movies and everyone should watch Looper and Knives Out!!

— Denis Villeneuve. MY MAN!!!! Arrival and Dune *chef's kiss* if you can bear longer movies also Blade Runner 2049 but it isn't one of my favorites exactly because it was long and boring. And since probably someone will say the same for Dune at least Dune has you looking at Oscar Isaac and Timothee Chalamet sure they look miserable but that's when men look the best.

— Spy movies? like idk how to call this but let me list them all. Anna (2019) they succeeded where The Red Sparrow failed like if you're looking for anything similar to Black Widow Anna is the one I would recommend a thousand times. The Nice Guys and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. great comedies I just love them. It's not really a spy but assassin I guess but John Wick franchise is the shit and the best movie is obviously John Wick 2.

— Another director that has me is unfortunately Christopher Nolan. Can I get more basic than that? I do admit his faults and that's sound mixing is fucking awful, I don't understand his movies while I am watching them most of the time and this man cannot write a female character for the life of him BUT 🎶 shapes and colours 🎶. His ideas are what draw me in and it's just visual masterpieces doesn't matter if I can't hear the dialogue if it looks good am I right?

— Smashing musicals and animation together because this is already becoming too long. Singin' In The Rain and The Sound of Music are a MUST watch and also I'm a Phantom of the Opera girlie so if you're going to watch anything watch the 25th anniversary version. I am also unfortunately a Hamilton girlie and the damage to my life caused by that damn musical is irreparable. For animation musical Hercules, The Emperor's New Groove, Anastasia, The Lion King and Tangled and purely animation Howl's Moving Castle, Lilo and Stitch, The Incredibles and Inside Out.

— Now it's time for a quick fire: Ford v Ferrari and Rush are two best movies for my motorsport girlies, Gone Girl and The Hunger Games: Catching Fire for my book girlies, Death at a Funeral and Hot Fuzz for the british comedy girlies, i'm also unfortunately a Titanic girlie probably the movie i've watched most in my life, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS!!! A. MUST. WATCH. Monty Python movies are great if you ignore some of the outdated jokes. Jackie is one of my favorites just because it's one of Natalie's Portman's best performances and that's also including Black Swan but both movies are also visually stunning.

— The Death of Stalin is one of the best comedies as well. Ready Player One is one of my weirder favourites since many ppl see it as an average movie but i'd recommend it to anyone (literally can't believe it's my favourite Spielberg movie 😭😭). Also add to the video game genre Tron: Legacy because I will also recommend that movie to anyone. The Grand Budapest Hotel is also a must watch like if anyone made the world go through a pink paint shortage before Barbie did then it's this movie and finally The Batman (2022). Let's end on a battinson note just because.

— Crazy to think I haven't even mentioned all of my favourites but I guess this is kinda the jist of it all. Basically my taste is anything as long as I like it I guess jsbsjsbsjs. (I forgot to mention the horror genre but that's just because I don't really have a favourite movie like if I had to say anything it would be The Conjuring movies.)

— As for Le Belle Et La Bête it's one of my new favourites and honestly got me into a french cinema mood so I'll probably find more favourites there. One of my goals has always been to watch more foreign movies but not many have entered my favourites club unfortunately. Also fuck disney live-action remakes (except you cinderella (2015)).

get to know the blogger

#.ask #anonymous #i'm so sorry for how long this is i just get excited talking about this smsbsmnsns #so if you'd like to talk about this more my DMs are always open

3 notes · View notes

jvstheworld · 1 year ago

Text

My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E10 (part 3)

The Hope That Kills You

Roy answers the door to Jamie when he comes over to see Keeley and he is wearing fried egg socks. Who wants to bet that Phoebe or his sister bought him those?

Does Jamie not always get when someone is being sarcastic? Because Roy is being clearly sarcastic about making scones, but Jamie misses it. Is there something further to it?

Keeley being the diplomat, pours the coffee Jamie got her into the mug of coffee Roy made her. You know, the more I watch this show the more I agree with them being a throuple.

Roy and Jamie are children. No further comment.

Roy is definitely out to get Jamie, and he will get him later. At the cost of fucking up his knee though. But Ted genuinely likes Jamie, he didn't want him to go back to Man City. But he takes the blame for it to protect Rebecca. Because let's face it, after all the shit Rebecca has had to deal with, with regards to the press, it would just be another shitty thing on top of other shitty things. Rupert fucked up her life and the press revel in it. If they found out it was her that sent Jamie back to Man City, they would have a fucking field day and drag her through the mud. But if it's Ted that did it, then they can just chalk it up to him being an idiot and not knowing how to do his job. Ted, by continuing to take the blame, is protecting Rebecca from further ridicule by the press. Because if that got out, the so do the rest of her revenge plans, and neither her or Ted want that.

Roy knows that Keeley values honesty, so he tell the truth, even if it makes him look evil.

Mushy peas are exactly what they sound like, and personally I think they are gross. But at least Roy can take an insult and turn it into a cute joke with Keeley.

If anyone is interested, the peanut butter Ted is eating is Tesco smooth peanut butter. The label has changed slightly since the episode was released, but not a lot.... I was curious, don't ask why.

Ted in a blue Kansas City shirt (this man's whole personality is just Kansas, isn't it?) but the gray sweatpants are back. Plus the messy hair... He looks so cosy and cuddly. Too bad I wouldn't be able to go near him... Damn you nut allergy.

Ted recognising that kids will not listen to stuff you say. The robot Henry drew is pretty cool, so worth it.

The commentators said the episode title.

Keeley only started caring about football because of Roy. They should have stayed together.

Rebecca showing how much she cares for the team by being decked out in Richmond gear.

Give Paul the damn hug. He is a sweetheart and deserves it.

Rupert can rot in hell.

The whole Higgins clan out for the match. And the fact the the priest of the family was born out of wedlock is a fun fact of the Higgins's.

Roy chose Isaac to be the new captain. Was that because of the chair smashing the TV? Because yeah, Isaac, given the chance can be a natural leader, but did the TV thing seal the deal?

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #keeley jones #roy kent #jamie tarrt #leslie higgins #ted lasso rewatch #tv show thoughts

1 note · View note

theteasetwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Some Kind of Stranger

Part 5: Don't Be a Stranger

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 1-Season 9 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild SMUT, mild swearing, violence ❧ Word Count: 7.4k

❧ Requested by @hereditarydeath

❧ Request: “reader is ricks daughter (18/19 during the outbreak) and secretly dating daryl, rick catches them eventually. (maybe smut? 🥴) I’m idea was kinda like a few short bits from when they first met and the gradual changes and how their relationship grows, which leads to the main part where reader a daryl are together in some way (cuddling? kissing? smashing?) and rick catches them, chaos ensues.”

❧ A/N: Final part of this oneshot request turned mini-series! I had so much fun writing this, it was certainly a challenge but a good one! This is a very cheesy chapter where everything turns out really well and maybe it’s a little unrealistic but you know what they’re cute together so I’m giving them a happy ending! I mean, Rick does beat the shit out of Daryl but after that it’s all sunshine and rainbows!

Rick had no idea how to confront you about the condom wrapper, if he should confront you about it at all.

He went back and forth in his mind for days, trying to decide how he would bring it up casually, ideally without mentioning that he had found the condom wrapper in your room, as he was sure that would elicit a much more awkward conversation.

Really, he just wanted to know who you were with, so he could be a part of your life in some way, and to assess whoever you must’ve been so intimate with, make sure he was up to your standards.

He had a few ideas in mind—first, there was Spencer, who was about twenty-five and rather good-looking. He had noticed the guy eying you the moment your group came through the gates, so it seemed plausible that the two of you got together.

There was also a young man named Chris who was around your age, and he also helped out in the garden. He’d seen him helping you pull weeds more than once, and the two of you got along well from what he could see. It wouldn’t be surprising if he’d been the one in your room that night.

Oh, and who could forget Isaac. He was actually a little younger than you, about eighteen, but he saw the two of you chatting at Aaron’s birthday party. Surely, there could have been something more going on there.

The more he thought about it, there were plenty of potential suitors around town, most of whom he’d be fine with you dating. Well, except Spencer. The guy got on Rick’s last nerves, and he was a bit of a womanizer. Other than that, though, he would be happy for you.

Now, the sex thing… That was harder to accept.

For any parent, it would be difficult to imagine their child doing something so adult, but he had to get out of that mindset. Someday, anyway. For now, he was rife with worry, convinced you knew nothing about the dreaded three letter S word, and that you needed advice on how to have safe sex, especially since you were likely doing it with a boy who was presumably just as young and inexperienced as you were.

Above all else, he just wanted to connect with you, for the first time in what seemed like ages. He couldn’t remember the last time he really talked to you like you were his daughter, not some woman he happened to know. He was ashamed of that, and he found himself even beginning to talk to Carl that way, since he was growing up, too. Despite the sudden, stark reminder that you really were a grown woman, he needed to remember that you were his child, no matter how old you were.

When he cut his losses and finally decided to talk to you, going in without much of a script or any idea of what he’d say to you, it was awkward, to say the least.

He knocked on your door, which was slightly ajar, and was immediately a little nervous to be entering the space again, where surely some kind of sexual encounter must’ve taken place, or more, God forbid…

“(Y/N)?” he called out to you softly, and you quickly raised your head from your book. “You in here?”

You straightened up against your pillow and rested your book upon the nightstand beside your bed. “Yeah,” you replied, and watched as the door gently swung open, and your father’s rather disoriented looking face peeked behind it.

“Can I come in?”

You laughed. “Well, yeah. It’s your house.”

“It’s our house,” he corrected, crossing over to stand by your bed. “Can—can I sit down?”

You pulled your legs into your chest to give him room, albeit a little confused about his questioning. You felt like a teenager again, with your dad coming in and asking you about your day at school or lecturing you on curfew, and it wasn’t a great feeling. “Sure.”

He huffed as he sat on the edge of your bed, and looked over at you with a small, strange smile, the likes of which you had never seen before. You couldn’t place what he was feeling, but it seemed like a cocktail of worry, pride, and general discomfort.

