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lepertamar · 1 year

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Stars That Rise At Dawn 2023 Revised vs 2018 edition differences: Part 2

Part 1 is at this link, and part 3 at this one. this covers chapter 15 to chapter 24. I was hoping that I could keep this to 2 parts but it's gotten long and I've delayed it enough at this point lmao.

As before, long sequence of passages with changes under the cut. I’ve put some commentary of my own personal opinion on a few of the changes, but the author mostly only explains her decisions with an enigmatic ‘improving continuity with the rest of the series’ so the effects are pretty subjective.

I tried to put changes/additions of the 2023 revision in bold, and when I quoted the 2018 edition, put it in strikethrough red.

Chapter 15:

Immediately the first change to this chapter (Tamar's reintroduction) is the epigraph. The original one, the sa-shira poem, was moved back to chapter 14, and the new one for chapter 15 is

“In the world of tomorrow one man defeats God—but what if that's exactly what God wants? Sparks fly! Featuring cutting-edge pyrotechnics to depict God, and 6 full minutes of spoken audio! —poster for the upcoming film The Mad Wrestler”

This made me shriek out loud with laughter especially as I had just had a bit of a triggered breakdown (complimentary) while reading the last chapter . It's fantastic in multiple ways and very suited to this moment in the story LMAO, the puncturing sort of effect, but also definitely foreshadows certain things in the next two books. Also, wrestler. We who wrestle with G-d....

A few pages later:

Pre-revision:

God pulses in her eyes as she brushes her hands over the long-dead artist’s handiwork on the way to the door handle, wheeling fire in fractaling patterns.

Post-revision:

God makes a kind of exclamation point in her eyes as she brushes her hands over the long-dead artist’s handiwork on the way to the door handle, wheeling fire in fractaling patterns.

A friend of mine was INCREDIBLY taken with this and a few other similar alterations in this chapter that subtly but effectively enhance G-d as A Person who is Reacting and being an Active Participant with Tamar, being 'right there'.

Followed by

Pre-revision:

Wheels within wheels turn, unfurling like feathers made of dense starlight. So that’s probably a yes. Maybe. They’re not exactly known for making sense, or communicating clearly... but They sure are an exciting companion in her body. Smiling, she steps into her building.

Post-revision:

Wheels within wheels turn, unfurling like feathers made of dense starlight. So that’s probably a yes. Maybe. Smiling, she opens the door.

(quoting friend) "I love how the last bit, that They do not make sense necessarily and that they're exciting to have around, is unsaid, because of course God doesn't communicate 'normally' and of course Tamar is elated to have Them with her". It's very Tamar-characteristic to refuse to explain or to flatten an experience into a specific and narrow justification.

There's also a couple lines cut to reduce repetition, but also:

Pre-revision

“Welcome back, Tamar of God’s light!”

Post-revision:

“Welcome back, Tamar the Flame-thief!”

Both a much much more evocative and characteristic of Tamar, and a much cooler an epithet for a holy (the flame-thieves is listed among the synonyms for holies in various languages in an epigraph in Lives), with its Promethean, Jacob-like connotation, and given both of these are followed by Tamar thinking "Such a formal greeting", a much more defamiliarized bit of social worldbuilding -- a term that sounds provocative and even pejorative to the reader is very normalized in-universe.

Then there's an addition of:

“Oh, my day was good, definitely good! And God’s?” Tamar laughs. Not many think to ask that. “Pretty good, as far as I can tell. They seem to still be curious about how some people think it’s weird or something when I faceplant on their batteries,” Tamar says with a shrug. “I got a lot of shock today.”

This ngl instantly made me like Havilah 5x more. Not many people think to ask a holy how G-d's day was!! And another bit of both G-d being actively involved with Tamar throughout the day, and Tamar trying (and struggling) to understand Them.

Once Tamar encounters Lucifer in front of her apartment, there's this significant change, which makes a big impact given it's the closest we get until late in Lives to Lucifer's actual feelings, and not just what they deliberately present to others:

Pre-revision:

Anyway. She looks down toward the voice, where it turns out there’s also an incredible amount of irritation. But nothing that seems much like lies. And, when she looks a little longer, she catches the scent of thousands of years of history. And inside herself she feels a few spinning flames of God, going off every direction, squinting and shrugging in a pattern she’s not sure she’s seen before.

Post-revision:

Anyway. She looks down toward the voice, where it turns out there’s a vibrant pulse of… terror. And something along the lines of disgust, revulsion even, but not quite the same as what even the most conflicted of her customers sometimes feel. Finely aged, perhaps. Yeah, the longer she looks, the more she catches the scent of thousands of years of history. And inside herself God squints and stutters in surprise, flames spinning in a pattern she’s not sure she’s seen from Them before.

This revision is instantly so juicy, in such a small number of words, in terms of characterization of Tamar, Lucifer, and G-d. Lucifer is terrified and repulsed. some of Tamar's customers feel similar, but not quite like that. the feeling has been marinating for a long time. Tamar is not bothered by this, she feels very casual but kind of drinks it in with some level of relish, like a fine wine or cheese. And G-d is Super Surprised, stutters in shock, implying it may have been a long time, perhaps centuries or more, since They've actually seen Lucifer.

Later in the apartment, there is an added line:

from the couch, where she’s been listening to the radio and watching the patterns tracing through God’s soul."

Hint at her hobbies and day-to-day life as a blind person, as well as the technological level of this setting, which gets emphasized a bit more later in Lives.

Safirah characterization and less clumsy/artificial-sounding narration:

“Precisely.” Tamar grins; there’s a reason this life of hers is more interesting than what she had going on in secondary school.

Got changed to

“Precisely. Not to mention making that Holy fear for their life.” Tamar snorts.

The word 'dating' is replaced by 'fucking' here (one of the few blunt mentions of sex in the series actually) for some added Safirah characterization:

“You’re eight years older than me, not ten,” Tamar notes. “People think we’re fucking.” “Some folks will look at any two people and think they’re fucking.”

According to her social media the author is asexual, which may play a role in why so little sex is mentioned in these books, although intensely kinky scenes appear both in this series and in other books.

Chapter 16:

Pre-revision:

“...to be flaming queen of the first city, ever, on Šehhinah, and then say to yourself, ‘Flame it, I’m clearly not doing enough for people, I’m going to become more powerful than any Holy before or since”

Post-revision:

“...to be flaming queen of the first city, ever, on Šehhinah, and then say to yourself, ‘Flame it, I’m clearly not doing enough for people, I’m going to grab more power from God than any Holy before or since”

and:

“Oh flames, that isn’t commonly known outside of demons?” Hannuša says. “Wow, huh. Yeah, um, Lilith… Lilith’s something, alright. When she spoke the truest of God’s names and was completely immolated, she, through like a sheer act of will, and I have no idea if anyone else who’s ever lived has even half the will she does, she somehow forced her soul to accept, of all things, water vapor as her body.”

Post-revision:

“Oh flames, you don’t know?” Hannuša says. “Wow, huh. Yeah, um, Lilith… Lilith’s something, alright. When she spoke the truest of God’s names and was completely immolated—without Them having expected it, or having intended to immolate her, there’s a reason she impressed Them so much that she’s half of the Covenant—she, through like a sheer act of will, and I have no idea if anyone else who’s ever lived has even half the will she does, she somehow forced her soul to accept, of all things, water vapor as her body.”

This both refers back to the previous chapter's epigraph, impressing further that '6,000 years ago G-d was surprised and 'beaten' and admitted that They didn't know everything and had made flaws in how the world worked, and made this into the basis for changing the entire metaphysics of the afterlife, and the role of all living beings is to argue for how to fix the world' is foundational, ancient, uncontroversial theology.

And it's just sooooooo 'she impressed Them so much'……! Like wrestled with G-d, and prevailed, like Jacob ;-;

“And I think she’s got some friends among the angels that have some manifestations that involve her or something, so she can talk to them, too.”

Changed to

“And she is Holy, so she can talk to any of the angels—or other Holies too, I guess?—any time she wants through God. So that’s how she gets a lot of stuff done, she has angel friends who have eyes and stuff… to, you know, find us. The ones she wants to help..”

This comes up more in Lives again.

Chapter 17: No revisions I noticed, except that the epigraph for the previous chapter 18 was moved to chapter 17.

Chapter 18:

The epigraph (boring one about the neighborhood of Olive Heights) is replaced by a haiku:

“desert-burned | the river its sand | bright as salt —Ono the Mute, 4977 A.C.”

Breathtaking, given the positioning of the chapter break: between Eliya seeing Tamar again saying "Hello Tamar" and “Elīya looks at Tamar, still trying not to look into her eyes, still failing utterly.”........

Yenatru's pov line "Except for the eyes, she's exactly the same" is replaced by “She doesn’t look that different.” More open.

The chapter goes the same for a while, but later in the chapter, during the motorcycle ride, Eliya's pov:

“Flame you,” Elīya can’t help but mutter. Tamar just laughs. “If you’re referring to my eyes…” She trails off, as if expecting Elīya to guess at what she means. Which Elīya does, deciding in a split second that what Tamar means is probably a condemnation of her. A failure of ethics. How dare she say flame you to a Holy, perhaps.”

replaced by:

Emphasizing something that's clear from the general syntax and structure of the in-universe terminology: "flame you" is the equivalent of "fuck you" or even more pointedly, "damn you", and is also, at the same time, a pejorative reference to being burned. Like the misogyny baked into the etymological origins of the irl curse "fuck you", where "being fucked" is derogatory and inherently unwanted. but NOT in the sense where this is concsciously thought of as like, a bigoted slur or anything. Holies use it all the time too!!! and jibril, in the next book, uses it too! But also not even a completely depleted of meaning flat sort of thing -- Tamar in the prologue "understands why people swear by fire" upon seeing G-d.

This is of course a central theme of this book -- anything real and powerful and mattering enough that someone would burn out one's eyes to see its beauty is also real and powerful and mattering enough to be capable of causing incredible hurt and damage by its presence, and is therefore not 'safe'. and this is not a bug or flaw or horrible underlying secret, but an inherent truth of how the existence of the stuff of the universe and consciousness works.

Pre-revision:

“So tell me, Elīya. What’s so ethical, so moral, about living your life like this, following this one path just because you think you should?” “That path is ethics,” Elīya says through gritted teeth. “And you’re the one who admitted you weren’t learning anything. So again I ask, what is ethical about this situation.” “Perhaps it is teaching me focus.” Maybe. “Perhaps,” Tamar echoes. “But I believe you’re more than this. More than this one thing, more than the constant chorus of ethics, ethics, ethics through your mind.”

Post-revision:

“So tell me, Elīya. What’s so ethical, so moral, about living your life like this, following this one path just because you think you should?” “That path is ethics,” Elīya says through gritted teeth. “And you’re the one who admitted you weren’t learning anything. So again I ask, what is ethical about your life.” “Perhaps it is teaching me focus.” Maybe. “On what.” “On anything I need to focus on. On everything.” “And is this everything anything other than ethical or unethical?” “Flame you.” “Already did that,” Tamar says. “But I believe you’re more than this. More than this one thing, more than this checking off ethics, ethics, ethics on every fucking thing that gets through your head.”

I don't really have a comment on this but I like it.

Chapter 19:

The epigraph is slightly altered:

Though the Holy are venerated now, they have not always been so lucky. In the first millennium A.C., King Lot of Nefil decreed that the Holy in his city cover their prices when in public, so as not to stain any unwilling eyes with the symbol of such an intimate—or, as Lot wrote in a rare surviving letter, “degenerate”—act. Some stone-etchings on official buildings in protest of this law can still be found by divers researching the ruins of the city, now many meters underwater after the unfortunate sea-level rise… —Dr. Melia Yashim, The Past is the Strangest Place of All”

simply removing the bit at the beginning! i debated the intent behind this a bit, wondering if it was just for brevity, or because veneration is not actually indicated anywhere in the series, or something deeper, but ultimately concluded that the effect, at least, is to make this period sound less singular, and more like one excerpted bullet-point among a list of unknown length and number of other similar incidents.

After this, a longer altered sequence here, originally:

“Once we store the motorcycles,” Yenatru says.“Where’s Lucifer?” Tamar asks.“Uh, looks like they’re just standing a bit back there, leaning on their own arms,” Elīya says.Lucifer’s probably planning to watch the show over here if it gets confrontational or awkward again, Yenatru thinks. “Everything alright so far?”Elīya’s eye twitches; that’s not a great sign. “It’s… something.”A strange expression comes over Tamar’s face, along with a somewhat pointed shrug.He should do something, he thinks. But what? And how? The moments pass and Elīya’s eye still twitches.So Yenatru just says, quietly, “We should probably go over to her. Lucifer. So we can put the bikes in the shed and continue.”“They, her, what is up with him,” Tamar mumbles.“Nothing I have any reason or responsibility to tell you,” Lucifer responds, strolling right up, single braid swaying behind her. Or him, to Tamar. Her voice is smooth in this form; a good aesthetic choice, Yenatru thinks.

Now:

“Once we store the motorcycles,” Yenatru says. “Where’s Lucifer?” Tamar asks. “Everything alright so far?” Lucifer says almost in answer, merging into the form for Elīya. Tamar starts at the new voice. “Who’s that?” Lucifer doesn’t respond. “How’s it going?” she—or they, to Elīya—asks. Elīya’s eye twitches; that’s not a great sign. “It’s… something.” A strange expression comes over Tamar’s face, along with a somewhat pointed shrug. He should do something, he thinks. But what? And how? The moments pass and Elīya’s eye still twitches. So Yenatru just says, quietly, “We should put the bikes in the shed and continue, she’s waiting. Lucifer, I mean.” “She—what?” Tamar swings her head in one direction and then another. “Nothing I have any reason or responsibility to tell you,” Lucifer responds, strolling right past her, single braid swaying behind her. Or him, to Tamar. Her voice is smooth in this form; a good aesthetic choice, Yenatru thinks. Tamar draws her cane out of her bag and sighs. “Yenatru, is there another person here or—” “It’s Lucifer, she—they, him—can uh, shapeshift?” Yenatru whispers quickly. “Oh,” says Tamar. “No one told me.”

:))))))))

Chapter 20-21: no changes I noticed

Chapter 22:

An added paragraph here:

Perhaps because it was easier not to. So deceptively simple a reason. It was easier for her not to. It was perfectly easy for her to continue living without caring about those things, so she didn’t. She had no pressing need, no tangible pain, no burning desire. Or didn’t she? Didn’t she need and want more, these last two years?

Chapter 23:

Pre-revision:

“You know," Tamar says, "God is a part of me wherever I go, and I can’t exactly make that stop being a thing You should get it, considering—"

Post-revision:

“You know,” Tamar says, “This is what I am, wherever I go, and I’m not about to hide it just for you. You should get it, considering—”

Just a bit more mean and callous (and truthful) hahahahahasaadad

Post-revision, some slight additions:

“Oh, you know.” She shrugs. “Hanging out, exploring the city and getting lost ‘cause I’m blind, bickering with the other Holies, laughing when people think weird things about me, charging their batteries by shoving them into my eyes—” “Into what now.” “Into God.” “…Got it,” Yenatru says, even though that’s not one of the things he’s heard of a Holy doing. “I didn’t know….Holies disagreed about God.” She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know much, do you?” She doesn’t sound angry, but her voice is serious. His face heats. He can’t say he does. Not about this. “So, yeah. Life’s more, now.”

More stuff about Tamar's life and societal utter ignorance (avoidance) of Holies

Finally, one of the biggest changes so far: the chapter stops at

“Yenatru finds himself smiling a little, feeling ready to do just that. Even if not quite everything makes sense. Even if the way he cares isn’t quite what he expected at all.”

The entire scene from the previous version that follows it is completely removed from this version: gone is the bit of Tamar accidentally feeling Yenatru's manifestation, her saying it's too soothing for her tastes, and Yenatru's uncharacteristically utterly fucking TERRIBLE and steamrollering line that undoes all his beautiful, character-deepening pondering and observation of the puzzle of her (Almost falling off mountains. God in her eyes. Maybe her like of those two things is actually one and the same—and maybe that means Yenatru understands some of why she made the choice she did.) This is of course a really good deletion, but also Tamar not getting to feel Yenatru's manifestation probably has something to do with stuff that happens later in Lives -- she'd probably recognize something is up with it.

Chapter 24:

This chapter has at the end, what I think is the single most important change, in terms of continuity and characterization (for Eliya), but even moreso in terms of narrative sincerity and honesty.

First there's a couple of minor-ish added lines (in bold as usual) that mostly serve to ramp up to the major change:

“Or maybe she’s at least an entire scene, an entire image, an entire place, not just the wind but also the open desert, and completely open sky, that too, she hasn’t factored in her tendency to look at the sky and horizon yet. And even then, is that incorporating every detail? She’s not sure, but she still seems to be onto something. When Tamar tore into her on the motorcycle, the wind that wasn’t wind in her face, the motorcycle flying free over the desert, I believe you’re more than this, it hurt so much more than anything she’d ever heard before, sank so deep into her. Was it because what was her was so close, within her grasp? Or because—no one else had told her, the way Tamar did? Nothing’s stopping you… Where did Tamar go, when she….she didn’t even do Theurgy, but the way she said so softly that she wanted. Her soul a whole scene too. Elīya’s close to certain: she probably can check her traits against that scene-that-is-her, can’t she, to identify them as her? She’s identifiable to herself because she’s the desert wind.”

Then the major, major, entire-book-saving change:

Pre-revision:

But Elīya wants clarity, and there’s something she has to know. “Why do you care?” Lucifer turns their head to her, gives her a particularly unreadable smile that lasts multiple seconds before they finally speak. They’re mostly in shadow, their eyes somehow lit by the stars. “’S really a simple answer. I care about everyone.” Elīya blinks. “But Yenatru—” “I care about him more, of course. But you’re someone, Elīya, everyone is, and you didn’t seem to have the slightest idea about whatever particular joy being you might bring. And there was a chance, right there, right in front of me, to help you find out. No way in fuck I wasn’t going to take that.” They pause, smiling. “Even if you do, generally speaking, really annoy me.” Elīya coughs. Well, she likes honesty, so she can’t say anything against that. And—there’s something she has to say, isn’t there. Lucifer’s all the way turned away from her when Elīya says, “Thank you.” Again they turn back, this time only briefly, but long enough for her to see them grin. And they head off, walk somewhere, a shadow against shadows in this night, sagebrush licking against their dress.

POST-REVISION:

But Elīya wants clarity, and there’s something she has to know. “Why do you care?” Lucifer turns their head to her, gives her a particularly unreadable smile that lasts multiple seconds before they finally speak. They’re mostly in shadow, their eyes somehow lit by the stars. “’S really a simple answer. I care about everyone.” Elīya blinks. “But Yenatru—” “I care about him more, of course. But you’re someone, Elīya, everyone is, and you didn’t seem to have the slightest idea about whatever particular joy being you might bring. And there was a chance, right there, right in front of me, to help you find out. No way in fuck I wasn’t going to take that.” They pause, smiling. “Even if you do, generally speaking, really annoy me.” Elīya narrows her eyes. The person she was when Lucifer was teaching her seems so long ago. In such a short time she’s so much more. Such a short time— Lucifer’s all the way turned away from her when Elīya says, “Thank you.” Again they turn back, the kind smile spreading over their face, and Elīya takes a breath. Ethically, because she values honesty, there’s something else: “But actually, meeting Tamar helped more, so I was right about my end of the deal after all.” And Lucifer’s serene starlit face twists. “Really.” “Really.” She crosses her arms, expecting a challenge. Expecting a fight, anticipating it and how it might help her understand just how she’s come so far so fast. But Lucifer just curls their lip and leaves. Bitterness washes over Elīya. So, that’s it then.

JUST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think many different people could bring more richness of interpretation to this, but here's my own personal subjective pov:

IMO, this one change basically fixes EVERYTHING about the ENTIRE book that drove me so fucking insane i spent over a year fuming and venting and casting bitter contemptuous aspersions on the author and came close to completely ruining the entire book for me and making me drop the series.

Two different friends of mine who read the revision found this revised change to be The moment they finally actually started liking and respecting eliya!!!! While I didn't have quite this reaction -- I always liked Eliya lmao -- I know exactly what they mean, because Eliya was done so dirty in the previous version. In this revision, the lack of the twisting narrative dishonesty that plagued the previous version finally admits: eliya was just…….right. she was not Foolish And Misguided and Deluded to make a deal to get tamar back as the previous version of this scene implies, where this and subsequent chapters of the prevision version hammered home a message that eliya was Foolish and Mistaken to care about meeting tamar again, the parallel ‘you care’ was a clear ‘lucifer is teaching her and wisely and kindly giving her something that’s Correct and Meaningful, unlike tamar who has nothing to help her with, and unlike the delusions eliya stupidly thought were important’

And the fact like. That lucifer's whole spiel, while not altered at all, is reframed to allow it to absolutely stink of the hypocrisy it always held: lucifer absolutely does not think everyone has particular joys of being them, or that everyone is someone — they do not think tamar is someone as-she-is-now, or that tamar has a particular joy of being her. And eliya narrows her eyes — notices that as bullshit in the context of lucifer saying it instantly, rather than passively accepting lucifer’s Wisdom and Compassion in Saving Her like the previous version. And she retorts with her own agency, (though she either doesn't notice or doesn't care about lucifer's maligning of tamar, which is also cool)

And it fits, continuity-wise: in both versions of the book, Lucifer and Eliya never exchange another word for the remainder of the book, but in this version it MEANS something. the absolute tragedy of this relationship with eliya, possibly the only actually constructive and challenging relationship lucifer has ever had in their life, the way the only times lucifer was ever actually cool and hot and epic was when they were sparring and struggling with eliya -- all this slipping away the second eliya challenges just a step too far, by dropping the warping narrative dishonesty act and admitting that seeing the evidence of fucking Tamar's existence in the world made Eliya actually seize this, by indicating that Lucifer's teaching, while extremely necessary, was not sufficient to replace Eliya's own desires and plans, and that she didn't use and run with their help in quite the way they thought she 'should' have as a passive recipient. It's gut-wrenching, and this means it leads into and sets up Lives so, so, so well.

I was right about my end of the deal after all.....

I'll continue the last few chapters in a shorter Part 3

#the stars that rise at dawn #sehhinah #sehhinah revisions tag #coal sings

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basedkikuenjoyer · 2 years

Photo

Heard it through the grapevine a special someone was in a Hibari art mood. There’s no better place to look than the covers! As good as Hisashi Eiiguchi’s Stop!! Hibari-Kun looked for an early 80s manga, the times the titular character graced the cover of Weekly Shonen Jump were always a treat pushing into high art. Honestly, I’d dig a poster print of these if I could get the quality. Figured I’d pull a few favs since I always love hyping this golden oldie.

First up we have this pair. Love the proto-Culture Club look on the left. Boy George and Japanese street fashion in the 80s had a lot of back-and-forth, with the latter being influenced by Hibari. Love the colors. And then we have this adorable magic act on the right. The “rabbit” is how Eiiguchi drew himself by the way. Thing is, Hibari would rock a fair few masculine looks too. Always just made her stand out as even cuter. Let’s do more!

The big 700th issue and our girl’s popping the champagne with Arale! The two series were pretty much trading the top ranked spot off week-to-week when their runs overlapped. Graced about the same number of covers in that time, not the only one together up here. Cool thing is these two were both used as a sort of “hostess” for the magazine if that makes sense? Crazy seeing a kid with alcohol in manga too. They’re pretty firm about that now, really Hibari was the last gasp for a lot of things that’d come to be deemed unacceptable. She knocks back a few drinks in the series at a couple of points. I like this one sweet moment with her Dad where she plays the son just a little bit for his sake. It’s a cute end to a cute chapter. One more!

This is one of those shots of Hibari I can’t help but picture a young Eiichiro Oda looking at and taking notes. Such an iconic look. Like the cute shot of her and Kosaku bottom right. This one is just so electric and cute! I think this is the one I’d want. That or the headband one from an older post.

#stop!! hibari-kun #hisashi eguchi #weekly shonen jump

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thewestern · 1 year

Text

Chapter 10

The days were getting shorter. She knew that much. Kitty could see it was nearly pitch dark, and here it was only half past five o’clock. Although it was challenging to register the passage of time inside the Newfy. Apart from the slow-pitch softball-sized porthole punched into the front door, the only other window was a stained glass rendering of Jesus H. Christ on a motorcycle, in flowing robes of red white, and blue leather, jumping over something out of frame, possibly a record-breaking amount of school buses, the Snake River or the Sea of Galilee. Hank was of the religious belief that natural light had no place in an alehouse. On occasion he would infrequent some of the newer taprooms, many of which occupied facilities that were once zoned industrially — body shops, warehouses, other houses of light manufacturing — since retrofitted for retail purposes. As craft breweries, they bore scant resemblances to their former selves. Except for the exposed ductwork and loading docks with the big garage doors that could be rolled all the way up to the top. Weather cooperative, the day drinkers would flock in droves, to Hank's utter beffudlement.

Who in the Sam Hell wants to get a buzz on in broad daylight? He could never figure.

In his quaint fucking view of things, a big part of the Pub’s broad-based appeal was that no matter the frightfulness of the elements outside — be there gale-force winds, driving rains, whiteout blizzard, flash flooding or towering walls of eternal hellfire — take one step within, and you shall be sheltered. To hunker down. This is a place of refuge. We grant thee asylum. Seriously, hang up your crown of thorns and stay awhile. And leave your troubles at the normal-sized door. For your worries are but microscopic airborne particulates that cannot survive in our hermetically-sealed environment, what with its dim lighting and nearly complete lack of ventilation. Here is all things Safe: haven, harbour, house, room, space. Safety guaranteed. Here is a House of Ale, and you are welcome to make yourself at home.

Or whatever it is, it’s not a damned pool party.

The commotion of the afternoon was passed, and the Newfy had settled back into its well-worn malaise. Kitty had returned to grading, this time sidled up to the bar. Don’t Sunday evenings feel like the end of something more than just a weekend? Around Half Past Four P.M. local time, the last of the beautiful people from the afternoon crowd would’ve cleared out, back to their loved ones and their lovely homes. Maybe we’ll get takeout from that new [ethnic food] place … Doesn’t that sound good? Anyway, I don’t feel like cooking. And, ooh, what time does [our show] start?

They called them the Sunday Scaries. Today that passed for tongue and cheek. But the truth was, apart from Death, there wasn’t much at all to be afraid of. Not anymore. Fear itself, maybe.

In the great afterwards, the Off-Peak Hours, that was when the really interesting ones slinked in, as Russ used to say. Looking over their shoulder, like they’re on the lam from somebody. Or else they’re kind of guy or gal who maybe doesn’t have a place he or she’s gotta be Monday morning. Hank’s type of person. Sort that’d stopped coming around so much anymore.

Now the Newfy was mostly just slow going, on a dreary Sunday night like tonight. For the express purposes of boosting staff morale and maybe attracting back some of the old, end-of-the-weekend stragglers, the Mick had made a rare-for-him marketing-slash-managerial decision — to implement his very own semi-regular Sunday Event Series. As per the poster Zeke had placed strategically above the back corner urinal in the men’s restroom — which read, The Mick’s Choices … Never miss a Sunday show — he would pick a live concert recording of the band Phish, locate the corresponding disc in his totemic CD wallet, and play it on the stereo system in the bar. That was pretty much it.

The Mick would strenuously agree that one of the most embarrassing things about himself was his bordering-on-autistic recall of the tens of hundreds of Phish tapes he had accrued over lo these many years. (Once he asked Kitty to teach him how to Do a Spreadsheet so he could better index his vast catalogue — for posterity. She thought it was cute, the way he was hunting and pecking his way around the rows and columns, his tongue protruding like Michael Jordan. Which isn’t to say that he didn’t do a fine job. He did. For a fact, his may be the only private collection of Phish live recordings to be arranged in strict adherence to the Dewey Decimal System. It also bears notation that this was the first and last spreadsheet the Mick had ever made. One and done. We should all be so lucky.) From the Hollywood Bowl to Madison Square Garden. From Redwood Acres Fairgrounds to the Big Cypress Indian Reservation. From Side A to Side B. That Side was made for You and Me.

To be clear, he hadn’t personally attended a single one of these concerts. Unlike Hank, the Mick had not spent his twenties (in Hank’s case well into his thirties and even intermittently into his forties and fifties), hitting the road and following his favorite band across the American Expanse. His work schedule and salary at the brewery would not have accommodated for such a lifestyle, and he had no earthly idea how Hank had ever managed. Big a Phish fan as he was, Mick had only seen a couple dozen shows over the years, mostly within a modest driving distance of wherever he happened to be existing at a given moment in time. Now maybe to the layman that sounds like a lot, but by the standard of being a Phish fan, it was quite a paltry sum indeed. No skin off his back though. Because his love for the band Phish was only exceeded by his burning hatred of waiting in line. Line of traffic into the parking lot, lines to get into the venue, lines to buy a beer, lines to take a leak, lines to get back out of the venue, cars lined up again to leave the parking lot. Lines intersecting on an infinite loop. Every line takes something away from a man. Nevermind the time it took him to wait.

(Beside his thing about lines, the Mick had a better excuse for his comparative truancy. Here is the story of the Mick’s very first Phish show. It was summer O-Four, during which he and his middle schoolmates spent the balance of their abundant free time at the local Cineplex. Mostly they loitered, but quite deliberately — they explored the parking expanse on their BMX bicycles, delighted in tormenting the only slightly older concessionaires, raced one another in the arcade driving simulation, Cruisin’ USA. In the alley behind the theater the Mick shared his first kiss with an especially willing partner who would shortly thereafter undergo a teen pregnancy, by a separate suitor, however. Occasionally they would even see a movie. On the night in question, that which would go on to define the course of the Mick’s life in more ways than he would care to admit, he had purchased a ticket for what was supposed to have been his second screening in the third installment of the Harry Potter film adaptations, The Prisoner of Azkaban, however, with the expressed plan to sneak into something R-rated, either the teen sex comedy — Girl Next Door, the cutting edge body horror-slash-torture porn — Saw or the revenge action thriller Man on Fire, in retrospect really the only worthwhile one of the bunch, although GND does have its moments. In the course of he and his comrades performing reconnaissance to identify which of any of the three entrances was unmanned by an acne-scarred sentry, the Mick was stopped dead in his tracks by something he smelled, wafting from the end of the corridor. And it wasn’t buttered popcorn [diacetyl]. It was weed [tetrahydrocannabinol {THC}], cowboy. You bet your sweet ass. Like an old-timey cartoon, led by his upturned nose he danced along the scent plume’s trail toward a unmarked theater — Theater Nine and Three-Quarters, if you will — at the far aft of the movie house. Now he could hear the music. He entered into a state of divine banishment; glorious ostracism. Never fully to return.

And we're glad glad glad that you're alive

And we're glad glad glad that you'll arrive

And we're glad glad glad glad glad glad glad

And we're glad glad glad that you're a glide)

(Okay, for all the non-heads out there, what had happened was that the Mick made this discovery — which altered the course of his life in ways he wouldn’t care to admit — of his all-time favourite band Phish, on the occassion of what was billed to be their farewell run. As such, it was simulcast into movie theaters in jam band-friendly markets across North America. Last picture show, type of shit. What the Mick couldn’t tell by seeing his dilated pupils projected onto a sixty-foot screen was that Trey was in a bad fucking way. Had been for some time. Downers. God damn opiates. Of course they had gone on hiatus before in the late nineties. This time was different though. Seemed like if they didn’t stop for real Trey was going to die. Seems like a no-brainer then. No sense in losing one’s life over a silly thing like music. Well not exactly. You see by then Phish was more than a band. They were a company. Phish, Inc. With obligations outstanding. In an interview with Anthony Mason of CBS Sunday Morning, on the occassion of their thirtieth anniversary, Trey recounts how all of their close personal friends — some of their family members even — were on the payroll. That at-the-time they had in the ballpark of eighty full-time employees working out of an office park in Burlington. That’s a small-to-medium sized business, kimosabe. If they as a band stop going on gigs, then all those people — people they’ve known and loved their whole lives — are out of theirs. And this is to say nothing of their legion of devoted fans. What the hell are they supposed to do? Get a job? You sound like their mothers.

Wouldn’t you know that the Grateful Dead, in their day, stared down the very same dilemma. Like Trey after him, Jerry was killing himself on stage every night in front of thousands of people who worshipped him. His only chance at getting out alive was to call the whole thing off. Stop the fucking music, once and for all. But he couldn’t. Too many people depended on him. And in the Dead too, they were more than just employees. For a fact, they were referred to as The Family. So even when the other guys in the band would take a break, Jerry would keep going. Head back out on the road with the Jerry Garcia Band [JGB]. Keep the paychecks coming. The good times rolling.

Maybe Trey learned from Garcia’s martyrdom. Whatever the justification was, they shut it all down. Everybody got let go. And the fans, they were pissed. Four years they had to wait. Like it’s the fucking Winter Olympics. For his part the Mick didn’t much mind. Getting to the party just as it was presumed to be over. Maybe it was he didn’t know enough to know what he was missing. Beside, he had the whole back catalogue to work through.)

Women are understood, as well as expected to be more patient. However, a Phish concert is one of those special few places on the Planet Earth where the queue for the Ladies’ Room is the considerably shorter. (Monster truck rallies, minor league hockey games, the Arab peninsular state of Qatar — all make great date night ideas for this reason.) Kitty, being the supportive partner she was, had tagged along to at least a third of those twenty-something or so shows he’d seen in the time they had been together. She never quite Got It. Not in the manner Mick had. But she managed to enjoy herself just fine all the same. Most of all she liked the lights. They reminded her of the planetarium at Space Camp. An immensity of our universe, began one of the elder counselors. For many days before the end of our earth, people will look into the sky and notice a star, increasingly bright and increasingly near. As this star approaches us—as this star approaches us, the weather will change. The great polar fields of the north and the south will rot and divide. The seas will turn warmer. The last of us search the heavens and stand amazed. For the stars will still be there, moving through their ancient rhythms. The thalamic constellations that illuminate our night will seem as they have always seemed: eternal, unchanged and little moved by the sharpness of time between our planet’s birth and its demise. Orion, the hunter. One of thalamus constellations and the most brilliant in the heavens—

Oh for sure … Kuroda is basically the fifth member, as he had Micksplained to her on more than one occassion around when they first began dating.

