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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years ago

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Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

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hi-im-greenjunipertree · 2 years ago

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I feel like I want to make a college au of Backyard Sports. I sometimes wonder what the cast would look like as adults tbh. I also sometimes wonder what careers they would be majoring for in the college au.

#au idea????#backyard sports au #backyard sports #backyard baseball #backyard baseball au #greenjunipertree's blog #college au idea???? maybe

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pearl-pilots-in-chains · 4 years ago

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Come to My Window (All the Little Lights #2)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Asurei

Rating: T

Summary: Rei doesn't like summers much. She usually ends up spending most of her time alone. One afternoon, an open window changes things. Meanwhile, Asuka's unpacking is going great . . . just great. She's just about had enough when she's distracted by the sound of a familiar song.

Notes: It's time for Asurei to Asurock! This is the second part of my All the Little Lights Evangelion high school AU. A slight warning, there's some content in this fic that might be offensive/triggering. I tried to avoid getting too graphic or dark, but there are some clear depictions of depression and bullying, as well as allusions to familial issues. I just wanted to make sure I put a bit of a disclaimer. That being said, I think those parts are important to Rei's character, so I didn't want to leave them out.

The first song Asuka recognizes Rei playing in this fic is "Always With Me, Always With You," by Joe Satriani, and the band shirt Asuka is wearing in this fic is based on the art to the album "Karmacode" by Lacuna Coil.

This was originally posted to my AO3 on May 25, 2020. Hope you enjoy!

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Rei slumped down into the chair, letting her head fall back, her gaze tilting upward, until she was scrutinizing the ceiling. The faux-sky formed on it looked down on her, the painted stars flares of cream and flame that sliced out of the navy base. She thought it was a nice view. It had the power to draw her back, pulling away years to reach innocent memories. She could recall when the sky was first cast onto her ceiling. It had been her father’s idea, and it was his hand that brought it to life. She remembered watching him from her bed, sitting on top of the plastic wrap they had laid down, crinkling the glossy tarp between her fingers. It half-seemed to be a fragment of another world, a remnant of a different life. Now, the mural served as the sole reminder that her father’s presence had once filled her room.

She had thought about asking Shinji to help her paint over the false sky. She knew there was a can of paint in the garage that could match the ceiling’s original shade well enough. She could return it all to a blank canvas. Erase the constellations, fill the vacuum with blinding light. And yet, she never asked. She wasn’t sure Shinji would be willing to help if the request was made. There was a picture on top of his bookcase. It wasn’t in the front. Its frame stood behind one that displayed Shinji and Toji after a track meet, celebrating their respective performances. But it was still there, half in hiding, half revealed. She knew the day it had been taken. December 24, 2000. On the eve of their last Christmas as a quartet. Her memories of that day were nebulous, lost to the childhood haze that the painting day had managed to emerge from. The picture spoke enough to make up for the lack of recollections though.

Her mother was holding Rei in her lap. Rei was looking away from the camera, down at the floor. She looked far wiser, far sadder that a child should. She looked as though she knew too much. Yui was looking up towards the camera, a smile plastered on her face that failed to hide its fraudulent nature. It was took curved, too hooked, too forced. The eyes told the truth. Distant, worried, ashamed. Shinji was sitting by Gendo. He was trying to imitate his father, pressing his face into an amalgamation of the mask the adult wore. It was a shoddy disguise though, as his lips looked seconds away from tremble, and there was water in the corner of his eyes. Gendo wore the true mask. His gaze bored directly into the lens’s eye, staring it down, as though he was willing the time to work correctly through sheer willpower and determination alone. Or, perhaps he was merely compensating. The tinted glasses he normally sported were nowhere to be seen, which left his eyes naked, exposed, without a shield to fume behind. It was possible that the tight, angry smile which ripped through his lips and the needling glare in his iris were designed to make up for this. They had the opposite effect, however. Whereas his traditional spectacles contained and concealed some degree of his emotions, his posturing revealed the true extent of them. His spite, his wrath, his pride, all laid bare.

As a general rule, Rei didn’t keep photos in the same way her brother did. He had a greater appreciation for the physical mementos, the tangible preservation of a moment for posterity. Rei treasured the fleeting nature of seconds, minutes, days. The ephemeral essence of life. The truth that nothing was everlasting, nothing endured. Consequently, there were three pictures in her room. One of her standing by the front door, the day before her first day of elementary school. She looked brave in it. It wasn’t just a front, Rei realized. She had felt brave that day. Time had taught her, however, that there was a thin line between bravery and foolishness.

The second picture showed Shinji and Rei, mouths broken in laughter, dancing through the backyard, Shinji lunging out in an attempt to tap her shoulders. They had been playing hide-and-go-tag, as they referred to it, and he had found her secret spot behind the rose garden. Yui had snapped the shot the moment before Shinji discovered that his sister was faster than he had anticipated, and had ended up face down in the grass after his ill-fated leap.

The last picture was the newest of the three, though now passing the age of six years, another family photo. This one was dated August 16, 2005. The smiles were more genuine, even if they looked more worn. Gendo was over four years absent.

Shinji visited his father. He had since second grade. Sometimes once every other weekend, sometimes once a month, depending on how their schedules worked out. Rei never visited. She hadn’t seen Gendo in person in a decade. She was perfectly fine with her only memories of him being mostly vague, indefinite impressions of youth. They were painful enough as they were. She didn’t want to imagine having concrete memories.

Yui had never made either of them visit him. She never would. She understood while Rei chose not. If anything, she understood better than Rei herself. Rei was truthful unsure why Shinji chose to go. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of regret, perhaps out of pity, perhaps some combination of the three. Whatever it was, Shinji chose to see his father, and Rei chose not to ask her brother to help remove the last physical trace of their father from her space.

Even beyond Shinji though, Rei felt a reluctance to erase the ceiling, to restore it to its first form. Her mind shied away from the choice, became anxious, and fell silent. Rei knew far, far too much about anxious silences.

She was the “Silent Ikari,” after all. That was one of the names which had been ascribed to her. One of the kinder ones, really. She was never called them to her face, of course. Not that people said much of anything to her face. She supposed that it might be out of respect for her brother, the Ikari most people liked. But they still spoke, in voices loud enough and near enough for her to make their ‘observations’ out. Maybe they thought she was as deaf as she seemed mute. Maybe they just didn’t care if she heard. After all, they could reason that she had no real ‘excuse’ for being withdrawn, closed-off, that ‘emo girl in the corner.’ She just thought she was ‘too good for them.’ The genius who was smart enough to have skipped a grade, who could probably skip another, but ‘just didn’t feel like it.’ The one who all the teachers thought was practically perfect, even if they worried she was ‘a little on the quiet side.’ The one who had a friendly, and moderately popular brother, but was herself too ‘stuck up’ to even bother talking with anyone. And if they didn’t play up that she was cold and arrogant, they played up that something was wrong with her. That she ‘wasn’t all there,’ or had never figured out ‘how to be a human.’ There were words that stung even more, especially when she was younger, when she learned what they meant, but she preferred not to reiterate them in her mind. She didn’t need to give the speakers that power, that lasting blow. All the same, a memory crept into her head unbidden.

It was one of the first times she had sat away from Shinji and his friends. She had felt like a burden to her brother, and she had been tired of always hanging on to him, even if he had never minded. Even if he had wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay. He was smart enough to know her reputation, even if people avoided saying things in front of him. He had gotten into a fight, a real fight, with someone who he had called a friend before it, over a passing comment the friend had made about Rei when he thought Shinji wasn’t paying attention. After that, Rei had decided to give her brother space. She didn’t want to be the weight that he felt bound by. She didn’t want to be the shadow that he felt as though he had to protect. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he had understood and agreed when she had talked to him. If there was one undeniable fact about her brother, it was that he always did his best to empathize, even when it was clearly difficult for him.

She had picked out a table along the fringe of the room to sit at. Somewhere out of the way, to avoid unwanted attention. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. She never had. But by then, it had seemed too late to change the perception of the faces she saw. The disregard, the amusement, the disgust. They had seemed immutable. And so, she hadn’t tried. She had done her best to be invisible. Because it was easier than fighting against a tide than felt overwhelming. She was too afraid of drowning to do otherwise.

She had heard the boy’s conversation with his friends before he approached her. Her hearing had always been above average, and when you heard your name spoken in first cautious, and then careless, tones behind your back, you got used to honing in on it. There had been a dare. A bet as to whether or not he could get a date with the ‘broken girl.’ They had all been at the age where suddenly, exploring previous unknown urges and interests seemed of the upmost importance. Well, most of them had been. She hadn’t. She still wasn’t. Not in the same way, anyhow, or to the same degree. At least, she didn’t think so. They spoke of crushes, and flirting, and love, and sex, like objects on fire, that burned the skin when they were handled, but were worth the flame. She thought of them in muted terms, as though she was touching the same once-scorching objects, but after they had passed beneath a waterfall, the flames all-but vanquished, only the occasional ember remaining. They were safer to hold, to handle, but the appeal, the allure in the danger, was gone, their extinguished state irrevocable.

His stance had been casual as he walked over, but there was a cruel, cocksure glint in his eye. His tone betrayed just what he thought of her, and what he thought of himself. She was an object, a means to an end (the money involved in the bet), and that was all. He was the lad who was going to win the bet, and she should feel lucky to be used for that purpose.

“Hey.” His tone had dripped smooth self-importance, self-exaggeration. “I’m Maximilian.” He had used his full name, not the Max he went by, as though he could make her persuade by the sheer power of possessing what he no doubt thought was an ‘exotic’ name.

“Hello.” Her reply had been quiet, not really timid, though it could have been mistaken for such. Any who had been less caught up in himself would have recognized that it instead bespoke that she had no interest in talking to him, was aware of what he was doing, and want no part of it.

“I’m going to sit here.” It hadn’t been a question, hadn’t been a request, had been a statement, had almost been a command. A command to accept the fact that she was in his presence, and should treat him with the respect his conceited conscience told him he deserved.

She hadn’t said anything in response to that at first. He had taken that as the acceptance he desired, and taken the seat across from her. “So, you’re Rei, right?” The tone was aggressive, as though he was going to dismiss whatever she said, because he was certain he knew who she was. She had imagined that if she said, simply to deny him, he would have ignored it and preceded ahead as though she had said ‘yes.’ He had been the type of boy who could go either one of two ways. On one hand, he could cross too hard of a line earlier enough that he still had a chance to learn how to be something better. On the other hand, he could grow up to be a man who refused to acknowledge refusals, because he felt he has the right to what he wants. The worst kind of person, Rei thought. The kind who thought that others very selves were second to their own desires. Rei wasn’t sure which path he had ended up taking, but she was very glad that they had gone to different high schools, although she felt bad for whoever ended up being the target of his interests there.

Instead of saying ’no,’ or merely staying silent, Rei had cut to the chase. “I don’t want to go out with you. Please leave me alone.”

This had thrown him for a loop. That much had been clear. He had expected her to at least hear him out. His opinion of himself was high enough that he hadn’t even considered outright disregard, the very same treatment he had intended to give her. The result of course, had been that he had become angry. Furious, really, she imagined, though his sheer pride kept him from making a scene, considering he cared too much for his image as the ‘cool guy.’ Instead, he had leaned in, breaking into her bubble, to spit the words in her face. “You don’t know what you’re missing, stupid bitch. It’s not like anyone ever going to ask out a freak like you. The most attention you’ll ever get will be from some white coat in a psych ward.”

She hadn’t flinched. She had known that it would be her downfall if she did. That breaking was what he wanted, her visible suffering was what he was craving in that moment. He had realized she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction after a few seconds, and strolled off, still cocky, but surely fuming internally over the fact that he hadn’t managed to get a reaction out of her. Not a twitch in her lips, a blink in her eyes, something to show that she was shattering beneath the calm exterior. Not that she wasn’t. She just knew how to delay the collapse. It had happened later that day, in the safety and solitude of her room, a silent sort of disintegration. No tears, no screams. Just a widening hollow feeling that consumed her from the pit of her stomach, reaching up into her chest cavity, groping at her lungs, sucking the air into, folding her in on herself until she felt small enough to simply stop existing altogether. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in those days. Before she learned how to grow numb to the words, numb to the spite. That came later though. You had to experience enough pain, enough cover crumbling, to learn how to ignore the barbs that brought it on.

She had never told her brother about that particular incident. She hadn’t wanted him to start another fight on her account. She wasn’t sure if he had ever found out. She guessed it was likely he had, although she wasn’t sure what he had done about it (though she thought it was probable he had done something).

