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void-ink-studios · 1 year ago

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This Isn't a Time Room, It's a Time Home

In which Scarab learns a bit about himself as he tries to fill his days in the Time Room.

And this will be the last chapter before a 2-part finale to this series. That doesn't mean I won't be writing these two ever again! If I get ideas, I'll come back and write them! But I'm running out of steam posting 2,000+ word fics every day, and I'd like to end this off on a good note. 20 chapters, totaling 50,000 words seemed like a nice, even spot to stop. So, get ready for that, and I hope you all have enjoyed the ride!

First part of the finale will drop tomorrow, so stay tuned!

Word Count: 2,000

It had been a long time since Scarab had his own space.

A long... long time.

He had a burrow, back at the Mounds, that he'd decorated and made his own. It was a cozy space, if he remembered correctly.

He remembered a love of collecting and preserving the flowers and wild plants he found on his patrol routes. He remembered making simple decorations out of his discoveries, and cluttering his burrow with them.

That was a time that he wasn't constantly on the move. When his life was simpler. More stationary.

He hadn't been stationary for eons.

His life as an Auditor had him constantly on the move. He had... nothing. No home. No place to rest, not when he wasn't really allowed to rest.

If he rested, it was at camps or hotels in whatever world he was tracking a target through. And if that camp happened to be on a floating asteroid in the middle of the void, then so be it.

Scarab didn't complain. Maybe couldn't is the more accurate term, but it's not like it mattered.

The point was, he didn't settle down. He didn't have a place to be stationary, to decorate, to... own.

He wondered if that was sad. He wondered if other Auditors ever got to... settle. If they had a home, somewhere in the Judgement Hall, or elsewhere.

But, that wasn't the case now.

Now, he had no choice but to be stationary.

Everything in the Time Room had a degree of stillness to it. If clocks could work in here, he would probably be able to hear and focus on each and every individual tick. Nothing moved here, other than what they made move. Nothing changed here, other than what they manually changed.

Prismo didn't seem to mind it too much. It was his existence, everything he ever knew (until recently) was in this infinite cube.

Prismo was powerful. He could make the Time Room in anything he wanted. He could conjure almost anything he wanted into the Time Room, rearrange its walls however he saw fit, make it as personal as something could be in the cosmos.

And yet, all that was there, that was uniquely Prismo, was a Hot Tub, and a room full of pickle experiments.

Scarab wasn't sure what to make of it.

He asked the Wishmaster about it, and he only received a shrug. "I dunno man. Kinda hard to have decoration tastes when all you got is a yellow or gray wall of cubes. I like the Hot Tub, and I like the pickles. If you think it's boring, feel free to go at it yourself."

That had made Scarab chirp, curiously.

He looked around the empty corners, and... he saw potential.

He hesitated at first.

"Prismo, did you... mean what you said, before? That I could... decorate the Time Room if I wished?"

The Wishmaster cuddled him closer, sleepily humming. "Yeah, Lovebug. I think that'd be... cool."

Scarab couldn't help but chuckle.

"Cool, hmm?"

"Yeah... You've been everywhere. You'd have a better idea of what looks nice than I would. I saw have at it, sweetheart."

Prismo proceeded to nuzzle and kiss him in their cuddle pile, putting an end to the conversation, but Scarab had the confirmation he needed.

He thought. Considered.

It started small. No conjuring just yet. Just manipulating the walls themselves.

Some places to climb and perch, both for himself and Cos whenever he came over.

He moved the hot tub out of the center of the room, more into the corner, and more of a statement, with a platform, stairs, and shelves.

Made a proper statement around the entrance to the basement.

Already, it was looking a little bit nicer in here.

Scarab chirped happily as he stood back and looked at his work. He preened when their game night crew commented that the Time Room looked a bit more... alive.

He clicked in consideration, eyes skimming what might look nice.

"Prismo... Do you have any objections to... well, anything I suppose?"

Prismo seemed startled that he was being addressed, pausing his fanfic writing to look around.

"U-Uhm... why are you asking me...? This is your project, yeah?"

Scarab tilted his head at him.

"This is your space too, Prismo. I wouldn't want you to... what, silently suffer in your primary living space. Just... you're allowed to have preferences, you know?"

Prismo gave an awkward smile before he tried to think.

"Uh..."

He seemed to have a mental click, eyes focusing on an empty corner. Scarab looked between that corner and Prismo, raising an eyebrow.

"...No statues. At least... none that look like people."

"I'll keep that in mind" Scarab hummed. "Thank you for telling me, love." He nuzzled Prismo's cheek, clicking softly.

So, no statues. That at least narrowed it down.

He thought about what seemed to interest Prismo most on their "field trips" to both Ooo and Fionna's world.

Prismo liked shiny things. He liked gold and crystals and the stars. He liked complex patterns, geometric and abstract. And he liked bold, bright colors.

Hmmm...

Yes, he could work with that.

He continued to play it subtle. Small for now.

He was still getting used to conjuring. So, no complex configurations right now. But that was fine by him.

Because Scarab found out something about himself. Or, rediscovered?

Scarab liked making things. He liked working on things with his talons, something small, meticulous.

Maybe writing fanfiction with Prismo rekindled this love, but working on his accessories for the Gala fanned the flames. He took pride in it, smiling wider than he could remember through learning how to make the shawl and necklace.

So, he set to work.

"Oooh, starting up the lair again?"

Scarab rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response as he slipped inside.

And the Time Room began to come to life.

Small crystal stars hanging from some of the perches, that sparkled, wrapped in gold wire.

Crystal ornaments on scattered shelves, wrapped with intricate metalwork, making their own stands. They shined with colors, from blue to purple to green, casting lovely beams of light all around, finally breaking up the yellow walls.

Boldly patterned, lose curtains, held in place by beetle shaped golden fixtures, framed the entrances to the Time Room gorgeously. There were eyes and hands and butterfly wing motifs, all intricately woven together into a truly eye catching design.

"Woah... Lovebug, this place looks nice!"

"Thank you, my dear... I think... I like it too."

Things could only really get more elaborate from here.

Scarab wanted something green. Something alive, something that could change.

So he got some seeds, from all over the multiverse, and got to work.

It was tricky, finding ways of cultivating something alive in the still environment of the Time Room, but Scarab was nothing if not persistent.

He relished in the feeling of leaves, of some organic beauty. He hadn't had the time to stop and admire the flora he'd find on his hunts, but now was as good a time as any to make up for it.

It reminded him of home. Of the lush green forests that rested in the center of his Mound, the ones he could spend hours flying through and playing in, ones he spent many nights camping in with friends.

It was something alive. Something he wanted to take care of.

The plants soon made their way into the Time Room. Quite aggressively, Prismo might say.

Vines curled around the perches, sometimes wrapping around and lacking together with the various crystal stars he had set up earlier. Ferns found homes on shelves, filling out corners, or in hanging pots from above.

Some plants looked strangely unremarkable compared to the elaborate ferns or chaotically elegant vines, yet they found themselves in places of pride, near the entrances and on prominent shelves.

Prismo couldn't help but ask about them.

"Just wait and see, my dear. You'll see."

And see he did.

Because while the plants looked unassuming now, they wouldn't be for long.

Prismo watched in wonder as the flowers bloomed. They opened in a beautiful pinks and light blues, filled the room with perfume and color. The Time Room felt alive, really truly alive, for the first time since before Prismo came to inhabit it.

Scarab admired his work, preening under the oohs and aahs of their guests.

But he wasn't done quite yet.

He pulled a few more shelves out of the wall, and made it a bookcase. There were books from Scarab's own travels, things he found interesting. Some were encyclopedias and bestiaries, culminations of information that Scarab found fascinating.

But there was a special shelf for Prismo.

That shelf was for the things Prismo wrote. That was for showing off what the Wishmaster had made for himself. Prismo sputtered at first, but was quickly shut up with kisses and nuzzles.

Yes, the Time Room was certainly refreshed. No more empty yellow walls where nothing ever happened. Now it was a space of both interests, a space for them to truly live.

Scarab chirped in excitement when he saw Prismo make his own little modifications. A fridge for drinks and snacks. A pantry for some open pickle jars. A music player to add some background noise.

Scarab couldn't have been prouder. It was nice to see Prismo... want things. Want things for himself, something that didn't threaten the architecture of the multiverse.

Scarab had meant for it to stop there. He was satisfied with the new pops of color and personality.

What he didn't expect were gifts.

Seems that the renovations were interpreted as invitations. Invitations to provide trinkets to fill the space.

Neither god minded one bit.

From Cos, a crystal ball, filled with a tiny dream core. It shined and swirled with blues and pinks, small music box chimes occasionally echoing around.

From Life and Death, a bonsai tree, circling constantly through the seasons, complete with a little sand garden and tiny rake. Scarab politely didn't laugh as he watched Prismo play with it for... perhaps a bit longer than what would be becoming of a god.

From the Organizer, a desk. A small one, nothing fancy, but a sturdy, practical desk. The laptop had taken a place of pride there, next to the fridge.

From Fionna and Cake, there were pictures. Pictures around the city, pictures of them and their friends, reassurances that they were okay and thriving.

Finn also gave pictures. Of a specific someone. Scarab learned a lot about Jake as Prismo hung each one up, a story attached to each. The beetle let the Wishmaster hold him, both staring that the photos that now covered the wall.

It was perfect, in their opinions. It was all perfect.

Except it seems that the cosmos had one more surprise for them.

Wish magic seemed to have strange effects on mortal plants and mundane crystals.

The crystals began to glow. They casted a pearly aura, a mist almost, laced with magic that rose up and swirled above them. Almost like clouds in a sky. The two of them spent a lot of time just staring up and admiring it. The clouds rolled and tumbled over each other like the real things, a light rolling thunder every once in a while, echoing around the room.

Scarab thought of home again. Of the forests. He'd always slept better listening to the rolling thunder and rain tapping off the roof of his burrow.

It made for a lovely evening, cuddling with Prismo in their blanket pile, listening to the faux thunderstorm, watching the tv wall.

It reached the flowers as well. The petals bled into unusual colors. Pink shimmering with an unearthly purple. Blue sparking with golden tips.

Glowing pollen spilled out the bell, floating ethereally. Like stars.

The legends of the Time Room had begun to shift, apparently. Word didn't reach either god until much, much later, but it made them chuckle regardless.

No longer was it spoken of as a clinical, featureless chamber. Prismo was not spoken of as an extension of the room. It was no longer "Prismo, keeper of the Time Room."

Now it was "The Time Room, home to the Almighty Prismo."

And Scarab couldn't help but indulge in maybe a bit of smug satisfaction when word reached them. The Time Room did not change unless they willed it.

But the Time Room was their home.

And now they finally willed it to feel like one.

#prohibitedwish #scarab x prismo #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #prohibitedwish fanfic #wrath of the wishmaster

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izzysarchivedblogs · 1 year ago

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sign: so are we gonna talk about it or are we gonna pretend nothing’s wrong here?

// you know in your heart who this is for and EXACTLY what point and verse I’m talking about.

CONTENT WARNINGS for alcoholism, relapsing, addiction, death, miscarriage, mention, depression, trauma, anxiety attacks

There are exactly five thing in life that absolutely crushed him, that had crushed him and changed the directory of his life. Unfortunately for him, those were not the end all or the be all of everything bad in Clint Barton's life. When he was born, he got the short straw in the draw of life. THE WORST POSSIBLE HAND ⸻ and he'd love to know what if there was something more ironic than the fact that Clint knew how to rig about a dozen card games and he still wound up with the worst hand.

Those five things were as follows in particular order ⸻ the loss of his and his wife's unborn son frankie, the divorce between him and bobbi morse, his own brother barney telling him that he may as well die like their father had with a bottle in hand, the crash landing and loss of the enterprise, and lastly most presently important the almost realized fear of losing peter b parker.

In the most recent years, and holy hell how long has it been, almost five years; that there had been two things working for him, one of superior importance; the fact he has managed to succeed at being on a star ship and next; the color that came back into his life after he had been rubbed raw, where his metaphorical vision saw grey and lacking. PETER B. PARKER WAS COLOR.

He had been managing on his own, as best he could to get through his years at the Starfleet Academy; he had got accepted and passed entrance exams (despite that feeling he was a phony, not wanting to be there out of starlight and adventure but out of spite to stick it to his brother that he would not die at bottle and he could do the starship thing too barney barton).

Those first years were a challenge, the hardest challenge as he was trying to scrap himself from the rock fucking bottom alone. Clint almost lost it all multiple times and he knows there had been some with more compassion because of his potential; because there were unique skills that he brought with him (he hate to owe it to his childhood, to how he grew up, and to his time as a performer).

AND THERE HAD BEEN PETER. He had met him when he was off the straight and narrow; a weekend lapse after managing four months without but thins had ben starting to stick more than before. It's a disease, a disease that he had known before he tasted with his own tongue. The lapse had last less than a month, one of the shorter stints and it was starting to stick.

( no longer had he been alone too. a friend turned love, found in peter who had become everything to him. everything. )

It had been a longer time that IT had stuck, years at the last where his hand didn't touch a bottle and his lips didn't touch a glass; personal poison not filling his stomach. HIS HAND IS SHAKING AS HE APPROACHES THEIR QUARTERS. It had been a long time.

The rub, the goddamn rub of where the spot stained, was this. There was a sixth soul-crushing addition to his list. THE REBORN ENTERPRISE WAS FULLY OPERTIONAL; A NEW MISSION ALREADY SET COURSE. THEY WERE FLYING.

As the days turned to weeks abroad a starship, the starship, and when he gazes out from the helm and sees the vast emptiness. IT FILLS INSIDE HIM. A gnawing, incessant fear that filled him and was in every corner.

He may have been cleared, but that was when they were on the ground and when he had been attending to Peter, had been going through therapy and holding it together. HARD DAYS AND HE HANDLED THEM. He got through, didn't drink, but now out in the stars?

The fear came back, with a vengeance and every day was hard, harder than the last and all he could do was hide it. HE WASN'T SLEEPING. He got good at faking that, the first few weeks. He was a liar, a phony, a fraud and he couldn't keep going on not sleeping.

IT ALWAYS STARTS WITH ONE ⸻ and he slips. . . . and when he slips? It never ends with one. The first few days, it's only a taste, one bottle nicked from someone else and hoping they blame their friend (they did) and it was just a taste, something to mellow the senses. SLEEP A LITTLE.

⸻ IT NEVER ENDS WITH ONE.

Here he was, wanting to drain the whole thing because it was felt temporarily good, and the fuzzy feeling wanted to lull him into the belief that it was worth it and good. Years sober and clean would say otherwise. HE SHAKES AS HE ENTERS AND PETER WAS STILL UP. WHAT WAS HE DOING THAT?

The light in the room, despite it's brightness dimmer than that out in the hall, feel BLINDING, BURNING, AND PETER LOOKS A SORRY STATE OF AWAKE. When have those dark circles been there, he had sworn to himself that Peter would be asleep before he went to the alcohol (someone else's nicked from a personal drawer of undergarments) he had relocated for use as his sleep aid.

WHY CAN'T IT JUST BE ONE? Why couldn't he be stronger, with more self control like the good doctor with one glass, one glass a single goddamn night when needed? WHY COULDN'T HE? BUT THE FEELING SHAKING HIS HANDS, SPIRALING OUT FROM HIS GUT AND HOLDING HIS LUNGS CAPTIVE SAID MORE.

The look upon his everything, upon Peter's face was as equally soul-crushing as THAT SIXTH SOUL-CRUSHING POINT. The sixth being the day that it all broke loose, when the fear was keeping up an he had gotten a few looks, some words passed onto him that maybe he should go to medical, and WHAT? AND WHAT? He wanted to bite, he wanted to snap, and tell them he can't sleep?

THERE WAS ONLY ONE GODDAMN CURE AND HE KNEW THE ANSWER. He couldn't spend every night, laying at Peter's side watching him sleep, watching him breath, and FEELING HIS HEART ACHE EVERY TIME HE STARTED STIRRING, OR STOPPED BREATHING FOR THREE SECONDS. Clint simply couldn't do it, he needed the sleep too, hypervigilance wasn't working. it was going to save Peter came to the worst.

TONIGHT WAS ONE NIGHT OF MANY IN THE PAST FEEL WEEKS. The night of many where his lips touched a glass, his throat found solace in the burn going down it, and he knows in the slow long run, that he was poisoning himself again, slowly but surely killing a part of himself; numbing the pain and the fear, and it'd only get worse from here.

Six soul-crushing points in life that came in no particular order, was never going to get to know what it would have been like to hold a baby frankie, was knowing that he was an awful husband who couldn't ever be there when it matter, the feeling of wanting to prove his brother's words right and die just like their father did, the two failures upon not being able to do anything that mattered to save anyone or anything as alien blood on his hands did nothing to change what happened, to having his fears come true and almost lose peter with no way to do anything and watch his everything almost lose himself to grief too, and a few weeks ago, that sixth thing had been when he had found someone's (he didn't bother to remember whose contraband he stole) whiskey and touched the glass to his lips and down.

YEARS WITHOUT LEFT TOLERANCE LOWER THAN EVER. Not much had been needed the first night, that damn spot, the rub of all rubs that left him raw and HE KNEW THE PLUMMET DOWN HE WAS TAKING. It helped him sleep and told him all sort of other lies, and the questions that kept him not being able to look anyone in the eye for weeks, inventing new routines to avoid old ones (no more morning yoga it would be wrong since that came about because of sobriety).

⸻ ALL OF THAT TOSSED AWAY. He was a phony, a fraud, and the addict he knew he was wondered only wondered when the next drink, what plans and reasons he could come up to justify, to make sure he got the next one, what happens when everyone who had brought contraband alcoholic substances no longer had any in their stashes because they hadn't docked in awhile and he went through four hundred and fifty something personnel and every nook and cranny looking for the thing that lied to him, that convinced him that he needed and wanted it.

That was soul crushing to know that his resolve was weaker and Clint felt powerless, had felt powerless for months and why not give himself over to a higher demon he had never believed in anything higher before but if he was going to destroy himself, he might as well.

BECAUSE HOLDING IT TOGETHER, HAVING ONE GOOD THING IN HIS LIFE? It's only a matter of time before he ruin that. Had he been too eager, too much of a stress on Bobbi that he had tressed her out and killed their baby, and he knows he was unsupportive and to blame for the divorce, and he had been the one first to throw barney out of his life, and. . . . what had he done, what could he have done. . . .

Peter was sitting there awake and he knows how they talk; knows the damn love of his life, the color to his world, everything his soul wanted, had learnt sign language quickly as he could on meeting him because he preferred and never shared that he preferred. PETER SAT THERE, AND IF LOOKS COULD BREAK HEARTS, HE WORE THAT EXPRESSION.

« so are we gonna talk about it or are we gonna pretend nothing’s wrong here? »

Clint stands there, stares at him and he hates himself; more than he could ever describe as he is left with that question. THE LOOK ON PETER'S EXPRESSION. It was years that he had drowned.

« Let's go to sleep » He signs, forcing into his face of something hopeful that Peter would just take that, even if Clint knew that he was answering Peter's question. WE GONNA PRETEND NOTHING'S WRONG. Clint wanted to pretend.

How could he say what was going on? BUT Peter knew him better than anyone had in along time of his life, it's why he loved him so much. TO KNOW HIS SOUL, the one he entrusted with his dark. Peter met him when he wasn't sober and watched him as sobriety finally started to stuck. HE KNEW. AND CLINT DIDN'T WANT TO SAY IT.

Somewhere in his system, his head was fuzzy after all, WOOZY, wanted a drink. AND ANOTHER REASON TO DROWN, TO WASH IT AWAY. He hates that feeling, hate that his mouth waters and he knows he'll seek out more.

This is how things end if he can't admit it, ask for help this time around; if he were honest. BUT TONIGHT?

« PLEASE » He looks like he's begging as his mouth moves over the words along with the sign. « Go back to bed, my love. We sleep? We need sleep. »

BUT TONIGHT HE CAN'T DO THAT. He can't admit it, can't ask for help, and face the consequences, risk judgment for this part of him being seen. It's a disease and he'll stay sick. FACE JUDGEMENT.

Tomorrow. . . . maybe tomorrow he. . . .

Clint doesn't go to touch Peter, or go kiss him because he knows (the drink tonight wasn't enough, he needs more, needed more) and he knows and he knows. He tries to go lay down, and give Peter the sorriest eyes, quietly begging for him to just let whatever time it was rest and maybe tomorrow, when he's clearer headed he'll TRY AND TRY AND TRY BEFORE HE FINDS WHATEVER THIS NEW ROCK BOTTOM WOULD LOOK LIKE.

All those years and he took them away from himself.

#ic; clint barton #asks; clint barton #crisispider #clint barton; crisispider #rp; crisipider #ships; crisispider; familiarity is knowing every line and crack even in the dark (spiderhawk)#verse; clint barton; to boldly go (ss; crisispider)#so about that beyond aftermath #// CONTENT WARNINGS #long post #alcoholism cw #alcohol cw #relapse cw #miscarriage cw #depression cw #ask to tag more

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freightmangomarketplace · 2 months ago

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Navigating Ocean Freight Rate Volatility: Tips for Shippers in 2024

The global shipping industry has experienced unprecedented fluctuations in recent years, and ocean freight has been especially volatile. From pandemic-induced disruptions to geopolitical tensions, multiple factors have left shippers grappling with unpredictable freight rates. For shippers, learning to navigate these changes and anticipating price fluctuations is essential to maintaining a profitable and efficient logistics strategy.

