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cloveroctobers · 6 months

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OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 5. RIO

A/N: had a dream about my man the other night so I guess that was his way of telling me that he misses me? We love delulu!!! Anyways thought this would be fun to actually write something on the line of thriller/spooky this time around. This is me making up for not writing part two’s to my other fall inspired prompt on this man way back when. Hope y’all enjoy this 🧡🫶🏽!!!

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: A Begs B to come explore an old house that they believe is haunted. B is hesitant, especially after hearing the scary tales A knows so much about.

*GIF + PHOTO DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

WARNINGS: some France slander, language & hints of sexual content.

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Being in France for the month of October initially wasn’t the plan.

Khadijah and Rio ventured out here for a couple days for Khadijah’s birthday and for Rio to tie up some loose ends for business. What was supposed to be a four day trip turned into a much longer adventure.

“I know y’all done heard they got bed bugs out there, why are your asses staying out there longer?” Khadijah’s mother blurted into the FaceTime call.

Rio chuckled to himself by the mini bar, fixing himself something brown before entering the main living room part of the suite.

“Mom,” Khadijah hissed as she flicked through the channels, “this was a unexpected extended birthday trip.”

“Uh huh, sure it is.” The older woman said not entirely believing that, “Don’t think you can get cute on us and decide not to come back.”

“I’m already cute,” Khadijah modeled with extra shoulder as she sat on the tan couch while her mother brings the camera to show that she’s rolling her eyes.

“Well where do you think you get it from?”

“My father.”

“More like you got his smart mouth.” Khadijah’s mom comments, making her child hold up her finger to interject.

Now she loved her mom dearly but it was no secret that Khadijah was a daddy’s girl and her father’s favorite daughter despite what her two sisters thought. She was one of four children while her youngest sibling happened to be the only boy.

“Aw c’mon, don’t do Mr. Wells like that, especially if he’s not here to defend himself. Where is he anyway? It’s gotta be after 10:30 back home?” Rio came into frame, crouching behind Khadijah, who turned to peck his cheek before facing her phone once more.

The woman sighed, “where else? Working, working, working. I’ve been telling him he needs to slow down, he’s not some twenty year old no more. Lord knows it.”

Mr. Wells had a heart attack last year and had to have a stint put in. Rio’s never seen Khadijah’s so stressed before in his life and although the hardworking man had a good job with good insurance working for the city, they slammed him with some bills that Rio paid off. Which Mr. Wells wouldn’t let slide and already was in the process of paying back.

His choice, not Rio’s.

“He’s close to retirement and he loves supporting his family which is respectable.” Rio starts before joking, “once that happens then the both of you can come with us to Paris next time.”

“Uh uh. I’m never going over there, never had the desire to which is why I want y’all asses to get out of there fast!” Mrs. Wells’ large glasses come into frame now as she holds the phone at not the best angle, “I’d love to see Dubai or St. Lucia with Kayode, your father, and I guess your big headed brother can come too, Deej.”

Khadijah laughs, “yeah and he can bring Eliza too.”

“if I catch him even thinking about it, I’ll click my heels three times and send her bony ass right to hell.”

Laughter bubbles in Khadijah’s throat as she sends a teasing smile to Rio who winked back at his wife, knowing that neither of Khadijah’s parents were fond of their youngest child’s significant other. He was nineteen and found his supposed first love so it was evident that the pair were clingy and so in love with each other. They went to the same high school together, weren’t in the same cliques but ended up at the same community college and decided to give each other a try.

In shorter terms.

“We’ll make it happen,” Rio sighs as he comes around to plop down on the couch next to Khadijah, tossing a hand around the back of the couch, “minus Eliza right?”

“Damn straight,” Mrs. Wells humphed, “she can date somebody else’s son and boss them around for all i care. I just hope it’s over before thanksgiving.”

“Now Mom! Let’s not spread that negative energy for your birthday month, do you need some lavender and Kirk Franklin to keep your blood pressure down?”

The woman with the now bonnet secured around her micro locs fanned her hand, “I already had my session with Mr. Franklin around 7pm so hush! You know that’s what I’m wishing for and hoping you don’t wait around and decide to come back then.”

Khadijah blinks at Rio, who meets her stare. He had no plans of staying here longer than another few days, things got delayed and he offered to send Khadijah back to Detroit if that’s what she wanted but she had some vacation time that she didn’t mind using and she didn’t want to leave Rio behind either.

He’s been busy lately and she just knows as soon as they get back to Detroit, he’ll probably disappear for a little awhile again. So sue the woman if she wanted to be a little selfish and spend more time with her man.

“We’re gonna bring you something much better,” Rio smirks after taking a sip of his liquor, “maybe even a new bundle of joy.”

“WHAT?!” Mrs. Wells yells, “don’t play with me right now. When was your last cycle? I’ve been saying your tatas been looking fuller, ooooh I’ll have to tell your grandmomma.”

“Hey, hey! I’m not pregnant—

“Yet. We’ve been practicing though.” Rio announces, biting down on his bottom lip while Khadijah gasps and shoved at his knee.

Mrs. Wells claps her hands in joy, “y’all keep doing that but don’t bring those bed bugs back with you.”

“We won’t and did our research. If it makes you feel any better, we’re leaving this hotel tonight to stay at this castle for the rest of our trip and then tomorrow we’re gonna go explore this historic house since Rio wanted to have a rest day.” Khadijah informs her mother while Rio slowly nods his head, not knowing of the exploring a house portion but they’d discuss it later.

Mrs. Wells yawns as she sits up in bed now, “sounds fancy but okay then, mom’s tired and ready to knock out. But continue to be safe, the both of you and I’ll see you soon?”

“You sure will, night momma Wells.” Rio gave a two finger salute while Khadijah shared, “I love you’s, talk soon.” Before hanging up the call.

Khadijah leans back against the couch with a sigh, “told you mom’s got serious seperation anxiety all thanks to Kaliyah moving to Toronto with her girlfriend and we’re only traveling!”

“Which is exactly why I tried to smooth over her worries with baby talk, it worked didn’t it?” Rio lifts a thick brow while Khadijah shrugs her shoulders.

Soon she rests her head on Rio’s chest, locking her arms around his waist, “it’ll happen when it’s meant to…and we need to make sure we’re all packed for our new temporary home.”

“Oh I know I am, it’s you you gotta worry about mamas.” Rio presses a kiss to Khadijah’s rosemary scented hair.

Khadijah scoffs, “sorry but I had to buy more for this trip…which I’m not complaining! BUT! Paris’ fashion is really for the petite girlies.”

“They’re forreal missing out on the inclusion and better get on that.” Rio hummed.

“Siobhán is.” Khadijah grins while Rio slowly dips his head at the mention of his old designer friend.

Before Khadijah could get into asking about how she’s been doing, Rio sips from his drink once more and changes the subject, “what’s this about exploring tomorrow?”

“We maybe moving into a castle mansion for a little awhile but there’s no way I’m staying cooped up any longer without seeing what Dordogne has to offer.” Khadijah tells her husband with the perfect pronunciation of the town—or rather department as France calls it.

Rio raises the hand the rests against his wife’s shoulder, “heard you, mamas. No arguing on my part but you know it’s beneficial to have reset days too.”

“Which YouTuber told you that?” Khadijah smirks up at the buzz haired man, figuring that he was probably logged onto her account instead of switching over to his own to watch whatever it is he gets into.

Rio snorts, “don’t try and play me, my aesthetician did.”

“Of course they did.” Khadijah nods believing that since Rio didn’t mess around when it came to his skincare, “and you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with rest days. You’ve been running around x2 compared to me so I get it. You get a nap in and I’ll get the bags ready since we have what? An hour before the service comes and gets us.”

Rio grips Khadijah’s hand as she gets up from the couch, “you sure all an hour is what you need?”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Khadijah laughs, matching Rio’s smile before leaving the man to get his nap on.

With the city life behind the married couple, they settled in Dordogne late last night into the 18th century home. Surprisingly Rio wakes up late the next day, like around eleven am late compared to his seven am timeline. However Khadijah doesn’t mind letting him sleep, snapping a picture of his rest with the camera she brought along for the trip. She watches the clock from time to time, knowing just when to order breakfast to be sent to their room.

Khadijah’s sitting on a olive couch pushed underneath the windows which are half pulled back, sipping on caffe viennese, stomach half full from a classic French breakfast as she stares out into the scenery acting like the main character in a Victorian film.

“Morning, mamas. You starting the day without me?” Rio’s rough morning voice greets the brown skinned woman, who glances over her shoulder at him.

A soft smile meets her full lips, “good morning but someone has to get this party started. But don’t worry, I’ll never not let you in on the thrill. Got you one of these,” she holds the mug up in the air, nodding with her chin on the nightstand next to the man, “and there’s breakfast waiting for you underneath the cloche.”

“Did I mention hearing you speak French is sexy?” Rio states as he slowly sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Khadijah smirks, “plenty when you were tipsy on the late night ride here.”

“I regret nothing,” Rio laughs before turning to reach and sip at the warm coffee, “this is delicious.”

Khadijah pops her tongue, “Yeah it is.”

“What we doin’ today? Hold up, what time is it?” Rio turns his eyes into slits, reaching for his phone to let out a low whistle, “damn, haven’t slept that long—

“Since you got shot?”

Rio let’s out a cough, “whoa, that was dark.”

“Sorry,” Khadijah says, “kinda just slipped out.”

“Something you wanna talk about, Dija?” Rio hums, staring at his wife from their temporary shared bed.

Khadijah shakes her head, “nothing I want to get into on this brand new day, no. So!”

She uncurls her feet from underneath her to stand in her floral print lace trim set, placing a smile on her lips as she plops down on the bed. Taking a quick sip of the coffee again, she places it on her side of the nightstand and reaches inside to pull out two slips of paper.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Rio suspiciously tries to peek at the papers but Khadijah slaps them right on her chest.

“You asked what we’re gonna do.”

“Didn’t you say exploring some house last night?” Rio frowns, trying to remember.

Khadijah’s little smile to herself seems wicked but as soon as it appeared it vanished while she wiggled a bit on the bed, “that’s tonight’s adventure after dinner. We have at least a few hours before then to do something else so…pick one, anyone.”

The two options were: Château des Milandes OR Canoeing on the Brantôme.

Rio doesn’t wipe the frown off his brows but holds out his thumb and pointer finger while Khadijah holds onto the deck of two pieces. The tatted man makes a show of taking his time debating, just to irritate Khadijah for a little until he smiles picking the paper to the left.

And the winner is…

“Great choice! Now get your butt up and let’s shower, they’ve been open since 9 this morning.”

Chateau des Milandes!

Rio hums as he studies the paper, sipping at his coffee then replies, “can I enjoy my breakfast along with the view first?”

Khadijah dramatically sighs as she flops beside Rio, resting on her elbow to stare back at the ajar windows, “oh fine but I promise you, the one outside is much better.”

“personally I like the one right next to me.”

Khadijah flicks her head back to meet Rio’s brown eyes and she can’t help but to let a smile split over her lips, then puckering them for Rio to peck and lick his own smiling lips afterwards, “you think you’re so smooth.”

“I mean give a guy some credit. How else do you think I got you?” Rio chuckled while Khadijah just nodded her head from side to side mockingly.

“Just eat your food Christopher.”

It was Rio’s turn to mimic his wife.

“Aight, Khadijah.” He said over his shoulder, sitting on his knees and reaching over for the second tray of food.

Chateau Des Milandes was a sight to see and was a wonderful experience. Ugh!!! here Khadijah was sounding like her very emotional Granny Mozella but she never took moments like these with Rio for granted. On the outside it may seem like Rio was only street smart since that’s what he preferred yet he didn’t mind listening in on historical facts from time to time and no he wasn’t really into podcasts—unless it was true crime content—but no one could ever say he wasn’t open to learning new material and translating it into his own life.

He was good at finding purpose in anything.

He also liked draping his arm across Khadijah’s shoulders as they took the tour around the home that used to be owned by the successful Josephine Baker. That was more interesting to Khadijah than the Lords that lived it way before Ms. Baker but nonetheless they took it all in together including the architecture.

No one could deny that France had a way with its design and art.

They explored the garden, which led to a picnic and wine for dinner with the French sunset as the perfect backdrop, then they ended their time at the Chateau with a bird experience, much to Rio’s surprise as Khadijah winked and placed a kiss on the tattoo on his neck, before clenching onto his arm for dear life once the various of birds—specifically the one that was very similar to the one on Rio’s skin started flying around.

Rio found amusement in that, even when they made it back to the rental car.

“If that big ass bird would have crapped on me, we would have been having a whole different type of bird for thanksgiving this year.” Khadijah continuously checked her outfit for any unfamiliar marks, the paranoia getting to her.

Rio couldn’t help but to throw his head back against the headrest laughing. “They’ve been trained, that wasn’t gonna happen. Plus it may just wanted a strand of your hair for warmth, huh? French winters can be brutal so I hear.”

The man went to curl a strand of his wife’s loose curl that framed her face who scoffed at him.

“You’re far from funny, Mr. Montoya.” Khadijah slapped his hand away to fix her pin curl updo in the drop down mirror.

Rio chuckled some more, watching her, “you’re right…I’m hilarious, Mrs. Montoya.”

“Im glad you had fun, baby. I can tell the bird part was your favorite,” Khadijah gave the man a playful side eye, “but now it’s time for my activity.”

Rio glanced at the watch on his wrist, “it’s going on seven…what else you trying to get into besides drinking more wine and eating cheese?”

“Whew! No more cheese for me.” Khadijah flicked the sun visor back up, “so…I have this other place to visit.”

Rio tapped on the GPS, “aight, what’s the address?”

“I don’t think the GPS will fully locate it…just to a certain point.”

Rio thought about this for a second and asked, “what? It’s some underground event or something?”

“Well sure, yeah. Kinda.” Khadijah shrugged her shoulders making Rio sigh and sit back with his hands clasped.

Khadijah was tapping away on her phone for a moment while Rio just studied her. When she realized the car wasn’t moving, Khadijah turned her attention back to Rio who was patiently waiting for her to come right on out with it.

“We’re not going anywhere until you give me the info I need. No shady shit allowed.”

Khadijah turned sideways to face Rio, “Okay so…there’s this house that we should see.”

“You said that already. But Why? To buy?”

“Hell no,” Khadijah was quick to say, further making Rio put his guard up as to what this whole adventure was even about, “I mean no…yeah no that’s exactly what I mean. It wouldn’t be for us to live…just to see.”

Rio pried, “what’s so special about it?”

“It has a colorful story.”

“Which is…?”

“The year was 1666–

“Nah,” Rio immediately said leaning forward to start the engine but Khadijah flew her hand out to stop Rio from switching the gears.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Rio leans on the console to completely face Khadijah, “by the way you’re dragging this out let’s me know you’re about to tell me some bullshit, that you know I’m not about to let fly.”

“Can’t a bitch add some extra flavor to the tale?” Khadijah scrunches up her face, “Sheesh.”

“Stop playin’ with me, Dija.”

“So hostile,” Khadijah flicked her hair off her shoulder, “alright you want the synopsis? Got it. So this house is special because during the year of 1666 a woman named Blanche lived there with her father, mother, two siblings, and new husband. Allegedly she was later accused of poisoning her family and beheaded her husband after they all suspected she was a witch because of some rumors started at the hospital she volunteered at. Her sickly father was the one to put her down after his wife and other children slowly started to die one by one. They say Blanche still haunts the home and asks when and or if you visit, to leave a ribbon and tea bag’s on their front step as a offering and for her to rid any vengeance in your life.”

Rio caressed his facial hair in thought, “Question for you, mamas? Did that eagle peck at your brain when i wasn’t around or…”

Khadijah sucks her teeth, “it’s spooky season, asshole!”

“I know that,” Rio lifts his shoulders carelessly, “but you’re trying to get into some serious shit and I can tell you one thing: I’m not feelin’ it.”

“Are you scared?” Khadijah leaned into the center console ready to comfort him, “I never said we had to go inside the house. Just see it and leave something for Blanche.”

Rio didn’t miss how Khadijah started to trail her hands over him but he didn’t fold, “Her business ain’t ours.”

It was Khadijah’s turn to laugh now, “you’re definitely scared!”

“No I’m not.” Rio scowled, “I’m just saying you have to be careful what you expose yourself to. I told moms we’d bring her back a baby, not a witch that may latch onto your body.”

Khadijah frowns, “why would you think Blanche would latch onto mine and not yours?”

“Whoever! And I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re trying to mess with some spirits.”

Khadijah wasn’t trying to “‘mess with spirits,” she always respected the dead but this sounded better than visiting the catacombs to be honest.

So she challenged, “Hey! It’s something to do.”

“I can find plenty of other things we can get into.” Rio placed his chin into the palm of his hand, “We’re not about to be here much longer anyway.”

Khadijah sighs as she grabs Rio’s hand to place in her lap, “I’ll let you try out our new toy at the same time while you’re inside…”

Rio’s eyes begin to darken as they meet Khadijah’s much lighter ones. This was a promising bargain and this Khadijah knew as Rio trailed his own hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and to grip her chin.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Rio states as he presses their lips together and leads the way with his tongue dancing along hers.

It’s passionate and a little nasty just the way the married couple liked their kisses but brief enough that he leaves Khadijah panting on the passenger side. He smirks to himself, lifting up from the driver’s side to pull out his Glock 17 from his black jeans to rest on the dashboard.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Rio tells Khadijah who shortly follows through, “and not a word of this to my abuelita.”

Khadijah makes a cross my heart motion as Rio puts the car in drive.

The drive to this supposed haunted home was a good half hour north from where they were staying and the decline of the countryside was clear. There seemed to be no livelihood as the skies got even darker. Rio could sense to the left of him that Khadijah seemed to be at unease the deeper they got into the area.

He checks in, “How we doing?”

“Hm? Oh, there it is. Stop.”

Rio turns his attention back to the lack of road up ahead and notices that there’s a tunnel with no lighting. He steps on the breaks, witnessing to the left of the tunnel the narrow road carried upwards to what exactly? That he didn’t know. There was no homes or animals in sight on this drive since they started getting further away from the chateau.

“What’s this?”

“That’s the tunnel that leads to Blanche’s house.” Khadijah is sitting on the edge of the passenger seat now.

Rio tightens his hold on the steering wheel, eyes scanning the scenery with the help of the automatic headlights. If they went through that tunnel, which was surely to be just as narrow as the roads out here in the countryside he wasn’t positive they would make it back. His intuition was telling him since the beginning that this didn’t feel right and being physically here was enough to confirm that for Rio.