The abuse had never been physical, never public, rarely direct. There had been no retaliation for that incident either. She supposed on all accounts that it was because people were afraid of what her brother might do. Or perhaps not her brother, but more accurately, her brother’s friends. She liked them for the most part. The track team members her brother was close to were an anomaly, in that they were some of few decent people she had ever met in the schools she had attended. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Knowing that she didn’t have to worry about making her brother choose between his sister and his friends. At least not anymore. He had discarded the ones that had tried to sway him away from the familial choice. She supposed then, that he had already made his decision. She felt guilty for that. She felt guilty often, when it came to her brother, and what she perceived as the difficulties she brought into his life. She knew how much he worried for her. Worried that she was afraid, worried that she was hurting, worried that was lonely.

The most painful part of the guilt was knowing the her brother’s fears weren’t altogether unfounded. No, she supposed, they weren’t unfounded at all. She would characterize her feelings as more anxious than afraid, but the other two concerns she knew he held were accurate. The latter led to the former, in a way. She had discovered there was nothing quite like the feeling of isolation, of division from others, to exacerbate preexisting pain. To make it metastasize, grow into something greater than itself. Seclusion bred sorrowful things when it revealed what was latent.

She had never had her brother’s power with people. He had a natural sort of charisma about him, as awkward as he could be at times. He seemed to draw people to him. More important though, words came easy to him. He could carry a conversation when it dashed against rocks, and somehow bring it out to the far side relatively unscathed. Whether it was a matter of skill, or a matter of luck, social things seemed to turn out positive rather than negative for him more often than not.

Words had never come easy to her. Not when she was talking to someone other than her mother or her brother. She could read cues, interpret signs, and understand context well enough, but there was somehow a disconnect when it came to putting all of that into play when encoding something herself. Ironically, and perhaps appropriately, she couldn’t articulate why. She only knew that it made everything harder. That the persona she conveyed caused people to say she was ‘cold,’ or ‘dead,’ or ‘inhuman.’ Those her knew her well knew this wasn’t the case, but aside from her family, the only people who fell into that category were Shinji’s closest friends, who had spent enough time with him, and by extension, with Rei when she was around, that they read her demeanor differently. She didn’t really have friends of her own, she knew that much. It had been that way since she was a child. She had worried her teachers in kindergarten by the fact that she seemed to turn away all the kids who tried to connect with her. This hadn’t changed, and by the time she headed to junior high, no one tried anymore. The teachers had kept worrying of course, but as she got older, this worry had been offset by their satisfaction and appreciation of her academic performance; apparently, at the end of the day, even elementary school teachers cared more about a child’s grades than her ability to fit into classroom society.

She hadn’t understood it then. Hadn’t understood why her responses, her reactions shut others down. It was only after hearing the covert comments too many times that she had realized what other people thought of her. And by then, the road to remake her reputation had seemed entirely too insurmountable.

That perspective had resulted in her leading a life that was half-spent in sequestration. The silver lining to that, of which she constantly reminded herself, was that she had devoted plenty of time to pursuing her passions, even if it was at a solo capacity. The filled bookcases in her room were one testament to that. The filled folders on her laptop were another, and the guitar resting in its stand by her desk was a third. The lack of company had done wonders for her creativity, she supposed. Was it a worthy exchange though? That was all in the eye of the beholder.

Pulling her gaze away from the ceiling, Rei brought it to rest on the guitar sitting by the desk. The chrome elements of Stratocaster-imitation form glistened in the sunlight from the window above her desk, opened to let the breeze flow in (a partially successful attempt to offset the heat without resorting to blasting the AC, because Rei preferred a more natural solution). She knew it would be at the earliest, four hours before her brother made it home. His shifts had been extended recently, on account of another employee quitting. And of course, her mother wouldn’t be home for at least another hour after that, a timetable that had become the new normal over the past several months. There wasn’t much for her to do in the meantime. Shinji was officially the house chef, because he argued that it was a way for him to ‘destress,’ which was his way of saying that cooking was one of his favorite pastimes, and that he didn’t want anyone else in the kitchen, which he had unofficially declared his ‘dignified domain’ in one of his more emphatic (and comedic) moments.

Rei didn’t particularly like summers, primarily because of how empty they often ended up feeling. This summer had been particularly forlorn one, as with her brother spending nearly all of his time either working or in the company of his new friend Kaworu (she suspected that the her brother and the ashen-hair boy would be dating soon, not that she resented Kaworu; from the two brief interactions she had had with him, he seemed quite nice actually), she had been left to her own devices for days on end. At this point, her routines, as much as she appreciated them, had begun to feel somewhat monotonous. She had taken to browsing blogs lately, in search of a new potentially hobby she could try out to add some diversity to her day, but so far, she hadn’t had much lucky finding anything that she had gravitated toward with any great enthusiasm. She had briefly considered trying out her hand at archery, before swiftly coming to the conclusion that as enticing as her visions of Legolasesque prowess were, the actual effort that would undoubtedly be required to achieve any degree of proficiency wasn’t something she quite felt up to. The fact that even if she did manage to become a competent archer, her chances of being able to skate down a staircase atop a shield would most likely remain negligible was also a bit of a buzzkill. And so, at least for the moment, her current hobbies would have to suffice. She decided that tomorrow, she would take a walk down to Off the Shelf! If she was going to stick with what she knew, it wouldn’t hurt to at least get some new reading material. Well, new to her anyway.

With a barely audible sigh proceeding from her lips, Rei pushed herself up and out of her chair, and left the corner of the room, strolling over to her desk lackadaisically. She retrieved her guitar from its stand and plugged it into her practice amp, positioned alongside the desk. Flipping the amp on and turning the volume to a decent level, satisfied with her other levels. She then set herself down in her desk chair and rolled her volume knob up. She paused for a few seconds, thinking of a good song selection. After a moment, she made her decision.

The first palm muted notes sprung out from the guitar as she picked through the intro, before launching into the melody itself, the pensive tone pervading the room. She allowed the traces of a smile to steal onto her face. It was a beautiful song. One which promise never to leave, never to vanish. One whose titled she liked to think vowed to be with her always. It was a piece she was content to return to. That always seemed to make her day a little less lonely.

Perhaps then, the particular events brought about by her playing that afternoon could only be considered highly appropriate. If one was to take this view, then perhaps it could be called an act of fate, rather than a mere coincidence, that Rei did not think to close her window before she started playing on that particular occasion, something which she habitually did, half out of shyness and doubt of her own talent (unfounded doubt, of course, as anyone who had heard her play could attest to), and part out of respect for her the elderly couple who lived next door, whom she suspected were probably not fans of some of the more ‘enthusiastic’ music she played (which was to say, progressive metal). It would, however, be unfair to Rei to blame her for failing to realize that the elderly couple had moved across the country several months before to live closer to their family. It wasn’t as if she interacted with them frequently, or in fact, paid much attention to them at all. They had kept to themselves, something which she also did. On the other hand, a better case could be made to label Rei a bit on the oblivious side for not noticing the new neighbors who had moved in several days before. That had been a bit more of an affair, though not one which either Yui or Shinji could have been aware of, considering it occurred during the day while they were both absent. Rei, on the other hand, had no such excuse. Her excuse would be, if one were to ask her for it, was that she had been particularly engrossed in rereading one of her favorite books on that specific day, which was in fact true. All the same, it meant that she was unaware of her new neighbors. And furthermore, unaware that one of them would soon hear her playing. And of course, logically, this also meant she was unaware that her life was about to change. However, a lack of awareness rarely averts something from happening, and it certainly did not in this case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka glared down at the figurine in her hands, scowling. “Dammit,” she grumbled to herself, pulling away the now-severed head from the body of the dragon, and inspecting the jagged break. She spared a glance at the unraveled square of bubble wrap in the box below. “Well that’s just great.” With a sigh and a shake of her head, she set the broken figurine down on top of the bookcase. “I’ll have to fix you later. Gotta ask Misato if we have any glue, or if it’s lost in one of the boxes out in the garage.” She scowled, and turned back to sorting through the contents of the box. She extracted two more figurines from her their bubble wrap entombments, and was pleased to see that her cobra and sorceress were both still intact. Setting them on the shelf beside the beheaded dragon, she grab one of the discarded pieces of bubble wrap and held it up to the light coming through her window. “I guess you didn’t totally fail,” she remarked dryly, before crumpling the strip in her hand and listening to the series of satisfying pops that occurred as a result.

Tossing the now-pointless piece of plastic into the trash bin by her door, she set her hands on her hips and surveyed the pile of boxes that had yet to be unpacked, a hoard still big enough to lay claim to an entire corner of the room with a vengeance. What next? She ran her eyes over the bare walls of the room, finding the off-white coloration unappealing, to say the least. When was this designed? The 80s? Posters it is.

While she now had a goal in mind for the next step in her unboxing/room design (she preferred the latter description, because it sounded more dignified in her mind, and didn’t serve as quite the same reminder that she had just moved, but in all reality, the former was the more accurate description), finding the objects she needed to accomplish that goal was easier said than done. Opening yet another box, and discovering once again that the objects of her intentions were not within (said box instead contained several stacks of CDs, relics of a time before MP3s were the absolute norm), she set it atop the growing pile of boxes that had failed to contain her quarry, with a derisive glance at the blurred face of Avril Lavigne that stared back at her from within. “Why do I even still have you?,” she muttered as she folded the lid back over. And more importantly, why the hell didn’t we label more of these? I blame Kaji. Because yeah, the person who basically didn’t pack up any of my stuff is to blame for why I didn’t label it. Right.

With a roll of her eyes (mostly directed at herself, if she was being honest), she grabbed one more box from the trove. If they’re not in here, I’m taking a break. This is so stupid. As she opened this particular box, she was at that point not surprised to find that rather than the posters she sought, it instead contained two tight rows of game cases. Well, at least I found something decent. Box in hand, she made for the living room. I’m pretty sure Misato left the bottom shelf of the tv stand empty for these.

She was partway through the process of shelving the games when she felt her pocket vibrate. Pausing her activity, she pulled out her phone and looked over the text that had just arrived.

Tiffany H: How’s day four of the move-in going?

Asuka considered the question for a moment, before writing her response.

Asuka R: About as well as the first three lol.

Asuka R: As in, tedious

Asuka R: How’s life in Terahburg?

Tiffany H: Oh, fun. Same as always, tbh.

Asuka R: Aww, and here I thought you’d be sweet and say it was boring without me or something ;)

Tiffany H: Oh, I mean, you’re right! Whatever will we do? Life’s lost all purpose now that you’re gone xD

Asuka R: Now that’s more like it!

Tiffany H: We’re all lost without you Asuka! We’ll never see the light again without you!

Asuka R: And don’t you forget it!

Tiffany H: In fact, the entire town might perish out of sheer sorrow! Our lives our meaningless now!

Asuka R: Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. . .

Tiffany H: Ya think? Lol

Asuka R: Hey, don’t stop on my account!

Tiffany H: I’m running out of material here *shrugs*

Asuka R: And here I thought you were a true thespian!

Tiffany H: Yeah, but talking about you gets boring after a while. ;)

Asuka R: I’m hurt. Deeply hurt. *turns nose up*

Tiffany H: There, there, you’ll survive. Just don’t drink the Asherdale kool-aid and forget we exist. Lol

Asuka R: Asherdale kool-aid? Seriously?

Tiffany H: Like I said, I’m running out of material here. Don’t @ me.

Asuka R: Uh huh

Asuka R: Right

Tiffany H: So, what’s the ‘dale like? We got any competition?

Asuka R: I’ll let you know when I figure out what the ’the ‘dale’ is

Tiffany H: Ur 1mp0ssebl3

Asuka R: My eyes are scarred now, thx

Tiffany H: You deserved it. So, what’s the ‘dale like?

Asuka R: Best adjective = boring

Tiffany H: RIP

Asuka R: No competition so far, so you don’t need to worry. The best they have going for them is an

arcade.

Tiffany H: An arcade?

Asuka R: Yeah, I saw it when we were getting into town. Looked it up, it’s some sort of retro deal.

Tiffany H: Retro arcades? Is that a thing now?

Asuka R: Apparently it is in the northwest.

Tiffany H: Whelp, sounds great

Asuka R: Oh yeah, fr

Tiffany H: Well, enjoy ur arcade. I gtg get ready for work.

Asuka R: Ok, say hi to Amanda for me!

Tiffany H: Will do! Ttyl!

