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yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen · 4 years ago

Note

“Did we fuck last night?” Smut starter w/ our baby boy Santiago ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ love your work :)

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt and the kind words! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for every reblog, comment, and like.

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + (For language, oral (F! Receiving), vaginal sex, alcohol use NSFW

My Masterlist

Last Night at the Party

Unknown number: Good Morning.

You: ...Morning...who is this?

Unknown number: Santiago Garcia, ya know Frankie's friend.

Fuuuuucccckkkkk

Santiago Garcia: Quick question...did we fuck last night?

You groan and fall back into the bed, your hand thrown over your eyes as the sunlight fights to sneak through the crack in the curtains. Your head pounds from the amount of alcohol you consumed the night before. Frankie and his fiancé, not wanting to be apart even one night, had a joint bachelor/bachelorette party.

You worked in the front office at the tour office. Frankie flew for and had quickly become fast friends. He was funny, sweet, and a wonderful friend. But with Frankie came Santiago Garcia, the man who stalked your dreams. He was handsome as fuck, with salt and pepper curls and deep brown eyes. His arms always straining against the fabric of his t-shirts. The man had an ass that was simply divine. Many a night, you had dreamt of kneading it in your hands as he slammed into you.

But he never noticed you. Not at least in the way you wanted to be seen. You tried on the days you knew he would be coming by. Wearing tighter clothes or shorter dresses and attempting your best at flirting. The only thing gained by any of this was Frankie's amusement as he slung an arm around your shoulder and told you there were better men than Pope.

That's another thing, the nickname; Pope. You once asked Frankie about it jokingly. Frankie told you it was because Santi in the army brought people closer to God, and all the women he fucked. You had just about given up all hope, till last night.

********

The party was in full swing when you arrived—wearing a dark blue halter dress that stopped just above your knees, converse, and a black leather jacket. Frankie and his fiancee greeted you with a hug and gave you the rundown of the land. It was casual. They had rented out a private space in the local brewery. You could order anything on the menu and open bar. Thank fuck for that as you watched Santiago flirt with some redhead at the bar.

You walk down to the opposite end, sit down, motion for the bartender, and ask for an IPA. You try everything in your power to keep from looking over at him, but your eyes stray without your knowledge. Gazing around at the way the denim hugs him in all the right places, the top buttons on his shirt opened up to see the sun-kissed skin peeking through. It's almost magnetic the way his eyes drift up to meet yours across the sea of strangers. You see him smile and turn back to his partner before he grabs his beer and heads over to you.

"Is this seat taken?" his deep baritone snaps you out of your head, and you look at him, nodding. "You're the girl who works in Frankie's office, right? The secretary?"

"Yep, that's me, the secretary," you take a deep drink from your beer and try to keep the passive aggression out of your tone, turning snarky instead. "And you're that guy who comes and talks to Frankie and interrupts my office with idle chit chat."

He looks a little taken aback, but he brushes it off, grinning, "I never knew you had this much fire in you. What's your name?"

You roll your eyes, "I have told you my name on four separate occasions, and now you want to know it again? Why don't you guess?"

"Okay," he smiles, taking a drink, "how about ginger?"

"I think your thinking about your friend on the other side of the bar," you laugh and gesture for another drink.

"Fuck," he mumbles under his breath, going through a plethora of names, none of which is your own. You've finished two beers before he actually guessed your first name correct—each name sinking the knife deeper and deeper into your chest.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner," you sarcastically chime, and he smiles, a real genuine broad smile. Fuck him and his perfect smile. "With how many names you had to guess, I'm actually delighted you never noticed me. I'd probably have an STD." He spits out the drink in his mouth, coughing and patting his chest with his fist.

He laughs, looking at you wide-eyed, "I do not have any fucking diseases. I get tested regularly."

"When was the last time?" you can tell he's thinking back.

"Tuesday," he says triumphantly, "and I haven't fucked anyone since then so." He takes another sip of his drink, grinning at you over the glass.

"So if I wanted to fuck you, it would have to be tonight?" You casually sip your drink, staring at him, bold from the alcohol flowing through your system.

He sputters and coughs again, choking on his drink. "Are you trying to kill me?" he puts a hand to his forehead and looks at you. "Are you serious?"

"I want you to fuck me Santiago," you take his hand down the rest of your drink and pull him towards the back of the brewery. Your eyes connect with Frankie, and you give him a wink pulling a shit-eating grinning Santi behind you. He walks past you and pulls you into the cold night air of the alley.

It was dark and deserted; the country music blaring from inside echoed off the exterior's red brick wall. For an alley, it was relatively clean. The sidewalk to the public wasn't visible from around the dumpsters. Not the most romantic spot, but when Santiago latched his lips onto the soft skin below your ear. The spicy scent of his cologne overwhelming your senses.

"Does that feel good?" he whispers huskily in your ear, nipping the lobe lightly. The moan you release has him smiling against your skin, "that's a yes," he chuckles.

"Stop teasing me," you whine as he gropes your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He pulls away from your neck and tilts your chin up to look at him.

"Do you want this?" he whispers, a ghost of his lips on your lips.

You don't answer, only lunging forward and recapturing his lips in a moan. He uses the opportunity to sweep his tongue into your mouth. You fight in a battle for dominance that he eventually wins. His hands moving beneath the shell of your leather jacket and running over the smooth skin of your exposed back.

He takes his time moving down to your cheek, your neck, and then sucking hard into the skin of your collarbone. You are sure to have bruises tomorrow, but at this point, you don't fucking care. His hands move further down and cup your ass before moving under your dress, sliding your panties down slowly, he unlatches from your sensitive skin. Dropping to his knees and groaning, pulling down your panties over your converse before pocketing them.

He throws your dress over his head and dives into your folds, his tongue working against your throbbing clit. You grab the side of the dumpster as you feel the scuffle from his face, scratch against your thighs, as he rocks his tongue back and forth over you. "Fuck," you moan as you feel him slip one thick finger slide into your pussy. Your head drops back, hitting the brick wall. He chuckles, and the vibrations draw another deep moan from inside as you pant.

The sound of the backdoor of the brewery opening snaps your head to the side. Your bottom half is covered from the dumpster, and you frantically hit Santi on the head. Still, he doesn't stop, instead adding a second finger, stretching you deliciously. Frankie's signature cap pops out into the alley, and he turns to look at you. You try your best to smile and bite down hard on your tongue, almost drawing blood as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

"Hey! We're about to do speeches, and Santi's my best man. Have you seen him?"

"N-n-no," you stutter, and Santi reaches a hand on your ass to push you even further into his mouth. "We came out here to talk, but he left like five minutes ago? Maybe he went out f-f-front."

Frankie looks at you, questioningly, "Are you okay? You're acting kind of strange."

You yelp, throwing a hand down on top of the dumpster with a laugh, "I am just fantastic, you know, if I see Santiago, I will be sure to tell him he's needed."

"Okay, thanks," he throws out a wave going back inside with a click of the door.

"Such a good girl," Santi chuckles from beneath your dress, and you feel yourself cum all over his tongue gushing around him as he adds a third finger pulsing inside you.

You bite down hard on your lip, and he keeps licking and fucking you with his mouth. His nickname making more and more sense as you literally feel closer to God. You dig your fingers into his curls and pull his mouth away. Dragging him up to kiss you again, you taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes you even wetter.

He steps back and unbuttons his jeans pulling out his cock. He's thick and rigged, the tip spewing pre-cum. He grabs his wallet and pulls out a condom making you giggle. "Hey, every good soldier comes prepared," he laughs, pulling it on.

He pushes you back further into the brick, bringing your legs up around his waist and bunching your dress up. He lines himself up, and you look into his eyes, stifling a scream as he slams into you. You've never felt so full in your entire life, clenching around him as he starts to slowly rock into you.

You converse crossed against his back as he kisses you again slowly and passionately. Not the quick fuck you thought he would give you. For the location and the time, it was strangely intimate. "Are you okay?" you pants against your neck.

"Yes," you gasp as he hits inside you just right, "just, please don't stop." He pulls away from your neck and kisses you again, licking into your mouth.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna treat you right." He picks up the place and reaches down between you to your sensitive clit rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

"Oh fuck, right there, Pope," you moan, and he picks up the pace. The brick digging into your back as he furiously fucks into you. Your orgasm slams into you without warning, and you tug on his curls, throwing your head back as you stile a scream.

"Yes, cum for me," he praises you through a second orgasm. Three more thrusts and he's cumming, biting down on your exposed shoulder as he groans. You both come down from your high, and he pulls away, smiling at you. You laugh at his mused hair, lipstick smeared across his face, he looks freshly fucked, and you feel a sense of pride knowing you did that to him.

The awkward, you've just fucked a mutual acquaintance in an alley moment comes faster than you anticipate. He pulls out and ties off the condom throwing it in the dumpster and pulling up his jeans, relatching them. You straighten your appearance the best you can. Running your fingers through your mused hair. You search the alley floor for your panties hoping to throw them away or better burn them when you hear a whistle.

Santi is standing before the back door holding your panties on the crook of his finger and smiling. "I have to go back and give my speech, but after… I would really love to buy you a drink. Maybe we can go back to my place for another couple of rounds?"

You bite your lip, nodding, and he smiles, pocketing your panties and going inside. The door latches, and you sigh, closing your eyes and trying not to freak out. The door slams open; you jump as Santi runs back out and closes the distance kissing you again. The kind of kiss you feel down to the tips of your toes. He places his forehead against yours. "I really want to see you again, don't run away, okay?" he whispers before kissing you again and running back inside.

**********************

You look at the text message again. The perfect night of passion with Santiago, and he doesn't even remember if you...The phone chimes again.

Santiago Garcia: I'm a moron. I don't know why I said that. I know that we did. It was one of the most incredible moments of my life.

You: Then what the fuck, Santiago?

Santiago Garcia: I want to take you to breakfast, on a date. It's the least you could do after bailing on me last night.

You: Well, I'm not sure I want to.

Santiago Garcia: Well, that makes this awkward.

You: What?

Knock Knock

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @a-seeker-of-imagination @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @letoartreiides

Also tagging @josepedropascal Oscar Train toot toot

#Oscar Isaac #Triple Frontier #santiago pope garcia #Santiago pope garcia x reader #Female Reader #Santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia x reader #Triple Frontier fic #Autumn Writes

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 2

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing: Vampire!Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of PTSD, Reader is ex police, Possible home invasion, NSFW sexy times, protected sex.

Previous Parts: Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand Castle Under The Stars. Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Chapter 2

Walter had managed to recover from the shock of seeing his best friend and his wife being able to make their eyes glow, and as unbelievable as it sounded, had accepted their explanations of how they’d been turned into Werewolves. Much like his own knowledge of Vampirism before he had been turned himself, he quickly understood that what the media made these quirks of nature to be and what they actually were had been greatly exaggerated.

Sy had stayed up into the early hours of the morning with him, sharing the better part of a bottle of bourbon as he’d described how it affected their family, and how his wife only turned when her period coincided with a full moon, and how they dealt with childcare during the times that they would turn.

Walter woke with a start, the soft mountain light pouring in the windows and for a moment he was confused, not recognising his surroundings until he remembered spending the rest of the night on Sy’s couch. His mouth felt like something had crawled inside and died, and he swore in that moment not to share hard liquor with someone that could howl at the moon. Finding some painkillers high in a kitchen cabinet he crushed two between his teeth before drinking straight from the tap. Standing tall he moved his neck, trying to get the kinks and knots out of his muscles when a pair of fluffy slippered feet appeared in the doorway. Looking up Walter poorly suppressed a laugh as he saw Sy wearing a pair of sheepskin moccasins and what was obviously his wife’s robe;

“Reginald, you look stunning” Walter muttered as he watched his friend shuffle into the kitchen

Sy held up his finger and waggled it, wincing at the sunlight pouring in the window;

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me that, the only people that call me that are the preacher or my Ma, and unless you’re planning on marrying me or making me biscuits...”

Walter laughed, leaning against the counter as Sy filled the coffee pot as if he was on autopilot, before reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a baby bottle with the previous day’s expressing date on. Setting the bottle to warm in a bowl of water he handed Walter a tin of coffee;

“Fill that up, i’m gonna go get Luna”

A few minutes later he reappeared holding his little girl in his arms, wrapped in a soft blanket covered in moons and stars. Grabbing the bottle before settling at the kitchen table, he popped the lid off and shook the bottle, before lifting it and shaking a few drops onto his tongue, laughing when he saw Walters eyes go a little wide;

“Better straight from the source but Mama is sleepin’ so its me in Mama’s robe” he explained with a grin on his face. Walter placed a mug of steaming black coffee in front of Sy; “Thanks man… hey, in the fridge there’s a pint of pigs blood from Walkers Meats… ya’know, if you need it”

“Why have you got pigs blood?”

“The missus was gonna make some Scottish thing, some sorta sausage, but if you need it, we can always get another… in fact she’s gonna be too tired to use it before it spoils, what with the full moon and all...”

Sy turned his attention to his tiny daughter feeding in his arms, giving Walter the sense of privacy to do what he needed to do. As Luna finished her bottle Sy held her to his shoulder, rubbing her back until she let out a burp he would have been proud of himself, only looking up when he heard Walter also let out a low belch;

“You need me to rub your back too Walt?”

“Fuck off Sy” the vampire said lightheartedly, a sense of relief in his mind now that the guy that had become one of his best friends knew his secret.

Pulling the last crate of bottles off the back of the pickup you thanked the guy from the craft brewery and waved him off, taking a deep breath before slowly climbing the fire escape at the back of the bar that led into the storeroom. It had been a long shift already, starting at 10am you’d opened up and started the ovens, restocked the bar as the cleaners had come through and cleaned the place top to bottom. Your boss was always decent to his staff, paying a good wage and having the cleaning crew come in during the closed daytime hours rather than in the early hours of the morning.

Working around them as they did their job, you restocked the caddy’s on the tables with silverware, napkins, and condiments, before returning to the bar and checking on the ice machine.

“Hey we’re all done now” one of the cleaners said as you looked up.

“That’s great, thanks. You guys always make this place look good”

Chatting with them you walked them through the storeroom - something your boss always insisted on that any non bar staff had to be escorted through - before one reached for the wooden rail on the fire escape. Something made you stop talking and before you could stop yourself, one hand was pushing one of the guys back into the storeroom, the other was grabbing the shirt that was already standing outside. Just as you did the rail slipped away, as if in slow motion, the three of you looking in fear as the heavy wood crashed twenty feet below onto the empty kegs that were stored beneath.

Speechless you stood there, fingers still curled around the shirt of one, hand splayed across the chest of the other;

“Fuck” you whispered quietly, not to anyone in particular.

“You could say that…”

Having made sure both cleaning guys were ok, if a little shaken up, you made them leave by the front door then considered your options. Dialling the boss you weren’t surprised to hear it ring out before going to voicemail. He had strict downtime rules, and was more than likely out on his ranch land taking care of his horses. Knowing he trusted you to make the right judgement, you scrolled through your numbers and dialled Marshall’s Property Maintenance;

“Marshall’s, what can i do for you?”

“Hi, i’m calling from Big G’s Sports Bar? We’ve just had the handrail fall off our fire escape. Wondering if you’ve got space to fix it this afternoon?”

There was a pause before you heard a long exhale of breath;

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in twenty minutes”

“Thanks Walter”

Hanging up you smiled. You’d worked with Walter when you’d been on the police force, you’d been a patrol cop that would assist with crime scene control and you’d been first on the scene for countless horrific acts of violence. One final call had given you PTSD so bad you’d resigned, finding a home in the small town of Blackwater Lake and a steady job at Big G’s Sports Bar. Your boss was the big quiet type, liked to spend more time out on his ranch with his horse, having enough trust in you to run the day to day operations of the bar as his assistant manager.

It had been well past 9pm when Walter finished the repairs. Your boss had come in and helped him out when he’d got your text, leaving you in charge of the first few hours of opening. When the two men reappeared through the storeroom you smiled at them, getting ready for the evening handover before grabbing your coat and clocking off.

A few minutes later as you hopped off the last step of the fire escape onto the dandelion scattered gravel - your boss liked to let them grow - you smiled at Walter as he was loading his tools into his truck;

“Hey, thanks for today. Really saved our bacon… without the fire escape we wouldn’t be up to code so couldn’t have opened”

“S’ok. Glad you called” Walter admitted; “It’s been a while…”

Scuffing the gravel with your boot you swallowed the lump that was in your throat;

“How have you been? Since… ya know…”

“Alive. Wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t of been for you and your partner”

“We did what was needed… not every day you see va…” you stopped yourself, you still hadn’t completely come to terms with what you’d seen; “V...vagrants doing that… I’m just glad we got there in time…”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Walter rounded the truck and stood in front of you;

“Do you need a ride home? Your boss mentioned that you walk to work and you stayed late where he was helping me get this fixed”

“Thanks, that’d be nice”

Over the next few nights Walter would appear at the bar early evening, usually under the pretense of checking the work on the fire escape or dropping off the bill to the office, and you quickly clocked that he would always be leaving just as your shift was ending to conveniently give you a ride home. Not that you minded, the weather had turned unseasonably cool after the warmth of the parade weekend, so the casual conversation as he drove you home in the warmth of his giant truck was a good way to end the day.

As he rolled into the parking lot behind your apartment complex you wondered if you should invite him in for a coffee, but weren’t sure if you were reading his intentions correctly. Gnawing on your lip you reached into your pocket for your keys, smiling at Walter as he pulled the truck to a stop;

“There we go, home sweet home. Have a good night”

“You too Walter”

Stepping out you smiled and gave him a little wave, knowing he waited until you had gotten into your building.

