#sorry the clip quality was awful. but him <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

2K notes · View notes

madaboutmunson · 2 years ago

Text

Cold Sweat (Part 6 of 11 of Let Me Call You Sweetheart)

Warnings for the entire story not just this chapter: Darkfic, out of character Eddie Munson, alternative universe, present day, Death, abuse (emotional, mental and physical, harassment, violence, torture, imprisonment, coersion, unrequited love, drugs, alcohol, illness, blood, gore, food disorder, mental illness, vampirism, hypnotism, weirdness, the upside down, bats, monsters

@munchabunch

"Urgh...can you hear me in there??" You hear your Mother yell and hammer her fist against your bedroom, "It's time to get up. You lay about. Your so-called friends have been calling for you."

You look at your phone, a bunch of missed calls, and realise you will be late for work, for the late shift!!! How long had you slept for???

You rush out of your bed, a slightly uncomfortable sensation of peeling yourself from the bedsheet firmly attached to you again, and you speed your way through getting ready.

Before leaving your room, you ensure your guitar is safely hidden out of sight.

"Thanks so much for waking me up," you say quickly, trying to scurry past them.

"Well, I'm late now because of you anyway," she says, shaking her head, scrubbing some pots in the sink, "oh, imagine the wonderful life I'd be leading now if I didn't have to pick up after you, make sure you woke up on time, exhausting myself trying to keep you on the right path."

Your insides bubble with contempt, but you keep your composure, "I know, I'm sorry, I'll try my best to improve."

"Well, your father found that busted guitar in your room and tossed it in the trash. Hopefully, that will put an end to all this head-in-the-clouds nonsense. If you buckled down at Harrington's, maybe, you could work your way up there. It's not the dream we had for you, but it's better than...this" she turns and waves her hand up and down at you.

You hang your head, and your contempt turns to upset. Why couldn't they just like you? You gave them little to no trouble. You were just so different to them. Were you so hard to love?

"Oh god, don't turn on the waterworks now. Take some responsibility for yourself and your choices." She says, slamming the pot into the sink and storming out.

You wipe your eyes with the back of your shirt and head to work.

"Shit, sorry, guys. I overslept massively," you apologise, busting through the door of Harrington's.

"It's like 4pm," Jenna says, laughing, "What time did you wake up?"

"Like 3:30," you say as innocently as possible.

"Out late were you?" Says Terry seriously

"Oh no, nothing like that, just must have been exhausted," you say, smiling at him, but he doesn't return the smile.

Jenna looks between you both, "Er...ok...this is going to be an interesting shift...Mr Harrington wanted to see you before I clock out, so if you wouldn't mind hurrying this along," she starts ushering you to his office.

You knock on the already open door and poke your head in, "You wanted to see me, sir?" You say in a worried tone.

Mr Harrington is not his usual self. He looks like he hasn't slept. His hair is dishevelled, he has no blazer, his tie is loosened, and he is surrounded by boxes and bits of paper.

"Yes, yes, come in...Steve is fine...close the door after you, please." He says, not looking up at you.

"Is everything ok...um...Steve?" It's the first time you've called him that, and it feels strange. You close the door as requested.

"Look, I didn't have a picture. There wasn't any time back then...but I managed to find an old newspaper clipping..."

He puts down a picture in front of you. It's really awful quality as it's been scanned from a newspaper from 1986.

He taps on the picture, "Have you met him?" You look down at the picture and look back up at Mr Harrington.

"Erm...do you have a picture of what they would look like now?" You ask, confused.

"No, just um...just ignore the date, ok...ignore it...look at his face...have you seen him...recently" he's pacing up and down behind his desk, his hands in his hair.

"This is the character from the ride, right? The guitarist?"

"Well, kinda, yeah, but also...no...just...ok...have you met a person in real life that looks like this person in the picture. He'd have rings...um a leather jacket....maybe a denim vest over it" his eyes look pained.

"I mean, I think I met the cast member that played him, or you know motion captured him or whatever."

He stops and stares at you for a few seconds, "and this actor...was he the one that took you to play the guitar?"

You nod. Everything was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

"How did you get there?" He asks.

You feel even more confused, "Get where? It was behind the backdrop and some heavy curtains."

"Jesus!" He wipes his hand over his mouth with one hand on his hip and walks in a little circle.

"I'm sorry. Have I done something wrong?" You say feeling extremely anxious now.

He sighs, "No, it's um, you know, we're looking for him. Dustin wanted to do some. I dunno reshoots or something, but we can't get hold of him, so if you see him around again, can you just let me know, please. It's crucial I speak to him." His voice cracks slightly, and you see the faintest glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"Absolutely, I'll be sure to tell you immediately," you say genuinely. You'd never seen Mr Harrington like this, and it was scary.

You look down at the picture again. This person looked much more like the guitarist in the ride or the spearman in your dreams. Eddie was much more...well...beautiful than this...this image was like a very earthly Eddie. He just looked like a normal kid.

He takes the picture from you and holds it in his hands. A sadness encompasses him as he looks at it.

"You can go," he says softly, "thanks for your help."

You nod and see yourself out, closing the door behind you.

Jenna quickly rushes out, throwing her vest at you, "Peace out, bestie". She mouths good luck at you and just her thumb towards Terry.

You go to the register area, where Terry is glumly thumbing through a drum catalogue.

"Hey buddy, everything ok?" You try to say cheerfully.

"Yep, everything is absolutely peachy." He says sarcastically.

"Ok, clearly something is wrong, my dude. Do you wanna talk about it? No judgement here. We've got like 4 more hours," you say kindly.

"No, thank you", he says sternly.

"Well, if you change your mind, I'm right here for you" you smile at him, but he looks away to his catalogue.

You vacate the area and busy yourself around the rest of the store. This shift was always dead. That's why you always made sure if you got it on the rota, Terry was on it too. He was usually such a breeze to be around, but you suppose everyone is entitled to feel how they feel.

On break, you take your ' lunch' outside, you chance a glance over at the second-hand store, and there she was back in the window, just like Eddie had said. So you run into the shop and charge towards the counter, scaring the attendant.

"Can I put a deposit on that guitar and then work out a payment plan or something?" You blurt out a little out of breath.

"No, that thing is cash only, in full. Next time no refunds on it. Damn social media influencers, take it for a few hours, carry out their photoshoots and then bring the damn thing back saying it's faulty, but every time we get it serviced, the guy comes in, and it plays just fine, no issues." He grumbles

You bite your bottom lip looking over the guitar, "would you consider a discount maybe. Maybe a mutual agreement, I work at Harrington's, could get your first pickings on record store Day? I could help out here when I'm not on shift. I could clean your car. Babysit. Walk the dog," You try to persuade him whilst gazing lovingly at the guitar.

He laughs, "Shit, kid, you really want this, huh? So tell you what, if you can get me $300 in cash by tomorrow and I get first pickings on record store day, but no refunds, no returns. Understood?"

You jump up and down with excitement. Of course, you didn't have $300, but it seemed a lot more tangible than $600, "I'll see what I can do", you say, running back over to the store, straight to Mr Harrington's office.

You knock on the door again, and he opens it immediately, "Mr Harrington...er...Steve...Any chance of an advance on my pay?" you clasp your hands together, "Please?!" You beseech him.

He sighs at you, his phone tucked between his shoulder and says, "I can do you $100, ok? But that's it."

"Seriously??? Thank you!!" You explode with gratitude.

"Ok, ok, $150, but that is definitely it" he smiles and shakes his head, "Yes...hello..." He puts his finger up to you and mouths 'Sorry' whilst closing the door.

"You getting an advance?" Terry inquires

"Sure am. The guy over the road made me an incredible offer for the guitar, like half price. Still need to get the rest of the money, but currently halfway there," you beam excitedly.

"I thought it had been sold," he says curiously.

"Oh, it had, but they brought it back due to it being faulty," you say, sorting through the impulse buy baskets.

"So you are going to pay $300 for a faulty guitar?" He says, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Well, here is the thing, I don't think it's actually faulty. I just think they don't know how to take care of her," you smile, looking out of the window at the guitar in the distance.

"and you do?" Terry asks sarcastically.

"Well, Eddie said..." You start

"Ohhh, Eddie, right yeah, the famous actor knows everything about guitars now, does he. What a piece of work that guy is!" He says a little spitefully.

"You know him?" You ask, deeply confused.

"Yep met him a few years ago." He says matter of factly

"You don't seem to like him very much," you say quietly.

"No, and for a good reason, he's a liar and manipulative. You'd be better off steering clear of him. He's only out for himself," the anger twitches in his voice, "Whatever you think, you're going to get out of your relationship with him. You won't", he says flatly.

"I don't really expect anything out of my friendship with him." You say a bit weirded out, "I just, I dunno, he's interesting."

"He didn't promise you anything?" He asks probes.

"No," you say, shaking your head. Even though deep down, you feel it's a half-truth. Eddie hadn't promised you anything technically, but he had reassured you about getting the guitar.

"Huh? Well, you know, I'm just looking out for you. I didn't wanna be that guy, you know, but Harley wouldn't say anything."

"Wait, Harley and Jenna know him too?"

"No, just me and Harley." He confirms.

"I think he just wanted to watch us play Terry. And maybe he felt awkward asking you and Harley after whatever happened, or you lost touch?"

"He said that?" He says with a more positive tone.

"Yeah, absolutely." You say, reaching over to Terry's arm, "Maybe he just needs some friends. We could give him a chance. Just like you all did for me." You smile at Terry, and he finally returns one, "Also, Mr Harrington is looking for him, so we need to let him know right away if we see Eddie, reshoots or something" you shrug.

The rest of the shift is much more pleasant, back to your typical dynamic. Back to the killing time games of one person having a silent disco whilst the other guesses what they are dancing or thrashing around to or designing miniature scavenger hunts with musical clues.

You look over Terry mid-scamper from one side of the floor to the other with a clue in his hand above his head. He really was quite possibly your best friend. He never failed to put a smile on your face. He guilted Mr Harrington into hiring you and somehow managed to persuade Harley to let you join their duo despite being an absolute guitar novice.

You didn't have faith in much, but you had it in him. Sure he wasn't perfect and sometimes a bit overprotective, but only with good intent.

He comes running back with his prize, "Finally!! Helloween, Halloween, very good, Trixy Hobbit" he laughs and checks his watch, "Ah shit, I gotta go. I said I'd babysit tonight, you ok closing up tonight?"

You laugh and nod, "Yes, I think I can do that, just for you."

He tosses the massive set of keys, "See you at The Jackroller tomorrow night, right?"

"Er yeah, else who is gonna play lead for you, duh!" You say, pretending to make fun of him.

He smiles back, looks at the ground, and then back at you. Finally, his smile turns into a massive grin as he leaves the store.

Mr Harrington comes bundling out of his office, arms full of boxes which he dumps on the counter, "Can you set these in the back room for me tonight?"

"Sure can", you smile broadly at him.

He opens the cash register, takes out the advance, and hands it over to you.

"What is this for anyway?" He says, grabbing a denim vest from the top of one of the boxes and tossing it over his shoulder.

"Oh, you know band stuff, we've got a small gig tomorrow, then The Battle of the Bands. So we'd love it if you came to watch. We got you some tickets, you know, for a plus one."

You smile and reach for the envelope under the counter, handing it to him. He folds it up and puts it in his blazer inside pocket,

"You kids are too freakin' cute sometimes, you know that?" he says, patting his pocket.

He turns to walk out and stops at the door, "Oh, do not forget what I said about Eddie, ok? Dustin and I need to have a serious talk with him."

"I absolutely will." You say sincerely.

"Great job this week, kid. Keep it up," He says, leaving.

Once Mr Harrington leaves, you close up the entire front of the store and set up everything for tomorrow's morning shift. Last of all, you take out the trash.

The vibrant lights of the carnival next door make the alleyway switch between illuminated and absolute darkness. Shielding your eyes, you catch something on the edge of your hearing.

A shuffling, and groggy groaning, you imagine it's just another Carnival reveller a bit worse for wear, but something tells you to check.

You crane your next out to see around the dumpster. You know a girl, her eyes barely open, pinned against the wall by a much older guy.

"Hey!" You shout out. The guy stops in his tracks, and the girl makes a break for it.

"Shit!" He seethes and spittle flies from his mouth as he does. "Well, now what am I supposed to do with my evening?" He rages and lunges at you, grabbing you by your work vest.

"Let go of me!" You say, trying to shove him away. He's just much stronger than you, manoeuvring you easily with one hand. You feel yourself heading towards the wall.

"Hey!" A voice booms from the darkness of the alleyway. You look towards it and make out Eddie's silhouette. Thank god.

The man shoves you hard against the wall, bumping the back of your head against the brickwork as you slide to the floor next to a bottle crate.

He lunges at Eddie with a swing, but his fist meets nothing. You shake your head to get your vision right. Eddie moves so quickly to your eyes that it seems impossible. Your head is swimming. You stumble again, and Eddie catches you as you lose your footing. Unfortunately, this gives the drunkard the perfect opportunity to grab hold of Eddie and lays into him, fist after fist.

One minute you struggle to keep upright. The next, your blood is boiling, and you bring down a bottle hard on the back of the guy's head. He drops like a sack of potatoes. His head makes a dull thus on the floor, and blood pools quickly behind him.

Your whole body starts to tremble, and you look at the broken bottle in your hand and then back to the body on the ground. Your eyes fill with terror as the realisation of what has happened here fills your consciousness.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie the freak munson #eddiemunson #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

11 notes · View notes

dying-suffering-french-stalkers · 3 years ago

Note

For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.

#I CARE THEY #hope this is comprehensible bc i honestly cannot tell #i have many thoughts on these two human disasters #lupin iii #jigen #asks #the-golden-ghost #long post #meta #I GUESS #can you believe i wrote five pages of meta about 1970s comedy anime characters? fucking hell. i love this fandom.#ship meme

36 notes · View notes

geminil0vr · 4 years ago

Text

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 !

the masterlist -> part one

summary ✰ it's the night of the slytherin bash, and, intoxicated, you almost blurt out all your relationship troubles to pansy and the boys of slytherin.

tags ✰ @partr1dge <3

word count ✰ 3.4k

content ✰ alcohol, weed, rip. mill's hairbrush, a big party, drunk/high people and reader, mentions of sex, mild (but just as serious) sexual assault, boyfriend being pushy, arguments, gaslighting, guilt-tripping, pansy lowkey admiring the reader and vice versa, pansy taking off your makeup for you.

a/n ✰ yes we're having a lil party moment right on shedyool <3 i think i made draco too hot in this like have i forgotten this is a pansy fic ?? and i've been listening to the playlist on repeat for some inspiration but now all the songs are stuck in my head yikes... anyway, happy reading :))

letting out a short yell, you bolt out the way of millicent bulstrode being chased by her own hairbrush in your dorm room, falling backwards onto your bed, then leaning up on your forearms to watch in amusement as she squeals.

"stop it, stop it!"

pansy crosses her arms, leaning in the doorway for a moment before speaking calmly despite the urgent situation, "mill, i already told you not to try any beautification spells for tonight. they take a certain finesse that you clearly..." she eyes the hairbrush, which has somehow grown teeth, "lack."

daphne fervently attempts to throw millicent's wand to her, having lost her own somewhere in the room, ducking whenever the hairbrush swings too low by her head and yelling encouragement to her as she wails.

"it's gonna bloody eat me!"

you glance over to pansy, your lips quirked but still fighting the brighter grin that tries to force its way upon your mouth, one brow raised. she looks back with a smirk, raising her brows lazily, then pulls out her wand at last.

sure, you have yours, but come on! this is quality entertainment.

muttering a spell under her breath, the hairbrush rises, letting out a sharp, plasticky sound, teeth gnashing at the unknown force which has suddenly halted its rampage. then, thin, dark cracks begin to show upon its surface as it travels higher and higher into the air, finally letting out one last high-pitched sound before exploding into hot pink shards of plastic onto the wooden floor of the room.

millicent makes a lacklustre attempt of trying to catch certain pieces that are still falling, whining about how it was her favourite hairbrush. daphne drops the wand and falls back onto her duvet, exasperated, and you watch ahead in shock.

"blimey, pansy, couldn't you have just done 'finite'?" you ask, eyes wide.

"'s not nearly as much fun," she grins, bounding over to the large, dark oak wardrobe in the corner of the room, "now, ladies. what are we going to wear for the slytherin bash?"

"i bagsy y/n's black dress!" daphne pipes up, bouncing to sit cross-legged on her bed.

"no, you bloody well don't!"

you look in the mirror of the vanity, tucking back a few strands of hair out of your face and looking down at your silky emerald dress, the neckline dipping a little at your chest, the straps thin.

"whatever, i actually might look better in the green, anyway."

slinking out from the bathroom, daphne fixes the button on the back of the dress she's wearing, the black fabric clinging to her skin, "you definitely do."

"you're just saying that to keep my dress, aren't you?"

"maybe so. but you're still very pretty." she pecks your cheek and sits on her bed, fixing her curled hair in a compact mirror and swaying slightly to the thumping music already playing downstairs.

pansy pulls at her dress, leaning onto the vanity and applying a thin coat of red lipstick over her lips, looking at you through the glass "she's not wrong. you look nice."

you swallow, blinking at your reflection. you've brushed your brows, applied some blush, and a little smokey eyeliner, but nothing much. you don't mind letting your skin breathe a little, anyway.

"thanks, pansy." you eye her loose, sparkling, red dress, neckline dipping so low on her chest that you feel the sudden need to look away, instead focusing on her light-green eyes which never actually ceased intensely tracking the movements of your iris. "so do you."

"right. thank you."

millicent finishes tying her hair up, avoiding using any muggle products and therefore resorting to something simple, clipping it back with a claw accessory, "okay," she starts, and you and pansy quickly look away from each other, "so, are we going or not? can't be too late, they're still missing the life of the party!"

"mill, you pass out after three hours during almost every single party." daphne blinks.

"what's that saying, here for a good time but not a long time?" pansy snickers, zipping up her black boots.

millicent rolls her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. "shut your gobs, the two of you! now let's go!"

locking the door quickly on your way out so you won't have to deal with any arseholes doing it in your bed like last time (well, at least they were having a whale of a time), you bid goodbye to your dormmates who all part ways, immediately grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from a large table in the corner, looking over at the youthful atmosphere suddenly claiming such a place as the slytherin common room.

pouring yourself a shot, although you're awful at doing those, you hold your nose (as if that's going to help) and gulp down the alcohol, finishing by setting the little glass down and placing your hands on the table full of drinks in front of you, hair falling down into your face.

feeling a hand on your waist, you tense and stand up straight, not relaxing much when your boyfriend kisses your cheek and whispers a 'hello' into your ear.

"ben!" you exclaim, turning around and smiling at him, though not genuinely, "i didn't know you were coming."

"some guys in the year above invited me, unlike my own girlfriend." he teases, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer, and your nose scrunches at the sharp stench of beer on his breath. putting two and two together, considering how he's slurring his words, you realise he's already tipsy.

"right, sorry!" you genuinely are, though if he hadn't showed up, you wouldn't mind much, "i didn't really find out until the lesson before my free hour, and, well, you wanted us to go to your room, so —"

"oh, yeah. how could i forget?" he leans in, almost stumbling over his own two feet as he gets even closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist and kissing your neck, making you push your head down a little. the party having only just started, people are still piling in and the lights aren't turned off just yet.

you push him by the chest, gently, "it's still early, benny. not now."

ignoring your wishes, he nibbles at your neck, and you bring your shoulder up in discomfort, "but don't you want a repeat?" no, you really don't.

