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gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough Am I giving enough Have I paid my debts Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker - and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

209 notes · View notes

littlesimps · 4 years ago

Note

AYO ITS ME I FIGURED IT OUT AND I FIGURED THE ANONYMOUS THING OUT TOO LMAOOOOOO

So, first of all foolish but like obviously you need some backstory SO maybe the reader and foolish could be friends yaknow and like they do friend things and they could yaknow have a moment

BRUahHsjjjdjsjz

Your wish is my command. (:

<Warning> A little Angst

>Oneshot<

FoolishG x Fem! Reader

“Scared to lose you”

Third POV

As usual, war goes on, betrayals happen, and people simply minding their own business and trying to step down or just joining in on it all.

(Y/n) didn’t pick any sides, the one thing she last thing she wanted to deal with is death and it’s blaming. She knew if she ever got caught up in the middle of it, she’ll get strikes hard with pain. Mentally or Physically. Now, (Y/n) may seem alone if she doesn’t join into the war and such. But, she does have a certain friend she always visits every now and then. Which is Foolish himself, a person who’s a Totem of Undying. Being friends with the god for the past few years, before they both even joined the Dream Smp lands.

Walking down to the desert Foolish lived in, she started pondering in her thoughts.

'Wonder how he’s been doing..' (Y/n) stares at the ground ahead of her, thoughts wondering from one thing to another. He’s been a bit annoyed lately, due to Bad and his so called “Eggpire” coming after Foolish about some egg. She’s glad that Foolish was alright and she, herself avoided Bad after hearing about him acting odd for some time. Something about red vines spreading and the egg. It worried her a little, but she shrugged it off and wandered her thought to another thought. 'He’s been acting upset lately after what Bad said something to him..' (Y/n) recalled back to Foolish explaining what happened after she came to visit Foolish when Bad and his group left. She knew Foolish was gonna have to talk to her about it instead of just not talking about it.

Snapping back into reality, (Y/n) spots the familiar god on one of his knees, rummaging through his chest.

He wore his usual white shirt, and white pants tied with a rope to keep his pants up. His golden skin shining a little in the sun as it was littered with dark spots from him also being part shark. Foolish cheeks were littered with more dark spots to over the bride of his nose. His brown hair hidden under a shark hood (Y/n) made for him, giving it as a gift for being given a stack of enderpearls she needed by him one time.

(Y/n) soon stops admiring him once Foolish turns his head towards her, standing up and walking over to her in his smaller form.

“(Y/n)! It’s great to see you again.” Foolish smiled, but the joy that was coming from his mouth never reached his eyes. (Y/n) frowned for a split second before grinning up at the man.

“I’d say the same thing to you too, Foolish.” (Y/n) chuckled, putting her hands on both her hips.

“So, what brings you here?” Foolish questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. The corner of (Y/n) mouth twitched upwards a bit more before it stopped once she remember what she was gonna talk to him about. Not wanting to ruin the mood so quick, she offers him for a walk, in which he accepts without hesitation.

Both of the two walk around, passing old buildings and new buildings that were created by their friends. Few were destroyed big or small, others were rebuilt much better or just the same.

The duo fell into a calm silence, walking on the prime path.

(Y/n) couldn’t help their thoughts wonder, their (e/c), eye’s lowering to where it was pointed to the ground.

She was enjoy this, yet, confusion stirred in her.

She kept noticing Foolish eyes staring down at her for a few times, brushing his hand against hers, and that his large shark tail swayed a bit more faster than usual since the start of the walk.

“(Y/n)?” Foolish voice comes into her ears, waking her up from her confused little thoughts running around her head.

She hums, looking up at Foolish.

He halts, sitting down under the bride and near the water. (Y/n) complies when Foolish pats the ground next to him, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“I know you want to talk to something with me, (Y/n)..” Foolish grin falls down, a small frown taking over his golden face as he looks at (Y/n). (Y/n) stayed silent for a bit, sighing after a minute or two.

She knew that she wasn’t good at hiding certain things from Foolish.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been upset lately, after what happened between you and Bad.” (Y/n) answers, fiddling with her fingers as she gazes at the water before her. Foolish noted that she always did this whenever she was nervous.

Foolish scooted a little closer to her, watching her relax a little.

“I wanted to ask..” (Y/n) trailed off into a mumble, making Foolish frown dampen a little more. “Wanted to ask what?” He asked, raising a brow just a tad bit as he tilts his head at the woman sat next to him. A sigh draws from (Y/n) mouth before she fully repeats. “I wanted to ask what did Bad also say that made you upset lately?” (Y/n) turns her head to Foolish, making eye contact with his emerald, colored, eyes.

Foolish goes stiff, remembering back to what Bad said to him.

“I..” He tries to utter out his explanation, except Foolish throat felt like a lump was stuck in it as he started to feel emotional. Foolish breaks away from (Y/n) gaze, his eyes being planted to the ground beneath the two of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Foolish let’s it out quick, changing on what he was gonna say.

Standing up, he starts walking away without a goodbye. Although, (Y/n) wasn’t gonna let him off that easily. Quickly getting rising from the ground, she jogs over to Foolish and stops in front of him, keeping him from walking any further away. “(Y/n)—” He was instantly cut off by the said person. “Foolish. I understand that you don’t wanna talk about it, but it’s gonna get harder if you don’t tell me.” (Y/n) brows knit together, knowing this could’ve happened sense it was normal for him to sometimes try to shrug it off and avoid talking about things he’s upset about. “(Y/n)..you don’t need to know what Bad said. It’s none of your concern.” Foolish glares down at (Y/n), getting annoyed each second that pasts.

“It is my concern. I care about you, Foolish. You mean so much to me and I hate having to see you upset about something for a bit. So please..just let it out to me.” (Y/n) opens her arms to him, awaiting for the golden man to step into her arms and allow her to caress him, afraid to hurt him.

And so did Foolish did, taking a few steps forward and falling into (Y/n) arms. Trying to keep the tears in that pricked his eyes.

Foolish knew he couldn’t keep all his sadness away from her, she saw right through him like how he saw right through her. That’s what he loved about (Y/n). Foolish loves everything about her. He would do anything for her, no matter what. Heck, he would even die for her.

It made him happy that she was here for him.

“Bad..he—he said he was gonna hurt you...if I don’t join them. A-And I got scared, angered, and so many more at the thought of that.” Foolish voice cracked, giving up on keeping the salty tears in and allowing them to roll down his cheeks and onto (Y/n) shoulder.

“I’m scared to lose you...”

She rubbed his back, tangling her other hand in his brunette hair.

He sniffs, his arms tightening a little more around her waist. Wanting to feel closer to her than he already is. His thoughts now walking off to thoughts of her. Thoughts of (Y/n). The woman who’s been friends with him for years, the one he’s started loving for the past few months. The woman who’s always comforting him when he needs it.

Before he knew it, his mouth let out the words he’s always wanted to say to her ever since then.

“I love you, (Y/n)..”

(Y/n) hands stop moving, her body going tense. Foolish immediately realizes his mistake, hastily removing his head from her shoulder. “I-I didn’t—I’m so sorry—I don’t what I was thinking-” Foolish was cut short by a hand gently caressing his tear stained cheek. Slowly, he moves his emerald eyes over to (Y/n).

His body relaxes once he sees soft eyes staring at him, unreadable to know what (Y/n) eyes were showing besides them looking so kind and comforting.

Subconsciously, he leans his head into her hand. His hand leaving his side to caress (Y/n) hand.

“Foolish, don’t be sorry. It’s alright. Everything will be okay..and I love you, too.” (Y/n) beams up at Foolish, making him melt on the inside. He felt his cheeks heat up, he rubs his face into (Y/n) hand. Giving a small peck into her palm. Moving his head out of her hand after a moment of silence, he brings his other hand out, only using it to hold (Y/n) cheek. Foolish leans to her face, pausing to ask for permission. A small chuckle occurs from (Y/n), earning a nod as his only answer. He smiles before making his lips come in contact with hers.

A god being a mortals friend, to having a crush on her, and lastly..to becoming the person she’ll love always.

Hhhhhh man was it a little confusing to try and imagine how this should go, but this went pretty good then I expected tbh. Hope you enjoyed this by the way, dear friend!

#mcyt x you #dream smp x you #foolish x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader

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alonelysimp · 3 years ago

Text

Genshin Band Au

Characters: Yanfei, Xinyan, Barbara, Y/N (reader)

WC: 1975

Warnings: No beta we die like hilichurls

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, No Ships, Headcanons, Bulleted

Spotify Playlist: Pov: you're in a band with Xinyan Yanfei and Barbara

《 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓴, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 》

Once when you were having lunch with Xinyan and Xiangling, Xinyan said something along the lines of “wouldn’t it be cool if i had a band?” and you, of course, jokingly said “if you started a band, then I wanna be the first member to join” and that’s basically how it started

You offered Xiangling if she'd like to join as well but she declined. As tempting as a life like that sounds, she’s set on her dream to be a chef. “I’d rather be your biggest fan!”

Not really knowing where to go at this point, you suggested posting a notice to the bulletin board beside the long-unused alchemy table and the one beside the adventurer’s guild typically reserved for commissions, but Katheryne gave you permission to put it up.

Xinyan had already begun to have the beginnings of a fanbase at this point, but it wasn’t really much of a surprise you hadn’t heard anything in a few days. You had even gone so far as to ask the traveler to keep an eye out.

Thankfully, the traveler was more successful than the both of you, bringing back a letter from both the top legal advisor in Liyue and the Idol and Deconess of Mondstadt. When you asked them how or why they put in so much effort, they just smiled and waved you off. The only payment they wanted were some small shiny rocks you had laying around as paperweights that you got from a hilichurl. Odd, but you insisted they accepted mora as well.

And so, on the agreed date mentioned in both of the letters, courtesy of the traveler setting up, you sat around a table at Wamin with a few assorted dishes of Jueyun Chili Chicken and Crab Roe Tofu. By the end, you were able to convince both of them to join. It was a bit.. really hard in the beginning, with Barbara and Yanfei having jobs. Barbara living in Mond didn’t help much either, but after some work it became manageable. You agree to meet every week at Pop’s Teas, one of the vendors at the stone gate. It would only take half an hour-ish each way.

“What should we call it?” You ask, languidly setting down your tea. Xinyan looks at you, still hunched over a few sheets of paper with her head propped up on her hand. “The band,” you clarify. Barbara hums from across the table, pressing a finger to her lip.

“I have a few ideas.” Xinyan pulls a blank sheet from the pile and scribbles BAND NAMES at the top. “Let’s brainstorm them while we’re all here.” One by one, you begin to throw out ideas.

Firelytical

Rockin Resistance

Wildfires

Illuminated Flames

Inferno

Sudden Freedom

She taps the pen to her lip, thinking of other names to suggest.

“These seem a bit.. fire-centric, even for a pyro-based band,” you comment. Yanfei nods, still deep in thought.

“Oh that’s a good idea, y/n.” You glance over, seeing Xinyan write down “Pyrocentric” on the list.

“Maybe it’d be best if we came up with ideas and shared them next week?” You nod at Barbara’s suggestion.

“I’ll keep a notepad with me in the office…” Xinyan tosses the pencil back on the table, watching Yanfei pull out what you assume to be the notebook and flip to a page, moving on to the next topic of discussion. “Costumes,” she says as her lips twist into a slight frown.

“Oh! I have some ideas for that,” you pull a sketchbook out of your bag, showing them your ideas. “I’m not very good at drawing but.. I wanted to keep some bits of your normal clothing too, I hope it’s not too much.”

“Y/n these look so amazing!” Barbara smiles, moving one to get a better look.

“Aw these are so awesome!” Xinyan slides over the one for her, grinning. Yanfei nods, looking over hers. “I could totally make these.” Her eyes sparkle with interest, radiating in the sunlight. “Oh,” she looks back up at you. “If you don’t mind, that is.” You wave her away, giggling under your breath.

“If Barbra and Yanfei don’t have any adjustments to make, I’d love to see my designs come to life!” You sip your tea, which has long gone cold by now. Barbara turns the paper around, pointing at the skirt on the page. “What if we add another one under it? If we make it a different colour, it’ll pop more.” You nod, pulling out a sheet and writing it down.

“Oh, oh y/n what if we added something here too?” Yanfei points to a slightly emptier spot on the hip. “Like an uhm…” she trails off.

“What if we put something like this from Xinyan’s?” You put your finger on a braided cord. “Like a belt, I guess?”

“Oh yeah yeah and I could put my vision on it–” she unconsciously reaches to touch the pyro vision at her side.

“Y/n?” Barbara sets aside her tea, as if she just found out the hard way that it’s cold. You hum, the pencil in your hand tapping against the page as you note details for Yanfei’s costume. “Thank you for working so hard on this!”

A few other names had come up during the week; BXY, Fiery Vale, and such, but you settled on Fervent Apricity. An odd name, but it’s meaning was able to win everyone over; the intense heat of the sun in the midst of winter. It fit the band well, you thought. Perhaps one day you should be able to live up to the name.

After a few months of dragging Yanfei away from her work to teach her the bass, which she picked up scarily fast (perhaps it's an illuminated beast thing?), you were able to arrange something with the millenith to not crash your debut concert. Yanfei suggested she just continued practicing for a while before she performed with it though.

You agreed that since there were only four of you, it wouldn’t be too much to have all of you as vocalists. Barabra lead vocals and choreography, Xinyan with lead guitar and harsh vocals, Yanfei rapping and eventually bass guitar, and you playing drums.

Tonight was the night. The night that Fervent Apricity would set foot on the stage for the first time. To be completely honest, you were a nervous wreck. Ignoring your worries didn’t make them go away, much to your annoyance.

Xiangling set up a food cart nearby, though she got distracted listening more than she cooked.

You sat in front of the drums, only moments left before you started. This was it. You’ve practiced so many times, it’ll be a breeze. Xinyan counted down, the strums from her guitar filling the summer night air as the concert began.

You would’ve felt bad being this loud so late at night, but by the time you had finished, you attracted not only a good portion of the residents in the harbor, but the wholehearted support of the largest fleet that docks in Liyue. The Crux and her crew! You recognize a lot of people from Xinyan’s previous concerts, loyal fans you assume she’s gained, and a good few handfuls of new faces. Travelers, probably.

You played into the night, without a care in the world for who may be listening. It lasted almost half an hour longer than one of Xinyan’s normal concerts. If you had to put the experience into one word, it was freeing. You were alive. The feeling was… incredible. But, as the adrenaline wore off, you came to realize how undeniably tired you were.

And so, that breathtaking performance marked the day that you would start your, Fervent Apricity’s, journey of becoming one of the most popular bands in Teyvat

For the week after, you had been working out the details of the next large concert. Xinyan carried on with her nightly performances, you caught word of Barbara still performing in Mond, although slightly less than usual, and you had been exchanging ideas with Yanfei. Despite her job and work schedule, she proves to be a great help, almost overwhelmingly so. After the second day, it felt more like her setting it up and running it by you instead of the other way around. Not that you could really complain, just a little less work for you.

After a few months of performing regularly in Liyue Harbor, Barbara suggested that you come to Mond. It’d be a new experience, since you had never really traveled outside of Liyue, but you were concerned it might affect Barbara’s reputation. She insisted. Playing with the band is something she’s proud of and the message your music brings is something she supports.

Was it running away? Finding a new audience that would love your music just as much as you did? No, just the opposite. It was finding a new audience, one that was just as foreign to it, and lighting it up one spark at a time.

You started working out the time with Yanfei and Barbara to fit their schedules and Xinyan started picking out songs she thought would be more… well accepted by the northern people and bouncing some ideas off you. The instruments weren’t much, so you were able to transport it easily. Barbara said to come to the plaza at the top of all the stairs a few days prior.

Xinyan had to tell the sentries you were here to perform with Barbara, to which they let you through with no further difficulties. People stared, and whether it was a good or bad thing, it was almost.. empowering? You met with Barbara and the other sisters, introducing yourselves as the other members of Fervent Apricity.

They were a bit weary of you, a ragtag group of musicians with a vaguely red and black colour scheme with Barbara, who had run off shortly after you arrived to change into her costume.

By the time she had returned, the makeshift stage had already been set up and a crowd began to form. It appears Barbara was quite popular here. You could tell they were a bit cautious though. Perhaps it’s because it’s pretty clear that your music was different from what Barbara usually played. All the better to prove how amazing rock could be.

There was but a few minutes left before you were scheduled to start. All the fireproofing needed was complete; you were ready to light up the city of freedom.

It was just like one of your normal concerts, a handful of songs you had played many times before. The crowd was a bit taken aback by Xinyan’s screaming, you had to hold in a laugh. You made a note to after, bring it up to her to get the crowd more fired up before choosing one that… intense. No matter how many times you performed, it was always just as lively as the first time.

Having mentioned your thought to Xinyan after the show, Yanfei came up to the both of you. She said she wanted to play her instrument in the next concert. Xinyan replied that if she wanted to then that’s a-okay but she shouldn’t feel pressured into it before she was ready

You overheard the “Barbara fan club,” as Barbara had mentioned earlier, crowding her and asking so many questions, it made you want to kick their asses to Inazuma.

“Barbara-sama, are you joining them permanently?”

“Barbara-sama, will you still be performing on your own?”

“Barbara-sama, how long have you been with them?”