Watching you go Walter cursed himself. When Rachel had left he’d been in the dumps even more than usual, but over the last few days he’d taken a shine to you. He was pretty sure you had clued onto the fact that he had always turned up around the time of your shift finishing, but when he’d found out from Geralt that your car had died and you couldn’t afford to repair it, he didn’t like the thought of you walking home alone. Sure Blackwater Lake was a sleepy little town, but keeping in mind what lurked in the woods - both natural and supernatural - he felt better knowing you’d gotten home. He had been sure you were going to invite him in for coffee tonight, but he’d gotten butterflies in his stomach and had blurted out a farewell before you’d had the chance.

Looking up at your apartment he let out a sigh.

Then… then something caught his eye. You hadn’t been in the building long enough for the shadow to be you, knowing you stopped to grab your mail each time you entered the building. Killing the engine he reached to the glove compartment for his gun - he still had a concealed carry permit - and raced to the building.

Juggling your mail and your purse, you held the letters in your mouth as you searched for the right key on your set when suddenly the sound of thundering footsteps made you spin around, your jaw dropping when you saw Walter appear from the staircase and running to your side. His hand was on your arm and he was pulling you to the side of your door before holding you to his chest;

“There’s someone in your apartment”

“What? No, i locked everything before i left… and there’s no sign of any damage to the door…”

Letting you go he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled for the sheriff, but as you listened in you could hear the volunteer dispatcher explain that both the Sheriff and the two deputies were out on the highway dealing with an 18 wheeler logging truck that had spun off on a bend. Walter cursed under his breath and hung up;

“Do you still carry?”

“No… not since…”

“Ok. Unlock the door and stay behind me”

The next minute seemed to last both seconds and hours, following Walter through your apartment until he silently pushed the bedroom door open with his gun;

“Freeze!”

The shape in the darkness didn’t move, and when you peered over Walters extended arm and you realised what he was looking at, you let out a sigh and flipped the lightswitch, the ‘threat’ suddenly illuminated and Walters shoulders dropping;

“Oh…”

Your spare uniform shirt was hanging on the frame to the window where you’d hung it earlier in the day so the sunshine would dry it. You let out a deep breath and laughed, resting your forehead against Walters shoulder;

“It’s just my uniform…” you hadn’t realised your voice was shaking until Walter turned and wrapped his arms around you

“I’m sorry i scared you”

Burying your face in the warmth of his sweater, your voice was muffled as you spoke;

“Its ok. I’d rather you have seen the mess in my apartment and saved me from an intruder than the alternative…” you smiled weakly at him, and it was then that the tension in the room was like static before a storm. Like the first lightning strike, when Walters lips touched yours it was as if electricity coursed through your veins, the kiss hungry and needy, contact between two touch starved people needing that connection. Your fingers curled in threads of his knitwear, pulling yourself closer as his arms wrapped around you and his hands splayed out over your ass, squeezing handfuls of flesh so he could pull you flush against his body. The kiss deepend and his tongue sought entrance between your lips which you eagerly granted. He tasted of coffee and peanut butter chocolate, and when he pulled away you were both gasping for breath.

“So, vampires do need oxygen then?”

“How do you…? How are you not scared?”

“Because i was there when it happened. And I've seen you hundreds of times since. I’ve seen you in the mirror, I've seen you outside in the sunshine, i’ve literally served you garlic bread…” you paused; “And i didn’t need to invite you in. Whatever myths are linked to your condition, i know the Walter behind them, i know the quiet and controlled Walter that assesses a situation and ensures everyone is safe…” you paused; “Because I know i’m safe with you”

Walter opened his mouth to speak, but the lump in his throat caught the words. Closing his eyes he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath as you gently held his face in your palms, your thumbs softly caressing the skin of his cheeks where his beard ended. You pressed your lips to his, and this kiss was different, this kiss was full of passion, of acceptance and the growing need that was blooming.

Clothes were scattered as fingers and lips found each new patch of exposed skin, running your fingernails down his massive chest as you both fell to the bed, your fingers curling in the coarse hair that covered his chest before clutching at his belt as his teeth sharply ran over the line of your collarbone and you let out a gasp;

“More…”

“I… I’m not going to bite you…”

“I don’t want you to, but my neck is super sensitive, it's like my biggest turn on…”

At that moment Walter could feel the change, his eyes paling and his fangs growing more prominent as you watched from below him, but what he wasn’t expected was the groans that escaped your throat and the way your body shook;

“Did you just…?” he cocked an eyebrow, he already knew you’d just cum, but he wanted you to admit it.

“Yes, fuck yes, now i need more…”

With a growl he ducked his head down and peppered sharp kisses over your neck, hands working on each others jeans before you were able to kick them off. Your hands ducked into Walters pants and you grasped at his hard length, hot in your palm through his underwear;

“Oh fuck, you’re big…”

“Don’t worry, i’ll go slow… do you… do you have protection?”

“In the drawer”

He reluctantly pulled himself off the bed, and you propped yourself up on your elbows as he searched out the condoms, pulling the box out and swinging something else from his fingertips;

“These aren’t regulation edition”

The pink fluffy handcuffs had been a present a long time ago, and had somehow moved apartments with you;

“Next time…” you reached and grabbed them from him, tossing them aside before grabbing the box and a small foil packet, ripping it open with your teeth as Walter quickly shed himself of his boots and jeans, his dark boxers discarded as you reached for him and smoothed the latex over his fat dick.

He smoothed his hands down your legs, before tugging you down the bed and flipping you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until your ass was in the air. The rough brush of his beard against your soft inner thighs was quickly soothed by his tongue swiping a firm lick through your soaked folds. He took hold of your hips and you felt him move into position, the firm nudge at your entrance before with a low groan he speared you with the slow stretch of his girth.

“You feel so fucking good… so tight…”

Your fingers curled into the bedsheets and your jaw hung open, the sheer pleasure that was coursing through your veins felt like an elixir as Walter hammered into your tight velvet channel. The carnal slap of flesh on flesh resonating around the room, only joined by the breathless pants escaping your lips and the grunts Walter would let slip as he sought pleasure in your body with his own. He splayed his fingers over your back, running the palm of his hand up your spine until he was able to cup your neck and pull you up, flush with his heated body. His sharp teeth scraped over your neck, his beard rough against the etched skin;

“Look in the mirror. See how amazing you look”

Focusing your attention on the dresser mirror that stood in the corner, you watched as Walter continued to slowly rock his hips, fucking you slow and hard from behind. But it was his eyes that drew your attention, icy pools of white with deep obsidian pupils piercing the tundra, and the flash of danger from his sharp teeth at your neck, just catching on the skin as he spoke;

“You’re so fucking beautiful, dunno what i did to deserve you… will you cum for me?” he slid his hand down your stomach and in the patch of curls at the apex of your thighs, seeking out the sensitive pearl of your clit and rubbing the pad of his finger over it in firm circles; “Will you cum for me?” he repeated, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips.

“Yes… Walter, please…”

“What do you need…”

“My neck, please…”

Walter knew he couldn’t bite you, there were so many unknowns he’d never explored, but he closed his eyes and focused his energies on bringing you to completion. Thrusting his hips in time to the movement of his hand, whilst sucking a hickey onto your neck, knowing his teeth were rubbing against the skin but not breaking it. The triple stimuli sent you over the edge, your head rolling back onto his shoulder and your mouth open in a silent scream as you came so hard you saw stars, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as your walls gripped Walter tight, before with one final thrust you heard him growl as he came hard.

He held you for the longest time, your heart racing in your chest as echoes of your orgasm ricocheted through your body. As Walter started to soften you felt him hold the condom at the base of his shaft as he pulled out gently;

“Err… bathroom?”

“Just through there” you nodded to the door off of the bedroom as you fell to the bed, laying back with a smile on your face.

A few moments later he reappeared with a warm washcloth, first soothing your neck before tenderly attending to the mess between your thighs. After putting it back in the bathroom he appeared at the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans when you caught his wrist and pulled him onto the bed;

“You don’t need to go”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…”

“Look, unless you’re going to turn into a bat or something, you’re fine… we can talk, order some takeout…”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled to his chest as he smiled sleepily;

“That sounds good. Can i take you out on a proper date at some point?”

“That’d be nice. Though our options are slim in this town, its only Sue’s Coffee Shop or Big-G’s Bar… unless you want to get a take-out pizza and sit outside on the kerb”

“I’ll cook, come to my place? What are you doing Friday night?”

“I’m off, but…”

“But?”

You felt your cheeks flushing with heat;

“I’m due on by the end of the week…”

“Oh. OH…” You looked up at Walter and saw a flush over his cheeks and his blue eyes glinting with excitement and a smirk on his lips.

“Oh… you’re into that?”

“You’re… not? Because i just want to say, i would happily give oral to my girl on her period even pre-vamp status…now its just…”

“A snack?”

He let out a low belly laugh;

“Yeah, you could say that”

Curling up to Walter’s chest you felt a sense of calm you hadn’t experienced for a very long time, the conversation flowing easily and long into the night, before you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #Vampire!Walter #henry cavill

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osakaso5 · 4 years ago

Photo

Riku Nanase RabbiTube Rabbit TV Part 1: Spending Time With Riku

Part 2 | Part 3

Staff: …Now, on to the RabbiTube project.

Staff: Our plan is to introduce the videos by featuring clips on NEXT Re:vale!

Staff: We’d really appreciate it if you could show a side of yourselves that people don’t usually get to see on TV. It’s a pleasure to be working with you!

Momo: We’ve got high hopes for you guys!

Yuki: Feel free to fully expose yourselves to the public.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha, please be gentle with us! Looks like I’m gonna have to do a RabbiTube study marathon..!

Gaku Yaotome: By the way, Tenn, I saw you watching RabbiTube videos the other day. Do you know any good ones?

Tenn Kujo: …I was just watching cat videos.

Gaku Yaotome: Cats, huh. That’s not gonna help us learn anything.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: …I think they might help! You could learn ways to entertain and soothe people…

Gaku Yaotome: Ryu, not all of us are gonna be able to do that…

Yuki: …I’m liking the idea of Kitty Gaku.

Tenn Kujo: …Pfft…

Gaku Yaotome: Tenn, why’re you laughing!?

Riku Nanase: Kitties..! So could it be like a video of Iori going into a cat café?

Iori Izumi: Why do I have to go to a cat café!?

Yamato Nikaido: I’m not too excited about making videos like that, either…

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wanna do a pudding tasting!

Sogo Osaka: …Personally, I’d like to rank my top 100 spices from all around the world…

Nagi Rokuya: And I shall hold a Cocona watch party!

Mitsuki Izumi: You guys aren’t bringing anything new to the table!

Iori Izumi: …Actually, I suppose animal videos do have their appeal, despite how banal they are…

Riku Nanase: Did you say something, Iori?

Iori Izumi: No, nothing.

Momo: Ahaha! Great, you’re already brainstorming ideas!

Momo: You’ve all got the right idea! We wanna see you act natural for your RabbiTubes!

Yuki: Let’s have a fun year doing this.

IDOLiSH7 & TRIGGER: Yessir!

- - - -

Riku Nanase: We’re going to be RabbiTubers for our birthday project this year..!

Sogo Osaka: All the group chats up until now were fun, so it’s kind of a shame that we won’t be doing one this year.

Mitsuki Izumi: …Fair enough. It’ll be awesome to make videos for our fans, but I wish we could have our own celebrations too!

Yamato Nikaido: It’s become kind of a tradition by now.

Nagi Rokuya: …We do not work together as much as we used to. Though I understand that it is difficult to match all our schedules…

Tamaki Yotsuba: Do we not get to eat Mikki’s cakes this year?

Mitsuki Izumi: The cakes are the one thing we’re gonna make for sure! Right, Iori!?

Iori Izumi: Yes. I’ll help, too.

Riku Nanase: Hmm… Celebrations…

Riku Nanase: Ah! Why don’t we all go somewhere together for our birthdays?

Riku Nanase: I guess we probably can’t all go… But we can get our manager to arrange it so at least some of us can hang out!

Mitsuki Izumi: Going out, huh… That does sound like a nice change of pace from all the group RabbitChats!

Yamato Nikaido: It’s a shame that we won’t all be able to go, but getting to choose a spot does make it feel more special. …You should take me to a beer brewery, by the way.

Mitsuki Izumi: Sounds like you’ve already got one in mind!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Let’s take lots of pics and videos for the guys who can’t go. We can send them over RabbitChat.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! A wonderful idea. It will make us all feel as if we are there.

Iori Izumi: I’m sure uploading them to Rabitter would make many people happy, as well.

Sogo Osaka: That sounds fun..! Let’s ask our manager about it tomorrow.

Riku Nanase: Yep! …Looks like we’re going to have pretty fun birthdays again!

- - - -

Riku Nanase: Wow..! This place is so cute! Where are we!?

Iori Izumi: A glamping area.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Glamping, which is a simpler, more casual form of camping, is very popular nowadays!

Nagi Rokuya: Riku, have you ever gone glamping as a child!?

Riku Nanase: As a child? Um, I don't really remember...

Iori Izumi: Let's enjoy ourselves as though we were still young children.

Nagi Rokuya: We have prepared plenty of meat and fish for the occasion! And sweets, of course...!

Nagi Rokuya: We have a long night ahead of us, Riku!

Iori Izumi: You're allowed to stay up all night, just this once. Right, Manager?

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yes! I'll do everything I can to help you.

Riku Nanase: Thank you..!

Riku Nanase: I can't believe even a killjoy like Iori is going to let me stay up late!

Iori Izumi: As long as you don't make a habit out of it. Today is a special occasion...

Riku Nanase: And thank you for all the food, Nagi! We're going to have a feast tonight!

Nagi Rokuya: YES! A forest party it shall be!

Riku Nanase: Let's get started right away!

Nagi & Iori: Yeah..!

- - - -

Riku Nanase: Hey, Iori. How do I light this coal?

Iori Izumi: Ah, I'll take care of it, you just sit down.

Iori Izumi: I wouldn't want you to inhale the smoke...

Riku Nanase: ...Okay. Sorry for getting in the way.

Riku Nanase: Hey, Nagi. Is there anything I can help you with?

Nagi Rokuya: OH, I am in the midst of a heated battle with the dreaded Onion Demon! My eyes..! Riku, you must flee without me..!

Riku Nanase: O-okay..!

Riku Nanase: ........

Tsumugi Takanashi: Riku-san.

Riku Nanase: Ah, Manager.

Riku Nanase: It looks like all I get to do is sit tight. I was really hoping to do stuff with them, though...

Tsumugi Takanashi: Your cheeks have a bit more color than usual in them. It's probably thanks to how stable your condition has been lately...

Riku Nanase: Ehehe. Yeah, probably.

Tsumugi Takanashi: ...Let's cook something! It'll be a surprise for Iori-san and Nagi-san!

Riku Nanase: I don't know if I'm allowed...

Tsumugi Takanashi: Of course you are. We came here for you.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Just try not to work yourself too hard, like you've already promised us!

Riku Nanase: ...Yeah. I'll make something they're sure to love!

Riku Nanase: ...Or I'll try, at the very least...

Iori Izumi: Nanase-san? What were you talking about?

Riku Nanase: It's a secret! Iori, we'll have to make dinner, right?

Iori Izumi: Right...

Nagi Rokuya: Wow, will you help prepare our supper, Riku?

Riku Nanase: Ahaha, yep, that was my plan! ...Say, let's have a competition to see which one of us can make the best food!

Iori Izumi: What? Do you seriously think you'll win against me?

Nagi Rokuya: Heh... I would not underestimate the palate I have cultivated over many years, if I were you.

Riku Nanase: Anyway, our time limit will be one hour! ...Ready, get set, start!

- - - -

Riku Nanase: ...Uh... Can I add this in as is..?

Iori Izumi: I'm begging you, please don't add it in there without at least peeling it first..!

Nagi Rokuya: Iori. Should you be looking at other people's dishes? Something smells quite foul on your end...

Iori Izumi: ...Huh? Aah..!

Riku Nanase: ...Hmm? I think I smell something burning... Wait, Iori! Your meat, it's completely scorched!

Iori Izumi: Ugh, I got careless..!

Iori Izumi: ...But Nanase-san, you didn't even cook yours properly before adding it to the sauce!

Iori Izumi: Not to mention, you left your vegetables unpeeled... It was such a trainwreck to watch that I couldn't pay attention to my own cooking!

Riku Nanase: Huh!? So you're saying it's MY fault you burned your meat!? That doesn't make any sense!

Nagi Rokuya: OH, I was hoping to enjoy a relaxing glamping excursion, yet there they are, making a mess once again.

Nagi Rokuya: Their bickering is almost like the soundtrack to my elegant gourmet cooking.

Tsumugi Takanashi: A-ahaha...

- - - -

Riku Nanase: Finished!

Nagi Rokuya: It smells delicious!

Iori Izumi: At least we all managed to put together something. It's time to show the others what we made.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Remember to face the camera!

Riku Nanase: Okay! I made Hamburg steak stew!

Nagi Rokuya: Hamburg steak! How wonderful, Riku!

Riku Nanase: Ehehe. Pretty great, huh? You would know, considering how much you like Hamburg steak!

Iori Izumi: I'll admit that it sounds more complex than what I expected from you.

Riku Nanase: Even I can just throw stuff into a pot and cook it!

Iori Izumi: So not complex at all, then...

Riku Nanase: ...And I used frozen burgers and a ready- made sauce mix.

Nagi Rokuya: Heh, you are outing yourself as quite the lazy cook.

Nagi Rokuya: Iori, what did you make?

Iori Izumi: Beef stroganoff.

Nagi Rokuya: Wow, it looks to be of a much higher quality than a glamping trip would warrant.

Riku Nanase: That seems like a dish Yaotome-san would make, not you!

Iori Izumi: Excuse me..? I only made it because it requires little prep time, and is much simpler to actually prepare than many would think.

Riku Nanase: What did you make, Nagi?

Nagi Rokuya: I made grilled sandwiches with ham, egg, and cheese!