"ben, just, back off, please." you push a little more firmly now, shaking him off, and going to grab the bottle again to pour yourself another shot of firewhiskey as an excuse to not stay so close to him. but clearly that tactic isn't great, because he pushes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

"come on, this party'll be lame anyway. your room's empty, right?" you freeze as his lips meet your throat once more, swallowing before finding it in yourself to stretch your shoulders back, and push his arms from your waist, quickly pouring the shot and keeping it in your hand, just in case you need to spill it on him as a distraction.

if he's gonna be pushy, he could at least be decent in bed.

well, at least, that's your cynical view on it.

"ben. no. my — my friends are here, and i... i don't want to leave them all alone." you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand, brows furrowed, and he exhales loudly before shrugging his shoulders.

"if you don't want me then you could've just said so."

your eyes widen, "no, i didn't mean it like that, just that... just not tonight."

"well, it kinda seems like you're not interested. but whatever, y/n, it's fine." as you try to reach out to him, he walks over to his friends, and you lean against the table, gulping down the firewhiskey and wincing at the burn in your throat.

shit.

"come on, y/n! they're dimming the lights now, i wanna dance!" daphne bounds over to you, dragging you by the arm before you can protest.

and you oblige.

two hours in, you're tipsy, worn-out from all the dancing, yet still going back between the many students for more adrenaline. grinning as a song you love comes on, you regroup your dormmates in the crowd, grabbing them by their hands and all winding your hips to the beat, millicent giggling and falling over her feet, daphne tearing away from her boyfriend to join with a smile on her face. pansy isn't very giggly when drinking, you've noticed. in close settings, sure, but in big parties like this, everyone so close, air hot, green lights strobing across the common room... she just dances. raising her hands above her head, swaying her hips, twirling her friends around by their fingers — it's almost sensual. well, to anyone else. not to you.

pansy eyes you as you spin — the exhilarated grin on your face from being able to shrug off everything burdening you, everything weighing atop your shoulders. and she realises that she likes the shine of the strobing lights against your skin, your nose and cheeks gleaming, eyes a little bloodshot and chest glistening from all the alcohol in your system, and all the dancing. and when you and pansy finally get off the dancefloor to join the slytherin boys on the sofas, she likes the way your eyes tear up a little after taking a long drag from the joint that's being passed around.

"this isn't laced with anything, right?" you clear your throat to speak over the music, passing it back to theo, head dizzy. you watch the lights entangle themselves between little clouds of smoke, and wonder which cloud is yours.

"what do you think i am, a drug lord? no, it is not laced with anything." he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the sofa.

blaise elbows him, looking at you and pansy who are both sitting next to each other, "don't mind him — you know he gets bitchy when he smokes."

"do not." theo huffs.

"yes, you do." draco deadpans, snatching the joint from his hands and inhaling the smoke, blowing it upwards from his bottom lip.

you chuckle, stretching to settle comfortably into the sofa and tapping pansy's bare thigh subconsciously, to which she tenses, "i feel like nott's always a bitch, regardless."

"not wrong there." theo winks at you, rubbing at his eyes. your head feels like it's spinning, and you giggle again, leading blaise to do the same.

"what's so funny, y/l/n?" pansy raises her brows nonchalantly, crossing her legs and studying you at her right. she's taken the joint between her plump lips now, inhaling deeply for a second, then blowing it up into the air.

"think it's the weed." you giggle once more, eyelids heavy, leaning your head onto her shoulder — you two are much more friendly when a little bit intoxicated and high. more so you, than her.

draco leans back into the armchair he's sitting in, looking over to the corner of the room and spotting your ravenclaw boyfriend drinking with his friends in the corner. and, being significantly less of an arsehole with something in his system, draco decided to be polite.

"how's the boyfriend, y/n?" you chuckle at this, smiling softly and lifting your head up from pansy's shoulder.

"my boyfriend is an absolute, grade O, cockhead."

the whole group is still for a short moment, exchanging varying levels of shock and amusement, before turning back to you. draco speaks again, "is that so?"

"mhmm." you nod lazily, as if your head is too heavy to hold up, pointing over at him from the other side of the room, "ben sucks. he's awful. if i could, i would — well, i mean, i could, but if i really could, i'd —"

"right, i think that's enough of that for tonight." pansy takes the joint from between your index and middle finger, interrupting you and attempting to change the subject considering your tipsy and high state. she’s been through enough non-sober confessions in her lifetime to know best.

"no, i mean it. and it would be worth it if he would actually fuck m—"

"i said, enough." pansy presses, trying to save you any embarrassment. being good enough friends with the slytherin boys of your year since you all first arrived, you know there'll be no judgement or rumours spread around. but, still. better not to air out all of your dirty laundry, or whatever the americans say. well, that's what 'sober you' would say. and right now, you're completely ready to confess how shitty your boyfriend is, to reveal the dialogue that usually only stays in your head.

"come on, pansy, the people wanna know." blaise raises his finger to her, grinning. the boy loved drama; he wasn't a sharer, but certainly a listener.

"i, the people, do not care." draco raises his finger as well, slouched in his seat.

"and i, the people, say you're not gonna let y/n humiliate herself. if she really wants to say this, she’ll do it when she’s sober.” pansy frowns, standing up and gripping your arm, passing the joint over to theo who was watching the scene casually.

“usually you love this stuff!” theo raises his arms lazily for emphasis.

“well, she’s my friend.” pansy gives him a blink stare.

"blah, blah, blah, parkinson." you slur you words a little, and she scowls, "i'm ready to say it. ben rowen is shite in and out of the be—"

she muffles your voice with her hand, forcing you to get up and follow her to the dormitory calmly, as you attempt to yell through her fingers, instead practically humming. it's not a messy, nor embarrassing scene -- you're at least sober enough to know better, and no one's paying attention anyway, not with the beat of the music thrumming through the room, vibrating the floor beneath your feet. but you're not sober enough to control your urge to break down and admit that you desperately want to break up with your boyfriend, even though you think you still love (the old, fake) him, even though you're scared to break his heart.

seeing the scene from across the common room, ben strides over with a purpose, and the boys on the sofa snort at his actions. "what happened?" he tears pansy's hand from your mouth (thankfully, you're not wearing lipstick), to which she scrunches up her nose, clenching her jaw and glancing to the side impatiently.

"your girlfriend had a little too much to drink and smoke. she's going to bed."

"she can just stay with me." he seems over his annoyance from before. shame his annoying personality continues to linger, you think.

pansy eyes him up and down rapidly, grip still firm on your arm. there’s something about your boyfriend, especially considering your change in behaviour around him, that pisses her off. you're looking between the two of them with wide eyes, considerably amused. "no."

"what do you mean, no?" you notice now that he's much, much drunker than before. the boys are still watching, leaning forward to hear over the music. well, theo and blaise are -- draco gives the 'altercation' a glance before setting his focus on the almost-finished joint between his fingers.

"i thought ravenclaws were meant to have an IQ of at least more than ten — no, means, i will not let her stay with you, she's going to sleep it off." you look over to the sofas and give a look the boys, half-grimacing, half-grinning.

"listen, i'm the boyfriend here —"

"are you? because i don't recall you ever being present the entire party."

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean, i was just over —"

"with her, i mean. why don't you go drown yourself in some more of that beer you obviously like so much," 'ouch', blaise mouths, "and i'll take care of your girlfriend, who... y/n?" you stop making frantic pointing gestures to the boys to ‘translate’ what they were saying since the boys couldn’t lip read, turning your attention to the people in front of you.

"yup?" you shrug, tilting your head up at her, being just an inch or two shorter.

pansy closes her eyes, sighing, then shakes her head, feeling a little wobbly herself, "nevermind. let's get you to bed, huh?" she shoots daggers at ben, whose nostrils flare as you're guided to the girls dormitory. he goes after you two again, but is quickly halted when draco's voice raises over the music.

"perhaps you should let them leave, rowen. just head elsewhere — don't be an arse."

ben sighs in exasperation, making his way to the group, but draco sticks his leg out through the gap between the armchair and the sofa on which you were just sitting, making your boyfriend stumble back.

"that wasn’t an invitation." draco deadpans, although the corner of his lip quirks up as he takes a sip of firewhisky and raises his brows.

instead of casting a quick makeup removal spell, pansy opts to lean you against the bathroom sink at a safe distance, using a cotton pad and cleaning off your eyeliner and any sweat or blush left on your skin. you know, just in case the spell doesn't go well, and you end up being eaten by a magic cotton pad.

you close your eyes, gripping the cold sink behind you loosely as pansy wipes warm water over your skin.

"done." she nods, expressionless, as your eyes flutter open, easily casting 'incendio' on the cotton and not bothering to watch as it crumbles into ash on the floor. she certainly has a flair for the dramatics, and you can't help but think she's picked it up from draco malfoy.

you look into the mirror to smooth down your hair, eyes bloodshot, lips swollen from the firewhiskey (and a little from when pansy pressed her palm into them). she tosses pyjamas at you, and you wobble a bit when they hit your side.

"change."

"okay, sergeant." you snort as she shuts the door, clumsily picking up the shorts and sweater she'd thrown.

shrugging off your dress, you call out from inside the bathroom. "why did you get mad at ben?"

for a beat, there was silence, until she called back. "because he was being a 'cockhead'." pansy mocked.

"and why did you make me leave?" you pull up your pyjama shorts, squinting down and trying to tie a little bow at the front, rather unsuccessfully, "i was having fun."

"well, you were gonna embarrass yourself, y/n. i only helped you out."

after slipping on your large sweater, you peek your head out the door, seeing her tie her raven hair back into a tiny ponytail, most strands falling out due to the length of it (or lack thereof). she'd done a makeup removal spell on herself.

"you're going to bed, too?" you murmur, furrowing your brows.

"yeah, tired." she lies, sorting out her bed covers.

you bite the inside of your cheek before deciding to ‘confront’ her, “and, pansy?” her movements still, “i didn't need help. they're my friends, and i wanted to tell them —"

she turns around, cutting you off with a challenging look that makes you step fully into the doorway, "tell them what?"

you swallow. nevermind. maybe she was right to drag you out of the party. maybe she was right to have cut you off, instead of letting you indulge into your history and your barely-there sex life.

feeling like you're being frowned upon by authority, you duck your head sheepishly and clamber into bed, glancing over to millicent who has seemingly collapsed onto her bed and blacked out.

"is... everything okay with you and — you and ben, though?"

"yeah. i don't know what i was saying. he just pissed me off earlier and i started... talking shit." you lie through your teeth.

"right." she flicks off the lights with her wand, back turned to you as she sits on her bed, pulling off her dress and slipping into a big shirt. the lamp on your bedside table that she turned on beforehand faintly casts the room in a warm glow, and through the darkness you can see the pale skin of her back as she pulls it down. your eyes dart away, deciding to focus on the ceiling, instead, "and you're really okay?" she turns now, and relief washes over you — relief that she didn't turn sooner.

you eye her as she gets under her covers, propping her head up with her hand. you bury yours sideways into the pillow, wrapping the duvet tightly around your frame. "yeah. you?"

"yes, y/n. now, sleep off all that shit in your system. and lie on your side, not your back." you listen to what she's told you plenty of time before, and lean over to switch off the lamp, the entire room pitch black.

"'night, pansy."

"goodnight."

113 notes · View notes

evakuality · 3 years ago

Photo

Mia, episode ten

1. I like this little pile of girls she has going on here (and I love that it was recreated in s4). I really do enjoy this group together and it’s nice when we get to see them all in one group like this. ‘If he found out through someone else, that’d be worse’ - yeah it would, and I’m glad someone is finally working out that talking to each other is the best way to deal with things. The most frustrating thing about this season so far (apart from the Noora bits) is how so much could have been avoided if people just actually spoke to each other rather than making assumptions. I don’t feel like this was as big a problem in the other seasons. Hanna was built around how unhealthy this behaviour is and Matteo was actually relatively good at communication, at least in ways that didn’t end up with this sort of issue.

2. Druck: here are some shots of this school. Me: 💜💙💜 - every damn time. I really really love this school and its environs. It’s such a great place to create interesting shots and scenes in!

3. Okay, this bit seems better than the og. I absolutely loathed that William refused to listen to Noora at all and chose instead to believe someone who is absolutely 100% proven by him to be an asshole and manipulative. Here at least a) Mia genuinely did go and do something with Bjorn kind of on purpose and b) Alex is at least willing to talk; he hasn’t entirely shut her down. Alex has far more genuine reason to be upset in this case (she chose to hang out with Bjorn rather than go see Alex after all unlike Noora who was at William’s house and sort of pressured into doing stuff against her will while she waited for him). So the fact that Alex, while clearly hurt, is still willing to listen is a good change.

4. Hmm, this is a very interesting shot of Mia. Her costume is so dark and the background is so dark that her face stands out so starkly against it. It’s another sort of black and white thing, except that where Mia and Amira were both black and white (signaling that both had aspects of each), here Alex is white and Mia is black (meaning they’re framing him as ‘right’ here). I don’t necessarily love the way this season (and the og) tried to frame the William character as a misunderstood lovely guy when they both acted like absolute dicks. But I do like the way Druck uses costuming and cinematography.

5. I don’t think any of this backstory really absolves Alex of any of what he did or how he’s acted. But I will say, the acting is very nice and the things he’s talking about are quite poignant. Clearly, Bjorn shows all the signs of a classic abuser and this must have been a hard thing for a young guy to watch. But I guess the issue is that in order to stick to the og, Alex had to act like a similar sort of guy. Which doesn’t make sense. If he was as badly affected by all of this stuff as it seems he was, why start acting like the same sort of guy as the one who did this?

6. Interesting that by the end of the clip we’re back to a share of the black and white. Mia is absolutely in the right here, so this ‘nuance’ bothers me (there really is no reason for Alex to beat up Bjorn, and Mia’s right - she should be the one to deal with this in this instance). But I do like that again, Druck is using colours and light (there’s a lot more light on Mia and a lot more dark around Alex by the end of the clip) to make their point. It’s not absolutely one I agree with but I appreciate what they do with this stuff. It was great in Hanna’s season and it’s great again here. ‘Honestly Mia, this thing hasn’t worked between us from the start’ - hmmm, for once I agree with you, Alex. This is/was a high school romance that lasted for a couple of weeks. They’ll both get over it and move on, particularly if they’re going to be in different places. One thing I do like about the s4 stuff is that the show does acknowledge that and allows them to split up. That’s just life. That doesn’t mean they weren’t important for each other, but just that it was something that was with them for a short time, and it doesn’t have to be more than that. I know that isn’t how this season ends, but overall I like where it goes.

7. Oh, the often-talked-about ‘beanie boy’ scene. Sad that I have never seen this episode and yet I recognized it from what Jonas is wearing. Yes, I’ll admit it: I am a David fanatic and I’m so glad he had this little moment in this season. Also, Hanna my dearest love looks so lovely here. I’m not surprised Jonas hasn’t got himself over her yet. I mean, look at her!!! I do like how awkward this is. Hanna did the moving on, she grew up and made a decision and it’s great that it worked for her, but I have been in the place where the other person wants to be friends but it hurts too much so I get Jonas as well. This is a hard situation and I have to heap praise on the acting once again. They’re both doing such a a great job here of selling just how tough this is.

8. I have very few thoughts about the whole ‘sitting around smoking’ thing except that those glasses really suit Abdi! But big sigh... here we go having Amira being the ‘reasonable’ one and telling us what to think about Alex. Like Sana. she’s supposed to be the moral centre of the group and so we’re supposed to listen to her, and she’s telling us that we should understand him because of what he went through. But there’s no nuance here again - yes, he went through something really awful and yes he has some qualities that aren’t entirely awful. But he still did some manipulative and often plain horrible things and he shouldn’t get a pass for those just because he has a sad backstory. If he actually did something to make up for what he did, if he acted like he was sorry rather than ‘right’ (again, a hangup from the og so I get it, but I still don’t like it), then I might have some sympathy for this line of reasoning but as it is ‘he has a sad backstory’ isn’t the ‘gotcha’ these shows think it is. And ‘Jonas is actually worse than Alex’ is SUCH a terrible take. Is Jonas perfect? No of course not, but at least he didn’t deliberately do a lot of the awful things to girls that Alex did. He at least genuinely liked both Leonie and Hanna when he was with them, and didn’t string them along for cheap sex. Why do they always use the Sana character in this way? Kiki of all people has the right take here. It’s not up to outsiders whether they should or shouldn’t be together, but rather the two of them. All we can do in the end is support our friends.

9. Interesting placement with the message now being ‘follow your heart’ - again, I personally don’t think we should be making such a big romantic deal of this whole thing but if we listen to Kiki (rather than Amira’s ‘all men are assholes’ thing) then I guess we should applaud her. This whole thing has clearly been difficult for Mia and it’s good that she wants to fight for what she wants. Again I’ll slip in some praise for the acting - Druck (as with the og of course) really did seem to find some talented performers and then coaxed some lovely performances out of them.

10. Wow, Matteo even looks thoroughly uninterested in Sara even at this point. How did she not pick up on it? I do feel for Sam, though. She wants a boyfriend and what she gets is an Abdi which was just a hook up thing really. I wish we’d got to see her find someone good for her in all ways (and I’ll also never be over that we never did get resolution on some of Matteo’s and Amira’s stuff either... oh for even a short one-off like the abiball where we got some sort of closure).

11. In really shallow news, I love this place where Mia ia talking to Alex - it’s really cool and with the lighting and graffiti it looks really interesting. However, I know I talk a lot about pacing, but her again is an example of the issues I have with it. I know they had to condense 11 episodes from the og (some veeeeeery long) into 10 more evenly sized ones. But, this reunion in the last few minutes of the episode seems really rushed (though I am grateful that it’s not like the overly dramatic car reversing after William was yet again an asshole to Noora that we got in the og). Alex is still talking about how Mia doesn’t trust him, how much they fight etc etc and Mia is calling him out for all the awful things he di at the start (which he continues to deny!!!!!!). And it’s all true, and they don’t have time to actually talk about it before we get whatever fairytale they’re going for here. It’s too short. They could or should have rearranged a few clips (particularly earlier in the season) so we could get a better and stronger resolution of the problems they’re raising here. ‘Yeah we’ll still do and be all those things’ isn’t the romantic ideal they’re suggesting. They still don’t communicate properly, which I personally would have liked to see before this big reunion.

However, overall I much preferred this ending to the one in the og. William was a much worse character in the last episode than Alex is here. I don’t like him, I don’t think he’s a good match for Mia but I do appreciate that he didn’t do what William did in the final episode. And Mia was more at fault than Noora was and so there’s more balance between them. I’ll never like this type of relationship, and I’ll certainly never like the Alex type of guy, but at least there was some acknowledgement of the issues and some suggestion that they can work on them together.

#druck #og druck #mia - episode 10 #update on feelings about Alex - I still don't like him

14 notes · View notes

theherothechampiontheinquisitor · 4 years ago

Text

Pepperony Gift Exchange

Title: Like It Never Happened Pairing: Pepperony Word Count: Almost 13k TW: Implied/referenced Alcohol Abuse Rating: G Summary: When Tony and Pepper get stranded alone in Colorado after a long (mostly) working weekend they learn more about the other in one night than in the five years they spent working together. Not only that but they discover there may be the possibility for more for them in the future. What started as the weekend from hell blossoms into something unexpected and life changing. OR There was only one bed. - "Hey, Pepper. Want to make out?" Notes: I wrote this for the Pepperony Valentine's Gift Exchange via @dailypepperony for @river-bottom-nightmare. I am so sorry that this is so late. Life has kicked my butt this last month but I hope the nearly 13k in content is a good apology. I had a lot of fun with this one even as it grew from just a funny little idea into something with actual plot. I hope that you enjoy it!! Sorry again for the wait. <3

Read it on AO3 Here

They were supposed to have gone back to Malibu on Thursday night after the conference. Instead, here Pepper was on Saturday night, trekking through one of the worst blizzards in Colorado history because her boss just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take a mini vacation and go snowboarding with a gaggle of busty sycophants.

