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qianinterprises · 4 years ago

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Warm Mornings

Pairing | Jeno x Reader x Jaemin

Warning(s) | slightly suggestive (if you squint), polyamorous relationship

Synopsis | Just an everyday morning in the life of you, snuggled between the loves of your life.

Author’s Notes | I wrote this after reading this by @bluejaem. After getting permission (in the form of a brain dumped imagine lol), I decided to write my own little NoMin poly! I would also like to add that I started over three damn times before I was finally happy with it, but it has not been beta read so... expect grammatical errors (Im sorry!)

Work Count | 1.9K

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As morning bloomed over the city, pulling individuals out of their dreams to dawn a new day, you rolled over under the blankets, careful not to disturb the arms wrapped around your waist in your quest for comfort. As you settled on your side, facing the eastern window, your eyes cracked open, sleep already leaving you for awakeness.

Sunlight beamed into the window, casting hues of gold along the walls, creating patterns and designs of light around the room. One beam of sun in particular hit the back of the man to your left, light bouncing off his bare skin and illuminating his body in such a way he appeared to almost be glowing. Golden rays bounced off his dyed brown hair, creating such an heir of elegant innocence around him.

The bed ruffled and the body behind you wiggled until one of the arms around your waist was pulling you back against a broad chest, face nestling in your neck, blowing soft tufts of air across your sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Good morning,” his voice was deep and raspy, husky with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, quiet so as not to wake the male in front of you.

“Is he glowing?”

A smile falls across your face, eyes roving over the porcelain face of Na Jaemin, deep in the confines of sleep, eyes fluttering lightly with dreams, hair a mess atop his head.

“Like an angel,” you whispered.

The arms around your waist seemed to tighten even more as he pressed a kiss on your jaw.

“Our angel.”

You placed your hands lightly over his, stroking along his skin, tracing the bulging veins that came with being a well-built muscular man with a love for exercise.

“Are you two talking about me again?”

Jaemin’s voice brought a yelp from your throat and your body lurched backwards in shock, unfortunately sending your foot into a not so friendly place for the man behind you.

The arms released your body completely as said male let out a slow whine, hands moving down to cup himself, coaxing the organ to stop spiking with the pain your foot had left.

You rolled over, careful of your limbs this time to check that the male was alright.

Lee Jeno. A tall, lanky but muscular man that had stolen your heart the first time your eyes met. His face was contorted in pain, eyes squeezed shut to keep in the tears that surely weren’t far from falling.

“I am so sorry!” you breathed, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched at your touch.

“Give him a moment. Let him catch his bearings.”

Jaemin’s voice wasn’t half so husky now as he wound his arms around his waist and pulled you back, careful of your feet as you curled your legs again comfortably.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been pretending to be asleep!” you hissed.

“Oh I wasn’t pretending. You two just aren’t as quiet as you think you are.”

You turned your head to send a glare at him when a puff of air left Jeno’s lips and his body uncurled itself. His eyes opened, glassy, and he blinked a few times to rid the tears that threatened to fall.

“Next time you jump in fear, try to make sure your not curled up first!”

Jaemin snorted and you shook your hide, sliding out of Jaemin’s arms and closer to Jeno, who engulfed you in a bear hug, pressing your face against his shoulder.

“No fair! He got cuddles already! I haven’t got my cuddles yet!” Jaemin’s voice whined behind you.

“I just got kicked in the balls! I think I deserve a few extra cuddles!” Jeno insisted.

You rolled your eyes and pulled away from Jeno slightly. He let out a small, puppy whine, hands clinging to your waist as Jaemin cackled behind you, making a grab to pull you away. He let out his own yelp when you slapped one of his hands away and instead, grabbed his arm, tugging him closer until his chest was pressed against your back.

“You can both cuddle me,” you mumbled, nuzzling your face into Jeno’s neck as Jaemin’s arms slowly wrapped themselves around your body.

Your eyes began to droop as two warm bodies help you snuggly between them, hands softly stroking your back or your arms, lulling you back into your dreams, breathing in Jeno’s scent of earthy body wash, content at the way Jaemin’s lips pressed butterfly kisses along your neck.

°:. *₊ . ☆ ° . *₊ ☆ ✮ ° . ☆ *₊ ☆°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮　 °:. *₊ °:. *₊ . ☆ ° . *₊ ☆ ✮ ° . ☆ *₊ ☆°:. *₊ °

When you opened your eyes for the second time, you noted the lack of arms around you and the rhythmic heartbeat against your ear.

You let out a soft yawn, shuffling closer to the chest, immediately recognizing it as Jeno’s. You wound your arms around his waist, holding onto him like an overstuffed teddy bear.

He had his phone in his hand, playing some weird alien-killing game, his other hand lazily drawing patterns beneath your shirt against your back.

“Where’s Jaemin?” you asked with a small yawn, nuzzling closer.

“In the kitchen.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he didn’t glance up from the game as another green alien blob appeared on screen.

“I’m going to go see if he needs any help.”

You moved to get up, but the hand down your shirt quickly pulled out and wound itself around your waist, preventing you from moving.

“I’m under strict orders not to let you out of this bed.”

You rolled your eyes but complied, happy to rest your head against Jeno’s bare chest, but his abs were only so interesting.

“Can you hand me my phone?”

Dating two was a lot different than dating just one. You had to make compromises and things didn’t always work out flawlessly. For example, sleeping arrangements.

After dating for a while, the three of you had decided to get an apartment together rather than living in two separate apartments (because Jeno and Jaemin already lived together). It made sense, especially with their differing jobs and never having time to go on dates as a trio. When you’d first bought the apartment, you’d taken your queen sized bed from your old one, but that quickly ended in disaster, either Jaemin or Jeno ending up on the floor in the middle of the night after being kicked out of bed from a restless sleeper.

After finding one or both men snuggled up uncomfortably on the couch because the bed just wasn’t big enough for the three of you, you’d pooled your money and bought a larger, King sized bed. However, while this kept you all in bed without bruises, it also meant you were stuck under two blankets between two boys, both of which radiated heat like a space heater.

You’d find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, their arms wrapped around you, your shirt sticking to your back in sweat, which should have been an easy enough solution, just kick the blankets off. Problem was, when you did, you either squirmed so much it woke one or both of them up, or you ended up warm and toasty between two shivering boys. That was an issue solved with a ceiling fan, though it wasn’t perfect.

The newest issue, however, was always needing assistance to reach something. Rather than sleeping on a side with a night stand, you were constantly shaking them awake to ask for a sip of water from the nightstand or crawling over one of them to use the restroom. A solution to this problem didn’t seem so simple as the others. However, despite waking them up countless times in the middle of the night, they never complained. In fact, they almost seemed happy to do it, even when Jaemin was sluggishly pulling himself out of bed at 5am for work after a rough night.

Unwinding his arm from around your waist, Jeno reached for your phone on the nightstand, unplugging it, and placing it in your hands, wrapping his arm back around your waist and going back to his game.

Pressing a kiss to his chest in thanks, you unlocked your phone, smiling at the photo of the three of you at the beach, begrudgingly taken by Donghyuck who’d gotten roped into third-wheeling when Renjun had bailed at the last minute.

You opened your Tumblr account, shifting to hide your screen from curious eyes and you pulled up your initial feed, hearting posts and reblogging memes until you came upon a fic from your favorite blog <your favorite blog> featuring South Korean heartthrob, Jung Jaehyun.

Biting down on your lower lip, you took another glance at Jeno before letting your eyes scan greedily over the words, drinking them in. It wasn’t long before you were fully absorbed in the story that you didn’t realize Jaemin was calling your name until the phone was snatched out of your hands.

“Geez! You’d think you’d gone deaf!” Jaemin exclaimed.

You felt your cheeks heat up, nose twitching in embarrassment as you carooned into Jeno’s chest.

“What in the-”

Jeno cut himself off. You glanced up at him, curious as to what had shocked him, only for your eyes to widen when you found him gaping at your screen.

“What kind of filth-!”

“It’s called smut! And it’s not for you!” you cried, reaching for the phone, only to have it raised higher, out of your reach.

You huffed.

“When did you start reading that stuff?!” Jaemin gaped.

“Probably around the same time Jeno put that virus on your laptop!”

“Hey!”

“So you’re the culprit! I had to explain to my older brother why I had a virus from an adult site I’d never watched before!” Jaemin exclaimed.

He jumped on the bed, grabbed his pillow, and hit Jeno over the head with it, hitting you at the same time.

“Ouch!” you whined. “Stop it!”

Jaemin huffed and flopped down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jeno placed your phone back on the table and all was quiet until you turned to look at Jaemin.

“What were you calling me for anyways?”

He stared at you in confusion for a moment before perking up.

“Oh! Do you want orange juice or coffee?”

“Um… coffee duh! We started dating two years ago, right? Not yesterday?”

“I was just making sure!” he grumbled, crawling out of bed and stomping back to the kitchen.

When he was gone, Jeno leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I still want to know why you were reading filth about that idol…”

“Just forget it Jeno. You wouldn’t understand,” you groaned.

Not even a minute later, Jaemin was walking back into the room carefully balancing three trays in his arms. Jeno reached out to grab his own. Jaemin placed your tray over your lap and slid back under the blankets on your left. You sat up in bed and leaned close to press a kiss to the males cheek, only for him to turn at the last minute, capturing your lips.

He brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek softly, drawing you closer as his tongue brushed over your bottom lip before pulling away, placing a lasting peck on your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You nuzzled yourself closer, careful not to disturb the tray of food on your lap.

“I love you more,” Jeno, clearly dissatisfied with his lack of attention, stated moving up behind you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You let out a breathy laugh, wrapped one arm around Jaemin’s neck, the other around Jeno’s.

“I love you both the most.”

#ficscafe #nct nomin #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #nct fluff #poly relationship #Soft #love

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diegos-butt · 4 years ago

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Unnoticed (chapter one)

Summary: He had watch her grown up. He had seen her transform into a beautiful woman, with a strong will but insecurities. Despite being away from time to time, he had fallen for her, hard. She on the other hand, had seen him become a big, strong man. But deep down she knew he had a soft side. She had fallen, hard, for him too. Another thing they have in common? The believe that the other will never feel the same. Will their feelings for each other always stay unnoticed?

Captain Daniel Syverson x Kathy Davis (plus size/curvy/thick OFC)

Warnings: none. bad writing maybe. mention of beer?

Wordcount: 5.4k 👀

A/N: I tried something here so bear with me. Honestly curious of what y'all think.

•••

I was walking to my brother Tim’s house as the sun was settling down. He was throwing a barbeque for his best friend’s return, Captain Daniel – Dan – Syverson, or just Sy, as we usually called him. I smiled as I thought of him. I had known him for so long. He and my brother had been friends since I was born. So, I grew up with them, teasing me but when someone bullied me, they were there faster than the blink of an eye, ready to knock the bully down.

They always stood up for me, even though they knew I could take care of it myself. But they insisted. Every time. And that was nice, to know they would. To know I always had someone who would be there for me.

As we got older, our groups of friends intertwined, and we became one larger group of close friends. Me, Tim, Sy, Holly, Shane, Benjamin, and Brianna. We all lived in this town, went to the same high school. Some of us even went to college together. Now we were all working in this town as well, except for the captain. He was away from time to time. And I would never admit it, but I missed him so much while he was gone. My brother’s house came into my sight, and my heart skipped a beat. After all these months, I was finally seeing him again.

When I fell for him? I can’t even remember; it is like I have always been. However, I have always tried to hide it, so he doesn’t know. At least, that’s what I think. If he does, he’s being a good friend and doesn’t treat me any differently.

What our friendship is like? Teasing, and full of sarcastic comments. Unlike everyone else, he calls me Kat instead of Kathy. I’d never want to change that, so I will not ruin that by confessing my feelings. What’s the point? He does not and never will feel the same. Right?

I took a deep breath and opened the door of my brother’s house, hoping Sy would already be there. I walked through the hallway and living room until the garden came into my sight. Sy just disappeared into the shed, so I walked through the doors outside, and said hello to my brother.

“Hey sis,” he welcomed me and gave me a hug. “He’s already here you know. I’m sure he showed up early for you.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s not true, he is just happy to see his best friend again,” I laughed and slapped Tim on his arm.

“You might be able to fool him, but I can see the nerves in your eyes Kathy. Just admit you’re happy he’s back,” Tim teased. I wanted to smack him when we heard noises coming from the shed. Sy walked out carrying two lawn chairs.

Tim released me from his hug. “Go say hi to him,” he whispered. I took a step towards Sy, and felt my heartbeat increasing. He dropped the lawn chairs and proceeded to walk to me. Our steps became faster, and quickly he was close enough to wrap me in his arms. He lifted me up and I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a little squeal. He smelled good, manly, but so good. His buzzcut was starting to grow out, and I couldn’t help myself but to stroke his head. He buried his face in my neck, and I giggled. He was home.

“You’re back,” I said softly, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy. Contain yourself, he doesn’t need to know you missed him that much.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here darlin’,” he answered, and I could see in his eyes that he was happy to be home again.

“Welcome home you big idiot,” I grinned, I loved teasing him.

After squeezing me tight one more time, he’d put me down again. Suddenly I realized the sounds that disappeared when my eyes met his for the first time in so long had come back. The sound of the flock of birds came back, just as the noises Tim was making while meddling with the barbeque.

“Oh, that’s how ya welcome me back home?” Sy said. I laughed and walked past him, while picking up one of the lawn chairs.

When he’d lifted me up, it was just me and him. He always does that when he comes back from a tour. I don’t even know how it started, but it had become a thing. He knows I like that, that I love that. He is the only one I trust enough for that, because I know he will never let me fall. I did fall though, but in a different way.

“I could also have started by saying you should trim your beard. It looks like shit right now,” I mocked, and walked past him. He’d placed his hand on his chest and pretended I had hurt him. His chest though, how on earth did he get even bigger? Quickly, I moved towards the sitting area, and placed the lawn chair down. He followed close behind, and when I looked around, I saw his eyes moving up. Was he looking at my bum? Why? I tried to not look puzzled, but I felt like I was failing hard.

“Ya know, being disrespectful in the army can get you in a lot of trouble,” he said and handed me a beer. His hand touched mine slightly, and I pulled my hand away quickly.

“Really? You’re going to punish me then?” I raised an eyebrow at him. You can punish me in a couple ways captain. No Kathy, he is your friend. He is just your friend.

“Who knows.” He cocked an eyebrow at me and finished his beer. I nearly chocked on mine, and thankfully Shane and Benjamin busted through the door and stepped outside onto the terrace, preventing the continuation of the conversation between me and Sy. They were cheering loudly, screaming Sy’s name, and hugging him. I chuckled and took a few more sips of my beer.

I watched as Shane and Benjamin tried to tackle Sy, they obviously failed. To be fair, Shane and Benjamin weren’t small guys either, but Sy was definitely bigger. I took a sip of my beer and watched as my brother joined them.

While watching the boys I noticed Sy’s physique, he looked even more broad than before. I had no idea that was possible. He currently had Shane in a headlock, flexing his bicep. I wanted to crawl under that arm myself, not in that headlock, but still. He could choke me though.

I was rudely awakened out of my daydreaming when Holly and Brianna suddenly stood next to me. The two girls tried to hug me at the same time, which failed due to their hight difference. Me and Brianna were both quite tall, while Holly was smaller.

“Kathy! Let me guess, the captain has already said hello to you?” Holly said and wiggled her eyebrows. Trying to hide the fact I had a thing for the captain from them was useless, these girls knew me better than I knew myself.

“Did he do that cute hug yet were he lifts you up?” Brianna added while hooking her arm through mine.

“Hello to you too, and yes he said hello to me, and yes he did that hug thing. Don’t make it look like it’s a big deal!” I said and took the last sip of my beer.

“No, did I miss it? That is my favourite part of Sy’s return!” Holly pouted. The brunette took the beer bottle out of my hand and placed it on the table. “Sy! Aren’t you going to say hello to us or what?” she shouted. The boys stopped talking and closed the gap between our groups.

“Hi girls.” Sy opened his arms for Holly and Brianna and gave them both a hug. The chatter immediately started, everyone asking Sy questions about how he was doing, and how happy he was to be back.

“Stop! Everyone, stop talking for a minute!” Brianna shouted. “Since Holly and I were a bit late, we missed the famous welcome back hug between Sy and Kathy.”

“I was there,” Tim laughed. “Maybe you should’ve known they would both be here early.”

“We were planning on being early, but sweet Holly over here was being incredible slow,” Brianna said and gave Holly a death glare which turned into a little smile.

“I think they should do it again,” Holly grinned. Oh no.

“I think they should too, apparently we all, except Tim, missed the highlight of Sy’s return. We should not be robbed of that moment,” Shane agreed, and a playful smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, come on guys!” I said. “The man has just gotten home! Give him a break.” If he lifts me up again, I might faint. This actually made them cheer even louder.

“C’mere darlin’. Let’s give the audience what they want.” He gave his beer to Benjamin and winked at me.

He caged me in his strong arms again, lifting me up, effortlessly. I threw my arms around his neck, and I heard everyone around us cheer. This was my happy place. I don’t know if it is the being lifted part, of just being held by his strong arms.

Far too soon for my liking, he had put me down on my feet again. His eyes locked with mine, and I nearly drowned. The blue in his eyes looked even brighter than ever before.

I was rudely pulled away by Shane, who cheered loudly while putting his arm around my shoulder. Everyone was laughing and cheering. Benjamin walked inside to grab the speaker, and a few seconds later music mixed with our noises in the garden.

“Hey guys, who wants to eat?” Tim shouted.

“Better give me a sausage, I’m in the mood for some meat,” Holly answered with a mischievous grin. I laughed at her; she was never afraid to speak her mind.

After we had finished eating, we all sat around the firepit. The sun was already gone, and the moon and stars shone above us. While we were eating Sy wanted to know what we had been up to. We were all doing great, we had jobs and nothing major had happened. Unlike last time, no pregnancy scare for Holly. Me and Brianna did start our own business, after our last employer went bankrupt. We were now the proud owners of our own interior design business.

After we were done telling Sy about the last months, Brianna had asked Sy about his. I saw the look in his eyes change, he looked down at the glass in his hand, and avoided the question. I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Thankfully, Benjamin understood it as well.

“Sy, a toast to you!” Benjamin said, and raised his glass. “Welcome home man.” We all raised our glasses as well.

“Thank ya Ben, it’s good to be back. And I’d like to thank y’all for writing me those letters. They mean a lot to me,” Sy said. I thought about the letters I’d send him. There were many, so many. A few years ago, I had no idea what to write, but eventually I figured I would write what I wish I could tell him. I wished I could talk to him about my day, about things that bothered me, about things that made me happy.

Quickly I learned he liked it. When he got home the first time I did that, he had thanked me in private. He had told me it helped him get through tough days, that it made him feel like he was home. In that moment, I was so close of telling him how I felt. Yet I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk losing him as a friend.

He did write me back, but his letters weren’t as long as mine. They were usually a paragraph or two. He wasn’t that much of a talker, I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from teasing him.

“Well, next time you could try and write longer ones back you know,” I began. “I have put so much effort into my pages long letters, and all I get back is a paragraph from you just thanking me.” I attempted to pout but started laughing. “Nah, just kidding. We know it means a lot, so we’re happy to write them.”

I smiled at him. The letters kept him sane, and I was happy to send them. Just like the others. I looked at Sy, he sat opposite of me, and I wished he’d sat beside me. His body radiated a warmth that was always welcome, even if he just sat a meter away from me. But from this distance, I could not feel it.

“Don’t be funny darlin’. Might not answer yours next time,” he joked and pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Like you would ignore her Sy,” Shane mocked. Wait, what? What is that supposed to mean. Everybody started laughing, while I was starting to freak out. I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the conversation around me continued, and the moment to ask a question about it was gone. My mind was going crazy, and I pretended to listen to the conversation, but I didn’t hear a thing. I know he wouldn’t ignore me, but why did Shane say it like that? And why did Sy suddenly look so awkward?

The fire slowly went out, and that was our cue to head home. We all stood up, and helped Tim clean the mess we made.

“Guys, why don’t you all just go home. I’ll help Tim clean up the rest!” Brianna suggested. I knew she had a thing for my brother, and this was her way of getting close to him. Of being alone with him.

Everyone laughed but agreed. A very nice thing of living close to each other, was that we were all able to walk home. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin walked home together, and Sy suggested he’d walk with me, since we both had to go in a different direction than the others. I walked inside to grab my cardigan, while Sy lifted two lawn chairs back to the shed. When we were out of reach, the others started talking.

“Are they seriously never going to notice they like each other? Or is it just obvious to me?” Shane said.

“Oh dear, it is painfully obvious,” Brianna added.

“I think we need to help them a little. They need a little push,” Holly suggested. They all agreed, but they couldn’t continue discussing their little plan because Sy and I appeared again. Completely unaware of the conversation that just happened.

We said goodbye to Tim and Brianna, and walked home. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin took a left, and Sy and I took a right. It was just us, walking next to each other. It felt nice to be in his presence again, and because I was so close to him, I could finally feel his warmth again. We spend the way walking to my home talking, he wanted to know everything about the business I started with Brianna and how my family was.

Far too soon, we reached my home. We stopped in front of the house, a small 2-bedroom home. But it was nice, and cosy. I liked it there, but I was ready for the next step. To settle down with someone. With him, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

We faced each other, and fell silent. I looked at him, the moonlight highlighted his face, and I spotted some new scars. I wanted to trace them with my fingers, but I restrained myself.

“Alright, well, it is so nice to have you back Sy,” I said.

“It is nice to be back here,” he smiled. We fell silent again, and I smiled back at him.

“I should go inside,” I spoke softly, and opened my arms to hug him.

He hummed and wrapped his arms around me. He squeezed me tightly, and I nuzzled my face in his neck. He smelled so good; I loved his cologne. We broke up the hug, but he kept me close and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. My heart was beating fast, and my breathing started to get heavier.

“Goodnight darlin’,” he said and winked, or at least he tried to.

“Goodnight captain,” I answered, and gave him a smile. He laughed, and started to walk away backwards, and watched me until I was inside. I waved at him before I closed the door and saw how he waved back and turned around to walk home.

I leant with my back to the front door and sighed. Will he for always not notice my feelings for him?