—Cancer, the crab … Containing a large loose cluster of stars called Presaepe, or the Beehive—

He was referring of course to Chris Kuroda, the band’s longtime lighting designer, forever a fan favorite.

—Taurus, the Bull—

Legend has it that sometime around the late nineteen eighties, Kuroda responded to a classified ad in the Burlington Free Press: WANTED: Creative light person to run new light show for Phish on a salaried, permanent basis. This very valuable partner will travel with the band as a 5th member. We are looking for someone from the New England area -- no need to live in VT. Honor and recognition in case of success. Call (802) XXX-XXXX.

—And while the flash of our beginning … Has not yet travelled the light years into the distance … Has not been seen by planets deep within the other galaxies … we will disappear into the blackness of space from whence we came … destroyed as we began, in a burst of gas and fire.

His genius resides at the intersection of light and sound. This is because he, Kuroda, improvises right along with the band, anticipating their many crescendos and other musical flourishes and syncing his cues accordingly. It’s a fluency he’s honed over many hundreds of shows, spanning decades. His entire adult life.

—The heavens are still and cold once more. In all the complexity of our universe and the galaxies beyond, the Earth will not be missed—

Over the course of his custodianship, as this grand beacon of Phish — a lighthouse on a rocky eddy, orienting the ship to the faded horizon —the band has nonetheless gone on several extended hiatuses — taking time away to start families, pursue solo projects, dry out with the odd rehab stint. On his sabbaticals, Kuroda has carved out a lucrative niche as a phaser gun for hire — mostly moonlight designing arena tours for pop stars. He’s collaborated with the likes of Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande and other luminaries. Their demands differ from those of his day job in that these shows are all choreographed to the micro-second, so as to be repeatable night-after-night in cities around the world. (Hello Cleveland!) Tedious work for a man of his talent? Perhaps. But that’s not to say there aren’t perks. Notably these freelance gigs allow for him to experiment creatively with pyrotechnics, lasers and other elements which are not a part of Phish’s standard arsenal. So that’s something.

—Through the infinite reaches of space, the problems of Man seem trivial and naive indeed—

Without a doubt, dipping his toes into the mainstream has influenced his ongoing life’s work with Phish. For many years the band performed in front of backdrops designed by the visual artist Marj Minkin, also bassist Mike Gordon’s mother. Until Kuroda unveiled this new rig — a seventy-plus panel wall of LED lights, suspended in midair, twenty-two feet above the stage. It marked a considerable aesthetic departure, to which fan reception was lukewarm at best. Kuroda, who harbored his own reservations about the propriatary jumbotron, gathered a consensus among the organisation that video just wasn’t their thing. But while the endeavour was short-lived, it bled into subsequent innovations in LD automation, including the mechanized network of trusses which have become a mainstay not only at Phish shows, but have permeated the concert lighting industry writ large.

—And Man, existing alone, seems to be an episode of little consequences.

###

There was a neon sign behind the bar depicting Doctor Lupus, chugging a Wolff Light. It would flash in such a way that his right foreleg — the one holding the can (wolves don’t have arms) — would have the appearance of raising up to his muzzle and pouring a fluorescent golden stream onto his protruding tongue, which would then retract contemporaneously to the can being lowered back down. Meanwhile, with the opposite paw, he would quick draw, spin, fire once into the air and then reholster a six-shooter, before turning his head to disperse the gunsmoke with a hearty belch. Hank had bid for the item at one of the many estate auctions he attended over the years.

Apart from elaborately illuminated Doctor Lupus, the Newfy didn’t have any sophisticated lighting or other A/V effects to speak of, for which to accompany the Mick’s Choices. Sometimes Kitty would find a black-and-white movie on the plasma screen TV above the bar — maybe a Kung Fu flick or something else cool like that — and play it on mute in the background. (You’ve probably heard from your older sister’s boyfriend that The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd syncs up perfectly with The Wizard of Oz if you press play precisely when the MGM lion roars for a third time. But did you also know that Can’t Buy a Thrill by Steely Dan and The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers bear no relation to one another whatsoever?) Tonight there was just a game that Mick was distractedly watching while Kitty finished her homeworks. It was halftime in Football Night in America. Redskins versus Cowboys — a nationally televised matchup of massive media markets you’d have seen dozens of times if you’d seen it once. Pitting bitter division rivals, two formerly proud football institutions become moribund franchises, mired through decades of mismanagement, for which team ownership takes no accountability, being as they are themselves buried under the weight of expectations by their entitled asshole fanbases.

With the score deadlocked at six after two quarters, this particular tilt was shaping up to be a real fucking pillow fight. Anyway, it’s not like the Mick had any dog in the fight. But what the hell. It was on, wasn’t it? Sometimes that was enough.

(In an increasingly fragmented media landscape, with myriad cable channels and the emergence of over-the-top [OTT] video content streaming platforms, professional football remains among the few reliable ratings draws for networks to sell advertising against. You look at a list of the Top Ten most viewed TV shows in a given sweeps period, eight of them are all but guaranteed to be primetime games. The other two are singing competition-based reality shows. For some reason people really fucking love those.)

[This evening’s halftime entertainment was the Tuition Toss Up, Proudly Presented by Wolff Light. Two competitors were given thirty seconds on the clock to throw as many footballs into a large plywood cutout of Dr. Lupus’ mouth. The Winner would receive fifty-thousand dollars — made out on a giant cardboard check — to be placed in escrow and paid toward an accredited higher education institution of their choosing. {That ought to cover a semester or two.} But don’t worry about The Loser … Because nobody leaves the Tuition Toss Up empty-handed. The Runner Up would receive a some-expenses-paid vacation voucher to a Wolffenbeir Company-partner resort, as well as discount airfare for two.

As the two undergraduates desperately underhanded pigskins, rattling off the snarling fangs of this two-dimensional beast — as if he were blowing them beyond the target — the Mick thought of Russell Schehrer of all fucking people. Russ, who could often be found on the beer league soccer Pitch, as he insisted on calling it, didn’t much care for American Football, as he insisted on calling it. No doubt though, he would have had a field day with this spectacle.

I mean, what’s next? The Tackling Healthcare Cost Challenge, brought to you by Big Insurance. Two chronically ill patients face off in an Oklahoma Drill — a full-contact contest to decide who truly is the toughest in the fight against Type Two Diabetes. Better not play pre-existing condition defense. Because winner gets their insulin, hospital bills and assorted other medical expenses paid in part {conditions apply — see website for details}. Second place goes home with a free month’s-supply of diet sodas and a t-shirt jersey. The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program Long SNAPping Derby …

{Russ didn’t converse so much as he would just riff. When he’d start in talking, one could get up from the conversation, go to the restroom, wash his hands, pour himself a fresh beer, sit back down and Russ’d still be there jawing away. Like he was fucking Bill Hicks. And hell, maybe he was half right most the time. But boy was it tiresome.}])

For this week’s selection, the Mick had played it somewhat safe with an underrated classic: Phish. 1996 Fall Tour. 6 December 1996, The Aladdin Theater, Las Vegas. On the one hand, just a super playful set. Some very adventurous riffs on a few standards — Wilson, Llama, a monster Mike’s Groove. But then you can also tell the band is really rounding into its Apex Form. Like, listen to the fucking YEM … it’s fucking all-time, man. Honestly, it wouldn’t be crazy to say that whatever roll they got started with this show — the Fall Tour finale — catapulted them into the legendary run of Winter and Summer Ninety-Seven. The encore … It’s a countdown to takeoff.

Because this was the Mick’s Choices, after all, he had taken the liberty of skipping straight to said encore, beginning at the end on Disc Three of three. Spanning forty minutes, really it was more of a third set unto itself. A self-contained rock opera, if you please, crescendoed around the oft-requested Harpua, a ballad about a boy and his cat, on an odyssey to a desert oasis, or at least in this telling. The Mick and his compatriots had arrived at the part of the story where a pair of cowgirl sirens beckon four Elvis impersonators onto stage with their hypnotic yodeling. They challenge the young boy to battle, in the form of a dueling performance of the song Suspicious Minds, which was something of a comeback hit for the King. Shakes of his latter career death rattle. The boy, played by drummer John Fishman, himself donning Presley’s signature satin cape over his own signature donut dress, sings the ultimate verse with Trey taking his place on percussion. Finishing it off with a few arm windmills and karate chops, successfully he gains passage from the Elvises. Again, the Mick was not particularly proud to know this. He would be especially embarrassed to see it all written out like that in regular English. And nevertheless …

We’re caught in a trap

I can’t walk out

Because I love you too much, baby

Why can’t you see?

What you’re doing to me

When you don’t believe a word I say

[Rollicking keys]

Grace was but a tiny little baby — if she were even born — the night this encore occurred. The Mick would have been just a small boy himself, not unlike like our hero, Harpua, and he figured to be some years older than her. Still, she had heard the recording of this show, although she had only cherry-picked the first set for Harry Hood, her own personal national anthem. Something of a Harry completist, Grace had heard hundreds of versions. This was pretty good Hood. By no means the best, although she couldn’t rattle off, say her top five renditions. Not off the top of her head. Grace didn’t have anywhere’s near the Mick’s advanced degree of scholarship on the band’s live oeuvre. She’d likely been to as many if not more shows though.

Whereas the rest of the Newfers only tolerated the Mick’s Choices out of pure professional obligation, a true fan herself, Grace truly appreciated her boss’s curatorship. Tonight though she wasn’t fully Feeling It, having found herself in a bit of a funk. This of course owing to the love triangle that she became entangled in that afternoon. The details aren’t important, or any of your fucking business by her estimation. But suffice it to say the bizarre situation of being caught between contemporaneous lovers met an predictably awkward end.

Zeke meanwhile was over the moon simply to be in Grace’s orbit, albeit seated a full five stools away on the opposing end of the bar, separated by Mick, Kitty and a strange man dressed as a Cowboy.

#novls of tumblr #chris kuroda #ck5 #washington football team

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ficsforeren · 3 years

Text

The Last Song - Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: Eren takes you backstage during his solo concert and you let him know just how much you appreciate his music by raking your nails down his back in an empty dressing room.

Content Warnings: explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

Eren knew you were falling for him.

Maybe not as hard, maybe not as much, but he knew you felt something. Even before you had the bravery to lay your feelings out in the open, he already could tell. That was why he insisted on not playing by the rules, knowing that they would only hinder your feelings. That it would only give you more reasons to pretend like everything that happened was just meaningless sex when it was everything but.

When he heard how you thought you were just ordinary if being compared to him, Eren was livid. God, he wanted to convince you that you were wrong. The words, “No, you’re perfect. You’re not ordinary, you’re everything I want and more. I’m the one who’s not good enough for you,” were ready to be spoken, sitting there on the tip of his tongue but he clenched his teeth to keep them from bursting out loud. It would’ve probably made things easier if he had just spoken out the truth. If he just said, “I love you. I want you. I need you in my life. You and no one else. Please be mine,” maybe you could have a change of heart and say, “Okay, then should we date?” But it won’t feel right. It will feel… forced.

Feelings are complex little things. Similar to you, Eren has his own insecurities, his own worries. When he saw through your perspective, he realized that oh, I wasn’t the only one who was afraid. It assured him somehow, that he wasn’t the only one who was going insane with this whole Friends-with-Benefits thing going on when he knew you both wanted more. You both wish for something stronger than this, but you also lack faith, not in each other but in yourselves. You think Eren deserves better, someone who’s prettier, more successful, someone who lives in the same world like he does and understands how to maintain relationships in the entertainment industry. Eren believes you deserve the world, someone who can be there for you 24/7, someone who doesn’t resort to drugs and alcohol when the ghost of his past comes to visit. No, someone who doesn’t have ghosts to begin with.

These feelings—these fears… are not something you can solve solely by communicating with each other. They’re built within you, and no amount of words can change how you behave or how you think. You both have your own baggage and if you want this relationship to work then you have to accept them. But how can you expect him to accept your flaws when you can’t even do it yourself? What if after you get together, Eren thinks you’re putting his work and fame in jeopardy but decides to abandon everything anyway just for your sake? You don’t want him to sacrifice anything, especially not for you.

And just like you, Eren is constantly afraid that once he opens himself up further and further, you won’t be able to accept the mess that he brings but tries to live through it just so you won’t break his heart. He knows how kind you can be. You won’t have the heart to break up with him, even if every bit of your soul is screaming for you to just end this already.

No. He won’t let that happen and neither will you.

You couldn’t afford to lose each other just so you could put a label on what you’re sharing with him right now. It’s better to stay like this, to just be with each other like this, rather than to be exclusive only for it to end miserably. You already know how you feel about each other anyway, already do everything that lovers do, already treat each other the best as you can, so what else do you need? It’s enough. It’s more than enough.

This was why he kept on pretending that it was a joke whenever he felt like he was crossing the lines. A part of him wants to take a leap further and announce to the world that, “You’re mine,” but at the same time, he’s frightened. When he asked you to marry him, it was real. When he dared you to fall for him, it was real. And if he told you he loved you, that would be real too. He just kept beating around the bush because Eren didn’t want to force you to fall in love with him. He doesn’t want to convince you that you’re right for him. He doesn’t want to tell you to love him just because he loves you. He wants you to fall in love with him naturally, to fall for him in the same way he fell for you. He wants you to realize on your own that you love him for who he is, not because he, or the situation, demands you to.

And there’s one more reason.

He’s terrified of making decisions, especially when it comes to someone who matters more than his life. The last time he stepped up and made his choice—one that he thought was the right thing to do to keep his family together—he ended up tearing everything apart. It was his fault, and his fault only. He won’t let that happen again. Especially not to you. So he won’t tell you, “I love you. I want you to spend the rest of my life with you.” No, he won’t. He’s not going to make that decision and force you to say yes just because you can’t stand the thought of him leaving after your rejection. You’re going to make the decision for him.

But he’s also not going to put a secret to his feelings anymore. He’s sent you a message, “If you really think you love me, say that you do and I’m yours. I’m ready to risk everything for you.” Right now, he’s just going to make sure to love you as hard as he can, to be the only person that you need, to drown you with every feeling he has until you realize that you don’t need to breathe to survive—you need him. He’s going to show everything to you until he can hear you say the words, “Eren, I really do love you and I want to be together with you no matter what it takes.” And once that happens, he’s going to love you so hard until he feels like he’s going to burst and he will keep that going on forever.

The choice is up to you. To step out of your comfort zone or stay in the circle, your choice, your decision.

***

“You think she’s okay?” Porco Galliard leans further into his seat, his shoulder nearly touching Pieck’s who’s sitting on the swivel chair next to him. The three of you have arrived early for the meeting, waiting for the other co-workers to arrive in the room, as well as your regional manager to start your monthly performance review.

Your raven-haired co-worker drags her eyes away from her iPad to steal a glance at your face. Sitting just across her, you have your shoulders hunch forward, eyes empty as you gaze at your laptop screen, sighing to yourself every two minutes.

Your hands are hovering above your keyboards, ready to type out the word to perfect your presentation but can’t even remember what you’re supposed to write. Your head is in the clouds—well, no, not really. Your thoughts are revolving over a certain male—a handsome boy with stunning jade green eyes, who, as he laid next to you on your bed last night, said the following words: “So, go ahead and fall in love with me. I dare you. Fall in love with me until you feel like you can’t breathe without me.”

How on earth are you supposed to respond to that? No, how will you ever be able to respond to that?

You can feel your blush creeping from your neck to your ears, and you slap both of your cheeks with your palms to erase it. “I am so fucked,” you mewl into your hands.

“Probably just had her first anal,” Pieck concludes as she stares flatly at you.

Porco gives her a leer. “You didn’t look like that when we first did it.”

“It wasn’t my first anal, Pokko.”

“Ah,” he bitterly responds, dragging his eyes—now empty and slightly aggravated—back to you. “I see.”

Pieck tilts her head, her smile is both mischievous and seductive as she runs her eyes up and down his features. “You looked like that when I first pegged you, though.”

“Pieck!” Startled and ashamed by her words, Porco accidentally knocks his water bottle with his hand. It slides across the table, stopping once it hits the back of your MacBook. Only then, that you notice that Pieck and Porco have been gossiping about you. Well, not right now. Right now, Porco has his hands on her shoulders, shaking her back and forth while hissing with his face turning a shade of crimson, “Pieck, for fuck’s sake, I told you to never bring that up again!”

“Oh, welcome back,” Pieck chirps, tossing a smile at you as she shoves Porco away by the face. “You’ve been staring into space for ten minutes. You okay there, hun?”

You close your laptop with the heaviest sigh as if you had spent the last ten minutes trying to solve world hunger. “So, I have a question,” you start. “What do you do when your fuck buddy dares you to fall in love with him?”

Porco and Pieck have the same initial reaction: frowning, looking at each other in confusion before they gaze back at you with judging eyes. “What?” They ask in unison.

Though reluctant, you tell them a quick summary of what happened last night and a few incidents that happened during the first month of your new relationship with him, adding your personal opinion here and there to try to make more sense to yourself. “Have I told you that he’s been writing love songs lately?” You exhale, feeling a migraine coming. “He never did that before and he kept pumping out new love songs ever since we started this relationship and I… can’t help but think that they’re about me.”

Pieck holds back a yawn. “When you’re in love, every song feels like it’s about you.”

You grimace. “Do you think I’m just thinking about this too much?”

“Oh no, honey. He’s definitely in love with you.”

“Why does he keep doing this with me then?” You groan, pathetic and desperate for answers. “He basically told me to fall for him, and he gave me all of these mixed signals—”

“They’re not mixed signals,” Porco corrects. “They’re deadass I’m-in-love-with-you-and-I-want-the-whole-world-to-know-about-it signals.”

“Thanks,” you mutter. “Well, he told me he didn’t want to be in a relationship at first, but then he said he’d be willing to try if it’s with me, like why? Why did he have to say that? If he wants to date me for real then he should’ve just asked, and not teasing me like this.”

“Maybe he’s worried that you might not feel the same way?” Pieck suggests. “Or maybe he didn’t really mean his words. He just said them ‘cause he thought you wanted to hear them.”

“Yeah, men do that,” Porco agrees and both of you glower at him. “What? It’s the easiest thing to do to avoid confrontation.”

“Baby,” Pieck says, completely ignoring him as she takes a hold of your hand. “I hate to be the bitch that drops the bomb on your hopes and dreams, but you gotta think from his point of view. He’s having fun. He gets to have sex with you anytime he wants. Gets to hang out, gets to cuddle, and gets to cry on your shoulder if he needs to. He’s getting all the good parts of a relationship. I think he’s smart. He’s in love with you, I can guarantee that, and he’s trying to make you love him too, but—”

“Which isn’t a bad thing, obviously,” Porco interrupts, folding his arms on his chest. “Falling in love, I mean.”

Pieck narrows her eyes at him. “Pokko, this isn’t a rom-com. They’re fuck buddies for a reason. They’re both terrible at relationships and they don’t want to ruin what they have now.”

“Yeah, well, people can change.” Porco shrugs, a bit frightened when Pieck starts glaring at him but continues to elaborate on his point, nonetheless. “I mean, if you’re sure you love him, and you’re sure he loves you, then just date him for real and see how it goes.”

“You think?” You wince, your mind swirling. “Actually, I’m… I’m still not sure whether I really love him that way. Everything is changing so fast and I’ve never been in love before. How the hell would I know if what I feel for him right now is love and not just, like, a temporary crush or something? What if it’s just physical?”

“Ugh,” Porco rolls his eyes. “Why do women always worry too much?”

“Because I can’t risk our friendship!” You protest, shamelessly whining. “I’m constantly worried that if it doesn’t work out—if dating him ends up with me breaking up with him, then we’ll end up stop being friends. So I’ve been trying my best to not fall for him but I guess…” You grow quiet, cheeks turning scarlet as you admit, “It’s too late now.”

Pieck takes a sip of her latte. “So, you admit that you’re in love with him now?”

You yank at the roots of your hair. “Oh, God, I don’t know.”

“Did he tell you he loved you, though? I mean like literally confessed to you. Not figuratively through his lyrics or some other sappy bullshit he usually did.”

You shake your head. “He just told me he wouldn’t abide by my rules and said he’d have no problem falling for me.”

“Cool,” Porco nods and Pieck jabs her finger to the side of his stomach.

“Well, since you don’t wanna stop having sex with him,” she exhales, “Then the answer is obvious. Keep doing this until you’re sure of your feelings. Ride his cock until you feel like you’ve had enough. If it’s only physical, you’ll get bored eventually and you can call this off. But if you feel like you’re really in love with him after that, then yeah, go date him for real.”

Feeling lightheaded, you massage the side of your temple. “What about that thing—him being famous and all. I just know dating him would be so stressful with all these girls chasing after him.”

“Just cross the bridge when you get there,” Porco assures you. “Don’t think about it too much.”

“Men always say that,” you pout.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re impulsive.”

“No, ‘cause you all think with your dicks,” Pieck spits back before she returns her attention to you. “Listen, honey. There are two options you can choose here: just keep doing what you want to do until you both find the courage to take a step further, or try and date someone else.”

“How is dating someone else gonna fix my problem?”

“First, it can help make sure of your feelings for him. Second, it can help him put some action to his feelings. He’ll get jealous. He’s not gonna want to share you with anyone else and maybe then, he’ll tell you how he truly feels about you.”

“Then what?” It’s actually Porco who’s asking the question for you, his curiosity arising.

“Then you get married,” Pieck ends the topic. “Fuck like bunnies and have hundreds of babies. Repopulate the earth with those good-looking Jaeger genes.”

Porco looks like he’s judging her so much for her words but when he turns to you, he simply agrees with a nod. “Well, there you go,” he mutters blankly, “Fuck like bunnies and repopulate the earth.”

“Oh Lord,” you mutter, mentally drained. It feels like their words make sense, but at the same time, they don’t. Knowing you’re not ready for the second option just yet, you try to go with the flow, sticking to the first option for now. “Yeah, okay… I’ll try.”

If it’s just a crush—if these things you’re feeling for him are just strictly physical, then maybe you just have to give it some time. Maybe in a month or two, you’ll get bored of him —maybe he will get bored of you—and you can go back to being friends, no harm done.

Maybe is the word you need to emphasize here.

***

Eren has given you a backstage pass for tonight’s show. He’s having a charity concert in your hometown and he’s spent these last few days practicing in his studio with his bandmates. Though you still keep in contact with him through texts and calls, you haven’t seen him in almost a week. And that’s probably the reason why you’re utterly excited to attend his concert—though you keep lying to yourself by saying that you’re not excited because you're going to see him; you’re excited because you’re going to see him play, which is a huge difference.

You’ve invited Pieck Finger with you—since you have been troubling her with this friends-with-benefits thing and you owe her at least this much. You asked Porco to tag along during lunch but he declined the offer, saying that he had a date with ‘the cute girl from the third floor.’ Surprisingly enough, you caught the way Pieck was boring holes into his back as he walked away, her cheeks puffed out in, what you’d like to assume as jealousy. Which worries you because if Pieck, the I’m-in-love-with-Zeke-Fritz Pieck, has also started to catch feelings, then what will happen to you who hasn’t had anyone else in your heart for so long?

You shake your head, pushing away your thoughts. Tonight, let’s just focus on having fun.

You greet her with a hug when the two of you meet in front of the venue, but once you see what she’s wearing, you can’t help but gawk at her appearance. “Why are you wearing—” You can’t even tell what she’s wearing. “What are you wearing?”

Well, she’s wearing a black dress—one that is so short, you’re sure you can get a glimpse of her underwear if she bends down. If she’s wearing any, that is (you don’t want to check, God, no). Its stretch, figure-hugging fabric is perfectly designed to show off her curves and she looks absolutely fantastic in it. Feeling your confidence waver, you begin to examine your own outfit, slightly pouting once you realize that you’re just putting on some jeans, a pair of old sneakers, and a black shirt underneath a denim jacket.

“It’s a bodycon mini dress.” She looks you up and down, looking even more baffled than you were when you first saw her. “What are you wearing?”

“I’m wearing something that normal people would wear. Why are you wearing a bodycon mini dress to a rock concert?”

“‘Cause we’ll be meeting hot guys?”

“Pieck, we’re here to enjoy some music.”

“Well, I’m here to enjoy some cocks.”

“Jesus.” It’s been two minutes and she’s already giving you a headache. “Let’s just—let’s just go.”

Once you’ve shown your backstage pass to a male staff—who looks pretty cute with freckles on his face—you’re taken straight to Empire’s dressing room with him saying, “Mr. Jaeger has been waiting for you.”

Pieck, showcasing a nasty grin, elbows you lightly as you both follow his lead. “Mr. Jaeger has been waiting for you, he said.”

“Shut up.”

“I bet my whole wallet that you two are gonna fuck before he goes on stage tonight.”

You’re so flustered, you almost choke on your words. “Is sex all you can think about?!”

“Take the bet, then.”

“I’m not gonna take any bet.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you know you’ll lose.”

“No, ‘cause it’s a stupid bet. Now, shut up,” you hiss once the staff drags open the door and welcome you to the dressing room. Your gaze immediately finds Eren talking to Reiner as they sit next to each other on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed as they’re discussing something important regarding their performance. At the sound of your footsteps, Eren lifts his face and you can quite literally see how much his eyes light up at your presence.

“Oh, you’re here!” He hastily stands up, half-running to your spot before he scoops you up in his arms. With a grin and a suppressed giggle, he embraces you so tightly around the waist, your feet leaving the ground for a second before they land back. For a moment, there’s only you, and him, and your heart racing a thousand miles per hour. It’s until Eren breaks away, kisses you lightly on the cheek, and tosses a smile to the staff that you fall back to reality. “Thanks for bringing her in, Marco.”

“Always a pleasure to help, Mr. Jaeger.” Marco gives a polite nod before he turns around and marches back to where he came from.

When Eren shifts his focus back to you, his smile turns softer, almost delicate. “Thanks for coming. You’re a bit early than I thought.”

“I—uhh—” You’re a bit appalled by the way he greeted you a moment ago, blushing even harder when you notice Pieck sniggering in the background. “Yeah. I didn’t want to be late for the show.”

You’ve noticed that ever since that talk you had about you being afraid to fall for him and he challenged you to do exactly that, Eren becomes more… aggressive. Not in the way he kisses or anything sexual, but in the way he showers you with affection. It’s like he’s really trying to make you fall for him—or maybe he’s just doing the same thing but you’re more emotional these days? Maybe you’re reading too much between the lines?

Eren looks so effortlessly handsome as he chews on his mint bubblegum, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches makes it hard for you to stop staring at how perfectly structured his face is—sharp jawlines, sharp nose, long and thick eyelashes, soft, plump lips—

Okay, get a hold of yourself. You swallow, your eyes still wandering up and down his body for another second before you glance away. He’s wearing a fitted black tee that hugs his chest perfectly, his silver key-shaped pendant dangling right above his heart. His hair is tied up in a bun like usual but it’s stylishly messy. You’re sure that his hairstylist must have spent a good hour trying to style his hair looking like that.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice thick with seduction once he notices your ogling eyes.

“It’s, uh…” You can’t meet his gaze. “You look different.”

“Like, a good different?”

“Just… different.” You’re so fucking terrible at masking your blush—so transparent, it’s ridiculous.

But to his eyes, you just look nothing but adorable. Every little thing that you do is goddamn adorable. Can’t hold back his urge to tease you, he leans in closer to your ear. “You look different too,” he whispers. “A good different.”

“Shut up.” You shove him away by the chest and he simply chuckles in return.

“You smell amazing, by the way,” he notes. “New perfume?”

You’re beginning to feel self-conscious, your heart thrashing wildly. “Y-yeah.”

He hums, lightly biting his lip as he looks at you with his eyes gleaming in desire. Something about it makes your body tingle and you mentally slap yourself to tell you to focus. “I—I brought a friend with me,” you hurriedly mention before he makes another comment that drives you wild.

“Finally,” Pieck jeers, “Thought I had to wait for another year to pass before you noticed me.” She turns to Eren, offering her hand like how a queen would do to her knight so he could lay a kiss on her knuckles. “Pieck Finger, pleasure to meet you.”

The musician only frowns, a judging look fleets through his face for a split second before he takes her hand, giving her a firm handshake instead. “Eren Jaeger,” he says, unimpressed and somehow you can feel yourself breathing in relief. You don’t want to admit this, but you were worried that he would show interest in her, especially when she looks like sex on legs this evening.

Eren cocks his head to the three people behind him. “That’s Jean and Reiner on the couch. The one that's talking on the phone over there is our manager, Levi.”

“Hey, boys,” Pieck waves her hand, sultry smile accompanied by fluttering eyelashes.

Jean, as expected, stands up and easily slides into the conversation. “Well, well, well.” He lands a hand against the doorframe, walking into Pieck’s personal space like he belongs in it. “To have a visit from such a pretty lady like you,” he coos, one corner of his mouth tilting upward. “Must be my lucky night.”

“I’m such a huge fan of yours,” Pieck flirts and you almost snort. She’s not a fan. She’s never been a fan and she’s never going to be a fan. She listens to either Ariana Grande or Cardi B on daily basis, there’s no in-between. Not once in your life have you ever seen her listening to rock music—especially something as heavy as what Empire offers to the crowd.

“Hey,” Eren’s voice draws your attention back to him, which is good because if you spend any longer than that listening to their flirtatious conversations, you’re sure you’re going to throw up on your shoes. “We got a pretty sick band as our opening act. You wanna take a look? I think they’re about to play.”

“Oh my God, yes!” It’s like someone just injects a dose of adrenaline into your veins and suddenly you can’t keep still. “I saw the poster—it’s Zenith, right? I love them!”

Hearing that, the grin on his face promptly falters. “You love them?”

“Yeah. Their frontman—Floch Forster—looks pretty cool. Sounds amazing, too.”

“Actually,” Eren diverts the topic, growing bitter. “Why don’t I just show you around—”

“Wait—” You can hear the sound of the crowd suddenly cheering so loudly from the stage area. Followed right after is the sound of an electric guitar being strummed and your eyes widen in realization. “Oh my God, they’re playing Parasite Eve! Eren—“ you grab him by the shirt, “Let’s go to the stage!”

His interest has long disappeared. “Yeah, no, I think I’m gonna stay.”

“What?!” Floch Forster’s distinctive voice is now echoing through the venue, resonating to your ears. “Eren, come on—“

“You brats are being too loud,” Levi interrupts and you immediately step aside in horror until you have your spine pressed against the wall. The older male catches your eyes, boredom written in his ash-grey ones. “Oh, it’s you again.”

“H-hello, Mr. Ackerman.” Not sure why, but you find him very intimidating. He doesn’t seem like he’s elated by your presence either, though he never comments on it. Or maybe he just glares at everyone? “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice I was being too loud. Eren was about to take me to the stage to see the band and—“

“Good,” Levi says, “I was about to ask you to do the same thing.” He turns to face the rest of the band members. “All of you, wait backstage. You still have forty-five minutes before showtime, might as well take a look at their performance. You’re their senior, be supportive and give them some feedback.”

Reiner nods, while Jean is too busy whispering, you assume, filthy things in Pieck’s ear whenever Levi’s gaze drifts somewhere else.

Eren groans, complaining, “Why don’t you give them your feedback?”

“I thought you were excited to have them as your opening act.” Levi raises a questioning brow. “Aren’t you friends with Forster?”

He tightens his jaw. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Great. Now, off you go, all of you.” At Levi’s order, they exit the dressing room one by one. Levi leads at the front, Reiner trailing close after him. Jean follows right after with his arm around Pieck’s shoulders, brushing his lips against her strands as he whispers provocative words to her ear.

“You okay?” You ask him, eyebrows adjoined in the middle. “Why do you look pissed?”

“I’m not pissed,” Eren retorts in a way that indicates that yes, he is pissed. “So,” he crosses his arms on his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “Floch Forster. Is he your idol or something?”

“Ah…” The second you realize what’s going on with him, an impish grin breaks upon your lips. “I know what’s going on. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“Wha—” He chokes, his face aflame. “I’m not jealous—why would I be jealous? Jealous of what? Of who?”

Oh my God, he’s rambling. You’re about to break into laughter but before you do, you take a grab of his hand. “Eren, listen—“ A staff walks past you, crossing the hallway and it’s not wise for you to show intimacy in a public space. Needing some privacy, you push him back into the dressing room just enough to get out of everyone’s sight, and cup both of his cheeks with your palms.

You stand on your tiptoes and brush your lips against his. Eren has his eyes opened in surprise but the kiss ends before he can shut his lids and explore the taste of your mouth. The blush spreads from his neck to his cheekbones and it makes you think that, maybe, he’s just as transparent as you are.

“You’re adorable,” you tell him and his blush blooms even harder, painting his ears scarlet.

“Stop calling a grown-ass man ‘adorable’, it’s gross,” he timidly responses with a pout and it makes you giggle as you find him a million times more endearing.

“Okay, you big baby, listen to me,” you grab his right hand, squeezing it between yours. “You’re the only artist that I truly admire, okay? I admire you for your talent. I admire you for your performance on stage. I admire the songs that you wrote and the music that you created. No one can ever come close. You hear me? No one. Not even Celine fucking Dion can beat you. That’s how much I admire you, Eren Jaeger of Empire.” You smile at him, scrunching your nose cutely. “So stop being jealous of Floch. He’s good, he has talent, but he’s never going to be as good as you. At least, not in my eyes.”

Eren is so flustered, his ears are buzzing. He’s not sure if he’s hearing you right. He’s doing nothing but standing still, lost for words until you intertwine your hand with his and tug him forward. “Now come on,” you urge him, “They just finished their first song. I’m not gonna forgive you if you make me miss the next one.”

He lets you lead him closer to the stage, following in silence as he’s too busy drowning in his thoughts to retaliate. You’re getting it all wrong, he wants to say, because Eren is not jealous of Floch’s talent. He’s jealous that he’s getting a sliver of your attention. Eren wants all of that for himself. Wants your eyes to never look at anyone else. Wants your heart to never admire anyone else.

I want all of you for myself, he thinks as he watches your eyes shine radiantly when you observe Zenith’s performance from the side of the stage. And I want to give everything that I have—everything that I am—to you.

The demon inside him replies, reminding him that even just that, it’s too much to ask for. Especially, for someone like him. But he’s made up his mind. He wants to change. He wants to be able to love and wants to be loved. He deserves it. I deserve it.