Riku Nanase: Wow, the bread is so nicely browned! It looks good!

Iori Izumi: They're also very well stacked.

Nagi Rokuya: YES! I piled on the ingredients as I grilled the bread. A task so simple, even I could do it.

Riku Nanase: Is it just me, or does glamping make even simple foods look like gourmet!?

Nagi Rokuya: Heh. A fine dinner, is it not?

Riku Nanase: Yeah, it's the best..! Let's eat while it's all still hot!

Iori Izumi: Yes. ...Nanase-san, we won't stay here for very long, so I hope you'll take every chance you can to get some rest and fresh air.

Iori Izumi: We can all come here again at a later date.

Riku Nanase: ...Okay! Thank you so much for setting this all up for me. I don't think I'll ever forget this day!

Iori Izumi: You're being overly dramatic, as usual.

Nagi Rokuya: Iori, Riku! Show your best smiles, we are about to take a picture.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Here I go! Say cheese..!

End of Part 1.

#idolish7 #riku nanase #rabbitube #translation #i7 #rabbit tv

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years ago

Text

beer and beanies | j. benn

a/n: this is entire the fault of @danglesnipecelly, so you can thank her, i guess

word count: 3.2K

wine beer pairing recommendation: a nice, local beer. support your local breweries businesses. something over 6%, because why not?

warnings: language and smut. it’s basically all smut.

You scrambled to get to the door, one earring in and the other halfway in, hands fiddling to get the other hook through your ear. You shouted that you were coming, but you knew the person on the other side already knew you were. He knocked again anyway just to push your buttons, making you huff in annoyance. You held your earring in place with one hand, then yanked your front door open with the other.

“Jamie, you knew I was coming,” you sighed, finally able to get your earring all the way in and take a look at him instead of his shoes

“Oh, hi there. What did I do to deserve getting to look at you across the table all night?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he stepped into your apartment, reaching for you. His large hands found your hips, anchoring himself to you as he leaned down and dropped a deeper than expected kiss to your lips. As he pulled away, you sighed, seeing your lipstick smeared across his lips. You reached up, placing a hand on his stubbly jaw, and wiped your thumb over his lips.

“You could just not wear lipstick, you know,” he teased you, despite both of you knowing full well that cherry red lipsticks made his knees go weak and his pants get a little tighter when he thought about them around his cock. “That way you won’t have to clean it off me and you won’t get all huffy when you have to fix it.”

“Your suggestion has been noted and filed away in the trash where it belongs,” you teased back, wiping away the last bit of red at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t have been a problem tonight if you weren’t so early it didn’t have time to dry.”

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled down at you, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll show up late next time then.”

You rolled your eyes, giving his broad chest a shove so he released you. You did need to fix the lipstick he ruined after all. He followed you into your room, taking a seat on your bed. He fiddled with his phone as you fixed what he ruined so casually, a constant in your relationship with Jamie. You watched him through the mirror over your shoulder as you touched up the edge of your lipstick with your thumb. He looked good tonight, but to your credit, so did you. Black t-shirt, light jeans, and black beanie covering his thick, dark hair, he looked every bit like the fall boyfriend roll he was playing tonight, zip up sweatshirt over it all, sleeves pushed up, tattoos exposed. He wore the sweatshirt even though he was always warm because you always got cold, but never remembered your jacket. Throwing on a sweatshirt was easier than trying to make you remember you bring your own.

“Ready,” you told him, watching through the mirror as his head snapped up, eyes going straight to your ass bent over in front of him, mirror in the background for him.

You watched as he licked his lips softly, trailing his eyes up your body until they met yours. Jamie was never shy about appreciating you. He told you with his eyes and his hands more than his words, but the longer you’d been together, the most comfortable he got with telling you how he felt.

“What if we just-”

“Jamie, we’re going. You’ve wanted to go to this brewery since it opened,” you reminded him.

Jamie sucked in a quick breath through his teeth as you stood up, giving him a little shake of your ass for good measure before grabbing your purse and tossing it across your body. Jamie came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. He leaned his head down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His hands trailing down, ghosting over your hips and up your sides.

“But what if we just went a little later?” Jamie tried again, breathing out the words into your ear softly.

“Jamie, we’re going. I already called an Uber.”

Jamie leaned his head back, face pointing toward the ceiling, and groaned audibly. He gave your hips a tight squeeze, but surrendered when he realized you weren’t budging. He was grumpy climbing into the back of the Uber, hand high on your thigh under your skirt, rubbing circles with his thumb hoping to drive you crazy enough to tell the driver to turn around, with no such luck. He was grumpy until you got a beer in his hand and sat down in the back corner of the outdoor patio of the brewery, a pretzel on its way from the kitchen, fall breeze in the air.

“Happy now?” you teased him when he made a pleased noise deep from his throat when the waiter dropped off the pretzel, complete with beer cheese.

“Would’ve been happier to have just bent you over and fucked you in front of the mirror like I wanted.” Jamie smirked as a blush rose in your cheeks from his words, “But I guess a beer and a pretzel with a pretty girl is an okay second option.”

“Just an okay second option?” you teased him as you ripped part of the pretzel off for yourself.

“Pretzel or your pussy?” Jamie pretended to think about it for a second, brown eyes looking up to the sky, head tilting from side to side. His eyes locked with yours before he spoke again, “Yeah, not even close.”

You nodded softly in understanding, “The pretzel is better. I understand.”

Jamie laughed loudly, hand coming to his stomach as his other wrapped around his beer again, “Yeah, sure. You got it.”

Comfortable conversation fell over both of you. You told Jamie about your week. He told you about the short road trip he’d gone on. Both of you used up your saved information, the stories you didn’t share over your nightly Facetimes while he was away. Jamie always called you, no matter the time, even just for a minute or two. He wanted to hear your voice before he went to sleep, win or lose, he wanted you.

He really wanted you right now though, four beers deep for him, two and a half for you, giggles pouring out from you. You laughed at all of his dumb jokes when you were tipsy, something tipsy Jamie appreciated since he could never quite tell just how badly the quality of jokes he was telling was degrading. You laughed all the same, one of his favorite sounds. Nothing compared to the ones he was going to draw from you as soon as he could get you out of this goddamn brewery he had wanted to go to until you put on that shirt, the white one with the little flowers and the puffy sleeves, and the killer thigh high boots. He definitely hadn’t wanted to go after seeing those two things, but you’d drug him here anyway. Now, he was just trying to figure out how to get you out of here and into any bed, any bed would work at this point. Hell, Jamie wasn’t picky. A couch would work honestly.

It took him another beer and another half an hour to do it, finally just closing the tab and calling an Uber while you were in the bathroom. You had made friends, something Jamie usually appreciated, if you didn’t look so damn good tonight. Who was he kidding though. You looked this good every night. He was just using it as an excuse to himself to drag you out of the bar without guilt.

You stumbled through the front door of your apartment one short Uber ride later, his hands on your hips, tugging at you to keep you close and accidentally making you rock back into him in the process. The drinks were hitting you both, making Jamie tip back into you, almost sending you both sprawling on the floor, but his grip on your hips shifted to one hand as he caught the door frame to keep you both upright.

“Sorry, baby,” he laughed, his lips finding your neck as he kicked the door shut behind him. His hands slid over your sides, feeling your curves under his palms, the sweater and skirt combination had been driving him crazy all night. You wore a sweater but still had to steal his sweatshirt halfway through your third beer. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

“Ever look in a mirror, Jamie?” you joked with him, making him laugh against your skin.

His hands tugged on your hips as he lifted his head, pulling until you spun around to face him. One of his large hands moved up to cup your jaw softly, thumb brushing over your cherry red lips softly. He looked at you, eyes glazed over, like you were his favorite painting that he couldn’t believe actually hung in his home. He pressed a deep, searing kiss to your lip, leaving you breathless, as he slowly pushed you back against the wall next to your front door. One of his legs carded between your thighs, giving you some friction you desperately needed even if it was just against his jeans. Jamie had known exactly what he was doing when he got dressed for your date, black beanie on his head. He knew that something about it drove you wild and did it anyway, hoping this would be the result.

His hands were under your sweater now, rubbing over your skin firmly, ghosting over your nipples over your bra. His movements were sloppy, lips rough against yours before he moved to leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You moaned when he sucked on a mark on your collarbone that was still healing from earlier in the week. You felt him smile against your skin in response to the sound before your hands found the dark strands of his hair peeking out from under the beanie at the nape of his neck and tugged on him, making him hiss softly.

“You’re desperate tonight,” he noted as one of his hands found their way under your skirt, running up the outside of your thigh.

“So are you.”

He cursed when you palmed him roughly through his jeans, dark, wide eyes rolling back in his head for a moment. You popped the button on his jeans and watched as his eyes snapped forward, chin dipping down to look at your hand as you slowly inched the zipper down, taking your sweet time.

“I want to fuck you right here,” Jamie said through closed teeth, trying to keep himself a little under control.

“Then stop talking about it and do it,” you replied with a coy smile on your lips.

Jamie cursed again, mumbled something about how he was pretty sure you were going to kill him one day, before wrapping his hands around your thighs and lifting you up. He guided your legs around him, letting your back against the wall and his hips do the work of supporting you so his hands could wander exactly where he wanted them to. He fisted his hands at the edge of your skirt and pushed up until the material of it until it was settled around your waist. Satisfied, Jamie dropped his mouth to yours again, leaving a deep, wet kiss at had you whimpering when he broke it a little as he tried to push his jeans and boxers down. He groaned at the sounds you made, every single time. They were his favorite thing, playing over and over in his mind when he couldn’t have you, when he was in hotel rooms alone with only his memories of you and his right hand to keep him company.

Jamie pushed your panties aside, not even bothering to try and wrangle them off you with the position you had settled into. Two long fingers ran up your pussy and Jamie cursed when he realized how wet you already were for him. Still, he behaved himself just enough to slide the two digits into you first, making sure you really were ready for him. He didn’t behave himself enough not to curl his fingers up suddenly, running over your walls, making your grasp desperately at his broad shoulders at the sensation.

“Jamie,” you whined, “I need your cock.”

“Patience, patience,” he clicked his tongue softly, mouth focused on leaving bruising kisses on your neck.

You huffed and gave his chest a small shove, even to make his head pull back. His brown eyes, pupils blown out, looked you over, fingers still moving in and out of you slowly and steadily. Your cheeks were flushed from the combination of alcohol, Jamie, and that you were still wearing a goddamn sweater. You yanked it and the tank top you wore underneath it over your head clumsily, tossing them onto the floor. In a bra, with your skirt bunched up around your waist, panties pushed to the side, the heels of your boots digging into his ass, and two fingers curled deep inside, Jamie still couldn’t believe you were really his sometimes. But when you were like this, needy and desperate for him, begging for him, maybe you really were his and not a dream he’d wake up from someday.

“Please, Jamie,” you begged again, hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. “Please fuck me.”

Jamie was never good at saying no to you, especially when you were like this. He cursed as he shifted, fingers sliding out of you in favor of wrapping around his cock to line up with your entrance. He teased at your entrance, hips tilting forward and backward to let the head of his cock run up and down your slit. You whined, nails digging into the back of his neck, a silent beg for him to do something, anything. Jamie pushed into you suddenly, letting out a string of curse words as you took all of him so easily, hips stopping against yours.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Jamie groaned. “So fucking good for me.”

“Always good for you,” you replied, eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

“Yeah, you are,” Jamie laughed softly. “Do me a favor, yeah?”

You opened your eyes slowly, your body still thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having him exactly where you had wanted him since he put that damn beanie on his head before you left the house, which was still on, still driving you crazy. He offered up two fingers to you, the two that had been inside of you, fingertips brushing your lips.

“Clean these off for me while I fuck you, yeah?”

You had barely started to nod, lips parting when his hips tilted back, almost sliding completely out of you. As his fingers slid into your mouth, his hips pushed forward and up into you sloppily. You moaned around his fingers, nail digging deep into his shoulders through his shirt, hard enough you knew you were leaving marks that would be there tomorrow in your desperation. Jamie’s free hand gripped your hip tightly, hard enough you knew it would be sore tomorrow, to keep you from moving up the wall with each thrust. There was nothing gentle about how he was fucking you and you didn’t want there to be. This is what you wanted all night, his self control loosening just enough to fuck you like this.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jamie mumbled when he pulled back from your now bruised neck to look at you. “So pretty for me, baby.”

Your tongue slid over his fingers, circling them gently and he cursed again at the feeling, hips stuttering and slowing against yours for a moment. He ran his thumb softly over your cheekbone as you sucked hard on his fingers, hollowing your cheeks out. Jamie’s lips parted as he watched and felt your actions, hips still as he watched you for a moment. If he wasn’t already buried inside you and very much enjoying that, he would push you into your knees and feel the back of your throat. Well, it was still early in the night, so maybe he would get both before it was over.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Jamie whined out.

He adjusted his grip on your hip before snapping his hips back up into yours. You moaned out against his fingers, jaw going slightly slack at the angle he was managing to hit over and over that had your eyes rolling back. One of your hands scratched down his chest, grateful he was wearing a t-shirt for once because you definitely would’ve given him marks he would’ve had to explain in the locker room tomorrow otherwise.

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Jamie grunted into your neck where his head had naturally fallen into again. “Cum all over my cock for me. Let me feel you.”

You bit your lip hard in response, trying to bite back another desperate whimper to no avail. You dropped two fingers to your clit and started with small, smooth circles, quickly picking up your pace as you felt that familiar tightening in your stomach and your breath picked up. Jamie could feel just how close you were. He could feel it in how your body was tensing against his. He could hear your breaths getting shorter, heavier, the little moans leaving your mouth getting more desperate as you chased your release. He could feel your moans against his fingers still in your mouth, muffling the sounds he knew would wake your neighbors with how desperate you were being tonight. He used his hand on your hip to pull your hips forward and off the wall. Jamie could feel how close you were and he wanted to, needed to, see your face when you hit your high.

He lifted his head from your neck and his eyes found yours. He smirked ever so slightly before sliding almost all of the way out, then back in quickly, enjoying the depth the adjusted angle gave him. Your eyes went wide as he buried himself deep inside you, then pulled out only to repeat the motion again. Jamie watched your shoulders tense, your pupils dilate wider, and he felt more than heard your scream around his fingers as your orgasm hit you. You tightened down around him and Jamie willed his eyes not to roll back as he came, wanting to see every inch of his handiwork across your face.

You were both gasping for air as Jamie finally slid his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand cup your face gingerly, cheek hot under his palm. His fingers that had definitely left bruises on your hip was rubbing it softly now, relaxing the tense muscles underneath.

“Well, that was fun,” Jamie laughed, making you smile and nod in agreement. “You good?”

“I’m so good, Jamie,” you laughed, letting the residual feelings of your high wash over you. “So fucking good.”

“Good.” Jamie pressed a hand on your calf that was sitting on his waist, encouraging you to tighten your grip on him, which you did. His hand moved up, pulling your arm over his neck, then the other with his opposite hand, before letting his hands come to your ass, lifting you from the wall easily. “Because after your little show there with your mouth, I’m going to need to feel those pretty lips around my cock tonight.”

#jamie benn #jamie benn fanfic #jamie benn fanfiction #jamie benn writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream IV

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count:

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable; It feels like butterflies fluttering or sparks flying or whatever other cliche Iris could think of. It’s like slow-dancing all alone after dinner in a half-cleaned kitchen, easy and intimate. It feels like warm honey on her tongue, slow and sweet and overwhelming. It’s pillowtalk, baby; lay your head on my pillow, say, "oh-ooh"; way you're touchin' my body, say, "ooh-ooh"; i ain't lovin' nobody but you; you, you, you make me, the kind that starts as whispers in the dark and becomes deep, lazy sex with only the moon there to light the way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Comfortable

Set the tone, when it's just me

And you alone, never lonely

In the room, breathin' slowly

Oh, you know me, yeah

At a quarter to one on the next Sunday afternoon, Iris finds herself sitting in her living room, waiting for Barry. Her week has been a relatively good one. She thinks they might be over the hurdle of a new semester—learning the personalities of each other—and Dr. Jamison had been on top of her own game, which meant Iris had been able to as well. She’d spent her Friday night watching Bridgerton, well, as much as the hazy cloud of blue diesel had allowed her to, and on Saturday, she’d spent several hours at Jitters typing up a new story for What a Life You’ve Lived. This story had featured an older woman who, years before Loving v. Virginia had made her marriage legal, had lived in relative obscurity with her white husband, dating and laughing and loving in secret.

Yeah, she’d shaken her head at that too.

She doesn’t know where they’re going today, so she’s dressed in a casual emerald green wrap dress, with a deep v-neck and long sleeves, that hems just at her knees. She opts for flat sandals just in case. His number is still unused, though she’s taken the steps to lock it into her phone. She can’t tell why she doesn’t call him, can’t make out why she’s, apparently, too afraid to just reach out to the man. She doesn’t know what they’re doing, outside of this date, or what his goal is. Linda would definitely describe her as being too chickenshit to find out. She obviously doesn’t disagree.

She’s decided that it’s casual, because aren’t most situations these days casual? And it makes more sense than the thought that lives in her head; the alternative doesn’t fit as neatly in her mind. The alternative is, is a little chaotic because that would add layers to the way he grins at her, and to the way he oscillates between awkward and bold when he talks to her, and to the way that she can never completely get the feel and taste of him out of her mouth. The sensation makes her think of runny ice cream, sweet and sticky and dripping, so much so that before she knows it, her hands and her face and her heart are all covered in it.

The doorbell rings.

Iris jumps up to answer the door and he’s standing there, in black jeans and a gray t-shirt, and she’s always struck by how good he looks in such casual outfits. His hands are stuffed down into his pockets and a grin is etched onto his face. He leans into the door when it opens, shoulder on the frame.

“Hi, beautiful.”