“How’re you, peanut?” he asked after a while of silence. “I mean, you all right?”

You laughed at the pet name he hadn’t used for so long and shrugged your shoulders. “Uh, I guess. I’m fine. How are you, D-Dad?” You stuttered, almost calling him “Daddy” in response to “peanut,” but quickly corrected yourself, now associating that word with Daryl (who, despite his insistence that it was a “one-time thing,” now encouraged you to call him that during sex).

He hunched over and looked down between his feet as he nodded. “I’m good… Just, uh… came in here to check up on ya, see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine,” you reiterated, now a little confused at his odd behavior. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head and looked back up at you. “No, no. Nothing’s wrong.”

There was another awkward gap of silence, in which Rick sighed, and rubbed his forehead with his hand in exasperation. “There’s something I have to ask you,” he finally said. “I don’t wanna ask it, but as your dad, I’ve got to.”

You straightened up and swallowed hard, now anticipating the question you’d been dreading for almost two years: Are you sleeping with my best friend?

Of course, you didn’t expect him to phrase it quite like that, but Daryl was Rick’s best friend. It was something mutually agreed to between the two men, despite never saying it out loud. They were best friends, even brothers.

“I’m just gonna say it,” he said, and looked you straight in the eyes.

Here it comes, you thought. Please don’t hate me. Don’t hate Daryl, for the love of God.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting, not in the slightest.

Well, in theory, that was the question, but in the question you were anticipating, he would’ve specifically mentioned Daryl.

“Um… no,” you said, trying to maintain the lie, since he hadn’t yet mentioned Daryl in particular. “Why?”

Rick shook his head in disbelief. “(Y/N),” he said, “I came in here about a week ago. I saw the condom.”

Your eyes widened and your face lost its color. “Oh.”

A singular condom? you wondered. Not… the box of condoms?

It occurred to you that if he had seen only one condom, and not the collection you had in your bedside table, he might believe you’d only had sex once. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of the idea that you had sex, since you were of the age, and it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, but you feared that if you revealed your relationship with Daryl now, without asking him about it first, Daryl would be upset with you, and caught completely off guard if your father decided to confront him. You had no choice but to lie, if lying was an option, and it began to appear that it might be.

“What condom?” you asked, feigning innocence, and trying to get more information from your father.

He sighed. “You don’t have to lie, (Y/N). I saw it, on the ground, the night after Carl heard that… crying. It was an empty condom wrapper, just lying on the floor by your bed, right there.” He pointed to its former location. “I’m not mad at you, hon. You’re a woman now, and it’s none of my business if you’re having sex or not, but I’m still your dad, and I want us to be open with each other. Besides, I never… I never had the talk with you, and I don’t think Lori or your mom did, either.”

You internally rolled your eyes at the phrase. As if you needed “the talk.” You knew about sex from an early age, just from watching television. Of course, you had a very vague idea of what it was at first, but as you got older, and you garnered more offhanded information on the subject from various sources, you put two and two together. You completely knew what sex was by fifteen, more or less. It didn’t intrigue you until much later on, when you met Daryl, but it was a concept you’d known about.

Still, despite the cheesiness of his wording, you knew he cared, and that he wasn’t disappointed in you. At least, not yet, as he apparently didn’t know who you were having sex with.

“So, uh… who’s the guy?” he finally asked.

Here we go.

You stayed silent for a while, mentally preparing yourself for several big, fat lies to roll off your tongue.

“Um, well, we only did it once,” you said, watching his face to gauge his reaction to your heavy distortions of the truth. “We, um… we had sex that night. That was the first time, the only time.”

He nodded, seemingly believing your story. You hated lying to him like this. It was one thing keeping such a big part of your life from him, but it was wholly another to deliberately tell him the opposite of the truth. You lost your virginity over a year ago, and you had lost track of how many times you’d had sex with Daryl, but again, you couldn’t tell him without Daryl knowing, not in good consciousness, and if you didn’t tell him anything at all, you might’ve felt even worse.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me who it was,” he said, “but you can if you want to.”

You shrugged, and felt the need to make something up on the spot, some person who you could implicate in your lie, hoping your dad wouldn’t bother him.

“It was, um… Spencer,” you said, immediately regretting saying that, because the thought of having sex with anyone besides Daryl genuinely seemed wrong to you, and Spencer was a major douchebag. “We had sex. Once. It’s—it’s over now. No big deal. Everything’s good.”

Somehow, when you said Spencer, with a strange glint in your eye, he seemed to see some tears in your truth, some inconsistencies he couldn’t quite put his finger on. All he knew was that he didn’t quite believe you, though it seemed like such a strange thing to lie about, unless you had had sex with someone he didn’t like, or someone off limits.

“Spencer?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you said with a casual nod. “But like I said, it was just once, to… see what it was like. We’re not together now.”

Despite his slight disbelief, especially since you didn’t seem to like Spencer that much to entrust such an intimate experience to him, even if it was just a casual thing. He wouldn’t have cared so much if it seemed like you were telling the truth, but now that it seemed you might be lying, it concerned him.

“He used protection, obviously?”

You laughed genuinely, amused by his question, since he himself had been the one to find the condom. “Yes, Dad. He used protection.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. “That’s all that matters. Well, and that it was… you know, consensual, right?”

“Yes!” you said, a little louder than you meant to. “Um, I mean, of course. Spencer’s an asshole but he’s not that kind of asshole.

Again, the name Spencer just didn’t seem right, but he would have to put it out of his mind for now, along with the idea of you having sex at all.

“Well, thanks for telling me. And you know, if you ever have any questions about… I don’t know, uh… men… I mean, males… Male… stuff, you can ask me. And I’m sure you can ask Michonne about female stuff, you know.”

“Dad,” you said, your eyes shut in embarrassment, “it was a one-time thing. I’m not… having sex anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone else. Plenty of nice guys here, and maybe… Spencer, will come crawling back to you… You like any other guys around here, anyone I know?”

Yeah, you thought. Daryl Dixon.

“Nope,” you said confidently. “No guys. Only men in my life are you and Carl, and that’s more than enough.”

Your dad shoved your knee with his elbow. “You little shit,” he said with a hearty laugh. “Besides, what about… Daryl? He’s in your life, too.”

What’s he on about?

You chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. “Daryl?” you asked. “What about Daryl? He’s just a friend.”

“Well, I know, but he’s looking out for you. Kinda like a big brother.”

Inadvertently, Rick seemed to strike a chord, and he instantly noticed how tense you got, tucking your hands under your thighs and biting your lip as if to stop yourself from saying something incriminating.

“He is… like a big brother,” you agreed. “He’s special… brave, kind, loyal…” You realized you were about to go on and on, and quickly stopped yourself before you made it too obvious that you loved him. “Anyway, I have to get back to work. I was just on my break.”

“Hey,” Rick said, gently touching your shoulder before you could get up, “I love you, peanut.”

You smiled and nodded before reaching over to hug him. “I love you too, Dad.”

Not long after that, Rick’s worry that you were lying to him was eclipsed by the much greater problem of a group called the Saviors, who rattled Alexandria and other nearby communities for several months before things only started getting back to normal.

It was a hard time, with several deaths of people you cared about, the one most affecting you being the death of your brother, Carl.

Though he was your half-brother, you grew up with him, and losing him was difficult. Not only that, but Daryl was taken and tortured by Negan and the Saviors, and Glenn, whom you had known since the beginning, was murdered senselessly, all in the span of six or so months.

Your father was brave, though, and fought back, leading Alexandria and the other communities who’d agreed to join your cause.

In the end, the Saviors surrendered, and Negan was imprisoned in Alexandria, a decision you supported, since it was Carl’s dying wish for forgiveness, and maybe, just maybe, one day, that could happen.

After the war, it became abundantly clear to Rick that you cared a great deal more for Daryl than he initially thought, as you spent a lot of time visiting him at the Sanctuary, bringing him food and helping him with the crop situation, which appeared to be rather hopeless.

He surmised you developed a crush on the older man, and it amused him initially, but quickly became worrisome when he realized that you were old enough to plausibly have a relationship with him, if he returned your supposed affections.

But then, that was all just speculation, until Daryl visited Alexandria one day.

It was the first time he’d visited since being sent off to lead the former Saviors at the Sanctuary, and you were beyond ecstatic to see him back home, running up to his bike as he came through the gates, and quickly wrapping your arms around him.

“Hey, there, stranger,” you said, holding his face in your hands, and desperately wanting to kiss him.

He smiled, but removed your hands, reminding you of the public setting. “Hey,” he replied. “Good to see ya.”

You insisted upon Daryl staying in your house for the duration of his visit, the purpose of which was mostly for talking trade with Alexandria and making new agreements for better crops. Really, though, his mind seemed to be more focused on you.

All throughout dinner, he seemed infatuated with you, even sitting next to you, laughing and drinking way too much, letting himself wrap his arm around you and touch you much more than you knew he’d be comfortable with in a sober state.

Rick noticed this, and suddenly he seemed aware that Daryl’s affection for you went beyond a brotherly protectiveness. Whatever it was, it hit him thick and fast—the realization that maybe, just maybe, the man you had sex with that night a year ago was actually… He couldn’t even fathom it.

No way, he thought to himself. There’s no way Daryl would do that.

He was sure Daryl wasn’t even sexually interested in anybody, let alone his daughter. No, whatever it was between the two of you, it had to be something else. Maybe Daryl was just incredibly affectionate and touchy when he was drunk. That was true, but he didn’t even know the half of it.

That night, Daryl found you on the way out of the bathroom, and nearly caused you to gasp in horror when he jumped in front of you and pushed you back in, hoisting you up on the bathroom counter as he loosely threw the door closed.

You laughed as his stubble tickled your neck, and his lips sloppily trailed all over your collarbone as he lowered the strap of your nightgown. One hand seemed to lazily spread your legs open, letting his core graze against yours, while the other pawed animalistically at your breast.