“Why can’t you just say you love me already?”

“What?” You ask him, shouting over the heavy sound of drums. “Did you say something?”

Eren smiles, tucking his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “I said, your gawking face looks stupid!”

***

“Where’s Kirstein?” Levi, who left the stage a moment ago to take yet another call, questions as he walks closer to where you and Eren are standing. “And where’s Braun? Did he have a stomachache again?”

“I saw Jean going somewhere,” Marco answers before he politely gestures his hand toward you. “With her friend—the one with the long, black hair, and Reiner left to get him. That was five minutes ago.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you goddamn cock-sucking brats,” Levi spits back and you freeze, gaping as you have never heard someone curse so easily and naturally like that. “I left for ten minutes to make a call. Ten. Fucking. Minutes. And you’re all gone.”

“I’m still here,” Eren chimes in.

“Yeah, you better be,” the shorter male isn’t thankful in the slightest. “I’m gonna look for them. Stay here, Jaeger. If I see you move a muscle, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” And Levi stomps away with his iPad in one hand, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“That’s probably the tenth time he has threatened me today,” Eren sighs but seems mostly unfazed. “Not really a positive environment to work in.”

With a tiny amused smile, you bump your shoulder against his. “Seems like you’re the good boy in your little boyband.”

“Well…” The music starts again with Zenith playing their fourth song that night. Eren bends down to vocalize his line directly into your ear so you won’t miss a word. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you for a while, actually.”

You quickly take a step back, covering your ear like he’s the devil speaking temptations to make you sin. Which, in a way, he is. He casts you a dirty smirk, tilting his head as he wiggles an eyebrow seductively.

Fuck. He is the devil. “How much time do we get until you have to go on stage?”

“Twenty. Probably less.”

“We don’t have time.”

“We do. I can make you come in ten.”

“Jesus.” Your face is burning. Not wanting to waste any more seconds, you quickly mutter, “Fine, okay. Hurry up.”

Eren’s grin breaks wider. “Hey, Marco!”

Marco—oh sweet, sweet poor Marco—who’s in deep discussion with the technical team, scurries back to your spot. “Yes, Mr. Jaeger?”

“Be a good boy and cover up for me, yeah?” Eren lands a hand on his shoulder. “I left something in the dressing room.”

“Oh, I can get it for you.”

“Nah, there’s no need.” Eren cocks his head in your direction. “She’s gonna do it for me.”

Lord, just kill me. You bury your face in your palms, would rather be dead than to meet Marco’s innocent chocolate brown eyes once he understands Eren’s not-so-pure intention.

“Oh…” As Marco’s vocabulary turns blank, Eren wraps an arm around your shoulder, leading you back to where you were twenty minutes ago.

***

Your head knocks against the door as Eren pushes you up against it, locking you both inside the unoccupied dressing room. You’re trapped in his messy kiss, all rough and demanding that you have to hold on to the collar of his shirt for support. When he breaks away to paint kisses down your neck, your lipstick smears to your cheek, lips glistening with saliva and bruised by his teeth.

“Eren—” You’re rocking yourself against his knee the second he slides it between your thighs. “We don’t have much time.”

“I know.” His hands move down to your shirt, tugging the fabric roughly to the side to reveal more of your skin.

“Hey, careful!” You scold him, glowering. “You nearly ripped out my buttons!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” His mouth moves lower, now trailing wet kisses to the valley between your breasts. His hands are working on your jeans, while yours are busy working on his belt.

“That’s not the prob—ah,” Yanking your bra down just enough to reveal your soft mounds, Eren’s mouth clamp around your nipple, sucking at it as a moan escapes from the back of his throat, caressing your skin with vibration. “Eren, just hurry up, please—”

“I need to get you wet first.” He pushes your jeans down to your mid-thigh, his hand sliding underneath your lingerie. “Wouldn’t want to hurt my darling,” he jokes but the second he touches you, his lean fingers gliding over your folds, his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Whoa, already?”

Flushed, you can only mutter back, “Shut up,” through gritted teeth.

But Eren’s never going to let go just like this. It’s the perfect opportunity to tease you, to make you blush even harder, to make you beg for his touches. His tiny smirk is as obscene as what his hand is doing to you. He presses harder, the pads of his index and middle fingers toying with your clit before he moves them down to probe against your entrance. “Can’t believe you’re this wet for me already,” he chuckles, “Have you been thinking about this too, Sweetheart? Want me to fuck you in my dressing room like this?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” You knock your tiny fists multiple times against his chest, emphasizing each word, but that only entertains him more. Eren shifts his hand to your behind, squeezing your ass as he brings you closer to him. You push forward by instinct, grinding your hips against his until he groans in response, teeth prickling against the supple skin of your neck.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he comments, sounding like he’s intoxicated by your perfume before he turns impish once again. “Did you wear this to rile me up?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen when you hear the word out loud. You didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to be honest with him but your thoughts were so jumbled, you couldn’t filter your words. “I mean—”

“Ah, you’re so goddamn cute.” He crushes your mouths together, his tongue sliding in to taste the inside of your cheek again.

Your hands naturally wind around his neck, your nails scratching his nape. Your irritation is washed away, replaced by your need to have him inside you. “Eren—”

“One second.” He goes down to his knees, pushing up the fabric of your shirt to your stomach. “Hold it there.”

You follow his order, chewing on your lip as he applies wet kisses on your inner thigh, moving upward until his breath, hot and dangerous, caresses your sensitive skin. He spreads your legs as wide as he can with the restrictive jeans around your knees. “Next time,” he growls, a bit irritated with the piece of clothing getting in the way. “Wear a skirt.”

“Eren, you don’t have to do this—“ His mouth finds your heat, and you nearly collapse from the sensation because Eren doesn’t start slow, not like usual. He doesn’t start with his tongue licking the outside of your folds, he doesn’t start with tiny kitten licks, doesn’t move his tongue in slow circles that could make your breath stutter and your eyes cross. He starts with hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sex before he rushes to suck on your clit, pushing the tip of his nose against your skin. “Fuck, fuck—” You can feel your body sliding down the door as your legs start to quiver.

Fortunately for you, Eren is holding you firmly by the thighs, lowering you down to his face as he darts out his tongue, running it up and down from your clit to your entrance. He watches your expression, not because he wants to get confirmation whether he’s doing something right. Eren already knows what he’s doing; he simply watches you because he loves it. You’re the prettiest when you’re like this, he always thinks, rosy cheeks with eyes looking like they're about to tear up from drowning too deep in pleasure.

“I just love the way you taste,” he says, breathing heavily through his nose as he moans. “You’re my favorite flavor in the world, baby.”

You nearly sob, eyes closed as you surrender yourself to him. You don’t have the strength to worry about the time anymore. Everything about his goddamn, filthy mouth—the way it moves against your skin, the way it clamps around your clit, the dirty words that break free from it—everything makes you weak, makes your brain turn into a mush that you can barely focus on your surrounding anymore.

Maybe you’re turned on by the fact that you’re in a public space and you’re running out of time before someone comes knocking against the door, telling you that they need Eren on the stage. Or maybe you just like being handled so roughly like him like this, but whatever the reason is, you’re so aroused, so desperately need to reach your high that you feel like you’re about to cry.

Eren would love to spend hours just pleasuring you like this but there are hundreds of people chanting his name on the other side of the stage. Zenith must have gone down the stage and now the technical team is doing the final check before Empire takes the spot. Time is limited and it’s wiser to stop before you take a further step but with you begging for a release like this?

There’s no way he’s going to let you go.

Eren stands back on his feet and spins you around, driving you forward until your body is plastered against the door. He grabs you by the hips, guiding you to him. He lets his jeans pool around his knees, spitting into his palm and promptly lathering his cock with saliva before he pushes in from behind. The friction stings but the feeling of Eren’s lips moving between your shoulder blades soothe you down. He’s only halfway in when someone knocks on the door.

Fuck, you panic but Eren slaps a hand over your mouth, keeping you still.

“Who is it?” He asks.

“I-it’s Marco.” Just by his tone, you can tell he’s blushing. “Mr. Jaeger, I’m sorry to bother you but you’re up in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” Eren smirks, his hand moving away from your mouth to settle at the dip of your waist. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, Marco.” He pushes in, sending you forward until your palms, chest, and cheek are pressed flat against the door. “You have my words.”

“O-okay,” Marco says, completely clueless that just on the other side of the door he’s laying his knuckles against is his idol, Eren Jaeger of Empire, having his cock buried deep inside you. “Well, then, uh, I’ll head back to the stage.”

“No,” Eren stops him. “Stay where you are.”

Are you insane?! You glare menacingly at him, growling behind his palm. Eren answers by slamming his hips once against yours, turning that growl into a suppressed moan. “You’re on the lookout,” he tells him. “I’m kinda… busy at the moment.” He pounds into you again, chuckling as he sticks two fingers inside your mouth, watching the saliva dribbles down your chin. “Make sure no one comes to interrupt, Marco, can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Perfect.” Eren retracts his fingers, smearing saliva all over your skin before he slithers his hand around your throat. He lifts your face, his fingers curling a little bit too tight around your neck, and pushes you up against the door. His chest fills the dip of your spine, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “You can be loud if you want,” he murmurs, “No one can hear you with the crowd cheering like that.”

“But—” The feeling of his fingers smothering you little by little as he thrusts mercilessly inside nearly causes you to lost all common sense. “But Marco is—”

“It’s okay if he hears us.” He starts sucking marks on your neck. “He already knows we’re fucking, anyway.” His next thrust sends you forward until you have to lay both hands on the door to keep your head from bumping against it. “Actually, be loud, baby,” he adds, tittering when he feels your walls fluttering around him. “‘Cause I love hearing your fucking moans.” His voice is velvety, thick with lust and seduction. “Especially when they’re in the form of my name.”

You’re not sure which drives you more insane, his smirk pressing against the shell of your ear as he says those salacious words or the way he mercilessly rams himself into you. Either way, you don’t care because Eren is doing both at the same time and he’s doing everything so good.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath. “Eren—you’re so deep—“

His hand moves up to your breast, squeezing it tightly with his palm. “Does it hurt?”

You nip at your lip, head hanging low as you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. “No, it feels good—ah—”

“Yeah?” He straightens his back, settling his hands on the curve of your hips. “Then I won’t hold back.”

He was holding back?! You shout in your head and the next second, you find your answer. Eren feels like a different man, the way he’s slamming himself into you. He lets his cock slide almost all the way out of your core, only to slip back in, filling you up until you have to stand on your tiptoes. His thrusts are fast and powerful, his hands holding you so firmly by the hips, you’re sure they’re gonna leave nasty bruises by tomorrow.

Jae-ger! Jae-ger! Jae-ger!

“T-they’re calling your name,” you sob out, your knees wobbling underneath your weight.

“Yeah,” he grunts, leaning forward to sink his teeth at your clothed shoulder. “But I’d rather have you scream mine instead.”

You’re being driven to the edge, can already feel your orgasm closing in before he flips you around, harshly pull on your jeans until he can toss them away on the floor. He smashes his mouth against yours again as he slides his hands down to your legs. “Hold on to me,” he says and you obey, letting him haul both of your legs in the air, lifting you off the ground. His cock is standing hard enough to find its way back into you without having to use his hand, and you reciprocate with another whimper of his name when you feel him throbbing inside you once more. Knowing he’s strong enough to carry your entire weight, you wind your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Eren settles his hands underneath your thighs for support as you lean your spine against the door.

“Eren, fuck—“ The new position hits a certain angle and every movement of his hips causes your clit to graze against his pelvis. You know you’re about to sprout incoherent noises so you let his tongue invade your mouth again, focusing on the way he tastes—how perfect he tastes—instead of the way he’s fucking you up against the door.

Your hands naturally find home in his hair, but Eren stops you. “Wait, don’t mess up my hair.”

“Oh, right—“ you retract your hand almost instantly, “Sorry.”

“You know what, fuck that,” he growls, “Just do it.” He suckles on your lower lip, making it swollen. “I know how much you like it.”

You take the opportunity, tugging harshly on the roots of his hair until he moans, messing up his bun.

“What, do you have like, a hair kink or something?” Eren titters. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“I just think you’re really hot with your man-bun.” You moan with your head thrown back as he hits your favorite spot. “But—then again—I always find you attractive—”

“And you said you only cared about my music.” But despite his teasing, Eren is losing his mind, his sanity deteriorating little by little with every rock of your hips against him. How the fuck can she feel this good, he ponders, as he drowns deeper in the feel, the smell, and the sound of you. He lands you back to the ground while keeping one of your legs raised in the air for him to gain better access. His face is buried in the crook of your neck when he continues asking, “What other parts of me do you find to be hot?”

“Your abs,” you breathe out, sliding one hand inside of his shirt and raking your nails against his abdomens. “Your arms.” Your other hand grips harder around his upper arm, sinking your nails until he flinches in both pain and arousal. “Your lips.” You tug his bottom lip between your teeth, tongue sliding against the surface. But you know the one thing he wants to hear so with a seductive smile, you break off the kiss and whisper in his ear, “Your cock.”

Eren struggles to keep himself sane when you tease him by clenching your walls around him. His thrust is going out of rhythm but he tries to keep his voice nonchalant. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” You moan softly, kissing the side of his neck. “You’re so… big.” You take his earlobe between your teeth. “I love the way you move inside me. Love the way you fuck me with that cock.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, kissing you roughly as his movements turn erratic. You giggle, satisfied at his reaction and you let him do as he pleases for a few seconds more before you pull him close, hazy eyes staring deep into his when you add, “But your eyes. Your eyes are what I love the most about you.” And you no longer sound seductive. Your voice turns soft, your words speak honesty. “You have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And Eren stops everything when you kiss him just as tender, even his own breathing. He doesn’t want to let your praise get into his head, but it’s too late. Joy creeps up from his chest, turning into a flush once it reaches his face. He doesn’t want himself to turn into a blushing mess over a compliment like that but he doesn’t know what else to do besides slanting his lips back to yours with vigor, his hips moving once again as he mumbles out, “Thanks. I need them to see.”

You yank on his hair until he groans. “Way to ruin the moment, asshole.”

“Oh, we’re having a moment?” He chortles. “Sorry, I wasn’t aware. Too busy fucking you.”

“Yeah, less talking. Go harder.”

The sound of people chanting his name is getting louder, muffling the sound of your skin meeting his and you can’t help but laugh a little, “If only they knew what you’re doing right now. They’ll be terribly disappointed.”

“I doubt it.” He’s a little bit out of breath but he’s nowhere near finished. “Band members fuck their groupies all the time. It’s nothing new.”

“Am I your groupie?”

“Well, you’re a fan of my music.” His hand lands on your chest, flicking his thumb over your nipple. “And you’ll do anything I ask you, isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

“You’re disgusting,” you say, though you can’t stop yourself from mirroring his smirk. There’s something so hot and satisfying about the fact that there are hundreds of girls screaming his name on the other side of the stage, begging to be in your position and you’re here, tasting the roof of his mouth with him begging to come inside you.

“How does it feel, baby,” Eren asks, his mouth panting words on your jawline. “To have Eren Jaeger of Empire fucking you like this?”

“So fucking good.” You can’t even lie and admitting it only makes the knots tightened inside your stomach. “Eren—go harder, please—” He does and your jaw hangs low, eyebrows furrowing as you clutch onto his shoulders. It only takes a few more thrusts in that pace and angle before you come hard, biting into your fist to muffle your moan. You’re clenching around him, making him hiss in sensation.

“Fuck, baby, did you just come?” He asks, sounding both surprised and amused. He can feel your body shaking as he stops to hold you close. “No shit, ten minutes? That must be some kind of record.”

If you weren’t too tired and washed away by your orgasm to care, you would’ve blushed madly over his words. “Shut up, and just come already.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” His next thrust knocks the air out of your lungs and you secure your hold around him. His hair is a mess, his face hidden in your neck as you tangled your legs around his waist. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby—”

Right at that moment, you hear a voice from the other side of the door. “Bodt, where the fuck is Jaeger?!”

“Shit,” your eyes widening in fear. “That’s Levi—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eren says, already feeling so close to the edge.

“I can’t not worry about it, your manager is here—”

“Mr. Ackerman, if you can just wait one minute, please.” You can hear Marco pleading for your sake. “He’s, uh, he’s not alone in there.”

Oh my God, we are so dead. “Eren, stop, we gotta—“

“You’re tightening around me.” Eren moans between chuckles, “Goddamn, baby, is this another kink of yours? You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

Maybe he’s right, or maybe you’re reacting this way because of how sexy he sounded when he called you a dirty girl. As he usually praises you with loving words, it lights a fire in your stomach when he teases you like this.

“Is he having sex?!” You can hear Levi shouting. “Is he fucking over there?!”

Jesus— You push him away by the shoulders, panicking. “Eren, let me go—“

“But I haven’t come,” he mewls, hips moving frantically as he lays one hand on your face, holding you firmly by the cheek. “Please, baby,” Eren says with his eyes—those beautiful green eyes you said you loved—pleading. “I want to come.”

“Fuck—” You push him as hard as you can until he stumbles on his feet and you go down to your knees. You curl your fingers around him, tight but not too tight, just the way he likes it. “Come in my mouth,” you tell him as his eyes widen in surprise and before he can say anything else, you take him fully into your mouth.

“Shit!” His jaw hangs slack on his face, breathing hard as he watches you hollow your cheeks around him. “Oh my God, baby—”

You hum, sending vibrations and goosebumps all over his skin as you grab the back of his thighs, bringing him as deep as you can take into your mouth. You have your tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock, sucking him off hard. Eren flinches, grabbing a handful of your hair, his head hanging low. “Fuck, fuck, since when did you get to be so good—” He’s panting heavily, chest rising up and down. “Baby, I want to fuck your mouth.” It’s not a statement of warning, he’s asking for permission. You can hear Levi pounding his fist against the door, shouting Eren’s name. Panicking, you quickly nod, “Yeah, anything—just come—”

Eren doesn’t waste a second longer. He lays one hand on the door, another one holding the back of your skull and he pushes his hips forward until he hits the back of your throat. You choke, your throat feels like burning. “Open your mouth,” he begs and when you loosen your jaw, he adds, “Wider.”

It’s harsh and rough and you wonder whether this is the reason why he kept declining your offer to go down on him before. Eren knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back the moment he got to taste the warmth of your mouth. The way your eyes turn glassy as you look up at him with his cock buried deep, your nose is pressing against his pelvis—you look so goddamn lewd, so indecent and he loves it. Loves the fact that he’s corrupting you, loves the way you’re turning into this mess because of him.

I’m disgusting, he admits, wetting his lip once as he devours the sight of you tearing up on your knees. Such a horrible person for loving this but I can’t stop. “Your mouth feels so fucking good—"

And he comes. He comes with his hips stuttering. He comes with his hand tightening its hold around your strands, pushing your head down on him so you can take everything inside your mouth. He comes with a breathless moan of your name, with his cheeks flushed, and his head thrown back in pleasure. “Goddamn, baby…”

You wait for him to finish, breathing heavily through your nose. You can taste him on your tongue, thick and hot and foreign. Once he pulls away, Eren gently cradles your face, tilting it upward to meet his eyes. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he praises with half-lidded eyes. Your lipstick is ruined, your lips bruised and swollen and Eren runs his thumb over them before he presses it against your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth. His come drips down your chin, staining his finger while you swallow the rest of it. “I’m gonna think of you,” he whispers, eyes dazed as he smirks, “Looking just like this as I go on stage.”

***

Empire is ten minutes behind schedule and with the way Levi is scowling at you, you’re sure that this is gonna be the last time you’ll ever get invited backstage. “I’m sorry,” you keep bowing your head at him as Marco assists Eren, Jean, and Reiner with their in-ear monitors.

Levi exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop his headache. “I know half of this isn’t your fault,” he says, cold as usual but without any malice in his voice. “These shitty brats just love fucking with my patience.”

“Still, I should’ve—”

“Yes, you should’ve,” he firmly scolds you and you fidget on your feet. “Be grateful that you don’t work for me, ‘cause if you did, I’m gonna have you fired within seconds.”

“I’m…” you bow your head lower. “I’m sorry.”

Levi takes another glance, appearing to be deep in thoughts before he sighs and lands a hand on your shoulder. “But I guess, I should thank you.” Seeing you frown, he elaborates. “Not for doing the shit you just did, mind you. But for making him… Well, the way he is now.” He cocks his head to where Eren is standing. “He’s been looking much more alive ever since he came back from the tour, and I know that it has something to do with you.” You keep yourself silent and your heartrate steady. “I was worried about him before,” Levi continues, and to your surprise, a tiny smile—so faint and light—emerges on his thin lips. “But, I guess, now you’re here, I don’t have to anymore.”

He walks away, leaving you frozen and appalled. You watch him with adoring eyes, thinking, Nah, he’s not so mean, after all.

***

“Reiner, you okay?” Eren asks, waiting at the side of the stage as his hairstylist fixes his hair in a hurry (and it’s all your fault). “You look kinda pale.”

“He’s fine,” Jean answers on his behalf, casually draping his arm around Reiner’s shoulders. “We’re feeling fine, aren’t we, Reiner?”

Reiner buries his face in his hands, mumbling, “Lord Jesus, please forgive me for my sins.”

Eren casts them a judging look. “Did you two fuck?”

“Yes, we fucked,” Jean answers proudly before he realizes his words. “I mean, not us fucking each other—eww, what is wrong with you?” He sticks out his tongue while Eren rolls his eyes. “But yeah, you know that girl, Pieck?”

“Oh my God, Pieck, at the same time?!” You, standing a couple of meters away behind the boys, clueless to their conversation, scream at your friend’s atrocious confession.

“What?” She shrugs, completely unfazed. “I have enough holes to cover them both. Even one more hole to spare, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh my God, don’t talk to me.”

“What about you?” Pieck says, displaying a nasty grin. “You look like you just got fucked real nice too.”

“Shut up.”

“Did you get to choke on his dick?”

“Oh my God—” Fortunately for you, Eren diverts your attention by tugging you gently by the wrist. He already has his bass hanging on his shoulder, the silver piercing in his ear glinting under the light.

“Hey,” he says, smiling a bit sheepishly despite the dirty deed you two had done a few minutes ago. “I’m about to go on stage. Wish me luck?”

“I don’t think you need it.” You mirror his smile, somehow just as abashed. “But good luck.” Eren dips his head down to catch your lips between his, startling you and you can hear Pieck quietly gasps, “Oh my.”

“Jaeger, for fuck’s sake!” Levi shouts as Reiner and Jean walk down the stage. “Get your ass back here now!”

Eren cuts his kiss short—thank God, because you don’t know if you can handle your racing heart any further than that. He lands a hand on your head, bending down until his eyes are on the same level as yours. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” He beams. “And listen to every word I sing.”

You gulp. “Y-yeah.”

“Good.” He ruffles your hair once before he runs back to where he came, heading straight to the stage. The crowd roars, screaming their names and you can see through the LED screen how Eren smiles brilliantly. He lands his hands on his bass, and with Reiner’s count, Empire kicks off the show with their intro.

“He’s so in love with you,” Pieck says as you watch their performance from the side, staring in awe with your lips slightly parted. “It’s cute but, also, kinda gross.”

And you don’t respond, don’t care enough to do it. Not when Eren shines radiantly like this. Their intro contains only music, but even then, the way they completely take over the audience is impressive. The crushingly heavy, obscenely loud noise that rolls from Eren’s bass, striding forward in tandem with Reiner’s thunderous drumming. Jean’s guitar solo in the middle of the song is fresh and clean, painting a new color to their sound. The notion of a three-piece sounding huge didn’t seem plausible, but it really is. Empire sounds massive, enough to rival any other band. And Eren is the one who holds the crowds inside their palms.

He’s so focused, so energetic, so captivating as he delivers a fiery riff from his growling Fender Jaguar Bass. He casts a mix between a smirk and a smile in Jean’s direction before he goes harder on his instrument. Seeing him from the side of the stage is unsatisfying. You want to see him from among the crowds, like how you did when you first saw him again in college.

“It sucks seeing them play from here, doesn’t it?” Marco says, standing right next to you.

“Yeah,” you admit. You want to see his face with your own eyes, not through the LED screen that flashes behind him.

“Then, let’s go.” Marco cocks his head, grinning. You know what he’s planning to do, and with your eyes lighting up in excitement, you follow him without hesitation in your steps.

“Hey!” Pieck calls. “Where are you going?!”

You toss a look over your shoulder as you run. “To see the show!”

***

There’s a rail and some space between the audience and the stage for security reasons, with a few bodyguards and staff standing on guard to keep the crowd in control. Marco has kindly lent you a similar shirt that the other staff wear to stop you from sticking out like a sore thumb among the crew. He guides you as close as possible to the arena until you find yourself standing in the space that separates the stage and the audience. The crowds are pushing against the railing behind you, their hands raised in the air, heads bobbing to Empire’s alternative rock music. You can see Eren clearly now, can see how the lights fall perfectly on his face. There’s nothing else between you and him and once he’s finished with the intro, he immediately starts with the second song without a break. And it’s a song that he showed you in the studio. The song titled ‘Hero/Heroine’, the one song that, unbeknownst to you, he created for you on the day you two finally became one.

(Click here if you want to listen to Eren's music while you read)

Eren walks close to his standing microphone, his lips nearly brushing against it as he sings. “It's too late, baby, there's no turning around. I've got my hands in my pocket and my head in a cloud.” His eyes scan the crowd like how they usually do, and they land on yours—almost in the exact way like how they were during his performance on the day you were reunited. But this time, he’s not surprised. He doesn’t panic. He smiles, and it’s so soft, so sweet, it almost feels like he’s breaking out of character—of this persona he displays on stage. “This is how I do when I think about you.”

There are probably a thousand people in the arena. Hundreds of different girls screaming his name. And yet there he is, standing on the stage, his bass in his hands and his eyes fixated on yours. He keeps them there, not caring about the crowd, not caring about the cameras that slide past him to capture his expression on the LED screen. He just keeps them there, glued to your shaking ones and if you were closer, he would’ve been able to see his reflection in them.

“Why does he keep looking over here?” You can hear a girl asking behind you, exchanging gleeful giggles with her friend. “Do you think he’s looking at us?”

Your heart squeezes into a ball before it swells large enough to suffocate your chest. You can’t believe he’s so shamelessly giving you all this attention, not giving a fuck about his image. And as he sings, “I feel like a hero, and you are my heroine,” you can’t take it anymore.

You bring your gaze to the ground, hiding your eyes behind your bangs with your teeth sinking into your lip.

Stop trying to make me fall for you, idiot.

It’s frightening, how easily he’s tugging at your heartstrings. At this point, you know you’re going to lose the battle and you don’t want that to happen. Not yet. He’s probably still unsure about his feelings as much as you are, especially when it comes to dealing with the consequences if your relationship fails in the future. None of you are prepared for that yet. You, certainly, are not ready to start a relationship with him. You’re not sure if you can deal with the pressure and the insecurities of dating a celebrity. You just want to keep whatever is going on with you right now as long as you can.

It’s just a safer option to choose.

***

When Jean said Eren was his agency’s golden boy, it wasn’t an overstatement. The more you see how it is going on inside the industry, the more you realize that Eren isn’t famous because he’s the lead singer of Empire. Empire is famous because they have Eren Jaeger as their frontman. Eren can survive in the industry without Empire, but the second he walks away from them, they’re as good as dead. And it shows from how much he has his own gigs, even declining offers from many respectable brands due to his tight schedule.

Today, Eren has invited you to one of his photoshoots since you keep pestering him about it. He didn’t want to agree to it at first, probably embarrassed to strike sexy poses in front of you but you were relentless. You wanted to know how it went behind the scenes, curious of how he would act as a model, and after taking you five times practically begging on your knees, he finally permitted you to see him in action. He hasn’t disclosed more details about the photoshoot, simply answering, “Just, you know, for some Italian company,” with a shrug when you asked him what it was for.

He provided you an address to follow and told you to meet him there, saying, “I’d love to go together with you but I have an interview before that.” And that’s fine, unlike you who have nothing to do but your laundry on the weekend, Eren’s schedule is always packed. It’s a good thing too that you don’t come with him knowing there might be paparazzi around and getting your picture taken and spread on the internet is the last thing you want to happen. His fanbase mostly consists of frenzied, immature fangirls who leave naughty comments on every YouTube video that features his face. The last thing you want is to have your social media accounts stalked and attacked viciously by them.

Following his address, you arrive at a five-star hotel that has, possibly, the most stunning architectural design you’ve ever laid your eyes on. True, you haven’t been going around much so you might be easily impressed, but seeing how expensive they charge their guest for a one-night stay, you might not be too far off.

Eren has given you a number to call once you arrive at the place. You follow his instructions and within minutes, a male staff with freckles on his cheeks come by to meet you in the lobby. “Marco!” You greet in surprise, your jaw hanging a little bit loose on your face.

The staff—who had kindly taken care of you during your whole backstage fiasco—gives you a polite bow, grinning happily that you remember his name. “It’s been a couple of months since we last met. How are you?” He asks and you stop for a chit-chat. Before long, he leads you to the elevator. “Come. Mr. Jaeger has been waiting for you.”

“I thought you were part of the technical team,” you say, trailing after him. “I didn’t expect to see you here for Eren’s modeling gig.”

“Well, I have nothing to do so I asked him whether I could tag along today. He said yes.” Marco smiles back, genuine and sweet. “He’s really kind, Mr. Jaeger. He’s a bit distant and cold when you first met him but if you could see past that, he’s actually really nice. He’s the reason why I still have this job, actually.”

“Yeah?” You respond, wanting to know his story. “What happened?”

“Well, when I first joined the team, I was so nervous and ended up making a terrible mistake during their performance. Once the concert was over, I was sure that would be the end of it for me, but Mr. Jaeger stepped up and took all the blame. I asked him why would he go through that trouble for me and he only shrugged and said, ‘No reason, just don’t feel like watching someone get fired on their first day of work.’ He was…” His eyes sparkle. “He was cool.”

Marco reminds you of how thirteen-year-old Eren used to talk about his idol, Kurt Cobain, and it’s so heartwarming to know that right now, Eren has someone who admires him just as much. “So, I’m guessing you’re his number one fanboy now?” You tease him and Marco simply laughs, growing a bit shy. “Why don’t you just call him Eren?”

“He’s told me to do that several times in the past, but I can’t. I respect him too much to call him by his first name like that.”

You hum. “You should, though. I’m sure he’d be happier if you call him by his name.”

“Why is that?”

“Because that’s what friends do.” You beam at him. “And if you want to pay him back, be his friend.”

Marco goes still for a few seconds before he melts into another soft smile. “The photoshoot is supposed to start in half an hour,” he says, stepping inside an empty elevator. He holds a button to keep the door open for you and you mention your gratitude with a nod. “But I guess we’re gonna run a little bit late since we’re still waiting for one more model to arrive—”

“Hold the door, please!”

Marco keeps his finger on the button until a boy with a mop of fluffy golden hair and his bag slinging on one shoulder steps inside the elevator. Panting for breath, he sighs in relief as he leans his back against the steel sheet, his maroon-colored beanie nearly falls off his head. “Thanks,” he says with an awkward smile as he fixes his thick eyeglasses. He’s holding a cup of iced americano in one hand while hugging three books to his chest. Checking the silver watch he has on his wrist, he mutters under his breath, “Thank God, there’s still time.”

“Which floor?” Marco asks him.

“What?” He abruptly straightens up, easily startled. “Oh—Thirty-sixth.”

“Oh, we’re heading there too.”

“Great. Are you—” One of his books slips away from his arm but you catch it for him before it meets the floor. “Oh, sorry,” he says, a little bit jittery when he speaks. “T-thanks.”

“Let me carry it for you,” you suggest. “You have your hands full over there.”

“Oh no—you don’t have to—”

“I insist.” You toss him a smile and he blinks twice before he quickly drags his eyes to his feet, his cheeks turning a little bit pink. You almost giggle. Three people inside this elevator with you being the only female, but these two men act more like a shy thirteen-year-old girl compared to you.

You take a glimpse of the book in your hand, a smile breaking on your lips once you see the title. “It’s rare for boys these days to read something by Virginia Woolf,” you say, gaining his attention back. “Are you a fan?”

“Ah… Yes.” He timidly nods. “Are—are you?”

“Absolutely. I don’t know how many times I’ve read this one already. I never got a copy of this book, though, which is a shame. It never feels satisfying, you know, reading the e-book version of it.” You keep your smile intact as you go through the pages. “Ah! This one is my favorite quote.” You stop at a certain page, eyes scanning through the passage before you read the words out loud. “I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river; to me, you’re everything that exists—”

“The reality of everything,” the boy finishes, already has it memorized. His eyes gleam in excitement, happy that he has found someone with the same taste. Now that he’s looking at you straight in the eyes, you can tell that he has blue eyes but his glasses are so thick, you’re not sure whether they have a splotch of green in them.

“I’m Armin,” he pushes back his glasses again before they slide down his nose. Hugging his books closer to his chest, he offers you his hand. “Armin Arlert.”

“Hello Armin Armin Arlert,” you joke, shaking his hand as you tell him your name. “And this is Marco… Bodt, right?” You question, unsure of his last name. Marco nods, raising a hand in the air to greet him.

He’s so entranced by the affable grin you display on your face that he doesn’t notice his books slipping off his arm again. He manages to catch them on his own this time, but as he abruptly bends forward, he spills almost half of his americano to the floor and some to his clothes. “Oh God,” he grimaces.

“You’re quite clumsy, aren’t you?” You help him up, gathering his books for him so he can wipe the stain off his navy blue sweater.

“Y-yeah, I get that a lot.” He forces himself to chuckle. Before he retrieves the books from your hand, the elevator stops at your floor. The door slides open and Marco steps out first, holding it for you.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Armin,” you say, returning his books to him. “As much as I would love the chat with you more about Mrs. Woolf, I believe you are running late.”

“Huh?” You can actually tell the second his mind clicks. “Oh, right, I am!” Without bidding goodbye, he already runs down the hallway, only to stop and turn on his heels to see you. “I hope we can meet again!” He shouts, waving his drink in the air and you laugh at him, doing the same thing with your hand.

“He’s so cute,” you say, chuckling to yourself. It stops immediately, however, when you see Marco playfully giving you a side-eye. “What?”

“Mr. Jaeger isn’t going to be pleased with that comment,” he says, holding back his grin as he walks past you.