I watched Tim as he prepared the barbeque. The soft rays of sunlight spreading through the garden. The sunlight reminded me of her, Kathy, or Kat as I liked to call her. Especially the last time I saw her before my deployment. The sun shone on her face, and lit up her hair, making her look like a goddess. I almost broke my promise to myself and told her how I felt. I could never tell her; I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

The teasing, the banter, the sarcastic comments. Even though I pretended she annoyed me sometimes, I missed her and our dynamic the most while I was away. She kept me sharp, a goal to come back to. Thanks to her I got through those months. Especially her letters. Those long letters.

She was actually the reason I had shown up early at Tim’s house. I was hoping she would be here early too, so we’d have a little moment of privacy. Well, Tim was there, but he knew how I felt. He had known for a long time. I had always seen Kat as Tim’s little sister, but the moment she started to become a woman, that changed. I had always fancied her presence, her humour and we got along very well. But ever since she had grown into a beautiful woman, it had been different. I wanted more, but I knew that would never happen. Nevertheless, I settled for being her friend because I could not bear not having her in my life.

I grabbed a beer and opened it, quickly taking a few sips. Too caught up in my own thoughts, I nearly missed Tim asking me to grab a few more lawn chairs from the shed at the end of the garden. I set my beer down of the table, nodded at him and walked to the shed.

The shed was dark, but I spotted the lawn chairs without any problems. Those nights in the dark desert had increased my night vision. I was about to step outside when I heard it. A laugh, but not just a laugh. Her laugh. It was like music to my ears. She was here, finally. Kat.

Hastily, I stepped outside, and my gaze immediately fell on her. She hugged her brother as they laughed. When Tim let her out of his embrace, her eyes locked with mine. Completely forgotten about the lawn chairs, I dropped them and started to walk towards her. Her feet moved as well, making their way to me, speeding up a little.

Before I knew it, she was in arms reach, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squealed. One of her hands stroked my hair that was starting to grow out, and she nuzzled her face in my neck while I smelled the rose scent of her hair. Even though she might not be the smallest, I could lift her up effortlessly and I loved reminding her of that. I could think of another few ways of throwing you around darlin’.

“You’re back,” she said softly.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here darlin’,” I smiled. She removed her face from my neck and looked at me. She looked even prettier than I remember. I had no idea that was even possible. Don’t get mushy man, damn.

“Welcome home you big idiot,” she grinned at me, and I put her back down on her feet. Uh, not even back for a minute and she’s already teasing me.

“Oh, that’s how ya welcome me back home?” She walked past me and started laughing. She picked up one of the lawn chairs.

“I could also have started by saying you should trim your beard. It looks like shit right now,” she mocked as she walked past me. I placed my hand on my heart, pretending she’d hurt me.

Shaking my head, I picked up the other lawn chair and followed close behind her. She looked good, really good. The jeans she wore hugged her in all the right places. She placed the lawn chair down and looked at me. My eyes immediately left her behind, and I placed the lawn chair I was carrying down as well. She better not be standing with her ass towards me again, or I will smack it.

“Ya know, being disrespectful in the army can get ya in a lot of trouble,” I said and grabbed a beer for her. I handed it to her, our hands lightly touching. Quickly, I grabbed my own beer from the table.

“Really? You’re going to punish me then?” The sunlight caught her face, making her look like an angel. She tried not so smile, but the glistering in her eyes gave her away.

“Who knows.” I chugged the rest of my beer and cocked my eyebrow. I know a few ways I’d like to punish ya darlin’.

Before our conversation could continue, the door to the terrace busted open, and Shane and Benjamin stepped outside. Cheering loudly, chanting my name. They walked over to me and threw their arms around me. They tried to tackle me, but even though they were strong, I was the strongest one of the group. Tim joined us, and they let me go so we could talk.

“Welcome back man,” Benjamin said and slapped me on my back. “We missed ya.”

“I understand, my presence is gift. Y’all should be glad I’m back,” I declared.

“Whatever Sy. Don’t get too cocky,” Tim said, he stood beside me and lifted his arm to smack me on the back of my head. I simply shot him a look, and his arm fell down next to his body again. I chuckled, and from the corner of my eye I saw Holly and Brianna had also arrived. I liked the girls, they were nice and sweet, but most of all good friends.

“Sy! Aren’t you going to say hello to us or what?” Holly shouted. I walked over to them, the other men following close behind.

“Hi girls,” I said and opened my arms for them. I gave them a hug, and everyone started asking me questions. I tried to answer them, when suddenly Brianna yelled.

“Stop! Everyone, stop talking for a minute!” she shouted. “Since Holly and I were a bit late, we missed the famous welcome back hug between Sy and Kathy.” Might have been a reason I was here early.

“I was there,” Tim laughed. “Maybe you should’ve known they would both be here early.”

“We were planning on being early, but sweet Holly over here was being incredible slow,” Brianna said, and I noticed how she looked at Holly like she would kill her. Soon the look turned into a smile nonetheless. Thank you, Holly.

“I think they should do it again,” Holly grinned. I had to try not to grin too much. Being close to her, felt so good. I would love nothing more than to hug her more often, or to cuddle up on the couch together. The chances of that happening, were very slim, and my heart sunk a little in my chest.

“I think they should too, apparently we all, except Tim, missed the highlight of Sy’s return. We should not be robbed of that moment,” Shane agreed, and a smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, come on guys!” Kat said. “The man has just gotten home! Give him a break.” Her comment made them cheer even louder. Doesn’t she want me to hug her again? Well, that’s not my problem ‘cause I’d hug her anytime if it were up to me.

“C’mere darlin’. Let’s give the audience what they want.” I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around her. I could smell her perfume, and I didn’t know what kind of scent it was, it just smelled like her. It smelled like home.

Every time I hugged her, there was just one thing I was afraid of. That I would not let her go again, because that’s where she belonged. She belonged in my arms, and I wished she would realize that one day. But I had to let her go again. Shane immediately wrapped an arm around her, while everyone cheered. Soon I noticed someone had put on some music.

“Hey guys, who wants to eat?” Tim shouted. I’m starving but not for that kind of meat.

“Better give me a sausage, I’m in the mood for some meat,” Holly answered with a mischievous grin. She was a sweet girl, always joking around, but don’t you dare mess with her. Don’t you dare mess with Brianna or Kat either, they will make you regret it. I liked that about them, that they were strong women.

An hour later we had finished eating, and we sat around the firepit in Tim’s garden. The sun long gone, the moon and stars providing us some light. The last hour I had mostly asked them how they’ve been, and it did me good to hear everything was going well. Tim’s construction company, where Shane and Benjamin also worked, was doing great. They were happy I would soon be joining them again. Holly’s clothing store has made a big profit in the last month.

I was happy to hear that Kat and Brianna started their own interior design business after the company they worked for went bankrupt. Kat’s eyes lit up when she spoke about it, and I loved seeing her with this passion.

After they were done talking about what they’ve been up to, it was my turn. I told them quickly a few things I could tell them. That I wanted to tell them. Thankfully, none of them asked anymore questions. They knew I preferred to not talk about it.

“Sy, a toast to you!” Benjamin said, and raised his glass. “Welcome home man.” Me and everyone else raised their glasses as well.

“Thanks Ben, it’s good to be back. And I’d like to thank y’all for writing me those letters. They mean a lot to me,” I said. It was true, getting letters while being far away from home, is the best feeling ever. Especially her letters, she had written me long letters, talking about the little things in life. She’d wrote about the weather or an awful client at work. She would just write about her day-to-day life, like she would if I were there. I had kept every single one of her letters, safely stored away in a box that was now underneath my bed.

“Well, next time you could try and write longer ones back you know,” Kat spoke. “I have put so much effort into my pages long letters, and all I get back is a paragraph from you just thanking me.” She pouted, and looked incredible cute, but started laughing. “Nah, just kidding. We know it means a lot, so we’re happy to write them.” She gave me a smile, and I wished she sat closer to me. Instead, she sat across the firepit from me.

“Don’t be funny darlin’. Might not answer yours next time,” I joked.

“Like you would ignore her Sy,” Shane mocked. Shut up Shane. Everyone but her started laughing. Oh no, what is she thinking? Kat looked confused, and I knew she wanted Shane’s comment to be explained. Thankfully, Holly started telling a story about a client in her store, so the moment to address the comment was over. Thank god.

Soon, the fire went out and that was the universal sign for us to go home. We stood up, and started helping Tim clean the plates, cups, and cutlery. I looked at Kat, I liked watching her move. The way her hips swayed when she walked, was one of my favourite parts about her.

“Guys, why don’t you all just go home. I’ll help Tim clean up the rest!” Brianna suggested. I chuckled. Smooth Brianna. I had known for a while she had a thing for Tim, and I knew he felt the same. We all laughed and agreed with her plan. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin walked home together since they lived close to each other. Kat and I had to go the other way.

“I’ll walk you home darlin’,” I said to Kat, and she nodded in response.

“I’m going to grab my cardigan from inside, and then I’m ready to go,” she added, and quickly walked inside. I noticed the lawn chairs still had to be carried back to the shed, so I lifted two up and walked to the end of the garden. I heard the others talk behind me, almost whispering, but I didn’t pay any attention to it.

When I came back, the conversation between them stopped immediately. What were they talking about?

We said goodbye to each other, leaving Tim and Brianna behind. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin went to the left, while me and Kat started walking to the right. It was nice, to be alone with her. Calmness washed over me, while at the same time a fire inside me burned.

During our little walk, we talked. I wanted to know everything about her business, and she happily answered my questions. I watched her from the corner of my eye, when she talked, she uses her hands to gesture around, and it was an adorable sight.

Way too soon we reached her house. We stopped in front of it, and we fell silent. The moon provided a little light, bringing out the beautiful features of her face. I wanted to cup her cheeks and kiss her. Sy, dude, get yourself together. She is a friend. A. friend. You don’t kiss friends like that. Right?

“Alright, well, it is so nice to have you back Sy,” Kat said.

“It is nice to be back here,” I smiled. We fell silent again.

“I should go inside,” she spoke softly, and opened her arms for a hug. I could also go inside with you.

I let out a hum and wrapped my arms around her thick waist. I squeezed her tight, and she nuzzled her face in my neck. I loved it that she wasn’t fragile, and that I could just hug her like I wanted to.

We broke up the hug. I did not let her go yet, I wanted to kiss those soft lips so bad, but I settled for kissing her cheek instead. I hoped she did not hear my heart beating fast, or my sinful thoughts. She let out a little whimper, and I knew I had to let her go before I would drag her into her bedroom.

“Goodnight darlin’,” I said and winked. Shit, forgot I can’t wink.

“Goodnight captain,” she said and laughed at my attempt to wink. I shook my head and took a few steps backwards. I watched her go inside and waved before she closed the door.

I turned around and starting walking to my parents’ house. A few years ago, we had built a cabin at the end of our property. While I was serving, I lived there at the times I was back home. I was now back for good, but I still had to tell Kat, and my friends. It was time to come home, I was ready. I was ready to settle down. With her preferably, but I knew that would never happen.

I sighed, and dropped my head. Why won’t she notice me the way I notice her?

•••

> chapter two

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teaandatale · 4 years ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @geekynerddemon who so lovingly wished for me to finish Layer on Layer. And though I haven’t been able to do so, I thought I would whet your appetite with a preview of Part 1 of my 2 Part Epilogue.

Please note this is a rough draft & subject to thorough revisions when I get the writing muse under control again.

Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE

“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.

Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.

The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.

After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.

Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.

Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.

He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.

He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.

“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.

He looks up and sees Angie.

“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”

Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.

“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.

“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”

Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”

Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”

“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”

“We’re not living together.”

The yet goes without saying.

She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”

“This morning,” he said defensively.

She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.

“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”

He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”

She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”

“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.

“Water’s good.”

They say down in the living room together chatting.

“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”

“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”

“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”

“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”

He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”

“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”

“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”

“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”

Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.

She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.

He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.

“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”

“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”

He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.

“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”

He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.

They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”

Steve hummed, checking his phone.

“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”

#geekynerddemon #steggy #my fic #I’m sorry I couldn’t get you the whole thing #may has been kicking my ass #also doing this on tumblr mobile was not fun #happy birthday friend!!

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flowerfan2 · 4 years ago

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Ok friends, I’m cracking up sitting here right now, because I just took a quick trip to get bagels, came inside with the bag of bagels in my hand, and then sat down to post today’s chapter before allowing myself the reward of eating breakfast... and this is how the first line of today’s chapter begin:

David comes into the house with a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of hot beverages in the other...

I got iced coffee instead of hot, but still, I guess it was meant to be! Hope you enjoy Chapter 15. @perryavenue is going to recognize where I got my inspiration for this one...

David x Patrick, A03, 3k this chapter, 48k so far.

Chapter 15

David comes into the house with a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of hot beverages in the other, listening to see if Patrick is awake yet. He was hoping to surprise him with breakfast in bed. Unfortunately, sunny Saturday mornings mean long lines at the bagel place, and it all took a lot longer than he had hoped.

David deposits the bagels on the counter, spotting Patrick sitting outside on the lanai. Drinks in hand, he joins him at the table and leans over to give him a quick kiss.

“Successful trip?” Patrick asks, taking the lid off his tea and inhaling appreciatively.

“Mmm, yes. I checked several of the bagels on the way home. The French toast flavor is overrated, but they do an excellent marble rye.”

“Leave any for me?”

“Even I can’t eat a dozen bagels in half an hour. Three, maybe, although that would still be a mistake. There are plenty left for you to choose from.”

Patrick grins at him and leans back, putting his bare feet up on David’s lap. David frowns.

“What, are foot rubs before coffee incorrect?”

David mock-glares at Patrick, even though he loves these silly call-backs to their history together. “Bare feet outdoors is incorrect.”

“But there’s a swimming pool.”

“The pool is over there,” David waves his hand. “You are here, sitting at a table, eating breakfast. Not swimming.”

“Technically I was reading the news on my phone. Not eating breakfast.”

“Keep antagonizing me and there won’t be any breakfast in your future, either.”

Patrick grins at him, then removes his feet from David’s lap and goes inside to retrieve the bagels, along with plates, cream cheese and lox. Ordinarily David would insist on toasting his bagel, but these are so fresh and warm that they demand to be eaten immediately. They busy themselves with their food for a few minutes, David moaning in appreciation, mostly just to watch Patrick react.

“So, I had an idea for what we could do today.”

“Is eating a pile of bagels and then taking a nap not good enough for you?”

Patrick chuckles. “I was actually thinking of going kayaking.”

David nearly chokes on his food, and Patrick pats his back good-naturedly. “Kayaking?” He doesn’t screech, but it is a near thing. “What about me, exactly, suggests that I would want to go kayaking?”

“Come on, David. We’ve been sitting around here for weeks. I did just get the all clear from the doctor. It’ll be fun.”

David does not think for a minute that it will be fun, as kayaking will undoubtedly involve bugs, unstable vehicles, and the threat of drowning. But Patrick has been beached, so to speak, ever since his injury, and David knows it has been weighing on him.

“I don’t suppose we could go on a nice, safe hike instead?”

Patrick laughs. “We can do that another day. I called a place about a half hour from here, they have two boats available this afternoon. Just give it a try. If you hate it, we won’t stay out long.”

Much to his surprise, David does not hate it.

They show up at the launching area in their swim trunks and shirts, David with his long-sleeved swim shirt on, and Patrick with some kind of sports related jersey. Their guide makes them wear ugly life preservers, which ruin David’s look but do give him a bit of relief when it comes to his drowning concern. After a short lesson, during which Patrick asks lots of excited questions and David tries valiantly to follow along, they each get into a kayak and are pushed out into the water.

The sun is shining rather enthusiastically, and David is glad that he has sunglasses on – he even made them stop along the way to buy a cheap pair, in case they wind up in the water. Patrick bought a ridiculous strap that holds his on his head, and he’s got a ball cap on as well, so there’s not much to see of him except his lovely pale arms which David very much enjoyed slathering in sunscreen.

David pulls his attention away from Patrick and focuses on stroking his paddle through the water, trying to put the guide’s instructions into action. Patrick stays near him, offering quiet corrections, and soon they both fall into a comfortable rhythm.

David knows that he’s in better shape now than he’s been in for most of his life. Although running doesn’t do much for his upper body, at least he’s got stamina. He tries to relax and enjoy it. If he paddles just right, the kayak cuts through the water without very much effort on his part. It’s kind of neat. Soothing, even, almost like the way it feels when he gets into a groove on a run.

They aren’t out on the Gulf, as ocean kayaking is far beyond their skill level. Instead, they are making their way down an inlet of some kind, a broad waterway with docks and houses on both sides. Soon they are out in the bay, and Patrick directs them past a piling with an egret’s nest on top, over to a bristly bunch of trees at the water’s edge.

“These are mangroves,” Patrick says, indicating the dense tangle of scrubby looking trees with visible roots. “They’ve adapted to living in salt water, extracting the fresh water they need. Some of them push the salt out onto their leaves. The leaves even taste salty.”

David doesn’t ask how Patrick knows this. He’d just wind up watching him lick a leaf.

They paddle closer, and David can see into the clusters of plants, the roots and branches weaving together.

“Want to go through?”

David has no idea what Patrick is talking about, but he follows him as he kayaks around the edge of a cluster. There’s an overhang, and what looks like a tunnel into the middle of the clump of mangroves.

“Are you serious?” David asks under his breath, but Patrick is already nearing the entrance.

“Go slow,” Patrick says over his shoulder. “Try not to point into them, and if you do get stuck, just grab on carefully and lever yourself off. Remember not to overbalance.”

It’s a recipe for disaster, but David gently eases himself into the tunnel. It’s cooler and dim inside, with branches and green leaves all around him. It smells like low tide, musty and brackish. The nose of his kayak gets hung up briefly as he turns too hard in one direction and for a brief moment it lists dangerously sideways, but he takes a breath and then uses his paddle to back up a bit and set himself on a straighter path.

He catches Patrick looking back at him, having executed some kind of fancy twisting maneuver so that he can see David. “Nice paddling, David.”

They rest for a minute there, Patrick showing David how to move his paddle to make his kayak go sideways (“it’s like a figure eight”) with limited success. Then Patrick spends some time pointing out to David the difference between the red, white, and black mangroves, which doesn’t make any sense because they are all clearly green.

David doesn’t argue with him. It’s far too nice here, hidden among the curving branches with Patrick who is so clearly, uncomplicatedly happy. David will wear an ugly life jacket and take his chances with the alligators anytime if it makes Patrick smile.

After they extract themselves from the mangroves, Patrick makes them paddle into the wind in order to reach a spot where they can pull up on to the beach. It’s less pleasant than drifting in the trees, but it’s worth it when their kayaks land on a sandy shore. Patrick jumps out of his boat first, pulling the bright orange monstrosity up out of the water, and then returns to help David get out of his without tumbling over, which David very much appreciates.

They sit down and stretch their legs, Patrick continuing to chatter about the birds they saw on the way over, how he’s never seen so many of the pink ones (roseate spoonbills, they’re called, but Patrick likes to correct David, so he pretends he doesn’t remember), how they’re fortunate to see so many birds of some kind or another this time of year.

After a while David just pulls Patrick against him, and Patrick shuts up, kissing David with the taste of salt on his tongue. They make out for a while, alone on the shore, their kayaks shifting slightly as the water laps against their sterns. Patrick lies back on the sand and David hovers close, his elbow braced against the ground as his other hand slides Patrick’s sunglasses off so that he has more skin to kiss.

They can’t go too far, for obvious reasons, but it feels wonderful to kiss and cuddle in the sun.

Finally they sit up, a little shy, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his and squeezes it.

“Thanks for doing this today,” Patrick says, and David’s heart swells. It’s not such a big deal, participating in an activity just because your partner asked you to. And it really wasn’t a hardship.

“It’s fun,” he concedes.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come.” Patrick looks away, out across the water.

David puts a hand on Patrick’s chin and turns his face towards him, until his brown eyes are locked onto his own. “You asked.” There’s very little he wouldn’t do for Patrick. He can’t quite say that out loud, but he doesn’t have to. He thinks Patrick hears it anyway.

That night David’s putting away the remains of their take-out (Thai food, purchased on the way back from their kayaking adventure) when Patrick dances over to him and presents him with a package.

“What’s this? Aside from an already opened and poorly resealed cardboard box?”

“Open it and find out.”

Inside under the blue tissue paper is a menorah, a pretty silver-plated one with a leaf and branch design. It can’t have been cheap.

“Patrick, you didn’t have to-”

“I always imagined getting you a nice menorah, when we finally had a place together. I had seen this one online, and when I realized it was Hanukkah, well. Here it is.”

David just stares at it for a moment, tongue-tied.

“Do you like it?”

He wraps his arms around Patrick and kisses him soundly. “I love it.”

It’s actually the end of Hanukkah already, so they load up the menorah with the appropriate number of candles and David mumbles what he remembers of the blessings. It’s a rather lovely moment on top of a particularly lovely day, and David has to take a minute to keep it from overwhelming him.

Patrick notices, of course, and wraps his arms around him from behind, his chin on David’s shoulder, and they breathe together for a while. When David relaxes Patrick nuzzles his ear. “Want to go to bed?”

David turns in Patrick’s arms, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the eager look on Patrick’s face. “Someone’s having a good day.”

Patrick captures David’s lips in a kiss, hot and insistent, and when he pulls back David is breathing hard. “Tell me you’re not.”

He shakes his head, happiness bubbling out of him. “Can’t do it.”

They make it back to the bedroom just before clothes start to come off, and soon they are naked and wrapped around each other, hands skimming over heated skin. Patrick seems to have a plan, he’s wound up and raring to go, and David loves it.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks as Patrick straddles him, holding his head in his hands and nipping along David’s jaw.

“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick says into the shell of David’s ear. “Open me up like this, and then fuck me.”

A thrum of arousal pulses through David at Patrick’s words. They’ve had a lot of sex over the past week, but Patrick hasn’t asked for this yet.

Their initial attempts at penetrative sex hadn’t gone particularly smoothly, back when they first got together. After a few mishaps they had ignored it for a while, content to turn each other on and get each other off in a variety of easier ways. David was happy to introduce Patrick to the pleasures of a really excellent blow job, and Patrick was, as always, a quick study, finding that he loved to bring David to the edge and then tease him until he was reduced to a writhing, begging mess.

And David was always quick to reassure Patrick that penetrative sex wasn’t the only way to have sex, that no matter what he thought in the past, they could make each other happy in any way they were comfortable with.

But Patrick was nothing if not determined, and so eventually they made their way back to it, first Patrick tentatively pushing into David, and later, when Patrick was in just the right mood, Patrick asking for David to do the same for him.

“You don’t have to like it,” David remembers saying to Patrick, one night when Patrick was feeling some combination of bad and nervous and embarrassed about the whole issue. “It’s okay if you don’t want to do it. It really is.”