She’d been working for Tony Stark for almost five years now, so she wasn’t sure why she was still sometimes so surprised by his need to go off script and wildly alter all of their plans, but at least when he did they were normally in California where it was warm and sunny, not this frozen tundra.

She almost left without him, sure he would never notice or care she was gone but even though she and Tony had a good back and forth relationship, she had less of one with the CTO, Obadiah Stane and knew that Obadiah would be less thrilled if she left the wild child CEO on his own to get into trouble.

By the time that she had been able to finally convince Tony that they needed to leave and then to check out from their hotel and make it to the airport, the storm was already in full effect and all planes had been grounded, even for America’s premier billionaire weapons developer. So, they had to turn around. Or they would have if they could have made it past the airport parking lot but the snow was falling so heavily that their driver wouldn’t even attempt it, and he was a Colorado native.

This left Pepper with the unique challenge of now finding lodging nearby because she would be damned if she was going to sleep inside the airport. There were several hotels and motels that were airport adjacent at least, so now she was mostly left with the issue of them all being fully booked by other stranded flyers.

The concierge at their latest chain hotel was being very polite and understanding of their dilemma, however there was only so much they could do and apparently the Stark name meant nothing in the midst of a blizzard.

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose and then massaged her aching forehead as she parsed through her options, not that there really were any. It was almost midnight, she was tired, had been working all day when she wasn’t corralling Tony. This hotel would have to do. Tony only had himself to blame if the room wasn’t up to snuff.

Speaking of which…

She turned around from the front desk, eyes scanning the mostly empty lobby until they zeroed in on her boss, leaning against the wall talking to another guest, female of course, with a wolfish smile on his face.

Bleh.

“Mr. Stark?” she called out across the room to him, a fake pleasant smile plastered to her face and a thin veneer of exasperation lacing her words.

“Yes, dear?” He responded automatically without so much as even a backward glance.

Breathe, Potts, breathe.

“I think we are just about set up over here, just need your signature as always,” she replied, proud at how in check her temper was at the moment.

For a moment she thought she’d have to physically remove him from his conversation until a tall, buff looking guy came in the door carrying several suitcases, dropping them at the feet of the woman Tony was talking to, and he did not look pleased. Tony quickly gave a wink and a smile before he strategically retreated.

“You got it all figured out, huh?” he asked, as he made his way to the desk.

“I always do.”

He smiled genuinely at that and she felt just the slightest bit of her anger melting away and instead the butterflies she’d sometimes get in her stomach stirred to life instead. It was ridiculous really how nice of a smile her boss had, so she was allowed to be a little weak internally. From the looks of the young concierge, she would seem to agree, as well.

Tony reached across the front desk to grab a pen, and Pepper slid the forms over to Tony. Technically, her job did give her the power to sign for him but early on she had deemed it entirely necessary to make him put forth at least the bare minimum of effort, especially when situations like this would arise and it was all his fault.

Tony signed his name with a flourish, only the ‘T’ and ‘S’ distinguishable on the line. As he did the lights in the lobby flickered.

“What’s up with that?”

The concierge kept a smile on her face as she took the information from them. “The blizzard might be causing an issue with the power. We have emergency lights and fireplaces in each of the suites in case it were to go out.”

Tony raised a brow and looked sideways to Pepper. She raised her hands in mock defense.

“We wouldn’t even still be in this state if you weren’t pursuing your...extracurriculars.”

“Pepper, I’m insulted.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not,” he agreed with another one of those smiles that made those butterflies start fluttering again...until he turned his head back to the concierge, his hair flopping to the side. “So, what time do you get off work?”

Tony definitely knew how to clip those butterfly wings in a single instance.

“No, no. We have to share a room and this is definitely one of those things that is not in my contract to have to deal with.”

“Aw, Pep you’re no fun. Besides, I’m sure she has her own room,” he said winking at the girl who let loose a nervous giggle.

Oh puh-lease.

“Tony,” she finally stated in her no nonsense voice that cut through all of his bullshit.

He looked at her then, really looked at her she thought, and saw something, probably her extreme exhaustion and distaste for him at the moment and he straightened his stance from leaning against the desk and turned back.

“Do you at least have a bar around here or in the room?”

“They closed at nine.”

“What in the prohibition is wrong with this place?”

“I’m sure we could have something sent up for you?” The girl asked entirely unsure if that was even possible, Pepper was sure, though seemingly willing enough to risk her job to earn another grin from her boss.

Thankfully Tony spared her from much more flirting and they were finally handed their room keys and directed to the elevator down the hall. They were on the third floor with a view overlooking the mountains which the concierge promised was a sight to behold in the mornings. The only sight Pepper was looking forward to was the back of her eyelids.

She leaned heavily against the rail in the elevator and let her head flop back against the wall.

“You okay, Potts?”

“Nothing a good night of sleep won’t fix,” she mumbled automatically.

Tony shrugged and went back to looking at his phone but every now and then she could feel the weight of his stare on her, even with her eyes closed.

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

“There must be some kind of a mistake…”

Pepper dropped her bag in the doorway even as Tony shuffled around her to see what the problem was.

The room was definitely much smaller than either of them was used to, and certainly a downgrade in quality but that was to be expected from a chain airport hotel. Still it wasn’t exactly a slum either. There was a mini kitchenette with a coffee pot and microwave on one end of the room, what he assumed was a door leading to a bathroom, and then at the opposite end was the fireplace that was boasted about, along with the balcony overlooking the mountains. A small desk and couch was also wedged up against the wall.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, finally coming up with nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the horrific beiges and generic prints lining the walls.

That must have been the wrong answer because Pepper turned to him with the most unamused face in her arsenal.

“There’s only one bed,” she finally pointed out. “This was supposed to be a double. I’m calling down to the front.”

Tony didn’t consider that the end of the world but apparently Pepper did, as she stormed over to the old looking phone and dialed down to the front. He just shrugged and entered the room more fully, dropping his bag in front of the wardrobe/tv stand combo and instantly went to get a better look of the view, occasional snatches of Pepper’s conversation drifting to his ears.

“...no you said there was a room available you did not say that it was a single…”

Tony would almost be insulted by how vehemently his assistant was fighting against the hotel staff if he didn’t already know that she fought equally hard in all of her endeavors. It was one of the many reasons that he had hired her on in the first place.

“Okay, so they don’t have any more rooms, it’s this or nothing,” Pepper finally said, slamming the receiver down.

Tony turned back to his exasperated assistant and just grinned at how flushed she was. “It’s not the end of the world, I’m sure we can manage.”

Pepper was still not amused or comforted. “Sure, you can say that because you are literally inhuman and can fall asleep anywhere, but I have been chasing you around for two days, while also keeping everything caught up with SI and it's cold and I’m tired. I don’t exactly relish sleeping on a couch after everything that has happened.”

Tony flinched and scrunched his face up. “Why would you sleep on the couch? C’mon we’re adults, it’s a big bed, there’s no reason that we can’t just share it. And if you’re cold, then I’ll get the fireplace going.”

Pepper paused and looked like she was considering his words, her eyes roaming over to the bed, probably calculating the amount of space that they would each have between their bodies. He could probably seal the deal if he could just keep his mouth shut for the next two minutes and swallow down the flirty retort on the tip of his tongue, alas though, he was Tony Stark and he had never been good at not saying what was on his mind.

“Besides, I have been trying to get you in bed with me for years.”

He could see the exact moment that the light left her eyes and all considerate notions of bed sharing were instantly quashed.

Oh, well. Maybe next time.

“Orrrrrrr,” he dragged the word out and at least had the decency to be mildly apologetic in tone and features for his joke, “I can sleep on the couch. I’ll still build you a fire though, cause I’m such a swell guy.”

Pepper rolled her eyes but he could see some of the tension drain from her shoulders and knew that he had made the right choice, chivalrous even. And to be honest, she really did deserve the very least of which he could give her in this instance. She was right, he could sleep anywhere. He had once fallen asleep standing up at his drafting board and Rhodey could probably write a book about all the weird places he had found him dozing while they were at MIT. Some of those naps might have been more alcohol or drug induced than by choice but the sentiment remained the same. And as Pepper so angrily stated, she had been running after him like his mother for the past few days. He’d make sure to give her a raise too. He liked to do that anytime he knew he had been particularly burdensome. Pepper got a lot of raises.

Pepper didn’t say anything else but she went back for her bag and rummaged through it for a bit, pulling out night clothes and toiletries before disappearing into the bathroom, so surely she had agreed to their new terms.

Tony wandered his way over to the fireplace and realized it was just an old electric thing. He turned a few knobs to get it going and by the time that Pepper had exited the bathroom, it was at least putting out a pleasant warmth and Tony had already mapped out ten different ways in his brain to improve the energy efficiency and output ratio. He liked finding new ways to fix old age problems. It was often a welcome relief from building the next big weapon, often saving him from his creative stifle.

“Check it out, Potts,” he said over his shoulder and then turned his head to face her from where he was crouched beside the fire. When he looked at Pepper though his brain may as well have shut down entirely.

He had seen Pepper in all manner of power suits and business attire. Had seen her on the rarer occasion in her ‘off the clock attire’ containing various jeans and t-shirts. However, he had yet to see her in any kind of nightwear, the past few days they had had separate rooms and any time she may have crashed at the mansion before that she was always hidden behind closed doors and in fresh clothing by the time he was pulled out of his bed.

Seeing her now...well it wasn’t quite what he would fantasize, no fantasies were just that and really there were no practical reasons to sleep in sheer lacy lingerie when one had no intentions of seduction, no this was right. This was very Pepper. Practical. Comfortable. Still surprisingly sexy?

She sensed his eyes on her as she stuffed her folded clothing back into her bag and slowly turned to him, her toothbrush still hanging out of one side of her mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing just you look…” he held his hands up as if lost for words and he kind of was at the moment. He felt that strange churn he’d sometimes get in the pit of his stomach when he would sometimes zone out in the middle of an all nighter and think about Pepper, really think about her, not just the curves and the pretty face, but all of her, and how he never smiled more than when he was with her. That feeling was back, gnawing at his gut as his eyes swiped over her one more time.

Pepper was instantly on the defensive. “They’re my winter pajamas. I never get to wear them in California, leave me alone,” she said, smoothing out any of the wrinkles of her pink flannel set.

“No, no, I didn’t mean anything bad about it. It’s just…” he started to correct, “very you. It’s cute,” he shrugged.

Pepper softened at the recognition of one of his real admissions, dropping her guard back down and allowing a smile to creep across her face. “Not the lace and silk you were hoping for, huh?” she teased him back and he knew they were good again.

“Nah, this is better,” he admitted to her again. It could have been the light from the fireplace or just her body warming from the cold, snowy night but he thought he saw a flush of pink spread across her cheeks and tinge the top of her ears. It was adorable.

A knock at the door broke the moment and Tony took it upon himself to answer. It was the hotel general manager, a tall, balding man in his forties with a bushy mustache. He apologized about the inconvenience over the room and the bar being closed but offered Tony a bottle of, “their best wine,” free of charge. Tony accepted it and the man scurried away like a mouse.

Tony turned the bottle in his hand, reading the label.

“We’re rolling in luxury now, Pep.”

“Oh yeah? Did they bump some poor couple from a double room?”

“I thought we already solved the bed issue?”

“We did, but I could still hope,” she shrugged, and went into the bathroom to spit and rinse her toothbrush out.

Tony knew no boundaries though so he followed behind her and leaned into the doorway as she went about removing the days make up. Now that he had seen Pepper without, so it didn’t phase him to watch.

“No, they did apologize though with their best red wine, vintage 2004. A whole year. We should be honored.”

“Not everyone in the world has exclusive access to their own family wineries in Italy, Tony,” she said, blotting at her face.

“Okay, I’m a snob,” he admitted. “You like wine, right Pepper? Let’s crack this bad boy open.”

“Tony,” she started in that tone that usually ended in a solid ‘no.’

“C’mon Potts, a quick nightcap. Live a little.”

“You live enough for the both of us.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he pointed at her and fled the room in search of cups before she did say no.

No glasses had been provided by Bill the general manager, nor the kitchenette, so Tony had to settle for the paper cups that were meant for the coffee pot. He’d just rinse his cup out when he was done and reuse it for the coffee in the morning. No big deal.

The wine wasn’t the type that needed a corkscrew, nor was it the type that he thought needed to breathe after being opened but he went ahead and waited a few moments anyways. It certainly couldn’t make it any worse...he hoped.

After further thought he flipped off the lights then glanced at the bed and pulled off the four fluffy pillows and sat them around the small fireplace, two of them he propped against the wall and leaned back against, the other two he left for Pepper to decide what to do with.

He then grabbed the wine and the two paper cups and poured himself a measure. It smelled just like your basic, cheap, supermarket wine, and after a taste he knew that he had definitely had worse in his life but that wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. Satisfied that they at least wouldn't be poisoned tonight, he filled his cup the rest of the way and then Pepper's and waited.

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

“What is this?” Pepper said, haltingly when she finally emerged from the bathroom makeup-less and ready for bed. She looked Tony up and down, the way he was sprawled out on the cheap carpet, propped up only by the wall and the bed pillows beside the warm fire with suspicion. It felt like a cheap seduction attempt.

Tony however never faltered. “It’s our nightcap,” he said with a grin and raised his paper cup. “It tastes like shit but I figured maybe some ambiance wouldn’t hurt.”

Pepper hesitated again. Tony had always been flirty and he knew better than to try anything further with her. She had made it very clear from day one exactly where he could go if he tried to treat her like a one night stand. He had surprisingly been very respectful of her boundaries, testing the limits on occasion, but he never made her feel uncomfortable or anything.

This whole situation though had been wearing her thin. The aggravation of what occurred and why mixed with the fact that there was a part of her that was singing in glee at being confined to a single bed room with her good looking, charming boss who despite all the bravado she had put forth about leaving her alone, she had still managed to harbor a crush on. Maybe even could develop genuine feelings for. This was neither the time or the place for those kinds of thoughts.

Tony sighed loudly and drew her attention back to him after she must have zoned out for a decent while. “C’mon, Potts. We can pretend this is a slumber party and exchange gossip and paint each other’s nails. If you’re really good we can even end with a pillow fight.”

“Is that what you think happens at slumber parties?” Pepper asked. She gave the bed a longing glance but Tony just looked so damn earnest, so she ultimately gave in and grabbed the two pillows Tony had left for her and fixed herself a spot a respectable distance away from him and plopped down on the pillows with a groan. It felt so good to finally be sitting down.

“I mean that’s the Hallmark version of what I think happens. My only other experience is with porn and I have a feeling that would be even less accurate,” he smiled cheekily.

Pepper rolled her eyes and accepted the Styrofoam cup from his outstretched hand, their fingers brushing against each other ever so slightly, sending a pleasant tingle up her arm. “I haven’t had nearly enough to drink for any of that kind of talk,” she said, taking a sip.

“Well, we do have this bottle all to ourselves…”

This time Pepper laughed a real laugh.

“It would take more than a bottle for either of us to be drunk. I’m pretty sure this is the same brand that my Mom used to buy when I was in high school and it’s pretty weak. Sometimes I’d still steal a drink or two when I was feeling particularly rebellious though.”

Tony gasped and clutched at his chest dramatically at the revelation. “You mean to tell me that the Pepper Potts was an underage drinker?! And here I thought your soul was completely pristine.”

Pepper snorted. “Please. Not that pristine,” she said, taking another drink.

“Ohhh. I am liking this darker side of you, Pep, I have to say. What else did you do? Shoplift bubblegum? Forget to tip your waiter?” he teased.

“I’m sorry my criminal history is not living up to your expectations. Not everyone grew up with a lawyer on retainer and parents that could bail them out.” As soon as the words left her mouth she gasped lightly and covered her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked to him for his reaction. “I’m sorry, I was just teasing, and that was unprofessional…”

It was an unspoken rule to not speak about Howard and Maria Stark literally ever, if one could help it. Sometimes it was unavoidable due to press members who thought they were clever comparing the son to his father or if it were related to Stark Industries business, but never as a joke.

Pepper didn’t know the full story why the subject was so touchy, she’d always just assumed it was due to the tragic nature of their loss. She knew that they had passed years back in an auto accident, Pepper had been a senior in high school, and could still remember the headlines splashed across her father’s newspaper for weeks with photos of the wreck or the elder Starks. There was just one photo of a young Tony that she could remember taken from the funeral. He was all alone and even in black and white she could see and feel the sadness and vulnerability that had been radiating off of him. It was the first time she was cognizant of who he was. Sometimes she could still see the hints of the sad, lonely boy in the man before her and it made her heart ache.

When she looked at Tony he didn’t seem offended at least but the sadness was there. His eyes grew a little more haunted and the smile on his face became a little more downturned but in the blink of an eye the smile was back, a little more cautious now, as he waved a hand at her and filled the cups back up.

“You’re fine,” he reassured her as he poured the wine, “I’m a snob and sometimes I forget how normal people live. And I’ll have you know that there were a couple of times when my parents were out of town that my Aunt Peggy let me cool my heels and sober up in the luxury of a jail cell overnight.”

“Is this Peggy Carter?” Pepper figured she was safe to ask about since she was still alive and well and she knew they were still in contact. She’d seen her flowing script occasionally on the mail she would bring to Tony and had always been a little curious. The woman was an icon.

“It is. You been checking up on me?,” he said, a genuine smile taking over his face again. She loved those smiles.

“It is part of my job,” she shrugged.

“I'm surprised you two haven’t met before, compared Tony-wrangling notes. I’m sure she could provide you plenty of pointers. On second thought--scratch that. Maybe you should never meet,” he laughed. “She’s a great woman though. You would really like her. You’re alike in a lot of ways. Strong, beautiful, capable women who don’t take anyone’s shit.”

Pepper’s heart fluttered a little erratically to be compared to a woman like Peggy Carter, but especially at the word beautiful. She was starting to feel flushed and she knew it had nothing to do with the wine. Time to deflect and redirect, a tried and true Tony-wrangling method.

“You don’t talk about her very much.”

“I don’t?”

Pepper shook her head.

“That’s too bad. It’s not intentional. She’s gone her own way with her family and I suppose I’ve gone mine. That’s life right?”

It sounded like there was more to it than that but Pepper wasn’t going to press her luck any further. Tony though became a little antsy, shifting his body around into several different positions before resettling and drinking the remnants of his cup. He refilled it again and they sat in silence for a moment.

Pepper watched him stare into the fireplace contemplatively, the fake embers casting warm shadows across his face. In this lighting his eyes were a warm, honey brown, and she couldn’t help to be drawn to them as he clearly fought some internal fight.

Finally, after what felt like forever he spoke again, his voice soft and serious.

“Aunt Peggy isn’t too happy with me at the moment.”

Pepper frowned. “Why not? The stocks are the best they have ever been.”

“It’s not the company. Me in general. She thinks that an almost thirty-five year old man shouldn’t still be behaving like his twenty-one year old counterpart,” he said, trying for a wry grin that came off more painful than anything.

“She thinks I need to settle down, have a family like she did. Cut down on the alcohol. Well, not just cut down but check myself into Betty Ford or some shit. I told her to mind her own business, we had an argument and I haven’t heard from her since,” he finished with a deep sigh of regret.

Pepper couldn’t say that she disagreed with Ms. Carter’s assessment and honestly, looking at Tony now, she didn’t think he disagreed now either, if he ever really had. There was a difference between knowing you have a problem and accepting it and seeking treatment. It was clear the woman had meant well, but Tony could be so guarded and so bullheaded.

She mentally fought herself over what to say next. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds, she was still his employee, no matter how friendly they could be off office hours, but he was clearly in pain and seeking a little direction, clarity even.

“Do you disagree with her?” she asked, cautiously.

Tony didn’t blow up at her or fire her. His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the dancing light in front of him, engaged in his own mental struggle. Slowly he shook his head, the strands of his overgrown hair that had started to curl, waved back and forth slightly.

