#where for the first time she shows courage and it completely backfires on her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

donutloverxo · 4 years

Note

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

2K notes · View notes

youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi @seokjinssymphony @kpooplifeforever @explosiveranga & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up.

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end.

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous.

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed.

You were simply just having a bad day.

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent.

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits.

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe.

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!”

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful.

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder.

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated.

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring.

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing."

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you.

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat.

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you.

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane.

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy.

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane.

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!”

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR. Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water.

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life.

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call.

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away.

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved.

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day.

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun.

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated.

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things.

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water.

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided.

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land.

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you.

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped.

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime.

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point.

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag.

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering.

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response.

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up.

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in.

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet.

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last.

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside.

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.”

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well.

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

“Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected.

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

[Part 2/2] coming soon...

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #BTSsea

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find the second part a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

108 notes · View notes

lizacstuff · 3 years

Note

Hi! Your thoughts on the epi? How emotional was the ending? I also loved that the stories came full circle (Apollo and the little prince). With how much they were discussing the strawberry allergy, I knew it was a matter of time before an allergic reaction emergency would occur. Serkan is not perfect but honestly who's parents are? I'm glad he got the reassurance he needed from both Eda and Kiraz. I'm also glad the truth about Aydan and Kemal's five year relationship is out to Serkan.

My apologies in taking so long to answer this, but LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. For me, this was a very gentle, but very enjoyable episode of television. I think you'd have to go back to season one episodes 4,5,6 to find three episodes in a row that were as good as 43, 44, 45 (coincidentally episode 4,5,6 of the 2nd season). How delightful that cliffhangers in season 2 are emotional plot points for our dynamic duo, instead of the nonsense like falling off of boats or getting caught by a gunman while playing detective, or non-stop, third-party psycho trauma like we endured during 29-38.

The ending was very emotional! As you say, it was always a matter of time before the strawberry allergy played a role, they've mentioned it too many times this season for it not too. Here it played two roles, first putting Kiraz's life in danger thus cementing their burgeoning family unit AND being the genetic tie between three previously hidden generations. Potent stuff.

I was thrilled by all the domestic Edser in this episode. Outdoors, kitchen, living room, bedroom, kid's room, we got it all! I just loved the family time, and the sexual tension and the way they grew closer throughout the episode. I saw some criticism that they made no progress in this episode, but I disagree with that. Just because they didn't make out or have sex, doesn't mean they didn't progress. In this episode they went from being on opposite sides of a custody battle to agreeing to buy a car together, travel together, work together, not to mention having a romantic dinner together.

So buckets of progress was made, however, more on that later, first the supporting characters...

(more under the cut)

What a relief to have both Eda and Serkan treating Aydan and Ayfer as the meddling interlopers they are! Serkan wordless, furious glares were delicious, seriously I don't know how AA had the courage to stay in the house with him looking at them like that, he couldn't have been less welcoming. And Eda actually questioning her aunt about why she was there was a surprise. Of course Ayfer continues to be super punchable. I really, really wanted to hit her right in the face when she gloated over Kiraz calling him Serkan Bolat. Seriously, bitch? You know that's your grandniece, right? And you know that she must have some issues about her dad being absent from her life (which you are partially responsible for) so the fact that you're gloating that a man who was prevented from knowing he had a daughter (again, partially your fault) and a girl who was prevented from having a father (again, you bear some blame) have an emotional barrier in their relationship is beyond shitty. What happened to her personally that made her such a cynical asshole?

Aydan on the other hand is still annoying but she has her own problems, lmao. I'm dying because early in the day the episode aired, I said to both @echoapothecary and @melly326 that it was a shame that the show had decided to waste the potential of Sinan's resemblance to Kerem. I have been hoping they would do the Serkan father storyline since the moment the character was introduced, but the day I give up hope for it is the day it happens! I legit had no expectations that there was even a chance it could still happen.

Personally I'm excited, It's nice that the writers gave Aydan some cover, she didn't lie, she simply didn't remember they had hot baby-making sex back when she was having problems with Alptekin. Imagine what might have happened had she remembered at the time. If Aydan had come clean and left Alptekin, Serkan never would have been sent away, Aydan would have had the support she needed when Alp died and Serkan would have grown up loved. I hope Alptekin suspected the truth, because it would go a long way in explaining why he was such a shit-stain to Serkan his whole life.

It was obvious what direction the story was going from the conversation between Kemal and Aydan when he told her they'd "you know'd" that night, but I still let out a squeal when he revealed his strawberry allergy. Three generations of aversion to frangeria. Google tells me that severe strawberry allergy is rare so this really is an obvious flag they've been waving in front of everyone.

The story also dovetails nicely with Serkan's own journey with surprise fatherhood. We know he hasn't taken to Kemal, has been suspicious of him, however hopefully his own experience being kept out of his daughter's life will make him sympathetic to his newly found father.

Engin and Piril... were there. I can't tell you how much I don't care about Engin's out-of-the blue catering business, or Piril's suspicions. However, I did enjoy the 3 way family phone call, once again Can comes through with the right bit of info for Kiraz, he's definitely the most useful member of that family.

Pina and Kerem were also... in the episode. I did giggle when Asst Kerem admitted he was stunned into silence by Serkan's charisma. Tell me about it.

As for Melo, she stole the show among the supporting characters. Her heartbreak was palpable, but WHYYYYYYY did she have to fall for such a no-personality sad sack? Seriously, even drunk that guy is boring. Also why is he lurking outside Eda's house like a creeper, staring in windows? What does it take to get through to him? Serkan and Eda are following a court order and living together, they are in the process of making their first lunch together, you, sir, are not needed at their home for their first meal as a family. GIVE THEM SOME SPACE!

I really don't get what Melo sees in him. However her crush gave us the funny scenes with the mug turning red and also the heartfelt friendship scene with Eda. It's about time Eda is shown taking an interest in her life, it was really lovely how Melo got over the awkwardness of telling her and Eda was supportive and kind. Also hopefully it made Eda aware of the problems associated with not drawing hard boundaries for someone she knows has feelings for her. Draw the boundary, Eda.

As for Eda, she was a bit softer this episode, you could see Serkan getting to her. One of my favorite things about the episode was how Serkan was subtly planning their life together as a family, and Eda being swept away with the tide and going along with it. (gif set here) Family car? check. Family trip to Italy? Check. Sharing an office and working together at Art Life again? Check. Answering questions and giving preferences about one specific house Serkan is designing? Check.

This is significant because no matter that Eda still (understandably) needs time to forgive Serkan and to trust him with her (and Kiraz's) heart again, deep down she knows it's inevitable. She knows they're inevitable. There's no reason to seriously fight the inroads he's making into their life, because she knows he's going to succeed. In the deep recesses of her mind, she knows she's going to forgive him, and that they're going to be together, not just as co-parents to Kiraz, but as a very much in-love couple. However, she still needs a little time to get there. And that's okay. You don't erase five years of loneliness and heartbreak in a few days, nor should you try to. There's no reason for her to rush to let him back in her bed or into her heart, there's time for her to heal and for him to prove she can trust that he won't leave her again, even for noble reasons.

The bet was a clever way to extend their time living together. And I liked the detail that she was secretly so pleased to have him there, and still so attracted to him, but she knew she couldn't let him know because then it would be game over. He'd settle in and never leave. Not that I think she wants him to leave, she doesn't and that's what scares her. She clearly wants him, and wants him there, she got melty every time she looked at him with Kiraz, but she can hardly be blamed for needing to take it slow. That being said, while putting Kiraz to bed, I loved how Eda's plan to put Serkan on the hot seat completely backfired on her. Hee hee. She decided to tell Kiraz that they're being honest and to ask whatever she wants (that could have gone really wrong, by the way, if she asked if Daddy had really been in space) but daddy's-girl Kiraz immediately turns it back on Eda and wants to know if she loves Serkan Bolat and then sets them up in the same room. Good girl, Kiraz!

I immensely enjoyed the tension of Eda and Serkan sharing a room and sparring about which side they have to sleep on and OF COURSE they can only sleep facing one another. And OF COURSE Serkan migrated to the bed in the middle of the night. Funny how these two keep waking up all wrapped up in one another, almost like... they not only gravitate to one another, they also calm and comfort one another.

Once again, every scene between Edser and Kiraz was gold. I can't say enough how tiresome I usually find children on screen, but here I'm just delighted by her precociousness. Even her making a giant mess in the kitchen was endearing. As I said, I loved how much domestic Edser we got this episode. Them running around the kitchen with their daughter, having a flour fight? Pure delight. And I swear Maya Basol looks more like a mixture of Hande and Kerem than their own child would. It's simply uncanny.

Beyond their domestic scenes, it was lovely to see them both just falling back into a spot where their lives were intertwined. Loved Serkan driving her to work at the hotel, and then driving her home again when she quit. Not to mention how supportive he was, I'm not sure how she didn't either jump him right then and there or start crying in relief, when he was telling her she has the talent to be doing bigger more prestigious jobs and now that he was here to help she could do it. Eda's had support in raising Kiraz from Ayfer and Melo, but they really don't understand her career. Serkan understands. He is the life partner she's been missing.

Eda and Serkan seem to be on the same page as far as their families interference, being annoyed at both Ayfer and Aydan, I'm glad to see neither trying to defend mother/aunt to the other. Eda also seemed annoyed by Serkan moving his office to her house for the day, and she made several inferences, as she's been doing, about him putting work first. This is completely understandable, IMO. He left her on their wedding day for work, and he used "work is the most important thing to me" as the reason both times he broke her heart. Yes, after the fact, she found out that there were other, much bigger reasons and work was just the excuse, however that doesn't erase her deep-seated, pavlovian-like response she has to him seeming to prioritize work. She lived five years, raising their child alone, thinking he loved work more than her. It's completely natural that she's holding onto that for a bit. And it's okay if he needs to prove to her that he can prioritize her and Kiraz over work before she lets it go completely. I get it.

As I said, I enjoyed Serkan trying to trap her with the mood mug, that's the kind of gentle friction and comedy I'm here for. Of course he does catch her later on the phone admitting that she loves that he's there and it's game, set, match. For Serkan. I think we're all glad he won that bet. However, him removing his bed on the floor was a bold move and he pretty much deserved her locking him out after he did it. I read a lot ridiculous discourse on this, and my response is: you're taking this show too seriously again. This is a romcom move, it was done for comedy, and I promise you Serkan is able to fend for himself. If he didn't want to be kicked out, he shouldn't have tried to force his way into her bed again. Waaaaay presumptuous, man.

Buuuuut... how did Serkan get off the balcony? I don't know, but as I said he can fend for himself. Dude probably spent the night on the living room couch. Serkan's sneezing was cute, but being cold doesn't give you a cold. Maybe it's an allergy from too much time outdoors, lol. LOVED Serkan smoothly convincing Eda to come back to the office. If he'd approached that directly, it might have been a weeks long endeavor to get her to make ArtLife her office, but Serkan building the play school was genius! He never wastes time, that guy. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but this was impressive.

It warmed my heart how they fell so easily into working side by side. Casual conversations about what they were working on, and, you know, randomly deciding to go on a family trip to Italy with your estranged lover, as you do. Which all led to one of my favorite scenes... dinner! They got back to honest, open communication and it was lovely. Thankfully, Eda stopped letting him think she was running off to spend time with Burak and I adored Serkan coming clean and allowing himself to be vulnerable in admitting that he'd made the dinner for them and that he'd been upset when she didn't show. That's how you make progress. Just beautiful.

As for the "we need to all tell the truth" scene, that was silly, but if it gave us Aydan's secret being revealed I'm a-okay with it. About time! Buba was once again annoying and it was cathartic for Serkan to be able to tell him he doesn't like him. Same, Serkan. Seriously, can he and Ayfer fall in love and move to the country to run an Alpaca farm or something? The hospital scene was very poignant, I wrote more about it here. Now what I need is for Eda and Serkan to walk out of that hospital room and, out of relief, fall into the tightest hug. Crossing fingers!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #edser #sckask #edser discussion #sck episode discussion #sckedit #you knock on my door #asklizac

17 notes · View notes

wakaoujisenhime · 4 years

Note

My congratulations with 200 followers! Can I ask scenario about Akashi's girlfriend suddenly finds out about his second identity, but she isn't scared and she accepts him?

A/N: So, with this one, I wasn’t entirely sure which setting I should put it in. I was between her finding out when he first ‘transformed’ and discovering it when he reverted back to his Teiko self. In the end, I decided to pick something in between and something entirely different, so I hope you’ll like what I came up with. ( ꈍДꈍ )

Tags: Akashi x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅ slight angst ✅

image/art source: Twitter (art by eijo_q)

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

A slight tint of red - Akashi x reader

You’ve been looking at these heterochromatic eyes for as long as you can remember—those cold and lonely pair of eyes that belonged to your beloved boyfriend, Akashi.

The captain of Japan’s most popular and most feared team was unrivaled in many aspects, and that trait made him a highly respected individual amongst his peers. Unfortunately, that respect also bore negative feelings such as fear, hatred, and jealousy that were the main reasons people decided to avoid his presence.

But you were different. Those rumors didn’t face you in any way; if anything, they motivated you to actually find out more about the man who earned himself countless titles.

The moment you two first looked into each other’s eyes, shivers went down your spine, and if your memory didn’t betray you, then he probably felt the same way. Back then, you felt like you couldn’t move for a slight moment, but thanks to your friends and his teammates, who brought you back to reality, the two of you snapped out of it quicker than you might have wanted.

It took you both quite a while to actually start a conversation since he wasn’t usually the type to initiate such things. At the same time, you, on the other hand, were either too shy or unsure whether you interpreted the short connection you guys had correctly or not. But when you finally succeeded, neither of you had to struggle and find a suiting topic; the conversation just started developing on its own. And after a few months during which you had several interactions with the red-haired young man, it became evident that you had fallen in love with him, so now came the question whether you should confess to him or not, when and how...

Much to your surprise, you had the support of many of his classmates and basketball team members. They repeatedly encouraged you, saying just how good the two of you got along and how his mood had improved when he was with you. Needless to say, that boosted your confidence to a certain degree and gave you the needed courage to begin your quest.

Unfortunately for you, your attempts didn’t differ much from how you normally treated and talked to him. Still, you were determined to continue giving it your best until he either realizes it or until you found the best time to confess.

But your plans weren’t including the most important chess piece in this story, namely Akashi.

While you were forging one plan after the other, you were completely unaware of how the red-haired young man had seen past your actions and was already aware of the feelings you harbored for him. He knew, but he chose to remain silent and wait until you felt prepared enough to tell him.

And then one day, you finally stood before him with your cheeks slightly flushed and your eyes wandering but never focusing on the person before you. You were an adorable sight for him to behold, but he didn’t want to uselessly torture you any further, so he decided to initiate the dialogue.

“Is everything alright (Y/N)..?”

The gentleness in his voice caught you off guard, but it also helped to get the ball rolling, and before you knew, your confession was already in full swing. Firstly, you began reassuring him that everything was alright, that he needn’t worry about you, and that the reason you called him was a positive one. After a short break, you then proceeded to reveal all the feelings you’ve been harboring for him...

When you were done, he remained silent for a short while and gave you his answer...an answer that surprised you.

“Then today marks our first day as an official couple.”

——

The first few months went by pretty well. Your boyfriend had even made sure to divide his time between his training and you equally. He even made a weekly weekend date customary for the two of you, additionally making sure that the place you went to or the activity you did never repeated itself.

But what is a relationship between two people if only one person does the entire work?