“Wha—” You blush as you walk closely behind. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Marco, Eren and I are not dating.”

“It’s none of my business, but…” He smirks a little. “Okay.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re actually kinda cheeky, aren’t you?”

He laughs. “To my friends, yeah.”

***

They have hired a spacious suite—bigger than your entire apartment, for sure—to do the photoshoot. You see many staff, models, and photographers around you, walking back-and-forth to make sure everything is in order. Marco leads you further into the room until your gaze lands on the model who stands near the vanity mirror. He has one hand unbuttoning the collar of his shirt, slightly bending his head down to allow a female stylist to fix his hair. She spatters hairspray to his perfectly styled man-bun, her fingers slightly shaking when he leans closer to her.

Eren Jaeger has never looked this stunning, but even if you say that every time, today he’s just on another level. He’s wearing an expensive black, three-piece suit with impeccable tailoring and detailed lining that showcases the broadness of his shoulders. He steps into the sunlight, letting the warmth that seeps through the glassy windows coat his sun-kissed skin. The aura he’s giving off makes him seem more mature and charismatic, like a young businessman taking over his father’s prestigious company. He’s so breathtaking that you literally have to remind yourself to refill the air in your lungs.

“Mr. Jaeger,” Marco calls and Eren lifts his head. The distant, somewhat unfriendly look on his face instantly morphs into a smile once he sees you walking into his sight, and it feels so out of place with the rest of his appearance. He’s about to call your name when the director calls his first.

“We’re going to take a few shots of you first as we wait for the other model to arrive,” the older male says, approaching his spot. “You’re done with your make-up, right?” Eren nods. “Great, then let’s start.”

Eren casts you a glance, mouthing “Sorry,” as he walks away. You smile and whisper back, “Good luck.”

He takes a seat on the couch with his legs crossed and his elbow propped on its armrest. Even just by doing so, Eren already looks absolutely gorgeous, that the male photographer has to stop and stare for a good few seconds before he remembers to adjust his lenses.

The camera flashes once his piercing eyes meet the lens. Eren poses so naturally in front of these lightings and cameras that it startles you how a simple pose could look so beautiful when it’s done by him. He unbuttons his suit, leaning back against the couch, and raises his chin. His eyes growing half-lidded as he stares into the camera, making him look sensual without going overboard. Everything that he does reeks masculinity and elegance at the same time. You’ve known that his body proportions are insane but this outfit just highlights every inch of his body that needs to be appreciated. His usual mischievous grin has vanished without a trace, using more of his brooding look than anything else.

Good Lord, I need to take a breather, you think to yourself, looking away. You can probably spend a good hour just marveling at his beauty but then you realize something. “Marco, what photoshoot is this for again?” The way Eren stares back at the camera—both enchanting and challenging—sends shivers down your spine.

“Didn’t he tell you? It’s for this year Salvatore Ferragamo’s Fall Winter Menswear Campaign.”

“He—what?!” You shriek, covering your mouth when you notice you’re being loud. Now that you’re focusing more on your surroundings—and not at the hot, green-eyed model who’s eye-fucking the camera right now—you notice that the company’s logo is scattered everywhere. “I can’t believe—He told me it was just for an Italian company!”

“It is an Italian company.”

“Yeah, but—“ Your protest ends in a sigh. “Just some Italian company, my ass.”

Marco laughs lightly at your reaction. “He’s also been signed as the new face of their latest fragrance, by the way. You’re going to see him everywhere in a few months.”

“Oh my God.” Rubbing your temple, you mutter quietly, “I can’t believe I’m sleeping around with the new face of Salvatore Ferragamo. Jesus Christ.”

“Did you say something?”

“Nope.”

***

You sit and wait in the living room with your phone between your hands for the rest of Eren’s solo session, not wanting to bother the process. It’s probably better for your mental health anyway, knowing he looks like that. You’re scrolling through Empire’s official account on Instagram, getting moderately vexed when you find endless comments about Eren’s face and his ‘chiseled abs’ in one picture of him singing shirtless on stage. You’re in the middle of grumbling to yourself when a male model steps inside the suite, walking across the living room to get to where Eren is doing his photoshoot. You can tell he’s a model by what he’s wearing. It’s similar to Eren’s attire, only instead of black, this model is dressed in all white. His beautiful golden hair is slicked back, showcasing his temple, looking fresh and sharp with an undercut. He’s noticeably shorter than Eren, but his shoulders are broad and he has that handsome prince vibe swirling around him. He looks like he’s in his mid-twenty just like him, but he appears much younger. Boyish. Cute.

Cute? You frown, noticing how he looks familiar. Where have I seen him before?

He greets the director, rubbing the back of his head as he bows apologetically and through his jittery gestures, you realize.

Armin?!

You nearly stand up from your seat, shocked. He looks nothing like the nervous, clumsy boy you met in the elevator half an hour ago. The other boy seemed like the kind you’d meet sitting in the corner of a coffee shop with a book in hand and his glasses sliding off his nose every two minutes as he reads. He was cute, yes, but more like college student cute with his bangs falling over his eyes. Not I’m one of Salvatore Ferragamo’s smoking hot models kind of cute.

He exchanges conversation with the director and bows his head two more times before the older male leaves to see how Eren’s photoshoot is going along. Taking the opportunity, you approach him. “So I guess, you’re being scolded for being late?”

“Jesus!” He jumps, his hand going to his chest as he turns around to face you. “Oh, it’s you!” His eyes widen and without his glasses, you can really see just how blue they are. Perfectly blue, not a splotch of green can be seen. They remind you of the ocean, the way they glimmer under the light, so clear and beautiful. “What—what are you doing here? Are you one of the female models?”

“Dressed like this?” You gesture to your jeans and your chic powder blue button-down shirt, playfully furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Let’s get real, Armin, come on.”

“Ah, you’re right…” Then, he panics. “Wait—I’m not saying that what you’re wearing right now is sloppy or anything—it’s not, it’s not sloppy at all—you’re beautiful—” And he blushes, going frantic. “I mean—"

You’ve never talked to someone so shy and nervous before that just by seeing him, you can feel yourself getting awkward. “It’s… It’s okay. I get it.” You chuckle. “Calm down now.”

His mouth is parted, ready to spout more rambling but decides to end with a sigh. “I just…” He brings his gaze down to his feet. “I thought you were a model because you look…pretty enough to be one.”

He’s not flirting, you can tell. He can’t even maintain eye contact, so flirting would probably be the last thing that would cross his mind. Which makes this whole situation endearing, knowing that he’s just being honest. “Are you always like this?” You ask him.

He titters awkwardly. “Ramble when I’m nervous? Yeah.”

“No. Cute.” At your words, his jaw drops, staring at you with wide eyes shaking in disbelief as if he just heard you saying something outrageous when all you did was complimenting him back. “I’m just kidding,” you add, giggling. “Sorry, you’re just so transparent, I can’t help but make fun of you a little. Am I being mean?”

That little gape turns into a pout. “A little.”

“I’m sorry.”

A stylist comes close to interrupt, taking a double check on his white vest. “Then, uh, what do you do?” Armin asks as he tilts his chin upward to give the stylist more access to his collar. “If that’s not rude to ask.”

“Oh, I’m a journalist, working for PMC.”

“That’s a big company. You’re here for an interview?”

“No. My friend just invited me over,” you answer, cocking your head to where Eren is now standing on the balcony, leaning against the railing with his head thrown back while the photographer takes numerous close-up shots of him.

Armin follows your gaze. “You’re friends with Eren?”

“Are you?”

“Well, I think of him as one,” he awkwardly replies with a timid smile. “Not sure how he thinks about me, though.”

“Does he listen to you when you talk?”

“Huh?” He blinks. “Oh, umm… I guess?”

“Then yeah, he thinks of you as a friend.” You assure him. The stylist leaves the spot once she’s satisfied with her work and she sends her approval to a different photographer. “Well, Armin, don’t let me take too much of your time. You should go back to work.”

“I—I can stay for a chat,” he hastily responds, one arm reaching out to grab your wrist from walking away but giving up on the last second before he can touch you.

“Armin,” you chuckle, noticing how the photographer is now shouting his name from the other side of the room. “He’s literally calling you over there.”

Armin turns around to apologize to the male and raises one finger in the air, silently begging him to give him one minute to talk to you.

He faces you again, bracing himself. “Can—can we sit down and have a chat once I’m done with my photoshoot?” His thoughts start to run on their own before you can answer. “I mean—I’m not asking you to wait for me—you can leave whenever you want, but if you—if you’re planning to stay, I thought—maybe—coffee?”

With this amount of stammering, this is probably the worst way you’ve ever seen a guy asking you out on a coffee date but it is for that very reason why you find him even more adorable. “I’m sorry,” you reply, shoulders sagging, “I already have plans with Eren after this.”

“Oh—y-yeah—umm—” His voice shakes. “Are you guys… dating?”

“Huh? No, we’re not.” The words come out seamlessly from how many times you have repeated the same line to the people working in the industry, not wanting to give Eren unnecessary attention. Although it still feels heavy to say the words out loud, and wrong, as soon as you can convince yourself that you’re not lying to anyone, you can maintain your composure.

“Oh…” Armin’s eyes brighten up almost instantly. “T-then, maybe someday I can come by to your office and we can grab some lunch together?”

You know where this is going. If you say yes, you’re going to give him hope. He will think you’re interested in him, but are you? You find him endearing in a way that is so different from how you regard Eren in your eyes. Armin, just like his looks, is a stark contrast to how Eren is as a person. It’s not a bad thing, it’s… refreshing. You can’t deny you’re attracted to his face too, but…

What would Eren think about me seeing someone else?

“First, it can help make sure of your feelings for him,” you remember Pieck said. “Second, it can help him put some action to his feelings. He’ll get jealous. He’s not gonna want to share you with anyone else and maybe then, he’ll tell you how he truly feels about you.”

You chew on your bottom lip, still unprepared. But when you see the excitement in Armin’s sapphire blue eyes turns into worry as he weakly asks you, “Do you… not want to?” You don’t have the heart to say no. Besides, it’s not like the date is going to happen today. Probably not anytime soon. Maybe he’ll chicken out on the last second and ends up never asking you at all. You still have time to think about it.

So you smile, turning your eyes into crescents, and say, “I’d love to, Armin.”

***

A handsome devil and a beautiful angel.

That’s how Eren and Armin appear in your eyes as they stand next to each other with their backs leaning against the wall, posing for the camera. Eren has a dark, mysterious vibe to his charm while Armin is angelic and pure and they complete each other so perfectly like a painting.

You’ve already known how different Eren can be when he transforms into his other persona, but even then he still surprises you. You thought no one would have the duality like him, but Armin? Armin is insane. Just the fact that he doesn’t stand pale in comparison when he’s standing next to Eren Jaeger of Empire already says so much. Armin is drenched in confidence, far away from the nerdy boy who sinks into anxiety whenever he speaks longer than a word. He is bold and captivating. Even the intensity of his gaze matches Eren’s.

Two hours long photoshoot feels like a minute to you and you’re feeling a bit dazed when it’s over. “Perfect,” the director says, ending the session. “I think we got the shots we need.”

Eren noticeably sighs, looking downright tired when all he did was just standing there and looking pretty. Armin laughs, patting his back and murmuring encouraging words at him. The golden-haired boy seems more relaxed compared to when he was with you and it makes him appear even younger. Eren still has his guarded look on but you can tell he’s not annoyed by his presence. He even has this tiny smile—that will probably go unnoticed by most people—breaking on his lips as he sees Armin talks passionately about something. He gives him his full attention, nodding his head once a while as he listens. They’re like brothers with Eren being the older one who patiently waits for his little brother to finish his story.

Once you step into his line of view, however, his concentration breaks. “Armin, sorry, I gotta go,” he abruptly says, leaving the other boy startled. Eren strolls quickly to your spot, naturally winding one arm around your waist as he bends his head down to kiss your cheek. “Sorry for making you wait,” he says, standing a little too close and making you blush.

“Umm, it’s fine.” Your hand absentmindedly goes to your hair, carding through the strands that don’t need to be fixed. “You were—you did great.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling an eyebrow. “How hot was I?”

You roll your eyes. “Decent.”

“Always not honest.” Eren shakes his head, holding back his laughter. “Sorry for not keeping you company. I thought I could spend a few minutes to chat but I couldn’t even take a glimpse of you.”

So you didn’t see me talking to Armin before, huh? You refrain yourself from asking the questions. Seeing how he hasn’t said anything about it yet already serves as an answer. But how do you expect him to react if he did, anyway? Do you want him to be jealous? Do you want him to stand between you and Armin and say, ‘she’s mine, back off’?

You want to bury your face in your hands, ashamed of how your thoughts are imagining things on their own. Cheesy things too, as if your life was one of those horrendous rom-com movies you saw on Netflix.

“You okay?” Eren asks, frowning.

“Yeah, just…” Great, now you can’t even look at him. “Are you done with your photoshoot?“

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go change. Give me ten minutes?”

“Sure.”

Eren pecks your cheek one more time before he walks away and your eyes land back almost immediately on Armin’s. He’s seen everything, seen the way Eren behaved around you, and how you behaved around him. There’s a sad, heartbroken look on his face but you haven’t known him well enough to be sure about it. He timidly grins, awkwardly raising a hand in the air to wave at you. Strangely, you feel like you owe him an explanation and you find yourself wandering close to where he is until someone tugs at his arm.

“We need to get you changed for the next shoot,” one of the stylists says, “Come with me.” She leaves no room to bargain and Armin sends you an apologetic smile before he’s ushered to another room.

Well, you think, sighing. He’s surely not gonna show up for that date.

You’re not sure how you feel. Are you disappointed? Relieved? It’s a little bit of both. You’re still taking a moment trying to figure it out when Eren lands a hand on your head, startling you. You turn around to see him already dressed back in a casual shirt and jeans, his leather jacket draping over his shoulders. “Ready to go, babe?”

“Yeah.”

Whatever it is, you can think about it later.

***

Next Chapter

There's also a bonus chapter which you can read here.

AN: Thanks for reading! I'm so sorry that this feels like a filler chapter because I just really want to write backstage sex eren singing to her in front of his fangirls, it just gives me all the feels. I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think about Armin!

Thank you my dear @justasketch for always helping me brainstorm the shit out of this story. You're busy as fuck and yet you still spend some of your precious time to read my fic I'll never be able to thank you enough I LOVE YOU

Tagging: @tasteless @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @luvtaromilktea @didiyogo @xximthefoolxx-blog @coiloves @erenbean @tehehebri thanks so much for reading, lovelies! ❤️❤️❤️ Let me know what you think!

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #aot smut #snk smut #aot fluff #eren jaeger fluff #eren headcanons #eren yeager fluff #eren x you #The Last Song Canon

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ickymichi · 3 years

Text

MY BAND.

a tendou satori series.

✟ theres always been the one rule every person who’s been in a band knows not to break, never mess around with your band mates. but Satori was sick of the groupies, sick of catching the bra’s and panties that were flung at him every night. he just wanted the one thing he couldn’t have.

✟ warnings: swearing, eventual smut, angst(?), drug use, inappropriate themes, comedy.

✟ things to know: band au!, tendou can sometimes be ooc, some timeskip careers mentioned, slow updates.

✟ word count: 2.7k

✟note: so uh, who remembers this series? this has been in my drafts since april so excuse my old cringe writing but i love the concept of rockstar satori so i decided to slowly revive this :) the first few chapters won’t be anything huge, just to get to know everyone and where abouts the story is, enjoy!

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated. please do not repost or modify on this or any other platform. mymattsun 2021.

003: LIVE WIRE!

previous||masterlist||next

As if he could sense where the two of you were doing, Eita called your phone and once accepted he was at your throat. “where the fuck are you two?” it sounded like he was at a bar or some crowded place in general. “we’re coming back now don’t get your panties twis-” “don’t go back to the motel, we got a last minute call to cover for some band that was a no show,” the information he gave made you stop in your tracks and grab Satori’s arm to stop him. “seriously?” “seriously,” if he could see you now he’d most definitely be laughing at the way your face contorted and how your foot stamped the floor. “but I thought we had to go over the set list, i’m still not 100% with it,” you tried persuading him with some bullshit excuse but like usual, he’s also one step ahead; “I knew that, so I told them we’d do one original and just a few covers, it’s only an opening act for some band from across the country,” just as you were about to complain about how tired you were, Satori snatched the phone from your hand and brought it to his own ear. “Semisemi! So sorry for all the trouble but we’ll be right over just send us all the deets and we’ll get crackin’” “never talk like that again, please.” Was the last thing you heard before the line got cut, and Tendou was sprinting off with you being dragged behind him.

The venue looked like any other in the area and the loud music could be heard from where you were approaching. Before you got dragged further towards the back door you caught a glimpse of the post board that had the bands poster for tonight and under, with an x over had the opening acts name, was now replaced by your own. Usually people either talked about how they were curious about the opening band or they complained about how boring it would be to wait, unfortunately this time it was the latter.

Once the dressing room door came into sight Tendou pushed open the heavy barrier and rushed straight to his suitcase to find clothes, you quickly following behind and doing the same when Eita told you there was fifteen minutes till you had to go.

“they’re complaining about us out there,” you commented, just wanting to break the silence in some type of way. “well let them, never bothered us in the past,” Semi countered without even looking at you behind him, too busy writing down the set list for the show. “quick you two, which pair?” Tendou asked while holding up a pair of black, tight ripped skinny jeans and another pair but flared at the ends with red and orange flames on the ankles. “this pair, the flames are too tacky,” pointing to the plain skinny’s you told him truthfully while trying to shimmy into the leather pants Satori wore last night.

The last ten minutes after you got ready we’re filled with the three of you going over the set list, deciding on 3 covers and one original at the end, knowing it would be quite if you started with an original. Satori tuning up his bass as well as Eita doing the same with his own guitar, leaving you to drum the beat of the first song you’d open to on your thighs with the pair of sticks you got from your bag. Finally you got called—after a 15 minute delay over an issue with the mics. But in the same order as every night, Semi led you then Tendou to the side before giving his little ‘pep talk’. “Let’s just go out, get it over with have as much fun as we can, hopefully win them over, then get shitfaced after. It’ll be on Manager headass over there.” He did always know what to say to get you and your other band mate into the right headspace, and he’d always sneak a joke in there. “wait what’s on me?,” Taichi couldn’t even get an answer as the three of you walked off laughing and got into your places.

The hushed whispers and sounds of you all getting set up that the mic picked up. Semi, who stood in the middle front and centre gave a nod to the ride side and the lights went down low while silence over took the small area. Finally Semi turned to Tendou then yourself giving both a nod before facing the people in front him.

The quick, loud noise of the opening cut through the speakers, Semi’s talented fingers working the strings of the guitar already electing some cheers from the larger sided crowd. Harshly you hit the sticks against the needed parts and once the beat dropped, from the corner of your eye, you could see Tendou’s loose flaming locks thrash as he dipped his head down and worked his own fingers. Semi’s voice struck more cheers from the people before the stage as usual. It’s more the shock of it— he looks like he’d have a more deeper, baritone voice, but yet it’s slightly more high pitched, able to hit the notes and screams, even being able to get deeper when needed. Tendou’s being the same but even more higher, he was perfect for this area of music, the high pitched backing vocals or solos correspond perfectly with his talent for the bass. Your own voice would often be heard in backing vocals, maybe on a often song you’d have a verse or few lines, but it wasn’t easy to beat cymbals and a snare while also trying to sing all at once, so you sat pretty atop the stool behind the kit while the two boys worked their magic in front.

The women of the crowd quickly moved to the barricade when they got a glimpse of the two men, screaming to get their attention—they loved it, who wouldn’t? women at their feet fawning over them every night. Satori was never afraid to get down and close to them, letting the wandering hands roam across his bare glistening chest. Every time he’d indulge in the attention, you felt your eyebrow twitch or your blood boil, but could never understand why. Maybe it was just seeing all the attention he got from the dozens of gorgeous women—jeez, the most attention you’d get is from some ancient biker guy telling you how good your ass looked in your pants as you were getting off stage. Whatever the cause of your annoyance was, you just wish you could pin point it and make it stop.

The loud sound of the people shouting, Semi and Tendou’s voices mixing together and all the instruments pulled you into that high you love at every show. Judging by how well the first song went you knew it would be a good one.

Common fan favourites were always easy to get the crowd going when it would be cover night’s, and Tendou claimed this was one of his favourites to preform because he loved turning to face you while the he chanted “oi!, oi!, oi!” with you at the beginning and throughout. Also he loved how he got to pull out his ‘scratchy voice’, Semi not so much in agreement.

It was an easy shout to get the crowd on your side and jumping, even for you it was fun to preform. Just like Satori you loved when he’d come up to your kit and shout into one of the microphones used for your cymbals while chanting with you, always pointing an unoccupied drumstick at him with a wide grin on your face as is red hot eyes would burn into your own.

The crowd started to get more and more into the performance as the song led on. As well as them, the three of you were to. It was easier to get more hyper when the crowd matched the energy and tonight they were doing more than matching it.

To describe how they were, more panties and bras had been thrown on stage in the past 15 minutes than the previous two days. As well as that you got your own “gift” of a pair of boxers landing on the snare between your thighs. As always Satori loved to indulge in the women’s entertainment, so he was now wearing someone’s thong as a headband— mimicking your own. Phones and other miscellaneous things were also gathering on the floor beneath the boy’s feet. Drawing away from the flying undergarments, there was also 1 or 2 people crowd surfing the small crammed crowd. One person had also already tried to jump on stage but didn’t make it too far.

The people below roared at the sound of the familiar chords, they always did, it was a your most known track that always got them loud. The lights shining on Eita as he, again worked his fingers that held such talent. before flashing brightly as you bashed the sticks against the cymbals and twisting the pieces of wood between your fingers and letting your hands instinctively move to where they belong.

By the time you hit the final notes on the Tom and cymbal simultaneously the sweat was cascading off your forehead and onto the snare in front of you. The noise of cheers cut you out of trying to regain your breath. Without realising you were already on the final track on the set was over. On cue Semi thanked the audience that could barely be heard over the claps, screams and begs for another song— guess you were worried about their complaining for nothing. Just like a ritual you threw the drumstick from you left hand into the crowd, seeing a guy similar to your age catch it, but not without a fight. On his way out Satori was blowing kisses to the floor before you dragged him off by his belt, “c’mon lover boy,”

When Eita kicked open the door Tachi was already waiting with cases of alcohol, bags of food and white lines on a tray. “they fucking loved you guys, it was crazy to watch!” Taichi was always good at encouraging you after good and bad shows, waiting each time behind the door with open arms and a wide smile. He patted each of you on the back while shoving a beer bottle into everyone’s hands. “thanks Tai’ hold this while I go clean up,” nodding he took it back and moved for you to make your way out for a few minutes.

After only ten minutes of quality time between the four of you, it was cut short like always by the groupies running to wedge their way onto the couch. Seeing them all flush over how good the boys were and how hot they looked on stage was nothing out of the ordinary, but you couldn’t help that same feeling that bubbled up when you saw how Tendou indulged in their love on stage. Their high pitched giggles and cheap perfume filled enough of your senses that the only thing you could think of was how enjoyable fresh air would be.

The bustling city noise and bright lights were all among the long list of things you’ve grown to love and know in your new found life of music. New being three years ‘new’, but it still only feels like yesterday that the three of you graduated and decided on trying to make it in the music industry.

Reaching into your jeans that you’d previously changed out of, you dug for the packet of cigarettes until you found the battered box. The flimsy lighter you also fished out wasn’t doing much help to light away your annoyance. “need a hand?” the intrusion of your peace was happily cut short by Semi who lent against the cold brick wall with his own lighter in hand.

He didn’t wait for you to answer before bringing to hands close to your face. One that held the purple lighter and the other to shield the wind from the cigarette that rested between your lips. Close enough that you could smell the different scents that clung to his frame; the alcohol and weed from the dressing room, the slight sweat from giving his all on stage and the on stage and the subtle woodsy of his cologne.

Once the feeling of smoke filled your lungs you stepped back and let him light his own. “good show huh?” he spoke again, this time letting you hear how his voice was slightly horse from earlier. “hah? Goods an understatement. That was probably the best show we’ve ever done.” He laughed back before humming in agreement letting the smoke fall out of his mouth and into the night air. “Satori said you got some new lyrics, said they have the ‘sparkly satori potential’”. You should’ve known better than to tell Tendou about new lyrics before Semi. They always somehow got to him before you could actually show him. “well yeah, I told him not to tell but that’s him for you,” “show me when we get to the room.” Humming back you tilted your head to look up towards the flashing signs on the many buildings. “I might head back now y’know, kinda tired after tonight.” Semi watched you stomp out the butt of your cigarette before following you inside and suggesting that you all should held back.

“Satori, Taichi, c’mon we’re leaving.”

SHOWTIME STOPPERS! (facts)

the band’s currently on a tour of the country, they’re about 10 cities in so far.

they released their first album ‘we’re all fucked’ two months ago.

they have a pretty large following but are only at the beginning of their careers.

tendou has had 3 articles written about him already.

semi hates groupies and just wants to sleep after shows, but he feels bad so he indulges in them anyway.

taichi was planning on being a doctor like shirabu, it didn’t quite work out.

#🎸.my band #tendou x reader #🌹.naughty naughty #!!.hq works #tendou smut #tendou fic #haikyuu x reader #tendou satori x reader

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

Text

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Six

chapter five - Chapter Six: Ten Minutes - chapter seven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam, Bucky and Zemo investigate around Riga for any sign of the Flag Smashers, Y/n and Bucky spend some unconventional time together.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: spoilers for episode. 4, a little language, flirty Bucky (which is a warning in and of itself, Walker’s an asshole, Y/n is still a badass, sloooow burn, lil’ bit of spice 🔥

A/N: First off, I just want to thank everybody for all the kind messages/asks/comments you've left on this series. I honestly didn’t expect this kind of response when I started writing this and have been blown away with each chapter. Seriously, it means a lot! 🥰 Okay so I’m not gonna lie, this chapter’s a little slower than usual whereas next chapter is going to be...well, if you’re reading this you’ve seen the episode so you obviously know lol. But this chapter sets up some pretty big shit so it’s not useless, enjoy!!

----

I felt like a bit of a romantic cliche as I threw myself facedown on Zemo’s living room couch, hot off the heels of my realization about Bucky. But seeing as we didn’t have any leads and the Super Soldier wasn’t back from his “walk,” I felt I had earned it. “Hey,” I felt the weight of a jacket land on my back, “Whatcha got going on in that head?” I chuckled into the pillow, if Sam could see the thoughts bouncing around my brain, he’d have his wings on in a flash and would be flying around the city hunting Bucky down. Luckily, Bucky wasn’t the only thing I was thinking about. I turned on my side to see him sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, “I don’t think I give you enough credit for what you do.” “What are you talking about?”

“I knew that avenging wasn’t some cushy day job but,” I swung my legs over the couch and sat up, “I never realized how hard it actually was and this isn’t even one of the harder missions!” Sam smirked and raised his brows, “An army of Super Soldiers isn’t enough for you? You want more?”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m just saying, you’ve faced a whole lot worse. I tangle with a couple bounty hunters and I’m gonna be aching for weeks,” I rose with a groan, eliciting a chuckle out of Sam, “Don’t get me wrong, I like what we’re doing, but I definitely underestimated how challenging it was.” “You’re doing a better job than you think,” Sam said, “I know yesterday was hard on you, but you’re handling all of the really well. I’m proud of you.” I made my way over to him and put an arm around his shoulder, “Still regret bringing me?” “Nah,” he locked an arm around my waist and pulled me into his side, “It’s nice having you here, it’s like having a little piece of home with me.” Since we were in grade school, Sam had been one of the only constants in my life and sitting in the middle of Latvia chasing down Super Soldiers, I had never been more thankful for him. I knew that becoming Captain America was out of the question but if ever there were a Cap that I would follow, it would have been Sam.

The front door and the bathroom door opened at the same time, revealing Bucky back from his walk and Zemo from his shower.

“Well, the Wakandans are here,” Bucky announced as he came to the center of the room, “They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?” Sam asked, both of us unwrapping our arms from around one another. “No.” “How can you be so sure?” Zemo asked, staring out the stained glass windows.

“Cause I know when I’m being followed,” Bucky replied, coming to stand across from me on the other side of the kitchen island.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least,” Zemo said.

“Hey, you shut it,” Sam turned his attention to the Baron, “No one’s defending you. You killed Nagal.”

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Zemo replied.

I leaned up against the island and squinted at the man, “There’s nothing to litigate, we all watched you shoot the guy.”

“Sam, Y/n…” We both turned to face Bucky, staring down at his phone intently. “Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What?” I said breathlessly, “Were there any casualties?”

“Eleven injured, three dead,” Bucky read the article, “They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

Zemo walked around the island to grab a pack of cookies, “She’s getting worse. I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?” “She’s just a kid,” Sam said calmly, defending the young girl so many saw as a villain.

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there,” Zemo waved him off, “You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron…to the Avengers.” “Hey, those are our friends you’re talking about,” Sam stepped quickly.

“The Avengers, not the Nazis,” Bucky followed up with.

Sam continued, “So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals,” Zemo said, “Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her,” the room’s silence became a whole lot heavier, “Or she kills you.” “Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo,” Bucky spoke up, “The serum never corrupted Steve.” “Yeah,” I agreed, peeking over my shoulder at Bucky, “But it didn’t corrupt you either.” Zemo picked up a ring shaped cookie on his finger and pointed to Bucky, “Touché, but there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?” He popped the cookie in his mouth and shrugged, turning away from us to make further use of the kitchen.

“Well,” Bucky made his way to the living room, “Maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.” “And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo asked, searching through cupboards.

“Yes,” Bucky answered harshly before sitting himself on the couch, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes.

“From my understanding,” Sam said, “Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid, my TT passed away-“ “Your-“ Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, “Your TT?” “Yeah, my TT, yeah,” Sam replied plainly.

“Who is your TT?” Bucky annoyedly and confusedly asked. I chuckled at the exchange from beside Sam, “His aunt. The whole neighborhood had this big ceremony, it lasted like a week.” “Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya,” Sam finished.

“Worth a shot,” Bucky shrugged.

“Your TT would be proud of you,” Zemo said to Sam before tossing him a wrapped candy, “Turkish Delight, irresistible.” ——

We were out the door soon after and heading to Donya’s last known location, a refugee camp in the downtown area.

“Shame what’s become of this place,” Zemo commented when we arrived, “When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” It was hard to picture the beige building ever having been beautiful, the setting was so dismal and grey. It was filled with children and workers, refugees, who all collectively looked worn down. The GRC poster that hung on one of the walls that showed smiling families with their mission statement ‘Reset. Restore. Rebuild.’ was a stark contrast to what those words actually delivered.

“We’ll take a look around upstairs,” Sam said, gesturing to me before turning to Bucky, “See what you can find out and keep an eye on him.”

I left with Sam, climbing the quiet building’s staircase and wandering down the hall. Sam headed through an open doorway that led to a sewing room. “Hey, kid,” he called to one of them, “Excuse me,” he approached one of the only ones who hadn’t run out of the room at our presence, “You heard of Donya Madani?”

“Um,” the girl said, rising from her seat and making for another room, “No. Sorry, no.”

We stood there dumbstruck in the suddenly empty room, it wasn’t until Sam caught the Flag Smasher’s handprint symbol on a sewing box and pointed it out to me that the locked lips made sense. I took the lead and navigated through the crowded rooms, spotting another young person leaving at the sight of us. “Excuse me, do you know the name Donya Ma-“ The boy shut the door on me before I could finish my sentence, I turned to Sam who was close behind me. “Something’s not right,” I mumbled, walking in step with him further down the hall. We finally stumbled upon what looked like a classroom, one man crouched was next to a desk helping a kid and a table with two others who didn’t bolt at the sight of us.

“Excuse me,” Sam announced our presence, “Do you know a woman by the name of Donya Madani?”

The teacher stood to his full height, “We’re not refugees, for we have nothing to seek refuge from. We’re internationally- displaced persons, for what it’s worth, and we don’t trust outsiders.”

“No, I understand,” Sam stepped forward, “I’m not from here, but I have a pretty good track record of helping out.” “I know what happens when people say they’re going to help out,” the teacher tiredly stated, “Nothing. The Global Repatriation Council promised to send more teachers, supplies. That was six months ago.” “What’s your name? I can make a call,” Sam offered immediately, ever the helper.

“I know who you are, but I can’t trust you. I’m sorry,” the man dismissed him, grabbing his other two students and ushering them out of the room, “Let’s go.” The silence was sobering for us both, we may not have found anything about Donya but we’d certainly stumbled upon something of importance. And as we left the building with our heads metaphorically hung, I could feel that he was just as impacted as I was by it. “I didn’t realize it was so bleak,” I said as we went down the stairs, “The government’s done a great job of painting a different picture for people like us.”

“That could be said for a lot of things,” he replied, “But no, I didn’t think it was this bad either.”

We rejoined Bucky who was watching Zemo intently as he sat in front of a grouping of kids, a pile of candy in between them. “This is starting to feel like a dead end,” Sam commented.

“The hell is he doing?” Bucky accompanied.

“And why in Latvia does nobody raise an eyebrow at a stranger offering kids candy?” I observed as Zemo stood, approached the kids once more and came back to us. “Cute kids,” he smiled, leaving the three of us to share an unconvinced look after.

——

We returned to our hideout shortly after, defeated and all too aware of how fast the clock was ticking.

“Well, I got nothin’,” Bucky said as the three of us made our way to the couch, “No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” “Yeah, it’s because Karli is the one fighting for them,” Sam replied, “And she’s not wrong.” “What do you mean?” Bucky’s tone was low and exhausted, but I could have sworn that his eyes brightened for a millisecond when I plopped down next to him.