When she had finished shelving the games, Asuka made her way back to her room, a determined glint in her eyes (not an unusual expression for her). Alright, now it’s poster time! I don’t care if I have to go through every damn box in that corner, I am finding them! I’m not going to let an outdated 80s color palate get the best of me! And plus, her mind added as an afterthought, Once they’re up, maybe it’ll actually start feeling a little more like my room. And less like someone else’s room, that I’m just staying in. A frown briefly crossed her face, but she tossed it away, steeling her mouth into a resolute line.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, the stack of boxes was no longer a stack, but instead a small pond spread across half of the room. Asuka, meanwhile, was red in the face, and looked as though she was a few steps away from steam vents cartoonishly bursting out of her ears. One final, unopened box sat in the corner, the last remnant of the toppled tower. She knelt by it, her face spelling murder, and began to cut through the tape with her pocket knife. . .

“Verdammt, wo sind sie?! Das ist lächerlich!” (Dammit, where are they?! This is ridiculous!)

She punched floor next to her, gritting her teeth as she looked down at the contents of the last box, namely a set of drum skins, and her stick bag. Still glowering, she removed these items and headed to the spare room. Might as well put these with my kit anyway. She couldn’t deny that one positive of this house was the presence of the extra bedroom, which meant that her designated practice space was no longer a garage. That was definitely a positive. Even if it one of the only ones so far.

Setting the sticks down by her stool and the drum skins alongside her drum cases in the corner, she looked over at the kit with a degree of temptation in her eyes. I should probably at least try to finish unpacking, now that I covered my entire room. But . . . I mean, it could help me calm down. And ignore the fact that we probably forgot the box with my posters somewhere. Walking over, she took her seat behind the kit and grabbed a couple sticks from the sling that hung off the floor tom. Just something to blow off steam. I don’t need to practice a song or anything. She was about to count herself off (out of habit rather than necessity, really), when an adventitious sound reached her ears. She blinked, pausing. That sounds . . . oddly like “Always With Me, Always With You.” She looked around, searching for the source of the faint guitar playing she had picked up. Her eyes locked in on the window behind her, which until that moment, she hadn’t noticed was partially open. Rising from her seat and dropping her sticks back into the sling bag, she walked over to the window and looked out.

This particular window looked down on the strip of the yard which ran alongside the building, and faced the house next door. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded to her as though the music was coming out of one the windows of that house, which also happened to be opened. Her interest piqued, she decidedly to get a closer look. She headed for the stairs.

Emerging out into the backyard, she made for the wall that marked the border between her family’s yard, and the neighbor’s property. It wasn’t much of a wall, really. It only reached slightly higher than her midriff. She looked down at it skeptically. Well, I could practically step over this is if I wanted to. Guess they’re not too worried about trespassing.

Outside and closer to the guitar playing which floated out into the air, it was relatively easy to determine that its source was indeed the window she had identified earlier. Glancing up toward said window now, Asuka pursed her lips, faced with a bit of a decision. One one hand, she could forget about it and head back inside. She had determined the location of the unseen guitarist, and considering he or she was her neighbor, it seemed like there was a decent chance she’d be able to find out who the guitarist was eventually. On the other hand, going back in and continuing with her unpacking wasn’t the most enticing of options. In the end, she chose the path that let her procrastinate on facing her bedroom’s recently introduced ground cover.

Climbing up over the half-wall, she jumped down into the neighbors’ yard. She decided that if she ran in to any sort of trouble, or said neighbors turned out to be less than thrilled by her trespassing, she could book it back to her house with relative ease. It wasn’t as if the wall would provide any significant barrier. Plus, it’s not as though I’m going to try to break into their house or anything. I mean, I’m going to go ring the doorbell. Though I suppose I could have just gone out to the street from my house and gone over that way. Oh well. This’ll be fine.

Still listening to the solo (which, as she heard more of it and paid greater attention, she had to admit sounded quite good) rolling down from the open window, Asuka walked up along the side of the house, and curved around to the front until she found herself standing directly in front of the door. Alright, here we go. Plan ‘avoid unpacking’ #1, activate! Reaching up, she pressed in the doorbell and waited. She heard a bell-toweresque recording play from somewhere close by the door inside in response to the ring. That’s an interesting choice for a doorbell. Sounds sort of like an antique clock. That might not be a good sign . . . I can’t imagine anyone under the age of fifty using that for their doorbell. Oh well. If it turns out the guitarist is a retiree or something, I can always still act polite or something, say I thought his or her playing sounded pretty good, and then bail. Simple enough.

Asuka waited for a good thirty seconds, wondering if someone was going to come to the door. After a few more moments, she decided that the answer to that question was probably a definitive ‘no.’ Hmm . . . now the question is, do I ring the doorbell again? Or do I just head back home? On one hand, they might have heard it and just don’t want to answer, and in that case, I don’t want to be the jerk who can’t take a hint. On the other hand, maybe they just didn’t hear it the first time. That’s a possibility too. Which means it might not hurt to wring it again. Asuka pulled out her phone and looked down at the clock on the lock screening, waiting for it to change. I’ll give them another minute. If no one comes by then, I’ll ring it one more time. And if no one shows up after that too, I’ll head back to my place.

Watching the digits on the screen, Asuka gave a small nod to herself as the moment passed. She reached forward and gave the doorbell a final ring. Once again, she heard the recording play from within the house. You know, I think I’d get pretty tired of that if it was my doorbell. Just imagine what that would be like if someone tried to prank you by ringing it repeatedly. That would get real annoying, real quick.

After another solid twenty seconds or so, Asuka came to the conclusion that no one was coming to the door. Shrugging, she turned and headed back out toward the sidewalk, content to make her way home. Well, I tried. Guess I’ll find out who the guitarist is another day. Unboxing time it is then. Lovely. However, as she turned away from the path up to the door and angled herself back toward her resident, she heard the faint sound of the guitar carrying out from alongside the house. This time, however, it was a different song. She paused, narrowing her eyes in focus as she searched for the title. Oh, come on, I know I know this one. It’s not Satriani though . . . I don’t think it’s Vai either. Dammit, who is it? She shook her head, disgruntled with the fact that she couldn’t place the tune. Fantastic. Now that’s going to be stuck in my head and bugging me for the rest of the day. Presque vu sucks like that. It was at that instant that another thought snuck into her mind. The guitarist could be the only person home. That would explain why no one came to the door. If they’re practicing, they might have earbuds in or headphones on, which would mean they couldn’t hear me. So, I’d have to get their attention with something else. And their window is open . . .

Asuka practically sprinted the short distance back to her house, a confident grin across her face. When she finally emerged from the back door roughly five minutes later, she was glad to hear that the mysterious musician was still playing. Once again, the guitarist had moved on to a new song. This one, however, Asuka recognized. “Tender Surrender,” she murmured. “Not a bad choice.” At this point, Asuka was almost certain that whoever was playing was probably a good bit older than her. I mean, seriously, Steve Vai hasn’t been big since the nineties. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, I only know him because of Kaji, so that definitely says something. But hey, I’m not a guitarist though, so who knows? Maybe they still adore him or something. All the same, her desire to avoid completing (or at the very least, returning to) her unpacking process outweighed her potential concerns. Plus, her new plan kept her even further away from the person whose attention she was trying to get. Which meant that if they didn’t care for her methods, she could be long gone before they could do much about it. The logic of her strategy was moderately convincing, if she did say so herself, even if it was purely designed to give her a somewhat rational justification to her better judgment for her own procrastination.

Pulling herself up and over the sad excuse for a dividing wall, Asuka found herself in the as-of-yet-nameless neighbors’ yard once again. She strolled over a little closer to the house, positioning herself so that she was in a direct line with the open window. I have to say, this is one way I never expected that year I pitched for the softball team in middle school to come in handy. She looked down at the construction in her hand, the centerpiece of her quickly-concocted scheme. Guess all of that packing newspaper might turn out to have a second purpose too. Hopefully it’ll do better at this than it did at keeping Misato’s shot glass collection intact. With a chuckle to herself, Asuka rolled her arm back, lifting the paper airplane into the air, and let it fly toward her target. It soared upward, its arc accurate, and slipped straight through the open window, disappearing from her view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei was nearing the close of the song. Her plectrum had been relegated to a secondary position, pinched between her pinky and ring fingers, to keep it from obstructing her fingerpicking. Only the pads of her skin now met the coils of steel, coaxing melody from the taut metal. Though the piece was not an anthemic one at any point, never attaining any great summit or volume in its course, it had still diminished from its peak, drifting back into itself as the notes grew more wavering, less forceful. They now resembled soft, intermittent tears intermingled with trembling gasps, though whether these expressions were borne out of sorrow or ecstasy was a mystery offered up to the beholder’s mind for judgement.

In her mind, Rei could hear, could feel the presence of the band about her. Every feature, each individual auditory fragment of the track came to her as she moved her fingers, by memory rather than sight. She listened as the band’s accompaniment slowly gave way, dissolving into pleasant stillness, sending its light and focus toward the guitar’s shuddering cry, until it was the only sound left to fill the emptiness, in soundscape both physical and mental. But fill this space it did nonetheless, each caressed, drawn note wandering through the fold’s of her shut eyes, dancing over the defined, stringent edges of her desk and shaving them down into something smoother, unbroken, winding. Blurring the room she half-saw through the image she conceived, transfiguring the elements of the space to abstraction, melting the absolute and the tangible into the fantastical, the speculative.

As she glided into the final phrase, she slowed even further, elongating the notes, letting their voices sing louder than her conducting digits. She had led the song to its conclusion, she let the song itself lead what was left. It extended, sweeping over the growing seconds, echoing as it reiterated, reprising and refusing to fade. Rei followed the draw, her fingers seemingly moving of a will other than her own, glad assistants in the art. At last, the final reverberation arrived, pleading, yet peaceful. There were seven notes left, which dwindled to six, and from there it faded to five, a receding handful.

The fifth note was about to declare its presence when the moment was broken. Something struck Rei’s forehead, fracturing her concentration and dream state alike to shards. Her fingers fell from their unconscious ballet, the necessary pressure absent. The string buzzed against the fret before it died an abrupt dead, cut off by its impact against her lax digit. The song was stripped into nothing, the ending cumbersome and unheeding, true closer beyond its grasp. Rei’s eyes tore open as her hand plunged away from the neck, dropping limp to her side as she stared sightlessly at the desk before her, her blank visage betraying no hint of her acute bemusement.

Rei dropped her pick onto the top of the desk, and lifted the instrument from her lap, returning it to its stand once more. Slanting her head downward, she reached out and retrieved the ostensibly offending object from the floor by her feet. Lifting it into her lap, she rotated it around in her grasp for a few moments, examining the shaped newsprint, complied into a new structure, a form capable of flight synthesized from ink and pulped fibers. Adjacent to weightless, an insubstantial avian, an artificial imitation. Its name was derived from bellowing metallic brutes that claimed the skies as their domain, raging turbines thrumming, incensed engines clamoring, the bellow of war on their wings and a cold caterwaul in their grinding wheels as they wrenched away from the ground and took their place in the belly of the beast. Such a marked difference, an undeniable dichotomy, between this tenuous newspaper lark and those titanium pterosaurs that prowled the clouds at humanity’s behest. To think that both such beings were constructed and christened by the same species was a perplexing, confounding concept, one which spoke to the multitudinous nature of sentience. It could give attention no less assiduous than the sedulous scrutiny bestowed upon the architecture of alleged advancement to the most minute of pursuits. The value of each undertaking determined by the engineers, by the consumers, by whatever society observed its progress.

It was curious, the capacity which such a seemingly innocuous, inconsequential object possessed to act as a conduit for contemplations of the existential and philosophical varieties. Nevertheless, Rei pulled her thoughts away from such metaphysical meanderings and extracted her eyes from their glazed gaze, elevating them from the errant examination. Equally curious were the origins of the airplane. Her emphasis adjusted accordingly, Rei rested the newsprint coated craft on her desktop and rose from her seat to survey the yard from her window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka watched the empty window closed, scrutinizing the vacuum that had devoured her airplane several moments earlier. It showed no signs of providing any sort of reaction to that consumption. However, Asuka was nonetheless certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that her newspaper agent had fulfilled its intended purpose. Moments before, the song, which had crawled to a languid and hazy, yet subtly rapturous, finale, had come to a clipped conclusion. There was no mistaking that the ending was unintentional. The last note had been mostly-dead, the tone dulled and buzzed out, a quickly recognizable accident, that had been replaced by silence in an instant, the bum note sheared from existence before it could linger. That . . . was rough. Ooops. Well, hopefully they don’t get too annoyed.