That’s what you asked him one day. Akashi was surprised, of course, but he quickly understood why you’d say that, so he decided to tone down a bit and allow you to plan some of the dates as well.

A good and loyal man whom you could call your boyfriend, who made sure you were treated like a queen and whose yellow and red eyes were always only focused on you and you alone.

Could your life get more perfect?

Or at least that’s what outsiders and bystanders would think...

You see, no matter how much Akashi tried to smile at you, there was always something bugging you about it.

At first, you decided to ignore it and thought that it was your imagination and that all he needed was a little time until he could tell you what haunted his mind, but the longer you waited, the gloomier his expression grew, and it worried you. Not only were you not used to him appearing that distanced at times, but what hurt you the most was the fact that he wasn’t even intending on sharing anything with you.

Instead of doubting his trust in you, a more direct approach was in order, so you decided to just ask him yourself; all you needed was an opportunity, and what worked better than everyone’s beloved test period?

Next to your weekly dates and your monthly horseback riding expeditions, the two of you also organized a small tutoring group where you or some of Rakuzan’s basketball members would seek Akashi’s help in topics they didn’t understand. Luckily they were not always up for studying more than they had to, so the two of you got at least some privacy from time to time. So when the exam period started, you prayed to whichever deity you believed in, to give the two of you some time together.

The moment your finger pushed the doorbell on your boyfriend’s extravagant front door, you expected to be greeted by one of his butlers, but instead were greeted by a warm embrace from your beloved.

“Hope you won’t mind that today is going to be just the two of us.”

“Oh no, not at all!”

You were overjoyed to hear this but tried to appear as calm as you could while Akashi brought you to the living room, where some papers were already splayed out on a table.

After you had taken a seat and placed the snacks you had brought with you next to the tray with some of your favorite beverages, the two of you discussed what subjects and problems you’ll be going through today. Since you truly needed some help with a few subjects, your plan to talk to him had to be postponed for a short while.

When the two of you were about to move on to the next pile of tasks, you looked at your boyfriend’s profile and began: “Hey Akashi...it’s not school-related, but I have a small question for you. Is that ok?”

You saw his red eye shift its attention to you as he nodded his head slightly, a small smile adorning his lips.

Here goes nothing...

“So, I’ve noticed that there are times during which you tend to look quite sad and troubled. At first, I thought that whatever it was, you just needed some time to process it yourself until you could tell me. Still, that plan backfired quite a bit, since your expression has been getting worse,” you stilled to let him process your line of thoughts first, and then you resumed, “I just hope that you know how much I care for you, and if I have given you the impression that I don’t, then let me apologize. Akashi, I truly care for you, more than you might think...and more than I sometimes show, so I would be really happy if you could at least entrust me with some of the thoughts that have occupied your mind.”

You took another break to look at the man next to you and immediately noticed how much his body had tensed up. Whatever you chose to say next was about to either provoke a change in your relationship or let it circle around the same iceberg as before. So you mustered all the courage within you, took his hand, squeezing it, and said: “I love you Akashi, but if we don’t talk this out now, I’m not sure if we’ll have another chance like this...”

Silence...

Whatever you just said had quite an impact on your boyfriend, more than you ever expected. His entire face went pale, and his eyes seemed unable to focus on you or your face anymore. You were worried that this topic might’ve been too big of a landmine for your fresh relationship, but there was no way for you to return anymore, so you had no choice but to go through with it.

Akashi sighed and stood up, his back turned to you. He looked so lonely that you couldn’t help but follow his lead and stand a few meters behind him, leaving your boyfriend enough free space but also maintaining a certain closeness, just in case he needed an embrace or anything of that sort.

Another short period of silence followed during which the red-haired young man looked out of his living room’s window and apparently tried to calm his nerves down for the upcoming talk.

“(Y/N), there’s something I’ve been...keeping from you for quite a while.”

I knew it...

It was no secret that you expected that to be the case, but you couldn’t help but be curious as to what that secret was, so in order to tame your curiosity and stop yourself from showering him with countless questions, you bit your lower lip. You already had a few hunches as to what that secret might or might not be, but you remained silent and waited for him to finally tell you what’s been on his mind for so long...

His lips were moving, his eyes were focused on one of the many random trees in his courtyard, his hands were trembling, and all you could do was stand there and listen...listen to the most unexpected confession.

“A...second personality, you say?”

Akashi nods, and even though he turns around, his eyes never meet yours; they just blankly stare at something behind you. Usually, you would’ve followed his view, but you already knew what those beautiful eyes of his were fixated on.

His childhood photos...

Even if his confession of having a second personality sounded quite far-fetched at first, now that the both of you were silent, you had some time to actually think it over, and much to your surprise, it made sense...to a certain degree, at least. His eye’s sudden change in color and the abrupt disappearance of his angelic smile from his middle school’s days were drastic developments in a brief span of time, judging by the intervals in which the photos were taken. When you first noticed this peculiarity, you thought that either something on a biological level or something bad in general had happened, so you had made up your mind to drop it for the time being. Who would’ve thought that you’d be getting an answer to that as well today?

“I-I’m sorry (Y/N)...if my story sounds too unbelievable or too unrealistic for you, then please feel free to label it as some kind of fairytale I came up with to put your mind at ease.“

You squinted your eyes, trying to comprehend just what kind of nonsense your boyfriend was coming up with, and before you could even think of an answer, your mouth was already open, throwing the first things that came to your mind at him.

“What if I choose to believe you, though? What would you do then Akashi? Would you push me away like all the other times, or would you keep on pretending that everything’s alright? Huh? Tell me...“

The young man was clearly taken aback by your direct questions, but he recovered quickly and turned his back to you, mumbling something about you not being able to grasp the true meaning behind his words and how you couldn’t handle his true self.

He must’ve thought that you weren’t going to hear his self-talk, but you did...and what you heard made you extremely mad. Pure rage clouded your judgment, and the next thing you knew was how Akashi’s back was pressed against the wall and how your hands were gripping his shirt’s collar.

“How dare you say something like that?! Do you really think that I’m that insensible and shallow?”

You continuously threw your feelings and thoughts at him, not noticing just how worked up you truly were. At one point, though, Akashi just couldn’t take it anymore and wrapped his arms around your trembling body, pulling it towards his chest where you could continue to cry. Now that you were enveloped in that oh so familiar warmth, you just couldn’t keep on screaming at him, so you just closed your eyes, held onto him, and tried stopping your tears from ruining his already crumpled shirt. While you were doing that, he placed his hand on top of your head and stroked it gently, calming you down even further.

“(Y/N)...I’m truly sorry, I never intended to doubt you; it’s just tha-“

“Don’t apologize Akashi...I understand”

He wanted to tell you just how scared he was of your reaction because you were one of the few people he trusted enough to tell this to, and all the others who saw, experienced, and even knew of his change ended up being either weirded out or too scared.

But you were different, and even if he knew that, he just couldn’t risk losing the light of his life, and that’s why he decided to keep it a secret from you, up until now. When he saw how mad you got for his sake, how sad it made you the moment you found out just how heavy this has weighed on his mind, it made him understand that even if you were scared somewhere deep down, you’d still look for a way to make him feel better and try your best to understand him.

That realization was all he needed as he gently planted a featherlight kiss on the top of your head and raised your chin so that you could look him directly into the eyes.

At that moment, you could’ve sworn that his iconic yellow eye had a slight tint of red in it.

I love you...

#knb scenarios #knb x reader #akashi x reader #akashi seijiro x reader #knb fluff #knb angst #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

112 notes · View notes

daydream-believin · 4 years

Text

A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #my writing

142 notes · View notes

weeklyfangirl · 5 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.

My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough.

“oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.”

A flying toenail hit my eye.

“WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.

“Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

“oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!”

“IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back.

I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle.

“All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

“You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.”

“Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.”

I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.”

“Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?”

This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did.

After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

And therein lay the problem.

It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

“Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.”

“Ew, he smells like meat.”

“RENNY!!”

“I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

“He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.”

She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window.

“Hey Renny?”

“Hm.”

A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?”

“Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.”

“Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.

“Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?”

Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first.

“I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.”

“Oh.”

“It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

“The divorce or your virginity.”

“Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis.

“I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more.

Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?”

Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him.

“Maybeeee…?”

But then there was last night.

I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves?

“No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.”

Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.”

“Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this.

Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly.

But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him?

You were right, Harry. You are fucked.

I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh.

I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

Renny was right.

I needed therapy.

The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

“Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?”

DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please.

I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

“NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

“Fine. I can keep a secret.”

I was getting a little too good at that lately.

She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious.

“Yeah, more than you know.”

And I was serious, too.

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

I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs.

Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery. .

“Woah did you hear that?”

Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.”

It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next.

A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did.

“It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts.

“How’d you know that?”

She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance.

I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick.

Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away.

My hand wavered.

Odd.

Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors.

I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over.

“Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”

Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster.

“I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.”

Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too.

“Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed.

We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from.

“Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment.

My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?”

“Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-”

“My God,” David proclaimed.

Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.”

“Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass.

Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

“Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased.

He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.”

We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left.

“Look closer.”

My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang.

“Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin.

The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot.

“Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

“Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.”

“How so?”

“Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.”

He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside.

He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles.

“They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said.

A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.”

“Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.”

“Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him.

I felt him come closer.

“Listen now,” he urged.

I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder.

“Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.”

I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed.

“Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?”

I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous.

“What do you hear?” he urged.

“I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped.

But right when I was about to open my eyes-

I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter.

“Birds?” I opened my eyes.

“Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Why are there birds?”

“We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half.

My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.”

“All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes.

“Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.”

“What do you mean?”

She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow.

I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second.

I was naked.

In all of them.

One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.

Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet.

The wine had dropped.

I’d dropped it.

I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb.

“Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked.

I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe.

He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees.

Because that’s what it was.

An exposure.

A stranger could pay to have me in their home.

The floor spun, vision spotting.

My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly.

“I didn’t want this.”

And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home.

part 22

237 notes · View notes

stereotvpes · 4 years

Text

class fight.

summary: jason dean is a complication for heather chandler. a nuisance. a problem. she cannot lose veronica to him. she needs to regain control.

but plans can always backfire.

warnings: graphic violence, major character death

A/N: hi!! this is my first fic, i hope everyone enjoys it!

Hanging out with the Heathers was never Veronica’s favourite thing to do.

Sure, they were her friends, but she didn’t really like them all that much. When she walked with them, it was like putting on a different skin. Veronica could never fully be herself: she’d run the risk of being Heather Chandler’s verbal punching bag for the week. Chandler was fierce and predatory, like a hawk, or a lion. She had sharp, watchful eyes that seemed to criticize her every move, never afraid to bite. God forbid Veronica befriended anyone outside of Chandler’s little circle.

But with JD, it was different, like a teenager rebelling against a parent. With JD, Veronica could push aside the petty things in life, like what skirt Nancy Stevens was wearing or how there was another college party next week. He gave her the courage to do things she’d never had the guts to. She had deep conversations with him, talking about the stars and what the future would look like until she fell asleep in his arms, his coat smelling like cigarettes and gunpowder.

When Heather Chandler began to notice that Veronica was slowly drifting away from her group, a wave of fury washed over her. What did Veronica see in that loser, anyway?

Chandler couldn’t really explain why she was so upset at the fact. Maybe it was because Veronica said she had sworn off high school boys, and that was a lie. Or maybe it was something deeper— Veronica’s complete indifference of what the school thought of her, how Chandler felt almost jealous that she could never be Veronica Sawyer. Chandler had spent ages trying to impress Veronica, but to no avail. So how come this little twerp managed to catch her eye in a day?

She had to put it to an end.

It started off with simple daydreams— poisoning Jason Dean and hiding his body where he’d never be found, Veronica crawling back to her looking to be comforted. Or maybe burning him alive in one of his father’s abandoned construction sites, and being a shoulder for Ronnie to cry on.

Then, one day, when she came back from school, she grabbed the address book from the top of her dresser and flipped through it casually, as if she planned to visit an old friend. His address was easy enough to find— who didn’t know Big Bud Dean’s Construction? Her parents weren’t home, which was expected, so Chandler headed out again after printing out the address carefully in her swirly handwriting on a piece of red stationary.

When she knocked at the door it swung open almost immediately, JD standing at the door with a smug look on his face and motor oil smeared on his shirt.

“Well, well, well,” he said, giving a half-bow. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Heather... Duke, is it?”

“Chandler, thank you very much,” Heather sniffed, only slightly offended. She suspected he got her name wrong on purpose. There wasn’t a person at school who didn’t know who she was. “Can I come in?”

“Why, of course,” said JD, unusually courteous. He opened the door wider and walked her into the living room, where a TV spoke in muted tones and a motorcycle wheel covered in motor oil sat on the coffee table. “What brings the occasion?”

Shit. Shit! What was she doing? She had no plan, not even a weapon! Chandler could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat.

Regaining her composure, she said, “It’s about Veronica. We... need to talk.”

“Ronnie, huh? What’s the problem? Is she spending a little too much time away from the kingdom?”

So he was mocking her! Hearing Veronica’s nickname come from his mouth made the anger bubble up inside her. She started to narrow her eyes— then stopped, and smiled sweetly at him.

“Actually... could I get a glass of water? It’s been so dry out, I can almost feel myself being fossilized.”

“Sure, the glasses are in the kitchen, second cupboard to the left.” JD turned away from her, focusing on the motorcycle wheel again.

Chandler ventured through the living room to the kitchen, trying to ignore a picture of a young JD and his parents on a nearby shelf. She filled a glass with water, gulped it down, and took a deep breath. This was it. She was going to be rid of him once and for all.

She quietly pulled open drawers until she found what she was really looking for: a kitchen knife. Holding it behind her back, she called, “Hey, JD, do you think you could give me a hand? I can’t seem to find the glasses anywhere... and you’re the host, I mean— shouldn’t you be getting me water?”

Chandler could hear JD give a huff of annoyance, tools clanking as he set them down on the coffee table. He walked in, wiping his hands on his shirt, seeing the glass on the kitchen counter. He stopped, raising his eyebrows at Chandler with irritation.

“Looks to me like you found them just f-“

Chandler lunged at him with the knife, aiming for his stomach. JD’s eyes widened in surprise, but his demeanor hardened again when he caught her arm just in time. She struggled against it, desperately trying to nick him or at least scare him bad enough that he would leave Veronica alone.

No such luck. JD was a lot stronger than someone who looked so lanky would seem. They were caught in a silent gridlock. As one arm held hers with the knife, something cold pressed against her temple. Chandler looked up in horror to see the same pistol that JD had used a few days ago in the cafeteria against her forehead. Even if it was filled with blanks last time, she wasn’t taking any risks.

As she relaxed, so did JD— only slightly. Instead of looking angry, he had an emotion on his face that made him look much scarier: exhilaration.

“Alright,” he panted, stepping away, still pointing the gun at her. “This isn’t about Veronica, is it?”

“Yes, it is,” Chandler insisted through gritted teeth, still gripping the handle of the knife tightly and pointing it at him. “I want you to break up with her. If you’re even dating her at all. She doesn’t belong with someone like you.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“She said it herself before you got here,” Chandler spat venomously. “That she’d given up on high school boys. She should be at college keggers with me, not going on long walks at the beach with you.”

Chandler couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. This kid had a gun pointed at her, and she was the one making demands. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“You’re... jealous?” JD raised an eyebrow, half amused and half suspicious.

“I’m not jealous— I’m doing what’s best for her. Which is getting rid of you.”

JD chuckled lightly, no mirth in his eyes.

“Sure, okay. Look, why don’t we make a deal?” His hand was steady on his gun, as if he’d done this a million times before.

“Like what?” Chandler’s voice shook slightly.