In this article, we’ll explore the primary drivers behind ocean freight rate volatility, offer effective strategies to manage costs, and outline ways to future-proof your supply chain against market uncertainties.

Understanding Ocean Freight Rate Volatility

Ocean freight rates fluctuate due to a combination of supply and demand dynamics, economic conditions, fuel prices, and even seasonal patterns. During periods of high demand, such as the holiday season, rates tend to spike as capacity tightens. Conversely, rates may decrease when global demand for goods slows down or when new shipping capacity enters the market.

In recent years, factors like the COVID-19 pandemic, port congestion, and trade route disruptions have significantly impacted ocean freight rates. By understanding these trends, shippers can better prepare for rate changes and create more robust shipping strategies.

Key Drivers of Ocean Freight Rate Fluctuation

Supply and Demand Imbalance

The basic principle of supply and demand heavily influences ocean freight costs. When the demand for shipping goods exceeds available vessel capacity, rates soar. For instance, increased consumer demand for e-commerce products led to a surge in shipping rates during the pandemic. Alternatively, when demand decreases, such as during economic slowdowns, prices may drop as carriers try to fill empty vessels.

Fuel Prices and Bunker Surcharges

Ocean freight carriers adjust their rates based on fuel prices, as fuel costs constitute a significant portion of operational expenses. When fuel prices rise, shippers often experience bunker surcharges, which increase total freight costs. Staying updated on fuel trends and negotiating bunker clauses can help manage these fluctuations.

Port Congestion and Shipping Delays

Congestion at major ports around the world has become a significant factor affecting ocean freight rates. Delays at ports due to labor shortages, customs backlogs, or equipment shortages can drive up costs as vessels wait for longer periods, leading to extra fees for shippers. Developing a flexible routing strategy can help to circumvent these issues.

Geopolitical Factors and Trade Policies

Political tensions, trade agreements, and tariffs can also impact ocean freight rates. For example, trade restrictions between large economies or sanctions can affect available shipping lanes and increase rates due to longer, rerouted paths. Staying aware of international trade developments can help shippers anticipate potential changes in costs.

Strategies for Managing Ocean Freight Costs

Now that we’ve reviewed the causes of volatility in ocean freight, let’s explore strategies that shippers can use to manage their costs effectively.

1. Develop a Flexible Contract Strategy

One of the most effective ways to manage fluctuating ocean freight rates is by using a mix of spot and contract rates. Spot rates, which are prices for immediate shipping, allow flexibility to take advantage of sudden drops in freight costs. In contrast, fixed-term contracts offer rate stability over a defined period, which can be beneficial when rates are high or expected to rise.

Some shippers may benefit from index-linked contracts, where rates fluctuate within a predetermined range based on market indexes. This strategy enables shippers to strike a balance between cost predictability and the opportunity to benefit from favorable market conditions.

2. Optimize Load Efficiency and Consolidate Shipments

Optimizing load capacity and consolidating shipments can significantly reduce ocean freight costs. By maximizing container usage, shippers can minimize the number of containers required, thus cutting down on per-unit shipping costs. Additionally, by working with freight forwarders to consolidate shipments, especially for smaller orders, businesses can lower costs by sharing container space with other shippers.

Load efficiency can also contribute to sustainability efforts, as it reduces the number of shipments needed and helps decrease emissions—an added benefit for companies prioritizing green logistics.

3. Leverage Technology for Real-Time Rate Monitoring

With today’s technological advancements, shippers have access to tools that provide real-time monitoring of ocean freight rates. Automated rate monitoring systems allow businesses to identify favorable rate changes and make prompt booking decisions. This technology can also help in benchmarking rates across carriers to ensure you’re getting competitive pricing.

Some digital freight platforms also offer predictive analytics, which can help shippers forecast future rate trends based on historical data and market conditions. By leveraging these insights, shippers can make data-driven decisions to optimize their freight costs.

Building Resilience in Ocean Freight Strategies

With the volatile nature of the ocean freight market, shippers need to develop resilient strategies to handle unexpected disruptions. Here are some approaches to ensure your supply chain remains robust, regardless of market conditions.

1. Diversify Your Carrier and Route Options

Relying on a single carrier or route can leave your supply chain vulnerable to disruptions. Diversifying your carrier portfolio enables you to choose alternative options if one route or carrier experiences delays or rate spikes. In addition to diversifying carriers, exploring different shipping routes can help you avoid congested ports and reduce transit times.

Partnering with multiple carriers or 3PLs (third-party logistics providers) can provide the flexibility to adapt quickly to sudden changes in ocean freight rates or capacity constraints.

2. Implement Risk Management Practices

Risk management is essential for navigating the uncertain waters of ocean freight. By evaluating potential risks—such as port closures, delays, or political instability—shippers can proactively develop contingency plans. Insurance for high-value shipments, flexible warehousing options, and backup carriers are all ways to reduce the financial impact of unforeseen events.

Risk management also includes monitoring potential regulatory changes, such as environmental compliance requirements and sanctions, to anticipate cost impacts on ocean freight.

3. Foster Strong Relationships with Carriers and Forwarders

Establishing strong relationships with ocean freight carriers and freight forwarders can make a significant difference during times of volatility. Reliable relationships can translate into better contract terms, access to preferred rates, and flexibility in capacity allocation during peak seasons.

Moreover, carriers are more likely to provide proactive updates on shipping conditions and potential issues to clients with whom they have strong relationships. This level of communication can be invaluable in planning and adjusting your logistics strategy as market conditions change.

Final Thoughts: Navigating the Future of Ocean Freight

Ocean freight will likely remain a crucial and dynamic component of global trade for years to come. As we move into 2024, shippers must be prepared to tackle ongoing rate volatility and remain adaptable to changes in the industry. By implementing flexible contract strategies, optimizing load efficiency, leveraging technology, and building resilience into their logistics strategies, shippers can better navigate the challenges of ocean freight.

For businesses that depend on the timely and cost-effective movement of goods across oceans, staying informed about rate trends and employing smart, adaptable strategies will be key to maintaining a competitive edge. As ocean freight rates continue to fluctuate, proactive planning and resilient operations will help shippers weather any storm that comes their way.

#ocean freight #ocean freight forwarding

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trevorhunter · 4 months ago

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Are You Charging Too Much? The Harsh Truth About Pricing Your Services

As a small business owner, setting the right price for your services can feel like walking a tightrope. Charge too little, and you’re undervaluing your work. Charge too much, and you might find yourself with an empty calendar. The reality is, pricing isn’t just about slapping a number on your services, it’s a strategic tool that can either drive your business forward or hold it back. In this article, we’ll explore how to find that sweet spot, when to adjust your prices, and how to ensure your customers see the value in what you’re offering.

The Harsh Reality of Pricing

Let’s start with a tough truth: if you’re charging $150 an hour but only working 12 hours a week, you’re not worth $150 an hour, at least not in your current market. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the market sets the true value of your services. If clients aren’t willing to pay your rate consistently, it’s time to change those prices.

This doesn’t mean you’re not good at what you do; it means your pricing isn’t aligned with what the market is willing to bear. In such cases, you need to adjust your pricing to a level where you can fill your schedule. Maybe that’s $100 an hour or even $75 an hour. The goal is to hit 100% capacity. Once you’re fully booked, you can start incrementally raising your rates and see where the market starts to resist.

Understanding the Value You Bring

Let’s take a step back and consider why people are willing to pay astronomical prices for luxury goods like a $35,000 watch that resells for $80,000 or more. Is it really $45,000 better than a well-crafted $600 Seiko? Objectively, probably not. But that doesn’t matter because the value is perceived, not always intrinsic.

The same principle applies to your business. If you want to command higher prices, you need to create and communicate value that justifies the cost. This is where many business owners miss the mark. They set a high price based on what they believe their work is worth, without ensuring that customers see and understand that value. You can’t just decide you’re worth $150 an hour, you have to prove it to your clients.

The Power of Itemized Invoicing

One often overlooked aspect of pricing strategy is how you present your prices to potential clients. Let’s talk about invoicing and proposals. There’s a misconception that itemized invoices allow customers to nitpick and find places where you might be overcharging. In reality, a detailed invoice or proposal is one of the most powerful tools you have to justify your pricing.

Consider a recent case where I helped a client build a proposal template for gravel road construction. The proposal included a list of items: culverts, ditch wrap, grass seed, multiple types of gravel, and more. Each of these elements had a clear purpose, and even if the customer didn’t understand every item (like ditch wrap), they could see that a lot of detailed work was going into the project. This level of detail reassures the client that they’re paying for quality and thoroughness, not just raw materials and labor.

When to Adjust Your Prices

Once you’re consistently fully booked, it’s time to start testing the market’s limits. Gradually increase your prices until you start losing some customers. This isn’t a bad thing, it’s a sign that you’ve found the upper end of what your market can sustain. At this point, you’re maximizing revenue by charging the highest possible rate while still keeping your schedule filled with enough work to sustain your business.

However, if you raise your prices and suddenly find yourself with half as much work, you’ve probably gone too far. Dial it back slightly until you hit that balance between premium pricing and a full workload.

Selling Your Worth

Selling your services at a premium price requires more than just setting a high number, it requires you to build a brand and a perception of value that clients are willing to pay for. This means professional presentation, clear communication, and above all, demonstrating why you’re worth every dollar you charge.

When you break down your proposals and invoices in detail, you’re not just listing costs, you’re telling a story. You’re showing the client all the ways you’re adding value to their project, from using higher-quality materials to employing techniques that ensure a better, longer-lasting result. This level of transparency doesn’t just justify your price, it positions you as the best choice among your competitors, even if you’re the most expensive.

Conclusion: The Art of Pricing

Pricing isn’t a one-size-fits-all proposition. It’s an art that requires you to understand your market, your customers, and the value you bring. If your price isn’t right, adjust it until you’re fully booked, then push the boundaries until you find the sweet spot where demand meets profitability.

Remember, your pricing should reflect the value you deliver. By using detailed proposals and itemized invoices, you can communicate that value effectively, justify your prices, and ensure that your clients see your worth. In the end, it’s not just about what you charge—it’s about how you prove you’re worth it.

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flutter-corn · 11 months ago

Text

Emma and Ethan

Chapter 1: The Encounter

It was a chilly autumn evening when Emma first laid eyes on him. She was walking through the park, lost in her thoughts, when she stumbled upon a man sitting on a bench. He had a rugged charm about him, with his messy hair and a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Emma hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach him. \"Excuse me, is this seat taken?\" she asked, gesturing to the empty space beside him.

The man looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. \"No, not at all. Please, have a seat,\" he replied, flashing a warm smile.

As they sat in silence for a moment, Emma couldn't help but feel a strange connection to this stranger. Finally, she mustered the courage to strike up a conversation. \"So, what brings you here on this cold evening?\"

He chuckled softly. \"Just seeking some peace and quiet, away from the chaos of the city. And what about you, Emma? What brings you here?\"

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. \"How did you know my name?\"

The man grinned mischievously. \"I have my ways of finding out things. Call it a talent.\"

Intrigued, Emma leaned closer. \"Alright, mysterious stranger. Tell me, what else can you do?\"

He leaned back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. \"Oh, I have many talents, Emma. But let's keep some mysteries for later, shall we?\"

Emma laughed, feeling a sense of excitement building within her. \"Fair enough. So, what do you do for a living?\"

The man's expression turned serious, a hint of sadness in his eyes. \"I used to be a writer, but life had other plans for me. Now, I'm just trying to find my way back to the words.\"

Emma could sense the pain in his voice and felt a pang of sympathy. \"I understand how it feels to lose something you love. Maybe we can help each other find our way back.\"

He looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. \"I would like that, Emma. I would like that very much.\"

As they continued their conversation, the park seemed to fade into the background. Emma and the man, whose name was revealed to be Ethan, lost track of time, engrossed in each other's stories and dreams. They shared their hopes, their fears, and their passions.

And in that moment, Emma knew that this unexpected encounter had the potential to change everything. Little did she know, this was just the beginning of a remarkable journey that would intertwine their lives in ways they could never have imagined

Chapter 2: The Connection

Days turned into weeks, and Emma and Ethan's connection grew stronger with each passing moment. They spent hours talking, sharing their thoughts and dreams, and discovering the depths of their souls.

One afternoon, Emma invited Ethan to her favorite café, a cozy little spot tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. They sat at a corner table, sipping their coffees, and watching the world go by.

Emma couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity with Ethan. It was as if they had known each other for a lifetime, even though they had only met recently. She leaned in, her voice filled with curiosity. \"Ethan, tell me more about your writing. What stories do you want to share with the world?\"

Ethan's eyes lit up, his passion evident in his voice. \"I have always been fascinated by the power of human connections. I want to write stories that capture the essence of love, friendship, and the bonds that tie us together. Stories that remind people of the beauty and magic that exists in the world.\"

Emma smiled, her heart warming at his words. \"That sounds amazing, Ethan. I truly believe that stories have the power to change lives. I've always wanted to be a part of that world, too.\"

Ethan reached across the table, gently taking Emma's hand in his. \"Then let's make it happen, Emma. Let's create something beautiful together.\"

As their hands touched, Emma felt a surge of electricity pass through her. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, a connection that went beyond words. She knew in that moment that Ethan was not just a stranger she had stumbled upon in the park. He was someone special, someone who had come into her life for a reason.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Emma and Ethan embarked on a writing journey, pouring their hearts and souls into their stories. They spent countless hours together, bouncing ideas off each other, and supporting one another through the highs and lows of the creative process.

Their collaboration soon caught the attention of a publishing house. Emma and Ethan's debut novel was met with critical acclaim, touching the hearts of readers around the world. Their words had the power to heal, to inspire, and to bring people together.

But amidst the success, Emma and Ethan never lost sight of what truly mattered - their connection. They continued to support each other's dreams, always finding solace in each other's arms.

And as they sat together one evening, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, Emma knew that this was just the beginning of their extraordinary journey. Together, they would continue to create stories that would touch the hearts of millions, forever bound by their shared love for words and.

Chapter 3: Trials and Triumphs

As Emma and Ethan's writing career took off, they faced a new set of challenges. The pressure to consistently deliver captivating stories weighed heavily on their shoulders. Deadlines loomed, and creative blocks threatened to hinder their progress.

One evening, as they sat in their shared writing studio, frustration filled the air. Emma sighed, running her fingers through her hair. \"I feel stuck, Ethan. The words just won't come to me. I'm afraid I've lost my touch.\"

Ethan placed a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. \"It happens to the best of us, Emma. We all face moments of doubt and uncertainty. But remember, we're in this together. We'll find our way through.\"

Emma nodded, drawing strength from Ethan's words. They decided to take a break and went for a walk in the park, seeking inspiration from nature's beauty. As they strolled along the winding paths, a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, and the vibrant colors of the flowers danced in the sunlight.

Suddenly, Emma stopped in her tracks. \"Ethan, look! A group of children playing in the field. Their laughter... It's pure and infectious. Maybe that's what we need. A reminder of the joy and innocence that lies within us.\"

Ethan smiled, his eyes lighting up. \"You're right, Emma. Let's capture that essence in our writing. Let's bring back the childlike wonder and curiosity that fuels our creativity.\"

With renewed determination, Emma and Ethan returned to their writing studio. They immersed themselves in their work, infusing their stories with the magic they had witnessed in the park. Their words flowed effortlessly, as if guided by an unseen force.

Months passed, and their new novel was complete. It was a masterpiece that touched the hearts of readers worldwide. Critics praised their ability to capture the essence of human emotions and the beauty of life's simplest pleasures.

But amidst their success, Emma and Ethan faced another hurdle. The demands of their careers began to take a toll on their relationship. Late nights at the office, constant travel for book tours, and the weight of expectations threatened to drive them apart.

One evening, as they sat in their favorite café, Emma took a deep breath. \"Ethan, we've come so far, but I fear we're losing sight of what truly matters. Our love, our connection. We need to find a balance between our careers and our relationship.\"

Ethan nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. \"You're right, Emma. We can't let our success overshadow what brought us together in the first place. Let's make a promise to each other. No matter how busy life gets, we'll always prioritize our love and nurture our connection.\"

And so, Emma and Ethan made a pact to never let their careers come between them. They carved out time for each other, cherishing the simple moments of laughter and shared dreams.

Their love grew stronger, and their writing continued to flourish. Their novels touched the hearts of millions, inspiring readers to embrace the power of love, resilience, and the beauty of human connections.

Emma and Ethan's journey was not without its challenges, but they faced each trial with unwavering determination and an unbreakable bond. Together, they proved that love and creativity could coexist, and that the power of their connection could overcome any obstacle.

And as they sat together, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink once more, they knew that their love story would continue to unfold, chapter by chapter, for the rest of their lives

Chapter 4: A New Chapter Begins

Years had passed since Emma and Ethan first met in the park, and their love had only grown stronger. They had overcome countless obstacles, both in their personal lives and their writing careers, and had emerged victorious.

One sunny afternoon, as they sat in their cozy writing studio, Emma looked at Ethan with a twinkle in her eyes. \\\"You know, Ethan, our journey together has been nothing short of magical. We've created beautiful stories, shared incredible moments, and grown together in ways I never thought possible.\\\"

Ethan smiled, his heart overflowing with love. \\\"Indeed, Emma. Our love story is like the pages of a novel, filled with twists and turns, triumphs and challenges. And now, I believe it's time for a new chapter to begin.\\\"

Emma's eyes widened with anticipation. \\\"What do you mean, Ethan?\\\"

Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He got down on one knee, his voice filled with emotion. \\\"Emma, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you continue writing this beautiful love story with me, forever?\\\"

Tears of joy streamed down Emma's face as she nodded vigorously. \\\"Yes, Ethan! A thousand times, yes!\\\"

The couple embraced, their hearts soaring with happiness. They knew that their love story had reached a new milestone, and they couldn't wait to embark on this next chapter of their lives together.

Months of wedding preparations followed, as Emma and Ethan poured the same passion and creativity into planning their special day as they did into their writing. Their wedding was a celebration of love, filled with laughter, tears, and heartfelt vows that left everyone in attendance touched by their genuine connection.

As they stood hand in hand, surrounded by their loved ones, Emma and Ethan exchanged their vows. They promised to continue supporting and inspiring each other, to nurture their love, and to always find solace in the words they shared.

Years passed, and Emma and Ethan's love story continued to unfold. They welcomed two beautiful children into their lives, and their writing careers flourished. They continued to create stories that touched the hearts of readers, always reminding the world of the power of love and the beauty of human connections.

But amidst their busy lives, they never lost sight of what truly mattered. They made it a priority to create moments of joy and togetherness, whether it was family movie nights, picnics in the park, or simply cuddling on the couch with a good book.

Their love story became an inspiration to many, a testament to the incredible power of love and the magic that can be found in the simplest of moments. Emma and Ethan knew that their journey together would continue to unfold, with each chapter bringing new adventures, challenges, and triumphs.

And as they sat together, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, they knew that their love would forever be the foundation of their extraordinary story. Hand in hand, they embraced the future, ready to write the next chapter of their lives together, filled with love, laughter, and the boundless possibilities that lay ahead

Chapter 5: The Legacy of Love

Years turned into decades, and Emma and Ethan's love story continued to inspire generations. Their children grew up, carrying the torch of creativity and compassion that their parents had instilled in them.

Emma and Ethan had become renowned authors, their books cherished by readers worldwide. Their words had the power to heal, to ignite imaginations, and to remind people of the beauty that exists within themselves and the world around them.

But as time went on, Emma and Ethan began to feel the weight of their years. Their bodies grew tired, and their minds started to slow. They knew that their time together on this earth was coming to an end.

One evening, as they sat in their favorite spot in the park, Emma turned to Ethan with a bittersweet smile. \"Ethan, my love, our journey has been nothing short of extraordinary. We have shared a lifetime of love, laughter, and creativity. But now, as we face the twilight of our lives, I want to make sure that our legacy lives on.\"

Ethan nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and gratitude. \"I feel the same way, Emma. We have touched so many lives with our words, and I want to ensure that our message of love and connection continues to resonate long after we're gone.\"

Together, they decided to establish a foundation in their names, dedicated to supporting aspiring writers and artists. They wanted to create a space where creativity could flourish and where stories could be shared, just as they had done throughout their lives.

The Emma and Ethan Foundation became a beacon of hope and inspiration for countless individuals. It provided scholarships, mentorship programs, and resources for aspiring writers and artists from all walks of life. Their legacy of love and creativity lived on, nurturing the dreams of future generations.

As Emma and Ethan's time on this earth drew to a close, they found solace in knowing that their love story had made a lasting impact. Surrounded by their loved ones, they took their final breaths, their hands intertwined, and their hearts forever connected.

The news of their passing spread far and wide, and people from all corners of the world mourned the loss of these extraordinary souls. But amidst the sadness, there was also a sense of celebration. Emma and Ethan had left behind a legacy of love, compassion, and creativity that would continue to inspire and touch lives for generations to come.

Their books remained beloved classics, cherished by readers of all ages. Their foundation continued to thrive, nurturing the dreams of countless aspiring artists. And their love story became a timeless tale, a reminder that true love knows no boundaries and that the power of connection can transcend time and space.