“Barbara-sama, is this why you don’t let me join you to the stone gate?”

After a bit of rescuing and creep-yelling-at, Xinyan made a final announcement, mentioning the band’s name and the upcoming concert dates in Liyue.

Oh, how quickly time passes

ohmygod THANK YOU SM FOR 200- SHAWTYS ILYSM- ugh I might actually take this blog seriously soon..

Fervent Apricity Masterlist [ X ]

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wosoimagines · 4 years ago

Text

You Have To Be Okay - Christen Press/Reader

prompt: Hey ! Could you do a part 3 of the ‘you okay ?’/´you sure you okay?’ please ? like Reader and Morgan are official with the team and Christen realizes that she likes her too and like, Morgan loves someone else and both were in just to forget and try to move on. So Tobin and Christen go all in for the reader and happy ending ? buuuut drama/angst too if possible

warnings: Near death

words: 1666

(Y/N) POV

“Did you ever think that we would actually get a place together?”

I smiled at Morgan. It had been just over a year since the two of us officially met each other off of the field. So much so that our little meetups at each other’s places whenever we were in town turned into a date which led to another before we had started dating. Although we weren’t official to any of our teammates, I had proposed the idea of Morgan moving in with me and she gladly accepted.

“No,” I shook my head. Morgan was just supposed to be a distraction for me at the wedding. “I slept with you that first night because I needed a distraction from the fact that the woman I fell in love with was getting married.”

“I knew you were in love with Christen,” Morgan pointed at me. Morgan had asked me over and over again if I was in love with Christen but I always denied it. “You were a distraction for me as well.”

“Well, it looks like our distractions turned out to be something good.”

“Yeah, I guess they did.”

The two of us spent the day soaking in the fact that we had actually gotten a place together. We mostly spent the day talking and watching Netflix since Morgan was still behind on Supernatural. I was slightly surprised when I got a notification telling me that Morgan posted a picture on Instagram of me. I was even more surprised by the caption that practically told everyone that we were dating.

“Mo-”

“Look, I know we haven’t talked about coming out to the public, but I thought this would be the best time,” Morgan defended. She shrugged as she reached for a water out of the fridge. “Besides, we have a place together. I think that means we’re kind of serious.”

“I was gonna say, that if you would have told me, I would have had a post already on Instagram too.”

“Oh.”

I shook my head at her and my phone started to blow up with texts not only from my Utah teammates but also from my USWNT teammates. But I chose to ignore them as I sat my phone down and pulled Morgan closer to me.

“I just wanna be with you right now.”

I couldn’t help but notice that my phone lit up with a text message from the woman who I had fallen for what felt like so long ago now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you cancelled your plans to take me on a hike,” Morgan shook her head.

“I wanted to do something special for you since we have officially been together for a year now,” I smiled at her. Morgan leaned over and gave my check a kiss.

I turned my attention back to the road. I knew that today was going to be the day. It was what I had been wanting to ask Morgan for so long.

“Hey, look at this,” Morgan lightly touched my arm before showing me her phone.

I glanced at it to see some pictures from my last game. I shook my head at the one she was showing me because I did not look good in it as I had been so focused on getting the ball. I turned my attention back to the road to make sure that our light was still green.

The light was green. But as soon as I was in the intersection all I could feel was a pain to my left as my ears started to ring. I was able to glance at Morgan to see that she had slumped over in her seat. But that was the last thing I saw before everything had gone black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morgan POV

“Here are her belongings, dear,” a nurse lightly touched my shoulder drawing my attention to her.

I saw the bag that held everything that had been on (Y/N) at the time of the crash. I took the bag from her and gave a small smile. The nurse left me alone in the room with (Y/N) alone.

The first thing I pulled out was (Y/N)’s phone. I wasn’t surprised to see how many missed calls and messages she had. I was sure that Alex and Kelley had been notified as soon as the hospital had gotten (Y/N)’s information since they were listed as her emergency contacts besides me. There was no doubt in my mind that they had informed the rest of the national team and all of the Royals.

I shook my head because I didn’t really feel up to answering calls and texts that would just remind me that (Y/N) was no were near the clear. I glanced at her lying in the bed before reaching out to grab her hand. I brought her hand up to my lips to give her a light kiss on the back of her hand.

“You have to be okay.”

I sat there holding her hand for a while before leaning back in the chair I was in. They told me that (Y/N) was lucky she didn’t die on impact after the truck ran a red light and hit us. I had already seen the pictures of the car and I knew that there was no way we were going to get it fixed. The driver’s side was smashed in on itself and the front of the car was in pieces.

I reached back into the bag hoping that (Y/N)’s watch was there. I knew how much it meant to her since it was one of the last things she had gotten from her parents. I felt my fingers brush against something velvet causing me to furrow my brow in confusion. I pulled the watch out but also a velvet box. I softly sighed at the ring inside.

“You were gonna propose?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I looked up when there was a knock on the door. I was a little surprised when I saw Tobin and Christen in the doorway. I gave both of them a soft smile.

“Hey,” I softly said as the two came in.

“How is she?” Christen asked.

“Right now, she isn’t doing too great,” I sighed looking at (Y/N). The doctors weren’t sure how long she was going to be out. “They’re not sure when she’s going to wake up. Her, um, her heart stopped beating on the table. They said it could stop at any time and that I should be ready for that.”

“Oh, kid,” Tobin said as she pulled me into a hug. I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes as I held her tightly. “It’s going to be okay. (Y/N)’s a fighter. She’s gonna get through this.”

Tobin pulled back from me before her eyes widened at the box that was sitting by me. I was thankful that she didn’t say anything about it. Christen had taken a seat on the other side of (Y/N)’s bed.

“Where are your keys?” Tobin asked. I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Morgan, I need your keys so I can get into your apartment to get you and (Y/N) some different clothes to wear. You have blood on your clothes and I’m sure that (Y/N)’s clothes are just the same.”

I nodded and quickly handed her my keys. I watched as she left before looking back at (Y/N). I glanced at the box.

“Tobin and I are getting a divorce,” Christen suddenly said. I looked at her in surprise. “We’ve been heading that way for a while. Tobin and I just make better friends than we do wives. That and I realized how much I love (Y/N).”

The two of us sat in silence. I just sat there processing what Christen had told me. I wasn’t an idiot either. I knew how (Y/N) felt.

“I don’t know why I just told you that when you’re the one dating (Y/N).”

“She still loves you,” I admitted. Christen looked over at me in surprise. I knew that (Y/N) tried to hide it, but I still knew that she loved Christen. “She tries to hide it and I do think that she loves me, I just don’t think she ever fell out of love with you.”

“She was in love with me?”

I was surprised Christen didn’t already know. I knew the night I had met (Y/N) that she was head over heels for Christen Press. Maybe I had just started to date (Y/N) because I needed a distraction from my own crush who would never love me back.

“She’s been in love with you since before she broke her arm,” I told Christen. The older forward looked over at me in surprise. (Y/N) had told me about how she missed her chance to tell Christen Press that she was in love with her. “You really didn’t know?”

“No.”

Silence filled the room with us again as I looked at the box again. I reached out to grab it. As much as I wanted (Y/N) to ask me, I knew that I could never accept the ring.

“She was going to propose,” I said. Christen looked at me before looking at the box in my hands. “If this had never happened I probably would have told her yes.”

“You’re not going to?”

“You’re the one she’s always been in love with. I can’t ask her to marry me when she could be with the person she loves so much. When she wakes up, you guys should talk.”

I was taken by surprise when a monitor went off. I was even more surprised when a team of people rushed into the room pushing Christen and I back. We could both still see the heart monitor even as the team of nurses and the doctor surrounded (Y/N). We could see the line go flat.

“(Y/N)!”

#christen press imagine #christen press imagines #christen press x reader #christen press #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #USWNT #Morgan weaver imagines #Morgan weaver imagine #Morgan weaver x reader #Morgan weaver

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jeonqquk · 4 years ago

Text

tattooing | jjh

Pairing- Jaehyun X Reader

Genre/ Tags- fluff, crack, bi jaehyun, lucas royally fucks up, tattooing

Age rating- 13+

Word count- 2.6k words

Summary- Tattooing doesn’t go as planned.

POV- Third person

Your whining wasn’t gonna get you anywhere, you were well aware of the fact. But you supposed that you might as well give it a shot. The ‘it’ here being the fact that you really wanted Jaehyun to get a tattoo. It wasn’t that you wanted to somehow blackmail Jae into getting a tattoo. Oh god, no. You’d never want that. It was just that you had always been fond of tattoos, the meaningful ones, not the totally unnecessary, really weird looking, out of the world ones. Jaehyun with a tattoo would be fucking hot though, that was just a plus point- not the main reason as to why you wanted him to get one.

You were thinking a sweet quote or something, but that would only be possible of he was willing to get one.

“Jae, baby, what do you think about getting a tattoo?” your boyfriend of 3 years sighs, rubbing his hand on your knee that had been placed on his thigh. “I don’t know..maybe later. Why are you so intent on me getting a tattoo though?” he wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively or whatever, and you look at him in confusion, trying your level best to stop the blood threatening to creep up your cheeks. You clear your throat and reply simply “I feel like a tattoo would be beautiful. Just permanently inked onto your skin. It should be something purposeful though. I don’t want you going bald and tattooing a zipper on your scalp.”

A snort is heard from him “Don’t worry, I’m not going bald. Although it’s a very tempting idea.” Rolling your eyes at his lame comment, you sit up and move over to cuddle closer to him on the couch. He wraps his left arm around you “Why don’t you get a tatto Y/n?” he questions and you look up at him in mild shock. Well, you could get a tattoo. You are of legal age and stuff but the thought had never crossed your mind. You don’t know why.

“....I could...” Jaehyun smiles, his dimples popping out and you can’t help but mirror the sweet action. “So why don’t you? We’re not even doing anything and I know for a fact that you have a lot of designs saved on your Pinterest board. Even if they were for me, you can try finding one that suits you too.”

Suddenly feeling giddy, you quickly grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it, clicking on the app you needed. As you find the board, you see that you’ve gained 18 followers in the time span of 2 weeks. Huh.

As you scroll through the pins of small intricate designs that could be engraved onto a finger or hand, Jaehyun points out one that looked like watercolour art and was in the form of a small flower with red petals. It did look quite cute, to be honest. “Hmm, this does look nice. Won’t it look good on my collarbone?” Jaehyun nods in agreement “I was thinking that too.” Smiling up at him, you look into his eyes “Well, should I get this?” Your boyfriend chuckles at your excitement, and pats your head in adoration. “I know that you’re excited, sweetie. But don’t you wanna try looking at other designs before deciding?” Humming, you scroll a bit more as Jaehyun reads a novel. But you don’t find anything that captures your attention a lot. Sure the sweet quotes, couple tattoos and nature-related designs are great ideas for a tattoo but you were set on the one with the rose.

Jaehyun coos when you tell him that, squishing your cheeks and telling you that the two of you could go to a shop tomorrow and get design inked onto your collarbone forever.

It’s 9:28 am when you wake up from your slumber and turn to give Jaehyun who looks like he had also woken up just a few minutes ago a peck on his lips. His dimples are visible as he smiles and greets you. The two of you get up and freshen up before you’re sitting at the dining table to eat blueberry pancakes.

The clock shows that it’s 10:30 am by the time you two leave the house and head for the tattoo store you had researched last night. It takes 15 minutes to reach said shop and Jaehyun parks the car before looking at you with concern evident on his face. “Y/n, you are sure about this right?” Smiling fondly at his worry, you keep your hand on his cheek “I’m sure Jae. Don’t worry.” One kiss is enough to relax him and you pull away before you get too carried away and end up dirtying his car again. Oops.

You enter the cosy shop hand-in-hand with Jaehyun and see someone sitting at the reception wearing an oversized blue shirt. Definitely not the vibes you had expected to get from a fucking tattoo parlour but oh well. You had expected everyone to be intimidating and were ready to hide behind Jaehyun as soon as you entered. But it seems as if that wasn’t happening because all you had deciphered from the shop called Inkphoric was that it was built in a way not to scare the people who had gathered the courage to even stop foot in it.

The receptionist, she said her name was Nara, leads you both to a room in a corridor. Your hands are sweaty and thankfully she allows Jaehyun to go inside as well. When you’re seated on the chair comfortably, Jaehyun grabs a stool to sit beside you and you wait for the tattoo artist. The wait isn’t long because a minute later, a man who looks about your age is walking towards you all. His all black get-up matches the tattoos littering his arms and he also seems to have a piercing in his right ear, a silver dangling.

“Hello, I’m Lucas. I’ll be tattooing…” he introduces himself and looks between the two of you, silently asking which one of you he would be tattooing. Honestly, you would have expected him to at least know who he would be drawing on but quickly brush the thought off as you greet him, telling him that you would be the one getting the art onto her skin. He smiles cutely and nods, and you look at Jaehyun, his comforting smile relaxing your tense body.

Nara talks to Lucas for a minute or so and then walks off, shooting you an encouraging smile before closing the door behind her.

“So what is it that I’ll be tattooing onto you, ma’am?” Lucas speaks and you show him the image of the flower. Jaehyun is holding your left hand in his, the warmth seeping throughout your entire body and you’re grateful for Jae’s beautiful ability of being able to calm you down in only a matter of seconds- no matter how serious the situation would be.

“Oh, that’s very pretty.” “Thank you.” you smile at him, and he prepares his stuff. You’re pulling down the hem of your shirt slightly and exposing part of your left collarbone, where you want your collarbone.

Lucas says that he’s tracing the design out first and you wait patiently.

“Now, don’t be scared. It’s gonna hurt at first, especially at the bone but it will soon go away. You can hold your boyfriend’s hand.” he instructs and gives you an encouraging look as Jaehyun moves to your right to give Lucas space, his large hand completely enclosing yours.

“Okay, here goes…” the sound of the gun whirring to life fills the room that has tattoo designs filling the wall.

“Fuck!” your voice pierces through the air and you jolt from the sudden pain. It felt as if someone was impaling you with a sword- which was partly true- but they were doing it continuously. Jaehyun is shocked from your sudden movement and struggles to catch you in his arms. Lucas quickly tears the gun away from your neck and you whimper out, the pain searing through your entire being and Jaehyun tries shushing you, his attempts all going in vain.

Shitshitshit. This is torture. It’s only the first touch of the needle against your skin and you’re already this close to crying. How the fuck do people get those huge ass tattoos?! Trying your best to calm down and ignore the pain spreading throughout your entire being, you squeeze Jaehyun’s hand hard enough for it to pain but you don’t really care at this point, the throbbing of your collarbone enough to send you flying. He’s stood up from the stool by now, standing behind you.

“Okay..sorry sorry, you can continue.” you whisper out and clamp your lips shut so as to not let out any more weird noises. You’re sweating by the time Lucas gets the gun closer to you and bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood when the feeling of the needle pressing against your skin fills you up again.

Holy heck, I can’t do this.

Your face is an accurate representation of agony, your entire body tensing as Lucas tattoos your collarbone with his long hair slightly brushing against your neck. You try leaning your head back and lean against Jaehyun. He’s whispering soft comforting words as countless profanities leave your mouth and you feel sad for Lucas, having to hear the shit you were spewing.

“It’s alright, baby. Just think about other things, happy things.” your boyfriend pecks your cheek and hugs you lightly, trying not to disturb Lucas.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale inh-

“I think I just popped a boner.”

You gasp. Lucas chokes. He moves. You shriek.

“Ah, shit!” the gun’s needle scraped against your skin, it was all so sudden. The pain suddenly shoots throughout your entire body, tears filling your eyes. Nononono.

“Jesus! It’s paining too much!” you’re sobbing by now, Lucas is frantic and Jaehyun..well..he is burning. He’s too busy regretting all his choices to even notice what’s happening around him. Jaehyun bends down to fix his problem and emerges 5 minutes later, when you’re still twisting in torment. Everything is red, your lip being abused by your teeth in order to calm down.

“Y/n! Ma’am! I’m so sorry! Shit, no!” Lucas apologises and sprints over to get a cloth to wipe something you feel trickling down your chest now. Blood. You’re bleeding.

Writhing in agony in your seat, you clench your hands as if that would somehow reduce the sting, and pant, trying to relax. Your eyes are widened at an attempt of keeping it all in but the throbbing just doesn’t seem to dissipate.

Oh God…

Lucas is now carefully dabbing at the source of blood with panic written clearly all on his face. You look at Jaehyun through the ache to see that he is now coming back to reality and upon seeing your state, a gasp tears his throat and he’s looking at you with his eyes widened.

The distress prevents you from speaking properly but you manage to call out, “J-Jaehy..Jaehyun.” Said man is desperately looking between your blood gushing out and your face twisted in discomfort. He figures it out and as soon as he does, takes your whimpering form into his, murmuring endless apologies and if you could, you would stop him from saying that but the sting is still there, only lessening a tad bit.

It’s hell, trying to clean the blood away and getting it sorted out. You cried a bit during the process as well but you were perfectly entitled to do that, the gun had pierced your skin quite deep when Lucas had jolted upon hearing what Jae suddenly said.

30 minutes later, you’re hiccupping slightly and trying to breathe normally after the mad incident. Surprisingly, no one had come in during that time and you were thankful for that, not having wanted anybody to see the mess that had been caused because of Jaehyun’s unexpected confession. Speaking of which, you wince and turn around to look at him and when his eyes meet yours, ask him what he meant “What was that about you popping a boner?” the incredulity just hit you now and you wait for his response impatiently.