At first, Asuka had expected that the guitarist would take one of two routes. On one hand, the musician might immediately make an appearance, due to the sudden interruption, and apparent derailment of the song. This had seemed to be the most probable outcome to Asuka. After all, most musicians didn’t appreciate being disrupted while they were in the midst of a piece. On the other hand, the guitarist might first finish the song, and then come to the window. Though the second possible outcome seemed somewhat less likely than the first, Asuka knew that there were many individuals who took their musicianship seriously to the extent that they would merely continue onward as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, until they finished their performance. Of course, given that the guitarist was practicing rather than performing, Asuka didn’t expect that this would be the case.

This was all to say that Asuka was not prepared for the reaction occasioned by her action. Or, to be more precise, the lack thereof. Asuka had firmly expected the guitarist to do something. Which was why she grew progressively more and more agitated, albeit it in an understated manner, as the seconds flew by and it appeared as though her ‘delivery’ had prompted positively no response whatsoever. No one appeared at the window, nor did the playing resume, and furthermore, there was not so much as the slightest audible outburst in response to the disruption. Aside from the botched note and the vexatious silence, there was nothing to indicate that the guitarist had even noticed the paper aircraft.

Asuka tilted her head as she continued to stare up at the window, her cheeks and lips creasing downward into the beginning of a frown. Come on, do something. Or are you actually going to just ignore that? Of course, there was no answer to this question, given that Asuka had inquired it of her own mind, rather than posing it out loud. The stillness stretched longer, no termination in sight. Asuka rested a hand against her hip, before dropping it back to her side. That might send the wrong sorta message when they finally decide to show up. If they decide to show up. Asuka’s frown had now passed its infancy, maturing into a full-blown line of irritation. Which is looking less and less likely. A measure of tension had filled the air, as anticipation of a reaction had turned to exasperation, and perhaps a portion of perturbation as well. The tension gave no indication that it had any intention of abating prior to Asuka’s departure. Well that’s just great. Dammit, I guess it’s back to my lovely, most definitely not covered in a mound of boxes room. Fantastic. Rolling her eyes, Asuka half-turned to withdraw, when a figure suddenly appeared in the window. Asuka hastily righted herself as her gaze locked in on the arrival. Took you long enough.

The person looking out of the window was not who Asuka had been expecting. The figure’s blue locks glistened vaguely in the sunlight as it touched them. Her eyes were dark, a rich, bark-like brown, the hue of tilled soiled moistened by a smattering of a rain. They practically gleamed with racing thoughts, deep pools of incalculable deliberation. It was the overall aura of her face, however, that knocked Asuka from her stride. It was expressionless, utterly unreadable, beyond the definitive certainty that the mind behind worked tirelessly and furiously. Asuka could discern no trace, however slight, of any sentiment or emotion in it. The emptiness, the absence, was uncanny. Asuka’s mind raced as well now, seeking an explanation for the void she beheld. Maybe I’m just too far away. After all, I’m a good distance from where she is. Maybe if we were closer, I’d be able to tell . . . something. Her attempts at persuading herself that this was a reasonable explanation failed miserably. The argument was woefully, blatantly incorrect. There was no denying the simple fact that the girl’s face, despite the fact that it appeared as if she was no older than Asuka, perhaps even younger, could have easily belonged to someone who spent years perfecting the perfect vizard. Somehow, I get the feeling that she’s never lost a poker game.

The duo’s encounter began in silence, both parties merely taking in the other, no words exchanged. Asuka did her best to hide her own feelings of confusion, as well as residual irritation. Can’t match her poker face, but I might as well try to not look too worked up. When the silence had lasted long enough to become uncomfortable, especially when combined with the force of the girl’s undeviating gaze, Asuka decided she would have to break it, as it didn’t seem feasible that the supposed guitarist would be the one to do so.

“Hey, you sounded good!,” Asuka called up, doing her best to sound both amicable and positive, in spite of the fact that these weren’t the foremost sentiments in her mind.

The girl said nothing in response, though Asuka briefly thought she spotted the barest, vaguest hint of a smile alight on the edges of the girl’s mouth for a split second. Well, no news is good news, right? And who doesn’t like a compliment? Guess I might have to do the heavy lifting in the conversation though. “That was Tender Surrender, right?”

The girl remained silent, but gave a small nod of her head, her expression unchanged. Asuka decided she would interpret this as an encouraging reaction. I mean, she doesn’t seem angry that I disrupted her earlier, so all things considered, I’m going to take this as a success so far. “Steve Vai is pretty cool. Classic 80s guitar, you know?”

The girl nodded again, blinking as she did so, before resuming her stare. Is that the first time I’ve seen her blink?, Asuka wondered. Because I think it is, and that’s more than a little bit unnerving. Because I’m almost positive she’s been staring at me for a couple minutes. No way, she must have blinked earlier. People don’t go minutes without blinking. That would be . . . unusual . . . and most likely not healthy for your eyes.

Asuka decided to try out a different subject. There’s got to be something that will get her to talk . . . right? Maybe? Hopefully . . . ?

“Anyway, I heard you earlier, and I wanted to see who the good guitarist was.” She bookended this with an agreeable chuckle, that was roughly eighty-five percent forced. “I’m Asuka Kaji. I just moved in to the house next door,” she pointed back over her her shoulder, “a few days ago.”

The girl tilted her head as she received this information, giving Asuka the impression that this was in fact new to her, and she was taking some time to process it. A few more seconds passed, and at last, the girl spoke. “I’m Rei Ikari,” she paused, and then added, “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but carried down from the window fairly well all the same. It had a calmness to it, that matched up perfectly with her reserved demeanor. It was nearly a monotone, but not quite. There was a note of inflection in it, an element of what Asuka thought was cheerfulness, though it was difficult for her to be certain.

This time, Asuka was the one who tilted her head. Well, at least I got her name. Not sure why she’s thanking me though. “What for?,” she inquired, maintaining her amicable exterior, which was somewhat less forced than it had been several seconds earlier. Perhaps only seventy-five percent at this point, possibly even seventy.

Rei answered in the same voice, devoid of all but a hint of pleasantry. “For the compliment. I’m glad you like my playing.” Asuka hung on to that hint of pleasantry, decoding it to mean that Ikari was genuinely happy. At least, I hope that’s what it means. Although, she could just be putting on a front just like me. I’ll say she’s genuine for now though. It’s easier to be friendly when I don’t have to constantly second guess the other person.

Asuka smiled again, an expression which was mostly real. “No problem. Like I said, you sounded good.”

Rei nodded to this, but didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, she looked down, at something obscured from Asuka’s sight, and then back up at the other girl. “Would you like to come to the door? You won’t have to shout up from there?”

Asuka wasn’t quite sure that the volume she had been speaking at could be deemed shouting per se, but in comparison to Ikari’s subdued volume, she supposed she could see the logic in the other girl’s words. “Sure. Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Rei intoned, not deviating in the slightest from what appeared to be her default voice. Stepping away from the window, she disappeared from Asuka’s view. Asuka set off along the side of the house, making for the front door, considering their conversation so far as she did so. Okay, saying ‘default voice’ might be a bit harsh. Makes it sound like she’s a robot or something. I don’t think she’s AI. I mean, probably not. She allowed herself a quiet little chortle as she rounded the corner and strolled over to the porch. She paused in front of the door. Guess I don’t need to ring the doorbell. Which means I get to avoid the antique clock. Or bell tower. Whichever one it sounds like. Probably both. Either way, not hearing it is a positive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door in front of her opening. Rei halted in the doorway, looking at Asuka. Up close, Asuka couldn’t discern any substantial differences from what she had already observed of Rei’s demeanor. However, the hints of a smile which she thought she had spotted earlier were more pronounced now that Asuka had a better view, making Ikari look moderately more genial to Asuka’s eyes. Huh, maybe I was right. She’s more friendly when I’m not looking up at her framed in a window. And I thought that argument was absurd. Even though it was my argument. Ha! Shows what you know, me!

Asuka smiled back at Rei, the most genuine one she had offered Ikari so far. Abruptly, Rei held out a hand toward Asuka. She looked down, and her smile fell a bit. The blue-haired girl was holding out the paper airplane to her. “Is this yours?,” she asked, giving no signs that she was angry, which threw Asuka off once again. Alright, maybe she’s just at good at hiding when she’s upset as she seems to be at hiding when she’s happy. Then again . . . I don’t see anything. Not in her face, or her posture. And she still smiling. Well, if that’s what that is, I mean. Maybe I didn’t actually disrupt her? Maybe she just messed up on her own? Or maybe she really doesn’t care?

Asuka nodded slowly, assuming an empathetic expression, less cheerful and slightly more chagrined. Just slightly, however. She wasn’t one to act particular embarrassed, even if she was. Not that she “Yeah, that’s mine. Sorry if I threw you off, by the way.”

Rei extended her hand a little further, offering the miniature parody of an aircraft to the redhead. “It’s okay. I was nearing the song’s conclusion anyway.”

Asuka accepted the offered airplane. “You sure?”

Rei nodded. “Yes. Your technique isn’t bad.”

Once again, Rei managed to say something that Asuka was not anticipating. My technique? Where did that come from? This is kind of getting on my nerves. A little bit, anyway Who just randomly switches topic mid-conversation like that? “What technique?”

“Your folding technique. It’s effective. Do you make origami?”

Oh. That is not what I expected her to say. “Ah, okay. Thanks. But no, I don’t.” I mean, technically I have, but I don’t need to tell her about how great that went. Damn cat. Since when do cats eat paper anyway? When did that become a thing? And to think people say dogs are the ones who will eat anything.

“I think you’d be good at it if you tried,” Rei said sensibly.

“I’ll let you know if I ever try it out.”

Rei nodded, her faint smile becoming somewhat more defined, as if this was the most logical and appropriate response, and she appreciated that Asuka had used it. Asuka decided it was time for her to get in another question, before the conversation took an additional unpredictable turn. “So, do you go to Sarea High?” Might as well figure out if she’ll be going to the same school as me in the fall. It wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to know some people before I get there.

Rei only nodded again in answer to this question.

“Cool. I’ll be going there in the fall. You a,” she made a quick estimate of how old she thought Ikari looked to be, “junior?”

Rei shook her head. “I’m a senior.”

Well, I was only off by a year, that’s not too bad. “Me too.” You know, for expecting the mystery guitarist to be some guy in his forties, it turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought.

Rei didn’t respond to this information, but merely continued to look at Asuka, her head tilting slightly to the side, the smile on her face seeming more prominent than ever, though still more of a light impression than a defined expression. Asuka met the girl’s gaze for a moment, and matched the bluenette’s smile with a wider one of her own. I mean . . . she’s kind of unusual, but she doesn’t seem so bad. Could definitely do with talking a bit more, but whatever. “Are you in band?”

Rei shook her head. “No. I’d like to be in jazz ensemble though.”

Asuka grinned, and remarked, “I mean, from how you sounded earlier, I’m sure you could tackle jazz. Plus, it’s fun for guitarists!” Is it my imagination, or is that a tiny tint of blush I see on her cheeks right now.

“Thank you. Again,” Rei said softly. “I haven’t auditioned though.”

Asuka’s smile faltered, and she pursed her lips. “Why not?”

The imprint of a smile and the vague reddening slipping from her face, Rei shrugged. “Nerves, I guess,” she answered.

“Ah. I understand.” I’ve been there. Who hasn’t? But hell, she’s definitely good enough to make the cut! Especially in a town like this. I highly doubt they have a great jazz scene here or anything. Asuka paused, but then set off again, more animated, “Well hey, you should audition this fall! I’m going to be there! So there’ll for sure be someone else there who knows you’re a fantastic guitar!”

The mild coloring that Asuka suspected was a blush most definitely returned to Rei’s face with this comment. Without meeting Asuka’s gaze, a strange change from her pattern up to that point, she replied, “Maybe so.”

“Well, think about it at least.”

Rei nodded, and after another handful of seconds had elapsed, asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“I play drums,” Asuka answered.

Rei looked back to Asuka once more, her indistinct smile back on her face. “Are you going to do marching band?”

Asuka shook her head. “No, I prefer playing with a full kit. That’s why I’m going for jazz ensemble instead. It’s what I did at my old school back east in Terahburg.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yep,” Asuka stated smartly. A new idea had emerged in her mind, one which didn’t seem like a half bad one. “You know, we should jam together sometime. Since we’re literally next door to each other.”

Rei said nothing at first, but Asuka noticed that the blue-haired girl’s eyes looked more distant now, practically looking straight past Asuka. She was tempted to turn around, to see if there was something behind her worthy of attention, but she somehow doubted there was. She’s probably just appraising the idea. She seems like the type of person who thinks things over. Thinks things over intensely, to be precise.