“Oh, God,” you sighed, feeling his fingers peel back the crotch of your panties and enter you. “Mmm, Daryl…”

You knew he was drunk, or at least still tipsy from dinner, and you were a little, too, but the feeling as he desperately moved his fingers in and out of you, and curled them so expertly inside of you… It felt hazily wonderful.

Still, you peeked over his shoulder to notice the door was just slightly ajar. In his excitement, he must’ve forgotten to latch it and lock it as was protocol.

“Daryl,” you said softly, clawing at his back at the feeling of him pleasuring you with his fingers. “Baby… The door.”

He grunted against the skin of neck, and kissed up your jawline until he reached your ear to whisper, “I don’ care.”

You laughed, and grasped his cheeks to pull his head off of you. You admired his hazy eyes, obviously drunk on passion and whisky, but still so pretty and blue.

“You’re drunk,” you said. “Let’s get you back in bed, old man.”

He shook his head vigorously, before slamming his core against yours, still sensitive from his abrupt fingering. “Nah,” he said. “You ‘n me. Right here, right now.”

Rick couldn’t see much as he lumbered down the darkened hallway, becoming more awake with each step he took. All he’d heard was a bang or two coming from somewhere outside of his room, and that was enough to get him to investigate.

The light of a brightly lit lantern cascaded through the inch or two opening of the ajar bathroom door, immediately catching Rick’s trained eye. He moved slowly, coming closer and closer, and hearing sharp gasps and sighs on the other side of the door.

It could’ve been a walker, but it seemed far-fetched, since surely one of the guards would have noticed a walker coming in through the gates, and no lone walker could get through the front door. No, it was a person—a woman. You.

He knew your voice, though it was making sounds he’d never heard before, and didn’t want to hear again: sounds of pleasure.

“Daryl,” he heard you say beyond the door.

He swallowed hard, and became at once confused and angry, as he was in denial that it was happening, but enraged at the thought.

A part of him wanted to believe maybe he’d just caught you in a compromising position, pleasuring yourself to the thought of his best friend. It was a disturbing image, but more preferable to the other possibility.

When he heard a familiar grunt intermingled with your sighs, he knew he couldn’t deny it anymore, the reality that it was happening.

What was he to do? What could he possibly do? He did the one thing that he shouldn’t have done, but he did it anyway, because he was furious, filled with righteous indignation, betrayal and treachery washing over him. Every vein in his body was alight with a stream of fire coursing through it, sending an unavoidable heat to his brain, where the primal need to protect his young overshadowed any other physiological function.

The door flew open, crashing against the wall and causing a picture frame or two in the adjacent hallway to fall and shatter upon the hardwood floor.

Daryl pulled out of you swiftly, and moved away from between your spread apart legs when he recognized the presence behind him, standing in the doorway boring a hole through his back.

Your mind turned to white static, your eyes wide and stuck on the red, tightly-drawn face of your father, over the shoulder of your lover, who panted sharply as he pulled up his jeans, still looking at you, eyes wide and in disbelief of the idea that he’d been caught with you.

“D-Dad,” you stuttered as you quickly closed your legs and covered your bottom half with your nightgown, though his eyes were glued on Daryl.

He couldn’t turn to face him, ashamed, and, in the terrible honesty of the matter, still painfully erect from being so unceremoniously interrupted.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could say, through tears that clouded your vision, and were almost comforting in the way they protected you from seeing your father’s face, which you imagined was filled with shocking disappointment.

Daryl looked at you, frozen in his fear and his guilt. He was guilty of hurting you, above all else. Hurting you by putting you in such a position that your father could catch you with him. It was all his fault, all of it. Perhaps if he’d ignored his feelings, turned you down and never looked your way again, you wouldn’t be sitting there, crying gently and holding back from sobbing at the shame of this moment.

Then again, he couldn’t ignore his feelings, not without leaving your group entirely the first time he got the chance. He couldn’t live with your group, not if he couldn’t be with you in the way he needed to, because he loved you more than anything. What started as lust turned into such a strong loyalty and trust that he could never turn back from what he had with you, which you both saw as pure, genuine love. The moment you spoke to him, the moment he became more than a stranger to you, there was no going back. This was destined to happen, and he had to face the consequences. Not you, not Rick, but him.

No matter how much he wanted to hold you, to tell you everything would be just fine, that he would try to make things right, he couldn’t do that, for fear of making things worse in front of your father.

Instead, he fixed himself, adjusting his jeans and letting himself lose his rather inconvenient erection before turning around to face Rick.

He held his hands up in a sign of surrender, as if he’d been caught red-handed by the police, which, in a sense, was true, except he’d committed no crime.

“Rick,” he said in a low voice, “let me—”

His words were cut off by the hard right cross of a man who’d just walked in on his daughter having sex with his best friend.

“No!” you cried, hopping off the counter as Rick pulled Daryl by the fabric of his leather vest into the hallway, and proceeded to lay into him, blow after blow into his torso and his face. You went behind him to tug him away from Daryl, who was not fighting back at all, simply letting your father beat him senseless.

Though you had pulled him away for just a moment, he quickly yanked your hand off his arm and tackled Daryl onto the floor of the hallway.

In a matter of seconds, Michonne ran out to see what the commotion was all about, and immediately tried pulling Rick away again, but to no avail, as he was intent on hurting Daryl.

“Stop it!” you bellowed, now more enraged than sad. “Get off him!”

Finally, Daryl began to fight back when he tasted what he determined to be too much blood pooling in his mouth, and he couldn’t see any way of getting out of the situation alive. He threw a punch at Rick’s face, one so hard it caused him to roll off of Daryl, who began to rise to his feet, until Rick pulled him down again, and, somehow, in a tangle of limbs and with a series of uncoordinated hits, the two men rolled down the stairs in an almost cartoonish ball of violence.

You and Michonne raced down the stairs, the latter in a state of utter bewilderment. “What the hell is going on here?!” she yelled, watching you hop down the stairs to pull Rick off Daryl’s limp body.

“Oh, God!” you cried, your voice quivering as you kneeled beside him. Somewhere in the fall down the stairs, he must’ve hit his head on the banister, because he was out cold. You looked up angrily at your father. “You knocked him out!”

Rick wiped his mouth and spit blood onto the carpet below him. “It’s what he deserves,” he said bitterly. “I should’ve known… Should’ve known since… How long has this been goin’ on?!”

Michonne pushed past Rick to help you move Daryl to the sofa, each of you pulling his dead weight by one of his arms.

You shook your head, unable to think as you looked at all the bruises and cuts on Daryl’s face. “I—I… What the hell does it matter?!”

“It matters a whole lot!” yelled Rick, pointing at you and looking at you with the most rage you’d seen on his face since the day he bit into that man’s neck. “Jesus Christ, (Y/N), why didn’t ya tell me?! Why didn’t either of you just tell me?!”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, brushing the hair from Daryl’s face as Michonne brought you the first aid kit to tend to his wounds. “Leave me alone,” you said, your voice quivering with tears. “You… you hurt him.”

He scoffed. “Damn right I hurt him! He’s lucky he’s not dead!”

“Just go away!” you yelled, and ignored his shaky presence as you blotted Daryl’s face with alcohol, trying however you could to repair the damage your father inflicted upon him.

He must’ve really hit that banister hard, because after an hour, he was still passed out, unconscious with his head nestled in your lap. Needless to say, you were worried, terrified that Daryl was in a coma, though that seemed like a longshot.

Michonne went to get Siddiq after a while, requesting his medical attention when Daryl didn’t show any signs of waking up, leaving just you and Rick, and the sleeping Judith, though luckily she had no idea what was happening, alone in the house.

You didn’t even know where he was, and you didn’t really care. All you cared about at the moment was getting Daryl to wake up.

Sure, you were worried about your father, how he’d found out about your relationship in the worst conceivable way, but his reaction was completely unwarranted, in your opinion.

You were an adult when you met Daryl, you were an adult when you fell in love with Daryl, and you were an adult when you had sex with Daryl. You understood why he might be upset that you didn’t tell him, but the beating? It was not a justified reaction, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t his fault that you loved him. If you didn’t share his affections, he would have left you alone, never tried to be with you like he was, but you wanted him, pleaded with him to be with you, and you were in your right mind when you did.

Too preoccupied with brushing through Daryl’s hair, you didn’t notice Rick standing over you, idly examining Daryl.

“Still out, huh?” he asked, kneeling down beside you. You avoided his eye contact, keeping your attention on Daryl.

“He hit his head on the stairs,” you said. “No thanks to you.”

He pursed his lips and leaned forward, trying to get you to look his way. “(Y/N),” he said softly, “how long has this been going on? And don’t lie to me like last time. I know this didn’t just start tonight.”

You bit your lip and studied Daryl’s face, as if waiting for him to wake up and answer for you. You knew that it was your responsibility, though. You were just as involved as he was. It takes two to tango, as your birth mother used to say.

“When we lost the farm,” you began, “just after that. I went out hunting with Daryl… We agreed to… date, I guess.” You looked up at him for the first time, now filled with worry at his bruises and cuts from the few punches Daryl got in for self-defense. “He—he didn’t want to. I mean, he did, but he thought he was too old for me, and that you’d kick his ass if you found out. I guess he was right about that… He’s always right.”

You looked back down at Daryl, whose unconscious face seemed rather relaxed for a man who just got the shit beaten out of him.

“So, that’s why you didn’t tell me?” he asked.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” you corrected. “We were worried that… everyone would think it was strange, how far apart we are in age… Do you think it’s wrong?”

Really, all you cared about was your father’s opinion, and not knowing it for so long did get to you. You wanted him to approve of Daryl, to like him not only as a friend and a brother, but as the man you loved, as strange as it seemed.

He silently looked between you and Daryl, then let out a surprising scoff. “Maybe if it were any other man,” he said. “But Daryl… He’s the best man I ever met. He’s a lot older, but I can live with it. I mean, I can get used to it, eventually.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then why the hell did you beat him? He loves me, I love him.”

“Honey,” he said, tilting his head as if it were obvious, “I don’t care who he is, what I saw in that bathroom, no parent should ever see.”