“I’ll pretend that all this never happened, and let you leave, but only on two conditions: if you continue to let Veronica spend time with me, and you forget all this happened, too. Hell, I’ll even make sure she still has lunch with your little clique. Deal?”

There was no doubt in JD’s voice that he was going to get what he wanted, deal or not. Chandler lowered the knife a slight increment.

“Deal,” she said, feeling as if she had just sold her soul to the Devil himself.

And just like that, JD looked normal again. Almost.

“Great!” he said. “I’ll show you out now.” He guided her out of the house with the pistol pointed at her. “And you can leave the knife on the counter— unless you plan on making some lunch.” He grinned at his own joke. “Goodbye, Heather Chandler,” he said, shutting the door in her face.

Chandler walked home stunned, sure he would keep his promise, but unsure of what was to come.

As soon as he shut the door, JD began to pace around the room. He couldn’t fathom what possibly could’ve driven that girl to try to murder him. It wasn’t friendship, that was for sure. Unless... unless.

Unless she felt the same way about Veronica as he did.

The realization hit him fast, disgust balling up his fists. Stupid. Stupid! He didn’t want another body on his hands, but he knew he should’ve killed her right then in his kitchen. There was no way he and Chandler would be able to coexist in peace if she felt the same way about her that he did.

He was going to have to break their deal.

The weeks went by smoothly as JD created his plan, with Chandler truly seeming to have forgotten their unusual meeting and Veronica completely oblivious. He was much more prepared than Chandler. All he had to do was wait for an opportunity to jump.

It finally came the morning after one of Veronica’s rendezvous at a college party. JD had seen the lights on in her room and crawled in through the window, listening to her rave about how she wanted Heather Chandler out of her life.

It felt like it was too good to be true to JD, as if it was a sign from God that his plan was ready to be put in action.

So, the morning after, he tagged along with Veronica to check up on Chandler.

When Chandler heard footsteps inside her house, fear rocketed through her. Was JD finally here to finish her off? She had had more than a few sleepless nights, with nightmares of Jason Dean breaking into her house and strangling her or shooting her through the forehead (with her corpse looking like a mess!). But she heard Veronica’s voice laughing at his, so she relaxed and feigned sleep. He wouldn’t try anything with her around.

So when JD brought the cup into the room, she assumed that it was that awful concoction of milk and orange juice they were giggling at in her kitchen. When she saw it was blue, she rolled her eyes, thinking they found some food dye to mess with her. She wasn’t going to let JD make a fool out of her again, especially in front of Veronica, so in one last attempt to prove herself to Veronica, she downed the cup in one go.

Immediately after she swallowed a gulp, bitterness stung and burned her throat. She felt like her throat was closing up on her, and she dropped the cup, grabbing at her throat frantically and trying to say something, anything. This is it, she thought. This is when I die.

Struggling to breathe, she choked out, “Corn... nuts,” and blacked out, falling onto the glass table as the darkness engulfed her.

Veronica stood in silent shock, hands going over her mouth. “I just killed my best friend,” she said shakily.

“And your worst enemy,” JD added.

As they slowly pieced together what to do, with JD feigning surprise and shock, she forged the note and turned to leave the house. JD had already left, waiting impatiently for her in the car. But right before she left, something on Chandler’s vanity dresser caught her eye. It was a crumpled-up note, the stationary the same as the one Veronica used to write Chandler’s suicide note with. She unfolded it, smoothing out the creases.

JD’s address was printed on the first line of the paper in Chandler’s discernible flowery handwriting. Veronica frowned in confusion. She looked at JD, out of his line of sight from the car, and pocketed the note.

She never mentioned it to JD, or anyone else, after that day.

Veronica turned to look at Heather Chandler’s lifeless body on the shag carpet. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and fled out of the house.

#fic #heathers fic #heathers fanfic #jd x veronica #heather chandler x veronica sawyer #veronica sawyer #heather chandler #jd #jason dean x veronica #jason dean #fanfiction #heathers #yandere #yandere!chandler #yandere!jd #chandler x veronica #heather duke

49 notes · View notes

meta-squash · 4 years

Text

Brick Club 1.5.10 “Outcome Of The Success”

It’s long, I’m sorry. There’s just so much in this chapter!

The chapter’s first paragraph is a description of the misery of winter weather, bookended by sentences about Fantine. It’s been nearly a year since she was fired. The bit about winter is a description of Fantine’s descent as well as the weather. Winter brings short days which means less work; Fantine’s position in society means she’s finding less work as well because she is essentially freelancing rather than working for an employer with steady jobs. “No heat, no light, no noon, evening touches morning” is such a good description of the way everything is miserable and just blurs together when you’re trying to just stay alive. All the awful stuff is sharp and dull at the same time. “Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man.” Fantine is starting to harden here; we see her become more shameless, tougher.

Fantine wears a cap after cutting her hair “so she was still pretty.” And this disappears so rapidly in this chapter. Her beauty is so important. Fantine is the only character aside from Enjolras who is repeatedly described as beautiful in a way that seems to really matter. (Cosette is also beautiful, but that description is almost entirely through Marius’ POV, rather than from a more general POV with Fantine.) The slow destruction of Fantines beauty--the discarding of her pretty clothes for peasant ones, her frequent tears, the loss of her hair and teeth, the torn and threadbare clothing--mirrors her social destruction. She desperately clings to her beauty by wearing a cap, but she obviously gives up pretty soon.

What fascinates me here is that Hugo mentions that Fantine admired Madeleine, like everyone else, but he also implies that she didn’t hate him straight away for her dismissal. In the previous chapters, her reaction is to accept the dismissal as a “just” decision. She works up her hatred by repeatedly telling herself it was his fault. It seems as though she lands on the right conclusion in the wrong way. She blames herself first, and only through gradually convincing herself does she start to blame Madeleine. He and his crap system are the ones to blame, but she comes to that conclusion in a roundabout way that feels like she still blames herself but is trying not to. Fantine has been a scapegoat for everyone up until now; Madeleine has become her scapegoat to avoid (incorrectly) blaming herself.

“If she passed the factory when the workers were at the door, she would force herself to laugh and sing.” She’s trying so hard to make them think they haven’t gotten to her, but it just makes it so much more obvious. The laughter and singing is the “wrong” reaction, and it makes everyone notice her even more, and judge her even harder. It’s just so sad because I can understand that behavior of trying so hard to act the opposite way of how you think people will expect you to, only it backfires and makes your true feelings all the more apparent, which gives even more fuel to the cruel people.

Fantine takes a lover out of spite, “a man she did not love.” There are a few things here that contrast with the grisettes of 1.3. This lover is someone Fantine does not love, her first relationship since losing Tholomyes, who she was in love with. The man is also a street musician, which reminds me of Favourite’s actor/choir boy. The difference being that Favourite’s boy had at least some connections through his father, and Fantine’s lover is only a street musician. Fantine takes this lover in for the same reason that she sings and laughs outside the factory: to try and show that she’s unaffected, which really only serves to do the opposite. She has this affair “with rage in her heart,” which seems to be the only emotion left for her for anyone besides Cosette (and maybe Marguerite).

“She worshiped Cosette.” My only comment here is that this is something that Valjean will later echo. Both worship and adore Cosette as a point of light, something to cling to and love and care for.

Okay maybe I’m missing something here, but Fantine can read but she can’t write? This is probably my “been good at reading/writing my whole life” privilege talking, but wouldn’t she be able to write if she could read? I suppose maybe it’s like how I can look at numbers and understand the numbers but I can’t do math for shit? I don’t know. That just caught my eye.

Fantine is starting to lose her inhibitions as she begins to lose control of everything in her life. She’s laughing and singing and running and jumping around outside in public, she’s acting loud and brash and odd. Her reactions to her misfortune and the terrible things that keep happening express the “wrong” emotion. It’s an attempt to cope, and a courageous one, but it’s drastically different from the quiet Fantine who barely spoke that we were introduced to.

“Two Napoleons!” grumbled a toothless old hag who stood by. “She’s the lucky one!”

This line really struck me. We’ve been tunnel-visioned on Fantine’s misery this whole time. Suddenly the focus pulls back a little bit and we get a little bit of perspective. Fantine is not at rock bottom yet. She could still go so much lower. To this toothless old woman, she’s lucky because she’s pretty and because her teeth have worth. Fantine is poor, and cold, and worried about her kid, and most of the town laugh at or scorn her, and yet this old woman still thinks she’s the lucky one of the two of them. It’s a much more subtle commentary on the levels of poverty and abjectness that exist. Once you’ve fallen through the cracks in society to the level of homelessness, to the level of selling your teeth and hair and body, to complete aloneness, anyone who has even a scrap more than you seems “lucky.” And Fantine’s not too far from that existence.

The conversation between Marguerite and Fantine about military fever is so weird. Is Marguerite just saying stuff? This dialogue sounds like a conversation between two people who have no idea what they’re talking about. It’s like those scenes in comedies where one person pretends to be super confident about something to impress the other even though both of them are completely wrong. Oh okay wait! I just did some googling and I’ve realized that neither of them know what they’re talking about because Thenardier did his bad spelling thing! “Miliary fever” is an old medical term for an infection that causes fevers and bumpy skin rashes. (Mozart’s death is attributed to it; it seems to have fallen out of use as it became easier to pinpoint certain illnesses.) I think this isn’t just Marguerite not knowing what she’s talking about. This is a misunderstanding due to Thenardier’s misspelling (whether deliberate or not, I don’t know) and neither Marguerite nor Fantine know enough to realize it.

ETA: Okay wow I’m keeping that whole “miliary fever” thought journey in just to record my thought process but I’ve just double-checked against the Hapgood translation and the original French, and the mistake isn’t with the Thenardiers at all! It’s entirely the fault of the translators. The original French says “miliare” and Hapgood has translated it as “miliary”; Fahnestock and MacAfee clearly did not notice that the French was “miliare” and not “militaire,” and neither did their editors.

“During the night Fantine had grown ten years older.” Off the top of my head, I can only think of three instances of not-old people being blatantly described as looking old. This description here, Valjean when he returns from Arras, and Eponine. There are probably more I’m missing, but the connecting factor between these three is severe, prolonged trauma. Trauma and a difficult life can prematurely age people (I always think of that Dorothea Lange photo of the migrant mother who was only 32 but looks 50) and Hugo uses this fact to bolster his descriptions of what they go through. But Fantine and Valjean both age almost suddenly; Eponine is already old-looking the first time we meet her as a character with dialogue. Fantine’s sudden aging is another level of departure from her old life. In Paris, she was the youngest of the group, and now she looks far older than she is.

“Actually, the Thenardiers had lied to get her to get the money. Cosette was not sick at all.” As readers, we know this. We’ve seen the Thenardiers lie over and over and we see Fantine sacrifice with no idea. But this one hits harder than the others. Partly, I think, because Hugo puts it so bluntly in a sentence that has its own paragraph. But also because this is the first sacrifice that is truly unalterable. Fantine’s hair can grow back. There may have eventually been some slim chance of a job opportunity or something coming up somehow, or an influx of things needing mending or something. But she cannot regain her teeth. This is also the first sacrifice that physically disfigures her in a visible way. She can hide her lack of hair under a cap, she can hide her lack of money by using and reusing things. She cannot hide her missing teeth.

It’s interesting that we do not hear about Mme Victurnien here. Rather than the last chapter, this would be the one where Victurnien would be “winning.” The consequences of Victurnien’s actions have now permanently affected Fantine’s life. Except I think the reason we don’t see her here is that she wouldn’t face it. She can look out her window at Fantine walking down the street in distress with her beauty intact and feel satisfaction, but if she saw Fantine walking down the street, toothless and hairless, I don’t think she would feel satisfaction, because she wouldn’t be able to connect her actions to this Fantine. Feeling satisfaction towards this level of misery would require acknowledging her participation in causing it. It’s one thing for the townspeople to laugh at or gawk at her, but I think claiming responsibility for her condition is something else altogether that I’m not sure Mme Victurnien would do.

Fantine throwing her mirror out the window is a strange sort of contrast compared to Eponine’s reaction to a mirror. Fantine cannot face her descent. Eponine is already there, and her excitement at Marius’ mirror is a weird sort of distracted examination of herself. Fantine cannot bear to examine herself because unlike Eponine, she can remember what it was like before this. Tossing away the mirror is tossing away the thoughts of her past life and her past self; she can’t ever go back to that.

“The poor cannot go to the far end of their rooms or to the far end of their lives, except by continually bending more and more.”

God I don’t really even know what to say about this line except ouch. It’s just so poignant and intense. The older you get the harder it is to survive, to get up with each new stumble. And we can also take into account things like the cholera epidemic that will occur a few years later in the book, which mostly affected the poor. There’s so little access to any sort of help or assistance. And clearly Valjean’s few little systems of aid aren’t good enough. He may have set up a worker’s infirmary and a place for children or old workmen, but there doesn’t seem to be assistance for single, unsupported women, or the homeless and unemployed. They’re left to bend more and more under the weight of life.

“Her little rose bush dried up in the corner, forgotten.” I can’t help but read this as a parallel to the Thenardier’s treatment of Cosette. As Fantine falls apart and falls behind on her payments, Cosette is growing up which means the abuse from the Thenardiers has probably increased. It also feels like a weird sort of throwback to the spring/summertime imagery of beauty and chasteness and modesty from back in 1.3, which has now completely disappeared and dried up as Fantine loses her beauty, her modesty, and her coquetry.

I love the little detail about Fantine’s butter bell full of water and the frozen ice marks. It’s such a small detail but so evocative. It also feels like a metaphor for each of Fantine’s new hardships. Every time the butter pot freezes over, it leaves a ring of ice for a long time; each time Fantine encounters a new trauma, she hardens and becomes tougher. She keeps her dried up, long gone modesty and youth in one corner and the suffering that has hardened her in the other. On a side note, I’m wondering if there is actually butter in her butter bell or if she’s now using it only for water? I would imagine water only; butter seems like something that might be expensive. Also, would the building she’s living in have had indoor plumbing, or would she have gotten water from a well or a pump somewhere? My plumbing history knowledge is lacking.

Hugo describes Fantine’s torn and badly mended clothes. At this point she’s working as a seamstress, which means she’s at least proficient in the skills needed to sew and/or mend clothes in such a way that they stay together. This means that the repairs done for herself are likely careless and messy. I think this is partly an indication of how little time she has for herself--if she’s sewing for work for 17 hours a day, she has very little time to mend her own stuff, and definitely can’t afford better quality material--and partly an indication of the ways in which she is falling apart. She doesn’t bother mending her things properly, she goes out in dirty clothes. She doesn’t mend her stockings, she just stuffs them further down in her shoes. It seems she has only one or perhaps no good petticoats, which means she’s probably walking around in just a shift and a dress. Not only is her stuff threadbare and falling apart, she’s also probably freezing due to the lack of layers.

“A constant pain in her shoulder near the top of her left shoulder blade.” This makes me wonder if Fantine’s left-handed. If she’s sewing by hand, by candlelight, in a shitty rush chair, for seventeen hours a day, that is absolute murder on the back/shoulders/neck. Whenever I do hand-sewing I’m usually sat on the floor or my bed, and my back and upper shoulders tend to get sore if I get in the zone and I’m bent over the work for a long time. I don’t know about French dressmakers, but I know around that time the English were really big on very small, neat, almost invisible stitches. Which would hurt to do for seventeen hours a day by candlelight.

“She hated Father Madeleine profoundly, and she never complained.” The Hapgood translation of this line is better, I think. Still, I think it’s important that it’s pointed out that she never voices her opinions or her complaints. It’s only when Madeleine is in front of her that she announces them at all (despite not speaking directly to him then, either). She hates Valjean, she blames him, and yet obviously some part of her still thinks that she deserves it, or that her dismissal was right.