And as the sun set on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the park, the spirits of Emma and Ethan danced together, forever entwined in a love that had defied all odds. Their love story had become a legend, etched in the hearts of those who believed in the magic of love and the power of human connections

Epilogue: Love Eternal

Years passed, and the legacy of Emma and Ethan continued to thrive. The foundation they had built remained a beacon of hope and inspiration for aspiring writers and artists, changing lives and fostering creativity in ways they could never have imagined.

Their memoirs became timeless classics, cherished by readers who sought solace, guidance, and a reminder of the power of love. Emma and Ethan's story had become a symbol of hope, a testament to the enduring nature of true love and the impact it could have on the world.

Their children and grandchildren carried on their legacy, instilling the values of love, compassion, and creativity in their own lives and in the lives of those they touched. The ripple effect of Emma and Ethan's love spread far and wide, reaching corners of the world they had never imagined.

The foundation continued to grow, expanding its reach and impact. It became a catalyst for change, not just in the arts but in society as a whole. Through their programs and initiatives, it fostered inclusivity, diversity, and social change, creating a world where everyone had the opportunity to share their stories and be heard.

And as the years turned into decades, the memory of Emma and Ethan lived on. Their love story became a legend, a tale whispered by generations, reminding people of the transformative power of love and the beauty that exists within each and every one of us.

In the hearts and minds of those who knew them, Emma and Ethan's love remained eternal. Their connection transcended time and space, a bond that could never be broken. Their love story had become a part of the collective consciousness, a source of inspiration and comfort for all who encountered it.

And as the sun set on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the world, the spirits of Emma and Ethan danced together, forever entwined in a love that had defied all odds. Their love story had become a beacon of hope, a reminder that love has the power to change lives and leave a lasting legacy.

Their love, their words, and their foundation would forever be a testament to the enduring power of love and the magic that lies within each and every one of us. And as the world continued to turn, their love story would live on, inspiring generations to come, and reminding us all of the extraordinary power of love eternal.

#SoundCloud

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scarletooyoroi · 2 years ago

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[ STRIKE ]: [tem] aims a blow (via either their fists or their weapon) at [thoma]. Aims right for his stomach!

There's a fine brand of irony to be found that this is where they're settled at their most natural.

From Thoma's perspective it's the sweet simplicity of it all. Allow for strength, technique and the steadiness of mind to constantly clash and reap devastation wherever they touch. Their recent excursions in tandem with the growth gained have certainly made him more privy to a catalyst of frost filled destruction before his eyes. Case and point? He's confident that claymores aren't supposed to be conventionally swung with that scale of supernatural finesse.

It very well may have been a rapier due to Tem's manner of capitalizing off of momentum. So much of his attention had to be fixated in preventing the full wind up, gambling with how much it could stir her bramble like frustrations as the ground shattered and howled as their physical might alone causes it to cave in. By now vicious slices of wind were beginning to stir alongside the rising crest of shockwaves as one thing became clear, bit by bit, holding back was beginning to find itself being redefined.

Their improvements made it mandatory to switch up the goal post. From his perspective, the volatile emotion found itself streamlined and centered, refusing to boil over like many vulnerable instances she's been a witness of.

Clang!

Another forceful shockwave would whip up debris all around as their attacks connect, vicious sparks grated by physical and elemental force giving them the perfect instance to stare each other down. Thoma's expression remained searing, working firm to keep steadied in this contest of strength as his mind flips through the possibility of potential openings. Bracing his feet firm upon the earth, Homa's shaft would be angled in an attempt to try diverting the heavier weapon's raw weight.. and that's when the unexpected arrives.

Just when could she move that fast? In a feverish blur of blue speckled with gold, what introduced itself to his body was a vicious burst of agony in the abdominal region. He holds certainty on one hand that this attack never would've been considered even for the measures of their spars, if she didn't know the extent of his body's durable capacity..

Yet, as his mouth is wrenched open in a soundless scream, a morbid part of his mind couldn't ponder if that might've been a very purposeful exertion of her emotion from her end as he's sent flying.

Thoma's body had unconsciously focused his shieldcraft arts upon the spot of impact, ensuring that it was similar to clashing a weapon against some divine instrument compared to human flesh. A firm and foundation arc of scarlet shielding layered over flesh with fortitude. It certainly hadn't stopped the bruising nor the incoming collision through tall oaks to the outcrop of boulders that was further in the distance. Blood found itself briefly spilling from his lips as his body registers exactly what happened.

What she stirred was sensations that found themselves all too similar to his difficult plights of the past. There was a razor edge that found itself familiar, an effort of do or die that holds the firm expectation of advancing well beyond.

Within the distance would be an explosion dressed in crimson that holds a rocky mantle. Similar to a geyser selfishly making its ascent would be the fervor of Pyro gleefully flowing free along with the one approved by a flaming Vision. The recovery in itself hardly took seconds as with a sudden flip in the air and across that fair distance would Thoma land. With a now empty hand arched and willing, a glittering stir of light would conjure Homa's being back into his hand.

His other extremity would wipe away a flowing trip of blow from the corner of his lip, dashing part of his wrist and glove in red. The earlier display of energy was now more concentrated, hovering around his body as a swath of unnatural warmth as his elemental output began to steadily elevate.

He would be a liar if he were to say he doesn't enjoy intensity she brings out of him.

"Back from the top."

@snowtombedstar

#snowtombedstar #| Tucked Letters #| Meme #These two just need to be out here like this

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mysterious-gizem · 2 years ago

Text

The Decimate of Human's

Please tell me if I need to put an TW's

—————

Sapnap and George skidded across the floors as they raced to the kitchen, Sapnap collided with George as he reached out to open the kitchen cabinet. Sapnap gave an annoyed huff as his eyes gazed around the empty cabinet, George peered from behind the shorter male. Both groaned in annoyance as they slammed the cabinet shut.

George and Sapnap went to the living room and flopped down the couch, As if it was planned Dream came back home. The blond male closed the door as he held multiple bags filled with edible items, The two boys who were once on the couch immediately jumped and snatched a few bags from the taller male.

"Guy's be careful I just bought those!" Dream remarked as he quickly went away from the two other boys, Both brunettes let out a sound of victory as they found their wanted snacks.

"Hey Dream is it crowded out?" George said as he munched on raisin cookies, "Not really." Dream nonchalantly replied as he carefully placed the items he bought in the cabinets, As the three boys chatted happily. They suddenly heard loud alarms blaring, Sapnap and Dream knew it was the alarm signaling lock down.

All the boys were on the verge of panic as they scrambled to lock the doors and secure their house, George was still quite confused and peeked outside the window. The brunette gasped at the sight of multiple people. No-...Giants?

George stared as citizens ran around as the gigantic humans were attempting to step on them. George could feel he was going to hurl at the sight and backed away. Dream and Sapnap have yet to see the commotion outside and were confused when George was panicked and had sweat dripping down his forehead.

"George- Dude you alright?" Sapnap spoke as he stared with a concerned look, "T-Ther-..." George stuttered as he spoke "T-There's...Giants-..." Sapnap and Dream were still befuddled with George's actions, Sapnap took a peep at the window and saw ruin. The streets were trashed and loud noises were heard from the outside—maybe they would have heard if Dream didn't have a sound proof house—Faint screams and crashes could be heard from the outside.

As time passed with the three boys sitting in the living room waiting for further news, George and Sapnap were both shaken up Dream didn't bother to check outside. Although his curiosity wouldn't last long as Sapnap and George each share what they saw.

Hours passed...Not a single announcement came from the news, They all felt nervous yet none of them dared to peek outside again. From George's explanation of apparent giant's they were anxious if the 'giants' spotted them.

It was starting to get nerve wracking, They all thought about doing something productive.

George groaned at the idea and would rather stay on the couch, Sapnap and Dream both scoffed as they went to do other stuff.

Dream went to check on their water supply incase the water got cut, Whilst Sapnap went to see how long the food will last if it was rationed.

The TV suddenly switched to the news and all the boys heard it as they immediately jumped to check.

"Dear Citizens, Please stay in your houses. Humans are instantaneously turning into these gigantic beasts researchers have yet to find what has been causing this, Although apparently some still keep their human minds and gain thr ability to shift their sizes. Traffickers are using this to their advantages if they do get the ability. It could potentially be a sickness, Although whatever it is the symptoms are the following..." All of them were attentive and practically glued their eyes to the screen.

"Dizziness."

"Passing out at random times."

"Lost cravings for food."

"Random attacks."

"Itchy skin."

"Fevers that apparently come and go."

"Increase tiredness."

"These symptoms come very slowly for shifters as found out recently..."

They all took a deep sigh of relief, The news reporter continued.

"Please make sure the supplies you have will last 60 days, In 60 days the military will do a scout in the neighborhoods. If you live in the cities make sure you have food for 70 days. Then the military will do a scout then...We will inform you as soon as possible." After said the screen disconnected and the boys released a breath they didn't even know were holding.

There was silence. It was obvious they were in thought, "Well..." Sapnap spoke as he looked up at the two other males. "Atleast if we ration the food it'll last Atleast 75 days. But we should be fine since we're in a neighborhood"

"Luckily we got the timing right to buy groceries." George said as he gave a breathy laugh, "You mean I got the timing. You guys didn't even know I was going to get groceries!" Dream chuckled as he nudged George on the shoulder.

"Yea, yea whatever." George responded as he got up from the couch. Dream saw the light slowly dissappear from the outside of the window, "It's getting late-" Drean said as he took a peek just to make sure, "Cmon let's head to bed."

———

Dream groaned as he woke up from his bed, His head pounded as if he was drunk the entire night. He brushed it off as a result from stress, The blond peeked outside seeing as the skies were dark and it was foggy, Even with the fog he could tell it was destroyed and it looked horrible.

Dream slowly left his room as he heard chatter downstairs, Dream walked down the stairs as he instantly got greeted. "Hey sleepy head." Sapnap sneered as George stayed silent yet gave a cheery smile his way.

"Sorry I must've been stressed-" Dream muttered but luckily loud enough for the others to hear, "Anywa-" George was cut off by the ground softly shaking. Sapnap scrambled to check at the window as both Dream and George were frozen still—Dream was frozen due to him still being tired and George was terrified.

Sapnap saw one of the 'beasts' rummaging around the house that fell into ruin. It didn't even look human...It had torn clothes, sharp nail, and incredibly deadly canines.

It looked alarming as it pushed down the remaining standing walls of the house. Sapnap scrunched his face at the terrifying ease the giant creature took to do so.

"It's one of those giant things-" Sapnap whispered to the two males who were now suddenly beside him, "We should get away from the window and turn off the lights, We can't risk for it to see us." Dream ordered as he walked to the light switch quickly flicking it to turn it off.

They all sat up against a wall as the house now looked as if it was abandoned, The outside was trashed and the plants were dead. The air was still and all that the males could hear was the faint shuffling outside across the streets.

Soon the shuffling noises came to a brief stop, Then the soft pitter patter of the rain could be heard as it came in contact with the window. Dream stood up which confused the brunettes.

"I'll cook, Luckily we still have electricity it should last for a bit..." Dream grumbled as he went to the kitchen and turned on the light again, Dream took some eggs and started to fry them.

———

Dream's head throbbed in pain as his face was in the duvets of his bed. The whole day it was raining, They expected a thunderstorm tonight which should be fine. The house was pretty stable a storm shouldn't be a problem. I mean, It was Florida after all.

Dream was almost in tears he attempted to fall asleep which wasn't as hard as he anticipated.

"George give me back those Lay's!" Sapnap screamed although quiet enough to not alert the blond upstairs, "Not until you tell me where you hid my cookies!" George remarked. Sapnap took umbrage at his remarks.

"Fine it's over there-" Sapnap pointed at a place near the shoes as he caught his chips while George ran to reclaim his cookies, They were eating happily until they suddenly heard a loud crash upstairs. Wanting to know what it was, they gathered the courage and willed themselves to go upstairs and investigate what it was.

They crept upstairs, Sapnap leading first. They both knew Dream was upstairs yet he didn't say what he was doing, They entered the room which was at the end of the long hallway.

Dream was sitting on the floor with a scratch on his forehead which confused the brunettes. "Yo man are you okay-?" Sapnap uttered as he went nearer the blond "Why-...." Dream groaned before he continued, "Why does the door frame seem lower-" Dream let out a exasperated sigh.

George came up and both boys helped the blond stand up. Both brunettes gasped once the blond stood upright, Their friend was now way taller than they recalled, George gulped as he backed away a bit while Sapnap scrunched his face.

"Dream..." Sapnap managed to huff out, "What have you been feeling lately..." The stern look Sapnap gave made Dream suddenly realized the height difference. "Wha-...I don't know I've just been light headed recently." Dream's eyes widened at the grave realization. Both brunettes were already quite terrified.

The taller male stumbled back as he panicked, "B-But how!?" Dream retorted as he kept his gaze on the ground, Too ashamed to face his friends. "Look dude-...I don't know but you were outside before the outbreak happened." Sapnap stated.

"W-We should leave you alone, right now." Sapnap stuttered as he backed away to leave the room but came to an abrupt stop as he bumped into something behind him, "Sap we can't leave him like this!" George exclaimed.

"Look, George I don't want to but what other choice do we have?" Sapnap argued.

The two shorter males argued. Dream was so focused at his friends arguing he didn't realized he shrunk to his former height. Dream stood up to break apart the two before they mauled eachother.

"Stop!" Dream said as he bared his teeth, Glaring at the two boys he finally realized he was like his original height—Not like he could extremely tell, Dream couldn't look at someone and tell how tall they are—"Dude your a shifter-" Both brunettes spoke in unison as Dream cocked his eyebrow.

"Didn't they say shifters recieve the symptoms slower?" George intervened. "Atleast we have time to think before I well-..." Dream muttered as he recalled the symptoms. "Yea-..." George huffed as he lowered his head.

"L-Look I don't want to hurt you guys so I'll just stay in my room." Dream declared as he started to carefully escort his friends out of his room, "Wait-" Sapnap spoke but before he could continue the door was slammed shut. They heard a click signaling it was locked.

"Fine we'll bring you food later-..."

Dream sobbed as he fell to the floor, He let out strangled breaths and his heart ached. Whilst the two boys who were now downstairs, Worried about their friend. "Sapnap..." George turned hid head to look at the shorter, "What should we do...?" George had tears pricking his eyes.

"I don't know George..."

"I don't know..."

———

I have exams today and I'm gonna be late do enjoy😋

#g!dream #g/t #giant!dream #gt #giant/tiny #sizeshifter!dream #dsmp au #tiny!sapnap #tiny!george #tiny!Georgenotfound #human!george #human!sapnap

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pumpkin-pi-e · 3 years ago

Note

I love you writing so much. It's just ✨👌. May I request a nsfw yandere erasermic x fem. Where they catch the reader masturbating when they come home. Please and thank you. If it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to write it. Thank you❣️

Aw, thank you so much! You may indeed request! Ask, and you shall receive. 😌

You guys don't have to worry about making me uncomfortable. Hehe, such a polite anon. 🥰

A/N: You didn't specify whether you wanted it to lead to anything or not, so I followed the request to a T. Hope that's okay! It ain't much, but it's honest work.

Your legs fall open when the front door unlocks, welcoming two figures with delightful heat from the fireplace. Tucked away in your room, your thighs spread to invite the instrument deeper, eager for the pressure in your abdomen to boil over.

You moan in pleasure. The heroes sigh from the warmth healing their stiff muscles—the comfort of home melting their stress away. Sitting for hours on end did a number on them.

You arch off your mattress as the pros stretch, cracking their backs. You press into the toe-curling vibrations massaging your clit, grinding into the electric toothbrush nestled against it. Your soft noises fill the room with beautiful notes of music; each shuddered breath a symphony.

Your thighs clamp around it as Hizashi cups Shouta’s face, giving him a few lazy kisses while the latter helps them out of their jackets. Those shaky thighs tightly squeeze as you ride it to completion—gasping, whining, and quivering at the onslaught—the violent spasm of your softness, the overwhelming pleasure hitting you like a bus, flooded with the delicious dopamine you'd been waiting for, the sudden rush of good.

You’ve been under so much stress recently, and you needed to relax. It's such a hard thing to do nowadays, surrounded by every reminder of why you should sulk and grieve. You force orgasm after orgasm out of your body until it has no choice but to loosen up and lax as you pant into what you assumed was an empty house, a small damp spot beneath you from your labor.

Pressing the button with a trembling thumb, you start the device up again.

“What’re y’all feelin’ for dinner? Any cravings?” Mic asked, hanging off his husband and gazing lovingly into his eyes.

Shouta smiled at the soft kiss placed on his nose, blushing from the mustache nuzzling underneath his chin, unable to reach his neck courtesy of his capture scarf. “I’m fine with anything,” He murmured, re-gifting the radio hosts’ kiss. He reciprocated with interest, gently cradling his face with warm hands, an embrace Mic leaned into as Shouta inundated him with sweet kisses. This blitz had him melting where he stood, weak in the knees even after all these years. He receives them every day, yet he still goes crazy for them. Aizawa glanced off to the side as Hizashi doted on him, drooling over his cuteness. How can he be so shy after smooching his socks off? God’s above, he saw stars!

“you know that.” The erasure hero began again, “Maybe ask kitten if she’d like anything? You don't have to cook if you're tired. We could always order in.”

“That ain't half bad,” Hizashi responded, already thinking of some potential candidates his listeners vouched for during his show.

“We should-” The emcee interrupts himself with a dramatic gasp as a furry tail flirts with his leg, one of his lil divas seeking attention.

“HI! BABIES!!” He gushes, dropping to his knees to scoop them into a hug, kissing each of their little heads.

“Daddy’s home. Did you miss me?”

They purr and meow in response, falling over him for more attention. Their siblings follow suit, rolling around and displaying their bellies, excited for head kisses.

“Aw! Daddy’s little sweethearts!” Gloved fingers scratch at their tummies, appeasing their kittenish pleas.

“Shou, you gotta get in on this!” He indulges them with tickles until his hands grow numb. The DJ is quickly overrun with the volume of fluff wanting pets and cuddles. Too much of a cute thing! He's drowning in kitten licks and wet noses looking to scent him. The frisky felines pile on top of him, and Shouta shakes his head as he calls out for help.

“You know they get overstimulated when we come home. You should have waited until they settled down to pet them.” He kneels to assist him despite the soft rebuke, offering another ten fingers to satisfy their children.

“Urgh-! Ziggy! You're gettin’ heavy.” Zashi complained, lifting his chubby son off his head so he could wade out of the kitty pool he was drowning in.

“Mama’s been spoiling you, hasn't she? You've had a few too many treats today.” Mic playfully chastised. Ziggy meowed, complaining as his papa pat his overstuffed tummy.

“Speaking of princess, where is she?” He raises his son so they're eye to eye. “Where’s your mama, Ziggy? Where’s our pretty girl hiding?”

Ziggy meows again. He ain't no snitch.

Hizashi finally sets him down, dusting the cat hair off his hero attire as he stands.

“I’ll go see what she wants for dinner.” Shouta proposed, standing as well. “You go get comfortable in the meantime.” He pokes his husband's magical hair, defying gravity under all that hair spray. “If you wash your hair, I'll finger detangle it and massage it the way you like.”

Hizashi nearly moans. He nods vigorously, biting his lip; he’s zooming to the bathroom before the erasure hero can start toward your bedroom; a few cats follow him, curious to see why their papa is in such a hurry.

Shouta shook his head once more, following the familiar path to your bedroom. The quiet whir of a running motor caught his attention almost immediately. His brows knit together, wondering what you could have that produced such a sound. The buzzing became louder the closer he inched toward your door. Shouta kept his footsteps light, a force of habit. From his stealth, he was awarded the hushed breaths spilling underneath the crack in your door, sweet desperate things—strangled and broken. And in his worried state, helpless.

“Kitten?” He knocks gently at your door, waiting a full agonizing minute before he raps again, a little more insistent than before. It's wrong to eavesdrop, but his chaotic heart needs solace. Aizawa places his ear against the wood that practically vibrated with your weak cries.

You groan miserably at the dull thumps, losing your concentration. You combat that distracting noise as you turn up the volume on your iPod, blaming the commotion on the cats getting overexcited. Broken vases are a regular occurrence in this household. Changing the setting on the device, you quickly find your zen again, enveloped in the warm tingly bliss that signified another unfurled coil in the crossroads between the beginning of your vulva and stomach. Another crying release that would temporarily render you mute as convulsions override your body.

“Hmm-!” You slide sinfully against the head of the brush, bullying your clit for more serotonin. The vibration is almost intolerable on the sensitive organ.

Your aching whines sound so tortured to Shouta. Little does he know, it’s torture of the most pleasurable kind.

Your sweet little pleas flourish. You buck faster and faster as your thighs begin to tremble. The hero debates opening your door a crack, just to peek and make sure everything is okay. He and Zashi both respect your privacy and would never open your door without permission except for emergencies. They try to give you as much space as you need, but he’s seriously weighing the pros and cons of barging in as you birth a moan that accelerates his heart. His pulse grows more hectic the longer you don’t reply. He imagines his sweet kitten in pain, suffering all alone, and needing them.

His decision is made when you call out for him amidst those worrying whimpers.

Your door is thrown open without hesitation.