You frowned, and looked down in shame. “I’m so sorry,” you said, embarrassed and wishing you could take that all back. “I didn’t want you to see that, obviously. It was just… just an accident. A stupid accident.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, still no excuse for me to beat him, but just seeing that, after years of not knowing… I don’t know. He’s my best friend.”

You smiled tearfully. “I know. He loves you… He’s always talking about how great you are, how you saved us all, time and again.”

“Hm, is that so?” he asked, now smiling back at you.

You laughed through the tears. “Yes… And you know, he’s my best friend, too.”

“I always knew that,” he said. “Daryl and (Y/N), like peanut butter and jelly. Hell, I should’ve seen it. The two of you were always so damn close. I think… Maybe somewhere I knew it was going on, but I just didn’t want to see it. And maybe… Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to you, spent more time with you, then maybe you would’ve felt like you could tell me. You were just so… mature, I thought you could handle anything. Should’ve known that you were still young, still needing that father figure.”

“Don’t you dare say Daryl became my father figure,” you quickly added with a lighthearted laugh.

He held his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying that, not at all. Just saying that I should’ve been there for you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You shook your head, still teary-eyed. “No, you were always there, I just didn’t always need you. I mean, I had to figure things out for myself, that’s all. You did the best that you could. It’s not easy being a dad in a world like this.”

“So you forgive me?” he asked, taking your hand in his.

You looked at him, and then back down at Daryl, who still seemed lightyears away. “I forgive you for that, but for potentially putting Daryl in a coma…”

Siddiq came in just minutes later, a little disoriented after being awoken by Michonne at three in the morning.

Still, he looked at Daryl, and confirmed to your relief that he was just knocked out really good by blunt trauma to the head, and that he’d wake up right as rain. Well, besides a pretty bad headache.

“Wh-what happened?” he asked you when he awoke, his eyes slowly fluttering open and his head tossing in your lap.

You brushed back his hair and kissed his forehead, which ached horribly. “You’re fine,” you said. “Do you remember anything before you passed out?” You hoped for his sake that he didn’t.

He racked his brain, and tried to rise up, but you held him in place his shoulders, gently resting him back down on your thighs.

“Mmm,” he grunted, rubbing his aching forehead with the back of his hand. “Uh, I remember… I remember…” He smiled up at you deliriously, and, not realizing anyone else was in the room, least of all Rick, he recounted what he remembered, which at first was just sex. “I remember you,” he said sweetly. “I remember… how beautiful you look when I’m—”

Rick cleared his throat, stepping forward behind you until Daryl could see him hovering over like an angel of death.

“Shit, Rick,” he mumbled, shaking his head and suddenly recalling being hit mercilessly by Rick (though not for the first time). “Didn’t know you were here.”

Mercifully letting Daryl’s headache subside, you asked your father to wait until he decided to clear the air with Daryl.

At dawn, Daryl arose from the couch, where you insisted upon sleeping with him, since he wasn’t going anywhere near your bed now, not under the same roof as your father.

You squirmed a little as he left, even in your unconsciousness feeling the absence of his warm arms around you. He huffed and kissed your forehead, smiling a little to himself at your sleepy state. Pulling the covers up and over your shoulders, he stroked your arm before speaking quietly to you.

“Love you, sunshine.”

He moved soundlessly to the front porch, carefully latching the door shut behind him before removing his carton of cigarettes and lighting one up as he sat on the railing. The sun rose in the distance, just peeking out over the gable roofs of the houses across the way. Soon the soft warmth of the newborn sunshine hit his face, and he closed his eyes at the feeling, so warm and sweet, and reminiscent of why he called you “sunshine.”

“It’s beautiful,” Rick’s voice said from behind him.

Daryl craned his head and saw the man standing in the doorway. He must’ve moved quietly, or Daryl was losing his “spidey senses,” as you called them.

He nodded in agreement as he snuffed out the cigarette on the railing. It was awkward, of course, being anywhere near the man who’d just beaten you nearly to a pulp for sleeping with his daughter, but he could understand it. He always thought that if he were in the same position, he would’ve done the same thing.

Still, the man had caught you two screwing in his bathroom. It was awkward.

He stepped forward, and Daryl felt his presence inching closer. It was a strong presence, but not threatening, not like earlier.

“I’m not mad,” he said, sitting himself across from Daryl on the other end of the railing.

“You can be,” replied Daryl as he twirled the butt of his cigarette between his fingers, determined not to litter on Rick’s property. He had already violated his property enough in his mind. “Don’t blame ya for what you did.”

Rick nodded, but he really did blame himself for it. “No, Daryl,” he said. “It was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m especially sorry that I did it in front of (Y/N). I know she really loves you. Could tell by how worried she was about you… And looking back, even before… She always loved you. Right from the start.”

He looked down at his lap in thought. “I love ‘er too,” he said, hoping not to offend Rick, but it was true, and he needed to know. “I know I’m probably not what you wanted for her, but… I love ‘er, I really do.” He mustered up the courage to look your father in the eye, and subconsciously straightened his back a little against the pole he leaned on. “I’d do anythin’ for her, and I’d never hurt her. You gotta know that.”

Rick met his gaze, and two pairs of stern blue eyes looked upon each other with mutual understanding and respect, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time. Rick trusted Daryl with his life, and vice versa. There wasn’t much in this world that Daryl could do to violate that trust, and not even that secret, nor the knowledge of that very secret, could quite break the bond between them, just as it could never make him stop loving his daughter.

“I know that,” he said with a nod. “All these years, you kept her safe when I couldn’t, you were there for her when I wasn’t… I thank you for that. And maybe… Maybe you weren’t really the man I was picturing if I’m being honest,” he said with a laugh, to which Daryl grinned ever so slightly, “but you’re better than the man I was picturing, because he wasn’t you. The more I think about it, you’re the only man who could ever be good enough for her, so I might not be… used to it yet, but I’m not gonna stop you from making her happy.”

There was no doubt in his mind that he cared for you, that he loved you, and that he could keep you safe. That was all he could ever ask for in the man you loved.

“Y-you really ain’t mad?”

Rick raised his eyebrows and let out an exasperated huff. “I’m… I’m processing it,” he said vaguely. “It’s kinda weird, you know, your best friend, your brother, in love with your little girl. I mean, she’s not a little girl, but to me she is. But no, I’m not mad, just… overwhelmed… And a little traumatized from that… incident.”

Daryl cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “I’m real sorry about that,” he said with a severe guilt in his voice. “It was my fault. It won’t happen again, not ever.”

Rick nodded. “You’re damn right it won’t. Could’ve gone my whole life without seeing your bare ass.”

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah, me too.”

That afternoon, Daryl prepared his bike to return to the Sanctuary, and you came out to the gate to say your goodbyes, until an idea occurred to you.

It’d been lingering in your head since early that morning, now that your father knew of your relationship.

“Daryl?” you asked, holding each other in your arms tightly.

He let go of you to look at you curiously, and brushed your hair back behind your ear to better see your face, the same one he carried a crumpled photograph of in his vest pocket, always needing to have the reminder of who was waiting for him in Alexandria.

“Yeah, sunshine?”

You tugged on his vest and brought him closer to you again before speaking. “Can I come with you?”

His eyes widened, and his hands moved to your lower back where he rubbed you up and down lovingly.

“That’d make me the happiest man in the world,” he said. “But… I can’t take you away from your home, from your dad, no matter how much I want you with me.”

You nodded, your face turned downcast and disappointed, until a sudden burst of hope glimmered in your eyes. “Maybe he’d be okay with it. I can ask, really quick. I’ll bet he’d be fine with it.”

“Who?” Rick’s voice came out from behind you, and his sudden presence slightly startled even Daryl, who could hear most people coming from a mile away. “Thought I’d say goodbye before you leave,” he said to Daryl with a nod.

You looked back at Daryl, asking him silently for permission. He nodded, and you didn’t hesitate to ask your father. Well, to tell your father.

“Dad,” you said firmly, “I’m going with Daryl to the Sanctuary.” Your confidence visibly shrunk a little when his eyes widened at your words. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

He sighed, and gave Daryl a once-over before turning back to you with a small, proud smile.

“You’re gonna live there?” he asked you.

“As long as Daryl’s there,” you replied.

Rick raised an eyebrow at Daryl. “You okay with this?”

He shrugged. “If you are.”

You waited patiently for the verdict, enduring a long silence that seemed to last forever.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he finally said, “but every kid’s gotta leave the nest sometime. You’ll always be my baby.”

You threw your arms around him, laughing giddily upon the realization that you and Daryl could finally be a real couple, living together without fear of being found out.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said before kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

A quick pack of the bare essentials and you were ready, hopping on the back of Daryl’s bike as the engine roared to life.

Rick looked on, visibly a little nervous at the sight of you on Daryl’s death machine.

“Be careful,” he said to you, though it seemed he directed the advice more towards Daryl. “And you better both come back to visit. Don’t be a stranger, now.”

You smiled his way. “We’ll come back, I promise!” you yelled over the engine. “Love you!”

“Love you, too, peanut.”

The gates were pulled back, and Daryl revved the engine before letting go of the break and speeding through the open gates.

You yelped and grasped harder at his waist, already a little terrified of the bike.

Still, it felt wonderful, the freedom of being there with him, moving towards that place where finally there’d be no shame in expressing your love for each other.

You arrived at the Sanctuary near dark, and leaning over the railing of the balcony outside, looking up at the stars just beginning to shine, with the feeling of Daryl’s arm holding you close to him as he held your waist, you wondered if there could ever be a more perfect moment, though you knew the answer to that question.

“I love you,” you heard him whisper in your ear before kissing your cheek innocently.

You nuzzled your head against his, and took his hand in yours to twirl his fingers playfully. “I love you, too… Old man.”

He nudged his nose against yours, grimacing at your faux insult. “I’ll send ya back to Alexandria first chance I get, girl. Don’t mess with me. I may be old but I’m the only son of a bitch who can handle you.”