When the space between the two girls had lapsed into silence for approximately thirty seconds, Rei spoke up. “What type of music do you like?”

Asuka gave a small shrug in response to this. “The short answer is, I like a lot of stuff. I’m open to pretty much anything. And the long answer is, well, long.” She let out a little laugh to accompany her quip. “But, you might be able to tell,” she shot a pointed glance down at her shirt, which featured an image of a man removing his face from his skull to reveal a bundle of bandages beneath it, an action which was surprisingly depicted in a manner that wasn’t particularly gruesome (which she personally thought a rather unusual choice for a gothic metal album cover, but she enjoyed the art nonetheless, a fact evidence by her possession of the shirt), “I like metal.”

Rei’s eyes followed Asuka’s indication, and studied her garment, taking in the image. “That is interesting,” she commented, giving no real suggestion of her actual opinion of the artwork. “However, I’m not familiar with Lacuna Coil.”

Asuka curled her lips into a wry half-smile. “Not enough people are. They’re pretty awesome though. If you like gothic metal, that is.”

Rei nodded gently, in a manner that came across as fairly noncommittal. “I’ll have to check them out.” Her tone didn’t particularly evince true interest either, thought Asuka couldn’t say that it suggested the opposite for that matter. It fell in line with almost all of Rei’s speech, in that it was nothing if not neutral and more than a little ambiguous. I guess you could call it balanced. It could go equally toward either side.

“So,” Asuka began, “What about you?”

“As in, what type of music do I like?,” Rei countered, seeking clarification.

“Yep.”

“I enjoy instrumental music. Especially when the guitar is the main focus.”

“I get ya, that makes sense,” Asuka remarked with a nod .

“But, I am open to many types of music as well,” Rei added.

“That always cool. Variety keeps things entertaining.”

“Indeed,” Rei agreed, though her voice showed no particular enthusiasm. The sentiment more closely resembled an acknowledgement of a basic principle that could only be recognized as a fact of life, rather than an identification with a specific, shared perspective. After this observation, she fell silent once more. Asuka tilted her head to the side, waiting for the other girl to continue, but she did not seem eager to break the silence which had descended. Well, she basically avoided that question. Or at least, she avoided giving a direct answer to it. I could press the issue, or save it for another time. Oh come on, I’m not one to save things for another time. She doesn’t seem to mind me too much so far. I’m gonna roll with that.

Asuka decided to reiterate her point. “So, what do ya think?”

“About what?,” Rei asked, her eyes twitching momentarily.

“About playing together sometime?”

Rei tilted her head to the side, before righting it and nodding. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah,” Rei concurred, the smallest vestige of excitement briefly filling her voice. Asuka picked up on the alteration, as quickly as it passed. That sounded encouraging!

“Well, hey, let me give you my number, so you can get in touch with me when you want to. That work for you?

“Okay.” Rei extracted her phone from her pocket, a movement which Asuka mirrored.

It was when she glanced down at her phone that Asuka noted the time. Her eyes widened for a brief second. Crap! It’s that late already! Seriously, I’ve been here that long? I probably need to actually try to finish unpacking at least some of those boxes today. If only so I can move across my room without climbing on top of them. Oh well . . . all good procrastination has to end eventually.

Rei cradled her phone in her hands for a few moments. Asuka got the impression that Rei was a little hesitant (for whatever reason) to hand it over for Asuka to put in her number. Selecting a different strategy, Asuka opened her contact profile and held the phone out for Rei to see. “Here, you can just copy off of that. If you don’t want me to put my number in yours, I mean.”

Rei looked at the offered device for another moment or two, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Rei inspected the displayed information for a moment, and then quickly typed something into her phone. “Got it,” she announced.

“Awesome.” Asuka withdrew her phone and slid it back into her pocket. “Look, I gotta bounce. I still have lots of unpacking left to do.” She grinned and chuckled. “My room looks like a minor tornado or something tore threw it. So that’s fun.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Rei responded quietly, but the expression on her face gave the words weight. The impression of a smile that had lingered there for much of the conversation at the door had finally blossomed into something which could be firmly identified as a smile, even if it was a small, uncertain one.

“You too!,” Asuka agreed cheerily. Alright, now the question is, what will she interpret as a proper goodbye? This question proved unnecessary, as Rei gave Asuka another small nod, and then retreated into the house, closing the door behind her, in a startlingly swift burst of activity. Asuka blinked, shrugged mentally, and turned to go, trotting back out to the sidewalk.

Well, all things considered, I’d say that counts as an utter victory. Mystery guitarist turned out to be both under the age of thirty, and overall, pretty likable, at least, I think so. Not to mention I have someone to practice with already, and I’ve only been here a few days. And she lives next door. That’s a pretty great coincidence, I can’t lie. And best of all, I avoided unpacking for a solid half hour more. That’s the real success story here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei didn’t leave after closing the door. She remained in the hall, watching the girl through the peephole as she departed. She couldn’t say exactly why she did it, only that it felt like the appropriate thing to do. When at last the redhead disappeared from her field of vision, she turned away from the door, and made her way to the kitchen. A strange sensation had developed in the pit of her stomach as they conversed. As with her logic for remaining at the door, the reason behind it barely escaped her mental grasp, as did an appropriate name for it. At best, she could characterize it as an unsettling experience, but not an unpleasant one. The feeling of a warbling tremor creeping up toward her chest, and then shying down and away once more. It played just beyond her reach, content to lurk there. Her first thought had been that perhaps food would lay the disturbance to rest. However, as she sat at the table and contemplated the granola bar she had retrieved from one of the cabinets that ringed the kitchen proper, she came to the abrupt realization that she lacked both the appetite and interest to eat it. Dropping the item in question back onto the tabletop, she tilted her head back to consider her kitchen ceiling. She decided that she preferred this view to the similar one she had observed earlier in the day.

There were fewer unpleasant memories wrapped up in this one. At least, that was the explanation she provided to herself, citing it as being the rationale reason for her mood. Because, clearly, it made perfect sense that studying the structure of the kitchen ceiling would fill her with a disconcerting, apprehensive excitement, but excitement all the same. Any other explanation would beg further questions. Questions she thought it was far, far, far too soon to be even touching upon. And that was without taking into account the fact that the excitement shied away from analysis. She suspected any efforts to investigate it would only yield confusing results. Results that led to the very same questions she wished to avoid. The safer alternative, then, was the ceiling. She was excited over the ceiling. Surely, if inspecting the ceiling of her bedroom could trigger a cascade of doubts and memories, inspecting the kitchen ceiling could make her feel giddy with an opaque happiness, until her brain was too muddled to focus on the shapes in the plaster and they meshed together into an indistinct collage of lines that made her eyes water when she tried to trace the maze she envision within it. Right?

#evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #fanfic #fanfiction #highschool au #asurei #asuka x rei #rei ayanami #asuka soryu langley

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wherearemyglassesbro · 5 years ago

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May I get some human au single dad Arthur headcannons where he's raising the America and Canada (both nyo! And normal, or just one it's up to you) please and thank you!

Yes!!!

So Artie became a single dad at 24, the mom left when the twins were 3. So Art was stuck with Amelia, who cried and cried for weeks cause he missed his mom, and Matthew who was in the middle of a ‘I’m gonna smack food out of my dad’s hands’ phase

Matthew was always a very easy baby to handle! He didn’t really get messy unless he joined in some scheme with Amelia and he didn’t cry much at all. But he DID enjoy slapping spoonfuls of sweet potato out of Arthurs hand or throwing his own food across the kitchen for the dog to get. Arthur was not a fan

Amelia was a very loooooud baby. She cried, screamed, banged on things, screamed some more. When they lived in an apartment still, they got plenty of noise complaints. Arthur is a strong guy emotionally but he spent a few nights crying himself to sleep with Amelia in his arms after finishing a 4 hour tantrum. Other than all of that, she was good. She played great with other kids and got along very well with the dog! She also loved Matt and stayed by his side as long as she could

Arthur always felt judged when he walked pushed his twin stroller around. He felt like everyone could tell that he wasn’t the best dad. He was always trying so hard!! He made going to the laundromat a game for the babies, he made grocery shopping bearable by letting them bring a toy each, he put on the Beatles while they were stuck in traffic to distract them, he put colored soap in the bath to entertain them! He did so much to try and make their toddler years as good as they could be!! But he knew it wasn’t the best and that haunted him. “Dad! Dad! Matt!” “Yes I know Amelia, I see the dog too”

Art felt super judged when he put the kids on leashes. Once they learned how to run, BOTH kids insisted on running away on multiple occasions. Art grew like ten grey hairs in the process...he aged like 20 years from the STRESS of it all!! So he got them monkey backpacks with leashes on them so the kids could walk and he could make sure they didn’t sprint off. He used to make fun of parents with leashed kids. Now he understood them

As they grew, they had events at school and Art always recorded them and NO he did NOT cry that would be very unmanly of him thank u very much...>:’( He always made sure to tell them how proud he was of them and how much he loved them, he thought it was very important to tell them that! And ofc it is!

When the twins were 8, Art had enough money to finally get out of his lease and move the kids to a small ranch house outside of the city! They were so excited and thankful that they now had their own rooms!!! And a back yard!!! Art spent a whole day while they were at school building a swing set in the backyard! They still have that thing all set up :)

Art was never math smart but when it came to books or history or even science, he was able to help his kids with their homework! But math? No way. Math had changed way too much since his days in school. He had no idea what the ‘box method’ was or how to do it even though Matthew patiently walked him through it like ten times lmao. Matt usually spent a half hour or so every night helping Amelia with her math homework since he understood it and she didn’t. Art always thought that was very sweet of him :’)

Wrangling the kids has kinda always been a bit of a struggle. It was just the three of them but somehow everyone managed to lose soemthing right before they were about to leave or someone had the wrong socks on or ‘hey dad you didn’t pack me a lunch!’ ‘Dammit...’ the Kirklands now have a routine of getting up an hour earlier than they would need to just to be POSITIVE that no one forgot anything

Amelia had done softball since she was allowed to play and she took tennis in the summer. Matt played hockey in the fall and winter and golf in the warmer months. So his kids were very involved with sports! He had plenty of games to attend. The worst part though is that he’s only one man....And if they have games the same day, he has to choose between them which always makes him feel like garbage :( But he calls in the Kirkland clan (his brothers and parents) and all is fine!

Arthur literally wouldn’t have made it as a sad without his family’s help. His mom watched the babies when he was at work, his brothers took the kids to lunch when he had a doctors appointment or some adult thing to do, they even watched the kids while he went on blind dates which....didn’t really work out too well...obviously

As the kids got older they insisted on thrusting their dad into the dating world....he is still there trying lmao

Amelia wants to be an Olympian and Art supports her but kinda doubts her deep down cause she isn’t really one to commit to things. Matt wants to be a financial lawyer and Art is very surprised by that but he supports him!! Every day he’s surprised that he’s managed to raise such amazing kids. And when they get older, they’ll realize how much Art did for them :’)

#aph #hetalia #ask away!#headcanons #hetalia headcanons #asks #aph england #aph america #aph canada #nyo!america #always up for hc requests!#ask away #hetalia writing

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cerezsis · 5 years ago

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Isn’t That Lovely?

Human AU

Summary: Spinel thinks she and Piper Damon are best friends. Piper hangs out with her because she has to. The two are separated when Piper’s dream of owning her own branch of the family business comes true, but Spinel is sure their friendship can survive the distance. Unfortunately, their friendship isn’t the only thing she’ll watch go up in flames.

WARNING: This story depicts severe mental illness, and the death of loved ones. Tread cautiously if you are bothered by either of those subjects.

“Say hello to your new friend, Piper,” the white-haired woman said, her hands planted firmly on her daughter’s shoulders.

The ten-year-old looked her new “friend” up and down. Spinel, the three-year-old girl who was already bouncing in excitement, wore tight pigtails, pink shorts, and a white shirt with a juice stain on the collar. Piper gave her best friendly smile. She supposed she should be happy that she wouldn’t have to spend the day alone in the estate or stuck coloring in the corner of an office, but it didn’t stop the dread brewing in her stomach.

“Hello,” Piper greeted.

The toddler ran up and gave her a tight hug. Piper hugged back, trying hard not to think about how sticky the younger girl’s hands felt against the back of her shirt.

“I’m so excited to play with you!” Spinel said, eagerly.

“Well, I certainly won’t keep you two waiting,” Winona said, lifting her hands from Piper’s shoulders, “I’ll pick you up around dinner time, Starlight.”

Piper managed a grin at her mother. “Ok, mom.”

