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sapphicstone · 3 months

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Soul's flower garden | broZone x Reader.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰🌱꒱ ♡ ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: you're a gardener, so you have extensive knowledge of all the local flora.

pairings: John Dory x Reader, Spruce/Bruce x Reader, Clay x Reader, Floyd x Reader.

‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤ‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎ㅤhope you enjoy it!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰🌱꒱ ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . john dory

JD drove frantically to Mount Rageous. The place where his younger brother Floyd was supposedly being held. You only knew him from the stories and photos John Dory had, you never saw him in person.

You saw when he read the letter that strangely reached Rhonda and you saw how worried he was.

Mount Rageous looked like an unhealthy place, although it seemed to be partly made of plastic or something similar.

"Wait here." John asked as he got up from the driver's seat.

"I'll go with you." You put down the book you were reading about the local flora and got up, intending to accompany him.

"No way."

And off he goes.

You've spent minutes waiting, after reading the whole book from start to finish, JD arrives with a slightly melancholy expression. He said nothing, just sat back down on the bench and turned around with Rhonda.

You didn't question him about anything in order to maintain respect. John would say an hour, in his own time.

The next day, Rhonda didn't want to walk. John Dory was explicitly worried when he turned the car around and realized that the armadillo simply refused to move. She didn't have the strength.

You both left. You were startled when you noticed the greenish tinge on the poor creature's face. As you approached her, you noticed the sickly look on her face.

"She looks terrible! She must have eaten something she shouldn't have on Mount Rageous."

"What are we going to do?" John looked even more worried.

You knew exactly what to do. Nearby there were some boldo leaves, you picked them and offered them to Rhonda, who frowned as soon as she smelled the plant.

"Come on, Rhonda! I know it looks bitter, but you have to chew it."

She obeyed. Rhonda got better a few hours later and John Dory showered you both with kisses and hugs.

You help John to stay away from plants that can cause allergies, since he loves walking through the woods and acts unconsciously most of the time.

Once he almost ate poisonous berries if you hadn't been around…

"Can I eat that?"

"If you want to swell up and explode into glitter, yes!'' One day, John was bitten by a carnivorous plant and didn't leave Rhonda for a few days. You laughed at him and he got upset.

A complete disaster when it comes to laughing plants, he hardly ever recognizes them. Lucky you know a cure for them.

He loves your knowledge of flora and constantly presents you with flowers he finds in his favorite book.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Spruce/Bruce

He seasons the food with plants that you take to Vacay Island.

Because it's an island, the plantation is somewhat limited, so you have to go out and explore a bit more.

Bruce goes along, he doesn't want you to get hurt while trying to pick plants to season the food sold in the restaurant.

"Do you think this would go well in soup?"

He thinks it's funny when you bring the plants close to your face and smell them to simulate a possible combination.

"No, dear. Try this one!"

"Incredibly delicious."

The best fruit salad on Vacay Island. The best drinks and juices too!

Bruce also gives you flowers and some special seedlings.

One day you told him about a flower that grows in all possible environments, even tropical ones.

Guess what? He found a way to get this flower and helped you plant it in a pot at the back of the restaurant.

Every day that flower grew more colorful and beautiful.

"My little flower" as he calls it.

"My little ones." As he calls his children if they have any.

Your house is all decorated. Flowers in pots, flowers on the ceiling, flower arrangements and the pantry is full of grains and vegetables that you grow yourself in pots for your own consumption.

He waters the plants every day when he remembers.

They all remind him of you, so Bruce doesn't feel lonely when he's away from you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Clay

Clay's office has never been as colorful as it used to be.

You work in a location a little further away from all the centralization of the putt-putt village.

Because she has a vast knowledge of plants, Viva has appointed her as a "healer". Always serving teas and medicines to trolls who end up injured or sick.

Clay admires you from afar. He gives you some books that he finds interesting, even though you have a collection of them and don't need new ones.

But you think it's cute and keep it anyway.

Afternoon tea almost every day! Clay gave up his coffee addiction for a while just to enjoy his delicious herbal tea.

Clay doesn't like sweets very much, he hardly eats milkshakes and French fries. So salads with fresh vegetables are always welcome!

You stock up on fruit and fresh salad for him in a little jar, always knocking on his office door to deliver it to him.

"Lovely pumpkin." That's what he usually calls you.

"Thanks for helping to look after us!" You say with a smile.

"You do it better than me."

One day you asked him to look at your farm. He liked it so much that, thanks to this tranquillity, he began to relax a little from his work as an accountant. Of course, he was still very professional, but with a little moderation.

You taught him how to pick moon fruit. They have the shape of the star and are naturally illuminated and he keeps one of them as a lamp in his office.

That way, he always remembers how special your relationship is.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . Floyd

Skincare!

You definitely know the best plants that can take care of trolls' delicate skin. Almost every night before going to sleep, you rub some creamy plant on their faces and talk while you wait a few minutes for it to take effect.

Floyd has some trouble sleeping. Sometimes his body aches and his mind is agitated, so you prepare some herbal tea with calming properties so that he can relax and sleep.

Your cocoon is in the most flowery tree in the countryside.

Floyd would like to learn more about the flora. He wants to talk to you about his interests and loves it when you teach him something you've recently learned.

flower crown!

But Floyd ends up sneezing from the pollen.

Special fruit pies are always on the table. He loves his homemade sweets.

Floyd puts the flowers in a vase with water. There's always room for more vases inside the cocoon.

He has learned to eat some edible flowers and now always asks you to make some refreshing salad with them.

"Please?" He begs with piteous eyes.

"Okay, Daisy." You call him that and then give him an Eskimo kiss.

The shape of Floyd's hair resembles a tulip, however.

Floyd now smells of roses. And he loves it.

౨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨୧ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ 𝜗𝜚˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୭ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ೀ౨ৎ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୨୧ ˖⑅ ࣪⊹ 𝜗𝜚˖⑅ ࣪⊹ ୭ৎ

I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for any mistakes! :') masterlist

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sentinelpri · 11 hours

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Tangerine Skies

V’s days are lost, spent in front of his mother’s grave, cleaning the stone and lining it with flowers. His nights are spent taking photos and developing them, keeping up his work at a rapid pace to drown his distress over his mother and over Jumin.

It’s five in the morning. The two of them are in V’s car in front of the local gas station, both of them with a slushie in hand as V pulls out of the parking lot and drives them down the busy city streets.

They’ve talked loads, but said nothing. Even though they both indulge in it, they know that catching up on Chairman Han’s recent love scandals, V and his father’s stupid arguments, and nonsensical smalltalk isn’t what either of them are here for.

“Jihyun,” Jumin starts. This is the first time they’ve spent time together in almost a year. With both of them being busy finishing college, V’s grief, and Jumin’s busy work life, they’ve hardly had the time for each other. And now, as V drives his own car instead of allowing them to be chauffeured around- and now, as V has bought them both their syrupy sugar ice in a cup- V can tell that they’re both different people than they were just twelve months before. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time. Why did you want to meet so suddenly like this? I assumed it was for business, but…”

Jumin awkwardly gestures to the cup he’s holding as V pulls into the empty lot of a park they used to go to with their nannies when they were children. It’s still incredibly early, so there’s no children to be seen, just a group of teenagers smoking underneath a nearby bridge. V smiles at the sight. Shortly after his mother died, he dragged Jumin underneath the very same bridge with his first cigar and shared it with him. Unsurprisingly, they both damn near hacked up their lungs and Jumin never tried it again. V, however, has obtained a nasty smoking habit. Part of him suspects that he only keeps doing it to be reminded of that night they spent together as young, stupid teenagers with nothing to worry about except for grief and school and each other.

“I know we’re both busy these days. I just can’t help but miss your heart,” V explains, parking in the corner of the lot and turning the radio on. Without asking, Jumin messes with the knobs until he’s able to figure out which one controls the stations- and then, he switches the music around until there’s classical music booming. Knowing that there’s no one else around to be bothered by it, V rolls the windows down and lets out a small sigh at the wind that blows through his mint-hued hair. “I’m glad you agreed to hang out with me tonight.

“It’s funny how we drift apart,” Jumin suddenly says, as blunt as ever. But V can tell that he’s nervous by the way that he continues to fiddle with the knobs that control the volume of the music, the air conditioning, and the heated seats. “Why don’t you call me like you used to?”

V hums and leans his head back against the seat, eyes falling shut. Whether it’s because he’s tired or because he can’t bring himself to look at Jumin, he isn’t exactly sure. Over the years, when something bad happens, he tends to distance himself. Most of the time, he doesn’t want to show Jumin the bitter, emotional person he’s become since they were children. More importantly, as they grew older, his feelings became… Different. The pure, innocent adoration he had for his friend morphed into something else; something romantic that he knows is risky to give in to. On nights like this, though- on nights when he’s weak and wanting things to be normal again, and on nights when he wants Jumin’s comfort- he gives in to the worst parts of himself.

“I don’t know,” V answers, because that’s easier than telling the truth. “I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”

“How could it not? You’re my dearest friend,” Jumin frowns. Though he’s always been mature for his age, sometimes, in front of V, he’ll childishly pout or mess with his hair when he’s upset. “What I wouldn’t give… For you to take me back to where we left off.”

“Where we left off?” V sits up straight, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms over his chest.

“When we were happy.”

“Were we ever happy?” V questions, because even if one of them is happy, the other is usually miserable.

“...When things were easier. I feel as if I haven’t grown into these shoes yet,” Jumin glances down at his feet, adorned in shiny Oxford’s. “It feels as if I could use one more summer before I grow up.”

“But haven’t you always been rather adult-ish, Jumin?” V rests one hand on the handle of the car door, and the other on the glove box between the two of them. “It’s not as if you were ever very childish. You haven’t had to do much growing up.”

The night, slowly but surely, fades to morning.

“You’d be surprised,” Jumin mutters, staring out the window. V glances in his direction and smiles at this morning’s sunrise. The skies are painted cream and orange with pink and purple on the horizon. “Back then, everyone was pleasantly surprised by my maturity and efficiency. Now, they expect it, and when people expect things of you, those expectations gradually increase until you struggle to meet them.”

“I never knew you were struggling, Jumin.”

Jumin reaches over to place a hand on top of V’s. V doesn’t jump away at the touch, but he doesn’t move into it either. Instead, he freezes, goosebumps raising on his skin despite the warm summer air and his cardigan keeping him from being cold.

“I never said I was… At least, not yet.”

And for a moment, it’s silent as V considers Jumin’s words. Now that they’re both adults, Jumin has far more to worry about. He can’t run around with V all the time, trespassing in abandoned buildings, modeling for his paintings, watching every single sunset and sunrise, smoking cigars under bridges, drinking and dancing in Jumin’s room and trying to stifle their laughs to keep Chairman Han and his many girlfriends from hearing them. Now, Jumin is stuck following in his father’s footsteps, whether he wants to or not. The excuses of ‘oh, he’s just a child’ or ‘you know how teenagers are’ from his father won’t work anymore. He has to tolerate the gold diggers, show up to work every day, and put his personal life on the backburner.

V can’t relate. Following his mother’s death, he’s gone off the wall. He smokes a pack a day, disregards his father’s advice, spends every day and every night at his mother’s grave or focusing on his newly discovered art form. He burns through the money his mother left him, knowing that he won’t run out anytime soon. Why not do it? Why not make up for the last twenty two years? Why not live life to the fullest? For all he knows, he could die young and foolish, just like his mother did.

V looks to Jumin. The man is still staring into the sky, appearing wistful. V’s heart skips a beat at the sight. If he himself is so hellbent on living his life to the fullest, why can’t he bring himself to go after the one thing he wants? Why not make Jumin his, if the other man seems to want it, too?

V isn’t stupid. He knows Jumin takes the time to memorize what his face looks like when he thinks V isn’t looking. He knows that Jumin is in love with him. As stoic as the other man seems to be, when you’re friends with someone your entire life, you learn to read their emotions.

So, Jumin should know that V is in love with him, too… Shouldn’t he?

V unbuckles his seatbelt, to which Jumin’s gaze flickers back to him.

“Growing up is hard. I see that you have your own issues… No matter how composed you seem, Jumin,” V smiles and reaches over to unbuckle Jumin’s seatbelt as well. Then, he takes off his sunglasses and puts them in the glovebox. “Do you remember that night we smoked under the bridge?”

“Yes. It was quite awful,” Jumin replies, a small blush dusting over his high-set cheeks. “I only did it because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Really? I didn’t care, I was just offering to be polite… We were stupid kids.”

“Ah… How funny,” Jumin smiles and opens the door, getting out of the car with V following close behind him. “Let’s just be stupid for one more night. This piece playing from your radio is too good to let go to waste, after all.”

And so, Jumin leads V to the middle of the park. Hand in hand. V can’t remember the last time he’s done something like this. Maybe he should get together with Jumin more.

The teenagers under the bridge have since run off, leaving only the two of them underneath the rising sun. Though the music on the radio is low and distant, V still hears traces of it as Jumin grabs his other hand and leads him in a waltz. Having grown up in wealthy families, they both received training for basic etiquette knowledge, including formal dance, so neither of them have any issues with it.

“This was a good idea, Jumin,” V says with a grin and, in a moment of bravery, rests his forehead against Jumin’s. Their noses brush together. “Do you… Still have the same feelings for me that you did back then?”

“Of course,” Jumin answers easily, even as his blush spreads to the tips of his ears and down to his neck. “And you?”

V laughs.

“Of course. So, you knew?”

“We were merely children,” Jumin pauses in their dance so the two of them can stand in the middle of the grass and hold each other’s hands. “You were obvious, and apparently, I was as well.”

“How come we never said anything?”

“Because we were young and naive… Because we didn’t have our priorities back in order,” Jumin says. “But I’m assuming since you’ve reinitiated contact with me…”

“Yes, you’re one of my biggest priorities. You’re my dearest friend, but…”

“You’d like me to be more than that?”

V nods.

Then, he whispers-

“Yes, please.”

Underneath the tangerine skies, with a new song starting on V’s car radio, he leans in to press his lips against Jumin. And, even if it’s only for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

#juminv #jumin v #jumin han #v mystic messenger #mystic messenger #mystic messenger v #jihyun kim #mysme v #mysme jumin #pre-canon #canon divergent #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

Note

I have had a few bucky x read fic ideas bouncing around in my head and i cant write! So here is one,

Sam find a person who stairs and doesnt talk a whole lot because they uses ✨telepathy ✨. So Sam think they would be a good fit for Bucky, but he doesn’t know they have that power he just thinks they are mute. Then there is a thing where the reader is telling Buck how it works and they if they have something to connect them together like an object *reader motions to dog tags* they can have an unbreakable mind link. Then they fall in love or something. This is dumb, thank you for coming to my TedTalk

Hey! Thank you so much for this request, it wasn't dumb at all. I really enjoyed writing this. I may have gotten a bit carried away, this may sit close to 4000 words but we vibe. I hope this is what you had in mind! Please enjoy! <3

Click here for my masterlist of other fics and check in my bio for requests if anyone wishes to ask!

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

Bucky had been enjoying a moments peace, he loved working with Sam but sometimes all he wanted was to put his feet up, put on some vinyl and enjoy a good cup of coffee all while reading a brilliant book. He had been trying to get into Game of Thrones lately, on Sam’s insistence, and he had been enjoying it. With the crackles of Glenn Miller from the turntable he missed the clunky footsteps coming up the stairs.

The sight that greeted Sam needed to be photographed. Bucky was lounging back on his ‘old man armchair’ feet up, hair in a towel, in a bathrobe, coffee in hand and facemask on, this was definitely one for the family album.

At the sound of the phone shutter Bucky practically launched himself out of the chair.

“Oh, you are never gonna live this one down old boy, it’s going to haunt you.” Sam almost cackled evilly as he began to email the photo to himself- he had learnt the hard way that Bucky was very proficient at breaking phones.

“You better not upload that photo anywhere, Wilson, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Pfft, reputation, that’s funny.”

Bucky scoffed as he stood up, placing his book carefully on the side table, “Big scary super soldier, people hardly run-in fear from a guy in a bathrobe.”

“I disagree, a man in a bathrobe is definitely something you should run from. AH NOPE!” Sam jumped backwards, on top of a nearby chair, as Bucky lunged for the phone, towel turban falling off in the process. “You are not breaking this phone as well.”

“Fine. But you gotta promise not to post that anywhere.” Bucky huffed.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“As long as- “

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Think of it as payment for the last phone you broke and insurance for this picture.”

There was silence for a moment as the two friends eyed each other up. Sam raised his eyebrows, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. It was an intense staring match between a guy in a bathrobe and a precariously balanced man. A clock ticked.

“Fine.” Bucky conceded. “What do you want?”

“For you to come to a meeting.”

“The families of Veterans ones?”

“Yeah.” Sam slowly started climbing down from the chair. “And before you get your old man pants in a twist, I’m not trying to force you to talk or anything, kinda.”

“Kinda?” Suspicion laced through Bucky’s voice.

“You know sign language, right?”

“Which kind?”

“American? I think?”

“Yeah, I know ASL, might be a bit rusty but I’m sure it still holds up. Why do you ask?”

Sam shifted slightly on his feet, “There’s this person, they come in every week and listen. I tried to talk to them, but they communicate through sign language, and I don’t have anyone there to talk with them.” He cast his eyes to the floor, “I feel bad. They were brave enough to come to the group only to basically be ignored ‘because we didn’t plan well enough.”

Bucky smiled, face mask crinkling around his smile lines, “You could have just asked me to Sam. You didn’t have to blackmail me into this, of course I’ll help. When’s the next meeting?”

“This evening. You gonna be ready or do you need some more ‘me’ time.”

Bucky simply chuckled at Sam’s teasing tone, patted his shoulder making sure to squeeze just a bit too hard before retreating to his room.

“I’ll be there, Wilson, and I will look so much younger than you!”

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It was frustrating to you, going along to these meetings and not being able to communicate. You could always speak into someone’s mind but all that usually accomplished was a very paranoid person. But just listening to other’s stories really helped the grief from losing someone so close to you. You related to most of the people there and even though they didn’t understand you a lot of the time, you were always made to feel welcome- with friendly pats on the back and the odd tissue thrown your way.

You bustled into the familiar building with a new sense of excitement as Sam had promised to bring a translator for you this week. It was finally time to say your thanks to some of the people there and finally let the group know about your brother, so that it wasn’t only you that remembered him.

You all but ran through the hallways until you caught sight of a familiar smiling man. Sam was facing you, talking animatedly to another man, the strangers back was to you. He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a vintage looking leather jacket and rather well fitted trousers. Now the debate was: does the tailoring make the ass, or does the ass make the tailoring. You were halfway through the arguments on either side when Sam shouting your name disrupted the intense debating in your mind. You blushed at being caught, then blushed some more when you caught sight of the stranger’s face. Twinkling blue eyes under a deep-set brow should have made him intimidating, but he was smiling, and his face was dazzling. There was an immediate fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” Dear lord even his voice was nice, what made you smile even more was the fact that he signed as he spoke. Well, Sam certainly knew how to pick them well. “Sam introduced me; said you wanted an interpreter.”

You nodded as you signed back, “Nice to meet you, thank you for helping out.”

“No problem, Sam has told me a bit about you.”

“Good things I hope.”

“Okay I recognise my own name, you two better not be conspiring against me.” Sam piped up, to be honest you had forgotten about him for a moment.

Bucky laughed, and it sent a little thrill down you, he really was adorable.

“No worries, Wilson, just letting them know all your dirty little secrets.”

“Right, you two get in there, before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

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

You and Bucky caught each other’s eye, his eyes were twinkling with mischief, and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you. You had a feeling that the two of you would get on just fine.

The meeting passed easily. Bucky translated your signs and you finally felt like you could actually take part in these meetings. Everyone listened intently when you spoke of your brother and when you had thanked the whole group for being so open to you a couple of people shed a tear. By the end of the meeting though you were tired and very accepting of Bucky’s offer to walk you home.

It was a lot of side glances and hidden smiles and you walked side by side. Drawn to each other under the moonlit sky, it was nice to just be in the presence of someone who had such a kind aura. You spent the walk trying to work up the confidence to sign something, anything but nothing came to mind and Bucky seemed quite content to just walk in comfortable silence.

You soon reached your home, you turned to Bucky with a smile on your face and signed,

“Thanks for today, Bucky. You were really helpful.”

“No problem.” He signed back,

You hesitated slightly before signing, “Would you be happy to have a coffee with me, tomorrow?”

Bucky went a little red in the face, and chuckled, “I would love to, I know a nice place, real cosy. I’ll text you the details.”

“You know how to text?”

“Hey! I get enough stick from Sam, don’t need you getting on my case too. I’ll have you know that I am very adaptable.”

“Sure, Sure.” You smiled at his flustered tone. “I’ll wait for your text then, have a good evening.”

“You too.”