The compliment is unexpected and she turns away to grab her bag, to hide the blush that warms her cheeks, even if he wouldn’t be able to see it on her skin.

“You ready?” he asks.

She nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They are about fifteen minutes away from Lake Lanier when Iris realizes that’s where they’re going. The ride is pleasant. They don’t talk much outside of a few sentences regarding how their weeks were. Instead, they listen to some rock music Iris has never heard before and Iris alternates between staring at the road and staring at the intricate flowers tattooed on his arm. She recognizes some of them, roses and chrysanthemums and sunflowers, but there are far more that she doesn’t, especially when she remembers that the bouquet goes all the way up and over his shoulder. She decides she’ll ask him about it later.

The trail for the lake comes into view and Barry turns his Jeep onto a barely paved road, his pale fingers caressing the wheel as he expertly maneuvers the vehicle. He drives past where Iris and Linda and their classmates spent countless summer afternoons, past the trail that leads to where her dad had taken her and Wally camping when, at 12, Wally had realized that he was the only of his friends who’d never been.

They come to a stop, moments after Iris wonders if this might be where bodies get hidden, next to a towering oak tree. They’d lost the trail about a mile back and Barry’s four-wheel-drive was a match for whatever grass and rock and mud they rolled over.

Iris steps out of the Jeep and looks around, momentarily in awe. Out this far, the lake looks serene in a way she’s never seen before. It’s quiet, but it isn’t. Even in a midsize city like Central City, there is always something happening; there is always lights and noise and music. Here, the sound of nature takes the stage: the clicking buzz of cicadas and the chirping songs of birds and the gentle wave of the lake. The look of it is surreal, the pale blue of the water and the vibrant dark green of the trees, those slowly giving way to the oranges and reds of fall.

“Wow,” Iris murmurs.

“It’s great, right?” Barry says.

She turns and finds him with his trunk open. She walks around back to see him gathering picnic supplies, a woven picnic basket, a thick red gingham picnic blanket, and a cooler. There’s also another blanket to stem the feel of the wind so close to the lake. She grabs the picnic basket as he handles everything else and she follows him as they set up a few feet away from the bank, on a soft patch of grass to cushion them.

“I wasn’t expecting a picnic,” Iris tells Barry as she settles on the blanket, taking off her shoes and setting them on the edge.

“No?” He grins over at her before resuming his task. He’s unpacking the basket, pulling out saran-wrapped sandwiches, containers of fruit and vegetables with dip, and ziplock bags full of popcorn. A look in the cooler shows her some waters, several beers, and an equal number of mini wine bottles.

“Where’d you think I was taking you?” he wonders.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Like a movie or something.”

He grins, this time slower; and it shouldn’t, but it makes Iris think of the last time she’d seen him, slow and heated on her living room couch.

“That can be our next date,” he says.

“Who says you’re getting another date?”

He looks up at her and it’s the same one he’d given her when he asked her why she didn’t call, the expression a touch calculating. His head is tilted and his eyes are darting all over her face. She wants to turn her head, turn away from his gaze, but she can’t. Because she thinks that she’s hoping he does find what he’s looking for her, that he can help her to find it too.

“You didn’t say that we were going on another date” he says, finally. “But I have fun when we're together, Iris, and I, I think that you do too."

He goes back to pulling items out of the basket, this time a container full of cookies, and Iris starts grappling with whether or not she can take what he says at face value. It’s a flaw, she knows, the doubt that seems to come far too automatically. She wishes that she could blame it on something tangible—on parents who hadn’t been there or boyfriends who’d lied or friends who didn’t have her best interests at heart. That isn’t the case, though. Her mom had been there as much as she could and she had never had enough boyfriends for it to really make a dent. Linda has never even thought about doing her wrong, and her family might be the very best part of her.

But everything in her body catches at the thought of this man being someone she likes, someone she adds to the rotation of people in her life, people who’ve only become occasional brunches and too quick phone calls. What would it feel like for this man—and his smile and his touch and the way that she feels like she knows him when she doesn’t—to become a part of that rotation, until the discomfort of the entire situation makes him taper off altogether?

“Iris?”

She blinks out of her daze at the sound of Barry’s voice, looking down to see him holding out two bottles in front of her, one a lager from a local brewery, the other a chilled bottle of Chardonnay.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answers him quickly. “Just thinking.”

“About me?” he asks, his grin wide, cheeks faintly pink, and the look of him is so adorable that Iris shakes her head as she grabs the wine from him, failing to curb the smile that lifts the corner of her mouth, failing to keep the thoughts, the whenever i get around you, i lose it; lose it, from seeping in.

“Let’s play twenty questions.”

Iris is halfway into her mini-wine bottle when Barry voices the suggestion. For the time being, they’ve been merely sitting, drinking, basking in the day. The weather is gorgeous and Iris likes that the only thing to distract her is the constant tweeting of the birds, or the soft splashes of the fish in the lake, or the steady sound of Barry’s breathing.

“Okay,” Iris agrees, “but twenty is a lot.”

“Ten, then?” he hurries to say. “Five each?”

He shifts on the blanket so that he’s lying down on his side facing her, head propped in his hand. Her own back is propped against the tree, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle.

“You first.”

“Alright.” He pauses, looks up towards the sky as if he’s thinking, and then asks, “What’s your favorite book?”

She is surprised by the question, though she isn’t sure what she thought he might ask.

“I’ve got a lot of favorites,” she says, because it’s true. Books, stories, became an escape early on, from a home that had been too fragile, that had felt like it’d come crumbling down with only a mere gust of wind. “But one that still sits with me is Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. I read it for the first time in high school.”

He smiles at her. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s about a woman named Janie, who was raised by her grandmother who’d been enslaved. Janie’s a romantic; she wants freedom and love. But her grandmother wants her to have security. She’s got a series of suitors: an old man who treats her like the help, essentially; a man who becomes mayor of this all-black town, who only props her up as this thing, this ornament that must look and act like he wants her to; and Tea Cake, a younger man who’s passionate and selfish and possessive. And in all of it, Janie is discovering herself, exploring what she does and doesn’t want. She steps up and she fights back and she learns to dismiss what others have to say about here.”

Barry hums. “She reminds me of you,” he says, “this Janie woman.”

He catches her gaze, holds it. Iris catches the way his eyes track the features of her face. She can never find it in her to shrink away, almost like she’s beholden to the force of him.

“Why?”

“She seems passionate; fanciful. Alluring.”

She’s never wanted to blush as much as she does around him and her face feels warm, tight. She swallows from her wine bottle, still looking at him.

“You are,” she starts, and then shakes her head.

“I am…?” he urges, mouth grinning, eyes wide with mirth. He reaches out and grabs at her ankle, fingers grazing her skin. Her skin tingles beneath his fingers, a slow rush of heat flooding through her. Apparently, Barry has discovered a new erogenous zone.

“Something else,” she answers, finally.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

She looks out at the lake for a brief moment. “It’s not, but I haven’t figured out what I do mean yet.”

He’s silent for a beat. “Okay. Your turn,” he says and Iris is grateful for the reprieve.

“What’s a country you’ve never been to that you’d like to visit?”

A wistful smile curves his pretty mouth. “That’s easy. Ireland.”

“Yeah?” she asks softly.

“It’s where my mom's family is from,” he continues, touching at her ankle even as he looks away from her. She wonders if he realizes he’s even doing it, tracing along her ankle and then up the length of her calf and back down again.

“My mom was born here in Central City,” he explains, “but her parents were born and raised in Ireland, moving here when they were a couple of months pregnant with her.” She knows she doesn’t mistake the melancholy in his voice. “We’d been planning for a trip after I graduated high school. Since dad was gone, it wasn’t as easy to save up for a long summer trip like that, but we were working on it, before she was killed. I’m still working on it.”

He gives her another smile, this one tinged with hope, and the urge to comfort him is strong. But she knows that there is no real comfort for missing a mother, so instead, she moves from her spot against the tree. The movement confuses Barry, who has to move his hand away from her ankle, but his frown clears when she lies beside him, her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” she tells him. “My best friend Linda’s parents live in a large immigrant community. People from all over live there. It was like heaven for me when I really started getting into writing; so many stories. Obviously, not everyone wanted to tell their business to a 15-year-old, but Mrs. Bianco had no qualms about it.

“Mrs. Bianco has three sons, relatively the same age as me and Linda, one right after the other, but no daughters. So for much of high school, we were her surrogates. My dad worked a lot and so did Linda’s parents, getting their restaurant off the ground. So we’d go over to Mrs. Bianco’s after school to do homework and she’d feed us all these baked goods, cannolis and these things called bombolinis, which are like doughnuts but better. And she’d tell us all these stories about growing up in the Italian countryside and going to college and meeting her husband before they came here, the excitement of it all. She made it sound so beautiful.”

Barry reaches over and touches her, long fingers touching lightly at her arm before they wrap around her wrist. He rubs at the skin on the inside of her wrist. The move feels like a deliberate way for Barry to maintain contact, but also like more. Like the last time he’d come to her apartment, and she’d felt the touch to her ankles at the very core of her, she feels so now. It’s subtle, but it’s there, in the slight clench of her belly, in the low throb of her pussy. It’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone like this — cause I feel so comfortable with you; you make me comfortable with you—easily aroused and just as easily comforted. Her last relationship had been with a man named Eddie, a graduate student she had met early in her senior year of undergrad. He had been sweet, but they had both been so busy all the time that they had felt like work too. With Barry, there’s the newness that comes with a relationship, the giddiness at talking to him, being near him. But this seems like something else, something greater, something that tells of why she can’t stop thinking about this man.

“Why did you invite me over,” Barry asks, “that Friday night?”

She exhales shakily, a little unnerved by him. “Well, you asked me to dance?”

“You invited me over because I asked you to dance?” His tone is incredulous and she laughs.

“No, I mean. It’s the club. People just dance, right? And here you come, rocking those hips unlike any white boy I’ve seen, and then you walk up and ask me if you could dance with me. I thought it was polite.”

Barry rolls over so that he’s long against her side. He moves his hand from her wrist to press on her belly, rubbing his thumb lightly. He plants his mouth right next to her ear. “If you think I’m polite, I’m doing something wrong.”

She catches his eyes. “I don’t know,” she says, smirking at him. “Maybe you are. Maybe you need to work on that.”

She lets the taunt hang, for just a moment, and then she rolls over to kiss him. She licks at his mouth, turning the kiss more passionate in seconds. Their positions change, Barry rolling her onto her back.

“I think I can make you beg,” Barry whispers against her mouth. “I was always told that was impolite.”

Iris doesn’t get a chance to say much else because suddenly, Barry is between her legs, his head dipping down under her dress.

“Barry what?”

As is his annoying habit, he doesn’t respond to her right away. He pushes her dress higher, exposing her belly and the bright yellow lace of her panties. She inhales sharply at the feel of his breath on her belly before he plants a kiss there.

“Ask for it.”

She catches onto his game immediately and her eyes flash. “No.”

His answer is a grin and then, without much preamble, he dips his tongue into her belly button. The action makes her hips raise automatically, and he brings her back down by gripping her hips. He continues down, tongue laving at her skin, fingers running up her torso and down again until they hook in the top of her panties and he starts to pull them down.

Iris can’t describe what it is she’s feeling at the moment. He’s only just touched her, only just planted a few sloppy kisses on her stomach. But her skin is tight with anticipation, her breathing deeper as she waits to see what he’ll do. She wonders, rather absently, if they’re currently being watched by any of the animals she hears living out here by the lake; but then Barry widens her legs and opens her up with the tips of his index and middle finger and she stops thinking altogether.

He holds her open for a long moment, just looking, just breathing against her, and she tries to hold still until she can’t, wiggling her hips a little, hoping it makes a finger slip inside of her.

“Barry…”

“You’re ready to ask for it?”

He drags his gaze away from her sex in order to meet her eyes. They’re the glassy that lets her know that he isn’t as unaffected as he’s pretending to be. That momentarily strengthens her resolve, knowing that maybe he really does feel like this too, that she’s not the only one losing her head in this sexual haze that seems to be moving way too fast and way past normal.

She shakes her head at him.

“No?” he questions. “Not even if I do this?”

Fingers still holding her, he licks her, a long swipe of his tongue. She inhales again at the feel of his wet tongue, lets it go in a noisy exhale when he does it again. And then again and then again, and Iris starts to rock against him, trying to get more of his tongue or his fingers or something. She quivers above him, her thighs opening and closing, and she feels like a butterfly, fluttering and alight, hovering over a precipice.

“Shit, ” she moans.

And then, he stops. He fucking stops.

“Barry…”

“Or this?” he continues, and pushes his fingers in. It’s harder than she likes, more like a stab, and she jerks her hips.

“Softer,” she tells him, and he obliges, moving slower, caressing instead of fucking into her. “ Yes, like that.”

Barry hums around her. The vibration makes her hips rock up, and he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it. He looks up at her again. This is the face she wants to remember for the rest of her days: his dazed eyes, his flushed cheeks, his wet mouth.

“Ask me for what you want, Iris,” Barry licks his lips. “Beg me, baby, please.”

Her heart is pounding and she wonders how a game of question and answer got her here. But they are here, she’s here, quivering with the need to come, with the fact that Barry looking up at her like this, begging her like this, makes her feel more desirable than she’s ever known she could.

“Can you eat me, Barry? Please? ”

Iris has never seen a dirtier smile. “With pleasure.”

He really starts to eat her, then. He kisses at her lips, tongues her down in a sloppy, wet tongue kiss that makes her cream drip out of her, drip down her thighs. She rocks against him, closing her knees around his head when the touch of his tongue to her clit gets to be too much, opening herself wider when wants his tongue back in her, licking and tasting and fucking her. Needing something to do with her hands, she grabs at his hair, pulling at the strands, scratching at scalp, at the back of his neck. That is how she comes, she doesn’t know how much later. But it’s like that: with Barry holding on to her hips, face buried in her slick; with her knees opening and closing, with her hips bucking, with her begging him, “please, Barry, fuck, yes, please, Barry. ”

It takes her a while to come down and when she does, she says the first thing that she can think of. “God, you’re so goddamn annoying.”

Barry bursts out laughing into her stomach, arms wrapped around her.

“What is something that you want out of a relationship?”

They’re sitting up and eating now, Iris several feet away from him so she’s not tempted to wrap her thighs around his face again. She’s chosen the turkey sandwich on wheat bread and a handful of grapes. The sandwich is really good and Barry must think so of his own handiwork because he’s already done with one and unwrapping another. Although, Iris thinks, he likely did work up an appetite.

She can’t say what makes her throw out the question. The skepticism of starting something with him is still there, but laughing after sex like that, coming from sex like that, well. Iris can name that she might be a little whipped by this smooth-talking, world-class fucking white boy.

He chews a bite of his sandwich and swallows before he turns to her with an answer.

“I’m a simple guy, I think. I work a lot; crimes wait for no one so I would want someone who understands that. But in my time off, I like to do things like this, and festivals and running too, so someone who likes that too.” He wipes at his mouth with a crumpled napkin. “But out of a relationship in general, I guess I want companionship, laughing. Communication and patience. Fidelity.” He shoots her a grin. “Good sex.”

Iris rolls her eyes, but she returns the smile. “Did you have that in your last relationship?”

“Ah,” he interrupts, “it’s my turn for a question, Iris.”

She throws her own balled up napkin at him. “Fine. Shoot.”

“What do you look for in a relationship?”

She shoots him a glare.

“What?” he laughs. “It was a good question and I want to know.”

“Okay. Um,” she takes a swig from her newly opened wine. “Whew. I don’t know that I’ve thought about this in a while.” She bites at her bottom lip and lets out a long breath. “A lot of the same things you said, I think. I do love laughing, even if I can get lost in my own head angst sometimes and I’d like someone who realizes that. I’m pretty busy, between school and work and What a Life You’ve Lived, but I make time for the people I want to make time for and I would wish my partner would do the same. Fidelity is also important to me too; communication. I love music and dancing and movies so someone who’d want to do those things with me.”

Barry wriggles his eyebrows. “Good sex?”

“A plus, for sure,” she agrees.

That gets her to thinking about another question she has, one she’s more hesitant to voice. She could get an answer she likes, one that keeps the mood they’ve got going here. And the vibe right now is so good. She can’t remember a date like this, one so simple. Eddie had been courting careers in law and so much of their time together had been spent out at fancy dinners while he’d tried to smooze whoever he needed to that week. It’d been fun sometimes, to see what stories she could get out of the politicians and law officers, but that’s not a date, at least it wasn't to her. During undergrad, dates meant studying together in the corner of a library until one or both of them got the urge to make out behind a shelf of books. And high school shouldn’t even really count. But here, today, this feels like a date. It feels like butterflies fluttering or sparks flying or whatever other cliche Iris could think of. It’s like slow-dancing all alone after dinner in a half-cleaned kitchen, easy and intimate. It feels like warm honey on her tongue, slow and sweet and overwhelming. It’s pillow talk, baby; lay your head on my pillow, say, "oh-ooh"; way you're touchin' my body, say, "ooh-ooh"; i ain't lovin' nobody but you; you, you, you make me, the kind that starts as whispers in the dark and becomes deep, lazy sex with only the moon there to light the way.

But she steels herself and risks asking anyway. “Barry, do you, uh, have a lot of sex, then? A lot of one-night stands?”

Barry’s eyes are wide when he looks at her. He’d been cleaning up their trash, putting napkins and wrappers and empty bottles in a small grocery bag and the question makes him look up sharply. It makes her want to retreat, but she’s already put it out there and she’s extremely curious if she happens to just be one in a line of girls that this surprisingly suave man has beguiled with easy laughs and mind-blowing sex.

“I'm asking because you are, you’re good,” she mumbles, (but, understatement), “and of course, you don’t have to answer me but I just… I'm wondering if…”

She trails off when he stops what he’s doing and crawls over to her. He hovers, making her lean back a little in order to see all of his face. It’s a pretty face, the dark eyebrows over those eyes, the lips that she knows get even pinker when they’re dripping with her juices, the faint moles along his cheeks and jaw that doesn’t detract.