Turning his eyes into slits towards the right of the tunnel, Rio can see a decaying headstone with a bunch of colorful ribbons tossed around and possibly some rocks that were most likely teabags scattered below it.

“This is what you came for,” Rio says keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oui-Oui.” Khadijah says suddenly halfhearted and any other time Rio would have laughed but the expression on her face made him aware that the tension was also felt by her as well.

Rio steps on the gas, driving full speed towards the tunnel but stops just at edge, parallel to the headstone, making Khadijah grip the dashboard at the abruptness.

“Get going, sweetheart.” Rio tells Khadijah with a lift of his chin.

Khadijah swallows, prying her eyes away from the tunnel then to the headstone and back to her husband. “W-what? You’re not coming with me?”

“I never said I was going in there. I have sense.” Rio tapped at his temple.

Khadijah glares, “wow. So here’s to trying new things was just another one of your lies then huh?”

“Another? Don’t go there, I’m not doing that with you this evening. You brought this terrible idea to me and I brought you here so go head, show me you’re the one who isn’t scared.” Rio’s hardened stare was now on the fuming woman.

Khadijah didn’t know what the fuck Rio’s problem was and why he thought this energy was okay? Khadijah didn’t like Rio’s tone so she snatched her baguette bag from beside her feet and went to push on the door but remained right inside.

“Are you serious?!”

Rio made a U-Turn and began driving back in the direction they came, “are you forreal thinking I’m about to have our asses messing around with the actual dead? Let alone your indecisive ass? And we don’t even have the full context?”

“I mean…do you not have bodies? You don’t see me questioning you about them.” Khadijah muttered.

Rio snapped his eyes to his wife, “two completely different things and you know that.”

It really wasn’t but okay, if Rio hated her riding the fence then let’s see if he hated it now.

“Whatever.” Khadijah slouched against the seat, “You just wasted our time, like why entertain the fact that you were with it if you’re just gonna try to clown me?”

“I wasn’t letting you do that and you should have known that.” Rio clenched his jaw, “I would never willingly put you in harm’s way and that’s exactly what you were signing up for.”

Khadijah knows Rio wouldn’t and if she wanted to be petty she could but she just mumbles, “You just ruined spooky season in France like?”

“Better throw that ribbon and teabags out the window and get glad. Who knows what would have happened if we went down that dark ass tunnel with only the Glock against a whole spirit mind you, that we don’t even know if she’s still vengeful or not.”

“I mean you make valid arguments…and I don’t even know if the house is still standing. The last update online was from 2021 so I guess I can’t be too pressed about it.” Khadijah explains as she starts to search through her bag, “but you can’t say I was indecisive this time, yet you locked me in here like I’m a child.”

Rio deeply exhales, rubbing at his face in slight aggravation, “yeah we gotta get back to Detroit and quick. I think you need to go back to work and continue spreading peaceful energy at that non-profit instead whatever this is.”

“What?” Khadijah sucked her teeth, “Trying to be on theme?”

“We could easily rent a movie at the spot and call it a day.”

“I wanna be one with nature!”

“As soon as we get far away from Blanche’s murder site, I’ll take the locks off so you can touch some grass.”

“Ohhhh, I cannot stand you!” Khadijah scowled followed by some laughter before ghosting her fingers over the window button, “is this going to work for me or am I still being held hostage?”

Rio just hums to himself, glancing in the rear view spotting a blur of white in the distance along with something that wasn’t tumbleweed rolling right by their feet.

Khadijah doesn’t notice as she cracks the window to toss a pink ribbon and a teabag out on the dirt road.

And when she looks in the rearview, she doesn’t see anything unusual or creepy. So she rolls her window back up and presses her elbow into the arm of the door, resting her cheek along her fingers, watching the night scenery whip by her highlighter eyes.

Soon Rio’s hand reaches for the Glock to rest in the cup holders before sneaking his hand over to bring Khadijah’s hand up to his lips. He knew she was a little sour with him over this and probably a bunch of other built up issues but Khadijah always tried to make the best of it.

Rio was trying to get better at validating her feelings but this shit right here was not it and Khadijah knew that inside. Which is why he had a more safer route up his sleeve to spend the day with Khadijah tomorrow since celebrating Halloween was apparently too american for the French. So he did the best that he could choosing a theme park that would be “on theme” for Khadijah’s spooky cravings.

That would be his gift to her and routine of keeping her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t fully want to see it that way sometimes…

Ah, she’ll be aight.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #Rio good girls #rio x black!reader #rio x reader #october prompts #queued #spooky prompts #good girls nbc #Rio x oc #manny montana

187 notes · View notes

punkshort · 8 months

Text

Chapter warnings: language, mild reference to self harm and SA, alcohol

Chapter Eighteen - extra scene

"Thought you weren't drinkin' tonight?" he said to you.

“I changed my mind,” you said and gave him a wink before following Maria and finding two empty stools up against the bar.

Joel ticked his jaw to the side as he watched you leave, finding it difficult to tear his eyes from you. He told himself he was being protective, but he knew deep down there was another reason. A more selfish reason. He watched as you lifted a glass filled with clear liquid to your lips and the wince that followed. It wasn't even sexual, but his body was reacting anyway. He swallowed roughly, trying to control his thoughts while his brother was sitting less than a foot away. Must be the whiskey.

“You got it bad, huh?” Tommy said. Joel expected his tone to be teasing but it was more sympathetic and understanding. He finally pulled his gaze from you to look at his brother, trying to decide how much to confide in him.

“Shit,” Joel said, taking a swig of whiskey. “She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

Tommy laughed and clapped Joel on the back.

“Yeah, well, it’s about time. Told ya a year ago. I could see it all over your face, even back then.”

Joel winced as he remembered the fight you had, swirling the liquid around in his glass with his wrist.

“I almost fucked it up, Tommy. Thought I did fuck it up, actually,” he took another sip as Tommy leaned back in his chair. “I ran into her the night before my birthday. At a bar. We had both been drinkin’ and I guess it all just boiled over. Had me makin’ out with her outside the bar like I was a goddamn teenager.” Joel laughed softly at the memory, then looked back at you marveling at the string lights hanging above the bar.

“So, what happened?” Tommy pressed, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. Joel sighed.

“Asked her to come home with me, she said no, said she had been drinkin’ too much, which was a good call, and I knew it. But the next day I had this grand plan to get her alone and ask her out properly. Dinner, drinks, whatever she wanted to do,” Joel sighed again and rubbed his face in his hands.

“Right before she was comin’ up to my office, I saw her with some guy in the copy room. Looked like she was flirtin’ with him. Found out later the guy was gay and they were just messin’ around but I fuckin’ yelled at her. I had no right, and I made her cry. Called her a whore,” Joel downed the rest of his whiskey at the memory and Tommy signaled to Seth to bring over two more.

“Jesus, Joel. A whore? That’s harsh,” Tommy said in disbelief.

“I fuckin’ know that,” Joel seethed and his fist clenched. “It was just… the fuckin’ copy room.”

Tommy’s eyes widened in realization, then nodded.

“Right. Shit.”

“Anyway,” Joel continued, nodding his thanks to Seth for the drink and wrapping his hand around the glass. “That’s why she quit. That’s why I was runnin’ down the street after her when shit hit the fan. It was tense for a while, we never talked about it, til we did. Cleared the air and all that.” He took a sip and smiled against the glass as he remembered that night in the house when you finally hashed it all out and admitted your feelings for each other. “Ended up workin’ out, somehow. Don’t know what she sees in me but I ain’t complainin’.”

“Well, brother, you hold onto her for as long as she lets you. I could tell right away. Never saw you this happy in my life, even with Amy.”

Joel cringed at the name, and Tommy laughed.

“Oh, c'mon, it’s been years and I can’t even say her name?”

“There’s more,” Joel groaned, and took a healthy sip from his glass. “Turns out, Amy is alive and well in Kansas City. Found that out the very fuckin’ hard way while back.” Tommy’s jaw dropped.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” he said.

“She’s runnin’ some fucked up community out there, whorin’ out the women to all the men like ration cards. Fuckin’… animals.” Joel squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed his chest, breathing deep to keep the panic at bay.

Tommy grew silent as he started to connect the dots.

“And you brought her there.” Tommy said it as more of a statement rather than a question, and Joel gave him a tight nod.

“I didn’t know,” he choked out, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to hide the emotion in his face. “This one fucker, he cornered her in a closet, and- and I wasn’t there, I wasn’t there to protect her,” he jabbed his finger aggressively on the table as he stared at Tommy. “I fucked up again, Tommy. I thought she was gonna –“ Joel stopped himself from finishing his sentence, leaning back in the chair and raking his hand through his hair. “I thought I was gonna lose her.”

Tommy exhaled harshly and shook his head, absorbing the heaviness of the conversation and trying to find the right words to soothe his brother.

“But she didn’t, Joel. She’s here, and look at her,” Tommy pointed over to you and Maria at the bar and Joel looked up. Maria must have seen Tommy’s gesture because she caught his eye and you turned around. You looked at him with warmth and a small smile before turning back to Maria.

“She’s fine, Joel. She lived, and she’s happy, isn’t she?” Joel scoffed at the word fine.

“Yeah, took a long time, but she’s comin’ around. I can see the spark in her eyes again, she’s laughin’ and smilin’ all the time, especially since she got here. And Tommy,” Joel reached out a hand to place on his shoulder, blaming the alcohol for making him so uncharacteristically emotional in front of his brother. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for giving her this place.”

Tommy smiled and waved Joel’s hand off his shoulder.

“I didn’t make this place, she did,” he nodded in Maria’s direction, who was engrossed in conversation with you at the bar.

“Yeah, I suppose that's true,” Joel leaned back and took a sip of his drink, deciding it was time to pay Tommy back for all his teasing. “Seems as though you might be wrapped around her finger as well?” Joel raised an eyebrow at Tommy and he smirked.

“We kissed a few times, usually when we were drinkin’ but nothin’ more,” Tommy admitted, focusing on the liquid in his glass.

“Where’s the heartbreaker that used to tear through our office, chasin’ every skirt he saw?” Joel grinned as Tommy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Joel froze briefly when he saw out of the corner of his eye Maria gently lay her hand on top of yours, and he tensed, waiting for you to panic, but he was amazed to see you interlock your fingers with her own.

“I think those days are behind me, brother. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for. Been that way for too long now,” Tommy admitted, a bit of sadness to his voice that brought Joel’s focus back to his brother.

“What’s the problem, then?” Joel pushed, nudging his knee against Tommy’s under the table.

“Ah, you know. I get a million excuses. Too busy, wants to keep it casual, all that. But for the first time, I don’t want somethin’ casual. I want somethin’ more, you know?”

Joel wanted to tease his brother some more, but he felt for him at that moment, relating all too well to his dilemma.

“Give it some time, she’ll come around. Hell, we got nothin’ but time now,” Joel chuckled, then tried to change the subject. “So anyway, tell me how the hell you ended up in Wyoming when you were supposed to be in California.”

Tommy began to regale Joel with his story about ending up in a QZ and meeting Seth and Maria when he saw you both heading towards his table, your arm slung through hers.

"I'm gonna head back," you told him, your arm still linked with Maria's. "I'm tired."

"Alright, I'll come with you," he said, flattening his palms against the table to stand, but you held your hand out.

"Why don't you stay with Tommy and catch up? Maria can walk me home," you turned to her with a smile that she returned.

He gave you a knowing look and cleared his throat.

"You sure?" he asked, clearly uneasy about you leaving his sight. You nodded.

"One hundred percent. Stay," you told him firmly, and he sat back down in his chair. "Spend time with your brother." Tommy shot you a grateful smile, but you missed it, trying to assure Joel through your gaze. "It's okay," you added softly, and he slowly nodded.

"I won't be long," he promised, and you waved him off.

"Take as much time as you want, I'm just going to fall asleep the minute I get back."

"Alright, then," Joel said, and you tossed him a wave as Maria pulled you towards the door and down the street.

Tommy chuckled as he downed the rest of his whiskey.

“Fall asleep the minute she gets back… doesn’t sound like you’re getting lucky tonight, brother.”

Tommy grabbed the empty glasses to bring to the bar, waving Seth down for another round as Joel groaned, rubbing his face in the palms of his hands.

Chapter Nineteen

Tag list: @chiogarza @sparklejumpropequeen-777 @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

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try-set-me-on-fire · 1 year

Note

‘you could say I’m fond of you.’ for the soft prompt 👀👀👀

@leothil also asked for this one! Send me soft fic prompts! Here’s the rest of the fills on ao3!

"You could say I'm fond of you," Buck says, head tilted almost sideways, the sort of twinkle in his eyes that Eddie always worried might prove fatal one day for the way it makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"You could say that, huh?" He crosses his arms, mouth curving upward unbidden. He’s pretty sure Buck is actually saying “hehehe” as he leans forward, giggling, to kiss Eddie’s cheek. Eddie snorts and dodges the attempt, which just causes Buck to follow, until they’re chasing each other in dizzy little circles between the sink and the table. Buck catches him with an arm thrown around his waist, and plants a big wet kiss sort of on his cheek but mostly hitting nose and eye. Eddie laughs in a way that still surprises him, sometimes - a helplessly open thing, so much joy in his body that he has no reason or care to hide.

“Ahem.”

Well, maybe some reason. Maddie stands in the entryway to the kitchen with the squiggly kind of smile someone trying not to. Buck and Eddie are gently frozen around each other, no survival instinct to spring away and avoid capture.

Maddie holds out a hand. “Chim says you owe the PDA jar.”

Eddie makes an indignant sound as Buck throws back his head with a shout of laughter and then, terrible coward, flees the room.

“Nobody was in here! We’re not even at work! This is my house!” Eddie protests even as he digs to find his wallet.

Maddie puts a finger up, reciting “If more than four members of the 118 including the two of you are present at a gathering it counts as a work functio-“

Eddie slaps cash in her hand. “I don’t like your husband very much.”

She grins at him, and then raises an eyebrow. “Two dollars? That seems kind of steep.”

“Inflation’s been brutal.”

She laughs, pocketing her ill gotten bounty. Eddie expects her to return to the party but she stalls there, a curious look in her eyes. Eddie feels suddenly nervous. He counts Maddie as a friend, and he’s pretty certain they’re going to be in laws one of these days, but they haven’t spoken one on one very often and her expression reminds him of the one his own sisters would get when they were about to make his life a little more difficult. He’s started self consciously pretending to rearrange finger sandwiches when she speaks.

“It’s nice to see you being goofy.” When he huffs out a startled laugh she grins and tilts her head, so like her brother. “Evan- Buck is always goofy, no surprise there. But you’re… Funny, certainly, you’re sarcastic, but it’s nice seeing you be silly, Eddie.” She’s so sincere it makes Eddie duck his head, just a little. “You seem really happy. And you make Buck so happy.”

Eddie exhales more than laughs, a quick little sound of awed half-belief. It’s true, he knows it is. It hollows him out completely some days, looking at Buck and seeing such easy elation on his face, and knowing he has some part in putting it there fills up his empty form with light, or champagne, or some other metaphor for love given shape. “I’m glad to,” he says softly. “That’s all I- I want to make him happy, for the rest of our lives. I’m… honestly, the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s because I get to share it with him.”

Maddie’s smile gets all squished and watery. “I can see why they charge you so much for public displays of affection, you romantic.”

Eddie laughs outright, shaking his head. “It’s the coffee fund anyway, I’d still just be spending it on his ridiculous lattes. This is only an extra step.”

Maddie puts her hand on her hip, gleeful and incredulous. “Okay, even that was stupidly sweet. Do I have to charge you again?”

“Have mercy,” he says, putting his hands up. “I have no more cash.”

“You wanna go mug my brother for it?”

Eddie laughs, and picks up the sandwich tray to bring outside. “Come on, let's go sick Chris on him.”

Later, when Buck sprawls to the ground like a sack of bricks under the gentle force of Chris’s tackle, Eddie tells him to give over extra money to the jar.

“Why?” He grins, sweaty from the chase and smelling like fresh grass.

“Preemptive payment.” Eddie bends down and kisses him thoroughly, ignoring the wolf whistles and groans from the audience. He pulls back just slightly, holding his happiness with two hands, and kisses sort of Buck’s cheek, but mostly his nose and eye. “You could say I’m pretty fond of you, too.”

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #my writing

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cinefairy · 2 years

Note

Hey! I know you get tons of asks daily, but I saw you reblogged my old anon post lol (this one > https://at.tumblr.com/cinefairy/long-post-ahead-the-4d-is-the-only-real-reality/us69phf7wzjv idk how to link it bc I’m on mobile) but anyways I just wanted to update everyone to say that I’m doing so very well. Back then I was so stressed and idk I TRULY didn’t understand the law and I was still looking outward and I was stilll reading Neville and over consuming and not actually being a doer but I just wanted to update that all of those things are behind me and that I’ve manifested a lot of things now so I’ll list the ones I’m comfortable with sharing

1. I got into my dream college, I was orginally planning to go to an Ivy League but I realized I truly never really desired that and I just wanted to get in for the aesthetics and for my ego but deep down I wanted to go to this local small private art school near me and I got in! And I’m a top student as well. My teachers love me, recently one of my teachers used my work as an example for others and gave me extra credit!

2. Everything in my life has gotten so much easier. I’ve realized that I am the cause and if I am the cause of the bad things then I can also be the cause of the good things so I completely got rid of my inner critic and my fears/anxieties/worries and I am no longer surviving but thriving!

3. Making friends has gotten so much easier and my relationship with myself and my inner man it’s so amazing. Like yesterday I was shopping for perfume for myself with family bc it was my birthday and one of the workers complimented my vintage jeans and she was like she really loved vintage jeans and she told me all these places where she gets her vintage stock and I told my mom and she’s taking me and a friend to the places next week!

4. I manifested two of my ideal lululemon define jackets and flares! I asked my brother for it for my birthday and I really only asked for the jacket but I told myself he’s gonna give me two sets. So when my birthday came around he gave me a lululemon gift card and I opened it and it was for $400! Which I was able to order the two jackets and flares.

5 . I can easily play whatever I want on my guitar. I used to procrastinate on my guitar bc I thought it would be sooooo hard and that I would never be like my inspirations like Eddie Van Halen and Slash but once I went back to my roots and started back living in my imagination (NOT in a daydreaming way, wishing I could be just like them NO I assumed I was wayyy better than them ALL) it all became so much easier

6. I have fully accepted the laws of the law of assumption yk the basics like your imagination/inner man is the cause of it all and all of that crap (thanks to Edward art btw). I think that’s really a crucial reason why I think I really was “stagnant” with manifesting and just running in circles I truly didn’t understand the law. All I was doing was “trying” to get something and I was going 3D > 4D and I was affirming on loop just doing shit.

