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sunjaesol · 3 years ago

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love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

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Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

#testing the waters... figuring out their voices...#chenford #the rookie fanfiction #the rookie x pablo neruda overlap is the funniest thing about this whole thing #the rookie

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: The Confession {8}

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot, PLENTY WORDS

Words: 9.6k

Summary: Not this time.

Note: Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘

Thank you guys so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Mildly Interactive***

***Picture Heavy***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

At four in the morning, you found yourself wide awake sitting in front of your vanity, staring at yourself, not moving a muscle.

At five in the morning, you hadn’t budged, and honestly, you didn’t know if it was a good idea to go anywhere.

You heard your phone notifications firing off every ten or so minutes. Each and every one of them, you ignored. Ten hours ago, you’d had a plan. That plan consisted of you waking up at four to get yourself together to ensure you left the latest five o’clock to make it to the camping trail parking lot. You’d planned everything so well that you’d done the majority of everything that would take forever the night before.

After ending your conversations with Chris and Jaxon, you made yourself some dinner, drank a bottle of wine as you did some work that you’d planned for the weekend that you wouldn’t get to. Then you moved on to pacing your closet while second-guessing your decisions for the weekend’s plans. That second-guessing led you to your second bottle of wine, which you drank rather quickly. By the time you reached the bottom, you were back on the train of it being acceptable and not a big deal to go. So you packed your bags with everything you’d need.

You knew Chris would take care of all the logistic items such as the tent, firewood, ponchos, security needs, safety needs, and so forth. The man’s brain worked so analytically it was a wonder he’d become a real boy at some point in his life to make human relationships work. It was that way throughout your childhood. He would have the analytical part covered, and you’d pick up the slack with intuitive thinking. He’d always tease you about it by saying you’d never survive an apocalypse cause you’d feel and use your heart way too much. Ironic, you thought.

“I just need to be more analytical. That’s all,” you professed out of nowhere as you stood.

“Think with your head, not with your heart. I can do that. If he can do it, I can too.”

Though you were trying to hype yourself up, it was barely working. Still, you pushed yourself to believe you could do this. So what if you hadn’t accomplished being analytical in all your years of living. You’d never mastered it as he had. This weekend you’d be the pro.

Seeing that it was near half-past five, you quickly changed and did a once over of your home to ensure you had everything you’d need, then hauled your bags to the trunk of your car to begin the twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of town. The whole drive there, you played music that wouldn’t allow you to contemplate things any further. You didn’t need time to think any more. You knew if you had the twenty-minute drive to contemplate your options more, you’d turn around and chicken out.

Your phone rang and loudly announced the caller on the speakers in the car.

“Risa, the sun hasn’t even come up yet.

“I made an effort to be awake to give you a call to check on you. I’m sure you’ve talked yourself up and down the ledge. Where are you?”

“On my way.”

“Oh, so you’re still going. Wow. Impressive,” Irisa bellowed.

“Impressive? Didn’t you say it was a good idea?”

“It is, but you always end up doing what you want to do. I just didn’t fully believe you’d go through with it.”

Your mouth hung open. That said, a lot.

“How are you doing?”

Debating in your head, if you should play the nonchalant card or the brutal honesty card, you tapped onto the steering wheel as you came upon the exit to the grounds.

“Uh----well, you know. cool.”

It was a half-lie, but you fully turned onto the exit. There were no more outs unless you pulled a whole U and illegally reentered the highway while possibly causing an accident. It sounded terrible, but you wouldn’t rule it out.

“You, my friend, are the opposite of cool. My god,” Irisa said, laughing at you.

“I just don’t want things to get—worse. Ya know?”

“I get it. you want things to stay the same.”

“No. That’s not what I mean,” you began.

“So, you want them to change.”

“No. Jesus, I don’t know,” you grunted out.

“Maybe use the weekend to figure it out and come to a decision that best suits you and no one else. Figure out what you can’t live without, not what you can live with,” Irisa counseled.

You could see the entrance to the trail steadily approaching. It was relatively empty except for maybe a handful of cars. You weren’t worried. The destination you and Chris had in mind was off the beaten path, a piece of heaven carved out just for the two of you.

“Thanks, Risa. I guess I’ll talk to you Monday. Once we head out, you know cell reception is nonexistent.”

“I know the drill. Have fun. I know how you love camping out there. This might be one of if nor the last time you can.”

She was right. Jaxon didn’t like camping, and you doubted you’d ever feel right bringing him to that spot. This was yet another thing you and Jaxon didn’t have in common. You enjoyed nature and relished any chance to be in it, but Jaxon preferred pampering. You thought it came from your opposite upbringings, him the only child of a career political force. He’d always had the proverbial golden spoon in his mouth. Maybe you could live without camping trips like this, you thought, as you rolled past an unexpected blast from the past.

Slamming onto your breaks, you looked back in the rearview mirror to see Chris leaning against the monstrosity from your teenage years. You loudly snorted as the laughter bubbled up within you only to fill the car. He didn’t, you thought as you rolled into the nearest parking spot on the other side. When you got out and walked around to the back to get a better look, you let out a howl of laughter again.

“Aaah, oh my god! I am not going anywhere in that hideous thing.”

Chris’s jaw dropped. “What!?”

“You heard me. Which nineteen seventies hell did you crawl into to drag that thing out of?”

“Shut up. You love it. Don’t listen to her girl; you’re gorgeous,” Chris said as he soothed the car by rubbing gentle strokes along its hood.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous. I have not seen this thing in ten years.”

“That’s an exaggeration, six the most.”

“I thought this was gone.”

“Never, I’m hanging on to this baby for the rest of my life. I couldn’t part with her—too many memories,” Chris said.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments. You ran through all the memories of this decades-old wagon and all the things it had seen, the adventures you’d been on. It still looked in mint condition, which was another nod to Chris’s mind. He always did take care of the things he valued.

“Wow. So many memories,” you said, lost in your thoughts.

“So many.”

Your eyes met and rested for several long moments before you cleared your throat loudly, beginning to walk back to your car.

“How many bags you got for me this time?”

“Shut up. If it’s such a hassle, I can carry my own bags. This princess doesn’t need a prince charming.”

As the trunk opened to reveal your four black and white matching camp duffle bags and one black weekender bag, you attempted to grab them, but Chris beat you to it, effortlessly grabbing the five bags in total.

“That’s the beauty of the princess and her prince charming. He knew she was more than capable of saving herself, and he loved that about her, but he was so deeply in love that he vowed never to let it come to that—princess,” he said, ending on a whisper at your ear before walking away.

A shiver ran through you, and just like that, the nerves that had faded when you pulled up returned tenfold. After straightening your back, you closed the trunk and went to the backseat to get the remaining three bags that you’d packed. Again as you moved to grab them, Chris opened the other side and took them before your hand ever touched them.

“Is this it, or are you setting a record with nine bags?”

“Christopher!”

He walked again, laughing to himself. He thought he was so damn funny. You gathered your things from the front seat, excluding your phone, then locked up your vehicle. Before you crossed the parking lot, you took several breaths.

“Conceal, don’t feel,” you whispered to yourself.

Though Elsa was horrible and annoying, that was some excellent advice. You hoped it would work out better for you than it had for her with it. When you got to Chris’s wagon, you slide your fingertips along the smooth paint and smiled as you walked to the passenger side. When you climbed in, Chris looked at you.

“Ready?”

It was a straightforward question, but it was asking so much. Were you ready for this weekend? Were you ready to do this? Were you ready to figure your shit out once and for all? Were you ready to possibly walk into the unknown leaving everything you’d ever known for sure behind? Were you ready to be unapologetically happy no matter where it took you? Were you ready to let go? All good questions. Were you ready? Who the hell knew, but it was too late to turn back now.

You slide your sunglasses in place though the sun had barely begun to rise. “Hit it.”

Without asking again, Chris did as he was told. Within minutes you’d exited the parking lot and were on the driving path that would lead you deeper and deeper into the Massachusetts wilderness. Well, the wilderness that had been carved out for humans who wanted to be close to nature without the threat of being eaten by bears. Though Chris was always analytical, he knew how to read a room. Either it was natural or a Hollywood trick that he’d picked up.

For the first thirty minutes, the drive was relatively quiet except for the music that played. He’d had the good sense to allow you complete control over that. You were sure the way you switched songs that your nerves were in the air. Just as one of you was getting into the song, you would change it after a minute. It was one of your nervous ticks, fidgeting. You fiddled with the switch to change songs, you fiddled with your fingers, your bracelets, and even fiddled with your engagement ring.

Though your body was in the car, your head was miles away, everywhere but nowhere all at the same time. You were going over the endless possibilities and probabilities of the weekend. It was a probability that things would get very transparent, and it was a possibility that transparency would blur lines. You didn’t know what gave you more anxiety, the possibility of being laid bare or the possibility of blurry lines. They were both terrifying.

“It’s so loud in here.”

Your head snapped to Chris, who turned to look at you. There was a small smirk on his lips.

“What? The music isn’t even that loud.”

“I didn’t say it was the music that was loud,” Chris countered.

Crinkling your brows and scrunched your face showing your confusion.

“Your thoughts. They’re loud. Stop.”

Kissing your teeth, you exaggeratedly rolled your eyes the way you only did when he really annoyed you, and you had to show him just how much. Chris snorted and laughed loudly, clapping his hand across his chest.

“Whatever, Christopher!”

“You act as if we’ve never gone camping before, like this is the first time we’ve gone anywhere together. Relax.”

“I am relaxed, shut up. I am fine,” you argued.

“Prove it, stop fidgeting.”

Kissing your teeth again, you straightened your back and rested your hands on your thighs as if you were some android awaiting instructions. With your eyes straight ahead, you watched the winding path the car traveled. After ten seconds, you were dying to move. By the time thirty seconds passed, it was such a strong urge. You had to look over to Chris to see if he was watching. Sure enough, his ass was watching you with the look on his face that said he expected you to fail. Asshole, you thought before you rolled your eyes again and began to bounce your legs again.

Like clockwork, Chris laughed again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you whined.

“I’m sorry. Okay.” Chris straightened his face and focused on the road again for a few minutes before he spoke again. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Y/N. It’s just me—just us.”

You knew he was right, and when you thought about it for longer than a few seconds, you wanted to kick yourself. He was still Chris, you were still you, and at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. All the other stuff didn’t matter.

“Did you bring your humidifier?”

“Of course.”

“Good, don’t want your truck horn sneezing to attract bears,” Chris teased.

Your jaw dropped, which had him laughing again and drastically lowering the tension in the car, and that tension remained lowered for the remainder of the drive.

About an hour after driving, Chris finally pulled up to your piece of the forest, the piece that you’d accidentally found, and was now your go-to spot. While you were busy looking around and stretching your legs, Chris got to work with the bags that were in the trunk. When you went back to help him, he tried to deter you, saying he could handle it. Any protest ended when you added it would go quicker with your help.

Ten minutes found all the bags on the ground where you chose. Twenty minutes from there, Chris had the tent pitted and had moved on to the grounds area, which housed a separate tent that you used to keep the food items secure. While he set up that tent, you began to bring bags into the sleeping tent and arranging them around the tent, leaving the middle open for the blow-up mattress.

When you realized it was the one mattress, you froze sitting on the floor of the tent. You hadn’t thought about it because this is how it usually happened. It was always a queen-sized mattress that you brought. There was never a problem. However, in light of the confession of Chris’s feelings, you felt this might have been too much.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh—nothing. I was uh—the mattress.”

“Okay, then why are you just sitting here? Forgot how to do it?”

When he stooped down beside you, he saw you ferociously chewing your bottom lip, another nervous tick.

“What’s up, princess?”

A shiver ran down your spine again. Forcing yourself to shake off the unexpected feeling you debated on if you should tell him. as if reading your mind, Chris took a deep breath.

“If you think it’s not a good idea to share the bed, that’s fine. I can take the ground, or I can even take the tent with the food. I don’t mind.”

Your chewing speed picked up, as did the pressure from your teeth.

“Y/N.”

Looking at him, you studied his face and gazed into his eyes, trying to make a decision. It was Chris, you thought to yourself. You’re making it weird. You’re making this worse than it is. Your internal monologue went back and forth before finally going in on you prompting you to relax. After several minutes of your silence, Chris began to stand.

“Okay. I’ll make the decision.”

You shot your hand out to grab his. Chris stopped then sank back down.

“It's fine.”

“Are you sure? I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want this to be a thing in your head that it’s inappropriate or even that I’m going to try something on you. I’m not. I may be an asshole, but I’m never an asshole to you,” Chris explained.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and gave yourself a mental kick. “It’s fine. It’s always been fine. I trust you, Chris. I’m just--.” You waved your hands around, hoping that was enough of an ending for him because you couldn’t find the right words to finish your thought.

“Insane, I know,” Chris finished making you give him the evil eye. His smile was playful, which was the only reason you didn’t hit him. Instead, you pushed him back, forcing him to lose his balance to fall back on his ass.

“Since you love to talk so much, you can blow this up yourself,” you said, standing and walking out of the tent.

“You act like I don’t like working with my hands. I can do this all day!”

You didn’t doubt it. While Chris finished up there, you brought the food bags into the tent and situated them. What was supposed to be a five-minute task turned into almost fifteen minutes of you organizing things according to food category because once again, your anxiety had gotten to you. Halfway through, it was clear to you that both of you had brought more than enough food for two days. After taking some time to get your head right, you returned to the sleeping tent to find Chris arranging the bags around the tent while the blown-up bed remained bare. From the looks of the bags, you knew his analytical brain had gotten the better of him. Your bags were on the right while his were on the left. He’d managed to put them all perfectly spaced from the other, but he left your overnight bag on its own toward the upper side of the bed.

“Perfect spacing,” you teased as you walked to the foot of the bed. “What happened here?”

“I forgot sheets,” Chris admitted.

Snorting, you shook your head. “Of course you did. Such a man,” you joked as you walked to your bags. You looked through each of them, unsure which one you’d packed the sheets into. Once you found them, you turned and held them up.

“Ta-da.”

“Of course, you’d pack a set of sets.”

“Let’s get it straight. I packed two sets of sheets,” you said as you tossed him the pillowcases.

“Shit, I forgot my pillow.”

Chris smirked and walked to the large garbage bag that was on the ground and pulled out a replica of your pillow.

“I already knew you would. It’s like a given with you.”

Smiling, you nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you made lite work of making up the blow-up mattress. Your bodies passed each other working together to make sure it was done correctly. When you were putting on one of the pillowcases on the left side of the bed, you glanced at him. This all felt so domestic, so—natural. Jaxon always hated helping with the sheets because you had a particular way you liked them and that particular way got on his nerves because he could never get it right.

Chris folded down the shimmery cream silk fitted sheet over the lite faux fur blanket that was a complementary hue so that it was neatly resting at the top of the mattress right underneath the pillow. Once he was finished with that, he folded the end, so it created a perfect inward triangle. You continued to watch as he smoothed his palm across it brushing away any creases, then his eyes landed on you. It was perfect.

“What?”

Smiling, you shook your head. “Nothing. You did good,” you answered, placing the pillow down, completing the look. “It’s perfect.”

“I know. You and your OCD ass,” Chris joked before walking out of the tent, leaving you to admire his handiwork and fold your side into the triangle.

When you got outside, Chris was setting up the location for the cooking setup. That was your queue to gather some wood so he would be able to light a fire in a few hours. After letting him know your intention, he warned you to keep close but returned to preparing the area. Before you turned away, you saw him take off his plaid long sleeve shirt to show his tank top underneath. His muscular arms stopped you for a few seconds before you continued with the mission.

As you walked around the perimeter of the camp, you quickly got lost in your surroundings. The trees' beautiful green matched the grass's vibrant green and complimented the wildflowers that littered the ground about you. Bending, you picked up a branch that would do nicely for the pit and picked one of the flowers nearby. Tucking it behind your ear, you carried on with your search for branches.

Ten or so minutes later, you returned with an arm full of branches to find Chris with his tank top off. He was setting up a safety perimeter. From behind, you could see the lite layer of sweat that decorated his body, giving it a look as if he’d been rubbed down with baby oil. The sheen glistened with the light and almost had your jaw-dropping. When did he get all that? Before your thoughts could stray any further, Chris turned.

“There you are. I was going to send out the search party.”

You cleared your throat and approached where Chris has set up the fire pit location and dropped the branches.

“About done here?”

“Uh—after I arrange these, yeah. Why?

“Let’s go for a walk, you know, get the blood pumping in other directions.”

Chris looked at you, quizzically. “Other directions? Like where and from where?”

Avoiding his eyes, you spun around, trying to decide on a direction. “How about that direction?”

Without waiting for him to answer, you walked ahead.

“You wanna give me a little time?”

“Catch up, and put a shirt on. Your pale ass burns easily,” you shouted behind you while continuing your walk.

Using the free minutes of alone time you had left, you tried to screw your head back on right. In all your years of friendship, you’d never looked at him like that. You barely noticed if he had muscles or was skinny and scrawny like he was when he was a teenager. You never saw it.

“What the hell was that, Y/N?”

“What was what?”

Looking beside you, Chris fell into step with you as if your rapid pace was comfortable.

“Nothing. Why didn’t you bring Dodger?”

“Uh—I was tempted. I just thought it was a good idea to leave him.”

“I miss him. Jaxon doesn’t like dogs. He doesn’t like pets actually,” you absentmindedly said without thinking.

“Huh.”

Looking at him, you realized what you’d said. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just brought him up.”

“It’s fine,” Chris professed.

“Is it?”

He took a deep breath, shrugged, and looked ahead. “Look, it’s no secret I don’t like the guy.”

“You sure acted like it.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? Tell you I don’t like your boyfriend?”

“Why not. Maybe we could have found a way for you to like him,” you replied.

“I was never going to like him. I will never like him or anyone else you’re with,” Chris said, his tone pointed but also soft.

Studying him, you realized again what you’d said. The two of you walked in silence for a few moments; both lost in your own thoughts.

“This is so crazy,” you huffed out.

“Did you like all my girlfriends?”

As soon as he asked, you snorted out and laughed. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”

“No, we should. That’s what this weekend is for. Honesty,” Chris finalized.

Glancing at him, you found his eyes already on you. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure as hell not going to hold anything else back.”

Taking a few moments to gather your thoughts, you changed directions getting closer to the river bank.

“I love this spot so much.”

You stood there staring out at the majestic sight before you. The beauty of the green trees and mountains in the distance was breathtaking. Your favorite part was how the backdrop mirrored in the lake, making it seem as if another replica world was right underneath the water's surface. It was easy to feel small here and easy for you to get back to the simplicity of things.

“If by girlfriends you mean the ones that stuck around past five months, then I liked them all except two,” you confessed.

“Which two?”

Smirking, you pinched your lips and looked at him. “The one with the nose, and the one with that hideous back tattoo. What the fuck was that?”

Chris busted out laughing. It was a contagious laugh because you had to join in seconds later. The two of you laughed uncontrollably for a full minute until it slowly died down.

“You know what, I guessed one, but the other—I’m shocked. She was nice.”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking, already tired of the lies. Soon Chris was beside you again.

“She wasn’t nice?”

“She was fake. She wanted two things from you, and she got them.”

“What are those two things?”

“It’s not important,” you countered.

“Of course, it is. I wanna know. what two things?”

Bouncing you with his bulky shoulder, you staggered sideways before you turned to him, stopping for a moment.

“Tell me.”

“Fine. She wanted a good dick down and clout,” you replied, then continued walking.

“Woah, woah, woah. A good dick down? What do you mean? How do you know my dick down is good?”

“Shut up, Chris. You’re the biggest hoe, and you always thought that no one talks when you hoe around. Everyone talks. There have been some stories that I’ve heard that are just—nuts. I’ve heard of twosomes, threesomes, hell foursomes, and even the one time you found yourself at some Hollywood sex orgy party. I had to give Scott a double take from that one. Honestly, how many women have you slept with? Then you turn around and tell me you’ve been in love with me since high school. Come on!”

You’d rambled like a manic, letting your frantic thoughts get the better of you. When you realized he wasn’t walking beside you, that was when you took a breath. Looking back, Chris had stopped and had his head hung as if he’d lost his most prized possession.

“Chris--,” you remorsefully began.

“I know how my actions seem Y/N. I know what the rumors say. I know everyone calls me a whore and thinks that all I care about is ass. I know.” He walked closer, then stopped in front of you. “You’re my best friend; I just wish you didn’t think that about me too.” With that, he walked ahead of you, leaving you standing there.

Sighing, you dropped your head back to roll your eyes. “Great.”

The walk was quiet after that. Chris either kept his head down or eyes straight ahead. He also remained in front of you and didn’t return beside you after that. You knew he was sensitive about the whole whore thing. It wouldn’t have usually been something you would have brought up, but it was on your mind. It had remained on your mind since he confessed his feelings. It was something you couldn’t wrap your head around. If you knew how you felt about someone, you couldn’t just sleep around with others as if you felt nothing, especially when you came home and saw them for holidays and even family functions. It was something you needed answers to, but seeing Chris’s disposition, you decided against it.

By the time the sun was highest in the sky, and you’d made it to the top of a cliff that gave you a bird's eye view of the forest, you’d reached your level of avoidance. You had to know.

“I--,” both of you began at the same time.

You pinched your lips together and waited for him to go just as he did the same.

You spoke again, “I--.” Again Chris began the same time you did.

“You go,” Chris offered.

“Do you know how many women you’d introduced me to?”

He sighed but didn’t do what you expected. Instead, he turned to you and gave you his undivided attention.

“Tell me.”

“Six. Including your latest even though that was over FaceTime. Six women, Chris. Six women during the entirety of when you said you were in love with me. Six women. Six women, you paraded around, fell in love with, had sex with, six.”

“I’ve never been in love with any of them.”