Piper followed Spinel and Mrs. Desjardins out of the office building. She buckled herself in next to Spinel’s car seat, and stared out the window as the younger girl sang along to the children’s music CD that automatically started playing when Mrs. Desjardins started the car. As her head rested against the warm glass, she wondered why her mother couldn’t have had any employees with kids her own age.

The drive to the Desjardins residence wasn’t long, and Piper had to admit the house was beautiful. The paneling was painted a lovely cream color, and beautiful vines of pink flowers surrounded the black shutters. The bushes underneath the windows also sported flowers, and looked to be freshly trimmed. It was clear that the family took pride in their home’s appearance.

“Come on!” Spinel said, happily grabbing onto Piper’s hand, “I’ll show you my playhouse!”

Piper could hear Spinel’s mother chuckle as the little girl led her to the backyard. Passed the ivy-draped wooden fence, the backyard was full of even more flowers than the front. In the center of the many flowerbeds sat a brightly painted wooden swing set with an attached playhouse. Still holding onto her new friend’s hand, Spinel brought Piper into the playhouse, the older girl having to crouch down to fit through the toddler-sized doorway.

“Ta-da!” Spinel said, finally releasing her sticky hand from Piper’s to raise her arms in presentation, “Welcome to my playhouse!”

Still unable to stand up straight, Piper managed a smile. There was barely even enough room for the two of them to be in there together. “So, what do you wanna do?”

Spinel tapped her finger on her chin, thinking through her options carefully. Her eyes widened with joy when the perfect game came to mind.

“Oh! Oh! Let’s play tag!” She tapped the older girl on the shoulder. “You’re it!”

Despite the cramped space, she managed to run out the door with ease, giggling in anticipation of the chase. Quietly wondering how long it was until dinner time, Piper put on her best game face and chased after Spinel.

The girls played in the yard until Mrs. Desjardins called them in for lunch. As she ate her tater tots, Piper hoped Spinel was tired enough to want to watch TV or play with dolls, but once their plates were cleared, she insisted on a game of hide and seek in the backyard. Putting on another smile, Piper agreed to Spinel’s games.

Mr. Desjardins came home from the office shortly after Mrs. Desjardins got started on dinner. He came with the message that Piper’s mother would be late picking her up, and that she was to have dinner with them. Piper wondered to herself why she expected anything different from her mother. The Desjardins were happy to set her a place at the dinner table, and she thanked them when they handed her a plate of spaghetti. While the grownups chatted, Piper quietly winced as Spinel made a mess of her spaghetti dinner, getting sauce all over her face and shirt. Twirling spaghetti around her fork, Piper wondered if her sisters were having takeout again.

By the time her mother came to collect her, it was almost nine o’clock. Winona gave the Desjardins an obligatory apology for being so late – something about backorders and a wrong color – but they assured her that it was fine, and Piper was a pleasure. As the adults took their time with their departure, Piper had her eyes locked on the door. Spinel, now dressed in her Micky Mouse pajamas, held tightly onto her hand, telling her that if she hid in her room, her mother wouldn’t be able to find her, and she wouldn’t have to go home. When Winona finally decided it was time to leave, Spinel threw herself onto the ground.

“I don’t want her to go!” she cried.

After a few minutes of Spinel crying for Piper to stay, the situation had to be resolved by Mr. Desjardins carrying Spinel up to her room. A final goodbye to Mrs. Desjardins, and Winona and Piper were finally in the car, driving back to the estate.

“Mrs. Desjardins told me about all the fun you had with Spinel today,” Winona said, her eyes on the road.

“Yeah…” Piper said, leaning tiredly against the car door, “She’s… nice.”

“Good, good,” Winona grinned, clearly not taking notice of her daughter’s apathetic tone, “I’ve arranged for you to play with her every weekday for the rest of the summer. Your sisters and I will take turns dropping you off and picking you up.”

Piper stopped listening, and sank back into her seat. She stared out the window, watching the streetlights zoom by. All she could think about was Spinel’s sticky hands.

It had been five years since Spinel and Piper’s first playdate. Autumn leaves danced in the window as Piper sat on the edge of the child-sized bed, venting about her latest fight with her mom and sisters. Spinel laid on her stomach, her head resting in her hands, and her legs kicking back and forth. The eight-year-old listened attentively to her cool, older friend, occasionally giving a nod in sympathy. Being so much younger, she couldn’t always relate to her problems, but she was still always there to listen. That’s what friends were for, after all.

This week’s fight was once again about Piper’s role in the family’s business. Piper was on her usual rant about how Yvonne and Beatrix had their own branches when they were her age, and how it wasn’t fair that all she had was a few jewelry lines.

“They treat me like a kid,” Piper complained, “How would they even know how responsible I am? I could handle running a business just fine. They never have any faith in me.”

Spinel nodded. “You’d be the best boss ever! I bet when you finally get your branch, it’ll be the best branch they’ve ever seen!”

Piper gave a half-smile. At least someone believed in her.

A light ding came from the other side of the room. Spinel perked up.

“Oh, the brownies are ready!” She got up and hurried to her Easy Bake Oven. “Here Piper, you can have the first one. Brownies make everything better.”

“Thanks Spinel,” Piper said, still giving her a reserved smile, “I love brownies.”

Spinel would never forget the look of excitement on Piper’s face when she gave her the news. At nineteen years old, she was finally getting her own branch of Damon’s Diamonds. Spinel couldn’t have been happier for her friend.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could’ve been happier if she could follow her to Maine, where her first warehouse and manufacturing plant would be located, but, as her parents reminded her, seventh grade came first.

She wrote to Piper every day. Piper wrote back once every few months. It was ok. Running a business was a lot of work, especially when you have a group of anti-corporate protesters thwarting the process. Spinel would wait as long as it would take. She knew her best friend wouldn’t forget her.

The summer before tenth grade, Spinel woke up to find both her parents in the kitchen. She knew something was wrong before she even saw their pink, puffy eyes. Daddy was never home this late in the morning.

They broke the news to her as gently as possible. A fire had started in the on-site warehouse at Piper’s factory. It spread quickly to the main building, too quickly for Piper to escape her office. The fire took her life.

Spinel shook her head. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. Piper couldn’t be dead; she just couldn’t be!

She spent most of the day sitting on the couch, staring into space. News came in in bits and pieces. Dry foliage. Smoke bombs. Lacks fire regulations. Chemicals not stored properly. All came together to form a perfect storm of chaos.

At least a dozen people died in the blaze. Many more were injured. The number of casualties were still rising. Rose Quintin, the leader of the anti-corporate protesters, was thought to be responsible, but there wasn’t enough evidence for an arrest. Her current whereabouts were unknown.

It was hours before Spinel finally cried. Her best friend was gone, her life cut short in one of the worst ways possible. Piper was dead.

Piper was dead…

Nearly Halloween that same year, daddy’s test results came back. Stage four lung cancer. Daddy didn’t make it to Christmas.

A week after New Year’s, Spinel was called down to the principal’s office. A police officer was waiting for her. A car hit mommy as she was crossing the street. The car sped away. Mommy died in the ambulance.

Eleventh grade didn’t last long. Spinel got expelled for repeated aggressive behavior. Once kicked out of school, she no longer had a reason to leave the house. The mortgage had been paid off long ago. Inheritance and life insurance payouts were enough for her to survive indefinitely. Groceries were delivered to the house every Tuesday. The farthest she ever ventured was to the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

No one ever checked on her.

She hadn’t remembered her twenty-seventh birthday until nearly a week had passed. Time always seemed to escape her like that.

Today was what she considered a good day; the only thing she felt was hallow. It was a step up from anger or sadness, and way better than the crash that followed mania. Hallow was safe. Hallow was good.

Sitting on the old, rickety swing set, Spinel looked around the yard. The once beautiful landscape was now overrun weeds and overgrowth. Almost all the flowers were brown and shriveled. The ivy that mommy planted had completely taken over the fence and was creeping onto the graying exterior walls of the house.

Without even thinking, Spinel stood up and wandered back into the house. A fine layer of dust coated every surface, as if no one had lived there for years. Glancing at the overflowing sink of dirty dishes, she struggled to remember if she’d eaten today. She didn’t have much of an appetite. She’d have to force something down the next time she remembered.

Continuing through her untouched time capsule of a house, she let herself wander up the stairs. Her bedroom door had broken off during one of her fits a few years ago, now permanently propped up against the adjacent wall. The upstairs bathroom hadn’t been usable in five years. She found herself entering the master bedroom, formerly her parents’ room, and let herself fall onto the unmade bed. She wrapped herself in the old sheets and tried to fall asleep.

It was three in the afternoon.

Forty-three. She was forty-three years old. Had it not been for the date and time in the corner of the morning news program, she wouldn’t know what day it was. She didn’t usually watch this channel, but it had been airing a marathon of old cartoons two days ago. For some reason, the old back and white cartoons made her feel a sort of calm. She couldn’t be bothered to change the channel after it ended.

She wasn’t really paying attention to the TV anymore, just lying on the couch and looking out the window. The neighborhood children were making their way to the bus stop, occasionally stopping in front of her house to talk and pint. If it weren’t for the glow of the TV through the otherwise dark window, they probably would’ve thought the place was abandoned.

Something on the TV made Spinel perk up. A morning talk show she missed the name of was starting, and the host was welcoming on that day’s guests. It was the Damon family.

Spinel sat up straight, her eyes glued to the TV. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw all three of the Damon women together. Winona, Yvonne, and Beatrix sat in chairs on the opposite side of the host. Someone else sat with the three of them, someone Spinel didn’t recognize. A boy, maybe sixteen years old. The title card that appeared under him read “Steven Universe, teen activist.”

Even with that introduction, Spinel still had no idea who this kid was, or why he was with the Damon’s. She listened intently as Winona Damon began weaving a tale about all the changes Steven helped them make to the company, and how she’s confident that other corporations will follow their lead. It honestly sounded lovely, even if she didn’t know who this Steven kid was. He was obviously very passionate about the reform of corporate America.

“My grandson here is the most compassionate person you’ll ever meet,” the elderly Winona said, smiling proudly, “All of Damon’s Diamonds are so happy to have him-”

Spinel stopped listening, her head suddenly spinning with questions. Her grandson? Whose kid was he? Yvonne and Beatrix had always stated their intentions to remain child free, and Piper… Piper was…

That’s when it clicked. The curly hair, the dark eyes, the smile. It was hers. It was all hers. But, no, that was impossible! Piper died too young to have a sixteen-year-old son… Unless…

Spinel darted up from the couch and sprinted to the dining room, where decades worth of mail was piled onto the table. She rarely paid attention to what she brought in from the mailbox, just tossing it onto the table. Maybe she missed something. A letter, a postcard, any kind of message from Piper. She could still hear the TV as she meticulously went through every parcel.

“I don’t want to be put on a throne for doing the right thing,” Steven said in response to a question from the host, “The world doesn’t need billionaires. I couldn’t spend that much money in a lifetime.

“In fact, I’m not even going to be staying in New York for much longer. I’m heading back to Beach City tonight.”

All noise after that faded to static as Spinel continued through the mail. She spent hours, maybe even a full day going through everything. She found nothing, no secret message, nothing from Piper. Tears stung in Spinel’s eyes as she looked to all the mail scattered around her. Through the various newspapers and magazine headlines she came across in her search, she’d managed to piece together the story. Piper faked her death in the fire. Rose Quintin, the woman who supposedly killed her, never existed. Piper was Rose. Piper set fire to her own warehouse and factory, ran off with a few friends to Delaware, and started a new life under the name Rose Quintin. She died for real sixteen years ago, after giving birth to her son, Steven. Going off the dates printed, it looked like the story first broke two years ago, after Steven first found out the truth about his mother. Spinel fell to her knees, her fists clenching around whatever mail was in front of her. The one spark of hope she’d had in years was violently stomped out as the realization that Piper had no intention of letting her know she was alive consumed her.

Piper didn’t die in the fire. Piper lived an extra twelve years, and didn’t think to tell her best friend. Piper didn’t die in the fire. Piper didn’t die in the fire.

Her body shaking, heart pounding, and tears flowing, Spinel felt something snap inside her. The mail she had in her hands was shredded into confetti as she started to scream. Furniture was thrown as she screamed until her throat burned. Gears turned in her head, powered by the hot fires of rage. She wanted revenge, she needed revenge, but Piper was dead, for real this time. It didn’t matter. Someone was going to pay. Someone was going to feel as much pain as she felt.