7. I finally got my learners permit lolz. I took my test and only missed two questions out of 40.

8. I finally realized what I truly desired. Now this one is so crucial because I remember reading on here about how some people are imagining things they truly don’t want and then Edward art said that you have to imagine what YOU want and not what OTHERS want from you and I did some deep diving and I realized I didn’t want what I wanted like I didn’t want fame, or fortune, or for people to be obsessed with me, or a baddie lifestyle, or men to flock at me, or a hypergamy lifestyle. I realized that was just who and I was using those lifestyles to fulfill the ego and I really view the ego as a bottomless pit like it’s only gonna get bigger and bigger until you just ignore it or pop it yourself. Like I didn’t want all of this designer crap like all I wanted was a life like the movie “dazed and confused” where I party til I drop on the weekends and I study like Rory Gilmore on the weekdays and I have this nice 70s-early 2000s rock/metal sound track vibe (I can’t explain this part but I just made a playlist and imagined my scenarios to it) and my own unique vintage style and I got that. 🤷🏾‍♀️ like if you desire something “odd” or “wonky” or “not so popular” like that then GO for it. No one is stopping you but self.

But now my inner man is fulfilled and if I desire something no matter how small or large I fulfill it instantly! Bc that’s what I’m here for anyways 🤷🏾‍♀️

Anyways I believe that’s really all I want to reveal. The law is really really easy peasy like when people say that they 100% mean it. Like no you don’t have to affirm 500 times, no you don’t have to mediate 5 times a day. All of it is coming FROM you not AT you. You are the cause of it all. Edward Art really helped me open my eyes more than they already were opened. He’s really the only law of assumption source I really trust other than Neville and a couple of blogs on here. But if you are still “stuck” (which you never are), I would 100% check out Edward art on YouTube and Reddit bc his wisdom freed me from a lot of things that I didn’t even consciously know I was doing. But you HAVE to apply it. You can’t be a hearer only. You have to apply the wisdom.

“The only real illusion is your disbelief that you don’t have your desires”

this is so amazing anon. im so happy for you. and i relate to you so much on the last point, go for the desires YOU TRULY DEEPLY WANT. do not alter your desires based on what other people popularise.

glad you’re living the life you want, you deserve it, im proud and you’re incredibly smart and inspiring ❤️

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blues824 · 9 months

Note

This anon saw a Ron Swanson MC with TWST first years request, and I think I also sent a Ron Swanson MC with the Obey Me brothers before? If not please add this to the requests to be made masterlist

I’m being honest here, but I have never seen Parks and Recreation before. So, I am basing his personality off the Wiki and YouTube video compilations of him. Also, I do not see your request from before, so here it is.

Gender-neutral reader. TW: alcohol, toxic exes, mentions of sex but this is not smut

Lucifer

He actually really appreciates your to-the-point perspective, but he wishes that you would be more open. As closed as he is, you don’t like conversations that exceed 100 words

Another thing he really doesn’t like is that you would go the extra mile to make sure that nothing is done, mostly to piss him off

It was clear to him that you were scared of him, however

All of a sudden, there was a woman who just burst into the council room. She walked with purpose and it was then that you got up and ran

As unathletic as you are, you sure made it out of there quick

Once Lucifer finally found you, you explained by saying the following statement:

“That’s Tammy 1. You know sometimes you eat chicken and you get food poisoning, and even the sight of chicken makes you sick? Tammy 1 is my blonde chicken”

There was nothing in your (rather blank) file that indicated you had been romantically involved with anyone

He actually escorted you to a safe space where your ex wouldn’t find you, and he went to properly deal with Tammy 1, thus ending your thought process in thinking that he and your ex were comparable.

Mammon

He finds you unsettling, to say the least. You are able to see right through his cold exterior, and you make it clear that if he is going to say anything, make sure that it’s something you care about

One time, he brought you a packaged meal which contained a steak burrito, and you both became best friends… or what you would consider best friends. You honestly didn’t know his name

You appreciate how he doesn’t like getting things done, especially since he is an Avatar of the Devildom

The one time he had seen you run away was when a lady burst into the room and you seemed to recognize her

Mammon chased after you, and once he found you, you explained who that lady was

“That’s Tammy 1. I don’t date blondes because of her. You know sometimes you eat chicken and you get food poisoning, and even the sight of chicken makes you sick? Tammy 1 is my blonde chicken”

It would have been funny to the Avatar of Greed had he not just watched you run a marathon to get kilometers away from the woman who burst into the council room

Now, he might be just a tad jealous that someone managed to win you over romantically before he was, because that means he isn’t you first

He also goes to deal with Tammy 1, if there is anything to deal with because the other brothers as well as Diavolo and Barbatos want to ensure the wellbeing of their human exchange student

Leviathan

If you don’t want him talking to you, he won’t. You have a very standoff-ish attitude, and he is intimidated by it. However, you like how he doesn’t make an effort to talk to you and how he is very quiet, so you tend to stick closer to him anyway

What really solidified your relationship was when he ordered food online. He asked what you wanted, and you stated that you wanted a cholesterol-loaded burger with a lot of bacon. He paid for it, and you were basically in love at that point

I feel like Levi and you clash because you are against Diavolo’s dream because it’s basically going to annihilate the human race, but he thinks it’s going to change everything

One day, as a meeting was being held in the Council Room, a blonde woman burst into the room that made you drop your bacon and run back to Levi’s room, your safe haven

Levi found you there, and he asked who that lady was and why she made you run away

Because he is the Avatar of Envy, he is definitely jealous that she got her claws on you first (wait until he finds out about Tammy 2)

Anyways, you are welcome to stay in his room as he fights back the urge to summon Lotan to absolutely destroy Tammy 1

Afterwards, he makes sure that you are alright and that this event didn’t damage your psyche too much. It would be a shame if you started opening up more

Satan

You both absolutely despised each other at first, but bonded over the fact that you both didn’t like Lucifer. However, your distaste for the Avatar of Wrath here came from the fact that he was blonde

Anyways, he doesn’t really approve of all the meat you consume, because he knows that you need to eat some more vegetables

Also, the alcohol you brought with you was much stronger than demonus, and he once drank it out of anger and bro got wasted

That aside, there was a meeting within the Council Room one day, but a lady with blonde hair burst into the room and was looking for you. Luckily, you weren’t there because exchange students weren’t required to be there

The woman was properly dealt with and sent back to the human realm, as she was not allowed to be in the Devildom without proper clearance

Satan later told you about it, and you looked genuinely scared.

Well, that explains why you have rejected his rather clear advances

Now he’s really angry at the woman for ruining his chances with you, even if you were with her before you even knew him

Asmodeus

You were rather rude, which was a clear indicator that his charm didn’t work on you

However, it’s not just because of that. What he didn’t know was that you had two toxic exes, one of which was a sex-crazed, manipulative maniac

I will say that since he is the Avatar of Lust, he does want sex, but he’s looking for an emotional attachment to you as well, so the fact that you stay away from him makes him even sadder

On one fateful day, when everyone was in the Council Room, a brunette woman stormed into the room looking for you. You took one look at her and ran off before she had the chance to do anything

As the others dealt with the lady, Asmo went looking for you, and he was surprised to see you in his room when you said it was revolting

“Every time she laughs, an angel dies. Even telemarketers avoid her. Her birth was payback for the sins of man. But you know the worst thing about her? She works at the library.”

He also would have laughed had you not explained that that was your ex, Tammy 2, and she was a seducer who managed to get in your mind and tempt you. Now he knows why you don’t like him

It wasn’t him! It was a past experience with an ex!!!

Is also angry that she ruined his chances, but he can show you what a real partner, a healthy relationship, looks like! Just give him a chance!

Beelzebub

You two are best friends. You don’t even talk to each other, you just eat with each other and sometimes drink with each other as well. You even drank him under the table on your own alcohol.

To be fair, your alcohol is much more potent than demonus, so even on a full stomach he can still get utterly wasted. It was laughable how you had to help the large demon to his room where he promptly passed out on his bed

He woke up to the worst hangover imaginable, but he saw a bottle of water as well as painkillers that you bought at a nearby pharmacy along with a note. How the hell have you never had a hangover?!

Anyways, weeks later, there was a meeting in the Council Room and you both were snacking on some bacon when a blonde woman burst into the room and started walking towards you

Beel was not prepared for the cloud dust you left behind as you boot scootin’ boogie’d out of the room and ran all the way to the House of Lamentation

He had to stay to properly deal with the blonde lady, as she was not permitted to be in the meeting, let alone the Devildom at all

Then, he found you in the kitchen, eating some leftovers from Hell’s Kitchen

The Avatar of Gluttony sat beside you and asked who that woman was and why she was looking for you, and he was both mad and sad at what you said

Belphegor

You two are also ‘best friends’ because you both believe that it is a rather dumb idea to mix humans, demons, and angels together, but you believe it for different reasons

Your perspective is that humans stand no chance against the two other beings, and one would try to rule over all the others

His perspective is a lot more personal because of his sister

Anyways, everyone was in the Council Room one day and suddenly a woman burst into the room. She meant business with how she walked, and you meant business when you ran faster than the speed of light out of the room

Belphie was honestly intent on killing her, but he was the only one with that idea, so he went searching for you instead

You turned out to be in the attic, absolutely annihilating what seems to be a full pack of cooked bacon, staring into space

When you noticed that the Avatar of Sloth was there, you knew he wanted answers so you just gave it to him plain and simple:

“That was Tammy 1. I don’t date blondes because of her. You know sometimes you eat chicken and you get food poisoning, and even the sight of chicken makes you sick? Tammy 1 is my blonde chicken”

Well, that pretty much sums it up. Now he really wants to dispose of that lady

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asoiaf-source · 1 year

Text

ASOIAF: Stark Family Mentions

I did this a long while ago and then set them aside, but I took another look and thought maybe someone would be interested in this.

There seems to be a lot of discussion around the Stark family relationships and how close they are or think about each other. So, I basically went through the Stark POVs (+ Theon and Jeyne Poole) and noted all the instances they are mentioned / remembered in other POVs. I went the extra mile and also did searches for father, mother, brother, sister, etc. to catch any mentions that might not have referenced the character by name, this was especially important for father and mother mentions with the kids.

Again, this isn’t meant to be a definitive record, I did searches and did my best to count, and use context for the counts, but I might have miss one here or there, but the info is to the best of my ability and intention. This gives an overall impression of how often they are on their mind, but you still need to look at the books to get the context and break down the actual relationships.

Also, after doing the more straightforward number of mentions, I felt the idea was a little skewed if the characters actually interacted together, of course those numbers would be higher just because of proximity and plot, so I also did charts trying to adjust for this, so you can see the number of times they mention each other without being in the same room / story line.

I would like to stress that removing the interactions isn’t to diminish their impact, those interactions are important and tell us a lot too, but it just didn’t really reflect the idea of mentions / memories when they are AWAY from their family. So I did both charts so you can make the comparisons. By the end of the first book most of the family is separated, so those are the numbers that were most affected.

I also decided to combine books 4 and 5 into one to save some space and they were supposed to be one book anyway, split into two.

I would also like to note that mentions of Catelyn, Arya, and Sansa are higher mostly because Eddard was actually interacting with his wife and daughters, so of course their mentions would be higher. Bran is also slightly higher as he had his accident, so of course he was on his mind even while away. Since most of the time there is nothing to worry about back home, Ned’s thoughts don’t really turn to Robb, Jon, or Rickon until the end which is why their numbers are low.

I know that Jon’s seems small, but most of their interactions early on in book 1 take place within Jon’s POVs and I didn’t cross count mentions within other POVs, maybe I should have... but I kinda just stuck to the individual POV as it was easier with the search, would probably need to pull out the books for something more comprehensive and I don’t have THAT kind of time.

Similarly, Catelyn’s mentions of Eddard and Robb are higher as she is actually interreacting with them in her POV, especially Robb as he has no POV. But clearly her children are on her mind, Bran especially because of his accident.

Theon is also rather high because she also interacts with him in book 1, and it is in her POV where we see the reactions to his betrayal and taking of Winterfell as well as the ‘death’ of Bran and Rickon.

I feel like Robb’s huge number of mentions kinda skews the others, their numbers are decent they just look smaller in comparison. It is just that she is our eyes on Robb and of course they are fighting a war. So I did a chart that leaves out all the mentions of Robb and Eddard, and adjusts for interactions just to reflect the mentions better.

Jon and his struggle to live up to his father’s example and his struggles with leadership, along with his identity issues have Eddard on Jon’s mind more than anyone else. Jon also struggles with Robb loss and his memories of Robb resurface often. Jon also interacts with Arya and Bran earlier in the series, and then of course fArya’s situation brings Arya back into Jon’s thoughts in the last book.

I removed the actual interactions (Jon I & Jon II) and just left the mentions and thoughts about each other. This reduced the mentions of Eddard, Bran, Arya, Catelyn, and Robb the most. It is still notable how high Eddard and Robb mentions are on his mind.

I decided to add Theon’s POV to the mix as he did spend quite a lot of time with the Starks and his chapters deal with them and Winterfell. This is also where I decided to start counting Jeyne Poole mentions, for similar reasons and that her story is very much intertwined with Theon and Arya of House Stark.

Theon also has daddy issues and has complicated thoughts about Eddard and Robb. Bran and Rickon are also fairly high as Theon actually interacted with them when he took Winterfell and drove them from their home.

Arya and Jeyne Poole’s stories really can’t be separated, as most of the mentions of Arya are mostly in reference to Jeyne being able to play her part, or Theon comparing the two and reminding Jeyne that she is now Arya, or calling her Lady Arya, etc. There are a few memories specifically about Arya, but most are just referencing her due to the situation. You really can’t understand Arya mentions without Jeyne also being acounted for.

Bran’s highest mentions are with Robb, and mostly in book 1 as they are interacting and Bran is our eyes on what Robb is doing and feeling. Eddard’s situation and death also affect Bran and has him in his thoughts a lot, and learns more about him from the Reed’s stories and his green dreams. Bran spends the most time with Rickon and travels with him, and he also thinks about Jon more as he begins his travels beyond the wall and wargs into Summer more.

Bran’s thoughts about his family really start to go down after book 3, only his father is mostly on his mind, and that is because he is learning more about young Ned. Arya is slightly higher too because of his green dream of Lyanna and the children of the forest remind him of her.

Really need to explore Bran’s and Ned’s relationship more.

Sansa spend most of her time interacting with Arya and her father in book 1 which is why their mentions are so high. Once she is on her own the numbers even out. Sansa thinks about Robb and her mother most in book 2 and 3 as they are fighting against the crown and she is hoping they will rescue her. Sansa also thinks more about her parents once she is in the Vale and Baelish’s fixation with her mother, Lysa’s accusations about her mother, and Baelish insistence on Sansa call him father, bring them both to mind more often in her thoughts.

Sansa also has a sudden jump in Bran mentions in book 3 when Tyrion mentions him (special saddle) to her and of course when she learns of his and Rickon’s deaths. Sansa’s thoughts on her family also reduce a lot by the last book, once she is truly in her Alayne role.

Again, Eddard and Sansa spend the most time actually interacting with Arya on the page in book 1. The second chart removes all the interactions and direct story related mentions and only leaves the mentions and memories, of course this reduces Sansa and her father’s numbers, it also reduces Jon’s (Arya I) where he said goodbye and gave her Needle.

It is clear Arya spends a good amount of time thinking about her father in book 2 and 3, not only processing his death but also remembering his words.

Arya also is traveling to meet Robb and her mother, so they are also on her mind a lot while on the road and trying to get to them, especially her mother. Sansa’s mentions are pretty consistent too in her thoughts. Part of this is due to her thoughts about her mother and Sansa comparisons, and the other is her travels with Sandor.

I’d say that Jon, Robb and Bran are also pretty consistently in her thoughts too. The number’s are reduced too by the last book, but Arya usually mentions her family all together, so their numbers line up fairly well (baseline of Rickon with 4), with slight more going to Jon (favorite). She is the most consistent in remembering them all, probably because it is part of what drives her.

- - -

Well, this was a basic run down, I could really go more in-depth with each character, but this was my general impressions on why some mentions seem larger than others. I’m sure this isn’t perfect, I was just trying to get a basic idea.

Like with Eddard. I do find it very interesting how high Eddard Stark is mentioned / remembered by nearly everyone, even though he was killed in book 1, he certainly left an impact on all of his children, even Theon. If I just look at the mentions of Ned from book 2 on after his death and the initial shock of it, you can really get a picture of how often he is remembered in their thoughts.

Jon - 85 times, Catelyn - 63 times, Arya - 60 times

Bran - 55 times, Theon - 52 times, Sansa - 21 times

* If you think I made a grievous error and a number is wrong, let me know - I’ll look at it again and fix it.

#ASOIAF #ASOIAF Charts #House Stark #ASOIAF House Stark #Eddard Stark #Catelyn Stark #Jon Snow #Theon Stark #Arya Stark #Sansa Stark #Bran Stark

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giuliano-fan-account · 1 year

Text

hxh Chapter 395: Founding: Part 1

Ohm yg od oh my god I love this chapter!!!!!!

So let’s get started

Spoilers... What else??

I’m deciding to use the viz translations since I didn’t review yesterday and they come out on sundays so yeaaa

Ok so we begin with Hinrigh who has Cracked The Code on the Heil-Ly base thing

They’re gonna go after those two guys and...... To be honest I don’t care if they end up dying!!!! Go ahead!! I forgot their names already and Togashi’s going to need to manage the like 60 new characters that he’s made this arc...

Man, I miss Kurapika and the Zodiacs and the Princes and Beyonds team... hm...

Like these characters I love and all like Lynch and Zakuro and Tserriednich’s Militia people and Hinrigh but Man where did everybody else go????

Well good news is later this chapter we at least have the troupe!!

(Togashis trying to tell us to enjoy the little detours-- to the fullest)

Volksen ever. Apparently her officially translated name is like Bork something but Volk is a lot better in My opinion and people spell Giuliano like Juliano all the time so does it Really Matter?

Volk makes me think of a Volkswagen car and Bork makes me think she has an acidic reflux I’m sorry.

Also Otocin = Otoshin (doesn’t really matter to me) and Momolly = Momori (Momori is way cooler sorry so I will also be saying Momori)

I also permanently associate Volksen with octopi now but that’s besides the point.

Anyways enough about the 6 People from last chapter let’s move on.

Fun fact I still cant remember his freaking name What Is it Somebody please say It nobody has said it in the past 5 chapters and I’m confused but anyways.