That was when your jaw dropped, and you gaped at him.

“It’s a dick thing to say, especially now, but it’s also the truth. I loved three of them but was never in love with any of them.”

You didn’t need him to tell you that there was a difference between being in love with someone and loving them. You knew there was a difference.

“Jennifer? Danika? Your mom thought you’d marry one of them.”

“I loved things about them. Was I ever in love? No. I tried, I just—couldn’t.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“It’s something to you never being in love with any of your old boyfriends.”

Your head swiveled to him. He didn’t look cocky, though. He just looked sure.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m the only person who knows what I’m talking about when it comes to that, apart from Irisa.”

That cornered feeling you hated was creeping up onto you.

“That also includes this one you’ve convinced yourself you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

“I love Jaxon,” you quickly defended.

“Maybe, and that’s a huge maybe. You’re not in love with him.”

“How the hell do you know that, Chris?”

Chris studied you for several long moments. Every second of silence only made your anxiety rise higher and higher. When you were sure he knew you were about to lose your shit, he spoke.

“I’ve known you since I was a kid. I know everything about you. I know every tick, every sign, signal, nerve ending. The only thing I can’t figure out is why you’d move up a wedding you don’t want to have in the first place. So tell me, Y/N. Why?”

Gulping down the water in the bottle, you focused on the scenery. “And I can’t figure out why you’d break your lifetime of silence this many months after my initial engagement. You’ve done this at the worst possible time, and now you just expect me to what—leave Jaxon and throw all this time and the plans away. What’s to say next year this time you’re not changing your mind?”

“I’ve never not been in love with you, Y/N. Never. I loved you close in high school. I loved you from afar when you went off to college and me LA. I loved you through the good, the easy, the complicated. I’ve been in love with you through it all. I never thought I had a chance so I held my peace until I couldn’t. then---I was afraid not only of the rejection but also the love that I felt.”

Chris quickly looked at you then scoffed. “You don’t get it,” he began. “Have you ever felt something so powerful that it—supersedes anything you’ve ever felt and makes it impossible to feel anything else for anyone else? Nothing I ever felt for anyone came close to what I feel for you. Nothing I thought of anyone was anything like what I thought of you. I compared every woman to you on every single level.”

You took a deep breath, and though you wanted to look away because the intensity of his stare was making your skin tingle and your heart race, you didn’t. You kept your eyes on his.

“I can see the fear in your eyes. I’ve always been able to see it,” Chris began as he slid closer to you, so there were just a few inches between you.

His long spider-like legs were open and bent over yours that were crossed. His hands rested on your thighs, and it was an action he’d done hundreds of times. It shouldn’t have made you look to them or even made your heart flutter, but it did.

“What’re you afraid of?”

Meeting his eyes, you got so nervous that you had no idea what to say.

“I’ve planned my life.”

“So what? Plans are meant to change, be adjusted, reevaluated—upgraded,” Chris said.

“And you’re the upgrade?”

He slowly licked his lips before he bit into his bottom lip. You could feel his fingertips gently sinking into your thighs. It felt surprisingly good.

“I’d be cocky as fuck if I said yes. I’m just going to say when it comes to you—yes. We’re comfortable with each other. We know everything about each other. I know how to handle your neurosis, your OCD, your ticks, and all the nuances that make you who you are. I know what you like. I know what makes you happy and angry. We’re similar where it matters. I’d never change you or expect you to change or try to fit into my life or my world.”

When you looked down, he lifted your chin to face him again. “I’m not trying to shame you or anything, Y/N. You asked.”

“Yeah, I know.”

For a few minutes, the two of you just stared at each other, neither of you speaking or moving. His hands remained on your thigh, and the longer they stayed there, the more used to it you got. The more used to it you became, the more his warmth seeped into your skin and began speaking to you, making you not mind if this one move could be disrespectful. Five minutes turned to ten and ten to fifteen, and that was when you moved to suggest you began making your way back to camp.

As the hours waned, you and Chris enjoyed nature doing the competitive things you’d done since you were kids whenever you came here. Usually, you’d compete for jobs and roles such as cooking and producing the day’s meals or clean up duty this time, Chris decided to switch things up. You had a scavenger hunt for pinecones, which he won. His reward was one IOU. You went down to the lake, skipped stones, an event you always rocked, so you got the IOU. After that, you took turns seeing who could take better nature pictures based on category. Again, you rocked at anything creative, so you took the win though it wasn’t an easy one.

By the time got the fifth activity, making a craft from four things you found in the vicinity, the sun was beginning to make its descent behind the mountains and trees. As you sat on your side of the forest with your back leaned against a tree focusing hard on the twig, flower, and feather dreamcatcher, you found yourself glancing up and around the tree that was supposed to be serving as a wall between you so your creations would be a surprise. He was sitting once again in his tank, brows knitted and head focused down on what he was doing. You could tell his jaw was clenched from the way his mouth was set. Every few seconds, he’d bit onto his bottom lip in a way that piqued more than your attention. When he looked up, you always played it off as if you were looking somewhere else into the distance.

“Five minutes left,” Chris shouted.

“Don’t rush me, Evans.”

“I’m not, Y/L/N, just following the timer.”

“Worry about yourself. You have five minutes left,” you shot back. Chris’s snickering echoed in the forest, making you smile.

You hurried to put the finishing touches on your craft because Chris was a stickler for being on time. It was a pet peeve of his, one you enjoyed messing with on a regular. You were able to squeeze ten minutes extra out of him to his annoyance. When you shouted out that you were ready, you peeped behind the tree to see his smiling face.

“Don’t be shy, princess.”

You walked toward him with your craft hidden behind your back while smiling like a thief. Once you got close enough, you turned around at the same time he did to press your back to his.

“I can’t believe we’re still doing this,” Chris scoffed out.

“I know. It’s great. I love this.”

“That’s because you always get the point. Your crafts are incredible,” Chris whined.

“Aww. Your crafts are great too. I still have everything you've ever made me.”

“Really?” He sounded shocked, and you understood why. None of the things he made you were out in plain sight. You had them tucked away in a decorated box from when you were fifteen. It was embarrassing.

“Yeah. I’ve never thrown anything away. I would never.”

You could see his eyes lingering on yours for a few moments before he looked away. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. Anyway, ready to give me this win?”

“So damn cocky. I don’t wanna hear anything about me.”

Giggling, you shimmied against his back, accentuating the height difference between you.

“Okay, on three.”

As he counted to three, you got more and more excited to reveal your craft. Once you both turned, both of your jaws dropped.

“Oh my god, Chris.”

“Me? Woah, how’d you make that?”

He marveled at the dreamcatcher in your hand while you stood there astonished by the three wooden cravings in his. As Chris reached for yours, you reached for his. He’d somehow managed to hand carve three figures, and he’d managed to put so much detail into them.

“How did you—are there two me?”

“What gave it away?”

You inspected the figurines closer. One looked to have very curly like hair that was done with swirls in the wood. The clothes he’d somehow designed were adorable; it was a crop top of some form and a pair of jeans with hearts on the pockets.

“Oh my god, Chris is this—are these the jeans I always wore in high school? The ones with the hearts?”

He was smiling widely as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh my god, this is amazing, and this one.”

You studied it and took note of the difference between the hair and the clothes. This one looked like your dress from that first Hollywood event he took you to. It was the one that you’d spent nearly a fortune on because you wanted to make sure you didn’t embarrass him. That was the night he assured you that nothing you could ever do would embarrass him, and he didn’t care what the press thought. You remembered then the words he said when you turned the carving to the back to see the same words.

-I love every single thing about you and wouldn’t change one thing. You’re my perfect.-

Slapping your hand across your mouth, you looked at him, completely unsure how you could have forgotten.

“The two most significant times, I’ve fallen in love with you. I told you, I’ve said it tens of times.”

What the hell did you say to that? You wondered how many times he’s plainly said it, but you just never registered it the way he meant it. Was your entire life and friendship a lie?

Thanks to the eight activities, you managed to get three IOUs, but Chris was the one who came away with the overall win with five IOUs. He took pity on you and volunteered to handle dinner, which allowed you to get yourself to the one place you were too excited to get to. When you walked a little further past the lake in the middle of the forest, there was a beautiful pond like enclosure with a picturesque waterfall and cave. If anyone saw you, they might say you looked like an idiot walking through the woods wrapped in a towel wearing your rain boots carrying a bath caddy. No wonder he always made fun of you, you thought, as you laid your towel across a boulder.

The water was just right. Taking your time, you swam around, being careful not to get your hair wet. You knew it was inevitable your hair would get ruined by the end of this weekend, but that didn’t mean you should help it along its way. It was easy to get lost in the sereneness of your surroundings. The only sounds around you were that of birds chirping, the breeze through the trees, and the soft rustling of bushes as harmless animals scampered around. It all sounded like one of the sleep mixes you used when your mind refused to shut down at night.

By the time you actually began soaping your skin, the sun was disappearing, giving the sky the most beautiful glow. It wasn’t a glow that could be wholly appreciated in the city. It was its best here. As you watched the sky change colors from pink and purple to orange and every variation of it until it became near navy. Something about being here made you feel freer, more like yourself, or who you were at your core. For some reason, you always felt like you had to be a neater, more restrained version of yourself in the city. It was exhausting. You never felt that way with Chris, but you didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing or not.

Something made you look back, and that was where you saw Chris at the bank just staring at you with his mouth wide. Though it was dark, you could perfectly make out his features. The way he looked ar you made your stomach flutter. When your breathing became short and more strained, you noticed your heart's racing and the way it made you slightly dizzy. This was a first. Part of you said you should be appalled or close to it, but it was such a small part it was easy to ignore. Still, you found yourself sinking lower into the water until it reached your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Chris began as he turned to the side, dipping his head low. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—I should have—I didn’t see anything,” He finished.

Not knowing what to say, you kept quiet.

“I came to tell you dinner was ready not—perv out while you’re,” he trailed off.

“You’re only perving it you jerk off while you’re being a creeper.”

“I might tonight,” he said under his breath, but thanks to the way water carried sound, you heard him loud and clear. The thought was the first of its kind ever to have entered your mind. Had he thought about while he jerked off before?

When you didn’t speak for a while, Chris spoke instead. “So uh—see you back at camp.”

With that, he walked off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

By the time you got back to camp, you saw that Chris had set up a blanket in front of a roaring fire as he waited for you to join him. You quickly dipped into the tent to change into something comfortable. It wasn’t longer than five minutes before you’d reemerged in a pair of grey shorts and a white cropped tank that you covered with an oversized cable knit sweater.

“I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know your ritual, shower before eat or else you don’t enjoy your meal,” Chris lectured.

A soft smile spread across your lips. It was comforting having someone who knew you so well. There was safety in regularity.

“This looks great. I didn’t know you brought steak.”

“When don’t I bring meat.”

The two of you giggled because it was true. Chris was a steak and potatoes man through and through. The fuss and muss was not for him, and you loved that. There were nights he’d be completely happy with a burger and fries as opposed to some frilly meal. Another thing he and Jaxon didn’t share, especially looking at Jaxon’s two gourmet restaurants. He loved frill. You didn’t care either way.

“It looks and smells amazing,” you said as you dug into the meal before you. as you chewed the tender steak, the flavorful juices had you moaning. “God, you always knew how to make a steak be the best I ever had.”

“That says a lot especially thinking--,” Chris began before you cut him off.

“—I know.”

That was that. He didn’t push to know more or discuss it any further. You ate for some time in silence. It wasn't because you had nothing to say; you were just once again lost in your thoughts. By the time you’d moved on to the shrimp, you’d found your voice.

“Thank you for the carvings.”

“Thank you for the dream catcher. Maybe it’ll help bring the good ones to life.”

Your eyes lingered for a while before he brought his beer bottle to his mouth. Looking away, you finished yours and reached for your third.

“The liquor store didn’t have your wine,” Chris began.

“I’m not nearly as bougie as you think I am. Beer is perfect.”

Chris snorted and shook his head as he took another swig.

“Says the woman who wore a full face of makeup to a pool party.”

“Look, it was waterproof. I needed it. Why wouldn’t I want to look good in the water?”

He laughed so loudly you knew he’d scared some animals away that were inching toward the glow of the fire.

“Stop laughing at me,” you whined.

“Fine. Sorry.” He tried to stop laughing, but it took a while for his face to go back to straight. The whole time you glared at him unamused. Once he was straight-faced again, he raised his hand before he reached for his third beer.

“Are you wearing makeup now?”

“No,” you replied.

“Guess you don’t need it. You looked plenty good in the water,” he murmured before he brought his beer to his mouth.

Was that an innuendo? Was he flirting? You’d never experienced it before, so you had no idea.

“Was that inappropriate? It probably was. I’m sorry.”

“No—it’s—it’s fine,” you said, utterly unsure if it was or not.

“Is it?”

You stared, silently sizing each other and the moment up. This was completely unchartered territory. Was it inappropriate? Did it bother you?

Slowly, you responded with the first thing that came to your mind. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Chris stared at you as he rubbed the spout of the bottle against his plump bottom lip, drawing your eyes right to it. He looked as if he were trying to either come up with a game plan on how to move forward or if he was doubling back on an already established plan. He looked like he was just as confused as you. When he looked away and into the fire, you did the same.

“Were you just—did you just flirt with me?”

Chris snorted and shook his head. “See, this game you say I have is nonexistent.”

“So you were?”

When he nodded, your eyes bugged. “Wow. I completely didn’t—I feel like our entire life and friendship has been a lie.”

“I get that,” Chris assured.

“How could I have been so blind? So—I didn’t even think that the things you said, or the way you said them meant anything beyond you being my best friend. I didn’t know how you felt. How do I know that the times we were just laying together on your couch or mine didn’t--,” you trailed off, gulping down the remainder of your beer before reaching for another.

“I’m sorry,” Chris started.

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” It was unfair. You knew it but hearing him saying sorry so much got to you especially thinking that he’d been saying the same thing for years. You just hadn’t been listening.

The silence between you stretched for several minutes, and it gave you time to finish your fourth beer. You sure hoped he’d brought more than this one twelve pack. Once it was finished, you took a deep breath and tried to be an adult and use your words.

“You’ve been saying the same thing for years. You’ve said it so many times, so many ways. I never listened. I never heard you.”

“Y/N, I took the coward’s way. Yeah, I said it, but I knew there was one way to say it that you couldn’t ignore, but I didn’t. I was too afraid to. This is my fault. I don’t want you blaming yourself for this. I was a coward. I deserved for you to live your life and meet other people and all of this pain I’ve been in. I deserve it.”

In seconds you’d moved over to him and grabbed his hands. “Stop it. You didn’t deserve this. God. Sometimes you piss me off so bad.”

Chris snorted and shook his head. “I should have said something sooner.”

“You should have. So much could have been different.”

He angled his head and gave you a look that had you realizing what you’d said. “What could have been different?”

Dropping your head, you toyed with his fingers. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t say something like that unless you know. Tell me.” His fingers laced with yours, and though it wasn’t something new, it felt new.

“I don’t know. I mean—who knows, tons of things could have been different. We don’t know how things would have played out.”

“You think we’d be together now?”

You stared at him and contemplated his question. Was it possible?

“You don’t think we know too much to work?”

“No, I think because we know so much we would work. You’ve seen me at my absolute worst,” Chris mentioned.

It was true, and you thought that was one of the reasons you wouldn’t work. Could you be with him knowing his history? It was more questions to put on top of all the others you already had. You doubted anything would be worked out by the end of the weekend.

Once the two of you’d finished eating, you were on clean up duty while Chris went to get a bath. You spent ten minutes cleaning up and securing the tent with the food before you wandered down to the lake to stare out at the moon. The glint of your engagement ring caught your eye, and it was there your eyes remained. Though you’d brought Jaxon up before, this was the first time you thought about him. Even now, it wasn’t an intimate thought. It was more the concept of him.

You twirled the ring around your finger, something you realized you did quite a lot. You remembered Irisa telling you an old wives tale about if a woman spins her engagement or wedding band, it meant she wanted to get out of the relationship. It was never a thought to you before now. Within the last week, you’d never been more confused in your whole life. One minute your head was in one place, and the next, you were backtracking. Things were so confusing that you saw things differently than you ever had, and that second sight had you questioning your actions that you were so sure about before.

Holding up your hand, the ring on your finger looked as if it was competing with the full moon in the sky. The moon was just barely larger than the diamond you wore. Jaxon’s whole concern was making sure it was big enough. Groaning, you rolled your eyes and dropped your hand, slightly annoyed that your mind kept jumping to anything Jaxon related. One of the points for this weekend was to get away from everything.

Thinking there was no plausible way for you to get through the weekend with a constant reminder of everything you were supposed to be getting away from, you made your decision. Slipping your ring off of your finger, you held it in your free hand beside your outstretched one. You’d taken it off before, of course, but this time was not to shower or anything technically related. This time was different. This time was the first possibility you wouldn’t put it back on. You were afraid of it—terrified.

By the time you returned to camp, you were sure it had to have been an hour later. The only lights on were the twinkle lights Chris had strung around the camp to allow some form of light in the middle of the dark forest. The fire was on its last legs; you knew it would be outed before morning. Reaching the tent, you unzipped the flap to go inside. Once you did, you stopped in your tracks, seeing Chris’s bare ass. He spun around completely as bare as the day he was born, showing you all his glory.

Your jaw dropped, but you didn’t turn. You couldn’t. Your eyes were glued to his groin. Good lord, you thought as your mouth actually watered. You don’t know how long Chris stood there in all his glory, but when he grabbed the discarded towel to hold before his crotch, you finally averted your eyes.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you rushed out as you turned your back.

“I’m sorry, I should have,” Chris began.

“No, I should have knocked, or made a sound, or wiggled something. Shit, oh god.”

You quickly rushed out of the tent, and paced around the campfire, lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Chris naked, but it was the first time you’d seen him naked since you’d gotten out of teenage years. Good lord, had things changed. What the fuck was that? Did your mouth actually water? You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Chris come up behind you until you bumped into him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s just nudity.”

“Just nudity? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you naked since we were teens, no twenty,” you ranted.

“No big deal.”

“No, Chris, that was a big deal, that--,” you motioned toward his junk.

The amusement on his face was so obvious.

“Don’t make me laugh. This isn’t funny.”

“It is when you think about it. It’s insane we’ve never gone through something like this before,” Chris eluded.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll consider it even seeing I walked in on you earlier. Let’s go to bed. You know the sun rises early out here.”

Groaning, you walked ahead and into the tent with Chris on your heels. Once you’d climbed in, you laid on your side with your back to him and just stared out. No matter how much you tried to think of something else, you couldn’t. All you could see was his dick, his impressively girthy dick. You flipped onto your back and stared up at the night sky, and took a deep breath. You’d forgotten about this view and forgotten how breathtaking it was. The stars in the sky shimmered like tiny specks of silver and white glitter.

“Wow.”

“I know. The best thing about nights out here,” Chris countered.

You glanced at him and saw him lying on his back with his arms behind his head. He looked calm and at home, like he wasn’t ashamed in the least. The two of you remained quiet, staring at the sky, soaking it all up.

“Chris,” you began.

“Yeah, princess.”

Biting your bottom lip, you swallowed any angst you had about asking this question.

“Have you thought about me?”

He didn’t speak right away, and you didn’t have the guts to look at him, so you waited for him to speak.

“Do you think I’ve thought about you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before tonight.”

“And now that you have?”

You turned your head to him just as he turned to look at you. Your eyes lingered before you watched his eyes drop to your mouth. You knew he knew what you were asking.

“Yeah—I’ve thought of you, more times than I’d like to admit,” Chris confessed.

You’d gotten into this mess with his confessions, and there was another one. Your belly fluttered, and your heart raced. Biting your bottom lip, you looked to his and wanted more than anything to know what they felt like. He must have read your mind because that was when he turned to you. After a few seconds, you turned to him the same way and rested your hand on your pillow. Chris moved his hand and engulfed yours, lacing his fingers with yours.

Staring at him, you felt as if this was a do or die moment, and depending on what decision either of you made, your lives would turn. Chris leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Good night, princess.”

With that, he laid back down, keeping your hand in his.

Oh fuck, you thought.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @kikimiyazaki @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @lo-cheu @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @mery-be @anandalambert @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @starlite-starbrite @momobaby227@alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447@cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @youurkryptonite @hakunalive4eva

@mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn@thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7@rdjparker @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @jovanaprime @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @shar74nett @likesfairytales @vintageembrace @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans

@thotti3par7on @productofchina @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @ljstraightnochaser @041802 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @miss-jackson500 @jd-now-jq @renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @brwnsugababe @evansshine @spideydobrik @laketaj24 @munteanhore @priya212 @euh-say-what-now @richonne4life @cyntgefel01 @brownskinafro @chrissbabybunny @night-of-the-living-shred @simply-heaven @queenoftheworldisdead @chrisevansfanfic @bforbbgirl @wowthatsbrazy @thejeneralvicinity @doublesidedscoobysnacks@richonne4life @cyntgefel01 @supernaturalvikingwhore @blackgurlkillinit @fanfictionaffair @nervousninjatheorist

@wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @rynabarnesrogers-reading @lady-x-red @ibe-erynn @nakusaych9 @madixii @chrisevansdaddycap @zsuzstyina @kittykatlow @queenshikongo3 @beccacupcakesxo @nakusaych9 @xoxloaveasre @naturalthrone22 @blackgurlkillinit @littlepreciousange @queenshikongo3 @perplexed3001 @liquorlaughslove@smediumsmeatbae @blackmissfrizzle @supernaturalvikingwhore @littlepreciousangel @purplehairgawdess @wowthatsbrazy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @marvelatthis30 @chaos-crusader @naturalthrone22 @mrsbarnes-rogers @coffeebooksandfandom @vintageembrace @alookintohersoul

@livinglifeformemyselfandi @onetwo3000 @sarswilltakeyouout @crist1216 @deadpixie22 @cessamjrmr @simply-heaven @offrostandstarlight @shar74nett @cltex84 @minton131 @actorinfluence @misz-adrii @tenaciousperfectionunknown@chezdricks @fanfictionaffair @october505 @unknownmystery22 @almosttherebutnot @nervousninjatheorist @maxcullen @cyntgefel01 @brownskinafro @winchwm @readsreblogsfics@vlvtkyss @sarswilltakeyouout @cleopatra-knowles @xsweetdellzx @youremysuperstar @cxmfort @i-just-like-fanfics @msblkfire84 @chezdricks

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

#the confession fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #angst fanfic #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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millers-planet · 4 years ago

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Spontaneous - Obi-Wan x F!Senator!Reader

Storyline/ Prompt: Even cool-minded Jedi’s have their moments of weakness.