“Nothing babe...just forget it. I’m so sorry for saying it so randomly, though. I should’ve thought before speaking. I’m so careless.” the look on his face melts and you are about to pull him into your chest when you realise that you can’t.

The pain has subsided by now, it’s bearable and you turn to look at Lucas who- when he catches your gaze- immediately walks over to you and starts speaking. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! That was so sudden and I messed up your tattoo. It’s all my fault, please forgive me if possible.” he looks scared, and you understand why. He probably thinks you’ll sue him or something but you weren’t planning on doing anything of the sort. “It’s alright Lucas. I’m also not gonna tell anyone. We’ll just tell everyone that as soon as the gun touched me, I chickened out and told you to stop.” you keep your hand on his head that’s bowed and he looks up. There are tears brimming his eyes and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or the fact that he genuinely feels terrible for what he did. It really wasn’t his fault anywhere though. You didn’t understand why he was so stressed.

“I’m sorry Lucas, I just said something stupid without even thinking before. You don’t need to take nay of the blame.” Jaehyun’s voice fills the room and Lucas’ features relax a little before he smiles forcefully. “Well, if your cuts get better, then maybe I can continue the design?” he jokes and you laugh along, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t be coming here again. Your first tattoo and this had happened.

“So do you wanna tell me about that boner-popping now? Lucas isn’t even here.” you’re sitting at the dining table, having just finished your dinner with empty bowls of pasta in front of each of you. Jaehyun shifts slightly in his seat and you wonder if you made him uncomfortable, although you don’t understand why- the reason couldn’t have been that bad. As soon as you start to backtrack, Jaehyun’s voice is heard.

“Well..just..you know when you were getting the tattoo?” you nod slightly “Lucas was just, his black clothes..and he was bending over and I don’t know. You were whimpering..” “So the scene was too hot and you popped a boner?” you complete his sentence and he meekly nods before you’re howling with laughter, almost falling iff the chair and forgetting about the pain around your collarbone. The bisexual in Jaehyun was showing and he was afraid to admit it, you don’t now why. He had told you about this when you started dating, and you were totally fine with it, because you knew that he wouldn’t cheat on you.

“Hey..” your boyfriend half-heartedly attempts to stop you but you’re too far gone to realise that he may be feeling bad. When your laughing fit is over, though, you look at him for any trace of sadness but are relieved to see that he’s only blushing lightly, his dimples showing when he smiles.

“So, do you wanna get a tattoo now?” the answer is obvious, given the fact that today did not go as planned. You’re surprised when he answers.

“I don’t think so. My body is a shrine and a tattoo will take away its chastity.”

“Shrine indeed.”

Ty for reading! Yes lmao ik the ending is weird asf, as is the entire story, but nvm

Feedback is always appreciated!

this was supposed to be a drabble for jae’s birthday 😭excuse the typos they’re terrible and i’m literally the most impatient living being you’ll ever encounter

also, the shop name lmao i just got it from google- not creative i know

Tagging: @neoculturedtrash , @jeongjeffrey , @orange-lemon-cross , @nanasimp , @bluejaem

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jeffrey #nct #nct 127 #tattoo #reader #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun #nct ff #nct 127 ff #jaehyun ff #jae ff #jaehyun fluff #jae fluff #y/n #neo culture technology #jaehyun jung #please excuse the shitty header

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gwaciechang · 3 years ago

Text

I Don't Wanna Go Home (1/15?)

So, this is probably going to be my most ambitious project ever. I'm going to do a fusion of the video gave Subnautica Below Zero, with the characters from Cloverfield Paradox. You don't have to have played Below Zero first, although it would certainly help. Also, as someone who has played the game, I tried my best to explain everything, which is why the first few chapters are going to be really slow, and why everyone talks so much. I also made a change to the canon of the first Subnautica: instead of Riley curing Kharaa, it was the precursors.

So, a few more things before we start this chapter. I hate "y/n l/n" stuff, so I just call the pov character Ling Tam. I don't think anybody actually uses that name in the story, but that might change, and in any case, you're free to replace her name with any name you like. Also, reader is in a relationship with Mundy at the start of the story, although that, obviously, won't last because it's endgame reader/Schmidt. Okay, that's everything, enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged.

@hope-to-hell @vicanth @feralrunaway @october505 @potentialproblem01

"Hey, Monk, you told me to come get you if that weird signal showed up ag-" you stop when you see the vehicle technician on the radio.

"When are you going to send me some more art? There's still a patch of bare wall here that could use some color and a touch of genius!" Monk says, probably to his kids, as he waves you away. You close the door as silently as you can, and not a second too soon, because Mundy opens the habitat door and stomps his way inside with a box. Behind him, you can see the prawn suit, with several other boxes still tied to its massive arms. There's an inquisitive face popping out of the water that you decide not to tell him about. Why shouldn't the creatures have a little fun?

"Another day, another slight by the winged furies," Mundy grumbles.

"Another interference alert?" you ask, trying to lay the sympathy on thick before you inevitably burst into laughter.

"As usual," the xenobiologist sighs theatrically. "Also as usual, I went out to see what the problem was. And, of course, it was-"

"Frozen stalagmites of feathered bird excrement," the two of you say together.

"I fear the career impact of saying this officially-"

"If you can even call what you have a career," you interrupt, getting yourself a faceful of dirty towel.

Besides throwing the thing you're really hoping he hadn't just used to wipe up bird shit in your face, your boyfriend continues as if you'd never spoken. "I could swear they're targeting me personally. The week I was out with a flu, I came back to find the tower spotless. Monk laughed at me when I asked him how he'd cleaned it. Silly me!"

"As if Monk would ever clean anything," you agree. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing left for me to try but quitting. But I know that's what the birds want me to do," he shakes his fist at the sky as he walks back outside to retrieve the final box.

You turn back to the screen and wonder about the signal again. It's been appearing on and off for days, ever since you got the radio tower up and running, and what would a repeat call be besides a distress signal?

"Ah jeez, these sea monkeys are going to get me in trouble," the box in Mundy's hands is scratched through in places. "This is the third shipment that those buggers have gotten their weird little hands into! Now we're running low on flares and I'm going to have to search nearby nests for stolen cargo," he sighs as he drops a mangled box on the top of his cluttered workstation. It makes a bang that would have disturbed Monk, if he weren't on the radio, or Schmidt, if he were a normal person who came back from work at normal hours. As it is, there's just you to look at him, a welcome break from potential distress signals and what they might mean.

"Just put some of your drawings on the tower, they'll be too scared to go near it!"

"Ha ha," Mundy says sarcastically, before going outside to park the prawn-

"Oh, for fuck's sake! It’s fucking gone!"

You and Monk, still on the radio, step outside, but sure enough, the prawn suit has disappeared without a trace, as far as you can tell.

"I'm still trying, quietly--I don't want any more trouble--to figure out where I went wrong. I was sure Tam had picked up a distress signal!" Monk bends down to peer at the tracks. "I was right on top of it. And then it just," he gets to the edge of the glacier, stands up, and shakes his head, "it just stopped. What if one of the precursors is still down there? And how could a hivemind alien race so advanced that they singlehandedly ended a galaxy wide pandemic leave someone behind? I'll probably be home before I ever get to find out, and it will fall to some future researcher to come and find out, I guess, I hope," he waves the two of you back into the habitat and closes the door. "But that means I'll get to be with you little rascals." His voice fades and disappears.

"So, game tonight?" you ask, hoping to erase the distress off Mundy’s face.

"That'd be nice," he says with a weak smile, just before Jensen slams her door open.

"Mundy, inside!" barks the overseer of operations.

Mundy sighs and drags his feet as he walks into Jensen's office. No sooner has she closed the door with a snap than you and Monk have your heads pressed against the door.

"Mundy, I'm not blaming you, but what do you mean, 'it's gone?' Where did it go? You had trouble retrieving the drop pod and decided to jettison the prawn suit?"

"I didn't jettison the prawn suit! I left it outside to put the supply drop away, went back for it, and it was just gone! Someone must have stolen it."

"Who? Who else do you think is on this planet besides the five of us?"

"It could be a creature ate it. I didn't lose it, that's for sure. I'm careful with my vehicles!"

You can practically hear Jensen’s eyeroll as she continues, "I'm sure you are, but you have to admit, there have been a lot of 'accidents' involving our very expensive vehicles."

"You want to follow me on a few runs tomorrow? See what it's like? Conditions are way harsher than anything I ever imagined. You can't really understand it from inside your office!"

Monk winces, and you know there's a matching pained expression on your face. Talking back to Jensen is a terrible idea, but Mundy's sealed his fate, and now all that's left is to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"That won't be necessary," Jensen says with syrupy calm. "Thank you for your time. I'll write it up as an accident."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mundy's voice is shaky. Jensen doesn't respond, so the vehicle technician’s deliberately loud footsteps approach the door, prompting you and the precursor researcher you're spying with to run like your asses are on fire back to your stations.

"I think it'd be best if Researcher Tam takes over your duties with the leviathan tomorrow," Jensen says, loudly enough for you to hear, even through the door.

Now it's your turn to wince. Mundy gives you a small smile as he walks past, and then Jensen's in your line of sight, hands on her hips.

"I believe I told you to go somewhere."

"Yes, ma'am," you drop everything to put your thermal suit on, and pour a final cup of sweet, sweet dirty bean water in your thermos. There's no cappuccino machine allowed in the cave, lest it somehow thaw out the entire frozen leviathan Mundy, and now you, are studying. Or maybe it was just Schmidt being anal about his robots, you wouldn't put it past the guy whose lips are basically permanently attached to Jensen's ass.

On the bright side, they're also attached to a guy who knows what he's doing, and is thorough in explaining what Mundy does when he's here. Still, it's barely five minutes in when the silence gets to you.

"I love and hate exploring these tunnels," you start to babble, not expecting Schmidt to respond. "Yeah, they're marvels to the power of the ice worms. I mean, the amount of ice they are able to cut through in seconds, it would take us at least a couple days. Their tunneling mechanism is ruthlessly efficient. Alterra could only dream of having this sort of mining capability, and yeah, the ice worms uncover mineral rich pockets as they tunnel. But going beneath the surface is so risky, I mean, we've lost so many already, and I don't understand why we have to stay in this particular area of the glacier. I can't wait to get off this hellhole, or ice hole? Whatever."

You can hardly believe it, but you hear a clear snort coming from Schmidt’s workstation. You fill your flasks with a wide smile on your face, which doesn’t fade even when you make your way back across the tunnel to see his with its usual pinched, sour expression.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?" you wave the thermos at him. "It might help you get the taste of Alterra boot leather out of your mouth," you say in a singsong voice.

"How much sugar and cream is in that?" Schmidt wrinkles his nose. "No thank you."

You decide to let that roll off your back and chuckle a little. "I guess my proclivities toward having coffee with my sugar is well known, huh? Just like how I should know better than to invite you to game night with me and the other researchers, again?"

Is snow blindness affecting your vision, or did Schmidt just smile?

"You should know better," he says in a soft voice, and then he takes out another set of small, sterile flasks, and hands them to you. "Get some samples from the skull, too, use the elevator."

"Thanks!" you grab the flasks, only to drop them the second you put your hand on the elevator lift button, because that's a fucking rotten peeper hanging off the edge.

Schmidt snaps his gloves off and cleans it up, which is nice of him, even if the things he says while he does it aren’t very nice. "Mundy," he practically spits, "always leaving food around. At least the nutrient blocks and the filtered water don't spoil."

"Well, the man likes to munch on things," you try to lighten the mood. "Are you telling me you don’t leave snacks around your workstation?" Schmidt opens his mouth, but you interrupt. "Don't tell me, you have a timer telling you when to go to the fabricator to make food and eat?"

He closes his mouth and turns a little red.

Holy shit, you were right? That's the saddest thing you've ever heard. "Okay, you know what, you are definitely playing Alien Intruders with us tonight, because I'm going to cook. Real food, too, none of that fabricated stuff."

"Oh, I am?" Schmidt raises an eyebrow.

"Yep! And I'm going to make my favorite dish, just for you, you'll love it! Roasted Chinese potato with shredded marblemelon and salt."

That was definitely a snort, maybe even a laugh, and it carries you through the rest of the day.

#ernst schmidt x reader

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multiharlot · 5 years ago

Text

real life spencer / matthew gray gubler x reader

summary: in which matthew meets the woman who inspired the man that’s stolen the hearts of america.

masterlist

part two

third person pov

the girl walked timidly through the busy filming set, clutching her hands around the strap of her shoulder bag. she approaches the studio doors, rocking awkwardly on her white low top vans and running her hand through her hair. her yellow midi skirt swayed softly over her legs as the warm los angeles breeze floated through her white button up. the doors open suddenly and she jumps back, nearly tripping over herself.

“you must be, y/n. i’m jeff davis, thank you for coming in today.” the man smiles, sticking his hand out to the girl.

her mouth opens and closes before she smiles.

“hi. sorry umm...germ thing.” she chuckled awkwardly.

“oh. oh right i’m sorry. come in and meet the cast.” he says, wiping his hands on his pants and opening the door wider.

she stepped into the doors, tucking her hair behind her ears and waiting for jeff to lead the way.

“we really appreciate you being here and consulting with us. we want to make this show as real as possible.” he explains as he leads her towards the writers room.

“of course, i’m happy to help. you did decide to base a character off of me, it’s the least i can do.” she nods, the thought in her mind made her feel slightly awkward, but grateful nonetheless.

“yes, the cast is so excited to meet you by the way. we all were. it’s not everyday you get to meet a real life genius.” he chuckles.

“technically, passing the IQ test only determines that you have a certain IQ. a large portion of those with higher IQ’s aren’t all that smart. high IQ’s couldn’t determine your true intelligence, never mind a genius.” she shrugs, silently reveling in the fact that yet another person had called her a genius.

she secretly hated the term genius. as complimenting as it was, the word had hung over her head her entire life. she herself never believe she was a genius, and the word alone made her feel as though she had to meet a certain quota. the idea of being a genius held her to a standard that she felt she couldn’t meet.

“right...well i mean, you do have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. so...you’re the most genius non-genius i’ve ever met.” jeff shrugged, stopping in front of the white door.

“yeah...” the girl trails off, stopping beside him.

“well this is the writer’s room, and this is our cast. everyone, meet agent- sorry, dr. y/n y/l/n. doctor, i give you the criminal minds cast.” jeff smiles as he opens the door, leading the girl into the room.

she rocked awkwardly on her sneakers, waving timidly.

“oh you’re so cute!” kirsten squeals, wrapping her arms around the girl, making her jump back.

“sorry. ah. i’m sorry. i just uhh...germ thing.” she chuckles, making kirsten blush.

“oh. oh i’m so sorry. i’m just a hugger.”

“that’s okay. you know our tendency to engage in physical touch is often a product of our upbringing. those of us who’s parents weren’t as physically demonstrative tend to disengage from activities like hugging, or even something as simple as a pat on the back.” the girl rambles nervously, making everyone in the room pause.

“although, some children tend to have the exact opposite effect, leading to a starvation for human physical interaction, which in turn actually turns them into huggers.” matthew smiles widely at the girl.

she blushes, and a nervous chuckle escapes her lips.

“you must be dr. spencer reid, nice to meet you.” she smiles, nodding her head at the man.

“my name is matthew. matthew gray gubler. and it’s nice to meet you too, doctor.” he smirks, looking the girl up at down.

shemar raises his eyebrow at him, an impressed smirk growing onto his face.

“right, well, y/n here has graciously taken the day off to help assist in our terminology and making this show as realistic as possible. so, let’s get started.” jeff smiles, closing the door behind him.

the room buzzes with light chatter as everyone begins taking their seats. y/n stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of where she would be going. matthew takes note of this, and smiles softly, standing from his chair and walking over to her.

“you can come sit next to me.” he smiles.

“o-okay.” she nods, clutching the strap of her bag tightly and following beside him.

the cast all exchange knowing looks as they looked from each other to the pair off in their own little world.

“so, tell me, is working in the fbi as hectic as we’re making it seem?” matthew asks, leaning his head on his hands.

“yes and no. we’re more of a sub-unit within the national center for the analysis of violent crimes. there are a total of six different behavioral analysis units, each of us working for a different type of crime.” she explains as the writers scribbled across their notepads feverishly.

“and which one are you on?” thomas asks, and she smiles as she looks at the man.

“i work in analysis unit 4, which is crimes against adults and we also work hand in hand with the violent criminal apprehension program, also known as ViCap.”

“is it true you graduated high school at twelve? or did jeff just make that up?” kirsten asks, her eyes wide and curious.

“thirteen. not twelve. and after high school, i attended Stanford, Cal Tech, and then Harvard where i was immediately recruited by the US government. i’m not supposed to tell you this, but it’s true what they say about those who take math 55.”

“how many PhD’s do you have?” aj asks as she leans onto the table.

“two. chemistry and clinical psychology. and i also have a master’s degree in neurobiology.”

“did they wave you through the academy the same way they did pretty boy, here?” shemar asks, ruffling the top of matthew’s head.