The two of you stared slightly awkwardly at each other, neither wanting to be the first to turn around. You shuffled your feet away slowing, smiling awkwardly once more at Bucky before turning. You heard his footsteps start to fade away as you walked towards your home. You were but three steps to the door when a large figure in a hoodie slammed into you, you raised your arms instinctively to block them when you noticed your shoulder was lighter. The bastard had stolen your bag.

You immediately took chase, chasing around the corner you just walked down but they were fast, faster then you at least. As you rounded the corner you caught sight of Bucky walking ahead. The thief wouldn’t stand a change against him. Without a second thought you cast your thoughts towards Bucky,

“Bucky! Thief! My Bag! Behind you!”

You saw Bucky flinch slightly then turn bewildered, his eyes widening when he saw you hurting towards him, chasing the hooded figure. He caught on and launched after the thief as well, with barely any effort he knocked the thief to the ground, grabbed your bag and whipped out his phone to call the cops.

Well, that was hot.

You took your bag back, immediately checking that you brother’s lucky coin was in the zippy pocket, to your relief it was still there. You looked up to see Bucky staring at you with a very puzzled look on his face. You sighed before casting your thoughts to his head once more,

“I’ll explain later.”

Bucky let out a strange, decompressed noise of shock, it made you giggle. The two of you waited in silence until the police came and took the thief away. The police car had barely driven away when he turned to you.

“Did you just, talk in my head? Or did my conscious just suddenly get really loud.”

“I did. Hi. Sorry about that.”

He waved his hands dismissively. “Believe it or not, not the weirdest thing I’ve encountered.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So,” You started, resorting back to sign language, it felt less invasive, “Still down for coffee?”

Bucky smiled, “One hundred percent. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Bye Bucky. Thanks for getting my bag back.”

“No problem, see ya.”

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The coffee shop that Bucky invited you to, was tucked away, it was the kind of place that you would stumble over on accident. With a simple door and a big window out the front, that lead soft orange light filter out onto the alley. There was the faint sound of jazz leaking out of the building, you smirked. It was such an old fashioned place, of course this was where Bucky frequented.

The bell tinkled slightly as you entered the café, where you were greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods. You caught sight of Bucky’s broad shoulders sitting in the corner, and you made your way over to him, smiling at the barista as you passed.

As if sensing you, Bucky turned to smile and wave. He was dressed in casual clothes like last time, but this time his hair was loose around his shoulders. You smiled back before settling into the seat opposite him.

His hands moved hesitantly as he signed, “What would you like? I can recommend their hot chocolate, its very warming/”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you a million questions but to his credit he walked slowly to get the drinks, he even took his time carefully carrying the tray of drinks back to your table. He placed a delicious looking hot chocolate in front of you. You watched as he took a sip.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“So,” Here we go, “What is it you can do, you can speak in peoples’ heads, can you,” He lowered his voice and leaned in, “Can you read people’s minds?”

You giggled slightly, his eyes were basically sparkling, he was definitely nerding out about this.

You set the hot chocolate down before casting your thoughts to his head, “I can speak in peoples heads relatively easily, it’s how I talk most of the time to people I know. I guess you could call it Telepathy.”

Bucky’s eyes were as wide as saucers, “So you can’t read thoughts, only… speak them?”

“I like to call it casting, makes me feel like a sorcerer. I can read thoughts, but it takes a lot of energy. I used to be able to talk with my brother from across the house. That usually requires some kind of connection.”

“Oh, so like a blood or family connection? Do you have to know the person very well?”

“That certainly helps but it’s not always necessary. If I have a personal object that belongs to that person, something I can hold and connect to them it isn’t hard to make a two-way connection. Especially if that person is willing to open their mind.”

Bucky seemed to be caught in thought for a second. “So, if I were to give you something of mine, we could both talk in our… heads?”

“Well yes, but Bucky we have only just met. Letting me into your head is a lot. I try not to pry but sometimes I’ve found that thoughts just burst through. Let’s get to know each other a before that happens.”

Bucky smiled at you before speaking and signing, “You’re right. Let’s get to know one another. I find you fascinating.”

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

It happened on the fifth date. Bucky was just walking you home after a lovely dinner at a small Italian that he claimed he went to back in the 40s. Just outside your door, under the glow of a lamppost he turned to you and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I know this may be a lot, but I wanted to give you these.” He reached around his neck and pulled off something silver. You gasped slightly as he held out his dog tags, immaculately preserved after all these years.

“Are you sure, Bucky? This is a lot.”

“I know and if you aren’t comfortable with it then just let me know but I want to give them to you.”

“You know what this means Bucky?”

“Yeah, I know, I just figured that you’re already in my head all the time anyways, just can’t seem to get you out of it.”

“You cheeseball.” You smirked at him before taking the dog tags and placing them around your neck. You gripped the cold metal for a moment, concentrating on the man in front of you. Taking everything, you knew about him and stretching out a connection, like a hand reaching out to clasp another.

“Testing, Testing, Testing, one two, one two, can my Telepathic partner hear me?”

You laughed, “Yes I can Bucky, you big dork.”

Bucky whooped out loud before sweeping you up in a big hug. The two of you laughing under the lamp light. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t fight the smile off your face.

“Oh, we are going to have so much fun messing with Sam.”

“You’re evil.”

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

Of course, the two of you made a pact not to tell Sam until he worked it out, which wouldn’t be anytime soon according to Bucky. It led to some very memorable moments and Sam refusing to play any form of card or board game with either of you because you always managed to win, somehow. Not to mention all the times you had spoken in eery unison around him.

“I swear, its like you two can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Sam threw his hands up in frustration at another lost game of charades.

You smirked at Bucky across the room, “Should you tell him, or shall I?”

“I think he’s been through enough, I got it.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “We can.”

Sam whipped around to face Bucky, a look of sheer disbelief on his face, “Seriously Bucky-boy, if you think I believe that after all-

“Hello Sam.” You cast your thoughts to him, in the creepiest old lady voice you could muster.

Sam yelped, before turning accusingly at you, “You better be joking around with me right now, I am not dealing with any kind of ghosts in this house.”

“Sorry! Surprise I’m telepathic!”

“You’re serious.”

You nodded.

Sam put his head in his hands and sighed, “Not the weirdest thing ever. Wait, does this mean you have been cheating this entire time.”

You both looked guiltily at one another.

“You owe me. That poker night, void.”

You both laughed, “We’ll have a fair rematch this time Sam.”

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

It had been close to a year since you had made it official with Bucky and you were now much more comfortable around one another. He no longer just dropped you off at the lamppost but cam inside with you. You had spent many lovely mornings together sharing glances over steaming cups of coffee. Fighting each other for who got to spread their legs out on the couch, there wasn’t really a loser though as it usually ended up in sofa cuddles for both of you, while watching a film.

Life was pretty great, you thought, as you smiled down at the sleeping Bucky beside you. Finally reaching over to turn off the lamp and put your book down, you were finally reading the hobbit at Bucky’s insistence. As you clicked off the light beside you and settled down you noticed the faster than usual breathing coming from beside you.

“Bucky?”

You reached out, thinking he was awake but instead as you opened up your connection you caught flashes of night terrors. You were falling indefinitely, snow all around you, and in the distance, there were cries of pain, people pleading for their lives, there was gunfire and explosions. You gasped and took off the dog tags. You only gave yourself a moment to breathe before trying to shake Bucky awake. When it became clear that he wasn’t stirring you steadied yourself and settled your hands on his temples. You didn’t care you tired this would make you, you just wanted Bucky to stop suffering. You focused, offering out that hand of connection again, this time picturing it in the shape of a fist and, although it wasn’t subtle, you tried to shake Bucky’s brain awake. You forced your way into his dreams, punching through the dark fog that clouded his thoughts and almost screamed at him.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up! You’re dreaming my dear!”

Bucky woke up with a start. Tears flowing down his face, he stared at you blue eyes shining. No one spoke as he pulled you into his arms. You just breathed together for a moment, counting the breaths and the spaces in between. When he finally pulled back, you saw his eyes flicker with concern before lifting a hand to gently wipe under your nose, it came back red with blood.

“You, okay?”

You smiled sadly, reaching out to put the dog tags back on.

“I should be asking you that.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Occupational hazard.” You tried to subtly get rid of any of the extra blood. “That was pretty intense. Wanna talk?”

Bucky looked down to the sheets and shook his head. You smiled at him, tilting his head to yours.

“That’s fine, want me to go? Or would you like to cuddle for a bit?”

Bucky didn’t talk again, just pulled you gently down to the bed once more. Snuggling himself under your chin, resting his head on your chest. You felt his arms draw tightly against your waist. You pressed your lips into his hair.

“May I help you go to sleep? Keep the bad thoughts at bay for at least one night.”

You felt Bucky nod and let out a little sleepy hum of agreement. You closed your eyes, focused on your connection setting up a golden wall against the dark fog at the corners of his mind and settled into a deep sleep.

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

You woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the clinking of cups.

“Morning.” You opened your eyes at Bucky’s voice and took the offered cup greedily. Your mind still felt hazy from the energy you used last night.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Bucky sat and sipped at his cup as well, hair a bit of a mess from bed. He had evidently only just woken up as well.

He took a breath, “I had some pretty interesting dreams, sweetheart.”

You stiffened, “Good ones I hope.”

“Don’t worry, they were good. If a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“I was watching myself most of the time.”

You snorted into the coffee, “Sounds creepy”

There was a slight chuckle, “Nah, I was watching myself build a home, a family- “

“Oh God Bucky.” You snapped your eyes to his, you knew what had happened. “I am so sorry my dreams must have stuck in your head.”

“Those were your dreams?”

“Yeah, its only happened once before but when the connection between two people is very strong, it can happen- I call it bleeding. Perhaps we should- “

“If the next words out of your mouth are take a break, I will spill your coffee.” You clutched your cup closer to your chest, “Truthfully, those were some of the beset dreams I have every had. I really loved them.”

You looked back up at him, hesitantly “You did?”

“And I love you.”

“Huh

There was silence as you stared at him in shock. His face as nothing but adoration as the sunlight filtered over his face.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Coffee cups were cast aside as you both collided. Giggling and joking, radiating happiness as the two of you shared the sweetest kiss. Your feelings merging together, amplifying one another until they shone brighter than the sun.

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poguestvff · 3 years

Text

Used To The Cold — S. Cameron

In which Sarah Cameron comes to a realization after her girlfriend moves across the country.

taglist | main masterlist | 2.0k words

warning(s): none, fluff, i heart sarah <33

Have you ever lost something that held either so many memories or brought a sort of happiness that just warmed you immediately even at the sight of it? Most people have something like that. Such as for children when it comes to losing stuffed animals or action figures that were a source of comfort, they missed it like hell. Said children grow up and look for a new source of comfort. Some teenagers found it in weed and alchohol, others in sports. For Sarah Cameron, she grew out of the beautiful pink blanket her father had gotten her as a toddler. As she grew into a teenager, she found a new solace.

Her girlfriend.

Sarah made it very apparent to show her love to her girlfriend who, at one point, was just her best friend who she could hardly even bare to be away from. Sarah had known she'd loved Y/n before they even got together by the way Sarah had never felt claustrophobic in the friendship that she held with the other girl. She said the three words within the first six months of being with her, words she had never spoken to another being other than her family. It was a word she, personally, took seriously. For her to say it to Y/n showed the amount of trust she held within her. Trust to not feel so closed off with Y/n.

At the beginning of the relationship, Sarah was glad that not much had changed between the two of them. That Y/n let her have her space whenever she needed it without the dependent need to be together all day though it quickly became backwards. Sarah grew even more clingy to Y/n, hardly able to deal without her hands being stuck to her girlfriend like glue. Whenever they went out to lunch, Sarah played a one sided game of footsies that only brought a smile upon Y/n’s features, one of Sarah’s favorite traits about her. Sarah loved the idea of always having a person to call her own, Y/n seeming to be the one person who could bring out her newfound touchiness. Though, sometimes she pondered on whether Y/n herself was even handling it or if she just ‘put up’ with it. If she did have an indifference towards Sarah’s actions, she surely never showed her disinterest in it.

Though the last time Sarah had held on to her girlfriend felt soul crushing and gut wrenching. As the two of them stood on the creaky, wooden dock just before the ferry, Sarah felt drained. Between the amount of crying she’d done in just the past few days had been enough to make her want to sleep forever and the comfort of her girlfriends arms around her hadn’t helped that feeling. Tears held a steady stream down both of their faces though Sarah was the one who was unable to contain her sobs. People passed around them, solemn looks given to the two of them as they listened in on the sniffles and soft wails.

Y/n didn’t need to be a genius to understand that this was twice as hard for Sarah as it would be for her. Y/n was leaving, miles away that Sarah couldn’t even pin on when the next time she’d being able to hold on to her would be. All she knew was that this embrace that Y/n held on her would be the last one for months and there wasn’t a thing that would be able to make up for it between now and then.

It evoked an indescribable sort of fear within Sarah but she knew it was immutable. If Sarah could, she'd even drop her whole life within Outer Banks to follow her girlfriend across the world. There wasn't much Sarah wouldn't do and there wasn't much Y/n wouldn't do for Sarah either, including the moving date having already been pushed back a month because of Y/n's several arguments with her parents.

"I don't want you to go." sarah whispered as y/n kissed her neck. She could hear the blonde's pained and wavering voice, how affected she already was even as Y/n hadn't even stood on the boat yet.

"I know, lover." the y/h/c girl spoke in a low tone, only sarah able to hear her words of affirmation. Y/n was first to pull back, placing her hands on Sarah's cheeks. The sight of Sarah with puffy eyes and a quivering lip made y/n's heart throb and a guilty feeling blanket over her like a raising tide. "i'll visit. Every chance I get, you know I will."

"It won't be the same." she lamented. Y/n placed her lips against Sarah’s, delicately as if the blonde were made of porcelain. When Y/n's parents had called for her and Ward and Rose had called Sarah away from the dock, Sarah only seemed to want to cling further, fingers pressing further into the thin jacket Y/n worse, but their time had finally run out. Even after weeks of pretending that they had all the time in the world, like nothing could pull the two of them apart, it had happened.

The first few weeks, the whole Cameron house had known Sarah spent most of her nights crying herself to sleep and the entire Y/l/n house knew Y/n was not going to be speaking to them for a little while due to their newest decision. Both groups of parents hadn't known that pulling the duo away from one another would become such a quagmire for each of them.

When Y/n did finally decide to talk to her parents, it was usually to say she was leaving to explore the area in which she refused to get to know the first few days. With a driver license, it gave her just a bit of freedom from her parents who's impromptu decisions had still caused for a tearing in their familial relationship.

Y/n sat in her parked car, a hot beverage in hand to adjust to the cold in which she'd just stood in for five minutes. All of it for a drink that wasn't even that good in her opinion but she dealt with it. With the hand not holding the steaming drink, she opened her phone, smiling immediately at the photo of her and sarah as her background. She unlocked it, scrolling around to find Sarah's contact and setting her phone up against the dashboard. While it began to ring, Y/n situated herself to begin to drive. "Hi, Y/n/n!" Sarah shouted excitedly the second she'd answered.

At her tone of voice did Y/n laugh. The enthusiasm was no surprise but it was funny to Y/n every time. "Hi, baby." She replied, fhe smile remaining on her face as she looked towards the screen. Sarah sat at her desk, her hands under her jaw though a pencil between her fingers. She had focused all of her attention from the papers in front of her to the driver on the other end of the phone. "What are you doing?"

The sound of whizzing paper had made Y/n glance to the phone seeing a math sheet now replacing Sarah's face before she placed it back down, a frown appearing on her features. "Math."

"Didn't you just start like two days ago?" Y/n asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"Yes and this teacher is an absolute bitch. You're just lucky you don't start for another week. You would hate Mr. Henley."

Y/n let out an awfully dramatic gasp. "Um, hello, Mr. Henley was literally my home room teacher last year, I'll have you know. Show some respect." She said, almost missing Sarah's chagrined look as she smiled.

"You're supposed to be on my side here."

"Sorry, i don't believe in biases, Sar." She joked for sarah to let out a small snicker.

"So tell me, how's minnesota?" Sarah asked, trying to spark up a conversation even if the distance was the same thing she wanted to keep her mind off of.

"Oh, it's so great. So many hot people." she remarked.

"You're not funny, no one has ever found you funny." Sarah replied though unable to hold in her laugh along with her girlfriend. "I'm serious. we haven't talked much about it and i don't want to like... avoid your new life now."

Y/n sighed, looking towards the phone to see Sarah looking back down at her work in front of her. "Fine. Well, it doesn't particularly suck. The no surfing part definitely does, though, but what can you do. And the coffee here... no, its just so bad, babe. granted, i only had one, and it's in my cup holder right now but it's gross."

"My coffee making is better, right?" Sarah asked as Y/n gave a hefty nod.

"So much better, even if it is the only thing you're good at making." Y/n laughed and Sarah attempted to refuse a smile, her cheeks quivering from trying to keep it down. "But the weather dropped today, randomly. It was seventy yesterday, fifty today but i think i'm getting used to the cold."

Sarah lifted her head back to the phone, watching Y/n focus on driving, her eyes diverting on places away from the screen. Sarah but at her inner cheek, drumming her fingers against the white wood that rested under her forearms. "Used to it?" Sarah asked. She knew Y/n's move was permanent at least until she was eighteen but something about those words made it seem more realistic. She was getting used to a place that wasn't home.

Y/n hummed. "Yeah, i'm probably being dramatic. I saw a guy walking around in a tank top and shorts while i'm wearing double pair of socks right now." she grinned at her own comment though picking up on Sarah's sudden discomfort when she replied with a small 'wow'. "Lover?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, the car slowing to a stop at a red light.

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... the work. Keep your eye on the road."

"Sarah." The blond recognized the tone of voice quickly.

"Just... I just fully realized how permanent this is. I won't see you until, what? December? That's a long time, Y/n! And, i get it, it's your home now and i can't do anything about it but—"

Y/n was quick to cut her off. "I never said this is home. Sure I live here but it's just a couple walls and a roof. It's not home, Sarah." Y/n began. "Home is you. And trust me, i've been missing home the second i got on that ferry."

Despite them having to look at one another through a glass screen the feeling—the connection between the two of them was still felt. Sarah could feel the normal warm feeling she would've gotten whenever Y/n would simply hold her hand or brush her hair over her ear. she held that much of an effect on Sarah in person and somehow even thousands of miles away.

Sarah hadn't even realized she had been staring for a total of twenty seconds until a singular tear fell down her blushing cheeks. she quickly sniffled, recomposing herself as she wiped it away. "Are you seriously making me cry right now?" She muttered with the way the atmosphere had become though relishing in the way Y/n laughed in response.

"Yes, thank you for ignoring everything i just said, lover." Y/n put the car back in drive as the light went green. Due to the steets being relatively empty in her new small town, she took the time to look back over at the phone to Sarah. "I love you."

Sarah's smile widened in thag very moment, pursing her lips before pushing them out. "I love you more."

"And don't worry. I won't get to used to it. I'll be back home, to you, before you even know it." Y/n took a small glance to the phone, enjoying Sarah's gaze that showed even with the distance put between the two of them, they'd be fine.

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #sarah cameron fluff #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron #obx imagine #john b routledge #pope heyward

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

Inseparable

Steve Rogers x GN!Reader

My Masterlist

You’ve been offering the Avengers legal advice for years. You helped them authorise their missions, and make sure they were protected from the government. In all your time working with them, you’ve never seen anything like the Accords.

“How’s it going?” Steve leans against the door frame of your office at the Avengers compound. You look up at him, the lamp beside you providing little light for you to see him properly. Sighing, you hold up the heavy document, as he sits beside you,

“I’ve highlighted everything I have an issue with.” Steve shifts closer to see the ridiculous amount of yellow highlighter as you flick through the pages. “As you can see it’s not looking great.”

“Thanks for reading through this, sweetheart. I really appreciate it.” You reach out and take his hand.

“Hey, it’s my job to protect you guys. You fight the bad guys. I make sure you keep your human rights.” You joke. Though after reading the Accords you realise it’s not too far from the truth. He gives you a small smile. You squeeze his hand gently. The news of Peggy’s death affected him much more than he let on. It breaks your heart to see him like this. “How’re you doing?” He sighs quietly.

“Not too bad.” You trace your thumb over his hand.

“When’s the funeral?”

“In two days.” You nod. The day of the Accords signing.

“I can come with you?” You offer, though it’s likely he’ll want to be alone. He shakes his head,

“You’re needed here.”

“Not if you need me.” He smiles at your insistence.

“Sam’s offered to come with me. I’ll be okay.” You nod, glad that Sam will be with him.

“I love you.” You whisper, as you pull his hand to your lips. He gives you another smile,

“Love you too.” You look down at the Accords.

“You don’t have to sign this, Steve. You can wait. Wait until I’ve made sure it’s safe, for everyone, to sign it. In the meantime you’ll just have to lay low. Be a little more domestic.” You smile at him softly, “We can have date night on Fridays, movie night on Saturdays, then we can have a roast on Sunday. You could try out some of your Ma’s old recipes.” He seems comforted by your suggestion.