Sam sighed, “For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom,” he snapped his fingers, “Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doin’ something.” “He’s right,” I chimed in, memories of how the world was for five years flooded my brain, “Things were messy but they were…one. Everybody came together because we needed to, there was less room for segregation or prejudice. When things went back, the government made some really bad decisions. And for those of us who weren’t blipped, it was difficult to watch. I’m not saying that I support the Flag Smashers but I do understand why Karli’s doing what she’s doing.” “You really think her ends justify her means?” Bucky’s furrowed brows bounced between Sam and I, “Then she’s no different than him,” he gestured to Zemo who was making tea, “Or anybody else we’ve fought.” “I didn’t say that. She’s different,” I argued, tucking my legs under me and twisting to fully face him, “She's not fighting for word domination or something, she’s fighting for those who’ve lost everything. She’s just...misguided in her approach. ”

Zemo came and set the tray of cups and tea down on the table in front of us, a little too quiet. “That girl,” Bucky addressed him, “What’d she tell you?” The Baron kept up his silence as he thought to himself, eyes flicking between the three of us. “The funeral is this afternoon.” I blinked and awaited the rest of the answer, “That’s all you want to say?” “You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute,” Bucky stated, a bit of amusement in his eyes at the thought of the Wakandan warriors taking him away, “In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.” “Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli,” Zemo hummed, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Exasperatedly, I looked over to Sam who looked just as done with the Sokovian royal as I was. Bucky rose from beside me and circled around to face Zemo, ripping the glass heeled in his hands and launching it at the wall, it shattered upon impact. “You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky growled, I had to ignore the pit in my stomach that developed anytime Bucky’s voice reached a low decibel.

Sam and I were up and ready to deescalate the situation, him stepping behind Zemo and me placing a hand around Bucky’s metal arm. “Take it easy,” Sam said cautiously, “Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” I turned in towards Bucky, the close proximity allowing me to talk softer. “He’s not worth it,” I muttered, his head moving slightly in my direction as I spoke.

“Let me make a call,” Sam said, walking off and slapping Bucky on the shoulder as he left.

My loyalty to Bucky prevented me from leaving until I knew he was alright and wouldn’t pummel our only lead to a pulp. As his stare lessened in intensity, so did my grip till my fingers ghosted over his bicep. “You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo awkwardly asked. “No, you go ahead,” Bucky answered with contempt, walking away with me following close by.

“So what are we supposed to do?” I asked as Bucky and I walked through the luxurious apartment, “Sit on our asses until he decides to give us breadcrumbs of information?”

“He’ll talk, eventually,” Bucky grumbled, “Even if I have to make him.” Why I was finding this side of him attractive, I couldn’t make sense of. Shoving that aside, I took the more practical approach. I gripped his arm to stop him from going further, “He wants to screw with your mind, don’t let him.”

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip and dropped his line of vision to the ground, silently admitting that I was right. There was something so strange about how easy him and I had become around one another so fast. I could level with him now like I’d known him for ages and he’d actually listen to me. The oddest part was that it felt so natural.

“Now,” I dropped my hand from his body and went to place it on my hip, “Sam’s on the- ow!”

“What? What is it?” Bucky jumped to attention, his metal hand instinctively reaching for my arm.

The pain had stemmed from my abdomen, radiating down to my waist. I pulled up the hem of my shirt and looked down to see an ugly purple bruise on my side. “Shit,” Bucky mumbled, bending down but quickly popping back up with an innocent gaze, “Can I…?” “Yeah,” I quickly replied, watching him crouch down to get a look at the injury, one of his metal fingers running over the colored skin with a featherlight touch. I prayed that he didn’t take notice of how my breath hitched when the cool Vibranium made contact with my body.

“How did you get this?” he asked with a laser-like focus on my stomach. “Must’ve been from yesterday in the shipyard,” I eked out, we were in close enough proximity that he was starting to cloud my head, “One of the bounty hunters had me in a death grip at one point.”

Bucky shook his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he rose back up. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a bruise,” I said, pulling my shirt back down when a lightbulb suddenly went off in my head, “Although…” “What?” “I think I’ve got an idea on how you can work out your aggression and this,” I pointed to my side, “Can happen less.” I made my way down the hall, trying to find the right door that would lead to the right room. Turning each knob, I finally found a set of french doors that led to a terrace with a view of the beautiful city. Expecting and correctly guessing that Bucky had followed me, I spun around to face him. “Teach me how to fight.” “Are you kidding?” Bucky’s scrunched in disbelief, “No.” “Come on,” I pleaded, “I think we can both agree that I’m lacking in combat skills and if we’re going to end up fighting more Super Soldiers, I need to be more prepared than last time. Plus,” I pointed a finger at him, “You’re pissed and you need to let it out.”

Bucky scoffed, “I’m not going to let it out on you.” Rolling my eyes thoroughly, I created a force field to separate the two of us, “I’m pretty sure I can handle myself. But if you want to let me get my ass kicked, that’s fine…”

I watched as he let out a single chuckle, “You’re really gonna be like that?” “Yes,” I replied, trying to contain my smile, “I’m really gonna be like that.

He took leisurely steps toward me and started to circle me. I turned with him to keep the force field between us, smirks spreading across both our faces. “Alright, fine. As long as you promise not to go full throttle on me,” he gestured to the hands that had blue energy flowing from them.

“Fine,” I thinned my eyes at him, absorbing the force field back into my body, “But you better keep that arm in check.”

We separated from each other and I walked to my corner of the terrace to remove my jacket. When I turned to see Bucky doing the same, my eyes fell to his fit torso that was threateningly to bust the seams of his tight black t-shirt. In the Latvian sun, you could see the outline of each muscle of his chest and each vein that bulged in his arms was highlighted. Since the first time I’d gotten close enough to admire him, I’d had no shame in admitting to myself that Bucky was attractive. Now that I was actually starting to fall for him, there was a nervousness that came with appreciating his roguish good looks. I shook my head and dragged my gaze away from his body, trying to focus on his eyes as we walked towards one another. Not that I was any better off, they were just as enticing as the rest of him was… “Do you know how to punch?” he asked, I held up a fist and he examined it, “Okay, so that’s a no.” He placed his hands on my hips gently as to not disturb my bruise and turned me around, “Bring one of your feet back and out a little,” he instructed, I listened and he took a step back to accommodate me. “Now,” his hands moved to lightly grasp my arms, “Tuck your elbows into your body.” I swallowed hard as I followed his directions, his chest was now almost flush against my back and it was more than distracting. The closer Bucky and I got, the more muddled my thoughts became until he became the only clear one. With him pressed against me, his hands gently holding my arms and his breath fanning my shoulder, it was a miracle I could remember my own name.

“Now squeeze your abs, as long as it doesn’t hurt too much,” he said softly, inching a little closer as if to make sure I could hear him properly. Goosebumps I hoped he didn’t see erupted across my skin, I did as he said and ignored the pain it caused me. Bucky could have given me any instruction and I’d have followed, I was completely under his spell.

His hands left me and he came around to stand in front of me, “When you swing, you want to move with your whole body. You’re gonna push off with that foot,” he nudged my furthest ankle with his boot, “And turn your hips with it, but don’t over exaggerate or else you’ll lose your momentum. Your hand,” he took my improper fist into his palm and positioned my thumb below my fingers, holding onto it as he looked back up, “Should look like this.” My lips parted as I watched him mold my hand to his liking, my heart rate picking up as our eyes met. Bucky let go and held out his flesh arm to act as my target, smirking once again, “Alright, give it all you’ve got.”

I swung my fist forward and met his hand, only succeeding in making contact and nothing more. For a second I forgot that I was fighting a Super Soldier.

“Good,” he commended me nonetheless, “Again.”

I readjusted my stance and brought my fist forward again, I still couldn’t move him.

“Again.” Smack.

“Again.”

Smack.

“Again.” Smack.

“Again.” With hardly a thought, I focused my energy out of my fist as it collided with Bucky’s palm and sent his arm back in a mist of blue. I pulled my elbows back into my torso, gasping at what I’d done but not entirely unhappy with the results. Bucky looked just as surprised, turning to me with widened eyes and his pouty lips shaped in an ‘o’.

“Did you know you could do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know, the idea just came to me,” I answered, “Can I try that again?” Bucky held out his palm again and I repeated my attack, his arm jolting back upon impact once again. “I think I may have just made this a fair fight,” I said slyly, challenging him with one raised brow.

“I think you’re exaggerating a little,” he shot back, I could see the mischievous gleam in his eye that accompanied his words.

I shrugged innocently, “Guess we won’t know until we test it.”

Bucky’s wandering tongue darted out to the side of his mouth as he smiled, “I only taught you how to punch, but alright.”

He took a step closer to me, slowly and playfully putting out a hand towards me to act like he was going to attack me. I held my hand up and built a small force field to block him. Going a little faster, he raised his metal hand and I repeated the action of shielding myself. We kept going until him and I were moving across the terrace with me creating force field after force field to block Bucky’s attack. When my back hit the ledge, I shot up into the air and landed a few feet behind him.

“Is that a fair fight?” Bucky asked as he approached me.

“No, it’s not,” I sighed and lowered my head, looking back up with a smile, “It’s actually a little too easy.”

Bucky started throwing punches, me blocking each one with my palm radiating energy to lessen the impact of his hits. I was so focused that I didn’t see him lift his foot until I had landed on my back with a groan after he’d swept my leg. He pinned me, holding my arms above my head and gripping my wrists so I couldn’t attack. I squirmed a little, unable to move underneath his weight that simultaneously crushed me and sent a thrill through me.

“You were saying?” he smirked, our faces only inches apart and his lips just a little too alluring to continue ignoring. This was a different Bucky than I had become used to, he was playful and flirtatious. We were getting down to who he really was when we weren’t dealing with such serious circumstances.

Taking away the temptation to close the distance between our mouths, and eager to point out he’d made a mistake in pinning my wrists, I lifted and aimed my hands at him, firing two blasts at his shoulders. The grip he had on me was lost as his full weight landed on me, I quickly locked my legs around his and used my energy to flip us so Bucky landed on his back with me on top of him. I pinned his hands at his sides, two steady blue streams flowing from my fingers. Bucky tried to wrestle out of my hold to no avail, I took great joy in leaning over him and giving a shit-eating smile.

“You’re right,” I shook my head, “It’s not fair.”

Bucky breathily chuckled and stopped fighting, instead letting himself be defenseless underneath my body. At some point, the laughter and grins faded and the reality that I was straddling Bucky became very real. If I released my hold on his hands, I wondered what he would do. Would he scurry to lift me off of him and leave as quick as he could? Or would he dare to put his hands on my waist like he had in Madripoor, pulling me into him as close as he could? Nervously, I absorbed the energy back into my fingers and freed him, his hands laying limp where they were but his blue eyes held no intention of looking away. We rested there, trying to catch our breath and not daring to make a move that would shift either of our bodies or the moment. “Bucky, Y/n, where you at?” I heard Sam’s voice drift down the hall.

Stolen moments, that was all I could get with Bucky. I had only just discovered how I felt about him, I didn’t know how to handle it but I knew that when I did get time with him, it never lasted long enough. I unhappily levitated off of him and landed on my feet nearby, leaving him without a word to open the door and find Sam.

I looked down the hall and spotted my brother walking down the hall in search of us. “Hey,” I called, he turned around and changed his course, “Any leads?” “Sharon’s got access to a satellite, she’s gonna keep an eye on the camp,” he said, “And Zemo agreed to take us out to meet someone who’s got information on the funeral. Where’s Buc-“

Bucky appeared at that moment, his jacket back on and covering his build while carrying mine in his hand. He handed it to me, his eyes darting up to meet mine with some sort of meaning in them, “Did he say where he’s taking us?” “No,” Sam answered, “But at least he’s talking.”

The three of us headed down the hall and out to the living room where Zemo was waiting on us like a parent waiting on their children to get ready to leave. We left and entered the city once again, me trying to keep a little distance between Bucky since my cheeks were still burning. The memory of how he’d felt under me was still all too real and I needed to have a clear head for what was about to go down.

We hadn’t been walking for more than ten minutes when an unfortunately familiar voice sounded off in our vicinity. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” “Ah, how’d you find us now?” Bucky called across the street, John Walker and Lemar Hoskins hurrying down a set of steps toward us. “Come on, you really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar replied.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker seethed, “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” I over animatedly shrugged my shoulders and looked between Sam and Bucky, “You told us to stay out of your way so that’s what we did. Can’t have it both ways, Walker.”

“And he broke himself out technically,” Bucky answered Walker’s original question.

“Oh,” Walker was practically spitting with rage, “This better be an unbelievable explana-“

“Hey,” Sam stepped in and placed a hand on his chest, “Take it easy before it gets weird.” Walker promptly stepped back and took a breath.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo offered, stepping to the side along with Bucky and ready to continue on our path, before being stopped by Walker.

“Well, where?” “All we know is, it’s a memorial,” Sam answered, “So we’re gonna intercept her there.”

Zemo gently moved Walker’s hand off of him, and led the way, Bucky, Lemar and I following. “That means civilians,” Lemar said, “High risk of casualties.” “We won’t let that happen,” I replied, “And if they’re fellow funeral goers, neither will Karli.”

“All right,” Walker said, joining us along with Sam, “We’ll move in fast, take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone,” Sam protested. As much as I wanted to stop my brother in the street and question the validity of his sanity, we were a united front against Walker and I couldn’t drop it. I’d wait for my turn to voice my concern.

“I’m not losing her again,” Walker pushed back. “Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable,” Sam argued, “If there was ever a time to reason with her, it’s now.” “What?” No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on,” Walker jogged to get ahead of us, his sidekick following suit, “Stop, okay? I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.” “Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you,” Lemar may have had a problem with the plan, just like Walker, but he came at it from a different angle. That I could give him credit for.

“And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die,” Sam countered confidently. “You’re gonna let him do this?” Walker addressed Bucky, “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse,” Bucky replied, “And he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?” Sam stated, stepping around us to stand in front of Walker, “This is my wheelhouse.” ��Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea,” Walker shot back. “Wait, John,” Lemar stopped him from going any further, “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.”

We stood, anticipating whether or not we’d have to fight harder or if Walker would agree to let Sam handle the situation his way. He scoffed and shifted his weight between feet before turning to Zemo, “We’ll deal with you later.” “I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion,” Zemo replied and gestured down the path, “My associate is just up ahead.”

We looked ahead to see the same little girl the Baron had been offering candy to earlier in the day. I fell in step alongside Sam and lowered my voice, “Are you sure about this?”

“Did you act like you agreed with me just to piss of Walker?” he asked, equally quiet.

“…Maybe…”

He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and we bumped fists, “Trust me, this is our best option.”

The five of us watched Zemo approach the child, handing her something and guiding us to follow where she was leading. She took us to an older factory, bringing us in through the back door of the boiler room. “Karli’s in there,” Zemo said.

Sam broke from our group and headed for the doorway while Walker slammed Zemo up against a furnace. “Hey,” he called to Sam, “You got ten minutes,” he handcuffed Zemo, “Then we’re doing things my way.”

With Sam gone and me not there to protect him in case things took a turn, there wasn’t anything to do but wait. Walker paced, Lemar stood and Bucky stared. I was leaned up against the brick wall that held Zemo, trying not to think of all the ways the plan could go wrong. Karli was young, quick to help but also quick to fight and the sight of Sam may be enough to trigger her into attacking before listening. But Sam wasn’t usually someone to get cocky about something he knew he couldn’t handle and I trusted his judgement. I just wish that I was trusting it in a less dangerous situation.

“Y/l/n.” I turned to Zemo, “Huh?” “In Madripoor, you said your last name was Y/n Y/l/n,” he continued in a hushed tone so nobody else would hear.

“So? What’s so interesting about my name?”

Zemo paused like he had just come to some conclusion I wasn’t going to be made privy to. “It simply sounds familiar.”

“What does that me-“ “Hey!” Walker exclaimed, staring me and the Baron down, “What’re you two talking about?” Zemo turned away from me like we’d never been speaking, the confusing conversation dissolving in the already tense air. “Nothing,” I lied, pushing off the brick wall and brushing past Walker, “That concerns you at least.”

I landed at Bucky’s side, he nodded his head towards Zemo and looked back to me. “What was that about?” “I’m not sure,” I answered, there was something unsettling about how Zemo’s gaze rested on me, “But I don’t think it was nothing.” We waited in another thirty seconds of silence before an antsy Walker spoke up again, “No, no, no, no, no, this is a bad idea.” “It hasn’t been ten minutes John,” Bucky said, “Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that,” Walker looked over his shoulder at us angrily, “Don’t patronize me.”

“Then don’t start whining because you’re getting fidgety,” I replied, annoyed with his lack of patience, “Sam knows what he’s doing and if you let him do it, this could all go a lot smoother than Munich.”

He walked away, staring at the wall in deep thought before coming towards us. “I’m goin’ in,” he stated, punctuating his words with a punch to the shield.

Bucky stepped forward to block his path, I quickly stuck a hand in between their two bodies and created a force field to further state our point. My apprehension about leaving Sam to handle himself had lessened when he’d assured me he had it under control but I wasn’t sure if there was anything that would get Walker to back off.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it?” Walker grumbled, staring Bucky down, “All that serum runnin’ through your veins. And you,” he skimmed his hand over the unpierceable shield I’d made, “With that X gene of yours. Your brother,” he pointed at Bucky, “And your partner need backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?” The images that Sharon had planted in my head were filled in by Walker, it suddenly became all too easy to picture Sam’s lifeless body on the ground. Just like the one I’d left in the ship yard. No, Walker was not in my head, I wouldn’t allow it. The man who had threatened me with the accords, who waved the name of Captain America around like a free ticket to do whatever he wanted. He could manipulate whoever he wanted, except for me. “You’re not getting past us, Walker,” I firmly stated, bringing his widened eyes to me, “Sam’s got this.” There weren’t many people that stood up to Captain America without a second thought, and the irritated expression on his face reflected that. “So that’s how it’s going now? You’re giving the orders?” “If it means giving Sam a better chance of ending this, then yes,” I countered, digging my heels further into the ground.

He looked me over, debating his options, “Fine.” After observing him for a few cautious seconds, I dropped the force field and stepped to the side of Bucky. No sooner than when my hand fell to my side did Walker shove past Bucky and storm up the stairs, the two of us quickly rushing to draw him back. “Walker!” Bucky shouted.

I aimed my hands out to pull him back in, the blue energy barely leaving my fingertips when Lemar came up behind me and pulled my hands down to my sides. I tried to wrestle out of his grip but he didn’t let me go until Walker had safely gotten up the stairs to a point where I couldn’t see him. “Are you serious?!” I cried as Lemar shot ahead of me up the stairs leaving me to follow pathetically. “Captain’s orders,” he replied over his shoulder as we hurried to catch up to the heated, impatient joke of a Captain.

“Karli Morganthau, you’re under arrest,” I heard Walker announce, spotting Bucky taking the stairs two at a time behind him.

As I entered the room, my hopeless eyes met Sam’s surprised set. Karli was just as shocked, the redhead asking Sam if it had been the plan all along to bring us in. Lemar pushed in front of me and Bucky, acting as a barrier to prevent us from interfering any more than we had. Bucky attempted to shove his arm away just as Karli landed a punch to the shield, sending Walker and Sam flying back into a table. I used my energy to shove Lemar back, freeing Bucky and I to jump into the fight. Bucky bolted after Karli who was making a run for it while I helped Sam to his feet. “We said ten minutes!” Sam exclaimed, glaring at Walker’s retreating form.

“I tried,” I said as we made for another staircase to try and catch Karli on the other side of the building. We went through a series of various halls, there was no way to make heads or tails of which way was right. Sam tugged me and led me up another set of stairs with no luck in finding her. “Shit,” I mumbled. On the opposite side of the landing was Bucky, looking just as confused as us. “I lost her,” he said defeatedly. “This place is a maze,” Sam panted.

I took a look at our surroundings, spotting a window and quickly forming an idea. “She could be out of the building by now. Bucky,” I ran to the nearest window, “Help me out.”

Catching on quick, he raised his metal arm and landed a whopping punch, shattering the glass and leaving a gaping hole. I took a few steps back and took a running start, ignoring the sounds of Sam’s protests and diving out the window. I threw my hands out to my sides and expelled energy, ceasing my fall and allowing me to shoot up higher in the air. I landed on the building’s roof, taking a look at the city below me and trying to spot Karli’s mop of red hair. I stayed atop the ledge searching until I heard gunshots from inside the building, dropping and flying back in through the broken window immediately. My blood ran cold with fear, Sam and Bucky weren’t where I had left them. I rushed down the closest hall, hearing a commotion from a room somewhere in the building and praying desperately that they weren’t in the middle of it. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been so relieved to see the two of them as when I’d spotted them after turning a corner. Upon hearing my boots slapping against the ground, Bucky and Sam turned, both their faces showcasing the same relief. “Thank God,” Sam breathed, waiting for me to catch up with them before tearing off again.

We ran through the building until we found the one hall we hadn’t been down yet, we entered to find quite the scene. Walker was standing over an unconscious Zemo, vials of the super serum smashed on the floor and no sign of Karli.

“What did we miss?” Sam asked, still a little breathless from our chase.

I wasn’t a naturally angry person, but the irateness I felt with John Walker was enough to make my face warm with rage. He had proved that arrogance and impatience were his main modes of operation. He had no problem giving the orders but following someone else’s lead was nearly unbearable for him. His eagerness to jump headfirst into battle may have served him well in aspects of his career, but in this case it had ruined everything.

“You said ten minutes,” I gritted out, staring down Walker from our position on the stairs. His eyes didn’t carry an ounce of remorse for what he had done. Without another word, I turned on my heels and stormed out of the room without waiting for Sam and Bucky. We’d come so far only to lose to a completely preventable situation. I’d never worked with Steve professionally, but I knew that he would have never have sabotaged a mission because of his ego. Just one more reason why John Walker could never truly be Captain America.

----

A/N: I find myself having to reel myself in when writing Walker or else I’ll let my hatred of him show through a little too much lol. Let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged :)

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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avengers-age-of-fanfics · 3 years

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just for you, honeybee (1/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic!)

word count: 3,172

warnings: a few curse words, bucky being cute, steve being awkward but also a great friend

authors note: hello! this is my first ever post on this account and the first chapter to a new series! im not sure how many chapters this is going to be as i got inspiration to write it a few days ago but im hoping to keep up with it. also, once TFATWS ends, i intend to do a series based on that as well! anywho, i hope you enjoy this and please leave feedback/lmk what i can do to improve! thank u :)

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes laid across from you on your bed, eyes softly glancing over your features as your hand grazed over his cheek and jawline. You chuckled to yourself, “looking a bit scruffy, Buck.”

He hummed, eyes now fluttering closed at your touch, “thought you liked it, doll.”

With a quick kiss to his lips, you nodded, “oh I do, don’t worry – no reason not to, really.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh before he ran a hand over your cheek, “I gotta get goin’ soon, doll. ‘Uniforms at Becca’s.”

With a sigh, you rolled onto your back and stretched, “she’s a saint, you know, washing and steaming your uniform for you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement with you, “that I do know, honeybee. I’ll meet you at Stevie’s, yeah?”

As you got out of your shared bed, you looked back at Bucky, “of course! Gotta see you off before you go put your life on the line, no big deal.” Bucky quickly dropped the conversation immediately after, understanding how you're feeling.

You weren’t mad at Bucky for joining the army – you couldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault. He was drafted and you knew that if he could stay, he would; and you knew you were being slightly immature about him leaving. You just wanted more time with him. So many people you knew had received letters that their loved ones hadn’t come back, that they had died in battle. It wasn’t fair, but when was life perfectly balanced?

By the time you got changed and got yourself cleaned up, Bucky was straightening out his shirt before he turned towards you, eyes hesitant. You walked to him, buttoning up his final buttons before you ran your hands over his shirt, “I’ll see you soon, Buck, okay?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, “I know, honeybee. Try to keep Steve out of trouble for the time being, okay?”

You laughed, “I’ll certainly try my best – now get outta here!” With a smack to his ass, Bucky gave you one last kiss before he headed out the door to see his sister, Rebecca. You had asked her to iron Bucky’s uniform before he got sent off to war, wanting him to look his best – but you were sure he would look handsome in anything.

Looking in the mirror, you straightened out your favorite belted Peter Pan collar dress, fit with a pair of white heels; only the best for your Buck. You had begged him multiple times to let you register to become a nurse, in the slight chance of being close to him, but he always responded with the same answer: “I want to make sure I have someone to come home to, doll.”

You’d never tell him, but your heart warmed every time he said that.

Doing one more look-over, you smiled to yourself, grabbing your purse as you headed out the door. Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks away from your own, and honestly, you wanted to spend more time with him before Bucky left. The two were inseparable, and you knew Steve was going to struggle with Bucky being gone – that, and the unknowing if he’ll come back.

With sharp and prideful steps, you made your way across the street, saying hello to familiar faces and grabbing a newspaper from Grover, a vendor along the streets of Brooklyn. He stopped you before you headed off, “heard your boy’s goin’ off to war, y/n. How ya doin’?”

With a soft chuckle, you glanced down at the newspapers in your hands – one for you, Steve, and Bucky while he was on the train. You looked back at Grover, “I could be better, if I’m being honest. But I know he’s doing a good thing, so my silly feelings shouldn’t hold him back, Grove.”

Grover grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “you and your selflessness, just like ya ma. I’m telling yous, y/n, that boy loves you to the moon and back. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for ya; if you asked him to stay, he’d go and fake his death to make sure you two go runnin’ off into the sunset together.”

With a laugh, you pushed the tears back, “and I love him too, Grove – but I can’t ask him to just not go. That just isn’t how it is, you know?”

Grover nodded, “yeah, kid, I know. . .Now get lost, I got customers to deliver these too.”

You glanced down at the stack of newspapers, “I’m headed over to Steve’s, anyone near his you gotta drop them off to?”

The vendor let out a hum and rested his head in his palm, “hmm, I think just Richie and Betty Davis right next to Rogers’ place. They get two, you good carryin’ an extra bundle?”

You gave Grover a look as he held up his hands, “just as fierce as ya mama, too – and being Barnes’ girl, probably the wrong question to ask.”

With a laugh, you held out your stack of papers, “pile them on, Gro. I’ll see you later, alright?” The vendor nodded and shoo’ed you away as you continued your journey to Steve’s apartment. Once you arrived, you left two newspapers on his neighbor’s doorstep, knocking once as you crossed back over to Steve’s.

As the Davis’ door opened, you knocked on Steve’s, already hearing rustling inside. Betty was at her door, “y/n? That you, sweetheart?”

With a turn, you greeted Mrs. Davis with a smile, “hi Mrs. Davis, how are you? How are the kids?”

The woman smiled back, “’mm, they’re good – always askin’ when the next batch of those delicious brownies are coming!”

You laughed and noticed Steve had opened the door, small statute waiting until you were done talking with Betty, “I’ll drop them by the next time I get to bakin’, Mrs. Davis. I’ll see you!” You waved to her, as did Steve, as he stepped aside to let you in.

Steve looked at the newspapers, then back at you, “you look great, y/n. . . Looks like I’ll be tellin’ Buck to shut his mouth when he sees you.”

You chuckled, “’cus he’ll catch flies or the obscenities he’ll be sayin’?”

Steve let out a laugh, “both, definitely both.”

Now that you both were in the safehouse of his apartment, you finally got a good look at your little army-hopper. He spotted a new black eye and a small cut on his cheek, yet he still looked as if he could go again if he wanted to. You nodded towards him, “where’d you get into a scuffle at this time?”

He shifted his feet until he let out a sigh, “behind a theatre. They were showin’ commercials for the army and some guy just started saying stuff.”

With a bite of your cheek, you sat down on one of his chairs, “so you had to fight him?”

“Just gotta be one of the good guys in the neighborhood, y/n.”

“I know, Stevie.”

An hour had passed and, in the meantime, you and Steve enjoyed some tea and tried to complete your own crossword puzzles. A small conversation had taken place between the two of you, talking about plans once Bucky was off fighting the war. You had talked about Steve moving in with you, but he was always so stubborn, wanting to prove that he could live on his own. You never thought that he couldn’t, but it could be a money saver.

One more glance at the clock, you figured it would be almost time for Bucky to show up. And, just like that, a knock was heard from the door and you smiled, getting up to answer it as Steve stayed back, grumbling at the pieces of paper in his hands. Opening the door, you saw your James Buchanan Barnes standing tall and proud in his new uniform.

Bucky whistled, glancing over your outfit as you did the same to him, “you look gorgeous, honeybee – even though I told you to not dress up.”

He stepped inside the apartment as you crossed your arms, “I mean, Steve agrees that this is kind of a big deal, so I think a nice dress will suffice.”

Steve and Bucky clasped hands and Bucky nudged his shoulder, “thought you were supposed to be a good influence on my girl, Steve.”

The smaller man shrugged, “kind of is a big deal.”

Bucky shuffled his feet, “yeah, well, I don’t want it to be. Let’s just go to the future and then see me off, alright?” The three of you stood in silence, light tension hanging in the air. With a sigh, you grabbed your purse, “well, off we go! C’mon now, boys.”

Bucky, you, and Steve headed to New York World’s Fair, hooked arms leading towards Howard Stark’s Expo. With bright lights, fireworks, and amazing technology surrounding you, your eyes failed to see Bucky staring at you with so much adoration. He never wanted to leave you – he’d stay if he could – but he had been drafted. All he wanted to do was stay in Brooklyn with you and Steve, and just never leave your arms. Hell, really, wherever you went, he went.

But that wasn’t the case in this scenario.

With a hand on your waist, Bucky looked up at Stark’s presentation of his repulsor technology with a flying car, head shaking in disbelief. While his car may have only hovered for a few seconds, the idea of not even needing to touch the ground to drive absolutely boggled your mind. During the presentation, Steve glanced up at you two and silently snuck off, hoping you didn’t notice his absence for too long. But he knew you and how observant and protective you were.

However, once you glanced around after a few minutes and found Steve in front of an army poster within the United States Armed Services Recruitment center. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you slightly pulled him towards where Steve was, trying his best to fit his head within the frame.

With a slight push of his shoulder, Bucky nodded his head towards the Expo, “come on, we’re goin’ dancing – and hopefully find yourself a girl.”

Steve shook his head, “you – uh – you go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He looked around, trying to divert the conversation between him and his best friend.

“Steve,” you started, “please? Just this one night?”

Bucky held your hand as he looked back at Steve, “you’re really gonna do this again?”

“I just – guys, it’s a fair, I’ll try my luck,” he started, looking between you both.

Beside you, you felt Bucky grow agitated, “that’s who, Steve from Ohio?”

“Bucky,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, “let him try one more, okay? We can go dancing and Steve will catch up later. If he doesn’t, I’ll hang his head on my wall like a prize.”

The boys let out a chuckle as Steve continued, “one last time, alright? I promise I’ll come later on – Mac’s, right?”

You nodded your head as Bucky sighed beside you, “don’t think you got to prove anything, Steve.” A small pause came over the three of you as Bucky continued, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

You started to walk back with Bucky, letting go of his hand as he continued his conversation with Steve as he let out a small laugh, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You held up a finger at Steve, “you better mean that about himself, Rogers.”

Steve held up his hands, “yes ma’am! And Bucky –“

Bucky turned around once more to his best friend, “don’t win the war until I get there.” With a mock salute, Bucky dragged you back towards the Expo as you waved back at Steve, making sure he’d meet you at the bar before your boyfriend was shipped off.

With a sigh, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he kissed your head, “that punk is gonna get himself in all loads of trouble, honeybee.”

You held his hand that was around your shoulder, “I’ll keep Stevie in his place. Seriously, Buck, try not to worry about him.”

“I just,” Bucky gripped your hand, “I don’t wanna come back to nothing, you know? Steve’s my best friend and if he somehow gets himself killed here or in the war, I don’t know what I’d do.”

You pulled Bucky to a stop, putting your hands on his cheeks, “James, look at me, please.” With soft eyes, Bucky looked into yours, “I promise you, Steve is going to be okay – he won’t do anything stupid, at least without me. We’re going to be okay, and you will, too. . .’cus if you aren’t, I may go and kill Hitler myself.”

Bucky chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”

You leaned up, kissing Bucky softly before pulling back, hands tight on your waist, “I love you too. Now C’mon, I wanna go to Mac’s and celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Bucky groaned and pulled you even closer, “maybe I should tell Steve to keep an eye on you.”

With a mock salute of your own, you giggled at your boyfriend, “aye, sir, my new mission is to protect Steven Grant Rogers from being an idiot!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, “toughest job in this whole war, honeybee.”

As the night continued on, Steve actually showed up to Mac’s and had a new look in his eyes.

‘Hmm,’ you thought to yourself, ‘looks like I gotta ask him about something later.’

Steve, you, and Bucky didn’t drink, but instead enjoyed each other’s company before Buck was shipped off; this really only included Bucky and Steve making fun of each other and you keeping the boys in line. Laughs and a few smacks on the head filled the atmosphere, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

By the time it was nearing close to Bucky’s train departure, the three of you took to the streets and headed to the train station, silence enveloping you. Bucky’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as you dreaded this goodbye, even if you had high hopes he’d return to you and Steve.

At the sight of the train and fellow troops heading into their cabins, Bucky turned to Steve, “you take care of yourself, alright punk? I don’t want any letters from my girl telling me that you’ve been actin’ out.”

Steve shoved his shoulder, “you’re acting like I’m 12 years old again. I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, but looked to his best friend, “and Steve?”

Steve held his breath but let go, “yeah, Bucky?”

“Please take care of her.”

Steve glanced back at where you stood, picking your nails as your anxiety was pricking at your skin. He nodded, “I will.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief, “thank you, pal. I love her, so make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either, okay?” Steve nodded in response.

Bucky then headed over to where you were standing, his eyes raking over your beautiful dress, your heels, and most importantly, your face. He did not want to forget a single thing about you or your features – he wanted them committed to memory. With a gentle hand, Bucky tilted your chin up towards him, “you alright, honeybee?”

You nodded, too afraid to use your voice as tears flooded your eyes. Trying to dry them up anyway, you nodded once more, unable to look at Bucky. He sighed, “c’mere, sweet girl, I got you.”

With no hesitation, you fell into Bucky’s arms, tears threatening to fall as you felt his hands rest upon your back and your head. You sniffled, “I’m going – I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie – so, so much.”

Bucky kissed your head, “I’m gonna miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think that I won’t for a second. You’ll be the first thing on my mind every second of the day.”

You breathed, “can living through this war be the first thing on your mind? And maybe completing a crossword puzzle?"