At some point, though, something happened that changed Patrick’s mind. David’s pretty sure it had to do more with Patrick’s headspace than anything else, his gradual letting go of heteronormativity and becoming more comfortable with his view of himself as queer, but his prostrate probably factored into it as well. Afterwards Patrick clung to David like an octopus, both of them sweaty and blissed out.

“How do people not do this all the time?” Patrick asked, pressing his face into David’s neck. “How can it feel so good? Why didn’t you tell me?”

David had laughed and hugged Patrick tight, too caught up in his fiancé’s astonished joy to wonder how he was going to keep the attention of such an amazing man. It had been a very good night.

Tonight was shaping up to be even better.

Patrick holds himself over David while David finds the lube, and lets out a low moan when David reaches down and starts to press at his hole. David takes his time, circling gently, then increasing the pressure, all while Patrick moans and sways above him.

Patrick leans down to kiss him, his mouth open and trailing wetly down David’s jaw, catching on the stubble. He’s got a hand on David’s chest, and then Patrick shifts so his mouth can continue its journey, finding one of David’s nipples and sucking hard.

“God, Patrick,” David whines, just holding on to Patrick’s hips while Patrick bites at one nipple and then the other, sending sparks of electricity through his body. “Come here, let me-” David gets his fingers back where he wants them, and then he’s pressing inside, Patrick fucking his fingers.

“Ah – David – oh god, yes, there, oh-” Patrick pushes back against David’s fingers, rocking back and forth, hands grasping at David’s arm and his chest and then valiantly pulling at David’s cock, although his attention is understandably elsewhere. “Ohhhh, David, now, please, fuck me now.”

“Like this, or…?”

Patrick slides off David’s fingers and stretches out on the bed, pulling David on top of him. “Like this. Please. Now. Come on.”

David’s helpless to resist, Patrick’s big eyes pleading with him, his hands running up and down David’s arms, grabbing at his ass, squirming underneath him like he can’t wait a moment more.

“Okay, baby, okay. I’ve got you.” And he does, lubing himself up with a few quick strokes, and then positioning himself carefully between Patrick’s quivering thighs, one hand bracing himself on the bed as he slides into Patrick’s tight heat.

“David,” Patrick moans, “oh, fuck, yes.” He’s reaching for David, trying to pull him into a kiss, and it’s messy and breaks David’s rhythm and he doesn’t care, it’s so good, Patrick wanting him like this. David’s heart is slamming against his chest in time with his thrusts, and Patrick is writhing underneath him. The slick slide of their bodies feels so good, David doesn’t know how he can hold it all inside.

“Patrick, baby, I love you, I love you,” David pants out, heat pooling inside him, a familiar tightness building.

“Come on, David, oh god, come on,” Patrick pleads roughly.

David’s hips are moving frantically now, his muscles burning. He’s shaking, dripping sweat everywhere, and he’s close, he just needs to keep going a little longer, for Patrick, he can do it.

“David, I’m so close, oh god, you can, David-” Patrick gets a hand on his own cock and pulls, and David feels him, feels him quaking and shivering.

David comes with a rush of sensation, light exploding behind his eyes. Patrick is almost there too, and David gets a hand on him, both of their hands on Patrick’s cock, twisting together, over and over. Suddenly Patrick’s back arches and his whole body convulses as he comes, head thrown back in ecstasy, a long whine falling from his open mouth.

David collapses next to Patrick on the bed, turning his head to press his face against Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick drapes himself over David’s side, arm sliding over his back, nose digging into his collarbone. They lie there until the aftershocks subside, and then some, not wanting to move.

“Gonna have to change the sheets,” David finally says.

“That’s the first thing you think about, at a time like this?” Patrick teases, a shaky hand brushing David’s hair out of his face and onto his forehead.

“No, it’s not,” David says. “But it’s the first thing I can say without blushing, and I don’t have the energy for that.”

“David,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss to David’s lips, then pulling back before David has a chance to enjoy it. “Are you feeling things tonight?”

David snorts. “I’m feeling quite a lot. Seemed like you were, too.”

Patrick starts to hum <i>“Feeling Groovy”</i> and David can tell it’s coming, he can tell before Patrick even gets a whole phrase out, and he slaps a hand over Patrick’s mouth.

“For once could we finish up our lovemaking without a concert?”

Patrick is laughing against David’s hand, and he bites gently at the ball of his thumb. “Do you really want me to stop?” he asks, his breath warm against David’s skin.

“No,” David confesses, too open to argue even about this, about Patrick’s awful love songs whispered in his ears at highly inappropriate times. “I don’t want you to stop. Don’t stop any of it.”

“Deal,” Patrick says, easing David’s hand away from his mouth and wrapping him in his arms. David settles in, not caring anymore about sticky sheets and sweaty skin. All of that can wait for tomorrow. For now, he’s just going to focus on how wonderful it feels to drift off to sleep with the love of his life holding him close.

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #kayaking #David x Patrick #sexytimes

12 notes · View notes

lavishedinjimin · 6 years ago

Text

a little bit of sugar, daddy [7]

↳ Pairing: taehyung x reader

↳ genre: smut

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 5.7k

↳ warnings: Mentions of smut, dirty talk, mentions of sex toys

— synopsis: Taehyung - a sugardaddy and a businessman, a man who derives his life from sex, pleasure, and money. Y/n - a girl working at a small cafe, whose sex life is as dry as the weekly delivered coffee beans. Will Y/n adjust to the new lifestyle she agreed to, and keep up with all of the dirty antics with Taehyung?

Want more? Check out my masterlist!

“L-Live with you?” Your voice cracked as you furrowed your eyebrows up at him. You don’t want to have this conversation right now, at this moment. You wanted to go to sleep, and there is a chance that things will get too far.

“Yes.” He stated simply with a sly smile playing on his lips.

Closing your eyes once more, you took a deep breath – in and out. Everything was happening so fast, and you couldn’t just make a decision right now, right?

“Taehyung…I don’t know about that yet,” You whispered as you looked deep into his orbs. You lifted your hand to let it rest on his broad chest, feeling his warm body, “We’ve only done this…thing for a while. I don’t know if I’m ready to live with you.”

You can see the split-second of sadness in his face, but he quickly covered it away with a smile. “I understand, Y/n—”

“Please, Tae, I’m sorry. I promise when the time is right, I’ll move in with you.”

Taehyung cups your cheek with his big hand and your eyes flutter closed involuntarily. He moves closer to you so now your bodies were touching. “Angel, you shouldn’t be the one to apologize. I don’t know why I asked you that question so early in our relationship. I just…” Taehyung trails off and looks away from you for a little moment.

“Just?” You quietly said.

“I-I just couldn’t stand not seeing you every day, you know? I know you value your education, trust me – I do too. I also know how much you love working at the café, but it’s just me and my selfish ass that wants you to go home here at my house. I always imagine you coming home to me, all tired and sleepy and all I want to do is take care of you. I want to comfort you every time, help you in your studies and fix up a meal for you. You’ve already shown me what a beautiful person you are – inside and out.”

Whoa. You didn’t expect him to say that at all right now.

Taehyung, on the other hand, didn’t regret anything. His words were true and he had no choice but to confess all those things to you. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he spoke, and your heart was beating faster.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you smiled, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Oh, now you do, angel.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb lovingly, “I don’t want to force you even more, and I don’t want to put more pressure on your shoulders. I’ll give you all the time you need for you to think about it, and please, make your choice based on what you truly feel – and not for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you grinned, “I promise.”

Taehyung’s hand moves down from your cheek to your waist, slinging his arm around your body. “Good girl.” He teasingly growls in the deep and raspy voice that he knows you like, causing your breath to hitch up. He chuckles at your reaction. “You’re so adorable, angel. Let’s sleep now, hmm? I bet you’re so tired.”

“I am,” you yawned in the process, “goodnight Tae.”

“Goodnight, angel.”

You woke up to the sound of Taehyung pressing gentle kisses all around your face, his weight against yours. You groaned as you tried to push him away, “Please…” you muttered lowly, your hands on his chest as you tried to shove him the opposite way.

“Morning, baby,” he smirked, placing a final kiss on your lips.

“You could’ve just woke me up normally, Taehyung.”

“Normal is boring, Y/n.”

Damn, okay.

You pulled the blankets away from your body and you got out of bed, combing through your tangled hair. During the action, Taehyung had a sneak peek of your bare ass as he forgot that you were only wearing his shirt, without any undergarments on. Taehyung clenches his jaw tightly as he tries to focus his attention on something else.

“Ohh, oww,” you whimpered when you started to feel the throbbing pain in your head, close your eyes tightly. Taehyung instantly sprung up and pulled you to sit back down on the bed. He rushed to the bathroom to grab some aspirin from his cupboards and a glass of water.

“Take these, baby.” You took the pill from his palm with a confused look. “What are these?”

“Aspirin,” he smiles as he strokes your hair, “They help with hangovers.”

Without any more fuss, you downed the pill as you chugged the glass of water. He could have given you clean tap water or toilet water if he wanted to – but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to remove the bulging headache.

“Do you feel nauseous?”

You shook your head no.

Taehyung sighs, “Okay. While you take a shower, I’ll ask Justin to pick up some clothes for you.”

“Who’s Justin?” You tilt your head to the side, and you blush as you remember that you aren’t wearing anything under your shirt – well, his shirt.

“My P.A.” He stated simply as he turned his back towards you. “You go now, angel. We’re going shopping.”

You stood up immediately, “Shopping? For what?”

If he takes you to one of those fancy and designer stores then you’re out. You couldn’t handle seeing all those eye-blinding prices.

Taehyung takes a short look at you with a smirk, “You’ll see when we get there.”

Stepping back inside his room wearing only a towel around your body, you gulped when you saw some clothes spread neatly on his bed. It was an off-the-shoulder white crop top paired with some high-waisted ripped jeans. “He did not…” you trailed off, holding each item up to see that it was all your size. You shook your head side to side, completely confused about how he got everything right.

Your bag was also there – thank god – and you immediately scrambled to get the extra undergarments that you packed yesterday. You instantly wore your panties and dropped your towel for you to put on your bra. You put on the clothes he brought for you, hesitating in the process. You were sort of ashamed that he had to buy you new clothes, but you knew Taehyung would do anything for you.

Your eyes flew to the bedside table and saw a familiar shoebox with a sticky note attached to it. It read;

‘Y/n, I want you to have these. Keep it. X – Taehyung’

Gucci. Of course, it was.

The ever so well-known brand that always made you breathless when you see their price range. You always noticed that Taehyung would always wear anything Gucci, and that man likes to flaunt it. Whether it be his ties, his shoes, his suit, hell – even his phone case, he always likes to make it known to the world.

With nimble hands, you opened the box slowly as you shook your head, “He didn’t have to…” you breathed out.

You instantly gasp when you saw what was inside. You took ahold of the pair gently, afraid that you’ll somewhat break it – which was ridiculous.

It was a white leather block-heel sandals with a ‘GC’ buckle on the strap. You couldn’t tell if Taehyung knew that you liked block-heeled shoes, but god do you love block-heeled shoes. Your fingers touched the iconic logo as you clenched your jaw.

As if on cue, Taehyung walked back in and saw you holding the pair of shoes. He smirks, one hand resting on his hips, “You like them?”

“I can’t accept these.” You immediately speak, beginning to put them back inside the box. “I-It’s too much for me.”

Taehyung furrows his brows as he instantaneously comes closer to you and holds your wrists, stopping your actions. Your breath was cut up in your throat as you look up at his tall figure. He tilts his head, “What’s too much? The shoes?”

Taehyung chuckles lowly, causing you to gulp. “Angel, haven’t I already made this clear?”

You look down, not wanting to look at his eyes.

“H-How much were they?”

“Why? Do you really wanna know?” he taunts with a smirk. Taehyung really likes to tease you, doesn’t he?

“I-I guess,” you shrug, looking down at your bare feet.

“730 dollars.”

“Taehyung!”

Your arms reluctantly push him away with fury. Your eyes were wide in shock – not accepting that he’d actually spend something so expensive just for you. And only for a pair of shoes? You already can be satisfied with some flipflops!

“I-I’m sorry, but these are too much, Taehyung,” you spoke as calmly as you could, “I can’t accept such pricey shoes, no,” you shake your head.

Taehyung was silent for a few seconds before he smiles. He carefully walked back towards you with open arms, “Come here, angel.”

You sighed, doing as what you were told. He hugs your little body and pulls your close. Your head was now resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. You felt him press a kiss on top of your head, “Please, don’t bother about the price, Y/n. I’m doing this because I want to, baby. I love to spoil you with gifts and everything I know looks good on you. Don’t worry about how much everything costs, what matters is that I’d do anything for you, okay? I’d buy you everything you want, anything you need. All you have to do is be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“But…” you whispered, trying to find a comeback but you thought of nothing. He was a multi-millionaire, for heaven’s sake, and he can get anything he wants.

“You just aren’t used to it, Y/n,” he strokes your damp hair as he inhales the fresh coconut scent of his own shampoo, “But you will. Soon enough when time goes on, you’ll be so spoiled with my money, baby. You’ll probably end up such a brat, hmm?”

You laughed nervously at his last sentence, shaking your head, “N-No I won’t.”

Taehyung scoffs, “I hope not,” he grips your chin with one hand and forces you to look up at him, and “I hope you know how much I despise bratty little girls.”

You bite your bottom lip as you tried to remain eye contact with him. His gaze was so intense that all you wanted to do was to look away. You nod, nevertheless. “Good. Now, I want you to wear those shoes, angel. You look so fucking stunning already.” He steps back to admire your outfit, “An angel indeed.” You smile and blush at his words, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Come downstairs after you finish up, there’s breakfast.” He says and turns to open the door, but you quickly stop him. “Umm, Tae?” you ask, feeling a little shy.

He whips his head around with a quirked brow, “Hmm?”

You hold your hands behind your back, “Thank you.”

He feels his heart flutter at your simple words, smiling when he sees your cheeks painted with pink.

“You’re welcome, Y/n.”

“Oh! And umm…” you quickly add before he walks out. “And?” he smiles, almost giggling.

“Do you…well, is there a chance that you might have an extra toothbrush lying around?”

Taehyung laughs quietly at your words, nodding, “I do, I do. It’s in the second cupboard from the left, okay? You can claim that as yours now.”

You smile brightly in relief, “Yay, thank you!” Taehyung prods his tongue at his cheek, nodding once before he walks out of the room.

“Finally,” you sighed after he was out of your sight. “My breath won’t smell like alcohol anymore.”

“Can you at least tell me where are we going?” You asked, placing your bag on your lap as you made yourself comfortable on the leather seat. Taehyung doesn’t reply but only chuckles, starting the engine of his black Corvette. You only now figured that he had a total of 10 high-end cars – yet you weren’t that surprised anymore.

“You told me we’re going shopping? I swear, Kim Taehyung, if you take me to a –”

“I won’t.” He stated. “I think those shoes are enough for you today. I’m taking you to a quite…different shop.”

“Quit playing and tell me already!” You snapped, yet you didn’t mean to. Your hand quickly flew to your mouth in mortification.

“Hmm, you’ve got quite a sharp mouth, don’t you?” he scoffs, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Let’s see about that later.”

Later?

“I-I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Again, nothing.

You were about to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“I’m taking you to a sex shop.”

You almost choked on your own spit then and there. Your ears couldn’t believe what they had just heard, your head was spinning. He was taking you to where?!

“T-To a…what?” you whispered, not trusting your voice, afraid that it may crack.

Taehyung wanted to smirk, but he stopped himself. He keeps his eyes directly on the road, yet he knows how fidgety you were getting in your own seat.

He turns his head to look at you for a moment, noticing how flushed your face has gotten. He gives you a sly grin, “Sex shop. I’m buying us new toys to play with.”

Somehow, his words made you feel nervous. You didn’t know what to expect at a sex shop at all, you didn’t have a clue what it would look like. And the thought of perhaps trying the toys out with you made your stomach turn.

“Need to restock, angel. I threw the ones I previously had because they were all unbelievably old. I don’t want to use all those filthy shit on you, precious.” He chuckles the last sentence, shaking his head. You don’t respond as you gulp down the thick ball on your throat. You played with your fingers again – implying your nervousness.

“Hey,” he suddenly places his right hand on your thigh, the warmth of his hand making you shudder, “are you all alright with this?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, fixing your voice, “Yes, I am. I’m just a bit, u-umm, I don’t know.” You whispered the last part, feeling timid.

Taehyung smiles, his gaze still on the road as his hand crept up and down your thigh, trying to soothe you down – but it was only making you all heated up. He knew you’d react this way, he knew that you would feel uncanny about this whole situation – but he wanted you to go through this. It was for your own good, for you to learn more about his world that you got yourself in. He thought that it will make the two of you even closer and more comfortable than before.

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it. “It’s alright, Y/n, I knew you’d react this way. Trust me on this, okay? We’re gonna get you toys that you like, toys that you wanna try out, hmm? Aren’t you excited about that?”

“I-I am, yes,” you truthfully replied, “but I just don’t know what to expect.”

“Oh, darling,” the corners of his mouth curved up, gripping your thigh firmly in a sudden motion, “you know I’ve actually contemplated if I should just order this stuff online than to bring you with me to the store in person. I wasn’t sure that you’d be comfortable seeing all the toys they offer in real life.”

You found the courage to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit, “What kind of toys are they…like, I know they’re all going to be sex-related but, y-you know?” You felt your cheeks turn into a deep red, embarrassed from how dumb you might’ve sounded.

Taehyung chuckles at your attempt, “All sort of things, baby. Maybe things that you’d be shocked to see that they even exist.”

Gulping, your hands suddenly became sweaty and your heart raced faster inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect at all – knowing how little Taehyung was giving you information. But Taehyung wanted it to be a surprise for you, letting you undergo everything once you’ll step inside the shop.

“You seem nervous babe,” he speaks once again with such a deep baritone voice. One of his hands reaches to grab your own, intertwining it together. Your heartbeat speeds up instantly.

“I just… I’ll be looking like a lost puppy in the store, Tae. I wouldn’t know anything. I just know about vibrators and that’s about it.”

Taehyung squeezes your hand, “I know, angel. Don’t be worried though, you got me,” he smirks, “I’ll be with you wherever you go. Whatever you point at, I’ll explain what it is and what it does, okay?”

You nod your head timidly, “Okay.”

Taehyung knows how nervous you are – but it excites him. He couldn’t wait for you to walk inside those doors to see all the wicked toys that he ought to use on you.

~ Red velvet walls surround your vision instantly made your heat pound loudly. There was a hallway that led to the main entrance of the shop, and you couldn’t feel more petrified that you already were. What was up with you? It was just a shop full of adult toys, and nothing more. It wasn’t like Taehyung was setting you up in a twisted scheme. You fully consent to this – and it just takes a lot of time for you to get used to.

“Oh! What a pleasure seeing you here, Mr. Kim.”

Wha—

“Iris. Good day to you,” he nods to the employee dressed in all black. Taehyung stood tall compared to you, and just like he does in his office – he exuded power. You noticed with the way he walked, he was dripping in sway and sovereignty. Maybe it just comes out naturally, or the way he dressed, looking like he owns every place he steps his feet on. Taehyung was wearing a white button-up tucked in on his black skinny jeans and black oxford shoes, as usual – and you couldn’t help but think that it’s maybe both.

You hide your body behind him, feeling a tad bit shy, but his arms reach back to grab you firmly and make you stand beside him. He snakes his arm around you and lets it rest on your hips.

“I see you’ve brought a nice young lady with you.”

He grips your hips tighter, “Mhmm. Her first time in a shop like this.” Your eyes fly up to see a hot red neon sign that spells out; The Red Room.

The employee – Iris, looks at you with her eyebrows furrowed, “Oh, I see. Well,” she claps his hands together, “Let’s not waste any time, yeah?” she opens the door for the two of you and your eyes were met with more velvet walls, a new larger space. Your pupils expand when you saw a fuck ton of explicit items all at once, and you felt like you were about to faint.

At the front space of the shop, there were a lot of items to begin with. Some were enclosed in glass containers, and some were out to display. You don’t know what most of them are and what they do. Your mouth fell agape when you saw a long shelf with lots of silicone replicas of dicks. Dicks! All shapes and sizes were being displayed, you didn’t even know that people would buy these kinds of stuff!

“My God, baby,” Taehyung snickers from behind you as he pulls your body close to him. “Close that mouth of yours before you drool.” He reaches his hand up and places his index finger below your chin, applying pressure for you to close your mouth.

“What do you think?” He asks, looking down at you as his eyes sparkled. You realized that you were entering another part of his world, exploring another part of his personality. Yes, this was new for you and a bit scary, but you wanted to dive in deeper.

You cock your head to the side, “I-I think you should lead the way.”

He smirks, “Gladly.”

He says something to Iris that you couldn’t make out and the employee only nods and leaves the two of you with a polite smile. Taehyung reaches for your hand and drags you to a different section. Looking back, Iris was following the two of you with a good amount of distance, not invading your privacy which you thanked the lord for.

“Do you always go here, Taehyung?” you ask quietly, even though there were not a lot of people around.

“Not quite. I prefer to shop online, but I made an exception for you. I wanted you to experience this first hand.”

He led you to a unit in which your eyes fall on a lot of displayed vibrators, all shapes, and colors. You crease your brows when you saw a long one in length, almost looking like one of those silicone dicks that you just saw. “I thought vibrators are just… umm… small?”

Taehyung’s mouth curves as he runs a hand down your spine, sending electrifying waves throughout your body. He knows what he is doing. “Vibrators like these ones can bring stimulation internally, and adds to your clit, too.” He starts to explain, and you blush for the umpteenth time. “Both at the same time?” you look up at him with big eyes, and it made Taehyung’s cock twitch. He exhales, “Yes.”

You gulp at the thought of him using one of those on you, making your body tremble from the pleasure that it may bring. “What are you thinking, angel, huh?” he comes closer to you. “What if I use one of those to overstimulate you, would you like that?”

“U-Um… o-overstimulate?” You naively asked. The word was playing with your mind like a little devil bouncing up and down on your brain.

“Yes.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and the sight almost made you drop down to the floor. “Make you cum multiple times, make your body shake, hmm? I may even take you to your limits if my good little girl can take what I give.”

Oh fuck.

Forgetting for a second that you were in a public place, you let out a little whimper from his dirty words. Your face flustered when Taehyung cocks his eyebrow up in surprise, smirking.