“She sewed seventeen hours a day, but a contractor who was using prison labor suddenly cut the price, and this reduced the day’s wages of free-laborers to nine sous.” Reading this book is always a lot because aside from the still-relevant general overarching commentary about society and poverty and mutual aid and goodness and all that, there are so many smaller details that are so painfully, strangely relevant to the present day. Even today there’s fear that employers will come up with a new policy or a new labor shortcut that means less income. Employers who pay their employees less because the workers get tipped, or outsourcing that causes layoffs. Prison labor, too (and behind that, the fact that prison labor doesn’t guarantee a job in a similar field after release if desired).

In the next two chapters, we jump ahead somewhere between a few weeks to a couple months. What happened to Marguerite in the interim? Hugo describes her as a “pious woman [...] of genuine devotion,” but I have this sad thought that maybe when Fantine made the decision to become a sex worker, Marguerite may have turned her back on her as well. As we’ve seen with Valjean, being poor but modest is Good, and being poor and desperate enough to do something improper and “immoral” is Bad. Despite Marguerite’s canonical generosity towards the poor, I wouldn’t be surprised if Fantine’s decision overstepped some moral boundaries of hers.

“But where is there a way to earn a hundred sous a day?” I’m a little stuck on this. Would she make this much money? I’m basing the following information off of Luc Sante’s The Other Paris, so the monetary info might be slightly different a for non-Parisian area. According to Sante, someone like Fantine, a poor woman working without a pimp or madame and not in a legal brothel, would basically be working for pocket change. 100 sous would equal about 5 francs. If her earnings are basically pocket change, I don’t think she’d make 5 francs a day. Just considering the fact that a loaf of bread might cost about 15 sous, which seems like pocket change, or even slightly more than pocket change. Fantine probably becomes a sex worker and finds herself in the exact same position that she was in before, not making any more money than she would have if she had continued to be a seamstress.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.5.10 #les mis #les mis meta

14 notes · View notes

cjbolan · 11 months

Note

Out of curiosity – and for research purposes, since I'm turning my reviews of "Cinderella" adaptations into a book – why does the ending of the 2015 "Cinderella" make you angry

To put it simply ? Because I feel it contradicts the entire movie…

1) It contradicts the movie’s whole “have courage…” motto : the first time she shows courage by standing up to her stepmother, it backfires completely by getting her locked in her room for the Prince to come rescue her later. And no I don’t think Cindy’s “You’re not my mother” to Lady Tremaine line counts. It really doesn’t take courage to say/do anything when you have royal guards backing you up like she did in that scene. So the movie really is sending mixed messages about courage.

2) it contradicts and undoes Cinderella’s character arc, of gradually gaining regaining agency and learning how to stand up for herself. I like how it started with her first standing up for others (mainly the animals), saving them from certain peril, and thought it was gonna build up to her saving herself in the end somehow. Like in the 1950s cartoon ending — when after all hope seems lost Cindy pulls out the spare slipper she’d been hiding all along!! Also unlike the cartoon, live action Cindy just gave up all agency after being locked up. She doesn’t even try escaping!! After like a millisecond of tugging at the door, she just happily spins around and sings to herself . And when she does notice the Prince, she doesn’t even try getting his attention. I get the idea was that she lost hope at this point. But she’s unusually happy for having lost hope.

3) It contradicts Cinderella’s intelligence. Unlike the original ending where she cleverly organized her rescue with the animals, hid the slipper on her person, and revealed it only when the Prince’s entourage arrive … this Cinderella kept making a slew of dumb decisions. First she left the glass slipper unattended for Lady Tremaine to destroy , then tells Lady Tremaine exactly how she plans to defeat her, and makes 0 attempt to escape when Lady Tremaine locks her up.

I could understand her dumb decisions after just losing her father. She was grieving, people can make dumb decisions when they grieve. But after some time you think she’d snap out of that. I like the way Lady Tremaine was slowly manipulating Cinderella throughout the story. There was a missed opportunity to instead show Tremaine manipulating her into making these dumb decisions while in a highly vulnerable state. Remember when Cindy said “it’s my parents’ house” as her reason for staying and tolerating the Tremaines’ abuse? Imagine instead if Cindy’s had enough and is about to leave for good, Lady Tremaine catches and tricks her by saying : “it’s your parents’ house…don’t you think they’d want to you to stay and look after it?” Or something like that.

Here’s how I would have rewritten the ending:

What if instead of quietly singing to herself, she loudly and deliberately sings to the Prince to get his attention? With Lady Tremaine ordering her to stop singing, and in response Cinderella defiantly keeps on singing and looks Lady Tremaine straight in the eyes?

Cinderella singing loudly as an act of rebellion, instead of quietly to just pass the time, would also help emphasize the movie’s “Have Courage and Be Kind” motto.

Overall the ending is a huge missed opportunity for this story about a girl who, after being kind to others, gains the courage to be kind to herself.

#2015 Cinderella is the game of thrones of Disney movies #really good until the ending pissed me off #ask #answer #cinderella #2015 cinderella #live action cinderella #princesssarisa

1 note · View note

katehuntington · 5 years

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part nine) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5050 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part nine: Everyone deals with the aftermath of the fight differently. Worried about Dean, Y/N goes out to look for him, but doesn’t find the man she got to know in the past weeks. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Save Yourself - KALEO (Y/N and Dean scene), Burden - Foy Vance (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

The evening has set in completely, a clouded sky obstructing a view of the galaxy above. Normally, a dark blue would stretch out above the ranch, blending into a lighter tone at the horizon in the west where the sun sank down hours ago. But today the sky is black. No moon nor stars decorate the night’s ceiling. Almost as if the weather knows that it’s not the time to be breathtaking. No one will look up to appreciate her anyway.

Y/N vacuumed the bunkhouse, then gave the kitchen a good once over, just to keep busy. Jo took her example and scrubbed the bathroom. At least the therapeutical cleanup isn’t for nothing, because there was enough sand between the floorboards for the footing of a new arena, and there were several organisms living on leftovers in the refrigerator. Wranglers are a bunch of swines, that much Y/N knows. She neatly folds the wrung out the cloth that she used, leaves it in the sink, and stares through the four-squared window. Still no sign of Dean. Honestly, she’s not sure if it would be reasonable to expect Ash back tonight, since he doesn’t have to show up for work in the morning. But Dean isn’t going to stay away, is he?

While she is cleaning the faucet until she’s able to see her own reflection in the copper, she moves past denying how worried she is about him. Staying here and letting him be, as Jo put it, feels wrong. A breath of air rolls from her lips when she eyes the wall clock again. Ten minutes to nine; he’s been gone for almost two hours. For a moment she contemplates what to do next. She can still ride Meadow, even though she intended to give her the day off. It will keep her busy, for sure, her horse will probably offer some comfort, too. But she cannot take away the concern she carries for the head wrangler, only he can do that. With three determined steps she’s by the door opening, and is about to push away the fly curtain, when she hears stumbling, coming from behind. Jo just exited the bathroom, almost tripping over the stick of the mop while holding up a bucket of water. She has purple rubber gloves on, her blonde hair looks quite similar to the rag she is holding, and her shirt is pulled into a knot above her belly button. It’s quite a peculiar sight.

“Where are you going?” she asks, perplexed. Surely, Y/N isn’t going to leave her friend to scrub the floor alone. “I’m gonna go to the stables. I think we did enough cleaning for one day, or a week,” she excuses. “To the stables, my ass. You’re going after Dean, ain’t ya?” Y/N opens her mouth to counter Jo with a firm ‘no’, but when she looks at her friend, she drops the act. One cocked eyebrow, that same judgemental grin she gave the intern when she commented on her boots being too clean for a ranch hand, the day the cowgirl picked her up from the airport. Darn, Jo is on to her. And so she presses her lips together and sighs. “He seemed upset,” she utters. “He’s a dude, he’ll live. Men are mad for a minute, walk it off and by the time they turn around, they have forgotten what the whole thing was about. They’re like goldfish,” her friend scoffs. Y/N snorts at that comparison. Clearly the ranch owner’s daughter has a strong opinion of the other gender. “I’m just going to check on him, alright?” she promises. “Do what you gotta do,” Jo replies. “You know where I’ll be.” Thankful Y/N smiles at her friend, then moves the fly curtain out of the way and steps outside. Jo might think it’s stupid of her to let Dean get under her skin, but that doesn’t mean she will leave her to struggle with it alone, in case it backfires. Odds are that the wrangler is going to hurt her feelings somewhere down the line, the numbers are not exactly in his favor. But knowing that Jo will be there with a safety net ready to catch her, is reassuring. After a mocking ‘hate to say I told you so’, she will be her friend.

Grateful, Y/N walks down in the direction she saw Dean disappear hours ago. The air is thick, as if another thunderstorm is about to break out. The wind died down completely, leaving the lands in silence. The only sound she can detect, is a rhythmical pound every so many seconds, much like a pile-driver. Y/N isn’t far off, because when she reaches the cattle pens, she finds Dean, slamming a post into the ground with a sledgehammer. Seems like she wasn’t the only one who kept her hands busy to get through the evening. Clearly still worked up over the fight he had with Ash, Dean swings the hammer over his head with everything that he’s got and hits the pole on the head. His grey shirt sticks to his torso, sweat shimmering on his skin, brought out by the lampposts that light the driveway. Veins lay thick on his forearms, dust and dirt smudges add to the shades in his dark features. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so caught up in the work that he fails to hear her footsteps. In silence, she watches, both intrigued and intimidated, but eventually gathers the courage to announce herself. “Dean?”

He pauses his action for a brief second and looks at the timid woman, bewildered. Out of breath, he takes her in, but decides not to respond and heaves the hammer again in order to smash it down, driving the post deeper into the ground. “It’s getting pretty late,” she adds, hoping to get some kind of response that is more than just a look. “I have to finish this fence,” he returns, his voice monotone, as if he is trying to restrain every emotion. “The fence will still be there tomorrow,” Y/N returns. “I’d rather fix it now.” He hits the pole again. “At least this fucking fence –” and again, “– I can fix.” Oh, yeah; this is definitely a good way to deal with things. Y/N watches him jam the sledgehammer down a couple of more times, overworking his body. “You’ve been going at it since 4 AM,” she counters, trying to convince him. “Please come inside?” “I’m fine,” he replies bluntly, between swings. Y/N huffs, sarcasm evident. “Yeah, I can see that.” The head wrangler doesn’t respond, yet keeps grinding. He feels the young woman’s eyes on him, though. She is reading into his actions, his words, his behavior, and it’s bugging the hell out of him.

Cautiously, she moves in a few steps closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” He drops the sledgehammer on the ground with a loud thump and turns to her, chest heaving and clearly annoyed. “Do I look like I wanna talk about it?” he scolds between breaths. “I told you I’m fine!” Taken aback by the hostility in his voice, Y/N stares at him. This is a side of Dean she has never seen before. Sure, he gave her a cold shoulder when she turned him down on her first night at the ranch, but the darkness that clouds his eyes now is different. He has closed himself off and as he was rebuilding the fence, he pulled up a wall as well. She understands that he’s hurt, but he is the second friend to lash out at her tonight and it’s more than she can handle. “You know what? I won’t waste your time then. I’m certainly not going to waste any more of my time on you,” she spits, acrimony on her tongue. “Good luck with your damn fence.”

Angry, Y/N turns on her heels before he can spot the tears burning in her eyes. Hurried steps take her away from the man that gets to her more than she should let him. You dumb goose. How could you have been so naive? Jo was right to warn her every single time she did. She has known her cousin her entire life and still Y/N begged to differ. For hours, she’s been worried about the guy who is only nice to his intern when he thinks he can seize the opportunity to get her into his bed. She empathized with him, and this is what she gets in return. A snarl from that selfish dick when she tries to help him. The cowgirl can hear him call out for her, but she ignores it. It’s not until she hears her name again close behind her, that she hesitates. “Y/N…” Strong yet tender fingers lock around her wrist and stop the woman who tries to flee from him. The action spins her around, but she avoids Dean’s eyes. When Y/N does glance up into those green orbs bouncing over her features, she can detect the dismay in his expression. If there is anything that she does not want him to see, it’s the tears that threaten to roll down her cheeks. The bitterness that affected his temper a moment ago is gone and guilt replaces it. Shit, what has he done? “I’m sorry,” he says, not a trace of swallowed pride. “You’ve been blamed for things that ain’t your fault enough today. You didn’t deserve that.” He loosens the grip on her wrist a little and lets his fingers slide down her smooth skin until he holds her hand, squeezing it gently. There are so many emotions from both sides of the spectrum coursing through Y/N, but the most evident is the sensation that races up and down every nerve like a racetrack, the start and finish where he touches her. She looks down at their entwined fingers, at how her hand, soft from the all-purpose cleaner, fits in his palm. This is the first time that there is intentional physical contact and it shuts down her brain and sends her heart into overdrive.

“You’re not fine,” she manages to say. “I’m not a simpleton, Dean.” “I know you’re not,” he acknowledges. “It’s just that…” He pauses, hesitant about his next step. Opening up about the things that occupy his mind and keep him up at night is not something he’s comfortable with. His entire life he only had a few of those conversations, a few with Bobby, the others with Ellen. He only talked to them because they already knew a thing or two about his past and the issues that it brought along. But apparently the newest member of the crew is able to pierce through that veil and see behind the mask he thought he wore so well. “Dean… I know this isn’t all about Ash, and whatever it is that is bothering you, it’s okay. You can talk to me.” Y/N squeezes his hand, ensuring, letting him know she’s ready to listen. The anger she felt a moment ago when he shut down on her has disappeared as the ice on the lakes at the end of winter, back in Freeport. She isn’t even sure how this happened, but standing here in the wide-open spaces, lingering in his touch, it feels so good and so safe. It brings a calm over her she didn’t realize she longed for.

“I - I don’t really talk about this stuff,” the head wrangler admits. “I dunno, it feels like when I do, I just rattle shit up… It wouldn’t do anyone good.” He lets go of her, before the girl he feels attracted to starts to wonder what the connection means, but runs his thumb over her knuckles gently before her fingers slip from his. The moment he pulls away, the wrangler already aches for her touch. Uneasy, he turns away and rests both his hands on the mid rail of the fence, his hunched shoulders blocking a clear view of his face. He cannot let her see it. He cannot let her see him. “So that’s your strategy? When something bad happens, you bury it?” Y/N isn’t judging him, he can tell by the way she asks the question and is looking at him, curious and sympathetic. What she is doing, though, is trying to understand how his mind works. What if she’s able to decipher his code? What if she can speak this foreign language that he made his? What if she figures me out? Just the thought of letting it all rise to the surface scares Dean to death. Knowing that the one person he wants to impress, who he wants to do good by, will be able to tell how broken he truly is. And yet, despite the fear that is eating him up inside, he cannot pretend. He cannot lie to her. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he admits. “Usually it works for me.” “But not always,” she knows. “No, not always.”