His first reaction is to shut the door and give you privacy as he unearths why you said his name. Aizawa was confused all of three seconds as he eyed you beneath your covers, gyrating your hips. Only half of you was covered, but it was clear what was transpiring under those sheets.

Your top half heaved, a sheen of sweat decorated the crown of your forehead, lips parted in constant purrs of his name. The buzzing was stronger now, joining the medley of sounds, but the blood pumping in his ears overshadowed each. He spied the discarded spare head of your toothbrush and put two and two together.

The revelation reddened his ears and stirred his erection to life, hardening each time you dropped his name like a prayer. They weren't moans of discomfort as he initially believed. Instead, they were the filthiest noises he'd ever heard.

It wasn't pain you were writhing in.

He should leave, he knows, but Shouta can't pull himself away. You're so close, and he knows it. It's saturated in the air. The frantic motion below your waist spoke for itself. As he was in the process of tearing himself away, you kicked off your bedding, frustrated from the heat it trapped, revealing your cum-splattered thighs, tipping him off to just how long you've been at it. The erasure hero chokes from the sight, nearly whining along with you as he's given a front view of you humping the electric toothbrush they'd bought for you.

He almost cums on the spot.

You're thinking about him—them, he corrects himself, as you mewl his husband's name. They're the ones you're pumping your hips so desperately to, the images behind your tightly shut eyes. It's a dangerous thought, and he doesn't dare entertain the curiosity of what your imagination has them do to you.

It's neither the time nor the place, but Shouta is endlessly concerned about your health and can't help but wonder if this is safe. It doesn't seem very hygienic—using the tip of your brush just because you like the vibrations.

Do they need to buy you toys?

How mortified would you be if they purchased some for you?

Are you secretly wanting attention from them?

That can't be good for the motor; it wasn't meant to run constantly like that.

His line of questioning ends when you breathe his name once more, letting him know in that one breath how incredible you're feeling. Your movements have taken a turn for the hysterical, nigh distraught as you chase the release he can taste. And oh—you’re such a good girl. Fuck, kitten. Work those hips, and don't stop until you get enough. The shake in your legs worsened the longer you kept the head pressed against that adorable little clit that's sadly hidden. The throbbing in his trousers becomes unbearable, neglected cock grieving as you whisper your sins, kneading that pussy of yours—the prettiest one Shouta’s ever seen, moaning about how it was his, his to do whatever he wanted with. His to love, his to abuse—the hero has to press a hand against his bulge to stave off an orgasm—his to breed, and his to pet.

Aizawa is reeling. He didn't know you wanted kids. He can't tell if it's a kink, fantasy, or if you yearn for more than their litter of cats. Perhaps their furry children wouldn't suffice forever? That isn't a thought he's prepared to deal with, especially when you're begging him and uttering the most delicious curses—begging him to let you cum.

Yes, sweet girl, you can cum. How could you ask him such a silly thing?

You bless him with one of the most beautiful sights he's seen to date. Your gorgeous thighs hug the toothbrush, trapping it in place, so those seizure-inducing pulses milk your fluttering pussy for every last drop of pleasure when you become too weak to ride it out. Shouta felt that twine snap. He felt your orgasm as if it were his own. The debauched groan that tore from your throat—guttural, and absolutely writhing in satisfaction made him cum in his pants like a teenager. The hand clutched to his sweats be damned. Sticky moisture warms his palm as the culmination of your excitement splashes your thighs. You moan his name so prettily, a litany of breathless stutters. Aizawa doesn't think anyone's ever called for him so desperately, so helplessly.

You dance so sinfully. His eyes are fixed on your body as you squirm and slink about your mattress, relishing the euphoria curling your toes, the ecstasy that has you clawing at the bedding.

His heart leaped into his throat after you ripped out your headphones, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. The dampness at the seat of his crotch cooled, and guilt settled into place where lust once stood. He’d witnessed a sight he really shouldn't have been privy to. It was a horrible invasion of privacy. But god was it the most delicious feast for hungry eyes.

The teacher swallowed a groan. You're going to think he's a pervert. He itched for a wall to bury his head in like a certain pointy-eared student.

See, Shouta wants to lend the privacy he should’ve respected from the start, but his problem is exiting quietly without alerting you. You wouldn't look him in the eye for a good three weeks. He’s sure of it. Aizawa debates leaving the door cracked; you'll assume you hadn't closed it properly and—

“Holy shit, that was hot.”

You whip toward the doorway in abject horror, throwing the comforter over yourself. Shouta startles, veering over his shoulder to see Hizashi staring wide-eyed, blushing down to his neck—wet hair dripping onto the carpet. He wonders how the blonde managed to sneak up on him and how long he'd been standing there.

“Baby, you're so cute! Those sweet noises were lyrical. Stars, I've never heard prettier music. Can we get an encore?” Zashi hopefully begs, eyes alight with eager expectation.

Mortified, you whine and squeeze your thighs together, too embarrassed to speak.

They saw.

You internally groan.

They heard.

“H-hizashi wanted me to ask what you'd like to eat for dinner, but we can come back later.” Shouta hurriedly interjects, shutting the door so there was only a sliver of light from the hallway.

“We’re sorry for eavesdropping.”

It clicks shut. Hizashi pouts from behind the wood, fussing the whole way as Shouta shoves him toward the living room, the DJ making it difficult as he digs his heels into the carpet. The pair hear regrettable laments from your room. You mope, hurling the offending object off your bed. The toothbrush lands with a faint thud, and you bury your shame in your hands, knowing you won't hear the end of this.

Your belief comes to pass when the cheeky emcee offers you nothing but phallic-shaped food for dinner. He's choking on withheld laughter as he produces eggplants and cucumbers despite the takeout sitting on the table. Shouta conveniently avoids your gaze when you glare at him as if this is somehow his fault. He disapproves of his husband’s antics. However, he does nothing to stop him. In your book, that's just as bad as condoning it. The shame-faced blush warming his cheeks is the worst offense of them all.

Aizawa fights the smile tugging at his lip, striving in vain to keep a lid on his amusement.

There's a constant throbbing behind your left eye as Hizashi whips out a water bottle, claiming you must be thirsty after that performance.

We’ll see how funny it is when he wakes up with a face as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Say goodbye to that precious mustache.

“What’s wrong, songbird?” Mic babies, his eyebrows drawn in faux concern.

“Don't wanna sing your pretty songs for us anymore?”

Your grip tightens on the chair you sit on.

“Don't wanna moan or names some more?”

Your heart thumps wildly; its rate rises along with your blood pressure.

“But you cried ‘em so loudly before, mama! It gave me chills!” He shivers violently, and you can't tell whether he caught the chills or if he faked them.

Hizashi rests his face in his palms, grinning across the table at you.

“Heard it all the way from the bathroom. You got some pipes on you, sweet thing.”

Shouta shifts in his respective seat, praying you won't lunge across the table.

“And now I kinda want to test their capacity. You got me curious.”

“That's rich coming from the scream king.” Your voice is a gun, bland but terribly destructive.

Aizawa snorts, hands flying to cup his face to keep from spit-taking. He trembled from the effort of stifling his hysterics. The inside joke gets him every time.

For his part, Hizashi looks utterly betrayed. He pouts, slumping in his chair. “Babe, that ain't nice. We're at the dinner table.” He criticized, ignoring his hypocrisy.

It's your turn to dissolve into humiliated goo when the erasure hero tentatively broached the topic of buying you some ‘self-care’ items. He slides you their bank card with a mumbled, “Just buy whatever you need.”

#answered ask!#yandere erasermic x reader #yandere

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

Text

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen @sehunniepot (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀)

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance.

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls.

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes.

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks.

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section.

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.

“See anything you like?”

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close.

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.”

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know."

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this."

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry."

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming.

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you."

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer.

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it.

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me? I'll be back for them. Thanks! -Miss Ageist”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time?

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is."

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look.

“Oh, most definitely.”

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?”

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste."

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records.

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know."

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you.

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.”

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets.

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny."

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear.

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?”

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls."

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role.

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?”

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.”

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.”

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier."

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.”

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window.

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store.

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it.

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter.

“Surprised to see you here.”

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?”

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast.

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks.

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store.

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual.

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you."

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you.

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head.

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby."

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store."

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise."

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?”

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless.

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core.

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight."

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night.

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly.

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening.

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail.

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole.

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel.

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.”

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?”

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.”

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—”

You suck the words out of him. Literally.

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth.

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time.

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom.

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges.

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs.

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure.

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches.

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses.

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air.

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?”

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?”

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?”

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious).

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.”

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly.

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”

EPILOGUE

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk.

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be.

No matter, it always feels amazing.

“Johnny, Johnny—”

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.”

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.”

A silent beat passes.

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...”

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment.

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all.

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themerrypanda · 3 years ago

Text

A brand new short story today! Based off of one of Elliott’s quotes: “Some people are shy. Keep showing interest in them and they'll get comfortable around you. Everyone likes to have friends, even that grumpy blacksmith.”

AO3 link in the title.

Title: I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues

Word Count: 1,795

Rain dripped down his coat and onto a mat. Elliott hung it on a wall hook, careful to make sure the raincoat wouldn’t drip onto the wooden floors of the Stardrop Saloon once rested against the wall. He walked towards the counter, his path interrupted by a call from Gus, the bartender.

“One pale ale, Elliott?”

“Yes, thank you.” He quickly answered back as he made it to Gus’s jukebox. He didn’t usually play music immediately upon arriving at the saloon, and he usually didn’t come over when it rained. But he did usually come on Fridays, and tonight he just had to get out of his beach cabin. His usual companion Leah would not be there to chat, as she has found herself deeply invested in work on a sculpture today. He knew better than anyone else not to interrupt an artist’s sudden spark of inspiration, especially after a block as long as she had.

Not that her artistry could pull him out of his own rut, unfortunately. Elliott scrolled through the Bartender’s Favorites custom category and settled on Marvin Gaye’s I Heard It Through The Grapevine , then looked through a different genre for the song he really wanted, an Elton John tune. It was customary; Gus requested that anyone who wanted to hear from the jukebox must pick a song from Gus’s favorites before then hearing the tune they wanted. If his customers only listened to what they wanted, Gus said, he would get too bored of the music, and he would rather hear nothing at all than Tubthumping by Chumbawamba twenty-one times in a row. (Gus learned that lesson the hard way from Sam on the boy’s 21st birthday.)

He glanced over to the table where Willy usually sat, then remembered that Willy would be on the docks fishing. He had better luck on rainy days, he claimed.

Willy’s usual companion wasn’t at the table either. Elliott looked around the saloon at all his potential talking companions for the evening. Marnie was busy chatting with Mayor Lewis, the scientist and carpenter couple were dancing in a spot free of tables and chairs. A few people sat on the barstools around the bar. He could hear Sam and two of his friends playing billiards in the game room.

And hidden in a diner booth in the corner of the room, facing away from the bar, was the blacksmith. Clint. Elliott had talked with him on a few occasions. But why did he choose to sit there tonight?

Curious, Elliott felt compelled to talk with him.

“Here’s the ale, Elliott.”

Emily walked up and handed him the stein.

“Thank you, Emily.” He fished into his pocket and gave her money. “Say, how did your clothing therapy go yesterday? So sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t worry, it went great! Six people turned up, and a few bought the clothes they chose. Robin’s wearing her dress right now. Abby wants to buy the suit of armor–”

“A suit of armor?”

“Yeah!” Emily laughed. “But she wanted to make sure she had a safe place for it in her room, so she’s going to swing by to pick it up tomorrow morning while her parents are in Grampleton. And Clint…”

Her shoulders slumped some, and her smile wasn’t nearly as bright as it was a second ago. “He chose a cute outfit, the beret was a great touch. But while I was talking with the farmer, trying to persuade them to give it a try, he…” Emily grunted. “I don’t know what happened, but I think Clint’s mad at me. He never looks at me anymore.”

Clint’s change in seating must be recent, and somehow tied to the event. But he, mad at Emily? What happened?

Emily sighed deeply. “I thought we were friends.”

“I did too.”

Emily suddenly whirled around when a customer spun around on a barstool tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, fill ‘er up!” Pam placed the empty stein in Emily’s empty hand.

“Alright, I’ll be right there.” Emily turned back to Elliott and gave a brief shrug and unhappy smile as her farewell and carried on with her work.

That settled it. Elliott gradually made his way across the saloon floor and towards Clint’s booth. He peered over the headrest, and noted Clint’s untouched bowl of macaroni and cheese, yet completely drained beer stein.

Clint nudged the stein closer to the edge of the table. “Another one, Gus.”

“I’m not Gus.”

Clint instantly flushed red. “Oh! Sorry.”

Elliott shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned with the misunderstanding. “May I sit down?”

Clint grunted. Elliott decided that it meant yes and sat down. And said nothing.

Instead he examined Clint’s face, which was still red around his eyes while the rest of his face returned to its usual shade.

“Wow. You look miserable.”

Clint scoffed. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Clint reached for his stein again, visibly frustrated that the glass was still empty.

“If I may inquire, what happened to you? You look like your beloved family dog died after getting hit by a truck.”

“Better that what actually happened.” Clint squinted so hard Elliott could no longer see his eyelashes. “I was a fool and a jerk.”

Elliott nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I went to Emily’s clothing therapy yesterday. Of course I did; I’d follow her to the ends of the earth if she’d let me. I even tried on some of the clothes she made. I thought it might be nice to wear something more classy looking than scorched shirts and sweatpants when I have to go into the city. And she called my outfit cute.”

“Cute? That’s good, right?”

Clint shook his head. “I mean, yes? But from her tone… anxious me jumped to thinking that Emily might not see me as more than a friend. So when I went outside– she wanted us to let others see us as we see ourselves– and I panicked. I went back into the house, and saw her standing close to the farmer, and… oh, I’m ashamed of what I said.” Clint clenched an empty fist next to the still empty beer stein and pounded the table with a soft thud.

“I know that the farmer is legally blind. I know that. But I forgot… and when I saw them standing that close together, I thought nothing of Emily trying to lead the farmer to the racks of clothes. I mistook their closeness and her jumping in surprise when I came back as them becoming a… becoming a couple.” He groaned bitterly. “I didn’t even talk to her. All I could think to do was congratulate the farmer and get home with as few people seeing me as possible.”

Finally accepting that his glass was still empty, Clint stuck a fork into his macaroni and cheese and brought it up to his mouth, only to groan in frustration and set it back down. “The farmer came in this morning so I could upgrade one of their tools, and they cleared up the misunderstanding. They were so nice about it.” He rested his forehead in the palms of his hands, his elbows rested on the table. “And I could hardly bring myself to say anything. I was a jerk. I am a jerk. If I’m reacting this badly to a misunderstanding that could mean she’s in love with someone else, how am I supposed to cope when she finally is? She probably thinks I’m a jerk.”

Clint fell silent and didn’t say anything else. Elliott took a deep breath, allowing the silence to settle Clint’s thoughts before he spoke.

“She doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t?”

Elliott nodded. “But she does think you are mad at her because you’ve been avoiding her since.”

“Oh.”

“Now before you go beating yourself up about how you accidentally made her think you’re mad at her, have you apologized?”

Clint shook his head. “I can’t tell her why I was such a jerk. I’d look even more like a jerk, as if I were demanding she could only be with me.”

“Then don’t tell her that specifically. Do you still have the clothes you were wearing?”

Clint nodded. “I hadn’t paid for them, so I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.”

“Okay. So this is what you do. Bring both the clothes and the money to pay for them when you go talk to her tomorrow at noon. Twelve o’clock sharp.”

“At her house?”

“Apologize for having taken them without buying, offer at least the money, but if you’ll want to, keep the clothes, otherwise return those to her as well. Also apologize for avoiding her. You can be vague about what you were mad at. Just say that she didn’t deserve to receive your anger, and you shouldn’t have gotten mad at her.”

“But I’m not mad at her!” Clint spoke only slightly louder than he had been, but it was enough to bring him to shame once more. “I’m mad at myself.”

Elliott sighed once more. “Then instead you apologize for making her feel like you were mad at her. Now, can you repeat to me what I said you should do?”

Slowly, Clint unburied his head from his hands and breathed slowly. “Um… see her tomorrow. Apologize for taking clothes, pay for them, give them back… Say sorry that I avoided her, say I wasn’t mad at her, I never meant to hurt her.” A pause. “Is that good?”

Elliott grinned. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Okay.” Clint exhaled a deep breath. “I think I can do that.”

A new glass of beer was set on the table. Clint reached for the new drink, and limited himself to a single sip before attempting again to eat his cheesy macaroni, this time with success.

Elliott glanced at his watch. This was enough high-effort social interaction for one night. “I better get going. Thanks for letting me sit down and chat.”

Clint snorted. “I should be thanking you.”

“Hey, think of it as payment from me to you for having pestered you with so many questions about iron working over the last few weeks.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” Clint smiled weakly. “Made work less boring for me.”

Elliott smiled back as he sat up. “I’ll see you around, Clint.”

“See you.”

As Elliott walked over to the row of wall hooks, he turned long enough to see Emily finish her return to the bar, smile brightly and mouth to him “thanks”. Elliott put his coat on, winked, and ventured out into the drizzling rain once more. But now he had one more stop to make before heading home; he had a bet to place with Leah: 200g that Emily will head over to Clint’s shop instead.

#stardew valley #stardew valley elliott #sdv elliott #elliott stardew valley #stardew elliott #elliott sdv #stardew valley clint #sdv clint #clint sdv #stardew clint #stardew valley emily #sdv emily #stardew emily #emily stardew #emily stardew valley #emily sdv #NOT anti Clint for those merry few

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bubblesuga · 3 years ago

Text

Mahina || Part 1

Summary: Jungkook couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something drawing him to you. Like the moon tugs at the tides, he needed to be beside you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 4,626 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

When Jungkook awoke this morning, something was... different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the air in his room seemed to have shifted slightly. He felt lighter on his feet, a sudden bounce to his step while he pulled himself off of the bed and towards the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as usual, carefully scrubbing his tongue and admiring his reflection in the mirror. The eyebrow piercing was a good edition, he thinks. It accentuates his high brow and sparkles underneath even the dimmest light. Spritzing himself with cologne, he opens the bathroom door just in time.

"Jungkook, I made breakfast! Hurry up!"

Smiling to himself, he trots down the stairs of the far too large penthouse he and his band mates bought a couple years ago. He doesn't mind sharing with 6 other people, though. Having grown up with no siblings, he enjoys the dynamics at play when he speaks to the members. They're all his brothers, co-workers, family... He couldn't have asked for a better turn out when it came to finding a career path.

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen when Jungkook walks in, the smell of pork and kimchi filling his nose. Thanking his hyung, he grabs a bowl and starts filling up.

"You seem happy this morning," Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Jungkook shrugs, "I just woke up in a really good mood. I feel like--" he takes a bit of his food, then speaks with his mouth full, "--something amazing is going to happen today."

"We just have rehearsals?" Yoongi's statement comes off as more of a question.

"Exactly." Jungkook says, continuing to munch on his food. Yoongi looks at the younger man and shakes his head, continuing to fry meat for the rest of the members.

"Hey, did Namjoon come home last night?" Seokjin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He takes a spot beside Jungkook on the counter, reaching into his bowl and grabbing a piece of pork belly. Jungkook attempts to push his hand away but Seokjin smacks it and grabs the meat anyway.

Yoongi shakes his head again, "Nah. He stayed at the studio last night, said something about a last minute inspiration."

Jungkook has noticed Namjoon's lack of attentiveness recently. It seems as though his head is always filled with potential themes and lyrics and beats, much more so than even in the early days of the band. He's curious about his inspiration as of late but Namjoon doesn't seem to want to give away his methods any time soon.

"He's been doing that a lot lately." Jungkook thinks outloud.

"More power to him," Seokjin says, "man works his ass off and it benefits all of us."

Yeah, it definitely does.

~*~*~

"5, 6, 7-"

Hoseok's counting is cut off by the music blasting again. It's the third run through of the new choreography, Jungkook is center and carefully watches the rest of his hyungs in the mirror. He moves to the left, following Hoseok's lead and smiling as he notices a mis-step on Jimin's part. Jimin throws his head back and yells, lifting his shirt up and wiping some of the sweat that's accumulated on his brow.

"It's okay, Jiminie," Hoseok sings, "this shit is hard."

Seokjin nods in agreement, "Yeah, what the hell happened to a laid back choreography for this come back?"

"It's the last one of the year. We gotta go out with a bang." Jungkook turns back to look at Namjoon, who chugs water in the corner of the room. "Speaking of big come backs, are you working on your mixtape?"

Namjoon laughs, "Nah, definitely not. I'm trying to get a couple more songs for the album."

"Don't we have like 14 tracks?" Taehyung speaks for the first time since rehearsal started.

"16 is better than 14." Namjoon smiles, listening to Hoseok as he calls everyone over again.

"One more time. 5, 6-"

It's then that the doors burst open and Hyun enters in. "And this is the rehearsal room containing the 7 men you will be photographing."

Jungkook's eyes travel to the person his manager is talking to, and he has to hold back a gasp. He feels the way his jaw drops, but he's unable to close his mouth while he looks at you. God, you're gorgeous. Your hair cascades down your back and your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways. Jungkook struggles to tear his eyes away, but once he sees your smile he realizes there's no way he can turn away. You're literally glowing, with god-like shining eyes. Who are you?