“Ms. Iris,” Taehyung calls out behind him and the employee comes up to your vision. She knew what the call means and immediately grabs behind her pocket for some keys. She goes behind the glass container, “Do you guys have anything in particular that you want to get?” she asks.

“We’ll get one of the rabbit vibrators, please.” He states simply, and Iris nods. The keys dangle as she unlocks the case, “These vibrators have ten levels. They come in hot pink and violet.”

Taehyung looks at you expectantly, and your eyes dart to the two displayed colors. “Pink.”

Iris smiles, “Do you want to check it out?”

“No, thank you. Just tell me that it works properly,” Taehyung answers before you could even open your mouth.

“Everything we sell is a hundred percent operating and functioning how it’s supposed to be – you know that, Mr. Kim. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

He, in fact, doesn’t. He’s been buying all sorts of toys from The Red Room since the beginning, and all of them have exceeded his expectations. From butt plugs to leather crops, he’s bought it all from this exact shop.

Taehyung orders her to amass all of the items that they’ll pick inside a bag. You insisted that you could just do the simple job yourself, but of course, he didn’t let you.

You chuckle when your eyes meet the shelves of silicone dicks once again, smiling to yourself. Taehyung sees this and asks, “What’s so funny, angel?”

“Hmm?” you look up at him, and then back to the weird displays. “Those things over there, people really made those?” Your smile got wider, thinking how ridiculous it might’ve been for them to create such toys. But Taehyung doesn’t seem to get your humor, “Dildos? What’s so funny about it?”

“Dildos?” you accidentally blurted out, causing some people to turn your direction. “What a funny name,” you giggle.

You heart him scoff under his breath, “Keep calling it funny, babe, before I buy you one of those and use it to fuck you.”

“O-okay, moving on.”

The Rabbit vibrator, a pink Hitachi magic wand, kinky leather chokers, and butt plugs were in your bag in a flash. The whole time your mouth was dry with all of the toys that he wanted to try out with you. The whole time he looked so intimidating and nerve-wracking. You don’t know what he is capable of with all of these things, and it makes your blood rush.

“We aren’t done yet, baby girl.” He suddenly leans down and says right above your ear, making you shiver.

“Not yet?” you asked meekly, looking up at him. You turned your head and looked at the bag filled with expensive toys, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head. He intertwines his hand on yours and drags you to the very back of the room.

Your eyes expanded in shock when you saw a whole line of more toys, but they looked more scary and advanced. You gulped.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He smiles at you, caressing your lower back and the feel of his large hand on your skin comforted you. “I’m going to pick up a few things, but I don’t want you to follow me.”

You quirk your eyebrows up, “What? Why?”

“I want it to be a surprise.” He smirks, and that look on his face turned you on so much. The fact that this man can make you succumb to him in a quick snap of his fingers scare you, but you loved it.

You love to submit to him.

“Be a good girl for me and don’t look, okay? You can go look at other stuff if you must,” he says and you nodded your head. He leans closer and presses a tender kiss on your forehead, holding the back of your neck possessively. “I’ll be with you soon.”

He then walks away and you immediately turn around, obeying his commands. You bite the inside of your cheeks at the thought of what he has installed for you, getting a little excited. To be honest, being inside this sex shop was already making you feel so filthy. Flashing images of Taehyung using all those toys with you erupted in your mind, and you quietly mewled to yourself. You were getting a little impatient.

After a few minutes of walking around the lewd shop, you somehow stumbled upon an unfamiliar item, displayed on a silicone mannequin. “Whaa…” you examined closer, and your core involuntarily clenched around nothing when you established what it was.

Nipple clamps.

It had two black clamps that pinched the mannequin’s nipples and a long, sparkly silver chain that connected the two of them. You felt your own nipples harden slowly just by looking at the item itself. It especially turned you on.

You whimpered at the thought of Taehyung fastening the clamps on your sensitive buds, and tugging at the chain so your nipples would grow harder. You imagine him fucking you with it, the pain-pleasure that it would create.

You wanted it.

“See something you like?” the oh-so-familiar voice says behind you, and you jump in shock.

You turn around and you see him smirking, his bangs slightly covering the upper part of his eyes. He looks down at you with such a cheeky smile, making your stomach turn. “I-I… umm, was l-looking at,” you mumble as you tried to find the right words.

Taehyung presses his body to your backside, earning a quiet gasp from your lips. He combs through your hair as he pushes it to one side of your shoulder, the back of your neck now exposed for him. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your skin, not caring that there were people around. You softly mewl at the feeling of his soft lips against you.

“You like them, huh?” he snickers, both of his hands resting on your waist. “You’d look so fucking pretty with them on, angel. Pinching your cute nipples as I have my way with you, hmm?”

“Tae, please, be quiet…” you whisper, your heart beating faster and your palms sweaty. His voice turns you on so much, and you were so nervous that others would hear his sinister words. Taehyung chuckles, feeling the vibration of his chest on your upper back.

“Do you see those little screws?” he gently pushes you forward so that you can see it closer. You nodded your head when you see a screw on each one them, and you were curious about what it does.

“You can adjust by how tight you want them to be.”

“W-wouldn’t it hurt?” you can’t help but stutter, looking back at Taehyung with big eyes. Taehyung clenches his jaw for a moment, trying to compose himself. You look so goddamned out of place, so wholesome, that there was a small part that he regrets taking you along with him. He strokes your cheek delicately, like a flower who just started to bloom.

“That’s the point of it, angel. Sometimes, the more it hurts, the more pleasure it brings. I know that my little one can handle it.”

“I guess… I’ll try.” You replied breathlessly. You still weren’t used to all of the pet names he has for you, and it still makes your legs weak. You were comfortable enough with him to try all of these toys with, and if it were someone else you’d immediately back out. He just knows how to comfort you and tell you all the right things to say.

After all, don’t knock it ‘till you try, right?

You were standing beside Taehyung, waiting patiently as you watched him give the cashier his black platinum card, causing your eyes to widen. Taehyung looks at your figure for a split second, lips curving in a smile from your cute reaction.

“What’s the total?” You meekly asked him, bracing your hands behind your back.

“Why do you wanna know, angel?” he says briefly.

“Just curious… that’s all.”

The man behind the counter returns his card and he teasingly waves it in front of your face with a little quirk of his eyebrow. He places it back inside his wallet neatly. “You don’t need to know the numbers, Y/n,” he smiles down at you and snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he leans down to kiss the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pout at his words. You realized that you weren’t going to win in this conversation so you just simply gave up. The man hands him a large bag with their logo inked in deep red in the middle. “Thank you for shopping, have a great day,” he smiles at you and Taehyung.

The two of you thank him in return and proceeded to exit the shop. Taehyung was gripping your hand firmly, the bag on the other, as he tugged you back to his car. He was walking with huge strides of his feet, and your shorter ones couldn’t keep up.

Taehyung wastes no time to start the engine. You were about to grab the bag from him but he immediately chucks it to the backseat. “Hey! I wanted to look at it—”

“No. You’ll wait for it until we get back home.”

You puffed out a breath, “Why can’t I? I just want to look at everything.” Your left arm reaches behind you to grab the bag, but he was faster. His hand tightly grips your wrist, enveloping it in his whole hand. His sudden action made you gasp lightly.

“Y/n,” he starts, and you feel electricity shooting down your spine in an instant. His voice was laced in venom, and you were terrified. His voice deepens, “You’re being such a brat. Do you want me to punish you?”

His look in your eyes was so intimidating, so strong. The way how he can change his persona in such a swift amount of time was so appalling. His grip on your wrist never leaves, instead, he tightens it.

“You get angry so easily, Taehyung. It’s sometimes annoying,” you sneered playfully, yet Taehyung didn’t seem to get the message.

He scoffed at your reply, shocked at your words. He brusquely shoves your hand away from him and focuses his attention back to driving. You notice how his hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles almost turning white.

“You’ve seemed to forget who you’re talking to, missy. Simple instructions and you couldn’t seem to obey.” He shakes his head side to side in disappointment, making you feel embarrassed and ashamed.

“Taehyung, I—”

“I don’t want to hear any words coming out of your mouth. I want utter silence from you, okay? I hope that’s a fucking instruction that you can easily do.”

Your heart beats faster from his strictness, still not getting used to all of this. You weren’t sure if he was just playing the dominant act or if he was genuinely angry and upset. You hung your head low as you started to play with your fingers.

“Wait until we get home, doll, and I’ll teach you a fucking lesson you’ll never forget.”

Please leave a note if you enjoyed it. It will really inspire me to continue and write more <3

#taehyung smut #jungkook smut #btswritersguild

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tartagilicious · 5 years ago

Note

Can I please request a smutty scenario for Mitsuhide and a fem reader? Maybe a sort of reunion sex when he comes back from a long mission? Thanks a lot!

it takes me forever to write smut. 😔

It feels like thousands of suns will rise and fall before you’re able to see your love again. At least, that’s how it seems when you’re centuries behind, anyway. You doubt that it’s something you’ll get used to any time soon. .

It’d sure be easier with him around. You think to yourself, sighing as your eyes trail out the window to the foggy gardens. But it’ll have to wait.

In times where technology is drastically different, you still find yourself having trouble forgetting your old habits even after months. But, that day you’d promised to leave everything behind in exchange for Mitsuhide’s heart — and even with setbacks, it’s not a decision you’ve ever come to regret.

It’s nice to fantasise about taking out your phone and calling him when you’re worried, but a messenger pigeon usually just has to suffice.

The soft and sudden pitter patter of raindrops atop the roof startles you out of your thoughts, and you instinctively pull your lips into a line. The weather has been gloomy for the past few days, much to everyone’s displeasure, but somehow, the rain feels worse in this moment.

Late the next morning, you’re awoken unceremoniously by a heavy rush of footsteps outside your door. You’d gotten to bed late last night after losing track of time while working on a new kimono piece -- which, thankfully, doesn’t matter much when your employer is Nobunaga.

But still, the abundant noise is unnatural even for the morning.

You pull the covers off lithely when you hear the commotion outside your door dim down considerably, and peek through the small gap between the door frame in hopes to get in a furtive glance. You’ve been accused of spying in the past, and albeit a long time ago, you can’t help holding yourself back due to the inevitability of being teased if caught.

There are only small bits of conversation here and there that you can actually catch from the passing foot soldiers and maids, but the pieces you stitch together in the end have your heart beating in hopeful anticipation.

Mitsuhide’s come back?

You take a step back with your eyes blown wide. It’s abnormally good luck, you think, to hear such news right after a particularly dreadful night of missing him. A small smile finally makes its way to your face as you imagine him walking through the gates of Honno-Ji, unaware of the adoration in your eyes as you do so.

Getting together your things, you hurriedly slip on your kimono in a rush of sudden excitement. You might not be able to see Mitsuhide until night falls due to the flurry of responsibilities the man has, but you’re at least willing to wait just a bit longer if that’s what it takes.

It’s easier to busy yourself when there’s something to look forward to at the end of the day, though, and the ever constant hint of a smile on your face gives you just the right amount of kick needed to whiz through the hours that had once plagued you so much. And soon enough, just as fast as you’d come out of your room, you’re receding back in with slightly aching joints and the faint buzzing of rejuvenation in your chest.

You tentatively pull your hair out of what was a neat updo at the beginning of the day, but has since transformed into more of a messy knot. Your body relatively shows all of the rest of the signs of your exhaustion that aren’t immediately obvious, all the way from the slouch of your shoulders to the painstaking detail of how slow your movements become.

Though, a light rapping against your door has your eyes popping wide open again as you’re suddenly reminded of what you’ve been anticipating all day. A small bout of energy momentarily spikes in you with your thoughts, and it brings you over to the door of your room that you waste no time in sliding open.

You’re delighted to see the sly but open and affectionate smile that greets you under the light of the moon, and finally seeing your lover’s face again, you can’t hold back a broad smile of your own.

Mitsuhide sweeps you into his arms before either of you say a word to the other, burying his face in your freshly washed hair and mumbling against your soft skin --

“I missed you, my little mouse.”

You feel giddy at his words, your arms tightening around where they rest over his shoulders in silent agreement. He smells like the familiar fresh cotton of his yukata while simultaneously reminding you of the time he’s been gone with the hint of earthiness underneath it. Yet, all in all, you know it’s him -- and here is, back in your arms once again.

“I missed you too,” You whisper this, but mistakenly let a yawn escape as you do so.

He leans back barely inches from your face and meets your eye, his own swimming with a teasing look that you know all too well.

“Was someone working hard today?”

The phrase sounds like he would be babying you, and maybe he normally would be, but the genuinely tender tone of his voice catches you and your tired brain off guard.

So, you just nod.

He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face with a solemn nod, but it’s then you recognise that something isn’t quite right.

“I guess I’ll have to lull you to sleep tonight, won’t I?” He purses his lips in a way that has your heart beating quickly already. “Shame, considering how much I was looking forward to spending time with you again.”

You pull him in for another hug when his gaze starts to induce heat to your cheeks, resting your head against his with a small smile.

“Sorry. You can still spend time with me.” You offer quietly, your lips quirking up in their own small smile for only you to see. “I just might fall asleep.”

His fingers lightly start to draw invisible designs on the small of your back, each action getting a suspicious amount lower until you’re laughing into his shoulder.

“Oh, so you don’t want to sleep, is that it?”

He hums, and you can hear the laughter in his voice, too. “Maybe it’s something like that.”

Mitsuhide leans back to take your lips in a sweet kiss, the action so gentle that you can’t help but smile into it. But, as expected, the sweetness doesn’t last long -- it becomes more serious the moment you reach up to cup his jaw, his hands laying softly over yours.

“Mitsuhide--”

You whisper out his name as his hands return down to wrap around your waist.

“I really did miss you.” He mumbles into your lips. “You and your perfect body, perfect smile -- perfect everything.”

A blistering heat makes its way to your cheeks and stomach unanimously. Wordlessly, you say the same thing about him as your arms slip over his shoulders. It’s not half-hearted in the least though; you do think that everything about him is perfect. From his soft hair to his sharp cheekbones and plush lips, all the way down to --

You groan when his lips attach to your jaw, leaving faint lovebites wherever he moves.

He certainly doesn’t waste time.

The subtle curve of his lips is obvious as he meets your eyes, and even as he kisses you, the action dismisses no part of it. Butterflies swirl through your stomach, and the space between you feels warm with sparking electricity -- just as it should, you think.

Mitsuhide reaches an arm out behind him to aptly slide the door back shut, barely breaking his contact with you.

But still, you pull him closer by the fabric of his yukata, marvelling at the way he still manages to use the situation to his advantage. Because somehow, in a turn of events you thought that you were surely orchestrating, Mitsuhide is hovering over you on your very own futon.

Heat spreads through your body as he momentarily shifts until his lips settle on the side of your neck, continuing his efforts from just moments prior. The same gentle action has a spark of tenderness flitting through your chest, batting around your ribcage harmlessly before resting in your wildly thumping heart.

You both sink into each other the moment your lips meet again, deepening the meeting of your mouths with little effort as his hands roam aimlessly around your body. The warm temperature of his fingers dragging across your clothed skin has a shiver running down your spine in seconds flat, firm in the way they draw slight whimpers out of you.

There’s something needy about the way he acts. Between the soft kisses on your veins and the impatient stroke of your sides, he clings to you, almost as if waiting for permission to pounce. But, you don’t need to give it to him; the breathless sounds that escape your lips are the only form of approval he needs.

His lips slide to press sweet yet harsh kisses to your lips, every single one telling of the yearning he had experienced while away. Your legs instinctively part so he can manoeuvre between them. Your thoughts nearly cease completely when he undoes the careful knot of your kimono, and his tongue travels so far west so quickly that you can feel your breath hitch by itself.

“Mitsu--”

Your words are cut off by a cry as his hand dips beneath your kimono, hidden to the naked eye but terribly obvious to you. It strokes the inside of your thigh with all the hubris you would expect from the man between your legs, touches so faint and feather-light that they send yet another shudder through you.

You helplessly arch your back when he pulls it back and happen to catch a view of his face just as you do -- watching the smirk that twists onto his lips before he even dips beneath the fabric. When his mouth latches onto you through the damp cotton of your panties, you can’t help the loud groan that escapes you.

“Mitsuhide!” You hiss through tightly clasped teeth, hands scrambling to find solace between his hair and the sheets bunched up at your sides. But, the man doesn’t stop, the sounds filling the room so lewd that you have trouble believing there’s even a barrier at all. But at that point, you’re so soaked that it might be better to say that there isn’t.

Your boyfriend pulls all sorts of tricks, all between licking and sucking and biting before you finally release onto his waiting tongue. He seems pleased, if anything, judging by the deep hum in his throat as he licks the remaining essence off of his lips.

“You taste even better than I remember.” He remarks with a smile, inducing a soft shriek from you as he tickles your bare stomach.

But, once he pulls his hand away, you sit up and take him by surprise with a kiss that you both catch yourselves smiling into.

You pull away with remnants of the same smile, but it quickly fills in as you say, “I wonder if you taste as good as I remember.”

You don’t have to wonder much longer.

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littlereyofsunlight · 5 years ago

Text

The Fire is So Delightful

Hi @geekynerddemon, I’m your @steggyfanevents secret santa! You chose modern AU from the options I gave you, so I wrote you some firefighter Steve Rogers and a self-rescuing Peggy Carter. There’s a cat in a tree, plus a bunch of the usual suspects from the MCU. Chapter 2 coming shortly!

Read on AO3

ch 1/2 Rating: Gen Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers Characters: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sif, Dum Dum Dugan Additional Tags: Firefighter AU, Modern Day AU, romcom, meet-cute, the gang’s all here Summary: Peggy rescues a cat from a tree. Steve doesn’t help.

“Will you look after Liho for me?” Natasha’s sudden request startled Peggy out of her contemplation of the drink in front of her. They were at their usual place, a dingy little bar down the block from work where the bartenders all knew them and they could hold a conversation without having to shout over music or dodge the advances of the neighborhood suits, who generally avoided the place owing to its distinctly aggressive lack of atmosphere.

“Sorry?”

Natasha kept her eyes on her own drink, fidgeting with the straw. Natasha, normally a beer drinker, or after especially difficult weeks just straight vodka, had ordered one of the bar’s ridiculous cocktails. It was tequila-based, neon orange, came in a Tiki cup and had what looked to Peggy like an entire mint plant sticking out the top. “I’m going out of town for the holiday and I need a cat-sitter.”

Peggy had worked with Natasha on the analyst team for six years now, but she’d only ever been invited to her home once, a few months ago. “I’d be happy to, I have no plans.” As a rule, she saved the trans-Atlantic flights for better weather. Her parents weren’t big on Christmas, anyways.

Natasha gave a quick little half smile, and Peggy noticed her shoulders drop a good inch. “Thank you.” She took a sip of her drink, holding the ostentatious garnish away from her face as she did so. “My, um, ex-girlfriend is also going to be home for the holiday, so I didn’t want to just do a short trip this year. I’ll get you a key next week.” Then she changed the subject back to work, and they strategized about their supervisor’s latest power play—and speculated how their beloved admin Darcy Lewis might undermine it—until much too late for a work night.

Two weeks later, Peggy set her bag down just inside the threshold of Natasha’s bright, clean two-story duplex. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”

Nat waved her hand. “It’s such a long drive between your neighborhood and mine. If you’d be more comfortable at home, of course, Liho will be fine.”

Peggy looked around the downstairs living area, flooded with early afternoon light. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly comfortable here. I just know how very private you are.”

Nat gave her a shy smile. “I think we’re past all that, aren’t we?”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Peggy smiled broadly back.

“Okay, bedroom is upstairs and there are fresh sheets and towels and everything. Help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry, of course. I got some of those yogurts you always eat, plus this—” Nat thrust a nice bottle of red wine into Peggy’s hands, though Peggy wasn’t sure exactly where she’d been hiding it up until then “—Her food is on the counter, please just the listed amounts, because she is a terrible beggar and will try to weasel more food out of you.“

“Noted,” Peggy said.

“And her litter boxes are in the bathrooms, the litter is flushable.”

“Convenient.”

“Also, she sometimes tries to escape out the front door, so look out for that.”

“So to review, your cat is a cat who acts like a cat,” Peggy teased. “I have this handled, I promise. Liho and I will get some quality time on your couch with everyone’s favorite streaming network while you spend the holiday with your sexy ex. Now get out of here. Maria’s waiting for you, isn’t she?”

“Thank you, Peggy,” Natasha said, as she rolled her eyes but pulled her in for a quick hug nonetheless. “Liho’s hiding upstairs, but she’ll probably come down around dinnertime, so like, six, if she doesn’t get curious about you before then.”

“Is she very interested in people?” Peggy’s grandmother kept cats in her little London flat, and they were always all over the place regardless of who was visiting, though she supposed that could have been more out of necessity. The few times she and her brother Michael had tried to play hide-and-seek while visiting Nana had been very anticlimactic: there were only two good child-sized (or even cat-sized) hiding spots in the whole place.

Nat shook her head. “She and I get along because we’re very similar.”

“So if I lose her, I should just put out a saucer of vodka.”

“It might work,” Nat allowed. “Smart-ass.”

“Aren’t you leaving?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nat looked up the stairs one more time. “Thanks again. Text me if you need anything.”

“We won’t.” Peggy raised her eyebrow. “Text me if you get some this weekend.”

Nat actually blushed at that, to Peggy’s surprise. “You’re sort of wearing on my gratitude, here,” she grumbled fondly. She picked up her bag and took her coat off the hook.

Peggy threw up her hands. “Yes, I’m trying to get you to leave already!”

Laughing over her shoulder, Nat finally opened the door. “See you in a week.”

“Drive safe!” Peggy called after her.

“Oh!” Nat called, stopping beside her car. “My neighbors are all pretty friendly, don’t be surprised if someone pops by.”

Before Peggy could formulate a response (How friendly? Which neighbors? Why aren’t any of them watching your cat?), Nat was in her car and on her way. “Thanks for that advice, I guess,” Peggy said to herself. She closed the door and looked around. At least this Christmas she’d be alone in a new location, she mused. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a quick message to her friend Angie back home, even though Peggy knew she’d be asleep already. She scrolled aimlessly through the apps on her phone, hovering over the ‘dating’ folder she’d shoved Hinge and Bumble and all the rest into after the last in a series of disastrous dates over the summer. Peggy hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was lonely.

True to Natasha’s word, a small, sleek black cat poked her head through the top two spindles of the stairs promptly at six pm and, upon seeing Peggy on the couch but not Natasha, she let out a series of squeaking chirps. Peggy put down the novel she’d borrowed from Nat’s bookshelf—Lauren Beukes’s Broken Monsters, and here Peggy had thought Nat to be more of a nonfiction reader—and got up to see what Liho’s dinner situation was.