You giggled at the feeling of his stubble against your cheek as he kissed you there again. “Mmm,” you hummed, blissfully dumbfounded at the fact that this man had ever been a stranger to you. It seemed like nothing could keep the two of you apart, not one thing in this world. “Young at heart, right?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “All ‘cause of you.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

✏ Taglist

#daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #some kind of stranger series #some kind of stranger

709 notes · View notes

bowieandqueen11 · 3 years ago

Text

Marc Spector Dating A Plus!Size Reader Would Include...

Request: hi !!! your plus sized reader and steven story made me tear up it's so cute and perfect :(( do you think you'll do one for marc as well? if not that's okay too :)

That’s so kind of you, thank you!! :) Also I’m afraid I’ve never read any Moon Knight comics, so all my knowledge of Marc has come from the first five episodes of the show!

Warning, mentions of childhood abuse and slightly NSFW!

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @the-maidofmischief.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

GOT to start this off by saying just look at him. Absolute baby. Daddy (thank u mr isaac). Mess of a man. Gosh I love him so much. I know we all like to say that Steven is Mr. Puppy Dog Eyes, but this mf right here is the REAL Mr. Heart eyes. The way he looks at you is just ridiculous; his eyes are so intense, his gaze so particular as they focus in only on you, it’s akin to feeling ashes of fire fall like fresh snow, overwhelmingly cool and destructive at the same time. He’s so unused to being allowed anything of this nature, of being allowed so close to divinity that just the look he reserves for you alone is enough to melt a hole through the floor.

I feel like the two of you would have first met as children - perhaps a next door neighbour who used to run round after school and go on adventures with Dr. Grant and Randall around the suburbs of Chicago. Marc would always stick tight next to you as you wandered down the winding lanes and into the tree lines. He would be smiling over at his brother as he talked about the newest excavation they were about to embark on, whilst simultaneously nudging into your shoulder with his own and pretending his cheeks weren’t becoming flushed every time you knocked him back.

After Randall... well, you were the only friend Marc had left. The only person in his life that he could rely on, and the only thing keeping the last scraps of what should have been his light-hearted childhood within him. When his mother used to finally give up on blaming him and recede back into her bedroom with her whiskey to keep her company, Marc used to heave himself off the floor and limp straight for his windowsill. There, he would pick up the slightly smashed torch he used to give three lit blasts into your window, letting you know it was okay to climb down and make your way up through his own. Clambering in, he would collapse down onto the floor in a heap, drawing his knees up around his chest and crying into their caps. You would spend the rest of the night on the floor, hugging him into your side and rocking him back and forth as you tried to will away some of his pain, waiting for the stinging to stop. Once he would finally look desperately up at you, and allow you to wipe away the remaining tears on his cheeks with the side of your thumbs, the two of you would sit side by side. Cross legged on the floor, you would tip out his colouring pencils and draw out scenes of how you imagined your future would be: somewhere where it never rained, a pet rabbit or fish, the two of you living together inside a giant library, or somewhere secret and hidden away like a tomb. He’d stash them under his pillow when it was finally time for you to go, and every night before he fell asleep he’d add to it. Another two stick figures, holding hands in front of a shimmering reed field, safe and content.

You were also there during all his birthdays!! Sitting round the Spector’s dining room tables with a tilted party hat on, holding up the cake for a crestfallen looking Marc as he tried his hardest to pretend to have a good time and blow out the candles. When you shoved a piece of cake right into his face though - the beaming smile he gave you as he scooped up some icing and retaliated was enough to even let his father breathe a sigh of relief, if only for a moment. Cue Mrs. Spector entering, and Marc running away with you right on his heels. When you finally manage to catch up with him, you manage to pull the present you had wrapped for him out of your pocket and shove it into his hands. Inside is a little locket clasped onto a gold chain, inside a drawing of the two of you in each empty space that you had done. He gives you a hug so tight you can feel the air rush out and the blood rise to your forehead, but it makes it all worth it to know that Marc has never taken that chain off over the years. Not even for a second. Not even when he left, and he was so heartbroken it felt cruel to wear a reminder of what his heart could have been around his neck.

Apart from his father, you made his childhood that little touch more bearable, which is why he wasn’t shocked to find his feet had led him to your door once he came back from the marines. That fateful night, just a few hours after he found out that his mother had passed away, when Marc Spector had no idea what to do. He felt terrible for walking out on you all those years ago, and yet his feet were so sure of themselves as they marched up onto your steps and rang the doorbell. He was ready to bolt when you opened it, standing there like a petrified little rabbit afraid it was about to be mauled when you peered out and saw wretched, tired, desolate Marc Spector standing in your doorway for once. So, you did the only thing you could think of. You pulled him tight into your arms, not noticing how he sobbed a wretched, soul-crushing moan as soon as your fingers touched his jacket. He just wept into your neck, clawing onto the curve of your back with tender talons as he promised over and over that he would never let go of you again.

Yep and now I’ve actually made myself cry way to go Cee.

You get whisked away a lot with Marc... or, well, more like Khonsu whisks you and Marc away to wherever he commands him to go a lot. But that doesn’t mean the two of you don’t take every opportunity - every second Marc deems the Universe has given him of borrowed time to enjoy his life basked in your honey-gold luminance. When he gets a moment away from the Egyptian God, he likes to take you out to see the cities you’ve flown off to. This usually means boat rides along canals and reedy rivers, where he tries to let his fears of ever hurting you go and just hold you tight in his arms. Or, walking through star-lit, bustling city markets late at night, stone-cobbled streets laden with sellers tempting you with a range of sweet-smelling goods. Although he’s still too tense to take the baseball cap away from his eyes, the grip he has on your hand lets you know that all he wants at that moment is to be in your company.

My man is BIG on arm worship. Like, idk, he just feels like his hands have done such horrible things during his grief-stricken life? Every time he looks down at them, he just sees them inked marked with splattered drops of blood, so he takes his mind off it for even a second by noticing every mark and crease on yours instead. It drives him crazy - kissing up your upper arms while tenderly holding out your hand in the cool breeze when you’re both back on the motel bed. The feeling of you wrapping them tight around his neck as his body hovers over your chest, feeling safe and cocooned and normal in the arms of the person he adores more than all of life.

I mean, sometimes it’s not easy dating Marc Spector - too often to count, you’ll wake up to find him stumbling back to your apartment at day break caked in dried blood, sweat, and mud flecks rising up to the moon. Even though his body is screaming with the pain of numerous joints popped out of place, he doesn’t care. He just wants to be in your embrace. So be ready for dirtied sheets as he collapses down onto your legs and buries his head into your thick thighs. He just sleepily apologises over and over as he takes his hand within yours and clasps it to his heart, before falling fast asleep. Sometimes, it both terrifies and exhilarates you to know how whole heartedly he trusts you - how willing he is to lay himself bare and be so vulnerable around you. That’s when you realise just how deep and true his love must be.

Marc is very, very protective of you. If he’s wearing his Moon Knight costume, man is lifting you up from the scene and just straight up Scooby Doo-style running away from the bad guys. Even when the two of you are linked arms, ambling round the streets of Illinois to find a decent coffee shop to sit at for the afternoon, at the first sign of trouble boi is tugging you behind his back and using his whole body to shield you. Sometimes this results in him pulling away, or not purposefully shutting you out. He’s just terrified of the idea that Khonsu could turn and make you his avatar instead at any second, and it would be all his fault. Whenever he feels that way, with shaking fingers he opens the locket again and wills away the tears blinking at the creases of his crumpled eyes, and then he knows it will be alright. Because, with all the tenderness bubbling up from his grief-bound heart, he knows he would do everything possible to never have to lose you. Even if it meant losing himself in the process. He would give himself up in a heartbeat.

So, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders in apology, tucking you into his warmth before guiding you back home with a fond smile. His strong biceps around your shoulders are dominated only by the snug smell that radiates off his clothes: whiskey, hints of coffee, and a dash of caramel.

He’s not a massive fan of PDA in public, just because any shows of affection or kindness seem unnatural and foreign to him. But bless his heart, he does try his best for you. Usually this just ends up him letting you hold your hands on top of his shaking ones, the tremors in his palm so massive that you keep having to stroke his fingers on your lap to get him to relax down and slow his breathing again.

He’s not someone who lies in, or sleeps heavily. But BRO if you let him lie down between your legs, so he’s tucked up between your thighs like a snug little bug he can sleep NO problem. Pls just stroke back those stubborn strands of hair that like to fall into curls around his forehead. He’ll cuddle down, letting his eyes shut in bliss as he rests his hands against your stomach, dropping off into a sound sleep in a millisecond flat. Be ready to stay like that all night, though. Because apart from feeling heavy, hairy legs land and tangle over your own around midnight, my man will not move an inch. His snores do tickle though, especially when he has some light stubble around his cheeks.

He’s biggggg on neck kisses. As we all know, he’s not the best at opening up and just spending time in your company massively talking. So, when the two of you are just chilling on the sofa at home after a long day, watching some terrible 80s action movie he picked, his love language to let you know just how much he’s glad you’re here is through kisses. He’ll rise up from where he’s slouched against your side, saddling up to you and grinning deviously. You don’t have any time to question it before his plump lips are open against the skin of your neck - soft and warm enough to make you whimper, but sucking enough to leave you breathless. He continues pressing those licking, trailing kisses up the tendons of your neck until he’s sure he’s got you a flustered, whining mess underneath him.

He tries to ask Steven for advice on how to be all romantic, especially when he comes home after disappearing for a few weeks in tow of Khonsu. He stands, straggled, at the door. In his hand is a valentine-eque card, full of bumpy lines and uneven colouring that he tried to make on the turbulent flight home. In the other hand is a bouquet of very squashed, very sat on looking wilted flowers - the only thing covering the apologetic grimace on his face.