“Is this a sneaky way of getting me to cook you dinner?” You smirk at him, glad he’s smiling more.

“Perhaps?” You rest your head against his shoulder, and he places a kiss against your forehead. “We’ll sort this out, my love.”

“Thank you, doll.”

You’re thinking of Steve when you’re in Vienna, when politicians mention how they wish he was there you agree with them. You do wish he was here. Though you know he’ll never sign the Accords as they are now. You stand at the back of the room, among the hoards of diplomats, assistants, and translators. Then the bomb goes off, and the chaos erupts. You soon find Natasha, and the two of you make it out. You both help with evac before finding out King Chaka is amongst the casualties. And that the main suspect for the bombing is the Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes. Steve’s best friend. Natasha goes to sit with Prince T’Challa. You decide to take a walk along the street, to clear your head. You look down at your phone, seeing Steve’s name flash up on the screen. You answer quickly,

“Hey.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was near the back, so I got lucky.” You hear Steve breathe a sigh of relief, in the background of the call you hear a police siren. You hear the same siren as the car pulls up across the street from you. You stand up, looking around for Steve. You can’t spot him. “I know you’ll want to find Bucky. But please, stay home. I can sort this out.”

“You saying you’ll arrest me?”

“No. I won’t. But someone will. We said we’d lay low after the signing. You’re not going to are you?”

“Doll, if he’s this far gone. I should be the one to bring him in.”

“Steve. Stay safe, please.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Rogers.” You hear him hang up. You look around, hoping to see him somewhere. No sign of him. You sigh, hoping he won’t do anything drastic.

Then you find out Steve’s been arrested. Along with Sam, Bucky, and King T’Challa. So you head to the Task Force Headquarters in Berlin. You watch as they bring Bucky in, locked in a large metal cell. You frown in annoyance. You head towards the black van that’s just parked up. The door is opened and Steve gets out, with Sam, and T’Challa behind him. You stand next to Agent Carter and Agent Ross, a large number of soldiers surrounding the area. Steve looks towards Bucky before turning his gaze to you.

“What’s gonna happen?” He asks as he strides towards your group.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you. Psychological evaluation, and extradition.” You frown at Ross.

“This is Everett Ross,” you introduce him. “Deputy Task Force Commander.”

“What about a lawyer?” Steve asks. Ross smiles,

“A lawyer, that’s funny.”

“I’m working on it.” You tell Steve. Ross gives you a hard stare, which you return.

“Agent Carter, see their weapons are placed in a lockup. We’ll write you a receipt.”

“I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.” Sam comments as the group follows Ross. You stay close to Steve’s side, as he glances back at Bucky. Bucky’s eyes meet Steve’s then glance to you momentarily. He looks almost resigned to his fate. You take a breath before calling out to Ross,

“Why isn’t Sergeant Barnes with the rest of the group?” He laughs quietly,

“You’re kidding?” You shake your head at him. “You’re asking why one of the world's deadliest assassins isn’t walking next to us?”

“The Winter Soldier is one of the world’s most deadly assassins. Sergeant Barnes is America’s longest serving prisoner of war. If this is the respect you give our veterans you should be ashamed of yourself.” Ross isn’t laughing anymore.

“He blew up the UN.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.” You counter. “What proof do you have that he did it?”

“He was photographed at the scene.”

“One grainy photograph is hardly substantial evidence, Commander.” He sighs, knowing that you won’t drop this,

“I’m not the one you should be taking this up with.”

“Who is then?” He gestures towards the glass windows of the office you’re approaching. Where Tony is standing, talking on the phone. After a brief exchange between your groups, Steve sits in one office with Tony. Whilst you stay with Sam and Nat in another office nearby. You look over to Steve as he and Tony talk. It doesn’t take long before their voices are raised at one another. Steve soon heads out and joins you and Sam. Nat goes to stand with Tony whilst the UN psychologist talks with Bucky. You press a button on the intercom which allows you to hear what’s going on. Steve looks down at the photograph taken of Bucky, supposedly when he was in Vienna.

“Why would the Task Force release this photo of him anyway?” Sharon tries to justify it. You have an awful fear that something’s about to happen. Then the power goes out. You tell Steve where they’re holding Bucky, and with that Steve and Sam rush off. You don’t know at the time, but that’s the last time you see Steve for some time.

He gives you one call. He explains that he’s still in Berlin. That he has to go to Siberia, to stop the doctor from releasing the Winter Soldiers. You tell him you understand, you know he has to do this. He tells you to take care of yourself. You tell him to be safe. That you love him. He loves you back. You hear about the fight at the airport. That Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott have been arrested and sent to the Raft. Secretary Ross ignores your demands to see them. You hope that, wherever Steve and Bucky are, they’re safe. Then you see Tony. He seems uncomfortable around you. Like he’s seeing Steve everytime he looks at you, and when that thought crosses his mind, he seems guilty. Like he hasn’t told you something.

Months go by. You don’t hear from Steve at all. Random government agents keep stopping by your apartment to ask you about Steve. It makes you consider leaving, going somewhere else, away from everything that’s happened. But you stay, in the hope that it’ll help Steve find you. One morning you’re woken up by someone hammering at your door. You pull yourself out of bed, and head to the door. It’s some more government agents. They seem new to the game, their threats are half hearted and once you recite all the laws they’d be breaking if they entered your apartment they soon lose their mojo.

“Listen, I have no idea where Captain Rogers is. I assure you, if he happens to swing by, you will be the first to know.” Like hell you’d tell them. They see that you’re not budging, say their goodbyes and leave. It’s not even half an hour until there’s another knock at your door. Granted it’s more gentle than your morning wake up, but it still grates at your nerves. You head to the door, calling out, “For the last Goddamn time, I have no idea where Steve,” you pull open your door. “Rogers is.” You whisper out the last part, shocked by the sight in front of you. It’s him. It’s Steve. You throw yourself into his arms, pulling inside the apartment. He breathes your name against your neck, holding you as close as possible. He pulls back, cupping your face in his hands, looking you up and down.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You laugh a little,

“Am I alright? Steve, what happened to you? I heard Tony say you fought, nobody told me what happened. I feared the worst.”

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m so sorry for leaving you.” You shake your head,

“You did what you had to do. It’s okay, my love.” He nods, pulling you close again.

“I broke our friends out of the Raft.” You look up at him. You know he’d never leave them to pay for standing with him. You nod,

“Bucky?”

“He’s safe.”

“Good.” He squeezes your waist, wanting you closer than ever. He sighs,

“I know you wanted to fix this. I’m sorry, doll. But I don’t see how we can work this out legally anymore.” You shake your head,

“We can’t. That doesn’t matter to me anymore. As long as I have you, that’s all that matters to me.” He sighs,

“I’ll be running from the law now. I’ll let you know how I am when I can. I-” You pull away from him, frowning. You head to your kitchen. “Sweetheart, I know it’s not ideal-” You reach into the cupboard under the sink and pull out the emergency bag you kept hidden there.

“I’m coming with you.” You turn back to him as his eyes widen in surprise.

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“I know. But you’re not leaving me here.” He knows that look on your face. There’s nothing you can’t argue your way out of. He smiles at you,

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america civil war #cacw #captain america #steve rogers au #steven grant rogers #nomad steve rogers

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eternally-writing · 3 years

Text

do you still care? | myg

genre: fluff and angst

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: yoongi x reader

theme: idol!au, boyfriend!au, one-shot

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none?

synopsis: After waiting months for Yoongi to come back from tour, your reunion doesn’t quite go as planned.

Today was the day. You had been staring at your phone for what seemed like eternity waiting for your boyfriend, Yoongi, to send you a text saying he had finally landed in Seoul.

BTS's world tour had finished at the perfect time - you had just finished your university exams and although you had slept so little in the past weeks because of you had been studying for hours on end, you were overflowing with excitement to see your boyfriend again.

A world tour for Yoongi meant that he had a hectic schedule of tours, rehearsals, appearances, and photo shoots, while a rigorous university program for you meant that you had assignments, interviews, and exams to complete. Even though you had been texting Yoongi as much as you could, you were often left with short responses and very little love from your boyfriend.

You and Yoongi never had a typical relationship - dating one of the world's biggest superstars did come at a price. You’re unfortunately not the only one who loves Yoongi, and you have to constantly share your favorite guy in the world with millions of ARMY's, and of course his group mates as well.

Dating a member of a group meant that you weren’t just taking care of Yoongi, but also 6 other single boys who never quite clean up after themselves. You had been wishing for weeks that one of them would finally show up to the apartment with a girlfriend just so that you’d have another female to talk to.

You felt your phone vibrate on the table and immediately jumped to open your messages. Surprisingly, it was a text from Taehyung, not Yoongi, that read " Y/N! We just landed back at Incheon. So excited to see you soon!".

As much as you were excited to hear from Taehyung, one of your best friends from the group, you still stared longingly at your phone wondering why Yoongi hasn't texted. You’ve never felt good enough to be dating an idol - and every indication of Yoongi being distant made you shiver at the thought of him getting bored with you.

Much to your delight, your phone started buzzing and read "Incoming Call - Yoongi oppa". The honorifics have always been a bit of a joke between the two of you - though Yoongi was older than you, he found it funny that you came from abroad to Korea and were going to use honorifics for the first time for your boyfriend. Instead you were "his Y/N" and he was "your Yoongi" and that's how you did things your own way.

The sound of Yoongi's voice saying your name as you picked up the phone was music to your ears. "Dinner tonight?" he asked, and you could tell exactly the kind of smile he had one his face as you heard his voice through the phone.

Before you could answer, you heard 3 other very familiar voices chime through the phone "Y/N! We missed you!" that most definitely belong to your 3 other closest friends in the group - Taehyung, Jin, and Jimin. "Hyung did you say dinner with Y/N - we're in!" - and before either of you could protest, Yoongi’s romantic reunion dinner with you had turned into a possible takeout food fiasco at your apartment with 4 rowdy Bangtan boys.

Thankfully, although Yoongi could not convince the boys to give him some alone time with his girlfriend, he did manage to convince them to dress up and come to the gorgeous restaurant he had planned to take you to all along rather than just sit in your apartment in sweatpants eating pizza.

Being the first day in 4 months that you were going to see your boyfriend, you planned to wear a gorgeous dress and had spent almost half a day perfecting your makeup and hair. Soon enough, 6:30pm had come and Yoongi was outside Min's door looking as handsome as ever. Making your way down to the car, you were overjoyed to see your best friends and sat in the back seat beside Taehyung and Jimin as Jin was up front with Yoongi driving.

The drive to the restaurant was filled with lots of laughs, funny stories from touring, and lots of funny jokes from Jimin and Taehyung. Being the same age as them, you naturally felt connected to them when you first met the group.

However one person seemed to be more quiet than the others in the car - Yoongi.

You hardly took note of this as your friends captured your attention constantly, but the oldest kept his attention focused on the road and didn't contribute much to the conversation. But from your perspective, the dinner went off without a hitch at the restaurant and everyone had a great time.

Finally driving home after a filling and happy meal, you were not ready to say goodbye to your friends - you knew you had missed Yoongi, but you didn't realize how much you had missed them as well.

It was only as the car pulled up into Jin's driveway that you first took note of Yoongi's out of character behaviour. Seeing how the other members were not reacting to Yoongi's silence, you wondered if he had just become a more focused, responsible driver in the past 4 months and that this was normal for him - you failed to realize that the real reason for his silence could be you.

Finally dropping off Jimin and Taehyung, you hugged them both tightly and made plans for a movie night as they walked back into their apartment. You then looked at your boyfriend staring straight ahead at the empty road in front of him. "Hey", you said softly, trying to grab Yoongi's attention.

"So now you're going to talk to me?" snapped out of Yoongi's mouth.

You were shocked. You had never imagined that he would talk to you this way - especially since this is the first time that he has seen you in 4 months.

"Wha- ", you didn't even know what to say and were frozen to your spot in the back seat.

Pulling over into a random parking lot, Yoongi put the car into park and turned around to face you in the back seat.

"Thanks for saying all of TWO words to me tonight", said Yoongi.

This made you replay the night in your head, realizing that most of your conversation had centered around Jimin and Taehyung and you had never even looked in Yoongi's direction for most of dinner. You felt horrible for treating him this way and could not believe that you were letting their first night back together end up like this.

Taking your silence as a negative response, Yoongi followed up by saying "Do you even still care about me?"

Before you could even think about what to say, your feelings took over and "Yoongi I love you" came flying out of your mouth.

"I love you. I love you so much that my heart has been bursting trying to stop myself from saying it for so long now so I don't scare you away. I care about you so much - my love for you is watching youtube videos of you performing the same songs in every city on tour just so I can see if you're okay. My love for you is watching your interviews and seeing if you're still smiling. My love for you is seeing your photoshoot pictures just to make sure that you're eating enough and keeping yourself healthy. My love for you is looking at your dark undereye circles to make sure you're getting enough rest. All these little things that you don't see, this is what I do because I love you. I love you more than any words can say, and even though we haven't talked that much in the last 4 months, you have never left my mind and I missed you every single day. I love you Min Yoongi, and only you."

These words sent a shockwave through Yoongi’s system.

Neither of you had ever said I love you before, and for you to feel so strongly about Yoongi brought tears to his eyes.

It was now Yoongi's turn to be at a loss for words - he didn't know what else to do except climb into the backseat of his car ( he wasn’t very graceful... but he got the job done) and hold you in the tightest embrace. Tears now freely flowing down both of your cheeks, neither of you needed any words to express how much you loved each other.

Yoongi brought his lips to your ear and whispered the most gentle "I love you too, you're always gonna be my baby Y/N". In that moment, all of the tension of the earlier dinner faded away as you and Yoongi enjoyed being in each other's presence for the first time in 4 months.

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

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

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COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 6 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: anxiety [but no attacks], drugged food/drink, chloroform

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Through the heavy mist of rain, two beams of light emerge up the rain-soaked road. Behind it, two pairs of bikes; their riders — and one passenger — hidden under brightly colored rain slickers of red, yellow, and blue.

A flash of lightning erupts over their hunched figures, revealing the grim faces of El, Max, and Y/n.

With a wet screech, their tires skid against the pavement as they come to a sudden halt beside a very familiar mailbox.

"Is this it?" Max asks.

El steps off the back of Max's bike, her trepid features looking out over the front lawn and her gut sinks.

1438. Same red door? This had to be it.

El nods.

But what were they about to find?

That question had been rattling around Y/n's head all day, tangling her stomach into knots. Those knots only tightened when her friends began up the driveway.

She steals another anxious glance out from under her azure hood before joining them. Wincing against the mud trailing under her shoes as they sink into the grass, her stomach plummets when she spots the car taking up the rest of the driveway space: Billy's car.

Y/n sighed.

"Remember when this a regular sleepover?" She wonders aloud. "That was fun."

"Y/n, I'm sure it's fine. Come on," Max eases, genuinely trying to be helpful.

Y/n nearly argued with her. That there had to be something going on cause she had been feeling wrong about things since the night Dustin got home — since Will had started acting up. She wanted to argue that if El felt this strongly too, then it would be unmistakable. That something was going on.

But she didn't and she couldn't say why.

So here she and her friends now stood, hair clinging to their face in the humid summer rain, ready to investigate the newest mystery.

El's focus zeroed in on the door, and the muted click of the deadbolt unlocking itself reached their ears. And slowly, the red door crept open to reveal their figures.

Despite her fears, El stepped inside first with a newfound determination. Max lingered by Y/n, still adjusting to the reality of it all. Y/n's eyes catch her in a weak, knowing smile.

"Takes some getting used to, I know," said Y/n, reminded all too well of her last impromptu investigative adventure with El.

Max smiled a little after Y/n as she stepped inside before following in her footsteps, closing the door behind them.

The front entrance was short, and spit the girls out in a narrow, olive-green hallway lined with family portraits. Each of them featured a familiar face, the same face they had seen from the lifeguard info board: Heather Holloway.

As they trailed the halls, their soaked faces reflected in the glass of an all too happy family photo.

"This is her house," Max realizes.

"What?" El asks. That couldn't be right, could it? But Billy...

"Heather's house," Max confirmed.

"Billy's car was out front," Y/n mumbles. "Do you think he—"

The sound of a woman's laughter echoed out, pulling their attention down the hall. It was then they realized, they could hear the distant sound of music playing mingled in.

It didn't take them long to find the front living room. Coasters holding empty glasses were left forgotten on the coffee table, and from around the corner in the connecting dining room, they found a most unlikely sight.

Billy at the dining room table with the older couple from the photo; Heather's parents. They were all laughing and smiling. With Billy. It was as if they had somehow stepped into a creepy, picture-perfect, alternate reality.

"Isn't that cute, huh?" Billy had been saying, his face lit up in a friendly smile that didn't seem right to them.

The woman's laughter died out in an amused giggle, wine glass hung from her hand after a lazy sip. "He's so funny!"

Her voice trialed when all three pairs of eyes land on the three girls, gawking more or less in the living room.

Billy's smile never faltered when his eyes landed on his sister and her friends.

"Max!"

The couple at the dinner table bore vastly different reactions, despite the common shock.

"We didn't mean to... barge in," Max explains, still a little stunned with her brother's sudden unusual behavior. "We tried to knock, but... maybe you didn't hear us over the storm."

Billy didn't answer, he only stared blankly ahead as he chewed on his mouthful of steak. Mr. Holloway didn't let them off so easily.

"I'm sorry," he snarks, speaking to Billy as if they weren't really there. "who is this dripping all over my living room right now?"

Y/n bites her tongue. Her eyes were unable to pry themselves from the complete stranger calling himself Billy, wracking her brain as to how this could be the same person who had attacked Lucas. The one she heard horror stories about from Max, the one who shot her annoyed, rotten looks her way whenever she visited. Y/n could only imagine how Max must be feeling.

"I'm sorry," Billy let out a charming laugh, gesturing between his dinner hosts. "Janet, Tom, this... is my sister Maxine."

"Oh!" Chirped the woman, Janet, with a smile, further annoying her husband.

Billy rose from the dinner table and made his way towards the three utterly baffled teenagers in a tone so unsettlingly casual and upbeat.

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asks. "Is something wrong?"

"We just... wanted to make sure everything was okay," Max stammered, just as confused as her friends.

A look of concern flashed over Billy's face as he inched closer. "Okay? Why wouldn't it be okay?"

El had never officially met Billy, but she knew in her core how wrong everything felt. This was not the same man who she had heard so many awful things about, and this certainly was not the man who she had found in the void. Like her friends, El didn't know what to do. All she could do was watch, rooted to the spot right of Max as Billy seems to loom over them, his eyes drilled into Max's.

El couldn't take it anymore. This had to be an act. After all, El knew all too well how to spot when someone was playing nice. When someone was hiding their real intentions. She had learned how to it long ago in the lab.

"Where is she?" El all but growls.

His eyes snap to El, and she could have sworn she almost saw that mask break.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Where is who?"

"Well, they're a little burnt, I'm sorry,"

All eyes turn to the chipper young girl striding in with a tray of cookies in her hands and a lingering smile on her face.

Heather.

The only troubled thing about her was the crisp cinnamon cookies in her hands. She had trailed off upon noticing the three young visitors.

"Heather!" Billy smiles, welcoming her as if she was an old friend.

El looked like she was seeing a ghost.

"This is my sister, Maxine," Billy chirps, turning back to the three confused girls. "And I'm sorry," he says to El, with an almost edge to his voice. "I did not quite catch your name."

El finally tore her eyes away from Heather, her mind racing. She might not have understood how she could be standing here, with Billy, as if nothing had happened, but she knew it had. Billy was hiding something, even if Max couldn't see it.

With a determined look in her eyes, she matches his steely gaze.

"El."

His smile, so fake it reminded her of plastic, never wavered. The unnamed look in his eyes flaring up.

"El." He hums. "What a pleasure it is to meet you El. And of course, who could possibly forget..."

El's stomach turns when Billy looks to her right. His movements were stiff and smooth, like a marionette puppet on strings, his eyes unblinking landed on her for the first time since they arrived.

"Y/n."

The sound of her name on his tongue made her skin crawl, his voice all the way in the back of his throat.

She was soaked to the bone, but the only chill Y/n felt came from Billy's unwavering stare on her. It was then she realized what was off about him, other than his unusual behavior. It was his eyes. Everything about him and his actions were warm and inviting, completely unbothered.

But his eyes... They were cold. Far away, and detached. And as he looked at her now, that crack in his mask was undeniable. And it widened to reveal something else entirely.

An untamed, hidden rage.

Billy inched closer to her in a single, nearly unnoticeable step.

And so did El. Wedging herself in between her friend and Billy.

Y/n hadn't said a word since seeing him, and she was glad she hadn't. But she didn't need to. The look in her eyes spoke volumes, challenging the look in his.

Hardly any time had passed, she realized, when Billy shakes his head with a laugh.

"Why, it's only my little sister's best friend." Her glare remains, and he glances at the Holloways. "Now please," he chirped, his gaze hardening as it zeroes in on El. "What is it you ladies were saying?"