She couldn’t quite remember what happened between throwing a chair through the TV screen and getting on a plane to Delaware, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

#su #steven universe #my writing #spinel #pink diamond #rose quartz #white diamond #steven quartz universe #yellow diamond #blue diamond #human au #the great diamond authority #steven universe the movie

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onlynight-onlylight · 5 years ago

Text

Euphoria

Words: 4,1K

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: fluff, Childhood Friends!AU, Slice of Life

Summary: You know you love him, as a good friend, as a brother. You believe in the platonic love until you realize you can’t share him with anyone else. You love him as a man.

End of June

“Jungkook?”

I see a man with very familiar face sit in the lobby of my office. He sits quietly with full concentration to his phone. He lifts his head upon hearing my voice and gives me his shy smile. He stands and walks to my direction.

“Hmm... I know why Yerim always refuses our blind dates proposal” says one of my colleagues who suddenly stands behind me.

“Ah, it’s not like that” I defend myself that barely gives any effect.

“You hide your handsome boyfriend from us for all this time?” ask Aeri who looks at me mischievously. She knows who Jungkook is, but she always teases me every time I share a story of him. She meets Jungkook months ago when she gives me a visit on Sunday morning, the day which is coincidentally falls on Jungkook’s last holiday when serving in military.

I open my mouth to answer but my colleagues’ attention has already directed to Jungkook. He flashes them polite smile then bow to the others.

“So, who is this lucky man?”

“Hi, I’m Jeon Jungkook. If it’s okay for you all, I will take Yerim first since we are late for our dinner appointment’ he answers which makes my colleagues squeal. He must be out of his mind to play along with these people.

“Take her please. But do not forget to return her tomorrow, I need her for new project’s presentation”

“I will let her have a good rest tonight”

The females scream hearing Jungkook’s answer. I punch his stomach and only earns a grin from him. My face feels heated when I crash to the solid abs. I never can be used to this Jungkook when I have known him since a baby and always think of him as younger brother.

“So, see you ladies” he says before wraps his hand to my waist. I wave to my friends while walking outside.

“Kookie, why did you answer them like that?” ask me when I finally sit in the restaurant. He gives me the menu book and set the utensil while chuckling. He, apparently, loves to see me embarrassed. He once said it’s nice to see the faint pink tint on my cheeks.

Jungkook and Jeon family have been my neighbor since I was a kid, so we are close like blood-related family. I’m the oldest out of the children from both families, then followed by oldest son of Jeon. My sister and Jungkook are in the same age. We are quite close since we don’t have many years gap but eventually drifting apart when we have our own business.

A year ago, my family moved nearer to the city while the Jeon stayed in our neighborhood. We still manage to meet at each other house sometimes, but I often miss the gathering than I intend to because of work. And it makes us drift apart somehow.

But Jungkook is different. He calls me often, sometimes it feels like he is my real blood-related brother. Even he is used to spend his call benefit in military for me. I still remember his sudden decision of military enlistment after graduate from high school has shocked everyone including his brother who hasn’t going yet. He still manages to keep us close.

“Your friends are so funny, Noona” he says, making me shake my head.

“And why they seem obsessing to get you a boyfriend? I don’t think any man will pass my standard”

“Your standard?” I ask while raising my eyebrow.

“Yes, my standard. He should beat me in every aspect I’m good of”

My mouth is hanging open hearing his answer. Where will I find a man as perfect as him? Jungkook is tall, handsome, good at sport and arts. He sends me some voice notes of him singing and it helps me to sleep. He makes a video of our family weekend getaway like a short movie. Once he learns something, he masters it in no time.

“Hh… I will be single forever then”

He laughs and calls the waiter to get our orders. I sit lifelessly, looking at his excited face. He say thank you after he is done and back to give his attention to me. He puts small box in front of me and tells me to open it by his eyes. I narrow my eyes to him, questioning his intention. He laughs again and encourages me to open the box once again. My eyes widen to see a pair of beautiful earrings similar to his but in more feminine design.

“Happy birthday, Noona. I know it’s early but I’m afraid I can’t come on your day. I always pray for your happiness”

And somehow, I think that being single forever is not bad if I can have Jungkook beside me all the time.

1st of September

I come to my parent’s home on the weekend to find everyone being so neat unlike the usual. I always see my father and mother watch the variety show leisurely on Saturday night, while my sister is busy preparing herself for a date with her boyfriend. My father is not using his dress pants but tidy enough to know that they are going somewhere. I frown and try to remember any event today until my sister stands before me.

“Jeon family invites us over for dinner tonight. I believe you haven’t read the messages, have you?”

I flash her guilty smile. I can’t take out my phone in the packed subway. Having a handle to help me standing is tough already.

“Put some perfume then we’re good to go” she says while making gesture that I’m stink.

I check my phone and see the notification on the messenger app. It turns out to be the youngest Jeon’s birthday today. I palm my face to let myself forgetting this important day and don’t bring anything to his house. Jungkook will make me own him a big favor.

Coming to Jeon’s house always brings back happy memories on my childhood. This house has become my second home. The parents always welcome me and my sister and take us as their own since they don’t have daughter, vice versa for my parents.

I stand in the back and let my family to greet the host first while I’m taking a second look to the house. Aunty Jeon is growing more small plants in front of the house, making me sure that she will give some for my mother later.

“You’re coming, Noona” said someone behind me. I turn my body to see the birthday boy smiling. Maybe I shouldn’t call him boy anymore since he becomes a man already. His figure screams grown-up man with his broad shoulder and muscles here and there but his innocent face tells another story. He is the same Jungkook I know years ago. Even though I meet him sometimes, he looks different tonight.

“I shouldn’t miss your birthday dinner, should I?”

He chuckles and stands beside me, making me looks smaller compared to him. He puts his hand to my lower back and pushes me to step forward nearing his mother.

“Where have you been?” I ask, wondering why he comes late while our presence here is for him.

“I’m back from being adult” he answers shortly with playful smile. I don’t get his joke and think about it for a while. But before I can ask him further, I arrive in front of his mother.

“Yerim, it’s good to see you” Aunty Jeon hugs me tight. She nags me because I haven’t come for ages. Being in the team that obviously lacks member makes me work very hard. I, sometimes, don’t get any break in weekend when it gets very busy. I know they understand and worry for me at the same time, but they also can help to throw their complaints to me for my own good.

“Mom, she is just coming after God knows when. Don’t make her regret it now” says Jungkook. I can hear his tease in every word he says. Aunty Jeon glares his son but eventually rushes me to come in.

“The earrings look good on you” he whispers on my ear before we step inside the house. I don’t take compliment easily and I’m sure my face is suddenly turns red. Jungkook is no longer a boy to do thing like this.

We’re lucky the night is clear while we have the dinner at the backyard terrace. I spot the old swing in the corner of the yard and remember how we always fight for it. I love to spend my time there while the other kids are napping back then. But Jungkook will always find me missing and sleep upon my lap on the swing.

“I’m so sorry for coming late” said Junghyun as he comes in. He spreads a wide smile resembled to his brother.

“Oh, the busy noona is here today? Is it the power of Jungkook’s birthday?” he teases me while patting his brother shoulder. The younger man gives shy smile.

“If everyone teases me like this, I think I’ve been missing too long already. I will try to come as often I can then”

“Don’t bother him, Yerim. He is the one who barely come home since move to Seoul” said Aunty Jeon after Junghyun sit and smack his arm. I just laugh it off.

The others are busy in catching up in the living room while I walk alone following the small garden light to the swing. I sit and close my eyes for a while, releasing the exhausted feeling I get for the entire week. I sigh deeply and comfort myself until feeling sleepy and not aware that someone joins me in the silence. He lets out a cough, announcing his presence in front of me.

“Jungkook” I said. He smiles and points on the empty spot next to me. I only nod and let him take a sit beside me. His cologne fills my lungs when I take a breath. His scent is surprisingly calming, making the sleepy feeling comes to me once again.

“You can lean on me and get some rest, Noona”

I look at him and notice how he becomes more mature and handsome after two months not seeing each other. I bet he has a girlfriend now because his aura becomes different.

“You’re doing well?” I ask while taking the detail of his face. His jaw is sharper than I remember, his cheeks are thinner. I hold myself to not suddenly touch them.

“Hmm, I barely pass the interview to be intern in my dream company and start next week. I still can give you piggy back to living room if you really pass out here. And I’m kind of missing you?” he answers while looking at me. I give him a light slap on his arm and rest my head on his shoulder that he is purposely lowered. We both lean back to the swings and looking up to the sky.

“Then how about… girlfriend?”

His palm is open as if waiting for my palm to play with. I sometimes wonder if we were this close before. I don’t remember exactly how it happened but Jungkook always makes time to meet me on his spare time. I’ve just got a job that time and surprised to see him waiting for me in front of my office during his serving days. I think I have a hard time to see him as a brother since that day without myself knowing.

“What about girlfriend?”

“Do you get yourself one?”

“Should I?”

I close my eyes and think about his question. He should get a girlfriend, shouldn’t he? Why don’t I answer the simple question easily? Jungkook takes my hand and puts it on his. He entangles his fingers around mine.

“Don’t you want to have someone beside you to share everything with?”

“I think I have one already but I’m not sure if she’s thinking the same”

My breath hitches and stops for a while. I think he can feel me stiffen since he tightens his grip on me.

“Have you… have you ask her out?”

“Mm, I haven’t. I don’t think she sees me as a man yet but I will try”

I don’t think my brain is functioning well because I suddenly forget to breathe. Why I feel like want to throw up imagining him with another girl while I’m the one who bringing up the topic?

“But will you be okay if I have a girlfriend?” he whispers slowly. I can feel his head moving and traps my head into his shoulder. I hesitate to answer so I choose to keep silent.

“Yerim” he calls my name softly. I always thought it’s a slip up but it happens often lately so I’m not so sure now.

“I don’t know Kookie”

6th of September

Jungkook hasn’t contact me after the dinner for 5 days straight and I begin to worry. I don’t think I feel this way before but I’m too afraid to not hear anything from him now. I steal a glance as often as I can but find nothing. I decide to send him a message on lunch, just checking up on him in case he’s sick or something.

Kook, are you alive?

Sent

Rest of the day goes blurry since I have many tasks to do from my manager. I haven’t checked my phone until time to off from work. I wave at my coworker who works late today and go to subway quickly. I don’t have much energy to spend so I choose the fastest route to home. My mind wanders to Jungkook while I set my eyes to the line of lights outside the bus. Why do I feel empty these days? I’m always fine to not having company yet 5 days without words from Jungkook makes me feel like this.

I lean my head on the elevator wall, feeling drained. I should make dinner as soon as I arrive on my apartment to recharge. Filled tummy will help me sleep well, I hope. I stun after a step outside the elevator when I find Jungkook stands in front of my door. He looks nothing like the hoodie boy I know with white shirt and black dress pants. He looks tired while his phone reattached to his ear.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still in lost to see Jungkook out of nowhere.

“Noona, I call you hundred times”

His voice breaks my blank state and helps me to move. He straightens his posture and gives his hand to my direction. I walk slowly and he patiently waits for me to reach him. I take his hand and look at him.

“I bring ice cream for you” he says and lifts his other hand to show me, but my eyes are still on him.

“Are you okay, Noona?”

His eyes now fill with worry to see no response out of my mouth. He closes the gap and whispers.

“Are you mad at me?”

I can talk, I can answer his question. But I don’t want to. I don’t believe on myself to answering him now. At this point I should accept the fact that I have fallen to the boy that I label brother for years.

“I’m sorry Yerim, please talk to me, yeah?”

I hug him and bury my face on his chest. I murmur softly, to scared to be heard but enough for myself to finally admit it.

“I miss you”

I still feel embarrassed for hugging him and saying that I miss him when we enter my place. He knows my place well and gets himself and me a glass of water after puts the ice cream in the refrigerator. I scold myself inside my head many times until Jungkook clearing his throat before speaking. It’s not like the first time I say those words but I think we are both aware that something’s changed. The words feel heavier than usual.

“I don’t know being intern will be that busy”

“Nah, it’s okay, I’m just worried”

“How’s work this week? Is it getting better?” I caught a hope to melt the tension in his voice. I sigh loudly before let my body relaxing on the sofa.

“It worsen, I skip two lunches just to finish the work before deadline”

Jungkook face hardens and I realize I say something wrong. When I was in college, I have taken a bed rest for skipping a meal three days in a row and now I’m about to repeat the history.

“I’m stacking snacks on my desk Jungkook, I still eat even it’s not a meal”

“Can you not doing that again? I don’t want you to get sick”

I nod to his request. This is a normal conversation of me and Jungkook but something’s feel weird. Maybe I’m attracted to this guy more than I thought before. I tilt my head to his direction and find him looking at me.