“No.”

At least he could admit it to himself even if he wasn’t necessarily ready to do anything to change it.

“Call her when we get back. I bet she would love to hear your voice,” she smiled, encouragingly and scooted closer to him so that she could rub her hand down his back in a comforting manner. It was something that she had done a million times before but something about this moment just felt different.

Tony turned his head to face her then, and she felt her heart begin to beat faster in her chest. His eyes traced over her face even as she stopped her ministrations, slowly coming to a stop at her lips before darting back up to her eyes. His tongue darted out just for a second across his own lips and that was when she realized that he was thinking about kissing her. Actually kissing her!

“Hey, Pepper,” he said, voice soft and velvety.

“What?” she squeaked out, a little terrified.

“Wanna make out?” he asked, and was that longing she could detect in his otherwise nonchalant delivery?

Was he actually serious?

For a moment she let her mind wander, let herself give in to the possibility of actually sharing a kiss with Tony Stark. She couldn’t lie and say she hadn’t imagined it before, she was only human after all and Tony was good looking and could even be quite charming when he wasn’t entirely self absorbed. She wondered if she would be able to taste the cheap wine on his full lips…

No.

There was no way that Tony was actually being serious.

She had just caught him in a vulnerable moment and he was deflecting the only way that he knew how and that was via flirtatious behavior. He didn’t want to kiss her because he liked her. Well, like he really liked her, as in he wanted to be with her for longer than a single night, where they were trapped together in a cheap hotel room with only one bed, her as his only option.

No.

She couldn’t do it no matter how much she wished to know what he tasted like, no matter how alluring he looked in the flickering light of the fireplace. She would regret anything that happened in the morning, and knowing herself she would end up resigning, if Tony didn’t just outright fire her. She may have been his longest lasting PA so far but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still expendable once he got what he wanted.

“Mr. Stark, you are being entirely inappropriate right now,” she answered him, adopting the most detached, work voice in her repertoire and immediately scooting away from him.

He frowned at her but didn’t try to close the gap between them again as he rubbed his eye.

“Back to Mr. Stark now, huh? I thought we were outside of office hours?”

“And sometimes I have to remind you of your boundaries.”

“Why? Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“Why? Because you’re my boss, it’s inappropriate!” she reminded him, though she still felt a little flustered, even more so when he looked at her again the way he had before he asked her to make out, eyes intense and longing.

He smirked then leaned back up against the wall, his face and mannerisms melting away back to the normal facade of her cavalier boss. He raised his eyebrow to her and spoke. “I can’t help but notice that you didn’t deny having a boyfriend, only that it would be inappropriate given our working relationship.”

“Oh, please,” she groaned. She drained the rest of her cup, then stood up and tossed her pillows back onto the bed and pulled back the duvet.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed.”

“Aww c’mon, Pepper, I’m sorry.”

He stood up and reached for her, just brushing his hand against her flannel shirt before she pulled away. He actually looked a little hurt by the rejection.

“I’m really tired, Mr. Stark and I’d really just like to go to bed now, please. I had your nightcap with you.”

“The slumber party was just getting started. We were having cheap booze, I told you a deep dark secret, there was an almost kiss. You owe me a deep dark secret, Ms. Potts.”

“Don’t count on it,” she said, sliding between the sheets and facing the opposite direction.

For a moment the room was silent except for the sound of the wind and snow outside the room and she thought that Tony might actually have given up. Then she listened to the sound of his shuffling feet and felt where the bed dipped in as he sat down at the very end, almost falling off the edge entirely as if he didn’t want to offend her by getting any closer to her.

“Look I really am sorry. You’re right, it’s been a long day, which is mostly my fault and then I just went a little too far. I didn’t mean anything by it and I am sorry if I offended you or hurt your feelings or whatever. I appreciate all you’ve done for us tonight. Are we good?” At that he did ever so carefully reach out and place his hand on top of her covered foot, a gentle weight meaning to convey his sincerity.

She appreciated the apology, and really had it been that big of a deal? Tony was just being Tony, it wasn’t his fault that she had started to get swept up in the moment. She sighed lightly against her pillow and lifted her head slightly to look at him. He had his head down but met her eyes when she looked at him.

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” she smiled after her customary phrase to let him know that all was forgiven.

His lips twitched up into a half smile. “That will be all Ms. Potts,” he returned the gesture and patted her leg before standing up.

Pepper had just laid her head back down when he spun back around.

“Actually, no, that’s not it, I’m sorry again. Can I at least get the top sheet? I’m a naturally hot-blooded male but even I need something to keep me warm at night,” he grinned and offered a mischievous wink.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep her own face neutral, a small smile slipping across her face as she sat up and pulled back the duvet again, grasping at the top sheet underneath and pulled it free from where it was tucked in at the end of the bed. She balled it up once it was free and tossed it into Tony’s waiting arms with a little more force than was strictly needed..

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Stark,” she said, her smile completely uncontained now and snuggled once more under the warm blanket, waiting for sleep to claim her.

Or at least she would have if Tony wasn’t so loud as he moved about the room, placing his pillows on the couch and spreading out his white sheet.

Next came the thunk of his heavy snow boots coming off and being dropped on the floor and she said a mental apology for whoever was stuck beneath them as she kept her eyes screwed shut, desperate for him to finish whatever he was doing and be quiet.

Then came the distinct sound of his belt clanging together as he undid the fasten and Pepper’s eyes shot open in disbelief.

Tony unabashedly stood beside the couch, the direction she happened to have been facing, and was actually undressing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t caught more than an eyeful before when she’d come to collect him in the mornings and he certainly never seemed to care about any level of nudeness. However, she thought he would at least attempt to have some modicum of decorum while they were sharing a room. Apparently not.

She could have looked away. She should have looked away. Alas, she watched him undress through squinted eyes in case she were caught, sleep would be easier to feign.

He pulled his green sweater up over his head and she watched as his white t-shirt beneath was caught up with it, revealing the well defined muscles of his back before he corrected the mishap and the t-shirt fell back down to cover it.

When she heard the zipper of his pants being undone she did squeeze her eyes shut, what was she even thinking spying on him like that, even if he was doing it right in front of her. She was ogling her boss in the same manner that she always got onto him for.

“Do you really have to do that right there?” she asked, frustration laden in her tone.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said with a playful tease, like he knew exactly what she had been doing.

She just huffed and turned around the opposite direction, lest his dark chuckle tempt her to look again.

“Your virtue is safe, Ms. Potts, I had shorts on under my pants.”

“Why were you wearing---I don’t need to know.”

He laughed again. “Goodnight, Pep.”

“Goodnight, Tony.”

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

Tony really tried to fall asleep after that. He spread out under the sheet, across the couch, his legs just hung over the edges where he was a little it too tall. It wasn’t uncomfortable, he was used to curling up anywhere he could to sleep. However, like most nights, he couldn’t seem to be able to get his brain to shut off.

His mind was racing with thoughts, ideas, calculations. How if he adjusted the processor chips for one of Stark Industries missiles he could make it that little bit more accurate. Schematics came and went as he did the mental math and how long it would take to adjust versus the cost and if it was even worth it to tweek or just create a whole new line.

He had other ideas too. Ways to improve the intellicrops. An electronics line that could put Apple to shame.

Sometimes he thought about Pepper. Nothing dirty surprisingly. Just about her. The way she looked in the Malibu sunlight, her hair flared out all around her, or even here in Colorado bundled up in snow gear or her ridiculous flannel pajamas. The way that he sometimes caught her staring at him the same ways he knew she caught him staring at her. She took care of him. Listened to him when she clearly didn’t understand half of what he was talking about. Helped him keep the company going. Put up with his whims. Just thinking about her, even her scolding him could put a smile on his face. If he believed in love then he would definitely equate love with Pepper.

Thinking about love would make him think of his mother, then his father. Jarvis, Ana. What they all would think if they could see him now, spending every free moment drinking or chasing after the only version of companionship he could accept.

Wonder what the world would have been like if he had been in that car with his parents, if he’d told them that he would come. Or what would have happened if he would have spoken to them a little longer.

Hell sometimes he still wondered what happened to Shannon Dorman who gave him his first kiss in second grade when his father wasn’t able to make it to parent weekend at Andover.

The only difference in all these thoughts from a normal person is most people thought about them one at a time. For Tony it was everything all at once. Like someone had left a bunch of tabs open on a computer and they all were playing different music. It was hard to focus and distinguish one thought or emotion from another when he was left idle like this.

He thrummed his hand against the back of the couch, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room, so he stopped. He bounced his foot instead and turned his head to look out the window and watch the large chunks of snow as they continued to fall, not as heavy as before but still steady.

In lieu of counting sheep he tried counting snowflakes. He made it to nearly one thousand before it became just another tab running in the background of his mind.

He needed a drink. Or sex. He didn’t think Pepper would be offering though and he was well mannered enough that he would refrain from slinking away to the bathroom for some self love.

That left Tony with a drink. 10% alcohol content was a drop in the bucket for him but perhaps it would at least let him close out some of those tabs for a while. At least enough so that he could catch a few hours sleep.

Making up his mind, he threw back the covers and walked back over to the fireplace and retrieved the forgotten bottle. There was still a little over half left, it should theoretically do the trick.

He collapsed back against the couch and haphazardly strew the sheet back across him as he took a long pull straight from the bottle. He didn’t figure that Pepper would be wanting anymore tonight so there was no one left to be considerate for. After a couple more long pulls he could feel that little tingle start working its way across his body, warming him from the inside. Whiskey did it better but it was still a pleasant start.

“Tony...” Pepper’s tired voice called out to him and for the first time he noticed her blue eyes watching him.

“What?”

“Don’t drink anymore tonight.”

He tried not to bristle against the perceived admonishment. “Why not?”

“I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business what my boss does,” she said.

“Okay...as my friend then. Why?”

Pepper was quiet for a moment before she shifted around on the bed and clicked on the bedside light and sat up. Her hands were almost hidden by the cuffs of her pajamas but he could see how she twisted them together nervously, one of her only tells of discomfort.

“If you’re serious about what you said earlier, about agreeing with your Aunt...why not start now? Just little steps. You don’t need to drink, you don’t even like that stuff,” she finally spoke, her voice steady and sure despite her earlier nervousness. When Pepper committed to a decision she always went all in.

“Look, I’m sorry that I woke you. I just needed something to help me to sleep. This helps.”

“Well, what normally helps?”

He smiled.

Ah Pepper. Ever the problem solver.

“Normally, I have a glass of whiskey and well, company with me, to tire myself out. That helps usually. When I’m home I can work. Right now I have none of that,” he shrugged.

“Have you thought about taking a sleeping aid?”

Tony scoffed. “Uh. Yeah. That’s not going to work. You missed the early nineties with me so I forgive you, I just try to stay away from anything in pill format these days.”

Pepper brought both of her knees up to her chest and pulled the blanket back over her, one arm resting against her knee and propping her head up as she racked her mind for alternatives. “Is there nothing else that helps?”

��Working out, but I’m not sure you want me doing calisthenics while you’re trying to sleep.”

“What about talking?”

Tony thought it over. He remembered more than one night where he and Jarvis talked until he fell asleep. It was worth a go. At the very least the conversation was a distraction and he had a good partner to speak with.

He nodded his head. “Talking helps.”

“Then talk to me.”

“Aren’t we already?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Tell you what, you can try and dig for slumber party gossip if you think it will help.”

“Ohhhh I knew you would warm up to the game,” he said, and took one final sip of the wine before standing and putting it on the bedside table beside Pepper so it would be out of his grasp.

“So, tell me about Virginia Potts. We’ve spent every day together for five years and I feel like I don’t know anything about you aside from your remarkable ability to keep my ass in line, your acumen for business, and your minor shoe addiction.”

Pepper shrugged and to his surprise took her own little drink from the bottle, seemingly nonplussed that he had been drinking straight from it like a heathen. “Well, I’m from a small town in Ohio…”

“Riverbend,” he finished.

She smirked back at him. “So you have checked up on me too.”

“Just your resume and the standard background check when you were originally hired. I did have to make sure you weren’t actually a crazy person you know after the pepper spray incident, you know? Happy wouldn’t let me breathe until I did.”

“And that’s why he is a great bodyguard.”

“Eh, jury is still out on that one. He did let you get by after all.”

There was another genuine smile. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was her smile. He could already feel his mind slowly beginning to calm, just with the little bit of banter between them.

“Anyways, my Dad used to run a farm with my Uncle Morgan but my Uncle was always a little flighty. When that was a bust my father started his own handyman business and then became a contractor. My mother was an elementary school secretary. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to get out of there.”

“Well, yeah. The land of corn and astronauts. There’s gotta be some reason all those guys wanted to leave Earth after a stint in your state. Nevermind the biography let's just get to the fun stuff.”

He could honestly sit and listen to Pepper talk about her life forever. She could be as detailed as a Tolkien novel and he’d never complain. He just wasn’t sure when he would ever get this opportunity for questions again, and while young Virginia fascinated him, he wanted to know more about Pepper now.

She raised her brow questioningly. “Like what?”

“What do you say to a fast money round? Favorite color?”

She laughed a little, surprised perhaps by the simplicity of the question. “Blue. You?”

“Red. Favorite food?”

“Pad thai.”

“Not bad. Mine is pasta carbonara. My mom…” he trailed off a little bit, suddenly struck by a memory of cooking with his mother in the kitchen. So much for forgetting. Pepper looked at him with concern as he mentally regrouped. “She made the best version of it. Authentic.”

His words hung thick in the air until Pepper broke the silence.

“Least favorite food?”

“Caviar. I know I’m probably destroying your elitist view of me but I had a terrible experience as a kid. Never again. You?” he said, grateful for the continuation of their game.

“Strawberries.”

“Really? You have a whole strawberry-blonde aesthetic going on,” he said pointing his finger at her hair.

“Yeah, I’m allergic. Like deathly allergic, so it’s a no go for me.”

“Bummer. There’s some irony for you. Do you want me to ban strawberries from the entire Stark Industries campus? Because I will.”

“I don’t think that is necessary.”

“Well, at least from the house. I’ll have Jarvis erase anything strawberry related from the grocery list.”

“It's really not-”

“Please?” he insisted. He could think of at least ten different running items off the top of his head with strawberry in them. She was in his home just as much if not more than he was, he wanted her to feel comfortable there. “You’re at my house more than your own and the least I can do is make you feel safe. Mi casa es su casa, y’know?

“I hardly think that I need protecting from the big bad strawberries but if it really means that much to your chivalrous pride then yes, delete strawberry related items from your grocery list,” she teased, but her soft smile let him know how it was appreciated.

“Done deal.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome Ms. Potts. Now where were we? Oh yes, searching for your deep, dark secret. Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, raising his brow expectantly.

Pepper groaned. “Didn’t you already ask that?”

“You didn’t answer the question. Look, it doesn’t have to be a boyfriend. Girlfriend maybe? You know there’s no judgement from me. It'd be like the pot calling the kettle black because you’ve seen the array of company I keep.”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend, Tony, sorry to disappoint, and no boyfriend either.”

“Why not? This may be crossing a boundary but you are smoking hot. You can’t tell me you haven’t left a trail of broken hearts from Ohio to California.”

“Like you?”

“No, that’s coast to coast. Global even,” he said with a wink that he knew would draw an eye roll from her.

“Not that it is any of your business,” she predictably began with the eye roll, “but I really haven’t. There was someone in college that I thought maybe...he didn’t want a partner though he wanted a trophy. The people I have dated in between have never lasted very long and I don’t have the time for that right now anyways.”

“Because of me?” he questioned.

“No. I’m just focused on my career and I have been since college. It’s hard finding a person who isn’t intimidated by a powerful woman who knows what she wants. You’d be surprised by all the fragile egos out there.”

“I’m really not. You forget about the people I’ve been expected to mingle with my entire life?”

She smiled at his words and took a few moments to collect her thoughts, her face pinching together in a frown. “I don’t want to compromise my goals just because my partner thinks barefoot and pregnant is a more appropriate title for a woman.”

Tony thought her feelings were perfectly understandable. He couldn’t ever imagine Pepper relegated to taking a back seat in her own life. Not to say that being a mother is less than a corporate business woman, but that idea that someone would want to repress who Pepper was just to fit their own outdated ideals of what a family and relationship should be.

“I agree, Pep, that’s ridiculous.”

If she was shocked by his response she hid it well. Maybe she wasn’t though. He always thought he was a progressive guy, even if sometimes he could be a bit contradictory in his actions. That was mostly for show though. The carefully crafted Tony Stark persona.

“Besides, when would I ever really even have the time to date someone seriously with our schedules? We’re in a fast paced world, where plans can change on a dime…”

“Like spending an extra couple of days skiing, snowboarding and getting caught in a blizzard?”

She held out her hand towards him. “Exactly. Who would understand that? I feel like I’d spend more time justifying my work than actually having a relationship.”

“So, it is my fault then?” he asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Ugh. Maybe a little. Don’t feel too bad,” she said, waving his feelings off. “The last time I did have a semi successful date, the guy ended it with what I’m sure he thought was an earth shattering kiss but he literally kissed like a fish. It was disgusting and ruined the entire night.”

Tony actually cackled at that anecdote. “So, no second date?”

“Oh my god. Definitely not. Completely turned me off of the concept for the foreseeable future,” she laughed with him.

“When was that?”

Pepper thought about it a moment. “About a year ago.”

Tony flinched. “Oof. You sure you don’t wanna make out? You shouldn’t let that be your last kiss.”

“Thanks, tempting but no.”

“Ooh I’ve gone from an outright no to tempting, huh?” Pepper opened up her mouth to protest but he immediately cut her off, pointing his finger at her. “No, no, don’t take it back. You said it. That’s going to be tattooed on my brain for a very long time.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

They both fell silent after that, just enjoying each other’s company. Tony shifted on the couch folding his arms behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Pepper shifted to lay back down on her pillow, she still laid on her side facing him though, he felt her eyes watching him.

“What’s on your mind?” she finally asked.

“Do you ever think you’ll have a family one day?”

“I’ve really never thought about it, to be honest.”

“I find that hard to believe. Even I have thought of it.”

“You have?”

“Hard not to when there’s a new paternity suit every year.”

That was the truth. He had thought of family in the traditional manner of course. Settling down like Aunt Peggy said with a wife and 2.5 children like the American dream dictated. He didn’t see it ever happening, but sometimes it was a nice thought if he didn’t think he would turn out just like his father, cold and neglectful.

The paternity suits were another beast. None ever panned out and he expected none ever would. He may be promiscuous but he wasn’t an idiot. Still, it was always an interesting couple of weeks wondering what if. He wasn’t the type that would pay the mother off he knew that much. He would take an active part in any child of his life, fears be damned.

“I guess it’s not something I’ve ever pined for. Maybe someday in the far off future where I’m the CEO of my own company. Maybe then.”

He turned his head to face her. “You gunning for my job, Potts?

She smiled tiredly back at him. “Maybe I am. I have to keep you on your toes somehow.”

“You’d probably do a better job. You like all the boring details of the job. I just want to be left alone to create.”

“Please. Don't sell yourself short. Creating is your passion, but you have an eye for business. If you didn't then I don't think this company would have survived the last decade and don't say it was all Obadiah either. You're way more progressive than he is.”

“While I appreciate the vote of confidence, weren't you already concerned with how you'd fit my ego in the room though? I don't want to suffocate you.”

“I think I can manage this once. Tony, can I ask you something?” she asked.

Something in the tone of her voice made him look over at her. She was chewing at the bottom of her lip in indecision so he had a pretty good idea that like earlier in the night, whatever she wanted to say was probably something that he wouldn’t like.

“Prying for the deep, dark secrets again?” he asked, going for levity and turning his attention back to the ceiling.

“Why did we stay here after the conference?” she asked softly.