There was a newer edge to his voice, a smug one. Almost as if he knew he had them cornered.

"You were..." They flicker back over Y/n, before resting back on El. "looking for somebody?"

El looked between him and Heather, her brain scrambling to make things connect. None of it added up. The void never lied to her. It had been misleading, and troublesome more often than not but everything she saw was real.

"I-I..."

So why wasn't this?

"I saw you—"

"Your manager." Max cuts in, quickly grabbing Heather's attention away from El. "At the pool. He said you guys didn't come into work today, so we got worried."

"Heather wasn't feeling so hot today," eases Billy. "so we thought we'd take the day off and nurse her back to health."

With that same, haunting smile, he looks back at Heather with a pointed look in his eye.

"But you're feeling just fine right now. Aren't ya Heather?"

"I'm feeling so much better," she assured.

Billy returns to the girls, calculated but smiling.

"Do you girls want a cookie?" Heather asks, finally managing to tear Y/n's challenging glare off of Billy. "They're fresh out of the oven,"

Thunder rumbled as Y/n looked her over, the booming in the sky matching what she felt thudding in her chest. Y/n couldn't help but feel like Hansel and Grettle as she looked upon the delicious tray of cookies, held out before her with a sickly sweet smile she couldn't at all bring herself to trust.

If she wasn't hurt... just what was going on?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Disparaged and thoroughly disturbed, the girls pick up their bikes where they had stashed them at the bottom of the porch steps.

Out of habit, Y/n swipes away the rain on her seat as if it would make a difference. The only thing she succeeds in doing is spreading the water all over the leather, and she sighed, accepting her mind was elsewhere.

Billy was up to something. She just wished she knew what.

As she watches El join Max down the lawn, Y/n stands rooted to the spot, rain pouring down her back as she lingers.

She could feel him watching her.

And when she looked over her shoulder to see him leaning in the doorway, he was.

Her worried gaze hardened in spite as she stared back. His lips spring into a forced smile, his eyes still a dark nothing. Finally, she turns, hidden under the deep blue of her raincoat before retreating into the night with El and Max.

The smile fell away from his face as quick as she looked away, and a poisonous scowl quickly took its place. In those same stiff movements, he stepped behind the door as he closed it, lingering behind the windowpane as his eyes locked on their retreating forms.

His heart pounds dangerously loud in his chest as he watches her.

He feels his brow furrow, revolted.

He knew he had recognized her since she first stepped inside — he could feel the heat lingering from down the hall just as he remembered it.

The pain wasn't just fresh, it was still there.

He could still feel it, as searing and unforgiving as it had been that night.

《•••》

The world bent at her will; everything not screwed to the walls or floors broke loose as the cabin moved around all inside it. It was a movement so forceful and demanding, it moved all of Hawkins. A guttural battle cry pierced the air as her powers exploded into an unstoppable force that had awakened her full potential.

《•••》

He watched in a mixture of fear and hatred as she joined her friends in mounting their bikes. And for a moment, the small, dying part of Billy tries to understand why until he loses himself in another unfamiliar memory.

He had been having them all day — seeing her — all day.

《•••》

Her s/c skin began to glow like a star, the cosmic force at work pumping hard through her veins. The three figures watched in awe as she comes alive, all the while his small and trembling frame twisting and kicking as he is engulfed in searing pain.

《•••》

Fury pumped fast through his veins like ice, desperate to cool his already freezing body. He was filled with a powerful cocktail of anger, frustration, and terror. A feeling Billy was used to. But this...

Somehow, this was also something else entirely. And it was all Billy felt now and all he remembers before the world goes black again.

His pupils dilate and closing in around them are several black veins that cloud the whites of his eyes as he remembers.

《•••》

His screams vibrate with his body before his small frame shrinks in on itself like a dead spider. He straightens in seconds, his head, hands, and feet now glued to the bed as he bends in one final arc, his chest rising to the heavens. His mouth opens in another scream and a billowing cloud of inky black smoke escapes. It twists and unravels out from between his lips like a pitch-black tornado.

《•••》

There was no more denying it.

It was her.

He couldn't have forgotten her or her poisonous touch if he had tried.

It was bad enough that pesky, foolish child to have awakened him — to have shut him out — was here and had been watching him.

But she would have her uses. A means to an end.

All in good time.

But the other? The one to have made him feel a pain worse than death?

Well, the Mind Flayer was determined to return the favor.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

As Will mingled with the dirt beneath him, the storm pounding against his back soaking him to the bone, he feels it again.

The same feeling he had felt the night before Dustin's return, the day of, and now...

Well, there was no denying it. No more running. This was real, and it wasn't something so easily shaken.

A great change was upon him and his friends, a change none of them were prepared for.

Shakily, he pulls himself to his feet, not entirely sure if the voice calling his name was real.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

With a faraway look in his eyes, Will turns to his awaiting friends as his stomach plummets beneath the earth.

"He's back."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"He was singin' Bye bye Miss American Pie..."

Billy returns to the dinner table where Heather and her family awaits, the record player blasting an upbeat, melancholy tune to fill the silence.

"Is everything alright?" Heather asks, as he returns to his seat.

"Yes. Everything's fine," he assures.

"Your sister really didn't want to stay?" Janet asks with a frown.

"No, she's just not... you know, really a people person."

"Well," she says, fingers twitching numbly with the napkin in her lap. "I just don't like the idea of them out there in the storm like that."

"Oh, they'll be fine,"

Nervously, she reaches for her glass, not expecting her movements to be so sluggish. She yelps softly when her knuckles collide with the glass, knocking the wine out onto the table cloth.

"I told you to slow down on that wine, Janet," Tom grumbles from across the table.

"Yes, darling," she mumbles, embarrassed, as she dabs at the spill.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Asks Heather.

"Yes, I'm— I'm just..." she stutters, doing her best to shake away the dizziness swarming her brain. "feeling a little lightheaded is all."

Billy boredly takes a bite of his food, sharing a discreet, fleeting look with Heather.

"Hm," Tom hums knowingly. "It's all that wine."

"I'm sorry," she says, fighting hard to keep her eyes open. "Um, if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna go upstairs and lie down for a bit."

It takes all her effort to pull herself out of the chair, and she has to use the arms to hoist herself up but she eventually does the job. But she never reaches the end of the living room before she collapsed with a thud.

"Janet?" Tom asks, jumping to his feet.

"...half-time air was sweet perfume..."

Billy pulls a small glass vile from the floor with little interest. All the while, Tom threw himself to floor by his wife's side in a panic.

"Janet? Janet? Janet!"

With as little enthusiasm as Billy, Heather rose from her seat taking the wine bottle in hand. The record player continued its song louder than ever as Billy tipped the bottle of chloroform into the tablecloth napkin.

"Janet!" He turns to his approaching daughter. "Call 911! Call 91—"

Heather had struck him in the head with the wine bottle before he could finish.

"...never got the chance..."

Billy rose from his seat, leaning himself against the wall of the dining room as he hands Heather the napkin. She was advancing on her father, painstakingly slow as he tried so hard to crawl away to safety. But like his wife, moments before, the world had become a blur.

And it remained so even when he felt the sharp heel of his daughters shoe piecing his skin. Her fingers yanked at his hair, pulling his bloodied face out of the carpet. Before he could make sense of anything, he heard her detached voice in his ear.

"I'm really sorry about this, Daddy, but it'll all be over soon, I promise."

"We started singin' Bye bye Miss America Pie"

He tried to scream, but his voice died out in the chloroform soaked rag and the world went black.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Emergency Release Fund:

The Marsha P. Johnson Institute:

"Your contribution will be used to post bail for people held in NYC jails, prioritizing BIPOC trans people, medically high-risk or otherwise marginalized populations, and anyone within the broader LGBTQ+ spectrum. Additionally, we assist with ICE detention immigration bonds for LGBTQ+ detainees."

Black Visions Collective:

"Inspired by activist and self-identified drag queen Marsha P. Johnson, The Marsha P. Johnson Institute is dedicated to championing solutions for Black people in the US by employing black trans people, building more strategic campaigns, launching winning initiatives, etc."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Based in Minnesota, the Black Visions Collective centers their work in healing and transformative justice principles, aiming to develop Minnesota's Black leadership and create conditions for long term success and transformation."

Taglist:

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#cosmic #cosmic 3 #will byers x reader #will byers x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things 3 #the case of the missing lifeguard #3x03 #st 3x03

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

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Meeting and Dating Caroline Mulford

(My ugly gif)(Requested by @foulobjectdelusion )

- Caroline is the most popular girl in school who’s dating the most popular boy in school, everyone knows who she is, you included. But you’re practically invisible to people like her. You aren’t popular, you aren’t in their circle, the most you’ll get is a friendly wave/nod or an obligatory partnering for a project.

- That doesn’t stop you from having a crush on her ...like practically everyone else in the school. Yeah, you’ve been pining for the pretty blonde since your freshman year, but it isn’t really your fault is it? You could hardly even have a conversation with her, let alone admit you have a Sapphic crush on her. All you can do is pine.

- That all changes after one very special summer. You’d gone on a trip, gotten a bit more fashionable clothing, learned how to properly do your makeup and changed your hair; you’d even had a short fling and felt what it was like to be in a relationship. You were a new woman and it didn’t take long for people to notice.

- One of the popular boys invited you to join him and his friend group at their usual hangout spot, and you, feeling like you were in some sort of teen movie, obviously agreed. That was where she approached you.

- That's right: She approached you. Granted, she didn’t know who you were and actually started your conversation with a “You must be new! I’m Caroline.” as if you’d transferred schools but you didn’t correct her and more or less kept up the façade. You supposed you’d be a new woman in more ways than one.

- Though you did keep just about every other aspect of your life the same, you just let them think you hadn’t attended the school until now. Hey, if they didn’t recognize you that was their fault, right?

- Caroline liked you almost immediately though it was purely platonic. You were surprised to see just how sweet she was, even though you’d heard rumors and seen it for yourself on occasion. The two of you became friends that afternoon and you found yourself thrust into a life of popularity. One you only could have dreamed of until now.

- Now you’re being invited to parties and sitting at the popular table and going to the mall with Caroline; who you’re still practically obsessed with, and your life is practically perfect. You feel like you’re at the top of the world ...but then, you see her kiss Jake and you can feel yourself falling.

- You’d never realized how draining it would be to be up close. It was almost better to be far away from her, at least then you couldn’t be able to see the love shining in her eyes when she looked at him.

- Hell, you now babysat her brother while she went on dates with the boy.

- It was almost humorous, the duality of your popularity; everything could be so good and yet so bad at the same time.

- Finally, everything changed after one of Jakes; or rather her, parties. She’d gotten absolutely plastered; as per usual, and you were the only one sober enough to make sure she didn’t die during the night.

- So there you were, trying to pull drinks out of her hand and guiding her to a couch as she pawed all over you and her surroundings, giggling and stumbling the entire way there.

- Pretty much everyone had left the boys house, leaving a mess in their wake. All except you, who’d been waiting to see if Jake was going to deal with the girl before you drove yourself home.

- As the two of you sat, she sighed and laid her head in your lap, gushing about how much she cared about and loved you. You sighed and told her you cared about her too, brushing the hair from your face exasperatedly.

“No, not like that. I love, love, loveeee you.” She insisted.

- You thought nothing of it, giving her a “yep, yeah I know.” before you felt her hands on your face. Before you knew it, she’d pulled your face down and pressed her lips to yours, causing you to freeze in place.

- You quickly pulled away and shifted her out of your lap, telling her that you needed to get her home and that she was drunk. Fuck Jake. You’d deal with her this time whether he liked it or not.

- So you heaved her up and got her in your car, getting ready to drive her home before she nearly made you crash said car and insisted that you pull over. She was lucid for all of five minutes before she wound up passed out in your backseat with you. You soon followed suit and fell asleep clutching your keys and jacket.

- When you woke up in the morning, the two of you had a nice, awkward talk about what happened and she admitted that she had feelings for you and you for her. You told her that if anything was gonna happen, she’d have to break up with Jake which she agreed to.

- The two of you had your first date later that day. You went to a nice Waffle House to help with her wicked hangover and when you got back inside your car, she leaned over and gave you a real kiss to make up for the one she’d drunkenly stolen the night prior.

- And just like that, things were messily made perfect.

- Most people just think that you’re close friends so the two of you can get away with some pda; though you obviously aren’t really able to kiss in public. Regardless, even if she can’t show people that you’re a couple, she’s going to make it obvious; in one way or another, that you’re off limits.

- Long hugs.

- Handholding or your arm around her shoulders and her arm around your waist; or vice versa depending on your height.

- Corner of the mouth kisses.

- Deep, soft kisses.

- Slow makeouts.

- Hair petting. It’s a habit of hers.

- There’s quite a bit of snuggling in your relationship. She likes laying her head on your shoulder or chest whenever you do, tracing patterns on your shirt while you wrap your arms around her.

- As we all know, Caroline's little brother is deaf so one can assume that she’s a bit attention starved at home. So, on that note, she always wants to be the center of your attention. God forbid you have homework to do; she’ll bother you until you take a break and give her what she wants.

- She usually just calls you some cutesy form of your given name or honey, maybe hun or babe when you’re out in public since girls can call their friends those.

- Her parents don’t seem to be uptight in the slightest so you’re usually allowed to stay out for a long time and pretty much do whatever you want.

- Going to parties.

- Taking care of her at parties.

- Staying up until the early morning and watching the sunrise, usually while you’re both a little tipsy.

- Picnics.

- Beach dates.

- Almost always walking to class together. You’ll usually end up carrying her books because she’s a bit of a princess.

- Copying each others school and homework. If you can’t cheat off your partner, are you even dating?

- Taking photos together and of each other. She’ll take offense if you don’t have a picture of her framed on your nightstand.

- Please give her gifts; she loves them so much. You’ll never see her smile wider.

- Her asking you to get her things. She’s the girlfriend who calls you over just to ask you to go and grab her something from somewhere; usually with a cutesy little smile and a please.

- She wouldn’t be caught dead riding the bus and she sort of hates to drive so you usually end up driving her wherever she wants; or at least to and from school.

- Honestly talking about which movie stars you think are hot and would be obligated to marry if they asked.

- Going to the mall. It’s her favorite place.

- Helping her zip herself into dresses or pick things out when the two of you go shopping. She always asks you a million questions before she actually buys something.

- Popularity is pretty important to her so she’ll want the two of you to look your best when you’re out together. If you’re less stylish than her, she’s gonna wanna make you over.

- Doing each other’s nails.

- Laughing and cursing at each other as you do beauty rituals. You always have a lot of fun when you’re putting on face masks or cutting each other’s hair, etc.

- She pretty much lives at your house at this point. She comes over nearly everyday and spends more time in your room than her own.

- She becomes a part of your family whether or not your parents know that the two of you are dating. They either accept her as your girlfriend or just assume that you’re really close friends. The same goes for her family.

- I feel like she has the type of family that packs everyone up and takes them camping at least once a year so ...wanna go camping with her?

- Festive holidays. Her family probably goes skiing every winter and are really into the holidays and you; being her best friend tm, are always invited to join them.

- Staying over while she babysits her little brother. The little dude likes you a lot.

- It’s pretty funny to watch her go from her popular, cutesy teenage girl self to a mature, protective woman when she’s with her little brother. She’ll be batting her eyelashes at you one minute and doing sign language and/or watching her little brother like a hawk the next.

- She’s sort of oblivious when you’re upset and not the most considerate of your feelings but she’s trying to be better.

- That being said, she’s able to be reassuring and comforting when she realizes that she needs to be. She’s even sweeter and smarter than everyone in your school anticipated.

- She’s a bit paranoid when it comes to you and other girls so she’s definitely a pretty jealous person. She’ll usually sit in your lap; when she can, to make it clear that you’re a couple, plastering on a fake smile and greeting the other person like she hadn’t seen them there.

- She’ll later; bluntly, confront you about it, and will take your word for it but she’ll occasionally threaten the fact that she can easily find someone else.

- You’re the one who has to be protective, considering the fact that she tries to kill herself every other weekend.

- The two of you have quite a few short arguments but they’re rarely ever serious. You tend to settle them fairly quickly so you rarely ever have a “we’re in a fight” moment with your mutual friends.

- She usually tries to use cuteness to win you over; if you’re really fighting, or just concedes mid argument and accepts what you’ve said after a bit of convincing. She’ll give a real apology if her cute face doesn’t work but she’d prefer not having to do so.

- She tells you that she loves you fairly often; particularly when she’s drunk.

- She’s pretty fond of talking about the future. She makes it very obvious that’s she’s planning on staying with you for the rest of her life and it always warms your heart to hear it.

#caroline mulford imagine #caroline mulford headcanons #caroline mulford imagines #caroline mulford headcanon #sixteen candles imagine #sixteen candles headcanons #sixteen candles imagines #sixteen candles headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Text

Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You are at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Pairing: Tom and y/n.

Word count: 3k

Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.

Warnings: This story will contain themes such as kidnapping, murder, violence and smut. Also a lot of swearing. Also descriptions of injuries. Also alcohol, smoking and mentions of drugs. this is a +18 story

A/N: This is a relationship that I wouldn’t recommend in real life. Also, the Firm was the name of the Kray twins gang. I was just too lazy to come up with a name of my own.

READ PART I HERE

READ PART II HERE

1961, London.

Years later, when you look back on that night, it doesn’t seem real to you. Your memories like snap shots in a photo album. Just still pictures in your mind of the night that would change the course of your life forever.

Sherry holding court, arms waving animatedly as she tells her guests a funny story. Flash. Mark’s sullen face, uninterested and dull. Flash. Sherry’s wide and panic-stricken eyes as you heard the gunshots. Flash. Tom’s back, aiming his weapon at Mark. Flash. Sherry bloody body on the floor, forever wide eyed. Flash. Your bloodstained hands as you try to save her. Flash.

Tom’s hand reaching out for yours.

His hand had felt surprisingly real in yours. Warm and firm and calloused. When he pulled you up to your feet it felt a lot like being dragged back into reality.

(Once as a child your father had taken you ice skating. Further out on the lake the ice had broken, and a girl had fallen through. Down beneath the surface she went; into the icy cold water. She would have died, had not one of her friends successfully managed to pull her up to the surface again.

A part of you wonders if this is what she had felt like then. Icy cold to the bone and struggling for air; feeling as though the ground itself has broken underneath you.)

But Tom wasn’t your friend. In fact, you had just seen him murder a man in cold blood. You could read no signs of remorse or guilt in his face. You knew then, that this was not the first time he had taken a life. It likely wouldn’t be his last either.

He’d dragged you back to his car and you’d followed him obediently. It never occurred to you to fight him, there was no point. Not only had you seen him fight boys much bigger than himself on the school yard, but he also had a gun. So, you moved after him, feeling numb all over. Thoughts moving slowly in your head, like your head was full of cotton, and your body seemed to move almost of its own accord. He guided you into the passenger seat of a beat up car, before he got into the driver's seat and then you left East Ham behind you.

Now here you are, captive in a dingy apartment in Mile End; with fading wallpaper and windows so dirty you can hardly see the view outside it.

It’s filthy.

With gentle hands he’d lead you to the bathroom where he sits you down. With a wet cloth he washes you clean of blood. Squatting in front of you his hands swipe and scrub until you’re free of red stains, though there is nothing to be done about your pink silk dress.

There is something so tender in the way he touch you, his face so close to yours, a look of deep concentration on his face. You feel like a wounded and frightened deer as he cleans with great care; as if he’s scared you’ll fall apart at the seams. Any moment now

A funny unwanted thought strikes you then; if you’re the dear, is he the huntsman?

After you’re clean he leads you out to the living room and he ties you up in a chair and asks you if you are comfortable. There’s shame in his voice and all you can do is stare back at him.

“Are you in pain?” he asks instead.

That paused you to think. There is nothing physically wrong with you; no cuts or bruises or broken bones. But numbness was evaporating, and panic started to rise like bile in your throat.

“No” you answer at last.

He searches your face for a sign of lying. Content that you’re telling the truth he takes a few steps away from you, turns his back to you, drags a hand through his hair.

“Look, I don’t want to do this but until I have figured out what to do next you’ll have to stay here, alright?”

No, you want to say. No of course that’s not alright, let me go!

But you’re cleverer than that. Antagonising him is not the way to get out of this alive. You must stay calm, keep your feelings under control. Even more difficult than that; you must make sure that Tom stays calm too.

He’s sat down on the threadbare sofa, head in his hands, lost in thought.

And here is where it can all go wrong. If his thoughts move in the direction that he must get rid of you the easy way, you’re done for. However, if you can steer his mind to a trail where you make it out alive then maybe then you have a chance of survival.

***

“Why did you kill Mark Randall?”

Outside he can hear people laughing, drunks singing and people fighting. From the apartment next door, he can hear a couple’s argument loud and clear.