"Boys, this is _____. She's in charge of photography and will be around to film Bangtan Bombs, behind the scenes, or anything you all want filmed and made into content."

Jungkook repeats your name in his head five times. He whispers it to himself once while everyone else heads to you to shake your hand. Jungkook stands back, finally blinking his eyes.

You step forward after having shook the hands of everyone else, "And you're Jungkook," you smile again, "I like your tattoos. Glad you're finally willing to show them."

"T- tattoos..." Jungkook mutters pathetically as he takes your outstretched hand. You giggle, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Well, anyway. It was nice to meet you all. I'm excited to work closely with every one of you." your words are met with a chorus of 'same!' from everyone except for Jungkook.

Hyun puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you out of the room, continuing on the tour of the HYBE building. Jungkook stares after you, the doorway now long empty but he couldn't look away. You were, by far, the most beautiful woman he has ever come across. With your simple torn jeans and black t-shirt, he feels you could pull off anything you put on your body.

It's not until Yoongi speaks does Jungkook finally tear his eyes away, "Could you have been any creepier?"

"What?"

Jimin bursts into laughter, his frustration with the choreography long gone, "You were-" he takes a deep breath in between laughter, "you were staring at her like she was the last woman on the planet!"

"W- what?" Jungkook stammers.

Jimin doesn't respond, only laughing louder as he falls to the ground. Jungkook can see the hidden smirks of the rest of the members, turning his to look at everyone, "What the fuck just happened?"

"Love at first sight?" Taehyung suggests.

"More like love at first drool." Seokjin begins laughing before he even finishes his sentence, causing the rest of the members to groan at his joke.

Jungkook doesn't react to Seokjin though, as he turns to look back at the empty doorway. If love at first sight is a real thing, Jungkook just experienced it to the fullest extent.

~*~*~

Jungkook manages to continue the rest of rehearsal without a problem, except for the way his mind kept traveling back to you. Saying your name in his head again, he washes up in the gym showers. He thinks back to the way your skin seemed to be literally glowing to him, and your bright white teeth hypnotizing him.

Never in his life has he had such a short conversation with someone that had such an impact. He wants to learn everything about you, your passions, the music you like, the books you read. He hopes that you enjoy some of the same things he does, so he has an excuse to talk to you.

Though his interest in you is certainly piqued, he has to keep in mind that you are, essentially, his employee, and fantasizing about your employee is more than inappropriate.

Fantasizing might not be the right word, but he can't help and imagine conversations between the two of you. Your voice is so pretty, it's light but carries through the room. You make sure your presence is known, though with the way you shine you didn't have to try hard. He smiles to himself, closing his eyes and rinsing off the conditioner from hair. Then, he wonders what your hair looks like when it's wet.

Okay, Jungkook. That's enough.

He shakes the water off his head and wraps a towel around his body. Exiting the shower, he realizes he forgot his bag in the dance room and sighs. Checking the time on his phone, he realizes that it's after 9 pm. The odds of anyone other than the members being here is pretty slim so he can just walk his way to the rehearsal room and change in there, right?

Right.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he walks out of the gym bathroom and strolls down the hall. He scrolls through his phone while he walks, rounding the corner and hearing your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'm very excited to properly start tomorrow."

"We're excited to have you," Jungkook peeks his head around the corner and watches Hyun bow to you, "your work is incredible and I know Taehyung in particular loves your shooting style."

What? Taehyung knows her? Jungkook must have missed that earlier when he couldn't stop staring at you.

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that one of the bangtan boys followed my work," you let out a small, somewhat embarrassed giggle, "thank god for Instagram."

You and Hyun share a laugh, followed by a goodbye. Jungkook gasps as he sees you turn in his direction, rushing to a small doorway and pushing himself up against the wall. You can't see him like this, not already. He's nearly naked and he knows this towel isn't big enough to cover himself as well as he should in front of a stranger, so he holds his breath as your foot steps become closer... and closer... and-

"Hey Jungkook."

Fuck.

Jungkook exhales a breath and moves to tighten the towel around his waist even more. You're eyes are not scanning his body like he thought you would be. Of course, Jungkook knows that sounds cocky of him to say but he can't help but assume that that would be the outcome of this situation. Either way, his face still burns when your eyes meet his. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes.

"Were ya hiding?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side, and Jungkook realizes that he's still pressed up against the wall.

"I- I, uh-" come on Jungkook, get it together, "Sorry. I didn't want you to see me naked."

"Oh please. When humans are naked, they're at their purest forms. It's natural, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you smile brightly, moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. Your phrasing is odd, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he swallows, "You're right, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been okay with my dick just hangin' out. Neither would the security watching the cameras."

You laugh, a proper laugh that doesn't seem to be masked by something else, and Jungkook realizes it's melodic. A fine tune singing into his ears as one of the most beautiful songs he has ever heard. It's soft, breathy, and makes him want to make you laugh for the rest of eternity.

"Either way," you say after a moment, the hint of humor still in your voice, "nothing to be ashamed of. I'll see you tomorrow, Jungkook."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you wave and waving back as you carry your feet towards the elevators.

~*~*~

The air was even lighter this morning, and Jungkook can't help but think you play a part in his bright mood.

Following the conversation yesterday, Jungkook walked with a grin on his face to grab his clothes. You're incredibly charismatic, an stark difference to Jungkook's usual shy and laid back personality. Despite your conversations together being minimal, Jungkook feels you and him are going to be close.

Jungkook hops out of bed and styles his hair carefully. Checking his phone as he brushes his teeth, he's received a text from Taehyung apologizing because he had already left. The house sounds still, he remembers Yoongi and Seokjin opted at staying at their respective apartments tonight, wanting to be a little closer to home. Namjoon probably stayed at the studio again and Jimin and Hoseok more than likely left with Taehyung. He shrugs, making a quick protein shake and grabbing a banana before heading out of the door.

As he drives to work, he makes note at how much more productive the members have been these days. Not that they never were, but the usual slump of exhaustion that follows months of continuous promotions, rehearsals, and recording doesn't seem to be hitting anyone this time around. Surely, the explanation is the high everyone is riding from the success of Butter and Permission To dance in the west. It's motivated everyone, including Jungkook himself.

He pulls into the parking garage, rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, and steps off only to be stopped by Hoseok.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck and squeezes him tight.

"Hoseokie!" Jungkook mocks, giving a pat to the older one's back. Hoseok pulls away with a chuckle, "I guess _____ is doing behind the scene shoots today. Something about wanting to catch us in our element."

"Oh? Like individual shoots?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "she's with Yoongi in his studio right now. She told me to tell everyone to choose a thing they do on a daily basis that might be interesting to see for ARMY."

"Should I work out?" Jungkook smirks. Hoseok rolls his eyes, patting Jungkook's pecs,

"You work out enough." Smiling, he begin walking towards the commons area,

"I'm almost to where I want to be." "Whatever Jungkook, you bully us enough already." Hoseok pats Jungkook's head and walks away, leaving Jungkook to sit on the couches for a moment.

He picks up his phone and scrolls through Weverse and Twitter for a moment. Despite not being as active as people wish he could be, he does keep up with what everyone is talking about. Currently he sees excitement about their online concert from last year coming to DVD, and "JUNGKOOK'S ABS" is trending.

Yeah, he's definitely going to work out for his behind the scenes.

Holding his phone up, he snaps a quick selfie and posts it to Twitter. Once a month seems to be a good formula.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice enters the room, "She's gonna shoot with Namjoon then you."

"Ah," Jungkook stands, "time to get nice and sweaty for ARMY."

"You're such a freak." Yoongi laughs, watching Jungkook leave the room.

Jungkook begins on the treadmill, listening to music and trying not to think about the fact that you're going to be photographing him while he's working out. He feels somewhat dumb, being so incredibly invested in your opinions of him already, but like yesterday proved, there was something about you that drew him in.

He speeds up the treadmill, his calves burning and his breathing quickening while he runs. It's incredible, the feeling of absolute bliss he feels after a run. When his muscles ache and his chest feels clear, he feels most at peace. Though, peace isn't difficult to come across these days. Even with the sadness of not being able to perform live like he wants to, it's not as looming as it was before. It's incredibly exhilarating to wake up not feeling like the end is near. It happened so suddenly, he's not sure what changed.

At the beginning, when they had to cancel the tour and stay in Korea, Jungkook felt as though life was never going to be the same. It was dark for everyone. He remembers Jimin crying in the bathroom after the cancellation, which caused Jungkook to start crying as well. He scrolled through social media for hours, reading the anger and frustration at those who had to return their tickets. It pained him, to see such a bleak view of the fans he adored.

Now that it's been close to 2 years, Jungkook has learned to-- for lack of a better term-- live with it. He wakes up every day and tries his hardest to live, and that's all you can do when your passion in life is ripped away from you due to an ongoing worldwide pandemic.

The gym doors slide open and Jungkook looks in the mirror to see you.

You have a camera around your neck, Jungkook recognizes it as a Canon. You close the door behind you and stop him as Jungkook starts to slow down the treadmill.

"Pretend like I'm not even here." you nearly whisper, and Jungkook has to stop himself from choking on his spit. Your voice sounded almost sultry. He can't tell if that was his imagination or if it was intentional on your part.

Jungkook shakes his head, turning up the speed just a little bit more.

He hears the shutter on your camera clicking, the action setting in full effect as he runs. You move around him, being sure not to get yourself in the mirror of the shots. The only noises in the room are his breathing and the sounds of his feet hitting the runway. It's rough, his chest heaving the more he pushes himself, but he's more interested in the way you seem to float around the room, or the fact that your hands seem dwarfed by the large camera.

It makes him wonder what your hands would look like on him.

A necklace dangles from your neck, it's gold and shines under the lights of the gym. It falls gently into the crevice of your chest, what looks like a golden moon on the end of the chain.

Again, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his.

"You gotta stop looking at the camera." you giggle.

He didn't even realize his eyes were following you. Suddenly, it's like a wave of confidence washes over him. Confidence that he was not ready for.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I'm not looking at the camera." Why is he saying this?

"Yes you are," you grin, "I have like 7 pictures in a row of you looking directly at the camera."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm looking at the person holding the camera." Shut up, Jungkook. Stop talking!

"Oh?" you laugh, "what's catching your eye?"

"The necklace." what the fuck? He basically admitted to staring at your tits!

"The necklace that's right in between my tits?"

He laughs, you snap a picture.

"I guess so, I'm sorry." The usual nervousness that he would feel at an admission like that is non-existent. He feels comfortable enough to talk to you like this, and judging by the way you smile, you're comfortable with it too.

"No need to be sorry," you snap another picture, "I know they draw attention."

Jungkook nods, "They certainly do."

"What do you like about them?"

The question throws Jungkook for a loop but he doesn't let that show.

"They're perky," he explains, stopping the treadmill, "and your shirts show off the perfect amount to leave some to the imagination."

"Ah, so you're imagining my tits?"

"Yes."

You smirk, walking away. For a moment, Jungkook is scared he said too much, but it's very quickly washed away by the sound of the lock turning. "So," you begin, "you're saying that if I took off my shirt, you wouldn't be opposed to looking at me?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I also wouldn't be opposed to touching you."

"Well," you slip off your shirt, "I'm ready."

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his gym shorts at the sight of your bra. Of your fucking bra.

Despite the blood rushing to his cock, he shakes his head, "Oh come on, darling. You know that's not enough for me."

"Your shirt first, buddy." your eyes follow Jungkook as he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Now that there's verbal consent, your eyes roam all over his torso. He's ripped, Jungkook knows this, but under your gaze he feels like a meal. Like he's about to get devoured by you, and he can't say he's not enjoying the idea.

You reach behind you, unhooking your bra and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Jungkook's eyes widen at sight, stepping closer to you and falling to his knees. He places his nose against your torso, inhaling your scent. The sensuality of the small gasp that left your mouth fueled Jungkook. He grabs your hands and pulls you down to his level, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's rough and heated, all teeth and tongue. He's not used to being this way, to feeling almost primal in his movements. He gnaws at your bottom lip, eliciting another moan from you. It's high pitched and nearly whiny, proving that you're suddenly filled with as much need as he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Jungkook states, "right here. Right now."

"Please." you toss your head back, falling onto the padded floors of the gym. Jungkook follows suit, kissing his way down your body until he reaches your navel. Again, he presses his nose into you and inhales, you smell so damn good.

He keeps smelling, inhaling your scent as he undoes the buttons of your jeans. The less clothing there, the stronger your scent becomes. He feels insatiable, nearly ripping off your panties to get to your center.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Jungkook groans, his voice deep with want, with need. Taking a single finger up your slit, he draws it back and sucks your juices clean, "and you taste as good as you smell."

You stare up at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself up on your elbows and spreading your legs as wide as you can. "Now that you've had a taste you might as well finish it."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, diving into your soaked folds with his tongue. He moves fast but also meticulously, being sure to take note of all the places that make you moan a little louder, sink a little deeper into him. Your hand reaches down and snakes its way through his hair, tugging at the roots.

At that point, Jungkook begins to kick off his shorts without pulling away.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to fuck you," you moan in between words, "you always look so good everywhere you go."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckles, "did you imagine fucking me before you got hired here?"

You nod, "I couldn't help it, I knew you'd be good."

As Jungkook manages to get his shorts off, he grips ahold of his aching member. Pulling up to his knees, his thumb doesn't stop rubbing harsh circles against your clit.

"That's hot," Jungkook breathes, "I've been wanting to take you since I first saw you."

"Then do it." you demand, and a flip switches in Jungkook's brain.

He pulls his fingers away from you and leans forward, "Taste yourself."

You don't hesitate to take his fingers into your mouth, Jungkook feeling your tongue dance across the pads of his fingers. Feeling himself twitch, he strokes himself for a little bit of relief while you suck.

"Taste good?" He questions.

"Delicious."

"Good girl." He murmurs, leaning down and connecting your lips with his again. As he does so, he runs the head of his cock against your slit, enjoying the gasp you let out every time he brushes against your clit. You feel so warm, so inviting. He can taste you so well, he wants nothing more than to dive in.

So he does.

Pressing into you slowly, he feels your warmth envelope him. Your legs wrap around his hips and guide him in all the way. When he slips all the way in, you both pull away for a moan.

"So fucking good. So tight." He moves his hips achingly slow, enjoying the noises of content leaving your lips. Your moans spur him on as your tightness engulfs him yet again. He leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, your hot skin nearly burning his lips, "I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head, "You can't hurt me. I promise."

Jungkook isn't sure what takes over him at this point, but he feels his lips begin to thrust harshly into you. He doesn't process the rest of the world, the only thing that's certain is you. You're everything that he needs to focus on now, your whines, your moans, the feeling of your legs guiding him in and out of you. He wants to take you here over and over again until the end of time, and he's never felt that about anyone before in his life.

Your lips are beginning to bruise from the rough kisses he's been laying on you, so he takes a gentle approach and sucks on your jawline. Every few thrusts, he rests his forehead against yours. Then he moves again. Then rests.

"Tell me how good I feel." you whisper against his lips, breathy.

"Baby," Jungkook's brows knit together in pleasure, "you feel so good around me. So warm. I want to cum in you and fill you up so bad. Do-n't stop squeezing- fuck."

Jungkook abandons the pace he tried to keep and slams into you, pulling you on top of him and lifting you up and down on his cock. You let out a scream as he reaches a point he hasn't touched before, your cunt tightening exponentially around him.

He latches his mouth onto your nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening against his tongue. Your nails rake down his chest while you grind against him, your ass smacking against his thighs while he begins thrusting upward.

His hands grip your hips harshly, sure enough to leave bruises by his fingertips. He feels his orgasm approaching quickly, but he needs you to cum first. He need to feel you cum around him. "Fuck," he growls through clenched teeth, "cum. I need you to cum. Cum around me, please please please!"

"I'm gonna- I'm-" your sentence is cut off by your orgasm taking over, clenching deliciously around Jungkook and pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter and he releases into you, your warmth mixing with his as he collapses onto the ground. You're both silent for a while, your chests heaving as you try to calm down. Jungkook leans up, keeping you in a hug as your knees move to either side of his hips. Neither of you make a move to pull apart, Jungkook softening inside of you but the sensitivity feels so good.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, glancing behind you and towards the mirrors. On the inner edge of each of your shoulder blades, lay two large scars. They're old, pink in color now. Jungkook reaches a finger up to trace the scars but is stopped by a knock on the door.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are _____!" Jimin's voice sounds through the gym, muffled by the door.

"Shit." You whisper, "shit, shit, shit!"

You quickly pull off of him, beginning to slip your panties and bra back on.

Jungkook flinches at the sudden loss of warmth around him, looking down at his cock and seeing a mixture of his and your cum coating his thighs. "Don't you need to clean up?" he whispers.

"I'll stop by the bathroom on the way." you murmur, now fully dressed, "thank you for that, by the way." you wink, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing a hard kiss against him. Then, you're out the door.

Jungkook is left naked on the floor, confused, and wanting to ask why exactly you have asymmetrical scars on your back.

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x reader angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x you

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americxn · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Cortez

James Patrick March x GN!Reader

《 as a detective, the reader attempts to infiltrate James’ life at the hotel for information regarding several disappearances centred around the Cortez 》

requested by @just-some-lesbian - the original request asked for smut, it is likely that I will write a part two and incorporate smut into that but this scenario seemed too heavy and inappropriate for smut. (I’ll write out the headcanons you requested too, I just really liked this idea and wanted to turn it into a full fic!)

wordcount: 3.8k warnings: swearing, blood, violence, gore, death

Your stomach leaped as James opened the door, a mere second following the last rap of your knuckles against the hard wood. Dressed in his usual finery, his appearance sucked all moisture from your throat, your fingers betrayingly stiff as you expected the hand he held out to you. You had been meeting twice weekly with the man, your nervousness in his presence seeming to only grow with each dinner you were subjected to; this evening, your nerves were at an all time high. This wasn’t a scheduled meeting. Several hours ago, Mr. March had instructed Miss Evers to invite you for an impromptu meeting that evening, which could only mean bad news for you, an undercover detective that had been secretly prying into the several recent disappearances at the Cortez, Mr. March being your prime suspect.