Of course she asked that.

“Just wasn’t ready to go back.”

“You didn’t even want to go to the conference and then you stay here longer? You hate the cold and snow.”

Tony shifted into a slouched position, one arm curving across the back of the couch as he drummed his fingers against the material again. He could feel his heart begin to race as he debated whether he wanted to tell Pepper the truth or not. This was one of those things that had been floating along in his myriad of thoughts and ideas, keeping him up at night the closer that the date approached.

Pepper had shown good faith in him all night, humoring him even though he knew she had to be exhausted. After his behavior he supposed an explanation was the very least that he could provide her.

“I didn’t always hate it,” he began gingerly.

Pepper seemed to make a decision then, sitting back up and moving herself and her pillows to the opposite side of the bed. She left the duvet upturned and patted the empty space beside her invitingly.

“I trust you,” was all she said.

He stood up from the couch and let the sheet fall away as he stretched out his limbs. He wasn’t a very tall man, but he was way too long to be scrunched up on the couch and was thankful for the reprieve. Tony wrapped the sheet back around his body as he slid beneath the warmth of the duvet and flipped the cover up over them both. He turned on his side to face Pepper, propping his chin up with his arm and she mirrored his movements. Tony tried to use the quiet moment to gather his thoughts and not to think about how the warmth he felt from the mattress was from where her body had lain.

“Today...well, yesterday,” he conceded given the hour, “was my mother’s birthday.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered and shook her head.

“You wouldn’t. I keep my parents close to the vest as much as I can these days,” he shrugged and absolved her from any guilt she might be feeling. Pepper hated not knowing important information.

“I grew up in New York as you know, and she used to love it when it snowed. When I was younger we would build snowmen, snow angels, we made ice cream out of the snow and shared hot cocoa. Whatever you could think of. When I was older, the week of her birthday my parents would take me out of boarding school, and since it doesn’t usually snow in April, we would go to the Alps or Aspen or wherever else and ski, snowboard, whatever. It was one of the only times I ever remember feeling like I was really a part of the family. When she died…” he trailed off softly.

“It was snowing that night?” Pepper inferred. She always knew what he meant to say.

He nodded slowly. “The snow and cold didn’t bring me any kind of joy anymore.”

“So, why now?” she asked gently.

He had come this far. May as well go all in.

“If we’d gone back to Malibu I would have done my best impression of drinking myself to death, like I do every year. I don’t know. I guess something Aunt Peggy said struck a chord and I wanted to try and honor Mom a better way. I still drank but when I’m in public it’s easier to stop. To control it. There’s no control when I’m alone.”

He ducked his head in shame not wanting to see any kind of judgement on Pepper’s face. She knew he had problems. How couldn’t she? She was always one step behind him cleaning up his messes and he had even admitted his problem to her tonight. He just wasn’t sure she knew the full extent. The reason why he was on full lockdown and unavailable on certain dates because he would rather drink himself to death than have to remember.

“If you needed someone to keep you company, all you had to do was ask,” she answered him quietly and he dared to lift his head and take a peek at her face from beneath his hair, trying to gauge the sincerity behind the words.

“I don’t pay you enough for that.”

She immediately frowned. “I don’t need you to pay me. I am your friend, Tony. If you’re struggling, I want to help.”

He wanted to believe her. Oh how bad he wanted to believe her. He could see the sincerity on her face and hear it in her words, He had just had so many experiences that told him the opposite. That everyone had a motive to be close with him, no one really cared. Until Rhodey and Happy. And now Pepper.

He smiled sheepishly and wiped a tear that he didn’t know was there away with the back of his hand. “I guess I don’t know how to ask for help.”

“We’ll work on it,” she said and reached out and brushed the stray hair from his face, her hand lingering as it softly caressed his cheek.

“Hey, Pep,” he began hoarsely, his eyes downturned to the pattern of the duvet, ”in the spirit of asking, I guess I should start learning now.”

“Anything,” she replied honestly and that made him grin for the ghost of a moment.

“Do you think maybe when we get back you could put together a list of some, uh, outpatient facilities for my, uh...you know,” he stumbled.

She moved her hand from his cheek down to grasp his free hand and squeezed it in hers. “Of course.”

“Maybe keep it quiet from Obie and everyone else in case it doesn’t take.”

“It’s a process, Tony. You’ll get there in your own time, but yeah. I can keep it quiet as long as you’ll at least tell Rhodey. He’d want to support you too. And Peggy.”

He clutched her hand in his and ran his thumb across her skin soothingly. “You drive a hard bargain, Potts. You sure you aren’t trying to take my job?”

“Not today.”

“Then I accept your terms,” he said squeezing her hand again.

“Good. Do you think you can sleep?”

“Maybe. I feel a little better.”

“Well. Just try. I’m here if you need me.”

He wanted to tell Pepper that being in such a close proximity to her was part of what was keeping him awake now but he didn’t. Instead he carefully turned and clicked the light off before settling back into his pillow. He wasn’t about to give up this moment for anything, even if he didn’t sleep a wink.

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

Pepper couldn’t believe that she actually was sharing a bed with Tony right now. It had been awhile since her declaration to get some sleep but even though she was dead on her feet she couldn’t seem to get relaxed enough to drift off. Maybe that also had something to do with the fact that Tony was still loosely holding her hand in his and every time he took a breath she could feel it tickle against her skin.

What did all of this mean? Did it even mean anything? She had always prided herself on enforcing boundaries and making sure Tony always stayed on the other side of the invisible line but tonight she felt like they both had leaped over it hand in hand. Skipping over the line between professionalism and friendship right into something more. Just what she could not say yet. Not even in her own mind. It wasn’t able to be defined yet. All she knew was that this little detour in the snowy mountains of Colorado had been a turning point in their relationship, seemingly for the better.

If Tony was comfortable enough now to tell her about such intimate information about his family and his drinking, reaching out to her for help, then that could only be for the better. He didn’t have many people he could trust like that and she was proud to be counted among them.

Were they still just friends though?

“Pepper, I can hear you thinking from over here, what’s on your mind?” he asked groggily, his hand closing around hers once more, causing her to flinch in surprise.

“I thought you were asleep?”

“The room is only big enough for one loud thinker not two. So spill it, what’s going on?” he asked, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal dark brown eyes.

Oh, nothing, just thinking about how distracting it is to be touching you and sharing a bed.

“Just the usual. Wondering if we’ll be able to fly out of here tomorrow. Thinking of everything that will need to be pushed back if we’re not.”

He didn’t buy it for a second she knew but he hummed in assent and kept his eyes locked on her own.

“What?” she chuckled nervously under his gaze.

“Hey, Pepper, now do you want to make out?”

There was something different about the way he asked her this time. Tony wasn’t teasing, he wasn’t vulnerable any longer. Enough time had passed that he had seemed to come back to himself which made this even scarier than all the other times. This time she didn’t doubt the sincerity as he held her gaze, jaw locked firmly in place in anticipation of her response. She was finding it harder to find reasons to turn him down.

“Tony…” she began, hoping for her brain to come up with something. “I know today has been difficult and we have had some really hard and emotional conversations…”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not that compromised,” he grinned, his face lit up only by the moonlight pouring in from the window.

“I just don’t think that’s going to happen,” she finished lamely.

“Why not?”

She had to give him something real or he would never stop. She slowly pulled her hand away from his, instantly missing the warmth he had provided and hid it beneath her pillow. “I can’t be just another one of those girls, Tony.” He would have to understand that.

“Is that what you think, Pepper?” he asked, unable to mask the small amount of hurt from creeping onto his face and in his tone. He actually looked like a wounded animal.

All she could offer was a shrug in response because it was exactly what she thought from the moment that she had met him until this evening when she finally started to see that other side of him.

“You’re not, Pep,” he reassured her and reached back out and found her hand beneath the pillow anyways. “God you’re not.”

“What’s changed?” she dared to ask.

“You have always been different than everyone else. You’re not someone that I could or even want to throw away. You mean more to me than anyone else in my life. I thought it was obvious by the way that I am a complete and utter disaster without you. I have been wanting this since you first came through my office doors and until tonight I wasn’t completely sure, but I know you like me too. Don’t you?” he asked so earnestly, his eyes opened wide and his eyebrows raised. He looked like a literal puppy, begging to be let in from the cold.

“Tony…” she started to deflect again but he cut her off.

“Look, it’s okay if you don’t, I’m not going to fire you or anything. I don’t want you to ever be worried about that because like you said, we’re friends right?”

She nodded her head gently.

“Good. I just want to know that I’m not crazy, Pepper. That I’m not the only one that gets these weird little butterflies in the pit of my stomach whenever we’re together. You feel it too, right?”

Pepper hesitated a long time, instinctively chewing at her bottom lip again. She had another choice to make. Another boundary to shatter. Should she do it? She let loose a deep full body sigh, ignoring how shaky the exhale really was before she looked him in the eye.

“You’re not crazy,” she admitted.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You’re my boss,” she simply offered. Another truth. It was inappropriate. The press would always talk about the power imbalance and trash her for falling for it like all the others.

Tony had the nerve to scoff at her words. “Please, if anything you are my boss.”

“Okay then. You don’t do relationships,” she tried again.

“I could try. I want to try. With you,” he clarified gently, his voice lowering to that honeyed timber she loved.

Her heart wanted to sing with his admission. In fact it was. She could feel how quickly it was pumping, the adrenaline sending shockwaves all across her body as she thrummed with anticipation. Her mind however knew otherwise. There was always a but.

“Tony...you’re not ready for that yet.”

And he wasn’t. Her brain knew that even as her heart rebelled. Tony was a mess. On this trip alone he had been with at least three different girls. He was slowly coming to terms with being an alcoholic and what that meant for his personal and professional future as he started to seek help. That was on top of his already full work plate. He didn’t have the time or the mental capacity right now to try and begin a new relationship and to do it the right way. He had no idea the work it would entail. Maybe someday in the faroff future, but not tonight.

His face dropped as his eyes flickered across her face, his hand going loose in hers so she could pull away but she didn’t. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. I’m a bit of a mess aren’t I?” he asked, flashing a pained toothy smile. “It’s fine.”

“Look, I’m not saying no forever,” she clarified. She was helpless against that face.

“So, there’s a chance?” he asked, hopefully.

She squeezed his hand. “Perhaps.”

“Well, in that case I will do my best to become the kind of man you deserve.”

It was probably the most sincere declaration of affection she had ever received and she tried to hide the dopey grin in her pillow. That made him smile back and this time it was him who pulled his hand free to run the back of his hand down her face almost reverently, taking his time and just soaking the moment up.

“Hey, Tony…”

“Yeah?”

“Want to make out?” she asked, coyly.

His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as his head shot off the pillow. “But you said--”

“On one condition,” she continued unperturbed.

“What would that be?”

She waited until he settled back down and then looked away from him nervously. “After tonight...we pretend like it never happened.”

“Never?”

“Never. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

“We can count this as an experiment. Maybe we won’t even like it, maybe it will be too weird,” she shrugged.

“You know me. Always willing to sacrifice anything needed in the name of science,” he teased and scooted closer to her.

She held her breath when she felt his body brush up against her own as he tentatively leaned in closer to her. He brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear and searched her face seemingly for any sign of doubt of discomfort. Anything saying that she was uncomfortable. Aside from her heart beating like a freight train inside her chest though she felt perfectly normal.

“You’re sure?” he asked again. He liked to play the field but she knew that he was always all about consent.

“I’m sure,” she spoke so quietly she could barely even hear her own words.

Pepper met his lips halfway and only had half a second of panic that this was really happening before his lips met hers and with it threw out any sense of logic or reason. Instead her mind was flooded with the happy influx of endorphins as her heart continued to pound away, the fluttering of the butterflies in her stomach melting away into something hotter as it spread across her body.

Her hand reached up to tangle itself in his hair, gently pulling and encouraging him. When he opened his mouth to hers she almost giggled like a school child when she realized she could taste that cheap wine on his tongue like she wondered earlier and also knowing that it had never tasted better than it did right now.

It was like a spark had been lit between them and nothing else existed.

All that she knew were his lips, the smell of his aftershave and collage blending together in perfect harmony, some kind of leather and sandalwood type smell, not his usual expensive brand and she found that curious. His hands rove from caressing her cheek to burying themselves in her hair as well, or running up and down her back softly. It made a shiver go down her backside and he only pulled her closer for it.

She actually whimpered when he pulled away, mouth still parted and wanting as they both were left breathless.

“Weird?” he asked, after a moment, his sweet breath tickling her nose, he was still so close.

“No, I don’t think so,” she immediately shook her head.

“Good, once more for science?” he asked, but it was rhetorical and she never got the chance to respond.

Oh, how she wished that this never had to end. That it was the future already and Tony’s life was put together the way that they both hoped it would be. That the endless parade of booze and women was over and he was celebrating his sobriety and they were away celebrating. But it wasn’t. And this did have to end before it got too far.

Pepper pulled away from him slowly, letting him chase her and kiss her softly a couple more times as he came back down from the rush. She put a finger to his lips to prevent him from anymore but he just kissed her index finger instead.

“I think that’s enough for one evening,” she said, regrettably.

He looked as disappointed as she did but also satisfied in a way that she had never seen him except maybe after some breakthrough on a project. His hand stayed buried in her hair, brushing and pulling at the strands.

“It will never be enough. But I think we have collected sufficient data for the future,” he grinned dopily in the waning light of the moon.

This time Pepper did giggle and she blamed it on the swell of emotions mixing with her utter exhaustion.

“You could say that,” she agreed when her giggles subsided.

He gazed at her longingly and licked his lips, her attention instantly flying to his tongue. She knew what he tasted like now, and she didn’t ever want to forget it.

“Since this night never happened, might I trouble you for one more thing?” he asked hesitantly.

She clenched her teeth worried about what kind of favor exactly he had in mind and if it was going to put a damper on their evening.

“What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“Can I hold you tonight?” he asked, his voice barely coming out in a soft rumble that sent more shivers down her body.

Of all the requests she wasn’t expecting that one. Not something so innocent.

“Well, since it never happened,” she simply said with a shrug of her shoulder and moved in closer beside him.

The hand that had been in her hair moved as he laid on his back and let her tuck herself in against his chest comfortably, before encircling her, the reassuring weight of his bicep against her back. She tentatively let her own arm creep across his torso and gently fist into the fabric of his shirt as she inhaled his scent beneath her. She heard more than felt when he kissed the top of her head.

“Goodnight Ms. Potts,” he said, his voice already thick with exhaustion. She thought he might actually be able to get some sleep tonight.

“Goodnight Mr. Stark.”

They missed the brilliant sunrise the next morning, and the gentle rapping at the door of the nervous general manager checking in on his guests. When she woke it was with the comfort of Tony’s arms still around her as he snored softly in the morning light.

They made it back to Malibu of course. Back to Stark Industries and deadlines and projects. Tony did start at an outpatient program and he did make that call to Peggy Carter to apologize and to his best friend to let him know what he was doing.

They never spoke about that night.

Whenever, she’d start to feel like it was all just some strange, exhaustion induced fever dream though, she would catch Tony looking at her. Not the way that he always had with what she figured was nothing more than base lust. No, now he looked at her almost lovingly. Reverently. Hopefully. Like she hung the stars and the moon and nothing else existed in that moment. Then she was reminded of that moment. How he looked, how he felt pressed against her.

If she ever did start to forget though and his gaze was not enough to remind her, she would come and find him. At home, at work. She’d slip away to where they could be alone and he could remind her once more, that what happened was real. What she was feeling for him and he for her was real

They could never talk about it just yet.

Instead it was like it never happened.

#pepperonygiftexchange #river-bottom-nightmare #pepperony #mel's fics #pepperony fic #mcu

40 notes · View notes

saleintothe90s · 4 years ago

Text

422. ”Carrie” (May 12 - May 15 1988)

I adore reading about flops. One of my favorite flops to read about is Carrie the musical. A doomed production from the start. Millions of dollars wasted. Bad costumes. Filler songs.

Similar to my Simpsons season 10 review, I wanna give something to the worst aspects of the show. With Simpsons, bad episodes were awarded Marge’s homemade Pepsi. For Carrie, I think I’m going to give the bad parts the “Vending Machine Maxi Pad” award.

As most anybody who follows Broadway flops knows, clips from Carrie are scarce and are in poor condition on YouTube. Most of the actual clips are from when the show was in test productions in Stratford Upon Avon, but the music has been replaced with the Broadway soundboard. So, keep that in mind. Most of the time you can’t even make out what’s going on. Here’s the closest copy of the entire show I could find on YouTube, from the Sratford Upon Avon production.

I know people bash the musical, and sometimes it’s rightfully so, but two things are consistent: Linzi Hateley who played Carrie, and that orchestra that is on.point. Check out the overture.

(source)

The show begins with girls cheering in gym class in the beginning of an aerobics lesson? The white gym shorts look like diapers. That’s the first of many costume mistakes.

The song is a banger, I love Darlene Love playing the gym teacher, she’s my favorite part of the song. The only part that is cringey to me is when the girls sing “I go CrAzZyyyyy” and they get on the ground and dance like a toddler having a temper tantrum in a Toys R Us. Since the audio quality is so bad in these clips, I thought at one point the girls were singing about not being caught picking their nose, no, the lyric is:

Bought the clothes, did my nose,

Near the end of the song, the girls are on these rising rafters? It took me for-ever to realize that they were simulating a cheerleader pyramid, and that Carrie had snuck in near the end of the number to be on the bottom of the pyramid. Oh, and she causes it to fall and someone tells her to eat shit.

“Dream On” is the song that the girls sing while in the showers. Why yes, it does look like they’re in the nude due to the poor quality of the video. The song is ok, it gives total night driving home from the mall in the late 80s early 90s vibes. Although one girl says the line, “Six foot three and he's in his forties!”. WHAT.

Carrie breaks those vibes at around 3:44 by screaming that she’s bleeding. When Miss Gardener slaps Carrie, a cymbal plays. I love it.

I like to imagine that when the girls threw the tampons and pads at Carrie, some flew into the audience.

“Carrie” is shrill at first, and then it turns into a bit of snoozefest. Linzi sings the name “Carrie” about 458 times.

Betty Buckley who previously had played the original Grizabella in Cats. and who played the gym teacher in the original movie plays Carrie’s mom. Her song, “Open Your Heart” is pretty good. It’s a nice little break before mom goes bottoms up on Carrie for getting her period (”And Eve Was Weak” [Stratford version with Barbara Cook]):

Carrie: I was in the shower and...

Mom: You’re forbidden from showering with the other girls...

Carrie: I started to bleed!

While Carrie spends the rest of the night in a cellar, the popular girls are at the drive-in. Now, this musical cost over $7 million dollars 1, but yet this was the best set they could think of for a drive-in movie theater:

It looks like something out of a high school play -- which I guess makes a little sense since they are high schoolers? I’m grabbing at straws here. It cost so much money to put Carrie on, what’s a few more dollars to have two real hollowed out cars on stage, one with Chris (in the red) & Billy (in black) in it, and the other with Sue (pink leggings) and Tommy (purple windbreaker)?

“Don’t Waste the Moon” is the song sung at the drive-in, with Sue having regrets about throwing tampons at Carrie in the beginning of the song. The song is very 1980s, and it kind of doesn’t fit in the musical. Gene Anthony Ray’s (Billy) talent is wasted here.

It’s time for some “Evening Prayers” for Carrie where she discusses with God her new telekinesis powers. Meanwhile Carrie’s mom is being a worrywort. During the Stratford production, Carrie’s mom is in a rocking chair over there looking like Whistler’s Mother.

“You’re going to tell Carrie that you’re sorry!” belts out Miss Gardner. In the musical, Chris seems more obsessed with torturing Carrie than in the movie or book if that’s even possible. Sue is like, “What did she even do to you?”. Even Billy asked earlier, “Who the hell is Carrie White?”.