Yet your voice, quiet and gentle as it may be, shakes him like the sound of a gun. There’s something so matter of fact in the way you ask the question and Tom almost wants to laugh. Because here you are, tied up to a chair in his apartment, wearing a blood-splattered pink silk dress; having just witnessed the killings of two people, one of whom was your friend. Yet, you’re as calm as can be. Voice even and soft and your head held high.

And here he is, and his hands are shaking, and he can feel the panic rising like bile in his throat.

He looks away from you. To look straight at you feels too much like staring straight into the sun and it burns his eyes to see you like this. It feels surreal. Part from the blood you look like a fucking lady, and the contrast to his dirty apartment; a place he avoids most of the time, is bizarre.

“Mark hadn’t needed to die if he’d just listened and come with me,” he says eventually.

“You didn’t want to kill him?” You ask, and Tom sighs. He needs to remain in charge of himself, in charge of the situation. He needs to remember his training.

Remember who he is, and what he’s capable of.

So, he stands up and walks over to you, with his hands in his pockets and with a put-on air of nonchalance.

“I’ve never wanted to kill anyone, princess. Especially not shoot them like that. Hasn’t stopped me though” he says and looks you in the eye. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like, because they’re necessary.”

There’s a warning in his words, you both know it.

“You’re awfully calm about all this” he says and kneels in front of you, looking up at your face, close enough he can see every detail in your face. A strange and unwelcomed image flashes before his eyes; of a knight kneeling in front of the queen, awaiting her judgement. But it is not fitting, the dynamic all wrong. You have no power here, and he sure is no knight. He doesn’t know which role he’s set to play in your story but he doubts it’s the hero.

“You’d prefer it if I screamed?” you ask, and he’s impressed, because your voice doesn’t waver. It’s sounds gentle and steady still. But he sees it in your face. There’s fear in your eyes, buried deep. There’s a gleam of sweat over your forehead, and he’d bet more than this apartment that your heartbeat is beating like a drum right now.

“God no” he huffs, “just wondering what you're thinking”. He can’t seem to look away from your face and warning words from half a lifetime ago about not looking straight into the sun comes back to him. Warnings that it will blind you.

“Well, I’ll have to admit, I’m a bit curious about a few things”

“Such as?”

“What did you want with someone like Mark Randall?”

Tom is taken aback at that, it was not a question he had expected. “He hurt one of my friends,” he says, after some hesitation.

“So you wanted to hurt him back?”

“No,” he says. “I just needed some information from him.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. Letting you be a witness to a murder is bad enough. Now he’s sharing strictly confidential information with someone outside the Firm. But talking with you delays the moment where he must leave you and tell Fabien about what happened tonight.

“I knew Mark, he was not clever nor resourceful. I doubt it very much if he’d have any information to give you.”

He doesn’t know why you’re doing this, but your calmly delivered questions clears his head. He follows your path, like a light in the fog, guiding the way. “You’re right, but he wasn’t working on his own initiative. He might have had information on his people”

“You think he’d part with that information?”

“I’d make him”.

You go silent for a moment, and he wonders just how scared you are of him right then. He’s still kneeled in front of you, looking up at you, at the eyes he’s admired since he first saw you in school, a million years ago. You blink, and he’s reminded of the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

“How was your friend attacked?” you ask, and your choice of question surprises him again.

“Mark shot him in the arm, though the fucker aimed to kill”

“Were you with him?” You blink again, another fluttering pair of wings, and Tom wonders if this is what it’s like to be hypnotized.

“No,” he answers, “no he was on his way to meet me, but Mark was waiting for him and attacked”.

“And how did Mark know your friend was supposed to be there, at that moment?”

Your question is asked in such a low and gentle voice, and the full meaning of it doesn’t strike him at first,

But then,

“I, I don’t know” he confesses, and the realization startles him.

The telephone rings. Loudly it screeches from it’s table and Tom feels like he wakes from a trance. He pulls himself away from you slowly to answer it.

“Yeah?” he says, keeping his eye on you as he speaks into the receiver.

“Fabien wants a report” Harry tells him.

“On my way” Tom answers, “but Harry?”

“What?”

“You and Sam need to get to Mark Randall’s apartment. There’s two bodies to take care of.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Why didn’t you take care of it immediately?” his brother asks at last.

“Was called away, alright?” and before Harry can protest he snaps “Just fucking do it, yeah?” and he hangs up.

Silence fills the apartment, though the street outside continues to roar in drunken songs and fighting cries.

“I have to go now,” he says, staring down on the telephone, suddenly unable to look at you.

“What will they do to me once they realize there’s a witness?” you ask, and the question Tom thought would come before all others is asked at last. Truth is he should have gotten rid of you right then and there in East Ham. He shouldn’t have let a witness live. It was sloppy and just the kind of sentimental bullshit that would end him in a prison cell one day.

Truth is Fabien will make him kill you himself, probably in the most brutal fashion he can think of, just to make Tom prove that he hasn’t gone soft. That there’s no sentimentality left in him.

He couldn’t let you go either. Didn’t trust you wouldn’t run straight home to your daddy and tell him everything. It didn't help that you knew Tom in school, knew his full name and would have no problem pointing him out in a line-up. Then he’d end up in prison, or dead, and Fabien would go after you in ways Tom didn’t even dare imagine. Just the thought of what the man is capable of makes him shiver.

“I have to go now” he repeats, ignoring your question. “There’s no use in screaming while I’m away. This is not a friendly neighborhood. They won’t come to your rescue.”

But before he steps out the door he stops in his tracks.

“You know, you helped me once,” he says, remembering that time you’d protected him from Jamie.

“And this is how you repay me?” You’re still so fucking calm, even though you both know you’re done for and Tom’s heart beat uncomfortably hard in his chest.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he says, eventually.

You smile, and it is gentle though it is without humour. “For how long though, Tommy?”

***

Tom sits in Fabien’s office, a glass of amber-coloured whiskey in his hand and your voice ringing in his ears. ‘And how did Mark know your friend was supposed to be there?’

He had thought about it the entire drive to Fabien's house. The only solution was this. Someone had told them. Someone had told Jack and his men that Harrison would be walking that street at that time on that night. And the only people who knew about it were the men in the Firm.

He airs his suspicions to his leader.

Fabien hums, and inhales from his cigarette. “I see we’ve been thinking along the same lines” he says, blowing out smoke in the air between them. His voice is low and even, his quiet and held back rage evident but controlled. “There’s a traitor in our midst, Tommy.”

He studies Tom’s face, his cat-like eyes shrewd.

“I’m going to find out who’s been ratting on us, and why” he continues, voice smooth like velvet. “And God help the poor bastard once I’ve figured out who it is. However, our only lead was Mark Randall and you tell me you failed to bring him in for questioning and he’s now sinking in the Thames?”

Tom forces himself to keep eye-contact with his superior, resisting the urge to look away from those penetratingly shrewd eyes. “Yes, guv”.

“You failed.” He confirms, taking a sip of his drink. “That’s very unlike you, Tom. I’m disappointed.”

To anyone who didn’t know Fabien they might say the man sounded bored, but Tom knew better. The man was boiling underneath the surface. He didn’t need to shout and threaten to make his anger known, it was like a physical presence in the room. “Very disappointed indeed”.

“It won’t happen again,” Tom promises.

“Oh, it better not. I have big plans for you.” he says, and takes another sip from his drink. “Were there any witnesses?”

“No one left alive” Tom lies, and takes a sip from his own drink.

***

A/N: OH MY GOD this one was difficult to write. I had to rewrite it four times and I’m still not too sure about it. Their dynamic is really difficult but hopefully it’ll be easier in parts to come.

***

taglist: @londonmademedoit @isthataladybag @ceexreverse @daygiowvibe @averyfosterthoughts @applenter @viwihere @youcompletemess @marvelpeters @youngsenpaibaby @duskholland @vanillanestor @panicattheeverywherekid @primadonnasdream @adorestarkey @johnismyreason @fancybrittrash

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland #mob!tom holland #mob!tom #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem #tom holland x oc #tom holland x y/n

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poptod · 3 years

Text

The Ivory Haunting (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: His face is engrained into your head but his name is nowhere. Where does he exist? Why are you so obsessed?

Notes: this is strangely creepy and i dont know why. its not what i meant to do but i think its cool anyway. gender neutral as fuckin always WC: 3.1k

There's this carving – more of a bust or sculpture – that has your mind twisted every which way. It's a stupid thing, really, but you can't get his expression out of your head, and thus it haunts your waking and sleeping hours. The style is Egyptian, you think. He's wearing a crown on his head, one that you've seen in a couple museums before, and he has an absent smile on his face. While you scroll through the endless amount of photos of ancient Egyptian statues online, you note that it's an all too common expression.

At this point you can't even recall where you first saw it. Could've been through the endless internet surfing or the many museums you visited in your travels, but at the end of the day you're stumped. What was his name? Where did you meet him?

It's clear as day. His alabaster skin. He looks straight at you with empty eyes, the irises having eroded many years ago in the hot sahara sun. His nose has long fallen off, leaving behind a jagged scar that drags from his brow down to his lips, where that haunting smile sits so easily. They're full, his lips – sweet, and soft, even for stone. At each end are little dips, showcasing the slight smile. His chin is a little big, but it makes way for the sharp contrast of his jawline. He has cheekbones – mostly hidden behind the crown – and his ears are a little large. The trait that draws your attention each time is his eyes. Blank. Like they had truly been staring at the world for thousands of years.

You don't get out much anymore, not since the restrictions were put in place. There are moments, especially in the dead of night, in which you want so desperately to leave your tiny apartment, but the curfew states otherwise. Policemen and government workers roam the streets and you'd rather not get into a tussle over something so small as an urge.

Still, you stare outside your window, wondering why it feels like you're suffocating. This is how you spend a lot of your time nowadays, staring at the streets. There's hardly any cars out, and the sidewalks are barren, a sight you'd seen only once before during the original quarantine. London is not a quiet city. It's quite the opposite, and to see it muted is in the least upsetting.

Your job is... easy. Considering the state of the world, you're incredibly lucky, retaining your job and keeping away from the outside. You also get a lot of free time. Usually you'd spend it in front of a television, or in a good book, but now it's in front of your computer screen. The typing marker flashes in front of you, placing behind it the clear words you've searched at least a hundred times by now.

ANCIENT EGYPTIAN BUSTS

By now you know what the first images are going to be. Nefertiti, mostly – her bust is by far the most famous. Then there's of course Akhenaten with his elongated skull, followed by several advertisements for Kemetic worship.

You don't know much about Egyptian history. Or, at least you didn't use to. Now you recognize the faces, though rarely do you ever remember the names of the many forgotten dead. You're just looking for one – one name, one bust, one dead man.

He's nowhere, not in the books you buy or the articles you read. When you sign up for an online course of ancient Egyptian history, you expect to see his face in a textbook, but he's not there. Sometimes it feels like you're the only one who remembers him, which is funny – you don't even know him. Either way it's a way to occupy the time, since you have so much of it lately.

The British Museum is reopening. There's a whole thing about COVID, of course, and the only way to enter is to get tickets online. Only a handful of people are allowed inside the museum at once, and since you don't hear about it until later, you are set to wait a month and a half before you can visit. Bitterness wells up in the pit of your stomach, but like most things you set it aside. None of it really matters anyway – yes, not knowing his name feels like drowning mid-air, but it won't kill you.

From the moment you reserve a ticket to the moment you can actually use it, you dream of him every night. Sometimes it's actually him, no longer a statue, taking your hands and leading you somewhere you don't belong. His skin is warm, unlike his statue, but just as soft as you imagined. His nails are meticulously cleaned and his eyes are bright, full of a life you're desperate to understand. It doesn't make any sense. You're yearning so deeply for him, for something you've never known before, and every second away feels like pure horror in your veins.

Why do you need him this much?

You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing a strand of hair that falls in front of your eyes. You're dressed well – at least comparatively to your former few weeks of dress – and a quiet excitement thrums in your heart. Today is a day you're going to go out, and to make it better you're going to the museum. They have an Egyptian exhibit. A foolish part of yourself hopes you'll find him there, nestled in the corner of a long and fruitful hallway filled with Egyptian statues.

It's... disappointing, to say the least, to find out there's only one room for Egyptian exhibits and it's occupied by only one thing, besides broken pots and stone dolls. The main exhibit's name is Ahkmenrah, a young Pharaoh older than the Great Pyramids of Giza. All information on him can be fitted onto a four by six stone plate. While standing in his room, surrounded by hieroglyphs you've been studying hard to understand, you look him up on your phone. There's little mention of him, but the one article you do find on him has a 3D recreation of his face. He looks white and you know the article's bullshit.

While absently holding a conversation with one of the curators, you discover there's a store of Egyptian exhibits kept underneath the museum that aren't fit for showcase since the downsizing. Whatever that means, you find a sliver of hope, one that pales quickly at the realization you'll never be able to go down there. They wouldn't let some random visitor (who wasn't even an actual historian) to go see closed off exhibits.

Fischer, the director of the museum, hires you four months after you send your resume in. The second he does you set your plan into motion – there's no time to waste.

The same day he gives you the keys, you're sneaking in under the cover of night. For some reason, the lights are still on in the main museum, but fortunately that's not where you're headed. You unlock the backdoor, sneaking through the night guard's break room until you find the door to the basement. Flipping through the keys on your ring, you quickly find the right one, shoving it into the keyhole and almost wrenching the door open.

You run down the stairs. It's almost sprinting, but you can't be too loud with your shoes. There's nothing in your mind except him, his funny little smile, the somehow soft alabaster of his skin. You need to get to him. Something inside you says he's here – he's here, he's here, and there's nowhere else you can be without your whole body combusting.

You stop dead in your sprint, chest heaving as you're faced with the open boxes filled with Egyptian busts. With frantic eyes you look them over, searching desperately for one familiar face, finding none until the very last open box.

It's here.

He's here.

The broken nose, the formation of the resulting scar, you recognize every. Fucking. Inch.

Each box contains little notes on who the statues are (if known), the material, the time period, and other such relevant information. Your hands shake as you reach forward, slipping the piece of paper out of the paper stuffing.

King Ahkmenrah

Date: ca. 3,100 - 3000 B.C.

Period: Old Kingdom

Place of origin: Egypt, Cairo

Medium: Ivory

Ahkmenrah.

Sudden clarity strikes you as it never has when you recall searching his name online. He's the exhibit. He's the mummy upstairs. He's actually here.

The blood in you freezes for a moment, caught up in shock and relief. Now you know his name. A small part of you is finally able to rest with the answer, but the rest of you knows exactly what to do – go upstairs. Find the exhibit. Lay at his side. After all this time you still don't know why, but the ache of neediness in your heart is enough to leave you weak to your inner desires.

Now that your head is clear, or at least unhindered by your questions, you note a worrying amount of sound coming from upstairs. Footsteps pound on the ceiling as you climb the staircase, leaving you curious and terrified. That many people shouldn't be in one place – it's a death wish for the modern plague. You grit your teeth, fingers curling up in to fists that dig your nails deep into your palm. Is it safe to go upstairs? There's definitely people up there and you have no idea who they are. The museum could be being robbed right now and you wouldn't have a clue. It's a death wish.

Why are you still going up the stairs?

Why are you opening the door?

This shouldn't be happening. There's enough people to fill the whole first floor, ranging from the public entrance of the museum to the African exhibits in the back. Almost all of them are wearing historical outfits, in such a wide array you might've thought they'd stolen them from the exhibits, had they not looked exactly like the wax figures. The marble statue of the Roman on his horse is no longer on its' pedestal. Actually, he's talking to a woman a few feet away from you, though he is still on the horse.

You should be passed out on the stairs going by how fast your heart is beating, but instead you stand in the doorway petrified. Your eyes sit wide, scanning back and forth over the crowd, searching for something you don't know of. With all the stimulus in front of you, you don't even know what to think. The exhibits must be coming alive. Does someone watch over them?

It's then, with little clarity in your head, that your eyes land upon the night guard. She doesn't look in the least bit rattled, so you easily assume she's used to this. Her calm is so alarming to you that you blink yourself back into your body.

These are... people. Just people. They haven't been put under some curse that'll bring chaos to the world. All they're doing is partying, and though the noise level is a tad unpleasant, it's just about as rowdy as some teenagers.

When you realize you aren't in danger, you bolt from your place at the door. Twisting through the gathered crowd, you slowly make your way to the staircase, ascending with quick feet as your eyes lock onto the Egyptian hall. It's a few more feet until you turn sharp, shoes squeaking as you slide into the room. The familiar gold lighting greets you, shining off the open sarcophagus, which you skid to a halt in front of as your lungs desperately try to catch up to your legs.

Of course it's empty. Your Pharaoh – or Ahkmenrah, you suppose you should use his name now that you know it – must be downstairs, where the life of the party is. Why would he stay up in this empty room, all alone? From here you can barely even hear the music that was once pounding into your ears. Still, for a moment you stare at the bottom of the vacant coffin, caught in the awe of such a long-standing history.

"What are you doing here?"

The words catch you by surprise, and in reaction you whip around, eyes wide as the voice continues, "who are you?"

My King. Before you can even process the thought, the words roll onto your tongue, but to your immense relief you catch yourself before actually opening your mouth.

"I..." it barely comes out with how little you've physically spoken recently, "I work here."

As usual, your voice carries that quiet, calm, slightly annoyed tone that makes people wonder why you're being so difficult. It's not really something you can control, but the King doesn't seem to notice. Maybe it's worked to your advantage this time; despite your racing heart and frozen feet, you keep an even tone.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," the King says, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. You try to back up, but you're already pressed against the sarcophagus, and his glare keeps you from running.

"I just started today," you answer honestly.

"Ah," he says, his voice softer the moment he begins to believe you. "This must be rather alarming for you, then."

You're not afraid to admit he's right.

"A tad. How do you speak english?"

"I learned it during my time at Cambridge University," he answers. He's from over 4,000 years ago, so you know he didn't attend as a student.

"You were on display there?"

"Yes," he says with a bright smile, one that catches you entirely off guard.

It practically blows you away – his demeanor changed so quickly, from a stern Pharaoh to a sweet, young man who probably bought his girlfriend flowers every Monday. For a moment you wonder why you were so caught up in him before knowing him; now that you've heard his voice, seen the way he moves, your interest increases tenfold. It's not enough to see him. You need to touch him. You need it more than anything.

"I've been looking for you," you blurt out, but the words come out so slow it sounds like you consciously chose them. You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch his smile falter.

"What do you mean?" He asks. He's standing in front of you now – if you extended your arm and took a small step closer, you'd be touching him.

"There's a sculpture of you," you say softly, swallowing the lump in your throat, "but I didn't know how to find your name."

"How'd you find me, then?" He asks, but he looks less offended. Now there's a keen look in his smile and in his eye, like he's going to enjoy this, like he knows something you don't.

"Sheer luck," you say with a shrug. It's mostly true.

"I think I know you," he says, and his smile quirks further upward.

"What?" You say, trying to back up again as he steps closer. The sarcophagus is, unsurprisingly, still behind you. "How?"

"Back when I was a King, I had a slave my brother killed," he says in the least comforting tone, "but my father had this idea."

Another step closer. You can feel the heat of his naked waist on your shaking hands.

"See, he had a magician in his employ, and he would do anything for me. Especially since I loved that slave so dearly. Truly," he leans forward a little, placing his hand on the gold case behind you and trapping you against him. His chest is practically right against yours, but what you are close enough to feel is his breath, soft on your collarbones. "And so my father retrieved the soul with a special spell and sent it into the future, to possess another at birth, and to lie in wait until I called for it."

You can't feel your – well, anything. There's a pressure on your chest, but you can't tell if that's your wildly beating heart or just his warmth skewing your senses. All you can do is stare up at him wide-eyed. He can't be telling the truth. Magic doesn't work like that, it can't work like that, that's a sick story and he's telling it like it's nothing more than normal. Possessing a newborn child. Sending souls into the future. It can't make sense. You almost feel bad for your past self – under the employ of someone so cruel as to take a soul from the afterlife for his own pleasure.

But he's standing before you. He's 4,000 years old, and he's standing in front of you, pushing you against his own coffin and trapping you there. Do you belong to him, then? Is that why you can't get him out of your head?

"When did your search begin?" He asks softly, a gentle curiosity evident in his brow.

"A – about a year ago," you say, your voice so broken and shaky you're surprised he understands it.

"Last winter?" He asks knowingly, almost sweet, like he's doting on you. Then comes the part that really makes it shine; he reaches up and pets your hair, moving in long, soft strokes.

You nod, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer. How red you must be by now.

"I called on you then. It took you a little while, but I'm glad you made it," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Unfortunately, I suppose you haven't retained any memories, since you didn't know my name."

"I guess not," you agree quietly. "I just have instincts."

"Instincts?"

You're reluctant to share with him the many instincts you'd had even in the short time from meeting him to now. The pure need to touch him. Past You probably had a crush on him, and even though you aren't really that person anymore, there's a need inside you to hide that fact from him.

"I wanted to call you my King when I first saw you," you admit, your voice still quiet in hopes of him not understanding you.

"You won't have to call me that anymore. Maybe a tad around my parents, but when we're alone you may use my name."