“Come in, dearest. You look wonderful.” He drawled, leading you into the all too familiar room, full plates of food and tall glasses of wine already ornamenting the long dining table. You thanked him, allowing him to lead you through the twice weekly routine: pulling out your chair, pressing a swift kiss to your temple and offering you a cigarette before skirting around the table to his own chair, the brush of his fingertips on your shoulder a cold, lingering touch as he moved away from you. “So, why did you call me here?” You enquired, taking a deep drink of your wine in the hopes that it would quell your nerves, your words presenting a feigned confidence. “Not that I mind, of course.” You adding quickly, causing James to smile softly as he glanced down at his food. Your own stomach growled quietly, the fragrance of the food beckoning; James never ate in your presence and out of caution, you didn’t dare touch the food either. “I just wanted to see you again, my apologies for any convenience.” He’s lying. You smiled pleasantly, looking down at your plate in faux flattery. “No convenience at all, James. You know I always look forward to our dinners.” Now who’s lying? You silenced your inner voice, taking another sip of your drink, utilising the opportunity to scan the room over the rim of your glass, looking for anything out of place that could potentially raise alarm. James never did anything without ulterior motives. That was something you had learned very quickly; he always had a reason for everything. James matched your easy smile, taking a swig of his own drink, some sort of liqueur. Strong liqueur, if the smell of it was any indication; he was always drinking but you had never seen the alcohol hold any effect over the man. You had always just written it off as high tolerance, but watching him now as he drained the remaining liquid from the glass before immediately filling it back to the brim, the ice softly clinking from within, it tugged at some part of you, willing you to question why. The room fell into awkward silence, your eyes flicking back to James as you lowered your glass, setting it gently back onto the table. He was already staring right at you, his eyes dark and gleaming with something you couldn’t place as they searched your face. You blinked at him, shifting slightly on your seat, his intense gaze unsettling. The corners of his mouth rose, almost as if he knew he was making you uncomfortable and took pleasure in it. “So, uh, you were telling the me other night about those hotel renovations. How are they going?” You took absolutely no interest in whether or not James recent renovations to the Cortez were going successfully or not, but asked anyway, if other to clear the awkward tenor of the room. “Progression is slow, but I suppose that perfection can’t be rushed.” He responded mildly, his eyes still trained on you. Clearing your throat, you nodded, your spine prickling in warning. Leave. There was no ignoring the voice whispering from the darkest pocket of your mind, not as James cocked his head, predatory intent settling over his pale features. Your stomach tightened to the point of pain, your eyes dropping in a vain attempt to avoid his vindictive scrutiny. “Well James, I appreciate you having wanting to see me this evening but I’m feeling kinda tired. Do you mind if I go back to my room? Sorry, I know I haven’t been here for long.” James’ mouth quirked upwards at your timid explanation, taking another long sip of his drink before leaning forwards, his eyes flicking down to the fist you had laid on the table before you, your fingers tight with stress. “Yes, I do mind.” Your mouth went thoroughly dry, your mouth parting in surprise. “I dismiss you. And I’ll be damned if I let you leave so soon.” All coherent thought cleared from your mind at his statement, his dark eyes filling with utter amusement at the mask of alarmed surprised that slipped over your features. “What do you mean?” You ventured, your feet shifting beneath the table, soles pressing firmly into the floor, readying to flee from the man if this interaction grew any more worrying. He seemed to blindly track the moment, his self-satisfied smirk only growing. “I mean, I’m not permitting you to leave yet.” He spelled the words out for you, taking pleasure in employing a condensing tone into his voice. Your spine straightened, your eyes flicking around the room to ensure that there was no one hidden within the dark corners of the space; James was an odd, eccentric man, his energy charged with a strange humour. But even for him, this situation was uncomfortably disarming. “You don’t get to ‘permit’ me to do anything.” You breathed, pushing back your chair slightly as you readied to stand, wanting nothing more than to be out of this room and away from the man before you. James sat back, his eyes twinkling in the light of the candles scattered across the surface of the table between you. Pulling the small silver case from his breast pocket, he flicked it open with a thumb, surveying you darkly as he took a cigarette and tapped it on the lid. A lighter appeared in his other hand, a spark flashing before a small flame sprung up; James lifted the cigarette to his lips, storing it between his teeth as he brought the flame up, a swift inhale lighting the cigarette. “You’re prying around my hotel. I would be inclined to argue that I can permit you to do as I please.” His words clanged through you. Prying.| Taking a glance to the side of the table, your eyes landed on the smaller wooden table beside the one you dined on; several platters, their contents spilled on the plates before you and James, resided on a silver tray atop it, but you didn’t miss the gleaming slice of the edge of a knife, almost completely hidden from your view behind a large bowl full of untouched buttered vegetables. Flicking your eyes away from the knife, careful to keep your possible intentions hidden from the sly man before you, you focused all of your attention on his predatory scrutiny, not daring to so much as shift under his stare. “I want to leave.” You stated firmly, growing increasingly anxious as to the real reason he called you here, and having absolutely no intention of staying in his presence long enough to find out. “You don’t get to leave until I dismiss you.” “Then tell me why you actually called me here.” You threw your words across the table at him without hesitation, every nerve in your body attempting to recoil from his dark gaze as his eyes widened with glee. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know full well why I called you here... detective.” You were on your feet the moment he uttered the first syllable of that condemning title, your chair falling onto the floor as you reached over the dining table, your fingers straining to reach the knife winking at you from the silver tray. The carving knife was as long and cruel looking as you had hoped it would be, a cool weight in your palm as you pushed away from the table, twisting towards the exit and preparing to step over your fallen chair. You squealed in surprise when, instead of meeting open air, you slammed into a hard, suit covered body, the knife in your hand tilting and driving up into his stomach; it was a reflex, a terrible, terrible reflex and your mind emptied as you stared at the hilt in your hand, already slick with hot blood, the blade fully submerged is his gut. Your eyes were wide as your gaze travelled up his body, his own already trained on your face, his head tilted to the side with what you could only describe as curiosity. You recoiled in horror, the edge of the table hitting the backs of your thighs as you released your hold on the knife, his blood running in hot rivers down your hand and wrist, dripping onto the tips of your shoes as James’ mouth curled upwards in a slow, predatory smile. “That was one of my favourite shirts.” He mused, gripping onto the simple handle of the carving knife and drawing it from his abdomen with a flourish. You gaped at him, rooted to the spot as the sharp intruder was removed from its burrow, expecting him to collapse to the floor as a torrent of blood spurted in wake of the knife. A multitude of questions formed on your lips as you watched him take a step towards you, frozen as he chucked the knife onto the table behind where you stood motionless with a loud clatter, his hand bloody. All words dissipated into the cold air as James reached up, looking right at you as he pulled his signature neck tie away from his throat, the fabric immediately drinking in the thick coating of blood on his pale fingertips. Ripping open the top button on his neatly laundered shirt with one hand, his smirk turned positively feral as your eyes widened, your jaw falling slack as you beheld the fleshy chasm marring the base of his pale throat, sinew and torn tissue exposed in a deep slice. “An admiral effort, darling. But you can’t kill the dead.” You lurched to the side, stumbling over the long legs of the capsized chair as every nerve in your body bleated in terror, urging you to put as much distance between you and the ghost leering before you as possible. The floor swooped towards you as you lost your footing, only just managing to recover before your body slammed into the soft carpeted ground. It took a matter of seconds for you to cross the room, your palms slamming into the surface of the door as you ran at it, unable to slow your momentum as you reached for the handle, wrists creaking at the impact. Pulling the door open, you threw a sparing glance over your shoulder, your racing mind slowing as you beheld James standing motionless where you left him, his bloodied neck tie discarded on the table as he placed another cigarette between his lips, watching you with an amusement disposition as he coaxed a flame from the lighter. Time seemed to slow as you turned back around, Sally appearing before you on the threshold of the room, her lipstick-smeared smile teary as she reached forwards, taking ahold of the side of your head and slamming it into the wall to your left with a savage force, hard enough to cause the world to slip away into blackness.

Reality presented itself to you in throbbing waves, light infiltrating your lightly shut eyelids, coaxing you to stir with a small groan. Your allowed your eyes to open, trying to pull a hand to your throbbing temple; in your dazed exhaustion, your inability to move your hand failed to register as you forced your eyes open wider, the dim light of the room aiding in the slow process of pulling your mind back to full consciousness. James surveyed you from across the room as you stirred, the artful pleasure he took in having you at his disposal evident in the neatly tied ropes that secured your wrists to the centre of the dining table you had sat at hours earlier, your torso stretched to the edge of the table, your legs dangling freely off the side. He walked slowly to you as you turned your head, your eyes alight with terror as the brutal seriousness of your situation settled over you. James smiled warmly as you beheld him, hot, unrestrained tears already sputtering from the corners of your eyes as you watched him near, dressed in a fresh shirt, another necktie neatly secured around the base of his throat. You moaned in defeat as he paused by your head, taking a long pull on the old fashioned pipe clutched in his pale, slender fingers. You jerked away from him as he dropped his cold gaze to your face, physically recoiling from his stare and shifting on the surface of the table as far as the ropes would allow. “I’ve spent a long while thinking of what, exactly, I wanted to do to you.” You felt physically ill at his words, the pounding headache racking your temples doing nothing to soothe the sudden roils of nausea. “But then I realised,” he began, his mouth quirking to the side as he leant down, running the tip of his finger down the side of your wet face from your ear to the sharp angle of your jaw, “why should I have to choose just one scenario?” You willed your mind to fade back into unconsciousness, your mouth turning utterly dry as his finger completed its journey down the side of your face. “You knew.” You groaned quietly, James’ eyes flicking from the exposed length of your throat to your lidded eyes. James didn’t need an elaboration to know what you were talking about. “Of course I knew. I was made aware of your prying intentions from the moment that you stepped foot into my hotel.” His face blurred through your gathering tears, pouring down the sides of your face and disappearing into the wisps hair just above your ears. At your silence, he sighed, withdrawing his finger from where it rested on the line of your jaw, ensuring that his nail scraped against your soft skin as he did so. You flinched, looking up at his harsh face. “Aren’t you curious to know what I’m planning to do with you?” Your chin wobbled at his question, the hesitant shaking of your head in response worsening the pain radiating through your skull; your very scalp felt tight, with pain or fear, you could’t tell. Perhaps both. James tutted in disappointment, moving to sit on the table just above your head, your eyes straining to follow him as your chin lifted slightly, terrified to take your eyes off him for so much as a second. “Well, I suppose I can let you in on my plans. It’s not as if you have anywhere else to be.” He winked down at you, malicious cruelty twinkling in his eyes. He was toying with you, taking twisted delight in watching your eyes shutter with terror. “Cruel bastard.” You hissed quietly, shrinking away from him once more in regretful fear as soon as the words were spoken. “Yes.” James mused simply, taking another puff on his pipe, directing the exhaled smoke down at your face. “Yes, I suppose I am.” He closely tracked the movement in the column of your neck as you swallowed thickly, a dim ache glowing in the back of your throat as you fought to keep your cries contained, a wave of sobs trying to claw their way out of you, threatening to spill over. “As I was saying.” He continued, his eyes locking with yours as he explained with brutal simplicity: “I intend in killing you first.” The air caught in your throat, your worst suspicions confirmed with condemning simplicity. But James continued, elaborating further: “As I’m sure you have come to realise, no one really dies in this hotel. Therefore, once I’ve taken your life, you will be unable to leave these grounds and your eternal punishment will begin.” The fruitful information that he had just provided you regarding the supernatural nature of the hotel fell deaf on your ears as his final statement settled over you. “No, James! Please. Please, I’ll leave. I’ll leave this hotel and not say a word, I swear.” He smirked in response to your frantic words, pulling a short, slender blade from his breast pocket. You shrieked, bringing your legs up onto the table and twisting your torso away from him, your eyes squeezing shut as his cold grasp settled on your wrist, holding your trembling arm still as he cut the rope securing you to the table in one smooth motion. One of your eyes cracked open hesitantly as he did the same with the second coil of rope, the two of you moving in synchronisation, anticipating one another’s next move as you pushed yourself upright, lurching forwards; James’ arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pulling you back to him before your toes could so much as skim the deep red carpet. A sob bubbled up from your chest as your body collapsed into his, your arms clawing at the hands he had secured around your waist in savage desperation, his lips moving to your ear. You stilled as his warm breath settled over the side of your face. “Plead all you want.” He sneered, his voice a low growl in your ear. “In fact, I prefer it.” You clenched your teeth, lunging forwards in his hold with a cry of indignation; it was an attempt made in vain, his hold was too strong. “Are you familiar with my black closet?” He crooned, taking immense pleasure in your futile struggling. Groaning despairingly, your head fell forwards as more tears built and spilled, staining your hot cheeks with salty streaks. “Let me show you. And then you get to make a choice.” James slid off the table, taking you with him, forcing you to stand and heaving your body across the room, through a small archway set into the wall and depositing you in the large room that served as James’ personal bedroom and living space. With a harsh kick to the back of your calf, he forced you deeper into the room, spinning you around to face him and gripping onto your jaw, forcing your head up and exposing the flesh of your throat to him. You reached up, hitting at his chest and clawing at his face. In his other hand, a cruel, curved blade was summoned into his grip, the metal cold as he pressed it to your throat. You froze, your breath catching as your eyes searched his, pleading silently with him. “It’s your choice.” He grunted, eyes bright with perverted excitement. “Choice?” You repeated on a stammering breath as he pressed the wickedly sharp blade further into he soft flesh of your neck, itching to rip into skin, to spill blood. James’ eyes flicked over your shoulder, an exalted smile curving his lips upwards as he applied even more pressure to the knife at your skin, his other hand coming to grip the back of your neck, pulling it towards the instrument at your throat. Small scarlet beads of blood appeared around the sharp edge, igniting a pyre of utter dread within you. You took a step back, James closely mirroring your actions, closing in on you. Heart hammering at his close proximity, you stepped back, again and again, your eyes frantically searching his, his own glowing in building excitement as he backed you to the wall. Your back bumped against the edge of the room, cruel amusement slipping onto James’ face. The wall behind you gave way slightly as he pressed you even further into it. “Excellent choice.” He uttered darkly, eyes flashing before he allowed the knife at your throat to fall to the floor, his hand coming to rest on your chest. Your brows furrowed, your relief at the removal of the blade at your throat short lived when he gave your chest a sharp shove. The wall behind you parted entirely, James quickly driving you into very small, dark room, the air suffocatingly stale, his force on your chest causing you to stumble back. A blinding pain ignited in your lower back and you cried out, straining to push away from whatever was causing the pain. But James’ body proved an impenetrable barrier and he gripped onto your throat with both hands, driving you even further into the room. An ungodly scream ripped from your throat as the pain worsened, your insides bleating as they were unforgivingly torn through, bone splintering, skin ripping and stretching. James’ face was alight with perverted satisfaction, your shoulder blades hitting the wall behind you. Pain like you had never know radiated outwards from your centre, your hands falling to your stomach as more burning pain grew from the front of your abdomen, akin to the one at your back. James landed a harsh kick to the front of your thighs and with a sickening crunch, your full back collided with the wall, your mouth parted in a silent scream as the world spun, dangerously close to pulling you under. You prayed that it would, begging the darkness to quell the unbearable pain radiating through every nerve of your body. Your hands fell onto something hard and slick with warmth. In the dark, it was almost impossible to make out what it was and the sickening spinning of your pain fogged mind only made it more difficult to decipher what you were touching. James watched on in eager delight, releasing his constricting hold on your throat, allowing your head to fall forwards. The world tilted on its axis as you beheld the impossibly thick wooden stake running straight through your stomach, your blood running off the dull end, it’s surface marred with deep gashes and bumps; it pried your flesh apart, your hands completely covered in the blood that ran in torrents down its length, dripping from the blunt tip and pooling around James’ feet. James leaned in as the corners of your vision began to fade, your body beginning to slump around the stake that held your upright. You felt utterly numb, the pain dimming as the world was swept away. “Welcome to the Cortez.” He whispered, pressing a sickeningly sweet kiss to your temple before every sense of life slipped from your limp grasp, consciousness and feeling fading into blissful nothingness.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

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Golden III (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for keeping up with this story. Here is the final part, I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4500

______

Kakashi could safely say that he and Y/N had become friends over the following months, right after he decided to let her back into his life. They went to eat at restaurants together, and he spent time reading in her bookstore when he wasn’t off on a mission. After his missions, she was there waiting in her storefront waiting for him, regardless how dirty and worn down he was, she would hug him tight to her chest and thank him for coming back home safe.

Things almost felt normal between them; the affection felt so good. Sometimes, he felt like he could just melt away at the soft touch of her fingers against his skin. They weren’t exactly the same as before, her hugs and touches here and there, but it was good enough for him. If anything, they were more than good enough, he longed for them.

The pair had more time together than ever, with her dreams coming in surplus as the time passed, more and more little things popping up each night. Any time he was home in his apartment, she would run over that evening to jump into his bed and tell him the latest information she had in her dreams.

He always explained things the best he could, and she listened so intently, repeating certain things so she could remember them easier. It was a little difficult for her to process so much information at one time, and she often forgot things he taught her, but he never got frustrated. Whenever she would mess up, she’d just smile and ask him to please explain it again and he would, making sure to emphasize the important parts. It felt like they had all the time in the world together when in their little bubble.

It was so soothing. He found himself slipping back in love with her so deeply, each day they had together only furthering the inevitable. It didn’t scare him as much anymore, the thought of falling for her again. Whether she got her memories back or not, she was still the same woman he knew before, he knew that now. She laughed at her own jokes and rambled on about books in her store. She giggled at inappropriate jokes like a little kid, and doodled flowers and animals in her notebooks. She wore her same old ink and coffee stained aprons as before, tied into a big bow along her waist.

She was still his baby, and he was coming to terms with that. He welcomed her back into his life happily, and she matched the gesture.

Once again, she sat in his bed, her legs crossed in front of her and a notebook in her hands. For her sake, she started keeping a dream journal in which she wrote down every single dream she could remember and brought them to Kakashi to either learn more about or dismiss as just a regular nonsense dream. She flipped through the pages covered in her handwriting and doodles before coming to a stop on the most recent night’s visions.

“In this dream last night, I saw a huge man with white hair, like he was ginormous. He was in my store for some reason, looking at those books that you have on your shelf,” she told him, pointing at his favorite series of all. “He had on a lot of fishnets on his legs and arms, too, if that helps any. Do you know him?”

He nodded. “The book series is call Icha Icha and it’s a masterpiece. The man you saw is named Jiraiya, and he is the author of the series.” She corrected that in her notebook, and took down what the real information was. Writing some of the memories and facts down only helped to reinforce them in her head. “More importantly, he is also one of the Legendary Sannin. He trained with Lady Tsunade and Orochimaru.”

“Ohhhh, wow, okay. Every ninja has so much history in this village. It’s fun connecting the dots with you, Kakashi,” she told him, “It’s like we’re reading from a story book.”

“The ways of the five great nations and the shinobi are definitely interesting. Some terrible things happen, and some amazing ones do as well. Makes for some unique people.”

Secretly, he was glad she liked to sit with him and go over all her memories, organizing and learning. She always wanted to know more and more, and each day she seemed to be growing slowly into a person he could call familiar. The way her eyes lit up at his stories, and her showing him little doodles in her notebook that she just couldn’t put into words: he loved being such a big part of her life. It always felt like she was so close to tipping over the edge, all that potential for her memories to come rushing back in at once.

They never did, but she got so close so many times.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do if she did remember him again. He loved her, yes, but he had already made up his mind to distance himself enough that their relationship wasn’t intimate like before. He wanted her to be safe, that’s all he wanted. He couldn’t imagine another accident like this one ruining her life a second time

And so, he smiled and laughed with her. He let her give him hugs, but not too many. He struggled to control himself at times, to not let go and give her his everything like before. He kept his distance, but at least he could feel her warmth in the same room now. He knew a relationship would only lead to more pain, but they could be friends. Just friends. So long as he could make her happy even for a little while.

He noticed she had flipped the page to the next entry, and suddenly, she was fiddling with the edges of the paper, staring down at the words intently. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head to snap out of her thoughts, raising her eyes to meet his. She was smiling, as usual, but he could tell it was fake. The sadness was creeping up her cheeks and showing in her eyes, the way they had lost their shine. “Yeah, um, this page is just nonsense, No use talking about it.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Any dream you have probably means something.”

She shook her head, swallowing down what she actually meant to say. “It’s just not something we need to talk about.”

“Ah,” he exhaled, his eyes taking in her disposition, an obvious change in the way she held herself. She’d lowered her eyes, and stroked the edge of her book, a tremor in her wrist. “It’s fine, Y/N. Whatever is good for you.” He wasn’t going to push. He was just here to give her knowledge and a friend during this rough patch. He wasn’t going to divulge in emotions that she obviously wanted to keep to herself.

She scanned the next page for a more recent dream, but the last page had changed her tone. He sighed, nudging her thigh with his foot. “Let’s stop for today. I’m off tomorrow, you can come back when you’re feeling better.”

The woman nodded and brushed back a bit of loose hair that had come undone during their time together. She was just about ready to leave the apartment and head back to her own place. As she shut the book in her lap, she snuck another peek at his face, only to eyes with no words. As usual. He was always more into observing than speaking, and she was fine with that. She was more than talkative enough to fill the empty space.

He just liked listening to her voice, seeing the way her lips moved. He wished she would stay for longer, continue talking to him and filling the empty place in his heart.

“You’re probably right,” she mumbled. But he was not unaware of the way her lip quivered with each syllable falling from her lips. Nor did he miss the tears that had gathered at her waterline, that she kept from falling. It made him confused, the way he felt. He didn’t want her to get too close to him, but the thought of letting her leave his apartment about to burst into tears made him feel like shit. Recently, he was beginning to feel like one of the shittiest people alive.

He shifted from his spot lounging in the bed to reach out and grab onto her wrist, keeping her from leaving her seat just yet. “Y/N, tell me what’s wrong? You don’t have to pretend you’re not upset when you're around me, you know that right?”

“I-I know, but it’s just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I want to keep coming to see you like this, Kakashi,” she whimpered, pulling her wrist from his hold, as he wasn’t holding with any strength. “I don’t even want to talk to you anymore.”

He felt a tug in his chest from fear. He never expected to hear those words from her. Not with her like this and not before either. He thought they got along. He was really trying to make things easier for her. He wanted to go back and fix whatever he had done so she would want him again. He felt sick, knowing she didn’t need him now, or even want him.

“What do you mean?” he asked calmly, despite the storm brewing in his chest.

She turned away from him, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears from overflowing. They dripped into her lap and stained her work skirt. She had to bite her lip to keep her herself from crying out, so sad it burned in her chest right above her heart. Minutes passed of her harsh breaths and his eyes trailed on her weak figure, lips just ajar. He wanted to apologize, to tell her he was sorry for whatever he had done, sorry for everything possible. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and promise that he would never let anything happen to her ever again.

But he would never do that. She wouldn’t let him. Not with the way things were.

Eventually, she found the breath to speak. “I keep having more and more dreams about you. About us. I just can’t keep coming here and acting like none of that stuff ever happened, Kakashi, and that’s what you want me to do.”

“Y/N-”

“On that page that I skipped, I had a dream written down, and it was one of the longest memories I’ve had so far. I just can’t stop thinking about it,” she cried, furiously bringing the heels of her palms up to her eyes and wiping away the bitter tears from her eyes that stung when she blinked. “We were younger, and you were holding me. We were sitting on a bench by some trees and there was rain falling and I just remember crying so hard, I just couldn’t stop crying. I remember the pain in my chest and the way my lungs burned struggling for air.”

He nodded, and he felt like he knew what memory she was recalling, but he would let her finish. She continued to cry into her hands, her arms shaking as they curled into her body. She lifted her legs to the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around them, hugging anything she could to her quivering form.

“And-And, you were just hugging me and I remember feeling so comfortable in your arms, like that is where I was supposed to be all the time. I loved you, Kakashi. I loved you so much, and I could feel it, this warmth in my chest that made me know things would be okay. That whatever was going on would resolve itself,” she confessed, “And then, you...you kissed me. I-I couldn’t tell if it was the first time, but I remember how special it was to me. I remember not wanting it to be over.