Warnings: Arguing, angst, fluff

Notes: my hormonal brain said “make it! make it!” and here I am :) also a lil longer than my usual fics

POV: Reader

“He just came into our chambers and began starting stuff, or it seemed like it. I was just taking a nap, because I didn’t have anything better to do, and he started lecturing me on how I should be doing my ‘responsibilities’.” Padmé listened to me carefully and nodded as I continued rambling, both of us sitting out on a concrete porch on Coruscant. “I asked him if he knew that we had a small assembly earlier today and that I was tired from that, but he just kept saying how I should prepare for the next session.”

Angry tears filled my eyes as my hands balled into fists and slammed into my legs. “Do you know if he had a bad day or failed mission recently to make him lash out like that?” Padmé’s voice was soft and gentle, comforting as I tried to form any connections. “We both know this isn’t like him, at all. If you want I can ask Anakin, him and I are- erm, close.”

I smiled and chuckled as I wiped away a few stray tears, “c’mon, you know I’m smarter than that. The number of times you’ve blown me off for him has made me realize there’s nothing friendly about you two.”

She stuck her hands up and laughed that contagious sound that made the world turn right-side up, “okay, you caught me.”

Bringing us back to topic, I looked at her more seriously, “I think he was trying to get through to Anakin about something, but he instead went to go talk to the Chancellor.” Padmé looked down and lost the expression on her face. “Sorry. Obi-Wan has been kind of upset about that recently and I think it happened again today, so I think that’s what caused it.”

She looked back up to me with sincere and understanding eyes, “I might talk to Anakin about this, myself. Before we go too deep into a rabbit-hole, let’s go out.” She stood up and walked over to me, putting her hand on my shoulder to guide me with her.

“Sure, but where?” We both smiled and continued out of the palace, into a hover car with her in the driver. “Are you going to make it a surprise? You know how I feel about those.”

She chuckled, “calm down, Y/N, we’re just going... out.” I gave her a glare as she sped off, eventually making her break. “Okay! Okay! Since you look like you’re going to strangle me, we’re going to The Outlander Club.”

Padmé smiled innocently as my jaw dropped, “you understand how risky this is for us? I mean, c’mon we’re senators, don’t you think this is a lil... dangerous?” My voice shook and thumbs twiddled as I considered how Obi-Wan would react to me going into this place, especially since he knows that I know how he feels about it. “What if Obi-Wan-”

“Nope, we’re not doing that.” She shook her head as we sped through the city. “Tonight is about us, we need to be adventurous. If we get captured, who cares? We know who our lovers are.” She continued with her gaze dead ahead for the nightclub, my heart rate sped up as we got closer. What started as tiny, growing beats, turned into thundering pounds in my chest that pulled me away from this place. However, Padmé’s grabby hands led me into the club.

We entered casually, just two ladies right where they most definitely belong, totally not risking their lives for a bit of “adventure”. I caught the occasional gaze of someone eyeing me, not in the ‘i’m gonna skin you alive’ kind of eyeing, but a more ‘i’d like to see your full skin’. She eventually pulled me towards the bar and ordered us some fruity drinks, nothing too strong, in case we had to be sober for a dire situation.

I kept my eyes on the bar and my colorful drink as I tried to ignore my surroundings, figuring out how I would confront Obi-Wan tonight. As much as I would love to spend the night with Padmé, it would feel wrong sleeping in a space without him nearby. Maybe I could sleep in our bed and kick Obi to the couch, or I could sleep on the couch without saying anything to him to make him feel bad. Or, I could go to my own quarters since we usually sleep in his.

Just as I was devising my evil plan, Padmé interrupted my train of thought. “Watch out, 8 o’clock.” She pointed with her eyes as she put her back against the bar. I gazed over my shoulder and saw some man approach me. His hair was darker shade and had a bit of scruff. He set his arms on the bar and looked at me, eyeing my features.

Clearing his voice, he spoke with a deeper tone that took me off guard, “can I buy you a drink?”

My mind skipped beats, my heart sputtered. “I, uhm, er-. Well, may-”

“Yes, buy her a drink.” Padmé interrupted, smiling and nudging me as she walked away, probably off to some mutual she knows. I swear she knows everyone, maybe she knew this guy,

It was a shot halfway filled with a dark, mysterious liquid. He picked up both and handed me one, “to tonight.”

I took the glass and furrowed my eyebrows, “why tonight? Should I be aware of something happening?” I smiled and released a short and small giggle, watching an enchanting smile grow on this stranger’s face.

He shrugged, “why not tonight? Is there something wrong with tonight, because if so, I could make it better.” He winked and downed the shot. My stomach dropped at his sly remark, to try and ignore this feeling, I brought the glass to my lips, about to down it until someone grabbed my elbow.

“Not tonight because she has a busy day tomorrow,” Obi-Wan grabbed the drink from my hand and pulled me away from the stranger, giving him a glare as we walked out of the club. “Did you really think this was smart, Y/N? Were you even thinking? I knew you’d be here when you weren’t with Padmé,” he raised his voice at me as we stood against the outside wall of the building.

I placed my back against it and looked away from him, “I just wanted to do something fun and spontaneous.” I whispered quietly. I looked back at him with stiff expressions, “and why do you care? Seemed like you just want to criticize everything I do today.”

Obi sighed and looked around angrily before fixing his gaze back on me. “I was so upset because you have responsibilities, Y/N, and slacking off isn’t helping anything.” His tone changed to something softer as he watched my lip try to stiffen as it quivered. “I just worry about you, darling.”

“Don’t darling me. I have given you no reason to make you worry about my abilities, so before you go and assume I’m not responsible, see if I’ve done anything to say otherwise.” My voice was sharp, pricking him with every word I spat at him with anger.

He composed himself to not yell back, trying to keep a level head. “One irresponsible example would be this.” Obi pinched his nose bridge and directed his hand toward the hover car. “Please, Y/N, can we just go home?” I walked to it and strapped myself in, looking away from him as he got in the drivers seat and began to leave the area. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying,” His words were gentle and genuine.

“Clearly,” I scoffed. I watched the building flash by, cars going in the opposite direction passing by with a loud hum. “You made me doubt myself, Obi. You yelled at me, which you never do, making me really wonder if I did something wrong.”

He readjusted his grip on the wheel as he continued onward, closing in on the palace-like building where we resided. “I know, I promise to never do it again,” he reached out for my hand, and I just looked at it, until he pulled it away. “I can go for the night, if you want, give you some space.” I didn’t answer him because I didn’t know what I wanted. While I wanted to slap his stupid face for the things he said, I also wanted to kiss his stupid face and just cry in his arms.

Before I realized, we were back at the ‘palace’. We walked back up to our quarters in silence, not even looking at each other or sparing a gaze. I unlocked the door and made my way inside, sitting down on the bed as he followed behind me slowly, his movements... different. Instead of walking confidently and determined as he did usually, he was slightly slouched and head hanging a bit lower, obviously hurt from our conversations.

Obi walked into out closet and I watched him look through his clothes to bring with him. “Obi, stay, please. Don’t go tonight,” he looked back at me and pulled his head back up.

“Are you sure?” He walked into the doorframe of the closet and leaned against it. I invited him back to the bed by patting the empty space next to me, and lying on my side towards the place I pat. He walked to the edge of the bed and climbed up, lying down next to me, on top of the soft sheets. He was on his back and just stared at the ceiling as I watched his chest move up and down with each breath he took.

I lifted up his arm and wrapped it around me as I put my head on his chest, closing my eyes and just dozing off. “I’m sorry,” I spoke softly before drifting off finally, his embrace around me tightening as my words slipped out of my mouth and past my lips. Obi planted the smallest kiss on the top of my head and hummed softly as everything faded out.

all tags: @blondekel77 @mysticdeerpolice

star wars tags: @gabile18

join the tag list

#obi wan #obi-wan #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x you #star wars #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi #star wars attack of the clones

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aficforeveryfandom · 4 years ago

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The Love Shack Tavern

Time for a Merthur fic! Remember 0304 where the barmaid in the tavern fancies Merlin? Well this kinda spirals off from there soooo

Lots of fluff :)

.....................

“Oh no, sorry, I was talking to your friend,” smiled the barmaid. Arthur’s face catapulted through the spectrum of human emotion, from confusion, to surprise, to shame, to annoyance. Merlin looked quite frankly rather pleased with himself, shooting Arthur a cheeky grin.

“Merlin??” Arthur questioned, not really having considered the dollophead to have any sort of appeal before. But whatever, he could totally let it go. “Are you absolutely sure she meant you?” Okay so maybe not completely let it go. When Merlin continued to smile and a faint blush rose in his cheeks, Arthur tilted his head slightly in bewilderment.

After the bar fight and the drunken pretty boy who was literally a nightmare on legs, Arthur really started to think. He watched how Gwaine looked at Merlin, like he was precious and desirable. Again he relived the mistaken barmaid, her dough eyes sparkling at his servant. Then he thought about Gwen, how close the two were, and the way she smiled at him like he was some beacon of hope. And Morgana - she really liked him, and trusted him, and cared about him. Arthur had never really considered how much other people seemed to like his idiot manservant.

Merlin felt Arthur’s eyes on him as they rode. He chuckled to himself, thinking he was still fixated on for once not being the drop dead gorgeous one. Although he totally was. With his stupid blonde shiny hair and his stupid bright eyes and his stupid stupid jawline and those rippling stupid muscles. But this time, Merlin had been the sex appeal, and by god he was never going to get over that.

But Arthur wasn’t thinking about the barmaid. He was wayyyyy past that. Arthur was studying the curve of Merlin’s pinkish lips, the gentle slope of his nose, the slight smatter of dirt on his cheek and the mess of shiny black hair shifting in the wind. He couldn’t place when Merlin had started getting muscular, but the toned arms and broad back were... well they were absolutely fine. Totally fine. But there was more. Arthur saw the glinting eyes of the young lad who had called him a prat and laughed at “daddy’s men”. He admired the tiny dimples in his smile, so reminiscent of their teasing and laughing. In his lightly tanned skin he found the memories of a dozen battles and hunts and adventures, in his long fingers the deliberate pokes and prods but at the same time the gentle kindness as he helped Arthur with his armour. Oh no. Really? Oh he couldn’t. There was absolutely no way on this earth...

Arthur was in love with Merlin.

Damn. He so nearly avoided that. What should he do? Does Merlin know? He can’t possibly know, there’s no way. But does that mean he should be informed? Maybe a... a letter. Flowers. Wait no that’s girly. Well Merlin is a wuss. But still.

“You alright clotpole?” Merlin looks at Arthur quizzically as he speaks, noticing him turn a peculiar chartreuse colour.

“Yes you’re just really hot”. Oh no. Oh no Nono no. Oh he had said it without thinking, without realising. He had just turned around and said the thing he promised himself he would write in some flowers. In a letter. Fuck everything was stressful.

Merlin just gaped. He pulled up his horse. And gaped. Every few seconds, he would take in a breath as if to say something, but then return to the slack jaw position. Arthur. Arthur found him, him, attractive? And admitted it?!?! Was he supposed to say thank you? Ignore it? What if it was a ploy, to test his reaction? What if Arthur knew that he liked him? No, he couldn’t know. So that... that meant Arthur did like him.

Arthur watched in mute horror as Merlin slowly climbed down off his horse. Then he saw his hands, beckoning him. He shouldn’t take orders from his manservant... although it was hot... like, super hot. Oh no. His body was ignoring his brain and he was genuinely climbing off his horse and Merlin was right there in all his mud smudged glory and how he wished he could just-

The train of thought was broken by lips meeting. Slow and cautious at first, wary even, it quickly became heated and intense, tongue hitting tongue and teeth snagging skin as they both realised a destiny neither of them had been shouldering. Hands found grooves and books and tangles as they stumbled across the ground, firmly intertwined and lips not disconnecting even for a second. Not until Merlin, clumsy as ever, tripod backwards over what seemed to Arthur to literally be air, and found himself hanging in Arthur’s strong embrace. They looked at each other for a long while, as though seeing the other for the very first time. Tenderly, Arthur swept away that cute smatter of dirt gracing Merlin’s cheek, then leaned in and kissed him again.

When they arrived back at the castle that evening, significantly later than anticipated (“ran into some sort of riot at the tavern father, felt it my duty to put a stop to it”), Morgana and Gwen exchanged a glance. Morgana discreetly slipped Gwen a few coins, secretly pleased to have lost the bet. When Merlin went in to Arthur’s chambers later that night to do a final clean up, he very much didn’t leave again. Prince’s orders.

Gaius decided that the tavern was in fact not a feasible excuse anymore, and he would rather have to think of another.

#writers on tumblr #writing #fic #merthur #merthur fluff #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin x arthur #fluff #fanfic #arthur x merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana #gwen #merthur smut #smut #cute #soulmates

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marauder-exe · 5 years ago

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Paint – Charlie Weasley x Reader

Request: Can I get a Charlie Weasley x reader with 6,7, 15 angst prompts I love angst and your writing and I wanna see what you’ll come up with!!

Prompts: 6.“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend?"

7.“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

15.“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

Word count: 800

“Alright, losers?” You smiled as you walked over to your group of friends, seated at the Gryffindor table. You sat down beside Charlie, and gave him a warm smile. His freckled face smiled back and you swore your heart had skipped a beat. That always happened around Charlie though. You had met him on the train, he was the first person that was nice to you. Your family name was quite a popular one, not in a good way. And everyone thought you'd be just like your parents, a Slytherin, but he was the first person to actually believe in you, to actually see past your family and be nice to you. And that made you immediately fall flat on your face for him. He waved his hand in front of your face.

“(Y/N)?” He snapped you from your nostalgic state of remembrance.

“Yeah, sorry” You smiled awkwardly. “Lost in my own head I guess”

“Sickle for your thoughts?” You laughed at his rephrasing of the English idiom. You couldn't tell him the truth.

“Just some stupid Slytherins feeling the need to pick on me again for being a ‘blood-traitor’, just sucks yaknow?” Okay it wasn't necessarily untrue, they did pick on you, but that wasn't the reason. He pulled you into a tight hug, and whispered that it was going to be okay. He was so sweet. You felt your cheeks heat up, and decided to leave before you gave away your gigantic crush.

“Right, see ya later boys, I gotta go study” You got up from the table as your friends laughed to themselves.

“Yeah, studying, definitely not with your new boyfriendddddddddddd” He dragged out his words.

“Fuck off Justin” And you swiftly walked away muttering your goodbyes.

“Wait, they have a boyfriend?” Since when? You told Charlie everything and he’d heard nothing of a boyfriend. His heart ached honestly.

“Yeah, I mean have you seen her?” He had seen you. That first day on the train he had seen you. And you where beautiful.

“I gotta go” He said abruptly, leaving as quick as possible. He wanted to catch you and question you about this boyfriend. His pace quickened around the corner, to where he saw you, and some Slytherin following you. He presumed this was the supposed boyfriend so he slowed, until the Slytherin pulled out his wand and aimed it above you, your back still turned, blissfully unaware. The Slytherin raised his wand above your head, muttering a spell, and all sorts of metal things appeared above your head. He had guessed he was going to try and drop them on you. And no way in hell was he about to let that happen.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted, running over to where you where.

“Charlie?” You asked, totally unaware. And in a matter of seconds, Charlie had tackled you to the ground, and you had heard a clatter of metal from where you had previously stood. You sat up, Charlie's arms still around your waist, trying to collect yourself. And you saw a 6th year Slytherin dashing out of the corridor. You turned to Charlie who was red with embarrassment.

“Dude, You just potentially saved my life!” He just gave a shy smile, and blushed. You stared at his freckled face, he was incredibly handsome. Its now or never.

“I lo--” You began but where swiftly cut off.

“No, please… Don’t say that. You love him, not me.” He sounded sad. Did he honestly believe those ass holes when they said you had a boyfriend?

“Charlie?” He stared at you longingly, this is all he wanted for so many years, and he just shot you down.

“I don't have a boyfriend” His jaw went slack.

“Since when?” He gawked. “The guys they--”

“Like to make up rumours. I love you and only you” You placed a hand on his cheek.

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” He laughed sadly. “hell I practically just shot you down”

“But you are the only one who deserves it.” A sad smile made its way onto your face.

“As long as you want me, im here” His hand found its way to your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss.

#charlie weasley #charles weasley #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley fanfiction #charles weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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itsthemoofacewriting · 4 years ago

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Potato peeling

I shared one of my head canons with Monkey-d-momo and then the next day it kind of spiralled out of control in my head, to the point where I had to leave my half-destroyed Animal Crossing island to come and write this out. So, this is for you, Momo!

Summary: Sanji's had never had an assistant before, but now, at least once a week, Nami's there to keep him company. Rating: K.

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy.

Sanji made a point not to think too deeply about his childhood before Baratie, but now he’s racking his brain in search for a time, any time, that he could ever remember having an assistant in the kitchen. Not other chefs that were working around him on their own dishes or bus boys or dish washers, someone by his side just to help him. Although, when he thought about it, back then he would have refused the help, with his ego far too proud as a fledging chef.

He spent a lot of time alone cooking and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s what he was trained to do, and he enjoyed it. Enjoyed creating dishes that’ll fill empty stomachs and watching as delight bloomed across his crewmates face when they took their first bite. But now, as Nami hummed next to him, eyebrows drawn together in concentration as she stirred the sauce in the pot, he realised how much he liked having an assistant. How much he liked having the company.

It also helped that it was fantastic company. Nothing gets better than Nami-san.

The first time she’d walked in to offer help, he’d tried to persuade her to relax instead, in the kitchen of course because he’d never turn her away, but she hadn’t listened. She’d fixed him with a hard stare as his words rolled over her and held her hand out, waiting for a knife to help him peel potatoes.

That was a few weeks ago now, and he’s glad she didn’t listen to him. His kitchen is now filled with humming, quiet conversations or peaceful silences- with someone. It’s nice. It’s not every day, after all she’s the navigator, not the cook and she does have other responsibilities. But those little moments together, at least once per week now, made him start to notice the difference. Nothing bad, he still loved to cook but there’s no one peering over his shoulder to see what he’s doing or how he’s doing it (or asking for food- Luffy) or shooting him wonderfully smart remarks that bring a smile to his face or… well, he could go on all day.

They get along very well in those small moments together, when they’re not fighting for their lives or surrounded by the rest of the crew and it makes him happy. He got to see her truly relaxed, walls down, and their actions are almost domestic, and it made his head spin slightly. He tried not to think too much about that though when he’s dealing with sharp objects or high temperatures.

But he does wonder what spurred this on, the thought lingered in the back of his head. Her offer came completely out of the blue and they’d already been sailing together for so long, so naturally he wondered why. She’d never offered any explanation and he hadn’t asked, because why would he? He was thrilled to have time alone with her and to pass on his knowledge to someone who was so interested.

She hadn’t helped him tonight though, not that she said she would, mind you. Sometimes she’d mention in passing that she’d be there but other times she’d just appear, and it kept him on his toes.

After dinner though, as she put her plate on the side (just before he could get it for her), she left him with a quick, “See you later” and was gone. Maybe he was becoming too predictable because whilst dinner may be finished with, she knew he would occasionally prep ingredients for the next day and apparently, he’d have her company for that tonight without even breathing a word of it.

He couldn’t wait.

As much as he’d like to wait for her, that’s never how this worked. Sometimes she’d come later, depending on whether she got held up with something, so he always started, and she’d join in.

Tonight, he went to the toilet after organising the potatoes he’d need for the next day but on his short trip he didn’t catch sight of her. That wasn’t necessarily bad, but it could mean she’d been distracted with something. It was foolish, because he knew how this worked and he shouldn’t expect this from her, but he was slightly disappointed. He shook his head; he was being ridiculous.

Despite giving himself a talking to in the toilet, it didn’t stop his eyes from drifting to see if the orange haired navigator was around. He was sorely tempted to knock on the library door to offer her a drink, just to confirm it but he stopped his feet from wondering off course.

So when he pushed open the door to the kitchen, he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping to stare at the sight of Nami already sat down on one of the stools, knife carefully peeling the potato in her hands.

So, she’d beaten him here, huh?

He didn’t get the chance to compose himself before she was looking up and her lips curled upwards, like she could read his thoughts.

“You’re slacking, Sanji-kun. I thought you’d abandoned me to peel potatoes all by myself,” she teased.

He smiled then. “Never, Nami-san. The day that happens I’d forfeit my own hands.”

She smiled back at him and they settled into comfortable silence as he sat on the stool opposite her, taking the knife she’d left out for him and grabbing a potato. There’s something relaxing about doing this. The same sweeps of the knife almost sent him into a trance and all the stress of the day bleeds from him as his mind wondered. He’d never found potato peeling a chore. It anything, he looked forward to the monotony of it.

He’s not sure how long they peel in the quiet of the kitchen, but he almost jumped as Nami started to quietly talk.