"When we're... alone?" You question nervously, heart pounding at the thought of spending more time with him.

"You do work here, don't you?" He says with a sly grin. "I think I'll be seeing you quite a lot."

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh God.

If this is how you react just from spending five minutes with him, you can't imagine spending whole nights at his side. You'd explode. From what you don't know yet, but the pulsing rush in your heart is strong enough to worry you, and very rarely do you ever worry about yourself. The words in your head – your immediate reaction – simply won't pass. You can't bring yourself to say them, so you say what he wants to hear.

"As long as you want to."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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jocia92 · 3 years

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(Google translated)

Dan Stevens, who grew up in Wales and south-east England, spent his summer holidays at the National Youth Theater at the age of 15, and he was drawn to the stage while studying English in Cambridge. Since his big breakthrough as Matthew Crawley in the hit series “Downton Abbey”, he has also repeatedly appeared in films such as “Inside Wikileaks - The Fifth Force”, “At Night in the Museum: The Secret Tomb” or “Beauty and the Beast” . Most recently, Stevens played the Russian Schnösel singer Lemtov in the Oscar-nominated comedy “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” from Netflix. At the beginning of June, the German film “Ich bin dein Mensch” by Maria Schrader celebrated at the Summer Berlinale Premiere, which starts on 1.7. comes to German cinemas regularly. Stevens plays the role of a love robot in it. Unlike on the screen, however, the 38-year-old prefers to speak English in the zoom-conducted interview. He chose a brick wall with a lion motif as the digital background. No allusion to the song “Lion of Love” from “Eurovision Song Contest”, but a photo of the famous Ishtar Gate in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum, where “I am your human” was filmed last summer.

Mr. Stevens, in your new film “I am your human” you play a humanoid robot that is entirely geared towards fulfilling the romantic needs of a skeptical scientist. You yourself recently described the film as “delightfully German”. How did you mean that?

I wanted to say that here pretty big questions - such as what actually makes a person or how much perfection love can take - are negotiated in a very light-footed, elegant and sometimes humorous way. In my experience that is a very German quality. At least I have often seen with many of my German colleagues and friends that they are very good at not discussing difficult issues exclusively deadly serious and melancholy.

Where does your personal connection to Germany and the German language come from?

My parents had friends who lived in Bielefeld and we used to visit them in North Rhine-Westphalia during the school holidays. Traveled from England by car! That’s how I learned a little German as a child, and later I learned it as a subject at school. I even did a short internship there through our friends in Bielefeld. I really love the language. Funnily enough, I was later able to use my knowledge of German professionally, because my first film was “Hilde”, in which I was next to Heike Makatsch played the British actor and director David Cameron, who was married to Hildegard Knef. After that, I always hoped that there might be another chance to speak German in front of the camera, because playing in a foreign language is an exciting challenge. When the chance arose to shoot “I am your person”, I could hardly believe my luck.

Did you know the director Maria Schrader who gave you this chance?

Funnily enough, when the script for the film landed on my table, I had just watched the Netflix series “Unorthodox”, which she directed. I had also watched a few episodes of “Deutschland 89”. In general, I knew that she was a great German actress, not least because friends who knew their way around the German theater scene often raved about her. Working with her was a joy now. Her understanding of actors is quite instinctive and brilliant. I have seldom seen someone who can help an actor who is having difficulties with a scene with such simple means.

The fact that you had already seen “Unorthodox” shows, of course, how quickly “I am your person” must have been implemented in the past year …

Oh yes, that was really quick. In March I was still in New York and was about to premiere a new play on Broadway. But then the pandemic came, everything was canceled and I flew back to my family in Los Angeles. A few weeks later, Maria and I met each other via Zoom - and shortly afterwards I was sitting outside in a café in the Berlin June sun for the first time in months to discuss the upcoming shoot with her. That was pretty surreal because I hadn’t actually left the house since March.

Is it correct that you oriented yourself to Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart to portray the romantically programmed robot Tom?

In any case, these were role models that Maria and I spoke about. When you think of the game between the two of them, you always see an enormous clarity and directness. Cary Grant, for example, was always quite funny, especially in his romantic roles, but also flawless in an almost artificial way from today’s perspective. I found that very suitable for a robot. Apart from the fact that the ideas that Tom and his algorithm have of romance and love are certainly also shaped by the classic romantic comedies from Hollywood. Oh, the woman is sad, so I’ll bring her flowers! Such automatisms from the stories from back then were very appropriate for Tom now.

Keyword role models: Who shaped you in your career as an actor?

There were of course many. Jimmy Stewart was certainly something of a role model. My mom and I watched a lot of his films when I was little and I was always impressed by the kind of sweet tragedy that went into all of his roles. But maybe Robin Williams’ work influenced me even more. I always found the incredible variety of his films remarkable. He could make his audience laugh hysterically like no other, but also move them to tears in other roles. I always wanted to emulate this range.

In fact, the range of your roles is enormous and ranges from the Disney blockbuster “Beauty and the Beast” to a comic adaptation in series format such as “Legion” to bulky independent films such as “Her Smell” or the horror thriller “The Rental “, Which we just released on DVD. Is there a method behind this diversity?

Not in principle. I like variety, but I’m not just looking for roles that are as different as possible from one another. Rather, there are always similar factors that I use to select my projects. Sometimes there is a certain director that I really want to work with. Or the role itself is irresistible because it presents me with acting challenges. And sometimes a script is just fantastically written and I am interested in the topics it is about. With “I am your person” it was definitely the latter, especially since the timing was just right. In 2020 there were so many societal questions that ultimately touched the core of human existence. Such a script, which deals with something very similar in a light-footed way, was just fitting.

A few years ago you said in a questionnaire from the British Guardians that your greatest weakness was not being able to make up your mind. So every time you are offered a role, do you ponder whether you should accept?

No, no, when a script appeals to me, it actually does it very quickly. It’s such a gut feeling. If I’m unsure and skeptical, that’s a good indicator that this is not the right thing for me. That with the difficulty in making decisions related rather to something else. For example, it takes me forever to order in a restaurant because I can never decide what on the menu appeals to me the most.

You became famous with the role of Matthew Crawley in the series "Downton Abbey”. Did you immediately suspect at the time that something big was going on?

At first we were all pretty clueless. There are really many British history series, and we were one of them. When the first season aired in the US and was a huge success there, it was pretty unexpected. I never expected the impact the series would have on my career.

Barely ten years later, are you still being asked about the role?

Oh yes, regularly. Probably nothing will change about that either. I got out after three seasons!

In the meantime, however, the flamboyant Russian singer Alexander Lemtov from “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” should also be a character with whom you will be immediately associated, right?

Right, it has been mentioned more and more recently when people recognize me on the street. This charming, silly film obviously had a nerve with the audience last year in the middle of the corona pandemic. Especially since the real Eurovision Song Contest had been canceled.

The film was the number one topic of conversation on the Internet for a while - and Lemtov GIFs and memes were everywhere. Did you follow that?

It was really hard to avoid it. I wasn’t looking specifically for what people were posting. But of course my friends passed a lot on to me, and there were already some very funny Lemtov things. But he’s also a figure made for GIFs.

Another question every British actor under 40 has to put up with these days: Would you like to become the next James Bond?

Oh, of course, everyone gets to hear this question again and again who meets certain criteria. But it is completely hypothetical. Although a few years ago I read in an audio book by Ian Fleming’s “Casino Royale”.

You mentioned earlier that you and your family have lived in the United States for a long time. How big is your homesickness?

I actually feel very comfortable in Los Angeles. But every now and then I miss the sidewalk culture of European cities. People on foot, street cafes, things like that. Last year the longing for it was particularly great, although it was of course clear to me that there was a state of emergency in Europe too. In any case, I found myself reading books that were set in Europe and made me homesick. Which is why the unexpected trip to Berlin was really a boon.

You are also an avid cricketer. That’s certainly difficult in Los Angeles, isn’t it?

There are quite a few cricket clubs here. The only problem is that the few people who do the sport here are so good at it that I have problems keeping up. That’s why I always lose sight of the matter here a little. Even as a pure TV viewer, it is not easy to stay on the ball, because of course there is no cricket broadcast here at prime time. But as soon as I’m home in England in the summer, I really want to play again!

#ich bin dein mensch #i'm your man #dan stevens #maria schrader #faz.net #interview #long post

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terrm9 · 4 years

Text

Everywhere I Go (Ethan X MC)

Words count: 3 800

Warnings: none? I feel like this is absolutely harmless but if you find something worth warning, let me know please

Few weeks after making their relationship public, Ethan decides to take Chiara with him to Providence.

Set few weeks after the gala, so in the first half of Chapter 18 I guess?

Author’s note: This follows the Count Me In fic, so for the better experience, I recommend to read that first. However, if you don’t want to, it is readable as a one shot too. I love Alan Ramsey and I just want him to be happy okay? I kind of broke my own heart while thinking about how unfair life is towards him

“And that’s why my sister is not talking to me now,” Bryce ended his speech with his typical wide grin, shrugging carelessly as he finished eating his fries.

Both, Chiara and Elijah burst out into loud laugh, attracting the attention of every other person in the cafeteria. The story itself wouldn’t be that funny, however the way Bryce didn’t hesitate to give them a detailed description of Keiki’s face expressions caused happy tears to fall from Chiara’s eyes, as she couldn’t contain her giggles.

“Oh crap,” Chiara muttered when her ringing phone interrupted the cheerful atmosphere at the table. “It’s Ethan.”

“Calling as a doctor or as a booooyfriend?” Bryce teased her, gaining an eye roll from Chiara in return.

Before she picked her phone up, she checked her pager, making sure that Ethan didn’t try to get her attention through it without her noticing. It was greatly uncommon for him to call her while they were both working, especially when calling her meant talking about not-work-related topics.

“Hello?” she picked up at last, confusion audible in her voice.

“Rookie,” she could see Ethan nod at the other side of the line as he spoke. “Where are you? I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uhm, I am having lunch in the cafeteria with the boys. Why? Do you need me for something? You could’ve paged me.”

“It’s not about work. Just wait for me, okay? I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Without giving her a chance to ask more questions or even respond with an ‘okay’, Ethan hung up, leaving her terribly worried about his reasons to call her.

No matter how urgent their private issues seemed, they always managed to bring them home with them, to talk about it after their shifts. When they were at work, they were working. It was that simple for them, a rule that has hardly ever been broken.

“He called as a boyfriend,” she spoke finally, noticing how both, Bryce and Elijah were looking at her with their eyebrows raised. “He will stop by.”

Just as she said that, the door to the cafeteria opened and Ethan stopped just for a second, searching the room with his eyes for a sign of the young redhead he needed to see. Against his better judgement, he smiled as he finally spotted her, cheeks flushed from the laugh she has just had several minutes ago.

Chiara noticed how some residents and even one attending stared as Ethan crossed the room, obviously ignoring the fact that he was about to sit next to the woman he kissed at the gala few weeks ago. They stared with hearts in their eyes and wishful smiles at their faces and even if it was embarrassing to admit, Chiara knew that their expressions mirrored her own.

“Chiara I think you might be drooling,” Bryce whispered, causing Elijah to laugh loudly for the second time in ten minutes.

“Hey,” Ethan smiled softly at her as he sat down next to her and then nodded in boys’ direction. “Bryce, Elijah.”

“Well helloooo, my fav buddy,” Bryce grinned and patted Ethan’s shoulder enthusiastically. “How ya doin’?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan muttered: “Lahela stop please”, while Chiara laughed, shaking her head.

“What has gotten into you today, Bryce? Do you need to replace a single ‘o’ with several annoying ‘oooo’s’ in every word?”

Shrugging carelessly again, Bryce opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Elijah put his arm on Bryce’s shoulder and gestured towards the door.

“I think we should go before you extend the list of people not talking to you.”

Even though unhappy with the suggestion, Bryce agreed and a minute later, Chiara and Ethan were left alone to discuss whatever Ethan came to discuss.

“So? What is bothering you?” Chiara asked openly.

“Nothing is bothering me,” Ethan replied, not quite looking at her, instead reaching for her hand on the table, interlacing their fingers together.

Chiara was aware of people observing them and of the fact that such gesture of affection would cause yet another wave of gossips in the hospital.

Ethan couldn’t care less about what would people say at this point. Ever since their kiss, people were talking about them and it didn’t really matter what Chiara and Ethan did or didn’t do.

They were holding hands now and so people would talk about Dr. Do-Not-Talk-To-Me being whipped. If they didn’t hold their hands, people would talk about troubles in paradise because ‘they didn’t even touch while talking’.

“I am going to visit my father in Providence this weekend.”

“Oh,” Chiara opened her mouth, not quite believing that he would look for her only to tell her that he would be gone for the weekend. “That’s great! It’s been some time since you last visited Providence, right? Two days out of Boston and with your dad, it will be good for you.”

“The thing is,” Ethan spoke, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “You have a free weekend and-“

“I think I do, let me check,” Chiara interrupted him, reaching for her phone to check her calendar.

“You do, I already checked.”

Or rather, I made sure that you would have a free weekend.

“However, I wanted to ask you if, by any chance, you would want to go to Providence with me? I mean, I survived the brunch thing with your friends and now I would like to introduce you to dad.”

“I have already met your father, Ethan,” Chiara laughed softly. “Several times.”

“Yes, but that was different. I would like to, well, introduce you as a… woman I am dating.”

His cheeks were deeply flushed at this point, his hands gently squeezing her in steady rhythm, trying to calm his own nerves down.

“I would like that very much,” she smiled at him. “Is your dad going to roast me the way my friends roasted you?”

Ethan laughed, truly and openly laughed and replied: “God I hope so.”

With a quick kiss on the top of Chiara’s head, he stood up as his pager went off, leaving her to finish her lunch with a smile on her lips.

“Your dad know that I am coming with you, right?” Chiara asked nervously as she stepped out of Ethan’s car, looking at the house in front of her. It was painted in a light blue color, the bushes surrounding a path leading to the front door precisely trimmed.

“Of course. He texted me in the morning, saying that they were both looking forward to seeing you.”

“Both? Both who?” Chiara turned on her heels, her eyes wide with shock. Surely Louise wouldn’t be here today, would she? Her time in the rehab clinic wasn’t over yet.

“Dad and Jenner,” Ethan replied flatly, getting their bags out of the trunk.

A very audible sigh of relief left Chiara’s mouth at that, her mind instantly calming down at the picture of Ethan’s – or more Alan’s – dog. It would be their first meeting and Chiara was equally nervous about meeting Alan as Ethan’s girlfriend and meeting Jenner, knowing rather well that Jenner’s opinion mattered to Ethan more than opinions of most people.

Locking his car, Ethan took Chiara’s hand and led her to the front door, smiling down at her, all the tension that collected in his body for the past few weeks seemingly gone.

Ethan didn’t resemble the Dr. Ramsey at all at this moment, his form relaxed as he knocked on the door, quietly humming one of Frank Sinatra’s songs they listened to on their way here.

“Chiara, Ethan!” Alan smiled widely as he opened the door, letting them both come in. Before he could as much as hug Ethan, the ball of brown fur sprinted through the hall and as soon as Jenner spotted Ethan, he put both his front paws on Ethan’s torso, barking excitedly.

Chiara shook Alan’s hand and he kissed both her cheeks politely. “Lunch is almost ready,” he smiled and led her to the sunny living room, granting Ethan some time to catch up with his best friend.

Seated in a comfortable armchair, Chiara took her surrounding in while Alan left to the kitchen to make them a coffee. The room wasn’t big, the huge window dominating as it provided both, light coming into the room and a beautiful view to the garden.

Before Chiara could examine the photos on the top of fireplace, both Jenner and Ethan came to the room and it was her time to impress the dog.

“Hello there,” she smiled as she kneeled down, letting Jenner to sniff and then lick her palm. “What a good boy do we have here, hmmm? Yes, it’s you, of course it’s you.”

All the tension was gone at that point, Jenner happily licking not only her hands but also her neck and her face, Chiara laughing and rubbing his belly happily while Ethan stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed, smiling affectionately at the scene in front of him.

Seeing that his presence was no longer recognized, Ethan decided to help his dad to finish the lunch, hoping that maybe in their moment of privacy, he could make sure that there would be no embarrassing stories about his childhood shared today.

It was all for nothing.

As soon as they finished eating and moved back to the living room to have their afternoon tea, Alan grinned at the two young doctors seated on the couch next to each other, Ethan’s arm casually hugging Chiara’s shoulders.

“So… dating, huh? How long?”

Ethan blushed and cleared his throat, thinking about the right answer. “Few weeks,” he replied after all.

“And unofficially?”

Chiara laughed at the question, the fact that Alan indeed knew his son both surprising and delighting her. Not wanting to make Ethan angry or uncomfortable, she decided not to answer that.

“Few weeks,” Ethan repeated, although it was obvious that not a single person in the room believed that. “The gala I’ve been telling you about the other day? That would be it.”

The mention of gala served them well, giving them a chance to talk about hospital for a long time, about the fact that it wouldn’t be saved anyway, about their work at free clinic.

They both intentionally avoided talking about the future, about what would happen when Edenbrook closes for real. Alan was polite enough not to ask.

Chiara was nervously waiting for Alan to start asking questions. After the trick her friends pulled on Ethan, she deserved to be interrogated by him. She was dating a respected doctor, famous diagnostician and a rich man after all. It was rather natural for his parents – well, his father – to make sure that she wasn’t using him.

I just need to be honest and everything will be fine.

The interrogation never came. Instead, when it looked like it would come, Alan asked her the question she hoped to hear.

“So, Chiara. I doubt Ethan has told you much about his childhood. Do you want to hear the stories of troublemaker Ethan? I have my two favorites.”

“Dad, you have to be kidding me,” Ethan muttered, squinting his eyes on the older man.

Next to him, Chiara jumped on the couch of excitement, nodding. “Yes, please. Tell me anything embarrassing. Anything. He like to pretend that such moments never happened in his life.”

“Do you remember our fish, Ethan?” Alan smiled mischievously at his son and from Ethan’s expression, he knew exactly what was about to come.

“I was six!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms at his chest.

“My brother came to visit us one summer,” Alan turned to Chiara, ignoring Ethan’s remarks about betrayal. “He used to smoke a lot back then, however me or Louise weren’t smoking and so there was no ashtray in this whole house. I found an old mason jar and gave it to him, so that he could use that instead. We didn’t throw the whole mason jar away the moment he left the house and Ethan took his chance. At the time, we had this huge aquarium here in the living room, full of fish. There were, like, fifty fish in it and as a six-year-old, we let Ethan feed them so that he would learn about being responsible. One day, I got back from work and almost all of the fish were dead. Really, maybe seven or eight survived. And I was so shocked because it’s not common thing to happen and I asked Ethan if he fed them that day and without a second thought, he said that he did feed them with the ash Uncle Thomas left here, because he wanted to see how they would react. I still remember him saying ‘It’s a pity they died. But at least we are left with the strongest ones now.’”

“He didn’t do that,” Chiara laughed and turned to Ethan, waiting for his reaction. The shrug of his shoulders confirming that the story she just heard was right. “Well, some things never change. Your strategy with interns is pretty similar.”

“Yet, here you are. That makes you one of the strongest ones, you know.”

She smiled at him softly, knowingly and turned back to Alan, greedy for more.

“My absolutely favorite is the one about Perrie McKingsley.”

Ethan’s eyes widened once again and he shook his head abruptly, looking at his father. “Dad, really, that won’t be necessary.”

“Okay now I have to hear it,” Chiara grinned wickedly.

“He was ten or eleven at the time, I can’t quite remember. It was my grandmother’s death anniversary and even though, as great-grandmother to Ethan, she wasn’t a big part of his life, he always agreed to go to the cemetery with me at the anniversary. That year was no exception and so we bought this beautiful bouquet and put it on the grave. Little did I know that the next day was Perrie McKingsley’s birthday – she was Ethan’s classmate and his first crush. Very nice girl indeed. Ethan wanted to impress her but was too shy to talk to me about it, about what he could give her as a present and so he came up with a genius idea. That morning, he left the house early and stopped at the cemetery on his way to school. He took the flowers we put on the grave the day before and gave them to the poor girl. He would never tell the truth, but I met Perrie’s mother two days after that and she told me how thoughtful it was of Ethan to get Perrie such beautiful bouquet.”

Chiara had to cover her mouth with her hand to tame all the loud sounds leaving it when Alan finished the story. Tears streaming down her face, she had troubles catching her breath between the laughing.

“Who would believe that you were such a gentleman, Ramsey,” she spoke finally when she calmed down. “The girl was very lucky.”

“I am glad you are having fun, Rookie,” Ethan said dryly, trying his hardest to maintain his poker face, even though the truth was that seeing his Chiara this happy and free of worries, laughing with his father while petting Jenner, it was a picture he wished to remember forever.

The rest of the day was filled with small talks about Alan’s work and Jenner, about Chiara’s life back in San Francisco. Alan showed her all of Ethan’s photos, from the cute baby ones to the pretty awkward high school ones.