He says the Phantom troupe are checking out 3102 (next to the trap room 3101) because they think there might be a Hideout behind rooms 3101-3103 and of course they’re being insane about it, since to them it doesn’t matter if they have a plan or not.

He’s been talking a lot about people being captured..... Togashi? Is this going to be another big theme??

He needs some water or some skin moisturizer or something He can’t be living like this dude look how dry that skin is...

Anyways they're threatening this guy to get in the room as you do.

I’m going to thank Togashi forever for visuals because without them in this arc I would be entirely lost.

I really don’t have any sympathy for this guy but Imagine if three guys just came into your room and then cut a hole in your bathroom.

I’m sorry but in this panel he looks so emo it’s... It’s the hair and the... The everything looks extra emo.

I love this conversation cause it opens new parallels between the mafia and the troupe, which Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga are already involved with and it gives some more insight, but also What is Nobunaga holding right now.

Is that like a ball of light or something

And why is it the only one there

Anyways enough of looking at random details its its

ITS FLASHBACK TIME

When I saw this page spread I kid you not I think I went crazy for a second. It’s a callback to the flashback in chapter... 102 (the panels were redrawn!!!!!!@2442454##$#%^$#)

I was right with Chrollo being the one on the left and Franklin being the one on the right closest to the tape, but I thought Shalnark would be the one sitting in front of the elder, and Phinks was the one running at the bottom..... However..

THE ONE WITH THE CURLY WAVY HAIR IS SHALNARK.......... (broken heart crying emoji /pos)

God I love this Flashback Look at them all. Shalnark and Chrollo are my best guess at like 9 years old and Franklin is probably like uhh 16 or something.

Franklin has a Oldest-brother-that-is-cool-and-is-in-college-while-you-are-in-middle-school vibe which I’m not being super specific about you guys have to know what I’m talking about right.

Tbh this part felt a bit like I was on something but it’s ok it works out!

I love how they have Territory like its warrior cats. Like theyre those kids on the playground that would play warriors (definitely not me /s) But its taken to the actual extreme and they actually fight.

I’m guessing Uvo is also 16 but Puberty just hit him in the face with an iron bat. He’s like the Average bully archetype but also taken to the extreme because they live in a dump city.

Machi... She’s just... She’s like 5 or 6 years old oh my god she’s a literal baby actually... and she’s just handing Uvo a “Murder Weapon” they would probably call it.

Baby Syanorke being a little smartass and then Immediately getting hit in the head with a plank of wood and passing out This was like the funniest part ever

Look at him tumble

...

Wait

.....

No...

NOOO.......

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOLY CRAP

...Anyways let’s move past that...

Fist fight Immediately 1 v 1

The low quality running of the little guy I can’t believe he’s a little guy

HELP ME THIS IS TERRIFYING WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT

He is also Average bully archetype No. 2 but a different flavor for sure...... His hair looks like a walnut Phinks what are you doing....

Umm ok so Age guesstimate... the first appearance Phinks looks older and then he looks smaller in the other panel... So I’m gonna say he’s like 13 and Feitan...

...

Yea I have no Idea let’s just say 13 as well.

Get wrecked. I only noticed the arrow now so hopefully you see it too now.

The little guy the little thief

Meteor city civilization real

AGAIN WITH THE PEOPLE GETTING CAPTURED AND STUFF??

Ok so Basically

Since Meteor city residents technically don’t exist since they don’t have any form of identification, that means it was legal to kidnap them, kill them, commit crime against them etc since they technically “weren’t human”...

A while later to prevent this, Meteor city allied with the mafia to be safe, but before that there were hundreds of victims and 70% of them were under 15.

Their ties with the mafia grew stronger, and Nen abilities came about the elders, and a pledge was made (The law of retribution):

“Only life can compensate for a life.”

“We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us.” (a note left at the kurta massacre, if it rings a bell)

And so with all this going on the Phantom troupe formed 12234543

PAKUNODA!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love her hair so much here its real

This is so adorale im cyring .........

Ddue just became a part of the council at 9 years old I guess!

Tiny Just tiny little ones

POWER CLEANERS HELP

MIGHTY SWEEPIN POWER CLEANERS

He also created dubbing wow /s

IM CYRING AGAIN ........ So Paku must be like 8 or something but they have an Older sister Younger brother dynamic lol

SHEILA?!?!?! You mean the lady in volume 0 who looks uncannily similar to Pariston Hill?

...*snif* *sniffleef* eu......e.ue ,,

Omg its Sheila and Sarasa... Sheila still has her silly rat ears...

I like Sarasa she’s a little silly and I wonder if she’ll be relevant too but as far as I know I dont remember her.

hehe im just imagining all of them just sitting down and watching a really badly dubbed but endearing episode of the power ra-cleaners.

D Hunter....

I live them that’s all I have to say

Oh god More human trafficking

Even worse child trafficking... Yea this is going to be relevant

And then It just skips back to them peacefully HELP

To be continued!!! Yea nothing bad happening here totally

I’m guessing since the Title of the chapter is Founding: Part 1 that we’re still going to be in the flashback in part 2 since there’s still stuff that needs to happen.

I mean we still have yet to see 12 year old Nobunaga and what about the whole Council thing??

Oh god wait somebody may get captured during the screening NO

And why is it called founding?? The troupe is officially founded I think when they’re like mm... I wanna say maybe 6 or 7 years older so maybe there’s a time skip idk.

Anyways keep being silly Goofer man Behave yourself.

(remember the hunter exam applicant form or wtv in the 1999 version well I wanted to draw them so here ignore the bad coloring and shading i made this at 2 am)

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colormepurplex2 · 1 year

Text

Chasing Shadows | Cat & Mouse

↳ Jungkook x f.Reader ⤜ Best Friends Brother/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 5,989 ⚠️ death threats, breaking and entering, stalker behavior, references to crime and violence

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

“Another one?” you mumble to yourself as you twist your key and lock your door, heading out for work. Attached to the front of your door with a small sliver of clear tape is a dirty, brown napkin. There’s a grease stain on one corner and small spatters across the bottom edge. A red logo is distorted by the smear, but you can just make out that it says Rosey’s Place.

You grab a tissue from your bag and snatch the napkin down. Turning it over, you suck in a stilted breath. A crude drawing is etched in red and black ink across it. Though it’s a poorly executed image, you can clearly see it’s a cat eating a mouse. Very juvenile, but no less macabre. It’s offensive enough on its own, but add it with the other two scraps of trash with similar drawings on them that you’ve received over the last few days, and it has the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end.

It could just be some punk-ass kids playing a joke. But, in your line of work, you’re a bit more paranoid even when it comes to seemingly innocuous coincidences or harmless pranks. Criminal journalism is in your blood, but it also comes with an ingrained sense of overbearing self-preservation. Better to be cautious than be a victim. You write dark, yet wholly real, pieces on some of the largest crime heads in the world. Your articles aren’t exactly glamorous and flattering; you have plenty of potential enemies.

Sighing, you shake your head and wrap the tissue around the napkin and tuck it away into your bag for now. You’re heading into the office and the few extra minutes it would take to get back into your apartment and do something with the napkin are precious minutes you desperately need to grab a coffee.

Despite your own sense of self-awareness, you still aren’t always able to brush off that little bit of disbelief. Which is why you find yourself pulling out your phone and dialing your best friend.

“A call before eight in the morning, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

You smile and hit the button for the lobby in the elevator. “Hey, E. I wanted to run something by you. If you have a moment?” Being on the third floor, your ride down doesn’t take long.

She hums thoughtfully. “Always got time for you, babe. Lay it on me.”

“First, promise you won’t freak out?” you lower your voice as you make your way across the lobby and pass Henry at the front desk. He throws a hand up in greeting and you nod, giving him a small smile.

There is silence on the line for a moment. You know she’s having her own internal struggle not to instantly react to that preface. “You realize saying that only makes me want to freak out before I even know what you’re going to ask of me, right?” she finally says.

“Yeah, but, it’s not really all that big of a deal. At least, I don’t think so. That’s what I’m getting your opinion on, actually, determining if it is something that I should be freaking out about,” you explain with a shrug even though she can’t see you.

There’s a hint of suspicion in her voice as she responds, “I can’t promise that I won’t freak out. But, I’ll try to keep my head about it.”

“This morning as I was leaving, I found a crude drawing on a diner napkin taped to my door. This is the third drawing like this that I’ve gotten. It could just be some kids in the building being assholes, but I don’t know. What do you think? Nothing or…” you trail off, hoping you don’t sound completely paranoid.

“I see,” she sighs. “Well, what kind of drawings are we talking about here?”

You hesitate to reveal the truth, knowing it could potentially set her off. Maybe that’s the answer you need anyway, if you’re too hesitant to even tell her because you’re worried how she’ll react then it’s probably something you should be worried about. You called her because you value her opinion, both professionally and as your best friend.

“The first was from a ripped-up fast food bag, it had a hawk eating a rabbit on it. The second was a matchbook with a spider catching a fly. This last is on a greasy diner napkin and has a cat eating a mouse. All black and red ink, very crude and elementary, bordering on stick figures but still plain enough to determine what they are.”

A colorful swear comes down the line. “You expect me not to freak out? Babe, that’s straight out of weirdo stalker 101. My protective momma bear instincts are kicking in. I swear, if this somehow leads back to your damn job, I’m going to force you to quit. That fucking website gets you into way more trouble than my job ever has me.”

“Enola, you’re an FBI profiler. I’m just a journalist. That’s like comparing apples and oranges. You definitely take the cake in the trouble department. Don’t jump the gun here, it’s probably just nothing.” You hate to admit she has a point, though. You’ve found yourself in some rather unnerving situations over the years due to the nature of your job. But, she’s the one who actively seeks out the crazies with guns and intent to harm; surely, that means her job has more trouble. Though at least she also has a gun to point back at the crazies…you’re just armed with a laptop and the can of mace at the bottom of your bag.

Enola gives a soft, humorless laugh. “Let’s not start this conversation again. My opinion is that it’s something you need to be cautious about. I insist on you getting a door cam or something like I told you to months ago. Have you told Detective Jung about this?”

“My building has security. Henry would have mentioned if there was something weird going on, someone suspicious or out of place in the building. Which is all the more reason why I think it’s just kids being punks. It’s probably Ms. Abernathy’s kids, Cody and Riley. You know how much shit they get into around here. Just last week they flooded the basement trying to film some TikTok video. And, I did tell Hoseok,”—you emphasize his name—,” about it after the second one and he said that unfortunately there isn’t much that can be done over a few pieces of trash being taped to my door.”

She laughs again and you can practically hear her eye roll. “On a first-name basis with that asshole now? That’s a conversation we’ll have another time, I promise you that. Shit. Hey, look, I gotta go. I’m being summoned for a meeting with Director Connor. More than likely I’m going to be heading out on assignment soon, otherwise, I’d come over myself and we’d look into this together. What I am going to do, though, is text my brother your number. He’ll give you a hand and if it so happens to not be some kids in the building, he has the resources to take it seriously and get you the help the police refuse to provide.”

You consider refusing her brother’s help. You haven’t seen nor talked to him since you were teenagers and don’t want to impose on his life. But, you know it’ll be easier to just accept and placate Enola for the time being. “Thanks, E, you’re the best.” Your office building comes into view as you round the corner. The coffee shop you want to stop in is just across the street. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Hey, wait,” she stops you before you can hang up. “Listen, please be careful, okay? I know you don’t think it’s anything serious; but just, please, for me?”

The sincerity in her voice breaks down your walls a little. “Yeah, of course, always. I promise.”

Enola says goodbye and assures her brother will be reaching out to you sometime later today. The cafe isn’t very busy so you manage to get a coffee and make it into the office before most of your coworkers arrive.

Working for a major news outlet, specifically doing the criminal and justice spread, is everything you ever wanted in a career. Growing up, you devoured mystery and thriller novels which quickly developed into a love for true crime and murder mystery as an adult. You love watching true crime documentaries and listening to various crime podcasts.

Some of your closest friends work in adjacent fields. Like Enola being an FBI profiler and Hoseok being a detective with the local PD. They have a history together, which is why Enola is hard-pressed to show as little respect to Hoseok as possible right now. You can’t really blame her, he was a total ass. But, he’s really good at his job and you know he’d help you in any capacity that he could, if he could. The police department is just limited in what they really can do and the resources they can expend for a situation like yours.

Setting your coffee down on your desk, you settle into your chair and pull out your laptop from your bag. You tuck your bag into the bottom drawer of your desk and lock it before sliding the small key ring into your pant pocket.

“Morning, boss!” Taehyung, one of your coworkers, calls as he enters the office. You’re still getting used to that title— boss. It’s only something you recently acquired. Your last big exposé earned you a promotion to team lead editor. You’re now in charge of the entire crime and justice branch of The Scarlet Informant, totaling just under a dozen people.

You waggle your fingers around your cup at him as you take a sip from your coffee. “Morning, Tae, how was your evening?” Building rapport and a bond with your team was priority number one for you. Despite working with these same people for years already, you feel like you could be making more of an effort, especially now as their boss.

He slides into his chair and hides a yawn behind a fist. “Mmm, it was good. I had a meeting with a new lead for my Marshal story. I think I really might have something special.” Taehyung crosses his fingers and does a little shoulder shimmy in his chair. His black polo and navy slacks complement his slim frame. You catch the glint of a silver watch on his wrist. Taehyung, you’ve come to learn, has an extensive collection of watches, wearing a different one every day. “Is this what it felt like for you when you landed that key info on Nauvez? I still can’t believe your article ultimately led to his arrest. That’s like, the epitome of badassery.”

The tight smile that pulls at your lips feels weird. When you first published the shadow piece on Nauvez you had no idea it would actually help the LAPD track him down and make the arrest. You lucked out on putting together some breadcrumbs, talking to the right people, and somehow connected dots the police hadn’t. That’s how you ended up with your promotion; just pure luck, though everyone swears you deserve it regardless and you’re being far too humble.

You honestly don’t mind the promotion and intend to do your best no matter what. Your only fear is that you’ll grow to resent it. The last thing you want to be is stuck in a job you hate. Writing is your passion, your main hope is that you’re able to continue writing even when delegating to others. So far, it’s worked out fine.

“That’s wonderful. Just be sure to vet your sources thoroughly. We don’t do maybe’s or possibly’s, nothing but definitive reporting. Taking on a new source is its own balancing act. If it wasn’t for my resources, that Nauvez piece wouldn’t have been nearly as impactful.” You’re a firm believer in doing things the right way. No cutting corners or taking the easy way around a story. It’s important for people to get the facts, false information and the grey areas of crime reporting are extremely dangerous.

Taehyung laughs. “Wouldn’t dream of disappointing you like that. We have that meeting with Rigby later, right?”

“That’s right. It’s after the editor meeting. He wants to discuss the projections for next quarter. There’s also the new newsletter format he wants to roll out that needs some tweaking. I imagine Paris will have something to say about that,” you mutter, more to yourself than Taehyung. Paris is the office mean girl. She’s the team lead editor for the fashion and pop-culture columns. If she wasn’t so good at her job, you’re certain Rigby would have canned her by now.

“Good morning, fellow Scarleters!” The nasally pitch of Paris’ voice echoes down the hall as she prances through the office commons. “I grabbed bagels on my way in this morning, from that cute vegan spot on Seventh.” Her fiery red curls appear in the doorway to your team's office before her face does. “Hi, sweeties!”

You internally cringe at the saccharinity dripping from her words. “Morning, Paris,” you try to suppress the sigh in your tone.

“Hey,” Taehyung offers with a half-hearted wave toward the door. His desk is on the far side of the room, facing the large windows overlooking the cityscape.

Paris drops a white paper bag onto the corner of your desk. “Enjoy!” You nod in thanks, turning back to your laptop to make sure you’re prepared for the morning meeting. Long, red-lacquered nails tap against the top of your laptop screen. Paris leans in when you look up at her with a raised eyebrow. “I made sure to get the low-fat bagel option for you.” She says it with an overly sweet smile on her face. “Us girls gotta look out for each other, right?” Her eyes flick over what she can see of your body above your desk before sweeping out of your office space.

You’re still trying to reign in your desire to shove the low-fat bagel down her throat when Taehyung makes a disgruntled sound from behind you. “One day she’s going to get punched in her fake lips and I sincerely hope you’re the one that does it.”

That makes you laugh. The sudden mirth instantly puts you at ease. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

The rest of your office files in over the next few minutes and the space quickly fills with soft chatter and clacking keystrokes as everyone adds last-minute touches to their reports.

You quickly forget about Paris and her disgusting attitude. At least, until you’re heading toward the conference room and she falls into step beside you.

“You must be so concerned for Kat, huh?” she feigns a sad pout. But her words throw you off.

“Kat?”

As if the exaggeratedly appalled look on her face wasn’t enough, she flourishes a hand and presses it to her chest dramatically. “You know, Kat that works in your department. It’s terrible what’s going on with her brother. I can’t imagine having to put a loved one in a full-time care facility.”

Right. You had noticed she hadn’t made it into the office yet and had intended to check in but time got away from you. She asked a week ago to have the morning off for personal reasons today, which you granted. But, this is news to you. You didn’t know she was having to put her brother in a care facility, or that she even had a brother, to begin with. That is if Paris is even telling the truth; it wouldn’t be the first rumor she’s started in the office. Kat’s one of the few people in your department that has been a bit more reserved when it comes to opening up and bonding with you in your new position. So, for all you know it could be true, even coming from Paris.

“Right,” you mutter hoping she drops the need to spout gossip, especially considering it concerns one of yours and a situation you know nothing about.

She doesn’t stop, though, tacking on a very distasteful comment. “Paralyzed from the waist down, apparently. Poor guy probably can’t even get— Oh!” Paris staggers hard to the right, her shoulder smacking into the wall as you continue down the hall. “What the hell!?” she calls after you.

“Sorry, you were walking a little too close I guess. Hope I didn’t scuff your shoe,” you toss back, not giving her the satisfaction of looking at her while she huffs behind you.

You suppress a smile as you enter the conference room, Paris hot on your heels. “These are five hundred dollar shoes,” she hisses as she passes you to take her seat on the other side of the long table. Her pea-soup-colored eyes bore into you once she settles into her chair. You mouth ‘sorry’ and shrug a shoulder then turn and give Rigby, who’s seated at the far end of the table, your full attention.

“Good morning, everyone, let’s begin with our plans for next quarter.” Rigby pulls his wire-framed glasses down off the top of his head and onto the bridge of his nose. His close-shorn black hair is peppered with silver and his grey suit is fashionable but not flashy. He’s a great boss and you easily get lost in the conversation and ease of making plans for the next quarter.