Oooof. Seeing the gym teacher try to cheer Carrie up by singing a song about the prom (”Unsuspecting Hearts”) and how she could go too is patronizing. Even if its sung by Darlene Love.

“Do Me a Favor” might be the most infamous song from the musical. It’s the song I see referred to the most when I read bad reviews. For some reason Chris is wearing a metallic red bodysuit and Sue is wearing a light pink bodysuit. Are they supposed to be that cliche devil and the angel on the shoulder thing?

Chris looks like Evil Homer!

I’m going be the unpopular opinion here and say that I love the song! The erratic dancing also fits with the song.

Carrie tells her mom before “I Remember How Those Boys Would Dance” that Tommy is sweet and polite, but the audience doesn’t know that. Tommy is barely a character in this production. In the end, Carrie uses her powers to shut her mama up.

From what I gather in “Out for Blood” (audio) where Chris and Billy go looking for a pig to kill, the chorus dancers are the pigs? The video quality is so poor. Chris had another crazy ass red outfit on, some sort of shiny red skirt and a crop top. The costumes in this are just horrible. It was like the wardrobe budget was $50.

This song is so.so.bad. It reminds me of whenever Rocko from Rocko’s Modern Life would see a movie trailer or a parody of something on TV for some reason?! Or the “gotta get that Reptar song” from Rugrats when the kids saw Reptar on ice. Especially when the chorus tells Billy to kill the pig:

CHORUS Cha! Kill the pig, pig, pig! CHRIS Go! CHORUS Kill 'im, kill 'im, kill, kill! We'll make him bleed! CHRIS Go! CHORUS Get the blood, blood, blood Oooh, blood! CHRIS Oh, baby show... CHORUS Kill the pig, make 'im bleed Let's get the blood, that's all we need!

Sue’s song “It Hurts to be Strong” is a bit of a throw-away. It gets a vending machine maxi pad award. Moving on. It’s filler

In “I’m Not Alone”, Carrie sings while using her powers to move things around in her room. What things? I don’t know the video quality was so bad. That’s another thing! The sets are nonexistent! I wouldn’t know we were in Carrie’s room unless the Playbill told me. It’s another forgettable song. Three in a row!

Betty Buckley saves the day in, “When There’s No One”, a sad song about facing life without Carrie being her subordinate.

I don’t understand the prom dresses in “Wotta Night”, they’re all garish giant white numbers that make the actresses look about 20 pounds heaver. The guys look like that Rio doll from Jem. The costume designer couldn’t just go to Alexanders or A&S and buy prom dresses? You know, why am I even asking at this point. We all saw what Chris has been wearing this whole time. There is a disco ball thrown aside in the corner instead of hanging up. More on that later.

The song sounds way too much like that song “Rock on” by David Essex. Automatic Vending Machine Maxi Pad.

Here’s a cute rehearsal clip I found of “Heaven”, the song sung while the Prom Queen and King ballots are being counted. Unfortunately, the audio is bad. Chris is there to remind us that she’s still out for blood.

Finally, finally it’s time for Carrie the prom queen to get drenched with blood -- but the thing is, due to microphone technology back then, Carrie really couldn’t have blood dumped on her. Chris and Billy just run up to her and half ass pour the bucket at her. Could the set designer not suspend the bucket from above the stage? Is that also why the disco ball is thrown in the corner? I don’t even think she has stage blood on her during “The Destruction”, (which is the best song from the musical). I think a red spotlight over Carrie signifies the blood.

I think Linzi is really only truly covered in blood for press shots.

Anyway, the Destruction, I love it when she screeches “DOESN’T ANYBODY EVER GET IT RIGHT??! DOESN’T ANYBODY THINK THAT I HEAR?!” It’s the best. I could listen to it all day and I almost did the other day.

Due the poor video quality, I can’t really tell how the prom-goers are dying. They’re kinda just twitching there in the laser light or slamming themselves against the clear barrier that descended from the stage to signify Carrie closing the doors to the gym.

After Carie kills everybody, this giant white staircase descends and covers up the gym. I read somewhere, I forgot where, that its supposed to be the school stairs? We’re led to believe that Carrie’s crazy mom ran to the school. The first time I saw it, I thought that it was Carrie and her mom getting ready to go to heaven. I thought maybe someone over at the set department took the classic song too literally.

It appears that while the stairs are descending, Carrie smears stage blood on her.

The reprise of “Carrie’ is so much better than the original. Carrie stops her mom’s heart cold mid song. Then she slins down the stairs and Sue catches her. In an interview on playbill.com, Betty Buckley says that on opening night (I don’t know if she meant the first preview, or the official opening night), there were boos from the audience at the end, but cheers for Linzi and herself. I believe it. Betty and Linzi were amazing. Darlene Love was amazing. The rough scenes are the scenes with the school kids. They’re awful, in the words of my boy Jay Sherman, “they’re awful I tell you. aw.ful.”

(relevant prom .gif)

1. Rothstein, Mervyn. “After Seven Years And $7 Million, ‘Carrie’ Is a Kinetic Memory (Published 1988).” The New York Times, May 17, 1988, sec. Theater. https://www.nytimes.com/1988/05/17/theater/after-seven-years-and-7-million-carrie-is-a-kinetic-memory.html.

New York City Broadway reviews on the news in NYC for Carrie. That first reviewer, Stuart Klein, I love him. I’ve watched several of his reviews on flops on YouTube. Joel Sigel who was the Good Morning America film reviewer is here too.

Archive of Betty Buckley interview.

#carrie #carrie the musical #1988 #betty buckley #linzi hateley #charlotte d'amboise #broadway #musicals #broadway flops #flops #the 1980s

8 notes · View notes

letters-from-the-three-houses · 5 years ago

Note

GODDD I /LOVE/ your edelgard x dimitri stuff so much omfg... all this potential for tenderness and angst between these two is just so *chefs kiss* im shy but can i request a deeper look into what edelgard might like about dimitri (physical, personality, etc) i imagine being the heiress makes her a bit detached, and she never got to feel like a normal girl with a crush... let her love and my poor soft boy be appreciated

thank you!!!! i’m grateful for the praise, anon, but that explanation of yours is a chef’s kiss all to itself! claude would know and he would be entertained by it. in the original draft of the other post, i said he’d think of eddie/dimitri as his favourite source of melodrama, but i got rid of it bc it didn’t flow well with the rest of the hcs

this turned out to be longer than i expected (holy smokes), so thank goodness the read more finally works again

enjoy!

p.s. for those who don’t know yet, it’s currently my fourth favourite season of the year—midterm season—hence why the blog’s been running slow these days. i’ll be back to normal speed once the second week of july rolls around. so just in time for the two week countdown! i’ll still doing my best to work on requests in my spare time, but studying’s important and i’m going to get me some good grades 🕶️

edelgard’s initial impression of him was that he was much too like herself

with a slight frown and a straight stature, he looked regal, imposing, and dignified

calculating and cool, wary and doubting

she could see herself in him and it put her on her guard

so when she introduced herself for the first time, she made sure to act as aloof at possible

“i am edelgard von hresvelg,” she said, a hand on her chest as she bowed. “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, prince dimitri”

she expected him to do the same, a well-practiced propriety that only the heir of faerghus could have

so when he grinned, she froze

“well met,” he told her, genuity dripping from his voice. “but really, the honour is entirely mine. i’ve heard only the best things about you, and though i had no doubt they were true, your prowess against those bandits only solidified the claim”

it made her more uneasy than she’d admit, but she masked her discomfort with a passive expression

and during their entire trip to the monastery, she stole secret glances his way, still confused and trying to understand their interaction

whenever he caught her eye, he simply smiled and nodded at her

it was all so baffling

and it bugged her so much that when they were already in the academy, she continued her habit of studying him

she couldn’t understand how someone so…innocent could make it this far on their own

she got her answer one day when she found him laughing and joking around with his housemates

and realization clicked

there, she thought

he could act so open because he believed he had people he could trust to watch his back

and for a moment, all she felt was pity

it was foolish of him

naive

didn’t he know that putting too much faith in someone made it easier for them to stab you in the back?

whenever he was around, she couldn’t help but watch him—like she was waiting for a train wreck to happen

surely this would all fall apart

sooner or later, his so-called ‘friends’ would show their true selves and intentions

but no matter how long she waited, nothing happened

and she began to think

maybe

just maybe

his housemates really treated him like he hasn’t the prince of faerghus

but instead, like he has their equal

like he was just…him

the idea was rather foreign to her, but if she was being fully honest, it was intriguing

she still thought it was unwise

but she was curious to know how it was possible

was it something about dimitri in particular? or was it perhaps because the people in faerghus were just more trusting in nature?

she wondered what it’d be like if adrestia was like that

(and at that, she shook her head and forced herself to turn away)

(nonsense; that line of thinking would surely get her into trouble)

(and yet, she couldn’t help but sneak another glance, watching the way his face brightened when he laughed)

because of interest, or perhaps habit—what else would it be?—she continued studying his every move and mannerism

whenever she talked with him, she memorized his expressions

in an argument, his brows pinched together as he frowned, showing every crease and wrinkle of disagreement

when he was taken aback, pale skin giving way to a warm blush, he stuttered and stumbled on his words

when she quipped a joke, rare as it was, his eyes shone in awe, mouth slightly ajar, before he schooled his features into a smile

it was hard to look away from

and the image of him, light and happy, would remain at the forefront of her mind for the rest of the day

from then on, she sometimes daydreamed about him

reimagining the emotions that would flit on his face

and how, even if he’d try to hide them, they would bleed through with his bad acting

how he’d try to pretend he hadn’t just jumped five feet in the air in surprise

or how he’d clear his throat to divert the attention from his reddening ears

she’d breathe out a laugh before realizing what she was doing, and she’d snap out of it to redirect her thoughts elsewhere

it didn’t stop people from noticing

whenever she was in that mood, staring out into space with a pensive look, hubert would ask, “my lady, are you alright?”

and she’d jolt back to her senses, replying with a “most certainly” before going back to her book

or petra would look on, quizzical at edelgard’s constant sighing, and say, “distraction by something, lady edelgard?”

“no,” she’d say after a moment’s pause. “it’s nothing. sorry, petra, what were you saying about practice?”

it was rather subtle, but the moments and slip ups compounded as the days went on, and the eagles were all worried about what was happening

they finally realized what it was during one of the house tournaments

usually, when the match was against the deer, edelgard would study her housemate’s every move, noting any mistakes and areas for improvement that she’d touch upon later

but when it was against the lions, their leader seemed almost…expectant?

even when the match was bernadetta vs. mercedes—and edelgard was taking careful consideration to make sure bernadetta got the encouragement she needed

her gaze would keep sliding over

so, following edelgard’s line of sight, they noticed she was looking at dimitri

dorothea gasped

caspar elbowed linhardt so hard he almost toppled over

hubert and petra blinked in realization

and ferdinand, disgusted, had a look on his face that said, ‘out of all the people she could have chosen, she chose him? seriously?’

but they watched in silence, eyes flitting back and forth between the two leaders

meanwhile, edelgard was unaware of what was going on behind her

and when bernadetta won, she stiffened as dimitri came over to relay his congratulations

he grinned, almost cheeky. “as expected from your members, edelgard. after all, they learn from the best”

she stared for a moment, a bubbly feeling rising up in her stomach, before she turned her gaze to the training grounds. “yes, quite. you’d best keep up lest you get left in the dust”

“of course. i suspect we’ll be training hard for the next few weeks.” he laughed and it was light, like cold air on a winter’s morning. “still, it’s no loss to lose to you”

her eyes flashed at that, ready to retort

was that an insult?

was he implying they were too insignificant to even be considered proper opponents?

but when she focused on him, she stopped, the argument dying on her lips

because once again, dimitri was staring at her with an earnestness that told her he had utmost faith in her abilities

again, he didn’t bother to hide the full extent of his feelings

but unlike the first time, it didn’t make her uncomfortable

instead, it made her feel…warm?

almost happy?

she softened, about to respond in kind when she realized what was happening

and she hardened her expression before clipping out, “then i suppose matches aren’t the only thing you’ll lose, if your pride has already slipped from you. farewell”

then she turned around, calling to her house to tell them they were leaving

(caspar almost screamed, “what are you doing?!” but linhardt clamped a hand over his mouth)

for the next few days, the eagles secretly monitored edelgard, noting the times when she stopped in her tracks to stare at something

or when her lips would twitch upwards

or when she’d look almost…longing

and they would find dimitri in the area

but whenever they tried to subtly talk about it—"so, have you been thinking about anyone lately?“—edelgard would look at them like she didn’t understand

finally, it dawned on them: he was her first crush

(ferdinand sighed and said it wasn’t worth the effort, but dorothea dragged him along anyway and told him it was for the greater good)

they began to be more overt, name dropping dimitri into conversations and saying good things about him

“he’s talented and smart. he gets top marks in his house, doesn’t he?”

“yeah. and he certainly doesn’t slack off in training”

“he’s also really considerate! just the other day, i saw him help someone who tripped and had all their books flying all over the place. when they tried to apologize to him, he said it was no trouble and even offered to carry some of their stuff to their next class”

“huh, he’s pretty cool”

edelgard would nod along, a smile playing on her face as she felt proud that people were acknowledging his strong qualities

one day, they asked back, “what do you think about him?”

and she stopped in her tracks, heart in staccato, as she simply said, “he’s much too nice for his own good”

too trusting

too honest

too expressive

she thought of his eyes, always crinkled at the corners when he looked at her

his voice, smooth and velvety, when he leaned over to speak in her ear

his awe, clear and evident, when he praised her for her hard work

it made her insides all warm and fuzzy, but she didn’t say that out loud

(it was hard for the others to really guess what she meant by that, though they supposed her wistful tone was answer enough)

and they continued upping their game so she could finally realize that she liked him as more than a friend

dorothea lent her some romance novels, making her listen to explanations of how wonderful it would be to fall in love, all the while ranting about the symptoms that edelgard herself had shown

“sneaking glances when you think they aren’t looking, holding your breath when they get too close to you, straightening your clothes when you see them at a distance—”

caspar would try to make her jealous by relaying gossip about the other people dimitri was close with

“his childhood friends must know a whole lot about him! do you think they have some embarrassing stories they can share?”

bernadetta, cooking way too many extra sweets, would say, “maybe you could give this to someone you know? there are too many to eat by myself…”

(edelgard shared it with the rest of her housemates first, then the professors, then claude, then dimitri, who gave her such a sweet smile in return that her skin turned warm)

(her housemates only shook their heads and sighed, but at least it was progress)

(and by this point, claude picked up the signals, sending the eagles a thumbs up in solidarity to tell them he’d do his part whenever he could)

it almost seemed hopeless, really, because edelgard just didn’t seem to understand her own feelings

but claude would have none of it

and instead of all the secretive mumbo jumbo, he went straight for the kill

“hey,” he whispered one day, after one of the interlord meetings, “do you like dimitri?”

she glanced at him, then the boy in question. her heart pattered at the word ‘like’. “of course i do. don’t you?”

“that’s not what i meant. i meant, you know—” he leaned in like he was going to tell her a secret, eyebrows wiggling all the while. “—romantically”

she almost choked. “what?”

the outburst caused dimitri to look at them, concerned, the question on his face asking, ‘are you okay?’

and she nodded at him, a bit embarrassed, before turning back to claude. “where did that come from?” she hissed under her breath

he chuckled. “don’t tell me you thought i didn’t notice. you sneak glances whenever you think he isn’t looking and you hang onto every word he says. it’s pretty obvious”

“what does that have to do with me liking him like…that?”

“um, because people who like someone act just like that? so you like him?”

“that’s…that’s nonsense”

he slung his arm over her shoulders. “oh come on, eddie—”

“don’t call me that”

“—i know you’re smarter than that. you’ve probably already figured it out but you just don’t want to admit it. ’course, i’d be bummed out myself if i found out i had a crush on our resident noodle boy—”

“don’t call him that”

he eyed her glare with amusement. “wow,” he chirped, “i knew it was bad, but i didn’t know it was this bad”

“is something the matter?” dimitri called from the other side. “the two of you have been whispering furiously to yourselves this past little while, and it’s showing no signs of stopping.” he frowned and tilted his head. “is it something i should know about?”

claude grinned. “yeah, definitely, we were talking about—”

“claude!”

“—the fine intricacies of human emotion. fascinating subject. very deep. the two of you should discuss it sometime”

then, with a wink and an exaggerated wave, he said “ciao!” and made a speedy getaway

whether it was because of the awkward conversation she just had or because of the fact that dimitri made his way to stand much too close to her, she couldn’t get the heat off of her face

“that was odd,” he said. “though to be fair, he’s always weird”

“quite,” she mumbled

he sent her a sheepish look. “i’ll apologize on his behalf”

“it’s not you who should be sorry. you don’t even know what you’re saying it for”

“yes, but it’s for the discomfort you felt. it’s not something i enjoy seeing on your face”

why was he so nice? claude’s words repeated over and over and over again

“thank you then.” she tried to keep her voice even. “i appreciate it”

he returned it with a soft smile. “it was the least i could do for you,” he told her, voice no louder than a murmur, and all she could do was curl her toes. “well, i best be going. i won’t be able to win against you if i idle around, yes?”

you don’t have to, she wanted to say. you could stay here with me

instead, she nodded. “of course.” and in spite of herself: “do try your best, dimitri, but i’m afraid the future is already set in stone”

it was playful, a rarity from her, and his eyes widened for a moment before he laughed. “then i suppose i’m unfortunate enough to attempt defying the fates.” he bowed, low, with only the deepest of respect in his stance. “until then, my lady”

when he left, her mind raced through all that had been said and done

from the moment she had laid eyes on him

to her growing fondness

to her housemate’s hints and claude’s words

to now, heart beating wildly against her chest

she couldn’t deny it any longer

she liked him

and for the first time in her life, within the quiet walls of a room she had all to herself

away from the eyes

away from the judgments

away from the adrestian throne

she let herself grin silly

a/n: dimitri is unknowingly smooth. but for everyone’s sake, do not tell him how smooth he is. because once you do, he becomes way too self-conscious about it and turns into a bumbling mess

[asks are open!]

#fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe3h #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #black eagles #claude von riegan #headcanons #asks #anon #prerelease

53 notes · View notes

avengerofyourheart · 6 years ago

Text

Flour Girl {14} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Heyooooo. Let’s go to the Farmer’s Market!!! :D Honestly, Central Park in the Autumn is something I’ve actually experienced and I loved it, so even just writing about it and imagining a Farmer’s Market there.... *swoon* :) Add in Bucky, and I would probably die. ha! I hope you’re ready for this! I’m excited to hear your thoughts, any feedback is appreciated! <3

<<Part 13 Part 14 Part 15>>

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

____________________________________________________

Sunday morning broke with clear skies and unusually high temperatures predicted; the makings of a gorgeous day. Since Thursday when Bucky proposed joining you at the Farmer’s Market, you’d continued to find each encounter you had with him more pleasant than the last. After the grocery store, you, of course, saw him at the Nest each morning, but he also happened to be at the bookstore where you went to browse and unwind Friday evening.

It turned out that you shared similar tastes in books and even had a lively discussion about who your favorite authors were. You each challenged the other to read something they normally wouldn’t and then planned to report back with thoughts on the books. That night as you tucked into bed with the book, you found yourself excited about the prospect of more time spent together. It all seemed to come out of nowhere, but you couldn’t deny the light flutterings of butterflies in your stomach at the thought of Bucky.

During those few days, you continued to hear from B, you both still maintaining that air of mystery. He was still as sweet as ever, confusing your heart and head along with the added newness of whatever was happening with Bucky. Both were mostly pushed out of your head on Saturday, since it was your busiest day of the week. You spent the early hours baking double what you did during the week so you could spend more time helping Wanda with customers.