“There are no other girls, Iris,” he tells her, and he seems so sincere as he looks straight into her eyes, as he places a hand on the side of her so she’s clouded in the clean, citrusy smell of him. “I know that we’re just hanging out and obviously, you do what you want, but no, I… I’m a one woman kinda guy. Going home with you was an anomaly, one I certainly don’t regret. But it’s not a thing I do. I haven’t been with anyone else since my last relationship months ago.”

She stares at him, hoping that she can believe him. “Alright.”

“Okay?”

She nods again, this time with a little smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Neither of them asks their final two questions. Barry says that it’ll give them something to talk about when he sees her again. Iris just thinks that today’s been a whirlwind of a day and it’d be nice not to be on the spot anymore. The ride back to town is just as easy as the ride down. Easy listening plays from the radio—'cause I feel so comfortable with you; you make me comfortable with you; i feel so comfortable with you; you make me comfortable with you; you make me—and Iris settles into her seat for the half-hour drive, full and sated and comfortable. She must doze off because before she knows it, Barry is pulling into the parking space next to her Kia and he’s opening the door for her.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he says, smiling down at her as he grabs her hand to pull her out of the seat.

“I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.” She stumbles a little as she follows him up the stairs and he grips her hand tighter.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her. “I take pride in the fact that I’ve put you to sleep every night we’ve been together.”

She doesn’t even pause as she yanks her hand away and slides past him to her door. “You’re such a dick.”

Barry chuckles, sidling up behind her as she sticks her key into the lock. He gives her a soft kiss on the skin between her neck and shoulder.

“I thought you said I was polite,” he breathes, before nipping at her skin. She closes her eyes at the feel of his mouth on her, the light nips of his teeth, the slick glide of his tongue behind it. He pulls up all the way behind her and wraps both of his arms around her waist.

“You are,” she moans when one of his hands glides down and settles hard over her crotch. “Even when you’re telling me to beg, you say please.”

He licks a longer stripe across her skin, pulls a larger patch into his mouth, cups her pussy in the palm of his hand.

“Barry…”

“But you called me a dick, Iris. Am I polite or a dick?”

She arches into him. “You’re a polite dick.”

He stills against her and it takes a moment for Iris to realize that he’s laughing again. He’s got such a nice laugh, deep and bright. “Damn, Iris.” He turns her around, still with a wide grin on his face. He leans down and kisses her, pecks her lips once, and then twice, and then a longer one that curls her fingers around his neck. He doesn’t immediately let go when he pulls back.

“I want to ask one of my last questions.”

She licks her lips, chasing the taste of him. “Okay.”

“Am I in the running?” He asks the question clearly, though in a voice just above a whisper. “Am I someone that you could want to be..”

She doesn’t need him to finish the sentence to say what she’s feeling, even if she’s terrified of what it might eventually mean for her. “I really think that you might be.”

“It’s a might I’ll take.” He nods at her door. “Good night, beautiful.”

She turns to go into the apartment. “Good night, Barry.”

The door is almost closed when he calls back. “Hey, Iris?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me this time.”

You make me

Baby

You make me

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry allen

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charincharge · 5 years ago

Text

Cruel Summer, Part 6

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.

Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.

Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.

The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.

Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”

His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3

“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.

“No one.”

A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”

Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It��s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”

It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.

Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.

They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.

“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”

Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.

“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.

“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.

“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.”

Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before.

“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.

“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”

Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”

“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.

“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.

“I think I earned it.”

“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.

They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.

“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”

Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.

“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.

“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.

Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.

“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.

“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.

“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”

Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.

“Great.”

He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.

“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”

The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.

Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.

“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.

“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.

Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”

Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.

“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.

“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.

Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.

Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.

“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.

The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.

“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.

“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”

And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”

Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.

An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.

“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.

“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.

“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”

Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”

“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,” he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”

“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.

“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”

Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”

Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”

But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.

“She went to sign up for karaoke.”

“Oh no…” Rowan groans.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.

“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.

Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.

The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.

Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.

Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…

Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound

Getting paid is her forte

Each and every day, true player way

I can’t get her out of my mind

Think about the girl all the time…

He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.

He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.

“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.

“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.

“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.

“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”

Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him.

“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.

“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.

“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.

“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them.

“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”

Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward.

“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”

Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.

Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.

Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.

“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE

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musedblues · 5 years ago

Text

Born To Love You [Part: 1]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there's no telling if he even has a clue.

a/n: Welcome to my Joe and Gwil love triangle! I hope you're ready for the wild ride! Below, I'm tagging some lovely friends and mutuals who might be interested in reading and/or spreading the word❗I will not tag anyone in the following chapters unless you ask. As always any and all kinds of feedback are greatly appreciated 💖

w/c: 4k

Part 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Say 'bye-bye!'" You bounced Olive on your hip, encouraging the almost 15-month-old to practice expanding her very limited vocabulary. You stood facing Gwilym in a sunbeam stained train station, among a sea of comers and goers.

"Oh, no, don't make that face love," Gwilym whined when his daughter whipped her head between you and her father, wearing big sad eyes and the mention of saying goodbye. He reached out to brush away her curls, stoping her from fretting any further.

"Come on, it's just like every other day." You plead, giving Gwilym a similarly pitiful glance, a warning not to blow his parting out of proportion. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Olive might lose it the moment her father disappeared from her line of sight, and you didn't need him to make saying goodbye any harder. The sound of a train whistle cut through the air and a crackly announcement came over the loudspeakers. It was time for Gwilym to go.

"Right, but it's not is it?" Gwilym pouted, reaching for his suitcase and huffing a sigh. He was off to London to go live his dreams, acting in a film organized by real rock and roll royalty. It was the first time he'd spend so long away from his daughter, but did you forget to mention he was living his dream?

"We'll visit you in a month, Gwil! Try and have a little fun, huh?"

///

Back at the loft you shared with your best friend his boyfriend, neither of them were home yet. So it was easy to settle Olive down for a nap. The weight of her father's absence hadn't set in yet, so with the miraculous bit of quiet, you started in on a long list of chores. But it wasn't long before one of your flatmates came to disrupt the silence.

"And, how's the happy couple?" James asked with a teasing smirk as he shut the door, meandering to meet you in the kitchen. You hadn't seen each other in a couple of days since you'd stayed with Gwilym, per his request to spend as much time with Olive as possible before he'd left.

"Gwil and I are not a couple." You reminded in the tone of a breaking news anchor, though this was the billionth time you had to say so.

"Then why, when people ask how long you've been together, do you answer with a date?" James pestered, shifting to help you finish putting away the dishes.

"You know it's not worth explaining to every odd passer-by the strange details of our co-parentship. And when we do have the time, no one believes us anyway."

You and Gwilym had given up the long spiel ages ago. Now, when people asked how long you'd been together, you just estimated how long you'd known each other and gave the years out like the prized answer each old woman in line at the grocery store was anxious to hear. Then you'd go off, together. You always seemed to be together.

It started when Gwilym moved in down the street to the home large enough for its own groundskeeper. You greeted your new neighbor with an invitation to one of James' big weekend parties. Gwilym showed up and chatted with everyone like the oldest friend of all. So, you invited him back to the next get together. And the one after that. And more often than anything, you and he would wind up sharing a laugh on the kitchen floor over a bit of leftover takeaway while the parties raged on in the living room.

When you'd had a rough go of a certain day ahead of one of those regularly scheduled parties, Gwilym managed to make it to your home before you did. In his clutch, a bottle of fancy liquor he'd saved for emergency over the top terrible days.

That was the night you discovered that when you were drunk enough, there was something about Gwilym Lee you couldn't resist. His icy blue eyes filled you with an extra bit of warmth. His usually fond smile turned sultry. He followed you to your room, and a tradition of hooking up after one too many shots was born. It happened enough, in fact, that you decided to give it a go when you weren't plastered. But try as you might, the fire between you and Gwilym proved only to rage when alcohol aided it, so you called the whole thing off.

But... then you missed your period. And Gwil was right down the street. And he was always over anyway. And he was thrilled to bits when you told him how you'd planned to keep the baby- his baby.

"Well, it's been a couple of years now, love. Baby or no baby, he's always one step behind you."

"And we tried, James. Gwil wants the same kind of love I do. And we tried for it. You know that." You defended, getting rather upset only on account of how your attempts to really be together never worked. How as desperately as you tried to force it, you and Gwilym couldn't seem to fall in love. Of course, you were glad he was around, and you were moonstruck by the little girl you'd gotten out of the deal. But damn if you weren't a little lonely at night.

"Alright, alright..." James came away from his playful teasing and shifted with an idea blooming in his gaze. "Let's go out! Like we used to. Come on, I'll get Andy to babysit. You know there's nothing he loves more than your child." James chuckled, coaxing you to have a little fun.

"You, James. He loves you." You dreamed of the day someone looked at you the way James and Andy looked at each other. Witnessing their connection was the only reason you hadn't lost hope that romance existed at all.

"Well, he and I are moving away the first of the year and there's no one I love more than you. So let's go out before we're too far to terrorize the same city."

James got his way. The pair of you waited up for Andy to agree to surprise babysitting duty, and then you went straight to some local dive bar.

Your best friend spent the whole car ride there inflating your ego. With one hand on the wheel, James took his other to curl his long dark fingers around your shoulder that he shook while repeating mantras like "You're so hot no one will care about your baggage" and "You'll find the right guy who isn't put off by your familial facade." and "You will find your love."

You'd always longed to fall in love. The romantical kind of love you'd seen idiots slip into and cry over on the movie screen. But it wasn't at the bar that night. There, James only yammered on about his homemade jewelry and the shop he planned to open next spring in the heart of London. How he'd miss you. The sickening scent of fireball overwhelmed the air and a bunch of lonely looking girls lined the bar top, happy to throw themselves into the arms of the first guy who looked their way.

After lingering at a high table with your best friend and shouting conversation over the 80's music blasting from the jukebox, you called it a night and went home to your darling daughter.

///

Finally, it was September. Gwilym had begged you to bring Olive to London for a month-long visit once he'd settled into the swing of his new job. And you weren't going to pass up the mini-adventure.

Gwilym was a sight for sore eyes, smiling warmly as he greeted you at the train station. Though Olive was too busy sleeping to partake in the reunion. She looked so much like him, even with her matching blue eyes shut to dream.

"You have a beautiful family!" An elder chimed on her shuffle out of the train station, waving a boney hand toward Gwilym as she walked away. You weren't opposed to thanking her because it was true. Just because you weren't really with Gwilym didn't mean anything. You and he had this co-parenting thing down to a science by now, and you were eternally grateful he was around.

The ride to his Airbnb was very short, time enough for you to brag about how easy it was to take so much time off work. Before you knew it, you arrived at the quaint flat with Olive still out cold. You carried her inside behind Gwilym who politely offered to manage your bags.

You pushed past a brilliant blue front door to posh one-room flat with an open floor plan. You could see the kitchen from the living room you'd entered into, and passed by a completely black and white tiled bathroom on your way to the bedroom. There, was a cozy-looking king-sized bed, and you found Gwilym had already set up Olive's travel cot in the corner. You rested her in the raised bed, feeling a twinge of gratitude for Gwil's thinking ahead.

"Do you think she'll be good to go out, soon? We've been invited to dinner. I'm very excited for you to meet everyone." Gwilym grinned, settling onto the comfortable navy blue sofa where you kicked back, too weary from travel to begin unpacking just yet. You decided if Olive woke up in time, you'd go. Low and behold that's what happened.

Only after she crawled delightedly into her father's lap, clearly surprised to see him in the new strange setting. Everything seemed settled into place, with your family back together. Olive was happy as a lark on the car ride to dinner, Gwilym laughed most of the way there, too.

You were miles away from home, but there wasn't much to be missed among such sweet, familiar company.

When you made it a casual brewery, you slipped into the loo around the corner to give your fussy daughter a change.

Then in what seemed to be a blink of an eye, it was time to meet the castmates Gwilym hadn't stopped talking about since your arrival. At a comfortably large table in the back of the restaurant, two strikingly beautiful faces held the space to themselves.

"I see a baby!" A man with dark curls spoke up in a unique lilt. It was easy to put his name to his face with the way Gwilym had gushed over his castmates on the ride over.

"And you must be Rami." You nodded his way with a grin, you would have shaken his hand if yours weren't full. There was something magnetic about the fellow, something about his presence that made you feel as if you'd already met.

"It's lovely to meet you, y/n." Rami drew, turning his warm glance from the baby in your arms, to you.

"We've heard so much about the two of you!" The girl at the actor's side spoke up, in a genuine tone. She had to be Lucy. They way Gwilym explained her earlier with words like "sparkling" and "radiant" seemed flirty but you saw now, they were honest descriptors.

You greeted her kindly, saying something about how you'd also heard a lot of good about her and the man she stood just near.

Rami was leaning close to shake Olive's little hand, and to think they said chivalry was dead. Olive took the invitation to lean away from the hold she had on you to place either of her small hands on the sides of Rami's face. He peered at the babe in wonder, as if he might burst into tears.

"She's precious," Lucy spoke up while Rami tousled your daughter's curls.

"Are the others on their way?" Gwilym asked, pulling out a seat for you as your party came away from the greetings.

"Yes! In fact, before they get here..." Lucy spoke up, settling across the table from you as Olive clamored into Gwilym's lap. The charming woman started digging around in her absurdly large tote, pulling a small sparkling gift bag from it, like Mary Poppins might have.

"A welcome gift, for you!" Lucy extended the present with a smile that matched the sparkle coming from the glitter-covered package.

"Oh, my God." You let out a stunned breath of a laugh, hesitantly taking the gift from her clutch. You'd literally just met the girl and she was already a better friend than some you'd known for years.

"My sister is a designer..." Lucy explained as you unveiled a modest faux leather clutch. There were gemstones peppered across the broad stitching that reminded you of opulent fossils.

"This is so incredibly kind, you shouldn't have-" You gazed up to the sunbeam of a girl across from you.

"Actually I picked it out." Rami boasted, leaning over on his elbow with a stretchy grin. Olive took the chance to snatch the glittery gift bag from your loose clutch.

"You've won them both over, it seems." Gwil smiled, raising a brow your way, everyone chuckling in response.

"My best friend makes his own jewelry," You explained, admiring the delicately designed accessory. James would adore the way the gems were stitched onto the fabric. "He'll be jealous of this no doubt." You giggled, catching Lucy's eye as you felt for your phone in your pocket. You were anxious to take a photo and show it off to him, but...

"Oh, I think I left my phone in the loo." You realized, standing as your dinner guests excuses your brief leave. With Olive happy in Gwils lap, you shuffled off to fetch your phone.

Luckily it was tucked away in the corner of the baby changing station where you left it in a haste. You spared an extra beat to check your look in the mirror, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the ultra-pretty company that had made up your dinner table so far.

On your way around the corner to join the party once more, you were too busy pulling up James' contact in your phone to watch where you were going.

You apologized right as you'd run into someone on the other side. The figure reached a hand out to steady the both of you. But as soon as your apology died down, the person you collided with spoke up.

"Holy shit... you're pretty."

The statement wasn't coy, or sultry. It seemed to be stated as though the person had just found something they'd hadn't even known was missing.

As your eyes traveled up a well-dressed figure, you decided the man in question was an actor. You'd come to know many since being acquainted with Gwil. Actors were a breed much like zoo animals, nice to look at but wild and totally unpredictable.

You responded with a nervous laugh.

But when your eye's landed on the mystery man's, something happened. It wasn't phenomenal, or unnerving, but something, somewhere, shifted. His were like smokey quartz, a deep color with a twinge of clarity that reminded you of a fossil. Just like the stones on the clutch you'd been given minutes ago. There was a soft smile on his lips that reached his eyes, and his sculpted face was almost eerily familiar to you. You couldn't help but stare.

You watched his face focus on yours with no sign of any motive besides expressing his interest in you. Somehow, even having just met, you realized there was something more he was trying to say. So with a small nod, you encouraged the words from the tip of his tongue. With a great deal of care, the man said,

"You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die? Well, right when I looked at you, I'm like, pretty sure I just saw my entire future."

Damn, that would have been cheesy if he wasn’t speaking so delicately. Was that a shiver up your spine? Before a decent enough response could escape from your frozen brain, the energy around you shifted dramatically.

All of a sudden, the dark ball cap placed on the stranger's head flew off, and Gwilym's familiar laugh broke your stilled timewarp.

"Look, he's got a perm!" Gwil was clutching the stranger's ball cap in one hand, holding Olive in the other. Your baby was giggling, reaching for the hat Gwilym had stolen with real true laughter.

The man with gemstones for eyes grew a frown and batted Gwilym on the shoulder. His auburn hair was a collection of soft springs, sticking out in all different directions. You were staring again. The stranger snatched his hat back as Gwilym let out a comical sigh.

"I see you've met Joe." Gwilym smiled.

"Joe." You spoke. It took more effort than you'd care to admit to tear your gaze from the beautiful stranger who you realized was meant to join your dinner party all along. He turned his gemstone eyes back to yours and offered a watered-down version of the smile he gave you moments ago.

"This is Y/N." Gwilym held his hand out to you, and normally you would have taken it, and eased next to Gwil. But something about lying to Joe's innocent and remarkably shaped face made your heart lurch. "And this, of course, is Olive." Gwil went on.

Joe's happy expression shined bright as you'd seen it yet, when Gwilym coaxed his daughter to manage a wave. Then he directed his friend back toward the table where the rest of the cast could be found. As you followed close behind Joe, Gwil turned to speak to you.

"She kept trying to eat the glittery gift bag, so we took a trip to throw it away." Gwilym explained, bouncing Olive a little as he told you his story, "Have you got any emergency toys on hand?" He wondered as you moved back to the table.