By the time your editor meeting is over, it’s time for your team meeting. Rigby sticks around for it, listening in and giving his input as he sees fit. You welcome his direction, knowing he’s been working in the journalism and publishing field for at least as long as you’ve been alive. He’s the main reason The Scarlet Informant is as successful as it is.

As the meeting comes to a close, you impart a few words of advice for your team and dismiss everyone back to their respective desks. As Taehyung passes you, heading to the door, you pat his shoulder. “Hey, just a moment, if you will.”

He turns his brilliant smile on you. “What’s up, boss?”

“You’re pretty close with Kat, aren’t you?”

Taehyung bobs his head from side to side in a so-so fashion. “I guess. As much as two coworkers can be close. We don’t hang out outside of work, though. She’s quite shy and reserved. Total sweetheart, though. Why?”

“Paris mentioned something to me earlier on the way to our editor meeting. Do you think Kat would mind if I asked her about it?”

His smile slips. “Paris can’t keep her mouth shut can she? Kat’s a private person, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you asked her. She’s only told me a little bit about what’s going on. That red-headed she-devil probably was eavesdropping again.”

That would be classic Paris, putting her too-perfect-thanks-to-dr-whoever’s nose where it doesn’t belong. You make a mental note to approach Kat about it when she makes it into the office later; in hopes of getting ahead of gossip that might make Kat, being the private person she is, uncomfortable.

It’s a few hours later when you notice Kat slipping into the office. She keeps her head down, her mousy brown hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head and her horn-rim glasses barely staying on her nose. The muted orange cardigan she has on over a pale yellow floral dress looks vintage, especially paired with her toffee-colored loafers and white socks with lace trim. Kat has always reminded you of a librarian or maybe someone who runs an antique shop, quirky and soft in a cute way.

“Hey, Kat,” you chirp, trying to come off as light-hearted as possible as you approach her desk. “Did everything go okay this morning?”

Her large brown eyes drift up from the folder open on her desk. There is a moment where you’re certain you see a sliver of something resembling fear there but it’s gone before you can be certain. “It was fine.” She swallows hard, averting her eyes.

“That’s good to hear.” You’re not sure how to broach the subject, so you just go for it. “I heard something earlier, someone mentioned a potential reason you were needing the time off.” You pause, seeing if she’ll react to you mentioning gossip about her, but she just glances up at you from beneath her lashes. “I just want you to know that if you need additional time, I can work with your schedule. Family is important and I want to make sure you have everything you need in any way that I can.”

Her thin lips form into a soft smile but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course,” you’re quick to assure. Taking care of your team is your number one priority. Plus, you’re big on a good work-life balance. So, if Kat needs time away to take care of her family, you’ll make sure Rigby has no reason to complain. “If you need anything, just let me know. Okay?”

Kat hums, rolling her lips between her teeth before nodding. She directs her attention back to the folder in her hand. “The Handler files, I’m just going over them again,” she says in a way that feels like she’s dismissing you. You can only imagine the morning she’s had, so you don’t push or question further.

“Right. Good luck with that, I’m sure you’ll find anything that may have been missed.” You rap your knuckles lightly on her desk before heading back to your own.

Getting lost in the demand of work helps with your own morning troubles. The greasy napkin in your bag is long forgotten. It’s not until you’re pulling your laptop out at home that you catch sight of it at the bottom of your bag. The text you got earlier from Enola’s brother still sits on your phone, unread.

You pull the wadded-up tissue and napkin out of your bag and set it on your dining table. The other two items you stashed away in your office. At first, you had tossed the fast food bag scrap in the trash. It wasn’t until you found the matchbook that you dug it back out and put them both away to think over at a later time.

Now seems like as good a time as any. Pocketing your phone, you head down the hallway to your office. It doubles as a guest room with a fold-out sofa bed. The space is cozy with your large L-shaped oak desk tucked into a corner so the window of the room sits just above the far edge of the desk.

You’ve been in here so many times you could navigate it in the dark, but you slap a hand on the light switch out of habit. The overhead light floods the room, the scene it reveals stopping you in your tracks.

“What the fuck?!”

One hand clutches the front of your shirt, and the other braces you against the wall as you stagger back. Your eyes flick over the far wall above the sofa, that’s now ripped to shreds; bits of fluff and fabric are scattered over the floor. There are black and white photos taped to the wall, some small and some as large as a movie poster. There are several words spray painted on the wall. Most prominent of all, though, is the ‘NO COPS’ in bright red right in the center.

As you take tentative steps closer, you make out some of the smaller photos. They’re all mostly candid shots, taken from a distance, of you, your family, and your friends. You recognize Enola, your parents, Detective Jung, and even some of your co-workers. The largest photo, centered on the wall, is a blown-up print from your promotion. Rigby has your hand clasped in his, you’re both smiling at the camera. Surrounding you both is your team, all frozen mid-clap as they cheer for you. Everyone, except for you, has large black Xs over their faces.

The pounding of your heart seems to vibrate through your entire body. You can hear the rushing thump in your ears and feel it tingling in your toes. A cold sweat prickles along the back of your neck.

There’s a stack of papers sitting on the remnants of the couch. From where you’re standing, you can see the top page has a format like one of your pieces for the Informant. Your fingers tremble as you scoop up the stack of papers and bring it closer to see.

There is a yellow sticky note tacked to the top. In a blocky scrawl, you read: ‘You have until the end of business on Friday to publish this. If you change anything about it, I’ll kill them all. If you don’t publish it, I’ll kill them all. If you go to the cops, I’ll kill them all. You ruined my life, it’s time for me to ruin yours.’

Under the sticky note, in large, bold print across the top of the paper is your full legal name. Below that, in the place of a subhead is ’The Monster Behind The Mask’. The first few lines have nausea rolling through your stomach.

‘This may come as a surprise to my readers; I have a confession to make. I’m a fraud. Everything I represent is a lie. I’m no better than the people I feature in my writing. I take other people’s lives and break them apart. I turn people into monsters. But, what you don’t realize is that I’m the real monster.

I ruin lives.

Let me enlighten you…’

You trail off reading, shaking your head at the absurdity. Who wrote this? Your fingers flick through the pages, taking in block after block, ridiculous claim after ridiculous claim until you catch sight of a large image formatted between the columns. You flip back and spread the papers out, taking in the black-and-white scanner-copy image.

It’s a police report. Your own police report. A police report that’s been redacted, sealed, and eventually expunged. Only, here it is, plain and utterly whole. The blurb under the photo indicates that it’s evidence of how much of a monster you are and how you’ve been ruining lives since you were seventeen.

“No. No, no, no,” you mutter, the pages slipping from your fingers and fluttering to the floor in front of the sofa. Your movements are stiff and jerky as you pull your phone out. Your finger hovers over Hoseok’s contact. Blinking away the sudden tears blurring your vision, your gaze snaps to the giant spray-painted warning on the wall. You can’t risk it. So, you click a different contact instead; one you know is still a risk, but a more calculated one.

“Two calls in one day? You’re not drinking tequila again, are you? It’s only Thursday, babe, that’s more of a Friday venture,” Enola’s voice chirps brightly through the phone.

You swallow hard, tearing your gaze away from the wall of horrors in your office. “E,” you begin but have to stop to suck in a calming breath. It’s not that effective. Your voice quivers as you try again, “Enola, I think I’m in trouble.”

“Hey, whoa, what’s going on?” The change in her demeanor is instant.

“Someone was in my apartment. There’s all this…stuff. Threats, uh…pictures. I don’t— I don’t know what to do,” you babble, describing everything but the image in the printed manuscript that’s mocking you from the floor.

You can hear Enola shuffling around, paper crumpling, and drawers slamming shut. “Send me photos of everything. I’m texting Jungkook right now, I’ll have him come get you.”

“I can’t leave, E. What if they come back? I need to catch them. There’s too much at stake here.” You pause, hearing Enola muttering to herself and the soft tapping of her fingers on her phone screen, probably texting her brother. “There’s something else.” Enola doesn’t respond, too busy texting. “Enola. Are you listening? I said there’s something else.” Still, she’s quiet. “Enola!” you snap.

“What? Fuck, what? Sorry, JK’s being a bit of a shithead right now.”

“There’s something else. And…it involves you in a way.” Your heart beats so hard you feel lightheaded, so you slip down until you’re kneeling on the floor, slumped against the edge of the sofa. “Somehow, whoever this is, they uncovered the accident report…the one from graduation night,” you whisper.

A pregnant pause stretches after your words. Finally, Enola sighs and clears her throat. “Mine?” she asks quietly.

“It’s just mine,” you confirm.

“Okay,” determination enters her voice as she shifts into professional FBI-profiler mode. “Jungkook will be there soon. Go lock your door, and make sure your windows are all shut. You still have the mace I gifted you for Christmas, right? Get it. Don’t open the door for anyone except my brother. I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, so you need to ask him for the passphrase. You know which one I’m talking about. I never thought we’d have to use it, but this seems like a good time that we should. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah,” you manage to get out between sharp breaths.

Enola spits another colorful curse. “I’m supposed to leave in an hour heading to Singapore. I’m going to ask Connor if I can drop off this case—“

“No, E! Don’t. No. You can’t do that. I’ll send over photos, show you everything, but you can’t do that. Your job is entirely too important and you know as well as I do that Connor won’t grant it anyway. It’s fine. Your brother will help. He’s good right?” She grunts an acknowledgement. “It’ll be fine. I’m just a little spooked right now, that’s all. You said it yourself, my job gets me into trouble sometimes. I’m sure this is just someone trying to get revenge because I exposed them in the Informant. No big deal, I’ve dealt with worse.” What you won’t admit, though, is how utterly terrifying and just how much of a big deal it is that someone has somehow uncovered your juvenile record. Which is just one step away from Enola’s, and that scares you even more. If this actually gets out, you and she both can kiss your reputations, as you know them, goodbye. “I just got to get ahead of whoever this is, put a stop to it before it gets out of hand.”

“Keep me posted. Swear it!”

“I swear,” you promise before saying goodbye and disconnecting the call.

You give one last look at the intimidating display on the wall before yanking open your desk drawer and grabbing the other two drawings. You toss them onto the dining table and make quick work of checking all the windows and the doors to your apartment. Everything’s locked; as it always is. How someone got in without breaking something is lost on you.

While you wait for Enola’s brother, you check the text message he sent you earlier. It’s simple, just letting you know that he has some equipment for you and wondering when’s a good time to come over. You don’t bother to respond, knowing Enola already spoke with him and he’s coming over tonight regardless.

Thinking about what you can do in the meantime, you dial the extension for the front desk downstairs. Henry answers on the second ring.

“North Highland Park Tower, this is Henry. How may I help you?”

“Hey Hen, it’s me.”

“Ah, my favorite writer in 3C. What can I do for you tonight?”

You clear your throat. “Well, firstly, I just wanted to let you know I am expecting a visitor. It’s Enola’s brother, Jungkook. He should be by soon. I was also wondering if there was anything you’d noticed in the last few days. Maybe an odd name on the guest list, unusual people hanging out in the hallways, faces that aren’t familiar to you?”

Henry hums. “Is everything okay? Should there be something weird like that?”

It’s tempting to lie to him, but you feel bad enough as it is if your work is bringing potentially dangerous people into your building. So, you deign to give him as much of the truth as you can. “I’m not sure, really. It could just be kids in the building playing pranks, but I’ve gotten some weird presents left at my door the last few days.”

“Do I need to make a call to the locals?” Henry immediately questions. You can hear the seriousness in his voice. All it would take is one word and he’d have the PD here in a matter of minutes. “Damn kids can’t get away with scaring the community. I won’t allow it.”

“No, no, Henry. It’s nothing like that. I just wanted to see if there was anything you’d noticed is all. The things on my door have been harmless—,“ they, in truth, are, “—but if it is one of the kids in the building, I’d like to just have a chat with their parents. That’s all.”

You can practically hear the wheels turning in Henry’s head. “Yeah, okay. Nothing sticks out for me off the top of my head, but I’ll take a look back through our feeds and logs just to be sure.”

“Thanks, Henry, I appreciate it. If you find anything, just give me a ring. I swear if it’s something more, I’ve got Detective Jung on speed dial,” you put as much sincerity into your words as possible. You hope he accepts it and only does what you’ve asked. If he gets the cops involved, you’re not sure if your latest fan will care much whether it was you that called them or not.

There isn’t much more to do other than send things to Enola. You take a deep breath before heading back into your office. It’s hard to try and ignore the severity of the situation as you snap photos and send them off to her via the secure network she has set up for you. Her working for the FBI has its perks.

You get your laptop set up and begin compiling a spreadsheet of possible suspects. The number of criminals you’ve written about over the years is fairly large, but you’re able to reduce the pool based on a few factors. It’s safe to assume any of the individuals that have graced your column and are incarcerated, can be ticked off the list. That eliminates a good portion of the list. Though, you know it’s possible for criminals to coordinate from the inside. So, you backtrack and just divide that group into its own lists. All of this might be for nothing, but you feel better doing something other than just waiting.

It’s less likely that it’s someone in your building. The threat still waiting in your office is proof enough for that. That’s far too complex for a couple of jerkwad kids to pull off. Not only would they have to have the skills to dig up your juvie record, but they’d also have to be able to unseal it, purge the redactions, and then compile the manuscript. You don’t have nearly enough confidence in the abilities of teens to be able to pull that off. Plus, the biggest, glaring factor of all— motive, they have no motive.

For all the work you’re putting in right now, you’re not even sure how much will be worth the effort. You put a pot of coffee on and change into a pair of leggings and a comfortable t-shirt. It’s only about an hour after you discover the message in your office when there’s an abrupt knock on your door.

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Back to Master List ©️ �� 2022-12-22 ColorMePurplex2

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts au #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jugnkook x reader #sherlock holmes au #sherlock holmes jungkook #bts friends to lovers #bts best friends brother au #bangtanwritershq #jungkook fanfic #bts crime au #bts thriller au

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cheesecakethots · 2 years

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I can't keep this idea in my head anymore I have to tell someone! Yandere brothers College!AU/High School!AU maybe those 7 Guy was a popular student in their school and gn! MC as a new students , I like to think MC is actually Levi Crush from Elementary School and try to ask his brother how to get MC attention ( end up all his brother have a crush to mc ) sorry! My English was bad!

Lucifer:"*Try to talk to MC for Levi*..... Who's Levi again? Sorry MC, pls continue *mf enjoy when MC talking*

Mammon:"*Open the Class Door* EXCUSE me! Is there anyone name MC here!? Levi want to know your phone-..... Oh- are you Mc? *MC say yes*...... Who's Levi? Anyway what's your phone number"

Satan:"*try to find Mc because their Teacher Want to talk to them but end up seeing MC in the tree try to help a kitten*...... Sorry not sorry Levi this one is mine now"

Asmo:"*try to ask MC fav thing for Levi ( bc levi promise him to do the dishes next week)* oh! You like that too?! *Le scream* Same here! Now how about we talk a little bit more Sweetie *wink*

Beel & Belphie:"*don't really care for Levi and MC at first*

Mc talk to beel:"Hey I hear you like Sandwich? Or maybe all food *Chuckles* I have some extra from canteen you can have it"

Beel:"*Happy beels noise* Thank you! Oh are you Mc? I heard a lot you, How about We go to restaurant this afternoon?"

Belphie:"*Sleep in MC's shoulder for 30 minutes*..... Hm? Ah sorry I was sleepy... And you was so comfy... "

MC:"It's fine! We're classmates after all besides you also so warm ^^"

Belphie:"..... Well Levi you have to give this one to your lil bro, and I don't care if you not let me have them"

Levi:".... THIS IS 10 TOP ANIME BETRAYAL!!!"

Levo:"HOW COULD YOU BASTARD DO THIS TO ME!?"

All bros:"You can't blame us!"

don’t apologise for ur english , it’s great :)

also yesss i think a college/uni/high school au, specifically without the demons and stuff, would work really well for the brothers.

or maybe, the brothers are still the same devils as they are in devildom, however nobody knows that.

satan and lucifier tutoring you, at first going from condescending and stiff to calming and reassuring as time goes on. don’t let either of them know that the other also tutors you for a different subject, you don’t want to face their jealousy in particular.

mammon trying to get you to flunk your classes with him, standing outside your lessons and pressing his face to the small window in the door in order to peek over at you. he doesn’t even seem to realise the puppy eyes he gives you, but you probably don’t want to mention it if you don’t want to see his face light up in a furious blush, as words of denial tumble from his lips.

asmo loves to show up at your house at ungodly hours in the morning, silently enjoying your rugged and sleepy look as he declares that he’s going to give you a makeover before school. how lucky for you, right? don’t be surprised at the strange and jealous looks you are given by your peers at being seen walking to school with the prettiest guy they’ve ever seen.

beel has a more hands on approach than mammon does; he’ll just burst through your classroom door and storm right up to you, giving you no time to even collect your things before his hands grasp at you and place you on his shoulder. he doesn’t seem to understand why you would want to go to classes rather than spend time with him and belphie.

speaking of which, you’ll be carried over to belphie’s favourite napping spot, the grassy patch under the tree in the school fields. you really won’t have much of a say in this as beel’s massive form keeps you pressed between them, practically forcing you to go to sleep. beel likes to watch his two favourite people relax while he munches on whatever food he has.

i can dig the idea of levi knowing reader before everyone else, if this is still a canon au but of them going to the human world, maybe in his earlier years levi was sent off to the human world as belphie supposedly was. it could be due to levi once having a dangerous hatred for human kind, or for other reasons, but whatever it may be he truly became addicted to you at such a young age. he certainly didn’t expect to come back with his brothers and meet you once more, and whilst he’s overjoyed at that… he can’t help but feel his envy rise to uncontrollable points at seeing you interact with his brothers.

no matter, he knew you first right, so surely he’s staked the first claim?

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yandere obey me #yandere beelzebub #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere leviathan #yandere asmodeus #yandere asmo #yandere satan #.asks

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twicethetrouble · 3 months

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Ref: Runaway freelancer Simmons AU

Just imagining later down the line that it just hits everyone that Tex is Simmons’ mom too.

That the director was the dad that left him.

That church is his ???

They don’t know what the hxll to call that actually.

Just like with Carolina.

Church is like the default name they go to instead of differentiating them at first or it’s like passing the torch??

Anyways, what does Epsilon think of him? Does any one ever find out about Eta? Like it’s pretty clear Carolina and Epsilon are brother and sister. But he’s not close to Simmons like he is with her.

When she runs off without telling him on chorus….

How does he handle that? Seeing her again?