“The first time I offered to help, it was because I missed Bell-mére,” she said it softly and it should sound sad, but she sounded soft instead. “She used to get me peeling the potatoes when I had nothing to do or thought I’d studied for too long.”

Ah. Well, that answered one of Sanji’s questions. There was something quite special about not having to ask after the reason but being told instead. She wasn’t always very forthcoming about her childhood and he’d never blamed her; he hadn’t been either. It’s why he never enquired.

“You should have seen the first time I’d ever done it; you’d have turned in your grave. There was almost nothing left by the time it’d been peeled and I’d somehow managed to cut myself multiple times,” she continued, chuckling to herself and dropped a perfectly peeled potato into the steel bucket before moving onto the next one. “She hadn’t been angry though. Well, she had at my cut fingers, but she stopped what she was doing to show me how to peel the carrots next.”

“I’m not surprised she wasn’t angry. I can’t imagine being angry with you now, let alone when you were younger.” It was the truth; it was no secret that he was soft around children and he’d seen first-hand a young Nami- she was adorable. He’d have stood no chance.

Still doesn’t.

“What about you?” She asked tentatively, eyes flickering up to his, unsure about whether this was a topic that she should broach. That she could breach.

Sanji smiled lightly and answered with ease, his voice filled with fondness at the memory. “My Mum thought the world of whatever I made. Some of it was truly horrible, Nami-san, I’d had no training whatsoever apart from some tatty books and the opinions of mice.”

“I find that hard to believe- about being a horrible cook, that is. Feeding mice I’m totally on board with.”

He picked up another potato before he responded, “It’s true! There were pieces of eggshells in it, it was overcooked, yet also undercooked because I hadn’t set the oven properly.” There was a firm smile on his face though, despite the description he was giving.

“I sense this didn’t deter her,” she guessed, pausing the potato peeling as she waited for his response.

He laughed. “Not at all. She still boasted to the nurses and handmaids whenever she had the chance and when I was leaving, she’d tell me to bring some more next time.”

“Ah. So that’s where you get your kind heart from.” She nodded to herself, like she’d solved a piece of her own puzzle.

He tried to keep his cool, but he couldn’t stop the blush that bloomed across his cheeks. Instead of responding to that, he decided to continue on.

“On the cruise ship I worked on before Baratie, I was passable at best, but definitely better than the rest of the chefs. The real wakeup call was when I got to Baratie. Zeff was horrified by the bad habits I’d picked up and spent all his time picking on me.”

“Like what?” At his blank look she clarified, “How did he pick on you?”

“Ragging on me in front of staff and customers. To be fair, I probably needed to be taken down a peg or too. I couldn’t be told back then. Oh, and that damned peg leg, hurt like hell,” he groaned, recalling the way Zeff had kicked him when he’d wanted to throw away fresh food. “The worst, though, was the nickname- little eggplant. That’ll haunt me to my dying day. He had no tact, the damn old man, and he’d call me it regardless of who was around. Even the regulars knew of it.”

“Fatherly love, then,” she summarised, an affectionate smile on her face.

Sanji laughed but nodded his head. “Unfortunately so.”

They continued on like that, trading stories back and forth from their childhood. Not always revolving around cooking in Nami’s case, but small things, like the time she’d convinced Nojiko to let her cut in a fringe and her sister had wound up with a mullet until it grew out or how Sanji had singed his hair trying to show off around the oven.

The pile of unpeeled potatoes started to dwindle as the bucket with peeled potatoes filled up. Sanji was so lost in conversation that he hadn’t noticed until they were both reaching in for the last potato and as they both look at each other and down to the last potato, he felt a competitive thrill go through him. He managed to snag the potato just before she could, but she didn’t look sour about it, so he took that as a sign to crack on.

There were no more potatoes to peel but Nami still stayed sitting with him.

“So, what made you stick around?” It was ballsy and he was risking scaring her off, but it’s the one thing she hadn’t freely given during their conversation and he really wanted to know. To finally scratch the itch of curiosity.

Nami doesn’t respond straight away, she fiddled with the knife in her hands and it’s only for a second, but it felt like a lifetime to Sanji. He was holding his breath, waiting for some form of reaction from her.

She breathed out and finally looked at him. “I realised I enjoyed spending time with you.”

That’s not the explanation he’d expected. At all.

He has to fight down the urge to sputter off nonsense, it would not win him her favour. “I enjoy spending time with you too.”

“I didn’t doubt that for a second,” she said, her voice playful.

There’s a clever smile on her face and as much as he enjoyed that, he wanted her to know he was serious. He enjoyed her company.

“I’m serious,” he hummed, not looking up from the final potato he’s peeling, and he might need to long this one out, just to keep himself busy, so he didn’t chicken out. “I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but you’ve only made it better with your company. I’ve never had an assistant before, but I’m glad it was you.”

Nami’s flushed and she looked like she was struggling on how to respond. He wondered if he’d gone too far. It’s not how he’d planned this evening to go and it’s clearly not what she’d intended either. Yet here they were.

“Because I’m a woman or…” She trailed off and the silent ‘because it’s me’ is left in the air, but they both know it’s there.

She’s watching his face carefully and he doesn’t know what to make of that. It felt like he was balancing on a tight rope and any wrong answer will have him plummeting without a safety net to catch him. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable or put an end to their occasional kitchen activities together.

It almost sounded like a confession when he finally spoke, and he supposed it was.

“Because it’s you,” he said, his voice sure and face even.

The tension in the room increased tenfold and it felt like he needed to use one of the knifes to cut at it. It’s diffused instantly when Nami smiled softly at him and it sent his heart racing.

The next second she’s up on her feet, leaving their potato peeling bubble, like nothing happened. “We need to put these in water and into the fridge, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly, stunned by the sudden shift. What had even just happened?

She walked into the kitchen, pulling out a much smaller container and filling it with water. She turned and raised an eyebrow as he’s still sitting there. He realised a beat later that she’s waiting for him to follow after her with the potatoes. Who was the professional chef here? He was on his feet in seconds before he could be prompted any further and they fall back into their normal pace, like nothing had happened.

… Had anything happened? He’s going to need some time alone to replay this scene and figure it out.

As soon as he’s done putting the potatoes away safely in the bottom of the fridge, ready for tomorrow, Nami’s done washing up the knives they’d used and then it’s just them, alone in the kitchen.

Nami’s leaning against the kitchen unit, arms folded and looking at him expectantly, because she doesn’t look like she’s leaving anytime soon. It made him nervous and he resisted the urge to play with his hands.

“Thank you for your help, Nami-san,” he said gratefully, and he really meant it. He hoped she knew that, that it came across.

“Anytime, Sanji-kun.” She pushed away from the counter to walk towards him and he’s frozen, watching her get closer and closer until he had to tilt his head down to keep looking at her face.

Her hands are on his tie and he realised after a beat that she’s adjusting it. He’d loosened it earlier, like he always did this late at night and she knew that too. He wondered if this was an excuse to touch him, but he squashed that thought down as quickly as it appeared. Maybe it just looked weird.

Her hands are warm and as she played with his tie, they brush against his chest and it sent his heart into fits.

When she looked up at him, seemingly happy with the end result, and she’s so close that he could count the fair freckles that litter her nose if he wanted to. And he really wanted to, but he’s distracted by the way her eyes are searching his. She looked expectant and he didn’t know what to do with that. Or what she wanted.

Nami lingered, her hands still clasping his tie lightly but resting against his chest idly and he’s stopped breathing because it’s all slightly overwhelming and he didn’t want the moment to break before he figured out what he’s supposed to be doing. The voice in the back of his head is screaming at him to ‘make a move, you idiot’, but he can’t bring himself to act on it. What if he’s wrong? What if he’s building this up to be something bigger than it actually is?

There’s another long moment where he can practically feel her breath on his face before she’s pulling away and he’s instantly regretting not acting on what the voice had told him because he felt like he’d just missed his moment.

The smirk on her face made him wonder if that’s not the case at all.

She released his tie and patted his chest before taking a step back. He missed the closeness already.

“Goodnight, Sanji,” she said lowly and then she’s turning around, walking towards the door.

The door swung closed behind her and for the first time in hours, he’s left alone in the kitchen. The scent of her perfume is still under his nose and the skin under his shirt burned from where she’d touched him.

He’s not sure what’s just happened. From the atmosphere to her new behaviour, he’s left reeling trying to catch up. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but this seemed to be a new development… towards something.

But right now, it’s late and his brains just turned to mush, so he’s not figuring it out now. He just hoped he could get his mind to settle down enough that he’d be able to actually sleep.

He flicked the kitchen light off behind him.

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

So. The tiny little drabble this was supposed to be has now turned into a two part-er. I messaged Momo when I’d almost finished writing the first part and gave her two possible endings to choose from when this was originally a one-shot. Momo picked one and my brain betrayed me (and my other WIPs) by going ‘do both’. So here we are.

The second part is almost finished- I’m aiming for it to be up in a week max.

Please excuse any errors.

Thanks for reading.

#SaNami #SanNami #sana #sanjixnami #opfanfic #opwriting #one piece #Nami #Sanji

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k-knightt-blog · 5 years ago

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The Fight – Tom Hiddleston one-shot

Request: Tom and y/n fights, he gets overly angry at her and tells her to leave their apartment. He gets drunk and makes her upset. You can make up the rest, but please have them make up!

Wordcount: 2500+

A/N: Sorry I’ve been MIA but balancing university and work (rent is crazy in south London I tell you) is proving hard indeed. Also, I don’t think Tom would ever act like this but you never know.

Your standing right in front of him now, your bottom lip quivers as you turn your eyes up to meet his. Tom’s eyes are blue, icy in their demeanour, they are almost glassy looking. Like he’s about to burst into tears, but you don’t think he will. Your heart is breaking, and he knows he’s the one breaking it. He doesn’t dare to speak, he waits for you, he shuffles his feet, he’s nervous. Since you just a few minutes ago had told him to keep quiet, or you would walk. You would walk out of his life, he knew you were serious. You study him for a second more, as your eyes gaze over his lips he opens them to speak, ”Please say something,” His voice is low, soft, urgent. You take a deep breath, tears are threatening to pour over, “I know It’s every soul for itself in this world. But I didn’t want to wake up without you,” A few tears escape your eyes, you almost feel embarrassed about the fact. You’re fast to wipe them away with the back of your hand, “It’s different now, I feel different now. God, I don’t even want to look at you,” You say, as you turn your eyes away from him again, focusing on the room behind him.

Three days ago you had returned home from your studio in south London. It was late, around 11pm and your phone was dead. You wanted nothing more than to feel the sweet relief of sleep. The underground had been stuffy and full of people who reeked of alcohol and fun times if that even had a smell. It was graduation for the university students and they were celebrating an end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. It warmed your heart because it was only a few years ago you had graduated from university, and the feeling of being free was still fresh. Suddenly panic rose in you, if it’s graduation today it must mean that it’s 11th of June. You nearly curse out loud, blood started pumping in your ears. You had missed the dinner you and Tom were going to. It had been booked for months and it had escaped your mind completely. It was Tom’s sister’s birthday dinner, her birthday was a month since though.

Tom is going to be angry with you. He never really got angry with you, but you know this would strike a nerve. It was a dinner with some of his friends, family and also some people that he didn’t really like. Mostly because they gave him grief about being successful and having money in excess. You had said time and time again that they were just jealous. All but two were overjoyed at his success. He knew that, of course. Tom is a smart man but he still didn’t want to face them alone, without you. It was sweet really, and you were a master of fusing the tension that arose in situations like this. His mum always credits you to be the one who saved Christmas that year Tom and you met. Tom never really understood why the two trouble makers needed to be invited to everything. But they were old friends of his father, and you can’t cancel out 40 years of friendship. That’s what his father said every time. You had missed the dinner, but Tom surely hadn’t gone alone? If it bothered him that much.

You walked fast when the train stopped, you ran ahead of all the drunken ex-students. The station isn’t far from the flat so you were there within five minutes. The door was unlocked, so you slowly walk in, nervousness fills you as you see Tom sitting in the settee. He’s dressed in a shirt, slacks, which indicated that he probably went to the dinner. Alone. He had a whisky in his hand, he didn’t look back at you when you closed the door. He was angry at you, but he couldn’t be that angry right? It’s only dinner, and you had taken Emma out for brunch on her actual birthday. Tom knew that because he was there. He had an omelette and refused to partake in the bottomless mimosa business you and Emma were in.

”Tom, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot, I started this new painting and it’s, well I don’t want to sound cocky but it’s rather good,” You walked into the kitchen to empty your bag, which had a smoothie bottle and a lunch box in it, “And I forgot about the dinner. I’ll call Emma to say how sorry I am. I haven’t been this inspired in so long. My phone died, so if you tried to-“ He cut you off by standing up, his jaw was cleaned. You thought your charming monologue would cool him off, but you were sourly wrong. “I can’t believe you,” He shot at you, his voice laced with disgust. You grew confused now, why was he so angry, you’d expect him to be slightly annoyed. He still had his family by his side.

He walked past the kitchen island, to stand on the other side, his steps were unsteady. “Tom, I’m sorry you had to face Jillian and Frank alone but I honestly just forgot,” You took a few strides towards him and tried to give him a kiss. He stopped you, “Don’t,” His voice was harsh and it hit you like a ton of bricks. “Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, it couldn’t have been that bad? Wasn’t Benedict and Sophie there with darling Hal and Christopher? Your parents?” His stance was of the unapproachable sort, and yours was small, you felt like a child that has been told off.

He didn’t answer your question, “Stop saying sorry, you obviously had your priorities on everything, anything but me. I haven’t seen you all week,” Now that’s just not true, but you didn’t say that, because he needed to calm down first. He took a huge gulp from his glass, nearly downing all the amber liquid in it. “I don’t know what to say more than that I am sorry -and that the dinner just escaped my mind.” You tried and reach out to just touch him if that would comfort him but he moved his hand off the counter, “I would never skip on something we planned together on purpose, surely you must know that by now?” He was bleary-eyed, you hadn’t quite seen him like this before, drunk and angry.

You knew Tom like the back of your hand, and it must be something else that had happened if he’s drowning his sorrows in drink. “You did.” He says coldly as he reached for the cupboard where you keep the spirits, “Tom, I didn’t. I just forgot, it happens.” Your voice was low, tired of saying the same things over and over again. “You forgot about me, about my family, you left me with those-“ His brow furrowed, “Vultures.” He poured up his glass with whisky, more than half the glass, “That says a lot doesn’t it,” He drunk down more whisky that you have ever seen him do. You tried to reason with him, “Yes. I’m sorry, I was so focused on my own work today, you know I’ve been struggling.” You really had been, you had been so uninspired for months now, and that day something just clicked. He scoffed and that really hurt your feelings, “What is wrong with you? Did something else happen? I’ve never seen you act like this!” Your voice was loud, and your hands were on your hips.

He didn’t answer, how childish. He looked like he was thinking, possibly what he was going to give you for an answer. Nothing escaped his mouth, “Tom?” You asked, wanting nothing more than a goddamn answer. His divine features harsh, merciless. “I thought you loved me, silly of me to believe. Hazardous thing.” What was he saying? You nearly wanted to laugh out loud at the ludicrous words that left his mouth. Instead, you let out a raspy breath, followed with, “Of course I love you, if I didn’t I wouldn’t be wearing this,” You wave your hand and attached engagement ring at him, “Now would I?” He looked at you, a look you had never seen before. He couldn’t quite keep your gaze, his eyes were nearly half shut.

You tried a different approach, “Darling, why don’t we go to bed, get some rest and talk about this in the morning?” You tried to grab his arm, to put your hand in his. He took a wonky step back, “I want you to leave,” You couldn’t quite believe what just left his mouth, you humoured him, “But I live here Tom, let’s just get to bed. You’re drunk, and in no way capable of talking about this as an adult,” You look at him, like a mother looking at a child who’s been naughty. That look disappeared quickly because he looked even angrier. “I’m not drunk,” He looked severe, his handsome appearance nearly gone. ”Come on, Tom, please just let’s go sleep. I’m tired, it’s late.” You walked past him and was headed to the bedroom when he spoke again. “They’re right about you, Jillian and Frank.” He looked at you, “They said a pretty young thing like you, well, she can only be after one thing,” You turned cold, all the colour disappeared in your face. ”Thomas, are you fucking aware of what you’re saying right now? You’re taking out your anger on me, I’m sorry your parents still tolerate those two, and that you get the short end of the stick, but don’t take it out on me. For fuck's sake.” Your swearing caught him off guard, you had never sounded so severe while you talked to him as you had done then. He must have said that to hurt you, for forgetting about your plans. Surely.

”Did I stutter? I want you to leave - Go!” He’s serious, and your breathing became ragged, tears pooled up in your eyes. For a moment you just watched him, but the silence broke when you let out a sob. “You’re kicking me out of our flat because I missed a dinner?” This is ridiculous. The tears kept coming, you always ended up crying while angry. He didn't flinch, “Have you lost it completely?” You asked him after a second or two. He shook his head and headed towards the bedroom. He shut the door so hard the whole flat rattled. You decided to leave, naturally. That night you had slept at a friend’s house in Primrose. You didn’t call him and he didn’t call you, until the second day when he called you around thirty times.

You look out towards the living room that you and Tom have carefully and thoughtfully redecorated when you moved in. Tom has jokingly said that “It no longer feels like a bachelor pad,” in which you had replied, while his arm was swung over your shoulder, “Feels good to say that, doesn’t it?” And you had kissed him.

Now it hurts to look past him, into the room, but it hurt more to look at Tom, so you opted for the emerald green and ivory scenery. “Y/n, don’t say that. Please, I’m sorry. I overreacted, you know I didn’t mean what I said,” You cross your arms over your chest, what a generic response. Come on, Tom, you’re an actor. Lie better. From the corner of your eye, you see him shift, you see him walk over to you. You look at him, daggers in your eyes, and he stops in his tracks, he’s close to you now and you can smell his cologne, you can also smell musk from him. It was clear he hasn’t showered since you left your shared flat three days earlier. His hair is greasy and untamed.

He tries to caress your arm but you move away, stating your anger at his behaviour the other day. “Y/n, I’m an idiot. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was inebriated. I was upset with my parents, with Frank and Gillian.” He sounds so desperate you nearly feel the urge to swing your arms around him and forgive him. But you remind yourself. They’re right about you, Jillian and Frank. They said a pretty young thing like you, well, she can only be after one thing. You try to stand tall, although Tom’s frame towers over you. “I’ll never forget how you looked at me. Like I had murdered your parents, worse even,” There are tears running down your face now, they can almost be mistaken for glitter. He speaks before you can help him recall all the nasty things he had said you that night, “My darling,” He’s desperate to touch you, “I was out of my mind to say those things. God, I can’t even believe I did!” He runs his hands through his dirty hair, his eyes are red. But so are yours.

“You kicked me out. On the goddamn streets, Tom.” Tears fill his eyes, you know he’s terribly sorry. He looks like a shell of the man you fell in love with at 25. He beings to cry, and it is terrible to watch his heaving chest, his breath rattling in his lungs. ”I love you,” It escapes his lips like a broken promise. He sits down heavily on one of your kitchen chairs, “I hate myself,” He covers his face for a second, trying to compose himself. You silently try to do the same, it’s horrible to see him like this. But he - a sob escapes your mouth this time, he had doubted your love for him. He had wanted you to leave. Perhaps forever? “I don’t know what came over me, I felt myself turn into a ferocious, ruthless being. I,” He looks up at you, “I understand if you never forgive me. I was unjust, cruel.” Without your brain realising you walk towards him, and you cradle his head, his cheek against your bosom. This action rips a sob from deep down in his chest. As a reflex, he folds his arms tight around you standing frame. Praying to whatever gods who would listen, that you wouldn’t leave him. “We’re going to be fine, but no more angry whisky drinking. Ever again, you hear me, Tom?” He nods his head, cried filled laugh follows. “I love you so much, Y/n. I will never make you doubt that again." He releases his tight grip only to look up into your beautiful eyes.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom x you #Tom Hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fan fic #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston imagine #angst #fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine

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andieperrie18 · 5 years ago

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Prodigal Daughter (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Prompt: Ben and the cast finds out reader is an expert drummer.

youtube

When your dog-loving boyfriend auditioned for Bohemian Rhapsody, he's been working hard to be able to play the percussive set as he wanted to honor the character the he was going to play in the movie. You supported him as a loving girlfriend would do although not that he didn't knew much about you but the fact that you were actually an expert on the drum set had him, his castmates and the two members of Queen in total awe as they eyed from across the stage set.

It happpened like this….

"Awe love, thanks coming here to support me." Ben had an arm around you while walking together, following his cast mates and the others to the stage. The iconic Live Aid was their first scene as Ben told you and for support, you went to watch him as you wanted to see the hard work of your dear lover.

"Love, you should rest for a bit. You've been playing for a quite a while." Your voice laced with concerned. You watch him shake his head no, "It's okay, love." He continous to do the drum routine.

You know that he will nail it. And what better way to boost him than be there and cheer for him.

You stood afar from the set as they shot the scene. You would catch him glancing at you with his biggest smiles as you would bob your head to his beat. The beat that you fell inlove with in your teen years. You didn't even notice the way your foot tap to the ground, each stomp so acute to the beat of the biggest drum.

"and….CUT!!"

You were the first to cheer as you ran to the stage to meet Ben, him doing the same by jumping off it with a large smile welcoming you in his muscly and comfy embrace. You could tell he was proud of himself.

"Babe! That was so cool!!!"

"I KNOW, I was like--" he babble with some sound effects, making some clear emphasis of what he had seen himself doing behind the drum set. Giggling at his action, you both walked together to the bottom of the stage where the peeps had gathered.