Natasha very clearly cared a great deal for the skinny little cat who, according to Nat, had turned up on her doorstep one day and invited herself to stay forever. There was a stainless steel water dish that continuously burbled up a little fountain, and two shallow dishes, one for wet food and one for dry. On the counter above the cat’s dishes, Nat had thoughtfully set out Liho’s food, all fancy brand-name specialty stuff. Liho chirped at her a few more times while Peggy dumped a can of wet into the designated bowl, and she kept making adorable little nomming noises while she chowed down. Peggy stroked her hand down the cat’s back and Liho jumped and shot Peggy an affronted look before she went back to her food.

“No touchy while eating, got it.” Peggy left the cat to her meal and grabbed her phone to see what delivery options were available in Nat’s neighborhood. As she tried to decide between Mexican and an interesting Vietnamese-fusion place, the doorbell rang.

Peggy opened the door to a barefoot, confused-looking man wearing a t-shirt despite the frigid weather. He sketched a brief wave before launching into a query in sign language, but she couldn’t hope to follow. Peggy waved back and gave him a broad “huh” gesture. He nodded and reached up to turn on the hearing aids hidden under his hat.

“Is Nat home?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, she’s not in,” Peggy responded.

“I’m her neighbor, Clint,” he said, pointing his thumb at the other side of the duplex. “I was hoping she’d want to split a takeout order.”

“Oh!” Peggy said, realization dawning. “I’m Peggy, Nat’s friend from work. I’m watching her cat for the week. Did she tell you she was going back for the holiday?”

Clint watched her lips closely and nodded as she spoke. “Right, sorry, I forgot.” He scratched the back of his head under his knit cap and squinted at her. “Do you maybe want to go in on some takeout?”

A grin spread across her face and she opened the door wider. “What do you think of the Vietnamese place?”

Clint gave her both thumbs up. “The báhn bao are freaking amazing.”

When Nat texted later that evening to let Peggy know she’d arrived, Peggy and Clint snapped a quick photo for her with their very impressive spread of food and Liho just barely visible in the background, creeping on the interlopers in her home from the top of the stairs. Nat texted back a laughing with tears emoji and then when you go to bed tonight double check under the covers. she sometimes attacks feet if she’s not expecting them

Noted, Peggy replied. More normal cat behavior.

Nat sent back the eye-roll emoji.

Have you seen Maria yet? Peggy hoped she wasn’t being too nosy. She and Nat had been friendly for years but this new level, with in-home cat-sitting and ex-sex-discussing, was still pretty new for them.

In response, a photo appeared of Nat’s slim fingers around a half-drunk pint glass. she’s meeting me in 30 minutes, got here early for some liquid courage

Peggy sent her a string of crossed fingers and martini glasses, punctuated with a purple heart.

Nat sent back a purple heart and Peggy felt it in her chest, warm and liquid. She didn’t have many good friends, and all of them were back home in the UK. Nat, standoffish, prickly, elusive Nat, was turning out to be her first real friend in the States.

Just then, Liho jumped up into Peggy’s lap and butted her head against the hand holding her phone. Now she was ready for Peggy to pet her.

Clint was good company, and he turned out to unabashedly love Love Island, which Peggy watched to keep up with Angie’s opinions on the subject, so he and Peggy re-started the beginning of the third series together and talked about how Camilla was too good for the rest of the crowd.

While Peggy got ready for bed, she poked her head around the upstairs, looking for Liho as she brushed her teeth and slathered on moisturizer, dipping back into the bathroom to spit and then to dab on a spot treatment.

“Where are you hiding, miss?” She peeked behind the door of Nat’s second bedroom, set up as an office. She spun the desk chair around, but there was no cat curled in a ball in the seat. Peggy went into Nat’s bedroom and threw back the covers, but no luck. She called and called, but Liho didn’t poke her head out, didn’t answer with a chirp. Peggy searched the whole house twice, and then remembered what Nat had said about the front door. Had it been open too long when Clint left? Peggy had said goodnight and gone to put away her leftovers, she hadn’t watched to see if the cat stayed inside. She couldn’t remember seeing her after that.

Feeling out of sorts, Peggy grabbed her phone and Nat’s key, tossed a hoodie on over her sleeping shirt and shoved her feet into her sneakers. She opened the door and stepped onto the stoop, calling softly for Liho as she shut the door firmly behind her, in case the cat was still inside. “If you’re out here, darling, please come back inside.” Peggy shivered as a cold wind blew down the street, throwing the bare branches of the tree in Nat’s yard against each other. A full moon and a cloudless sky, plus the street lamps and the festive lights on many of the houses meant the street was fairly well-lit, even at this hour.

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and swept the light around the walkway, focusing on the spots in shadow. “Liho!” She stepped off the stoop and into the yard. Over the wind, Peggy heard it. An unmistakable chirp. She spun around, trying to see the cat. “Come here, kitty!” Against her better judgement, she made kissy noises and thanked the lord no one else seemed to be out at this hour. Another chirp, and this time Peggy realized where it was coming from. She aimed her light at the tree. Standing in a vee about halfway up the old oak was Liho, shivering in the wind.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Peggy said, “did you get yourself stuck up there?” Liho chirped back at her and stayed put.

Peggy eyed the tree trunk. She’d climbed more difficult ones, to be sure, but not since primary school. She tucked her phone and keys into her pocket and zipped her hoodie up to her chin. “I’m gonna get you down,” she told the cat. “Don’t worry,” she said, mostly to herself.

As Peggy climbed, Liho retreated further up into the branches. “That’s the wrong direction!” Peggy complained. But she could keep going, so she did. The street lamp provided decent illumination, and it was a dry, cold night, so the bark wasn’t slippery against her rubber-soled shoes.

A truck rumbled down the street and stopped at a nearby house and Peggy hoped the occupants wouldn’t notice her, climbing a tree at midnight in her pajamas.

“Uh, ma’am?” A voice called up from below.

“Bugger,” Peggy cursed. No such luck.

She didn’t dare look down, the branches were starting to get thin. Liho watched the man on the street with some interest, though, which might work in Peggy’s favor. “Ma’am I’m with the fire department. Is everything okay up there?”

Peggy had to laugh. “I’m fine, just retrieving a cat. But you seem to be short a hook and ladder, or even a siren. So try again, Mr. Fireman.”

She heard a sigh from down below, but Liho was cautiously creeping towards Peggy along one of the topmost branches. “That’s it, come here.” Peggy reached out her hand and Liho came closer. Peggy braced herself against the trunk of the tree, hugging it with her thighs, and then she grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck. Liho let out an undignified squawk but didn’t fight her grip, allowing Peggy to drag her close to her chest and hold her there.

“Good job,” the man encouraged.

“No thanks to you,” Peggy muttered. She climbed down. Liho, to her credit, submitted to Peggy’s hold like a kitten in her mama’s jaws. Soon enough, they were both out of the tree.

The supposed firefighter stood several feet away on the sidewalk, watching. “All set?” he asked.

“We’re fine.” She finally got a good look at him then, and well, he did look the part. At least six feet tall, with broad shoulders, fair hair, and a clean-cut All-American sort of look, if the chiseled jawline throwing shadows under the streetlamps were anything to go by. He wasn’t in his gear, of course, just jeans and a short leather jacket. It was still a good look on him.

He looked back up the tree. “You, uh, you’re pretty good at that.” He looked back to her and gave her a small smile.

“It’s not my first tree.” She looked him up and down. “Are you really a firefighter?”

He hooked his thumb back at his truck. “Not on duty. I heard the call on my radio, and I was nearby.” Now Peggy could see the bar of lights on the top of his truck. “I’m guessing you didn’t call this in, though? You definitely had things under control.”

She smiled despite herself. “I did have it under control.”

He nodded. “Well, glad I could be of no help at all.”

“You certainly did get here quickly, so points for that, I suppose.” She shifted the cat against her and took a tentative step closer.

“I live in the neighborhood.” He took a step closer, too. Peggy could see the wry smile on his lush mouth now. “Steve Rogers,” he offered.

“Peggy Carter. I’m just cat-sitting for a friend.” She cut him a look under her lashes, having a bit of fun. “But I’m starting to see why my friend likes this location.” Steve open and shut his mouth a few times, and then his reply was cut off by the wail of a siren. They both turned to look as a fire truck careened down the street. Steve stepped into the center of the road to flag them down. As the siren got louder, Peggy felt Liho tense under her hands, her front claws digging into Peggy’s sweatshirt. She tried to hold her close, but the cat squirmed away and bounded right back up into the tree. “Oh, Bloody Nora!”

He came back to stand beside her, hands on his hips. “Did the cat just run back up the tree?”

Peggy sighed. “The cat just ran back up the tree.”

“Well,” Steve scratched at the back of his head as he looked up to where Liho had perched herself, “I have that ladder now.”

“Captain Rogers!” Someone called from over by the truck. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Steve checked his watch. “Lieutenant Barnes, somehow I made it here a full five minutes before you did.”

“Aw, Steve, it’s a cat in a tree.”

“I told him we should get our hustle on for any call in your neighborhood, Cap,” another firefighter piped up.

“You should hustle for any call anywhere, come on, team” Steve’s voice got more commanding as he spoke with the members of the crew.

“Is that the cat’s owner?” another crew member piped up, gesturing at Peggy as she climbed down from the truck.

“I’m caring for her, yes,” Peggy replied.

The woman looked up at the tree and back at Peggy. “Would she let someone hold her if we got the ladder up there?”

Peggy considered. “She’s not great with new people.”

The firefighter nodded and looked back at Steve. “Cat bag.”

“Cat bag,” Steve agreed. “Ms. Carter here already got her down once, so I don’t think this one’s a jumper.”

The rest of the crew all exchanged looks, disbelief clear on their faces despite the truck’s flashing lights throwing strange shadows over the group. “Uh, what?” The handsome one Steve had called Barnes broke the awkward silence.

“I got her down,” Peggy explained. “Then your siren scared her and she went right back up.”

Another firefighter—also a handsome man, Peggy noticed—looked slowly between Peggy and the tree. “So if you didn’t have any trouble getting up there, then why …?” He squinted back at Peggy.

“She didn’t call this in, it must have been a neighbor.” Steve clapped his hands together. “All right, it’s cold out and I’m sure that cat wants to be warm inside, just like the rest of us. Who’s going up?”

“Not it,” both Barnes and the other one said at the same time.

“Wilson,” Barnes whined, “I got the last one.”

“Allergies, man. You’d have to dose me with Benadryl if you want me within five feet of a cat.” Wilson shrugged. “Sif, can you take this one?’

The female firefighter—yet again a very attractive person, statuesque with dark hair and big, dark eyes, Peggy was starting to wonder if the entire engine company put out a calendar every year—already had a burlap sack, which Peggy assumed was the cat bag, in her hands, along with a length of nylon rope and carabiners. She rolled her eyes at the other two. “Well, it’s not like Cap’s going to send Dum Dum up after her, is it?”

As if on cue, a fourth fire fighter stuck his head out of the truck’s door. “Everything okay out here?”

“Thanks for the help, Dugan!” Steve shouted back.

“Oh! Cap! Didn’t realize you were here!”

Steve waved him off and turned back to Sif. “You don’t want the ladder?”

Sif looked at the tree. “Nah, it’ll go faster and scare the cat less if I climb up. What’s her name?” The last part she addressed to Peggy.

“Liho.”

Sif nodded, put on some thick work gloves she produced from a pocket, clipped the cat bag to her belt and up she went.

“You know,” Peggy said, standing next to Steve as they watched Sif’s ascent, “if you lot hadn’t showed up I’d already be back in the house with the cat I’ve been entrusted to look after.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “But then you wouldn’t have met me or my motley crew, and wouldn’t that have been a shame.”

Peggy eyed him speculatively and took a breath. “Jury’s still out. Perhaps you could buy me coffee sometime, Captain, as an apology for keeping me up so late. Give me more time to decide.” She felt brazen, hitting on a man who was there to do his work, but he wasn’t her neighbor, after all. And she was intrigued by this man, his apparent kindness, how he showed up even when his shift was over, not to mention the easy way he had with the people under his command. Captain Steve Rogers was the sort of man she wanted to get to know better. And, not to put too fine a point on it ... he was sexy.

Half his mouth quirked up in a self-conscious smile and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Coffee, huh?” He looked at her, his ridiculously long eyelashes casting shadows on his face in the strange light. “Could we make it dinner? Tomorrow?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “With the upcoming holidays, I’m going to be working ten days straight. Better to get it out of the way.”

“Oh.” Peggy’s spirits fell.

“No!” Steve backtracked, eyes wide. “That came out all wrong. That was me trying not to uh, sound too eager? Also, I’m tired, and one of my firefighters is up a tree, and you are a very attractive woman and you just asked me out and my brain might be short-circuiting right now?”

Peggy had to laugh at that. “Okay, okay, stop digging.”

“You have to forgive Cap,” Wilson said from behind them. “We don’t let him out much.”

“This may in fact be the first non-work conversation he’s had with a woman,” Barnes chimed in. “Sorry it was so bad. He’s terrible at flirting.”

Steve took the good-natured teasing in stride. “Watch it, you two,” he warned them, but there was only wry warmth in his tone as he shook his head.

“I agree, it was very lacklustre flirting,” Peggy said. “You’ll need to step up your game for dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replied, a broad smile on his face.

“Got her!” Sif called from above. “Coming down. Good job securing a date, Cap.”

Peggy had to agree with that, too.

#steggysecretsanta #steggy fic #geekynerddemon #steve rogers #peggy carter #my fic

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faveficarchive · 5 years ago

Text

Summer's Circus: Part 1

By Barbara Davies

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle (uber)

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Summer Walsh owns a struggling circus with a dark history. When journalist Alison Carmichael walks through her Big Top, though, things might just start looking up for the distant Ringmaster.

It was late Wednesday evening when the last trailer finally limped on site. Summer watched anxiously as it eased its way between the other trailers, caravans, and vans to its designated spot, its tyres leaving huge ruts in the turf.

So much for 'Flaming June'. Rain had soaked the work crews as they pulled down the Big Top and loaded the unwieldy poles and sections of canvas onto the long trailer kept specially for the purpose; rain had streamed down her van's windscreen every second of the journey by tortuous, winding B road; and it was *still* raining, the hills surrounding Cheltenham almost invisible through the downpour.

She sighed. At least Cox's Meadow had turned out to be a proper field, she consoled herself, not one of those derelict building sites that were all most councils could seem to spare these days. She wondered who Cox was and what he would have made of the meadow that was rapidly turning into a swamp. For this they were paying £1,000 a week? Tomorrow they'd have to get the boards out - couldn't expect the public to wade through mud. She rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Headache, boss?" Pyotr Dyakonov had come up behind her, unheard in the pelting rain.

"Yeah," Summer confessed. "Just the usual 'Will we be ready in time,' 'Will people like us enough to pay to see us' kind of headache."

"We always are; they always do," said the acrobat complacently.

Summer raised an eyebrow. "I thought Russians were s'posed to be pessimists."

He shrugged. "Things always seem to work out OK when you're around, Boss."

Summer snorted. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," protested Pyotr, stroking his moustache.

"Tell that to Uncle Tommy," she murmured, too low for Pyotr to hear. She turned away and began the tricky process of picking her way carefully between the ruts and puddles towards her caravan.

***

Alison replaced the telephone receiver and let a broad grin plaster itself over her face. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the circus!"

For a moment she allowed herself to feel the excitement she had felt as a little kid, even hopped up and down a bit, then she sobered. This wasn't for pleasure - well, maybe just a bit. This was her chance to prove she could hack it, to call herself 'freelance journalist' and mean more than the book reviews and column fillers that were the only things on her CV so far.

She paced up and down, hardly seeing the little sitting room, considering what to take with her. Her camera, of course. The article would be nothing without pictures, but she was good at photography - she could probably come up with something colourful and spectacular. Her tape recorder. Some spare batteries, a pen and notepad, just in case.

If all went well, she'd be interviewing each of the performers, maybe even the owner of the circus herself. Summer Walsh; what an unusual first name. Alison crossed to the table and rechecked her notes. Yes, it *was* Summer. And not many British circuses were owned by women, according to her research.

Would that make the interview harder, she wondered suddenly. Men were so easy - you just dressed femininely, batted your eyelashes, and simpered. Her Mother had taught her how to flirt with them from an early age, and then been devastated to learn it had been a waste of time. She sighed, remembering how difficult it had been coming out to her mother, how she had wished that her father had been alive to take her part as he always had.

She shook off the melancholy memory, and her doubts. "I can do this," she told herself. "I *will* do this." After all, all circus owners, regardless of their gender, would welcome a chance of free publicity, wouldn't they?

Alison remembered the circuses of her youth, full of horses, elephants, tigers, and lions. These days British circuses without animals were the norm - unrelenting pressure from animal rights protestors and the RSPCA had seen to that. She wondered if the show could possibly be as magical without animals.

Well, tomorrow night she'd see for herself, wouldn't she.

***

"Out of the question." Summer glared at the man who had barged into her office five minutes earlier, and who, rather disconcertingly, reminded her of an orangutan. (It must be the ginger hair and long arms, she decided.)

"I don't think you quite understand." His earlier affability had vanished.

"What's to understand?" she demanded. "I have all the permits and licenses I need. Why should I want to spend more than I have to?"

So far she had managed to keep a tight rein on her temper, but it was getting increasingly difficult. Especially since she was exhausted from helping the work crews to assemble the tiered seating inside the Big Top.

"For a quiet life," he said. "For oiling the wheels of progress -"

"For greasing your palms, you mean." If he thought the sunglasses and leather jacket made him look cool, thought Summer, he was wrong.

"Call it what you like, Ms Walsh. But I think you'd be very unwise not to -"

"I said 'no'. I meant it."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

Summer stood up, placed her hands firmly on the desk and leaned forward, fixing the man with a feral glare from which, to her satisfaction, he flinched. "You're just running a glorified little protection racket, aren't you? Well, no deal." She bared her teeth at him. "You haven't met Tonio and Marcello yet, have you? They're strongmen, they perform under the stage name Men-o-War. I'm sure, if you met them, you'd understand why."

Her visitor was already backing towards the door, looking anxiously through the glass as though expecting the two strongmen to be waiting outside for him. Which, if she'd known he was coming, they would have been, she thought sourly.

"This is probably the worst decision you've made, lady -"

"What happened to 'Ms Walsh?’"

"- in a long, long time."

As he disappeared, like a rat up a drainpipe, she wondered gloomily if he might not just be right.

***

Alison halted just inside the tasseled blue-and-white marquee that was the Big Top, and surveyed her surroundings. It would hold about four hundred people, she judged, but it was barely a quarter full. She checked her watch. There was still ten minutes before the performance was scheduled to begin, but she was doubtful the place would fill up.

She tried to get a sense of the kind of people that had come to the circus. Some were parties of adults only, chattering excitedly to one another; some were adults with children, the parents wearing longsuffering looks; and some, like herself, were alone, their wistful expressions indicating a desire to recapture the magical experience of their youth.

Alison suppressed a smile and searched for Block D. Ah, there it was - the far side of the tiered seating, near the ramp that led from the ring to backstage. She eased herself along the row of tip-up seats until she came to the one that matched the A9 on her ticket stub then sat down gratefully.

She made herself as comfortable as possible on the very basic seat then opened the brochure, emblazoned: 'SUMMER'S CIRCUS', that had cost her a pound. As she had feared, it consisted mainly of advertisements for ice-cream and hotdogs - but a loose sheet of A4 itemized tonight's running order.

She closed the brochure and leaned back, squinting first at the apex of the Big Top high above, then at the trapezes, wires and safety ropes a little below it, then at the ring itself - not covered with sawdust, these days, she noted - which was a lot smaller than her childhood memories had led her to expect. Not bad, she decided, feeling pleased with herself - she should be able to see the performers close to as they came up the ramp into the ring. She pulled her camera from her pocket and hung its strap round her neck ready.

A group of well dressed people - businessmen and women and civic dignitaries by the look of them, one overweight man even wore a chain of office round his neck - approached her block and began to take their seats in the front row. A rather striking dark-haired woman was directing them - her scarlet jacket had wide lapels and tails, and she was wearing a matching bow tie.

The woman smiled brilliantly and said, "I hope you enjoy the show." Alison eyed her with interest.

"I'm sure we will, Ms Walsh," said the man with the chain.

So that was the mysterious Summer Walsh? Well, well.

As the scarlet-clad woman strode away, Alison found that she was suddenly looking forward to interviewing the circus owner.

***

Summer made her way backstage. It was chaos; organized chaos - at least she fervently hoped so.

"Five minutes to the Overture," she yelled. "Everyone okay?"

"Okay, Boss," came the chorus of replies.

She stepped over the pile of baseball bats that looked like wood but weren't. They belonged to Egor and Maks who were due on first after the Overture. As she negotiated the clowns' other props: a foam rubber hatchet, a scrawny looking chicken, and a huge inflatable ball that after the Intermission would be bounced off the audience's heads to screams of fear and delight, her mind returned to the mayor's party.

"Pompous ass," she muttered. He had insisted on complimentary tickets for his wife and colleagues too. "Does he think we're made of money?"

Summer knew the figures all too well. Just to survive, the circus needed three thousand customers a week. Paying customers, like that little blonde who had been sitting just behind the mayor and his cronies. Her thoughts dwelt pleasantly on the woman's interested green eyes for a moment, then she remembered her intention to see how the Ticket Office was getting on.

She was heading for the office wagon at breakneck speed - she had barely ten minutes before she was needed in the ring - when she noticed that a weaselly little pickpocket was working the queue.

With a growl of anger, she somersaulted neatly over the goggling members of the public and launched herself at the man whose hand was about to delve into an unsuspecting customer's coat pocket.

He took one startled look at her and tried to bolt - but by then she had him by the back of his coat collar.

"'Ere, what d'ya think you're - Ulp!" His protest became a strangled squawk as an arm strengthened by years of trapeze work held him effortlessly six inches above the ground.

"Going somewhere?"

He struggled briefly then stopped and concentrated on simply breathing.

"You have a choice, sunshine," growled Summer. "You can spend this evening down the nearest police station...or..." She lifted him higher and watched him think through the implications.

The thief smiled rather glassily at her. "No harm done, lady," he babbled. "I was just looking after a few things for their owners. Know what I mean?"

She lowered her arm, and saw relief wash over his face as his feet touched the ground again. Then she released her grip on his coat collar and held out her hand meaningfully. "Give."