“no they did not. i actually went through the training, same as everyone else. one thing that isn’t accurate about this show, however, is that our agents are actually required to take a certain amount of personal days per month, and there’s a mandatory 12 hours of counseling with our building psychologist that we have to complete every month.”

“how many personal days?” matthew asks, a flirtatious smile slapped on his face causing the butterflies to go into a frenzy in y/n’s stomach.

“u-um. i have a quota of three days per month. so i usually take a long weekend at the end of every month.” she smiles, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

“do you carry a gun? oh! can we see your credentials?” aj gasps, almost excitedly.

“i do. but only when i’m on the job. otherwise, i don’t like having them. and uhh..yeah sure.” y/n mumbles, rummaging through her purse and pulling out both her credentials and her identification card.

y/n hands them to matthew and his fingers graze lightly over hers, causing a blush to form over her cheeks. he passes them along to the rest of the cast and he then looks down at the girl next to him.

“can i draw you?”

“only if i can draw you.”

matthew chuckles, nodding his head. and the two mindlessly doodled each other as the meeting went on. y/n answered what seemed like an endless amount of questions and matthew simply stared her. her eyes, her nose, her lips. he found her absolutely beautiful, and he couldn’t manage to tear his eyes away from her for longer than 2 minutes at a time. as y/n finished her one line doodle of matthew, she scribbled a quick note at the bottom of the page, and tore it out of her notebook. matthew ripped the page from his, ready to hand it to the girl when jeff interrupted them.

“alright guys, we’ll see you tomorrow. and thank you, dr. y/l/n, for coming in. i can’t explain how informative you’ve been.”

odd choice of words, she thought. but she nodded, saying you’re welcome nonetheless.

everyone began to exit the room and matthew called out for the doctor, stopping her in her tracks. she looks up at him only realize just how tall he really was.

“here.” he smiled, handing over the paper.

to: the real life spencer reid from: gatthew may bugler

she giggled as she opened the page, seeing the truly abstract drawing of herself.

“this is actually really good.” she smiled, staring down at the page.

“thank you. it helped to have such a beautiful model.” he says, biting his lip nervously.

a blush covered her cheeks and her ears and she giggled nervously.

“well umm...here.” she says, handing over her page.

when he folds open the paper, his mouth falls open at the beautiful one-line drawing she had done of him. then, his eyes fall to the bottom of the page, and his mouth runs dry.

“umm..give me a call if you need any...character reference.” she says as she rocks back and forth on her feet.

“can i call you even if i don’t need any character reference?”

she smiles, nodding her head.

“would uh...would you maybe want to go grab lunch with me?” he asks, scratching nervously at the back of his neck.

she opens her mouth to say something when her phone rings out. her eyebrows furrow as she pulls her phone out of her bag, her partners name across the top.

“sorry, this’ll just take a second- i’m on my personal time, fields.” she sighs into the phone.

“no no i know. so am i. and i also know you’re in los angeles. wanna go check out the bureau offices?”

“sorry, i have plans.” y/n shrugs, staring up at matthew.

“oh do you? doing what?” fields questions.

y/n bites her lip, reaching over and grabbing matthew’s hand.

“someone’s taking me to lunch” she smiles, pulling matthew towards the studio exit and hanging up the phone.

“so, where are we going mr. bugler?” she smiles.

“i thought you had a germ thing.” he says, raising an eyebrow at their intertwined hands.

“i’ll make an exception for you.” she shrugs, making him smile.

“well, how does chinese sound?”

“perfect..as long as i don’t have to use those god awful chopsticks.”

“a PhD in engineering yet you can’t use chopsticks?”

“excuse you. dr. reid is the one with the PhD in engineering. i only have PhD’s in chemistry and psychology.”

“oh. yeah. only.”

taglist:

@dreatine @slytherinintj13 @mileven-reddie @eleventhdoctorsangel @haileymorelikestupid

#mgg #mgg imagine #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #x reader

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years ago

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Red Dead Cupid: Friends in Arms

Hello @katerix I’m your Red Dead cupid! I chose your request for Landon Ricketts x f!Reader being best friends, passing time\chilling together, when not busy maintaining an order around. I hope you like it! @rdr-secret-cupid

I also chose a bit of a different writing POV, just trying something a little different.

I lean back in my chair, the heat washing over me. It isn’t really much of a bother anymore, I’m long used to the unforgiving sun. It’s a requirement when you live down in Mexico. I take one last drag from my cigarette and then throw it down, pressing it out with my boot. On my left is the small table with my shot glass of whiskey, the chair on the other side empty but expectant for its usual occupant.

After a moment of watching a hawk lazily circle on the air currents, the chair creaks. I look over and see my most trusted companion and lifelong friend. Landon Ricketts. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and yes it is the famed Landon Ricketts, the fastest draw in the West and famed gunslinger.

He sighs heavily and drinks his shot of whiskey, grimacing at the burn. He looks worn out, but he always looks that way. After all, he hasn’t had a quiet life until recently, if you can really call his life now quiet. I do though, but that may be because I was with him a decent amount of the time he was living wild in the deserts of America.

“Them Gutierrez boys giving you trouble again?” I ask as he leans back, pulling out a cigarette.

“When aren’t they?” he says in his gruff voice.

“I’m surprised you’ve been as patient with them as you have been,” I comment.

“I’m tired of those days, y/n. And I’ve told you, I wanna give that nonsense up, try for something different. But, guess even in a different country, I can’t escape my past.”

I sigh, knowing what he means. As a teenager, Landon found me as a wild orphan, threatening anyone and challenging absolutely everyone to a gunfight. It was a dark time for me. I’d lost my family and through the anger that rose from my grief, I tried taking it out on everyone around me. Landon came through town, and how could I not challenge him? The most famous gunslinger.

I still remember the way he looked at me when I threatened him. He just laughed and turned his back to me, so I shot him. Or tried to. I was a real bad shot and my bullet whizzed right past him. But he turned back to me. Guess I made some kind of impression on him, because after that, he took me in. Taught me how to shoot and fight.

We ran together for a few years after that, became just as close as two gunslingers could. It wasn’t unusual for people back then to confuse him as my father, which sometimes we played along with if we were robbing someone. But the truth was it bothered me. Landon was never a father figure to me, but he was my friend. He was the only person who recognized my anger in my youth as a plea for help. I trusted him more than anyone.

In my late twenties, I ended up drifting off from Landon. Not on purpose, but he was always on the move. He had to be with his notoriety. At one point, I didn’t see him for so long I just sort of made my own way and fell into a gang of outlaws. Having a dirty history myself, I fit right in. The leader, Dutch, was a good man at first, but he ended up going crazy when the gang fell apart through a series of tragedies. By that point though, I’d already fallen in love and married his right hand man Arthur Morgan.

I loved Arthur, more than anything. He was one of the few members in that gang who knew my past with Landon, but he kept my secret. I didn’t tell anyone about Landon because I didn’t always appreciate his fame. Whenever anyone found out I ran with him, they’d bombard me with questions about him. It was always about him. Arthur understood, and he didn’t talk or ask about him much.

But then, Arthur died in 1899 of tuberculosis. His death crushed me. Dutch was so far gone in his madness that I just ended up leaving. Besides, the gang was finished by that point anyways, sometimes I’m amazed I didn’t end up getting killed in the process. I was so lost though when Arthur passed, I don’t remember much from after that period. I buried him and then I remember I stayed near his grave for a long time.

A couple of months passed after Arthur’s passing. I was still lost in my grief, living near his grave. One day, Landon showed up in the cabin I was living in. He said nothing but he threw down a newspaper at my feet. The top article was about my gang that fell apart.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Because I know you,” Landon said. “I may not have been around much, but I know you. You think I didn’t know about your marriage to Arthur? When I read about him, I knew I needed to find you. I’m very sorry for your loss, y/n.”

Landon was the first person to comfort you about Arthur. I didn’t want to live like this anymore, in my solitude and kept company by nothing aside from my grief. Although I was still shattered, I considered going with Landon, but I told him I didn’t want to live the wild life of an outlaw anymore.

“I’ve done that already,” I said, “I don’t wanna do it anymore. It leads to nothing but pain.”

Landon agreed and said he wanted to do the same. He was also tired of the life, of any man who had even a sliver of confidence challenging him to a duel. He wanted to help people, to make some peace out of the violence he’d sewn.

So after that, I went with him down southwest. At first, we tried settling in places like Armadillo and Tumbleweed. But Landon’s fame followed him and he couldn’t escape the life he was trying to leave behind. That was when I decided that maybe it would be better to go down to Mexico. After all, everywhere I went reminded me of my husband. I just wanted to escape the memories, not because I regretted my marriage, but because I just wanted relief from my pain.

Landon agreed to the idea of Mexico, so a few years ago we settled down in the town of Chuparosa. It was a fairly wild town, overrun with gangs and troublemakers. It took some time, but we got it tamed. It was Landon’s idea to sort of make ourselves the equivalent of sheriffs, as the town lacked any real form of law. I half-heartedly agreed, even though being a peacekeeper was the opposite of what I used to do and the kind of person I used to run from.

But even down here, Landon was chased by his past. Sometimes a vigilante would come, having heard of Landon’s presence and would try to take him on. Luckily those types of men were few and far between. Every once in a while, one of the gangs we’d chased out would come back and try to cause trouble. But we were more than a match for them. The Gutierrez brothers were the last to not get the hint, until today.

Landon puts out his cigarette. Just as I’m about to say something, a young woman comes running up to him. I recognize her of course, Luisa Fortuna. A fiery member, and an enthusiastic member of the rebellion going on in Mexico. She’s breathing excitedly.

“Ricketts! The Guiterrez brothers. They’re back!”

Landon sighs and leans forward. He checks his pistol before reholstering it. “How long before I end up having to shoot these fools?” he says and stands up. I follow him, telling myself I can help if things get out of hand. Truth is though I just want to see these idiots get what they're owed. They’ve been a problem for too long and getting far too confident.

Just as we’re rounding the corner to the main street, I hear a familiar voice, taunting someone. That voice… it brings the dull pain I’ve sat on for ten years. I jog past Landon and find on the main street one of the Gutierrez brothers facing someone I haven’t seen since my gang fell apart. He’s grown older and he looks far more serious than I’ve ever seen him, but there’s no denying who he is: John Marston.

As Landon joins your side, John and the Gutierrez brother suddenly draw their weapons and shoot. John’s bullet finds its mark, but the other Gutierrez brothers pull out their guns to avenge their fallen brother. However they’re no match for John. Not that I’m surprised. He learned from some of the best gunslingers. I think the only person who had a better education in shooting is myself thanks to Landon.

When the last brother falls, Landon saunters forward as John holsters his gun. “I must admit, I’m impressed. Not many men would take on all the Gutierrez brothers and even fewer who could have taken them all down.”

“Who are you?” John asks, his eyes mean. It’s a bit strange, he always had a light in his eyes. Then again, I haven’t seen him since Arthur died after he sacrificed himself to the Pinkertons to save me and John. I guess it’s really no surprise that he’s changed too since then.

“Landon Ricketts. This is my town, I been trying to keep these boys under control, obviously not well. But now I’m curious. A fella like you who can take all of them down without hardly blinking an eye, I gotta ask. What you doin’ all the way down here?”

“I’m lookin’ for… some old friends of mine. One of ‘em came running down here and I think he’s met up with the other.”

This strikes me. He must be looking for me, but how did he hear I was down here? I walk out of the shadows of the building and look hard at him. John’s eyes widen.

“Y/n? What you doin’ down here?”

“Thought you said you was lookin’ for some old friends. I assumed you meant me.”

He shuffles his feet a bit. “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t even know you were down here.”

Landon turns to me. “You know this man?”

I nod. “Yes. He was my husband’s brother. I thought you were dead, John.”

Over the next few hours, the three of us sit at the saloon and talk. I tell John about my relationship to Landon and why I came down here with him after that whole mess with the gang. John then discloses his past, how he tried to come clean of his outlaw days. He and Abigail ran a ranch outside of Blackwater, but then the Pinkertons, in their determination to get Dutch, took his family hostage in order to get John to hunt down his former gang members.

When John tells me this, I feel a plummet in my stomach. I lean forward and look at him, daring him. “So these Pinkertons want you to kill your old gang members. That mean you’re gonna kill me?”

John looks at you, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know, y/n. I’m not sure the Pinkertons even know you’re down here. I assumed you died shortly after Arthur…”

Landon looks between the two of us but doesn’t interrupt. He knows I need to settle this myself. Landon has never been a man to fight my battles for me. It’s proven a frustration in the past, but at this moment, it’s appreciated.

“Then John, I don’t know how much I can be of help to you. I ain’t giving those bastards a reason to kill me. If they’re going after Javier and Bill just for their associations with Dutch, they’ll definitely want me dead too. I was married to Dutch’s right hand man, after all.”

Landon turns to me. “I think you’re making a mistake, y/n.”

I turn to refute him, but he cuts me off. “You’ve been wasting away with me these past ten years. I haven’t wanted to say it, but whatever happened with that gang broke you. I don’t know what this Arthur Morgan was like, but I’m guessing he didn’t give his life up for you and his brother to see you live like this.”

“He also hated revenge. Always said it was a fool’s game. I’m not killing Bill and Javier.”

“You don’t have to,” John says. “I’ll do the killing, but it would sure be helpful if I had you by my side.”

I sigh. Landon’s right, Arthur wouldn’t want me to let John go alone. Not after everything he gave up for us both to live. However I’m sure that the end of this journey will end in one way: my death. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad though. After all, Landon’s right. I’ve been wasting away in liquor and grief down here. I stopped living a long time ago.

I throw back my shot of tequila. “Alright, John. I’ll help you find Javier and Bill.”

I glance over at Landon and see he’s smiling. Now that I think about it, he’s never wanted this life for me. He used to say I had a fire that could not be doused. He must have known that this life, sitting in this hot, boring town and watching my life go on without me was never for me. That’s why he never searched for me while I was with the gang. I was doing what made me happy.

As I think about it, I realize now how much I’ve missed that life. Running wild and free. No it was never easy, but it was me. Living in this town as a sheriff is not what I want to do. I’m not cut out for it. I realize that John is giving me an opportunity to do what I’m meant to do. Sure, it won’t bring back the glory days from the gang, but it’s the next best thing. And if I die doing it, it’d be better than dying here, old and wishing I could have done things differently.

Finally resolved, I stand up. “Okay, John. Let’s go find these bastards and get your family back.”

#rdr secret cupid 2021 #red dead fanfic #landon ricketts #rdr fanfic #i'm awkward

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 9 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: ANGST :D LACK OF COMMUNICATION BOTTLED-UP FEELINGS… This is a little re-cap from Lemon’s pov to fill some blank spaces and now ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO! I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading it! <3

-9-

Somewhere in New York City, two weeks ago.

Lemon was packing her things for the trip, she’d still have to pick Rita up from the airport and refuel before hitting the road. She was already low-key stressed out by the traffic reports when Jan walked into her bedroom.

“Hey, Lemony. Are you still packing?”

“I need to get those things inside my suitcase.” She pointed at the pile of clothing that was still sitting on her bed. “And I want to leave early in the morning to get the most sunlight on the way there.”

“Okay, I’ll help you closing the suitcase, to begin with,” Jan said, trying to help her afflicted roommate.

Once they were done, the blonde was still clearly uneasy about the whole road trip.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know… I have this feeling in my chest… something about all this.”

“Lemz, I told you, you have to cry when you feel like or the anguish is going to blow up when you less expect it.”

“No, it’s not that –although, thanks for the reminder- it’s something else…”

Jan waited.

“I dreamt of Priyanka last night.”

“Oh…”

“It was a weird dream I can barely remember a thing, we were like ten again and we were in the local swimming pool and then we were twenty again… I don’t know.” Lemon sat on the edge of her bed.

“Maybe it’s a sign. Something in your subconscious is taking you back to her.” Jan wasn’t a psychology major but sometimes it felt like she was.

“I… why? It’s been seven years since we last met and it didn’t end well. Why now?”

“Because seven years is more than enough time to heal, I guess. Is she in Toronto?”

“Yeah…” She was never going to admit to Jan that she used her idea of befriending people in social media… many years later.

“Why don’t you drop by?”

“Are you out of your mind? To do what? I show up out of nowhere and say hey wanna hang out?” Lemon sounded exasperated. “Besides, I don’t know if I wanna see her.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “Maybe I don’t… maybe I’m okay with this being the way it is.”

“Girl, you’re not. I know it, you know it, we all know it…”

“No, I can’t go to Toronto. That’s crazy.” She shook the idea off her head. “I’ll go back home and spend some time with my family and then I’ll be back in time for the dance festival in three weeks. It’s planned perfectly.”

“Okay.” Jan, who understood Lemon’s struggles the most, was always supportive when it came to Priyanka. She just patted her back and let her be.

A half-hour later, Lemon drove to the airport to pick Rita up. That night they went out to have dinner at some fancy restaurant in Manhattan –Rita’s knowledge of New York came up exclusively from Sex and the City and Gossip Girl thus Lemon let her live the fantasy for one night. After all, she paid.

They stayed in Lemon’s apartment since Jan was spending the night at Jackie’s and the following morning they woke up before the sun rose on the horizon. Lemon picked some coffee and breakfast from the nearest café open and then they hit the road.

Rita did her best to stay awake but she kept yawning so Lemon let her sleep for a little. In the meantime, she played some music from the CDs on the glove compartment. She started with the ageless Survivor and then switched to Teenage Dream.