He’s quiet now, his gaze locked on the soil that has become solid again after this morning’s rain. Y/N observes his body language; how he’s turned slightly away from her, head tipped down, resting his arms on the fence as if he needs something to lean on. It’s a stark contrast to the confident smile and bright eyes that she got used to. This is a part of him people rarely get to see, Y/N is very much aware of that. What she’s also aware of, is how delicate the situation is. Pushing him to talk will only trigger the opposite, and so she lets him be. The words she leaves between the two of them have only one purpose: to make him feel better. “If you don’t feel like talking, that’s alright. But what happened to Ash, you know he was wrong to take it out on you, right? This is not your fault.” Even in the dim light she can see his jaw flex, confirming her suspicion that he does, indeed, blames himself for his friend’s departure. “It was my decision. One I had to make, but still. At least I should’ve been honest with him. He had a hunch that something wasn’t right and I could have eased him into it. Instead, I told him everything was going to be alright. Who does that?” the handsome wrangler ponders, able to kick himself in the head for his tactic. “He’s family, he deserves better.” “You tried to protect him,” Y/N soothes. The cowboy scoffs and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. “And look how that turned out…”

Dean appreciates the cowgirl’s efforts. Hell, he admires her for them, because she could have walked off and let him rot after that snarl he gave her, and it would have done him justice. The thing is, Y/N wasn’t far off when she assumed that he wasn’t just upset about Ash. His whole life he has tried to protect the people he loved at the expense of himself, without question. One person stands out from all the others. A boy with hazel hair, bangs hanging in front of his eyes which used to look up to Dean admiringly. Always carrying some book around, always reading and studying. Quiet, observant, smart, a will of his own, even at a young age. A boy Dean fought for to keep safe, tried to make sure he would land on his feet alright, and be given all the opportunities he deserved. A boy who he took the hit for, every single time. A boy who would call Dean his big brother. A boy called Sam. He failed him, just like he failed Ash today.

“Hey…” The woman who is breaking down his walls brings him out of the trance he was stuck in, her voice alone having that effect. He turns to her again as she steps closer and looks up at him. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but sometimes it’s easier to open up to an outsider.” She’s not done with her pledge, but Dean interrupts her either way. “You’re not an outsider,” he makes clear. “I know you’re not from here, but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong. In fact, I think you are exactly where you should be.” The words quiet her, leaving a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart. Feeling accepted and welcome, she lets her eyes glide over the dark desert lands on her right. Her surroundings look exactly the same as it did on the evening she arrived on the property. She remembers how alien this world seemed, witnessing a landscape like she had never seen. Her gaze captures the overhead sign above the driveway, ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ carved out of the worn pinewood. Maybe Dean is right; maybe she is exactly where she needs to be. “Well, outsider or not…” She restores eye contact, a calm exuding from her that soothes him. “You can always knock on my door.” For the first time tonight, she can spot a glint of relief in his expression. It’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s there. Dean is not going to make any promises, though. Not because he doesn’t want to get close to her; on the contrary. But revealing what he’s truly about, what has inflicted the scars which haven’t healed even after all those years, it will scare her away. “Thank you,” he responds, grateful. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a good enough answer for Y/N and she smiles back, glancing up into his eyes. There she is again, trapped like a butterfly in a spider’s web, unable to move or look away. His breathing has slowed and is back to normal after the exertion, but beads of sweat are still forming on his forehead, a drop rolling down his temple. He wipes his brow with his forearm, barely breaking eye contact. They both sense it, the change in the atmosphere, just like when the two had a moment under the Joshua tree. God, he wants to kiss her so bad that lust almost wins the battle it’s fighting with his confidence. He is offered another chance to make a move, but he’s not going to take it. This smart, kind, and strong woman deserves much better than the damaged man that he is. He breaks the tension by glancing down briefly while clearing his throat. When he looks back at her, he could swear he sees disappointment in her gorgeous eyes and regret stabs him in the gut. “I’m, uh - I’m gonna finish up that fence,” he stammers, making a fist and pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “Need a hand?” she asks, recovering quickly from the letdown. Dean seems stunned by her offer, because he frowns at the intern after a double-take. “You want to help me fix the fence?” “I’m only offering once,” she warns jokingly. The head wrangler grins, amused. “Well, in that case. Yeah, I could use a hand,” he accepts.

The cowgirl walks past him, eyeing him over her shoulder as she parades away. He stares for a second, smiling at the sight of her picking up the sledgehammer along the way, which apparently is heavier than she anticipated. The clumsy way she handles the large tool makes him chuckle, joyful for the first time tonight. No wonder, because without trying, she is absolutely stunning. A warmth spreads through him in waves, and he is highly aware of it. He recognizes the sensation. It has washed over him several times already, always when he laid his eyes on her. The girl with bright eyes and messy hair after a hard day’s work, despite her efforts to contain her locks. The girl who cares for others, who is kind to every living creature on this planet. She is beautiful in every way, inside and out. Under the yellow ray that falls down on her from the lantern above, she turns around. The spotlight creates dark shadows on the ground, but at the same time, it illuminates her features with a warm glow.

“Are you coming or what? That fence isn’t gonna fix itself,” she challenges. Dean scoffs with a laugh, appreciating the attitude. Then he heads her way, stopping her when she almost loses her balance after heaving the large hammer above her head. “Why don’t you give the sledgehammer to me, before someone gets hurt,” he mocks, holding out his hand. “I can handle a hammer,” she returns, huffing defensive. Doubtful, the wrangler looks back at her. “I think the fence is gonna disagree with you there.” “Do you want my help, or not?” she recalls, letting out a laugh. “Yeah, I want your help,” he admits.

The words lay deeper than would appear on first notice. It’s not intentional and Dean is worried for a second that she will pick up on what he really wants; he wants her to help him. Help him to heal, help him breathe, help him to love. No one has ever come through to him like she has already, and that’s exactly why he won’t make a move. He is beginning to understand what this all means, what is happening to him. How he feels about the newest member of the crew, is different. It’s mind-blowing and exciting, yet at the same time, it scares the shit out of him. The space she has occupied in his heart is growing steadily, but he can’t allow himself to act on it, because he simply can’t be selfish with her. That’s okay, though. Having her around as a colleague and a friend for the limited time she will stay with him trumps not having her in his life at all. “I’m gonna give this pole a couple more knocks on the head. Can you fetch the new woodwork?” He nods at the wooden planks, stacked up in the back of his truck, a little further on the driveway.

Reluctantly, Y/N lets go of the hammer and turns to get the new material for the fence. By the time she brings three new rails over, he has leveled the post with the others still standing. While she holds the board in place, Dean nails it to the post. In order to hold still, Y/N stands close to the head wrangler as he secures the fence. She fixates on the plank she’s holding, trying to ignore the fact that she is seriously invading his personal space. He smells like the damp earth below their feet and a hint of deodorant mixed with hard work; it’s the opposite of a turn-off. Trying to distract herself, she listens to the ticking sound of the head on the pin, until all the new woodwork is mounted to the posts. Sometimes he pauses for just a short second, his gaze burning her skin. Once he’s done, Y/N picks up the broken pieces left by the cattle when they stormed through, and carries them to Dean’s Chevrolet, where she lays the wood down in the cargo bed. Now that she and the handsome wrangler are a few more feet apart, she feels like she can breathe again, missing him close by at the same time. As she leans against the truck, he loads up the last of the wood that he didn’t use for the restoration. Again, his eyes linger on her briefly; the poor guy just cannot help himself, can he? Suddenly she feels bold.

“Ash was right about one thing, though.” “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” he wonders, as he dusts off his hands. She grins cheeky, biting her bottom lip. “You are desperate to get in my pants.” Dean stares at the cowgirl flabbergasted, eyebrows shooting up. Whoa, where the hell did the shy girl go? One question surfaces in the sea of thoughts that her remark triggered; what is her angle? Does she want him to get in her pants? The handsome wrangler scoffs nervously and looks down flustered, as he rubs the back of his neck. But he doesn’t deny it. He can’t. “What, no comeback?” she nags, expecting either a smart or flirty return. “There are some things I just can’t argue with,” he chuckles, a blush pushing past the freckles on his cheeks. “Ain’t no reason to get cocky, though.”

He winks at her flirtatiously, his bright green eyes joined by a smug grin and Y/N cannot help but laugh. Who would have known that she missed Cowboy Casanova? It’s good to see he got his wit back, because he had her worried there for a second. She has spotted the pattern, though. Whenever he is forced to deal with an issue he wants to steer clear of, he dodges the matter by either making fun of the situation or by shutting down completely. So this is his defense mechanism, this is his armor. But beneath all the silence and the horse crap, he admitted straight up that he wants her. Ash might have implied that the head wrangler is only following her like a lost puppy because he wants to keep counting the girls he had in fives, but Y/N knows that’s not all that there is to it. With nothing more than a look, he made it pretty clear he feels something for her that Friday evening after training when they had a moment under the Joshua tree. Now that assumption has been confirmed.

As the gears in her head are turning, she begins to walk across the gravel parking lot back to the bunkhouse, but it’s not just her grey matter that is doing overtime. Contemplating his own words, Dean gets behind the wheel of his Chevrolet. The fact is, he wasn’t just flirting. He’s simply telling the truth. But hasn’t that been the case the entire time? The wrangler is hungry for the new ranch hand, he’s pining so bad that selflessness alone is stopping him from running up the driveway and closing her in his arms. Strangely enough, it has nothing to do with sex, or greed, or any other sin, despite what others might think. For a moment, he worries if she might have read into his words just now. He doesn’t want to give her hope, or does he? Fighting his mind, he sighs; he’s so tired he can’t even think straight.

With a flip of the key, the engine comes alive, only to drive a couple of hundred yards. After steering the black pickup to a spot next to the shed, Dean leaves the transmission in park. He will unload tomorrow, today he’s calling it quits. A grunt passes his lips when he hoists himself out of the car again. Damn, if his muscles are sore now, he doesn’t want to picture how bad it’s going to hurt in the morning. Maybe a long hot shower will do him good, he definitely needs one to rid himself from the filth he’s covered in. The head wrangler strolls up the trail that leads to his bed and finds the girl he’s losing himself to, watching the bunkhouse from some distance. When Dean levels with her, he sees why she stopped. On the bottom steps of the porch, two figures sit and talk: one of them is Jo, the other is Ash. “Well, what do ya know,” Dean huffs, surprised. Relieved, Y/N smiles. “Seems like he came around. Go talk to him.”

His chest constricts a little with the thought of the confrontation alone and he hesitates. His friend is most likely still mad at him. What if doesn’t want to settle this? What if he screws it up again? When Y/N detects that the man next to her is in two minds, she nudges him reassuringly with her shoulder, smiling at him before he gathers enough courage to step forward. The pair are walking up to the steps, when Jo spots them. The cattle worker next to her looks up now too, shame and uneasiness draping his features when he sees the head wrangler. The blonde cowgirl gets to her feet, picking up her hat that she had put down next to her. “I’ll leave you guys to it,” she says. “Comin’, Yankee?” Y/N nods and passes Dean, shortly squeezing his arm supportingly as she does. “Good luck,” she whispers, as she glances over her shoulder. He nods at her thankfully and takes Jo’s spot on the porch stairs, as the two girls retreat inside. An awkwardness fills the air within seconds, thick and suffocating, yet neither of the men say anything in order to break it. After what feels like minutes of going over what has been said and still needs to be, Ash gets up. Motionless, Dean sits on the step, forearms on his knees, fingers forked together. He hears his friend’s footsteps on the floorboards, followed by the rattling of the bamboo fly curtain and then the eerie silence; Ash has walked away.

Pained, Dean closes his eyes and presses the knuckles of his clasped hands against the bridge of his nose. The tightness in his chest that he felt when he realized he had to face his friend has turned into an uncomfortable ache now. It seems to be a recurring theme in his life, people walking out on him. Fuck, why is it so hard to do this? Why can’t he just tell Ash he’s sorry? He takes a breath and lifts his head, staring at the lights coming from the neighbors property, several miles up the road. Then something moves into his peripheral vision and he turns to find a can of PBR beer handed to him. Dean’s eyes move up to see who is holding the beverage, the weight falling off his shoulders when he sees the guy who rocks the mullet. The head wrangler takes the cold refreshment while Ash sits down next to him again. They both open their cans and take a slug of the golden brew. The silence returns, but it’s a much more pleasant one this time. Without saying a word, they’ve made peace. That does not mean, though, that nothing should be said.

“Ash?” “Hmm?” “I - uh… I’m-–” “– Yeah, brother. Me too.”

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part ten here

#Ride With Me #Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester series #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x Y/N #Dean x Y/N #Dean Winchester reader insert #Supernatural AU #SPN AU #Dean Winchester AU #Supernatural #SPN #Cowboy!Dean x Reader #Dean angst #Dean fluff #Kate Huntington

234 notes · View notes

ericsonclan · 4 years

Text

Equals Through and Through

Summary: Mitch and Brody think about the future and want to take the next step forward.

Read on AO3:

Brody could feel her anxiety rising in her body, her fingers starting to shake slightly from her emotions. Taking slow, deliberate breaths she started to calm down her heart rate, her mind calming down and recentering back to a safe middle ground. But as soon as her eyes wandered back over at the ring box it started all over again.

Pacing back and forth she tried to summon up the courage she needed, one that she had when she had bought that ring last month. She had been so happy during a date that she had with Mitch that the inspiration hit her like a train. Her mind was set, unwilling to budge; she wanted to marry Mitch.

So she had taken one of her days off to go ring shopping, her eyes searching every single option until she had found a beautiful silver ring. After engraving the words Always and Forever on the inside rim of the ring it was complete.

Maybe it seemed stupid for her to be so certain about a ring for Mitch but when she saw it her heart knew it was perfect. It had cleared her out of a lot of her money but she knew deep down in her heart that she had made the right decision. Brody took a deep breath and looked at the open ring box. The air around the room became tense until Brody let out a long sigh and fell back onto her bed. A small meow drew her attention over to Oreo who had hopped up to join her.

“Hey, Oreo,” Brody smiled over at the striped cat, her hand moving to pet him. He immediately butted his head against her hand that she offered. A loud, happy purr vibrated throughout the cat’s body as it lazily flopped over by Brody’s side. Brody absentmindedly petted the cat, her eyes focused on the creature before they looked over at the ring box.

She didn’t have any doubts about Mitch. She knew he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. He was an extremely loyal and loving person, even if he was a dumbass and teased her every so often. Brody knew that he would always be there for her. There to be her partner and help her when she needed it.

She had always felt that in the way he showed how deeply he cared about her. Through the deep, gentle hugs that he gave, the looks he sent toward her, the way he talked about her and encouraged her. All the times he had been there to be a shoulder to lean on whenever she felt down or overwhelmed. Never judging and always loving her through it all. He was special, one of a kind. Brody knew that.

But a small inkling of doubt entered her mind when she looked at the ring. That he wouldn’t want what she wanted. A future together. The worrying thought was quickly squashed, however, when Brody remembered some of their special moments together. He loved her too, she knew that. With that thought, her determination was set in stone. She was going to propose to him. Oh, I should write down some sort of speech. Brody swung her body off the bed which made Oreo upset.

“Sorry, Oreo. Got work to do.” Brody smiled over at her cat only to see that her phone had dropped out of her pocket. When she reached down to pick it up the screen lit up, revealing the time. Brody’s eyes widened when she saw what it said.

“Shit,” Brody turned around sharply and closed the ring box with a soft thunk. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find a good hiding spot where Mitch wouldn’t find it. She was struggling to remember where she had last put it. Brody opted to place it in the top drawer of the dresser, promising herself that she would find a better hiding spot when she came back from her shift. Her hands snatched up her apartment key and with some goodbye head scratches to both Oreo and TNT she was off, a giddy excitement dancing in her heart.

------

Mitch stared blankly at the wall in front of him, his back pressed against the couch as his hand fiddled with the ring box in his hand, rhythmically snapping it open only to slam it shut a few seconds later. He had never been so nervous in his life. He was going to propose to Brody. Mitch’s eyes wandered down to the open ring box. A beautiful, simple yet elegant engagement ring lay within it.