“I keep getting back my memories, and it’s making me fall in love with you all over again. And I know that you don’t want to be in a relationship with me anymore. It just hurts. I think maybe if I could just get away from you it wouldn’t be so bad. I feel so stupid telling you how I feel- how those memories with you felt,” Y/N explained, wiping more soppy wet tears away. She could tell her eyes were puffy and red at this point from crying so much, and that just made her feel worse on top of everything else. “Kakashi, I’m just so sorry for doing this to you.”

“Damn, I’m an asshole,” the man cursed, pressing his face into the crook of his arm, shame pouring off his skin in waves. “Stop saying sorry for something you can’t help. You’ve literally never done a single thing wrong in your entire life. Just stop that.”

“Kakashi-”

“Y/N, I’m still so in love with you. I just couldn’t give up on you, even if you being with me means you’re constantly in danger of an attack like the one that happened months ago, I just can’t let you go,” he told her, exasperation heavy in his voice. He was just so tired with everything. He was tired of these emotions. It never used to be like this, long before he met her. He was cold and hard, and she turned him into the softie, perverted ninja that he was. After all this time, he was only a human like everyone else. He had these selfish desires like everyone else. “I just miss you, baby.”

She felt her heart race at the term of endearment, at the sweet words he said, at the declaration of love. Even though she didn’t know everything about him, and there were so many bits and pieces missing from her mind, she still cared about him. She still felt her heart beat just a little faster when he was around. She cared about him. After everything that happened, she still loved him.

“I need you in my life, Y/N. I know things have changed, but it’s the truth. I’ve gotten too used to you being around, I don’t know if I’d be able to do it without you.”

Yes, he was rough around the edges, everyone is. But to her, he was already perfect. She didn’t need to know everything because it didn’t matter. He was charming, thoughtful, and equal parts humorous. He made her eyes light up with joy and her knees weak. He was the type of man she could only dream of being with, and here they were, confessing their love for the second time.

“Kakashi?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

She crawled up to where he sat against the wall, mask still up over his nose as usual. Carefully, with hesitation in her shaky hands, she reached to pull down the cloth. His unmasked face had appeared in her dreams on more than one occasion so it wasn’t like this was the first time he was revealing himself to her. Still, she felt like this was a moment she should savor.

She pulled down the mask, and his face was just as handsome as she imagined. She let her hands rest on his cheeks, thumbs running over his cheekbones, and he relaxed into her touch. Softly, she pressed her lips to his, and a cozy warmth filled her entire being. This is what she was missing out on. Absolutely tragic.

When she pulled away, all she could see was a dopey smile across his lips and starry eyes peering down at her. “I missed that, Y/N.”

“I missed it too,” she breathed out, so intoxicated by the kiss she could barely think. It wasn’t anything serious just a peck on the lips but to her, it meant the entire world.

Maybe she would never recover every single memory she had. Maybe things would stay the way they are. That would be okay with her, so long as they had each other to lean on. He could tell her all his stories another time, just so she could understand, but the love would always be there.

_________

A few months passed before she found herself waking up in the morning, thoughts rushing through her head quickly, heavily in her mind. Memories of her friends and family, the village, each little piece of trivia she had been missing out on consuming her thoughts. She placed a hand over her eyes and groaned, a headache pounding in the back of her skull, despite her joy that more of the holes had been filled in her mind.

Y/N leaned over onto her side, propped up on her elbow. On her bedside table lay a few pain pills and a glass of water, something she kept there regularly. The intense dreams often brought on pain in the mornings, as if she’d been drinking all night long. After a bit of the pain subsided, she would head down to her bookstore and get ready for a day's work, like usual. Just because she went through trauma did not mean she could slack off. Time is money as they say, and books would always be selling in this bustling village.

She stood from the bed and threw on one of her plain brown dresses, complete with a once baby pink apron, now stained beyond belief with things she just could not scrub out with a brush, heavy black ink and wine and coffee. Money was tight, and she wasn’t just going to go out and buy herself new clothes, when these were perfectly wearable.

As she walked around her home, she straightened her hair just enough to look decent and heated up a kettle of boiling water on the stove, a couple bags of black coffee steeping inside. The caffeine would only further remedy her headache, she sighed, pouring herself a cup for the morning.

Downstairs, her bookstore waited for her, lights off and shelves properly stocked and readied from the night before. Kakashi had been over helping her clean up and put up her latest shipment. He was more serious about alphabetical order than she was, and she found it hilarious when he would switch around two books she misplaced. She flipped on the register, turned the open sign and switched the lights on, ready for a few stray customers to walk in, usually the older people who woke up at this time of day.

Hours passed, and villagers visited one after the other, asking her for suggestions and help on where to find something that they were looking for. It was relaxing, and all the while she continued to sip her coffee, feeling her headache completely melt away.

It was around noon when she was greeted with one of her friends. That young girl Sakura who helped heal her while she was in the hospital. Y/N remembered a lot of things about her at this point down to her hopeless crush on a rogue ninja and her tiniest insecurities that she’d once confided in her. It was nice to have a girl to talk to. The village girls came by now and then, and she enjoyed their company as well, but there was something about these individualistic, unique shinobi that just drew her in.

She loved this village. It was her home, and she loved everyone within it.

“Y/N, wanna go get some lunch with me? It’ll only be an hour and it’s on me,” she asked cheerily, and Y/N couldn’t deny such a nice request. After all, having her meal paid for would probably mean more money than sitting around in her shop. She shut off the lights, flipped the sign and locked the door.

“Where do you want to go? Pick any place.”

Wow. Y/N was getting the special treatment today, it seemed. Free lunch of her choice wherever she wanted. There wasn’t a price limit either. She felt like she was on top of the world. “Wanna go get dango?”

“If that’s what you want, Y/N-chan.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. I’ve been craving something sweet. You know Kakashi isn’t the biggest fan, so we don’t go too much.”

“Of course. I’ve been craving some anmitsu myself.”

The pair walked over to the sweet dumpling store and sat around for just about an hour, as Sakura said, munching on their red bean and sugar syrup desserts, just talking about anything and everything going on. Sakura was getting closer to finding Sasuke and bringing him home, and she was honing her medical ninjutsu even more. She was quite versatile with her strength and desire to care for others. Y/N really admired the girl.

She was the other side of the coin opposed to Y/N’s moments of weakness. It wasn’t like she was jealous, she was just amazed at the sheer talent. Kakashi, Yamato, Naruto, Sakura, all so talented. It was amazing. Pride bubbled up in her chest for her friends.

“Y/N, how’s it been with Kakashi?”

The woman snapped out of her thoughts and peered back up at the pink haired kunoichi, twirling a wooden skewer in her fingers. “It’s been great. He really is a wonderful man. Intelligent, charming, romantic, helpful. Everything you could want, really.”

“I see. Well, I’m really happy you guys could work through what happened, even if you didn’t get all your memories back,” Sakura hummed happily, finishing the last bite of agar on her plate.

Y/N sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. She placed her cheek in her palm and trailed her eyes down to the table again. “I don’t think it really ever mattered whether I got my memories back or not. I’m still the girl he fell in love with and he’s the man I spent all those years chasing after. He can tell me everything over again, but really, it was our personalities that drew us together.”

Sakura smiled, feeling her heart turn to mush at the thought of such a deep love. She stood from the table and waved for Y/N to follow her. There was just one more place they had to go before she could go back to work. “Follow me. I have to show you something.”

Y/N followed as she normally did. Secretly, she liked hanging out with Sakura and skipping work. The store was tiresome and often boring when customers were few far and inbetween. It was refreshing to get lunch with a friend and waste sunlight together. She had a lot of free time anyway. Kakashi wasn’t going to be around for the next few days. He’d informed her yesterday that he had a mission for 2 days in the next village over.

And apparently, he was going with the two boys from Team Eight…

Then how come Y/N just saw them walking down the street with that Hyuga girl?

Plans must have changed, Y/N thought to herself. Maybe he went with some other chunin for this one, she decided and continued to follow her friend through the streets of the village. They passed by store after store and walked through alleyways on the way to wherever they were going.

Sakura walked slowly enough that Y/N could keep up. Some tendons never healed themselves, and she walked with a sort of limp, but nothing hurt. With all this walking, Y/N was suspecting that Sakura must have something big to show her. They eventually ended up walking through the woods a bit to end up at the training grounds, the one with the huge waterfall that crashed loudly in her ears.

Birds were chirping and bees buzzed around by her feet. She turned around to see Sakura standing there with her hands clasped in front of her, just a tiny bit of red dusting her cheeks. “Sakura, what did you want to show me?”

“Y/N.” A voice called from behind, and she turned back to the waterfall to see Kakashi walking up with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Her brows raised and her head fell to the side in confusion.

“Kakashi, I thought you were supposed to be on a mission. I-I saw those two boys walking around the village and thought you went with someone else.”

“I kinda lied about the mission. I just needed to prepare something.”

“Ah, okay. So what is this about?”

He stood in front of her now, merely a couple feet away. “I know that these past few months have been really hard for you,” he began, taking a second to think of the next words he was about to say. Y/N could only stare up at him in wonder. This entire situation was out of the ordinary for sure. “I didn’t think we could work through our issues, and I didn’t know if it was right for us to even be together knowing what my curse had done to you.”

“Kakashi, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, these past few years have been some of the best of my entire life. I never thought that I would be able to find comfort in someone as beautiful and kind as you. I thought I was destined to be alone forever because of the things I had done. But then I found you.”

He pulled one of his hands from his pocket, and held out a little brown bag to her, urging for her to take it.

When she opened the pouch and tipped it into her hand, a shiny ring fell into her soft palm. She felt her heartbeat race in her chest, and she pressed her free hand to her chest to steady herself. “Kakashi...”

He shifted his weight onto one foot, his lips cracking into the smallest of smiles.

“What do you say? You and me, making memories for the rest of our lives? Ones you'll always remember?” he asked softly, staring down at the woman he had come to love more than anything else in this entire world.

She lifted her hand from her chest to take the ring and slide it on her finger, staring at it on her hand and watching the gemstone glimmer and change color with the sunlight. It was so gorgeous and bright, it shined like the sun sat on her finger. The thought of Kakashi picking this out for her made the ring even prettier.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Tears filled her eyes at his words, and she could only nod, no words coming to her head that made any sense. All she could feel was love burning through her body and happiness threatening to overflow. She threw her arms around his neck and threw herself against him, laughter sounding from her lips. He wrapped her up in his arms and let her cry into his shoulder, sobs and giggles mixing together.

Yeah, maybe he had to wait a few more months than he wanted to, but that never mattered; they had all the time in the world.

Their love was special. Their love was golden.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi one shot #kakashi imagine #naruto one shot #naruto x reader #naruto imagine #kakashi #naruto #did i cry obsessively while writing this?#absolutely #i might do a prequel at some point idek #im so distraught #asked my boyfriend what naruto character i was most like and he honestly said orochimaru...#smh

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yukidragon · 3 years ago

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Our Life Snippet - Adrift

So... time for more first draft novelization clips from Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch. As always, I want to thank all of you who like these clips I'm sharing here, especially this lovely game's equally lovely creators. It's all so motivating for me to keep going with this passion project.

I noticed that there’s been some call in the tags for some fanfiction of Cove comforting Jamie, so I think I shall oblige that desire... by starting off with the hurt part of the classic hurt/comfort equation. After all, comfort isn’t as satisfying without showing why it’s necessary, don’t you think? ;3

Don’t worry, the comfort half will be posted soon. It’s just showing the whole thing at once is wayyy bigger the usual slices of snippet offerings I toss up here. It’s a lot bigger than usual even when sliced in half like this.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy my take on the moment from Step 2 that started me writing this novelization in the first place - Family.

...

The air in the house felt stifling. It wasn’t an overly hot or humid day, but the air felt too thick. The lack of oxygen made it hard to think straight. Jamie needed to go outside. She needed to get her thoughts in order. She needed someone to talk to about this, someone who could help her sort her head out so she could figure out what she could do about all of this.

She needed Cove.

Jamie returned downstairs. She caught sight of her mothers standing around at the kitchen counter while Lee sat awkwardly alone on the sofa, but her gaze slipped away from them quickly as she kept walking towards the door.

“I’m going out,” she said before worrying that the abrupt statement might give her family the wrong impression. “Just for a little while.” She threw her moms another carefully crafted smile, but still didn’t meet their eyes. “I’ll be back before it’s really late.”

Neither Noelani nor Pamela said anything, merely nodding at their daughter. They trusted Jamie to make the best call for what she needed right now. Jamie loved them for that.

“I love you,” Jamie said as she opened the door, but she didn’t give her parents a chance to respond in kind before closing the door behind her.

The walk to Cove’s house never felt so far. Jamie ached to see him. She needed to be with him. Right now. She was at a loss for what to do with her family, her thoughts adrift in a stormy sea. But if she was with Cove, somehow it would be alright. She was sure of it.

Jamie readied to knock even before she reached the front step, but a voice stilled her hand just above the door.

It was muffled, coming from inside the house, but she recognized the voice as belonging to Cliff. She couldn’t make out the exact words, but he sounded jovial, obviously having a good day. A moment later, a lighter, more tinkling voice answered with equally good cheer - Kyra.

Jamie took root on the doorstep of the Holden household. She wanted to see Cove. She needed to see Cove. Yet, in order to see him, that meant talking to his parents. His parents who only recently started being friendly to each other in front of him. She could just see them smiling at her if either one were to answer the door, oblivious to the turmoil in the Leimomi household, asking her about how she was doing and what was going on.

Why did that terrify her so much?

What if they noticed something was wrong? What if they asked her about it? She couldn’t tell them about what was going on with her sister. It was too personal. Yes, she liked Cliff and Kyra - they were great people, they were Cove’s parents, and their families were close - but this was a step too far.

Telling Cove that Elizabeth was heartbroken about losing the family she was born to was one thing, but Jamie couldn’t confide something so personal to anyone else.

Besides, things were already rocky at the Holden household. They were just starting to be alright again for Cove, despite the rough patches that hit this summer.

The worst of which being when Jamie herself opened her big fat mouth and told Cove about the twenty dollars.

Jamie dropped her hand, letting it hang limply at her side. She still ached to be with Cove, but she couldn’t, not until she could be sure she wasn’t simply tossing another emotional hand grenade in his lap just to make herself feel a little better.

Cove deserved better than that.

Jamie had barely dragged herself two steps away from the door when it opened behind her. She jumped at the sound of Kyra’s voice, no longer obstructed by the door.

“I’ll be right ba… Huh?” Kyra blinked, clearly surprised by Jamie’s presence on the way out to wherever it was she was going. She brightened immediately, however. “Oh, hi Jamie.” She smiled knowingly, not that the blue-haired girl could see it. “Are you here to see Cove?”

The words got stuck in Jamie’s throat as she panicked for a moment, scrambling for how to answer. All she had to do was say ‘yes’, but…

Jamie couldn’t handle the feeling of Kyra’s questioning gaze on her, piercing through her back. Kyra was expecting to see her usual smile and friendly demeanor, but she couldn’t be that right now. Her attempts at a smile felt too tight, too unconvincing, so she kept her face turned away from Cove’s mom, her eyes glued to the pavement as she forced herself to take another step away, then another.

It was hard for Jamie to sound normal when she finally forced words from her tight throat. “I… I’m just… walking.”

“Really?” Kyra asked, the disbelief in her voice clear as she watched Jamie walk away with a gradually increasing pace. “Okay then. I guess he’ll see you later?”

Jamie merely nodded as she forced herself to keep moving.

Time passed without meaning as Jamie focused on her feet as they led her forward. Where she was going, she had no idea. Her only plan had been to talk to Cove. Without that, without him, she felt as though she had been cast adrift in a stormy sea with no sign of land in sight.

Whenever a familiar resident of Sunset Bird gave Jamie a typical greeting as she passed them by, she pretended not to hear them, carefully avoiding looking in their direction. Their eyes lingered after her with silent questions she didn’t want to answer, she could feel them clinging to her skin even after she left the roads behind.

The eyes of tourists weren’t much better. There were so many of them when her feet crossed from grass to sand. Fortunately, the tourists didn’t care to talk to her, particularly to potentially ask her probing questions. They didn’t know her or suspect anything was going on with her. They would have no idea about what was troubling her or the turmoil happening with her family. They wouldn’t care to ask her about them. They were just there to have fun at the beach then leave. They were little different than noisy shadows she drifted past.

Except for their eyes. Jamie could feel their eyes following her too.

Jamie did her best to focus more on the sound of the waves crashing against the shore instead of the chatter of people enjoying the last few minutes of the sun’s rays, or the noise inside her head. Her thoughts came erratically, constantly interrupting each other and overlapping until it all garbled together into something like radio static.

Jamie kept walking. It was all she could do.

What did Jamie think she was going to say to Elizabeth anyway? ‘Sorry, sis. My parents are dead too. Do you want a hug?’ It was absurd to think she could’ve talked to her sister sooner when she couldn’t even think straight now.

What if something awful had happened to Elizabeth to make her want to see her biological parents?

What if Elizabeth wanted to be with her biological parents instead of them?

And what of their moms? They must have felt miserable because of how Elizabeth lashed out at them. They didn’t deserve that. Neither did Elizabeth.

Everything was awful. The world was crashing down around Jamie, and she had no idea how to help anyone. She couldn’t even do something as simple as see Cove, which came as naturally to her as breathing. A day like Cove was a day without sunshine. She felt cold, an empty part of her inside aching for him more than anyone else.

But Jamie wasn’t the one who needed comfort right now. She was fine. Biological parents weren’t something important to her. They had never been important. What was important was her family. Elizabeth and their mothers were suffering. She had to fix this.

The question was how. How? How?!

When the tourists thinned out, and Jamie could finally raise her head without risking catching anyone’s eye, she turned her gaze to the water as her feet continued to propel her forward. She watched the waves rhythmically crash along the shore, the water stretching out along the wet sand, her feet occasionally caressed by foam as she kept walking until finally she was sure no one would see her anymore.

The only one she wanted to see right now was Cove.

The water wasn’t blue, but instead a striking shade of pink shifting slowly to orange. Jamie watched as the orange gradually transitioned to purple. There were few things as beautiful as watching the sunset over the water.

Would she have ever seen a sunset like this with her biological family?

Vaguely, Jamie recognized the area her feet carried her to - it was one of the sections of beach the tourists rarely ventured, a place the locals enjoyed. Certainly, it was one of the more out of the way spots, one mercifully empty of anyone but her. It was one she had been to before with Cove when other parts of the beach were crowded. It was someplace that would be perfect to have fun together, just swimming, surfing, playing volleyball, or…

Would she even like those things if she wasn’t a Leimomi?

Jamie finally stopped walking. She focused on thoughts of Cove, but even those filled her with regret. She wanted to see him so badly. Why didn’t she just see Cove when she had the chance? All it would have taken was just a single word to Kyra. She had managed some, so what was one more? All she had to do was say so and things would be better right now, she knew it. Why couldn’t she even handle something so easy?

Why could Jamie never say what she really wanted? Why was it just so hard to say that she wanted to be with Cove?

If her original parents hadn’t died, she never would have met him.

Or her moms. Or Elizabeth. Or Lee. Or everyone else.

They would be strangers. Everyone important in her life would all be strangers. They wouldn’t know her, couldn’t love her. They wouldn’t even know she ever existed.

And… it would be the same for her towards them. She wouldn’t be able to feel anything for them just like she didn’t feel anything for her dead birth par…

Jamie covered her mouth and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, feeling her stomach roil in rebellion despite how empty it was.

When Jamie got the urge to retch under control, she took a deep breath until her lungs ached before letting it out slowly and shakily. She tried to quiet the screaming static in her mind by focusing on the scenery around her.

It was a futile effort, but it was all she could do.

Jamie kicked off her sandals, abandoning them somewhere in the direction away from the shifting tide. She focused on the cool, wet sand beneath the soles of her feet, squishing between her toes. The water caressed her, washing the sand away and pulled her towards the sea. The feeling was intimately familiar, almost playful. It tempted her to swim. The idea of floating in the water, letting her worries drift away with the tide felt so appealing to her chaotic mind.

But the last thing her moms needed was to deal with her coming back in soaked clothes covered in sand on top of everything else.

Jamie breathed in deep, focusing on the scent of saltwater carried on the wind. The ocean was soothing, it always had been. The way the color changed with the time of day was endlessly fascinating. It had become blue again once the sun disappeared completely, but instead of the beautiful greenish blue of the day that always reminded her of Cove’s eyes, it was the deep rich blue of night. The surface of the water, far off in the distance where the waves tapered off to nothing, was a mirror reflecting the sky as it settled into its final hue for the day.

She had to get herself together if she was going to be of help to anybody.

At some point, Jamie found herself seated on the ground, close enough to feel the waves caress her feet, but just far enough away that she wouldn’t get her pants or skirt wet. She could brush the sand off later so she wouldn’t track it in the house.

Was Elizabeth still in her room crying and wishing for a life that had been stolen from her? A life without her or their moms?

Were their moms beside themselves with worry that their family was falling apart at the seams?

Why was Jamie just sitting here when her family was suffering? She should be back at home doing… something at least. They needed her help, damn it!

Did she even deserve to be here at all?

...

Cove was having a great day. Despite the rough start to the summer and the rough patches that happened on occasion since, it had been like a dream for him to have his family back together, even if temporarily.

Today, Cove and his dad had the opportunity to show his mom many of the things about Sunset Bird that made living there so enjoyable. There had been a couple awkward moments here and there, but they had been few and far between, giving the three of them a rare day filled with smiles, sunshine, and laughter. Fishing, shopping, tennis, and even some time at the beach had left the three of them in high spirits.