The way i usually go about the weird family relations of the ais-to-living-churchs is that the fragments (ie: everyone except Alpha and Beta) are seen as Carolina's (and any sibling i might add. this isn't my only au where carolina gets a brother lol) siblings. Alpha is essentially a clone of the Director so any AI created from him at least has honorary sibling status. Beta/tex being an exception. (she's based off of an entirely different person so she's family, but not fragment sibling.) She and Alpha both are considered family b/c they're based off of Carolina's parents, but they aren't those people so it's a little weird.

Tex, specifically, is like parent-adjacent. Like she has memories and some left over parental feelings from Alison but she knows she's not her so i think she tries to ignore said feelings for the most part. She's a little extra protective of Simmons compared to the rest of the team of red and blue idiots, well, that's no one's business.

But yeah, the realization that the person Tex is based off of, is Simmons's mom would be quite the shocker. and probably explain why she kept beating Grif up so badly lol.

Epsilon doesn't really know what to think of Simmons. Like he never met the dude in Freelancer; Simmons left before he was ever created. But he does know him from Alpha's memories, (though i think Alpha may have purposefully erased the memory of Simmons taking Eta in order to protect Eta, so Epsilon probably only knows him as the demolition tech who's related to the Director.) Therefore Epsilon doesn't really know how to interact with him, so he just kinda doesn't most of the time. (they might bond more later but pre-chorus there is little to no interaction between Simmons and Epsilon.)

Everyone does eventually find out about Eta. I can't exactly remember if i had come up with a specific instance in which that happens or not. Simmons implants Eta end of season 6, waking them up, so they're awake throughout that entire pre-chorus arc. Their existance is found out either at the end of that arc or around the beginning of the Chorus arc, i'm not entirely sure atm.

and i think, Simmons would be angry with her for disappearing like that on them. Like, he chose to follow her to the end of the 'kill-the-director mission. the thought they were growing closer again, bonding. But then she and epsilon leave them without a word?

(part of him thinks it's only fitting. He did that to her in freelancer, she has every right to return the favor.)

but then she comes back. Without even an apology and barely an acknowledgement that she was gone. yeah, i don't think he'd like that very much.

Thank you!

#asks #rvb #red vs blue #Simmons's runaway freelancer au

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eisforeidolon · 8 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/eisforeidolon/728491554945269760/it-really-does-seem-that-getting-too-deep-into

Okay but this was totally my ask. Lol.

You expressed the issue so well. The only thing I’d like to point out is that this reactor is watching for the first time, not rewatching the series, so they don’t know how it ends yet.

Anyway, your points about symbolism and how they could have multiple meanings are great. And the fact that extreme shippers only find significance in the things that support their ship or head canon, or only interpret things in a way that will end where they want the story to go, is so frustrating.

Recent example: Sam and Dean are talking about Eileen. And Dean is encouraging Sam to go for a relationship with her, if not a family which they both suggest they don’t want during the convo, and Dean says, “She gets us. She gets the life.”

In response to this convo I see shippers saying things like, Dean is encouraging Sam to have a family (which he just said he didn’t want), to move on without him. This shows Dean is letting go of Sam (so he can move on with Castiel, naturally 🙄). I’m sorry, but what in the history of the show tells us that Dean would want Sam to move on without him (if Dean is still alive)? In this conversation they both literally rule out having a (traditional) family. And Dean says, “she understands us.” Us, being the unit that is Sam and Dean because they are a package deal. Then, Dean adds that she understands “the life.” Someone could interpret that Dean just means that she understands hunters, but then why say she understands “us” first. Dean, who calls a break “we time” does not want Sam away from him, rather he thinks Sam could add her in to they dynamic because she is a hunter (gets the life) and already sees what Sam and Dean are like (us). This in no way translates to Dean letting Sam go, so he can run off with Cas (who he sees as a less vital than Sam brother and who he’s currently mad at, btw).

So, yes, I’m doing some interpreting here myself, but mine aligns with what the show has showed us about these characters for 14 years, whereas hellers see Dean giving Sam his blessing to have a relationship (not a normal brother thing, btw), and think this means Dean is ready to move on from Sam and stop hunting. So much extra meaning is piled on that was not actually stated, and that is not supported by past actions.

It’s insane to me.

Anyway, sorry for the rant, but it’s just so good to see people who still have logic and can apply that when interpreting a show, text, moment or symbol.

And, it’s not the fact that they ship destiel that bugs me, but the fact that they spend do much time trying to prove it, and losing their minds over the most innocuous interactions, that they can’t see the forest for the trees. Then they get mad when they don’t get what they head-canoned.

It was a great ask! I didn't directly reblog because I felt like I was going on a bit too much of a long-ass tangent. I will totally be waiting for that update about how the watching reactor (and yeah, totally my bad on saying rewatch when obviously if they don't know the ending it's a first watch, whoops). Because if it makes you a bad person to want to bask in their well-earned completely unreasonable disappointment, whelp, I'm one, too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But yeah, I'm with you, I don't care if people ship things I don't like. I don't even really care when people come up with what I think is bad meta - though I do like to pick it apart on occasion or read someone else's thorough dismantling. No, the thing that really completely baffles me is how those extreme shippers' mindset leaps from "this is a thing I would really like to happen" to "this thing must be meant to happen (because I want it)". To the point where they seem to become genuinely blind to anything that doesn't support the conclusion they have decided literally everything must lead to. (Except in the even worse cases where they aren't blind but angrily venomous instead.)

Like your example above about Dean, Sam, and Eileen - never mind every single tangled up bit of Dean and Sam's relationship in the show to that point and beyond, never mind his actual words continuing to talk about them as an us. Dean is totally telling Sam to leave him for Eileen so he can go be with Cas, that's the only thing it could mean. Another is that scene where Dean's in the confessional booth in season ten. Never mind the pretext where he's trying to draw a spirit's attention making the earnestness of the entire thing questionable, never mind how he thinks he's under a death sentence with the MoC, never mind Dean and Castiel's actual canon relationship, never mind how entirely shitty and restricted his entire life has been - those shippers can't think of a single possible thing Dean Winchester might feel like he's missed out other than boning Castiel. Just ... imagine watching the Winchesters' lives and actually thinking that's literally the only thing it could be. There are a million more random moments like that where they build a clue out of very very pointedly ignoring everything but what they want a scene to mean. Then they try to insist because they have so many, all those interpretations are valid and it must be intended! But the consistent element isn't a storyline, it's their own refusal to consider that any other possibility exists over and over and over again.

Genre, themes, actual explicit narrative, alternate interpretations, creator statements - if it isn't in service of the ship? It either magically doesn't matter, will change SOON, or is some kind of enemy action that should be righteously fought against. As if because they've invested their time and energy into sort of following the story, its creators now owe it to them to do what they want. I legitimately don't get it at all. The massive blind spots or the massive entitlement.

#askboxery #anonymous #destiew #destihellers

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brunchable · 2 years

Text

2319 Chapter 6 - All Alone With The Love of My Life || Young!S.S. x F!Reader.

Word Count: 10K Genre: Young Love, Diary Entry, Flashbacks. A/N: Inspired by the Korean Drama 2521. Updates will be extra slow since I am working extra shifts. Me and my fiancé are getting our dream house built as well and there are a lot of paper work to be done. Thank you for being patient. *I do not own the gif used*

Previous || Next

July 11 1999

"I'm running away!" Victor announced, clutching the straps of his backpack, which he stuffed with a bottle of water, his gameboy and a couple of snacks.

He walked out of the door, "And I am NOT coming back!"

"Okay see you in ten minutes, bud." Stephen replied without glancing at Victor and continued on playing games on the TV.

"All of you won't see me AGAIN!"

"Okay. Goodbye." Stephen waved, still not bothering to look back at him while Donna kept her nose stuck into her book.

"I hate all of you! You don't deserve a goodbye! So badbye!"

"Mhm, take care. Laters, gators."

Victor growls and slams the door shut. He slowly descended down the porch stairs, wiping away dry tears. By the time Victor was walking through the front yard. Stephen and Donna exchanged glances and shot up from their seats and discreetly peaked at Victor who was taking his time leaving the property—both snickering amongst themselves.

"What if he actually runs away?" Donna asks, slightly worried but at the same time knows that Victor doesn't have the guts to do it.

"He won't, who announces that they're running away?" Stephen laughs as he watches Victor looking back with a pitiful look on his face.

"Fair enough." Donna shrugs before turning around to lie back down on the couch, "I'm going to have a snooze before work so be quiet and keep an eye out for Vic."

"Sure, sure." Stephen takes one last glance at Victor who he could see walking slowly at the sidewalk.

Victor has had enough of Stephen not letting him have a turn on the new game and Beverly sides with Stephen that Victor should be playing outside with the other kids. Hence why he was going to run away. He doesn’t know where he's going to go but he wants to walk far enough that he'll be out of Stephen’s sight.

Victor looks back and glares at his house. They really weren't going to come out and chase after him—now he really doesn't want to come back. But where will he go?

"Hey Victor, where are you going?" Vanessa notices the little boy sulking on the sidewalk with his head down while she pulls out weed on her garden bed.

"Oh. Hello Mrs (L/N). I'm running away from home."

Vanessa's eyes widened slightly and looked back towards their house, "Well you don't look quite prepared for someone who's running away."

"I am! I got my gameboy, my favourite snacks and a bottle of water." Victor stepped forward to show Vanessa the contents of his bag.

"That does not look sufficient, why don’t you come inside my house for a while? I’ll make you something you like.” Vanessa smiled as she took her gloves off.

“That would be a pleasure Mrs (L/N)!”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

July 30 2013

He did it, he bought the house and with complete ease as well. Stephen made sure that no one could compete and started his bid at one million to which no one bidded higher. That’s how much he wanted to have this house. He and Victor stood by the front yard, reminiscing at all the memories this house contained.

“You really did it.” Victor chuckles while shaking his head, “I thought you were joking when I heard your voicemail—Remember that time when I ran away?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, you ‘ran away’ plenty of times.” Stephen quoted with his fingers and gave his little brother a side-eye matched with a smirk.

“The one where Donna had to cancel her shift because of me.”

“Ah. . . yeah. We got roasted pretty good afterwards because of you.” Stephen clicked his tongue, remembering what happened vividly in his mind, “Where did you go anyway? You never really told us.”

Victor cracks into a short breathy laugh and agrees, “I was just next door hanging out with (Y/N). She was going to call and let you know but I begged her not to because I wanted to really scare you guys.”

“You’re an evil little shit—Mom genuinely feared that you got kidnapped.”

Victor shrugs and grins victoriously, “It was fun seeing you and Donna get roasted though—does Mrs (L/N) still live next door?”

"I believe so. . ." Stephen shrugged, he hasn't seen you since then and he was hoping he would run into you someday.

"So what’s your plan with the house?" Victor asked.

"I don't know yet. . . I think I'll stay here on my long service leave in a couple of months."

"Nice. . ." Victor nodded, followed by a long moment of silence while Stephen got lost in his thoughts, "You miss her don't you?"

"Who?"

"(Y/N)."

Stephen laughs quite scornfully, "What makes you think that?"

"I don't know—maybe I saw a little polaroid photo in your car and now you bought this house, a place filled with the happiest and saddest memories we all share—You’re hanging onto them and you don’t want to move on."

"Geeze. Sentimental much? Can't I just buy back our childhood home just because?" Stephen playfully rolled his eyes.

"My childhood home, Stephen. You were a grown-up when we moved here."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

After you opened the door for yourself when no one answered, it swung wide to show an open-concept great room that appeared to have stopped in time. The dated décor in the kitchen, the long, well-loved dining table and a dozen mismatched chairs, and the cosy living room with its oversized furniture all look so loved and worn and lived in, and you can feel the memories in this place because of it.

Your only desire is to investigate every nook and cranny of the house. You head down a hallway that looks promising. Pictures of the Strange flank the wall as you walk. Are his parents moving back in?

Beverly and Eugene on their wedding day, then a series of steadily growing family portraits. First, baby Donna, her fluffy brown chickadee hair. Next, baby Stephen who is frowning adorably, dark-brown hair sticking straight up in a mohawk, his dad’s bright-green eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You snort softly and stop long enough to look closer, your fingertips tracing that frown. His frown was so cute. It still is. Forcing yourself not to dwell on that, you resume on your family photo tour as you walk down the hall, the pictures growing busier as the family grows, too.

A noise can be heard just as you move your attention away from the picture wall. A sound that is very human-like. Like footsteps. There was a person present. Probably whoever was driving that sports car outside in the driveway. You stop moving, your fingers poised over the doorknob to the basement as you listen more carefully. You make an effort to persuade yourself that you are making things up in your head. But then you hear it: steady, increasingly louder footsteps coming from behind the door you were about to open. This is right out of a horror movie. Some murdering fucker is coming for you from the basement. Adrenaline floods your system, panic pricking your skin. You glance around wildly, hoping to find something you can defend yourself with.

Your attention is drawn in a split second to the plank of wood. A decent weapon. You give some thought to running towards it in the vain hope that you will be able to capture it in time to use it as a weapon against your attacker, but it is too late. The door opens.

You stand face-to-face with a tall man hidden in shadow, only his boots illuminated by a flashlight. You scream, then push the guy, hoping you can catch him off guard long enough to run away.

He yells in shock and drops the flashlight. Then he reels backward, teetering on the edge of the step, arms pinwheeling at his sides. As his head tips back in the effort to find his balance, his features catch in the flashlight’s beams. That’s when you recognized who you just shoved to his staircase doom. Stephen Strange.

It happens in slow motion, and your imagination is running wild, picturing Stephen flipping down the steps and breaking his neck. So you reach for him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in an effort to slow him down.

Here’s the thing. You were five-four and pretty fit. Stephen, though very lean, is nearly six and a half feet tall, and whatever is on those bones is muscle. Muscle, which is heavy. Meaning holding onto Stephen does nothing, except send you with him. You try to stop yourself from pitching forward, too, but it’s hopeless. You fall into him, just as he arcs backward like a diver. Stephen plants his hands on the slanted ceiling behind him, stopping you from plummeting down the steps. Your bodies connect with a clattering oomph. Dear God. He’s so big. So tall and lean and big.

You feel his hard thigh muscles. The undeniable…bulk at his groin. His sharp hip bones jut into your, your chest are smashed against his chest, and your hands rest right over his pecs to steady yourself. Air saws in and out of both your lungs, echoing around you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say hoarsely. You're still clinging to him as you both hover at an unnervingly steep angle over the stairs, “You startled me, and I just…reacted.”

He doesn’t answer you. On a grunt, he pushes off the ceiling, which thrusts his body into yours. Heat rockets beneath your skin, and the moment your heels touch down on the landing, you step away, embarrassment pinking your cheeks.

After clearing his throat, Stephen picks up the flashlight that was dropped and then switches it off. After that, he takes a step forwards and casually closes the basement door behind him as if you didn't just bump into each other and come dangerously close to falling down the steps.

“What are you doing here?” he finally says. His voice wraps around you, deep and soft as a midnight caress. You blink dazedly, then snap out of it.

“Uh…what? I’m… I’m here just to greet mom's new neighbor. She saw someone moving in.” His eyes travel to me then slide down the hallway. A long, heavy sigh leaves him.

“Why are you here?” you ask carefully. Swearing under his breath, he pockets the flashlight and strolls past you.

“Outside.”

“Outside?” you watch his long strides make quick work of the hallway.

Stephen points with the flashlight toward the front door, “Outside. Please.”

Is he seriously kicking you out? Walking your way, he uses the flashlight to nudge you toward the door. You're being corralled like sheep. “Please, (Y/N.)”

“Okay, okay. I’m going. Is something wrong?”

“Just about everything,” he mutters.

You glance over your shoulder, staring around for signs of home disaster. The place seems well-loved, but it hardly looks like it’s falling apart. Then again, looks can be deceiving.

“Is that why you’re here? In the basement?” you ask. “With a flashlight?”

“Dealing with major plumbing issues. No electricity on for safety, thus the flashlight.”

Opening the front door, Stephen follows you outside. As you step onto the porch, then face each other, every thought evaporates. The evening sun bathes him in golden light as he stands tall, his face unreadable but handsome as ever—rich black hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes dark as the deepest parts of the ocean. He looks different than when you saw him last, or that one time when he showed up at one of your exhibitions in NYC and wore the fuck out of a charcoal-black two-piece suit—bright-white button-up, cognac leather belt and dress shoes, no tie… you sound creepy remembering all of that, but if you saw Stephen Strange looking like sin in a suit, you’d remember the fine details, too.

Stephen notices you staring, then peers down. Twin splashes of pink bloom on his cheeks as he swiftly buttons his shirt two more, until it sits open just below the hollow of his throat.

“So…” you fold your arms across your chest, as much to hide your body reacting to that peek of Stephen’s skin, as to brace yourself against the wind. “What now?”

He runs both hands through his hair and swallows. You do not watch his Adam’s apple bob.

"Yeah. . . What now?"

He leads you to a small table in a quiet restaurant. A late hour for dinner, most of the tables are empty. He pulls out your chair. You sat down, but really, this was awkward. The only light is from a few well placed candles. A waiter approaches and, without saying a word, pours them wine and leaves the bottle. No menus. Stephen has ordered for them in advance while you're both on your way to the restaurant. There will be no interruptions from wait staff aside from the bringing and clearing of the courses.

He watches as you awkwardly sips the wine. You notice a shy smile slips out. He hasn't seen you for a long time and he couldn't help but watch you. A voyeur looking into a secret world. He smiles warmly back as if to comfort you, and it does.

You begin to enjoy his gaze. Soaking it in. Feeling his eyes move over you. From your eyes to your nose, cheeks, lips. The curve of your neck. Slope of your shoulders—He was distracted when your phone screen lit up. Your lockscreen a photo of young Sasha beside your husband in one of the Disneyland rides.

Stephen looks at your left hand and you wore your wedding ring—that's right, you were married. How could he forget?

"How's Sasha?" Stephen asks.

"She’s doing well, very healthy, very smart—she wants to become a Cardiologist when she grows up."

"A cardiologist? Wow," Stephen chuckles, "I don't want to be a mood killer but. . . Have you told her yet?"

"No. I haven't, there's a lot going on right now. I don’t think it's fair for her."

"Like what?" Stephen notices the sudden discomfort in your face, "I'm sorry. You don't need to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, don't be. We are getting divorced and it's emotionally heavy on her." You shift on your seat and Stephem frowns.

"Oh. I'm very sorry to hear that." Stephen says and feels cruel because he doesn't feel sorry at all, instead he feels. . . relieved?

"Yeah. . . Me too." You nod, fiddling with your wedding ring, "But don't worry, I'll tell Sasha everything when the time is right."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

July 18 1999

"What now?" You asked Donna.