Reluctantly he reached into deep raincoat pockets and began to pile purses and wallets and wristwatches into Summer's hands. From the Big Top came faint music, the first bars of the Overture, reminding her that time was passing.

"Need a hand, Boss?" Tonio and Marcello had joined the little crowd of bystanders watching the proceedings as though it were part of the evening's entertainment.

She nodded, relieved to see them. "I'm due in the ring. Make sure these -" she pushed the pile of purses and wallets into Tonio's huge fists "- are returned to their rightful owners. Most'll have some kind of ID or photo in them, I expect. The rest - well, you may have to ask members of the audience to check if anything's missing."

She rubbed a hand tiredly across her forehead, annoyed at the extra work the thief had caused. If she reported him to the police, even more time would be lost. No police, then. Unless...Suddenly, she remembered the orangutan who had tried to sell her protection.

"You," she turned back to the thief. "Who are you working for?"

"No-one. I'm strictly freelance."

Summer put on her best scowl and took a threatening step towards him.

"Honest." He raised a shaking hand in defence.

She nodded. "Okay. One other thing."

The still unnerved thief looked expectantly at her.

"If I catch you in my circus ever again, I'll let these two - " she indicated the strong men examining the stolen booty "- tear you to pieces. And have no doubts, they can do it, too." She glared at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

The thief winced. "As crystal."

"Now, get out of my circus."

The thief needed no further urging.

***

The Overture ended with a flourish (*Also Sprach Zarathustra*, if she wasn't mistaken) and Alison clapped appreciatively. It amused her that such a tiny orchestra - two men, a drumkit, and what looked like a steam powered synthesizer - was capable of generating music with such power and volume. Circus people, she was rapidly learning, were nothing if not resourceful.

The ringmaster had just stridden into the ring - she recognized the dark-haired woman in the scarlet jacket immediately - when Alison became aware that a big man in black sweatshirt and jeans was easing his way along the row of seats towards her. She frowned.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said politely, as he got nearer, easing her fears, "but is this yours?" He was holding out a wallet similar to the one she owned and pointing to a strip of passport photographs.

Abruptly, she recognized the unflattering snaps she had had taken at the Post Office photo kiosk last week. She gasped and felt for the pocket where she usually kept her wallet. It was empty.

"That's mine. But how did you? I mean - "

The man smiled and handed her the wallet. "Pickpocket was working the Ticket Office queue," he said simply. "The Boss caught him. Persuaded him to return the stolen goods."

There was a subtle emphasis on the 'persuaded' that piqued Alison's interest, as did his accent, which was, she realized, foreign. She checked the contents of the wallet, and was relieved to find that nothing was missing. "'The Boss?’ You mean, Ms Walsh?"

"Yes. Everything there? Sorry to rush you, but I've got several more owners to locate."

"Oh, sorry. Yes, everything's here, but -"

But the man was already turning to go. "Enjoy the show, Miss," he called back to her.

Still feeling rather stunned by this turn of events, Alison turned her attention back to the ring. The attractive ringmaster had disappeared and two short men with unwieldy moustaches and red noses, dressed in appalling yellow-and-black checked suits and bow ties, were starting to hit each other with baseball bats.

***

The trouble with seeing the show from the inside, thought Summer, was that, unlike the appreciative audience - who were clapping wildly at every little thing - you were all too aware when things didn't go right.

For example, the music had started off slightly too fast, but Ruud and Jan had quickly corrected that. Then Egor had tripped over one of Maks' big feet but had deftly turned it into an extra piece of ' business'. And Grigori had almost dropped one of his flaming torches, but an extra flourish distracted the audience from his mistake.

The ringmaster sighed. No matter how often and thoroughly they rehearsed, it was always the same. First-performance-in-a-new-town nerves. But as the evening progressed, she could feel the nerves calming, the professionalism of the performers taking over.

But it was time to announce the next act. She strode out into the ring, fixed a smile on her face, and clicked on the microphone.

"And now, for your enjoyment, Summer's Circus presents, all the way from Greece: the *stupendous* Miss Clio."

She gestured extravagantly towards the maroon velvet curtain that hid backstage, and, right on cue, a petite figure in a pale pink leotard appeared and bounded up the ramp to join her.

"Break a leg, Clio," she murmured. Her reward was a dazzling smile.

Summer withdrew, and watched Clio go into her act.

First came the smile and wave to the audience, then the Greek woman reached for her little ladder and began to climb, adjusting her balance constantly so that the unsupported ladder would remain vertical. When she was settled, Andor, her young male assistant, appeared, carrying a pile of cups and saucers, and proceeded to throw them to her one by one. Almost nonchalantly, Clio would catch each cup or saucer and then throw it up so that it landed on the top of her head. Gradually a stack of alternating cups and saucers grew.

Summer had had no doubts at all, when she'd first seen Clio's act, that she was a must for the circus. On paper, catching cups and saucers while balancing on a ladder was a nonstarter, but in real life there was something about the precision and skill displayed by the young Greek woman that made the audience hold its breath.

As Clio caught yet another saucer, and was greeted with wild applause, Summer's thoughts turned inwards.

It looked like her gamble that the affluent Cheltonians would flock to the circus hadn't paid off - the Ticket Office receipts had confirmed what her squinted glances into the spotlights told her: the Big Top was only half full tonight. What with the appalling weather, the orangutan demanding protection money, the pickpocket ripping off customers, and the question of what would happen when Uncle Tommy discovered his least favourite niece was back on his patch. She sighed.

A teaspoon landed with a loud clink in the topmost saucer, and the audience went mad. Clio's act was winding down. Almost time to announce the aerialists, thought Summer, rising to her feet.

The Finale had met with sustained and enthusiastic applause, and the two man band was playing music calculated to get the audience heading for the exits, when Summer went round backstage congratulating the acts and patting people on the shoulders. There had been no major mishaps, and everyone was feeling relieved.

She was looking forward to a shower, a hot meal, and an early night, and was half way to her caravan, when she remembered she had rashly agreed to see a journalist - Alison Carsomething - about a possible article on the Circus.

She groaned, and trudged over the waterlogged ground towards the trailer that housed both the Administration and Ticket offices.

A blonde woman was waiting for her outside the Admin office. She looked vaguely familiar, thought Summer, traipsing up the short flight of steps.

"Ms Car-" She trailed off.

"Alison Carmichael," said the woman helpfully. "And you must be Summer Walsh." She held out a hand.

Summer grunted, gave the hand a perfunctory shake, then began to unlock the door. "Come in."

She switched on the light, and crossed the office to the battered old desk. The journalist followed her inside, glancing at the dingy interior assessingly. Hmmm, thought Summer, having noticed the camera around her visitor's neck, I don't imagine you want to take a photo of *this* for your article, Ms Carmichael.

She dragged a plastic chair from its place by the wall and indicated it before moving round behind the desk. The journalist sat down. Summer did likewise.

"I really enjoyed the show tonight, Ms Walsh."

"Thanks."

After a moment's silence, the blonde woman realized Summer wasn't going to say any more and picked up the conversation. "Um, we spoke on the phone, about the possibility of my doing interviews with you and with your performers."

Summer nodded.

"So, I was wondering..." The journalist bit her lip.

Summer glanced at the message pad where she had written details of their telephone conversation and frowned. What had she been thinking? "I don't seem to have made a note of which paper you write for, Ms Carmichael," she said apologetically.

"Oh, well - " A slight flush covered the blonde woman's cheeks. "I'm a freelance, but several publications have expressed an interest in the article -"

Summer realized abruptly that there was no point in continuing this conversation. "Then I'm afraid it would be better if we didn't waste each other's time, Ms Carmichael," she interrupted.

The look on the other woman's face made Summer aware that her bluntness had been misinterpreted as offensiveness.

"By the time you've written it and placed it, probably with a local paper," she explained, "the circus will have moved on. Such publicity will be of no benefit to us." She groaned inwardly, realizing that she had only made things worse.

A red spot now burned in each of the blond woman's cheeks. "But, you said on the phone..." Green eyes flashed with indignation.

Green eyes, thought Summer suddenly. Of course. The row of seats behind the mayor's party. Another headache was lurking behind her eyes. The sooner this was over, the better.

"I've changed my mind," she said, sounding more curt than she'd intended. "If you'll excuse me?" She stood up to indicate the interview was over.

Lips pressed in a grim line, the young woman snatched up her gloves and stalked off.

I could have handled that so much better, thought Summer regretfully as she watched the young woman stomp down the steps outside. She sighed, then switched off the light and locked the office door behind her.

As she walked down the steps herself, she glanced absently at the distant figure walking disconsolately towards the carpark. The rest of the paying audience had gone home, and a single pale green Fiesta remained. One of the carpark floodlights was out. Summer made a mental note to get it replaced, then noticed movement in the shadows. She stopped, her senses on alert. A mugger, or worse. And Alison Carmichael, her mind on other things, was heading straight for him.

The rush of adrenalin banished her tiredness and incipient headache instantly, and she broke into a run. "Look out," she called, even as she realized that running wasn't going to get her there in time and launched herself into a series of somersaults and flips.

The journalist had halted near her car and was looking back at her, mouth open in amazement. Summer growled as the figure in the shadows chose that moment to attack, and forced herself to move faster, feeling her muscles burn with the effort. The attacker - a man, by his build - had got an arm round the journalist's throat and was tugging her back into the shadows when Summer flipped over his head.

As she landed behind him, he glanced round, and the momentary distraction enabled the blond woman to break his grip round her throat. One punch with all Summer's weight behind it was enough to send him flying, and two kicks, one to the stomach, one to his unshaven jaw, rendered him out for the count.

Summer stooped over the man and checked his pulse. He was still breathing - she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She straightened, and rubbed her bruised knuckles ruefully, then became aware that the journalist was standing beside her.

"He attacked me!" mumbled the blond, her voice shaky, her breathing uneven. "Oh my God, if you hadn't -" She began to cry.

For moment, Summer stood frozen, then she pulled the sobbing journalist into an awkward hug. There was a moment's startled resistance, then Alison sagged into her embrace.

"It's okay," said Summer. "I've got you." She rubbed a hand soothingly over the other woman's back, encouraging her to cry herself out, her own mind churning. My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't been here...For Summer had no doubt at all that the attacker was working for the man who had tried to sell her protection that morning.

As the sobs dwindled to sniffs, and the tension in the muscles beneath her hands eased, her thoughts turned to the state of her ringmaster uniform. It hadn't been designed for people to cry on.

"Do you still want to do that article on the circus, Ms Carmichael?" Summer was as surprised by her own words as the journalist appeared to be.

"But you said -" The journalist took a step back, and Summer released her.

Colour had returned to the pale cheeks, and bewilderment, coupled with hope, had replaced the fear in the green eyes.

Summer smiled, partly in relief, and shrugged. "I've changed my mind."

The journalist considered for a moment. "What if you change your mind again?" she asked at last.

A fair question, Summer admitted, since from the journalist's point of view, she'd changed her mind twice already. "I won't," she said firmly. "If you want the interviews you asked for, you can have them."

A moment longer, then a smile split the blond woman's features and she nodded eagerly. "Please."

"Tomorrow, then, 10am," said Summer. "I'll give you a guided tour."

"Great."

They stared at one another for a long moment, then Summer sighed and glanced down at the still unconscious attacker.

"In the meantime," she said, "I suppose I'd better see about calling the police."

***

"It was great, Mother. There were clowns, and acrobats, and trapeze artists, and a woman who balanced at the top of a ladder while catching cups and saucers on her head...Yes, that's what I said. Um, it looked like real china from where I was sitting."

Alison could tell her mother wasn't impressed by her enthusiastic description of the circus. Opera was more the older woman's 'thing' - so much more 'adult'. No doubt her mother's opinion of the circus would sink even lower, if that were possible, if she told her about the pickpocket and the attack in the carpark...

She sighed and changed the subject to her coming interviews, then wished she hadn't.

"You're not still intending to be a journalist, are you, dear?" Her mother's tone was disapproving. "My goodness! I thought that was just a fad."

A fad! thought Alison. In fact, the dream of being a reporter had been with her since she was a child, but it was only recently she had decided to do anything about it. Coming out - to herself and to other people - she realized suddenly, had been the catalyst. It had strengthened her determination to live her own life not let others live it for her.

"No, Mother," she said evenly, "it's not a fad."

"It's not as if you need the money, dear."

Alison sighed. It was true that the Life Assurance from her father's death had left them both more than comfortably well off. But she wanted the satisfaction of paying her own way for a change.

"Mother, we've been through this."

"Well, if you *must* occupy yourself, dear, why don't you do some voluntary work? It's so much more...respectable."

"Mother." Alison had reached the end of her patience, and some sign of it must have travelled down the phone line because her Mother went quiet.

"Well, dear. Perhaps you know best." The tone made it clear her mother thought exactly the opposite. "It's past my bedtime, yours too if you're sensible. So I'll say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mother." Alison replaced the phone receiver and sighed.

The flat that was her pride and joy, her first taste of independence - she was twenty-seven, for heaven's sake; other people left home at eighteen - suddenly seemed drab and pokey. Perhaps it was the contrast with the Big Top and its colourful performers, not least among them the tall ringmaster.

Once more Alison heard the distant shout and turned to watch the ringmaster somersaulting towards her across the carpark. Once more she felt disbelief and bewilderment that the woman who had just dashed her hopes so rudely should be following her in such a spectacular way. Then came a jolt of terror as someone wrapped his arm around her throat. Followed by sheer relief, as Summer tackled the attacker and then held Alison close.

Alison swallowed over a suddenly dry throat, then laughed wryly at herself. What a strange evening it had been! And now here she was feeling gratitude, hero worship, and, if she were being honest, straightforward attraction for a woman who until this evening had been a complete stranger.

Even more ironic, being rescued by a circus owner would have made a *great* story, but Summer was concerned that a mugging might keep paying customers away. Since the policeman who took their statements didn't envisage any further involvement for either Summer or Alison (Alison, though severely shaken, hadn't actually been hurt, and the still groggy attacker had quickly realized it was in his own best interests to confess) Alison had agreed to keep the incident quiet.

Which was probably just as well, she thought sleepily, as the seesaw of raw emotions finally caught up with her. Because then, her mother wouldn't learn of the incident and come rushing over ready to sweep her daughter up and take her back to the claustrophobic home from which she had only just escaped.

Alison had feared the mugging would prey on her mind, but as she got herself ready for bed, she found to her relief and slight embarrassment that her head was full of the music of Strauss and images of clowns and acrobats and a tall, striking ringmaster with blue, blue eyes.

***

"It's going to be muddy, I'm afraid." Summer ushered the young journalist out of the admin office and down the metal steps.

"That's all right." Alison smiled back at her. "What's a little mud between friends?"

Summer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They walked across the boggy field towards the Big Top.

"We call this the Back Yard." Summer ducked under the cordon that marked the area as off limits to the public, and began threading her way carefully between stakes and guy wires, generators and storage bins.

Alison hurried to keep up. "So," she said, holding out a small tape-recorder. "What made you decide to own your own circus, Ms Walsh?"

"If we're friends, you'd better call me Summer." The tape recorder, she noted absently, was voice-activated.

"Then you'd better call me Alison, or Ali."

Summer caught the faint hesitation. "Which would you prefer?"

"Alison, if you don't mind."

"Alison it is."

Summer held back the tent flap and waited for Alison to duck under it. "We call this the Back Door - it's the performers' entrance." She followed the journalist, her pupils adjusting quickly to the dim lighting of the backstage area.

"Hi, Boss." Egor came somersaulting over and stopped in front of them. "Who's the beautiful towny?"

The little clown's interested gaze was resting on Alison, who blushed. It suited her, thought Summer, suppressing a grin.

"That's what circus people call outsiders," she explained. Then to Egor, "This is Alison Carmichael. She's a local journalist, so be nice - we don't want any bad publicity."

"I thought any publicity was good publicity, Boss." Egor winked at her.

"Yeah, well you thought wrong."

Alison shot her a glance. "You don't have to worry," she said reassuringly. "I really loved the show last night."

"You did?" Summer felt her slight tension ease.

She guided Alison towards the maroon curtain separating backstage from the auditorium, then paused. "I should warn you before we get near the ring," she said, "don't, whatever you do, sit on the edge of it facing out."

Alison stared at her. "Why not?"

Summer shrugged. "It's bad luck."

The journalist leaned forward eagerly. "Oh! So you have your own set of superstitions, like theatre people do?"

"I suppose so. Peacock feathers are bad luck too. And whistling in the dressing room."

Alison's eyes danced and her tone was mock serious. "Okay. No whistling or peacock feathers, and no sitting on the ring's edge facing out. Got it."

Summer started to say something in defence of circus traditions then decided against it. She pulled back the curtain and they walked through.

The Dyakonovs were rehearsing their trapeze act high above the ring, and she stopped to allow Alison to watch. After a long moment, Alison tore her gaze away from the graceful flips and twirls, and Summer gestured towards a row of ringside seats. They covered the distance quickly and sat down.

"I noticed last night that most of the acts in your programme are foreign," said Alison. "Is that coincidence or policy? Or is it simply that Brits don't make good circus performers?"

"Hey! Are you saying I'm no good?" Summer smiled to remove the sting from her words. It was a good question, and she considered her answer. No need to mention that Uncle Tommy had made sure no British performer would work for her anyway, she decided.

"It's a question of cost, actually." Alison glanced at the sound level meter and moved the tape recorder closer to Summer's mouth then her gaze drifted upwards again. Summer smiled. She too felt the magnetic pull of the trapeze.

"When the USSR collapsed," she continued, "so did its circus funding. At their height, they had seventy permanent circuses, you know. That's about fifteen thousand performers."

Alison's startled gaze met hers. "Fifteen thousand?"

Summer nodded. "Which means that now the Russians are desperate for work and -" she spread her hands expressively "- very cheap."

"So *that's* why most of your acts are Russian?"

"Mmmm." Now it was Summer's turn to gaze up at the Dyakonov Troupe. Cheslav, she noted absently, was clasping Irisa's ankles in his brawny fists. "Though actually, the circus band is Dutch." Alison chuckled at the mention of the two musicians, and Summer glanced curiously at her. When no explanation was forthcoming, she let it go and continued. "The strong men are Portuguese. And Miss Clio, of course, is Greek. I take it you'd like to meet the company?"

"Please."

The journalist's obvious enthusiasm pleased Summer. Maybe it was because Alison was a freelance, she thought, and hadn't yet reached the embittered 'just going through the motions' stage.

A faint stomach rumble reached her ears, and she noticed Alison was blushing again.

"Haven't you had any breakfast?"

"Um, yes," admitted Alison. "But it was a couple of hours ago. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee and a biscuit, if you have them."

Summer rose to her feet. "I'm sure we can rustle up something." She was amused by the look of gratitude that flashed across the blond woman's face.

"Follow me."

***

The trailer that Summer called the 'cook wagon' was hot and fuggy and smelled absolutely wonderful. Coffee and doughnuts, thought Alison, identifying the aromas. Her stomach grumbled more loudly and her mouth began to water.

"It's help yourself in here," instructed the tall woman, busying herself with heating water for two cups of instant coffee. "Just take what you fancy."

"Okay."

While Summer carried their coffees to an empty table, Alison inspected the cardboard box of goodies and chose a large sticky, sugarcoated doughnut. Then she joined Summer and sat down opposite her. She placed the tape recorder on the table between them, and gazed at their spartan surroundings.

"So, this is where you all eat?"

Summer took a sip of coffee than nodded. "We can connect the wagon up to the mains water and power supplies. Not all sites provide access though, so then we have to make do with Calor gas and bottled water."

"I expect you've got moving between sites down to a fine art?" While she waited for an answer, Alison picked up her doughnut and took a bite. Brilliant red jam squirted down her chin and across the table. Fortunately, it didn't reach the ringmaster.

"Oh!" Alison's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, but Summer just chuckled and reached for a paper napkin.

"I'm always doing that," she said consolingly. "Here."

"Thanks." Alison took the napkin and wiped her chin with it. "Um." Her mind had gone blank and the confusion must have shown on her face.

Summer took pity on her. "To answer your question, yes, after you've been on the road for a while - and this circus has been touring for years now - you get to know the drill." She took another gulp of coffee. "Circus people are pretty tough. Everyone helps with the build-up and pull-down."

"But the circus can't always run smoothly," prompted Alison.

"No. We've had our share of accidents, and some of our vehicles are aging - they're always breaking down. Fortunately, Grigori is a top notch mechanic as well as a juggler. What else?" Summer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, two years ago, a generator caught fire - we were lucky it didn't burn down the Big Top. And last year we had a blowdown - that's when a storm blows the Big Top down."

Alison would have whistled but remembered their earlier talk of superstition and thought better of it. "That must have set you back a bit."

"Yes. Luckily we got it back up double quick - only missed one matinee. We can't afford to miss many performances."

Alison finished off her doughnut and wiped her hands on the napkin. "You're that close to the line?"

For a moment she thought the other woman wasn't going to answer, then Summer tapped the tape recorder pointedly and said, "Off the record?"

"Oh, okay." Alison pressed the pause button.

"Things are pretty tight at the moment. If they don't get better soon ?" The ringmaster's gaze was suddenly bleak.

"Can't you put up ticket prices?"

"We're already as high as we can go without putting audiences off." Summer shrugged. "Trouble is, we've got so much to compete with these days - TV, video, cinema - football. People just aren't as keen as they used to be on circuses. Especially circuses without animals." She grimaced. "It's a no win situation. If we use animals - we get attacked by the animal rights protestors; if we don't use them - the audiences stay away."

Alison frowned. "That's not fair."

"No, it isn't." Summer sighed.

The journalist suddenly remembered the tape recorder and pointed at it. Summer nodded, and she resumed recording.

"So why do you do it?" asked Alison.

"Do what?"

"Own your own circus. Keep on touring."

"It's in the blood," said Summer simply. "And," she gave Alison a wry smile, "I don't know how to do anything else."

As if regretting her sudden candour, the ringmaster looked away. "Have you had enough?" She indicated the empty plate.

"Oh, yes. That was great, thanks."

"Good. Because we've got quite a few introductions to get through, not to mention photographs."

Alison stood up at once. "Point me at 'em," she said brightly, pleased when the remark earned her a laugh from Summer.

The dark woman led the way out of the cook wagon.