Thank god Ruby had been free and helped him pick out the perfect ring for Brody. At least that would be right. His speech though… that felt like a whole nother story. He had never been the best with words and now when he needed to come up with a speech worthy of Brody he was struggling.

How was he going to be able to tell her how much he loved her, how amazing and strong and brave she was? She had really turned his life around for the better. Brody had come into his life and throughout their time together had shown him that she truly loved him for being himself. A true, deep unconditional love. It was rare in this world yet Brody gave it to him. Then again Mitch felt like he had to pinch himself sometimes for somehow finding someone as amazing as Brody. Because of her he’d realized that it was okay to be open and vulnerable.

But now that the time had come it was tough. To be so vulnerable and ask someone such an intimate question was no easy feat but that wouldn’t stop Mitch. He’d just have to give it his all and make a kickass speech. Easy. Mitch laughed at his own sarcasm. His hand still fiddled with the ring box, absentmindedly snapping and unsnapping the box open and closed.

It was the only sound in the room as he brainstormed the beginnings of the speech. He already had the location set and the date - this was the only piece missing. His nerves rattled inside him, causing his hand to move too quickly, launching the engagement ring across the room and onto the floor.

“Oh, fuck!” Mitch jumped up to his feet, his eyes scanning the room to try and find the ring but it seemed like TNT had found it first. His little paws moved back and forth before he leaned down, wiggling his butt and pouncing on the ring.

“TNT, no!” Mitch ran forward, picking up the cat, making its back paws dangle in the air. “Don’t be a dumbass. You could fucking choke!” Mitch tucked his cat under his arm and proceeded to pick up the ring, examining it anxiously. Luckily it seemed like the fall didn’t cause any damage. Plopping TNT onto the couch, Mitch put the ring back in the safe haven of the ring box before shutting it firmly. Can’t let that happen again.

Mitch looked around the room, his mind trying to formulate a plan. That’s when he noticed the spare rubber band by the TV. Snatching it up, he twirled and twisted it around the ring box. After a few more loops, he held up the ring box, now covered securely by a rubber band, with pride and relief. Nothing could cause the ring to fall out now. All that was left was writing the speech.

------

It was a lovely Saturday morning when Mitch asked Brody if she wanted to go to Reggie’s Pies and Fries on a date that night. What seemed like an ordinary location where plenty of burgers and pizzas and fries were consumed held a lot of meaning to the couple. At least it did for Brody; it was the place where they had told each other they loved each other for the first time. Now whether Mitch remembered that or not Brody wasn’t sure but she was sure of one thing: She was going to propose to him tonight. The location was too perfect and not only that but there was a beautiful park nearby. She could use that to her advantage and get away from all prying eyes to truly open up and go for the proposal. All she had to do was wait for it to roll around to the evening and choose a nice outfit for the date.

Most of the day went by in a hazy blur. Brody’s mind was too focused on the events that were soon to be and not the ones happening at that very moment. She grabbed the makings of a smoothie: fruit, yogurt, honey, and decided to have a simple snack before dinner time. But it immediately backfired on her. Within two hours after consuming that smoothie, Brody’s stomach felt like she had just been thrown on the world’s fastest rollercoaster. A faint gurgling sound emitted from her stomach. She tried to force it to quiet down when Mitch spoke up.

“You ready to go, Brodes?” He looked over at her, a sort of nervousness seeming to flicker in his eyes that dissapeared as he held open the door.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Brody moved past her boyfriend and soon the couple was off to their destination. On the way there neither of them really talked which Brody counted as a blessing. Her mind spun with the multiple different versions of speeches she had written and her stomach still felt awful. Not to mention that every couple of seconds she would glance down into her purse to make sure the ring box was still there. She just hoped she wasn’t being too obvious to Mitch.

-----

Mitch could feel the sweat pooling in his hands. It was pretty fucking disgusting. He hoped that he’d have a chance to wipe them off before holding hands with Brody when they walked into Reggie’s Pies and Fries. He really hoped Brody wasn’t paying attention to detail until after he proposed. He had purposely chosen this location and was wearing the nicest outfit he owned. But it seemed like she was focused on other things. Maybe she was drained from her different shifts throughout the week. It was understandable. Both of them had had weeks like that. Still, he hoped he hadn’t fucked up on the day he’d chosen to propose. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Mitch pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car.

“Ready to grab some dinner?” He smiled over at Brody, his heart nearly beating out of his chest from his nerves.

“Y-yeah.” Brody cleared her throat. “I can’t wait to eat.”

Mitch exited the car and waited for Brody to get out before locking the car. Luckily she had been focused on her outfit for a moment, giving Mitch just enough time to wipe off the sweat on his hands. Soon his fingers had casually intertwined with Brody’s and they were strolling towards the restaurant.

“Get all you want. Dinner is on me,” Mitch smiled over at Brody who returned it in kind. “What do you think we should get this time? Pizza or burgers?”

Brody opened her mouth, about to answer the question when her face twisted and she ran over to the nearest trash can. A long line of puke spewed from her mouth.

“Holy shit! Brody, are you okay?’ Mitch ran up beside his girlfriend and started to gently rub her back. He had fucked up. He didn’t know that she wasn’t feeling well. Mitch turned his face away for a second, internally kicking himself for not paying attention to Brody’s wellbeing. “Let’s just go home. You can lie down on the couch and I’ll grab TNT and Oreo and we can just have a movie night.”

“No!” Brody’s tone surprised Mitch for a moment. She stood up with a shaky breath. “I’m fine. ” I can’t lose my courage now. She glanced over at the trash can. That yogurt must've expired. Her hands rummaged through her purse and pulled out a piece of gum. Unwrapping it, she tossed it in her mouth. “I just need to walk around for a bit and I’ll be fine.” Brody motioned over to the nearby park. “How about there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you saying you’re okay if you’re not.” Mitch’s face was filled with concern.

“I would tell you if I wasn’t.” Brody intertwined her fingers back with Mitch’s. “I promise.”

“Alright, we’ll walk for a bit. But if I see that you’re not doing well, we’re heading right back to the car.”

Brody’s smile grew at her boyfriend’s concern. Wordlessly she walked forward towards the entrance of the park. The two walked side by side, trying their best to start up some casual conversation. Both of them were struggling though, too consumed by the idea of proposing still in their minds. Brody soon tossed away the piece of gum and started up a conversation about Ericson’s Diner. That seemed to calm the couple’s nerves, allowing them to enjoy the scenery.

The park was beautiful at this time of evening. The trees sheltered them from the few rays of sun that were still prominent in the sky and the flowers that bloomed around made the park feel even more special. It seemed like the perfect location to propose and as they each shared looks and stolen glances that line became the truth in their hearts.

Mitch decided it was time he went for it. He guided them along a path that no one else was taking, a path surrounded by beautiful blue flowers. The two paused and stood there in awkward silence. It felt like an unusually long time when suddenly both of them started to get down on one knee.

“Mitch-”

“Brody-”

Both paused when they saw that the other was reaching for something and that they had gotten down on one knee.

“Wait, are you proposing?” Brody’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yeah. Wait, are you?” Mitch pointed at the box that was in Brody’s hand.

“Yeah, I just...” Brody took a deep breath; her emotions were starting to swell within her heart. “I just love you so much, Mitch. You’ve always been there for me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Mitch’s eyes grew large at those words. “I feel the same way!” he shouted a little too loud. He couldn't help it. He was so overwhelmed by this whole situation. “I love you so fucking much! I want to be with you forever!” Mitch declared proudly, a strong blush on his face. His words seemed to have a similar effect on Brody whose face was just as red as Mitch’s. “Because Brody, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Mitch undid the rubber band on the ring box which caused Brody to look over in confusion as Mitch flipped open the box, revealing the ring inside.

Tears were starting to roll down Brody’s face now as she held out her own ring box. “You're the best thing that’s happened to me .” Brody opened up the box, showing the silver ring she’d bought. Mitch’s eyes dance with countless emotions.

“Will you marry me!” The couple blurted out at the exact same time. Both of them giggled before saying yes. Mitch helped out his ring to place on Brody’s finger before she helped place his ring on.

“Whooo!” Mitch jumped up to his feet, the biggest smile on his face. “Fuckin’ A! We’re gonna get married!” He ran forward and swept Brody up in his arms, spinning her round as Brody laughed with joy. When he had finally set her down the two shared a long, loving kiss. As they pulled apart, Brody let out a sniffle, a warm smile on her face. Mitch reached up and brushed away the tears on his fiancee’s face. Brody soon did the same for the spare tear or two that had escaped Mitch’s eyes.

“Ready to celebrate with some pies and fries?” Mitch smiled down at Brody.

“I’d love to!” Brody’s smile made Mitch’s heart soar. He still couldn’t believe it. They were engaged. “Man, everyone is going to lose their minds at the diner,” Brody’s statement made Mitch chuckle.

“Yeah, who do you think is going to cry the most: Ruby or Louis?”

“Hmm,” Brody placed a hand on her chin. “I don’t know - it’ll be pretty close. But I think Ruby will edge him out.”

“Guess we’ll see on Monday.” Mitch gave Brody’s hand a quick squeeze. The newly engaged couple strolled off together towards the restaurant hand in hand. Everything else around them seemed to fade as they took in this special moment.

#twdg #twdg brody #twdg mitch #twdg moody #ericson's diner au #fanfic

3 notes · View notes

luccislegs · 5 years

Note

Lol I'm glad to be of help! I'm looking forward to the requests you get published. You probably don't write for Law, so I should ask for Zoro in that case. Could I please have a scenario for Zoro with a reader who's a brilliant actor/imitator but they're v shy? They want to be helpful aboard the ship and have a big crush on him, but they end up getting flustered whenever he come near. If I can add, a significant height difference would be cute lol.

sorry it took me so long to answer this lol i was hella partying this weekend and i’m pretty sure there’s still alcohol in me even a week later

anyway, my first ask! also thank you again for letting me know my asks were turned off, you rock!

–

A sigh escaped your lips for what seemed like the hundredth time that day as you watched Zoro train down on the main deck. You, on the other hand, were hidden away in Nami’s tangerine grove, scribbling away at a new musical composition piece. Or you were supposed to be, anyway. It seemed like every few seconds your concentration was stolen by the aforementioned swordsman.

“Hey, _____! Whatcha doin’?” Luffy shouted from behind you. You had been in the middle of writing and he scared you so badly that now there was a large score down the page. Some of it was ripped now as well, ruining the work.

You sighed, staring forlornly at the destroyed paper. It had taken you ages to finally work up the motivation to write, and just like that it had gone wrong. You turned to look at your captain, saying, “Nothing, Luffy. Just writing some new music.”

“Huh,” he said, staring down at the sheet music. “It looked like you were staring at Zoro more, _____.” A large, mischievous grin spread across his face as he locked eyes with the other man, who turned an even brighter shade of red than he already was.

You missed the exchange entirely as your eyes were locked on your paper in horror. Could he have said it any louder? Embarrassment and fear flooded through you and you barely glanced up at Zoro, just enough to gauge his reaction to Luffy’s words, but he wasn’t looking at you. In fact, he was no where to be seen anymore.

It was a few hours later when you finally felt the courage to show your face on deck again. You had initially decided that you were just going to hide out in your room for a few days, but you had managed a complete rough draft of your composition and wanted Brook to play it out, so you could hear what needed to be fixed.

Plus, you were starving.

The sounds of the others filtered out of the kitchen, typical in that you could hear Luffy and Usopp above all the others, but it was comforting because it was familiar.

The door creaked open and a chorus of greetings to you filled the room, and you flushed slightly. Waving back, you sat down in an open seat, and your eyes made a sweep of the room, looking for familiar green.

“Zoro isn’t here,” Luffy said around a huge mouthful of meat. He struggled to swallow it for a moment; you could see the way his throat expanded to accommodate what was surely too much food. “He’s sleeping in the crow’s nest.”

Your cheeks really turned red at that, and you couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but you heard the tell-tale sounds of Nami knocking him upside the head.

He whined and rubbed the back of his head, frowning at her. “What was that for? She was looking for him, right? She likes him, so I figured I’d tell her!”

“Luffy, you idiot,” Nami said with a huff. She looked like she was going to hit him again, her fist raised in a threatening manner. “You aren’t supposed to point it out. They need to figure it out for themselves.”

“Well, they’re taking too long!” he whined, holding his hands up to defend himself. He looked around at you then. “_____, why don’t you just tell him?”

You couldn’t help but give him an incredulous look as you sputtered out half-formed excuses. Finally, you took a deep breath and calmed yourself, managing to say through grit teeth, “It isn’t that easy, Luffy. I’m not sure he feels the same.”

“You should just ask him then!” He was so naive it would be cute, if it wasn’t so embarrassing.You rolled your eyes as Nami continued to yell, with Sanji joining in after a moment. Things settled down after that, returning to normal levels of noise which, with your crew, were still extremely loud.

“Does anyone know where Brook is?” you asked when everyone was finished eating. “I want him to play this new piece for me.”

“I think he was talking about practicing on deck,” Robin piped up. She had been so quiet all night you had forgotten she was there, but as soon as she spoke, Sanji was swooning.

That signaled you that it was time to book it– whenever he got like that, you knew it was only a matter of time before he took turns around the room.

The cool air and quiet were a welcome relief from the stifling noisiness of the kitchen. Off towards the front of the boat came the faint sounds of guitar. Brook was just starting out on the instrument, and so the music wasn’t as smooth as it was when he played the violin or the piano. But he seemed to be picking it up quickly and, if he kept it up, it would give you yet another instrument to write music for in no time.

“Hello, _____. What can I do for you?” Brook’s voice broke through your stupor.

You hadn’t even realized you had made it to him, and you gave him an embarrassed smile. “I have a new piece I was hoping you would play for me. I’m sure there are kinks. But it’s for the violin this time.”

You put the paper into his expectant hand and waited as he scanned over it, bouncing back and forth on your feet.

“This will sound marvelous when it’s done, _____!” he said at last. “I’m going to get my violin right now so you can finish it up as soon as possible!”

You flushed at his praise. Although he said that about all of your work, it was still nice to hear. Sometimes you wondered what the point of you being on the boat was, and having that little bit of reassurance was nice. Besides, most of the music Brook was playing here lately were pieces you had created.

Footsteps sounded behind you, but they lacked the usual creaking that accompanied Brook when he walked. You nearly had a heart attack when you turned to look and found Zoro standing behind you. You could feel the heat flood your cheeks, and prayed it was dark enough that he couldn’t see. On the other hand, he was fully displayed in the moonlight and you could see that he was as red as you likely were.

“Uh, hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could we talk?”

Your heart, which had already been beating harder than was normal just by being in his presence, almost exploded in your chest. You could feel it thundering away behind your ribs so hard you felt a little lightheaded for a moment.

“U-Um…sure?” you said, and cursed yourself for being so shy. It was hard enough having a crush on someone, let alone someone like him, but the whole thing was compounded by the fact that you could barely talk to him like a normal person.

“Sorry about earlier. Luffy can be a bit a of an idiot,” he said. He smirked a little when he heard you giggle.

You had to steel yourself for your next words, because you weren’t sure if you were bringing up something that you didn’t really need to, but you couldn’t keep a lid on it without feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about…about earlier. I hope I-I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

His posture changed, you could see tension come into his shoulders and for a moment you thought it had backfired. But his next words made you feel like you would burst into flames.

“That’s okay. I wasn’t getting much training done anyway. Someone was up in the tangerines distracting me.” He wasn’t looking at you, and his hand was fidgeting with the swords attached to his hips.