He knows how it feels to be insecure, and to feel like you’re life isn’t worth anything. So, if for even a SECOND he sees you looking down, or disappointed, or upset about ANYTHING Marc notices straight away and does his best to distract you. He cups your cheek, raising your chin so you’re looking at him, and he’s sure you can see every move of his lips as he rambles out all the ways you’re perfection in his eyes. You’re so close though, you can feel his heart ramming against his chest, heart overflowing, gushing out of his mouth like tides on the Nile. Eventually, the look he gives you - that smouldering gaze of ash and rage and lust and fire is too overwhelming, you’re too irresistible to him, and the two of you end up collapsed in a heap on the floor making out.

He tries to be all sweet the next morning by bringing you breakfast in bed, but he ends up tripping over the sandbags Steven left by the window and spills the freshly squeezed orange juice all over your lap. *Cue Marc leading you to the shower and getting down on his knees so he can lather every inch of your skin from the feet up with loving hands and soapy suds to make sure he gets it all off.*

He gets quite shy, and sometimes standoffish if he gets caught doing anything too cutesy and lovey-dovey, though. He still has that flight or fight response in him, that need to keep quite and hidden and not do anything too brazen so he doesn’t get in trouble. So you try not to open your eyes at night and give away the fact he’s woken you up when you can feel his pointer finger trace up the side of your stomach, and up to your neck. His mouth is hanging slightly open in wonder, little ‘wows’ still spilling out of his mouth as he curls up against you and giggles like Steven at the disbelief that the dreams he used to spend every fitful childhood night dreaming about have actually come true.

Speaking of, he tacks up some of the drawings by the fish tank. You catch him some mornings sipping his mug of coffee and standing up looking at them, a proud smile on his face.

In comparison to Steven, I feel like Marc would rather drive himself than take public transport. Be ready for road trips where his hand is resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time as if to check you’re really still there. When you get out onto the long stretches of highway, he sticks his head out of the window like a car-sick puppy as he yells happily into the air, finally feeling free for once in his life.

And it’s all thanks to you.

#moon knight #moon knight imagine #marc spector #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #marvel #marc spector headcanons #marvel imagine #oscar isaac

211 notes · View notes

sophiie2000 · 2 years ago

Text

Just A Holiday Romance?

Hey hey! 😋 So writing seems to be a good way to pass the time at the moment and keeps my mind busy rather than focusing on all the bad things going on at the moment. 😊

Smut and Fluff, maybe a little Hurt/Comfort thrown into the mix

Following a messy break up, MC and her friends head off on a girl’s holiday. When out clubbing they meet Eisuke and a couple of friends. Encouraged by her friends, MC enjoys the thrills of a holiday romance, but is it destined to end?

~ 5872 words

Disclaimer - Characters belong to Voltage Inc.

The heavy rain fall, smashing the ground and drenching MC, was an ironic metaphor for her current mood. The rain soaked her sage green party dress, which highlighted her curves, chilling her to the bone. Her hair, which had been styled into princess curls only hours earlier, now clung to her wet cheeks, the ends going straggly from the rain. Her make up, too, had been ruined.

The one saving grace of this horrid storm, the rain disguised MC’s tears, as she ran through the city.

She ran all the way to her friends home in search of some comfort. How had things turned out this way? Only hours earlier, MC and her friends had been speculating how tonight could be the night that her boyfriend, her childhood sweetheart, after 7 years of being together, would finally propose.

He had asked her to meet him at a restaurant in the city, one they had both said they wished to try out, and told her it would be just the two of them. Upon hearing the news, MC and her friends had spent the afternoon picking out clothes, styling her hair and doing her make up. All so she would look her best, should he finally ask her to be his wife.

So why was it, that she was now left feeling like her whole world had crumbled from beneath her. Like the wind had been knocked from her sails?

The door to her friends apartment opened in front of her. There stood her friends, who had been helping her get ready earlier. Seeing their friend looking so upset surprised them.

“MC?” Jessica spoke quietly.

“What happened, what’s wrong? Where’s Isaac?” Millie questioned. Worry etched her friends faces.

“I-I left him at the restaurant…” MC stuttered out the words. Her friends looked at each other, growing more concerned, before MC spoke again. “He didn’t propose, he wasn’t ever going to… turns out Isaac has been seeing someone else-“

“HE CHEATED ON YOU?!” Her friends exclaimed. MC sobbed while she nodded before she continued what she was saying.

“And they are going to be together, in fact he’s meeting her family next week. I think he intends to marry her”

There was nothing her friends could say. They had all believed since school MC and Isaac would get married. They had been smitten with each other since they got together at 16. Now at 23, they had been wrongly convinced the pair would be settling down for the future. No one would have guessed Isaac would have been living a second life, making future plans with another woman.

“Right!” Millie shouted, “Forget that prick, we are in need of a girls holiday! One which is going to encourage you to get over that dumbass!”

“YES!” Jessica joined in, “And who knows maybe we’ll be lucky and enjoy a holiday romance or two!!”

MC laughed. A true laugh, at her friends silliness but wonderful idea. A girls holiday was the perfect idea. She had spent the last 7 years spending her time marching to Isaac’s tune. She had missed out on so much because she had been so hopelessly devoted to his beck and call that she never went out and had all the fun she could have done. This holiday she would make up for that mistake.

“How long should we go for?” MC asked. Noticing her enthusiasm the other two smiled.

“Well, you just left your job since you were looking at moving away with that dickhead, Jessica left her job because she is going to go to university in just over a month, and I’m currently on summer break from university, soooooo how about a long vacation?” Millie proposed.

“How about 4 weeks? That’ll give me time to relax and then come back and sort through my things before leaving?” Jessica replied.

“Perfect!”

All in agreement, their holiday plans were made. They would be leaving in 3 days time, jetting off to Santorini in Greece. They had a villa booked for the full 4 weeks. Their excitement for sun, sea and maybe a little bit of romance, had the girls eager to jet off.

***

A few days had passed, and the girls had finally arrived at their villa. Stepping out of the airconditioned taxi, the heat engulfed the friends. Sharing a smile, they headed into their villa, home for the next month.

Looking around, the girls squealed in excitement, as they went from room to room. The villas garden contained a swimming pool, seating area, BBQ, pizza oven and pool table.

Heading out onto the balcony showed the villa was also rewarded with a beautiful view, facing out over the ocean. You could see the beach and a few of the clubs and restaurants. If heaven was comparable to a place, this was it, MC thought.

As MC and her friends stood gazing from the balcony, they noticed a group of men down on the beach. Jessica and Millie were wildly discussing how gorgeous these men were. Joking about hoping one of them would notice them, or that they would be a holiday hook up. MC responded with a smile and a few sounds in agreement.

Yet all the while her attention couldn’t help be drawn to one man in particular. His short brown hair, chiselled features, made him nothing short of breathless. He was truly gorgeous. But what drew MC’s attention to him most of all, was his lack of smile, as he gazed out over the beach. He piqued her curiosity. Although she must have been staring for too long, for as if he had felt her stare, the man turned and appeared to make eye contact with MC. Holding her stare.

“Let’s go swimming in the pool before heading out for dinner!” Millie exclaimed. Her voice bringing MC out of her trance, allowing her to remove her sight from the man down on the beach. They all headed back into the villa to get changed into their bikinis.

But MC couldn’t help but look back at the stranger once more. But this time, he appeared to smile slightly at her, lifting his hand in a casual wave. MC smiled at him before heading inside. She didn’t risk waving back. What if she had only imagined it? Or worse, what if he had actually been waving at someone different?!

Shaking her head, MC headed back inside, planning to forget all about the beautiful stranger from the beach.

***

A few hours later and the girls were dressed in tight skimpy party dresses and their hair and makeup done ready to go clubbing. MC worse a tight mini white dress which finished half way down her thigh. It highlighted her curves, while its hurt promoted her cleavage. Her hair had been curled and tucked around so it sat across one of her shoulders.

When entering the club, other party goers naturally stared at the girls as they walked up to the bar. They ordered their drinks before heading to a booth at the edge of the club, where they could sit and enjoy their drinks for a moment.

MC sipped on her rhubarb and ginger gin as her eyes scanned the club. The girls had already been drinking before heading out, so they were pleasantly tipsy at this point. As she looked around, MC thought she had seen the man from earlier with his friends sat in another booth, but before she could be sure a mob of dancers blocked her view.

Millie, who was far drunker than her friends, grabbed their hands and pulled them to the dance floor.

“Let’s dance!” She exclaimed. The other two couldn’t help but laugh at their friend. This was perfect, MC thought. This holiday was definitely going to heal her heartbreak. She could feel it.

Laughing with her friends, MC too started dancing. The seductive movements of her hips rolling, her arms high above her head, naturally attracted the looks of others. Many from admirers, some from those jealous of the others looks. But MC didn’t care. She had been reserved for Isaacs sake. But now, now she could be herself, and have fun. She wasn’t going to let the looks of others stop her.

Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind the girls, addressing them.

“Hello there pretty ladies, the names Baba, could we have the honour of your company tonight?” The man, who called himself Bab, had long light brown hair spoke, his eyes mainly drawn to Jessica. Blushing Jessica nodded, and Baba took her hand placing a princely kiss on her fingers. “Let me introduce my friends. That one there is Ota.” He pointed at a younger man, who had blondish, orange hair. Millie’s eyes immediately bugged, as if she had literal hearts in her eyes. Amusingly, he seemed to have a similar reaction when he saw Millie. “And that one, his name is Eisuke” the girls turned to look at the man Baba called Eisuke. His short brown hair, chiselled features, MC recognised him immediately as the stranger from the beach. Although she hid the moment of recognition, she noticed a slight change in Eisuke’s expression. Had he recognised her too?

“Heh what charming men. Well, I’m Jessica, and these are Millie and MC. We’re staying in a villa nearby so you’re welcome to dance with us here, and if you’re fun maybe we’ll even let you back to continue the partying!”

As if that was a signal the groups of friends merged together and continued dancing. As there was now 3 girls and 3 guys natural pairs formed. Baba and Jessica, Ota and Millie, which left MC with Eisuke.

As they danced, Eisuke’s hands naturally found purchase on MC’s hips. She continued to dance with him, as they swayed their hips, Eisuke pressed firmly to her back, in time to the music.

MC could feel his every breath on his neck. Until he spoke into her ear.