Bucky let out a small laugh but held you tighter, “just for you, honeybee.” Pulling back, he wiped away stray tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, a soft smile on his face. “You’re gonna be alright, and I’ll be comin’ home to you in no time.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free from your eyes as you looked up at Bucky, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks and light stubble. You slowly traced over his lips, his nose, and his eyebrows, committing everything about him to memory. With a small smile, you leaned up, catching him in a kiss once more, “stay safe, you hear me? And take this damn thing with you - maybe you'll complete it." With gentle hands, you handed him the newspaper you had gotten today.

He carefully took the newspaper from you, already hoping the crossword puzzle would be easy this time around. Then, Bucky pecked your lips before he headed towards the train, “gotta come back for my best girl. I love you!”

As he stepped onto the train and hung out the window of a cabin, he continued yelling, “I love you, y/n l/n! I love you!”

You cried, a bright smile on his face, “I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes!” Blowing kisses towards him, both you and Steve watched as the train slowly started to pull away, seeing him mindlessly hand his ticket to the worker, not bothering to tear his eyes away from you or his best friend.

“I love you!” he shouted once more, all before his train sped up, leaving you and Steve behind on the platform.

Wiping your eyes and your nose with a cloth, you cleared your throat and turned to Steve, “gah, sorry. Let’s uhm – do you want to head back to my place?”

Steve nodded towards you, “yeah, yeah that sounds good. You alright?” He hooked your arm with his as you headed out of the station, continuing to wipe your eyes. “Yeah,” you started, “I’m okay. I knew this was coming. . . I guess I just hated the whole ‘saying goodbye,’ you know?”

Your best friend rubbed the back of his neck, “I get it, y/n, but he’ll come back – he has a reason to, and that’s you.”

Your heart fluttered, and tears welled up in your eyes once more. With a quick sniffle, you reached into your purse and grabbed your key, unlocking your door to your apartment. Once inside, you quickly got to making tea for you and Steve, something to get your minds off of your missing puzzle piece.

Once tea was made and you both were sitting in your living room, you turned to him, “tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looked at you, a confused look etched upon his face, “tell you what?”

You leaned back into your chair, picking at your nails once more, “what happened at the recruitment office? I’ve known you long enough to see that there’s something you’re not telling me, there’s something in your eyes, Stevie, so please, just tell me.”

Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. But, I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly is making friends and life is settling into a routine until Molly gets sick and Tom takes care of her.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Molly left that afternoon with two new numbers in her phone and a lunch date for next week.

“Can’t believe you are having lunch with my mother and sister without me.” Tom pouted on the way back.

“Once they heard I wasn’t working and didn’t know anyone, they insisted. Was I supposed to say no?”

“You could have scheduled it when I could come.”

“But you are so busy. And talented.” She poked his side.

“I’m driving here, darling.”

“Sorry, but just one question…” They pulled up to a red light.”

“What?”

“Are you ticklish?” she attacked his side and Tom squirmed and giggled.

“You will be the death of me.” He panted as Molly stopped when the light was green.

“Note to self. Tom is very ticklish.”

“No, no notes to self. That is something you can promptly forget.”

Molly batted her eyelashes. “But real husbands and wives would know these things about each other. We have to pull this off for an entire year, right?”

“Fine, but expect revenge.” Tom wagged a finger at Molly.

“I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

Over the next several weeks, Tom and Molly fell in a routine. The marriage certificate came in the mail and they applied for a family visa for Molly to stay there.

“I didn’t think you would want to become a citizen.”

Molly smirked. “No, not right now.”

A new debit card came in for Molly.

“With great power…” Tom handed it over.

“Yeah, yeah, Loki.” she tucked into her wallet. “I am burdened with glorious purpose. To keep you well fed.”

Molly had a standing date with Emma every two weeks, much to Tom’s consternation. They continued running together in the mornings. Tom, more often than not, ended it with a kiss.

“This is becoming quite the nasty habit, Mr. Hiddleston.” she commented one morning.

“Then stop me, Mrs. Hiddleston.” He pecked her lips again.

Molly blushed. “You just love what they are saying about us in the papers.” She pushed Tom away and towards the door.

“I will admit the good news is definitely a perk. Plus, you are such lovely company.” He went to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“You are all sweaty, Tom. Take a shower and I will make breakfast.”

“French toast?” he asked hopefully.

“You ate the last of the bread yesterday.”

“Pancakes?”

“I think I can swing pancakes, if…” She held up a finger. “You also eat a side of fruit.”

“Deal.” Tom headed towards his room wearing a huge grin.

Molly shook her head as she grabbed a mixing bowl out. “Lunatic.”

One morning, Molly wasn’t awake when Tom got up to run. She almost always beat Tom up, sipping a cup of tea in the living room, reading a magazine or one of the books from his shelf. There was a small stack building on a side table of the ones she finished reading. But that morning, no half-drunk cup of tea perched precariously on the coffee table. No crossword puzzle half done in pen.

Tom peaked into Molly’s bedroom. The covers, in colors of navy and grey, just like his, pulled up tight around her. There were a few prints of classic travel posters on the wall.

“Molly, darling.” He called out. Usually that was all it took to roust Molly from her sleep and get her going for the day. Today, nothing. Tom stepped into the room. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

“It’s time for our run, love.” He said a bit louder this time.

Molly rolled over, groaning and coughing. Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that cough. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked Molly gently by the shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” He hoped it was just allergies or waking up in the morning. But then she woke up.

“Uggh, Tom?” Molly croaked out before rolling onto her back. She was pale. So much more pale than usual. She coughed again, covering her mouth.

“It’s me, Molly. Are you feeling alright?” He repeated. “That’s some cough.”

“I’m fine, fine. It’s just,” She waved him off and pushed up to sitting, only to fall back onto the pillows. “oh, that’s not good.”

Tom placed the back of his hand to her forehead and replaced it with his lips, checking her temperature. She was running hot.

“You have a fever. I’m making you an appointment to see the doctor.” He stood, but Molly caught his wrist. Her palm clammy against Tom’s skin.

“No! It’s just a cold. Go on your run. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.” She insisted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her very warm forehead. “I’ll keep it short. Go back to sleep.”

Molly nodded and rolled over. Tom tucked the covers around her and headed out. He barely made it to the end of the street before he returned home. It confirmed his fears when he stepped back inside and heard Molly coughing. Tom grabbed the phone and searched for a number and called it.

“Yes, Urgent Care? Do you have any appointments today? Name? Molly Hiddleston. Thank you.”

Tom helped Molly get dressed, averting his eyes when appropriate. Her entire body burned under his fingertips, but Tom noticed her shivering. She stumbled to the car where she slept the entire ride over to urgent care. Tom did his best to fill out the paperwork.

“What do you put for family history?”

“Nothing. Unless there is a place for mental illness, then check that. That’s all I know about. Mom didn’t chat much.” Molly muttered, leaning heavily against Tom. “Meth does that…” Her brow furrowed and she coughed again.

“Shh, darling.” Tom soothed her. “Only happy thoughts.”

Molly hummed and smiled. “Happy thoughts.” More coughing.

It took twenty minutes before they called Molly back. They didn’t let Tom back with her. He alternated between sitting with a bouncing knee, pretending to read on his phone and pacing the waiting room, making the other people nervous. After forty-five minutes, before Molly returned with several papers in her hand. She coughed again.

“Upper respiratory infection,” cough. “Along with a sinus infection and a viral infection.”

Tom smiled. “Triple threat. Let’s get you home.”

Molly’s hand, holding the papers, flopped up. “I have prescriptions and they want to see me again in two weeks. To make sure I don’t get pneumonia.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s a possibility?”

Molly nodded. “It’s all in here.”

Tom took all the papers, skimming them, including a script for antibiotics as well as a cough suppressant. It all sounded grim. “Let’s get you to bed and I will take care of getting these filled.”

Molly coughed and nodded. “Thank you.”

She fell back asleep in the car. Tom carried into the house, not having the heart to wake her up again, and settled her into his bed, which was bigger, more comfortable and the bathroom was right there. Once she was settled and asleep, he headed off to the pharmacy. While waiting in line, Tom dialed Luke.

“Luke, is there anything absolutely pressing in the schedule for the next three days?” he asked after Luke picked up.

“Nothing I can’t reschedule, why?”

“Molly’s ill.” He bit his lips and sighed. “The doctors are afraid it might turn into pneumonia. And I…”

“Consider your schedule cleared until Monday. And tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’m worried about her.”

“That’s because you love her, Tom. You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.” Luke chuckled.

Tom paused at Luke’s words but pushed it away. Of course he cared for Molly. That has the tendency to happen when you live with a person for nearly three months. Especially someone as congenial as Molly. Congenial wasn’t the word. Lovely. Molly was lovely. He laughed it off. “I worry about you too, Luke. I got to go.”

“Take care of her. Bye, Tom.”

After picking you the medicine, Tom popped into the grocery store and picked up some soup, drinks, and Molly’s favorite cookies. When he got back, she was still asleep. And still coughing. He put away the groceries and then checked on her.

“Darling, I’m back with the medicine. Time to take it.” He helped her sit up, Molly groaning the entire time. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water, gagging.

“That’s awful!” she coughed.

“Now the cough medicine.” Tom poured out the cough syrup and handed it over to Molly. She hesitated, sniffing it first. “Take the medicine and get a biscuit.” He held up a package of cookies.

“They’re cookies. I thought I ate the last of them.” she moaned, downing the cough syrup. Her face contorted. Tom smiled and handed her two cookies. “Good girl. Now rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work?” Molly muttered as she laid back down. Tom pulled the covers over her, putting the cookies on the nightstand. “You had… interviews… or something…”

“My schedule is clear through the weekend. I am at your disposal.” Tom rubbed Molly’s back, and she purred.

“You don’t need to do that.” She half-heartedly complained, dozing off.

“And leave you to fend for yourself? What kind of husband would I be? It was no trouble. Now sleep, darling.”

“Mmm… kay.”

Tom busied himself with absolutely nothing. He flitted from reading a book to watching a TV show to peeking into the bedroom. At one point, when Molly was particularly quiet, he seriously contemplated putting a mirror under her nose to just make sure he was still breathing. He managed to get her to eat half a bowl of soup.

“You need to eat, love.” he scolded.

Molly coughed and croaked. “Says the man who considers chocolate a food group.”

“Look at that, some humour.” Tom smiled. “Eat please.”

“Yes, sir.” She slurped the soup off the spoon before falling back asleep.

Tom, worried, did the unthinkable. He called his mum for advice.

“She’s coughing. A lot. And all she does is sleep.” Tom ran his hands through his hair.

“Is she eating, love?” Diana asked. Tom could feel the smile across the phone.

“A bit, but not as much as usual. I brought her soup.”

“Soup is good. And she is taking her medicine?”

Tom nodded. “I set a timer.”

“Of course you did. And the fever?”

Tom blinked. “What about her fever?”

“Has it broken?”

“I don’t—”

“Tom!” Molly’s bedraggled voice called out.

“I gotta go. She needs me.” Tom hung up the phone and sprinted to the room.

“Molly! What is it?” He noted she was shivering.

“I’m cold.” she chattered. Tom grabbed the blanket at the foot of his bed.

“Is that better?” He tucked it under Molly’s chin. Tom touched her forehead. Hot.

“Much.”

“I’ll let you rest.” He patted her shoulder and stood. Molly reached out for him.

“Stay.” She coughed. “At least until I fall asleep. Please lie down. Just five minutes.”

Tom’s heart broke in that moment for Molly. That confident woman he grew so fond of seemed so small in that moment.

“Of course, I’ll stay. Anything for you.” Tom crawled on top of the covers next to Molly. He laced his fingers in hers. He heard her exhaled, and he exhaled too.

“Sleep well, darling.” But Molly had already fallen asleep. Tom soon followed.

Molly woke the next morning in sweat soaked pajamas and on top of drenched sheets. She still coughed, but her fever was gone. As she blinked her eyes open, Molly realized she wasn’t in her bed, but Tom’s. And Tom was there too. Asleep next to her, fully dressed, holding her hand. She had vague memories of Tom bringing her soup and her asking him to stay. And some very not safe for work dreams.

“Fever dreams.” she muttered. “Tom…” Molly rocked his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tom sat up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s hard to be a nurse. I think your sheets may need washing.” she smiled.

Tom pressed his lips to her forehead. “No fever.” His spirits lifted.

“It must have broken last night.”

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Tom noticed their hands still laced together. He let go and stood up. He made a poor attempt at smoothing out his sleep wrinkled clothes. “Up to move to the couch? And maybe some movies?”

“I would like that.” She slowly sat up and got out of bed. “But first a shower.”

Tom frowned. “First medicine, then shower.”

“Nurse Ratched.” Tom didn’t smile or budge. Molly sighed. “Fine, medicine, the shower.”

Tom grabbed the bottles and dispensed the medicine, which she took still gagging. “And a biscuit.” He handed her a cookie.

“Cookie.” She popped it into her mouth and headed off to her room and Tom went to his own bathroom.

Once they were both showered and dressed, Tom popped his sheets into the laundry and made a makeshift bed on the couch for Molly.

“You pick the movie.” she offered. “That way if I fall asleep, you won’t be bored.”

Tom picked The Jungle Book. “One of my favorites as a child. I still watch it when I feel under the weather.”

“I don’t think I have seen it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “That is a travesty.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “You know, group homes, foster care…”

Tom stopped. “Well, we are going to watch this right now and you can listen to the vocal genius that is George Sanders as Shere Khan.”

“More of a vocal genius than you?” Molly raised an eyebrow while she settled onto the couch.

Tom blushed. “A man-cub, how delightful.” He purred deep in his chest, sending shivers through Molly.

By the end of the movie, Molly’s head was in Tom’s lap and his hand in hers. They watched Disney movies for the rest of day, alternating picking the title. Tom made sure she took her meds on time and ate more than just cookies.

“I will eat a meal if you do.” Molly chided.

They both ate soup and Tom also ate a sandwich. It was late when they finished up Robin Hood. Molly stretched and sat up.

“I should go to bed.”

“I can put the sheets back on the bed.” Tom moved, but she stopped him, squeezing his hand.

“My bed. But I will keep the door open so you can spy on me.” She smirked. “I can’t take your bed again.”

“It’s fine if you did. I don’t mind sharing.”

“I know but…” She glanced away. “We should keep our own space. To keep things from getting complicated.”

Tom nodded. “Right. No complications here.” he lied to her and to himself.

Molly hugged Tom tight. “Thank you for everything, Tom.”

“My pleasure.”

She coughed a bit as she headed off to her room. Tom turned off the TV and cleaned the dishes before going to bed himself. He spent most of the night tossing and turning.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #accidently married

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ggukkieland · 4 years

Text

📕CURRENT READS (2020 October)

🌹 Fics I’ve enjoyed reading this October, with some few unread ones (still have 4 to 5 days to finish!). Waah I have read a lot 😲 I can’t believe I’m almost complete with this list 🥳. Usually when I post and organize the list, half of it are still on #toread status. I thought of curating Halloween-themed fics 🎃 but I ended up reading any genre anyway😁.

Again, credit goes to these awesome writers! Sending them lots of love and virtual hugs 🥰🤗💜🥰🤗💜🥰🤗 .

✅ - done reading | S (smut) F (fluff) A (angst)

🥕[Ongoing Series - to check weekly]

Still reading the ongoing series from last month’s reading list, whenever there is an update 😊

I Feel You in my Heart by @purpletaecup - MYG | exes au, second chances, some chapters have smau elements | A, S, F (really good story development 😭)

[7/?] nearly 2 months after their divorce, yoongi and y/n wade through the aftermath of the fallout by themselves. yoongi is moving on with someone else while y/n finds herself stuck in waves of anxiety and depression. soon enough, they are brought together again by an unfortunate accident

If it Harms None, Do What You Will by purpletaecup - JJK | smau, comedy, supernatural au, fantasy au, witch!reader, demon!jungkook | F, S 🎃

[6/?] it’s the beginning of October and green witch y/n has been preparing for all of the spooky activities she needs to do for all hallow’s eve. one of her older friends gives her a ritual candle for protection. a couple of drops of blood and a wonky magic circle later, there is a high level demon sitting on the floor of her living room.

We Live with a Ghost by @smaubts - JJK | smau, comedy, ghost au, roommates au | F 🎃

[6/13] when jungkook convinces his roommate, y/n, that their house is haunted by an evil ghost, they decide their best option is to contact with it and make it leave but end up summoning an actual ghost by accident.

Swan Black by CharWrites [AO3] - JJK | fantasy, supernatural, enemies to lovers, dark fantasy, apocalypse, Fae!Jungkook, Fae!Yoongi, Fae!Taehyung, LOTR/Mortal Instruments/Labyrinth vibes | A, S (I love this! It’s like watching LOTR 😍) 🎃

[10/?] So's twin brother, Jimin, has been kissed by darkness: an evil that has spread across the land and has claimed many souls. They only have weeks until the darkness consumes him. Once consumed, he will be governed by the unsullied: a powerful race of Dark Fae that has overtaken the world.

So seeks out a rogue Fae Prince, Kook, who is her only hope, if she can survive his deadly charms and irresistible lure especially when he is much more interested in possessing her, mind body and soul.

Third Wheeling by @taetaewonderland - MYG | strangers to lovers au, ceo!yoongi | A, F, S 🥰

[1/?] Min Yoongi is a strict man. Time is money to the CEO of Kisung Connected. He isn’t interested in conventional things or wastes of time. He’s an asshole. But, you didn’t realize until it was too late. Until you met him at the club and it changed your life forever.

Bad Friends by @hollyxqx- MYG | friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, neighbor au, college au, fwb au | A, S, F (what a good angst 😥)

[1/3] hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

House of Lilies by @suqakoo - JJK | mafia au, arranged marriage au | A, F, S

[3/?] Jeon Jungkook is the only heir to Dal Gurimja. He is the poster child for mafia bosses. He’s a feared hit-man among the underground world, and a successful CEO among the socialites of Seoul. Pair him with a castaway girl who’s been out of society for twelve years, and… what do you get?

Your Eyes Tell by @njkbangtan - JJK | soulmate au, enemies to lovers au, roommates au, sugar baby (but not really), slow burn | A, F

[5/?] You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

I hate u, I love u by @bbangpanmen - JJK | fwb au, friends to lovers au, smau | A

[17/23] he uses you to forget her; you let him because you love him.

Puzzle by @kimvvantae - JJK | fwb au, friends to lovers au, college au | A, S, F (I’ve read this before, around 2018-19 and I thought it was discontinued. Glad there’s an update ^_^)

[7/?] the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

The Lesson/Min Boy by @adventuresinwonderlust - MYG | bad boy!yoongi, dom-sub elements, enemies to lovers, brat!reader | S, A, F

[6/8] No summary provided but it’s the twisted story between bad boy Yoongi with angsty backstory and this brat/rich kid. I really liked how it was written though. I made a mistake of reading part 4: Two Months Too Long, which should’ve been the 6th story to read if you follow the author’s sequence.

Popular-ish by @hansolmates - JJK | popular!jungkook, college au, fwb to lovers, shy!oc | F, S, A

[9/?] drabble series: you are way out of jungkook’s league. Or is it the other way around?

Date Me by @latetaektalk - JJK | enemies to lovers, fake dating au, rich kid au | A, F,

[prologue + 1/?] when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.

All Over You by @zibermuda - JJK | enemies to lovers, nerd!jk, fuckgirl!reader | S, F

[2/?] you don’t usually go for the quiet, nerdy type, but Jungkook’s by far the best looking guy in your year. You just can’t help yourself. You have to have him. Small hiccup; he hates you

Effortlessly by @gyukult - JJK | friends to lovers, neighbors au,

[8/?] “Reciprocate feelings?” Jungkook crosses his arms before he continues, “They should know that you’re the only girl in my life.“ Jungkook has been your best friend and neighbor since you could remember, but what you can’t recall is when your feelings began develop for him.

HEI$T: A JJK Fic by lucidly [AO3] - JJK | heist au, action, bangtan are thieves, vigilante au | A, S

[3/?] Six years after being thrown into the world of forgery, espionage, and heists, Mona and her team face competition like never before: The Bulletproof Boy Scouts, a fabled Korean gang of thieves that everybody seems to know, but no one has seen. When she comes face to face with all 7 of them, Mona knows: they're real, and this job won't be like the others. For years she has followed the money, but could it be time that she follow her heart instead?

🥕[Completed AUs/Series- to read]

✅ - done reading (also there seems to be a lot of JJK fics)

Creep @xjoonchildx - MYG | S, pwp, yandere ✅

Guilty @xjoonchildx - KNJ | A, S, mafia au, second part of Guarded AU (an awesome JHS series)

Chapter One: How Odd Chapter Two: Incheon Mall Tube Tops Final Chapter: Is Something Burning? Epilogue: Better Than Okay

Paddle with Me @yoongs-jeontae - JJK | A, S, enemies to lovers, camp counselor au, pwp ✅

Hate Me @themfchase - JJK | S, collegel!au, enemies to lovers au, fuckboy!jk, pwp ✅

Devil in a Blue Suit @yeojaa - JJK | F, S, idiots to lovers, established au, good boy!jungkook

main story ✅ + drabbles ✅

Sweetest Crush @minjoonalist - JHS | F, S, brother’s best friend au

Fake Love @aquaminwrites - JHS | F, S, A, fake dating au, enemies to lovers ✅

Faded Love @jamaisjoons - PJM | A, S, marriage au, infidelity ✅

Brown-Eyed Baby @vinterjeon - JJK | A, S, F, exes to lovers, single dad!jk

01 02 ✅

Why We Got Married @ktheist - KTH | F, S, arranged marriage au, slow burn ✅

Lonely Hearts Club @dovechim - JJK | S, F, enemies to lovers, wedding au ✅

Come to Me @jeonsweetpea - JJK | S, A, F ,friends to lovers, college au ✅

Satan on the Strip @noir0neko - JJK | S, A, demon!jungkook ✅ 🎃

No Face @seokoloqy - MYG | A, S, F, demon au, supernatural au ✅ 🎃

Take a Chance @crystaljins - JJK | A, Hanahaki au, co-workers, very angsty but Seokjin provides comic relief

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 ✅

The Lottery Offering @skswriting - JJK | A, F, S, werewolf au, sort-of arranged marriage au ✅

A Beautiful Epiphany @onherwings - JJK | A, S, F, friends to lovers, unrequited love, artist!jungkook ✅

Au Naturel (sequel) - drabble, established au ✅

Broken Dreams @ddaenysus - JJK | A, soulmate au, unrequited ✅

And Mended Hearts (sequel) - A, S, soulmate au, college au ✅

Coin Toss @yoondoze - JJK | A, mafia au, detective au, exes au, plot twist 👀 ✅

I Knew It Was You @hoseokmylovesworld - JJK | S, F, werewolf au, college au ✅ 🎃

Little Blue @pars-ley - JJK | F, S, friends to lovers, college au, with TW ✅

Little Blue Pill @dreamescapeswriting - JJK | S, pwp, friends to lovers ✅

Smitten @megahwn - JJK | F, S, arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers au ✅

Hit Me with Your Best Shot @namfine - JJK | S, pwp, martial arts, friends to lovers ✅

Slow and Steady @yoonia - JJK | S, A, artist!jungkook, infidelity, established au ✅

Cockblocked @mercurygguk - JJK | A, S, F, friends to lovers, roommates au ✅

everything I ever wanted (drabble) - morning after ✅

What are you Afraid Of? @cupofteaguk - JJK | F, avatar the last bender au

Part 2 (prompt: if you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed) - avatar au, F, S

demon-etized @jungkxook - KNJ | S, youtube au, ghost hunter au 🎃

Spellbound @jeonseok - JJK | F, slight S, demon au, crack, romcom ✅ 🎃

Raising Demons (sequel) - fluffy, smut, established au, crack ✅ 🎃

What’s in a Name? @minsimagines - JJK | A, F, demon au, soul selling scenario, romance

01 02 03 ✅ 🎃

The Big Yellow School Bus [15k] fringesofsanity [AO3] - JJK | S, A, F, noona, fwb au ✅

once bitten, twice shy [5.6k] obiwrites [AO3] - JJK | A, F, implied S, exes au, parents au ✅

Lose Somebody [26k] @kooala - JJK | A, F, slight S, exes au, camping au ✅

Oh What a World [100k] @taestybae - PJM | A, S, F, fake marriage au, fallen idol au (been wanting to read this since July (!), will finally get to reading this 🥰)

series masterlist [18 chapters + epilogue]

🥕[Drabbles]

okay I just realized they’re all JJK drabbles 😅

Incandesce @eunoiabliss - 544 words | JJK | fantasy au, fluff ✅

Forgetful Confession @suhdays - 991 words | JJK | fluff, slight angst, college au, friends to ??? ✅

Club @taleasnewastime - 2k | JJK | fluff, bestfriends ✅

JJK Reincarnation drabble @ktheist - 571 words | JJK | F, reincarnation (?) | love love this 🥰 ✅

Pup @whipped-for-kpop-fics - 1.5k | JJK | F, humour, werewolf au, established au | this is cute and funny 🤣 ✅

A Line Crossed @underthejoon - 723 words | JJK | A, bodyguard au ✅

Rousing Rendezvous @rookiegukie - 1.5k | JJK | smut, frenemies with benefits, modern royalty au ✅

565 notes · View notes

automaticneon · 3 years

Text

Clouds

Chapter 1: Automatic Love (NSFT)

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: “When desires go unfulfilled, they turn into needs”

Clouds is the most technologically advanced dollhouse in Madripoor. It’s a void for people to escape into, or at least the lucky few that can afford to visit.

And Zemo is very lucky.

The reader meets a strange new client, a man of mystery and poetic language and when she uncovers a secret most valuable to Helmut Zemo, their relationship goes from professional to something much more profound.

A/N: It’s essentially a Cyberpunk AU, but you don’t need to know a thing about the game! I’ve just borrowed the names of locations and the concept of Clouds. The reader is essentially a high clas s*x worker, if that isn’t your cup of tea, this probably isn’t the fic for you!

If this was high-end, there was no way to tell.

At least that’s what Zemo thinks as his car pulls up outside the mega-building. It’s an unsightly structure but not uncommon for this area of Madripoor, about fifty-storey’s tall and covered in vibrant LED screens.

For a minute he considers instructing his driver to take him back to his apartment in high-town so he can pretend this never happened. He had been averse to this idea already, but a friend from his military days had been convinced he should try coming here. “It’s cutting-edge” is what he had been told, but what exactly cutting-edge meant was a mystery to Zemo.

“Would you like me to wait for you, Sir?” the driver asks, snapping Zemo out of his thoughts.

The baron swipes his hand over his face, taking one last look at the building outside the window before responding.

“No, I’ll call when I’m done.”

He reckons his driver knows what he’s doing here. Mega-building H8 was known for only one thing, its position on the layline between high and low town meant it was frequented by all wealthy inhabitants of Madripoor. Mobsters and politicians alike congregated at this monster of architecture, hopeful of its contents and desperate to go unrecognised.

And now they can add a Baron to that list of unfortunates, Zemo thinks with resignation.

He leaves the car before the embarrassment can fester in his chest.

The building is worse up close than at a distance.

Climbing the flight of concrete stairs Zemo is transported from the sidewalk and into the belly of the beast. The entrance to the megabuilding is a low-ceilinged sprawl of street-vendors and food stalls. It’s loud and busy, but Zemo has no problem blending into the crowd. He weaves through the stream of people, illuminated by neon signs that grow increasingly vulgar in their images the deeper into the building he moves.

Eventually, towards the back of the building, he finds the metal gates of an industrial-style elevator. He slides the grate open and steps inside to find the space is lit by multiple illuminated advertisement screens rotating through various commercials, each more obscene than the last. For a moment Zemo takes the moral high ground, musing with distaste about the sort of men these adverts are geared towards. He takes the moral high ground until he remembers what he has come here to do. Defeatedly he admits to himself he has no right to feel lofty.

The illuminated keypad flashes at him, and he reaches out to input his destination.

Floor 12 – CLOUDS

The elevator is slow as it climbs past the levels of cheap apartments and eventually comes to stop at level 12. As Zemo goes to open the grate again, he wonders if he’ll be greeted by some of that high-class sophistication he was promised.

He is not.

This floor is much like the entrance hall, only this time it’s a balcony that wraps around the interior of the mega-building and faces down into an open-air atrium. Zemo notices that the elevator he steps out of does not go any higher than this level, the floors above must be the luxury apartments and must have their own entrance. He begins to follow the neon signs again.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this?” A man near him says to his friend. Zemo bristles at the strong American accent, but carefully allows himself to eavesdrop.

“I don’t know, man,” The friend responds “It just feels wrong, you know? Like I’ll be cheating on my girl with one of these dolls”

“But that’s just it! These girls are dolls, man. They’re not real. It’s like sleeping with a blow-up-doll. No difference”

“You know that’s not true; the difference is they’re real. They’re made of flesh.”

“That’s what makes them great though. They’re dolls made of flesh.”

Zemo moves on before he can hear anymore.

He follows the signs until he reaches a wide hallway into the building, and there at the end is the rather simple looking entrance to Clouds dollhouse. The low ceiling of the hallway allows for little decoration, but he supposes a place with such an infamous reputation needs little in terms of advertisement. Soft pink neon signs flash the name of the establishment, and beside the double glass doors a glitchy hologram of a woman dances away. As he approaches, a pre-recorded voice rings out from a speaker at the base of the hologram.

“Looks like you could use a little automatic love.”

He refuses to acknowledge the projection.

Inside clouds is arguably worse than outside. The hallway is lined with tattered posters and it smells of something cheap and artificial. When Zemo enters the small, empty reception the lady behind the desk looks up with a smile.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

None of you can hear a thing from the changing room.

“Do you think he’ll fire her?”

“I’m not sure. Depends how angry the client was,”

“Shut up I’m trying to hear,”

The room falls silent as Divine presses her ear to the door.

Moments ago the dressing room had been full of the usual chatter as you and the other dolls prepared for the evening shift. There was nothing to indicate the night would be anything but normal, that was until a few minutes ago when Woodman, the caretaker of dolls, had knocked furiously at the door and demanded that Azure come to his office down the hall for an immediate meeting.

“Is it just Woodman?” you ask. Azure could be abrasive at times, but she was certainly one of you favourite colleagues and you desperately wanted her to avoid being fired by management.

“I think so. I can’t hear anyone else.” Divine says, leaning back from the door.

“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” one of the other dolls assures the room “She’s been here the longest. If they haven’t fired her yet, I doubt they ever will.”

“True. We can’t let this ruin a good Friday night. Five minutes until we need to be out in the booths, girls” Divine announces, and promptly returns to her table to finish her makeup.

Moments before the timer goes off the dressing room door flies open, and Azure stalks back to her table in silence. She’s not upset, but you can see the frustration hidden behind a poor attempt at offhand indifference. You want to ask if she’s alright, but the aggressive way she’s searching through her desk drawer makes you think it’s better to leave her be. The other girls do the same, cautiously looking over at her but making no attempt at conversation.

When the timer rings out you take one final sip of water and head to the door, grabbing the key-card for booth three as you leave.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

The pink light of the glowing reception desk illuminates her face from below. That, combined with her uncomfortably bright smile makes the receptionist look like some sort of robot from a sci-fi film. Zemo lets out an amused huff at the very ambitious welcome promise.

“With all due respect, how could you know exactly what it is I want.”

“Clouds always knows. Your deepest desire – we find it. You’ll have your needs fulfilled – and maybe much more. ‘Less’ is not a word we use around here.” The receptionist replies.

“And how is that supposed to work then,” Zemo questions with a tilt of his head.

“Our algorithm searches your social media. With your permission it will create a personal profile based on any information if can gather, including personal preferences for you partners appearance. The algorithm will then select a doll for you, and create an experience based off that information.,” She slides a form across the desk “of course we ensure this is entirely confidential, this form confirms our promise.”

“I’ll admit I’m impressed. However I do not have a social media presence I’m afraid.” Zemo responds.

He couldn’t lie, the process seemed interesting. It was obviously a successfully programmed algorithm if the establishment had such a strong reputation. He found himself for the first time tonight not entirely doubting his choice to come here. He was interested to see what they would do for his situation.

“In that case I’ll have to ask you a few general questions to select a doll for you. If you are unsatisfied with their performance, you’ll be entitled to a refund at the end of the session.”

The receptionist begins to read a series of questions from her computer screen, gender preferences, what sort of experience he’s looking for. She concludes with organising payment, and the price is eyewatering even with the slight discount she applies since they cannot use the algorithm. When all is paid and signed for, the receptionist asks for a safe word. Admittedly it throws Zemo for a minute.

“It’s company policy” she says.

“Pontiac” he says bluntly, after a moment of thought.

“Fantastic.” The receptionist enters his response to the computer “Welcome to clouds. Serenity will be waiting for you in booth three.”

Zemo passes through another set of double doors and finds himself in a labyrinth of pink lights. The walls are lined with black, opaque glass and every so often a blue neon number protrudes from the wall indicates the booth behind it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find booth three, but he pauses before pressing the button to open the door. He takes a breath, collects his thoughts and lets his head and shoulders drop. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection in the tinted glass. Five years ago the thought of coming to a place like this would never have touched his mind, even in his questionable youth he had always been opposed these places. The risk that they were run unethically was far too great for his conscience. But he was not the man he was five years ago. Since Sokovia he wondered if he had a conscience at all anymore.

He presses the button, and the glass panel slides open.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the room. It’s dimly lit, faint blue and purple lights shine against the walls that are lined with the same dark, opaque glass as outside. There’s a chic, white sofa against the left wall, and against the right is a simple bed.

Sat atop it, kneeling with her thighs spread and covered by a short black night dress is the prettiest girl he’s seen in years.

He’s handsome, is the first thing you think when the glass door slides open.

It’s rare that you ever receive a client you’re inclined to call attractive, even the most conventionally attractive men that come here bring with them such a foul soul that it taints their appearance. Not this man, though.

He’s smartly dressed in dark trousers and a well-fitting grey jumper. His hair is styled nicely, it’s either brown or very dark blond (you can’t tell in the coloured lighting). He carries himself well, but after a year of working here you’ve grown accustomed to seeing through the façade’s of your clients. He’s apprehensive. Unsure if he belongs here. Hesitant.

“You must be Helmut. It’s nice to meet you,”

You try to make your voice sound soft and gentle, cocking your head to one side to beckon him in. You get the sense he wants something authentic, or at least that’s what his profile had said when it was sent through from reception moments ago. No porn-star moans or obscene pick-up lines tonight.