You've been smuggled again by your friend to go outside after avoiding her brother constantly. You run into him at the shops? You swerve the other away. You see him with a few of his friends? You trot past them without making eye contact. You make it so obvious that you're avoiding him, so he avoids you right back.

"We just relax." Donna leans back on the picnic blanket, "You could sketch if you want to."

Since Donna brought Robbie to dinner and introduced him to their family, Beverly thought it was a good idea to take the family out to the beach for some quality time.

The frothy, blue-green salt water crashes into the setting sun reflected shoreline in waves, then gently rolls up to the increasingly rising tide line. The wave stops as it reaches the tide line and slowly rolls back into the churning ocean water.

This relaxing rhythm of continuous lapping waves is music to your ears. Never have you seen a sunset as breathtaking as this. The Sun peeking through the heavy, white clouds illuminates the sky in a dazzling orange glow, causing the fluffy, white sand to appear orange in color as well.

Closer by the shoreline Stephen, Eugene, Victor and Robbie were playing volleyball with a couple of strangers. You watch Stephen stutter step to line up with the flying ball and before take those infamous three steps to go for a spike. When he reaches the top peak and the ball is in front of him it's as if time stops. He was floating, then when his hand connected to the ball hitting it hard, his opponents were unable to receive his attack.

He screamed in victory while facing his teammates with a fist pump. You don’t know what it is but something about how the salty air curled his black hair, the way he sprints to receive the ball and his overall competitiveness was so attractive. He catches you watching after he turns around celebrating his victory with his Dad.

You pick up your pencil and quickly bring your attention to the blank page of your sketchbook. You point the graphite on the page before realising you don’t know what to draw, then your eyes lift up and land on Stephen; he was looking up, focused on chasing after the ball to receive it, a smirk creeping on the corner of his lips knowing that he'll catch the ball. Christ.

You begin to sketch. Eyes flicking on and off Stephen while your hands go on auto-pilot sketching lines. Though he kept moving around, it was easy to reimagine that smile since he had it on the whole time.

"Heads!! HEADS!" One of the boys at the beach shouted to warn you of the incoming football, but you were so immersed in sketching Stephen that you noticed the ball coming towards you a bit too late.

The football bounced off your temple, hitting you pretty hard that you fell back.

"Oh my gosh! (Y/N)! Are you okay?" Donna attended to you.

The person responsible for kicking the ball unintentionally towards you ran to check up on you.

"I am so sorry, It wasn't my intention to hit you." He said as he bent down to apologize.

"It's okay. I'm alright." You cradled your head teary from the pain. His dark brown eyes widened when he saw that he made you cry.

"I am so sorry, please don't cry—Let me get you something cold." He said in a panic while trying to figure out what to do, "I'll be back!"

Before you could say anything the boy with a brown curly hair ran towards their spot where his friends began teasing him for hitting you; he opened their cooler where he grabbed an ice pack before running back to you.

"He's cute." Donna nudged you as he came back.

"Oh shush." You nudge her back, glancing at Stephen who seemed to be glancing every now and then to see what was going on.

"Here. . . Can I have a look?" He dips his head to catch your eye and you slowly turn your head and he softly hissed seeing the red spot, "I am so sorry."

"You said that three times already," you pressed your lips together awkwardly as he placed the ice pack gently on your head. He smiled shyly, his dimples sinking deep in his cheeks.

"That's because I genuinely feel really bad."

"If you genuinely feel really bad, Mister 'So Sorry', then maybe leave my friend your number and make it up to her?" Donna cheekily smiled and you shot her a glare.

"Uh. . ." The boy trailed off.

"Don't listen to her! You don't need to make it up to me, the ice is enough."

"No. I mean your friend's right I should—but I uh don't have a pen or paper."

Donna sighed as she leaned forward and ripped a piece from your sketchbook and snatched your pencil from you ignoring your protests, "Here you go."

The boy looked at you and wrote his name and number on the ripped paper and gave it to you.

"Alex?" You read his name.

"Yes, I'm Alex and you are?"

"Everything all right over here?" Stephen interrupted before you could introduce yourself to Alex. Donna rolled her eyes at her brother who seemed to always enter at the wrong time. You pocketed the piece of paper and closed your book shut.

"Yes Stephen, everything was peachy until you showed up." Donna stuck her tongue out at her brother.

"Why do you have that on your head?" He ignored Donna and asked you.

"It was an accident." You replied and awkwardly glanced towards Alex, "You should go back to your friends. . . Thank you for the ice pack."

"Oh yeah. . . I forgot for a second I got friends." Alex stood up and dusted off the sand on his knees, "Will you text or call me?"

Stephen tilted his head, brows knitted to a monobrow.

"She will! I'll make sure of it!" Donna cut you off.

Alex chuckles, "Alright. I'll see you later." He picks up the football, smiling at you with those dimples before turning around and returning to his friends.

"Who was that?" Stephen eyed the other man.

Donna shrugged, "Maybe (Y/N)'s future boyfriend or husband. . .who knows?" She squinted her eyes at Stephen.

You smacked Donna with your freezing hand, chuckling, "Stop it!"

"I see. Congratulations then." Stephen pulls up a fake smile while grabbing a cola from the cooler.

What's his deal?

"Thanks. Maybe he'll take me on a date and I'll gladly say yes." You retort to Stephen, feeling peeved at the way he was acting cold.

"Good for you, at least you're not cooped up in your house all the time apart from going to work." He replied nonchalantly while also in a fake-caring tone.

"Maybe I just do that to steer clear of doing things I might y'know, regret? You should try that sometimes."

"I don't need to do that because I don't regret anything." He turns and holds your gaze, you fight to keep yours but the image of him kissing you flashes back and you look away.

"What is up with the two of you?" Donna asks.

"Nothing!" You and Stephen said simultaneously.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Just like you promised your mom, you'd be home before dinner. Vanessa was in the kitchen talking to someone on the phone while stirring soup in the pot.

Arthur was in the dining room setting the table nicely when you peeked in, "(Y/N) wash up and get dressed, we got visitors coming!"

"Okay! I just got back, geeze." You mumbled as you ran up to your room to prepare yourself for dinner.

After washing up you wore a daisy embroidered mini dress with your hair half done-up. Every time they had visitors around they wanted you to look extra presentable, because you were your parents' ice princess. And they wore it like a badge of pride.

You were to start training in a few weeks and you were about to meet your new coach. You heard your mother welcome people into your home. You heard your father lead them towards the dining room while your mother fetches you to go downstairs and meet the visitors.

"(Y/N), come down and meet your new coach." She demanded, seeing that you're just hanging out at the upstairs lounge.

"I thought I said I'm giving up Ice skating?" You asked. Vanessa gave you a stern look and you reluctantly stood up.

You followed your mother downstairs with a frown on your face. Vanessa glanced at you, "Will you put a smile on?"

"Maybe I'm trying to scare away my coach."

"(Y/N) now is not the time," She whispered and then continued leading you to the dining room where everyone was waiting for you, "George, Alex—this is my daughter (Y/N)."

Alex? You look up and your eyes are met with his dark chocolaty orbs, a full grin on his face, those dimples glorious dimples on his cheek.

"Nice to meet you (Y/N). I'm looking forward to working with you. This is my son, Alex, he'll be helping me train you." George stood up, greeting you with a warm smile.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

July 18 1999

So much for making a promise of being happy together when we hang out when all we do nowadays is argue. And what does he mean by he doesn't regret anything? Now he's taking it back? How annoying. Ugh. . . Why does he have to be so freaking attractive?! I just finished my sketch of him at the beach and I can’t stop staring at it. I should just be the bigger person and stop this madness so that things would go back to normal. I think even Donna is beginning to get suspicious.

Anyways. I met my new coach tonight and who would have known that Alex, the boy who hit me with the ball was his son? I admit he is beyond cute, especially those dimples. . .his smile is so pretty. . .jesus i need to get a hold of myself. . .

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Hey, isn't that the guy who was with you at the beach?" Alex asked over your shoulder and snatched your book.

"Hey, give it back!" You stand up and try to snatch it back, you were so focused on trying to take it back that you didn't even ask what he was doing in your room.

"You're really good at drawing—no sorry let me rephrase that—you are amazing." He lifts his long arms and flips through the notebook.

"Were you not taught about privacy?!" You jump up but fail again and again to retrieve your book.

"Privacy? What's that?" Alex chuckles, "You like him don't you?"

"What?! No I don't!" You growl as you attempt to snatch it away from him, only to be too slow.

"Then why do you have multiple sketches of him?"

"Is this how you make up with people? Prying over their business?"

"Can you draw me as well?" Alex asked, "I want you to draw me like one of your french girls."

You crack into a chuckle after he referenced the greatest movie of all time, "Only if you piss me off—And what are you doing in my room anyway?" You give up and sit back down on your chair.

"Your mom kindly asked me to fetch you back down for dessert—and no this is not how I usually make things up to people. You can call this, flirting." Alex bluntly answered and shamelessly sat down on the ottoman by the end of your bed.

You threw your head back and laughed, "Flirting?"

"Yes, (Y/N), I am flirting with you." Alex hands you back the notebook, "How's your head?"

Your smile disappears slightly, feeling shy all of a sudden due to his direct nature, "My head is fine."

"Good. We should get to know each other before Dad trains you, we'll be getting handsy because I'll be your choreographer and your medic."

"Wow you're an all rounder?"

"Talented, I know—not as talented as you though. Let's have dinner sometime this week. I'll pay for everything as part of making it up to you." He smiles and glances out the window, feeling like someone is watching him but sees no one.

"Sure. I'll text you my availability."

"Awesome, how about we go downstairs together so I can win your parents' good graces?" He offers you his arm as he stands up.

You laugh at his remarks and take his arm, "Are you always this direct?"

"Yes, I got no filter—just warning you." He winks.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Next Day

You're fairly certain he’s no Ted Bundy, but you could have asked whether Alex did ask your parents permission to pick you up from work. You slide a surreptitious glance his way, studying the hands on the steering wheel. Those hands are grace and capability, rough and smooth. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t wring your neck.

“So, how did you say you got my Dad to say yes again?” you ask, deliberately nonchalant.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to asking some questions.” His expression loosens into a grin, “You keep looking at me like I might pull over at the side and stuff you in the trunk.”

“Who . . . what . . . me? Noooo.” His breaks away from the traffic long enough to give me a knowing look, accompanied by a smirk, “Okay, maybe a little.” A nervous laugh slips out.

“I actually was thinking I should have asked for some proof or ID or something. Not just hop in the car with a perfect stranger.” you joked.

“Perfect?” Cockiness curves his lips. “I get that a lot.”

“You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?” you laugh.

“Oh, I shouldn’t be?” Even in profile, his grin is a little dazzling. “No, you’re right. I could have offered more than 'I'm Alex. Let’s eat and get to know each other.’”

He tips his head toward the phone in your lap, "Why not call your Dad so you can breathe a little easier?"

I should have thought of that. What’s wrong with me?

You pick up your phone and dial your Father's number. It rang three times before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad, did Alex ask you permission to pick me up after work?"

"Yeah. He did. Why? Are you both alright?"

"Yeah. . . Just double checking."

You flick a glance Alex's way. His expression is completely relaxed and impassive, and his eyes are set on the road like you're not even there, but he doesn’t fool you. There’s this constant alertness that crackles around him, as if he’s been trained to be on guard but is wily enough to let you believe he isn’t. You think he’s always completely aware of everything around him, and this conversation between your Dad is no exception.

"Alright well, Alex will take you back home and stay with you until me and your mother comes back before dinner—"

"He doesn’t need to do that."

"He doesn’t mind—he also has some things to discuss with me so he might as well wait."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You've read same line several times. Your laptop could be upside down and you probably wouldn’t notice. You're sitting on the couch with your computer propped on your knees, not making any headway on the essay for your art scholarship application.

You could blame fatigue considering you haven’t really stopped since you left for work in the morning. Or you're getting hungry again. You could use those excuses for your lack of focus, but there’s only one real reason if you're honest. Alex. He’s an unexpected fascination, a tantalizing riddle you keep turning over in your head.

You keep hoping he’ll make sense eventually, but then you're somehow glad he doesn’t add up or behave the way you think he should. If he were in the same room, you'd still be surreptitiously gawking, stealing glances at one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen, but he’s in your father's study. He went there almost immediately after you arrived, and you haven’t heard a peep from him since.

You guess he is as obsessed with skating as your father. Yet another reason not to venture too deeply into the odd attraction you feel for him.

“Not that he’s here,” you mumble. “He isn’t much company.”

I'm the one who said he doesn’t have to keep me company, and now I'm complaining because he isn’t.

“Claude Monet?” Alex's voice, as deep and rich as espresso, caresses the nape of your neck from behind, making you jump, “Interesting choice.”

You look from the sharply hewn lines of his face to the flashing cursor behind Monet's name on your screen, "Geeze, is that your hobby? Creeping up on people?

“Sorry.” He walks around to sit beside you on the couch. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You set your laptop on the coffee table and scoot a few inches away, tucking your into the corner of the couch. You weren’t doing a good job focusing when he was in the other room. With the breadth of his shoulders and the towering energy he brought with him, you give up. I’ll work on it tomorrow.

A thrill passes through you at the prospect of another conversation with him. You're not one of those giddy girls who gets all breathless when a guy comes around. And yet, with those chocolaty colored eyes resting on your face, you're almost short of breath.

“Isn’t it summer break?” Alex crooks a grin at you and leans into the opposite corner of the couch. “Shouldn't you be getting some time off?”

“Oh, I’m taking some time off for sure.” you tuck your legs under you. Since you exchanged your jeans for some old cut offs, you have to pretend not to notice him looking a little too long at your bare legs. The last thing you need is to get the idea that he likes you. You did an awful job with Stephen, you don't need another one.

“So, you write essays about Monet to relax?”

"Not exactly.” you laugh and scoop your hair up into a topknot. “I’m applying for a scholarship. The application is due in a months time, and I need to finish the essay—Do you know much about him?”

He pulls his T-shirt up from the hem, and your heart might’ve popped an artery or something because it shouldn’t be working this hard while at rest. You swallow hard at the layer of muscle wrapped around his ribs. One pectoral muscle peeks from under the shirt.

“Do you see it?” he asks.

“Huh?” your reluctantly drag your eyes from the ladder of velvet-covered muscle and sinew to the expectant look on his face.

“See what?”

“The tattoo.” He runs a finger over the ink scrawled across his ribs. A man in a suit with a bouquet of sun flowers as a head.

"My mother used to give me a supplemental book list every school year. Books she said the schools wouldn’t teach. She said don’t wait for any body to give you anything. Even your education you have to take. If the one they offer you isn’t enough, make your own—that's the meaning of my tattoo.”

“Is that how you’re so well-read? Or at least seem to be.” you raise your brows at him. “Or maybe that’s just how you pickup the smart girls?”

“Are you a smart girl, (Y/N)?” His voice fondles your name.

“You can’t turn off the flirt, can you?” you ask to distract yourself from the fact that it’s working.

"No, unfortunately. . ."

"You are something else," You shake your head, "You literally scream the Red aura."

"And what about your aura?"

"I think mine is Yellow."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I am creative, relaxed and friendly." You shrug and smile gently, "Red means up-beat, you exert a lot of energy."

Alex nods like he's agreeing with you and you squint your eyes at him, making him chuckle, "What?"

"You think I'm a lunatic."

"No I don't. I think it's pretty interesting. . . your impression of me. I'm flattered." He pauses, his jaw working as he thinks of something to add, "But I think I'll stick to a girl who is a colour of smart, the shade of funny, maybe with a little hue of sexy."

You snort and shakes your head, "The way your brain works is interesting. Well then, what colour do you think I am Alex?"

"What colour are you?" Alex turns his body towards you and heavily studies your features, those dark eyes staring into you. He holds his gaze for a moment longer, eyes never leaving your face, "You, (Y/N), are a prism."

A breathy chuckle leaves you as you look down, defeated by his compliments. The doorbell rings all of a sudden and both of you turn your heads towards the window at the same time.

"Does your Dad usually ring the doorbell?" Alex asks.

"No, of course he doesn't."

"Want me to check it out instead?"

You nod, "Yeah sure."

Alex gets up whilst pulling his shirt back down before casually opening the door, coming face to face with Stephen. Alex recognized him instantly and smiled at the confused looking man in front of him.

"Who are you?" Stephen asked, his eyes panning inside your house to look for a sign of you.

"No, who are you?"

"Alex, who's there—Stephen?"

"(Y/N)."

"What are you doing here?" You asked wide-eyed, shocked to see him standing in front of your door.

Alex turns his head and nods, "Yeah, what are you doing here?"

"Excuse me. . . I asked who are you?"

"Alex and you must be Stephen."

"What are you doing here?" Stephen asked.

"We asked you that first." Alex replied instantly.

"We? (Y/N) asked this morning whether we could talk after her shift," Stephen turns towards you, "Did you forget?"

You shut your eyes and nodded guiltily, "Yeah, sorry I got. . . distracted—but we can still talk, let me grab a cardigan."

"Sure." Stephen stood firmly at the door glancing at Alex who was watching him carefully, as if he was trying to read his intentions.

"Bring her back as quickly as you can, will you bro? Thanks." Alex pats Stephen’s shoulder before walking back into the living room.

You jog back down to find no signs of both boys, "Alex?"

"I'm here." His head pops out from the living room, "Need anything before ditching me?"

"I'm not—I made a plan with him first, I just forgot."

"I'm kidding, (Y/N). I'll wait for your parents here and don't worry, I'm not a kleptomaniac—although you do know I have no idea what privacy is. . . You got some interesting stuff in your room." Alex playfully taps his chin.

You smack his arm, "This might be a bit too much to ask, but can you cover for me?"

"You want me to lie to your parents?"

"I—"

"Again, I'm kidding. Sure, only because I hit you with a ball before." Alex nods, "Have fun with your boyfie."

"He is not my boyfriend!" You snap as you head out the door.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Well,” you say on a sigh as you walk down the path with him.

He set his hands in his pockets because they’re shaking. “Well.”

You peers up at him. “Everything okay?”

“Mhmm.” Stephen clear his throat, staring at the ground and toeing the dirt with his boot.

“I thought maybe…” He clear his throat again when his voice breaks like he's some squeaking adolescent. “Maybe we could go for a hike in the valley?”

A beat of silence. “A hike? Like right now?”

“Nothing too technical. Just…relaxing, with a nice view at the end.”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” Relief washes through him as he led you towards his motorcycle that was readily parked in front of your house. He hands you a helmet.

"Where's yours?" You ask.