Ethan pretended to be annoyed by the fact that his dad and Chiara became such a good friends, finding their entertainment in Ethan’s suffering, however every time they were not looking, he was smiling like a fool, his chest full of this unfamiliar warm feeling.

He was asleep in his old room now and as much as Chiara tried to rest too, the sleep wouldn’t come to her.

She decided to get a water in the kitchen and give it another try later.

As she stepped downstairs, she was startled by the light coming out of the living room – it was past midnight.

“Chiara,” Alan smiled at her from the couch, the bottle of beer in his hand as he stared into the fire. “Troubles sleeping?”

She nodded and took a seat next to him, the water long forgotten.

“I was just thinking about Ethan,” Alan broke the silence, turning his eyes to her.

They were the same color as his son’s, the blue darker than the bright sky but brighter than the stormy one. His gaze was as intense too, as if he could see straight into her head, getting his answers without needing to ask questions.

The only difference was that his eyes were surrounded by happy wrinkles, the ones a person only gets when they smile too often.

Ethan’s wrinkled weren’t permanent around the corners of his eyes. He didn’t smile often enough. His signature wrinkles were the ones between his brows, the ones a person only gets when they worry too much.

“I am glad he’s found you, Chiara. I have never seen him so content. So in love.”

Chiara froze at his words. She froze at the ease he said them with.

“Oh, he’s… he’s not in love,” she laughed nervously. “He doesn’t believe in such things.”

“You are the first girl he has ever brought home with him,” Alan grinned. “Surely that speaks for itself.”

Shock overtaking her, Chiara forgot to close her mouth for a long moment.

“You are kidding. He is almost forty, I can’t be the first one.”

Alan laughed at her statement whole-heartedly, the sound so common for him and so rare to hear from his son.

“You are. And I know what he says, about me not really knowing him, but he is still my kid and I can assure you, he is so in love.” Alan took a deep breath, sipping his bear for a long moment. “The girl I was telling you about today, Perrie? She was his first crush, his first love, the first girl that made him blush when he spoke to her. The first to bring those ‘in-love’ sparks into his eyes. He was ten, a kid. The same kid he was at eleven, when Louise left. He’s never really gotten over that, over her leaving us and I don’t blame him. He was just a kid. The first time I have seen those sparks in his eyes, he was ten. The last time I have seen them, he was eleven. He was just a kid, he was just my baby son, when all those adult things happened to him and I blamed myself for so long that I couldn’t protect him from that hurt.”

Alan’s voice shook and he took another sip of his drink, steading himself so that he could finish his speech.

For the past twenty-six years, he has never said these words to anyone.

“I stopped believing that those would ever return. All the way through the high school, Ethan never even mentioned a girl. He avoided women, he didn’t trust them and who was I to change his mind? It was my wife leaving us after all. And then, in his med school he let it slip that there was a certain girl he was seeing, but talking about her didn’t bring those sparks into his eyes. He was twenty-three and he was less in love than a ten-year-old Ethan. There was something there when he told me about you for the first time, last year. His Rookie. I could see how his face lit up at the mention of you, how his lips turned up so slightly anyone but his father would miss it."

"He probably never mentioned it, but I was with Ethan two days before the gala and when he said that you two would go together to represent your team, that was when I saw those sparks again, Chiara. After twenty-seven years, I have seen my son’s eyes light up with the force only love could produce.”

Chiara was smiling and at the same time, she felt like crying.

Crying for a man Ethan could be, hadn’t he been broken.

Crying for Alan, losing his wife and his happy little boy at the same day.

“Ethan can be difficult, I know. But please, as his father and as a person who loves him more than he has ever loved anyone or anything, I beg you to be patient with him when things get difficult. Because you are the only person I have ever believed could make Ethan truly and unconditionally happy again.”

Chiara nodded, tears spilling down on her cheeks now and before she could do anything, Alan was hugging her.

“Goodnight, Chiara,” he smiled as he broke the hug. After wishing him a goodnight too, Chiara got back into the room Ethan was sleeping in and tried to get into the bed as quietly as possible.

“I am not sleeping,” Ethan muttered, turning to his side so that he could face her. With his curls disheveled around his head and sleepy eyes, he looked so much younger it almost surprised Chiara. “I’ve heard voices from downstairs.”

“Yes, I’ve been talking to your dad,” she whispered softly, deciding whether she should tell him the truth or not. Almost immediately, she decided to keep her conversation with Alan to herself. “There were many more embarrassing stories to be told, you know.”

“I don’t get how, no matter who we are with, I end up to be the embarrassed one. All the time. I was thinking about inviting Naveen over for dinner later this week, but I am strongly reconsidering now.”

“Oh my God, yes, that’s totally happening. Awkward intern Ethan, that would be my new favorite thing.”

“I have never been an awkward intern.”

“I think Naveen will be the judge of that,” she smirked, rolling Ethan on his back so that she could straddle him. He groaned at the idea of Naveen telling Chiara yet another story about his past. “Well, it’s not my fault that you are so embarrassable, Ethan.”

“That’s not even a word, Ray.”

“Uhm, it just left my mouth, so I guess it is now. I will text Naveen myself in the morning.”

She leaned down to kiss him, his hot body and soft lips making her mind race into dangerous territory.

“Don’t worry, once we visit my mom and sister, you will be satisfied. I bet Alicia has already my TOP 5 awkward moments written and ready to be shared,” she murmured between the kissed.

Ethan chuckled at that and biting her earlobe softly, he whispered: “I am booking the tickets to San Francisco right now.”

Taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #alan ramsey #play choices

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maade-of-stardust · 3 years

Note

Hey Val!!! Its frisay! Its friday!! *feeling excited*

It is Friday, indeed! And since the chapter isn’t ready, yet (I think it will come out on Sunday), here is a snippet for you!

Sander had decided to leave as soon as Robbe was surrounded by his friends. Surely, the boy would have been safer among them, and they knew him well enough to know what to do in case he needed anything. Thus, Sander’s presence was no longer requested. He had carried out his task and could go back to his place. But after all, he told himself, it was better that way. He was feeling deeply sad after hearing what had happened to Robbe's mom, and he needed time alone to process the news. As he reached his room, Sander remembered that he had to talk to Noor. Though his first instinct was to postpone again, he thought he might as well face another issue that same evening, so he backed off and went to knock on the girl's door.

The conversation was honest, although, for obvious reasons he chose not to go into details, but he told her about his past with Robbe, their years apart, and the way he was feeling since he started to work for the band. Noor was very understanding and they decided to stay friends, without benefits this time. They had smoked a cigarette together and after that, Sander finally went back to his room.

He took a hot shower, hoping it would wash away all the tiredness, sadness, and desire to disappear he was feeling in his body. It seemed like that day had lasted two months. Starting with the fight the evening before, the sleepless night, the trip with Lucas and Jens, and then the insane run in the park to find Robbe. It had been an eventful 24 hours.

The worst part, though, was probably realizing that everything he had relied on for the past four years was just a big, fat, pile of bullshits, he told to be at peace with himself. He hadn't saved Robbe from a life of pain, he hadn't freed him from carrying Sander's burden. He had simply turned his back on Robbe. Sander had left him alone to face all the sufferings in his life.

Now, he didn't even know how he could explain to the other, the reason behind his gesture, without being laughed at. His illness seemed nothing compared to what Robbe had to go through completely alone.

Probably the best thing to do was to simply make amends, without hoping for forgiveness. In light of the facts, his explanation had become ridiculous, useless, but he owed it to Robbe. He wanted to finally be honest.

Sander wore a lilac hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants and went to bed with his computer on his lap, editing the photos he had taken in the previous days. It was something that helped him stay present, having to concentrate kept his mind from wandering.

It was almost midnight when he heard a knock on his room door, and for a few seconds, he was tempted not to open it, pretending to be asleep, but in the end, curiosity prevailed.

He moved the computer from his legs, leaving it on the bed, and went to the door, finding himself face to face with Robbe.

Sander felt his heart skip a beat. The boy had his hair down over his shoulders, and he was wearing a sage-colored sweatshirt and pants. His face was pale, tired, with dark circles under his doe eyes, but they were still beautiful.

"Robbe?" He exclaimed, sounding more surprised than he intended.

"Stop leaving me behind without a fucking word, okay?" He said, with a stern face, looking the other into his eyes, but then gave him a small smile.

Sander stepped aside, inviting him in, and closed the door. He didn't know why he was letting him in his room, but somehow, that night, after what had happened, he didn’t want to let Robbe go again. He needed his presence there.

"Sorry, I thought there were already too many people around."

"Yeah, but I wanted them to leave, not you."

Oh.

Robbe stood in front of him, biting his lower lip. He was so different from anything Sander had seen in the previous weeks, even different from what he'd seen in the car a few hours before, and it was confusing. Sander wondered how many Robbes were still to be discovered. But this version made him feel at ease. There was something genuine and familiar in him.

"Can I stay here with you tonight?" He asked, blinking his long lashes, pausing for a few seconds to rephrase his request, reading the surprise on Sander's face. "I'm not talking about sex. We can have a pajama party, but like, for adults."

Sander frowned, "It sounds a lot like sex." he said, smiling.

"Come on." He pushed his lower lip out, as an incentive to make the other agree.

"Let's have this pajama party for adults, then." Sander conceded, running his fingers through the boy’s hair. He couldn’t explain it, but ever since they had been forced by circumstances to stay physically close in the car, it was like that invisible barrier, that was keeping them apart, had disappeared, and now every gesture was natural.

Robbe was playing with the lilac strings of Sander's hoodie, twisting it around his fingers. "But on one condition. We can’t talk about our past. Only about present and future."

"Deal." Sander nodded, turning away and walking back to bed, to resume what he was doing. He slipped under the covers and took his laptop again, pretending not to observe every slightest movement of the other, who meanwhile looked around, carefully studying all of Sander’s belongings scattered around the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Editing."

Robbe had nonchalantly approached the bed, trying to look at the screen. "Can I?" He asked, pointing his index finger at the bed where Sander was sitting.

"Yes, come here." He replied, lifting the covers. Robbe immediately snuggled up beside him. They remained silent, while Sander kept editing, trying not to smile too much, and Robbe watched him work. That closeness was amazing. It felt right and Sander wished to stay like that forever.

"I like this one so much. You made me look so good."

"Are you fishing for compliments? Aren't you tired of people telling you how beautiful you are?"

Sander looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and Robbe rolled his eyes, without trying to hide his smile.

"Do you like your job?"

"I do, most of the time. You?"

Robbe sighed, pausing for a long time before answering. "It doesn’t make me feel as happy as it used to, but it’s the only thing I’m good at."

"First of all, I hardly believe it." Sander closed his laptop, placing it on the bedside table, and turned to face the other, giving him his full attention, exactly as he would have done once, during their endless conversations. "Secondly, Robbe, you're just 20. Your life has not even started yet. You can go to college and study whatever you like if you want. I know you probably feel so much older, but you're not."

Robbe slid onto the bed, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "I just wanna a happy, quiet life." He admitted. He didn't know what he would do without the band, the tour, and the concerts, but at the prospect of being happy, really happy, he could have given up his adrenaline addiction. "No strict schedule, no paparazzi, interviews, or people following me around everywhere."

Sander lay down on his side, supporting his head with one arm. "I bet you already made enough money to retire. You can do everything you want, seriously."

Robbe turned his face to look the other in his eyes. "Not everything." He whispered, shifting his gaze to Sander's lips. "I can't kiss you."

Sander smiled, drawing his face closer and closer. "Do it." He whispered when their lips were close enough to touch.

Robbe placed his hands on Sander's face and closed the distance that separated them, feeling as excited as when they had exchanged their first kiss. Both couldn’t stop smiling, and it was a very uncoordinated kiss at first, but then the feelings they felt for each other took over, reminding them that what they had wanted for so long, was happening.

It was sweet, familiar, healing. Their souls were quieter after that, and when they parted, they both had an incredulous smile on their faces.

"Now your boyfriend will get so mad."

"He's not my boyfriend, and what about Noor?"

"Noor's not my boyfriend either."

Robbe rolled his eyes for the thousandth time during that night, feeling the affection for the other grow a little more each time. "I know you probably think you're funny, but believe me, it's quite the opposite."

"Look at you, being so mean, and so proud of it!" Sander pulled the boy back, placing another kiss on his lips. "But seriously, there’s nothing between Noor and me. Besides, I’ll pretend you haven’t just admitted you asked around about me and her."

Robbe punched Sander's shoulder, snorting. "I saw you, idiot! You're not that subtle!"

"Ouch! So rude." He said while the other kissed him again to be forgiven.

They kept going like that, laughing, kissing, and talking until they collapsed tightly into each other's arms, lulled by an inner peace that both hadn't felt for a long time.

#i’m giving away a major spoiler here #but I’m pretty sure nobody is gonna read it #that burnt out spot #chapter 8 #hide and seek #wtfock #rockstar!robbe #photographer!sander #bff to enemies to lovers #snippet

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male-reader-requests · 3 years

Text

Unknown

Pairings: None

Word Count: 2,351

Warnings: This is a little short story so not a one-shot. This talks about Serial Killer stuff, specifically the Zodiac Killer. So uh, blood and gore. Be careful. I am also in the middle of getting together an actual update so don't worry!

I would not know them.

They would be chosen at random, by pure coincidence.

The game, the most dangerous game would be my game. The most dangerous game, the most dangerous prey, the most dangerous predator, they would become my prey.

I do not know my target, so they will not know me. I will go at night, not caring for the dangers of being caught, for I would not be linked to them. I would not care for my appearance, for I do not need to impress them.

I would find a couple, maybe they are together for a passionate night, or perhaps I've caught them just as they decide to split ends, but it will not matter, for no one will ever know. They would be alone, at a beach or on a lover's lane, but I would make sure it was clean, that there were no witnesses and no survivers. This will be my design.

I will shine a light, maybe my headlights or perhaps just a floodlight, at them so they are unable to see me. The light, if a floodlight, will be tapped to my gun. I will have a silencer, to make my act a bit more privet from prying ears.

Whoever is in the passenger seat, whether a man or woman, will be shot once in the neck, and the driver I will shoot twice in the head. If the passenger lives I will shoot them again, perhaps in the chest, maybe in the stomach, I do not care is they survive anymore.

I will shoot the driver again in the chest and again perhaps in the stomach, then I will shoot the passenger as many times and as recklessly as I want, for I do not care. In the end, I will unload an entire magazine into two people, and I will leave, leaving the two of them to rot unnoticed until morning. If either survives then that is their problem.

In the morning, at around 6 AM, I will call the police, reporting a double homicide. If one of them survives then that will just be a blip in the system, a single count of homicide and a single count of an attempt at homicide.

I will tell them I did it, but I will call them from a burner phone. I will proceed to crush said phone and throw it into a river, never to be seen again.

I will be familiar in all the wrong ways, and I will be an ever-recurring nightmare.

I will become the Zodiac Killer of the 21st century.

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

Marissa sighed, looking at the mass of paperwork before her. Being a detective in California was surprisingly boring, especially when all you ever see is a one on one gunfight between rivals. Currently, the last thing she'd done that seemed even slightly interesting was her divorce, and that had been four years ago.

Light hair fell onto the desk before her, her head following. It was slow for some reason, there was nothing for her to do. Well, that was a lie. She could answer the phone ringing on her desk, she could fill out the paperwork before her, and she could go actually eat something, but here she was, debating.

She was drifting in and out of sleep, dozing as her partner August would say, but it was a warm afternoon, who could blame her?

A sharp crack came across her back, the pale woman yelping as her partner snapped her suspenders. August chuckled at her, obnoxiously slurping at cheap coffee in hand. Marissa glared at him, but it was halfhearted, holding no true anger.

"What was that for?" she asked, but she was eyeing the coffee in his hands, not really listening. She didn't really care, the snapping of her suspenders had become a greeting of August's ever since they were paired up, so she's grown used to it.

August just hummed, putting the coffee mug down on the cluttered desk, having to push a few papers so make room. The two of them hardly cared for germs, so when Marissa cupped the mug to herself he hardly batted an eyelash.

"We've got an assignment," August mumbled, his voice shadowed by drowsiness and a slight speech impediment. Marissa didn't move, truthfully she wished that August hadn't said anything.

August, bless his heart, normally dealt with all the paperwork. This meant that they were almost completely ready to head out to wherever they were needed, and as much as Marissa just wanted to sleep she knew that this was probably important.

They would have to talk to the head of their department, an older man named Louis Ridgway before they could go, and Marissa truly wished they didn't have to. Ridgway wasn't a bad person, but he liked to make things seem far more interesting then they are.

Marissa struggled with her jacket as the two of them made their way to his office, dodging interns, other detectives, and officers. Their department was always busy, considering so many people died in California, but it seemed there were even more people here now than there ever were.

August, used to Marissa's struggles, helped his shorter partner into her jacket, then opened the door for her as they entered Ridgway's office. Ridgway, all bushy eyebrows and droopy mustache, waved them over.

He ignored the normal "sit down and listen as I tell you about the case" and made the two of them stand behind him as he pulled up a few things on his computer. Marissa, ever the nosey person, saw a few crime scene photos, the kind you'd expect to see with the yellow number cards and a bit of blood on the ground.

The thing that really got her attention though was the other set of photos, ones that looked like carbon copies except that they had been taken with an older camera, the photos themselves obviously being older if the dates on the bottoms of them were right.

Ridgway turned his monitor off, cutting Marissa's view. "There's been a murder," Ridgway said gruffly, ignoring how lame that sounded. There were tons of murders in California every day, even more, if you count car crashes and accidents.

"I want the two of you to check it out, see if it matches." Marissa blinked a few times, confused and tired, but August nodded, grabbing the pale woman by the shoulder and steering her through the crowded office area.

Actually back to herself, Marissa looked at August in confusion, but the taller man just got into the driver's seat of the car, motioning for her to also get in. Rolling her eyes she complied, not that she really wanted to, buckling herself in.

She didn't know where they were going, who was murder, how many had been murdered, but she blamed that on her pension for spacing out. August probably knew. .....probably.

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

It was a 2-hour drive. It was a 2-hour drive for only 38 miles, San Francisco to Benicia, and Marissa slept the entire time. She knew she wasn't looking her best, but that never really mattered to her.

Sleep rumbled hair and bags under her eyes the short woman got out of the car, accepting the lukewarm coffee August handed her with silent gratitude. The two of them got a few odd looks from local police, but that was more of their own fault, being in a completely different county tended to do that. Police were oddly territorial.

One young man though, obviously just out of training from how much younger he was than the other officers, offered to bring them to the scene. He was all polite and charming, and Marissa was thankful, she and August had to deal with enough rude officers back at the department.

The younger officer brought them through the yellow tape and through the mass of officers mostly loitering. The first thing Marissa got to see was a shit box car, obviously older than average and painted in a fading teal that patched out to show a bit of rust. She then noticed the blood.

There was blood smeared on the passenger door, backseat door on the passenger side, and in the window of the passenger door. There was a pool, or what was probably a pool at one point, of dried blood on the gravel at the backseat door, but Marissa couldn't look further for her view was blocked by a stocky man.

The man himself she didn't recognize, once she'd actually looked up, but she could tell by the way he held himself that he was the head honcho here, and that he wasn't very happy with the two of them being there.

He was tall, taller than Marissa but then again almost everyone was. He was older than the two of them, his face was saggy in a way you only get from heavy drinking and it was twisted in a sarcastic sneer.

"Well, what do we have here?" His voice, like his face, had a strangely saggy aspect to it, and Marissa hated it immediately. As rude as it was she wished she could zone out now, but August had put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her focus.

"Detectives Shultcher and Lynn, we're from San Francisco." August and Marissa pulled their badges out from their pockets, Marissa ending up holding hers upside down.

The saggy faced man seemed to sneer a bit less, but it never left completely. He smiled down at Marissa, then moved to look up at August. His smile was fake, holding no joy or happiness, only restrained rudeness.

He stepped back, letting the two of them through, but you could see the hesitation in his motions, the way he didn't want them there. Police were oddly territorial.

At the actual scene itself, there was a woman and a young man, both of them must have been part of the forensics force. The two of them were collecting samples from the blood, off the car and off the gravel. They had a chest next to them, full of little sample bags.

Marissa hated dealing with Forensics specialists. It may just be a bit of prejudice, but every single Forensics team she's dealt with in San Francisco were rude beyond beliefe and treated her and August like they were stupid, like they hadn't gone through any training.

The two of them hardly even noticed August and her, quietly talking to themselves as they worked. The guy apparently said something funny, making the woman laugh lightly. They left the two of them alone.

Splitting up August went to talk to the first responding police officers, leaving Marissa to survey the scene. This is how they always did it, this is why the two of them worked so well together. August always talked to suspects and officers, leaving the scene to Marissa.

Marissa walked a perimeter, looking around at different angles, knowing that anything could help. As she looked around something started to bother her, this scene, this crime itself, was oddly familiar, oddly something she felt she should know.