Exchanging different compliments, Ben and his castmates were rained with praises from Roger and Brian.

"My almost prodigal son is here." The lead drummer of Queen quoted earning a shy smile from the lad. The man has been a great role model for Ben as he almost stood as a father to him and to you aswell.

"Almost."

"I think we could all agree to that can we?" Gwilym said.

"Well, he did nail it. Good Job Benjamin. But I think Cardboard Ben is Better." Laughter bursted inside the loose circle, you laughing along Joe's affection to your boyfriend carbon copy in cardboard.

"Stop it, Joe. Your hurting my feelings here."

The chatter continued, talking and complementing Rami and Gwylim of them rocking their own routine.

"O My Goodness! Y/n M/n L/n. Is that really you?"

Now this somehow caught everyone's attention. Turning to the owner of the voice, you met the very, very familiar face of a female. It didn't made you hold back the smile the moment you met her gaze.

"JEM!! ITS YOU!!" Basically scurrying out of Ben's embrace, enveloping the girl in a bear hug, and vice versa.

Joe was the first to speak out of all the confused faces.

"Jem, love? You know Y/n?"

Ben was also confused as he knew all of your friends yet he wasn't very much familiar with this one but not in a bad way. The interaction you gave looked genuined and so did hers, it was as if you knew the said stranger almost by heart.

Jem, who is basically bear hugging you looked back to her boyfriend and said,

"OH, Joe, guys, remember when I said I was in a band?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well, you see we were a four person band and I know you have met my two other former band mates and I said I had lost contact with one of my members since our accounts have been hacked before. " you still had the girl in your grasp while looking at the small crowd cowering around the both of you.

"W-wait? Are you saying Y/n's your long lost band member?"

Jem nodded furiously at Lucy's question.

"Wow! Y/n, why didn't you say anything?"

Ben had a seemingly excited look on his face as if he was a boy who just found a treasure chest in his backyard. His eyes trained on you. Curiosity lingering on them.

"Well, nobody real asked about it and that was way too long ago." You trailed.

Joe suddenly pops up statement.

"Hold on a minute, Viola said that she was the pianist and Jax was the bassist. And you told me that you were lead vocalist…"

Ben was the next to speak, following his friend's statement.

"Which would mean that my girlfriend, is your band'--"

"Lead drummer? Yeah!"

The confidence your dear friend radiated as she began to brag you to your friends turning you into a shy fly. And the fact that your idol, nome other than another father figure aswell known as Roger Meddows Taylor, who is basically standing beside you is hearing all this things got you shy chills.

"Hey, Jem thats enough. Besides, as I said that was quite a long time ago and I don't think I could be that great on it anymore."

Jem gave you and eye roll, "Y/n, there's no way that you could loose your touch. Even if your mind doesn't remember, your hands and feet does. Also, I heard from Ben that he would sometimes catch you playing with your chopstick while doing the dishes. I should've known your dating the hunk of a man sooner." You rolled your eyes as Jem whispered the last sentence to you.

"How 'bout you plah for us love?" Roger placed a hand on your shoulder, handing you a pair of sticks. Your eyes turned into saucers.

"I-i don't know Mr. Taylor--" "Roger kiddo."

You smiled, "Roger, as much as I want to play. I not as good as I was before."

This time Ben talks you out.

"You can't be that bad love, we just wanna see you play. You can go do any song."

You looked at him, rather unsure of yourself. Sure, one can't unlearn what is learned. Everyone around you started to encourage you aswell. Ben's puppy eyes, was the last warning bell you could ever receive as you sighed and took the drum sticks. Suddenly feeling a spark in your palms after having contact with it after a long while.

"Go Y/N!!"

"YOU CAN DO IT LOVE!!"

You ran up to the stage, thanking yourself for wearing a pair jeans on this unexpected day. Jem skipped her way as she followed you and as if she already knew what song you were gonna play, she hurriedly plugged her phone on the jack and waited for you settle.

"Brings back memories doesn't it?" You shrugged off and smiled as you held the sticks in position.

"Damn, feeling deja vu here."

"You just miss it." Jem replied to you.

You stared past the drum set meeting Ben's eyes as he howls your name. Roger doing the same and so does the others around the stage. Father and boyfriend, cheering for you. What a heck of a combo.

You nodded to Jem who proceeded to play the track with a little low volume so it won't over power your routine.

"GO! Y/N GO!" she called out.

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself get lost on the music.

(0:00 to 0:15)

Like your hands had its own mind, it smashed the sticks tips to the first beats. Nearly missing the timing.

"That's a good start." You joked to yourself as you continue to the beat.

Eyeing back to back to your small audience. Their heads bobbing with your beat with smiles on their faces. Watching as your pace gradually quickened along the way.

(0:16 to 0:25)

"I think it's getting faster."

Rami's comment made Ben aware with his girlfriend beat. After having countless practice and hearing some bands drummer plays, Bon Jovi's song had some of the trickiest drum routines and he could tell how complicated the beat and yet, seeing you calmly beaming with each hit, your hands and arms swiftly moving to the next beat as if she practiced the whole routine for almost a week. Whats more was also, it looked quite your style.

Your face looked calm and composed with each beating.

He marvelled you and as if you were so used to the clashing and bashing, you didn't miss any timing.

(0:26 to 1:09)

No eyes left your figure while staying on your beat. Each pair beaming the quicker your arms switch directions as the chorus neared then, what happened next was a small yet seemingly gigantic movement when they caught it. That was the moment Ben knew that his girlfriend wasn't an amatuer drummer.

You twirled one drumstick in between your fingers as the other hit the cymbals, your lips mouthing the lyrics with a smile etched on it. Then slamming both down to the clash instrument.

"Ohhh!!!" "She twirled them! Did you see that?!"

Your hands swifting left to right like accelerate, still singing to the chorus. You drowned yourself to the symphony of each percussion that surrounded you like no one was watching, eyes closed you, staying with the beat.

(1:09 to 2:00)

Maintaining a heck of speed had Roger Taylor screaming his heart out for you. Calling your name, screaming 'thats my kid!!' Out of now where and jumping along the music. Like a proud dad, he cheered.

People were bouncing like they were in a rock concert. Joe was banging his head to your melody. Gwilym and Rami were arm in arm and singing to the song. Brian was dancing around with Lucy.

(2:00 to 2:03)

Your speed growing to a thunderous amount that had everyone going out of their mind while you sat there like you practiced the whole performance for weeks.

"Oh my god! She's freaking nailing it."

"UGH! Ben she's a freaking Queen!"

Ben was freaking out like everybody else while watching your routine with the sticks that even thought he can't do.

(2:03 to 2:32)

The crowd under the stage as the staff was singing along while you drum your heart out. Your movements were so in sync with what your mind had thought of in every sequence, executing everything perfectly. Continuing to the music, each beat was a perfect hit. You caught sight of Ben who had a hand on his forehead and another on his, face had saucer eyes and a slack jawed smile, staring at you.

You let yourself meet his gaze as he notice this.

You winked at him.

(2:34 til end.)

Ben's breath hitched as Roger muttered an 'oh my god' beside him as you threw a stick in the air, then catching it perfectly before hitting the beat perfectly once again.

Everyone was screaming after that, Joe was grabbing his permed hair as if he had witness something insane before him. Lucy could tell that after this mini concert, she won't be able to talk the next day.

Doing a couple more stick twirling and fast paced movements, you finally reach an end with a satisfying clash from the cymbals. Panting, you turned to you now large crowd, screaming for you.

"And there goes your Prodigal Daughter." Roger could only nod on Brian's statement.

Ben rushed up to stage and immediatly lifted you off the ground. Rambling how insanely amazing you were.

"You gotta teach me your ways love." He mumbled against your lips.

"As long as I get something in return." You said after quick peck on his lips.

#bohe #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody #queen #ben hardy roger taylor #roger taylor #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy jones #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy #brian may gwilym lee #joe mazzello john deacon #freddie mercury rami malek #rami malek #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #brian may #drummer

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spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years ago

Text

Keening of the Glass King

The scanner at checkout beeped with slow and revolving repetition. The cashier listlessly pushed the groceries over the scanner, one by one, her eyes glazed over with boredom and her gaze trained on the digital oblivion displayed on the small screen attached to the system. The smell of disinfectant, plastic, and a blend of artificially sweet smells hung in the air.

Harper experienced a state of mind of complete emptiness. Just absorbing the sights, sounds, and smells of her environment without as much as a passing thought. Such an unfamiliar sensation to her. Lost in the moment.

And then the moment was gone. Harper’s feet hurt. It had been a long day. Hell, it had been a long week. As she—in her mind—went through all the things she still had to do once she got home, she started to get impatient while waiting in line. Only one more customer in front of her having her shopping cart’s contents processed.

When the guy checking out fumbled around to pay for his groceries, Harper spotted something odd. Rather than spitting out a number that the cashier read out loud with the enthusiasm of a broken woman whose soul had been crushed under the weight of corporate oppression, the small screen displayed text.

LOOK UP

Harper blinked, making sure that her mind was not just playing tricks on her. But it didn’t seem to be. The screen still did not display the total amount of money tallied up from the guy’s purchases. Instead, the words on screen flashed a few times, as if trying to grab Harper’s attention.

Instead of doing as told, she looked around to see if anybody else was seeing this.

The five people in line behind her did not. They were all lost in their own little worlds: one of them endlessly doom-scrolling down the display on their phone, another scratching his head while staring at the cold hard floor, another playing with her baby sat on the shopping cart, and so forth.

Harper’s sights returned to the display and it flashed one more time.

LOOK UP

So she did.

An advertising sign hung low over the checkout line.

DRINK BOOZE. SPIN TWELVE TIMES. SHOUT ROO-AGH PAIR-AGH TO THE HIGH HEAVENS.

It looked exactly like an advertising sign should, complete with the attractively garish color palette and carefully measured proportions. But the words did not fit at all.

Harper did a double take and the sign looked nothing like it did a mere second ago.

SAVE. EARN. SHOP. COLLECT POINTS AND WIN FREE GROCERIES.

She blinked again and it continued to look normal.

The beeping from the register stopped and the tired-looking cashier stared at her. She mustered a feeble smile and nodded at Harper, expecting her to scoot forward and get through checkout. Because she was holding up the line.

While waiting, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of the machine, Harper looked around for other oddities. Anything that stood out. The man fixated on his phone, waiting behind her in line, looked up at her while she scanned the environment but then averted his gaze, seemingly startled and nervous—returning his undivided attention to the device in his hand. Everybody else remained oblivious to her and the strange signs she started spotting everywhere.

A magazine on the rack had a strange logo.

THE GLASS KING NEARS

Blinking cleared it up for her and revealed a fairly typical magazine brand logo and boring headline. As it should.

From the corners of her eyes, focused on a bouquet of flowers wilted on a stand nearby, Harper believed to see the little monitor flash with words that did not belong.

PAY ATTENTION

The storefront logo and its current slogan emblazoned on the wide front window did not read as it should. It instead said something bizarre.

DO AS YOUR KING COMMANDS

And in smaller lettering beneath that line: REAP THE REWARDS AND REJOICE IN YOUR SILENT HEAVEN

Harper shook her head. Every time she focused on one of these strange messages or blinked or shifted her weight and tilted her head, she saw what they should look like. The inconspicuous, bland-by-design normalcy of corporate consumerism.

Was she going insane?

She had been pushing eleven hours a day at work and six day work weeks for the past two months, and it must have been getting to her. Harper convinced herself of that. Or at least, she tried.

The cashier read the tally of her shopping cart’s contents off the screen and waited for her to pay. Harper did and left the store quickly.

Ferrying things across the parking lot with the wheels rattling over asphalt, loading her groceries into the back of her car, and slamming the trunk—it all passed by her in a blur. Felt like forever, flowed like molten butter, just ended with barely any time having gone by.

A man in a denim jacket over a beige hoodie approached her, pushing a cart along.

“Should I return that for ya?”

He pointed at the empty steel cage of her shopping cart. She looked him over and the empty cart he had been pushing along himself. Looked like he was just bringing his own cart back to the lineup where the others were gathered, and offering to take hers along for her.

It took her longer than it should to register the simple kindness he offered. Harper flashed him a smile and nodded and he mirrored the quiet expressions. While shoving their empty carts together, he side-eyed her and spoke in a monotone, “The Glass King’s soldiers can win the battle but not the war. Power through faith is what his subjects are for. Through servitude to him we flourish. His divine favor us does nourish. Roo-agh pair-agh.”

The carts rattled and clattered with agonizing volume as he began pushing them away from her, moving along.

Harper blinked and had to know. Had to know she wasn’t going crazy. “What did you just say?”

The stranger paused and craned his neck. Tilted his head. Arched a brow and stared at her with confusion written all over his face, slack-jawed.

“What?”

They stared at each other for another brief lapse in time.

“I asked if you want me to return your cart for ya?” he asked in response. Like he had never uttered the other strange things.

She flashed another smile at him, though in retrospect it never reached her eyes. And how could it have ever been an honest expression of gratitude? Yep, going bonkers alright, Harper thought to herself.

He pursed his lips, broke eye contact, and carried on; walking away from her with the two carts in front of him. They rattled and clattered and bounced when he shoved them over a pot hole.

She got in the car and left before he could return to where she had parked. Drove home. Everything just flew by, time flew by. She focused on the lines in the middle of the road, on the steel giants that were the other cars in traffic, and their hypnotic motions. On the street lights, and less the signs. It worked, because she was intimately familiar with this route. This life. She had done these things thousands of times before—the usual rote motions and actions that constituted her everyday life.

Really, though, she tried to avoid looking at any street signs. Any billboards. Any license plates. Really, she tried to avert her eyes from locking onto any single damned thing that featured text, letters, numbers, or anything that even remotely resembled written language in any shape or form.

It was time to get things over with for the day, kick back, drink something, and sleep.

After unpacking at home and going about her chores to tidy up her lonesome apartment, she sat down in front of the television set. She sighed, feeling relief—she had banished today’s strangeness. No more signs anywhere. Food packaging looked like it should, so did the magazine covers, the local newspaper—even device labels.

Overworked and tired as she was, it kind of made sense for her to be hallucinating. She had heard and read of weirder things happening to people who struggled with a poor work-life balance and chronic exhaustion.

Harper had plenty of work-related crap to put behind her, anyway. Whenever thoughts of that work bubbled up from the pool in the back of her mind, she dispelled them by thinking mean things about her supervisor and then of the co-worker she hated who always contradicted her but agreed wholeheartedly when she heard a man say the exact same thing Harper had said.

“Fucking middle management, man,” she muttered at the TV.

IT IS TIME, read a string of letters on screen, superimposed over the advertisement of some lame small-time lawyer firm.

PERFORM YOUR SERVICE

The words on display made no sense in context of the rest of the things and people being shown.

Cryptic, ominous messages.

She blinked, expecting the strange signs and orders to vanish. But they refused to.

YOUR KING NEEDS YOU!

Harper switched channels to some edgy-looking TV series. Hectic cuts, dramatic music, low contrast and muted colors. The character actor turned to the camera and looked her straight in the eyes, piercing the veil of the screen as if he was gazing through the dimensions from his fictitious world into the real one.

“If you don’t do your part—if we don’t all do our part, perform our service to the Glass King—the world will end. We can’t let that happen,” the man in the show said in his cartoonishly gravelly voice.

Harper swallowed an empty lump stuck in her throat, a wad of nothing that felt like it had assumed the size of a fist. Her insides churned and she started feeling dizzy.

Whatever this guy on the TV show had just said, it might have fit into whatever silly narrative he served, but it also fit right in with her hallucinations.

Or were they not hallucinations at all?

And what had that sign said?

“Drink booze. Spin twelve times, then shout ‘roo-agh pair-agh’ towards the sky,” said the actor. The cheesy soundtrack died down, leaving his words to die in an awkward silence that felt out of character for this particular show. He continued to stare Harper in the eyes, as if expecting her to do something. Like the show had just ground to a halt, awaiting her cue.

Waiting for her to do what she had to. What was expected of her.

Harper got up and the room spun around her. She had already taken some meds to help remove some edge and fall asleep more easily.

Should she mix alcohol with those drugs?

Whatever, she figured. She was already dressed in pajamas. Ready for bed. Would it kill her to try?

Maybe if she gave in to this string of odd hallucinations, they would stop. Under normal circumstances, that train of thought would have made no sense to her, but she chalked it up to the bizarre dream logic she was experiencing.

Only thing being, none of this was a dream, nor would it be particularly fun to unpack in upcoming therapy sessions. She already considered never talking about it if this never happened again.

Harper grabbed a half-filled bottle of wine from the fridge and returned to her living room. The show on TV continued as it should, depicting the usual melodramatic schlock that she would normally expect it to be doing.

She uncorked the bottle with a loud plop, chugged some of the wine, put it down on the coffee table with a loud clank, and took a deep breath. She was already feeling dizzy, so spinning around might have posed a problem.

But she did it anyway.

Twelve revolutions. One by one. Starting slow, picking up on speed to more quickly get it over with. The world spun ever faster, teetered and swayed in ways that made it difficult to maintain her balance. Her heart raced as, for a moment, it seemed like she might crash through the glass of the coffee table and cut herself badly, or stumble somewhere and break a bone in a bad fall, or worse.

“Roo-agh! Pair-agh!” Harper yelled at the ceiling.

Once she finished those twelve revolutions, she fell onto the couch, twisting her left hand and gritting her teeth right after a sharp intake of air to mask the sudden sting of pain. She fell sideways, slumping into the soft fuzzy cushions, and the world continued to spin, leaving her with a sick feeling in her stomach, spreading out in every direction and into every last extremity.

Someone or something thumped. Thud, thud.

“Shut the fuck up down there,” said someone above, muffled through the floor. Angry neighbor. Typical for that asshole. Complained about the smallest things, but always blasting loud music every Saturday morning.

Harper closed her eyes, still feeling the world spinning around her. Her stomach felt like it had unhinged itself from her insides and decided to whirl around in the opposite direction. She swallowed many times, painfully and deliberately, fighting the urge to vomit.

When the spell of nausea ended, she opened her eyes. The show on TV had gone silent, though the screen still flashed with shifting images. It looked like a completely different series now. The colors were vibrant and bright, the lens through which things had been shot distorted the environments along the edges of the screen, and the set looked surreal in its dimensions.

On screen, a woman in a fancy dress walked through a strange, long hallway, steadily and slowly approaching a simply-clothed man who sat on a stool next to a large set of double doors. The angles relayed a sense of paranoia, and the lingering shots on the actors’ faces made Harper feel uncomfortable.

The bald man sitting on the stool, his hands folded on his lap—his expression eerily calm—spoke into the camera. Past the woman approaching the double doors. He spoke not to that woman, but to Harper.

“The Glass King thanks you for your service. Should you fall in this war, know that your sacrifice will not be in vain. This world will continue to exist. You will continue to live your life as you have,” said the man. His voice rolled out like silk; soft and soothing.

The corners of his lips twitched until they shaped into a timid smile.

The woman stepped past him and grabbed hold of the brass doorknob on one of those doors. The moment she gripped it and twisted, she did not open the door.

She screamed.

A blood-curdling, bone-chilling scream. So loud that the neighbor upstairs continued complaining. Thump. Thump, thump.

“—said, shut the fuck up!”

The scream never stopped. Harper held her hands over her ears and cringed, clamping her eyes shut. She did not dare to see what happened next, so horrifying was that scream. She could hear the shriek piercing her ear drums even though she covered them up as good as she could. It pierced her mind, sliced into her soul, cut deep into her consciousness, feeding fuel into the flames of future nightmares.

“You will have your answers,” whispered the bald man on the stool. But it was not from the television set. He was in Harper’s dream that followed. As if she had gone there. Into that strange hallway.

Her uneasy rest left her feeling more tired than before she had fallen asleep. She awoke on the couch and something tasted funny. She blinked and realized where she was, struggled to remember what exactly she had dreamt beyond seeing the man from the weird TV show in her dream say that one thing, and swallowed again. Tasting blood.

Something had crusted over on her lip and face and checking in the mirror revealed that to be a thin line of blood. It had trickled down from her left nostril and across her lip and cheek as she had slept on the couch, all crumpled up.

Harper almost panicked when she realized that she needed to hustle to make it to work on time. She went through the motions in a haze, rushing through every step. Coffee would have to wait, brushing teeth, make-up, slinging on some clothes and straightening them out on the way to her car, slamming the door shut, going just enough above the speed limit to win some time and not draw unwanted attention, and so forth.

After clocking in at work, she sipped her coffee and enjoyed a short breather.

It was going to be another long day. She chalked the previous evening’s strangeness up to a weird fever dream.

Or something.

She held the back of her hand against her forehead to see if she was running any fever and dismissed the thought. The less she thought about getting sick, and the more she believed she was not sick—that stopped her from actually getting sick, right?

Her co-worker—the one she hated—got a coffee from the machine and turned to her.

Nodded in greeting to meet the bare minimum of social conventions maintained between them. She sipped from her cup of coffee as well. Looked Harper in the eye.

Vacant stare. Something odd about it.

“You saw the signs, too, didn’t you?” she asked Harper. Hushed tone, then she murmured more into her mug, “The Glass King nears.”

“What?” Harper asked. Paralyzed.

With fear.

The blood drained from her face and her mind reeled with the possibility that everything she had dreamt was, in fact, real.

Nicole gulped her mouthful of coffee down and her gaze hardened into a striking stare.

“You heard me, bitch,” she snapped at her. “James experienced it too.”

The clock on the wall behind Harper ticked away, filling the air of silence growing between them.

“What—” Harper’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried asking again. “What does any of it even mean?”

Nicole cradled the cup in her hand.

“No idea, but I think there are even more who saw the signs. Just nobody really talkin’ about it. Like they’re all afraid of something.”