You were a fool if you thought you couldn’t turn any more red. You would swear that you were going to be permanently stained, Sanji could use you as a tomato in his next meal. “W-Well…um…”

Words were escaping you, and it was just a relief that he didn’t find you weird because of Luffy.

“Brook is coming back,” Zoro said suddenly, shifting to look over his shoulder. You couldn’t hear anything, but trusted his word. “The next island is coming up in a few days. Do you want to go into town with me?”

You giggled again, giddy at the fact that Zoro had just asked you on a date, and nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

He smiled and lifted his hand, setting it on your head gently. Then it was sliding off and he was walking away, just as Brook came back into view.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got, _____. _____?”

–

this was unbelievably harder than i had initially thought it would be. i had to change the actor/imitator detail bc i absolutely could not figure out a way to incorporate that into any of the ideas i had, at least not without it getting severely out of hand, so I hope that wasn’t an extremely important detail. if it is, just let me know and i can whip something else up, but it’ll probably be way more involved and stupid long.

on the other hand, i do hope you like this!

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece scenarios

70 notes · View notes

shipping-receiving · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019 Day 22: “We could have a chance.”

Rating: T | Word Count: 3069 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth Tags: Alternate Universe – Office Notes: In this bit, I swap POVs pretty regularly. Triangle ▼ indicates Jaime's POV, circle ◯ indicates Brienne's.

Office AU Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

(read on AO3)

//////

▼

Alright, Jaime, play it cool, Jaime tells himself. He folds his arms and leans back against his car in what he hopes is a natural pose. You have a plan. After dinner, when you’re both alone, ask if this is a date, tuck hair behind ear, let finger linger on cheek, etc. He looks down at himself. Is this pose terrible? It’s terrible. Maybe I shouldn’t fold my arms? He shifts and rests one hand against the side mirror instead. What do I do with the other hand now? He places it on his hip. This is stupid. Oh fuck, I see her.

◯

Stay calm, Brienne, Brienne tells herself as she pauses just inside the main entrance of her apartment building. It’s just dinner. You never said ‘date’, did you? You can still pretend it’s just dinner. She can see Jaime through the glass, standing at his car in what looks like a very uncomfortable position. He needs to stop rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Wait, no, he should never stop doing that. By the time she steps out of the building, the heat of her blush has already spread throughout her entire body.

▼

She’s here, she’s here. The words are an alarm in Jaime’s head as Brienne walks towards him, and he pulls his hand back from the side mirror with a jerk. She’s wearing the blue blouse he likes, the one she was wearing at the office when he first noticed her eyes, but this evening she’s worn it loose and paired with dark jeans. She’s blushing already; that’s a good sign, right? Okay, Jaime, be smooth.

“Hey,” Jaime says in greeting. Fuck, that wasn’t smooth, that must have been two octaves lower than my regular voice. He clears his throat. “Hey, Brienne.”

◯

“Hey,” Brienne replies, trying to get a hold on the tremor in her voice. She absently smooths down her blouse, the one she knows he likes because it brings out her eyes. “Sorry for the late notice.” Why the hells am I speaking like I’m writing an email?

“No—” Jaime scrambles, “Don’t apologise for—I’m happy to—I would have—” and then he just exhales without finishing any one of those sentences.

“Well,” Brienne says, softly and courageously, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Jaime smiles.

▼

Don’t apologise for asking, was what he meant to say. I’m happy to have dinner with you anytime. I would have dropped everything even if you had given me five minutes notice. Okay, maybe not that last one, that’s probably too much.

He opens the car door on the passenger side and gestures to the seat. “Shall we?”

“Oh! Um, I was thinking we could walk.” Brienne rocks slightly on the balls of her feet. “I know a place about ten minutes from here. Maybe not as fancy as you’re used to—” Oh fuck, does she think I’m too fancy? “I mean, it’s nothing fancy, but it’s good. It’s seafood, if that’s alright with you? I called ahead and booked a table, but we can always cancel it.”

◯

Oh fuck, now he thinks I think he’s too fancy. Brienne just wanted to pick somewhere familiar, and safe, and reliable. The food is delicious enough that he’ll remember the experience, but the ambience is also casual enough that it could just be a meal between friends, if that’s where this ends up going.

“Sure. Seafood sounds great.” He closes the door and locks the car. “We can walk. Is it okay if I park here?”

“It should be fine, I think.” Brienne points uselessly in the direction in which she’s already started walking. “It’s this way.”

“Seems like a nice neighbourhood,” Jaime comments, as he catches up.

“Oh, it’s decent. Quiet. A bit of a distance from the office, but the rent is reasonable enough that I can still get a small apartment to myself.”

“That’s nice,” he nods. “Having your own space.”

▼

I hate small talk. I am above small talk.

“How was your day with Margaery?” Jaime asks.

Is this small talk? I’m showing interest in her life; that’s good, right?

“It was good. She’s…” Brienne bites her lip. “We had a good talk.”

Do I want to know what they talked about? Did they talk about me? Is that why she texted me? Jaime opens his mouth and almost asks a question to that effect, but decides against it. I don’t want to know, anyway. Do I?

He opens his mouth again as they stop to wait at a crossing, but before he can think of the right phrasing, Brienne turns to him. “How was your meeting with the client yesterday?”

“What meet—Oh! Um. It was good too. Illuminating.” Gods, has a meeting with a client ever been ‘illuminating’? She’s going to see right through this.

But Brienne simply says, “That’s good.”

Jaime tries his best not to think about elopements. Damn it, Tyrion.

◯

They cross the road and walk for the next block or so in an uncomfortable silence. Brienne doesn’t know why Jaime is being so quiet. He’s usually the one to get their conversations going. I should have just let him drive, she thinks, though the restaurant is barely two minutes by car from her apartment building.

▼

I’m being too quiet. I’ve clean forgotten how to make conversation. Quick, Jaime, think of something to say.

And so Jaime blurts out the only thing that’s on his mind right now.

“Is this a date?”

▼◯

Oh fuck.

◯

Brienne stops in the middle of the pavement. If she could have done so by screeching to a halt, she would have. “Oh! Oh gods—”

“I’m so sorry.” Jaime wipes his hand down his face. “I didn’t mean for it to come out quite so… bluntly.”

“No—um—it’s fine. It, it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be.” No, Brienne, that suggests you already think it’s a date. “Uh, I mean, do you want it to be a—”

“Yes!” Jaime exclaims before she can complete her question. “… Do you?”

“… Yes. I think I do.” She should probably be making eye contact while saying this, but Brienne is finding the cracks in the concrete beneath her feet particularly fascinating right now.

“Okay,” Jaime responds, and he seems on the verge of laughing with relief. At least, that’s what she can tell while still staring at the pavement. “Good. Great.”

▼

They turn and walk a few more steps, as if everything hadn’t just changed between them. Jaime didn’t tuck her hair behind her ear, or let his finger linger on her cheek while she blushed. But he got an answer, and it was the answer he wanted.

He can’t seem to stop grinning.

Then, he feels a tickle on the edge of his palm. He looks down just in time to see Brienne retract her hand back to her thigh.

“Shut up,” she mumbles.

“I didn’t say a word!” Jaime protests, bringing his eyes up to her face. She’s still refusing to make eye contact. He didn’t think he could grin even wider.

“You were going to.”

“If I was going to, I would have said, ‘Go ahead. I want you to.’”

He can see her shift her gaze from her own feet to his hand again. She grabs it, not gently, but urgently, as if she would have lost all her bravery if she had waited a second longer.

“Shut up,” Brienne mumbles again.

Jaime obeys. He intertwines his fingers with hers.

◯

Jaime’s hand is warm. Brienne knows it is warm because it is connected to her own hand. She curls her fingers upwards, matches her fingertips to each of his knuckles. Her thumb strokes the flesh in the curve between his thumb and index finger. His hand feels muscular, how could a hand feel muscular? But of course a hand that is linked to Jaime’s forearm must be—

And then she realises they’ve missed a turn entirely.

“Sorry, we’ll have to turn back. I forgot to take a right back there.” She leads him back in the direction they came from. Because she can do that now. Because she is holding his hand.

“Good,” Jaime replies.

“Good?” Why would that be good?

He lifts their hands slightly. “More time for this.”

Oh.

▼

The restaurant is small, but cosy. An eclectic assortment of historical illustrations of the Stormlands hang on its walls, alongside other decorative items featuring various marine animals. There’s a remarkably big model of a crab hanging over an empty table in the corner, and Jaime isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when they’re directed to a different table.

He trusts Brienne to order her usual—she seems to be pretty friendly with the owners, who look at him approvingly. He finds this to be quite the confidence booster, and sits up a bit straighter in his chair. He can feel his knee touching hers under the table.

“Hey,” Brienne says, after she’s ordered. “How are you with spicy food?”

I’m pathetic. “I can manage.” I’m an idiot.

“They have this amazing homemade hot sauce here. It’s not on the menu, but I always ask for it to go with my shrimp. We can get it on the side as a dip.”

“I’m game.” I’m also an idiot, but I already knew that part.

Three shrimps-dipped-in-hot-sauce in, Jaime is already sweating.

“I thought you said you could manage!” Brienne laughs, as she hands him a paper napkin.

“I lied,” he confesses, dabbing at his nose.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” Fuck this hot sauce to all seven hells and back. “To impress you, I guess.”

Brienne blushes as she moves the bowl of sauce towards her side of the table. “You don’t need to do that, Jaime.”

“Isn’t that what people do on first dates?” he says, from behind the napkin.

“I guess so.” Brienne gives him a rare smirk as she dips her entire shrimp into the sauce and pops it in her mouth. She’s superhuman. But I think I already knew that part, too.

“My plan backfired, anyway.” Not that it was an actual plan as opposed to a stumble headfirst into hubris. Or rather, stupidity.

“I don’t know,” Brienne says, in the direction of the hot sauce. “You made an effort. It’s endearing in its own way.”

Jaime would be pleased by that if he wasn’t otherwise occupied with chugging his glass of iced water, and motioning to the server for a refill.

◯

The owner of the restaurant offers a sort of conspiratorial smile to Brienne while Jaime takes his credit card out to pay for the meal. She’d be more comfortable going dutch, to be frank, except they’d had enough arguments over the past four weekends about who would pay for entrance fees and sandwiches and ferry tickets and so forth. Jaime almost always won, on the basis that she was doing him a favour in the first place by showing him around.

As the little machine spits out Jaime’s receipt, Brienne remembers Jaime physically blocking her from handing cash over to the bewildered woman at the art museum’s ticketing counter. And how she found that he had slipped money into her pocket at some point during their time on Tarth, though she had deliberately arrived at the ferry terminal early so she could buy their tickets for them both. She wonders if she should feel offended. She bites back a smile instead.

They walk back to her apartment building, hand in hand. They don’t speak much again, but the silence is something pleasant this time. As if a weight has lifted, and yet also settled between them both. She reaches her other hand over and wraps it around his forearm. Gods, it feels even better than it looks. How is that even possible?

They reach his car, linger there, hands still glued together. Ask him, Brienne. Just ask. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Do you—do you want to come up? Margaery brought wine this afternoon but we didn’t get around to it. If you’d like some.”

“Oh! Uh—”

And then Brienne realises how that sounds. Oh gods, I didn’t mean to imply— “I don’t mean—” Fuck, does he think I’m— “I haven’t even—” Nope, he doesn’t need to know that— “I just mean, it’s nearby, and the only thing around here that’s open late is this one pub and that can get really noisy—we could go sit in the park, I suppose, but it’s pretty dark right now and it’s a bit of a detour—”

“No, I, I would love to go up—I mean—to, to talk. Or whatever.”

Or whatever.

▼

And, it’s awkward again.

Brienne is sitting next to him on her couch, both her hands in her lap, and she’s so stiff that he’s reminded of the way she sits at her desk at the office. He lets his eyes wander around her apartment while they sit in silence. Everything is simple and functional, save a framed picture on a bookshelf of someone he assumes is her father. But it feels warm nonetheless. Maybe it feels warm because Brienne is in it. Because it’s an extension of her. He thinks, for one of the few times in his life, that he is in a space that feels like a home.

Their two glasses of wine sit on her coffee table, untouched.

“Brienne—” he starts, but at the same time five words come out of her mouth in a rush:

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

◯

Brienne had been thinking about it the whole way from his car to her couch. It seemed to her like that was where this night was headed, and she just couldn’t stop thinking of those five words. They echoed in her brain as she poured them two glasses of wine, and set them down on the coffee table.

But I didn’t have to say it, did I?

“Shit. I didn’t mean to—” She brings her hands up to her face, as if she could contain the burning of her skin with her palms.

Then, she feels Jaime’s hand wrap around her wrist, guide her hands down.

“Okay,” he whispers, though there’s no one around to overhear his words. It’s just the two of them, on her couch. This—this is the entire known universe. “Thank you for telling me.”

And then he shifts toward her. Their thighs are two parallel lines, defying all mathematical logic by meeting at every single point. One of Jaime’s hands winds around her waist, towards her lower back. The other is moving up to caress her cheek. Brienne can’t tear her eyes away from his lips, which are moving in closer and closer and—

▼

“Ow! Fuck!”

Jaime’s brain is reverberating in his skull. Okay, so maybe this doesn’t hurt as bad as that one time him and Addam decided to headbutt each other for fun (it wasn’t fun, and they were more than old enough to know that it wouldn’t have been). But when you’re expecting lips to meet instead of foreheads—

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry Jaime.”

“It’s fine,” he says, as he rubs his brow with his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. Do you need ice, or something?” He feels her tender touch on his forehead, something selfless, though it must have been equally painful for her.

“No, I’m fine, really.” Jaime opens his eyes and looks through the mess of all of their fingers. Her blue eyes are glistening in the warm glow of the lamp standing next to her couch. “Oh hells, Brienne, don’t cry.”

“I’m not!” she insists. And then a tear runs down her cheek. “Well, I wasn’t going to until you said that!”

He wipes away one tear, and another. “If you don’t want to—if you’re not ready—we don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she says. It sounds to Jaime like fear and desire in the same breath. “It’s just—I’m nervous because I really want to, and I’ve never done it, and I don’t want you to think—”

◯

Words don’t exist.

Jaime is kissing her and words don’t exist.

What are words? There is only the feeling of his lips on hers, his hand around her neck, his hand that she already knows is warm because her own hand has held it, his other hand on her cheek. There is only her own fingers in his hair, tracing the ridges of his scalp, down to the back of his neck, daring to slip beneath his collar, and Brienne finds perhaps that she has no need for oxygen ever again.

When Jaime breaks from her, all the words come rushing back into her brain, and with that, all her thoughts, her fears. “How was that?” she can’t help but ask.

Jaime just smiles at her, and doesn’t answer. Perhaps words stopped existing for him too. After a while, he asks, “How was that for you?”

“I… I liked it.” It sounds trivial, when she puts it like that. But she can’t think of anything else to say. She just knows she doesn’t want to kiss anyone else but Jaime. Ever. But maybe that’s something she should keep to herself, for now.

“I liked it too,” Jaime echoes, still smiling at her. “Do you want to—we could keep—”

“Please,” she hears herself say. Please.

As Jaime leans towards her again—leans over her, more like; she must have reclined onto her cushions at some point in that period of wordlessness—Brienne suddenly feels compelled to voice a confession. To put something into words.

“Jaime,” she whispers up to him. “I—I never thought I would have a chance at—at any of this.” A chance at dates, and kisses—and whatever comes after, eventually. A chance at love, she dares to think, even if she won’t say that word quite yet, and won’t for a while longer.

“I could say the same to you,” he breathes.

“Really?” How could that be possible?