Lemon had her car for over a year now and she had become a much more diligent driver during that year. Before she wouldn’t even have considered driving to Canada but after getting used to the traffic in the city and the sound of ceaseless horns and people yelling, the highway was like a child’s play.

Rita woke up when the sunlight hit her in the face, right on time to change the CD again.

“Oh, can I pick the music?”

“Sure,” Lemon pointed at the glove compartment. “there you have a few if you want to look around or the radio…”

“I brought this one.” She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a Taylor Swift CD.

“Rita I didn’t have you for a Swiftie.” Lemon arched an eyebrow. “I’m not the biggest fan but… okay.”

“But she’s really good.”

Bonding trip, bonding trip, bonding trip…

Lemon didn’t know how she ended up listening to a country album but Rita seemed happy while singing some of the lyrics along. She had to admit there were some bops there. Love Story with the Shakespearian references was good, she’d give her that. She was paying attention to the road mostly.

And then it hit her.

Track nº 6 – You Belong with Me.

Lemon was sure she had heard that song on the radio before and seen the music video somewhere –most likely- but she had never truly listened to the lyrics until that moment. The tune was catchy or whatever but the chorus –and the bridge- really resonated with her.

She closed her grip over the steering wheel once the song was over.

“Rita, play it again.” She said, dead serious.

“Huh? Okay…”

The sixth time, Lemon had it. She was almost in tears screaming from the top of her lungs.

Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I’m the one who makes you laugh

When you know you’re ‘bout to cry

And I know your favorite songs

And you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong

Think I know it’s with me

“Again.”

“Lemon, I think it’s time to stop. This is an intervention.”

“I said, play the song again. The bridge really makes me feel something.”

“I can tell…” Rita looked concerned. “I think it’s a good moment for us to switch positions. I can drive for a little.”

She probably fucked Rita’s CD by repeating that song so many times but the echo that it left inside Lemon’s head was like an expansive wave and it reached the deepest, recondite memories of her mind.

She spotted Priyanka the minute she walked into the dining, how could she miss it? Priyanka always managed to draw attention wherever she went and she wasn’t even conscious about it most of the time.

Seeing pictures on someone else’s Facebook wall was one thing but seeing her life had taken Lemon by surprise. She should’ve suspected when she saw Kiara and Scarlett together –and they had seen her too- so it was probably just a matter of time for her to find out as well.

Lemon couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Days prior to her arrival, Lemon had just the normal amount of experiences next to her family, visiting relatives she hadn’t seen in a while, going out to have dinner with her dad, his wife, and Rita, visiting old friends and places from her childhood…

She didn’t expect to meet Priyanka there –just like when she had returned for her dad’s wedding- their paths didn’t cross that occasion and this time was supposed to be the same except it wasn’t. Priyanka was in town and she was there, at the same place at the same moment as Lemon, something she only had dreamt about. Literally.

She had stopped listening to what Boa was saying and in consequence, spilled some orange juice on the denim jacket she had over her dress.

“Oh, shit!” She rushed to grab a napkin.

The girls on the table tried to help her, she removed the clothing item and left it on the table assuring it would dry but excused herself to go to the bathroom for a moment.

Lemon needed to think straight.

Well, no, not that… scratch it.

Lemon needed to think straight clearly.

She could walk directly to their table and just say «hi!» short, sweet, concise… or something like «I just came to say hello» that would give the right idea of her being friendly… right?

She pulled out her phone and called Jan, it was an emergency call.

“Jan… pick up… pick up…”

“Hello?”

“Oh my God, Jan… this is a disaster and I’m gonna die.”

“What? Wait… what happened? Are you okay?”

“Priyanka is here.”

Long pause on the phone.

“Oh, I see…”

“And I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to say or how to act in front of her anymore… and now I’m hiding in a bathroom booth like a vile fifteen-year-old.”

“Lemon, breathe… you need to calm down.”

“No shit… I don’t know if I can do this… what if I fuck it up again?”

“Just say «hi», nothing bad can come from a hi.”

“That was my first choice, thank you… I think I will… wish me luck.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She hung up. At that moment, someone else got inside the bathroom and got in the contiguous booth but Lemon was too immersed in her own thoughts to notice. She walked out, washed her hands, and made sure her hair was looking fine.

Just say «hi». She was going to walk to that table and say hi… It couldn’t go wrong.

Except it did.

Priyanka wasn’t at the table, why wasn’t she at the table? Lemon had just seen her. How was possible that when she finally brought herself to take the first step she wasn’t there? Was she hallucinating? You know what? That was so typical Priyanka never staying quiet for so long in a place and…

Her thoughts started bubbling while she tried to maintain a polite conversation with the other girls. There was one particularly pretty she hadn’t seen around before named Denali, would she be close to Priyanka too? Lemon felt a pang of jealously.

And then, she appeared.

Everyone at the table went silent and when she turned around, there she was.

Taller than Lemon could remember, absolutely gorgeous like a goddess with her long hair and pretty features, it had been a while but there she was, just like she remembered her.

Lemon attempted to smile but it became awkward. She was so nervous she couldn’t say anything…

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She smiled at the people sitting at the table. “It’s nice to see you, guys. I hope we can hang out sometime.” She was about to run away because even when she thought she could do it, she couldn’t.

“Hello to you too.” Those were Priyanka’s first words in all that time.

And then, the rage took over.

Was it so difficult to call her back?

Seven years!

“Oh, so you can speak now…”

It went downhill horribly after that.

Lemon stormed out of the dining, walked a little trying not to show her true feelings, and finally laid against a wall to recover from what had just happened. She let the air out of her lungs and then remembered her bag, her jacket, and her car keys were still inside. Luckily enough, she had brought her phone and rushed to text Rita to get her things.

Her hands were still shaking and if she looked through a window she’d spot her again. There was nothing else that Lemon wanted to do but she also felt the need of kicking and screaming, to do something with all those feelings that she had piled up in her heart.

She needed to clear her mind and, in order to do that, she needed to dance, put her body in motion somehow.

It was time to go out.

Lemon felt the most comfortable dancing and the dancefloor was like a second home for her. There she didn’t need to think much, just feel the rhythm and let her body do the rest.

Naturally, she felt deeply aggrieved when Priyanka showed up to disrupt her sacred space.

Well, it wasn’t that sacred, it was a nightclub or whatever.

Yet, how dared she?

How dared she showing up like that?

How dared she looking that beautiful with that top that revealed her back?

Lemon gulped when no one was watching.

She was with that pretty girl from the other day, Denali.

Wait, what if…?

Priyanka had all the right to date someone if she wanted to and who wouldn’t date Priyanka? She was amazing, funny, so beautiful… Maybe there was a real chance that she was dating that girl –that very attractive girl- and good for them… it was a good thing, right?

Fuck it.

Lemon stole Priyanka’s drink, she needed something strong to numb her senses and erase those thoughts.

The shot gave Lemon a dosage of renewed confidence, she could feel physically her inhibitions abandoning her body. She smirked at Priyanka and stared directly into her brown eyes before heading to the dancefloor.

She lost herself among the crowd, closed her eyes, and let the alcohol take over, making her feel lighter. She danced and danced for the longest time as if she had a pair of red shoes on, going with the flow was something she mastered and she proved it.

She didn’t know how long it had been but when she opened her eyes, she spotted Priyanka on the bar again. A sense of heat ran through her body before the idea she was being seen. Her moves became more calculated, she wanted to put a show for real this time but make it effortlessly like she had no clue like she wasn’t aware of the girl’s presence so close yet so far.

She followed Jennifer Lopez’ instructions in the lyrics of On The Floor.

Dance the night away, live your life and stay young on the floor.

She didn’t care if she was sweaty afterward or how sore her feet were going to be the next morning, she had achieved her goal.

And now she was thirsty which led to the bar and to…

“Ew, cinnamon.” Only Priyanka could like something like the taste of fireball.

Lemon recognized the guy that tried to grope her on the dance floor and of course, she told him to fuck off even when it sounded harsh for Priyanka.

And from moment to another –things were happening too fast- she was drinking tequila with her former best friend from kindergarten.

Lemon stared at Priyanka, her makeup was perfectly done and it looked like an ad for the rest of the night regardless of how much she danced. Maybe she was being biased since Priyanka hadn’t ever looked bad in her eyes.

“That girl… Denali…” Lemon tested the waters at the mention of her name. “is she… close to you?”

She had to know… if she was dating someone…

“I adore her, yeah.”

“Is she… your girlfriend?”

But Priyanka was a little shit who wasn’t going to give her a straight answer to one simple question. Instead, she asked the blonde something else.

“Would you care?”

Yes, she would.

But instead of saying that, her first instinct was to storm out and basically run away as she had done before. She was being a coward, yes, but she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t answer that question, not at that moment, when she wasn’t careful enough with her words.

There was a big chunk of that night that was dedicated strictly to dancing, if her shoes weren’t completely worn out by the end of the night what was the point? But she kept an eye on one girl here and there until she lost it and she was anywhere to be seen.

Lemon didn’t want to admit that she looked around like a lost puppy but that was exactly what she did –she was drunk, okay?- and lonely.

She could only be outside or, in the worst scenario, she had gone home already.

Fortunately, Priyanka was smoking outside.

Smoking?

“There you are.” She said, eloquently to her judgment.

Priyanka shrugged. “Here I am.

There she was, looking all perfect and beautiful and…

If Lemon could only take some courage and put it into words…

Instead, she just pointed the height difference between them.

After that, it became blurry, she probably babbled a little –although she did remember the sound of Priyanka’s laugh and being called a Polly Pocket the next morning- next thing she knew she was on a taxi, texting Rita to open the door so her dad wouldn’t hear her.

And the following morning…

Jeez, she had one infernal headache. The room was spinning and not even when she laid down and closed her eyes the movement stopped. Rita had contemplated poking her with a stick but she had read somewhere that it wasn’t recommended to bother a wild animal on their sleep and it applied to drunk Lemon as well.

Finally, she walked in, it smelled like a liquor store in there and the environment was probably flammable.

“Lemon…” Rita whispered. “I’m going to the mall and your dad and my mom are having lunch with some friends. Are you going to be okay?”

“Mmmh…” She was breathing at least.

“Okay, remember they’re cooking dinner tonight.”

“Mkay…” She mumbled.

“Love you, bye.” She blew a kiss in the air and closed the door.

Lemon woke up what felt like hours later, she forced herself to take a bath. There wasn’t a damn aspirin to be seen in that house and she had already drunk more water than her bladder could handle. It wasn’t the best of the starts but at least she could walk.

When she stopped feeling dizzy, she grabbed her keys and drove to the supermarket because there weren’t Froot Loops either and her morning –morning being a loose term since it was almost noon- was already bad enough.

Not to mention that some idiot was playing around with a shopping cart inside of the supermarket and almost destroyed the cereal aisle.

“Jesus Christ you’re going to kill someone with that.” She clutched her imaginary pearls.

Wait a minute, she knew that idiot.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Priyanka mumbled.

Not now, not with that cranky mood, not with a killing headache, not when she only wanted a bowl of cereal and crawl back to bed.

Of course she was going to tell her to fuck off.

But then…Priyanka picked the cookie cereal and Lemon’s stone heart melt right in the spot. For years, whenever she saw chocolate chip cookies in the aisles of the supermarkets, in cafés, or with freaking girl scouts, she couldn’t help but think about that little kindergarten girl with big brown eyes and crumbs over her face.

And years later, she was in front of her…

Some things might have changed but they felt oddly familiar at that moment.

Priyanka not only had terrible taste in drinks, but it also applied to cars too… because that thing was setting on fire in no time.

Lemon had just walked out of the supermarket, she crossed the street, put her things into the trunk and bought some aspirins but when she was about to leave, she saw Priyanka sitting at the curb under her personal dark cloud… and another dark cloud behind her.

She should’ve left her there, it wasn’t any of her business but… she looked truly devastated.

“Looks like you could use a ride.” Priyanka glared at her.

“Not now.” She blurted out. “I don’t have time for your snarky comments so please refrain from saying anything you’d think is clever.”

Lemon lifted her sunglasses. “I’m not trying to get on your nerves; I’m legit offering you a ride.” Priyanka didn’t seem convinced. “Think for a moment, your groceries are going to go bad with the heat and no air conditioner.”

C’mon Priyanka, think for a moment…

“The ice cream bars…” She was on the verge of tears. “Fine. Yes, I need a ride, would you be so nice and help me out?”

“Come with me, my car is around the corner in front of the drugstore.”

“Buying some aspirins?”

“Cut the slack I’m trying to do a good deed here.”

“For a change.”

She was expecting a comment from the brunette about the fact that she had a yellow car and she did it as soon as they got into the car. What Lemon didn’t expect was forgetting which street led to Priyanka’s house. Maybe back in the day, she didn’t pay much attention but she was sure something had been changed, she remembered the way like the back of her hand… or maybe she didn’t.

It was nice of Priyanka to ask about her family. Lemon’s mother always asked at loud if she had news of the girl to which the blonde replied grumbling that they weren’t friends anymore. She secretly hoped her father would tell her if he had seen her in the supermarket or the street but since she moved to Toronto those meetings became rare… that was part of why she put Jan’s plan into motion.

Because she always missed her.

Then, Priyanka asked about Rihanna… how dared she questioning her impeccable music taste?

Obviously, she liked Rihanna. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Hey, this is the album you gave me before moving to New York, remember?”

“I do… that’s actually the copy I used to have in my room… the one we listened to on my radio.”

Lemon’s hands closed their grip over the steering wheel. That album was one of her most treasured possessions, she had shed giant tears the day it stopped working when the stereo of the car kept spitting the CD no matter how many times she tried it. The box had a permanent space inside the glove compartment.

Having Priyanka sitting next to her, holding it in her hands felt surreal for a moment as if seven years had never passed.

“Why did you keep it?”

Lemon thought about that question. Sometimes simple objects like that were the only link to the past and having them around was like owning a time-traveling machine that took her directly to the memories, that took her back to Priyanka and to that bond that once felt unbreakable.

Instead, she mumbled something about «sentimental value» which was the most generic thing to say.

Now, going back to her house did feel like they were using a time machine. It was comforting to know that some things were still the same there but still, the passage of time was perceptible through photos or little details that Lemon remembered. There were more children in the family pictures and it hit her that Priyanka’s mother was now a grandmother and that Priyanka was now an aunt. How crazy was that?

Back in the day, she couldn’t even imagine her friend taking care of a plant much less a living human being, and still, the photos told her otherwise.

Thank goodness the aspirins were starting to work but even though, that headache wasn’t going to stop her from fighting for that car that her friend –for some reason- loved so much. That mechanic was going to have a piece of her mind, she didn’t care if the car was actually set on fire with flames coming out of the engine, he had to tell Priyanka there was a possible solution to that problem.

All was not lost.

That was what he had said and a phrase that lingered in the air long after. It even made Lemon feel hopeful about the car’s state and considering she had called it a jalopy multiple times, it was something.

“Thank you, Lemon… for helping me so much today. You didn’t have to but still, you did.”

Priyanka’s words made her heart swell.

She started the engine. “You’ve done the same for me no questions asked.”

She knew Priyanka would have.

“Are you feeling better after the aspirins?”

“Yeah… I’m never drinking again I swear…”

“That’s a lie.”

“It is…”

“Do you even remember what you said? Last night?”

The question caught Lemon by surprise. She was trying to rack her brains to find that missing information, one of the endless possibilities of stupid things she might have said while being drunk… chances were…

“What did I say?” She was about to have an attack of some kind.

Priyanka started laughing.

Bitch.

“Priyanka, what did I say?”

Her hands were shaking but she held the steering wheel tighter.

“You called me Sprinky and kept asking if Denali is my girlfriend.”

Lemon breathed again. “Thank God… it was just that…”

Her soul had returned to her body.

“I remember that part, you never answered the question anyway.” She said. It seemed appropriate to bring the question back so she could have a clear answer.

Priyanka sighed. “Denali is my friend. Just that… we’re friends. Are you happy now?”

…sort of…

She was about thirty percent happier… yeah… was it something bad?

And then the conversation went somewhere Lemon knew they would eventually talk about.

“So you know… you know I like girls…”

Lemon could feel the sense of fear behind her words, the what if I’m not accepted? After pronouncing that short sentence, after baring her soul.

Lemon just nodded.

“And are you okay with that?”

She looked at Priyanka. “Why wouldn’t I? Of course I’m okay with that…”

Lemon wanted to scream from the top of her lungs… how could she even imagine that she wouldn’t be okay with it? When she…

“Don’t tell me that on top of you thinking that I dislike Rihanna you also consider myself to be homophobic or an ignorant asshole… that being the same thing.” She spat.

Then, she told Priyanka about Jan and Jackie and she suddenly found herself missing them, wishing her friends from New York could also be there in her hometown, she wanted them to meet Priyanka and her high school friends… having her two worlds collide.

After dropping Priyanka back and seeing her mother again, Lemon left with a sense of warmness over her body. She had spent an entire afternoon with her childhood best friend and they were finally at a point where they felt comfortable with each other to share new things and anecdotes alike like normal friends.

Friends.

A friendship with Priyanka was something she had never expected from that trip back home.