“So, your name is MC then? I noticed you earlier, I’m guessing that’s the villa you are staying in?” Continuing to dance MC nodded in reply. “I thought this earlier, but you’ve piqued my curiosity”

“Likewise” MC finally granted him with a reply.

“How so?” Eisuke asked, genuinely interested in her response.

“You weren’t smiling, and so I wondered why, or maybe I wondered what you would look like if you did smile. A genuine smile.”

The words appeared to shock Eisuke. And MC could feel his heart rate increase through where he was pressed against her back.

“How long are you here for?” He finally asked.

“4 weeks, why?”

“Maybe you’ll make me smile. A genuine smile” Eisuke provoked, a smirk on his face. The flirtatious comment sparked something in MC.

She turned to face Eisuke, his hands still placed on her waist. As they made eye contact, his fingers seemed to twitch, before he moved one of his hands to cheek. His thumb rubbed her cheek before it slid down, to hold her chin. Making sure she couldn’t remove her eyes from him.

Who knows who made the first move, but it all happened so quickly. Eisuke’s lips had crashed onto hers. They weren’t tame kisses. But hungry biting kisses. They set MC’s heart into overdrive and her want for him encouraged her to open her lips, allowing his tongue to find purchase in her mouth, dancing with hers. She could feel desire building, a warmth spreading through her body. It couldn’t have been long but by the time the two separated, they were gasping for air. Still their eyes remained on one another. His full of desire.

As MC went to move away, Eisuke’s hands on her hips tightened, as if forbidding her from moving away from him. Smiling at him, she placed her hands on his and took them from her hips. She moved away and whispered into Jessica’s ear, who had been busy enjoying her own kisses with Baba.

“I’m heading back to the villa, you girls have fun!” Breaking away from Baba for a moment Jessica questioned her friend,

“Everything ok? You seemed to be having a good time” Jessica winked, nodding towards Eisuke.

“Yeah everything’s good, just fancy heading back now. Make sure you tell me all about this tomorrow!” MC gestured towards Baba and Millie. Laughing the girls waved goodbye and MC headed out of the club.

She had been walking for about 5 minutes. The whole time noticing she wasn’t walking alone but remaining quiet. But now she felt like she had to say something since she was nearing her villa.

“Rather than follow me, why don’t you walk next to me?” She asked, glancing back towards Eisuke who had been following her since she left the club.

“If you knew I was behind you why didn’t you speak?” He asked, MC was quick to retort,

“Why didn’t you speak? Instead you act like a stalker?”

“Look, you kissed me at the club and then suddenly start to run off? As much as it sucks to have someone run off after a kiss like that, and trust me it is not often that someone runs from me, I wasn’t going to leave you to walk home at this time of night alone.”

“Oh so gentlemanly” MC joked. Eisuke smiled, enjoying the back and forth.

“Well since I’m walking you back either way how about we chat as we go. How old are you?”

“23. You?”

“27. What do you do for work?”

“I just applied for a job somewhere else. I was meant to be moving and so left my job but the move fell through so came away before I head back to a new job. You?”

“Few things, but mainly hotels”

“Cool.” MC replied, still looking ahead. Eisuke still walking behind. Finally, he asked his next question.

“So why’d you run?”

“Run?” She asked.

“That kiss… anyone would expect after a kiss like that to enjoy the night longer. What did I do to make you leave?”

“Nothing”

“So why?”

“It’s complicated”

“Try me”

“We just met and you want me to open my heart up to you. Tell you my troubles?” MC asked, genuinely confused by the conversation. They were stood outside the villa now, MC unlocking the door and placing her hand on the door handle.

“I told you, you caught my curiosity.” Eisuke reached out and grabbed MC’s arm, turning her to face him once again. He caught her chin to make sure she couldn’t look away. MC could see the desire still smouldering in his eyes. Desire she was sure was mirrored in her own. “MC…”

MC could feel herself being drawn in. Drawn into the warmth of the eyes of a man who when she’d seen him look at others, appear cold. Her eyes were drawn to his lips. His ridiculously perfect lips, which seemed to beckon her as they edged ever so slightly, slowly closer. Finally, the scent of his aftershave filled her senses. God the man smelt good. She had tried to resist being drawn into him. How could she be so drawn to a man who 24 hours earlier was stranger. But the words of her friends came back to her. A girls holiday, and maybe a holiday romance. Could Eisuke be holiday romance?

That was the last thought MC had before her lips were covered once again by Eisuke’s. They were hungry. Biting. All consuming. He made her feel amazing with just a kiss. Separating herself from Eisuke, MC grabbed his hand, opened the door to the villa and made her way, with him, to her bedroom. As soon as they entered her room, she shut the door.

Eisuke didn’t give her so much as a moment to catch herself, before he lifted her up into his arms and crashed his lips into hers again. Pressing her up against the bedroom door, MC wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands held her in place by holding her ass, squeezing her cheeks as he did so.

Eisuke begun trailing kisses down MC’s neck. The desire was building up in her, eliciting moans and whimpers from her. She could feel his hard length as he pressed himself against her, which only served to excite her more. Moving away from the door, he roughly chucked her down on the bed, before joining her. Hovering over MC he gazed into her eyes.

He smiled. A genuine smile, full of warmth. Before he buried himself in her breasts. Stripping away her dress, and his clothes, he pressed himself down on top of her. His fingers of one hand squeezed her sensitive hardened nipples, while his other hand trailed up the inside of her thigh.

Her moans only seemed to encourage him more. He planted kisses down the front of her body, before he settled himself in between her thighs. Seeing how turned on she was, only increased his desire further. He soon buried his head between her thighs and serviced her with his tongue. The pleasure he brought her, had MC moaning out his name. As he added two fingers into the mix, entering them into her while he continued his actions with his tongue, MC had one hand gripping the bed sheets, while the other was in his perfect brown hair, dishevelled by their actions.

Just as MC felt her high coming, Eisuke almost cruelly stopped, sliding up her body and whispering into her ear,

“Not yet baby, I haven’t had my fill of you yet”

The words made MC whimper. Although she wanted more than before to feel him inside her. No, she needed him inside of her. As if he recognised what she wanted, he lined himself up with her entrance before thrusting himself into her. The way he filled her made MC gasp. He waited a moment, allowing her to accommodate him.

“Ok baby?” Eisuke asked. When MC nodded, Eisuke began thrusting into her.

He started out slowly, allowing MC to get used to him. However, it wasn’t long before his thrusts became quicker, went deeper and were rougher. MC cried out his name over and over. His nails digging into his back and shoulders. Yet neither cared in midst of their pleasure, all that could be heard were her moans and his grunts.

As her walls clenched around him, Eisuke also found his climax. He continued to thrust into her allowing them to prolong their high, before falling beside her into the bed. Both of them panting, before they looked at each other smiling.

“That… That was amazing” MC said as she handed Eisuke a bottle of icy cold water. Combing his fingers in her hair, Eisuke smiled and nodded in agreement.

“Hey MC, do you want to grab brunch when we wake up?” MC smiled and nodded. The fact that Eisuke had wanted to make plans, despite already getting to have sex with her, pleased MC. He hadn’t just wanted her physically, he wanted to meet again. That was unlike many of the one night stand stories you hear from other girls.

***

And it hadn’t just been brunch the next morning MC had spent with Eisuke. Following her steamy night with Eisuke, MC had told her friends what had happened and their plans for brunch. Jessica and Millie had been so happy for MC that they had encouraged her to indulge in this holiday romance. The bonus was they were now also romancing his friends. As a result, the two groups had merged together, with the guys practically moving out of their hotel and into the villa.

The first 2 weeks of the holiday, MC had been thoroughly enjoying her holiday romance. Sightseeing, dinners out, ‘couple’ vs ‘couple’ games nights and the best sex she’d ever had. But what she had loved most of all, was the smile Eisuke had rewarded just for her. She’d almost forgotten it would all come to an end in 2 weeks’ time. Heck, she had forgotten. But she wasn’t the only one who had forgotten.

As they were sat enjoying lunch in a café, Eisuke couldn’t help noticing MCs phone kept buzzing.

“You sure you shouldn’t get that?” He asked, glancing at the screen, noticing the name lighting up her phone.

“Nah its fine.” MC replied, turning her phone onto silent.

“Who’s Isaac?” Eisuke asked, a slight coldness seeped into his tone. Jealousy clear from his annoyed expression.

“Oh, uh my ex” MC said quietly. Eisuke was visibly relieved to hear it was an ex rather than current partner.

“When did you break up?”

“Few weeks ago”

“Were you together long?”

“Yup 7 years”

“How come you split up?”

“Oh he was seeing someone else, and decided he wanted to be serious with her instead”

“What the fuck?! Seriously?”

“Why would I joke about something like that” MC laughed, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Well he was an idiot letting someone like you go” MC blushed at Eisuke’s words. He quietly took her hand in his and rubbed her fingers with his thumb. “His loss has been my gain. What did he want anyway? He seems pretty insistent on talking to you”.

“Jessica and Millie have been posting photos on their Instagram’s from the holiday. Obviously, he has seen them and there were a few of me and you, he doesn’t seem to like the idea of me not being available or crying over him and is kicking off”

“The guy who cheated on you is annoyed you are having fun? What a dick” Eisuke huffed drinking his coffee. MC smiled at the sight before taking a sip of her own coffee. In this moment she felt happy. Happier than she had ever felt before.

***

Finally, the last day of their holiday was here. While the girls were getting ready in Jessica’s room they started to reminisce about the holiday. It was clear all three girls had thoroughly enjoyed their holiday romances.

Jessica and Baba had made it clear there were not emotionally feelings for them. It was like friends with benefits. They were enjoying the casual sex, while hanging out as friends. The sort of person you’d bump into and catch up, but she wasn’t too worried about going back and not seeing him again. He literally had been just some fun for her. As she had been for him too.

Millie and Ota had seemed to have started to find a connection with each other. Ota had told Millie when she goes to University to let him know where she would be living so he could come and visit her. Whether there was something there for them beyond visits was anybody’s guess at the moment, but Millie was certain they would see each other again.