That night after work, you were exhausted, so catching up on some TV followed by some reading before bed was all that was in the plans.

Sunday, you woke up surprisingly early, for a day that you actually had the option to sleep in. You made some breakfast and drank your coffee, then changing your outfit three times before you were satisfied. There really wasn’t any need for you to dress up, since Bucky had already seen you in your worst, sickest state, but part of you just wanted to gussy up a little, even more for yourself than for him.

Just before 9am, you decided to head out early and enjoy a leisurely walk to the park to spend time there until Bucky arrived. The weather was perfect as predicted, sun shining with a light breeze, and your sweater was just perfect for warmth. Settling on a bench, you pulled out your phone and replied to a ‘Good morning’ text you had received from B earlier.

FG: Good morning, Bernard! Happy Sunday. Plans for today? I’m enjoying a leisurely morning out in the sunshine.

B: I’m happy you’re taking the morning off! You work too hard. I’m enjoying quiet Sunday morning as well.

He followed that message shortly with a picture of a Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream, probably purchased from a food truck that traveled around to different locations in the city. “Mmmm waffles” was his caption and you replied in turn with heart eyes and drooling emojis. Minutes later, he sent a link to a youtube video with the caption “Made me think of you.:)”, which caused your heart to skip a beat.

Plugging in your headphones, you slipped a bud in one ear and pressed play. The video was a clip of a stand-up comedian you had heard about, John Mulaney. He opened his monologue with a mention of how he ‘zones out’ often, which you had to admit was relatable, but he then shared an anecdote about the Beatles, how none of them had mustaches and then suddenly they all had mustaches. At that point, you were laughing near the point of hysterics. For the sake of strangers nearby, you tried your best to laugh quietly with a hand over your mouth.

Eventually, you began to calm down and the video ended, so you returned to the message and typed out a reply.

FG: Oh my god, I should not have watched that in public. I think I hurt myself from holding in the laughter.

You hit send with a crying/laughing emoji. Those three dots popped up and you waited for a reply, but when you saw it arrive, your breath caught in your throat.

B: I’d give anything to hear you laugh.

Frozen in shock, you blinked, noticing the three bouncing dots as he continued to type. What the hell did that mean? He wanted to hear you laugh…as in…what? The anticipation was fraying your nerves so when the message popped up, you read it eagerly.

B: FG…could we meet? I know what happened last time was awful and I had no intention of hurting you, then or now. I swear to you that if you give me another chance, I will move mountains to be there. I’d like to explain everything and I would prefer to do it in person. What do you say?

Staring at the open message, you read it over and over again until the words began to blur before your vision. Was he serious? After all this time, suddenly he was making promises again? Part of you wanted to instantly say yes and take the leap, but reason and previous rejection held you back. Why now? What had changed? You had believed him last time when he said he wanted to meet, so you weren’t so quick to trust this time.

Unsure of how long you had been staring at the message, you must have been lost in your thoughts because suddenly a hand was waving in front of your face to gain your attention.

“Y/N?”

Jolting to the present, you followed the hand and looked up to see Bucky standing before you with a mildly concerned smile upon his face. He looked really good, you noticed right away. Dressed casually in well-fitting jeans and boots matched with a t-shirt and button-up plaid, then topped with a leather jacket, you gawked for a moment too long before answering.

“Hi! Sorry, I, uh…sorry,” you apologized profusely while locking your phone, shaking off the message still imprinted behind your eyes. “Just got caught up in something. How are you?”

Bucky laughed lightly as you stood up from the bench. “I’m good, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad,” you replied reflexively. “It’s a gorgeous day to be in the park. Shall we?”

“Absolutely,” he said, gesturing for you to lead the way. “This weather is insane. It almost feels like Spring in October.”

“Right?” you exclaimed, smiling brightly. “I’m not complaining.”

Small talk continued for a few minutes as you walked, then touching on work and how both bakeries were busy and doing well. Bucky then asked about how and why you decided to open City Sweets. You opened up more about baking with your mom before she passed and you feeling at home and closer to her in the kitchen. You went to college for a few semesters, but couldn’t settle on a major that interested you. Always returning to the idea of baking, you ended up taking a culinary course for some professional lessons and then worked wherever you could to gain experience.

The wish of opening your own bakery kept drifting to the forefront of your mind, so after taking a few business classes and coming up with a business plan, you made the leap using the money your mom had gifted you upon her death. It was one of the hardest, most stressful things you had ever done, but also the most rewarding. City Sweets was almost a year old. You were finally starting to make a profit and you hoped that it would continue to grow and blossom in the future.

Realizing how long you had been talking, you shifted the subject to Bucky. “What about you? What made you want to major in business?” you asked as you kept walking, the Farmer’s Market a few hundred yards ahead.

Bucky was silent a moment, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Um…I don’t know, really. I mean, I grew up helping my dad at the bakery and he always wished he’d had more business experience before he started. Most of the time it was just trial and error for him. So, I kind of just fell into it. I didn’t have a strong desire to major in something, so business seemed as good as any. I think that might be why I was so jealous of you when we first met,” he admitted, catching your eye.

Reeling toward him in shock, your jaw dropped. “What? You were jealous of…me? Why?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Because…you found your passion and you went after it. I think you’re doing an amazing job, too. Even from a business perspective, I mean, you’re in a good location with foot traffic, the bakery is cozy but not too small, you’ve branched out to wholesale deliveries, and from what I can tell, your ingredients quality to food cost ratio seems ideal. All within the first year, that’s impressive,” Bucky beamed at you, his gaze then moving toward the market as you two approached.

You took in his words, nearly speechless a moment from his kindness and positive overview of the bakery. “I, um….thank you. That means a lot to me, Bucky,” you quietly replied, almost overcome with emotion.

He just nodded. “Well deserved. I’m just sorry that I made you doubt that because of my own insecurities. I can’t apologize enough, Y/N,” Bucky said sincerely, pausing just before you reached the displays of fresh vegetables.

Pausing as well, you turned toward him and held his gaze a moment longer than usual. “I forgive you, Bucky,” you told him, knowing in your heart that you meant it.

Hearing the explanation of his previous behavior and seeing how much your interactions together had changed over the past few weeks, you held no more resentment for him. It took too much energy to hold a grudge, anyway.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he replied gently, feeling a spark of something between you as you held his gaze.

The moment passed, though, as he glanced at the first produce stand, breaking eye contact. You finally took a look around as the gentle breeze rustled through the treetops. The sound mixed with music that you previously hadn’t noticed and as it registered, you thought back at the video that B had sent the other day. He hadn’t been far from where you currently stood that day. Lost in your thoughts, Bucky’s voice broke through them.

“Y/N?” he prompted, apparently not for the first time because he had an amused, patient smile on his face. “Are you okay?” Bucky asked, noticing your distracted nature.

“Yeah!” you replied, a little too loudly. “Um…yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you walked to the table of produce and marveled at the colors and freshness.

“Oooh, beets,” you cooed, picking up a bunch of the red root vegetable with green stalks still attached. “I’ve been thinking about using more natural forms of food coloring at the bakery and I’ve heard beets are good for that. What do you think?” you asked in anticipation, glancing Bucky’s way.

He smiled at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too. I think it’s a great idea,” Bucky agreed, picking up a head of lettuce.

The morning passed, finding yourself enjoying Bucky’s company as you perused the table of each vendor selling their wares. You felt the happiest you had in a long time, finding a lightness and comfort as you talked and laughed with Bucky. Sometime later, you turned down the street toward the area where crafts were sold when you spotted a familiar food truck. Stopping mid sentence, you wandered forward and confirmed that yes, this was indeed where he had been according to the sign.

B had been here in this very spot, holding a waffle. It had been over an hour since his message, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing around at the people, wondering if perhaps he was still there. You had no way of knowing, but still…

“Y/N? Did you hear me?”

“Hm?” you quickly replied, blinking.

“I asked if you wanted a waffle. Where did you go just then?” he asked with more concern this time. “What’s going on with you? If you want to cut the morning short, that’s okay, but—“

“No!” you nearly shouted, then feeling terrible about your behavior. You didn’t want to say goodbye, but your attention seemed to be split despite efforts to remain in the moment. “I mean… it’s not that. It’s not you, I’m so—“

“Don’t apologize again,” Bucky kindly interrupted. “You don’t have to, it’s just…you can talk to me if you want to,” he offered sweetly.

You felt your resolve crumbling, wondering if Bucky would mind if you mentioned another guy or if he would just find it odd for you to be corresponding with a stranger. Biting your lip, you rolled it around in your head and came to the conclusion that you might as well get a second opinion on this mess. If he wasn’t as understanding as you expected, then at least you would know his character a little better. Taking a few steps, you settled in a chair at a small table outside the Belgian waffle food truck and gestured for Bucky to do the same.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “It’s kind of a long, weird story…”

_________

You sat in silence a moment, allowing Bucky to process what you had just finished sharing. It sounded crazy, even to your own ears, but Bucky had become a friend somehow over the past few weeks and it seemed like he truly wanted to know what was on your mind. Fiddling with the bag of vegetables resting on the table, you waited until he was ready to respond.

“Wow,” Bucky finally spoke, his gaze off in the distance. “That’s quite a unique way to meet someone.”

You scoffed at that with a shrug. No point in denying it.

“So…you like this guy? Even though you don’t know anything about him?” he asked gingerly, brow furrowed.

Letting out a sigh, you thought about it for the hundredth time and came up with the same answer. “Yeah. I think I do. Is that crazy?”

He shrugged this time. “I don’t know. Crazier things have happened. I can’t think of any at the moment, but…”

You chuckled at that and gave him a playful shove.

“Sorry, sorry,” he replied with a laugh. “But you’re willing to give him another chance, even after he stood you up? No wonder you blew up at me that day at the Nest, by the way. I’m sure I just made a bad situation worse.”

Feeling a warmth in your face, you spoke up. “I really shouldn’t have, I—“

“No, no,” he gently interrupted. “No need to apologize, I needed that wakeup call.”

Smiling gratefully, you thought about his previous question. “I know it might seem naive of me, but…I don’t know. I guess I just want to find out for sure if he is who I imagine him to be. If somehow I’m disappointed once again, then at least I’m not left wondering. I just don’t want to go through life with regrets, you know?”

Bucky was silent again, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “Yeah. That’s a good point. I don’t think it’s naive of you to think the best in other people. It’s a great quality, actually,” he complimented as he placed a hand on top of yours resting on the table.

You felt that electricity again, meeting his gaze for a lingering moment. Opening your mouth to speak, you were interrupted by an alert from your phone. Reluctantly, you retrieved your hand and searched through your bag for the device. A previously set alarm had gone off and suddenly you noticed the time.

“Oh, no. I have to get back to the bakery,” you told him regretfully as you stood and gathered your bags.

“Of course,” Bucky replied, getting to his feet. “I’ll walk with you.”

Grateful that your revelation hadn’t ruined your morning outing or time with Bucky, you nodded with a smile.

“Okay.”

__________________

Stepping off the subway at your intended stop, you climbed the stairs up to street level. This wasn’t a part of the city that you visited often, but it was a nice change of scenery. Nervously wiping damp hands on your jeans, you crossed the street and headed for your destination.

After your lovely and unexpected morning with Bucky in the park on Sunday, he walked you home and you unlocked the bakery after saying goodbye. Your mind was a mess of thoughts as you went about your usual tasks of setting up chairs, brewing coffee, and baking fresh pastries to sell for the day. No deliveries on Sundays, so it was less of a rush to get everything ready. By 11am, you turned over the sign to read “Open” and the work day officially began.

You didn’t mind manning the shop on your own on Sundays. The atmosphere was much more relaxed and the weekend crowd seemed to enjoy lingering with their coffees and croissants. There was a lull in business for half an hour and during that time, you nearly drove yourself crazy trying to decide how to respond to B. Your talk with Bucky had helped, but there was still a lot to consider.

Finally, you pecked out a reply and quickly hit send before you could rethink it.

FG: One more chance. I’m trusting you. Please don’t make me regret it.

He replied quickly, which you were grateful for. The wait was always the worst.

B: I won’t, I promise. I hope I can make it up to you. Tell me when. But would you mind if I chose the where?

Puzzled, you thought it over and settled on Tuesday afternoon. The bakery usually wasn’t terribly busy and it gave you some time to prepare to be gone later that day. When B told you where he wanted to meet, you were surprised, but also intrigued. As far as recognizing one another, the same rule applied, so you dug out the crumpled Beatles t-shirt you had thrown in the closet after the previous incident and put it in the wash.

Now, as you wore the shirt with jeans and a jacket, you felt the butterflies in your stomach with each step. Approaching the notable area where B had asked you to meet him, your eyes grew wide at the beautiful buildings that housed some of the greatest artists and performers in the city. The Square was enclosed on three sides by beautiful, glass-covered and columned buildings that offered an air of sophistication. Per his instructions, you headed for the center of the square where a fountain resided.

Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts was the home to the New York Philharmonic, the Metropolitan Opera, the New York City Ballet, and the New York City Opera. It was also adjacent to the Juilliard School where many of the greatest musicians and artists were taught. This area of the city was incredible and awe-inspiring, especially if one was lucky enough to get tickets to such an event. However, in the afternoon, it was mostly filled with tourists, which is why you were all the more curious about why B chose this spot.

People were milling about and taking pictures as you heard a string quartet playing a classical music piece. The group of young musicians were loosely surrounded by a crowd and a cello case was open with bills and coins dropped inside. Starving artists and all that. Just as you were about to sit down beside the fountain, the song changed and you froze. You knew that tune. You’d know it anywhere.

Ah, look at all the lonely people…

You heard the lyrics in your head, recognizing it as “Eleanor Rigby” by The Beatles. Stunned, you turned toward the sound and slowly began to approach the quartet. You watched them, mesmerized, until you heard your name being called. It was the last thing you expected to hear, so it took a moment for it to register. Turning around, you followed the voice and saw…him.

Confused, you took a step forward and opened your mouth to speak before you looked down and saw the t-shirt he was wearing. The Rolling Stones.

In that moment, it all came together in your head and the blood drained from your face.

“You?”

_____________________

Part 15>>

________________________________________________________

Ahhh!!! Cliffhanger!!! I know, I know, I’m sorry. I think we all know who B is, but a little more waiting until we find out her reaction. What would you think if he brought you all the way out to Lincoln Square with a stringed quartet and everything?? Hmmm. It’s about to go down, you guys. :D Wasn’t that walk through the Farmer’s Market lovely? That conversation about “B” was kinda meta, though. heh. At least Bucky didn’t confirm or deny anything! I think he really did want to hear straight from her mouth that she was falling for him. Kinda. ;) Please let me know your thoughts!! Any and all feedback is appreciated! I adore you guys. Thank you. <3

Permanent Tag list and FG tag list are CLOSED.

Permanent tags:

@pietrotheavenger @thisismysecrethappyplace @part-time-patronus @feelmyroarrrr @ria132love @interestedbystanderwrites @abovethesmokestacks @hymnofthevalkyrie @spideypnw @badassbaker @janeyboo @palaiasaurus64 @dustycelt @mylittlefandomfanfictions @officialcaptain-marvel @maryehudson @sebbytrash @bionic-buckyb @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers @jaybird6232 @bemystucky @averyrogers83 @beccaanne814 @eyesofgoldenambers @missmotherhen @bunnieandcrow @mizzzpink @buckysberrie @imaginingbucky @deathbyarabbit @avengersandchill @timeladylaurel @indominusregina @queen-merc @vaisabu @1800-peggys-orange-lipstick @piensa-bonito @msshadowboxer @coffeeismylife28 @withahintofpestoaioli @cant-decide-at-this-moment @jaderbugz @blue1928 @jbarnes87 @whothehellisbella @captainrogerss @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @themcuhasruinedme @buckybarneshairpullingkink @ilovebeingjoyful @maririn @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @girlwith100names @writingruna @lokiandbuckyaremine @hufflepuff-ish @pixierox101 @supernatural-girl97 @stay-wokke @airixaram @buckyssxxhair @buckys-newarm @lostinspace33 @poealsobucky @buckyofthemyscira @joannie95 @4theluvofall @im-a-light-child @1999yanira @escapetheshackles @lbouvet @black-eyed-bucky @finhabastos

FG tags:

@yallneedtrek @lexie-mo @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @kingcarterprince @snuggleducky @acunningstargazer @zadyalyss @satans-knitting-club @honey-bee-holly @just-add-butter @captainradicalpassion @chook007 @peekingsunshine @odinhson @chrisevans1fan @fangirlwithasweettooth @angryteapot @srhls @jurassicbarnes @livingoffsavvyillusions @ahufflepuffbitch @sebbystanlover-vk @thisismyfriend-tree @susmita121 @fandom-addict-aesthetics @lowkeybuckyb @jitterbuck @lunarcajun @aligatorinavest @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @lilyblack78910 @uservalkyrie @hawaiiantozier @belledamsceno @lukeyasheycalymikey @nsfwfangirl

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bakery au #reader x bucky #bucky fluff #baking #reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky fic #marvel fan fiction #avengers fan fic #reader insert #bucky au #bakery #you've got mail

747 notes · View notes

drakorn · 7 years ago

Text

Top 10 GOOD Things about the Broadway Production of Tanz der Vampire

Recently, I have been thinking about the Broadway Production of Tanz der Vampire again and couldn’t help but imagine: What could have been? Well, we could have had Tanz be one of the most successful international musicals in the world, in the ranks of Phantom and Les Mis no less (which it already is in Europe), but what could have been if the Broadway production actually was good? I have thought about certain scenes and production designs again and well...some of the things present in the Broadway run actually still resemble the original intentions of keeping it faithful to the source material. So...there is two hands full of actually pretty decent things about the production in general.

Hear me out!

I am in no way defending the Broadway Production, I still think this is the worst thing that could ever happen to any musical adaptation. That doesn’t mean however that there aren’t some merits...right? To be fair, it’s getting increasingly depressing to write about the good stuff, because you keep thinking “What COULD have been?” So, without further ado, let’s dive into the Top 10 GOOD things about the Broadway Production of Tanz der Vampire, “Dance of the Vampires”.

10 - The Bombastic Orchestra

Ok, we all know that this goes without saying, but when something gets put on at a Broadway theatre, you can BET that one thing is and always will be delivered: The quality of the music. While Dance of the Vampires is a shitty show, it still has the perk that it includes a lot of the original Steinmann orchestration and compositions. When an actual Tanz song comes up in the Broadway production, the music actually sounds really decent. I would even dare to say it sounds on par with the Vienna orchestra. Stage Entertainment has had a MASSIVE problem with orchestras and it it really shows in the musical quality of the show. However, if Broadway can do one thing right, it’s definitely the orchestra.

9 - The Set Design

Set design is another massive key to a successful musical production. Yes, of course, sound is essential, but when someone only hears the CD, the set design is often a thing that convinces them to go and see it live. I respect the modern approach to theatre of minimalistic set, however, I think that this logic definitely does not apply to musical theatre. Musical theatre is an another plain altogether, it calls for visuals, it calls for big moments. While the costume department of the Broadway Tanz production was...uhh...very questionable

OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, WE DIDN’T NEED TO SEE THAT AGAIN! MY MEMORIES ARE STILL FRESH!

Hmpf, anyway, what I meant to say: While the costumes are not the greatest, the set design itself is speaking completely different languages. While there is certainly some VERY quriky choices in that matter too (The Garlic Festival poster, the castle gate that looks like it’s straight from a child’s playmobil game), there are also some very impressive things to behold. For every goofy garlic poster, we have this gloomy ruin in the middle of a forest, for every playmobil castle gate we have a blood red moon rising over a sea of mist. It is SUCH a shame that the set design is significantly better than anything story-related. If I had to sum up the Broadway Tanz experience in one gif, it would be this one:

“...but the effects were decent.”