Later that week, Lemon got a text message from Boa asking if she was going to the lake thing she was organizing. Her phone buzzed a second later she read the first message.

«I ran into Scarlett and Priyanka and they’re in.»

Lemon bit her inner cheek. She didn’t care, why she’d care?

Right… they were cool now… they were somehow friends again…

But going into nature wasn’t something she was particularly fond of. She still had a scar from that time her dad had insisted that hiking was a good father-daughter activity. Why couldn’t they plan something like a shopping day? Inside of the mall, with functioning air conditioning… wonders of the modernity like electricity?

“Rita, do you want to spend the day in a lake?” She asked the other girl who was flipping through a book’s pages while sitting on the sofa.

“Sure, sounds interesting.” She said without looking away from the book.

“Ugh. You too?” She slumped on the sofa.

She sighed loudly.

“What’s the matter?” Rita asked, accustomed to her behavior and unbothered by it.

“I don’t know… I’m don’t want to go to a lake but…”

She wanted to see Priyanka.

“Don’t go then.”

“No! That’s not the solution.” She grumbled. “Ah, I don’t know…”

Rita closed her book. “What would cheer you up? Pizza? A movie? What’s that movie you’re always talking about?”

“Mean Girls.”

“The other one.”

“Clueless.”

“One that I haven’t watched before.”

“Oh, you mean Drop Dead Gorgeous?”

“That one… why don’t you go get the DVD or something and we’ll watch it tonight.”

Lemon was about to protest but she just nodded. “Okay… I’ll drop by the video club.”

“And I’ll order the pizza.”

“Can you also order mozzarella sticks?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Lemon got up and walked toward the garage. The door close behind her.

“Now I can finish this book.”

She knew that the greatest film genre a.k.a. the chick flick movie genre was in the same aisle and that the DVD she was looking for was there, somewhere. It was an empty DVD box but she’d take it to the cashier and show her dad’s membership card or so to pay for it.

Lemon had the DVD on her hands when a little kid almost ran over her.

“Wow! Careful there.”

She looked at the little girl in front of her and she had a déjà vu. By a general rule, Lemon didn’t like children –from the distance they were alright but upfront…- she didn’t know what to do with them. However, this kid immediately got her soft side because she reminded her of someone close to her heart.

The little girl with big brown eyes stared at her for a moment. Lemon was paralyzed thinking she was going to cry or something but to her surprise, she just gave her a compliment.

“You’re very pretty.” She said with her adorable voice.

If there was something she liked, it was getting complimented.

“Aw, thank you…you’re very pretty too.”

Wait, was she on her own? Maybe she didn’t find her parents.

Lemon kneeled to get closer to her level. “Are you lost?”

She shook her head.

“What’s your name?” She tried again.

“I’m Melanie.”

“Nice to meet you, Melanie. I’m Lemon, like the fruit.”

“Nice to meet you… Miss Lemon.”

She was going to melt right there.

“Did you come here with your mom? With your dad?”

She shook her head again. “With my auntie.”

“Ah, I see… What do you say if we look for your auntie?”

“She’s right there.” She pointed at someone behind Lemon.

Lemon turned around and met the brunette’s eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh. It’s you, auntie… I should’ve guessed.”

“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” Priyanka smiled proudly.

It was the girl she had seen in the pictures, back at her house the other day and now, seeing them next to each other, she couldn’t deny they looked alike.

Wait for a second, her name was Melanie?

“You really convinced your brother to name his daughter like two-fifths of the Spice Girls, didn’t you?”

Priyanka panicked. She rushed and covered her niece’s ears. “Shhhh… He doesn’t know that yet. It took me seven of the nine months of my sister-in-law’s pregnancy to plant the idea… neither Ginger nor Emma were working, so it was down to Melanie or Victoria.”

Of course…

Then Priyanka sent her niece to get a movie and they exchanged some commentaries about the movie Lemon was about to rent. It surprised her when the brunette asked about the lake activity.

“So… are you going to the lake thing Boa’s planning?”

Lemon shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not that into nature and being eaten by bugs…”

Sounded lovely when she put it like that.

“Oh, so she’s a city girl now.”

“Listen, I spent a good ten years of my life going camping with my dad and hating every second of it. I thought it was finally over when I moved.”

“The girls and I are going… and I’m sure we’re taking some type of booze with us, snacks, a campfire… It will be fun.”

Could it be that…? This was her chance to know.

Lemon tilted her head. “I didn’t know you wanted me to go.” She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Boa said the more the merrier… plus my car is still at the workshop and Scarlett might have screwed up her relationship with the one person that has a car among us.”

“So you need a ride… that’s it?”

Disappointing… Although, she was used to.

“Yeah… and it’ll be fun being all together again.”

“Sure… okay. I’ll tell Rita and we’ll be there.”

“Really?”

Lemon nodded.

Hey, maybe she was right and it would be fun… kind of.

At that moment, Priyanka’s niece returned with a DVD of Brave in her hand.

“Are you dating my auntie Pri?” She asked unscrupulous and unfiltered like any six-year-old.

Lemon almost had a heart attack. She just stared and then looked at Priyanka.

The brunette’s mouth dropped to the floor.

“Mel! You can’t ask people… That’s not… You don’t get to…”

“But daddy said that you like girls and that if you were going to date someone it would be a girl… and she’s a girl.”

Lemon covered her mouth with her hand, she was blushing underneath.

“Mel just because I’m talking to a girl it doesn’t mean that I’m dating her.”

“But she’s pretty… she’s prettier than you.”

“Oh, I like her.” Lemon giggled.

“Hey! You little brat, who’s the one renting movies with you.”

“Why aren’t you dating her, auntie Pri?” Priyanka covered the girl’s mouth.

Lemon didn’t say a word but she’d like to know the answer to that question as well.

“Okay, I think it’s time to go home. Brave, huh? Good choice.” She looked at Lemon. “See you on Thursday…?”

The blonde smiled. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, great.”

“Goodbye, Priyanka. Bye, Mel.” She waved at them.

She had to pay for her movie too but she waited until they left the store to do it. Then she drove back home and informed Rita they were going on a little camping day or whatever.

“Make sure you pack the bug repellent I gotta text Boa.”

On Thursday morning, Lemon drove to Tynomi’s house because she had to pick a cooler. She didn’t know that was the base of operations, almost everyone was already there and they were getting the cars and supplies ready.

“Oh, hey Lemon.”

It was Denali, Priyanka’s friend. Emphasis on the word friend.

“Hi! How are you?” She hugged the girl who seemed a bit startled by it.

“Good to see you again…”

“Yeah.” She smiled at her.

“Actually, good thing I bumped into you. Scarlett wanted me to tell you that Juice and she are going to pick up Priyanka from her house on their way here.”

“I beg your pardon?” She blinked twice. “I’m picking Priyanka, I already told her.”

Denali raised her hands in the air. “I’m just passing on the message.”

Lemon grabbed her phone from her back pocket and marked Scarlett’s number.

“Hello? What’s up?”

“I’m picking up Priyanka. I spoke with her the other day and we agreed on that since her car is fucked and your relationship is fucked.”

“Was… Okay? Juice and I made up. There were roses and everything.”

“That’s adorable, congratulations to the happy couple.” The sarcasm behind her words was strong.

“Priyanka’s house is on the way, we can drive her to the lake… unless…”

Oh, God.

“Is there a reason why you’d want to drive her?”

“No… There isn’t any reason besides I already told her I was going to pick her up. Why is it so difficult to understand? I don’t like my plans to be changed.”

Scarlett dared to laugh.

“I called her earlier so you don’t have to worry about that. I insist though if you had a valid reason to be her driver today I’d…”

“Fuck off. Okay, yeah… I want to spend some extra time with her.” She murmured. Denali raised an eyebrow.

“You could have started there. It wasn’t that difficult, was it?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, Juice and I are driving straight to Tynomi’s. Can you pick Priyanka up then?”

“Yeah… I guess I can.”

“You’re fucking terrible.”

“Wait, since you have an empty space in your car, can you take Rita with you?”

“Oh, so you want some alone time…”

“C’mon.”

“I mean, I haven’t spoken a lot with her but if she’s okay with it…”

“She’s French Canadian, Kiara too, they’ll get along.”

“So you’re playing the language card now.”

“Sure, whatever. Can you?” Lemon rolled her eyes even when she couldn’t see it.

“We’ll take good care of her. Good luck with your little da-”

Lemon hung up before she could finish that sentence.

Denali stared at her, a bit terrified.

“All set.” She had a mischievous smile on her face.

Lemon rolled down her window. “Get in loser, we’re going to a lake… for some reason.”

Seeing Priyanka’s surprise was more than anything she ever wanted. She didn’t look upset at all and that was a relief. Lemon wasn’t going to tell her about all the arrangements she had to do so they could spend some time alone –and she hoped that for their own welfare that Scarlett or the other girls didn’t mention it either.

They didn’t have much time together already with their imminent separation. Lemon would have to go back to New York in less than a week and Priyanka was probably heading toward Toronto as well. They had lost too much already with their silly banters and those minutes were precious on her eyes.

Except, they got lost. It wasn’t on purpose.

And even when she didn’t show it, Lemon started feeling the panic slowly crawling when after their third turn when the stupid lake was nowhere to be seen. It was humiliating that they had to stop and ask for indications but thankfully they got there without any incident.

She was sure Priyanka was going to make fun of her for getting them in trouble and arriving late –which she did- but as soon as they met the others, she did what she did best, shaking Lemon’s little bitter heart.

“Yeah, can you believe I told her the wrong entry on the highway? Lemon almost killed me we were spinning around for like fifteen minutes, right?” She looked at her and winked.

Lemon didn’t know what to do next, her brain was malfunctioning.

“Ah, yeah…” She babbled as she felt her cheeks heating up. “But we’re here… so… it doesn’t matter.”

“Priyanka you dumbass, we’ve come this way before.” Scarlett nagged her.

“Oh, shut up… I forgot.” She picked her backpack and threw it over her shoulder. Lemon hadn’t moved. “Hey, let’s go. We have all day ahead.”

She had to do something, react somehow but she was paralyzed. Priyanka was right, they had all day ahead but she wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to handle it much longer.

“I think we’ve been set up.” Priyanka said when they were both at the boat.

Lemon should’ve guessed it. The way they moved suspiciously and how they had sent Tynomi to casually ask her if she had ever been in a boat before… it was all part of a greater plan to get them in the middle of the lake alone. Suddenly the lake wasn’t all that boring anymore.

For Lemon, that was the moment and the place to talk about what had happened between them, especially since Priyanka had been so open about that horrible story of her first kiss. To think that Lemon once had been mad about the fact she didn’t tell her about it, now she understood, it was bad enough to listen to it, she couldn’t imagine how she felt back in the day and reliving it wasn’t easy either.

They talked for what felt like hours and the conversation flowed avidly once they spoke about the elephant in the room but still, something was missing.

And then she had to put the stupid glasses on. For ages, she had hated being called names because of them and, when she finally convinced her mother to get contact lenses, it was a victory. Now, she didn’t want to go back to it nor Priyanka to see her like that… as if she was a kid again.

“Don’t make fun of me.” She mumbled. “I never wear these in public…”

It was a little plea but she meant it.

“Lemon, I’ve known you for ages I do remember how you look like with glasses on.”

Priyanka took the glasses and opened the temples before placing them gently on her face. She adjusted the nose pads above her nose and removed some hairs out of her face.

“There,” She looked proud of her work. “See, nothing less than stunning.”

When the brunette put the glasses on her face, she knew it.

Priyanka was going to kiss her.

She could feel it on her bones, she could feel it deep inside, her heart couldn’t stop beating fast.

She was going to kiss her, there was no doubt.

But she didn’t… for some reason, in the last second she backed out. Lemon didn’t know why but she could almost swear for her life Priyanka was going to kiss her. She regretted not shortening the distance just a couple of centimeters when she realized, it was too late.

However, now that Lemon had that information… she could take action.

She washed her hands in the bathroom when they were back and looked at the reflection in the mirror. She looked good, just a couple locks out of place and her cheeks a bit red due to the sun but she had Priyanka’s jacket on and she knew what her next step was going to be.

If Priyanka didn’t kiss her first, she was going to kiss Priyanka.

First, she’d take her somewhere they could be alone, -maybe with some silly excuse she’d invent on her way back to the campfire- she’d grab her hand and pull her even if she protested –because she was going to-, there was a cozy spot with a couple of tree trunks cut where they could sit, fireflies were going to start flying around and the buzz of the other people would become background noise. Lemon would pick a fight with her about the first thing that’d come to her mind and when Priyanka was too into it to even notice, she was going to lean in and kiss her to shut her mouth.

It was the kiss she had postponed for so long –years- because above of all, Lemon was deeply, stupidly, madly in love with her best friend since she could remember. It had taken a lot of time to realize that those feelings she had inside were that -love- but now she was confident it was mutual.

That was until…

“I’m being serious right now.” She cleared her throat. “Lemon and I are friends… that’s it. Don’t try to push it further because it’s not going to happen.”

The knot grew on her throat, her eyes were getting watery to the point she couldn’t see clearly; her heart was breaking somewhere inside her and the physical pain almost got her on her knees.

It’s not going to happen.

What a fool… what a stupid, fucking fool she was…

Priyanka didn’t think of her like that and she and her childish crush were nothing more than that, one-sided feelings. Priyanka and she were friends and they were never going to be more than friends. For a moment she had believed it but it was too good to be true.

She wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and put the mask on.

“Hey, do you mind going back with the girls? I was talking to Rita and she’s kind of tired so I’m going home with her.” She hadn’t spoken to Rita and she hated she’d have to ruin the fun for her but she couldn’t be there any longer and that was the excuse that became handy.

“Oh, sure. No problem. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, just tired and maybe sunburn. I don’t want to drive when it’s too late either.” Her voice didn’t break as she lied.

“Alright. Are you still coming to dinner with my family? My mom said she’ll be waiting for you.”

Right. She had promised her mother she was visiting them…

“Saturday, right? I’ll be there.” She smiled. “I’m really glad we got to talk today, Pri.”

“Me too.”

She hugged her Lemon before she left.

Lemon whispered into Rita’s ear she wasn’t feeling alright and with that, the two girls got into the yellow car. They didn’t even get out of the park when Lemon stopped the car. Her knuckles turned white from holding the steering wheel too tight.

“Hey…” Rita reached for her. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, let me drive.”

They exchanged seats without saying a word.

“Would you like me to play some music? I can put some CD on…”

“Just put whatever you want, it’ll be fine.” She sobbed.

Rita put the Taylor Swift album on because it was the first thing that she could find in the glove compartment. Lemon wasn’t in the mood for any kind of music really, but at least that would fill the awkward silence. She didn’t want to talk with Rita, she didn’t want to talk at all… she just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Not her dad’s house, her home back in New York with her friends…

She was too far away.

When track nº 6 started playing, she skipped it without hesitation. She couldn’t listen to those lyrics without going back to her best friend as if she was going to wake up one day and realize… the idea was absurd. How could she ever believe that?

White Horse or Teardrops on my Guitar seemed more fitting.

Fearless, huh? What a joke. She wasn’t fearless, she was a coward who had waited too long.

She didn’t bawl until she touched the mattress of the bed, she didn’t shed a tear until her face made contact with the pillow and she stifled a cry on it. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t pretend everything was fine for any longer.

The tears felt too heavy to be held so she cried and cried until her eyes were dried out.

She didn’t notice she was still wearing Priyanka’s jacket until she tried to wipe the tears off her face with the sleeve. It smelled like her and it kept her warm like a hug. She wrapped herself with the jacket and closed her eyes until she fell asleep.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #lemon #priyanka #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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cpd5021 · 4 years ago

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Gone Part Four

Here’s the final part of this series! Thanks to everyone who commented or sent me feedback on this story, it’s much appreciated!

One Year Later…

Jay’s POV

One year had passed since Hailey’s kidnapping and assault. It had been a long road of recovery but after four days in the hospital, three weeks of physical therapy for her shoulder, and some therapy and counseling that she had initially pushed away from... she was finally back to her old self. Well, almost. Hailey was good, after years of masking her emotions and the abuse she had suffered as a child, and she put on a good show. Most of the people around her assumed that everything was status quo and that she had made a remarkable recovery, all things considered. To those that didn’t know her beforehand, they were none the wiser as to what she had been through. Both things I knew Hailey prided herself on. I was different though. I could see the way the light in her eyes had dimmed, ever so slightly. The way she flinched when larger suspects made sudden movements. The way she was quicker to react to certain cases or how little details that wouldn’t have made a difference before, firmly lodged themselves in her mind. We had done ‘our thing’ more often now than we did before, not that I was complaining, I would take any time I could get with her and I was beyond thankful that she had let me in enough to be the person she could count on when things got rough behind closed doors. Lord knows she’s helped me through plenty so I owed her majorly, although, if I’m being honest, it was more than that. I have spent the last year replaying those moments when she was missing, when I didn’t know how we were going to get her back, when I was forced to imagine a world without her in it...and I came to a conclusion. I love her. More than a partner or a friend. I am in love with her. I haven’t told her of course. For one, I don’t think she feels the same way. For two, I haven’t found the right time to even broach the conversation, not that I really have the guts too anyway.