"Are you kidding?" You chuckled, approaching your spot. Under your seat you retrieved your bag, unveiling Olive's prized possession. A plastic toy bat, with one red eye missing. She never left it out of her grasp for long, and where it even came from you could never quite recall.

That's when the last of the group arrived. Another blonde called Ben. He looked like a fallen angel with messy hair and striking features. You were in intimidating company all around, but somehow, conversation flowed with ease....

"Rami is amazing I can't believe we are lucky enough to work with an absolute legend." Joe burst, falsely bowing to the castmate he raved about.

"A legend, huh?" You wondered, looking to Rami who was already shaking his head.

"No, no. A children's movie franchise, some popular television series, and a handful of B movies do not make me worthy to be here at all." He meant it. You pursed your lips in surprise. He seemed to have a decorated history, and a humble heart all the same.

"Our resident movie star is actually Joseph. Do you know what he was in?" Ben smirked, his clover colored eyes glancing hopefully at you.

"Uh..." You stalled, feeling that same unexplainable shift in the universe as your eyes lock with the man's in the ball cap. You glanced at Joe's gently upturned lips and wondered if his smile was shaped perfectly to cast a spell on you. Thank God Ben mistook your lingering stare on Joe as a sign that you were clueless to his acting history.

"Joe was in the legendary, groundbreaking, tear-jerker that was the very first Jurassic Park."

"And the second!" Rami pointed out.

"Oh my God?" You asked through surprise, suddenly snapping your gaze from Joe's lips to the rest of his face as it turned a dusty shade of pink.

"He's a star." Ben prodded. Rami was casting an overblown lovestruck gaze to Joe, who made some sly remark to his co star too quiet for you to hear.

"I used to love those films growing up." You happily admitted.

"Well, how come your lover has never seen any of them?" Joe gave Gwilym a playful nudge, smiling to the child in his lap even though Olive's focus was on the dirty plastic menu she couldn't quite reach. Before you could explain how you and Gwilym were hardly lovers, and scold him for failing to have seen a classic in the same breath, you were cut off.

"You've never seen Jurassic Park?" Lucy asked Gwilym in shock.

"I was the kid who kept almost dying." Joe smiled, his perfect American teeth flashing your way for the first real-time ever. It was quite a sight indeed.

"Spoilers!" Gwilym whined, swatting at Joe.

"I'm glad to see you made it out alive." You laughed. He was still smiling at you. "I'll have to watch it again very soon, with this nugget of knowledge."

"Yes, she's at the perfect age to learn about the animal kingdom, it's fun for the whole family you know?" Ben spoke, reaching over to poke your daughter's arm. Olive giggled, just as taken by all of her new admirers.

"I think we're off to a good start." You informed. " She's obsessed with birds. That thing is her favorite." You pointed to the plastic bat with wide bony wings between your daughter's hands. She'd lose her cool when the old toy wasn't within reach.

"I'm just gonna go ahead and say it. I love that kid." Ben declared. Gwilym tickled Olive's side, causing her to let out another sweet little giggle. And from then on everyone was glued to conversation about your darling daughter. Gwilym's new castmates seemed more like lifelong friends as they tried to get Olive to say each of their names. She almost got Ben's, and you could practically see his heart melt.

You took Olive back at the end of the night, making your way to the doors of the restaurant as everyone started saying goodbye for the evening. Gwilym was busy listening to Rami do some impression as you parted ways with Lucy, who was quickly on the rise to becoming your new best friend. As you approached the entrance doors however, Joe was blocking your leave. He was stood out of earshot of everyone else, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey I'm sorry about earlier- I really didn't mean-" The guy started to apologize as you approached him.

"No! Don't worry about it. I thought it was cute." You admitted a little too quickly, but started to stammer a different response when Joe furrows his brow "Like, funny. But not like I was laughing at you, just- it's okay. Okay?"

You awkwardly smiled, adjusting the hold you had on Olive. You cut him off because you didn't want him to take back what he'd said. No one had ever said anything like it to you. Especially not anyone like Joe.

"Okay." Joe agreed nervously, grinning all the while.

"So... see you tomorrow?" You asked in a hopeful tone- clearing the air and crossing your fingers to see him again.

"Yeah. Of course." Joe nodded, watching as you slowly started to move away from the interaction.

///

On the ride back to the home Gwilym was renting, he was unusually quiet. You thought he'd want to rave about his newfound friends some more, but figured he was probably just exhausted by all the fun.

But even as you shifted topics to chatter about and eventually shuffled into the Airbnb, Gwil was still rather silent. Something was off, and you were worried enough about his unusual disposition to ask what the matter was.

Gwilym nodded as if he'd been caught, and suggested you had a talk after Olive fell asleep for the night.

You tried to stick as close to her normal routine as possible while you put the babe to bed. Thankfully as your worry mounted over Gwilym's odd demeanor, Olive fell asleep.

You eased into the softly lit living room, admiring the decor until you spotted Gwilym wringing his hands as he paced, waiting for you.

"I fucked up." Gwilym turned to you, somber in expression as you stalled in the entryway.

"I... I panicked and well..." He went on, "Lucy and Ben think we're married."

"Married?"

"Tonight, when we were leaving Lucy asked how long you and I had been married and- and it was a reflex to answer how we usually do when strangers ask how long we've been together. Only I understood after the fact that Lucy was asking something very different."

Gwilym's face contorted into something you'd liken to worry as you stood gaping at him.

"And Ben was there and... they just kept asking these questions. And, well, I dug myself in too deep to take any of it back. I feel so stupid." Gwil fretted, pacing over toward the navy sofa and resting on the arm of it.

While you stood taking in the shocking new info, a more heavy realization settled over your thoughts. You might as well have been married to Gwilym Lee. He was always around, and you always seemed to want him to be.

"Gwil... what the fuck?" You asked, boggled. A little angry, but mostly confused.

"I don't know why I just kept lying. I don't know what to do now, I'm sorry," He hung his head as you went on processing his confession.

You couldn't really blame Gwilym, the two of you had been basically lying to acquaintances for years now. But anyone who took the time to actually ask was always given your long confusing backstory. Actually lying was new. But you just couldn't blame him. So... so what if his new castmates thought you'd vowed to each other till death parted you? They'd fade from one screen to another, like most of all of Gwilym's former castmates had before; coworkers who barely took the time to understand the inner workings of your relationship with Gwilym. Because you were always together. What was the use in trying to explain that away?

"I guess..." You sighed, stepping close to Gwilym as you thought out loud. "We'll just say that... Olive kept trying to take our rings off. If anyone asks why we don't wear any." There wasn't much of a different choice, was there?

"We... we will?" Gwilym lifted his head and peered confusedly up to you.

"Well, it's either that or I explain you lied and embarrass you in front of everyone." You let out a humorless laugh, hating the way your comment made Gwilym cringe.

"And there's no use in that. So, if anyone asks, that's what we'll say." You decided, submitting into the spot fate carved out for you alongside Gwilym.

"Thank you." He nodded meaningfully, daring to shoot you a look that relayed just how much he meant what he said.

"Looks like we'll be sharing a bed to top it all off." You chuckled sleepily, spinning away from the main room.

"Well the couch can-" Gwilym sounded pitiful as you drifted away.

"It's a big bed, Gwil. Come on." You sighed, shuffling toward it.

As you silently unpacked and settled your things into the places they'd remained for three more weeks, you came upon the gift Lucy had greeted you with so selflessly. You admired the clutch and the little gems in the sticking that reminded you of fossils, that in turn reminded you of a certain set of eyes.

When you floated to bed with the simple thought of Joe's gaze locking on yours, your chest filled with feathers.

As you closed your eyes to the long day, a dreadful realization settled the flutter in your stomach.

You'd finally found the man you'd been looking for, but you'd signed up for so much more with another.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

@imtheinvisiblequeen @im-an-adult-ish @sonic-volcano @joemazzmatazz @almightygwil @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @slutforbritdick @drivenbybri

#gwilym lee #gwilym x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fanfic #joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic

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pandemicperipatetics · 3 years ago

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Two Weeks in Denver

The Verdict:

We spent 13 nights in Denver (well actually, just south of Denver in Greenwood Village). With the beautiful outdoors, friendly people, and the best/chillest drivers of anywhere we've driven in the U.S., it was our favorite stop so far! It seems like a wonderful place to live. Denver is large and seems to have lots of stuff to do in the city and surrounding areas, so this post covers just a fraction of the options.

Things to Do:

Hiking (Ranked in order of our most to least recommended)

Rocky Mountain National Park (~2 hrs drive): Check out our RMNP blog post!

Boulder (45 min drive): We didn't have a chance to hike in Boulder, but we hear it's awesome. We had hoped to stop by Chautauqua Park to check out the trails (we read that Enchanted Mesa Trail was a good 4-miler) or El Dorado Canyon State Park. We did enjoy walking along Pearl Street, where there are plenty of tasty treats (we enjoyed smoothie bowls) and appreciated the free parking in the city's covered parking garages (we parked at 1500 Pearl, which was a perfect location). Logistics: Waze told us there was a toll on the Interstate to Boulder, but Google Maps thought it was a toll-free drive. The answer? There is an optional toll lane on the highway, but you can make the trip in the toll-free lanes.

Red Rocks (30-40 min drive): This is a naturally occurring amphitheatre that is best known for evening concerts against an incredibly scenic vista. While we weren't looking for a crowded concert during the pandemic, we visited in the morning and were blown away by how beautiful the amphitheatre was (and how many stairs there were to get to the top!). We also walked the beautiful 1.4 mile Red Rocks Trading Post Trail loop, which also had a moderate amount of uphill/downhill. It was VERY hot and sunny when we got there around 10:30 a.m.; though the weather app said it was below 80 degrees, the sun was really beating down. Next time, we'd go earlier in the day (later can be tricker due to concerts in the evenings) for better weather and hopefully smaller crowds. Logistics: We just entered Red Rocks into Google Maps and it took us to a parking lot near the amphitheatre. The trail was just a couple minutes' walk from the parking area, near the Trading Post building. Parking was free and not too hard to find.

Vail/Breckenridge area (~90 mins drive): We didn't have a chance to visit, but it sounds like there's very nice hiking around here in the summer.

Garden of the Gods and Pike's Peak in Colorado Springs (~1 hr drive): When we got a nail in our tire and had to get the tire replaced, the nice guy at Firestone highly recommended we visit these areas for beautiful scenery. While we didn't make it, we read that Garden of the Gods can get very crowded, especially with Instagram-focused tourists more so than a hiking acrowd. We also read that it's not quite as nice as the Utah National Parks or Sedona. Pike's Peak also sounds touristy; there is a coveted tram that takes you to the top, at 14K feet of elevation -- after moderate altitude sickness at RMNP, we decided to sit this one out.

Denver Neighborhoods & Sights (Ranked in order of our most to least-recommended)

Denver Botanic Gardens (free with American Horticultural Society membership): This is one of the most beautiful botanic gardens we've ever seen, anywhere. It was also excruciatingly crowded on a Saturday morning and a very un-fun experience to find parking. Despite how stunning the gardens are, we preferred the much less crowded walk through Cheesman Park and the cute surrounding neighborhood. Logistics: If the Botanic Gardens parking garage and parking lot are full, park for free at nearby Congress Park, Cheesman Park, or on a random side street a 5+ min walk from the gardens. Be observant of street signs to make sure you haven’t parked in a residential area that requires a parking permit.

RiNo (River North Arts District): About a 10 minute drive from downtown, RiNo is a hip area full of breweries, street art, and run-down looking houses. On a Saturday around 2pm, street parking was sparse (but free) and the breweries seemed packed with people. We read that the street murals are at their best on 26th-31st streets between Larimer & Walnut, and we weren't blown away in comparison to Plaza Walls in Oklahoma City or The Mission in San Francisco. Due to the extreme heat we didn't stick around, but we were interested in checking out Finns Manor (cocktails + food trucks), Denver Central Market (High Point Creamery apparently offers an ice cream flight?!), and a few breweries. Maybe next time! Logistics: Street parking is free.

Washington Park: This is very nice park for a stroll. When we went on a Saturday evening around sunset, it wasn’t very crowded. The surrounding neighborhood looks very nice, and there seem to be good places to eat nearby (our friend suggested Sushi Den, though we didn’t have a chance to try it out). We saw someone paddleboarding on the water, which looked picturesque! Logistics: There are parking lots and ample street parking around the park.

Sloan’s Lake (near Highland neighborhood): The park has a beautiful lake with a sizeable trail going around it. It reminded us of Lake Merritt in Oakland. When we went on a Sunday evening, it was somewhat busy with people running, walking, biking, and on scooters/skateboards/roller blades, and there was lots of goose poo everywhere. The surrounding area wasn’t quite as nice as that around Cheesman Park or Washington Park, but we still liked the lake. Note there were no water activities allowed -- signs indicated the water sometimes gets too unclean to enter. Edgwater Market is a few minutes away (we recommend driving as the walk isn’t very nice) and has a cute outdoor patio and lots of different types of ethnic food to try out (we especially liked the veggie pesto crepe at the crepe stand). Logistics: There are parking lots at the lake and the market.

LoDo (Lower Downtown): The downtown area is meh, you can skip it if you're short on time. If you go, you can walk through Larimer Square, a small, cute block of shops and eateries with outdoor seating that is roped off from cars; check out Union Station, where the Amtrak goes and there are a bunch of places to eat/get coffee (including the overrated Snooze AM eatery - reserve your spot in line 1-2 hrs in advance if going and be sure to get the sweet potato pancake); walk the 16th Street Mall, a very touristy street of more shops and eateries (not as cute as Larimer Square, but a pro is there is a free bus that takes you up and down this long street); and walk by Coors Field if you're a baseball fan. Logistics: Parking lots are very expensive, but we didn't find it too difficult to find 2-hour street parking ($1/hour, you can pay by card at the meter or with the PayByPhone app; free on Sundays and holidays).

Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge (free, 20-30 mins from city center): This is a beautiful area in northeast Denver that you can drive through, listen to their excellent guided podcast, and spot some neat wildlife. The area is known for bison, deer, prairie dogs, and birds; we saw some of these animals. This was a great option to stay in our air-conditioned car on a very hot day, rather than being out for a hike. Logistics: There is a Visitor Center that you can stop by if you’d like (we didn’t), otherwise just download the Rocky Mountain Arsenal podcast on your phone and start the drive!

What to Eat (Vegetarian Edition)

We did not take advantage of Denver’s food options, so what we are sharing here are mostly recommendations from our friends / places we would love to try if we had more time here.

Safta (Mediterranean) - Upscale; close to downtown. Appears to have outdoor seating and advance reservations are recommended

Uchi (Japanese) - Upscale; close to downtown. Has a separate vegetarian menu including a multi-course tasting. Reservations can be hard to come by if you don’t book well in advance. They also accept walk-ins, and they do have outdoor seating if you’re COVID-conscious (or just like eating outside!)

Brunch places with hype: Snooze AM Eatery (multiple locations, get on the Yelp waitlist at least an hour in advance, known for excellent pancakes), Sassafrass (we didn’t try it), and Root Down (we also didn’t try it)

Markets: Denver Central Market (in RiNo), Edgewater Public Market (by Sloan Lake / Highlands neighborhood; we loved the crepes and thought the Ethiopian food was mediocre), Stanley Marketplace (Aurora)

Other places that were recommended to us were Ash Kara (Mediterranean), El Five (Mediterranean, good views), Sushi Den (Japanese), and Vital Root (which is apparently by a lot of good vegetarian-friendly restaurants + breweries near Berkeley/Tennyson Street), Sputnik

Dessert: I very much wanted to try High Point Creamery (multiple locations) as it seems to have many vegan options and an ice cream flight! Little Man Ice Cream also came recommended

Where to Stay

We're definitely not experts on this, but here are a few thoughts based on our trip!

Near Cheesman Park and Washington Park seem like a lovely areas to stay -- the parks are really nice and the surrounding neighborhoods seem pretty safe and upscale. We didn't come across any available airbnbs in this neighborhoods.

Greenwood Village (~20 mins drive south of Denver, close to Centennial, CO). We stayed in the Marriott Residence Inn Tech Center (the 2 bed/2 ba is good for two people working from home during the week) and loved the area. Within a 5 minute drive there are cute parks for a morning jog, plenty of fast casual eateries (we were partial to the Torchy's and Schlotzsky's nearby), and even the excellent Peak View Brewing Company (okay so it’s a brewery in a suburban strip mall, but the outdoor patio is great and the jalapeno pretzel and the peanut butter porter were a hit!). Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and Safeway are within a ~10 minute drive.

#denver

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traumatized-motherfuckers · 4 years ago

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Friendship Dissolutions; A Lesson in Asshole Trauma Reactions

So this is normally my school day, but I’m feeling the need to dig into something else this morning. The past events of this weekend, annnnd the past nearly two years. Because, if you hadn’t heard, relationships are hard and I like to embarrass myself by telling you about all my fuck ups.

You know, romantic relationships are a disaster for yours truly, but I always thought I was pretty good at the friendship thing. Since high school I’ve almost always had robust friendly relationships - both in depth and breadth. With the exception of a few difficult points in my life since 16, my phone has never been quiet, my weekends have only been isolating when I’ve been isolating myself, and I’ve always felt like I had humans on my side who were closer to kin than my actual family.

The thing is, there have been periods when this hasn’t been the case. I want to say that it’s generally when I’m in my worst mental health downfalls, but I don’t think that’s universally true. There have been variable reasons for separating myself from other people, or vice versa. Sometimes getting too busy, sometimes naturally growing apart, sometimes getting too obsessed with a romantic partner.

But, taking a more analytical view, underlying my lost friendship events, trauma has often been one of the influences that corrupted my friendships and left me lonely, even if it doesn’t seem like it at face value. The thing is, the trail of breadcrumbs might go back 20 years or so. I might not have been in a full-blown trauma state at the time, but those early life non-learnings about relationships have left their mark. So, yes, I do believe that CPTSD is the prerequisite for interpersonal disruptions and we’re not alone in that.