Harper cleared her throat again. It felt like phlegm was building up in there, clogging everything up with a tedious stickiness.

“What about rewards? You get anything?” she asked Nicole.

Her co-worker smirked but the mien quickly vanished.

“Learned something about you. Something you probably would rather keep secret,” Nicole finally replied.

Harper licked her lips. Not only had the blood drained from her face, she now felt hot and cold at the same time. Like she was flush with sickness, like a sheen of sweat was on the verge of breaking out of her pores. Was she really sure she hadn’t gotten a fever or something?

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody,” Nicole said. She winked at Harper.

Walked away, leaving Harper awash in her confusion and growing sense of dread.

By the time Harper took her seat at her desk, her body was trembling all over. She got to work, tried to distract herself, but her thoughts kept circling back to the odd events. It started cutting into her work.

So she started researching online.

Her body turned ice cold, the cushion of her chair beneath her becoming more uncomfortable than usual. With sweaty palms, she clicked her way through discussion threads, past posted transcripts of live chats, and wound up browsing through terrible-looking websites that looked like conspiracy theory wank assembled by unhinged lunatics. But everything reflected her experiences. Almost to the letter of some of the signs she had seen. And other people were digging through the web, just like her. Looking for an answer. Struggling to understand.

She continued to click, incapable of stopping. Filled with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, yearning to comprehend what was going on.

The world spun around her again. The dizziness had returned.

What filled her with dread was the final realization.

Many people were being mobilized. Some got more specific instructions, being sent somewhere in Nevada. Investigating strange weather patterns that appeared to orbit around Las Vegas.

What she had experienced was not unique. Not limited to her and two of her coworkers. They were not the only ones in the city. They were not the only city. They were not even the only country with people to experience this.

To see those signs. To follow the instructions.

To know, as it was repeated over and over again: the Glass King nears.

—Submitted by Wratts

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saintedfury · 5 years ago

Text

Tormenting Trip | IC Drabble

The stars couldn’t outshine the lights of the city or fight the haze that hung above downtown. Despite this, Furia stared deep into the night sky cradled, warm and weightless, in the water. She could hear the muffled pulse of music somewhere around her, but the party had started to grate her nerves. When a new sound met her ears, though she perked up and looked around her.

At the edge of the pool, he smiled when she turned her attention to him. They’d danced together, or maybe they hadn’t. There was something familiar about him, the soft smile that made his eyes gleam, the way his longish wavy blond hair framed his face.

“It’s cold out here,” he said with a little hiss as his shoulders rolled together.

“But it’s warm in here. Heated,” she told him.

His smile widened with a laugh. “Aren’t you a little overdressed for swimming?”

She moved her arms more dramatically to veer her floating body toward him. His assessment was not totally off the mark. Furia hadn’t done anything more than slip off her shoes before she slipped into the water. It made sense in the moment, at least. She’d be able to keep warmer, at least that had been the train of thought she followed. And so far it proved accurate enough. “I’m not swimming, cariño. Just floating.”

He crouched at the edge of the pool taking another drag on his cigarette as he did. “You do look comfy.”

Furia reached up and plucked the cigarette out of his dangling hand. “You could join me.” She brought it to her lips and took a shallow pull at first. She had been reorienting her body to things she’d pushed aside more than a decade ago, so she took a tiny step forward.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I could pull that off.”

“What?” she asked with a laugh.

“Looking gorgeous and relaxed. Pretty sure I’d go straight to drown rat with chattering teeth.”

Her grin widened. “I guess that would mean I’d have to help warm you back up.”

“That’s tempting.” One knee met the concrete at the edge of the pool. She kept one hand above the water and watched him light another cigarette for himself. “Or I could just offer to let you commandeer the shower in my suite a few floors down.”

“Aren’t you forward?”

“I prefer chivalrous.”

“So it’s a purely gentlemanly offer?”

He looked playfully offended. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“And what if I’m not looking for a gentlemen?” Furia studied him--broad shoulders, trim hips, and full lips that looked so soft, but it was the dark eyes with a hint of mystery playing behind them that called out to the parts of her who she’d given the most sway recently.

He smiled boyishly, but didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’ll have to be less polite.”

Deciding she liked him, she broke her balance and with one last drag she flicked the cigarette in the direction of the railing. Once her body was out of the heated water though, the chill set in fast. There was still drifts of snow lining the streets, though there wasn’t any on the balcony. The wind up here, cut through her sodden slacks and the suit jacket she’d nicked that afternoon from a well-dressed conquest.

Furia growled at the stark change of sensation as she waded through the water and up the steps. He offered her a hand, which she took. It was strangely enticing. The idea of him helping her along the steps as she dripped water with every movement, while he remained mostly dry.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Anytime.”

She looked at him again, searching his eyes, noticing the crinkles in the corner that gave away his smile. Her hand tightened around his when she settled on her course. Not even throwing out a passing thought for her shoes, she went straight for the door. He didn’t resist, but kept up with her as she made a dripping beeline through the throng pulsing in the penthouse suite, heading for the elevator. Her finger pressed the call button, then she turned, pulling his hand toward her until he’d completely closed the distance.

He didn’t shy away from her, letting the pool water clinging to her seep into his own clothing as her fingers drew along the edge of his jaw. Neither of them moved in haste at the moment, but they inched toward one another like weak magnets until that first point of contact drew them tightly to one another. Her lips on his set off a chain reaction: his hands slid around her waist, her arm draped over his shoulder, he pulled her tighter against him, and Furia kept kissing him.

The feint chime of the elevator’s arrival couldn’t even pull them apart; instead, they moved as one organism until her shoulders hit the back wall of the elevator. Separating for a breath, his grip loosened to punch a button for his floor. In the next moment, his index finger curled under her chin as their lips met again. His fingers danced over her cold-numbed skin, easing down her neck, then slipping over her shoulder beneath the suit jacket that hung loose on her frame.

When his fingers brushed up against the thin strap of her bra, two fingers hooked beneath it and helped it over her shoulder. With nails skimming her flesh, his hand moved downward, following the ebb and swell of her breast.

Her hiss broke the kiss when he scratched over her pert nipple. He grinned at her with mischief, pressing a peck on her parted mouth. She couldn’t help the moan when his mouth moved to her neck. He burned small imprints of his lips on her skin. Anticipation burned through her veins as he inched lower.

“Fuck!” she screamed when the blazing fire of his mouth closed over her icy hard nipple. “That is intense.” Her hands dove into his hair, holding him to her with desperation until he’d suckled away the chill in her skin.

“Just wait until I get your clit in my mouth.”

She moaned, her leg rubbing against the side of his as he shifted her jacket aside and latched onto the other through the lace of her bra. Her incoherent voice echoed around them in the small elevator car, intersprsed with his content hums. When the chime rang once more, he straightened and tugged at her lapel to make sure her jacket hung on her shoulders with as much modesty as could be managed in her flushed state.

This time it was he that grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hall. He didn’t dally, but walked with purpose. He had the door open before she could even decide if she’d try to interfere and draw it out. Pushing the door open, his free hand circled her waist and he pulled her into the room with him. The door hadn’t even clicked closed before her hands pushed his black blazer over his shoulders. He didn’t fight it, just let it fall.

When Furia’s hands went to his cheeks, he complied with her unspoken direction. He reached out and locked the door, throwing the privacy bolt as well. Their kisses still teased, deepening here and there, despite the need she felt igniting in her core. His arms pulled her close, one hand landing on her rear and squeezing tight as he pulled their hips against one another.

She moved to his neck, her fingers leading the way as they plucked open the buttons on his shirt. “We should get you out of those wet clothes,” he said, kissing her hair.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked peeking up at him after nipping at his chest. She threw his shirt open and straightened again.

He dove for her lips, then lifted her off her feet. Furia’s legs wrapped around his hips. Dangling from his neck, she rutted against him suggestively. She knew exactly where she wanted this to go. She wanted to use the rush in her blood to its fullest and he seemed a willing participant bent on an aligned goal.

She peeled her jacket off. And unclasped her bra with one hand. When he set her on the bed, he pulled away just enough to get her slacks undone. There was no conversation about her lack of underwear when he pulled them off--honestly, she couldn’t recall quite when she’d lost them. Someone she’d slept with probably just had a fetish, or so she assumed.

Furia held his gaze as she inched across the wide expanse of the king sized bed, with a stray thought about this being a lot of real estate for one person sleeping alone. He shucked his jeans and everything else before crawling after her. She stopped, leaned back on her elbows, and let her knees fall open.

A smirk curled over his mouth as his eyes raked over her, every inch. His first kiss landed on the knob of her inner ankle. He worked his way up each of her legs, taking his time. A little lick at the back of her knee left her giggling and pulling her leg away from his mouth. He dove at her other leg, biting her thigh and making her keen.

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am,” he countered. His smile was irksome and endearing.

“Tease,” she told him. Though she wanted it to seem like an insult, it was actually a compliment. She loved being well and truly worked up.

When he did reach the apex of her thighs, in his own sweet time, he made good on the threat he’d mentioned in the elevator. His mouth scorched her clit when without pretense he sucked it into his mouth. Her body curled upward, her hands fisting in his hair as her thighs clamped around his head. He didn’t release her. His tongue teased her oversensitive cold flesh without a trace of mercy until she finally eased back into it.

Of course, there was more to warm. Every lick through her folds lit a trail of fire that left her writhing on his bed until she came as he played her body like a maestro.

Lazy kisses crept over her hips, along the curve of her ribs. He bowed his head at each of her breasts in turn, teasing her nipples fervently before his body finally covered hers. His kisses started at her neck; Furia turned toward him, coaxing his lips to hers. The shaft of his cock shifted against her clit, earning a low growl from her. She draped her leg over his hip and moved with him, teasing him as he did the same to her while they kissed like teenagers who had the house all to themselves.

She appreciated the pace, the lack of frenzy in the way he languidly enjoyed every inch of her. He nipped her shoulder when he grabbed her ass and pulled her hips hard against his.

“You feel so good.”

She hummed and guided his mouth back to hers. When his hips shifted starkly, she pulled away enough to say one word. “Condom.”

He looked confused for a moment, like someone had just splashed him with a bucket of ice water. “Yeah, of course.”

She mourned the distance the movement brought. While she was perfectly content to chase anything and everything that would make her feel good and keep her mind away from a single topic, her self-destruction hadn’t yet reached the entirely recklessly stupid stage. High though she might be, she still knew exactly what she was doing even if she didn’t know who.

The bedside table had a little amentities basket, which included a half dozen condoms along with a sewing kit, tiny bottles of lotion, and other little emergency necessities one might find themselves desperate for at any random moment. When he knelt near her again, she sat up and licked her hand, slicking it down his cock. His hands froze as his eyes closed and a low moan crept into his throat.

He shifted slightly as she pumped him again. One more time and his eyes popped open again. He moved fitting the condom on, after having to flip it over after her distraction. She pulled her hand out of the way, laying it on his neck until he finished his task, the completion of which was announced with him lunging for her lips again. His momentum might have carried them backwards onto the bed, except for her hand pressing at his shoulder.

The kiss didn’t break, as he again followed her lead, and shifted onto his back. Furia knew what she wanted, what her body needed in that moment far better than anyone else might. She straddled his hips and rocked against him as they kissed. Teasing herself, probably a bit more than him now, she pressed herself along the length of him. In her own time, her hand snaked between them and guided his cock into herself.

Breaking the kiss, she sat back, towering over him as she seated him deep inside her. His hands teased at her thighs and knees as she ground her hips against his. Eventually she leaned forward once more, moving with more friction. He joined her in minute increments. The pace gradually rose with their racing heartbeats. Furia’s focus became wholly singular, at which point her partner was little more than a means to an end--her orgasm.

When she got close, her nails dug into his chest which she used for leverage in her chase. His grunting and moaning barely penetrated her focus. But the swell of his cock inside her, that she noticed, needed, and used for her own benefit. Even as his hips stuttered, hers didn’t still. Furia set her fingers on her clit seeking more friction now that he’d reached his end.

When he fell asleep beside her, Furia slipped out of the bed and took him up on the offer he’d made her in the pool. After a steamy shower, she exited the bathroom toweling her hair gently. That feeling of familiarity prickled at the back of her mind again and she found herself studying his face once more with less lust and a little more reason.

When she saw it, or more accurately, when she connected that sensation with an actual face from the past her jaw tightened. “Should’ve seen it earlier,” she told herself with a shake of her head, trying to force away the flash of Troy’s face that popped to mind. When she slid open the closet door silently, another surprise brought a disapproving grumble into her throat.

She decided not to judge. Maybe whoever these clothes belonged to had a relationship with him like she’d shared with some of her lovers; she specifically forced herself to think of it in those generic terms. She didn’t want to tempt memories of any of the men in her life to shift to the forefront. She grabbed a black skirt and a simple white blouse, then grabbed one of his jackets from the other side. She emptied the pockets of her wet coat into the new one, emptying the last hit of E from one of the bags she had been carrying.

She’d started for the door barefoot, then returned. His girlfriend’s shoes were far too small, so she grabbed a pair of boots from his side. They were far too big, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Grabbing a bottle from the bar in the other room, she let herself out and strode for the elevator.

#Tormenting Trip #IC Drabble #Badger Scribbles #((Yet another first draft thingie))#((Forgive the obvious horrid nature of this))#((Just trying to get them out of my head))

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fourangers · 6 years ago

Text

Perhaps, in the end, it’s fate

Summary: With one different tilt of the destiny, many other paths can be unfolded. However between them, there would be always an automatic pull since they share an interchangeable fate.

It's ninjaverse AU, completely different timeline. Teacher!Naruto, father!Sasuke, lil!Sarada with a harmless crush on Nardo. No prior pairings with Sasuke (and Naruto btw) because babies can be created through power of SCIENCE! (or in this case, Orochimaru’s experiments).

Based on February prompt from Sun and Moon Challenge, check it out once you can! SNS, T-rated. Comedy and Romance.

AO3 link | FFnet link

⏤.⏤

Squinting his eyes, he swallowed dryly with fingers crossed. He hoped his future mentor would be wise and kind, his teammates nice and welcoming. If he could stretch a little bit more in this wishing department, maybe Sakura will be part of his team. Well, anything, anyone but Sasuke. It was already humiliating enough losing his first kiss to that bastard, going on missions with him would be. The. Worst.

Iruka cleared his throat, staring the list. "Well, Team 7 will be Haruno Sakura..."

Naruto inhaled sharply, tightening his fists.

"Uchiha Sasuke..." He could hear Sakura's jubilant scream all across the classroom, in midst of other feminine complaints and whining. Naruto groaned too.

"...and Hyuuga Neji."

Huh.

That was...sort of unexpected. Really unexpected.

Naruto frowned, wondering why it felt so out of place that he wouldn't be part of this team.

Iruka continued to recite. "That means that the last team will be Rock Lee, Tenten and Uzumaki Naruto."

He threw a tentative glance towards his future teammates, trying not to get freaked out towards the most humongous eyebrows he had ever met in his life. This boy was also wearing a spandex, a bowl cut haircut style and a goofy smile. His female teammate, on the other hand, simply smiled once she noticed him, waving her hand.

Naruto awkwardly waved back, butterflies squirming in his stomach. A brand new life lied ahead of him and he couldn’t wait to get into his first ninja mission.

His new teacher was a bigger weirdo named Maito Gai. He wore Lee’s same spandex and had even thicker brows, but every qualm was instant quelled once he showed impressive taijutsu skills. He was also unbelievably patient and kind with his protegées, taking notes of their strengths and deficiencies, even teaching basic ninjutsus skills to Naruto that he didn’t manage to learn back in ninja Academy.

Gai had auto-proclaimed rival to Team 7’s leader, some shady guy named Kakashi. They stumbled towards that team on a rather frequent basis while watching Gai’s bravados and weird contests with Kakashi laidback responses. That also meant that Naruto and Lee were busy wooing (or at least trying to) Sakura. Noticing Lee’s unsuccessful attempts to ask her out made him shift for another strategy; concentrating on the other rival ergo Uchiha Sasuke.

(though frankly, while sprawled on the bed after another grueling day of training, Naruto had to admit that what he wanted the most was to check if Sasuke, who is another orphan like him, was doing ok on his own)

Sasuke egged him on, honestly. Calling him a total dumbass, smirking while they bickered, it was refreshing someone acknowledge him aside his teammates.

Sakura was treating him better in comparison to the Academy days, much to his positive surprise. She muttered something about Sasuke giving her a blistering lecture, defending Naruto out, which broke his wall for a second.

Chuunin exams arrived, Lee and Tenten losing in the preliminaries, fueling Naruto to get a victory for the team. His fight against Hyuuga Neji ended with some broken bones, painful conversations, a promise and a new friend. He was looking forward to see Sasuke defeat Gaara to honor Konoha, however, as life was full of unexpected changes, that innocuous exam ended with the Sandaime Hokage murdered and the village being attacked.

The village council convinced Kakashi be a temporary Hokage, everyone gathering around to fix the destruction. Soon they returned to their old routine with the usual genin missions while they went back to train. Naruto kept helping Tenten to conjure better weapons as well as sparring with Lee. He had to admit that while Gai was a good teacher, he wished he could expand even further his skills to something other than taijutsu…

Before he could get back to the idyllic days, out of nowhere, Sasuke disappeared. Rumors spread seeing Sakura’s swollen eyes and Kakashi handling a mission to retrieve him. All genins he knew assembled a team with Shikamaru as the leader and Neji to talk him through.

The mission was a complete utter failure.

“He just didn’t listen to me. I even mentioned you Naruto-kun, how it’s possible for anyone to get out from our personal darkness and conquer fate but still…” Neji shook his head, swallowing a soldier pill to replenish his depleted chakra.

Words of disagreement lodged on his throat but he couldn’t voice it out. Naruto knew, somehow, that if it were him, instead of Neji, maybe…Maybe he’d be able to convince Sasuke, or…

After this incident, he noticed Sakura’s grim expression when she started her medic nin training, as well as Neji’s renewed determination to change the Hyuuga clan. Naruto questioned himself, why he wanted with almost the same intensity to bring Sasuke back to Konoha, despite wondering if he’d make a difference. He’s not even his teammate…

And yet he pondered; was this the reason why he accepted Jiraiya’s tutelage, when Gai mentioned about him when they went to retrieve Tsunade?

But as painful that experience was for everyone involved in, life moved on. Even shadows casting on Team 7’s eyes were blurring out, Sakura mentioning her ex-teammate with a somewhat nostalgia instead of bitterness, and Neji found a closer friendship with Naruto as years passed by.

Naruto questioned himself then, the irrational need to work to the bone 24/7, red iris plaguing his dreams sometimes. He was evolving, he was becoming a stronger ninja and yet he always felt that he didn’t reach his full potential. As if his body was waiting for a worthy rival to inspire him.

Team 7 and Team Gai were celebrating together for gaining their chuunin title, as well as Neji’s jounin promotion. Lee and Sakura used this opportunity to reveal that they were dating, shocking them all. They were a cute couple; Naruto figured, so he approached her to drop a quiet confession.

“You know, it’s funny but I used to have a crush on you.” He muttered, sipping his tea.

Sakura stared with wide eyes, before letting out a short chuckle.

“What!” Naruto yowled. “I mean, don’t sell yourself short, you are cute so a lot of boys liked you and I used to be one of them so⏤”

Sakura shook her head, giggling. "No, no, no, I mean...I thought you used to have a crush on Sasuke.”

His jaw dropped to the ground. “What?!”

“Yes, whenever our teams met, you were busier staring at him and trying to get him to fight you than trying to talk with me. So I thought maybe you were into him? Like the typical boy who pull the girl’s pigtails because he likes her. Well, though you two were boys. Was I wrong?”

Naruto was scarlet red to the tip of his hair, mouth still slack, unable to formulate any complete sentence. Sakura’s smile grew more mischievous so he settled to avoid looking at her, wolfing down his plate.

Sakura pursed her lips, sagging on her seat. “Sasuke huh...he’s coming back, you know.”

For a second, the world stood stock still. “What?”

She shrugged, fingers twirling strands of hair. “You heard that right. He wants to go back to Konoha, claiming that he saw the errors of his way. So he traded important information about Sound Village and Orochimaru to regain his citizenship and ninja status in Konoha.”

A silence fell between them as they both took their time to absorb this bout of information. Sakura cheered up once her boyfriend was back with fresh food, but Naruto was lost thinking about all possibilities.

Few days later, Sasuke arrived at the gates, battered and tired, cradling a cloth wrapping with his arms. He was already the main gossip of the town, then the whispers grew exponentially once they confirmed that he was, indeed, holding a little child.

At a tender age of 18, this young man was already a father.

Naruto hid in some corner of a store, glancing surreptitiously as Sasuke strolled through the streets, uncaring to people gawking and muttering around him. The toddler began shuffling, hiccuping. Those small noises soon turned to loud wails that made him stop at once, cradling her close as he made little bounces though this wasn’t enough to calm her down. People made annoyed faces and had quicken their paces, everyone refused to help him out.

Listening to the cries that increased in volume, he bit his lip, taking a deep breath. He emerged from his spot, walking closer to Sasuke who appeared a little frantic.

“Um.” Naruto scratched the back of his head when Sasuke turned to face him with a glare, hands busy while his daughter kept crying. “Maybe you can try putting her body resting over your upper arm, like a tiger resting on a branch.”

Sasuke stared skeptical, despite obeying his suggestion. Her short yowls decreased, breathing becoming more even till she slept in his arms. Needless to say, Sasuke was rather impressed.

“Uh yeah⏤Iruka-toosan sometimes asks me to help him out taking care of children in the daycare center. I got some of those tips.”

Sasuke grunted back, gazing upon his baby.

“So…” Naruto smacked his lips. “Welcome back? Uh, what’s her name?”