He collects himself, and the harsh line his lips have been pressed into relaxes as he enters the room. The glass panel slides shut, trapping the two of you in the bubble of the booth. It’s tranquil. You think he must need that.

“And you must be ‘Serenity’” He responds, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. His eyes don’t leave you as your ‘name’ rolls of his tongue with amusement. You can hear the next question in your head before he even opens his mouth again.

“So what’s your real name?”

They always ask you that. They ask every doll that. The clients are desperate to form a connection with you. To brag to their friends that they have a special relationship with a doll at clouds. You’ve never told anyone your real name before, it’s against company policy. Clouds attracts the rich of Madripoor, and rich in Madripoor usually means dangerous. It’s for your own protection more than anything else, you really don’t need work following you home.

You picked a name the day you were hired and that’s the name every client has known you by. This man will be no different. You begin your usual response:

“A name is a name, Helmut. A title. An advertisement of who you are. I want my name to tell you exactly who I am, so that you can know everything about me. I want to bring you peace.”

He adjusts his hips and rests his arms across the back of the sofa. He regards you quietly, and you’re positive he can tell that your response was a deflection. His eyes squint slightly, and a flash of humour appears in his dark pupils.

“Well I hardly think that’s fair. You get to call me by my name, but I don’t get to know yours?” He lets out a huff of laughter “Actually, I don’t think I’ll let you use my name. We should be equals, should we not?”

You admit you’re enjoying this. The smooth accent and playful tone of his voice keeps you interested. You swing your feet around so that you’re sat facing him on the bed, reclining back on your palms to match his casual stance.

“What should I call you then?”

“You said a name is just a title. So then my title can become my name. You can call be Baron, Serenity” He says your name like it’s some sort of inside joke, taunting you to give up and tell him who you really are. You won’t be so easily swayed.

“So what’s a Baron doing in Madripoor then?” You say with genuine curiosity. If it weren’t for the NDA’s you’re forced to sign you would be buzzing to tell the other girls who you’re spending the night with. You can’t imagine that aristocracy visits this place frequently. “And do you drink?”

“I do, thank you” he says, and you hop down from the bed and walk to the low table in front of the sofa that carries a few glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking alcohol. You know he’s looking at the satin hem of the night dress as it tickles to top of your thighs, and when you bend down to pour him a glass, you make sure he gets a tasteful peak at your cleavage.

“I’m here to work, actually.”

Did aristocrats work? You thought they were just for show.

“I’m… translating some documents. It’s taking me a very long time,” He continues, watching intently as you finish preparing his drink.

“A Baron and a translator? Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate” You loop around the table, perching beside him on the sofa and handing him his drink.

“It’s more of a personal project I suppose, but a very important one” he says, accepting the drink with his free hand. The one that rests behind you on the back of the sofa comes up to rest between your shoulder blades. It’s a very gentle touch, just the tips of his fingers making contact with yours skin and moving in a tiny little circle. He’s testing the waters with you, seeing how receptive you are. It’s almost gentlemanly.

“It must mean a great deal to you. We could talk about it, if you like? We can talk about anything you want to,” You reach up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying how he melts into the action.

“Anything but your name?” He shoots you teasing look from the corner of his eye, and you give a little strand of his hair a small playful tug in response.

“Anything but that, Baron”

“Tell me something else about you. Like why you came to Madripoor, I can tell you weren’t born here.”

Jesus you can’t tell if this man is a pest or just being polite. It’s unusual for him to be asking these questions of you, most men would usually have you on your knees by now. You hum and give him one last stroke down the back of his neck, before climbing off the sofa and walking back towards the bed.

“Very perceptive. I’m not from Madripoor, no,” you crawl onto the bed, taking your time so that the baron can take a good look at where the night dress rides up over the curve of your ass “but we’ve only just met, and only my friends get to know my life story.”

You settle yourself comfortably at the top of the bed, lying down and propped up on your elbows so you can maintain the measured look he’s giving you.

“Perhaps I should come over there and get to know you better” he says calmly, with the barest hint of a suggestive undertone.

Thank god he’s dropped the topic of your true identity. You can handle sex; you don’t need an interrogation tonight. Slipping into character you drop your voice to a low whisper and cock your eyebrow.

“Perhaps you should”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile as he accepts your little challenge. In one fluid motion he downs the rest of his drink, places the empty glass back on the table, and rises to walk towards the bed. No, he stalks towards the bed with a natural swagger that admittedly makes your chest squeeze tight.

Within a second he’s onto you, slotting himself between your parted thighs and pressing his lips to yours. Your baron kisses well, is the only thing you’re capable of thinking as he uses his body to push you down into the cushions. One of his hands slides up your body, skimming across your neck before coming to rest below your jaw. He doesn’t squeeze, just gently holds you in place so that he can kiss you how he pleases.

After a moment he tilts your head up slightly, pausing the kiss so he can look down at you. You reckon you look a picture of arousal, pupils blown and cheeks flushes as you catch your breath. Your baron seems to agree; he’s looking at you like the cat that caught the canary, and you shiver when his grip gets just a fraction tighter on your jaw.

“So pretty,” he praises quietly as he dips down to skim his lips over your pulse.

The tender pressure makes you whine and arch up beneath him and he acknowledges you with a hum and a hand on your breast. As he continues his assault on your neck, the free hand on your chest squeezes the flesh softly, finding your nipple beneath the silky fabric and circling it with his thumb.

When it pebbles to his satisfaction he pulls away and you keen at the loss of contact. He tuts, pulling down the straps of your nightgown and peeling it down below your chest, shuffling down slightly so that his face is level with your now exposed torso.

He breathes out against your nipple before latching onto it, with one hand he squeezes your neglected breast and the other slides from its place on your jaw to the base of your neck. Again he doesn’t squeeze, just exerts a level of control that lets you know where he wants you. If you wanted to you could break free, but why would you want that? The way his thumb begins to circle your pulse point has you practically melting into the bed, the thought of telling him to stop can barely manifest in your mind.

You reach down to dig your fingers into the baron’s back, instead only making contact with his expensive-feeling jumper. You huff in disappointment and pull him from where he’s entertaining himself with your tits, meeting his hazy eyes that are riddled with confusion.

“I thought we were trying to get familiar with one another?” you ask, and his eyebrows pinch in confusion “How are we supposed to do that when you’ve got so much between us?”

The baron’s face melts in amusement, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from you to pull the jumper off and start undressing fully. You take a moment to catch your breath, watching him peel away his clothes to reveal his impressive body. He’s slender but impeccably well-toned, his torso is covered by a light dusting of hair that leads your eyes down to the impressive bulge in his underwear.

Tonight should be very entertaining.

Your sit up, reaching out to run your hand down his chest but before you can begin to pull at the waistband of his underwear, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

“I don’t know where you think you were going, but I was quite enjoying myself” he says roguishly. He gathers both of your wrists into one hand and pins you pack against the bed, with both hands restrained you have no choice but to let him bury hid face into your neck again.

This time he uses his free hand to skim along the inside of your thigh, getting high enough that you think he’ll reach the apex between your legs but instead he trails his fingers back down towards your knee again.

You whine in frustration as he continues his cycle of teasing up and down your leg, he ignores you until you tug against his grip on your wrists. He makes a low noise and quickly tightens his hold on you. The sudden movement sends a chill down your spine, and for the first time in a long while, you feel genuinely inclined to beg a man.

“Please-” you breathe out shakily “I want-”

Your voice cuts off suddenly as his hand moves boldly to cup your pussy. You can hear how embarrassingly wet you are as his fingers move through your folds, and he hums happily when he finds your clit with his thumb. Slowly he circles it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you wriggling in his grip.

“This? Is this what you want?” he asks, and his voice has dropped at least another octave.

You shake your head furiously. Right now this is just not enough, you can feel his dick rubbing against your leg and you’re beyond desperate to have him fuck you open with it.

“No?” he says with feigned innocence “What is it that you want then?”

“More” is all you can get out “I want you in me. I’m wet enough, see?”

Your baron seems unconvinced. He circles a finger around your entrance before pushing in, rocking it gently inside you as he tries to decide if he thinks you’re really ready. He continues for a moment more before adding a second finger, now with two fingers stuffed in you and his thumb still working on your clit you’re almost ready to cum. It’s making you desperate, and it doesn’t help at all when he buries his face in your tits again.

Finally he lets your wrists go and immediately your hands grab at whatever part of him they can, eventually you settle with gripping his shoulder and hair as you try desperately to urge him to fuck you. He gets you right to the edge, literal moments away from finishing on his fingers when he pulls them away from you with an obscenely wet noise.

You let out a frustrated, desperate whine as he separates from you. He looks down at you with satisfaction as he takes in your flustered state.

“Stay still, you’ll get what you want” he says, and he reaches for his pants to retrieve a condom. It takes him a minute to pull himself free of his underwear and put the condom on. In your desperate state it feels like an eternity.

He positions himself between your legs, lifting the hem of the nightdress so he can get a good view of your pussy whilst he lines himself up. He pauses before he presses forward, looking up at you for any last-minute hesitation.

You nod your consent instantly, not trusting yourself to get any words out.

When he pushes in you think you might cum from that alone. He’s a perfect size, long enough that you feel as though you could feel him in your belly. When he finally bottoms out you can’t help but squeeze him tight, and he slumps over you, his face tucked into the side of your neck and swears in a language you don’t recognise. He nudges his hips forward as if to get deeper than he already is. The both of you gasp out at the sensation and he repeats it a few times, just the tiniest movements of his hips that causes him to rub against something deep inside you.

He pushes himself up on his forearms so that he can get a good look at you. In turn, you get to see the state of him as well – his eyes are impossibly dark and glazed over with something wildly lustful, his once pristine hair hangs dishevelled over his reddened forehead. Your baron’s lip curls wickedly as he sets a punishing pace, pushing you deeper into the sheets. It feels like he’s trying to fuck you through the bed.

His previous teasing had done a real number on you, and within minutes you’re moments away from cumming. You don’t think you could get much out of your mouth other than pathetic little whimpers right now, instead you reach up and pull the baron down for a deep kiss, one that he melts into fully.

When you do cum it’s fucking incredible. You’d never use a word that strong to describe a client before, but your baron brings with him many firsts for you. You cry out into his mouth as he picks up the pace to ride you through your high, your fingers dig into his shoulder so tightly you wonder if you’ve drawn blood. If you have, he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything it spurs him on as he fucks you to the point of oversensitivity.

He finishes just as you think you can’t handle anymore. His hips stutter momentarily, and tremors run down his spine in waves. The entire time he’s rambling in a foreign tongue against your skin until his pants of exhaustion overtake his ability to speak.

Your baron collapses on top of you but you hardly have the brainpower to care that he’s crushing you. Instead you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, listening to him as he catches his breath against your chest.

You yourself are struggling to even out your breathing, it feels as though you’ve run a marathon and the man on top of you seems thoroughly amused by that.

“Come now,” he says as he smooths a hand up your side “I wasn’t that good.”

You can hardly help the genuine laugh that escapes you.

“Humility doesn’t look good on you baron.”

The man in question huffs out a laugh before peeling himself away from your sweat-slicked body.

“I suppose I should make myself scarce. I imagine you have other, much more interesting clients to see tonight” he says, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

“You can stay and talk if you want, it’s entirely up to you. You paid for this, after all.” You say, secretly hoping he’ll stay for just a minute longer. You don’t intend to entertain anyone else tonight, but part of you is quite intrigued by your newest client.

“Well in that case I have one final question I’d like to ask” he says as he slowly begins to dress himself again.

“Ask away.”

Once his trousers are securely over his hips he pauses to look at you. There’s a soft expression on his face, as if he already knows he’s not going to get the answer he wants.

“What’s your real name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s asked again. Truthfully, it’s not the question itself that’s thrown you, it’s how tempted you are to answer it. His voice is so compelling at the moment that your name nearly springs from your tongue without you noticing.

“Oh baron,” you say quietly “you know I can’t tell you that.”

His lips press together in acceptance, and for a second his eyes leave yours. As he begins to get ready again, he gives his response.

“It was worth a shot.”

#my writing #clouds #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x y/n #marvel x y/n #tfatws x reader #tfatws #marvel

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king-paimon · 4 years

Text

HnK Chapter 95 Thoughts: The cruelest chapter of all times

AKA: The chapter everyone hated

AKA: No happy ending in sight

AKA: Haruko Ichikawa is a monster

AKA: I called it again (and I wish I was wrong)

AKA: Talk about kicking someone while they’re down

Ms. Haruko Ichikawa. You’ve truly done it. You truly are a cruel, sadistic, trolling monster. You leave us with this chapter? This chapter that truly shows us that despite every hardship they faced, Phos gets nothing. This chapter shows that Phos was destined to be in constant misery, and to rub that in with literally everyone else is free and happy? And to add more salt to the wound, you’re leaving us on an hiatus for who knows how long??

This is without a doubt the cruelest chapter to leave us on and this is probably one of the cruelest things a mangaka can ever do for a series as intense as this. I wish the previous chapter was the last one for the end of this year because at least with that one, it would have given us some sense of something.

Man. I’m both horrified and amazed by you, Ms. Ichikawa. I’m not even being sarcastic, I’m truly in awe.

Ugh.

As you can see, I have several things I have to say about this and... Just wow. This chapter. In these posts, I try my best to try and write my thoughts with the most rational mindset but... I don’t know how well I’ll be able to do that with this chapter. What a way to end this horrible year.

But with this chapter’s ending and the implication for what is yet to come... this marks as the story’s descend to it’s bitter end, and I now wish I didn’t make that prediction last month.

I know I said in another post that I was going to write this in a few days, but I changed my mind. I’m getting this out now while my thoughts are still fresh in my mind. Please don’t mind the writing errors, I’m very tired, I’m writing this at 3 in the morning and I need to sleep. I promise I will come back to this and tidy it up later.

Anyways, here we go:

Haruko Ichikawa: Manipulator of emotions

Ms. Ichikawa really toyed with us with this chapter. So many things happened in such a short amount of time and I’m trying to process it. Also, doesn’t feel like too much happened in this chapter? Especially in comparison to the previous chapters, where everything was stretched out, to then have this chapter have so many things happen all at once. This chapter, in many ways, feels very rushed... and this style of story telling has me very worried about what’ll happen from here on out. I’ll talk more about what I mean by this later, but for now, let’s focus on the story of this chapter:

So... Antarctictite is back now. Adamant is back, too. So are most of destroyed gems, both the ones we knew and the ones we never got meet. And they are all now Lunarians... Hm.

I don’t like this or anything in this chapter for many reasons. In fact, I’ll go as far to say that I don’t like where the whole story is headed for these same reasons:

The first reason: The emotional turmoil from the previous chapters

For the past 10 or so chapters, I’d been anticipating the destruction of the gems and Adamant. I was one of the people who didn’t like the idea of it happening, though I knew they kind of deserve it. And I remember how sad I was seeing Adamant turn to nothing but dust and seeing how everything was affecting Phos after the bloodlust ceased.

But it all led up to...this. In the very next chapter, after watching those heart wrenching scenes of the gems being broken down and Adamant’s last moments with Phos...we see him and the other gems being brought back like it was nothing. And on top of that, they are totally happy Lunarians now. Yeah. Okay.

So it feels like the emotional tole that I felt for these characters I didn’t want to see get destroyed...meant nothing. Not going to lie: I kind of wish you all stayed destroyed.

And you know what? It’s kind of funny. In my Chapter 94 post, I said I was sad that we didn’t get to see Adamant and Aechmea interact and I didn’t think there would be a way now that Adamant is dust. Well. I was wrong. It happened. I got the interaction that wanted. Wasn’t worth it.

So to sum up this first reason: The emotional turmoil that I personally experienced watching the characters I like get destroyed... meant nothing in the end.

Now I don’t know how to feel about these characters. It sucks. I even had a post that I was starting write about on a certain controversial character that I couldn’t bring myself to hate, despite everything, but I’m now debating whether or not I should still write it. I think I will, but there will be a lot of edits.

The second reason: Negation of personal growth

One of the things that has been brought up many times by fans is about how the gems dealt with problems. Instead of trying to address the problem and talk to try to fix it, they chose to ignore it and sweep it under the rug, no matter how upsetting it is to the characters involved. All of the gems, both Earth and Moon, constantly choose to not confront the issue and stay blissfully ignorant.

And now that they’re accepting to be Lunarians, it feels like they’re just running away again. Instead of confronting the Lunarians or having the gems properly talking with each other about how things got to the point where they had to once fight each other, they are like: Oh, we can be Lunarians so we don’t have to fight with them anymore? Awesome. Let’s do it.

Everyone is once again going with the flow, just sweeping the glaring issues that they all carried for so long, and are just accepting the new reality that they are in with no problems whatsoever. No addressing of anything means no character growth for all of them. No one grew from this experience. No one learned that ignoring the problems doesn’t solve them. They aren’t solving their previous issues, they are masking it under the belief that becoming Lunarian automatically solves all of their problems.

No talking between Diamond or Bort. No talking with Yellow about their traumas or any of the other gems in the same boat. And no talking about how everything that happened lead to Phos doing what they did. It’s even more disappointing how Antarcticite was the only one who showed any concern about Phos or even thought to bring them up in the first place.

Edit: Also to add, the other problem here is how the are conscious choosing to remove your identity. They are not only choosing to loose their identity as gems, but they are fine loosing their memories as well. Not to mention how Cairngorm is once again being given a new identity to go by, from Aechmea, and is totally fine with it. That scene was small but once again, the fact that they are fine pretty much erasing what made them who they are is...unnerving.

So pretty much to sum up this: Once again, everything meant nothing in the end.

Speaking of Phos...

The third reason: Phos’s miserable fate

Phos, once again, got the short end of the stick. After everything that they’ve done, from trying to save everyone but themselves, to doing what was once seen as cruel for the sake of everyone to finally do something for themselves to go back to wanting to save the others after the bloodlust was gone... to get this ending for themselves.

But wow, what a cruel twist: Phos’s old goal was fulfilled. Thanks to them, the gems don’t have to live in fear of being destroyed or taken or anything. Thanks to Phos, everyone is free. Everyone now is going to be happy for the rest of their existance...at the cost of Phos’s expense.

Phos lost everything.

Their body.

Their sanity.

Their identity.

Everything.

What do they get in return?

10,000 years of nothing but their own miserable existence and dark, depressing thoughts.

In the end, everything that Phos experienced not only sent them crashing down to rock bottom: it sent him to the chore of the earth, back out the other side, then back into the earth, in an endless cycle of just constant misery.

That’s a theme in buddhism, if that’s what I’m recalling right from @rinboz‘s posts: a cycle of continuous misery. That is clearly embodied here through Phos and Phos will continue to suffer the pain of existing while everyone else got what they wanted in the end, especially Aechmea.

Speaking of which, I also genuinely want to know if there’s still fans out there who view Aechmea as a good guy for ‘liberating’ Phos, because as far as I see, thanks to him, Phos is now stuck in an even more miserable form of existence. At least before everything, everyone was miserable together with Phos. Sort of. Still better than what we got with this chapter, in my opinion. (Please do share your thoughts, if you do. I promise, this is not an attack. I’m just interested to hear your thoughts, if you’re willing to share)

But now, there’s no there for Phos. And unlike those other instances where Phos was in a situation and someone somewhat saves them like Adamant and Padparadscha once did before, there’s no one there. So unless there’s some Admirabilis hiding around there or if the Gem/lunarians decide to come to them, which I doubt will happen, there’s no one for Phos. No one is coming to help/save them.

Phos will have to suffer all alone. For 10,000 years. Phos is the last existing gem being now...even though technically, they aren’t really a gem anymore.

Once again, to sum up why I don’t like this chapter nor how the story has progressed: Phos’s suffering meant nothing to them in the end. That’s the other theme I’m trying to hammer in in this post: Everything meant nothing in the end.

I’ve already seen a few fans react to the chapter and I saw one state that if the Lunarians, including the gems, were to come to Phos to pray for them, the poster hopes Phos tells them to “F* off” And you know what, I hope so too. But this revelation has me fearing for what’s going to happen the series, or more specifically, how and when it’ll officially end.

No true happy ending in sight and not exactly for the reasons you think

As always, it’s hard to predict how Ms. Ichikawa is going to end this series. Us fans made many predictions and a good number of them came true, but it’s the ending that eludes us. Some hope for a happy ending for Phos, while many, including myself, predict that it’ll be anything but happy. And now, with this chapter...I think it’s set in stone now.

Last month, in response to someone asking me how I think the series might end, I made a few small predictions. Some for a good ending, a bittersweet ending, and a bad ending....

...and it looks like that first sad ending is where the series is heading after all:

Everyone is gone/moved on and Phos stays behind as a lonely, immortal being.

Even though this small prediction was correct, how it’s all playing out was not exactly how I’d envisioned. It’s worse. And what’s making me even more worried is that based off of where the story is headed, my gut feelings are saying that the series ending is near. And it won’t be to anyone’s satisfaction.

Whenever I get invested in a series, other than worrying about how the creators will handle their characters and story, one of my biggest worries is about how the creators handle their ending. I’m truly afraid about what Ms. Ichikawa is planning for this series because I can’t help but fear it’s not going to end well. It’s not the worry that the series will have a sad/bittersweet ending, even though that concern is still there though I’ve accepted the likelihood, but rather I’m worried that the next chapter or so will be the abrupt end to this series. This concern is because of how rushed this chapter felt and I can’t help but worry that Ms. Ichikawa is now rushing to the end of the story. And to be honest, the addition fact that Ms. Ichikawa is going on hiatus is not helping these uneasy feelings.

I hate being the pessimistic one but what if this happens? What if Ms. Ichikawa decides to end the series here or in the next chapter? What if the next chapter is literally another time skip, with all of the characters that I once cared about just NOT progressing, and Phos continuously being stuck in this immortal and we’re expected to accept this as the ending. Because other than Phos, everyone’s story, from what it looks like, is at their end now. I really hope that doesn’t happen. I’ve seen great series end so terribly too often and I’ve loved this story for so long that I hope that doesn’t happen with this series too. I love this series a lot and it’s characters, even the ones who I don’t think I like as much as I did after this chapter. I hope the series will end nicely... but I don’t think it will.

Back to predictions on how the story will progress: I made a post a few days ago about how I hope the forgotten plot elements will come into play and the fact that Aechmea isn’t omnipresent. More than ever, part of me hopes those elements will come back and have a positive impact for Phos’s story, especially the omnipresent part. But again, I don’t think I’ll hope too much for it because looking at Ms. Ichikawa’s past works... I don’t think they will, at least not in the way I’m hoping for.

Maybe I’m too used to Western (American/European) stories, where the protagonist somehow beats the odds and wins in the end. This isn’t always the case for Eastern stories, especially stories from Japan. They usually end bittersweet and I don’t think Houseki no Kuni will be the exception. I know I’ve said this saying many times before and with each passing chapter, these words become more and more true:

Phos’s suffering is never going to end.

And unless someone does something to change the course of the story, which I don’t think will ever happen now, Phos is never going to have a happy ending.

If I could wish for anything, it’d be that this story ends on a satisfying note. I know, I know. It’s foolish to still hope for that it’ll happen, given everything I’ve seen from Ms. Ichikawa before...But still. I don’t want to lose all of the hope that I have left for this series. Even though that hope is nearly diminished, it’s still there.

So please, Ms. Ichikawa. Please give us a satisfying ending for Phos. Please let them go. If anyone deserves a dignifying conclusion to their story, it’s them. Let them rest. End their suffering. Please give them the ending they deserve after everything they went through.

You’ll likely won’t though.

Because this is Phos.

And to be Phos is to constantly suffer.

Well, regardless, I truly hope you’re hiatus goes well, Ms. Ichikawa. Even though you are a cruel troll, your work is still amazing and I applaud you for your story telling and your love to mess with us. I hope you enjoy your time away and when you return, I hope that you’ll continue to give us amazing content and eventually give Phos the ending they deserve. Please. That’s all I want.

I hope you all a nice holiday season, too, or at least try to.

Happy Holidays.

Can’t wait for 2020 to end.

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x0401x · 4 years

Text

Violet Evergarden Movie Summary

The initial plan was to make this a short bullet-point thing, but I felt like there was too much to clarify and I had no choice but use novel references to explain certain parts, so I decided to just write a normal summary. Many thanks before-hand to my friend Yuuki, who gave me all this info.

Apologies for taking relatively long with this thing. Not even I expected that I would end up writing this much. Buckle up for the ride, ‘cause it won’t be fun.

Nope, not kidding. It really won’t.

First thing I need to make clear is: this movie is one and a half hour long and divided into three parts and two different timelines: the times when Violet existed and the times after she dies. Already in the beginning of the movie, Violet is dead.

Yes, you read this right. She’s dead.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s dead in the literal sense. This is 60 years in the future. She might be alive or not, but it’s never said. However, the timeline of 60 years later is considered an era without Violet, apparently because she has retired and her “legend” is over, so to say. It’s also a time where Auto-Memories Dolls don’t exist. That’s one good punch in the face. Let’s keep counting.

The movie is sort of like a tale being read by someone else, which at some point goes into Violet’s first-person POV. The whole thing is kind of a look back on Violet’s life tragectory and how it took a new turn when she decided to continue looking for Gil despite all the mess of the TV series.

The era where Violet exists is an era where telephones are being introduced to the people, so Auto-Memories Dolls are starting to become unnecessary. I would argue that the creation of the telephone isn’t enough for an entire occupation to start disappearing so quickly, since new inventions are normally extremely expensive and not everyone has access to them (or even knows about their existence) so immediately after their conception. Realistically speaking, ghostwriters would still be important as long as there were still so many people unable to buy phones. Not to mention that this is a steampunk world where compulsory education doesn’t seem to be a thing yet, so even in the off chance that everybody can buy a phone, there would still be a lot of people who can’t read or write on their own. But all of this clearly went over the animators’ heads, so not only ghostwriters but also the mail business in general are nearing their doom in the movie.

The one looking back on Violet’s life was Ann, who was telling it all to her granddaughter, Daisy (who, by the way, is voiced by Morohoshi Sumire, the same girl who voiced the seven-year-old Ann). Ann had kept all the letters that Violet ghostwrote for her mother, as well as the newspapers about the CH Postal Company. Looks like the article was printed after Violet left CH, since she isn’t in the picture with everyone else.

In this era, CH’s main office has been turned into a museum. Nerine is shown working in it. Of course, she’s a grandma by then. Speaking of the CH personnel, Erica also quit being an Auto-Memories Doll and became a playwright like Oscar. She appears in the newspaper, though, so she probably a while left after Violet did. Taylor also appears there.

Back to Daisy, she was writing a letter to her parents, in order to learn how to properly convey feelings with written word. The message of this scene seems to be that, no matter the tools, what’s important is that we convey our feelings to the people we love.

As we see in the trailer, Gil’s mom has passed and Violet runs into Dietfried when visiting her grave on the anniversary of her death. To anyone who is wondering: yeah, Gil never went to see his mother and she died thinking that he was dead.

Nobody knew that Gil was alive. Not his mother, not Dietfried, not the Evergardens and not even Hodgins. No one.

Here’s what happened to Gil in the anime: he survived the incident at Intense, of course, but got separated from Violet in that explosion. His tag miraculously stayed on the same spot, though, as we saw in the TV series. Now, since this isn’t explained in the anime at all, I have to make it clear: the tag is that necklace the soldiers wear. It contains their names and ranks, so that their bodies can be identified even when they’re irrecognizable. Without the tag, the people who rescued Gil had no idea who he was, so he was sent to a different place to get treated. He ended up at a monastery hospital instead of the one in Enchaîné. I would debate that his uniform alone is enough to identify him as someone from the Leidenschaftlich Army, or maybe they could’ve just asked him which troop he belonged to after he woke up and relocated him to where his fellow men were, but who even cares about all these plot holes anymore? Definitely not me.

Anyway. After Gil was discharged, he ran the fuck away. Like, literally.

If anyone out there was hoping that Gil would finally have his moment to shine as the self-sacrificing, thoughtful and ridiculously kindhearted character that he is in the novel, I have bad news for you. What we had here was even worse than it being Gil’s excuse movie. It’s like the whole thing was made to drag his character so deep through the mud that he’ll never be able to get up again. There’s pretty much nothing in this one and a half hour that actually justifies what he did to Violet. I’ll elaborate on this as we go on.

Anime!Gil became a nomad and went traveling. He offed his ass to the island where that lighthouse displayed in the most recent official art is located (that’s why Gil and Violet were at the beach on the movie poster). He doesn’t have a prosthetic in the anime because, apparently, he was more worried about disappearing as fast as possible to somewhere he would never be found, and never attempted to contact anybody. So nobody knew that he was alive, hence the grave, which, as we feared, was not a fake one. His family really did think he had died.

This is a point that I have already addressed before, but that also means Gil really did abandon Violet to luck. If anything dangerous ever happened to her (as it did, and it was always very obviously likely to happen, since she was the southern army’s most outstanding soldier and quite literally fled from the military), he wouldn’t even know. If word ever got to him, it would probably be too late. And even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. More than allowing her to live freely, it felt like he was running away from his responsibilities regarding Violet.

Punch on the face count is currently at six.

By sheer coincidence, Violet learns that Gil is living in that island. She goes to see him and Hodgins goes with her after trying to stop her at first. When Gil finds out that they came to see him, he outright refuses to meet them. It pretty much takes the near entirety of the goddamn movie for them to see each other face-to-face. I say face-to-face because all of the following shit happens:

Hodgins goes to talk to Gil. It lasts about 20 minutes.

Gil talks to Violet from behind a door. This one is about 10 minutes.

Dietfried also comes to the island to talk to him. Also about 10 minutes.

At long fucking last, Gil goes to see Violet. But that, too, is only for about 10 minutes.

Hodgins gives him a speech very similar to what happens in chapter 8. Now get ready to fall back from your seats: Dietfried basically goes there to tell Gil that he won’t run away from taking over the family anymore, so Gil can live freely. Yes, Dietfried is officially a better Gilbert than Gilbert himself. I crave death.

So, after much ado, they come to a conclusion: Gil will stay in the island. In order to completely free himself of the shackles of his bloodline, he stays behind, living the way he wants to. ‘Cause all anime!Gil wants is to rot away alone by the sea, apparently. Now prepare yourselves, for it gets worse. Ready?

Violet stays with him in the motherfucking island.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Another fear became true. She quits her job at the CH Postal Company and goes to live with him. Well, at least, not as a housewife. She starts working with mail services in the island, and Gil helps her with it. Her life goes on like this and she dies in the island as well.

This is where the timeline after Violet passes away comes into light, parallel to the era when Violet was alive. Daisy talks about what happened after Violet left CH, as if it were a tale from the distant past.

That’s it.

The movie paints this as a happy ending. I can hardly see it as one. I know it almost looks like everything was solved, but it just got swept under the rug.

The main point that makes me sad in this ending is that Violet’s character development did a 360 degree flip. In the end, she threw everything to the air and went to live in someone who she always put before everyone else, even herself, but who didn’t do the same for her (in the anime). She’s gone to a crammed little island, where she led an uneventful life away from everyone and everything that’s ever had a positive impact on her. All she has is Gil.

Of course, he’s all she needs, but he isn’t all she should have, and that was the entire point of pushing her to go live on her own. Which is exactly what she earns in the novel: two loving parents, a father figure, a brother figure, a best friend and several other friends and acquaintances whom she formed a bond with. She has all she needs, so she doesn’t have to cling to Gil for any reason. There’s no emotional dependance on him anymore. She doesn’t need him to be whole. She just wants him because he happens to be the best person she’s ever met.

Anime!Violet is most definitely not whole. She almost got there, but then she backtracked completely. And anime!Gil... in my friend’s words, is a weakling. There’s nothing in him actually worth all this undying blind love. Sure, he’s full of regret and shit, but it’s too easy to only act upon it now, by vanishing into thin air like a coward.

The deal with novel!Gil is that he looks around at everything he has, everything that had been burdening him and killing him on the inside all his life, and decides to make use of it for Violet’s sake. He continues being family head and working in the army, amassing money and connections in order to have every means possible to protect Violet should anything happen to her. And as it turns out, he does end up having to use those means, more than once, but he will keep this up for as long as he needs to, because he lives for her now. That’s what makes him worth all the blood, sweat, tears, mental sanity and even body parts that she gave away for his sake: he pays it back. Every cent.

Punch in the face count ends at twelve. Thirteen if I include the fact that the movie ends with a last shot of Violet after she and Gilbert do a pinky swear. Looks like they were really trying to buy everyone with tears.

Oh, well.

I hope this has been a good enough summary. Sorry if I rained on anyone’s parade. I’m pretty sure we won’t get a remake ever, so I really wish we all can get over this soon.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #kyoani #kyoto animation #violet evergarden movie #summary #gilbert bougainvillea #claudia hodgins #dietfried bougainvillea

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flowerslut · 2 years

Note

um hi (?) idk how this works so if i messed up something i’m deeply sorry i didn’t mean to!! To be honest i’m not even sure it’s the right person i’m writing to so if that ends up being like that i’m also sorry that must be awkward !! basically all i’m trying to say is that i’ve spent the last two weeks reading CoTN, — actually that’s the second time i’m finishing it and it’s almost 2:00 AM, my pillow is SOAKING for all the tears I’ve shed AGAIN and i still can’t seem to put myself together back to sleep because tomorrow i have school and i’m not mentally prepared— ( i’m also contemplating on starting it all over again because i just can’t get enough ), but i loved it, like i truly truly truly truly loved it, the way you portrayed every character was just- and let’s not talk about the fact that at least for me it was like actually seeing them, i mean i could easily picture rosalie and edward having their little fights or emmett just being the emmett we all love, you truly made me love them more and believe me when i say that It’s just extremely good and the last days i’ve spent reading it made me truly happy or at least made me forget a bit about the world outside, ( just never delete that that’s where all my happiness resides ). I’m happy I found it — one thing i’m really grateful for is that i found it now that’s all completed (CoTN, yes if that wasn’t clear enough that’s my favorite in your series), and not when you were still updating, just because i would’ve not made it till the next update. I hope you’ll keep updating The Death of Dusk! ( I really can’t wait for that one i’m sksndisj) Again I love it a lot !! I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, i don’t know if i’m doing it correctly or posting it in the right place, but by the time you read this i’ll be on my sixth time reading CoTN !! I’m sorry for this long ass message I didn’t mean it to be that long but there were so many things i wanted to say and still i want to tell you, they’re just a lot but i think that’s more than enough for now, i’m also sorry for any spelling mistakes i don’t even know if the majority of things that i said made sense, it’s really late and i’m emotionally unstable plus english it’s not even my mother langue so if that ends up being an entirely incomprehensible mess just know that i loved your work and hope you continue working on it!! <3 Alright that’s enough good night & thanks for the emotional instability of the night !! i just know tomorrow i’ll regret this for not writing a simple I loved it a lot.

oh my god well first of all hello and secondly yes hi my dear you are absolutely in the right place! I am so sorry it's taken me so long to see this I'm not sure how this message slipped me by but I am ATROCIOUS at replying to asks (always have been always will be)

thank you so, so, so much! I'm so happy you enjoyed call of the night and that you love the death of dusk so much. I hope you've been able to read some (or all) of walk in the dark since you sent me this, and I hope it was to your liking!