“Really,” Jaime says, with a quiet conviction, a singular truth. He tucks her hair behind her ear, and lets his fingers linger on her cheek. “But we could have a chance, don’t you think?”

This time, Brienne doesn’t reply. She doesn’t put it into words.

Words—words don’t exist. Not for the rest of this night.

#fictober19 #jaime x brienne #braime #my fic #hope you like it! i think it's romantic and funny? lol #i never knew home until i found your hands

50 notes · View notes

thehoodsweetheart · 5 years

Text

Sandcastles | Part. II

A/N: You guys asked for Part 2 so here we are! I could create a whole playlist for the songs that inspired this. I hope you guys enjoy it. There may be a few errors. I’ve been trying to push this out for a while.

Warnings: Fuckboy!Erik (cont.), Some Angst, Mentions of Smut

Summary: If you have not read Sandcastles Part 1, please do so before reading this. Although, it may not be totally necessary to do so but it helps. The reader is a Black Woman, always has been always will be.

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

You dragged the half-full black Nike duffle bag along the edge of Iman’s closet. Your hands worked diligently taking the various dresses, onesies, sweaters, and pants off of their hangers. You worked strategically folding them to maximize the amount that could fit into the duffle. Thus far, all of drawers in Iman’s dresser were cleared and you were half way through the closet. You never realized your baby had so many clothes. Maybe you shouldn’t take everything? Nah, scratch that. Pack it all.

Where were you going? The last place most people would think to find you and you found solace in that, your twin brother’s house. In his words, he had a big ass house that he was barely at. Yes, you are a twin but when your parents divorced they thought the arrangement of your brother staying with your father and you your mother was a logical idea. They were wrong. On you guy’s seventh birthday, your dad moved and took JR with him to Louisiana and somewhere between holidays and summer visits, your very own twin became like a stranger. That is until you guys matured enough to forage your own relationship, which has innately gotten better since he started playing for the Los Angeles Rams.

You glanced at the white digital clock that sat atop of Iman’s changing table. You inhaled deeply wiping the few droplets of sweat away from your brow. Your eyes shifted to the sleeping Iman in her crib. She was taking her morning nap right on schedule. It was hell trying to get her to go to sleep because apparently during your time away, Iman had grown used to sleeping on her father’s chest. You hadn’t realized it but for a moment you had been holding your breath. Exhaling slowly, you felt the familiar churning of your stomach. Fuck, not again. You had to work faster. You needed to work faster. Time was of the essence and this morning sickness was only slowing you down.

If we’re being honest, the term morning sickness wasn’t even applicable. You had all day sickness. You couldn’t keep a single thing down, not even water, which was a concern. You dropped the onesie that you had in hand and rushed to the nearest bathroom. You toppled over spilling whatever contents were left in your stomach into the toilet; at this point it was nothing but bile. You dry heaved as a stray tear escaped your eye. You weren’t even this sick when you were pregnant with Iman. Pregnancy with her was relatively easy. You didn’t have many aches and pains, nor excessive sickness, or extreme cravings. You biggest challenge with her was heartburn and you loved spicy food. Erik would argue that your mood swings were the biggest challenge. Fuck Erik. Your chest tightened with just the thought of him.

Your phone pinged alerting you of a new text. You pulled yourself together brushing your teeth trying not to gag and end hunched over the toilet once again. You returned to Iman’s nursery picking up your phone. It was a text from JR.

Wazzam sis? Where you at? You good? You need me to come over there?

I’m still packing. I’m good, just a little sick. It’s slowing me down.

Just get what you can. I’ll send some movers to get the rest of your stuff if you need me to. I know you’re trying to get out of there before your boy gets back.

You stared blankly at your brother’s last text. Your lips pressed together in a thin line as your heart rate increase. You needed to be out before Erik got back.

I’ll be on my way within the next 30 minutes. Maybe less.

You quickly texted back. At least you hoped to be out within that timeframe.

Erik finally returned to work today so it was your golden opportunity. It had been three days since you returned home. The first two days were filled with avoidance on your part. You slept in one of the guestrooms with the door locked. Tiptoed through the house as if it weren’t your house too. A soon as Erik entered one of the common areas you were in you were quick on your toes to make an exit. This couldn’t last long though. You couldn’t avoid him while occupying the same home. The more you avoided him, the longer you knew he would stay home from work.

Erik was trying to apologize in the best ways he knew how. There we gifts that he strategically placed in Iman’s nursery because he knew you had to go in there. It only earned him a scoff and an eye roll. You couldn’t be bought. He tried ordering food from your favorite Mexican restaurant. Erik even cooked which he hasn’t done in over a month. You gladly accepted the food but opted to eat alone. The food would’ve been a nice sentiment if you could make it through a meal without vomiting. Then came the flowers, the obnoxious amount of flowers that practically covered the entire house. Each bouquet had a hand written apology that you didn’t give him the gratification of reading in front of him. He had been walking on eggshells knowing you would make good on your promise to leave, but you pulled a “him” to appease his worries.

Making your way to bedroom to grab some of your essentials, you could only wonder if somehow what you were doing or did could in anyway backfire. You cringed at the thought. You were honestly repulsed at your actions from last night and this morning. If you knew anything about your husband, you knew he was smart. Scratch that, he’s a genius. But would he catch on?

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

You peaked into the in-home gym watching intently as Erik lifted weights. He laid back bench-pressing an obscene amount of weights. Jaw clinched, eyebrows knitted close together, eyes intently fixed on the metal bar above him Erik had to be deep in thought. The sweat that dripped down his chest drenched his shirt causing it to cling to his body. Based on his usual nightly routine, you knew his workout would be done within the next 10 to 15 minutes before he was done. You shook your clammy hands in front of you before clasping them together. You still needed to work up the courage to follow through with your plan but that would have to be enough time.

You jogged upstairs to get your head start. Cracking the bedroom door, you peaked inside of nursery to ensure Iman was in a deep sleep. Turning on your toes you took quick strides to the master bedroom. You made your way around you and Erik’s bedroom to the adjoining bathroom. You leaned against your vanity staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your coffin shaped nails tapped against the marble top. You had wasted enough time.

You turned on the shower adjusting the temperature. You stripped out of your clothes, put on a shower cap, and stepped into the steaming hot shower. You closed your eyes allowing your mind to roam as the water hit your body. There were still so many unanswered questions. Some questions that Erik refused to answer and plenty of questions you dared not ask, because honestly did you really need those answers. Would you feel better if you knew how long the affair lasted? If it was only a few times or did they fuck all the time? Who fucks better? Is that even a determining factor in if you could forgive him? Did he know her prior to the internship or was his attraction to her why he hired her?

You clenched and unclenched your fist ignoring the burning sensation of water temperature being a bit too hot. The more you thought about it, the angrier you could feel yourself become. How dare he betray your trust for the second time? Your grandma always said fool me once shame one you, fool me twice shame on me, and if you get fooled three times you are a goddamn fool. You began to scrub at your skin increasing the burning sensation. It was too bad you couldn’t wash away the disgust. You wanted to him to hurt like he made hurt. Not even physical pain, but the mental and emotional pain you endured leading up to this very moment. That’s exactly why you couldn’t stay there much longer, but leaving is always harder than it seems.

The sound of the bathroom door opening caught you off guard causing you to jump out of your thoughts. Your eyes snapped open to see Erik entering the bathroom with his wireless Beats by Dre headphones on. He stopped dead in his tracks taking in the view of you. A mixture of emotions flashed through his eyes the most prominent being uncertainty. You scrambled to cover yourself with your arms as if this wasn’t your husband who’d seen you naked plenty of times.

“I’ll be out soon.” You called out. This was the most you had spoken to him in two days.

Erik took off the headphones dragging his tongue across his bottom lip the glint from his gold fangs flashed. He pulled the sweat- drenched tee over his head facing you the entire time not breaking eye contact. His eyes were filled with remorse, a flash of that lost puppy look washing over his face. He nodded in appreciation of your voice holding on to every sound of every syllable. As short of a sentence it may have been, it was better than your silence. Shit, even being cussed out was better than silence. Silence just made the situation marinate. It straight up made him feel like shit.

“Nah…you don’t gotta rush.” Erik swaggered back into their room.

Letting out an uneasy sigh, a devious smirk formed on your lips. It was show time. You quickly rinsed off before grabbing your towel wrapping it tightly around your body and snatching off the shower cap. You picked up your lotion from your vanity then strutted into your room. You completely ignored Erik’s presence as you proceeded to dry off in front of the floor length mirror in your room. You could feel his gaze piercing into you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You glanced up through the mirror to see him watching you as if you were prey. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, as he hunched forward with a more predatory look in his eyes dreads falling into his face.

You broke the gaze maintaining a stoic, unbothered expression. This was all a game and you were about to have fun with it. You proceeded to point your foot placing it on the edge of the bed as you rubbed in your lotion at an agonizingly slow pace. It would only be a matter of a few moments before you would get the reaction you were seeking, the reaction that you were taunting out of Erik. You knew he had the audacity.

Erik stood up rounding the bed acting as though he was searching for something within your proximity. You rolled your eyes at his obviousness. By now you had switched legs, beginning to moisturize the other. As you leaned forward, arching your back some you began to work the Shea Butter starting from your ankle, leading to your calf, then your thigh. Your hands inched closer to the apex of your thigh when Erik’s hand got a firm hold of your wrist, the front of his body being pressed against the back of yours. You cut your eyes at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the shower?” Your words laced with attitude.

“Yea but not yet” He mumbled huskily against your ear. “Let me help you with this…It’s the least I could do.” Erik nibbled at the rim of your ear. “…The least I could do to show you how sorry I really am.”

You tried to suppress a moan as he flicked his tongue across the flesh just below your ear as his calloused hand kneaded at the apex of your thighs. Your back arched more pressing your ass firmer against him. Blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but as angry as you still were with him, your body was betraying you. The pulse, that’s right an actual heartbeat, you felt at your center let you know the tough ‘act’ was over. The glaze on your lower lips that was beginning to drip onto your inner thighs just solidified it. His nose rubbed along the side of your neck as he leaned more into you.

“N’Jadaka…” You whined in protest only to receive a dark chuckle in response.

“See princess…all you gotta do is give Daddy permission.”

Erik stuffed one hand into the mess of your thick curls gripping them in his fist. You sucked air through clenched teeth from his sudden roughness. He forced you to look in his eyes, something you refused to do for extended periods of time of the last few days, before capturing you in an intoxicated kiss.

You hated how you craved him. How your body craved him. How lust could supersede hurt and anger. How your flesh burned and yearned for salacious acts only he could provide. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself, right? It all happened in a blur. You tried to rationalize through every kiss, lick, bite, and tug at flesh, that this is what you needed to do. You needed him open and what better way to breakdown his wall of paranoia. Or were you the one open? How could you not be repulsed by stooping this low in an act of manipulation? You knew he would leap at the opportunity to fuck you into submission and forgiveness if possible. He’d better enjoy it because it would be the last time he would get to. Little did Erik know, he was far from forgiven. Did he honestly think you would give in after being home for three days? Wrong. You only confronted him about his escapades eight days prior.

But now here you were, in control as your hips rose and fell, your aching core gripping his entire length thoroughly stretched to accommodate his girth. Your head thrown back eyes shut tightly. Erik delivered a powerful smack on your ass that only served as encouragement and motivation. You peered down at him through hooded eyes biting down on your bottom lip. You dragged your nailed down his studded chest and abs. It was time to pick up the pace. You bounced faster being sure to tighten you walls each time you reached the tip. The tip hitting your spot at just the right angle every time encouraged your cream to both of your thighs. The room was filled with sounds of flesh slapping and the sloshing of your sex. When Erik reached to grip your hips you slapped his hands away. You knew he wanted to gain control but this was a revenge fuck. He let out a growl as his abs flexed. Despite reforming over the years, your husband still thrived on power. A lack of power would only frustrate him. You were on the verge of cumming so he power trip would have to wait. A slue of curse words followed letting you know you had him just where you wanted him. It was also only a matter of time before he would take over…and that he did.

You passed out cumming and woke up the next morning on the verge of cumming. One leg raised in the air cuffed in his brolic arm, he was buried so deep in you from the side that you felt winded. You didn’t know if you wanted to curse him out or sing praises, so you did both. The overwhelming sensation brought tears to your eyes that Erik gladly kissed away while whispering yet another apology. If you weren’t already pregnant, you would’ve surely ended pregnant after this escapade.

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

You blinked a few times at your reflection in the mirror. Purplish bruises cover your neck and the tops of your breast. You zipped up your hoodie to the top in efforts to hide them. You didn’t even want anyone to have a clue that you had sex with Erik after he cheated on you. Imagine being embarrassed of sleeping with your own husband. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as your broke away from your trance. You had to move on and move fast. You sped walked into your walk-in closet grabbing a tote immediately grabbing some essentials like under garments, a track suit, sundresses, and sandals. You grabbed enough clothes to last you until you called a moving company to pick up the rest of your things the next day. Next on your to do list was the bathroom to pack your hygienic products. Your eyes darted around the room. Was there anything important you were forgetting? You surely hoped not.

You waltzed over to the stand pulling out a notepad you used to keep in there. You pulled out the pen that was wedged into the spirals. The devil on your shoulder was back at it again as the pen glided across the page. Your pettiness was getting the best of you.

Erik,

If you’re reading this, then you should know that we’re gone. Don’t come looking for us. Fuck marriage counseling. This marriage was over when you decided to have a second affair. I won’t keep Iman away from you, but I never want to see your sorry ass ever again. I’ll have my mom or somebody bring her to you for visits. As far as baby #2, I’ll have you informed when I’m in labor.

P.S. I hope you enjoyed last night and this morning. Now you know how it feels to be fucked into thinking everything is okay.

Love, Y/n Udaku-Stevens

You ripped off the page setting it on top of the nightstand. You twisted your wedding ring and bands off in one motion setting them on top of the note before grabbing your tote and heading back to Iman’s nursery. You made sure to slip off her Kimoyo beads leaving them in her crib. You had taken yours off the first time you left eight days ago. You swiftly situated Iman into her car seat. You would have to carry her and you guys’ bags, but this wasn’t something you were unaccustomed to. You carried her with plenty of grocery bags whenever Erik was out of town or just simply not around.

As you finished loading your truck, you paused. This was it. How would Erik react coming home to two being gone…for good. You knew he suffered from issues of abandonment. Were you adding to his problems of being alone? It could definitely trigger it. You groaned resting your forehead on the car’s door. You couldn’t pity him. He clearly didn’t care about how you felt anymore.

You hopped into the driver’s seat and proceeded to drive off. You drove away from the house that was supposed to be a home to build your family. You didn’t want to stay there though. It wasn’t home anymore. Just being there gave your chest a heavy feeling. If you did stay, making Erik leave would be another fight that you just didn’t have the energy for. In so many ways you found home in Erik, yet that was gone too. Your very concept of home washed away like sandcastles to a tide.

You didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. You were too deep into your thoughts. You opted to start over. This was your decision. You could go back to work and find a new place to call home. You could figure out how to create a new normal for you and Iman. But how you would deal with two kids under two years old alone? What if you were pregnant with twins? That would be like God playing some type of sick joke on you. You bit your bottom lip using your thumb to hastily wipe way a single stray tear, before refocusing on the road. Whatever the future circumstance would be you couldn’t worry about it. You had to deal with your problems in the right now.

Tag List: @yoyolovesbucky @beaut1fulone-blog @sarcastic-sunshines

If I forgot to tag you and you asked, I’m soo sorry!

#erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger #black panther #erik killmonger x black!reader #black panther imagine #black panther rec #sandcastles #sandcastles part 2

357 notes · View notes