Sasuke huffed, placing her head on his left shoulder. “Sarada.”

Naruto held her tiny hand, smiling with a whisper. “Sarada-chan~welcome to Konoha. You’re gonna love living here, meeting auntie Sakura, uncle Neji, Kakashi, me...how old is she?”

Sasuke scrunched up his face, staring downwards. “9 months. I thought...I’d be fine on my own but in the end, we needed⏤” He thinned his lips. “I said too much.” Before Naruto would ask any further question, Sasuke said. “I should get going. Thank you, Naruto.”

Naruto nodded back, watching the brisk steps moving away from him.

Once Sasuke had settled in the old Uchiha compound, Sakura, Neji and Kakashi visited him. They were welcoming, but absent. After all, Sakura was busy in Konoha’s hospital, Kakashi was going to be officially appointed as Konoha’s Hokage, Neji was helping his cousin changing Hyuuga clan’s laws.

There was a significant chasm between Sasuke and other ninjas of his generation, since he was now a father between young adults, and left Konoha while the Rookie Nine nurtured their relationship over the years. He made no effort to draw the bridge too, cooped in his house taking care of his daughter most of the time. And even when the gang would reunite, he was always the last one to arrive, the first to go.

On some occasions Sakura would succeed in convincing him to bring his daughter whenever team Gai and team 7 would gather in her house. Sasuke however, maintained his distance with the crew, aside some quiet conversation with Neji.

It was almost like living in an old film reel, rolling all over again. Watching Sasuke as a child from afar, craving to reach his hand and talk to him but never building enough courage to do so. They became mere acquaintances, the occasional nod of recognition when they crossed paths, making small talks while Sasuke was nursing Sarada. Soon Naruto became jounin when Sasuke managed the chuunin title, Lee mentioning he and Sakura took care of Sarada while he was doing the exams.

He stared down the porcelain mask while the townspeople cheered the end of Kakashi’s appointed ceremony. Gai stood next to him, and Naruto smiled from his teacher’s happiness emanating from afar. Long time ago, he remembered desiring conquering such coveted position, but nowadays he was content knowing that Kakashi would make a decent Hokage.

(why did he lose so easily his determination to follow his ambitions?)

Kakashi didn’t waste much time in celebration, throwing mission after mission on him, one longer than the other and in some faraway sketchy places. Most those times Naruto could only hear the faint echoes of their sprinting, casting long shadows on the cavernous walls. He was responsible exploding laboratories while Tenten gathered reports, weird shapes submerged in purpleish water.

How bizarre. Sometimes he could swear some of those shapes had some resemblance with Sasuke.

⏤.⏤

Iruka was like a father to him and he deserved this long vacation after years of tireless tutelage. But still.

Screams. Collisions. Little imps running around all over the place. Those squirmy little brats slithering out of his grasp and making a racket.

Naruto really needed to work in refusing Iruka’s requests, but the older nin was just this damn persuasive.

He spread his clones in every corner of the daycare center, however, it didn’t seem to be enough. The moment the kids understood that his bunshins could pop out with some harder shove, they made their newest game dispelling as many clones as possible.

Yet those kids were old enough to learn basics of ninja skills, so other teachers threw such responsibility on Naruto’s shoulders, considering he had a higher rank. He had a hard time tampering down his strength, why are children such squiggly delicate beings that cried with the littlest wound?

Naruto spent only one day with them and he was already wondering if he would leave this experience unscathed. Nevertheless he summoned every bit of his patience and taught the fundamentals of aiming, giving them the chance to train too.

He heard collective praises and some gasps coming from afar, approaching and noticing the dark haired girl concentrated on her task. Whoa...time surely flies by pretty damn fast. He had forgotten that Sarada was already 5 years old. Naruto snorted when he saw that most shurikens she threw hit the bullseye.

But that wasn’t enough to satisfy her, since she picked all the paper shurikens and threw with renewed zeal. The rest of the kids went away playing on their own, but Sarada remained in training. Heaving tired breaths, she flung another shuriken but this time it flew past the target.

She made a frustrated growl, running to dislodge the weapon that dug deep in the bark of a tree. Naruto heard a concealed hiccup, as Sarada rubbed her eyes with her arm.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I got this.” Naruto appeared in a blink, quirking a mollifying smile and removed the shuriken with ease. He offered to the young Uchiha, she accepted the weapon with contemplative eyes.

“You’re Lee-san’s friend right?” She realized.

“Sure am! I’m Uzumaki Naruto, it’s nice to see you again Sarada-chan.” Naruto patted her head. “You know, it’s really important to train your skills, but taking a break is also equally as important. Letting your body rest when it’s so tired, so it can grow stronger the next time.”

Sarada pouted, then muttered. “Auntie Sakura told me stories about back when my father was my age. He was a genius, always great with whatever he did, but I’m…”

“Ah yeah your dad...I also remember that he used to train all day and night over and over again. You’ll get as good as him in no time, don’t worry about it.”

“But…” Sarada bit her lower lip, shuffling her feet. “Father once talked to me about the Uchiha clan and how it used to be a very respectable clan and I have to follow their footsteps so⏤”

“Ugh, who cares!” Naruto rolled his eyes. “I think it’s too much that this bastard⏤”

She gasped. “You said a bad word!”

“S-sorry.” He scratched his head. “Anyways, I think it’s unfair to put such heavy duties on your shoulders. Your dad suffered back he was your age, I don’t want you to suffer the same. You should be only Sarada-chan after all right! You’ll make your father proud in your own pace.”

“You think so?”

“I know so! After all, I’m already proud of you and I’m your teacher, right.” He messed her hair, patting on it.

Sarada stared down her shuriken, thumbs sliding over it. She peeked through her fringes, a rosy blush dusting her cheeks. “Thank you Uzumaki-sensei.”

“Oh, you can call me Naruto.” He grinned.

Her voice pumped with more excitement as she said. “Naruto-sensei!”

On the following days Naruto continued with his ninja classes, juggling between paying attention to all students, focusing on the rowdy ones, teaching those lessons and avoid any kind of catastrophe might ensue. He had found another mounting respect towards Iruka, those kids just can’t be real.

In every class Sarada was the first to complete it with pristine score, dashing next to him with eyes silently asking for his praise.

And praise he did, with words of encouragement and approval, injecting an impressed tone as he ruffled her hair. Every single time this gave her renewed motivation to improve herself. Naruto gazed fondly from afar as Sarada hopped between trees with ease. His entire childhood was consumed by hatred and neglect from adults until he met Iruka, he’d never subject any other kid to such trauma once again.

“Naruto-sensei!” Sarada exclaimed, hugging his arm with a tight grip.

Naruto beamed, patting her hair. He was starting to see the perks of this profession, was this the reason why Iruka continued to be a teacher despite having to take care of these little brats everyday?

A baritone voice chimed from behind. “Ah, I see. Expected nothing less I guess.”

They turned around, facing the familiar piercing dark eyes. Sasuke gazed back in fond amusement.

“So you’re really the Naruto-sensei my daughter kept gushing about all last week.”

Sarada pale cheeks reddened at once. “Father!”

“Alright little one, it’s time to go home.” Sasuke hushed by patting on her back. “Go grab our things ok.” After Sarada obeyed him with a pronounced pout, Sasuke muttered once she was out of the picture. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah…” Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. “You look well I guess.”

“Hn. When Lee told me you’re subbing for Iruka-sensei, I didn’t quite believe at first. I thought you’re a jounin?”

“I am, but Iruka-toosan made me promise that I’d take care of them while he’s on vacation. I thought, well, kids right. I took care of ‘em sometimes, one whole month would be nothing and⏤”

“It’s hell isn’t it?” Sasuke smirked.

Naruto dropped his shoulders at once, a long groan vibrating on his throat. “Totally. I was already dead on the first day.”

Sasuke nodded in agreement. “Sarada thankfully is more helpful than most children. But still, where do they get all this energy?”

“I know right??” Naruto laughed. “They look so small I thought they wouldn’t be much trouble but whoa, did I misjudge on this one.”

Sarada arrived with backpack ready. “I’m back father!”

“Good. Maybe we’ll go eat outside for a change.”

“Oh! You should eat Ichiraku Ramen then, it’s perfect for cold day like today!” Naruto said.

Sasuke shook his head. “You and your Ichiraku Ramen, I remember you used to drag Lee and Tenten to eat at that place.”

“Ichiraku Ramen is the greatest, I was just doing them a favor to acknowledge such fact. There’s no other restaurant that would have such delicious braised pork, a tender yet firm noodles coupled with the rich texture and savory miso broth. It’s the best.”

“If Naruto-sensei said so, maybe we should try it!” Sarada chirped. A lightbulb went off and she added. “Maybe he could go with us!”

Both young men crossed their eyes before deflecting in haste, Naruto cleared his throat as Sasuke thinned his lips. “Naruto-sensei looks pretty tired, maybe we shouldn’t bother him too much Sarada.”

“Oh, she’s not bothering me for sure.” Naruto retorted. “But maybe you want to have some quiet time together with your father, right, Sarada-chan?”

“Father wouldn’t mind if you tag along Naruto-sensei, right?” Sarada pulled out the most pitiful expression she could ever muster, jutting her lower lip. “Right?”

Glancing in between her frantic daughter and the bewildered blue eyes, Sasuke exhaled tiredly. He mumbled under his breath. “Is it ok for you to go with us Naruto?”

“Um, ok. Sure!” He messed with Sarada’s hair when she jumped in joy. “I’m going to ask my favorite Ramen flavor for you Sarada-chan, I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

Despite initial reservations, they maintained a cheerful conversation peppered with Naruto’s booming voice and Sarada’s exclaims while they were walking on the way to the restaurant. This time though, Sasuke appeared to be a more sociable mood, chatting back with occasional grunts, which Naruto didn’t mind with his easy-going nature.

Sasuke insisted paying the bill despite all his protests, explaining that this was a small gesture of gratitude for taking care of his daughter. After waving goodbyes, they went on separate ways, smile playing on both their lips.

“Naruto-sensei is like the sun right!”

Sasuke blinked, head tilted to one side to gawk at her. Sarada linked her fingers together, placing to one side of her cheek as she whispered with a dreamy voice.

“He’s so nice and friendly, full of energy and bright. And when he smiles you just feel happier too, it’s wide and sincere, he makes your mood so much better. I love his hair, it’s golden exactly like the sun and his eyes have such a beautiful shade of blue, I’d never get tired looking at his eyes and⏤” She stopped her diatribe once she noticed her father’s peering eyes. “What?”

Sasuke studied his daughter, before settling with a long sigh.

She wrinkled her nose. “Anyways, as I was saying…”

⏤.⏤

2nd chapter here

⏤.⏤

AN: at first I thought that it’d be a one-shot but it got too much material for only a one-shot. So...lol. It’s gonna be a two-shot.

#SunAndMoonChallenge2019 #NaruSasu #SasuNaru #drabble #two-shot #snstext #sn fic

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tothewaterhq · 6 years ago

Photo

ACCEPTED // VIVIAN SCHULTZ

district nine → mentor → Meryl Streep fc

pronouns: she/her positive traits: motherly, patient, compassionate negative traits: idealistic, distrustful, superstitious

describe their arena:

as the tributes for the 30th annual hunger games entered the arena, they were shocked to hear the sounds of waves crashing against a rocky cliff. the bloodbath was perilously held at the edge of a cliff. if a tribute wasn’t careful, they would slip and fall off the side of the cliff once the gong rang out. if they were able to, one step back would have been what separated them from life and death. of course, this was the hunger games, so twenty-three of them would die anyway.

the only way out of the bloodbath was a sliver of the cliff that connected to the rest of the real arena – a deserted island. larger than anticipated, the island contained the remnants of a town that had fallen into disarray, shrines that celebrated pagan gods, and plenty of wildlife and forestry to cause the tributes to shiver in anticipation. it is in this arena that vivian schultz emerged as victor, and it is also in this arena that she faced the betrayal of a lifetime. bio:

every reaping calls for one boy and one girl to be sent to the capitol. everybody knows this to be true; and yet, when the names are called, there are always people that are shocked beyond belief. when vivian schultz was reaped at age eighteen, she was neither surprised nor shocked. she was an only child, however, so her name was only in the bowl a handful of times. it was statistically improbable that her name would be pulled, so why, then, was she not shocked. well, that same morning – when the birds sung throughout nine and the waves of golden grain swung in the early breeze – she woke up with a stomach-ache.

whenever vivian schultz got stomach aches, she knew something bad was going to happen.

once she arrived in the capitol, vivian was ambushed by what she would later jokingly call her ‘entourage.’ her prep team – as they were professionally known – did their best to make the young girl beautiful. while she was by no means a frontrunner right off the bat, there was a little glimmer of hope that could be found in vivian. the people of district nine watched her in the parade and thought that they might have a victor on their hands. deplorables bet in the streets on what training score the girl would get. none of them knew her, but the fact that she had blown a kiss in the parade, had caught a bundle of daisies with a graceful hand, and was talked about for longer than a minute by the capitolites was enough to get the money flowing. all hope disappeared from district nine, however, when vivian received a five as her private training score. instead, all of nine’s attention swiftly switched to vivian’s own district partner – benson – and his ten. perhaps district nine would have a victor, after all.

she couldn’t have known in that moment that numbers weren’t everything – she was too young and too scared. wildly terrified, vivian sought comfort in her ‘entourage’ as well as the friends that she had made along the way. those that would hear of vivian’s tales would always find themselves wondering the same thing: friends? why had she made friends? never one to enjoy solitude, vivian had eagerly struck up friendships with those that she connected with most – children.

well, such a title implies that the rest of the tributes weren’t children, too. regardless, throughout the pre-arena events, vivian had managed to bring together an alliance featuring herself and the youngest tributes in the games that year. it was a shock to the capitol when two twelve year olds, one thirteen year old, and a fourteen year old were reaped. the motley crew – which consisted of vivian from six (18), alexander of four (12), bolt from three (12), lucille of eight (13), and marco of eleven (14) – became a closely knit circle almost immediately. nobody else would know it, but the five of them managed to find some sort of solace in their friendships. it was irrational to develop them, but still they did. perhaps it was the fact that each of them knew that their deaths were coming that persuaded them to live life to the fullest. either way, those bonds – that would transcend time – lasted until the bloodbath.

it was mayhem. twenty-four tributes scurried for safety, weapons, and kills. somehow, vivian’s alliance came together. the younger teens ran to vivian as if she were a breath of life. tears were flung from faces as they gathered together. then, just as vivian realized that somebody was missing, she heard the first of many screams. all four of the five kids turned to see bolt collapse to the ground with a red smile across his neck. the girl from two stared them down with a sickening smile. they were next. before she could get to them, however, vivian and the rest of the alliance sprinted towards the main island. by some miracle, they made it. well, all but bolt. that night, vivian watched as the other three kids cried themselves to sleep around her. she was too tired to cry. instead, she kept lookout and watched with a heavy heart as bolt’s face flashed across the sky.

as the days came and went (all fourteen of the fifteen total that vivian would spend in the arena), her alliance fell apart one by one. lucille was lost when she fell victim to a trap that another tribute had laid out on day four. she had been hoisted into the air and had cried for her friends to save her. begrudgingly, they left her because of the threat of another tribute. as she turned her head to look back, vivian watched in horror as the boy from seven silenced lucille. to this day, vivian can still see and hear lucille’s screams. marco died on day fourteen. as for marco’s death… well, it served as the catalyst for one of the most dramatic moments the games had ever seen.

eight tributes remained alive by day fourteen. as the sun was beginning to set, vivian, alexander, and marco sat down for dinner. they had managed to catch two squirrels somehow and were just beginning to cook them over a small fire when the unthinkable happened. bursting through the forest thicket came the boy and girl from two and… and vivian’s own district partner. they appeared so suddenly – so randomly – that vivian and marco could only stare with slacked jaws for a few seconds. then, as she rushed up and shoved marco and alexander behind her, vivian confronted the careers with tears and screams.

“just leave us alone! go, go!” her voice was sore and her bloodied fingers cracked as she brandished a kitchen knife – she had found it in one of the abandoned houses – at the careers. “just go and leave us alone–”

she was interrupted by the sounds of gurgling and a sad, pathetic cry. turning, vivian watched with red-eyes as alexander slit marco’s throat with a knife that he, too, had taken from an abandoned home. he refused to meet vivian’s gaze as he quickly ran past her and joined sides with the remaining careers. it was then that vivian understood everything. alexander had been the last to join their alliance. he had come to her saying that the careers had promised that he would be the first to die in the bloodbath. how dare a twelve year old volunteer, they had spat at him. he had made a mistake, he said, and he was scared. vivian had welcomed him with open arms.

it was all a rouse, the boy from two explained. they had never kicked him out of the career pack. hearing of a rising alliance, the rest of the pack decided that alexander should infiltrate and eventually lead the pack to them. of course, they had never expected the group of kids and vivian – the child savior – to make it this far, but they were glad that alexander had been around. that’s what he said as he gave the boy from four a swift pat on the back before running a sword through it.

vivian didn’t wait any longer. she turned with a scream and ran as fast as she could into the nearby abandoned village. as she ran, she turned just in time to see benson sneaking up behind the boy from two and slicing his throat. then, a second later, he stabbed the girl from two in the forehead with his dagger. four cannons fired in quick succession as all of panem went wild at the sight of layer after layer of betrayal.

four dead. four remained.

as the sun faded in the distance, vivian shook with fright as she made a sanctuary in one of the homes. she screamed until her throat was raw and dug her nails into her skin until one nearly broke off. she was convinced that she had allowed this to happen. she had allowed marco to die at the hands of alexander. and somehow, even though it wasn’t rational, she was convinced that she had let alexander down, too.

her thoughts – which were at this point jumbled, conflicted, and confused – scattered at the sound of two more cannons as the sun rose and turned the sky into a painting. blinking away tears, vivian stood up, shakily grabbed at her kitchen knife, and walked out of the house. there were only two tributes left. it was her and benson – she had a hunch – and one of them would probably be dead in a few minutes. as she walked towards the rising sun, vivian realized that her stomach had begun to hurt again.

the ensuing final battle shook all of panem to its core. benson and vivian met on the same cliffside that had started it all. for the first time in perhaps ever, both tributes from district nine had made it. the whole of nine began to celebrate the moment the other two cannons fired as the sun rose. they didn’t stop until weeks after the games ended. it didn’t matter to them who came home – they had won, right? that was the mindset as vivian and benson squared off, and that was the mindset when vivian somehow emerged victorious over benson.

after the games, vivian returned home and did the first thing on her mind. using a large portion of her winnings, she converted her home in victor’s village into an orphanage. it was met with stern disapproval by the capitol, but vivian didn’t care – plus, it helped that she was still riding high in the eyes of the capitolites as their newest victor. all she cared about was ensuring that those kids that didn’t have a place to go, or have a parent to cling to, or somewhere safe to be, had a home. she never wanted anybody to feel like those kids had in the arena.

to this day, vivian schultz is known by three titles: victor of the 30th annual hunger games, matron of schultz’s orphanage, and the mother of panem.

PLAYED BY // OZ

#accepted #vivian

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mollyraesly · 6 years ago

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Time with Wolves -- Chapter 18

Just as Thanksgiving had been overshadowed by Robb and questions about his possibly expecting new girlfriend, Christmas was dominated by Robb and his definitely expecting fiancée. Although they still had guests over, it was a rushed affair with more focus on what was to come in the next two weeks than on the day itself. Normally Catelyn spent a generous amount of time shopping to get the best sales and make sure each of her children got two or three fancier items, with a smattering of smaller gifts they’d all come to expect—wall calendars, underwear, fuzzy socks, chapstick, new gloves, wolf-related paraphernalia.

But this year, those little items were nowhere to be found. Instead, they’d gotten mostly gift cards and items they’d need for the wedding, like bowties, emergency first-aid kits, and Advil.

“I’m sorry,” Cat told them Christmas morning after they’d finished opening their presents. “I know this isn’t exactly following tradition.”

“It’s fine, Mum,” Sansa assured her. “We know this year is a bit…unusual.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Arya noted dryly. “I’d say—”

“Arya,” said Sansa, sensing the need to deescalate the situation, “why don’t you help me go get everyone some eggnog?”

Ned gave her a grateful look and then went back to trying to comfort Cat.

When they were in the safety of the kitchen, Arya heaved a sigh. “I hope Robb knows he owes us a Christmas after fucking up this one for us.”

Their elder brother was over at the Westerlings house, having stayed the night with the future in-laws. He was bringing Jane over later in the afternoon to eat with the Starks. Sansa wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t have been wiser to stay away.

She caught Arya eyeing the kitchen knives.

“C’mon, let’s get breakfast ready. The snow outside looks perfect for making snowballs. You and Rickon can challenge Bran to a fight while I help Mom with dinner. Maybe see if Dad wants in.”