Now they were back home together were back home, hungry and eager for dinner, which his dad was only too happy to provide. The conversation the three of them had while eating was light, as the tension that hung in the air between them faded little by little as they spent more time together.

The only downside to having a fun day out with his parents was not being able to see Jamie. Cove resolved to remedy that after dinner.

“You know, I saw Jamie earlier,” Kyra said in an off-handed manner.

Cove clanked his silverware against the dish. The timing made his face warm a bit, but he paid rapt attention to his mom.

“It was right before dinner,” Kyra said. That meant it was only half an hour ago at most. “It’s funny, I thought she was coming to see you, Cove. She was right outside the front door, but I guess she was just taking a walk on this side of the street.”

“What?” Cove said, his eyebrows raising.

That was strange. Why didn’t Jamie ask him to join her if she stopped by the house?

Cove turned to Cliff. “Did you hear her knock, Dad?”

Cliff shook his head and threw his son a grin. “Nope, and trust me, I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Kyra gave Cove a knowing look, her smile taking a teasing bend to it. “Oh, I already asked Jamie if she wanted to come in,” she said before her smile faded a little. “But I guess she was really set on taking that walk. She said she’d see you later though.”

It shouldn’t have struck Cove as strange as it did, but he knew Jamie better than that. If she was just going on a walk and already at his house, there’s no way she wouldn’t have asked if he wanted to join her. If she was busy with an errand or something like that, then he would understand, but just a walk? It wasn’t as if she could’ve mistakenly believed that he wasn’t home if his mom thought she was stopping by to visit.

Something about this didn’t sit right with Cove, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was just overthinking things. It made him that much more determined to stop by and see Jamie as soon as possible.

With his dinner finished in record time, Cove was quick to excuse himself to head next door. He pretended not to see the looks his parents gave him and outright ignored the comments they threw his way that held a teasing note to them.

It took a little longer than Cove liked before someone answered at the Leimomi house. Pamela stared at him after opening the front door, startled by the sight of him, but a moment later she managed a smile, though it was feeble and forced.

“Oh, hello, Cove,” she said. She sounded tired.

“Hi, Mrs. Leimomi,” Cove said with an awkward smile of his own.

“Sorry, but Jamie isn’t here right now,” Pamela said before Cove could even ask the usual question.

Jamie was still out on that walk? It was already after sunset.

“Did she say where she was going or when she’d be back?” Cove asked, with growing unease.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Pamela looked past Cove to the street for any sign of Jamie returning home, but there was no sign of her absent daughter. “No,” she said eventually, though she was still looking past him. “Sorry, we don’t know where she’s gone.” She sighed and shook her head. “Don’t feel like you have to sit around waiting for her. We don’t know when she’ll be back.”

That set Cove on edge. “What?!” he blurted out, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “Why?”

Pamela hesitated, reluctant to speak. She glanced back at the house towards the kitchen where Noelani was holding a mug of something hot and soothing. Their eyes met, and although her wife was too far away to hear the conversation, it wasn’t hard to figure out what it was about. She waited for Noelani to nod at her before looking back at Cove.

“Jamie… needed to get away for a while,” Pamela said, the words coming out slowly as she chose them with care. “She’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

Every word was like a lead weight that sunk into the pit of his stomach, and for a moment Cove could only stare at Pamela, scarcely breathing. The word ‘probably’ stood out in particular, prodding into him with its sharp edges.

Something happened to Jamie today, something bad.

Something bad enough for her to not want to see him, not just today, but maybe tomorrow too.

Cove was off like a shot. He didn’t even think to give the usual parting pleasantries to Pamela before he was running. He had to find Jamie.

The first place Cove went was poppy hill. It was the obvious choice. Jamie had been coming here practically every morning this summer to play her guitar, but there was no telltale sound of music on the wind. The hills were empty.

Next was the playground, but no one was there either. Cove practically would’ve welcomed seeing Jeremy there at this point, if only to ask if the crabby boy had seen Jamie at all that day.

Cove shot down going to the shopping district or any location deeper in the heart of Sunset Bird. If Jamie was trying to get away from everything so badly that she was avoiding even him, then she wasn’t going to want to be around people right now.

That left only one real place left to search. Cove took off sprinting along the beach as fast as his legs could carry him. There was a lot of ground to cover.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Jamie Last #Cove Holden #Pamela Last #Noelani Last #Lee Last #Cliff Holden #Kyra Preece #My Writing #Jamie Leimomi

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years ago

Text

Smooth

Pairing → Sam Wilson x Reader

Characters → Marvel

Summary → Y/N has to fight off the smile and laughter at Sam Wilson’s chat up lines throught their relationship but here are a few of their milestones.

Word Count → 3.7k

Prompt → Trope: 5 Things Plus 1 for @bonkywobble challenge - congrats on your follower milestone lovely!

SSB2021 Square Fill → Posted at the end of the story as it’s a spoiler // @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings → Fluff, sweet, tooth-rotting fluff. Cheesy chat up lines.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is my first proper Sam Wilson fic - I have done one in the past but there was more platonic - so I hope you enjoy this story!

Firefly’s Masterlist

Sam Wilson couldn’t believe his luck, he’d signed up to the right gym, that’s for sure. There was the most beautiful woman standing at the opposite wall with a group of women. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she instructed the class. It was like he was hypnotised, but at least he was happy about it. Her figure was strong, and she commanded the attention of the women with ease and a stunning smile that made her eyes sparkle.

He dropped his bag onto the floor and folded his arms, as he watched on in wonder while she instructed them to loosen up with various stretches. The way her body bent and twisted into the poses was enough to make him stir under the belt.

Lost in his daydream, Sam didn’t realise the instructor had turned away from the class and walked in his direction. Lost in the sight of her plump lips and then he realised that she was looking at him. No, not just looking, her lips were moving. She was talking to him. He snapped out of his haze and apologised for not hearing.

“Are you here to assist with the self-defence class?” Her eyebrow raised at him, slight confusion on her face.

Now that she was in his personal space, Sam felt nervous. He was usually so quick and an absolute charmer with women. Well, with most people, young and old. He’d get himself out of any situation and this is when he needed his wits about him.

“Uhm- No, I think there’s something wrong with my eyes.” Sam wrinkled his nose and cringed at his train of thought.

The woman looked at him with widening fear and reached out to take his arm, “Right, okay, what do you need? What’s wrong?”

The feel of her soft skin warmed his arm in an instant, a tingle bloomed across his cheeks. Then he refocused back on his plan, even if it could potentially end badly, he wanted to charm her.

“I just can’t take them off you.” Sam grinned, but it dropped when he saw the scowl, she was giving him.

Suddenly the most beautiful sound came from the woman, the laugh that fell from her lips made him feel like a cloud, completely soft and weightless. And the sight of her head thrown back brought the grin back to his face. It worked.

“But I am more than happy to help out with the class.” Sam’s smile didn’t drop but his heart raced at the thought of his offer being rejected.

“Oh, you are definitely helping out now.” grabbed his bicep and brought him to the front of the group. “Now ladies, this is-”

“Sam” He waved and gave them a lopsided smile. “Sam Wilson.”

“Sam is going to be our test dummy for today’s session.” Y/N grabbed a [added vest and handed it to him, “now put this on and be a good boy so these Ladies can practice kneeing someone in the stomach.”

“What? I thought you were going to wrestle me or something.”

“Nuh-uh, good luck sugar.” She grinned.

“Wait, do I get to know your name?” Sam asked as he pulled on the vest.

“You can call me Boss Lady.” She replied and returned to the group of women.

Sam didn’t miss the teasing smirk she sent his way as she walked away and discussed the techniques with the women that were lining up to practise their recently learned moves on him. He was glad he had this padded vest and years of training in the army to deal with the blows about to come his way.

At least he got to meet her, see that stunning smile, and hear that beautiful laugh. It was all worth it.

Y/N stroked her fingers through her hair, a failed attempt to tame the flyaway while giving herself a once over in the pocket mirror. Nerves swirled in her stomach as the Uber approached the Italian restaurant. She wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not, she hadn’t been on a date in over a year and she had only known this guy for a few weeks through an online dating app.

The maître-d took her coat then led her to an empty table, leaving her to browse the drinks menu. Y/N wasn’t fazed by being here before him, she was a little earlier than planned and decided to order a glass of wine.

Yet, the minutes ticked by. Y/N sipped on her drink, eyes focused on the entrance for any sign of her date but after twenty minutes and an ignored message, she decided to ask the waitress to clear the reservation and bring over the cheque for her wine. She wasn’t going to sit there any longer, waiting for someone that wasn’t going to arrive.

Feeling scorned by being stood up, she left the restaurant in a flurry but tried to remain composed and swiftly began to walk down the block to the busier part of town to hail a taxi. But before she reached the end of the sidewalk an illuminated sign across the street caught her attention. Compound. It was the place that Sam had mentioned to her earlier in the week when they were at the gym.

They’d formed a good friendship over the last few months and with a few of the other regulars at the gym. Sam had invited Y/N alongside Bucky and Nat who were personal trainers at the gym. Y/N knew them well but had declined the invite to the bar that was now opposite her. She made up an excuse, unsure as to why she lied about needing to go to her parents.

But now that she was here, she might as well put the time she had in getting ready to good use. She could just think of some other excuse and pretend like the evening hadn’t started as badly as it did. With a renewed surge of confidence, she skipped across the street and entered the bar.

It was busy but considering it was a Friday night, most people ventured further into town for a night out. She spotted Bucky and one of his best clients, Steve, at one of the pool tables in the corner. Bucky had just broken the set and Steve moved to take his shot. That’s when Y/N saw that Natasha was here too, almost hidden from view by the muscular giant that was Steve. Y/N was sure that Natasha never looked less than radiant, she never looked out of place anywhere. She was perfect.

Y/N removed her coat and hooked it up, uncertainty starting to worry her about turning up unannounced. She shook it off and walked over to the bar to grab a round of beers to take over to the table, she couldn’t go over there empty-handed.

At the sound of her name being called, she turned around to see Bucky, his signature smile on his lips and arms opened wide to welcome her in a light hug.

“Hi Buck, parents didn’t need me so thought I’d gate crash.” Y/N grinned and held up the bottles, “And I have beers.”

“Always welcome. But we need one more.” Bucky gestured over to the table, the new addition at the table was Sam.

An unexpected rush of butterflies assaulted Y/N’s stomach as she ordered the remaining beer and walked over to the bar with Bucky in tow. She greeted everyone, pausing as she approached Sam. This was the first time she’d seen him in something other than gym clothes and she appreciated the form-fitting shirt that hugged at his muscular arms.

“Somebody call the cops because it’s got to be illegal to look that good!” Sam bellowed out and held out his arms, gesturing up and down her body.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that erupted and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was glad that her date had stood her up because now she was able to enjoy the night with friends that wanted her to be around. Plus, who doesn’t love a confidence boost from a handsome guy?

Even though Sam used the most ridiculous lines to get Y/N’s attention, something was charming about him. It was a confidence boost for sure and when later that night, he asked her on a date, she secretly hoped that it was going to lead to something more. Even if the rational voice in her head told her not to get attached too soon.

Sam couldn’t believe his luck; they were on their fifth date and Y/N had invited him up to her apartment for coffee. Of course, he hoped it was code for sex. But honestly, he didn’t mind if that didn’t happen, he just wanted to spend more time with Y/N. She was great company, had a wicked sense of humour and was genuinely fun to be around.

Nerves bubbled in Sam’s stomach while he waited for Y/N to return with their drinks. He had sat on the cosy couch that was adorned with plush cushions and the softest blanket he’d ever felt but he needed to distract himself from the butterflies somersaulting in his stomach. A display of photographs and memorabilia adorning one of the walls caught his eye and he wandered over.

Several photographs of Y/N with different groups of people; at festivals, out for dinner, on vacation. Some of the frames had ticket stubs tucked into them, the other frames had ornaments hanging from them or polaroids stuck to the corners. It was a collage of happiness and colour. He couldn’t help the smile that formed as he thought of all the possibilities of their dating heading towards making memories like this, together.

Sam returned to the couch and Y/N placed the cups onto the coffee table. He noticed the change in her body language; she smoothed down her skirt several times, a coy smile played on her lips as she sipped on the drink. He grinned, she was on the same page as him and maybe just as nervous.

“We don’t have to do anything.” Sam’s voice gained her attention, “I’m happy to wait and see where things go if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled, she looked as if the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders and then she plunged towards him. Their lips met in a heated kiss; Sam was shocked at the sudden change of pace, but he couldn’t resist the need to feel her body pressed up against him.

They both pulled back for air, and Sam brushed his knuckles against her cheek, “I guess that means you do want to do something.”

Y/N bit her lip and shuffled backwards, straightened up and gestured for him to follow her to the bedroom. Sam kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie in the doorway, completely enamoured by Y/N while she removed her heels.

“Sam, can you help?” Y/N looked behind and pulled her hair over her shoulder, exposing the zip that she couldn’t quite reach the top of the dress.

Slowly, the zip glided down, showing a hint of the black lace underwear. Sam looked up to the ceiling, thanking God for the beauty before him. She turned around and began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers delicate and features focused on the clothing. But there seemed to be an air of nervousness coming from her.

Sam tipped up her chin before she could finish undressing him. He kissed her lightly, in hope to ease her, comfort her.

Their lips parted and he rested his forehead against Y/N’s, “as I said, we don’t have to do anything.”

Y/N nodded and guided him to the foot of the bed to take a seat, “I’m okay. It’s just been a while.”

Sam was in a similar situation and didn’t want his nerves to add to the concern that was already laced on her features as she stood in front of him, “We’ll do this at your pace.”

She nodded, a smile now taking over her features as she removed her arms from the sleeves of her dress and letting it pool at her feet. Sam’s mouth dropped agape as he took in her all beauty; the soft skin that curved and dipped in exquisite ways.

His hands rubbed at his thighs and looked back up to the woman who approached cautiously, a smirk on his face, “I hope you know CPR because you are taking my breath away.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip and straddled his lap, “I think I’m pretty good at mouth to mouth.”

Sam held her waist with one hand, the other exploring and massaging the exposed skin of her thighs, her hips and stomach before he reached for her neck. Their lips crashed together, and they shuffled up the mattress, exposing more of their bodies and letting passion guide them through the remainder of the night.

The episode of The Big Bang Theory played in the background, Y/N was too occupied with painting her toenails, her feet rested on the coffee table as she tugged up her sweatpants for the fifth time in the hopes to not smudge the polish.

Sam had been in the bedroom for ten minutes, putting on an outfit that he needed Y/N’s approval on. At least they’d ordered food before he went in there because otherwise, Y/N would have consumed everything in his fridge which didn’t consist of much other than a block of cheese and a bottle of vodka.

The buzz at the intercom made her jump but luckily there were no smudges to her newly pampered feet.

“I’ll get it,” Y/N shouted from the lounge of Sam’s apartment and headed to the front door to wait for the delivery person. She handed the guy some bills and a little tip before hitting the door shut with her hip.

Y/N held onto the pizza boxes and bottle of soda tightly and cautiously made her way down the hall. She waited for Sam to appear, but he still hadn’t come out of his bedroom. It was getting a bit ridiculous now.

“Sam, hurry up or your food is going to go cold.” She called and poured out the drinks.

“What do you think?” Sam asked as he entered the room, arms wide as he twirled slowly.

Sam was in a crisp white shirt, smart black trousers, and a suit jacket. The bowtie was a little crooked, but it made his sheepish grin all that more endearing to her.

“A little formal for movie night don’t you think?” She smirked and dipped an onion ring into the garlic sauce.

“Thought it might impress you.” Sam grinned at her, “Thought it would bring a bit more class to the charity gala. We need to raise money for the community centre.”

“Well, I think you look rather handsome and I’m sure someone will bid a lot of money on you.” Y/N’s eyes squinted at him, for being reminded that Sam was being auctioned off alongside Steve and Bucky for dates to the rich women of New York.

Y/N knew they weren’t exclusive, but she knew they weren’t dating other people, they just hadn’t talked about that. It had only been a couple of months since their first date and as much as Y/N was enjoying Sam’s company, she didn’t want to rush into anything or mistake how she felt and that it was unreciprocated.

“Do you know what my shirt is made of?” Sam walked towards her and knelt to be at her eye level, “Boyfriend material. Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

Sam pressed a kiss to her cheek then stood back up to return to the bedroom while Y/N remained glued to the spot, eyes wide at the way he’d casually pulled off another cheesy line and quietened her insecurities in one swift movement. She was falling, hard.

Sam pulled the van into the driveway, feeling giddy at the sight of Y/N standing on the porch with their realtor. The sun beamed down onto Y/N’s skin, an ethereal glow as she spoke animatedly with Phil, probably talking his ear off about the cost of hiring a van themselves in comparison to hiring a removals company.

It had taken them a while to get here but Sam was over the moon to be where they were now. Everything came into alignment, apart from the odd bump in the road. But after many sleepless nights, a last-minute scramble for cash and only a few days to pack up their separate lives; they were finally moving into their dream home.

They had talked about this for months, both unsure to take the leap when viewing different houses until this one came along. The minute they walked into the place, it felt like home. It was vacant and they were able to imagine what it would look like with their belongings; where the sofa would look best in the lounge or which room should be the guest bedroom or office space.

Of course, the kitchen was Sam’s favourite place, it was open planned and the best for socialising and he couldn’t wait for everyone to come round for a barbecue as the French doors opening onto a patio that stretched into a neat lawn. Perfect for hosting their friends this summer.

“Did you get lost pumpkin?” Y/N smiled at him.

“Never, I’m like a homing pigeon when it comes to you.” Sam chuckled, “are we ready now Phil?”

The middle-aged man that had a childlike spark, gave him a curt nod, and headed into the property, “Right this way.”

The papers were signed, and all that was left was to be handed over the keys so that they could begin unloading their belongings. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as Phil placed a set of keys into Y/N’s hands.

“Be careful with those.” Sam gave her a lopsided smirk and a raised brow.

“I’m not going to lose them!” She retaliated.

“Yeah, but this one,” Sam pointed to one of the keys, “is a special one.”

Y/N turned to him, brows knitted together in confusion, “what are you going on about Sam?”

Sam placed his hands on her shoulders, focusing her attention on him. His face lined with seriousness, “It’s the key to my heart.”

Y/N groaned and rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him.

“Nailed it!” Phil said as he high fived Sam, “Now, I will leave you lovely pair to get acquainted with your new home.”

Y/N placed the keys onto the kitchen island and looked out onto the garden. Sam’s arms wrapped around her waist; his chest pressed tightly to her back.

“We did it, baby girl,” Sam whispered into her ear and lightly pecked her cheek.

“That we did.” She turned her head to capture his lips with her own.

Y/N grabbed the plates, shoving them into the dishwasher while Sam waved Steve and Peggy off from the front door. It was a good date night, regardless of the lack of wine. Peggy was almost ready to burst with the twins that had wriggled constantly in her belly. They’d finally decided on a name but refused to tell Y/N or Sam.

“Anything else I need to do, baby girl?” Sam asked as he returned to the kitchen.

“All done in here.” Y/N yawned, “Think it’s time for bed.”

Sam’s face dropped for a split second, but Y/N spotted it. She wandered round to his side of the room and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers massaging the back of his head.

“What’s up?” She asked, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

A grin formed on his lips, the warmth spreading to her in an instant, shared happiness was a beautiful feeling.

“I was just thinking that I don’t think there’s anything I’d like to change about you.” He swayed your body to the music that filtered through from the music dock in the living room.

“So why the grumpy face?” Y/N pouted and squeezed his cheeks together; lips mushed into a dramatic grimace.

“Because I realised there was something I’d like to change,” Sam mumbled through your hold on his face.

Y/N pulled away instantly, her hands dropping to her side as anger began to bubble under her skin, “excuse me?”

Sam tugged her by the waist, keeping her close, “Let me finish.”

She relaxed the tension in her body and placed her hands back on his chest, the annoyance still simmering but less noticeable. Sam’s fingers traced soft lines up and down her back until she gave in and placed her head on his shoulder.

“Now, where was I? Ah yes, the one thing I’d change about you.” He spluttered as Y/N hit him on the arm, lightly but still effective. “The only thing would be your last name.”

Y/N cringed at the chat-up line and pulled away, breaking their hold in favour of turning out the lights in the kitchen before re-joining him but he was nowhere to be seen when she turned around. The sudden silence had her on edge as she headed to the lounge to find Sam kneeling in front of her, his hand raised with a velvet box.

She gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth, he was being serious. He wasn’t using some cheesy chat-up line, well he was, but he was doing this! Y/N squealed internally, the sudden realisation that Sam was talking had her snapping up to his eyes.

The gorgeous brown brimming with tears as he told her how much he loved her, “I want you in my life always baby girl, will you be my wife?”

“Yes!” she responded, throwing her arms around his neck as he spun her around the room.

Y/N pressed kiss after kiss to every place she could, their salty tears mixing in with their passion. Sam pulled back with a chuckle, he took her left hand and placed the sparkling ring onto her finger.

He might have used his cheesy pick-up lines to get to this point, but Y/N loved every single one. Especially this one.

The End.

SSB2021 Square Fill → Proposal // @star-spangled-bingo

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