Anyways, in this Fucker’s life, for the past almost 2 years I’ve been in one of those friendship lulls. I’ve had casual friends, roommates, work-associates, distant relationships, some of those hey-how’s-it-going-every-two-months relations. But I haven’t had those deep, rich, all-encompassing friendships that used to define my existence. The ones that used to make me feel safe enough to have an existence, at all.

It’s all because I lost my core group of friends, I didn’t understand and couldn’t fix the problem, and I had no idea how to move forward.

And this last time when I lost everyone I loved, it was definitely due to trauma. Acute, historical, and recovering trauma, to be specific. It was a horrible period of my life, I was a human wrecking ball, and I had no emotional control… because, partially thanks to said friends, I never had to develop those skills.

Basically, I’ve been on my own since a whole series of mental health related isolation events and relationships dissolutions that have persisted since - I want to say 2019 - but to be more holistic, the ship started sailing earlier than that. Like, when I was born.

This has all come to mind more than usual because, this weekend? I had a strange rush of humans back into my life. For the first time in a long time, I saw my best, closest, most important old friends, who were closer to siblings…. In our natural habitat, with our normal friendship routines, with hundreds of memories from the past decade flying around the room.

And today… or, realistically, since I tried to go to sleep after seeing them each day this weekend… I have the relationship reckoning to deal with. The emotional and cognitive processing of everything that’s happened. The lost years. The sense of abandonment. The feeling of being cast out of a family. The inkling that everyone was talking about me. The realization that I was acting a fool, and maybe they should be talking about me. The sense that all parties were partially responsible, but I was the one to blame. The voice in my head that has called me a crazy, miserable, unlovable mess the entire time I debated this at 6am and 6pm and 3am for the past several years.

And now, in the aftermath, I have to work through the dynamic cocktail of feelings, the sense of waiting for the other shoe, and the big decision - are these relationships that I feel secure pursuing again?

And I don’t think I’m alone in this one.

So, today I thought it would be good to talk about this. The history of losing my favorite people on the planet, how I perceived it at the time, how I see my own trauma-actions fucking shit up in hindsight, how I’ve forgiven myself for being such a wild one, and… well… my hesitancy to have close friendships with humans who hurt me in the past. The ways I realized that being separate was beneficial to my mental health and life progress. The self-sabotaging enablement patterns that I now recognize, ran deep, in our old group of friends. The fear that being around them again will let my trauma brain run away with me.

Woo - it’s a whole personal relationship reckoning over here. Let’s just do this, so I can get to my school work at some point soon.

History

So let me set up this situation. You need the background details, of which, there are many dramatic twists and turns.

Be me, Spring of 2019. My romantic relationship with my ex in Atlanta - the musical narcissist that I followed to the city - is going terribly. Since we moved things have been rocky, but now our relationship has been pumped full of disappointment, unfair expectations, emotional codependency, resentment, horrific fighting, and abuse of all colors. Every day is a battle. We’re rarely ever “happy” together. We’re closer to enemies than friends. And we live under the same roof - the one his parents bought for him, outright in cash - to make matters even more fun.

Other than him, I’m alone in this city. I work at the brewery, where no one really likes me. I have one friend from work, but little time to interact thanks to the demanding schedule of my ex with his gigs and out-of-state child visitation.

Financially, my savings have been depleted by floating my significant other’s horrible decisions for the past 2 years. We can never get ahead. He never pays me back for anything. I’m basically in his pocket, as far as needing resources to survive.

As you can imagine, and as I’ve described previously, my mental health is in THE SHITTER. Maybe worse than it’s ever been, although this is hard to judge against some of my earlier years in my 20’s. I’m definitely ramped up in an aggressive and defensive trauma state more than ever before, thanks to living with my aggressor every day. I feel like I’m surviving against the will of my partner, who seems to legitimately be doing his best to drive me into an early grave every single time the sun rises. He’s moved into the territory of intentionally triggering me for hours on end, upsetting me to the point of mental breakdowns, and then gaslighting me for “acting so crazy.” Things have become dangerous, I have no one to turn to, and no cash to get myself into a better situation… not that I know what a better situation even looks like.

But one day, I left. Packed my two bags, went to work, wound up at that single sort-of-friend’s house, never went back home.

And that’s when the real nightmare started. I mean, my ex was a terror over time as we lived together, but a narcissist scorned is a narcissist determined to ruin your fucking life. He harassed me daily via text, phone call, FB messenger, email, stalkings… whatever you can think of. When I blocked him on everything, he started trying to leverage our therapists against me until they refused to interact anymore. He wouldn’t let me into his house to get my stuff. He tried to have me arrested for attempting to do so, after he made arrangements with me to move that weekend. He suddenly refused to even acknowledge that he owed me a dime, and found a way to tally up venmo transactions to show that I actually owed him. He took my only support - our dog, who was really my dog - away and wouldn’t let me see him. Later, he reported my car stolen, so I had to purchase a new one without warning.

The list goes on and on. Just, assume every pathetic, cruel, desperate attempt at getting under someone’s skin and reminding them that they had the audacity to leave you. That’s what was going on in my world.

Meanwhile, with those financial and social pressures I mentioned earlier. No close friends in the area, no spare cash, an unstable job where I was on the chopping block for the reason of “the CEO didn’t like my personality,” nowhere to live, no idea where to go next or how to start a whole new life.

Annnnnd this is right about when my closely knit friend group back in Illinois sort of, well, dipped.

My bestest, best, most treasured friend in my lifetime had always been there for me. But now, she wasn’t. We had exchanged a handful of phone calls over the past month in the aftermath of this relationship ending, but she had been pretty detached from it. I wasn’t offended, because she had certainly heard enough of the drama in real time… of course she was tired of hearing about it... but I was feeling especially alone and incapable of handling everything on my own, so the distance was difficult, nevertheless. Then, one day she told me that I was being too much for her. I had too high of expectations. It had been bothering her for a while. She needed me to understand and give her some space.

And this was the completely avoidable beginning of the end of my friendships. Let’s talk about why.

How I perceived it

So, I’m pretty sure you can guess how I took this challenging message from my best friend. Uh, poorly. I was so shocked that in my darkest hour, my comrade would feel like my problems were out of her paygrade. It felt like a stab to the heart and straight down through the gut. Here I was, completely alone and isolated, reaching back to my most trusted companions for a lifeline to keep my head above water, and… nothing. She didn’t want to reel me back into the boat.

I responded with some shitty messages about how I really wasn’t asking that much from her and I didn’t appreciate being blindsided by her sudden decision to get rid of me. I had only taken up a few phone calls to talk things through based on her schedule. I had visited her one weekend as I went to a job interview nearby. I had asked her to come visit me soon, so I could feel less alone for a few days. I didn’t think it was fair that she was responding this way. I couldn’t believe she would turn her back on me at this particular moment.

And so, the rift developed. We stopped speaking. I started sobbing. I was absolutely beside myself, as if I hadn’t already been. This wasn’t what I wanted, at all, but I also felt like I had no control in it.

.......

Like it? Well I’m too lazy to post the whole thing here. Check t-mfrs.com for the full blog AND the podcast recorded version. Yawelcome.

www.t-mfrs.com

(Traumatized Motherfuckers)

#cptsd #cptsd problems #actually CPTSD #cptsdsurvivor #just cptsd things #Complex Trauma #complexptsd #complextrauma #complextraumarecovery #healingcomplextrauma

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imagine-korea · 5 years ago

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BTS reaction: S/O saving them from being kidnapped

Hello darling. Thank you for the request. I know it has been literal ages but I still hope you see it and enjoy. :)

Also this was very difficult to write multiple plots of. 😅

♥ Thanks for the request ♥

SeokJin:

Honestly, you didn’t understand how they even got to him. You were searching backstage for him but he was nowhere to be found. You asked the others but they also hadn’t seen him, and obviously they couldn’t help you search with all the fans around. You ended up finding him in a hallway off the side of the building, surounded by fans asking for pictures, and autographs and the seemed to be pushing him to the nearest exit. Obviously you didn’t trust it.

“Seokjin, sir. You are expected in the dressing room.” You called for him. You had gotten a staff badge, so you could perfectly pass as a staff member. “Ah yes, of course.” He wormed his way trough the girls joining you as you walked back.

“Thank you so much. I swear, they were after something.”

“Yeah, after you you mean.”

I was very thankful of your quick action. He honestly thought he wouldn’t have been back if you wouldn’t have gotten to him.

Yoongi:

Yoongi had gotten into the car that was supposed to pick him up from the airport. But as you had planned to surprise him there, you told the driver you would pick him up. But you were running late, you just saw him get into the car. You frowned, knowing the driver wouldn’t be there, so you snapped a picture of the licence plate. You dialed his number and let it ring, but no answer. You called again but with the same result. You could still see the car, so decided to drive after it. Meanwile calling the driver with your handsfree set, just to make sure.

He let you know that he was infact at the studio waiting for some of the other boys. The car took a turn into a quiet parkinglot and you followed close behing, parking not to far away. You saw someone get out of the car and calling. You could feel your blood boiling as you saw yoongi clearly trying to get out. You walked towards the car, hoping the cardoor would open from the outside. And it did, revealing his shocked face. “Y/N” He whisper yelled. “I propose we run.” You said, and he immediately ran to your car with you.

He was shocked but couldn’t stop laughing as the two of you drove to his dorm. He couldn’t believe your strory, he was so thankful that you came along.

Hoseok:

Hoseok was shocked to say the least when someone outright told him they were kidnapping him. A girl was stood holding something that could be a weapon pointed at him. He was scared to look down and confirm. The girl was smaller than him, obviously. But that didn’t prevent him from being afraid of what she might do. He tried desperately to reason with her, but there was just no reasoning. You heard part of this scene play out as you just came out of the studio yourself.

“What is this about a kidnapping?” You asked casually. Among the masses you were know as ruthless and a master of martial arts, so no one dared mess with you. So the second she heard your voice, she was more fearful than hoseok was. She didn’t answer, as she stared at you wide-eyed. “Are you holding him at penpoint?” You chuckled, looking at the wide pen she was pressing into his stomach. As soon as she saw no way of talking her way out of this, she sprinted away into the night.

“I had everything under control.” He smiled but you gave him a knowing stare. He gave you a thumbs up, not about to argue with you. “Thanks.”

Namjoon:

I tried to keep most of them pretty calm but I was out of ideas so here we are with the intense angst

The two of you were taking a walk, exploring new-york before you both had to leave seeing Namjoon had to continue his tour. You had stumbled across a calm street and you were sure you were lost. “Didn’t she say to turn left here? Maybe we should go back?” But when you looked around, neither of you knew how. You were calling Jin just when the girl from before entered the street.

“Hey! Sorry to bother again, but could you tell us how to get back.” You asked the now familiar girl.

“I could, but I’m not going to.” She grinned. A grin that sent shivers down your spine. She took a gun from her bag, pointing it at the both of you. No one around to see it. Namjoon offered her money, but that’s not what she was there for. She wanted him, and made it clear she’d kill you to get what she wanted, if she had to. “Put you phone away.” she signaled. and so you did, yet it was still ringing Jin. You hoped he had picked up, or this might all go to voicemail and reach him too late.

“We’re right next to a bar, the brewery, you’re going to shoot us here?!” You said loudly. “You pipe down or I might.” she hissed at you. She motioned for Namjoon to come along with her. You both tried to talk your way out of the situation, but it didn’t help. You had to do something. So right as Namjoon stepped past her, and she turned her back to you, you tried to grab her gun. It went off and you felt a searing pain in your hand. You held your wrist, and the gun dropped to the floor. The girl stepped into the car, leaving you and Namjoon behind, and not long after police arived at the scene. Your wound sere tended to and Namjoon stayed by your side for a long time. He thought it was ridiculous that you would risk yourself for him. He didn’t want you to need to do that. He took a while off the tour just to be with his hero, and fans understoud completely.

How is it longer when I didn’t have inspiration

Jimin:

Okay, it’s getting harder by the person

Jimin was in the hospital after a minor surgery. He only had to stay there for a few days, mainly because his manager was afraid he might practice before he has recovered properly. You walked up to his door but someone stopped you. “Excuse me ma’am, you can’t go in there.” You muttered an ‘oh right’ to yourself before taking out the badge the had given you at the front desk, showing it off. “Oh, you’re Y/N. Apologies, but a nurse just took him for more tests.” The man stated. What would he need tests for, they said the surgery went perfectly well and he just needed rest. You nodded at the man, he still let you inside to wait there.

Some time passed and a nurse came into the room. Before you could speak, she asked with a frown “Where’s the patient?” Your eyes widened at the question and you eplained the prior situation. She ran out, going to warn others that he had been taken out of the room while possibly unconscious.

You ran trough the halls yourself, searching for anywhere that he could be. You glanced at the large elevator down the hall. That’s right, they could be anywhere. You walked to the elevator. Looking at the numbers, going up to 24. You could never search them all. yet, The roof ...

It was a good start. You got into the elevator, you’re leg vigorously tapping in an anxious state. It seemed like a century before the elevator came to a halt with a soft *ding*

The doors slid open and there it was, the hospital bed with Jimin and some random girl in a nurse outfit. You heard Jimin mumble your name as his arm went to rest on the girls back, she was visually enjoying it. “That’s not me.” You stated, and the girl shot up looking at you in horror. You signaled for her to get off, you could see Jimin’s eyes opening and she glanced back at him. She glared at you ands said “NO, I need to take care of him.”

“In the freezing cold, on the roof of the hospital. The only thing you’ll take care of this way is giving him bronchitis. Now get off, or I call the police.’ Your voice was venomous, causing her to get off with one last glance, before she ran. You ran up to him. He could barely open his eyes still but he was conscious.

“You’re awesome.” He mumbled, and you brought him back to his room.

Taehyung:

Taehyung didn’t even realise he was being kidnapped. He just got out of the hotel and got approached by someone who said they were supposed to show him around. He asked if the others weren’t joining but with a simple axcuse as ‘everyone wanted to see different things’ he went with them. Until at a certain they told him to get in the car. You had noticed him as you had just gone to get a coffee down the street. You heard him refuse, saying he’d rather walk.

“Get in the damn car.” The man said a bit more demanding this time. You immediatly knew this was bad news, and walked up behind the man. You had done some self-defence classes but sure enough it also worked when sneaking up to people. Just as you twisted the man’s arm behind his back, a knife dropped out of his pocket that he was reaching for. You pressed him against his own van and told Taehyung to run. You were right behind him, sprinting so the man couldn’t reach you before you got to your car.

Taehyung was actualy excited after the two of you were driving away. He thought it was so awesome what you had done, yet he was thankful you came along. He was afraid to think what would have happened if you didn’t.

Jungkook:

Aparently a random guy had walked up to him as he was taking a stroll. His face hidden, by a cap and mouthmask, he was certain that the guy couldn't recognize him. Yet the guy himself was fairly unrecognisable as well. The guy seemes friendly at first, yet he stared asking very forward questions. ‘What do you do for a living?’, ‘Where are you from?’, ‘Where are you going?’

Junkook wanted nothing more but to get away, but every step he took, the man followed. You were on a walk of your own, to the dorm in fact, when you saw them. You noticed the odd interaction, and the uncomfortabe expression on Jungkook’s face. You walked up to him with a broad smile.

“Minseok-Oppa!” You smiled, winking at him before the man turned around. You saw his eyes widen just a second before mumberling an unexcited ‘bye’, before walking off.

“What was that about?” Jungkook didn’t know what the man was planning, but he was glad you showed up.

Man, it was hard to find a scenario for each of them. But I was determined to do so anyway. Apologies if your bias didn’t get that long a story. Hope you liked it. ;)

♥ Thanks for reading ♥

masterlist

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

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Who wants a Schnauz family update? No-one? Ha, tough, you’re getting one.

So Little Dude had his scan/ultrasound on his Kidneys and Bladder. The infection has gone, no scarring to his kidneys. However as his symptoms continue we are still going for futher tests.

Anyway, so he starts school on 8th Sept, has a blast. His scan was on the 9th so he was only in school that morning. In school on Thurs 10th, but was very tired that afternoon, and in the evening develops a very snotty nose, and is showing signs of a cold.

Friday morning i know he’s a bundle of snot and looking quite run down, so decide to keep him off school and let him rest (he’s only 5, and going from 6 months of sitting on his butt to 7 hours of running around, plus mixing with 60 other kids, he’s going to no doubt pick up the usual cold bugs). Because of his ongoing health issues i ring his doctors office, but end up speaking to a triage nurse as no doctors telephone slots available. I confirm he shows no signs on Covid. We haven’t been in contact with anyone (knowingly) with Covid. Both my husband and I work from home. And you know what the nurse says to me?

“Well although he’s not showing any signs or symptoms, get a test and i’ll put it in his notes”

NO. You guys don’t understand what’s going on in the UK at the moment. Firstly, because everyone EXCEPT the government knew that the return to school would spike all the normal colds, coughs, and general snottyness of children mixing together, some of which will show as signs of Covid, there will be a spike in requests for tests. But they didn’t prepare for it. Its not the NHS that are doing the testing, it’s been subcontracted out to a private company (whose major shareholders are Conservative MP’s). So now we were put in the situation where because someone at the NHS has marked it down on Little Dude’s notes that we were going to get a test, unless we wanted to isolate for 14 days, we needed tests. All of us. Little Dude has signs of ADHD and we need him to be in a educational setting to help him with this. I couldn’t despatch any orders during this time.

Should someone report us for breaking isolation protocols, its a £2000 fine PER PERSON.