Arya dragged her gaze away from the knives. “All right then.” Since her mom was busy helping Mrs. Westerling with wedding preparation—or complaining about being left out—Sansa had taken up a lot of the slack. The first few days, it had been nice to focus on something tactile after her exams. They weren’t her hardest batch of tests, but her Equal Protection Law professor decided last minute he wouldn’t let them bring in their case briefs and they had to do everything from memory—and Prof. Lannister forced her to rewrite one of her papers because she didn’t like the topic Sansa had chosen, namely the importance of portrayals of more traditionally feminine characters in positions of strength in prestige television shows. And all that extra work had made Sansa last couple of weeks of the semester exhausting. But this wedding prep was exhausting in a different way. Almost every conversation she had was about the wedding, and it was frankly getting on her nerves. Sansa normally enjoyed wedding talk and organizing; she had a whole scrapbook to prove it. But everything was so rushed, and the logistics were so complicated that the whole thing just felt stressful, not fun. But there was no way to avoid it—as the entire Stark clan was involved and working their damndest to make this wedding happen. Sansa knew she was starting to tire her friends with discussion of it, and she’d even started to dream about catering menus and napkin colors. “It sounds like you could use a break,” said Gilly sympathetically over the phone after Sansa ranted about the wedding preparations to her for over thirty minutes. The wedding was only five days away now, and she was so ready for it to be over. “Or a lobotomy,” Sansa muttered. Gilly chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m being a total grouch. You’ve been so lovely to listen to me complain. We’ve barely spoken about you. Oh Gilly, I miss you and the girls.” “I miss you too. Sansa. I wish I were there to watch movies and eat lemon cakes with you, but I’ve got to help my sisters with the farm. Speaking of which, I’ve got to get going. But call me again, if you ever need to let off some steam. You know Brienne, Meera, and I have got your back. Keep your head up, Stark, and remember—it’s up to you to decide how you treat others.” “Thanks, Gilly. You always know what to say. Tell your sisters I say, ‘Happy New Year.’ Love you!” “Love you too!” Sansa took Gilly’s advice and left the house to clear her head and visit Ghost. His exuberance upon seeing her again was more than enough to help her sour mood. And she felt calmer by the minute as she brushed out his long coat with Ghost’s face in her lap. “You are my favorite boy in the whole world, Ghost,” she told him. “And I’ll never not love you.”

As she was getting ready to leave the sanctuary of Ghost’s pen behind, Sansa ran into Mr. Mormont. “Back for another visit, eh?”

“You know I can’t bear to be away from him for long.”

Mr. Mormont shook his head. “Never met a more spoiled beast in my life.”

Sansa just waved her hand.

“Thank you, though, Miss Sansa, for the new hat and scarf,” he said, gesturing to the items she’d scrambled to finish knitting on time for Christmas. “I’ll see you at the wedding in a few days.”

Sansa sighed. “That’s right. The event of the season.”

“I’ll expect a dance.”

That made her smile. “You got it.” When she got home from the reservation, Arya kept her company while she started on dinner. It was just them and Rickon, as her parents and Robb were eating with the Westerlings and Bran was hanging out with Hodor. It was not the most exciting as far as New Year’s Eves went, but she was fine with a drama-free evening. Gendry would be coming over later once he was done with work, and she was hoping to fall asleep on the couch before the ball even dropped.

“What should we eat?” Sansa studied the refrigerator with a frown. She was tired of leftovers of savory dishes. She spotted the maple syrup. “How would you feel about breakfast for dinner?” “I feel very good about that.” “Done.” Arya shuffled around as Sansa pulled out what she needed for French toast. “So when is Dickon getting in?” “Tomorrow at 3. I’m going to pick him up at the train station, and he’s going to be staying in Rickon’s room.” “Gross.” Sansa sighed. “I know. Bran offered his, but he needs the extra mobility and access. Rickon’s room will have to do.” “I’ll help you clean it tonight. I know where Rickon hides all his bugs.” Sansa groaned. “I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.” “Yeah? I’m glad. It’s such a shame he hasn’t had much of a chance to meet everyone before. I kind of feel like I’m throwing him to the wolves.” Arya laughed. “Gendry will be around for him to talk to, and luckily Robb will be too busy to do anything stupid to scare him off.” Sansa stopped beating the eggs in front of her. She could still remember that night when Robb upended what was supposed to be her first date with Jon; things were never the same after their conversation in the car. She hadn’t thought much about that night—had purposefully tried to push it from her mind till she got so good at pretending it had never happened. But thinking about it now made her realize how angry she still felt, how unresolved her feelings were about Robb’s interference and Jon’s abandonment.

With a flash, she could still remember the feeling, almost like being kicked in the stomach, when Robb had suggested Jon would never actually want to hang out with her had it not been for Ghost and the way Jon had avoided her eye and refused to stand up for her.

Gods, that had hurt.

She wasn’t a pining, lovesick teenager anymore—by any means. But the memory of that pain still ached.

She realized then, whisk in hand, that she did want answers and that perhaps more closure would help her to put that chapter of her adolescence and her whole history with Jon to rest. How much she wanted to sew up that wound and let it heal so she could finally move on.

“Sans?” “What? Oh, sorry. Just got lost in thought.” “S’fine. I just said you’ll have to be careful with Rickon, too. Cause you know, Dickon’s name isn’t exactly...” Sansa rolled her eyes and stirred some cinnamon into her egg mixture. “I’ve known many dicks in my life, but Dickon Tarly is not one of them. He can handle a joke.” “Can he handle five thousand?” The next morning she met up with Margaery to get their nails done. Sansa chose pale pink for her fingernails and blood red for her toes; Margaery went with mauve and gold. As their nails were polished, they flipped through fashion magazines and discussed hair and makeup options for the wedding. “I’m thinking long, glossy curls for the hair and something more demur for the makeup.” “Just you.” “Well, the dress shows so much cleavage, I have to leave something to the imagination.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Mmhm.” “And what about you?”

“Me? I can imagine your cleavage just fine.”

“Sansa Minisa Stark!” Margaery exclaimed. “You are terrible today. I love it.” Sansa rolled her eyes.

“What dress is worthy of such a person?”

“I honestly wouldn’t get your hopes up. I’m probably going to wear this purple dress I wore to a school dance a couple years ago.” It was a nice dress with long sleeves and a floor-length skirt that would keep her warm. And no one who’d be attending the wedding had seen her in it before. It wasn’t going to drop any jaws, but it was pretty enough. “You aren’t going to get something new?” “There hasn’t been much time.” “Darling, there’s always time for a new dress.” Conveniently, Marg didn’t have any afternoon plans so she went with Sansa to pick up Dickon from the train station. During the ride, they discussed Sansa’s law school applications—in all the excitement she’d barely even registered that she’d already gotten two acceptances via email—and Marg’s plans to take what she learned in business school to open up her own floral shop with her grandmother. “Just better you than me,” Sansa said when she heard the news. “What? Gran is an absolute lamb.” “If you say so,” Sansa demurred. Margaery clapped her hands. “Enough shop talk. Tell me more about your beau. I saw pictures online. He looks like a complete dish.” Marg shoved a picture of a shirtless Dickon under her nose. “I’d positively pay to lick him clean.” Sansa turned a little pink. In the couple of weeks they’d been apart, she’d almost forgotten how handsome he truly was. “He is...occasionally very dishy.” “Oh, you absolute minx! I wish my date had shoulders like that.” “Who are you bringing again?” “Arianne Martell. I met her in one of my business classes. She’s very beautiful, and we’ve gone on a couple of dates, but it’s more casual. I only asked her—well, because I didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t think I could handle—well, you know, I always did have a crush on Robb...” Sansa knew, of course; her friend had never been shy about telling her all the inappropriate things she wanted to do to her older brother. But Margaery was a flirt; Sansa has always assumed she was joking, or at least exaggerating her crush on him. Now, though, Marg looked like she was fighting back tears. “Marg, I—" Her friend’s face transformed into a beaming smile. “Now, now, I think I see a pair of hulking shoulders at two o’clock. Run to him, won’t you, Sansa dear?” Sansa rolled her eyes but nevertheless did a sort of skipping run into his open arms. He was warm and smelled like roasted coffee and peppermint and held her close. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Sansa whispered into his neck. “Me too.” “I missed you.” Dickon smiled and pulled away so he could see her face. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Can I kiss you—just real quick?” “Please.” Smiling, he leaned down to capture her lips—a little longer than he had said he would. “Happy New Year,” he whispered with his lips against her cheek and at her ear. He was still smiling, but his lips began to frown as he pulled away. “Your friend is watching us, I think.” “Oh, I’m sure she is.” “Should I be worried about what I’ve gotten myself into?” “About Margaery? She’s just the tip of the iceberg.” “She doesn’t look that dangerous to me.” Sansa give him a wry smile. “Even roses have thorns. And you’ve just entered the wolves’ den.” “Good thing I have you to protect me.” “Good thing.” “How are you—really?” Sansa sighed. “My big brother is getting married in a shotgun wedding to a girl I think he only met about three months ago, my parents are absolutely overwhelmed, and my younger siblings are barely keeping it together. I’m as good as can be expected under the circumstances. How are you?” She plastered on a smile, laced her gloved fingers through his, and led him away from the train. “Ready to meet Margaery?” He swallowed nervously. “I think you were right about her being dangerous. She looks like she’s going to eat me.” Margaery must have overheard him because she grinned beatifically and winked at him. “With a spoon, handsome.”

Sansa tried not to laugh at the strangled noise that emerged from Dickon’s throat, but it was too perfectly hilarious. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she told him again.

“Nowhere I’d rather be.”

#jonsa #jonsa fan fic #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fan fiction #jonsa fanfiction #jon snow #sansa stark #mollyraesly #Molly Raesly #timewithwolves

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p-artsypants · 6 years ago

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In Due Time (4)

We’ve spent some time with Little Hiccup, how about Big Hiccup?

FF.net | Ao3

—

Big Hiccup stopped at home quickly to collect some supplies, including an empty inkwell to collect the algae. The sooner he got the ingredient, the sooner he could hide in his room until tomorrow evening. It would be an overnight trip, he concluded. The algae was only visible in the dark after all.

And without Toothless, it would be a hefty hike there and back anyway.

With his pack over his shoulder, Hiccup made his way downstairs. Stoick was sitting at the fire, eating breakfast. They just stared at each other before Stoick finally spoke. “Where are you going?”

“To the Northern Swamp. I have to get the algae, remember? I’ll be gone overnight.”

Stoick frowned, but didn’t protest. “Alright. Just be careful, okay?”

Hiccup smiled softly. It took them five years, but they had finally built a strong, warm, and open relationship. This Stoick just didn’t know how to talk to someone who wasn’t a ‘viking’. But he was still a dad, and he still loved his boy.

So Hiccup stepped up, hugged him around the neck, and said. “No worries, I’ll be fine.”

Stoick seemed startled at the sign of affection, but Hiccup just kept on smiling, waved, and headed out the door.

What greeted him outside, however, perplexed him.

Snotlout, Fishlegs, the Thornston twins, and Astrid with a crutch all stood waiting for him.

“What’re you guys doing?”

“You said we were going on a camping trip.” Snotlout offered. “So we went home and packed. I got twiddle dee and twiddle dumb to come too.”

“Whoa…” Said Tuffnut, immediately encroaching on his personal space. “You’re so tall…did Stoick just grab you by the arms and legs and pull?”

Hiccup sighed, and repeated his mantra. “No, I’m Hiccup from five years in the future. Gothi took past Hiccup and traded him with me, because I need to collect some algae, that no longer exists on Berk, for some medicine.”

“Oh, that makes total sense.” Tuff said with a casual shrug. “You know, when Ruff and I were 10, she fell out of a tree and snapped her spine. Gothi pulled the old switcher-oo and had me stop her from climbing the tree that day. It’s a pretty handy trick.”

“Wait wait wait…she’s done this before?”

Tuff shrugged. “Only with me, as far as I knew.”

“And you remember it?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Gothi said that I don’t remember going to the future.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t remember that either. But I remember going into the past and tying Ruffnut up so she didn’t break her back.”

“That’s why you did that!?” Ruff shouted. “Aw man, now I feel guilty for farting on your face while you were sleeping…”

So Hiccup would remember this trip when he returned. Perhaps there was still something here for him that Gothi wanted him to see.

“Are we going or what?” Asked Astrid, impatiently.

“Are you sure you can?” Hiccup asked, concerned. “Gothi didn’t want you walking—“

“I can handle it!” She hissed, with a redness on her cheeks.

“Well, I’m carrying your bag, at least.” He grabbed for it.

“I can handle it!” She hissed again, louder this time.

“I know you can, but I want to help you. We do this stuff for each other all the time in the future.” He pulled her bag off her shoulder. “You’ll get me back, I promise.”

Astrid huffed and looked away with a blush.

Without another word, Hiccup headed out towards the woods, gesturing for the others to follow.

Fishlegs caught up to him quickly. “So, when you said ‘we do this stuff for each other all the time in the future’ does that mean we’re all friends?”

Hiccup gave Fishlegs a little grin. “Sure does. We even start our own little community. A place called The Edge, miles and miles south of Berk.”

“We leave Berk?” Astrid asked with a little gasp.

“Not forever. In fact, we just returned back when I was sent here. But I convinced my dad to let us go, you know, teenage freedom and all that.”

“So what do we do at this ‘Edge’?” Asked Snotlout, with more sarcasm in his tone then necessary.

“Good question! We study dragons. Dragons and all the different groups of people we meet that far south.”

“We just study them? You mean like, we kill them and then dissect them?”

The vivid image popped into his head as he violently answered, “No!”

The group recoiled.

“I mean…we just…study them.”

“Do we at least study how to better kill them?” Asked Fishlegs.

Hiccup stopped walking. They were quite a good distance into the woods now, and no one from the village would hear them. “We…we don’t kill dragons anymore. There’s no need to.”

“What do you mean there’s no need?” Asked Astrid, using the opportunity to sit on a boulder.

“I mean…” he sighed. He couldn’t imagine this going over well. “I mean they don’t raid us anymore. They did for a while, to feed this huge dragon queen…but then I killed it. I lost my legs, and Berk won it’s freedom.”

The group was quiet before Snotlout burst out into laughter. “Hahaha! If you’re going to make up stories to make you seem cooler, at least make them believable! What, are you and Astrid betrothed, too?” He dissolved into more laughter.

But Hiccup simply stood there, with a smug smile on his face and waited.

Eventually, Snotlout stopped his laughing, and noticed Hiccup’s face. “Wait…”

He only smiled, winked, and continued on.

“Wait are you serious!? Come on man!”

—

Little Hiccup and Astrid were at the cove. They had flown together on Toothless while Stormfly followed along.

“Why are we out here in the middle of nowhere?” Hiccup asked, looking around the rather big bay.

“Because, this is where I first met Toothless. You and I come here sometimes…mostly when you’re overwhelmed with village life or chiefing duties.”

Hiccup climbed to sit up on the large boulder near the water. “It’s nice, peaceful.” He amended. “Hey Astrid?”

“Hmm?” She asked, joining him.

“How long have we been together?”

She smiled fondly. “About six months now.”

“Oh, that’s not very long…”

“No, not really,” she agreed. “But we’ve been dancing around each other for years now. Ever since…”

“The Red Death?” He questioned.

“Yeah. I brought you back to Berk after you lost your leg, and I was…worried. Seeing you wounded and bleeding like that…I thought I was going to lose you, and that’s when I realized I felt more for you than just camaraderie.”

His ears burned. “Oh.”

“So I kissed you when you woke up.”

“Y-Y-You did?” His voice cracked.

She grinned at him in amusement. It was fun seeing Hiccup flustered like this again. “Yep, and a few times after, too. But when we actually became a couple…” She told the story of the lightning strike and how she had gone blind. How he had bravely taken care of her while she couldn’t see, and assured her that everything would be okay. She told him with a blush how he had almost kissed her in the woods, but they were interrupted…only for them to finally kiss at sunset after she was healed.

Hiccup listened with a red face an a dopey grin. “I’m so smooth in the future…”

She cackled. “No you’re not, not by a long shot.”

He frowned.

—

Big Hiccup and the gang reached the Northern Swamp at sunset.

“Okay, so if we don’t kill dragons anymore, then what do we do with them?” Snotlout had been relentlessly badgering Hiccup for answers, and Hiccup delighted in one word answers with a smug grin.

He dropped he and Astrid’s packs on the ground. “Here. We’ll make camp here.”

“How do you know what the algae looks like?” Asked Fishlegs.

“Good question, Fishlegs. The algae is bioluminescent, so we’ll see it when night falls.”

Snotlout frustratedly dropped his own pack on the ground and started to violently set up a little tent.

“Bio-luma-scent?” Tuff asked, his nose upturned. “What does that mean?”

“It means it glows in the dark.” Hiccup provided, as he began to set up his own tent.

“Okay, will you answer my question now!?” Snotlout nearly shouted. “We don’t fight dragons anymore, but—?”

Hiccup gave a proud smile. “We ride them.”

The teens all stared at him, slack jawed.

“Really?”

“Really really.”

Snotlout was in his face suddenly, stars in his eyes. “What do I ride?! Please say its something cool!”

“You ride a Monstrous Nightmare named Hookfang.”

On occasion, when Snotlout was extremely happy, he would dance. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but the excitement in his body would just make him shimmy. And that’s precisely what he was doing now.

“Fishlegs, you ride a Gronckle named Meatlug.”

Fishlegs smiled, but Snotlout started giggling incessantly. “A Gronkle? You’d crush the poor thing!”

Hiccup so badly wanted Hookfang here at this moment. That dragon was so good about reprimanding Snotlout when he sold something mean, it wasn’t even funny. So Hiccup just shrugged. “And you, Snot, get your butt set on fire more often then not.”

The dancing ceased at Snotlout frowned. “Shut up, Hiccup.”

“Me next!” Cried Tuffnut. “What do I ride?”

“You and Ruff both ride on a Hideous Zippleback, named Barf and Belch.”

“Aw, I share a dragon with my stupid sister? Not cool…”

“But you each get your own head, with it’s own firepower.” Hiccup tried to placate, though the arguing continued.

Astrid had set up her tent without a word, and now sat on a log nearby, with her injured leg stretched out in front of her. “Dare I ask what I ride?”

“You ride Stormfly, a blue Deadly Nadder. You are probably the fastest and well-trained riders out of the village, behind me, of course.” He said, a little haughtily.

“Oh yeah? And what do you fly? A Terrible Terror?” Snotlout guffawed.

“Oh haha.” Hiccup said, blandly. “Actually, I ride—“

Their little chat was cut short by a roar of a dragon nearby, and everyone froze.

Astrid reached for her axe, but Hiccup held out a hand to stop her. “Everyone, stay calm, and don’t raise your weapons.”

“You’re trying to kill us!” Snotlout accused. “I knew we shouldn’t have come with you!”

But Hiccup hushed him again. The dragon called out again, louder, and a tingle went down Hiccup’s spine. He knew that roar like his own voice. But it was not a fuzzy feeling to hear it now, in the past.

A whistling sound echoed for a moment, and all was still.

“What was that?” Astrid asked.

“It sounded like a Nightfury…” Fishlegs answered.

“He’s here,” Hiccup provided. “Just stay calm and quiet.”

From the other side of the river came rustling in the bushes. Despite Hiccup’s instructions, everyone was on edge as they stared at the moving leaves.

Finally, a black dragon sauntered out, shaking it’s head sleepily. He trotted over to the river and drank the water.

“What is that?” Astrid asked, in a shocked whisper.

“That’s my Nightfury,” Hiccup responded with warmth. “But he’s not friendly yet, so I suggest we all mind our own business.”

The dragon had quenched it’s thirst, and then looked at the little camp, tilting it’s head.

“Hiccup! He’s looking at us!” Snotlout whisper-shouted.

“I know, I know…it’s probably curious why we haven’t started attacking yet.”

“What do we do!?” Ruffnut cried, almost too loud.

The Nightfury perked up at the sound.

“SSShhhh!!!” Hiccup scolded. “Not so loud. He doesn’t see us as a threat yet, so he’s not going to hurt us. But he won’t stay there forever.”

It’s like the Nightfury could hear him, and decided to defy him. With a great show of protest, the Nightfury wound up his tail and plopped his rear on the ground. Then he stretched out and rested his head on his paws, watching them.

“Great. We’re dead.” Snotlout threw his hands up.

“No, we’re not. His pupils are wide and his earflaps are relaxed. He’s just watching us.”

“But you said—“

“He’s not trained, is what I meant. My Toothless would never hurt anyone, but we can’t try our luck with him now.”

“Toothless?” Asked Tuff. “What kind of dumb name is that?”

“He has retractable teeth, the name just stuck.” Hiccup glanced back at the dragon, who watched them with wide, curious eyes. He didn’t look too different from the future. His earflaps were a little shorter now, and there weren’t as many scars on him.

But of course, he had two tail fins. It was jarring, since Hiccup had never seen him with both in tact.

Astrid watched Hiccup get lost in thought. Though the future he spoke of was far-fetched, she couldn’t help but believe him. Something in the way he looked at that dragon spoke volumes.

He knew it, maybe even better than he knew himself.

Finally, he turned back to the group. “We should probably find some firewood.”

“Nah uh, I’m not moving while that dragon is watching us!” Protested Snotlout.

“Fine.” Hiccup ‘hmph’ed, standing.

“I’ll come with you.” Astrid stood.

“No no no, you’ve done enough walking today, Milady.”

She scowled at him.

“But…if you’re up for it…”

Astrid smiled smugly as she followed him.

“Wait! Don’t leave us!” Fishlegs called.

“We’re not going far!” Astrid rolled her eyes. “Just be cool, like Hiccup said.”

“Imagine. Actually listening to Hiccup. We must be insane.”

—

It was late night on Berk, and Stoick was just about to go to bed. Tomorrow, Little Hiccup would be leaving, and he’d get his other son back. But now, there was a real fear in facing Big Hiccup again. He swore to apologize for his behavior back then…but who knew how he would react to it?

Carefully and quietly, Stoick climbed the stairs to the loft where Hiccup slept.

Little Hiccup was sound asleep, cuddled in his blankets and furs.

There were some nights, if he was being honest, when Stoick would come up to watch Hiccup sleep. As a child, he had watched because Gothi had worried about his size. He was just so small and sickly…the chances of him making to adulthood were slim.

And after the Red Death incident, Stoick was even more worried about his wounds. It wasn’t until the last few years that he had stopped checking in on him.

Stoick leaned in and kissed his son on the head, and then retreated to bed.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid #Astrid Hofferson #hiccstrid #smol!hiccup #time travel #in due time

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