I pinky promise I'll never delete call of the night although I do have some loose plans to one day re-write the first several chapters. as time passes its very easy (for me, at least) to tell which chapters are the ones 16 year old Shannon drafted up and outlined and which ones 24 year old Shannon picked up and finished. it won't change any of the plot but it will hopefully change the overall flow of the beginning, that way it doesn't drag so much and feel so clunky. don't worry I'll give everyone a heads up before I start replacing chapters in case anyone wants to download the original for posterity's sake.

I wish I had more to share with you other than a thousand 'thank yous'. messages like this really do mean the world to me, and I'm so happy I could provide you with some measure of joy or any degree of escapism. I love this message and you very much! if you've read walk in the dark (which is finished, as of this past week) I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you think I did and what you liked or didn't like.

thank you again, I hope you're well

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Riding High

Ch11: I’m Thankful for Chicken Nuggets

Chapter Summary: It’s Thanksgiving and Mary’s eating chicken nuggets.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s thanks!)

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Yeah yeah I know it’s the wrong time of year but hell, we’re all on lock down so the days and months don’t actually exist anyway at the moment… The Boat Company used here IS an actual company in South Pas, but I got no idea who runs it so this is completely made up- roll with me here.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Good morning, Handsom.” Fliss smiled as she held her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she continued to fork up the bedding in the stable.

“Morning sweetheart.” His soft voice hit her ear.

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Back at ya.” He chuckled softly “You at the yard?” “Yeah, been here a few hours now.”

“Do you need a hand with anything or…” “That’s really sweet but there’s not much left to do.” she replied, honestly “They’re all out for the day and are staying there until tomorrow morning so I’ve just a couple of stables and then some paper work to sort out before I pop back this evening to do a check.” “Ok so, once you’re done for the morning you’re free for a while?” “Yeah, why?”

“Mary had an idea.” “I did not!” Fliss heard the seven year old scoff “It was your…” “Ok, WE had an idea,” Frank conceded and there was some scuffling and Fliss could imagine he was holding Mary at arm’s length as she made a grab for the phone, “that maybe you might wanna come join us for dinner if you have time.”

“You mean your Thanksgiving dinner of chicken nuggets?” Fliss grinned “How could I turn that down?”

“Cool, just head over when you’re done.” “I might need to head home and shower.” She looked down at herself. “I’m filthy and probably don’t smell great either to be honest.” “You can change here if you want.”

Fliss paused, she had a spare change of clothes in her car. Well, a pair of sweats and a different polo shirt. She normally kept them there just in case of a downpour.

“Erm, sure, if you don’t mind…” “No of course not.”

“Alright, then, I’ll see you in about two hours or so?” Fliss smiled.

“Great.” Frank replied “See you soon.” ******

Fliss didn’t bother knocking. She opened the door to the apartment and was immediately barrelled into by a flurry of blonde hair.

“Hey!” she chuckled, dropping her bag. “Wanna let me get inside first Stack?”

Mary stepped back and Fliss straightened up and smiled as Frank walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, Beautiful.” he smiled, dropping a kiss to her lips. Mary sidled off into the main room, a smirk on her face.

“I stink.” Fliss warned “I mucked out twelve stables today.”

“Yeah, you’ve smelt better!” Frank laughed as she snorted. “You know where the bathroom is. Fresh towels in there. You need anything out of this or…” He gestured to her bag, as he went to pick it up.

“It’s just my clothes so…”

“I’ll put it in my room.” He smiled, giving her another kiss. “I would offer to come scrub your back but…” he inclined his head to the main room and Fliss gave a snort.

“Calm down, Sailor” she teased “Plenty of time for that later.”

“Promises, promises.” He grinned, picking her bag up and heading through to his room. He dropped her bag onto his bed, glancing round. He’d attempted to tidy a little bit after the realisation she’d actually never been in his room before. After their night together the previous week they hadn’t managed another night alone, Fliss being a little ‘uncomfortable’ at being together like that when Mary was literally outside the door and to be honest, it wasn’t something Frank was particularly happy about either. It had never bothered him before, because Mary was never there when he brought a girl home but this was different. That said, he knew he was going to have to find somewhere bigger soon, Greg had warned him it would likely be a condition of him being awarded Guardianship. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t concerning him a bit, living pay-check to pay-check didn’t leave him a huge housing budge but he’d work something out, he always did.

Pushing the worry from his mind, he closed the bedroom door and headed back into the room. Mary was sat on the rug looking at the instructions to the new lego kit he had bought her for Thanksgiving.

“Sussed it out yet Stack?” He asked and she gave him a withering look. He bit back the laugh that was bubbling in his throat and sat next to her, taking from her, trying to figure the instructions out to make the Storm Trooper helmet, Star Wars being her latest obsession.

“That’s upside down…” She rolled her eyes, taking it from him to turn it the right way up.

“My bad.” He shrugged, looking at it again. “Ok, so…this piece…and we need one of these…” Together they began to pull together the elements they needed for the first section and the next time Frank looked up was when Fliss walked into the living area, a little shyly, wrapped in a towel. Her long, auburn hair was piled up on top of her head and her shoulders were speckled with water. She smiled as she padded past to his bedroom, Mary not even looking up as Frank watched her with his eyes as she closed the door behind her, giving him another smile. There was something so simple, so domestic about the situation, Frank couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest.

Roberta was right, he definitely had it bad.

“When we gonna give Fliss her present?” Mary asked, looking up at Frank.

“After dinner.” He said “Which reminds me, best turn the oven on.”

“Would be a start.” Mary agreed.

Frank rolled his eyes and stood up, heading into the kitchen. Shoving the stuff in the oven, he returned and found Fliss was now sat with Mary who was showing her the instructions.

“I LOVE Star Wars.” Fliss grinned, “So does my Dad. He has a Cinema Room in the house upstairs and a poster from every single Star Wars film on the wall. I’ll show you later tonight.” “A Cinema Room?” Mary asked. “Like, with a huge screen?” “Yeah. It’s pretty cool. When I finally get round to buying a house I’m gonna build one too.” “Do you think I could watch something in there tonight?”

“Mary,” Frank started to warn her but Fliss smiled.

“Frank it’s okay.” she said. “And yeah, course you can. If you have a favourite DVD we can take that or you can pick. We have loads on the hard-drive and Sky.”

It wasn’t long before they were sat round the small kitchen table which had been pulled into the living room to allow them more room. Frank and Mary both showed Fliss their favourite thing to eat in the world- Chicken Nugget Sandwiches. After a sceptical look, Fliss leaned over to take a bite of Frank’s as he offered it and gave a small laugh announcing that it was actually pretty good. After a large slice of Chocolate cake each that had been made for them by Roberta, they collapsed onto the sofa, Mary once more on the rug, Fliss groaning about the “food baby” she was growing, rubbing her hand over her stomach.

“Hey Frank?” Mary looked at him. “Is it time now?”

It took Frank a moment and then he realised what Mary was talking about. “Oh, yeah, hang on…”

He hopped off the sofa and headed into his bedroom, pulling the small gift bag from his dresser. He walked back into the living room and sat back down, shyly handing it to her.

“You got me a gift?” Fliss’ eyes went wide.

“Yeah.” Frank shrugged.

“You really shouldn’t have…” Fliss looked at him. “I didn’t get you two anything…” “That’s not the point of giving a gift.” Mary looked at her sternly. “You don’t give to receive, right Frank?”

“Right.” Frank nodded, leaning back on the sofa, looking at Fliss “And I wanted to…” he gestured between him and Mary where she was sat, Fred crawling into her lap, “…we wanted to, say thank you for everything over the last few months.” Fliss smiled at him and then Frank saw a childish excitement cross her face “Can I open it now?” He nodded, glad she was going to as he wanted to see her face when she did.

With delicate fingers she gently undid the ribbon that the woman at the store had wrapped it with and her mouth dropped open when she saw the white box which was emblazoned with the Pandora name and logo

“Frank,” she looked at him, before she opened the box and stared at the contents. She blinked before her hand gently covered her mouth as she saw the silver charm bracelet that was inside.

“I thought it was time you started a new one, for new memories.” He said gently as she reached into the box and took out the bracelet which held a single charm in the shape of a boat.

Fliss swallowed, and her eyes filled with tears. “I…” She took a deep breath and Frank frowned as he saw her struggling for composure.

“Hey,” he said, turning sideways on the sofa. His hand gently rubbed up her arm and she fell into him, pressing her face to his chest as he wrapped his arms round her.

“You made Fliss cry. On Thanksgiving.” Mary deadpanned, throwing a ping pong ball for Fred.

“Why don’t you go do that outside?” Frank asked. “Stay on the step.” Mary shrugged and stood up, doing as she was told.

“You ok?” He asked Fliss softly as his hands rubbed at her back. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and she nodded taking a deep breath.

“Sorry, that was…” she sat back, wiping her eyes. “Absolutely fucking ridiculous…”

“You do like it right?” he asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Baby, I love it.” She smiled at him, and he felt his chest swell not only at the fact she liked the gift, but that was the first time she’d used that particular pet name, and he kinda liked it. “I just, well, I can’t believe you remembered about my bracelets.”

He shrugged as she reached out to gently cup his cheek.

“Thank you.” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss him. He happily leaned into the kiss, his tongue snaking into her mouth, sliding against hers as she met him movement for movement before there was a light cough and Frank groaned, resting his forehead against Fliss’ as he turned to look at Mary.

“What?”

“Need another ping pong ball. The last one flew under Roberta’s BBQ and I aint going under there…spiders and stuff.” She headed to the box at the back of the room, dug in and retrieved a net of ping pong balls, digging one out.

“Wanna go outside?” Frank asked and Fliss nodded. He stood up and held out his hand, pulling her up with him and they headed out after Mary.

A little while later, after a game of tag on the lawn which resulted in both the girls tackling Frank to the floor in a huge tickle fight, Fliss noting that he was ridiculously ticklish and filing it for future reference, they headed back inside, grabbed their things and after an almost tantrum from Mary who wanted to bring Fred and Frank refusing, they headed off in Fliss’ jeep for the yard to do the final checks for the evening. They were just about to head up to the field to make sure all the horses were settled and the waters were topped up when Bill walked onto the yard.

“Shouldn’t you be with mum getting stuff ready for the party?” Fliss frowned at her Dad, surprised to see him.

“Are you joking!” Bill scoffed “You know what she’s like.” He coughed and then put on a light, airey voice “Bill, those champagne flutes are grouped in threes, not fours. No, those plates don’t go there, they go there. What are you doing with that cheeseboard, the grapes go in the middle…”

Frank felt his eyebrow raise slightly as Fliss laughed. Champagne, cheeseboards? This was not the type of party he was used to, at all.

“Oh don’t worry.” Fliss clocked his face. “It descends into debauchery and chaos after about an hour, mum just likes to play the part of hostess with the mostess…”

“I like cheese.” Mary piped up.

“Good, we got plenty of it.” Bill said. “But, anyway, I dropped by for a reason. I picked something up earlier this afternoon that I think you might like.”

“Me?” Fliss frowned, but before she could say anything else Frank’s attention was taken by a man who was walking down the side of the barn. He slightly taller than Frank, quite stocky and had a shock of dark brown hair and looked ridiculously like Bill. Fliss gave a little shriek and ran towards the man, throwing herself into his arms as he laughed, twirling her round slightly before he dropped her to the floor.

“That’s her brother.” Mary supplied and Frank gave her a look.

“Yeah I kinda figured that.” He rolled his eyes. “How do you know anyway?”

“Saw a photo of him.” Mary shrugged.

Frank turned his attention back to the two siblings and Fliss was now looking between her father and her brother, confusion on her face. “What, I mean, how, why are you here?”

“In New York for a stag do on Saturday.” Steve replied “Thought I’d take the chance and pop down here for a day or so.”

“Does Mum know you’re here?” she asked.

“Yeah, she does now.” he laughed “There were a few tears when I rocked up.” “Frank made Fliss cry before.” Mary said, and all attention turned to Frank who hung his head and let out an audible groan.

“Seriously?” He looked at her as Fliss burst out laughing.

“Because I was happy.” She said, shaking her head “He bought me a new Pandora.” Frank didn’t miss the exchange of looks between father and son, both wearing identical expressions of surprise which morphed into soft smiles as Fliss moved and slid under Frank’s arm.

“Frankie, this is my brother Steve.” she smiled, as Steve stepped forward, holding his hand out. “Or Steeb, Steeby…whatever you want to call him.” “Nice to meet you.” Frank smiled as Steve shook his hand, his grip firm.

“Likewise.” Steve smiled “Heard a lot about you.” He then turned to his left and looked down “And you must be Mary.” “Yup,” She smiled, looking at him “Did you bring your kids?”

“Mary.” Frank warned gently as he looked at her, shaking his head.

“What?” She asked, “I was just asking a question. I wanted to meet them.” “No, not this time.” Steve smiled “Just a flying visit. But they’re coming over for Christmas so I’ve no doubt you’ll get to see them then.” He straightened up and smiled at Fliss. “Where’s that grumpy ginger Nag?” Fliss narrowed her eyes “Don’t you talk about Heidi like that. She’s in the top field.”

“I thought he was talking about V.” Bill mumbled to Frank who gave a snort, and then looked at the man, the pair of them bursting into laughter. By the time they had composed themselves, Steve and Fliss were stood, watching the pair of them, hands on their hips in almost identical poses.

“They do this all the time.” Fliss shook her head. “Come on, I’ll take you to see H. I was on my way up to check them all anyway. You coming Stack?” she looked at Mary. Mary grinned and ran forward, linking her hand into Fliss’.

Frank miss the eyebrow raised on Steve’s face, before the man smiled softly, dropping an arm round Fliss’ shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

*****

Fliss changed quickly when they were home into a pair of jeans, a strappy top and a pair of sandals before the three of them walked over to the house after another near argument about getting Mary to leave the bucket of lego she had brought with her in the annex, which Fliss cleverly managed to avoid with the mention of the Cinema Room.

The house was busy, not packed but busy, and there was no way Frank was going to remember everyone’s names. But he smiled and shook hands as Bill introduced him to people, and he was surprised to find he felt at ease. Most of the people were older than him and Fliss, bar her brother of course, and it was a different circle and class of people he would normally mix with but he certainly didn’t feel like any of them were looking down at him, a stark contrast to how he used to feel at his Mother’s parties.

Well, they weren’t really parties, more like a gathering which rich snobs used to brag to other rich snobs about how much money they had.

“And this is Mike, Martin and Keith.” Bill said, nodding to the final three men, one of whom was giving Fliss a hug.

“You look great!” She beamed at him “How much weight have you lost now?” “40lb.” the man called Keith nodded and Fliss grinned.

“That’s awesome.”

“All down to the golf.” He smiled, gesturing to Mike, Martin and Bill “These guys drag me up there regularly enough.” “Frank hates golf.” Mary said. “Says it ruins a good walk.”

There was a pause as Frank groaned, wanting the ground to open and swallow him. He glared at Mary who looked at him, frowning.

“What?” She asked as Bill suddenly began to roar with laughter, the other men joining in.

Frank shook his head and looked round. “It’s just not my thing…”he said, by means of an explanation. “I prefer playing basket ball or baseball.”

“Each to their own.” The man called Martin beamed. “To be honest when I was your age I hated it too. Was far more into drinking and women.” “Frank likes that too.” Mary said, and Frank then really did give her a look.

“Shut up.” He said, but of course she didn’t as the men continued to laugh.

“Although I’m glad he finally got together with Fliss, because she’s my favourite. Miss Stevenson would not have been a good choice.” Frank groaned again and he felt Fliss beginning to chuckle besides him.

“Miss Stevenson?” Bill asked.

“We don’t need to hear about that…” Frank said, his neck growing hot.

“She’s my teacher.” Mary nodded “She stayed at our house one night. I wasn’t supposed to be there but I saw her coming out of the bathroom wearing Frank’s sheets and…” “Ok, Mary, why don’t we go and see the Cinema Room.” Fliss hastily cut her off as the three men were now all howling with laughter.

“Oh, okay.” she shrugged, before she pondered something “Why was she in your sheets Frank, and not in a towel like Lissy was before?”

At that Bill arched an eyebrow and Fliss felt her cheeks grow warm “I had a shower, I’d mucked twelve stabled out.” There was a pause before she recovered and steered Mary out of the room.

Frank grimaced and looked back round as Bill patted him on the shoulder, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. “I bloody love that kid.”

“She’s yours if you want her.” Frank said. “I could gift-wrap her for you. Just say goodbye to your private life being private.”

Thankfully the Cinema Room kept Mary out of the way, especially when she had a stash of popcorn, sweets and soda to keep her occupied. For the next few hours Frank stuck mostly by Fliss’ side, talking to people, chatting to her brother a bit about his job and the business he had taken over from Bill, his kids, but Frank got the impression the man was being a little guarded with him. He was polite enough, and wasn’t being rude but he wasn’t overly warm either. But he supposed that was understandable. She was Fliss’ big brother after all.

Mary came down a few hours later and tugged on Fliss’ hand. Fliss went with her and Frank headed into the kitchen to grab himself another beer after being told by Verity to “stop asking and just go get”. He turned round, flipping the lid off, almost bumping into Bill.

“Sorry.” He apologised to the man who smiled at him as he held the fridge door open.

“There’s someone who just arrived that I want you to meet.” Bill said, gesturing for Frank to follow him. With a slight puzzled frown, he did as he was told and wandered through to the large lounge where a number of people were congregated.

“Frank, this is Alan Maxwell.” Bill introduced a short, stocky white haired man who was wearing a pair of modern thin-rimmed glasses and a cream blazer over a dark polo necked shirt and dark jeans. Frank took him in, noting his outfit probably cost more than Frank’s entire wardrobe.

“Hi.” Frank smiled, shaking his hand “Frank Adler”

“The boat mechanic?” Alan asked.

“Yeah.” Frank looked at him then to Bill, frowning a little.

“Alan’s in the Repair and Retail business.” Bill offered and Frank gave a nod of understanding.

“I own MarineMax in St Pete’s” Alan smiled.

“Oh on Gulfport?” Frank looked at him and Alan nodded.

“You know it?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Frank scratch at the back of his neck “I errr, I applied for a job once but I didn’t have the relevant experience so…” Alan looked at Frank for a moment, “How long you been a mechanic now?”

“Over six and a half years.”

“And you’re freelancing?” Frank nodded.

“Good success rate?”

“Over ninety-eight percent.” Frank said. “I mean, I only do one boat at a time because I’ve been juggling my hours around Mary for the last 7 years but…” he shrugged “I have regulars who come back so I must be doing something right.” “Could you get references?”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “Pretty sure I could.”

“Hmmmm.” Alan looked at Bill who inclined his head towards Frank with a smile.

“I told you, I’ll vouch for him.” he shrugged “He’s sleeping with my daughter after all.”

“Jesus Bill.” Frank groaned as the two men laughed.

“It’s a compliment” Bill smiled “If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t let you within three foot of her”

“Thanks, I think.” Frank looked at him taking a drink of his beer.

“Come see me next week.” Alan looked at Frank, pulling a card from his wallet and handing it over “I may have a position you’d be interested in.”

“I errr…” Frank was temporarily sideswiped by the suggestion “I…that would be…”

“I know it will be different to freelance but it’s a full time job, full package of benefits and a negotiable wage plus bonus scheme.” Alan said, “I’m not a huge outfit, but I pay my guys well.” Frank nodded, placing the card in his pocket “I’ll stop by.” “Just give me a call the day before and I’ll make sure I’m around.”

“I will.” Frank nodded. “Thank you.”

Frank made his excuses, realising he hadn’t seen Fliss for a while and headed off looking for her. He moved from room to room, realising there was no sign of her or Mary. He headed into the kitchen and then poked his head out of the large bi-folding doors which led onto the large raised decking area which spanned the length of the house.

“Hey.” Frank spotted Fliss’ brother leaning on the railing, lit cigarette in one hand, beer in the other. “You seen Lissy?”

“She was in the living room last time I saw her.” Steve said chuckling slightly, shaking his head.

Frank frowned at the man’s demeanour and Steve noticed, and smiled. “Sorry, just seems strange. Hearing someone else call her Liss or Lissy other than the family.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda picked it up from Bill and it stuck.” Frank smiled.

“Yeah she doesn’t suit Felicity.” Steve shook his head “Although that’s all he ever fucking called her. Apparently nicknames were deemed too common.” “Yeah well, he’s a dick.” Frank shrugged

“No arguments here.” Steve looked at Frank. Frank watched as the man studied him for a second, clearly thinking about something before he returned to leaning on the rail of the decking, looking down over the huge garden area as he took a final drag from the cigarette, before stubbing it out in the fire bucket to his right.

“Okay,” Frank stepped outside, “let’s have it.” “Have what?” Steve asked, looking at him.

“The big brother lecture. The one where you threaten to rip my head off if I hurt your sister.” Frank said as Steve gave a huff of a laugh.

“Well, rest assured I will.” Steve looked at Frank as he too leaned on the railings. “But Dad says you’re a good bloke so, that’ll do for me.” Frank nodded and took a pull of his beer. “I have no intention of hurting her, in anyway.” he said, his voice loaded with meaning and Steve sighed.

“I know.” he said gently “I just, well, I worry.” “Understandable.” Frank nodded, and it was. He got it, he really did.

“I hated that fucker.” Steve shook his head, “right from the start. Smarmy assed, stuck up Yank. Sorry, no offence.” Frank laughed “Non-taken.” he waved Steve’s apology away.

“I know she’s only actually my step-sister but well she was only two when I met her and…”

“Blood doesn’t make you family.” Frank nodded. “If you ever meet my mother you’ll realise that.” “Yeah, Fliss wasn’t very complementary of her.” Steve snorted.

“She called her a cold hearted bitch to her face.” Frank raised an eyebrow as Steve laughed.

“I shouldn’t be pleased at that.” Steve smiled. “But not long ago she wouldn’t have been brave enough to be that outgoing.” “Oh she certainly isn’t backwards in coming forwards.” Frank shook his head

“Something he managed to suck out of her.” Steve sighed.

“You know, I’d love to get that fucker alone in a room” Frank glowered. “Five minutes, that’s all I’d need.” “Get in line.” Steve shrugged, “Behind me and dad.” “Yeah, Fliss said something about there being a queue.”

“The day she said she was moving to Boston to be with him full time, it was the worst day of my life. And Mum and Dad’s” Steve took another drink. “But we knew if we tried to stop her it would give him the perfect excuse to turn her against us. So what could we do but support it?” He hung his head slightly and Frank’s brow furrowed at the man’s open display of vulnerability

“I wish we’d done more, you know, anything, but we didn’t know how bad things had got. Not that he was hurting her, not like that.” “None of it was your fault.” Frank looked at him. “Or your parent’s. Or Fliss’”

“No, I know that but it doesn’t stop any of us feeling guilty.” Steve sighed. “But, anyway, it’s in the past now. That is until he goes for parole, which he will.” Frank shrugged “We’ll greet that when it happens.”

“Yeah?” Steve looked at him. “You ready for all that? Because I guarantee what she’s told you, well it won’t even scratch the surface, Frank.”

“Are you asking me if I’m gonna bail when the going gets tough?”

“Suppose I am, yeah.” Steve looked at him.

Frank took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, quelling the frustration that was brewing at the man’s questioning, reminding himself that he had a right to worry, a right to be concerned. He’d feel the same if it was Diane in this position.

“Look, Steve, I know she hasn’t told me everything. And I’m not gonna push her to either. It isn’t important to me to know every sordid little detail of what that cunt did to her. What is important is that she’s happy with me, and that she feels safe and knows that I’d never hurt her like that and I sure as hell won’t abandon her when the road gets a little bumpy. She was there for me through a very bad time recently and, well…” Frank shrugged, “even if we decide that what we have isn’t working I’d still be by her side.”

Steve’s face remained passive for a second before it split into a grin “I don’t think there’s any worry about that, Frank. From what I’ve seen this afternoon and this evening, Lissy’s besotted. In fact, I’ve never seen her like this before.” Frank felt his cheeks flush a little and he looked down “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something else but they were interrupted.

“My ears burning?” Fliss asked, eyeing the two men up.

“I was just making sure his intentions are honourable.” Fliss rolled her eyes with a snort “his intentions are honourable? What are you, like ninety?”

Steve shrugged “No, but I’m three years older than you and still your big brother Titch.” “Whatever, Steeby.” She moved over to where Frank was stood and slid under his arm. “Quit with the 3rd degree or I’ll tell Mum you’ve been smoking.”

“You wouldn’t!” he said in mock horror as she raised an eyebrow. Steve turned to Frank and raised his eyebrow, jerking his head towards his sister “Sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for?”

Frank laughed “her bark is worse than her bite…owww!” he said, as she nipped his arm.

“Sure it is.” Steve winked as h pushed himself off the railing and headed inside.

“Was he being an ass hole?” Fliss watched him go before she turned to Frank and he chuckled, pulling her closer.

“No,not at all.” he said, dropping a kiss to her lips “Where’s Mary?”

“With Dad in the living room with the guys from the golf club.” she said, shrugging.

“No doubt revealing more of my dark secrets.” Frank groaned.

Fliss laughed “Nah, she’s got her lego. Bill and her will have some kind of building contest going on no doubt.”

“I told her to leave those in the annex.” Frank shook his head. “She did. I took her to get them.” Fliss shrugged

“Seriously?” Frank looked at her, rolling his eyes.

“What? She was bored and wanted something to do.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” he said, his arms circling her and she grinned as he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“Hush, Sailor, you love it.” she smirked against his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” he muttered, pulling her closer for a deeper kiss.

******

It was about midnight when the party started filtering out. Mary was crashed out on one of the sofas so Frank suggested they call it a night and Fliss, feeling the effects of a fair amount of alcohol, agreed. They made their goodbyes and Frank easily scooped Mary up and the three of them made their way, a little slower than usual, to the annex.

Once they’d roused Mary and she’d changed for bed Frank tucked her in, in the bed in the spare room and she was flat out before he even closed the door. He headed into Fliss’ room and laughed as she was led on the bed with her legs over the edge, feet flat on the floor. She was wearing just her bra and jeans, and her arm was bent over her eyes.

“My jeans are too tight.” she said.

“What?” Frank laughed.

“I can’t be bothered to take them off.” She leant up on her elbows and ginned at him “Wanna help me out Sailor?”

“Happily.” he grinned, and moved towards her but she stopped him.

“Ah ah.” she pointed to his polo-shirt. “Off.” With an arch of his eyebrow he reached back and grabbed a fist full of his shirt, pulling it over his head. “Better?”

“Yup.” she nodded as he moved towards her, gently dropping down and undoing her jeans. With a tug he pulled them down over her thighs, his hands softly tracing up her skin as she sighed, before his lips met hers.

“You were a hit in there.” she smiled gently, her fingers tracing the muscles on his arms as he propped himself up over her.

“Yeah?” he asked, gently shifting so that she moved with him, laying further up the bed.

She nodded. “Charmed the pants off all the posh bastards you did, Adler.” “There’s only one person I’m interested in charming the pants off.” He quipped and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Smooth.” “Is it working?”

She glanced down. “Nope, they’re still on.”

“Guess I’ll have to use my hands then.” He said, and with a quick move down he slid them over her ankles and gently pressed his lips to her knee, trailing soft kisses up the inside of her leg, nipping at the inside of her thigh. Fliss gave a soft sigh as he moved, his short beard scratching at her skin as he moved, her hands fisting in the sheets. When he reached his target he gently placed a long lick up her entrance. Instinctively, one of her hands fisted in his hair before she hastily moved it and Frank paused, reaching up, and placing it back where it had been.

“I like it.” He peeked up at her, a cheeky look on his face before he dropped his head back down and Fliss’s head fell back against her pillow as she gave a shaky moan.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had gone down on her. John had certainly never done it, making it clear from the start he found it disgusting, but still happy to shove his dick in her mouth when he wanted a blow. But Frank ate her out like a man starved, moving his mouth as he paid attention to how her body reacted and when he found her spot, she gave a cry, her back arching off the bed, and she felt him double his efforts, his lips and tongue teasing her, in a delectable way. Pleasure lanced through her entire body, the heat rising from her very toes and as she felt her orgasm rising her fingers tightened on his hair and he gave a low moan at her touch, which vibrated through his mouth right against her clit and that was it. Her hips bucked upwards as she came, hard, her knees tightened slightly around his head, her arm flying to her mouth to stifle her loud moan.

Working her through her release, Frank moved back, stripping off the remainder of his clothes before he crawled up her body again, kissing his way up from her naval to her chest. She arched her back and he reached around to unhook her bra before he set his attention to her breasts. Fuck, he could listen to the noises and whimpers she was making all day but after a week he was aching for her.

“You got any…” he started to ask softly and she nodded, her hand gesturing to her bedside table. He paused and pulled open the drawer, and had to smirk as he saw the new, full packet of condoms in there. Pulling one out he opened it, whilst Fliss gently gave his dick a stroke causing him to hiss slightly, his fingers fumbling on the foil and she grinned.

“Something distracting you, Sailor?” “You know damned well what’s distracting me.” His voice was almost a growl as her hand moved over his whilst he rolled the latex down.

Her giggle turned to a moan as he buried himself inside her, his entire body feeling coiled like a spring, and his thrusts began slow, and deep before soon she was begging for more and he picked up the pace, each movement rolling against her spot, causing her to breathlessly whisper his name as he buried his face into her neck, nipping and biting at that spot that drove her wild. At some point she moved, gently pushing on his shoulders, and he understood, rolling onto his back. She straddled him, pulling her long hair over one shoulder as she leaned down to draw him into a deep, sultry kiss before she sank down onto him, taking him in.

“Fuck, Lissy,” he said, his hands gently gripping her hips as she began to move, rolling her pelvis, “God you feel so good.” She preened at his praise, yup, she definitely had a praise kink, and her pace quickened as she leaned forward again to kiss him, a moan falling from her mouth as he raised his hips to meet hers, his fingers tightening on her hips. Frank looked up at her, her mouth slack, lips plump, freckles still visible in the soft light from the outside lights, breasts bouncing softly as she moved.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, sitting up and she cried out at the change of depth as he pulled her close, thrusting up into her.

“Frankie, I’m…” and with a low whine her head tipped back as her release washed over her for the second time that night, a slow, deep burn which left her slack in his arms, as she collapsed forward. After a few more desperate thrusts he was right behind her, clinging to her, his face buried into her shoulder, his own groans stifled in her skin.

They stayed like that for a little while, both recovering, hands softly dancing over skin before he leaned up to give her a soft kiss.

“Thank you.” She whispered and he pulled back, frowning a little.

“What for?”

“For making me feel good. For making me feel wanted.” She swallowed, tears filling her eyes and Frank let out a sigh, his arms curling round her, pulling her close, his own chest tightening at her words as he understood instantly that it was clearly something she wasn’t used to.

“You deserve it.” He spoke softly, , “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She moved back, her hands cupping his cheeks as she gave him another deep kiss, her lips curling into a smile and Frank smiled back, before he kissed her again.

***** Frank woke the next morning and, as he blinked, he realised he was alone. Sitting up he rubbed his eyes, and could hear soft voices from elsewhere in the annex. Grabbing his phone he looked down and with a start realised it was past ten. Running a hand over his face, he climbed out of bed, grabbed his bag and retrieved a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt before retrieving his jeans which were now folded and placed over the back of the chair by Fliss’ vanity unit. After sorting himself in the bathroom he made his way downstairs and found Fliss and Mary sat outside in the small yard, an array of breakfast items on the table. Fliss long hair was pulled into a messy pony tail and she was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of denim jeans. Even like that she looked effortlessly gorgeous.

“Morning.” He greeted, stepping out onto the decking and Fliss smiled at him.

“Hey.” She smiled, accepting the kiss he dropped onto her cheek before he sat down next to her. “Sleep well.”

“Hmmm I was tired for some reason.” He quipped, causing her to grin.

“Fliss says I can go ride Monty today.” Mary looked at Frank. “Is that ok?”

“It’s not your week for a lesson.” Frank spoke.“And it’s Friday.”

“It’s ok.” Fliss smiled. “The riding school is shut. Joanne’s done the morning shift so we can just go up this afternoon. I need to work Cap and Bronson but she can ride if she wants.” “Please.” Mary looked at Frank who sighed.

“I’ve gotta nip to the boat yard.” he looked at her. “Got some guy who needs a motor looking at and I said I’d meet him today.” “I don’t wanna go to the boat yard.” Mary pouted.

“It’s okay, she can come with me.” Fliss offered “I don’t mind, honestly.”

Frank hesitated, he didn’t want Fliss to think she was obliged to take Mary. He knew that the pair of them came as a package but still.

“You sure?” Frank asked. “Roberta would normally take her but she’s not back until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, its fine.” Fliss nodded “She can help me and Joanne.”

“Okay then, yeah, you can go.”

Mary grinned and turned her attention back to her book.

“You want breakfast?” Fliss asked, moving to stand.

“I’ll get it. You stay there.” Frank offered, but Mary suddenly jumped up.

“No it’s okay, we made you something special…” With that she shot into the kitchen.

“Special?” Frank looked at Fliss, and she grinned as his lips met hers.

“Yeah.” she nodded to Mary who emerged from the kitchen, giggling. Frank gave a snort of a laugh and shook his head as she thrust the box of Special K into his hands.

“Thanks…” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

**** Chapter 12

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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