Now, we sat in the bullpen at the end of our day, and all I can do is stare at her as she types away on her computer. She’s been on edge all day and I think I’m the only one who’s noticed it. I’m probably the only other one who is aware what this date is the anniversary of. Not that the others don’t care, but Hailey puts on such a good act and they all have lives of their own, that it’s certainly not something any normal person would focus on. Not someone who wasn’t in love with her at least. I let out a sigh and she glanced up at me, a small smile on her face before she returned to her work. She had been quiet today and I was hoping she would want to grab a beer after work.

Another hour of typing and we were finally done. Most everyone else had left already, having wrapped up their lighter loads and we were alone in the locker room as we grabbed our stuff. I hesitated by my locker for a moment, not sure how best to approach her. I didn’t want to draw attention to the date or even bring it up, but I also wanted to make sure she was okay. Before I could figure out what to say, she came over to lean by my locker.

“Hey…”

She said quietly, an almost embarrassed tone to her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her head low but her eyes looking up at me. There was a slight smile on her face, one I knew she was fighting to put there. I shut my locker and turned to face her, returning her smile.

“Hey.”

I replied, leaning against the locker in front of her. She broke eye contact for a minute and I remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

“Wanna grab a beer?”

She finally asked and I had to fight back the excitement from showing on my face. I gave her another smile and a quick nod, before following her out of the locker rooms. Once in the parking lot, she hesitated by our cars for a minute before turning back to face me.

“Actually, do you want to just go to your place? I’m not feeling that social.”

She dipped her head, sounding embarrassed again.

“That sounds perfect.”

I smiled when she finally looked back up at me and then we both got in our cars and headed towards my apartment building. Luckily, I had just stocked up on beer after our last night spent drinking so I didn’t have to stop anywhere on the way. We made it there in what felt like record time and suddenly, we were seated on my couch, cold beer in hand. I watched as Hailey picked at the label on her bottle, not wanting to push her into talking about something she didn’t want too. I stayed quiet as we did our thing, which sometimes entailed not talking at all but merely sharing the silence with someone who understood.

“Thank you.”

She whispered, drawing me back to the moment. I sent her a puzzled look, unsure of what she would be thanking me for other than the beer. She smiled and dipped her head down as she spoke again.

“For not actually leaving. For being there.”

She whispered again, the words barely audible to the untrained ear. But I was used to picking up her soft tones so I hadn’t missed a beat. I remained silent for a minute, replaying those days in the hospital over in my head, the same heart sinking feeling washing over me.

“Always.”

I whispered back, dipping my head down to make her meet my eyes. When she met my gaze, her eyes were wet with unshed tears. I wanted to pull her into my arms like I had on those nights, tell her she wasn’t alone and that everything would be okay. But I didn’t move.

“I guess I’m lucky you were my partner. That you still are.”

Her words struck something inside me and suddenly I wanted to put it all on the table.

“Hailey…”

I trailed off, mapping out how I wanted to say what I needed too. I wasn’t sure if this was the best time, or if there ever would be a good time, but I needed her to know, regardless of how she felt in return. Her eyes met mine, silently pushing me to continue.

“I didn’t stay because I was your partner.”

She nodded slowly, as if this was something she already knew.

“My friend…”

She whispered and it was almost a question. As if she knew there was some other reason I had stayed that neither of us had acknowledged yet.

“No...I mean yes, but…”

I trailed off again, her blue eyes boring into mine. Searching them for something I couldn’t understand. I remained silent, lost in her gaze.

“But…”

She pushed, bringing me back to the present. This was it, now or never. I needed her to know and I could only hope that she didn’t leave as soon as I said it.

“But...I stayed because I love you.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, my heart started hammering in my chest. I watched her face for any sign of rejection or disgust, but there was nothing there. She stared at me, face blank of any emotion, and I couldn’t breathe as I waited for her reply.

“I love you too.”

Her words shot through me like a bullet. My heart pounded even harder, my breath was hitched in my throat and I couldn’t hold back the smile growing on my lips. The way she said it was so matter of fact that it was as if we had said it a thousand times before. It felt so natural, to say and to hear, that I wasn’t sure I was actually awake because this felt like a dream. A smile slowly crept onto her face, matching mine, as all I could do was sit and stare at her. She lifted her bottle to her lips, taking a sip while her eyes never left mine, the sparkle from her smile still beaming back at me through them. I took a swig of my own beer, never dropping her gaze, and we fell into silence once again. But the air between us had changed forever and I couldn’t wait to see what came next.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

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ilkkawhat · 4 years ago

Note

All the numbers. (If not all then pick and choose a handful to answer).

lol you’re really going for it anon, huh?? 😂 bless your heart. I’ll do all of them and then idk. if anybody wants to send any again, I’m sure I can have a different answer

(I did just answer 7 & 22 so I’ll leave those out. rest below the cut)

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I guess if you count all of my active WIPs that have been sitting dormant for months or years, there’s those since I like. I know what I’m doing in pretty much all of them, just as I know what I’m doing in some of my unpublished WIPs, but I think I just need to be in a certain mood/energy to do certain ones (ie, Agony esp is a very heavy fic so I gotta be able to Deal with that)

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

I deleted those 😂😂😂 but some of my reeeeeealllllly old stuff is still out there and I cringe thinking about that and though I could easily delete those too, I’m keeping them just since the harddrive that has the docs for it is corrupted lol

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Just all over the place these days tbh. Even chapter to chapter it’ll change, I’ll write snippets in future chapters--and I’m talking like three or four chapters ahead--just to get it out there. But then there’s other days where I’ll sit and just write and not stop.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Nick Stokes, of course 💜💜💜

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

Any of the Macgyver characters outside of Jack. Cause though I’ll claim not to all the time, I do know that I know the CSI characters (though I’m surprised I’m able to write in their POVs outside of Nick.) I grew up with them. I have a bond with them. The mac characters? I’ve only known for like. two years now and not even that well anymore since I’ve stopped watching the show.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Expanding on details. Almost every fic I write, I’ll read it again later and be like “ah shit I should have run with this idea...” but I guess that’s how I can do a sequel/missing scene

8) favorite genre to write

hurt/comfort (emphasis on the hurt, really I mean we’re talking like borderline horror)

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

See I haven’t really honed in on any one particular thing that inspires me to write. It comes out of nowhere, and the following list of things doesn’t like, always work. When I’m listening to a song. When I’m driving in the car. When I’m watching something unrelated to the source material (totes got some inspiring vibes watching Falcon and The Winter Soldier yesterday tbh lmao) When I dream. When I go on a walk. When people send me asks and I just go the fuck off and suddenly ten chapters later I’m writing a fic that they probably didn’t even want (coughSpecimenStokescough)

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I think the last couple times I’ve like, really written it’s been in silence. Definitely alone. Don’t got people to write around, really lmao (unless you count my parents being in other rooms with obnoxiously loud televisions and tablets)

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

All of it. And I’m sure it’ll keep improving.

12) your weaknesses as an author

Dialogue. I don’t know how people talk 😂

13) your strengths as an author

Detail, description, and I also like to think--emotion? but idk. It’s hard for me to assess my strength tbh

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Oh YES! At least for the longer WIPs like Last Breath or Agony. And listen to it on a loop when I’m trying to brainstorm or write if I want to write with music on. I’ve been starting to link the playlists when I’m doing with the fic (which is not many so far)

(I think Hellbound is the only one-shot I made a playlist for that I didn’t share)

15) why did you start writing?

I honestly can’t remember, cause I think I’ve been writing stories (fan fiction or not) ever since I was in middle school?? Maybe even elementary? But I do feel like I had gotten more encouragement for it than drawing from the few people in my life that did actively cheer me on, and there’s just something about writing that is so...fulfilling? Esp since I can’t like. Just manifest the images or make the “movie” in my head, at least I can write them down and hopefully convey what I see/feel in my mind through words.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

All my neglected OCs lmao. I did and I guess on some level still do want to make an original series.

In a chilling way Veronica also haunts me cause I realize how much of that like, darkness in myself I put in her.

And Nick, well, he’s just always on my mind.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Just fucking go for it! Don’t give a shit if anybody will read it or not. Take your time, flesh out those details. Describe what you see, what they see, what they feel.

If you think you’re going too far...you’re not.

keep going

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

I mean any fan fiction I read in the past has probably influenced me on some level. I know that when I came back to CSI in 2018, reading all of kristen999′s nick whump def encouraged me cause I was like “oh...there’s others like me who like to see him hurt!?!?” and I do think that maybe sometimes after I read a fic, I might like. Try to incorporate those styles I see. The way words are described, sentences constructed. Not like, copy of course but I feel like a long time ago my writing wasn’t really idk, novel-like? very short, almost read like a script whereas now, since I’ve seen the way people write their stories (some novel length stories, too), I flesh mine out a lot more.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

I don’t 😂 Thinking of my bigger projects like Agony, I do just kind make up some of it as I go with a rough outline although sometimes it is a bit more detailed--like First Flight actually has a super detailed outline but I know that once I start writing, something might come up, some twist I didn’t think of before--or even one that somebody suggests to me, but idk I feel like I do have a way of tying everything together regardless? Cause especially with those bigger WIPs I will try to go back and re-read if something seems familiar or if I’ve forgotten a detail, or if I’m planning on diving back into it after a long break from it.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Depends. I feel more accomplished with the long sit down sessions so I target that, but lately it’s been little spurts with maybe one big dump at the end of the week.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Mostly cringe, but there are times I’m like “holy shit this is really good???”

like I remember recently I re-read Agony and loved it, when I wanted to delete it maybe like. a week before that. I think it honestly depends on my frame of mind, and why I’m going back to read the fic? Cause I’ve had times where I’m like “wait what was this one?” and then I read it and laugh at how bad it is, but then other times where I’m like, “I wanna read that one fic I did...” and then I do and it makes me happy.

But, I will always kinda criticize at the same time--”aw, I could do this better, I could have expanded on this,” etc

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

My life is suuuuuuper boring so. not really lmao. One of my earliest CSI fics that actually created what I consider to be my number one OC (she’d be the lead in that original series I mentioned earlier) came out of me sitting and staring into a campfire lmao.

also there was this teacher I had (one of those good IRL supports) that told me a story of something that happened to her (or was it her daughter?) and I turned it into a story (back in my teen days) so. I guess there are somethings.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Expert? No. But I will do numerous google searches to try and figure some stuff out and get lost in a rabbit hole of “research” for a while and hope that when I do write it, it comes off as I know what I’m doing when really, I do not lol.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

haven’t really written much in this past week, and certainly nothing to be proud of, but this line hit me like a ton of bricks for Specimen Stokes and I’m in love with it:

“Because, my dear specimen, I wanted to see if you loved the danger...or if you loved me.”

#mk.fic #mk writes stuff #nonny #mk talks

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pug-bitch · 5 years ago

Text

That’s not why I’m staying (3)

I like a protective brother

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene right at the beginning. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 4,600

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, after the gang’s night out, starting with Amara’s POV.

*****

Amara throws her purse on the bed, and takes a very deep breath. ‘What an awesome night,’ she whispers.

Drake smiles at her and sits on the comforter. ‘You must be exhausted,’ he says.

She smiles and runs a hand through his hair, straddling him. ‘Not at all,’ she whispers. His smile becomes more mischievous as she starts unbuttoning his shirt. She adds, ‘I’m pretty fucking awake.’

Their lips crash together and their bodies cling to one another, not even giving each other the time to undress. She sits on his lap, facing him, his growing erection pressed against her. Drake’s hands roam up on her back, under her light yellow top, until they find her bra. He expertly unhooks it with one hand, which draws a low, unexpected groan from Amara. He pulls her top over her head and throws her bra across the room as swiftly as humanly possible, and she catches herself thinking, what did I do to deserve this sexy man?

She gets up and quickly takes of the rest of her clothes, as Drake takes off his pants too. Amara takes back her position, straddling him. He moans. ‘Fuck, babe, you’re so sexy.’ He kisses her neck and nips at her earlobe. She kisses him again, deeper and deeper, and grinds him until he’s about to burst out of his boxers. With one hand, she frees his throbbing cock from its fabric prison, and Drake groans in her ear. ‘I want you so fucking badly,’ he whispers.

His cock teases her entrance, although she can tell he’s dying to be inside her. She feels herself getting wetter and wetter, she can barely control herself as Drake’s mouth lands on each of her nipples and kisses them, licks them. She moans louder and bucks her hips, ready and eager for more. ‘Fuck me,’ she whispers.

Drake obliges, slowly and deeply. When the tip of his cock enters her, she lets out a low groan, and tugs on his hair a little harder. She wants to take him all in, she wants them to be as close as possible, always.

As they move together, she breaks their kiss for a second, just the time to say to him, ‘I love you.’

Breathlessly, he responds, ‘I love you too.’

*****

Drake pours himself another cup of coffee, before joining Maxwell on the patio. ‘Hey Max,’ he says.

Maxwell looks up from his book and smiles brightly. ‘Hey Drake. What are you up to?’

‘Not much, I’m waiting for Michael and Amara to be done with their call, and then I’m taking Mike on a tour of Ramsford. You?’

Maxwell pats his stomach. ‘Trying to relax and get over the magnificent lunch you made us. I can barely move.’ He gestures towards Hana, who’s doing laps in the pool. ‘Look at this one. She gleefully ignores the ‘wait 30 minutes after lunch before you swim’ rule.’

Drake chuckles. ‘Glad you enjoyed lunch. How is life?’

Maxwell laughs. ‘What do you mean, ‘how is life?’ We’ve been spending so much time together, you know exactly how my life has been. Amazing, surrounded by my friends, old and new. Plus, I got a new goat.’

‘Ah, right, the magnificent B-Coops.’

Maxwell smiles a bit brighter. ‘The most beautiful man in the world.’

Drake shakes his head. ‘You guys are nuts. But that’s not what I meant. You’ve been spending a lot of time and energy helping Michael and Amara mend their relationship, and helping Mike adjust. You’re a good friend, Max. I thought I’d ask how you’re doing, you know.’ He runs his hand through his hair. ‘You take care of others. I wanted to make sure you were ok.’

Maxwell sits up and closes his book. ‘Drake Reginald Walker—‘

‘Not my middle name,’ Drake interrupts.

Maxwell waves him off. ‘Your middle name will be the name I give you, my friend. Drake Reginald Walker, are you —gasp!— worried about my well-being?’

Drake laughs at Max’s theatrics. ‘Yeah, maybe, if you insist on putting it this way. You’ve been incredible with Amara. And with Michael. I wanna make sure someone’s taking care of you, too.’

Drake detects a hint of a blush on Max’s face, but doesn’t pry. Maxwell pauses and responds, ‘Thank you, friend, this means a lot. Well yeah, I’m having a good time, enjoying everyone’s company.’

‘You just came out to court. It would probably be normal if you had some, I don’t know, insecurities or whatever,’ Drake continues.

Maxwell looks in the distance before responding. ‘I really appreciate you checking in with me. You’re right, I need to take a minute once in a while to make sure I’m doing ok. So far, so good. I’m surrounded with so many amazing people, I know I’ll be ok.’

Drake smiles. ‘Do you want to join me and Mike on our tour? It’s your duchy, after all.’

Maxwell shakes his head. ‘No, no. Please enjoy your bonding moment with your future brother-in-law. I’ve spent a lot of time with him, and I can tell the two of you will get along great. He’s just like you, no-bullshit, straight-to-the point and all of that. You’ll have a great time.’

Drake smiles mischievously. ‘Been enjoying his company, Maxxie?’

Max snorts. ‘I don’t know what this is supposed to mean, but let me answer that honestly. Yes. He’s a great guy, and he deserves to have people around him, helping him grieve and take back his life.’

Drake throws his hands up in defeat. ‘True. Can’t argue with that.’ He looks to the house. ‘Oh, here they come.’

Drake’s heart tugs when he sees Amara. As usual. She’s coming out of the house, laughing with Michael. She is wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt, simple as can be, but on her, everything is fucking enchanting. God, he loves her.

‘Hey babes,’ Amara yells out to Drake, Max, and Hana, who waves from the pool. ‘How is it going?’

Drake holds out his hands, and Amara goes right to him to sit on his lap. Drake knows they must look cheesy and cutesy from the outside, but he doesn’t give a fuck. ‘How was the call with your family?’

Amara kisses his forehead. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe how chatty Callie is, right Michael? The girl cannot be stopped, I love it.’

Michael chuckles. ‘Yeah, she was so excited to see me AND Auntie Amara together, she proceeded to show off every single one of her stuffed animals, and to introduce them, first and last names included. Took a while.’

They chat about the Suarezes for a while, Amara telling stories about her dad and technology.

Michael looks at Drake and asks, ‘You wanna go? I can’t wait to see more beautiful landscapes.’

Drake nods and kisses Amara deeply. ‘See you later, babe. Max, be good, and don’t buy another actor from the Hangover franchise. I can’t handle a cow named Ed Helms.’

Max gasps. ‘OMG. That is a genius idea, Drake, thank you.’ He mutters to Amara. ‘OR we could buy an angora rabbit and name him Zach Galifianakis. What do you think?’

Amara nods. ‘Yes. But think about poor Justin Bartha. Abandoned on the roof, then no one thinks of naming an animal after him.’

Drake chuckles and gets up. ‘Alright. Let’s go, Mike. I’m very scared of what we’re gonna find when we get back.’

*****

‘See that building over there?’ Drake points as he slows down. ‘This is the oldest restaurant in Ramsford. Been there since the 15th century.’