***

Summer managed to prise Ruud and Jan Dekker away from their instruments and get them to talk to Alison. At first wary, the brothers soon opened up under the journalist's genial questioning, revealing a sheepish passion for Country and Western music that was news to Summer. Tonio and Marcello were glad to take a break from rehearsing, and were soon posing and flexing their rippling muscles while a suitably awed Alison took photographs. And Egor and Maks abandoned their discussion - heated, as always - of ways to improve their act and were only too happy to educate Alison in the intricacies and history of clown makeup.

Summer found watching Alison work relaxing, and she was letting the good natured banter flow over her, when Pyotr came running up, breathless.

"It's Cheslav," he said, without preamble. "He's sprained his wrist."

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Alison had come over to see what the aerialist's gloomy expression and Summer's unguarded exclamation were about.

"One of the catchers has sprained his wrist," explained Summer.

"Catchers?"

"A trapeze artist who catches," she said absently. Pyotr was looking expectantly at her. "The routine's the same?"

He nodded. "We added a few frills, but the basic moves are unchanged."

"Okay. Give me five minutes."

Summer regarded a bewildered Alison. "You'll have to look after yourself for the next hour, I'm afraid. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Uh, no. But...um, Summer, what are you going to be doing?"

"Taking Cheslav's place."

Alison's eyes widened. "Up on the trapeze? But I thought you were the ringmaster."

"I have many skills," said Summer nonchalantly.

#xena #Xena Warrior Princess #Xena/Gabrielle #uber #uberfic #mature #author: Barbara Davies

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davidmann95 · 5 years ago

Note

Re mind?

Got to the Secret Episode today, and just now finally gave in and watched the ‘good’ ending on Youtube because the boss is an absurd nightmare and I’m not waiting another week and gambling on finally lucking out to get what I paid for just because Nomura and Yasue locked the conclusion behind the sort of “you need to make every move just right down to the frame even if you’re not on Critical” challenges the die-hards live for but I can’t manage. I’ll still try it again mind you, but daddy needed to eat.

Anyway, most of my commentary below the cut, but in short: lots of really baffling and frustrating decisions here, but that’s plenty of Kingdom Hearts in a nutshell, and the quality new stuff it did have to offer was more than enough for a lifer like me to feel like I got my money’s worth.

RE:Mind: Why is 60% of this straightforwardly replaying the ending? There had to be a more efficient way of going about that. Still, while in the broad strokes this was the overexplaining of a fetch quest I feared showing how Sora rescuing Kairi would be right along, the actual new mechanics and scenery were delightful, and to my surprise and delight Kairi was easily my favorite of the new playable characters (Roxas might’ve been in different circumstances, but you play as him in a circumstance his abilities are ill-suited towards); I wouldn’t go so far as to say her role in here makes up for her misuse in the game proper, but what is on display still goes a long way. And much as the big finale with the other Guardians 100% should have been in the main game, it was so spectacular I hardly feel justified in complaining. The expanded ending was a real tearjerker on top of that. Plus on a purely personal note I liked that we got a one-on-one with Terra-Xehanort, since it always weirded me out that he ended up a side-villain after so much buildup prior to 3D making him seem like he’d be the final boss.

Limit Cut: Readers, I am such a simp stan for this franchise that when “One year later–” faded in I literally gasped so hard my ears popped, something that’s never happened before in my life. I actually loved everything here storywise - the secret ending made it seem as though IV would be taking place immediately after III (though that’s justified here somewhat) so this new context is a wild curveball, and making clear that every seemingly obvious avenue for a Search For Sora sequel to take has already been pursued to no avail raises so many more questions. As for the bosses, Xemnas and Xion were nightmares, and for some reason I was able to get through Master Xehanort in one try? And I’ve heard there’s a way to go back to the main story to level up properly for these, but I for one just had to level up in the main game and then replay RE:Mind.

Secret Episode: As noted, I had to cheese it, which is maybe a good thing because if I’d finally beaten him and only gotten about 30 more seconds of new footage I might have had a coronary. It especially sucks because if Yozora was maybe 25% easier he’d be one of the coolest fights in the franchise; all his moves are flashy and fun and come at you via avenues you’ve never encountered in the series before with that white space alone raising a dozen questions in its own right, all against a cool and contextually unique backdrop. Instead it’s a meat grinder that’s basically impossible to appreciate. Storywise though this really does feel like a playable second secret ending as much as a ‘Mysterious Figure’-esque boss battle, dreamlike and hinting at fascinating things to come, reinforcing my theory that Kingdom Hearts IV is basically going to be “Sora vs. what if Kingdom Hearts was a Gritty, Serious Series For Grown-Ups” but adding new wrinkles in Yozora’s inexplicable actions and perceptions, and a journey that while unknown clearly parallels Sora. Plus that’s totally Luxord at the end, right? And ‘the girl’ was the unknown star? And they used the Pirates of the Caribbean graphics because this is a ‘realistic’ world!

Data Greeting: An astonishing new feature that must have taken half the development time on its own, I fiddled with it for about 20 seconds before realizing I definitely don’t have the patience for it.

On the whole? Kinda more disappointing than not, a mix of baffling design decisions that make it feel weirdly small in scope and ridiculous barrier-to-entry difficulty for what function as major parts of the plot rather than the traditional vague side-story hints of secret bosses past. But what scraps it does let us feed on only make everything to come seem all the more promising conceptually and tonally, it fills in some gaps, and a lot of what isn’t for me is exactly what plenty of folks were looking for. Looking forward to what’s to come; even if IV won’t be for at least a few years yet the speedy announcement of Dark Road seems to reinforce that Disney is going to put Nomura’s nose on the grindstone and assure we aren’t going to be getting any 13 year waits again. I guess Xehanort’s gonna go to Disney worlds and they will somehow convince him that the universe must be destroyed? I’d say maybe he goes to all the extremely racist old ones to justify that, but they’d never let Nomura get away with it. But lemme tell you: if they’d let him, he would.

#Kingdom Hearts III: RE:Mind #Kingdom Hearts III #Kingdom Hearts #Opinion

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breg21 · 6 years ago

Text

Ladynoir Month: Inspiration

Ao3 FFN

@ladynoirjuly2019

Inspiration left and came back to me thankfully for this prompt. Lol

Puns? I don't know. XD

Anyways. I shall see you all tomorrow for the LAST chapter.

I'mma cry.

Inspiration was very much, a double sided blade. It could come in wave after wave of ideas. Then, there were times when the flow was dryer than the Sahara desert.

Of course the latter usually came in a time of need when she required her inspiration hit hard. Because, of course, why wouldn't it? Marinette needed to get this portfolio submitted to Chloe's mother— even though Chloe herself said she could easily get her a spot in her mother's corner in a snap of her fingers, but the young designer refused, saying she wanted to earn this internship— before the school year was up.

She had three weeks left.

Yet, nothing was coming to her. She had all but blocked everyone from entering her room, save for Plagg and Tikki, who were under strict rules by her, to only bring her food and food only. Nothing more, and nothing less.

She had so many papers scattered across her room, mountains of fabrics piled together, and binders holding design after design— several had discarded pieces of her work that she'd never show Aubrey, and another binder specifically conducted to show the work that Marinette deemed passable— within the plastic covers.

In short, her room was a mess.

And in short, she was pretty sure all four other household members were about ready to ram her hatch door in, in order to drag her out and into the broad daylight.

So what if she hadn't seen natural in over twenty four hours?

So what if she was living off of coffee cup after coffee cup?

She was totally fine. Completely good. One hundred percent sane.

Gosh, that fifth double espresso hit the spot.

"Okay, pigtails." She turned to see Plagg floating just mere centimeters from her face; an annoyed look hinting on the edge of the bored expression plastered on his face. "You need to go out. Get some air, whatever you humans do to feel better."

She was about to object when Tikki phases through her hatch door. "Plagg's right." Tikki rolled her eyes as the cat kwami gave her a knowing eyebrow wiggle. "You need your rest, Marinette. Go visit Adrien."

That brought her mind to the complete present. "Adrien? Isn't he downstairs?"

Plagg shook his head. "He was getting itchy with you refusing and not being able to help, no matter how hard he tried, so he decided to go visit the gorilla in his rose garden."

That explained that. Adrien and the Gorilla have grown fairly close— and after Emilie basically signed over the mansion to him, just for a temporary place for him to stay until he figured out what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to go— Adrien often visited his bodyguard and lounge around the mansion, mostly to play on his piano or help the behemoth with the garden.

Marinette couldn't help but admit that she was beyond happy that Adrien didn't let his father overshadow his love for piano for when he played what he wanted. "Okay okay. Maybe I do need a break." She pushed the chair away from the desk and got up to stretch, feeling the cracks and moans her bones made in protest. "I guess I do need a little break."

Plagg's eyebrow rose. "A little? Pigtails, you made my kid angsty. You need a little more than a break."

Her shoulders slumped in knowing defeat. "I know." She looked to Tikki, determination settling over her. "C'mon, let's go."

She tried to ignore Plagg's sly smirk of triumph as she sailed off into the late night.

When she landed on the edge of his window sill, she gave a quick two tap against the glass with a fist, watching as Adrien— who had his back turned on her, hands gliding across the keys of his piano— turned to see her waiting for him to open the window for her.

A bright smile lit his lips and warmed his eyes, chasing any other emotions she caught swimming in his eyes for a split second. And she knew that was because of her somewhat, while he wasn't angry whatsoever with her, Ladybug knew he was missing her like crazy because honestly, she missed him just as much, especially with a mind that wasn't as crowded as it had been for the past days.

He left his seat and the piano, and in three quick strides, crossed the room to open the window, grinning all the way. "Hey, bugaboo. I see you finally broke away from your work?" It was said in a tease, but she could hear the way he missed her under his held up tone.

So, with that in mind, she almost pounced on him, nearly knocking them to his old bedroom floor. She smashed her lips to his, not allowing for any space between them, as she did her best to make up for the past days of kisses that they had missed out on.

When they pulled back, he was flushed, breathless, and panting in short little bursts. "Well, if that's the greeting you're gonna give after locking yourself away for three days straight, please feel free to do so again."

She giggled and nuzzled her nose into the crock of his neck. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have blocked everyone out like that."

His hands started to stroke her hair so tenderly and filled with love that she truly wondered how she could've gone so long without feeling like she was gonna go crazy without his affection. "I understand where you're coming from. This is a big deal for you, you need to get this done and you're on a deadline."

"But not at your guy's expense." She argued. "The least I could've done was interact with you guys while doing my work. Not locked myself away. I just wished I had something going in my mind for this. It feels like I lost all inspiration— I've hit a block."

He chuckled, and pushed himself to his feet, pulling her along with him, and dragged her along to the piano bench, motioning for her to sit beside him. "I know when you're stressed you like it when I play the piano for you. Maybe it can help get your mind flowing again."

Marinette smiled as she dropped her mask and he began to play once more as the sweet melody filled the room and her heartbeat almost seemed to fall into sync with each note that run out as he pressed the keys. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he continued to play and all else fell silent to them, the world didn't exist beyond these walls, and for once, that was okay.

A thought bubbled in her head for a clear moment before she titled her chin slightly up, but keeping her head where it laid. "What inspires you when you're in a rut?"

His fingers pause and his arms drop to his side as he stopped to look at her, causing her to pull back so he could properly do so.

And when her eyes caught sight of his, all she could see was absolute, pure, uncontained love. Love that lit the soul on fire and would consume every inch inside of him nuts and she could tell he didn't mind it. The love in those storeybooks got it all wrong, because love isn't just one thing, it was a labyrinth of so many, that one could never truly be described correctly. It was endless, and boundless, and so clear. Selfless.

And as always, he was looking at her when that look appeared.

"You."

No matter how long they had been together, her breath still hitched when he looked at her like that. When he spoke like that. Because she was his world, and he was hers, and sometimes it was still hard to believe. "How so?"

That special smile that he only reserved for her appeared. "When it's been a rough day, and I just can't seem to smile, I think of yours and my grin is never more real." He pressed a key, one single note. "When I feel like crying, maybe I'm thinking of my father, I remember the laugh in your eyes, and I realize those tears aren't worth it." Another note added to the first, and it blended so smoothly in. "And then, I think of my favorite, absolute favorite thing. When you laugh. When I can't even seem to chuckle, all I have to do is think of your beautiful, amazing laugh, like the one in the rain on the first day we met, and I'm whole again."

He started colliding note after note to make a sweet, heartwarming song that she had never heard before, and it made everything melt inside.

"And that, my lady." He breathed as the last note echoed out. "Is how I get through my blocks. I think of you, everything that makes you who you are— and that is only the start of what I think of when I need something to spark my inspiration— and it all just clicks. You make everything in me just come alive and I can't help how my thoughts flow because of you."

Marinette was in tears, burning hot, blurry tears, and she was completely fine with that. She loved this man more than she could ever say, and she was so thankful for him. She rested her forehead against his, letting the tears fall and just soaked up his presence.

Because even when he couldn't help, when he couldn't do anything to outright fix the situation, he was still there, supporting her, being the solid ground to catch her when her knees felt like they would give out underneath her. He was there. He would always be there. And that was more than enough.

He was her inspiration.

And something just sparked inside of her. Almost like a lightning bolt, and she would've been laughing at the irony, if not for the way she started to bounce in her seat. "I have an idea!"

Before he could even ask, she jumped from her seat, nearly transformed and out the window before she skidded back and pulled him into a long searing kiss that left her wanting more, but knew that would come later. "Meet me on the eiffel tower in an hour. I think I got my inspiration back." And turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, "Love you, hot stuff!"

She knew without a doubt as she swung away, she heard his unmistakable laugh and his own, "I love you too, bugaboo."

An hour later, he was where she promised she would be. Sitting on top of the eiffel tower, with sketch pad in her lap and a pencil twirling in her fingers, eager to show her kitty her completed designed for Chloe's mother.

Ladybug could tell the second Chat landed, that he was excited as she was to see what she had come up with. "So, bugaboo. What'd ya got to show me?"

She passed the book to his, hands just shaking with uncontained joy. This was one of her best pieces yet, and she was honestly proud to show it.

She watched as his eyes bulged from their place in his head and she smiled all the more because of it. Chat tried to clear his throat a few times, but she could see the difficulty in it. "W-what made you think of this? Any.. any particular theme?"

She laughed and leaned in closer to point out a few sketches she had made. "I was thinking of a bad boy meets sweet nerd. Trying to get rid of that cliche that it's only one way or another." She pointed to the leather jacket that wasn't screaming bad boy, but it didn't give the impression of sweet innocent either. "This piece is my favorite, honestly. I could see you wearing it."

She flipped through several more pages, raving about all the creations that just spilled on the page once she had started.

And all the while, Ladybug had missed the sweet, tender look her boyfriend was giving her.

"...and this one-" She finally took notice that Chat was being awfully quiet, and lifted her head from the page, stilling her finger that was directing her sketches on the page, to give him a questioning look. "Everything okay, kitty?"

He blushed at being caught, but his smile grew bigger. "Yeah. I just can't help but wonder who inspired this look?"

She giggle, and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Isn't it obvious? Chat Noir an Adrien Agreste, of course."

He melted into the hand that now somehow found its way to his face and glided along his cheek and his own tears sprung. "Me?" He whispered, tone full of wonder.

Her heart felt ready to take off. Because he deserved everything and more. He deserved to know he was loved and appreciated for all that he was, and she could see it in his eyes, the joy that it brought him, just seeing all of him scribbled and drawn out on the pages that she had worked hard for.

She vowed silently for the rest of her days, he'd know just how much he was loved, come rain or shine. Because he was more than she could ever ask for.

"Yeah, kitty." She said softly. "You."

Husband's thoughts:

So nobody explicitly says where Chat got the rose the first time he wanted to open up to Ladybug.

Long story short, upon getting the rose for Adrien, the gorilla found he really loved the elegance of the flower and the way it flowed from the stem in such a way he could not describe. It reminded him of a simpler time, back when he was a mere back alley boxer doing all he could to impress his first love. Ever since then he planted a special garden he would use everytime Gabriel was being a prick in an effort to akumatized him. One smell of the sweet flower reminded him of the sweet rush he got from punching people against the hard cobblestones of London.

Also that's my canon of how Adrien had so many flowers to give Marinette.

#ladynoirjuly2019 #LadyNoir #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #love square

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be11a2496-blog · 6 years ago

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HC that after rescuing his beloved Maitimo, all Fingon could think of was how to shine the light of hope on his life again. Now his eyes seemed distant when he looked, and he seemed distracted, as if he wasn’t there. Fingon didn’t like that at all. He hated to allow the very thought that the effort was in vain. He brought him back for a reason, and he wanted him to be whole again.

Not that he minded at all, he would still love him without hesitation even if Maitimo betrayed them all. It was Maitimo himself, who seemed to have lost faith altogether. He was changed, and his heart didn’t seem to be in the right place. He had grown cold, bitter, and shut everyone out, including Fingon.

This didn’t hurt him one bit. He felt his lover suffering, and he understood his reasons, however selfish they might have been. He simply wished to get through to him. He knew, that there was an old part of him there somewhere. But he was scared he might dig too deep and lose him forever.

That’s why he came up with it. He didn’t do it alone of course, it was too much of a work to be done single-handedly, so he asked quite a few other elves to give him a hand. He was sure of his own intentions, and yet it was not the same Maitimo anymore. He didn’t know if this would only make his long sufferings turn into pure hatred against the one he used to love. But it was a risk worth taking, that is, if he still was -though deep down- his same old lover.

Maitimo would now spend most of his time working, alone, busying himself with plans of payback by means of war. Imprisonment had turned him into a recluse. He would no longer be open to others, and this way he was in made him easier to be avoided.

Nonetheless, there came Fingon, relying on love and everything they shared, and not much else really. He had prepared himself to be rejected, for his heart to be broken, of course, but he wouldn’t let those thoughts bother him. It was Maitimo afterall. He couldn’t deny what Fingon gave, or so Fingon made himself believe.

As he approached, there was an eerie silence. For a moment he gave in, almost, looking at his once exhuberant lover, sitting mute in the shadow of his own mad grief. Maitimo looked up, and as he set his stony gaze on Fingon, he almost took a step back. But then, he took notice of his face, and he could feel his expression softening a little. Maybe he was just imagining this as a sign of peace, but there was no obvious protest from Maitimo either.

Fingon took heart again, and as he approached him, Maitimo dropped his eyes, as if pleading not to be cornered and be left in peace. He murmured something under his breath, but he didn’t look reluctant to have Fingon for company. Fingon got closer, and he could now hear his heart beat faster as it echoed too loud to his own ears through the gloomy silence of Maitimo’s sulking corner.

Fingon took a step closer, they were now inches apart, and abruptly Maitimo Jerked and stood up, looking defensive and uneasy. Fingon felt hurt, a little more than he thought he would be. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to do, and decided to leave him be. But as he was turning to go, Maitimo let out a sharp breath and tried his best to sound comforting in a low voice: I wasn’t expecting anyone’s company. Still, it’s not right to let you leave like this. Tell me, what you came here for.”

It seemed to Fingon as if he had dropped his guard, but that voice, it was the voice of a stranger. Fingon felt tears welling up in his eyes. He was terrified to look at Maitimo’s face, and see what he knew he would. So without turning around he replied, trying not to let his voice waver: No particular reason. Just that I was used to us...” he trailed off and decided not to let him know the truth: It doesn’t matter now. I’ll leave you be.”

When he reached the doorstep, Maitimo saw a box in his hand, and almost on instinct he asked: What’s in that box you carry?” Fingon stopped, and then turned to him. He realized he had already lost him, so what’s a little more. He cleared his voice saying: I had brought you a gift.”

Maitimo frowned in confusion, yet he gestured for him to return to his side and said: Changed your mind, then?” Fingon didn’t answer, he just put the box on his desk. Maitimo glanced at the box and then at his face. There was this childish, yet sweet fear in his eyes which made Fingon smile despite himself: Go on. Open it. It’s yours afterall.” Maitimo avoided making eye contact. He still wanted to question, but it just didn’t feel right. So he opened it.

There, inside the box, laid a beautifully wrought mechanical hand, designed specifically for Maedhros. All the measurements, the size, the model, everything was unquestionably fit. Maitimo was staring at it in disbelief. The silence lingered for a moment too long, and Fingon began to feel intimitated, thinking he might have crossed a line.

Maitimo looked at him again, this time, meeting his gaze and not looking away. Fingon’s heart dropped. This time he looked down. Maitimo reached and lifted up his chin: Fingon...you did this?!” Fingon couldn’t answer. He searched Maitimo’s eyes for confirmation. This seemed like too good a moment to let pass by. But before he could find the courage, Maitimo pulled him into a hug, so tight and passionate for a moment he thought his ribcage would be crushed. Then, as if being overwhelmed by all emotions at once, he broked down and sobbed like a child.

Fingon returned the embrace. Despite his broad shoulders and giant figure, Maitimo suddenly was so small and susceptible to the smallest painful thing. Fingon held him, and he was filled with sympathy. It wasn’t the Maedhros he used to know, he was a broken parody of his former prideful self. And this realization tore Fingon’s heart in half.

Before long Maitimo fell and clutched to Fingon’s knees. He was finally letting all the hurt out, feeling like a wounded little fawn in the cold of winter as it anticipated death’s shadow closing in on him. Fingon tried and managed to lessen the terror by his presence, as he stood firm like a protective shield against his nightmares. Never before has it been this way, it was always Maitimo providing shelter. But it was about time he returned the favor. It was nothing if it meant to truly save the one he loved most.

“It’s beautiful” Fingon could make these words out of Maitimo’s scattered words. He went on repeating, as if no matter how many times he said it just wasn’t enough. Fingon was kneeling beside him now, holding his head against his chest, stroking his silky red hair. Maitimo held onto him a little longer, then finally composing himself he turned his head to his: Aren’t you gonna show me how it works?”

Beaming, Fingon immediately stood up and reached for the hand. Maedhros did the same, and standing beside him he watched him enthusiastically give instructions. Yet he could not help getting distracted by how adorable he was. Before he himself could know, he interrupted Fingon with a fierce kiss. He then rested his forehead against his, and stroke his cheek with the only thumb he had left: No need for that. I want you to do it for me.” He added as Fingon smiled: every time.”

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stanprokopenko · 7 years ago

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Process for Successful Drawings – Caricature Essentials

This is an example by Court Jones based on his video on Shape Design and Facial Features caricature lesson.

youtube

***

I figured a good way to end the course is with a caricature of Stan the Man himself, Mr. Prokopenko.

Stan’s likeness is a little tricky. It could go many different ways. Even with his heavy eyebrows and manly stubble, he still has kind of a baby face. So to help me out, I decided to use the Spirit Animal technique to come up with the exaggeration. After some thought, I’ve determined that Stan’s Spirit Animal is… a beet.