"I forgot it at home." Stephen shrugs.

"Your house is just next door—"

"Ever heard of sarcasm? Get on." Stephen nods his head towards the motorcycle and assists you on mounting it.

"Don't worry, (Y/N)! I'll cover for you." Alex waves and sends you gun fingers before walking back inside your house.

"Is he going to be around more often?" Stephen asked while twisting the key and kickstarting the engine.

"Yes. His Dad his my coach."

"Oh. Great." Stephen mumbled, "Are you going to hang on or not?" He asked, revving the bike.

You stiffly wrapped your arms around his waist. The moment the cold air hits your skin, you realize that you forgot the feeling of the ride, the feeling of fresh air on your face, empty roads, and the beckoning of the unexplored destination, fills your heart with exhilaration.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

A twig snaps, and you spin toward the sound.

Stephen is standing in the clearing, and he appears to be so at ease there that it causes you to lose a little bit of your breath. Tall, with a straight back and hair blown back by the wind, and as rich as spilt chocolate. He is dressed in tattered pants and dirty boots, and his long-sleeved shirt has a few buttons that are undone. The perpetual surly expression is more severe, with that five o’clock shadow making an appearance and—Oh fuck.

“You wear glasses?” you ask hoarsely. His hands go to the frames, like he’s not even sure they’re there.

“Uh. Yes.”

“I’ve never seen you wear them before.”

“Contacts were bugging me,” he says. The thin frames have a pattern that looks like a swirl of coffee and cream, and it highlights the deep chocolate colour of his hair and lashes, as well as the little flecks of caramel that are in his blue eyes. He looks absolutely decadent.

Barely swallowing an embarrassing moan of want, you tug your hat tighter on your head, when what you really want to do is drag it over your face and hide the blush heating your cheeks.

Your entirely platonic (meaning totally off-limits) guy friend, went from dangerously hot to bespectacled sex on legs. Cruel, cruel universe.

Shutting your eyes, you take a deep centering breath, and when you open them, feeling slightly less frazzled, you see Stephen staring at your hand. You follow his gaze. And then you blush again. Your gaze snaps to his hand, and your stomach does weird flip-flops.

"You good?"

“Great!” you tell him. “Good. Okay.” What a disaster. I haven’t nervous stuttered like this in years.

“Ready?”

“Yep. Totally. Born ready.”

He turns and starts walking, adjusting the big bag on his back.

“What’s with the gear?” you ask, stretching your stride to catch up to him.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. You adjust the much smaller bag on your back and peer up at him, curious.

“A surprise?”

He nods. Stephen has a surprise for me. He planned a hike for us. Why?

“Stephen?” Slowing to a stop, he glances your way but keeps his eyes down.

“Yes?”

“Why are we doing this?” Silence hangs in the air, but for the sound of wind on the nearby water. Stephen scrubs the back of his neck, then adjusts his glasses.

“You said you wanted to talk. I just wanted us to be alone, no eavesdroppers.”

A soft laugh jumps out of you, “Fair enough.”

Satisfied, Stephen turns and starts walking again.

“I feel bad that I don’t have a surprise for you,” you tell him, “If I’d known we were going here, I would have brought some food too.”

Stephen points ahead where a small tree trunk bisects the path. You hop over it.

“You’ve done more than enough. Tell me if I go too fast,” he adds.

You frown up at him, “Don’t worry about me. I’m a little run-down lately, but I’m not fragile.”

“I—” He hesitates, lifting a branch that you nearly just walked into. “I’m just trying to be considerate. I tend to losetrack of when I’m moving too quickly for other people, which isn’t hard, given how long my stride is.”

“Oh. Right.” you clear your throat nervously. “So…can you give me a hint about the surprise?”

He throws a glance your way, the glasses making his side-eye doubly hot. Rude, glasses. Very rude. “You’re almost a university student, ” he says evenly, “and you don’t know the meaning of the word surprise?”

“Oh, ha-ha! Very funny.” His mouth twitches like he was about to smile, but his expression’s serious before I’m even sure it happened.

“I'm just trying to keep the conversation going, smartass.”

“Sure,” he says. “Watch.”

You hop over a small ditch just in time not to twist an ankle. “I thought you said this wasn’t very technical.”

He shrugs. “I guess it is if you’re a novice.”

“Stephen Strange. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get under my skin.”

Another mouth twitch. I will get a smile out of him!

“I was answering your question,” he says. Then, after a beat, “And maybe teasing you a little.”

“Very charming.”

He shakes his head. “Not the way I grew up. My dad knows what’s good for him.”

“I’ve absolutely seen your dad tease your mom.”

Stephen points toward a smaller path off the main trail and leads the way. “True. But he knows what teasing she likes and how far he can go, and he never goes beyond it.”

You smile. “Your parents are so cute. You can tell they’re still very much in love.”

“It’s oppressive,” he says. “I have walked in on them making out way too many times.”

“Well, I mean two more of you had to come about somehow—”

“That’s enough out of you,” he says, cupping his hands over his ears and wrinkling his nose.

You cackle. “I get it. But I also think it’s pretty sweet. My parents weren’t—” you bite off the rest of your sentence and glance around, scrambling for a shift in gears. “So, we’re ascending. Sunset view?”

Stephen glances your way, his gaze dancing up your face, then to the sky. “Why’d you change the subject?”

“The polite thing to do would be to roll with said change in subject.”

“Not really my thing,” he says. “Politeness. I’m shit at it. Like when I asked you to tell me if I was going too fast and somehow I’d implied you were fragile.”

You bite your lip. “Oof. That was my bad. I’m sorry.”

“Make it up to me. Tell me what you were going to say.” He reaches off the path quickly, snaps a long stick across his thigh, then hands half of it to you. “Should be a good height.”

“I…what?” He stands the stick beside you and wraps your hand around it.

“The stick. Go on.”

“What, with the stick or the topic?”

“Both,” he says, using the other half of the stick for himself and gently nudging you forward. As you move forward on the path, you try the walking stick, enjoying how it sinks into the ground and gives you leverage.

“My parents just aren't like that.”

“Like what?” he says. You stare at the ground, focusing on your footsteps.

“In love. At least, that's what I think.” you hear him falter behind you, then glance over your shoulder. He frowns down at the ground. Both of you walk in silence for a while, Stephen pointing you in a new direction, the trail winding higher and higher.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits.

“Sometimes there’s nothing to be said. It’s okay.” He peers your way, your eyes meeting too briefly, before he glances ahead.

“You can talk more about it,” he says. “If you want. I’ll listen.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you keep your eyes ahead. “Not much to say. I guess they were too busy with grieving my brother that they forgot to love each other. Now my mom spends most of her time staying at home, making sure I'm well taken care of. My dad spends most of his time working because that’s what he loves. My parents love me, too, of course, and I love them, but we’re just not close, as a family like we used to be—whoa!”

Stephen's hand shoots out, grabbing you by the upper arm, like he knew you’d trip on the rock ahead of you before you did. Your body lurches and then immediately straightens in the steadiness of his grip.

“You okay?” he says.

You nod, drowning in embarrassment that you both tripped and just told him all that. Why am I spilling my guts like this?

“What is it?” he says, noticing you staring at him. You look away, scarlet-cheeked.

“With the glasses, you’ve got a bookish woodsman vibe. It’s messing with me.”

“A bookish woodsman?” He wrinkles his nose. He’s cute when he wrinkles his nose. “What?”

You try to shove him away, but he neatly sidesteps you, sending me tumbling. Once again, his hand shoots out, catching your elbow and spinning you back on the path.

“More like a bookish ninja,” he says, before releasing you.

“You do have impressive reflexes. With your height and those reflexives on a soccer field, you had to play goalie. Am I right?”

“I always preferred defense, but yes, my grand soccer history is starting as a right back and ending up dragged into goal.”

“Do you still play?”

“Not anymore, too busy trying to figure out whether I should go back to medicine or not."Pointing ahead, he says, “Almost there.”

You follow his direction, where the trees thin and evening sun drips golden tangerine across the ground. The view stops you in your tracks.

“I know we've been here before but. . . Wow.” Stephen stands beside you, drinking it in, eyes on the horizon.

“It’s my favorite place.”

You look up at him as he looks down at you. And you remember that kiss a little too well. The scientist in you wants to test kissing Stephen again and again and again. To see if it was an outlier or if his every kiss really will make you weak-kneed.

You'd have sworn he didn’t even find you attractive. You have to be at least a little attracted to someone to kiss them like that right? It doesn’t matter. It can’t. That kiss is just going to have to be enough.

“(Y/N)?”

“Huh?"

His mouth lifts the faintest bit at the corner as he looks away, eyes on the lowering sun, "Nothing."

Quiet settles between you, and while Stephen wishes he knew how to fill it for your sake, he never will be a small-talker. He blanks on what to say and have no energy for it. And yet, as he steal occasional glances as both of you prepare the blanket to lay on.

Stephen looks at you and to him, you seem content—a small smile on your face as you work. Only when the blanket was nice and laid out on the grass did you break the silence.

“Stephen,” you says quietly. Picking up the cup of tea Stephen hands you. You cup it and says, “That night, when you kissed me—”

“I’m sorry,” Stephen blurt. Humiliation sweeps through him, turning his cheeks hot. “I didn’t… That is, I wasn’t…” Words evaporate on his tongue.

“It was pretty forward of you, though.”

Stephen's head whips your way. You were smiling. You were teasing him.

“I suppose…” he sip his tea, then shrug. “I owed you for an unsolicited kiss, though, didn’t I?”

“So much for you being a gentleman.”

“I never said I was a gentleman.”

You rolls your eyes.

“What do you call a man who always takes me home when he doesn't need to, and one who insist that I wear head gear instead of him?”

“A man who’s been raised by Eugene and Beverly Strange.”

You laugh, “Fine. Okay. You’re no gentleman, Stephen. You’re a coldhearted rogue.” The deep, foreign feeling of laughter catches in his chest and rumbles.

“You actually do owe me an apology,” you say and Stephen pauses with his mug halfway to his mouth, not sure if you’re still teasing or not.

“What for?”

You steals a sip of your tea and smiles to yourself, “For making it such a good kiss.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“You should be,” you say primly. “Next time—if a kiss is necessary for whatever reason—please make sure it’s absolutely terrible.”

Stephen glance over at you and spy a faint, secret smile playing on your lips. He chuckles and raise his cup in a salute. “I’ll do my best.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You stand there transfixed, staring at the setting sun, which has turned the sky a lush plum, peach, and rose-petal pink. While you are repositioning the bag that you were using as a pillow, your attention is drawn to Stephen. He appears to be in the midst of intense thought with his hands clasped behind his head and his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Stephen gives you sexy side-eye through the glasses. “For what?”

“For your surprise. I ate too much. I took one for the team and made that sacrifice so you wouldn’t have to haul all that picnic food back down the hill. Now it’s in my belly instead of on your back.”

Stephen’s mouth twitches in another thwarted smile. His gaze settles on your mouth. “I’m glad you liked my cooking.”

Heat spills through you, warm and rich as the fading sunlight bathing everything the eye can see. He swallows roughly, his eyes darkening. But then he glances back to the horizon again.

“I can see why this is your favorite spot” You glance at him, “Best view of sunrise and sunset.”

“I bet you'd love to paint them.” The wind picks up, ruffling his hair.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?” Stephen throws another side-eye.

“I’ve never painted a sunrise or a sunset.”

“Why?” he ask, peering out at the sunset, too.

After a long beat of silence, you ask him, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Stephen turn slightly, facing you. “Of course.”

“I’ve never painted a sunrise or a sunset because…I’m not sure I can do them justice. The light shifts so rapidly during both times of day that it makes photography an insane challenge. I have this fear that I won’t be able to get it right, and it’ll ruin it for me, this thing I love, that’s so beautiful it makes something in me—” You sets a hand over your heart and rubs. “Ache.”

Stephen stare at you, stunned and unexpectedly moved. He asked you about painting, and he got an answer about you. About how deeply you feel, how hard you are on yourself.

“I think I understand,” Stephen say quietly.

You glance his way, your eyes holding, “You do?”

“The greater your capacity to love, the higher your chance of pain, hurt, and loss. It's possible that the more you care, the more suffering you'll experience. However, I do wish that you would not let that hold you back,” Stephen tells you, “Fear of failure, fear of not living up to these standards you hold yourself to, which sound pretty damn high. Because…well, have you ever considered that the depth of feeling for the subject is the reason you’re the very best person to paint it?” His gaze slips away again, back on the sun, just a sliver of bronze remaining.

It’s quiet for so long, he was starting to worry he had offended you, gone too far, talked too long.

“No,” you say finally. “I hadn’t considered that.” your answer is brief, but Stephen could sense that you're simply lost in your thoughts, considering what he had said.

Stephen exhales, relieved. “I think if anyone could do it, (Y/N), paint something so complexly beautiful, it would be you.”

“And if I do it terribly?” you asks.

“Art is subjective. You’re the judge of it, right? You probably have certain standards, but maybe you'll come to see that they require adjusting or that they were completely unrealistic to begin with. Maybe after a few failed attempts, you'll finally create something you're happy with, and it'll be perfect in every way.” Stephen reach carefully toward you, extracting the leaf that landed on your hair. “Maybe even more.”

And then Stephen realize how close he was, how somewhere along the way, he ended up almost leaning over you. “Do you…” Stephen swallows roughly. His eyes darken, fixed on your mouth.

“Do I…?”

He sits upright suddenly. “Do you mind if we head back? It’s getting dark, and I don’t want you to twist something on the way down.”

Your mouth drops open in offense. “Twist something on the way down? Listen, Bear Grylls, not all of us have the terrain memorized.”

You try for a shove, but once again, he deftly twists and springs upright, letting you tumble onto the grass. “You’re supposed to be chivalrous and catch me,” you remind him, starfish-ed on the ground.

He shakes his head, “You’ll never learn your lesson.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I’m not the kind of person you count on to catch you.”

Your stomach drops. “That’s not a very kind thing to say about yourself.”

“Kind or not, it’s true.” He packs up the last of our picnic items, then swings his bag onto his back. “Come on. Up you get.”

Standing and shrugging on your own backpack, you do what you always do. Put a smile on and try to keep things breezy. “This was nice, Stephen, thank you.”

He nods, "You’re welcome."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Alex wasn't joking when he said he'd cover for you because you didn't receive one missed call from your parents at all. You could say he's made up with hitting you with a football—but you were curious about what he had said to your parents.

By the time you arrived home, it was 9PM. Instead of entering your house through the front door, you decided to sneak in and climb up the side of the house using the lattice panel stuck onto the side of the house.

Stephen had to go first, of course. You weren’t exactly an expert at climbing walls.

"Give me your hand I'll pull you up." He whispered and reaches for you but you clung on to the panel like a koala, afraid of falling off.

"I can't! I don't want to fall down." You quietly shouted at him.

"You're not going to fall down, just trust me." He waves his hand ans you reluctantly reaches and Stephen manages to pull you up, effortlessly. He never lets go of your jand until you were safe inside your room.

“Sorry,” you whisper and sit on the side of your bed, “Climbing walls isn't really my thing. It's just my brother—”

He nods. "Don't be sorry. We're not going to repeat this again, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes. It’s just a little kindness, but it’s toward such a tender part of your life, it feels like the hardest hug and the biggest smile and the sweetest kiss.

Stephen goes still as he notices it and allows himself in your room. Then, carefully, he reaches up and thumbs the tear away. His hand cradles your jaw, fingertips whispering over your skin. Your eyes drift half-shut. You want so badly to lean deeper into the comfort of his tenderness. You want there to be more to it than there is.

But you have to remember what you are to each other, what the purpose of today’s been—friends not in love, a picnic hike of reconciliation. Gestures of moving on and going back to normal friends, nothing more. But even so, you want to show him your gratitude. For making you feel safe. Understood. Seen.

Your hand slides across the comforter to his leg, over his thigh stretching his jeans. You hold your hand there, tipping your head, leaning into his palm as it cradles your face.

Eyes on your lips, Stephen bends closer, fingers slipping through your hair. You lean closer, too, your mouths a whisper away. But you stop yourself, not wanting to repeat history.

“May I kiss you?” you ask.

His eyes darken, fixed on your mouth. “I was going to ask the same thing.”

Gently, you slide his glasses off his nose and close them before carefully setting them on the nightstand next to you, “We have a small problem.”

“What’s that?” he says roughly.

“You promised, if another kiss was necessary, you were going to make it terrible.”

Air leaves him unsteadily, as he leans closer, “I’m not going to keep that promise.”

Your hand settles on his chest, and his hand wraps around it, holding it hard against him.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” And that’s when he tugs you close and his mouth finds yours, warm and tender and so perfect, air catches in your throat.

It’s the kind of kiss you never really thought you'd experience. The kind that builds, warm and deep inside you, then spills and fills every corner of your body. The kind that makes the need for air an annoyance and only two hands to feel, a maddening frustration.

You dissolve into the bed, as Stephen’s body stretches out beside you, long and strong, his arms wrapping around me as he pulls you close.

“Terrible?” he asks, breathing harshly. You sink your fingers into his shirt and tug him closer.

“Awful. You should try again.” you feel him hesitate for just a moment.

“You’d tell me if it’s actually terrible?” he says quietly. Meeting his eyes, you sweep away the hair falling onto his forehead.

“I would, and it’s not. I promise.” His mouth brushes yours again, harder this time, more insistent, deep, long kisses as his hand wraps around your waist.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he says.

“Probably not,” you agree, sliding your hand over his ribs, feeling the solidity of his body, warm and strong beside you.

He groans when you bite his bottom lip. “Just tonight.”

“Just tonight,” you whisper as he yanks you closer and lines up your bodies. Bending his head, he meets your mouth again, nestling his pelvis against yours. You feel the hard ridge of his length inside his jeans and gasp.

Your mouth falls open, and you taste him—mint toothpaste and cool water, but mostly something that’s just Stephen. Mind-bending hunger burns through you. Oh, this is dangerous. Because now you want more. You want tongue and teeth. You want his hands clutching your waist, rocking you against him. You want him filling your hands, filling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, the headboard knocking against the wall in rhythm with your bodies. As if he’s read the dangerous turn of your thoughts, Stephen gives you one more long, soft kiss to your lips, then pulls away.

"Why’d you stop?” you whisper, far too turned on to care about your pride.

He sits up and slips his glasses back on. Gently, he smooths you hair off your face, tangled from his fingers. But he doesn’t answer you. He only traces his fingertip across your forehead, down your temple, over the bridge of you nose to your other temple, before his touch slips along your jaw, then your mouth.

"Good night, (Y/N)."

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