‘Wow, that is impressive!’ Michael replies. ‘This old town is so gorgeous.’

Drake smiles. ‘Alright, ready to go off roading? We can drive from here to the beach, scenic route only.’

‘Sounds great!’ Michael pauses and takes in the scenery. ‘So, Drake...I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to ask you what your intentions are with Amara.’

Drake chuckles. ‘Go for it. I think I can handle it. Besides, I like a protective brother, I’m one myself.’ He stops himself and remembers that he only has to wait a couple more weeks until he sees his little sister.

‘Ok, here we go,’ Michael says as he pretends to hold an imaginary microphone. ‘Drake Walker, what are your intentions with my sister, Amara Elena Suarez?’ He passes the non-mike to Drake.

‘Well, Mr. Hansen-Suarez, I love your sister, and I firmly intend to keep loving her as long as she’ll let me.’

Michael smiles. ‘Good answer. Besides, I don’t think this sort of menacing older brother thing suits me. It was more Sergio’s speed.’ He chuckles. ‘No one would be threatened by me, I guess.’

‘Hey hey, don’t sell yourself short, Mike. I saw you last night, that douche got hit pretty hard in the face, so I would definitely be threatened by you.’

Michael laughs wholeheartedly. ‘Thanks, man. Well, there’s also the fact that I’m not actually concerned about your intentions. I don’t think my husband would have been either. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that you love her, I could tell right off the bat.’

Drake blushes. ‘Yeah, it caught me by surprise, but...I was all in, right away. I knew that it was a bad idea, well...I thought it was a bad idea. My best friend was —is— really into Amara, and at first I thought I’d stay away. But I couldn’t.’

‘Sash guy?’ Michael asks.

Drake chuckles. ‘Heh. Yeah, that’s the one. Sash guy, aka Liam.’

‘No, no,’ Michael says, ‘I mean was that sash guy on the side of the road? Like, right now?’

Drake frowns and brings the Jeep to a stop. He looks in his rearview mirror and sure enough, Liam is on the side of the road, jogging by himself. ‘What the fuck? He’s not supposed to be in Ramsford without security.’

Michael nods. ‘Should we…?’

‘Yeah. If you don’t mind, I think we should.’

Michael nods again, more emphatically. ‘Of course. And um, I know he doesn’t know. Don’t worry.’

Drake smiles and pats Michael’s back as he backs up his car until he reaches Liam.

‘Hey Li,’ he shouts out the window.

Liam, startled, takes out his earbuds and finally smiles. ‘Hey Drake, you scared me!’

‘That’s what happens when you run around without security, man. Hop in, we were about to go grab coffee somewhere.’

Liam hesitates for a moment and nods. Drake presses the button to open the doors and he gets in the back seat.

*****

Ran into sash guy. Going to coffee with him now. Whaaaaat

Amara looks at her phone quizzically. Michael and Drake had been gone for a little while, during which she, Hana and Max had been puttering around in the pool and eating fruit. The life. When she stopped to think about it, she couldn’t really believe that this was the program for the day. Lounging, eating pineapple in a mansion with a beautiful view. Nice change from her Brooklyn dwellings and her shitty shifts.

‘I think Michael and Drake ran into Liam. Weird, huh?’

Maxwell shrugs. ‘Don’t worry. He was probably getting some air before having to go home to his ball and chain. Literally.’

Hana nods. ‘I know he was pretty shitty to a bunch of us in the recent past, but I do feel bad for the guy. First his dad is dying, then he’s stuck in this sham of an engagement with the most horrible person ever. I hope he can get out of it.’

Amara pauses. ‘I think his father is the one who really pushed him to choose her. I think those two events —his dad’s illness getting worse, and his engagement— are tied together. He wants to please the King, make him feel like he is leaving the country in good hands.’

Maxwell nods and pops a new piece of pineapple into his mouth. ‘I agree, Little Blossom. I worry about him, too, but at this point, there’s nothing more we can do before the Engagement Tour. Then, all of us can investigate and maybe catch Madeleine in a scheme, or something of the sort. I mean, we have a detective in our midst.’

‘Yes,’ Hana says emphatically, ‘we have a brilliant detective here, and, well, it’s too bad that our lawyer will be back in the States by the time we hop on that train on Friday…’ she makes eye contact with Amara in a smooth, sneaky way.

‘Right,’ Amara jumps on the occasion, ‘I’m gonna miss Michael. I can’t believe he’s already leaving in a couple of days.’

Maxwell looks at the bottom of his water glass, without a word. Hana looks at Amara again, this time seeming a bit more impatient. ‘Well,’ she continues, ‘maybe he could come back soon, right Amara? With Callie? We have all grown to like him a lot, and I’m sure you miss him so much.’

As much as she’s enjoying the theatrics, Amara feels the need to tone it down. This is getting a bit too orchestrated, even by Maxwell’s standards. ‘Definitely,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what the future holds, but if I stay in Cordonia —that’s assuming I stop being viewed as a whore by the whole community of course— I would love for my family to visit.’

Maxwell finally lifts up his eyes. They meet Hana’s. ‘Sweetie, you’re amazing at everything, but I think we just found your weak spot. It’s acting.’ He turns to Amara. ‘And you, please don’t say that people consider you a whore. Have you read the tabloids? No? Because I have. And sure, there’s some that publish the infamous Tariq picture, but most of them say it was photoshopped, and that you were too big a threat to the monarchy. The press still loves you. Many newspapers are speaking up against slut shaming, and in fact, I hope that Liam does hire a PR guy or gal for you, as he promised, because we can totally fucking spin this. Even if we don’t find stupid Tariq. Hell, if Liam doesn’t hire someone, I will. I can pull some strings.’

‘Wow, Max,’ Amara says, blown away by the monologue. ‘That was hot. Look!’ She holds out her arm. ‘I got chills!’

Max chuckles, ‘Oh, shut up. I love you, but shut up.’

‘No no, I’m serious. That was badass, and it actually made me feel better. I told myself I didn’t care what Cordonia thought about the Tariq shit, so I didn’t look online at all, but just knowing this is making me feel better. Thank you.’

He smiles. ‘You’re welcome. Bertrand and I were talking about it, and we think that maybe it’s time for you to talk to the press. They’ve been calling the duchy, but we respected your wishes not to talk about it. Maybe before we leave for Rome, we could pick a journalist and tell your side of the story?’

Amara smiles. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Hana, still silent up until now, takes advantage of a quiet moment to turn to Maxwell and ask, ‘What do you mean I can’t act?’

He bursts out laughing. ‘Oh honey. Maybe you can, on a stage, but in real life you are not smooth. ‘Oh I wish Michael stayed longer!’ ‘Oh we all love him, don’t we?’ Give me a break, I know what you’re all thinking.’

Hana pouts. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Maxxie. I’m sorry.’

‘No no, I’m not upset!’ He rubs her shoulder and smiles. ‘I’m not. I just—‘ he pauses and sighs. ‘I like being around him. A lot. Alright, you happy now?’

Amara smiles brightly. ‘Well, yeah, we definitely are.’

Hana’s smile is so wide that Amara is concerned she may dislocate her jaw. ‘I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything, Maxxie, but you gotta admit that you two would be so cute together!’

Maxwell rolls his eyes. ‘Fine, we’d be fucking adorable. We all know that.’ His face grows a tad somber. ‘But babe, and forgive me, Amara, for saying this and potentially ruining the day, but Michael is still grieving. In just a few days, I’ve grown fond of him, and if this were a regular situation, yeah, of course, I’d ask him out. But this is a very irregular situation. It’s delicate. I don’t want him to think that I’m going too fast, and I certainly don’t want to hurt his feelings in any way if he’s not ready to even go on a date with someone other than Sergio. I respect him —and you, Little Blossom, and your family and your pain— way too much to step into this unwelcomed.’

Amara realizes she’d been holding her breath. Hana holds out her hand for Max to take. He complies, and gives her a sweet kiss. Amara fights back tears. No, she won’t cry. Not now, not when she wants to show Maxwell that no, he’s not stepping into a bed of thorns. She takes a deep breath. ‘Shit, Max. Do you have any idea how much I want Michael to be happy? And do you have any idea how much I love you? How good a guy I think you are? If anyone is gonna be respectful and mindful of Michael’s history, I know it’s you.’ Welp, a tear escapes. She tried to hold it back, but oh well. She wipes it away. ‘That’s all,’ she chuckles. ‘I won’t overstep any more than that. You guys figure it out. And for the record, he may leave on Thursday, but he’s not dropping off the face of the Earth.’

Maxwell nods. ‘Understood.’ He takes Amara’s hand. ‘There,’ he says, ‘now I’m in a Hana/Amara sandwich. I love you guys.’

*****

‘Thanks, Drake,’ Liam says as he grabs the coffee his friend is handing him. ‘Sorry we couldn’t go in public.’

Michael waves him off. ‘This is a lot better, actually. Who wouldn’t want to have coffee on the beach?’

Liam smiles. ‘Thank you, Michael. I didn’t mean to crash your afternoon.’

Drake sits down in between the two men. ‘Don’t be stupid. Did you guys get a chance to chat while I was picking up the coffee?’

Liam nods. ‘Yes, we did. I apologized to Michael again for the ruckus at court. This is not a normal time, that’s for sure.’ He takes a sip and stares at the ocean.

Drake sighs. ‘Li, are you ok? You didn’t answer my texts.’

‘Sorry about that, too.’ He lets out a sad chuckle. ‘I’ve been shit at everything. That’s why I went for this run. I bet Bastien is looking for me everywhere as we speak, but I needed out.’

‘Liam, I know you barely know Michael,’ Drake continues, ‘but you can speak in front of him, right, Mike? He won’t care.’

Michael nods. ‘Of course. You’re going through a lot. You need to let it out.’

Liam smiles. ‘Well, I made my bed.’

Drake snorts. ‘Come on, Li. You deserve better. You didn’t ask for all this shit. We’ll find a way to get you out of this shitty engagement, I promise. If we can get some dirt on her, she’s done.’

‘You know why i ran away? I have a press conference with her tonight. The engagement conference. We’re supposed to gush over each other and talk about our hopes and dreams. Dreams of a future heir. Disclose the names of our wedding party. All wedding and marriage stuff. Nothing I want. I needed some air.’ He takes another sip, stares into the distance.

Drake puts his hand on his friend’s back. ‘Li, I’m sorry. We’ll get you out.’

Liam nods. Is he going to be able to tell him? It might be worth it to just say it out loud, even with a stranger here. ‘Drake, I don’t know if I can do this.’

Drake sighs. ‘I know it’s hard right now, especially since you’re alone at the palace with her and your dad and brother, but as soon as we’re all on the tour, I promise. It will get more manageable.’

Liam avoids Drake’s eyes. Maybe he can tell him. ‘I don’t feel good about this, Drake. I know it’s not comparable at all, I know this, but—‘ he interrupts himself. Should he say it in front of her brother-in-law? Fuck it. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what Amara went through. Tariq trying to assault her. She must have felt so fucking violated, and thankfully you were there. I can’t stop thinking about it these days. Partly because I feel responsible for her being in the spotlight, and partly because—‘ he pauses again. Can he say it without sounding like an asshole? What he’s going through is by his own volition, kind of, it has nothing to do with assault, and yet… He takes a breath. ‘Partly because I feel completely shitty about having to sleep with Madeleine.’

Drake tightens his grip on his back. Liam feels Drake’s eyes migrating to Michael’s. The two men share a stare. Is it a concerned stare? Is it one of disdain? Like oh, that spoiled mansplainy Liam, thinking his plight is the same as that of an assaulted woman? He hopes not.

Drake finally speaks. ‘Liam, I’m sorry to hear that. Please don’t be concerned about Amara, I know it was hard for her, but um, her friends and family are around her. As for you, well, I feel terrible about this. I’m so sorry that you had to go to those lengths. Please don’t let her take advantage of the situation again. You have the right to say no.’

Liam chuckles. It comes out a lot sadder than he intended. ‘I know. I just didn’t feel like dealing with the consequences of saying no. And for the record, I know that my situation isn’t the same as Amara’s. I know that. It just makes me feel even worse, because it’s already fucking terrible to force oneself to have sex with someone you don’t want. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to—well, to say the least, this whole situation is making me reconsider a lot of fucking things.’

Michael gets up from the sand, slowly and discreetly. He whispers, ‘I’m going to let you guys talk for a bit. I’m sorry, Liam, and I agree with Drake, I don’t know you, but you deserve better. Please take care.’

He walks away towards the other end of the beach, cell phone in hand, taking pictures.

Liam shakes his head. ‘See? I’m even making him run away.’

Drake chuckles. ‘No, that’s not it. He wanted to give us privacy. And probably to take pics for his daughter.’

Liam nods. ‘He seems like a good guy. He lost his fucking husband, and here I am complaining about not really wanting to fuck a Countess.’

‘Liam, there’s no competition in suffering. I wish I knew what to say or do to help—‘

‘You can’t help, not for now anyways,’ Liam interrupts. ‘But it does feel good to talk about it.’

*****

‘Hey guys!’ Drake yells out as he lets himself into the house. ‘We’re home, and we brought wine!’

‘Welcome back,’ Maxwell says cheerfully. ‘It’s just me and the girls, Liv went to her date with Rashad, and Bertrand has a dinner meeting at Castelsarreillan. How was the tour?’

Michael’s face lights up. ‘Oh, it was amazing, Max, your duchy is so beautiful. I loved the beach most of all.’

‘I’m so glad,’ Maxwell beams. ‘Come on in, guys, let’s get comfy.’

They walk into the living room, where Hana is reading a book, and Amara is on her iPad doing research. Drake sees on her screen that she’s still looking into Savannah’s location in Paris. His heart sinks. How did he luck out so much with this woman, who’s always in his corner?

‘Hey ladies,’ Drake says enthusiastically. ‘Mike and I have a proposition for you all.’

Amara raises an eyebrow. ‘Oh, do tell!’

Michael smiles brightly and looks at Drake. ‘You do the honors, you’re in charge!’

Drake nods excitedly. ‘Since Mike has never seen Portavira, we thought that we could all go to my cabin tomorrow morning and stay tomorrow night? He only has 3 nights left in this country, let’s make them count!’

Hana gasps. ‘OMG this is a great idea! I love your cabin so much.’

‘I’m SO in,’ Amara says as she closes her iPad into its keyboard. ‘I miss the tranquility of the cabin, let’s do it!’

Maxwell claps his hands in excitement. ‘Yass Kweens, let’s go bright and early tomorrow!’

‘And let’s pop this wine,’ Michael whispers to Drake. ‘We got it in an old wine store, it was so cute! I had to get two bottles for us.’

‘Aw, thanks Michael, you didn’t have to do that,’ Maxwell says as he claps a hand on his arm in gratitude. ‘Well, everyone get comfy around the table, and I’m gonna go get us some snacks.’

‘Oh, I’ll help,’ Michael follows suit.

Once the two disappear into the kitchen, Amara and Hana look at each other and put a hand to their chests. Drake smiles. ‘Alright ladies, could you be any more obvious?’ He plops down on the couch next to Amara and nuzzles in her hair. ‘Hey babe. Missed you.’

Amara kisses his nose and cups his face in her hand. ‘Me too. How was it?’

‘Good. It was fun to hang with Mike. But um, I think he told you, we bumped into Liam. He’s going through some serious shit.’

Amara makes a pained face. ‘Oh crap. How is he holding up?’

Drake shrugs. ‘Not great. I think it was good for him to talk, though.’

She nods. ‘Good. I’m glad.’

Hana sighs. ‘We were just talking about him today, right Amara? We all feel terrible about his situation, and maybe it will all get sorted out during the Tour, at least let’s hope so.’ She pauses and Drake and Amara nod in agreement. She turns her head to the kitchen and whispers, ‘What do you think they’re talking about in there?’

*****

‘Another martini?’

‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ Liv asks sharply.

Rashad laughs earnestly. ‘No. You can drink me under the table.’

‘You got that right.’

He chuckles. ‘I hope you like boeuf bourguignon. I got takeout from this French restaurant. I know you like red wine so I figured you’d like that.’

Olivia forces herself not to smile. ‘Oh so, no cooking?’

Rashad gestures to the apartment around him. ‘This is an Airbnb. I don’t know where the pans are.’ He takes a sip of his martini. ‘Or how to cook.’

Liv can’t help but smile, ever so slightly. Rashad travels a lot around Cordonia for work, and stays at Airbnbs and hotels most of the time, since he rarely stays in his own duchy. No wonder the man lives off takeout. No servants in his life, and certainly no cooking.

Olivia likes that. The life of a loner. Depending on no one. Kinda hot.

‘I like boeuf bourguignon. You win this round.’

His face lights up. ‘Good. Not that I was nervous or anything. You know me. Cool as fuck.’

She gives him a half smile as she sips on her second martini. ‘Is the bourguignon ready now?’ She asks.

‘Not yet,’ he answers. ‘Needs to be in the oven for a while.’ He takes a sip as well. ‘Why, you hungry now?’

She gets up from her chair. ‘Nope,’ she says, as she straddles him and kisses him deeply.

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983 , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @drakelover78 , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that's not why i'm staying #dramara #drake x amara #drake walker x amara suarez #amara suarez #drake walker #the royal romance fanfic #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr

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