Now I know what you’re thinking, it’s just because he’s Ukrainian and I’m stereotyping. And that’s not true at all. Stan is actually a huge fan of beets. Every time I see him at lunch, he’s enjoying pickled beets or beet salad or just a big ole’ bowl of borscht. His favorite song is Beat It. The man is beet-crazy! If you see him at a convention or out on the street, feel free to just give him a handful of beets. He’ll eat them raw.

Thumbnail Sketch

Of course Stan’s large cranium and thin neck coincidentally worked really well with the beet shape. So I begin with some thumbnail sketches, to try and figure out how to make Stan’s face work on this beet. I soon realize his features should sit low on his head, because his forehead and hair take up more real estate than on the average person. I think the concept here is a good start. But the features aren’t executed in a way that’s accurate to him. So I end this one and try sketching from a different angle.

For this second sketch, I maintain the same basic concept of the inner beet spirit, but I thicken the beet-neck just a bit at the top. I also like the idea of really small features set into a large wide head. It’s funnier. This one is working much better than the first sketch. Although I’m not a fan of straight-on views. I prefer more dynamic angles that allow me to show the three-dimensional quality of a face. So I move on to a photo with a more interesting angle.

Again, I try to maintain the beetroot proportions for the head shape and then place the features on top of that. In this thumbnail sketch, I’m able to draw a more dynamic angle which I push even further to give it more visual interest. And there’s even a slightly sassy expression on his face that I try to make more obvious in my sketch. Because of the interesting angle and expression, I feel like this is the one that I can take to the next stage. The likeness needs some work, but that’s what the rough sketch is for.

Rough Sketch

I begin the rough sketch by tracing directly over the thumbnail. I use some simple guides to align the features in perspective on the head. And I slow down a bit to give more attention to each feature. More time than I allowed in the thumbnail sketch phase anyway. One of the distinctive traits about Stan that isn’t strictly physical is the darkness around his eyes. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but also a slightly darker tone than the rest of his face. So I try to indicate that in my rough sketch.

At this point, it feels pretty good, but I’m not entirely sold on the likeness yet. Something I’ve learned about likeness is that it’s usually easier to see with the use of light and dark values, rather than with just lines. I could continue crosshatch shading to darken the values, but for the sake of speed, I add some more shading with a large brush. It’s pretty rough and simple, but I think it does add some visual information to define the likeness which wasn’t there before, like the volumes of the forehead and cheeks. When I squint down and blur my eyes, I really see it. So It’s just enough to confirm that I’m on the right track even if it’s not perfect yet.

Abstraction

For this next stage in developing this caricature, I flip the rough sketch over to better see any structural problems and then draw a Reilly Abstraction on top of it. The rhythm lines of the Abstraction are drawn from one side of the head to the other to help check if things are lined up or if they need to be moved. Some features, like the eyebrows, are going to be asymmetrical, so I allow for that and look for unintended distortions and asymmetries. I discover that the ear I drew on the rough sketch was too low. But for the most part, everything else was in a good spot. Even if all the features are determined to be well-placed, these geometric rhythm lines are most helpful because they act as an idealized template of Stan’s head – sort of a cleanser, washing away the rough lines of the earlier sketch, so that I can trace much more nicely designed shapes and features in the right locations at the next stage.

Oh, and besides the ear being too low, the Abstraction helps me figure out that the head would look better if the forehead was more bulging in front.

Final Sketch

After a quick check, I flip it back around, dim down the Abstraction and begin my final linear drawing on new layer, tracing over the Abstraction, but with much more attention to the exact shapes of the contours and features and also to the quality of my lines.

This lesson is all about drawing caricatures with special attention paid to the visual design. As I’ve said, a good exaggeration and likeness is not enough. To draw at a professional level, you need to slow down and spend time creating a refined look or visual design. It doesn’t have to be realistic and based on anatomy, like my work. You can draw abstractly or simple and cartoony. But whatever it is, you need to figure out what you want the finished style to be and then keep working on this until you’ve achieved that look. Tracing over the previous drawing is a great way to do that.

Now, the problem with being the judge of your own progress is that while you’re learning, your artist’s eye may not be able to see all the flaws that a more experienced artist may see. As you continue your studies, your eye will improve, followed by your hand’s ability to make the right marks. But during this time is when it’s important to have a teacher, mentor or at least another artist at a higher level of development help you and let you know where you can improve. Eventually though, you’ll be able to look back on your older work and wonder why you missed all those drawing problems the first time around.

With my linear lay-in finished, I now add the soft edges. Wherever a form transitions from a light to dark value, that transition will be either a hard, firm, soft or lost edge. Once those transitions are all in, I finally start to add the values, which is the final stage of this drawing.

I always seem to have the most success in a drawing or painting when I work on a middle grey background. In the premium version of this course, I demonstrate shading drawings with different strategies. On my David Bowie caricature, I shade on a white background, which shows how it negatively affects my perception of the values on the face. Working on a white background prevents me from shading as darkly as I should because the bright white fools my eyes into thinking a value I use on the face is darker than what it really is. A light-middle grey, as I’ve used here, sets me up right in the range of what Stan’s caucasian flesh tone already is. So even before I begin, I’m in the right value range.

Most of the time in a realistically shaded portrait like this is spent working in the middle range of values. Or the halftones. The dark accents and bright highlights are fun and give the drawing more visual punch. But they wouldn’t work if the the middle values aren’t properly figured out and correctly placed first. The meat of the portrait is in the halftones. They are what’s going to sell it to the viewer. And the halftones are usually all within a very narrow range on the value scale. So there’s not much room for error. If you shade the halftones with too much contrast, the subject will look shiny or metallic. If you don’t have enough contrast, the portrait will look dull and flat. And if you don’t shade and cover the shapes evenly, you may get spotty or streaky effects where bits of light or dark peek through your strokes. So make sure you’re using the right tool for the job.

Most of the Photoshop brushes I’m using to shade here are very subtle brushes already. One stroke from them doesn’t cover much because they have heavy textures applied to them. I have to keep on adding stroke on top of stroke to lay down a value. It’s similar to using very light pressure with a hard charcoal or graphite on a rough paper. In fact, I think my main brush here is called “Shady Graphite” by Kyle Webster. It comes standard with the latest version of Photoshop. But you can find or even create similar brushes in other painting apps.

Also, it probably goes without saying, but when shading a drawing or painting, use the largest brush for an area that you can. You want to be able to cover broad areas with less brush strokes. But to get hard edges or for textures like the hair and stubble you’ll need a smaller brush. But those should be used sparingly, lest you end up with a streaky and sketchy rendering. Most of your time in a drawing like this will be spent using large brushes.

Some final bits of advice to create professional quality caricatures with a strong sense of design are: First and foremost, keep working on it until you can’t make it any better. Push yourself to draw and paint like the people you admire. If you get to the end and aren’t sure if it’s a success, get up, walk away and come back to look at it with fresh eyes. Or flip it in reverse one more time to examine it backwards. If there are any structural problems, they’ll be much more obvious. If you can correct those problems, then do so. If there are just too many problems to fix, you may need to go back a few steps and start again from your rough sketch or Abstraction.

#proko #caricature #digital art #digital painting #photoshop #stan prokopenko

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your-dietician · 3 years ago

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Does It Have an Effect?

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/does-it-have-an-effect/

Does It Have an Effect?

High blood pressure, or hypertension, can lead to serious health concerns like a heart attack or stroke. But because hypertension doesn’t typically cause symptoms, many people who have it don’t even know. That’s why it’s so important to regularly check your blood pressure.

If you have hypertension, you may have heard that cannabidiol (CBD) can help lower blood pressure. Here’s what the research says, plus tips for finding a few products to explore.

Blood pressure is defined as the pressure of blood against the walls of the arteries. While it’s normal for blood pressure rates to rise and fall over the course of a day, consistently high blood pressure levels are an issue.

There are two kinds of hypertension:

Primary hypertension is the most common. It develops gradually with no discernible cause, but it may be linked to genetics, physical changes in the body, or high body weight.

Secondary hypertension comes on quickly and can be more serious. It has a number of causes, including kidney disease, congenital heart defects, thyroid issues, alcohol consumption, and certain medications and stimulants, like cocaine and amphetamines.

Since hypertension is often a silent condition, you may not experience symptoms until the condition has developed in severity. At that point, symptoms may include:

headaches

nosebleeds

shortness of breath

dizziness

chest pain

flushing

changes in vision

blood in the urine

If you’re experiencing these kinds of symptoms, it’s important to seek medical attention right away.

CBD is one of the active compounds in the cannabis plant. Unlike tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), it doesn’t have intoxicating properties or produce a “high.” Instead, much focus is on the potential therapeutic benefits of CBD. It may be helpful for everything from pain relief and improved sleep to anxiety, and even addiction.

CBD is available in a few different types: full-spectrum, broad-spectrum, and isolate.

While full-spectrum and broad-spectrum both contain other compounds from the cannabis plant — like flavonoids, terpenes, and other cannabinoids — full-spectrum CBD is the only type that contains some THC (usually less than 0.3 percent).

CBD isolate is pure CBD. But it’s important to know that any type of CBD may contain trace amounts of THC that could show up on a drug test.

These three forms of CBD are made into a variety of products, including:

Oils and tinctures. These liquids have been infused with CBD. You can either place them under your tongue or add them to food and drinks.

Edibles. Sometimes, CBD is added to foods like gummies or drinks like teas. Edibles are among the most popular methods of consumption because they’re discreet and easy to dose.

Capsules. CBD can be taken in pill or capsule form.

Topicals. Topical CBD is applied directly to the skin for targeted relief.

Vape juices. These products are designed to be inhaled using a vape pen. Effects are very fast, but there have been reports of lung injuries associated with vaping. At this time, we don’t know if vaping CBD poses the same risks.

CBD interacts with the body’s endocannabinoid system (ECS), a complex system that helps regulate a number of processes in the body.

While our understanding of the ECS is still unfolding, we know it’s made of three components:

endocannabinoids, which are molecules made in the body

endocannabinoid receptors, which are found throughout the body; the main receptors are called CB1 and CB2 receptors

enzymes, which break down endocannabinoids once they’ve completed their function

At this time, researchers believe the primary role of the ECS is maintaining homeostasis in the body. The ECS is linked to a number of processes in the body, including:

appetite and digestion

metabolism

pain

mood

sleep

motor control

Cannabinoids, including THC and CBD, interact with the ECS by binding to the receptors in the same manner as endocannabinoids.

While THC can bind to both CB1 and CB2 receptors, researchers don’t yet understand how CBD interacts with the ECS. One theory is that CBD prevents endocannabinoids from being broken down, giving them a greater effect on the body. Another theory is that CBD binds to a receptor that researchers haven’t identified yet.

There is research from 2011 that suggests taking both THC and CBD, along with the other compounds in the cannabis plant, may be more effective than using a single cannabinoid alone. This theory is called the entourage effect, and it’s why some people say full-spectrum CBD works better than broad-spectrum or isolate.

There is evidence that CBD products could help lower blood pressure, but research is somewhat contradictory.

A 2017 study of nine male participants found that a single dose of CBD in healthy participants lowered blood pressure for those at rest and those who were under stress.

Another 2017 study in mice found that CBD significantly reduced stress-induced increases in blood pressure and heart rate.

But a 2020 study in rats found that CBD wasn’t effective in lowering blood pressure, though it did have an antioxidant effect. Another 2020 study was more promising, with results demonstrating that CBD could reduce blood pressure in patients who were stressed.

Researchers acknowledge the beneficial effects of CBD for cardiovascular disorders, but note that additional studies are needed to fully understand how it might contribute.

Both the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and the World Health Organization (WHO) acknowledge the potential benefits of CBD.

A 2017 WHO report describes CBD as generally well-tolerated with a good safety profile and no effects that might indicate the potential for misuse or dependence.

The FDA notes that more research is needed, and it points out that there are many unanswered questions about CBD’s safety. Furthermore, it notes that some CBD products are inaccurately labeled and of questionable quality.

If you do decide to try CBD, know that some people experience side effects, including:

diarrhea

changes in weight or appetite

fatigue

Research from 2012 on cannabinoids and anxiety suggests that some cannabinoids may have a biphasic effect, meaning they produce different effects depending on the dose you take.

For high blood pressure specifically, a 2011 study found that THC alone or in combination with CBD sometimes resulted in an increase in blood pressure, and sometimes in a decrease.

Finally, it’s crucial to keep in mind that CBD may interact with some medications, including those used for hypertension. If you’re considering using CBD to help manage high blood pressure, talk with a doctor first.

While CBD comes in many forms, the best option for high blood pressure is likely an oil or tincture rather than a topical or edible. Oils tend to offer higher bioavailability, which means a greater absorption rate for more efficacy. Sublingual products also have a full-body effect.

The FDA doesn’t regulate CBD products the same way they do supplements and medications, which means consumers must be careful about the brands they use. To find a quality CBD product, it’s important to check for a few things.

Certificate of analysis

Avoid purchasing CBD products that don’t have a certificate of analysis (COA). A current COA means a product has been tested for safety and purity by a third-party lab. Many brands make these reports available via a QR code on the product packaging or on the website.

When you review the COA, check to see if the amount of CBD and THC that the lab found matches what’s being advertised. Also, look at the contaminant testing results to be sure there aren’t unsafe levels of pesticides, heavy metals, or molds.

FDA warning letters and lawsuits

If a CBD company is making unverified health claims, the FDA will send a warning letter. You can check online to see whether a company has been the recipient of such a letter, as well as whether it’s been involved in any lawsuits. If you see that a company has received one, they may be best to avoid.

Customer feedback

Look for customer feedback on both the company and the product you’re considering to get an idea of efficacy. Keep in mind, though, that some brands may:

only publish positive reviews on their sites

remove reviews that mention specific health conditions in order to comply with FDA rules

Transparency

Always peruse the website of any brand you’re interested in. Some brands will be very up front about where they get their CBD from, as well as how they make their products. These are the brands you’ll want to buy from.

Don’t rely on CBD alone to lower blood pressure. It’s important to talk with a doctor and follow what they prescribe. This may include medication.

There are also home remedies that can help manage the condition. A nutritious diet rich in fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins is important, along with managing weight and exercising regularly. Maintaining a low sodium diet is also advised.

Stress management is also key. Things like meditation, massage, yoga, and even deep breathing are worth exploring to reduce stress.

Finally, smoking can also have an effect on blood pressure. Chemicals in tobacco smoke are damaging to tissues in the body and harden the walls of blood vessels. Alcohol can also raise blood pressure, so limiting your intake can help.

Before trying CBD to help manage high blood pressure, it’s important to speak with a doctor. Regular checkups are also a good idea, as symptoms of high blood pressure don’t often begin until the condition is more severe.

If you’re noticing symptoms, or you can’t remember the last time your blood pressure was taken, it’s a good idea to talk with a doctor.

High blood pressure can be dangerous, and it’s a condition that may not be noticeable until it’s serious. Fortunately, there are medications and lifestyle changes that can help, and there is some evidence that CBD is another option worth exploring. Before you do, however, consult a doctor.

Jessica Timmons has been working as a freelance writer since 2007, covering everything from pregnancy and parenting to cannabis, chiropractic, stand-up paddling, fitness, martial arts, home decor, and much more. Her work has appeared in mindbodygreen, Pregnancy & Newborn, Modern Parents Messy Kids, and Coffee + Crumbs. See what she’s up to now at jessicatimmons.com.

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7r0773r · 4 years ago

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Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish: A Novel by David Rakoff

It was close and convenient, his spare midtown rental. And after, more drinks at a bar near Grand Central To sit once again in uncomfortable silence Like two guilty parties to some kind of violence. They sipped among other oblivion seekers, While June Christy sang from the bar’s tinny speakers. He settled the bill and they got to their feet, And emerged from the afternoon hush to the street.

They walked arm in arm in some crude imitation Of other real couples en route to the station. Such leisurely strolling, although it’s grown late Against her best judgment it feels like a date. His booze-cloud blown over, now happy, near beaming He stops at a window of cutlery, gleaming, He points out the wares, taking note of a set that He likes best of all, then he says, “We should get that.” She knows it’s a joke, all this idle house-playing But briefly she hopes that he means what he’s saying. Her presence, she thinks, is what’s rendered him gladder But really it’s just that he aimed for, and had her. The hideous reason behind his new glow is What Helen—and many just like her—don’t know is

That men’s moods turn light and their spirits expand, The moment they sense an escape is at hand. He patted her cheek as he said, “I’m replenished,” Then off through the crowd for the next train to Greenwich.

Helen pictured his house with its broad flagstone path. The windows lit up, a child fresh from the bath, And wondered if she might just smell on his skin, The coppery scent of their afternoon sin. At her desk the next Monday it was business as always. There were no words exchanged, not a glance in the hallways. With relief, Helen thought, Well that’s that. Nevermore. ’Til Friday (again) at his pied-à-terre door.

***

“Joshua, Susan, dear family and friends, A few words, if you will, before everything ends And you skip out of here to begin your new life As happily married husband and wife. You’ve promised to honor, to love and obey, We’ve sipped our champagne and been cleansed with sorbet All in endorsement of your Hers and His-dom. So, let me add my two cents’ worth of wisdom. Herewith, as a coda to this evening historical I just thought I’d tell you this tale allegorical.

I was wracking my brains sitting here at this table Until I remembered this suitable fable. Each reptilian hero, each animal squeal Serves a purpose, you see, because they reveal A truth about life, even as they distort us So here is ‘The Tale of the Scorpion and Tortoise.’

The scorpion was hamstrung, his tail all aquiver. Just how would he manage to get ’cross the river? ‘The water’s so deep,’ he observed with a sigh, Which pricked at the ears of the tortoise nearby. ‘Well, why don’t you swim?’ asked the slow-moving fellow. ‘Unless you’re afraid. Is that it, you are yellow?’ ‘That’s rude,’ said the scorpion, ‘and I’m not afraid So much as unable. It’s not how I’m made.’

‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be glib when I said that, I figured you were an amphibian. The error was one of misclassification I mistakenly figured you for a crustacean.’

‘No offense taken,’ the scorpion replied. ‘But how ’bout you help me to reach the far side? You swim like a dream, and you have what I lack. What say you take me across on your back?’

‘I’m really not sure that’s the best thing to do,’ Said the tortoise, ‘Now that I see that it’s you. You’re the scorpion and—how can I say this?—just … well… I don’t know I feel safe with you riding my shell. You’ve a less-than-ideal reputation preceding. There’s talk of your victims, all poisoned and bleeding, That fact by itself should be reason sufficient. I mean, what do you take me for, mentally deficient?’ ‘I hear what you’re saying, but what would that prove? We’d both drown so tell me, how would that behoove Me, to basically die at my very own hand When all I desire is to be on dry land?’

The tortoise considered the scorpion’s defense. When he gave it some thought, it made perfect sense. The niggling voice in his mind he ignored And he swam to the bank and called out ‘Climb aboard.’

The tortoise was wrong to ignore all his doubts Because in the end, friends, our true selves will out. For, just a few moments from when they set sail The scorpion lashed out with his venomous tail. The tortoise, too late, understood that he’d blundered When he felt his flesh stabbed and his carapace sundered. As he fought for his life, he said, ‘Please tell me why You have done this, for now we will surely both die!’

‘I don’t know,’ cried the scorpion. ‘You never should trust A creature like me, because poison I must. I’d claim some remorse or at least some compunction But I just can’t help it. My form is my function. You thought I’d behave like my cousin the crab But unlike him, it is but my nature to stab.’

The tortoise expired with one final quiver And then both of them sank, swallowed up by the river.” Nathan paused, cleared his throat, took a sip of his drink. He needed these extra few seconds to think. The room had grown frosty, the tension was growing, Folks wondered precisely where Nathan was going. The prospects of skirting fiasco seemed dim But what he said next surprised even him.

“So what can we learn from their watery ends? Is there some lesson on how to be friends? I think what it means is that central to living A life that is good is a life that’s forgiving. We’re creatures of contact, regardless of whether To kiss or to wound, we still must come together. Like in Annie Hall, we endure twists and torsions For food we don’t like, and in such tiny portions! But, like hating a food but still asking for more It beats staying dry but so lonely on shore. So we make ourselves open, while knowing full well It’s essentially saying, ‘Please, come pierce my shell.’ So … please, let’s all raise up our glasses of wine And I’ll finish this toast with these words that aren’t mine: Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!”

Where first it seemed that Nathan had his old resentments cleanly hurdled, The air now held the mildest scent of something sweet gone meanly curdled. The thorough ambiguity held guests in states of mild confusion No one raised their eyes, lest a met glance be taken for collusion. Silence doesn’t paint the depth of quiet in that room There was no clinking stemware toasting to the bride or groom. You could have heard a petal as it landed on the floor. And in that quiet Nathan turned and walked right out the door.

The urinal’s wall was The King and His Court, A work done in porcelain, precisely the sort Of tableau of gentility at Le Petit Trianon, A cast of nobility, designed for the peeing on. Nate turned his gaze as he hosed down the scene, It seemed an especially brutish and mean Treatment of all the baroque figures in it (Such unlucky placement, poor girl at her spinet). He needed this pit stop before he took off To go catch his train, when he heard a slight cough.

There, twisting a swan’s head in gold for hot water Was Lou, who had bankrolled this day for his daughter. Lou had scared Nathan for all of the years He was with Susan, and now the sum of his fears Was here, now the chickens had come home to land. “The man of the hour, with his schvantz in his hand.” Nathan started to say that he knew how he blew it And how he was sorry, but Lou beat him to it; Lou, who was blunt—some said boorish—and rich. But a mensch deep at heart, said, “My Suzy’s a bitch. You’d think that today I’d be proud, that I’d kvell, But I followed you out here just so I could tell You: she told her friends she would be able to get You to come give a toast. It’s a monstrous bet, Made all the more awful that her Day of Joy Was still incomplete, and abusing a boy In a trick was the thing that she wanted above All else. It’s the mark of a girl who can’t love. Ach, Nathan, this day is a stroke of bad luck. You, cast in this play, and then played for a schmuck. But think of it this way, she’ll wake up tomorrow And still be unhappy. And that is my sorrow.”

Lou turned off the swan’s head, once more checked his tie, Held his arm out and said, “This is good-bye.” He shook Nathan’s hand and then made for the door Where he paused and he turned to say just one thing more. “That toast, if you give it again (but you won’t), Remember, Nate: turtles swim, tortoises don’t.”

#david rakoff #book quotes

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