As for MC, it was when talking to her friends she realised her and Eisuke hadn’t mentioned going home. There had been no discussion of what would happen after these 4 weeks. They hadn’t exchanged numbers. They hadn’t mentioned meeting up. Heck, she didn’t even know where he lived. But what she did realise was she had fallen for the guy who only seemed to smile with warmth and kindness towards her. But she knew she wouldn’t be telling him this. Especially not since things seemed destined to end tonight.

When the girls stepped out of the bedroom the guys were already there waiting for them.

Baba dressed in his black jeans and a red shirt. He had tied his hair back. Taking Jessica’s hand he kissed her fingers, just as he had the first night, and escorted her out of the villa.

Ota, wearing some blue jeans and a white shirt smiled at Millie as he held his hand out to her. She placed hers in his and they entwined their fingers. Millie’s pastel blue dress matched his jeans perfectly. They, too, headed out. Millie looking back and smiling at MC one last time before disappearing from the villa.

It was just Eisuke and MC left. He wore a pair of white skinny jeans and a charcoal shirt. MC’s white lace dress matched him perfectly. He smiled at her.

“You look beautiful” he stated, making MC giggle.

“You don’t look so bad yourself” She approached him, and he wrapped his arm round her waist planting a kiss on her cheek. “So, where are we headed?” She asked.

“Right here” Eisuke replied, much to MC confusion.

He took her hand and guided her outside into the garden. What met MC surprised her as she looked around and then back at Eisuke bewildered but happy. The garden had been decorated with fairy lights and lanterns. The pool was filled with rose petals. A picnic blanket was led out with champagne and strawberries dipped in chocolate waiting for them.

MC felt her chest tighten. She was so moved by Eisuke’s yet it hurt to know tomorrow she would be on a flight and this dream would be over. Shaking her head she showed Eisuke her brightest smile and accepted his outstretched hand which guided her to the blanket. If this was to be their last evening together in this dream, then she would make sure she enjoyed every minute, smiling at him until the end.

***

The hours ticked by, and MC and Eisuke had shared many stories under the star blanketed sky. Stories of their childhood, friends, family, dreams and future goals. MC had learned Eisuke had a few other friends back where he lived who hadn’t come with them on the holiday. But what they hadn’t discussed was how they would be going home tomorrow. Back to reality.

As their evening together came to an end, they stood and gazed at each other. It was clear to MC, she had fallen in love with her holiday romance. She’d fallen in love in the span of 4 weeks, and it would be a heart-breaking love. A love that couldn’t be. A love that after tonight would disappear from her life.

“MC—”

“Shh” She silenced him with a kiss.

A kiss he so readily returned. A kiss that conveyed everything she wanted to say but couldn’t. His hands found their home on her hips, like they had done so many times these last 4 weeks. But unlike how they would no more. If speaking meant tonight was to be the last time they could be together, then she wouldn’t let either of them speak, for she didn’t want to say goodbye.

Seemingly understanding, and dare she hope feeling the same, Eisuke showed his kindness through not asking anything, not speaking any words. Instead he lifted her into his arms, never separating his lips from hers as he took her back to the bed they had shared for the last 4 weeks.

Tonight, neither seemed as calm or collected as they had been before. As they became one, it was full of raw emotion. As if the pain they both were feeling could be quashed by bringing one another pleasure. Their moans were as if they were cursing the idea of this moment ending. Their breathing increasing as they came ever closer to their height of pleasure. If tonight would be their last together, then they sure as hell were going to make it a night neither would forget. They left mark after mark upon the other, as if these marks would symbolise the feelings they couldn’t speak. As even when tomorrow or the next day come, and they won’t see each other, these marks were serving to remind them of the other.

That night they made love countless times. Yet still neither spoke of what tomorrow would bring.

It really would be goodbye.

***

A few weeks later and things had been exactly as expected. Jessica went about as if business was usual without Baba. Millie and Ota had spoken every day and had arranged when Ota would come to visit. While MC was left lonely. Hurting. Missing Eisuke.

“You know…” Millie started, “Apparently, according to Ota, you aren’t the only one down in the dumps and missing the other person”

“What do you mean?” MC asked, suddenly interested in the conversation going on around her.

“According to Ota, Eisuke has been more irritable than before, but when asked about the holiday he gets a faraway look in his eyes and smiles for a moment”.

MC nodded and looked out the window again. That was all she needed to know. It had been real, not just for her but for Eisuke too. It gave her hope. She believed in fate, and maybe if she was lucky, maybe he was her fate and they’d find each other again.

***

Millie had headed to university and Jessica’s summer break had ended. MC had also heard back from her job application. She had successfully received a position as a maid and would begin her vacancy in a few days. As such, she was moving into the hotel staff dormitory today.

Upon arriving at the hotel dorms, she became fast friends with two of the other maids, Sakiko and Chisato. They had made her feel very welcome and had been busily introducing her to everyone

“Finally, Mr Ichinomiya owns the hotel. In total he has hotels in Tokyo, Dubai, London, New York as well as an airship and cruise ship. He’s currently building another hotel but only staff know about it so keep that one quiet” Chisato winked at me as she filled me in on my new boss.

“I wonder what he’s like?”

“Umm… honestly he’s a little cold. But he looks after the hotel well! Lately he seems to be in a bad mood. More so than usual, when he comes to the casino he doesn’t even enjoy winning” Sakiko explained. “Anyway you’ll meet him when Mr Kenzaki introduces you later!”

“Great…” Honestly the way they had made him sound, MC wished she wouldn’t be meeting him. But as her employer he had to introduce himself and her the same. Still, she managed to find the kind side of one cold man recently, maybe she’ll see a nice side to this Mr Ichinomiya guy too.

***

When evening came around Mr Kenzaki came to the dorms to collect MC for their meeting. He handed her the uniform and her name badge and instructed her to change ready to meet the hotel’s owner, Mr Ichinomiya.

Following Mr Kenzaki, MC arrived in the meeting room and took a seat in the chair directed to her. Time seemed to tick by slowly, before the meeting room door opened and someone’s steady footsteps entered.

“Mr Ichinomiya, Sir” Mr Kenzaki spoke to the owner, signifying to MC she was about to meet her boss. She stood, ready to bow politely to him, yet as she turned her eyes went wide.

“Eisuke?! You own this hotel?!” She gasped. His reaction was similar as he dropped the file he had been holding.

“MC?! You're the new employee?” He, too, gasped in surprised, before taking her arm firmly in her graps and walking from the meeting room towards the penthouse elevator.

“Sir?” Mr Kenzaki called out in confusion.

“Forget the meeting, she’s a good hire. Well done Kenzaki. Get me a penthouse pager and key card ready for MC here and leave it on my desk. Don’t disturb me for the rest of the evening.” Seemingly understanding his instructions Mr Kenzaki bowed and headed off. All the while Eisuke kept a firm grasp on MC’s arm.

Neither said a word as they went in the elevator. Nor as they walked through the corridors. Still Eisuke gripped her arm. As they entered the lounge, Ota and Baba noticed Eisuke and gasped out,

“ISN’T THAT MC?” catching everyone elses attention.

“That’s MC?” A tall man in a grey suit with black hair asked.

“That’s the kid that’s had Eisuke in a sour mood?” A scruffier looking man with stubble on his chin asked.

“MC, that’s Soryu and Mamoru” Eisuke briefly introduced them still dragging her by her arm.

“Oh, um, hello?” MC said waving in her confusion.

“Ahahahah at least he is back to being in a better mood. How long you here for MC, so we know how long he’ll be happier for?”

“She’s the new recruit I just went to meet.” Eisuke smirked, “Meaning she’s here for good”

Proceeding to drag MC up the stairs the guys watched smiling knowingly.

As soon as they were in his suite he shut the door and locked it to avoid any interruptions. Only once they were inside did he finally let go of her arm. But she was only released for a moment before he held her in a tight, crushing embrace. It wasn’t long before she was hugging him back, just as tightly.

“Want me to make you a coffee?” MC laughed, remembering the odd request Eisuke had made of her when in Greece, and how he had told her she made the best coffees. Yet Eisuke only tightened his embrace.

“Later… right now I don’t want to let you go” surprised by his honesty MC questioned his further.

“Why not?”

“Because the last time I let you go I lost you” He sighed, speaking more honestly than he ever had before. “I won’t make that mistake again”

“Eisuke…?”

“Listen, because you’ll learn very quickly that I am not a man who talks freely of him emotions. I missed you, MC. As soon as we parted waya I regretted not talking to you about a future where we could meet. I hated not seeing you or speaking to you every day but Christ it was only 4 weeks and you managed to grasp my heart which I had given up on years ago. You’re the first person who I’ve had regrets about leaving. And you’re the first person I’ve felt this way about.”

“What way?”

“Come on MC… you don’t need me to say it” Eisuke glared, but MC wasn’t going to let this one slide.

“I won’t know anything if you don’t tell me Eisuke. Isn’t that kind of how we got into this mess?” Sighing Eisuke replied,

“You’re a cruel woman” But his sigh soon turned to a smile. A genuine warm smile. Full of everything he was feeling and more. “I love you, MC.” Smiling MC wrapped her arms around Eisuke.

“I know” She giggled as Eisuke looked at her in annoyance.

“You can’t make me say all that and then just respond with ‘I know’” Kissing him softly as if to soothe his mood she smiled,

“I love you, too Eisuke”

That was all he needed to hear to ignite the flame of desire. His lips crashed to hers and his hands found their place once again on her hips as if that was where they were meant to be all along. This love was never meant to just be a holiday romance. It was too real. Too strong. It was never meant to end.

“I’m never going to let you go again” Eisuke whispered, as he pressed his forehead to MC’s, tightening his hold on her, before sealing this promise with a kiss filled with all the love they share.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #kbtbb eisuke #voltage fanfic #eisuke ichinomiya #smut #hurt/comfort #fluff #holiday romance #love 365 #voltage inc

31 notes · View notes