We tried for 3 days straight applying online through the ‘world renowned’ system to book a test. We would get one come up and you’d click book, then... nothing. It was only because my husband has got his head screwed on that he realised we should get a confirmation email or text, and he spent another 45 minutes on the phone to their helpdesk only to discover that if you don’t get a email/text, then ‘someone else got your slot and you need to try again’.

Then the only tests that came up were hundreds of miles away or on a small island that needed a ferry to get to. Trips which we wouldn’t be allowed to get out of the car for at all, with a sick child in tow.

After literally 72 hours of trying, we finally got ‘test at home’ kits. They arrived Monday night. Which was around the time that Little Dude was fully recovered from his cold. Like, completely better. Bouncing off the walls. Not a booger in sight.

It takes until FRIDAY to get our results back, which are all negative unsurprisingly. In fact Little Dude’s result came in at 7am... however mine and hubs didn’t get sent until late afternoon, so LD missed yet another day of school.

All this because a NHS staff member openly acknowledged that none of us showed signs of Covid, but she told us to get tests anyway, knowing that if we said no we would have to isolate for 2 weeks. Tests that could be used by key workers, Hospital staff, teachers, emergency services workers, casual workers that are paid cash day by day off the books.

I am so fucking angry, the NHS has been nothing but utter shit for us for so many years, it couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, and all it does is add more stress to our lives. I can only thank that we have the space on the credit card to move Little Dude’s care to private hospitals, but at £500 per appointment, we’re going to be in for a massive bill at the end of this.

In other news my foot has now healed and i am actively avoiding treading on and twisting my ankle on any crabapples on my driveway.

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syms-things-5 · 5 years ago

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Clear The Area

Warning: Not explicit (yet); some mild language. This has been quite cathartic in a way.

Summary: 29-year-old nurse Sarah Bernette has worked hard to get where she is. Moving to Boston from a nowhere dump of a town, she’s studied hard and is grateful her stress is finally paying off. Despite being fostered repeatedly throughout her childhood, she’s since found some comfort in the form of her adopted parents, Jocelyn and Noah, and a pseudo-adoptive family of sorts in form of the Evans clan who have treated her as one of her own ever since she moved in with best friend, Shanna. Valuing them above all else, she appreciates their support even more when her long lost birth mother decides to reappear in her life after so many years, and is surprised to find out just how supportive Chris is in particular. As she struggles to maintain a firm grip on both her professional and private lives, she finds an ill-advised solace in her growing mutual attraction with him but how long before everything unravels and threatens to pull the rug out from underneath her?

Note: I have two chapters written and will post ‘Chapter Two’ at some point this weekend to get things moving. I apologise for my spelling/grammar errors. Let me know if there is something wildly incorrect here and I’ll change it. Still figuring out a few things and I expect this will be a slow burn but it’s exciting to finally get off my arse and…sit down and write.

CHAPTER ONE

Today was probably a 4 out of 10.

4.5 if she was feeling generous.

Sarah thought about the decisions she had made in the past decade that lead her right to this moment, this moment being cleaning neon-coloured vomit off her scrubs for the second time in the past hour.

“You would think people would have learned downing shots of Absinthe was not a great idea by the time they’d left their teens,” snickered Audrey before shooting her a sympathetic look and handing over another wipe. “I can’t believe how green it was. It looks like you got punked by the Marshmallow Man!”

“Thanks for that.” Sarah was scrubbing as hard as she could while internally questioning her decision to pursue Nursing all those years ago. Her History teacher once told her she could have “a decent stab” at becoming a Middle School teacher if she applied herself right. Right now, she could be knee-deep in teaching half-interested kids about the 27 Amendments without an ounce of sick in sight. Instead, she was baffled. “Fuck. It’s practically luminous…”

This must have been payback for pushing herself as a teenager. Being fostered in and out of care homes during your formative years could turn you one way or the other, and Sarah chose “the other”. She was sure the universe was telling her she should have stayed put and been happy with her lot in life, in her too-small town with no feasible job prospects, where everyone knew you and held that against you, instead of moving halfway across the country with next to no money to study at a University she couldn’t afford and would most likely be in debt to for the next twenty years. Now, however, she got to convince local drunks that climbing on to roofs was, in fact, not a great idea despite the bet they had made with their “friends”. On a good day, she got to help children pick out the colours for their plaster casts.

Or take today. Today, she got to lecture a group of young people about the trials and tribulations of playing “run the bus” with 60% proof. Every day was just a little bit different so as to keep things interesting. That, she reminded herself, was something she had to remain glad about.

She sighed and threw the last wipe in the bin. Taking a last look in the mirror, she turned to her friend for reassurance that she looked at least passable. She caught her frown before Audrey realised Sarah could see her and quickly gave her a thumbs up. She did love her Audrey which is why she decided to repay her kindness by forcing a hug on her as a thank you.

“Silver lining, though,” Audrey said, shoving her away, laughing in protest. “You’re lucky you didn’t get any in your hair.”

“Yeh bastards had a good aim at least.” Sarah dusted down her arms one last time to check for anything she might have missed and the two of them left the locker room. The place was now eerily quiet, thank god. Just run out the clock and they’d be home and dry in no time, figuratively speaking in Sarah’s case.

Audrey placed a comforting arm around her pal. “You want me to find some spare scrubs? I’m sure they’ll have some upstairs. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Nah it’s OK. I’ll be done in 20. Just gotta sign Mr. Richardson out from cubicle 5 then I’ll run home and shower.”

“OK, well, if you have to hang around, avoid triage because you-know-who is there and I don’t want you ruining your chances again.” Audrey pinched Sarah on her hip and headed back to her work.

You-know-who was Greg Anderson, an attractive 30-something medic from a hospital on the other side of town. He was up-and-coming in Paediatrics apparently and had been shadowing a Consultant for the past few weeks. He was 6ft plus with dark hair and brown eyes and his father was something big in Economics in MIT. He drove a Porsche and wore Louboutin’s on his rounds which had Audrey practically foaming at the mouth. Indeed, he hadn’t bypassed the attentions of the majority of females in the ER, as well as a few men and even a couple of patients but as always, Sarah was solely focussed on the job at hand to pay him any heed. Audrey thought she caught him staring at her the other week, though, and made it her mission to set them up. She took great pride in playing matchmaker for her friend given that she herself got locked down nine years earlier and “it’s a damn shame to let these skills go to waste.’ She had somehow also managed to get Shan and Lisa onside, too, however that had happened.

Greg was handsome, she’d agree with that, and definitely her type in the right light but something was a little too Republican for her liking. Plus, he was a Rangers’ fan and Sarah swore blind early on in her life that she couldn’t bring children up in that kind of hostile environment. Sarah briefly contemplated walking past triage with the lingering scent now clinging to her clothes but as Audrey kindly repeated to her at regular intervals during the days, Greg was her only realistic prospect right now and figured it was perhaps better to keep her options open, at least for the time being.

Mr. Richardson was gone pretty soon afterwards and, accepting defeat for another day, Sarah grabbed her bag and headed home.

There was definitely beer left in the fridge, she was sure of it. She’d bought a six-pack at the weekend and could only remember drinking two during the Bruins’ game, so…

“Oh yeh, you’re out of beer.”

Sarah turned around from the fridge to face a sheepish looking Chris holding the last frosted bottle in his hand, his ball cap low over his face attempting to hide the faint black circles under both his eyes. There was a 5 o’clock shadow forming now he wasn’t required to shave. As drained as she was, she briefly contemplated wrestling him to the ground for that last swig. He looked just as tired. She figured she could take him. At least he had the decency to look guilty about it.

“I’ll run out and get you some if you…Jesus! Why do you smell like a brewery?!” He practically recoiled holding his free hand to his nose.

Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass for some cold water instead. “Are you here to just annoy me or steal my beer as well?”

“Both now you ask but seriously, what have you been doing all day? You don’t usually smell this bad.” He joked.

“Oh, some kids took it in turns to throw up on me and I didn’t have any clean scrubs to change into.” She downed the water and went to fill the glass up again. God, she didn’t realise she was this dehydrated. Chris shot her a look of confusion. “It’s a long story. Is Shan around?” She shed herself of her scrub top and headed into her bedroom down the hallway, Chris casually following behind.

She had to pop out for something so I’m just handing here ‘til she gets back. You coming for dinner at Ma’s? She’s doing her famous lamb roast. Might wanna shower first, though.” He joked, playfully sticking his tongue out at her.

“God, I forgot how hilarious you are.” she overtly rolled her eyes at him. “No, I’m good. Just gonna head for an early night, I think.”

“OK, well, if you change your mind, we’re leaving in half an hour. You know she’ll make me drive back to get you otherwise.”

That was true. For as long as she’d known and lived with Shanna, Lisa had treated her like any other member of her family and Sarah had never fully grasped how much she had appreciated it, coming from where she did. Lisa knew Sarah’s folks weren’t as close by any more and compensated for this by inviting to every dinner night she held, every games night, school events, theatre events, and more besides. She spent Christmases with them, visited Disney with them, and had New Years with them on occasions she wasn’t working. Lisa even organised a surprise birthday get-together for her as well despite Shan’s protests that she wasn’t a birthday kind of person. Sarah had learned to stop feeling awkward or out of place soon after.

Once Shan told Lisa Sarah had wanted to start learning to play piano as a new year’s resolution, Lisa had insisted she could teach her whenever she had some spare time. There soon after followed afternoons of tea and gossip and not much playing of the piano but it felt comfortable and nice for the first time in a long time. Shan would make excuses so Sarah didn’t feel obligated to attend everything but in truth, she didn’t mind so much. It was nice to feel wanted.

Chris was lounging on her armchair with one leg over the armrest, messing on his phone. Sarah could count the number of times on one hand the nights he had spent in his own place since returning to Boston a fortnight ago. As true as it was that he rarely spoke about filming in any great detail, she could nevertheless tell he’d been left particularly drained by this particular experience and wasn’t looking forward to the reshoots scheduled for next month. There had been a rumour he’d started sleeping with his married co-star and she guessed Lisa had been mithering him about it hence him turning up on their doorstep last week. Other than one night back in his own bed, he had remained on their sofa ever since, clearly relishing in the familiar company.

“So what made those kids throw up?” Chris called out, still engrossed in his phone. A quick glance over his shoulder told her he’d been ignoring someone’s text messages.

By now Sarah was in her old yet comfy sweatpants and a Boston hoodie Shan had bought her as an anniversary present of her 5th year living there. “Um, Absinthe. The nasty kind.” She was gathering her washing together.

Chris whistled low through his teeth, a kind of “been there, done that”.

“Rookie mistake.“ he laughed to himself. He frowned at his phone before chucking it onto her bed and turned around in her chair to plant both feet on the carpet, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. He looked like he wanted to get something off his chest but was struggling to find the words. He was reluctant to drag Sarah into anything given how exhausted she looked. Despite their differences in careers, sometimes it felt like she was the only person he knew who could understand how long and tiresome the days could get. Then he would inevitably feel embarrassed he was out there only pretending to save lives when she was out there day after day actually living it for real in all of its bloody glory. And for a tiny fraction of his pay. He tried not to water than thought too much.

“I take it you know,” he asked quietly, still not looking up from her bedroom floor.

“Know what?”

“About Jenny?”

“Oh,” she paused for a brief second. He’d know straight away she was lying if she tried to play dumb. “I mean your mom might have mentioned something in passing,” she shrugged unconvincingly. He scoffed knowing she would have talk about nothing else since the rumours started gathering pace online. He knew he hadn’t done himself any favours by avoiding the conversation either but he simply couldn’t stand another lecture of disapproving look. Dinner tonight was to be his mea culpa.

Sarah was thankful when she heard the front door go and then the sound of Shan dropping her bags in the kitchen and heading towards Sarah’s room.

“I signed for this for you this morning while you were out.” she handed Sarah a brown envelope before turning to Chris with a hand on her hip, looking like she was scolding her 7-year old nephew. “Mom’s been trying to get hold of you all day. She wasn’t sure if she needed to lay an extra seat for you this evening. Sarah, she wanted me to make sure I couldn’t persuade you to come as well?” Sarah shook her head and held up her stained clothes and enjoyed Shan’s visible flinch.

“I’m not even going to ask.” She held her hands up and walked out. Chris rolled his eyes in mock imitation of Shan and Sarah smiled sympathetically, mouthing a “good luck” to him as he left trailing behind her.

Sarah was left looking down at the envelope in her hands. It looked very official; the kind you would receive if you’d been summoned to a court hearing or Jury Duty. She didn’t recognise the address or the stamp but recognised her home town almost straight away. It had been years since she’d been there. Why the hell were they dragging her back now?

#Chris Evans #Sarah Bernette #Chris Fic #Fan Fiction #Clear The Area #chris evans x original female character #Syms Writing

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antiquecompass · 5 years ago

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Untamed Spring Fest Day 16: Sheer

Nie Mingjue could admit that he knew little to nothing about fashion. He generally wore whatever his husband and brothers told him to when it came to the events they had to attend. For work he stuck to business casual. And for home it was normally sweats and t-shirts, unless he was working out by the chicken coop or the stables, then it was jeans and flannel.

So, he didn’t know much about fashion, but he did know that his husband’s current shirt fell somewhere towards obscene.

Okay, only obscene for straight-laced puritans he supposed, but what had looked like a normal, if fancy, button-down back home, was sheer under the Brewery’s lights. And he knew enough about his husband and his husband’s own fashion choices, to know it was deliberate. Mingjue could see all the muscle definition in his back.

It was unbelievably distracting, especially since they had to be here for at least three more hours.

Mingjue was obviously being punished.

“This is because I had surf and turf for lunch yesterday, isn’t it?” Mingjue asked.

His husband smiled up at him, his evil, devastating smile, and blinked his pretty eyes with their too many lashes.

Yup. He was completely fucked.

“Why ever would you think that?” his husband asked, his voice smooth and pleading. “It’s not as if I asked you to please, after your last doctor’s visit, cut down your red meat consumption. It’s not as if I asked you to please, since I for some strange reason want you around for another thirty years at least, watch your sodium and cholesterol levels. It’s not as if I specifically told Zonghui and Priya both to make sure you ordered a hamburger at most and got a side salad instead of cheese fries. But apparently since it was a cheat day, my concerns were swept under the rug. Or rather, your lunch table.”

Mingjue winced as his little fox dug his proverbial claws in and twisted. “So, have a heart attack before you hit fifty. See if I even weep at your funeral, you ungrateful, ignorant, jackass who knows better.”

“Yikes,” Xichen said as they watched Meng Yao storm off.

“Yeah, I need to go fix that,” Mingjue said. He passed his bottle of the new Nie Craft Beer--Ruby Dragon-- the reason for tonight’s celebration--off to Jiang Cheng. “Keep an eye on Jesse?”

“Of course,” they both said.

Jesse was fine, playing in the corner with the collective Lan-Jin-Ouyang-Song-Lan bunch, but Mingjue damn well knew if he went after Meng Yao without making sure someone had an eye on their kid first, there would be even more hell to pay.

He found Meng Yao pacing in the back parking lot, the little bits of shimmer in his shirt catching in the light from the street lamps, the cloth looking even more sheer out here.

“We have a son,” Meng Yao said as Mingjue approached him. “Who has already lost two parents and a grandparent. So, if you don’t give a damn about the fact that I want you to stay alive long enough to see him graduate college, maybe you’ll do it for him.”

Mingjue knew this wasn’t the time to point out that his blood pressure was barely elevated and that while certain parts of his normal health baseline were higher than his norm, they still weren't dangerous. Mingjue was taking steps to improve his health though. He had cut back on alcohol, and planned on starting to cut down his beloved red meat to once a week--twice at most--but he knew Meng Yao didn’t want to hear logic now. That fear and concern and feeling helpless meant he didn’t want an argument or a discussion. That he needed compliance in this because it was the only way he’d feel like he had any control.

“It was a celebratory lunch,” Mingjue said as he caught Meng Yao and wrapped him in his arms.

“Your cousin coming for a visit does not warrant surf and turf when you’re throwing a massive party for him this weekend,” Meng Yao muttered.

“He’s not just visiting,” Mingjue said. He kissed the top of his husband’s head and ran a soothing hand down his back. “This was supposed to be an anniversary present, but it’s too late now. I’m retiring from field work.”

Meng Yao looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m retiring from field duty,” Mingjue said. “That’s why Zonghui is here. He’s moving back. That’s what the party is for as well. We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” Meng Yao hissed.

“I know,” Mingjue said. “I know you do, my little fox. But this is a good one.”

Meng Yao nodded and then wrapped his arms around Mingjue’s neck. Mingjue shifted his hold and easily lifted him so that they were at the same height.

“You’re really retiring from field duty?” he asked. “This is something you want?”

Mingjue nodded. “I want this. And you’re right. We do have a son now. And I don’t want to ever tell him that I can’t be at one of his school plays or dance recitals or other sporting events because I’m supposed to be working a job. And I’m not young anymore--certainly not as young and spry as most of our guards. It was time.”

“Good,” Meng Yao said. “Now I don’t have to try and dislocate your shoulder again to force you out of the field.”

“You say shit like that and wonder why you got the nickname Black Widow in the office,” Mingjue said. He let his fingers linger on the soft material of the shirt. “Though, please save shirts like this for home.”

“Control yourself,” Meng Yao ordered. “We’re in public.”

“You damn well knew what you were doing by wearing this.”

“And you damn well know that you’re still being punished--at least until we get home and Jesse is asleep. Which is much nicer than the entire week I was going to make you wait, so be grateful.” He frowned. “Though there goes the entire planned wardrobe I had.”

Mingjue’s pulse jumped. “You shouldn’t waste all that careful planning,” he said.

Meng Yao smirked. “Please remember those words when we get to Friday, my crowning achievement.”

Mingjue was both terrified and thrilled.

He couldn’t wait.

#nieyao #verse: lahl #fic: i will become what i deserve #fandom: the untamed #my ridic writing #untamed spring fest

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