8 - Choosing the Minskoff Theatre as the venue

Again, this is a very “What could have been?” topic. For all that it was worth, the Minskoff Theatre was an excellent choice to put on Tanz der Vampire. It’s a gigantic venue and, very importantly, allows for a lot of effects. There are tons of trapdoors and equipment that is just just MADE for a vampire show. How could would it have been to see Krolock and his vampires disappear from the stage (he does that at the end of the Vienna version, but just imagine how this effect could have been milked).

Just LOOK at this theatre. It even has the perfect opportunity for the characters to walk through the audience! Why this wasn’t taken advantage of during the Broadway Tanz production...I don’t know. The Lion King is also showing at this very theatre, so we know how incredibly impressive the shows there can be! If Tanz der Vampire would have been faithfully portrayed at the Minskoff Theatre, it would have truly been a sight to behold.

7 - Casting René Auberjonois as Professor Abronsius

Whoever saw the Broadway Tanz undoubtedly noticed that Abronsius was made significantly unfunnier. In fact, it seems like most of the funny stuff was absorbed by Krolock, which created a very not-well side-effect. However, the actor himself, René Auberjonois, was actually a very nice choice for Abronsius. Whenever he actually HAD a funny moment, he made full use of it. If Tanz der Vampire would have maintained its original spirit, he would have actually been ideal for the role! And just LOOK AT HIM

While it’s not the exact Einstein of the original production, I can still see Abronsius by just looking at this guy! He might have even been the oldest Professor at that time because he was born in 1940 and could still sing and act the part. Professor Abronsius would have therefore also been cast by a person actually closer to his age. Just imagine what could have been... I really wish he would have been doing more stage work in the past, he certainly has the talent.

6 - Angels Arise

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiit! Hear me out, guys! You must be thinking “WHAT? How can he SERIOUSLY talk about the scene where...well, THIS happens

and STILL say it’s good?!” Well, I’m not talking about the scene itself, I’m talking about the song that features in this scene. Angels Arise was a completely new addition to the other Tanz songs. And...well...what can I say? The song itself is actually really good! If it weren’t for that atrocious scene placement, this might have been one of the better scenes. How do I know this? Because there is a recording of this song, which doesn’t feature any of the goofy visuals:

youtube

When you listen to the song itself, it is actually pretty touching and melancholic, as well as beautiful at the same time. I would even go as far as encouraging this song to be included into the original Tanz production. If you take this song and place it into a fitting moment in the actual Tanz storyline, I’m certain it could fit in quite nicely!

5 - Casting Max von Essen as Alfred

Again, we are talking about incredibly wasted potential here. When choosing the actors, Max von Essen was actually a very solid choice for the role of the not-so-fearless protagonist. First of all, he can certainly look the part:

And also, he can certainly act the part! Unfortunately, the Broadway run completely butchered his role to such an extend that he wasn’t even the main character anymore. However, a funny side effect of this was that Alfred came across as MUCH more brave and responsible. But he still maintained that positive Alfred attitude. If the original version would have been performed, Max von Essen would have made a FANTASTIC Alfred. He has proven to be certainly capable for the part with what was given to him. Currently, he is performing in Anastasia as Cover Gleb, as far as I’m aware, and he deserves all the praise!

4 - Für Sarah

Thankfully, there is a couple of scenes in the Broadway production that isn’t straight up awful. Für Sarah is pretty much the only scene in all of Act 2 that was done right. It actually really captures the spirit of the original and truly gives Max von Essen his time to shine as Alfred. There is actually a pretty good clip of it on YouTube, which just shows how good this could have been if the original version was faithfully adapted:

youtube

Oh, Max von Essen, you deserve to perform Alfred as he was originally intended.

3 - Das Gebet

Of course, Act 1 also has this ONE scene that is actually done well, even excellent if I may say! Of course, I’m talking about Das Gebet. Oh, I’m not talking about Draußen ist Freiheit and Die Rote Stiefel, because they had some serious flaws within them, I’m just talking about Das Gebet. Once we get through this cringy transition between Die Roten Stiefel and Das Gebet, the song itself is actually done well, and I mean REALLY well! Rebecca, Alfred and Magda are outside and start the song, the entire stage goes dark and snow begins to fall from the sky, we see several small groups of people coming together, only aided with a few spotlights, gradually forming into a group and singing a song about light in the darkness. The orchestra really puts all of their skill into this song and the result is great!

youtube

Just skip forward to the 9:20 mark and see for yourself. It really makes you also feel melancholic because all of this talent is wasted in an otherwise awful show. And it also gives you the glimpse of an idea of how magical and beutiful Tanz der Vampire could have been if it were properly adapted.

2 - Casting Mandy Gonzalez as Sarah

Of course this had to be on the list. For me personally, the best possible casting decision for this show was Mandy Gonzalez as Sarah.

She definitely looks the part and SOUNDS the part. All of her songs she sang to the most, she was really the saving grace in many of the scenes. During Totale Finsternis for instance, you can really see how she is just TRYING to safe the song. You just have to feel sorry for her when she’s on stage with...whoever Michael Crawford portrays there, it’s definitely not Krolock. She gives it her all and makes the best out of the atrocious material she was given. If Tanz der Vampire would have been adapted faithfully, she might have very well be one of the best Sarahs ever. Talk about wasted potential here. She was so good in this show, but the show wasn’t good to her. She is currently playing Angelica Schulyer in Hamilton and boy, does she deserve the praise!

And the number one thing that was actually good about the Broadway production of Tanz der Vampire is...

1 - That one theory that makes the entire thing almost bearable

Ok, this needs a bit of explanation. So, there has been this theory circling around for a bit, I don’t really know who exactly started it, but that’s how it goes: So, what happened in the VERY first scene? Well, Sarah and her friends are strolling through the woods of course. BUT...WHAT exactly are they picking up and eating on the spot?

The weird things start happening RIGHT after they have consumed those shrooms. A group of hippie-like goth vampires storms out of the forest, Krolock’s coffin shoots out of the floor like a rocket, all of that...so, this theory suggests that the ENTIRE musical was just Sarah being high as fuck. That’s why she is the main character of the show, that’s why Krolock speaks in this weird Italian accent, that’s why all of those confusing things happen to her. Just imagine her walking through the forest, high on mushrooms, just IMAGINING all of the musical’s events. Or better, she experiences an encounter with Krolock, who is still the gothic malevolent being from the original musical, but she just keeps seeing him as this weird Italian dude. It’s the funniest joke of the entire thing and it’s not even intentional!

So, there we are! Those were my Top 10 GOOD things about the Broadway Production of Tanz der Vampire. It was NOT easy making this VERY controversial list. Now...who wants a Top 10 WORST things list?

#Tanz der Vampire #Dance of the Vampires #Musical #The only good parts #Mandy Gonzalez #Max von Essen #Broadway #What could have been...#René Auberjonois

21 notes · View notes

jhinnyjaxy · 7 years ago

Text

A Drunk Idiot or a Sober Psychopath: Which is Worse? (Pt.3)

A several-part long collection of stories that are basically A Day in The Life of Jhin and Jax written by The Idiot That Ships Jhin/Jax (aka me).

Wordcount: 2581

Ao3 Link

(Sidenote; idfk how to write fanfiction or anything in general besides essays and persuasive arguments for mock trial so sorry on that.)

The Grandmaster closed his eyes, ready for a good, long nap now that he was finally home. His Piltover home, at that. Small and cosy, with a small wood stove that actually kept the main room warm. Several of them were strewn about the house, despite its small size, but only two or three had to be on to warm up the place to a cozy degree.

It was nothing like Jhin's houses, which were wide and spacious, with high ceilings and open floor plans and little furniture (well.. little of what Jax would call 'furniture'). Jax's house had shorter ceilings, small rooms, and so many things it was leaving the realm of 'cozy' and bordering on 'crowded'. But the light-colored walls of red and yellow and brown lent just enough relief that you could ignore the tattered, faded Shuriman rugs with a few to many details, or the dinged up and faded coffee table that smelled like a big, wooden boat docked in the harbour. It failed to remedy the man's poor taste in tabletop decor, though.

Several terribly-sewn doilies of various sizes were on nearly every surface, sometimes having two or three of them stacked crossways on top of eachother. On top of some, there were tacky flower pots full to the brim with basically anything but fresh-cut flowers. One had origami flowers (of varying quality), but the rest of them were filled with multi-colored marbles, long-since-used handheld fans, various kinds of fancy silverware, tubes of strange liquids... well, what was once liquid.. at some point..... hopefully. Discarded dishware sat on the tabletops, the exact time they were put down entirely lost to memory.

It looked much like a collector's home. Cluttered, but not too cluttered. There was just enough space to go about day to day life, but sometimes you'd bump into something, step on a misplaced pair of shoes, or stumble over a dropped jacket.

Jhin found himself in the latter situation as he shuffled his way over to another seat just across the coffee table from Jax, bumping his shin into the edge of it for what would be the first of many times during his stay. He hissed from between his teeth, lifting the cup of tea to his lips and taking a gulp of it. He tried to make himself comfortable as possible as he sat down, only really achieving so by throwing one leg over the edge of the coffee table and half-way tucking the other one in the space between the table edge and his seat. It left him in quite an unflattering and, frankly, revealing position, but he showed no shame. He ran his fingers through his hair to attempt at trying to tame the mess it had become.

"You have a horrible set of bed sheets," he noted, not even looking up from his tea.

"Good morning to you too, hunny."

They had a quick exchange of smirks, Jax sitting up in his seat.

"I'll have to give you a - oh, what is it? - a 'cash course' in color theory. You are god-awful at matching colors."

"They're comfy though, right?"

"Oh yes, your bed is positively delightful to sleep on. Quite possibly the best night of sleep without you by my side I've had in a long while. It's especially impressive when considering you don't even have a proper bed frame."

"Shit just makes stupid noises all the time, who needs 'em?"

"Ja," Jhin cheered half-heartedly into his cup as he took another sip. "Thank you for making tea, by the way."

"No problem."

A comfortable silence drifted between them. Soft, relaxed faces were warmed by the spring sun that spilled through the open window, the sound of the unkept bushes outside rustling in the late-morning breeze. It was a clear morning, nothing seemed to pollute the air despite the house being just eastward of the bumbling double city-state of Piltover and Zaun. But, to be fair, it was a considerable distance away. Not too far, but there was a good two to three hours worth of a wagon ride between this neighborhood and the main city.

Jax laid back in his chair and closed his eyes once more. Sleep began to take over, washing the residual aches and pains away as everything relaxed and gave in. It was so comfortable, so simple. And he felt all the more calmed with the knowledge that Jhin was there (which, all things considered, was a miraculous statement in and of itself).

"Dear, before you sleep.." Jhin cooed, just above a whisper.

"Mmm?" Jax was only half-listening.

"Would you mind it at all if I clipped your hedges later today? The small ones out front?"

The fighter furrowed his brow, a hazy memory of the hedges in question coming to mind, with the greatest of his efforts. His tanked energy levels were finally getting to him, "Why?"

"They're a little messy, I just want to tidy them up a bit. Might as well be useful while I'm here, and that seems like a good enough place to start, don't you think?"

Jax didn't respond for a few minutes, drifting in and out of sleep as he battled between his exhaustion, and the cold splash of realization he was still ankle-deep in a conversion. It got to the point he forgot what it was he was even talking about. Something about salads? Green things? Plants? Cucumbers? Could he even grow cucumbers here? Maybe he should grow cucumbers. He's never really had cucumbers, but they sound tasty. Or maybe he was thinking of kale... wonder what kale tastes like.

His thought process was interrupted by a soft kiss being pressed against his cheek. A hand settled on his thigh as he forced his eyes open, finding Jhin leaned over next to him.

"I'll take that as a yes," the man mumbled, the faint tremor in his voice sending chills down Jax's spine. He brushed his hand across Jax's cheek and tucked a bit of hair behind the Laidian's ear, "Sleep well, Obi."

Jax awoke some time later, to the sound of the neighborhood church bells rolling through the streets and past the houses like thunder. He'd always liked those bells, they sounded unique. Everywhere else the bells sounded tinny and meaningless. Like there was no effort put into it. It would grow tinnier and thinner the father away you got from them, until they stopped dead a few streets away. Here, the sound was wooden and whole, rattled the bones if you walked close enough, shook windows in their frames father off. It gave the kind of deep, glorious sound you'd hear from Obji as he passed; the twinkling of wind chimes mimicking the lesser spirits as they trailed behind him. Those bells were why he moved here, specifically, after leaving Ionia.

The bells rang five times, then stopped, leaving nothing but silence behind.

The fighter struggled to keep himself from holding his breath. He almost felt misplaced in the silence. It humbled him, somewhat, as the feeling of embarrassment over making the smallest noise creeped on him. He sat up with a grunt. A snarl spread across his face, Jax involuntarily baring his sharp teeth as a brief, thrumming pain in his shoulder caused him to freeze. Damn wound acting up again. He swore quietly and took several deep breaths as he waited for the pain to dull, as it always did.

Soft chimes rung out on the front porch, accompanied by the creaking wood underneath footsteps. The door opened and Jhin walked through. He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, trying his best not to touch his face with the dirty gloves on his hand. Pink flushed his cheeks and nose, blending rather nicely with his tan skin and dark hair. His movements were slow, untheatrical, and deliberate. A certain brand of tiredness weighed on his features, his eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly slack as he tried to catch his breath. It must have been a hot day out there. Jax didn't feel it, he was one of the fortunate who had air conditioning. That, and it's not often he felt much of anything while unconscious and asleep. Jhin had though, and must've spent a good while out there.

The man looked briefly over to Jax, concern flickering across his face. Jax, meanwhile, fought to keep himself composed in his haze of intoxicating awe. To be duly noted, such battles weren't as often won as his other ones.

"Hey," Jax grunted out, pulling at the leg of his pants and shifting in place.

Jhin took his sweet time responding, face switching between the visually-similar-but-functionally-different expressions of 'mildly annoyed' and 'perversely curious'. Jax tried to hold out, but eventually gave in to his need to fidget and whimper in embarrassment at the other's unrelenting stare. He hated silences in conversation. Especially ones where they kept staring at you. It made him feel uncomfortable, and ashamed, like he did something wrong and bad and he had become a horrible person because of it. It was irrational, but he felt it anyway. It didn't really help that Jhin's expression when he stared at nearly anything was perhaps the single most terrifying (and attractive) thing about him. Nevermind his towering height, or his spider-like features, those never really phased Jax. He'd seen more terrifying things before. But that stare was something else: cold-colored eyes fixed on one thing, the subtle changes in his expression as his eyebrows and nose and lips twitched and shifted about, confusedly, as if they didn't know what do to. Like the pace of their carefully memorized and rehearsed script had been interrupted, and they hadn't yet learned how to improvise.

"Good evening, hugaboo," Jhin greeted with a single nod, turning into the kitchen. "How was your nap?"

"It was okay," Jax said.

"'Okay'? Just 'okay'?"

"I wish it was longer."

"Mhm?"

"Like, twelve hours longer."

There were a few thumps of closing cupboards, "Twelve hours?"

"I'm still kinda tired... an' my shoulder hurts."

"Sleeping in a ratty arm chair will do that to you."

Jax pursed his lips and glared playfully at the entrance to the kitchen, knowing full well he couldn't be seen, "I think they're kinda comfortable."

Jhin walked out holding a big glass of water, gloves tucked underneath his elbow, where he had at some point rolled up his sleeves. It was a cute look on him.

"To be frank, dear-"

"But'chyer Ren."

That got him a scathing look, "- your definition of 'comfortable' is not one a man of your stature, age, and experience should have. It's one more commonly found in the younger types, who's bodies are more forgiving and wallets not as deep."

"Uhhm..." Jax clicked his tongue. "I'll give you that first part, but the last bit? Not so much."

"Whatever does that mean?"

"I'm as poor as dirt, darlin', in case you haven't noticed," the fighter made a motion towards the old jackets that littered the entryway, each one filled with countless holes and a handful that were lucky enough to have their holes sewn up. A moment went by as he pondered just how long it'd been since he last bought a new jacket (or when he last did his laundry... oops).

"You were. But that's hardly the case nowadays."

".. huh? How?"

"You can figure it out."

"Wuh?"

"Come on, use that brain of yours," a grin graced Jhin's lips for a brief moment as he lifted the glass of water to drink. "I'm sure it's in there somewhere."

Jax half wanted to say 'ouch'. Instead, he sat still and contemplated two things; why he'd chosen to deal with all this in the first place, and why he felt so many mixed feelings about that look Jhin was giving him. It was like the man's eyes were smiling. Cunningly. Like some cat getting its sick amusement from knocking fragile things off shelves and tables. Somebody waiting for their unsuspecting victim to realize how stupid he was as they somehow drank water from a bright pink sippy cup with faded daisy decals evilly.

"Oh," Jax's face brightened, giving a grin and a wink. "Rich on love?"

"Ew," Jhin scrunched up his nose, his whole body cringing at those words. "No, that's disgustingly sappy. I meant that I am rich, and therefore, by extension, you are too."

Silence again. There was a certain look on Jax's face that screamed 'guilty'. He knew he was pampered, one just had to glance at his plump cheeks, chubby arms, and round belly to tell that. Jhin took every opportunity to shower the Grandmaster with gifts of any type. Food, clothing, blankets, sugar, and (rarely) alcohol. Knowing full well that he was so pampered was embarrassing to say the least, but he just couldn't help enjoying it. It felt nice having someone treat you so... nicely, without asking for much in return. It was long overdue for the Grandmaster, and he very well deserved it, but that wouldn't stop him from feeling guilty about it. He felt the need to repay Jhin somehow, but he could never figure out how.

"Your shoulder."

"Hurts."

"I know that," Jhin puffed. "I was meaning to go on to ask if you'd like anything for it? Surely you have something to ease your pain."

"Yeah, patience."

"That was not the kind of remedy I was thinking of.."

Jax tapped his chin, then grinned: "Kisses?"

"On your shoulder? Good heavens, how scandalous," the man looked shocked.

"No. On the cheek, doofus. Don't get so excited."

"I wasn't-" Jhin sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew a trap when he saw one, and didn't feel like falling into it this time. "Fine."

The Grandmaster beamed, eyes glowing with anticipation. Always eager for this type of thing, it was like he thought affection to be some rare gem. A one-in-a-million happening. When, in fact, it was nearly every day the two of them spent together. Unmitigated shows of affection were handed out like hotcakes, and laid around in piles that looked like they were going to fall over because they were so tall. It was no less sweet, but it was common between them. Jhin simply went over to him, carefully. He hit his knee on the corner of the table, yet again, as he moved to crouch down. Jax's smile dropped at the sound, only to be trapped in a kiss. A quick one. Followed by several more kisses.

Jax giggled. Jhin placed his water down and leaned closer, peppering kisses on the Laidian's cheeks and neck. They both began to laugh, taking turns nuzzling and pecking each others cheeks. Tickling soon began, with the Virtuoso helplessly caught in Jax's firm hug, unable to escape the tickling of his sides. He fought hard, but unfortunately Tickle Fights were one of the kinds of fights the Grandmaster was undefeated in. An indeterminate amount of time passed as the two tickled one another and tried to avoid buckling over from laughter and tears, until they were forced to stop and catch their breath.

"See what I mean?" Jax eventually said, still holding the other man close.

Jhin hummed in response, reaching up to play with a stray strand of the fighter's gray-blue hair.

"As they say; laughter is the best medicine."

There was a pause. Jhin stopped twirling the strand of hair in his fingers.

"Get out," he deadpanned.

"Wha- this is my house, asshole!"

#{A Drunk Idiot or a Sober Psychopath: Which is Worse?}#{Sweethearts}#{Purple Idiot}#{Mr. Fancypants}#Jhin/Jax #Jax/Jhin #tw; my ship #jhin league of legends #jax league of legends #long post

2 notes · View notes