With furrowed eyebrows and confusion Marissa continued to look around, but as she got closer to the Forensics team she started to see all the things that looked familiar, making her even more confused.

On the other side of the car, Marrisa saw that the driver's windowsill was covered in blood, so was the seat and steering wheel. It was odd how familiar all of this seemed, but there wasn't much she could do until the Forensics told her about what they'd found.

Walking back over to August she zoned out, trying to place why all of this was so God damned familiar, but she was getting nowhere, only getting frustrated in herself. She drank the coffee that August had given her early, she zoned in and out of August questioning, and she debated on falling asleep as she stood there, but as per usual when she wanted to sleep she wasn't able too.

August, finally finishing up, guided the two of them over to the Forensics team, who were started to clean up. The guy noticed first that they were coming over, lightly pushing the girl in the shoulder.

The guy was all smiles, skinny with a pair of wireframe glasses. The woman was also skinny, but very tall, looking like a beanpole. The two of them told them about what they'd found, what they thought may have happened, and about the two victims.

Victim one was a young woman named Stacy Lamburdas. She lived not that far away, she was married, worked at a little restaurant, and had been the driver. She had been shot 4 times and did not survive.

Victim two was a young man named Darcy Monroe. He was one of the many people that Stacy had been having affairs with. He also lived not far away, working as a deliveryman for the post office. He had been shot 8 times. Miraculously he survived.

Marissa was furiously scribbling into a notepad she had, taking down all the details she thought was important.

"It's funny isn't it?" the guy said, pushing his glasses up. Marissa raised an eyebrow in question, but she didn't look up.

"It's the 51st anniversary, and it's a complete carbon copy." Marissa now looked up, more confused, the woman seemed to notice.

"It's the 51st anniversary of the first killings of the Zodiac Killer, and this scene is very similar," Marissa stalled, his vision tunneling. The two Forensics kept talking, August keeping the conversation going, but Marissa wasn't paying attention.

This is why it was so familiar, why this all looked like something she knew.

The 51st anniversary huh?

Lord help them if this was a copy cat.

#short story #original story

10 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Breakaway

Summary: Gang-Tae stops running from Mun-Yeong and finally runs away with her. Feelings are felt. Firsts are had.

Author’s note: So, episode ripped my heart out, stepped on it with Mun-Yeong’s heels, backed up on with her car and then trampled it like the flowers Gang-Tae gave her . This is my escape from that reality and more possible heart crushing events tomorrow. I changed some events around, added some, just let my mind run wild. No smut this time (finally), Gang-Tae is so innocent and I couldn’t let her ravish him before their first kiss lol

Just a heads up, Mun-Yeong will be pretty forceful in this and it might be triggering for some people, the shows always casts her advances as funny because we know Gang-Tae wants her too. But consent is always important for both parties, I don’t take that lightly. I am just trying to stay true to the characters we are shown.

He has never punched anyone before. Not because he didn’t want to, he has wanted to hurt many others before. Viciously. To keep punching until they were a pulp on the ground. Bullies growing up, arrogant men who weigh their child’s worth on a scale, ignorant people who see a weak person and want to break them down. He has wanted to hurt others before, has felt the anger pulse through him and clot his blood, and then exhaled it all out watching it leave his body like a cold breath in the dead of winter.

So why? Why couldn’t he abate his anger now.

Watching her fall to the ground, shattered every wall and glass container he had surrounding his emotions. It is said when people lose themselves to anger, they see red. He hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t hear, speak, breathe, suppress. The only thing he could do was hurt. Hurt him like he had hurt her. She was hardly a damsel and he was certainly no prince, but he wanted to protect her. Maybe could pass for a knight. His knuckles tingled remembering the sensation of the bones as they connected in the brutal collision. God, what have I done?

“Where do you want to go? Europe is always good for travel. Or we could go somewhere warmer, Serengeti?” Mun-Yeong voice breaks the silence, brimming with as much excitement as he has ever heard from her.

He smiles at the idea. Serengeti. There would be so many animals. Leave it to her to choose a location that others would shy from in fear.

“I don’t have a passport.” He replies, mild shame in his tone. He told her before he has never traveled before, the constant moving doesn’t count because those aren’t pleasurable, just necessary for survival. He has never been somewhere because he wanted to go, much less gone somewhere with someone he...cares for. He turns to look at her profile, spellbound as she replies. Her skin is blemish-free, pristine and soft- her injured cheek had been hot to the touch, but he couldn’t ignore how creamy it felt under his palm. He could touch her for a million years and never grow weary. What was it about her that called out to every cell in his body?

“Then where can we go?” She responds impatient as always, glancing over at him with heated eyes as if daring him. Her lips push out in a slight pout and he watches them avidly. Hungrily. Terrified.

“Let’s go to the mountains and the field.” He replies, hands trembling because without his leash he doesn’t know how to act. It feels like a piece of him has been melted away. His body an open wound.

She turns and smiles at him, his heart flutters at the sweetness of it.

The air is crisp, he feels all the moisture evaporate from his mouth and instinctively his tongue laps out to swipe across his parched lips. His step onto the bridge, making his heart beat quicken in both trepidation and exuberance, all his worries fall through the cracks in the bridge and he feels weightless. His second step brings a smile to his face and looks over to see Mun-Yeong, only she’s not beside him.

He turns around and sees an emotion on her face he has never seen before.

“Let’s go.” He encourages her with a blinding smile.

“No.” Her entire body shakes in refusal as well and he tilts his head curiously, “Why not?” He can’t think of any reason she wouldn’t want to do this. She is fearless.

“I’m scared.” Breathless laughter bursts from his chest at the ridiculous idea. This is the same Mun-Yeong who approached a man intending to take his life and that of his daughter, he still has a souvenir from that day. He glances fondly down at the scar on his hand. Jae-Su’s disapproving face momentarily flashes in his mind, furthering his laugh.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Mun-Yeong berates him, stomping with her more practical shoes which he still thinks are too fancy but they were the best he could convince to wear. Her armor.

“I can’t do this with Sang-Tae so I wanted to do it with you. “ He cuts his laughter with he realizes the slight shake in her petite body is not from the mountain air.

He watches his words take an unexpected effect on her. Her dark eyes find his and he can’t look away, the fear in hers twists and turns, wrapping armor around itself. “Okay, I will do it with you.” She takes a shaky step onto the bridge, reaching for the railing with white-knuckled fists.

He smiles fondly at her determination. Is she doing this for me?

Then in true Mun-Yeong fashion she demands loudly, “Hey, carry me. Give me a piggyback ride!” He laughs again, turning around and quickening his speed. Happy at the chance to tease her for once. He hears her protesting behind him only further fueling his joy, one foot in front of the other and soon he realizes he is steps away from the end.

He stops. Her words echo in his mind, “Okay, I will do it with you.” It doesn’t feel right to do this without her beside him. He turns back and sees her slowly, still crossing despite her obvious fear. Then she starts to sing, “If I ever feel lonely..” and he runs back to get her.

She doesn’t notice his presence until she almost walks into his chest. She looks up in surprise. “Why did you come back?” She asks genuinely confused, he isn’t the only one not used to others doing things for him. “I want to do it with you.”

He extends his hand for the second time that day. She hesitates again. Looking at him like he’s a dream that could vanish at any point. Then she grabs onto his hand, he winces at the strength of her hold.

“Hey, don’t hold so tightly!”

“Shut up, if you let go I’ll kill you.”

“Are you ready?” They are so close that their shoulders are brushing. Her warmth seeps into him.

“Yes.” Subconsciously her head shakes no. He is reminded of all the times he has told her no when his body was screaming yes.

She takes the first step this time and they are off, she complains about the shakiness of the bridge and squeezes his hand in annoyance when he mentions the apt name of the bridge. He can’t help but smile has they cross at the bridge at a much more lethargic pace than his own dash. His strong, fearless Mun-Yeong undone by a bridge.

No, not undone. Paused. Despite her apparent terror, she is doing it anyway because of him. When they reach the end, she turns to him and her triumphant smile is illuminating. Her red-stained lips are wide and inviting. He blushes recalling their almost kiss back at the castle. he can’t deny it, he wanted that kiss like it was air in his lungs. The way her eyes had widened in shock, made him falter for a second, before he pressed on, leaning down to join their hungry lips. Until the blood curdling sound of some unknown creature had broken the moment.

He ran away and she let him.

“I did it.” Her breathless words reach his ears and he turns to look at her again, reaching his hand out settling it on her soft, dark head. With a barely there touch, he strokes her head before saying “You were so brave, you’re amazing.”

She smile is supernova bright.

No one has ever taken photos of him before and her requests throws him off kilter, he hasn’t felt his uncomfortable in his body in a long time. Not since he was young, growing into this body, with long limbs and muscles that he didn’t want because they attracted too much attention. He feels all that and more as she repeats sternly, “Smile. Don’t cry.”

He can’t tell the difference. For so long, the emotions he would let others see weren’t the ones he was feeling. Now he is actually happy, happier than he imagined and his face doesn’t know how to show that. He starts to stand dismissing the needs for a picture, before she drags him back to the bench, “If you’re embarrassed I’ll do it with you.” Her smiling face is mirrored in the phone and he feels the restrain falling again, their heads tilt in, matching authentic smiles on their faces.

“Make that your background.” She demands and he snatches his phone before she can do just that, he doesn’t know if he has enough control to see that picture everyday without asking her to run away with him for good.

She giggles and walks ahead of him, looking over her shoulder and he is blown by her beauty. Even in her most comfortable clothes, she stands out. Despite her small stature, she seems to take up all the space in any room she’s in. He can barely take his eyes off her.

“What are you looking at?”

He doesn’t trust himself to answer that.

“Are you still hungry?”

Despite his refusal, they end up at guesthouse. Her eyes had been wild as she drove the car toward the edge of a cliff, this was the second time she had threatened him with a imminent death. He wonders what it says about him that his only response is a chuckle and head nod. Who is really the crazy one here?

Stay the night with me or die here! Those were his only two options.

She was so impulsive when she felt wronged. But. He had asked her to run away with him, he had started all this and he didn’t want to stop it just yet. So he had called Sang-Tae and told him he would see him in the morning and to call him if he needed anything.

Now, he sat drinking the juice provided by the keeper. It was delicious, he felt his cheeks heating up and vaguely wondered why that was happening? Mun-Yeong was on her third cup and swaying onto his shoulder. Her hair had slipped from the neat ponytail and brushed him every time she leaned ever too close. Each inhale came with the scent of her hair, a faintly floral scent filled his lungs.

“Your hair smells nice.” He mused aloud, turning his head and placing his nose directly above her fragrant head.

She moved closer and looped her arms through his, leaning closer and he watched as her face gradually moved closer, and closer, dangerously close to his face, so close that they were sharing a breath and he knew that he should move back but he felt frozen in place. Just like when he fell into the frozen river and she saved him.

He watched her enticing lips with wavering eyes, stuck between watching her lips and watching her eyes, they were both singing the same siren’s song, as she finally reached her destination and-

Booped their noses together in a perfect Eskimo kiss.

“Your face is so red.” She teased bringing a hand up to palm his lust-stained cheeks and he fell off the table in his haste to escape her spell.

Her giggles filled the the air as he sat flushed on the ground.

He was drunk and he had no idea how. Was the juice the keeper gave them more than just juice? He glanced over at Mun-Yeong to see how it had affected her, if at all. Her face was flushed as well and she laying flat on her back, soft eyes looking at the ceiling.

“Let’s have fun.” She suddenly said rolling to him and clinging to his arm even as he pushed her away, not sure if being drunk together was a good idea. When he found himself looking at her moving lips and not hearing anything she was saying, he knew it was a terrible idea. Had he hit his head? Why did he keep making these decisions?

“- do you want to play?” She finished her question looking up at him from under her lashes, beckoning him to answer affirmatively. He almost did, without asking her what she had asked. He stopped himself knowing how dangerous the game they were playing was, his defenses were compromised by his current situation and she looked even bolder now, not needing any more courage- liquid or otherwise. Grabbing onto logic, he asked her to repeat her question.

“Let’s play truth or dare?”

“Why would you want to play that?” He was suspicious. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of dares she would could come up with. He had to say no to stop them from crossing a line that they couldn’t come back from.

She sat silently, letting go of his arm and wrapping her arms around herself and seeming to war with herself, a plethora of emotions swimming in those dark haunting eyes. She got up and suddenly started to leave their room, he instinctively reached out to catch her arm, stopping her.

“Let go of me.”

“No, answer my question.”

He could see her feathers ruffling and she looked at him with passive eyes, before she quietly answered, “I have never had anyone to play with it before.”

Her arm dropped out of his grasp and his eyes widen at her confession and a wave of sadness and anger washed over him, thinking of a young Mun-Yeong with no one to play with. Not one friend. He was eternally grateful for Jae-Su and he couldn't imagine his life without his one friend. How lonely it must have been to be feared all the time, to watch others build bonds and never have that for yourself.

Okay. I will do it with you.

Her word from earlier whisper in his head and he pushed his own fear aside and did something just for her.

“Okay, let’s play.”

He instantly regrets it when he sees the salacious smile that spreads on her lips. He swallows nervously.

“I dare you to-” She begins and he cuts her off, “You’re supposed to ask me truth or dare.” She looks at him with disdain, “No I don’t care about truths, let’s just do dares.” He rolls his eyes, knowing she probably figured out that he would simply pick truth every round.

“No we have to do it right, since it’s your first time doing it.” He doesn’t know that those words take life in her head until she gives up way too easily and with an scarily innocent smile, she asks “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman?”

Red blazes across his already drunk-stained cheeks and he looks away from her imploring eyes. The last time she asked him that he drenched a table and now he thinks he might pass out. He hopes he hits his head and puts himself out of his misery if he does.

“If you don’t want to answer my question, then you can do a dare.” She smiles mischievously knowing she has corned him into a tight spot.

He almost ends the game right then and there, why does she always trample on his comfort level like this? it’s not that he doesn’t have desires, god does he have them. He wants so much. All the time. But he can’t have anything, everything fades and they have to keep moving like the wind.

Tentative steps on a shaky bridge. Deadly tight grip on the railing. Her triumph at the end of it all.

With his last bit of bravery he opens his mouth and it takes a few tries to get the words out. His lips open and close mimicking that of a fish, before he finally shoves the word out through clenched teeth, “No.”

Her responding smile is obscene, “I want it.” and he blinks in confusion before he follows the line of her eyes, squarely centered on his crotch. He backs up until his body meets the wall, bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them.

“You look like a school girl protecting her chastity.” She laughs and crawls over to meet him, pressing his legs open, and he bolts to the other side of the room. She smirks and licks her lips, looking every much like the predator he knows she is. Before she can seductively crawl to meet him again, he screams out “Stop! It’s my turn.” And she pauses mid crawl, eyes and hair wild, looking like a wildcat that has spotted its next meal and he briefly thinks she brought the Serengeti to him.

She sits back in a huff. A beautiful flush across her face. He has no truth or dare in mind, her question and behavior after had thrown him off again.

“Truth or dare?”

No hesitation, “Dare.”

Of course. She’s fearless where it counts. She looks at him with curious eyes, fingers tapping impatiently.

“I dare you to......not touch me all night.”

“What?” If looks could kill, he would be six feet under. Maybe deeper. Despite them running away, he can’t have too. How will be go back after today if he becomes too greedy?

“Does it go both ways? You can’t touch me and I can’t touch you?” She looks....calculating but he nods in agreement. He has no plans to touch her tonight. He is too weak already.

She smiles. Then stands up and walks out the door. Slamming it behind her, He jumps at the sound. He watches her leave and disappointment is thick on his tongue, he knows she’s upset. He doesn’t know how to give them both what they want and he feels like a failure. How can he touch her and stop himself from falling even deeper and wanting more?

It doesn’t seem possible and his heart breaks a little.

The sound of the door sliding open once more drags him back from his melancholy and he lifts his eyes up from the floor to see Mun-Yeong.

A soaking wet Mun-Yeong.

Dripping on the floor, her shirt is plastered to her lithe body, sticking to all the contours of her body. When his eyes shirt lower, her pants are missing. Her shirt stops mid-thigh, showing off an excess of her smooth skin. Droplets from her hair fall onto the ground, one drop makes a journey down her cheek, past her neck and disappearing into her shirt.

“Ko Mun-Yeong!” He exclaims willing his body to turn around and stop looking at her drenched body. But his eyes flint all over, from her wet- puffy lips to her naked toes, stopping on her chest and he sees twins peaks peeking through the shirt and that makes him turn away finally. He feels all the blood in his body rush southward.

“You said I couldn’t touch you all night. I needed to cool off, I’m horny. ” She responds and he can hear the shrug and challenge in her voice and he croaks out, “Okay I think that’s enough of this game.”

Once again, she gives in easily. Not protesting at all. And he turns around, intending to dive under his blankets and pull them up to his face and hide from her tempting body. Instead she causes him to freeze again. She is unbuttoning her wet shirt and the room is dark but he can see enough, too much and he lunges at her to stop those nimble fingers.

She tsks at him looking at him like a disapproving parent, “You aren’t allowed to touch me all night Gang-Tae. Remember it was your dare.”

Fucking hell. His fingers stop inches from her.

She opens another button and he spins around once more. “Mun-Yeong please stop. The game is over.” He pleads.

“Oh. Does that mean I can touch you again?” She counters. He can’t agree with that, she is undressing behind him if he allows her to touch him, it will be bad.

She takes his silence as answer and her wet shirt lands on his shoulder. He jumps before throwing the shirt to side. He is buzzing when her bra lands next to it and then her panties. What if he gets a nosebleed and just chokes in his own blood? ARRGGGGGGHHHHH. He screams like the creature that interrupted them internally, wishing the damn thing would show up and kick him to death. Put him out of his misery.

“Mun-Yeong please put your clothes back on.” He is not ashamed to say he begs her, if he could he would get down on his knees too.

On his knees within her milky thighs, her hand on his head, patting and prodding as she guided him to her-

“I am comfortable naked I told you earlier.” She calmly responds before he hears movement and then the rustling of her sheets, does this mean she’s finally going to bed?

He spares a small peek and catches a glimpse of her nude body before she slides under the sheets and his arousal hits him like a freight train. Beautiful.

When he finally turns around, he sees what the movement was. She has moved their bedding closer together, impossibly close now.

He can’t do this. Can’t be this near her naked body. Only a sheet separates them.

He moves to leave the room and she stands with it and her sheets start to fall, he snatches them with superhuman speed wrapping them firmly around her warm body, pulling her flushed against his overexcited body.

“You broke the rules.” He feels her start to reach for him and he swaddles her tighter, yanking their bodies to the floor and pinning her down. She lets out a puff of air and in a surprise move, goes for his lips and he turns his face in time that she lands on his cheek.

“Please. Please. Just go to sleep.”

He stares her down, pulling the sheets around her tighter still and hating that he can fee her warmth even through them. There is only a sheet separating them.

“Just go to sleep. Please” She stops squirming in his hold, finally. “Okay I will go to sleep. But I know you want this as badly as I do.” She proves her point by grinding up into his erection, and he jolts away, the pleasure too immense for his depraved body.

He huddles, willing it to go away, please, please, please.

He doesn’t know how much times goes by, before he can feel his excitement alleviate. Years of ignoring them as made him a pro at suppressing his desire.

When he turns Mun-Yeong is fast asleep, sheet low on her body but covering everything thankfully. He takes his time to look at her, peaceful in her sleep. Someone who didn’t know her might even say she looked..innocent. But all her shenanigans tonight prove otherwise. She is a demon, sent here to make him sin.

He sits up and looks down at her. So brave and bold. He’s glad to escape her all-seeing eyes, too perceptive for her own good. She is right, he wants her. More than he has wanted anything. Surely, he can’t have her though, right?

But, he’s so happy with her. She makes him so happy, even when she’s threatening to drive them off a cliff or using her body as a weapon of mass seduction. He likes her. And he tried everything not to. Why couldn’t she just give up like everyone else did?

I have so much fun with her.

He thinks before he finally snuggles down, into a fitful sleeps. His eyes on Mun-Yeong and Mun-Yeong alone.

Her smile when he hands her the flowers makes everything he has faced in life worth it. All worth it to have this moment with her.

Holding her in the rain, tentative fingers drawing her close.

Her fingers clutching to him as she cursed and thrashed away from him.

Cupping her cheek and feeling the anger evaporate and worry take its place.

Her feet trampling on the flowers he picked for her, all those years ago.

Running to her.

He leans forward, knowing now he has no control.

She appeared when he needed her. Isn’t that fate?

Their lips meet, warm press of skin against skin. Almost innocent in nature, he needs to work up to more.

“That was sweet.” She sounds genuine and she caresses his cheek before curling her hands around his neck and dragging him closer, he releases a puff of air but doesn’t resist.

“Next time, I pick where we go and I’ll kiss you. I have a lot to teach you.”

He’s ready to learn.

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #it's okay to not be okay fanfiction #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #kdrama #fix it #the real episode 9 #the director sent me the real script

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