“Pizza for dinner?” he just smiles and nods before calling the pizza restaurant.

Being comfortable with Jungkook means arms and legs are entangled while we are eating and watching a movie. Sometimes I think we are both aware that we’re crossing the line of being best friends or brother-sister because we are not really related by blood. But we also don’t want what we are having now changed. Lately, I just think maybe we should give each other some space but in reality I can’t stand to be in the dark without his presence. I am depended on him more than I realize. And with some ego, I want to keep him for myself.

“Kook”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think I will be okay” I say while hiding my face to his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t be okay if you have girlfriend”

I hide further to the fabric of his clothes without worrying my make up will stain his white shirt. I can dry-clean it later since I don’t have much bravery to say this to his face. He doesn’t say anything for a second that makes me panics. I shouldn’t tell him this, not now.

“Why?”

This time I really take my time to answer. I’m preparing my heart to take whatever response Jungkook give me after hearing the answer.

“I hate the idea to share you with anyone”

“Share me?”

“I mean… I know I don’t own you, you’re like brother to me or at least I thought you are but I need you more than that”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know… I think I love you?”

“You think…”

I’m not sure why but tears are prickling my eyes. I don’t want him to know that his answers somehow break me. I detach myself from him and stand up abruptly. I am a coward yet I’m older than him for years. I’m not wise to feel hurt by his response while I’m the one who confess out of blue. I’m not ready to get rejection from him while I’m aware it is one-sided love.

“I’m going to clean myself and off to bed. You can go if you’re done with the pizza” I say to him without looking. He still says nothing.

“You can forget what I’m saying just now, Jungkook.”

He grabs my hand to keep me from leaving. I don’t want him to see me crying because of my own foolishness.

“If you don’t want to share me with others, why don’t you own me as yours?” he asks softly. I’m not sure is he really asking me or mocking me. I can’t read any emotion in his voice.

“Do you know how long I try to get your attention as a man and not little brother who follows you around?”

His next sentence lets me know that his previous one is a real question. He stands up and hugs me from behind. He circles his left hand on my waist and his right on my shoulder. His chin rests on the top of my head. He is trapping me and throwing away the possibility of running.

“You can’t just go after you say you think you love me” he says. And now I feel him smiling while saying those words. Being usual him, he is strongly holding himself to tease me.

“I thought having you seeing me as a man is enough for me, but I was wrong”

“Jungkook”

“I’m not satisfied to be just a man, I want to be your man. I want to make you happy, as you make me”

He loosens his hug and spins me to face him. I still feel the tears streak on my cheek.

“You can scold me, punch me, anything when you mad at me but don’t cry”

“You fool”

“Oh yeah, you can curse me too”

We both laugh at our silliness. He hugs me again, making me feel so secure in his arms, like always.

“And now, let me kiss my princess”

I’m shaking my head as refusal but he is closing the distance very fast. Next thing I remember is his soft lips taking my breath away for the longest time I’ve never thought I can handle.

31st of December

“Are you ready?” I ask Jungkook who looks pale when we arrive at my parents’ house.

After we get together, we meet regularly on weekends. We haven’t told our families yet and even when we come to our monthly dinner night together. They seems not noticing our relationship since nothing really changes between me and Jungkook. Well, at least in front of them we are still the loving brother and sister. Before official, we are already touchy so after that night, Jungkook is unstoppable for any kind of skinship behind the door of his place or mine.

“What if your father doesn’t like me as her daughter’s boyfriend?”

“Should we do this again?”

He nods. He is just being the real him as the youngest and it’s cute.

“You’re practically his son, why won’t he like you?”

“It’s different you know. Hhhh, don’t ever mentioned about our overnights anytime soon”

I laugh this time. He is totally scared of my father’s response like committing some deadly serious crimes.

“Why? So don’t want to run another 50 laps like you do on high school?”

I remember Jungkook was punished by my father for skipping school with his close friends back then. He and all his friends were almost fainted after finishing the punishment. But right after that, my dad fulfilled their stomach with meat.

“Ugh… You have to hold my hands whatever that happens inside”

“Okay, okay”

He lets out a loud sigh an nods repeatedly. “Let’s go”

Jungkook keeps glance at me every minutes. He looks so miserable with his worry while our families are enjoying the dinner. Since Junghyun and my sister, Harim bring their partner tonight, I can understand what’s going on in Jungkook’s head.

“So, when will you introduce your boyfriend to us, Noona?” say Junghyun. I smile widely when Jungkook coughs hearing his brother question. I pat his back slowly while he is reaching his drink.

“I really want to introduce him to you all just like what Junghyun and Harim do tonight but…” I don’t continue my sentence and look at Jungkook who sits beside me.

“Does Jungkook ban you from dating? Does he scare any man that attracted to you just like before?” ask Junghyun again. I shake my head while laughing with others. Jungkook hisses and grits his teeth.

“I am dating Yerim Noona”

“Right, you are dating… what?!” It’s Junghyun turns to coughing now. His fiancée gives him a glass of water to calm him down.

“Is it serious?” ask my mother and I nod to her question.

“See, Mom? I told you right, there’s something going on between these two” says Harim and Aunty Jeon agrees with her. Seems like they are gossiping us when we are away.

“So it’s official now that Yerim will be my daughter” says Uncle Jeon that makes everyone laughing. Jungkook steal a glance to my father in fear of being yelled or so he thought but nothing happened. My father looks happy and it brings color to Jungkook’s face.

“What it is? Am I the only one who didn’t expect this?” ask Junghyun. Jungkook palms his face.

“So, Mom, Dad, will it be okay if I’m getting married earlier than Onni?” Harim asks while holding her boyfriend’s hand tight. And I just realize that she is wearing a beautiful ring on her ring finger.

“If it’s okay for your sister”

Now everyone looks at me.

“While I am waiting for Jungkook to ask me from Dad, I think I’m ready to be bridesmaid”

“Noona…” Jungkook whispers in defeat. My sister shouts ‘thank you’ and hugs her man. I look at Jungkook and feel the euphoria taking over me.

“Thank you” I say before holding his hand and drowning in happiness for the rest of the nights.

#bts fics #bts fanfics #jungkook fics #jungkook fanfics #jungkook x oc #noona reader #childhood friends fics

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5hining-aus · 5 years ago

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SHINee As Werewolves

IT’S SPOOKY SEASON GUYS 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 I mentioned a little while ago that this month would be a bit focused on Magic/Supernatural-themed AUs. Here’s the first one. I hope you like it! Also, if there is a certain type of AU that you would like to see or like to get an update for this month, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do!

General:

So, in this AU, werewolves shift between their regular human forms and their werewolf form. A shifted werewolf is almost indistinguishable from a regular wolf, with the only differences being that werewolves are typically larger, and that werewolves typically have more diversity in pelt colour when compared to actual wolves

Most fully grown werewolves are no smaller than 115 cm at the shoulder, roughly the size of an adult pony

A/B/O? A/B/No. Sure, a pack might have the Alpha, Beta, and Omega ranks, but that’s all they are, ranks, nothing biological about them. A lot of packs don’t even use those ranks anymore, they just have a Pack Leader (usually the oldest member of the pack,) and some sort of Second-In-Command (usually the second oldest or strongest pack-member, or a close trusted friend of the Leader)

Speaking of packs, there are three main types:

Type One - The Family Pack: Perhaps the most common type of pack, it typically consists of an immediate family of werewolves and can span many generations

Type Two - The Bachelor/Bachelorette/Friend Pack: Typically comprised of mostly unrelated adult/sub-adult werewolves who have left their birth pack for some reason. Membership may be fluid, with members constantly coming and going, or it may be static, with the pack staying together permanently.

Type Three - The Lone Werewolf: Fairly self-explanatory, this is a werewolf who has left their birth pack but also hasn’t joined or formed another

A werewolf’s control over their transformation varies based on a few factors:

Age: Simply put, older werewolves are usually better at controlling their shifting. It tends to be easier for them to shift back and forth between their human and wolf-forms at will as well

Phase Of The Moon: What are werewolves known for? That’s right, changing form because of the full moon. All werewolves, once they come into their abilities, undergo an involuntary transformation during the full moon. Conversely, werewolves are unable to shift at all during the new moon

Emotions: Many werewolves will unintentionally shift when overcome with strong emotions

Fatigue: When seriously fatigued, a shifted werewolf will revert back to their human form. Shifting to and remaining in wolf-form consumes a lot of energy, so this seems to be the body’s way of conserving it

------------------------------ Member Info ------------------------------

Jinki:

Leader of the Pearl Aqua Lake Pack

Other packs tend to underestimate his pack because he doesn’t seem that tough

He’s generally a pacifist, but he damn near took on a whole rival pack single-handedly after they messed with his boys

Unlike some other Pack Leaders, who choose to lead through fear or intimidation, the PAL Pack chose Jinki as their Leader out of loyalty and love and all that mushy stuff

The strongest pack member, though he doesn’t usually show it

He was actually a bit of a late-bloomer when it came to shifting. Most werewolves come into their abilities around the age of 12, but Jinki didn’t come into his until he was about 16

The first time he shifted was unintentional. He sneezed a bit too hard and then poof, he had four legs and a tail

When shifted, his fur is mostly a dark cream/light tan colour with some darker brown/black hairs mixed in on top

Jonghyun:

A very good doggo

No but in all seriousness, he’s definitely the most dog-like out of the pack

Has definitely stopped mid-sentence because he saw a squirrel

Also like, slightly possessive over this one tree in the backyard

That’s HIS tree, don’t touch it

Despite leaving his birth pack, he’s still very close to his mom and sister

He may or may not use the whole werewolf thing as an excuse to run around shirtless half the time

When shifted, he’s mostly light russet with a darker, almost chocolate-coloured mask and points

Kibum

Member and co-founder (along with Jinki) of the “Dammit JongMinTae, It’s Freezing Outside And There’s Snow On The Ground, Put Your Clothes Back On” Club

Whenever somebody’s annoying him, he’ll just kinda shift and walk away, acting as though he can’t understand what they’re saying

“Kibum, I know you can understand me.”

“Sorry, I’m a wolf, I don’t speak human.”

“You literally just answered me.”

“...Bark bark?”

Can’t even remember the amount of times he’s been woken up because somebody (usually Minho) started a howl late at night

Just let the man sleep

His wolf-form’s fur is pretty much an almost-white light blond colour throughout

Minho

Second-In-Command

Almost the opposite of Jinki: Other packs think he’s this big bad werewolf, while in reality he wouldn’t hurt a fly

Has an ongoing feud with the mailman that he SWEARS is unrelated to the whole werewolf thing

Wouldn’t hurt a fly, but is always the first to instigate a friendly sparring session

Also, usually the first to instigate a dog-pile

He just loves his pack so much and is honestly the best choice for Second-In-Command

Good at sports, but also bad at sports because once he gets the ball, he doesn’t want to give it up

As for fur, his is a fairly solid coloured dark brown/black pelt with just a small patch of white on the chest

He is also the largest member of the pack

Taemin

Does he even own a shirt? Like, why is he always walking around half-naked

The youngest of the pack, so the others spoil him just a bit

“Don’t worry Taemin, I’ll go hunt for you”

The others would pretty much let him get away with murder

He milks it SO much

One misconception that a lot of people that meet him have is that he’d be perfectly happy as a Lone Werewolf, that he’d actually prefer it

Hoo boy, those people are proven wrong QUICKLY

Will not shut up about his pack if they aren’t around

“Thank you, I know I was just voted Werewolf of the Year, but let me tell you about my packmates”

In his wolf form, he’s another blondie, but his fur is a darker, more golden-blond (think the color of a toasted marshmallow, that’s about it) with some lighter hairs mixed in

#SHINee AU #SHINee imagines #SHINee scenarios #SHINee #5HINee #jinki #jonghyun #kibum #minho #taemin #SHINee As Werewolves

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the-canary · 6 years ago

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Irreplaceable - B.B (1/2)

Summary: It’s not even about not noticing what’s in front of you. At this point, it was plain idiocy on both your parts. (Modern/Childhood AU!Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Prompt: “You know that feeling when you’re not your favourite person’s favourite person, and it kind of feels like you’re constantly swallowing sand?”

A/N: This is for @writingcroissant 2k writing challenge. hello, people i was in the mood for a trashy cliches so i put them all together and you guys get this. not the best, but enjoy the mess!

Masterlist

Feedback is always welcomed.

August.

In the summer between elementary and middle school, little James Buchanan Barnes is supposed to move from the only city he has ever known, New York City, to a little no-place on the map called Shelbyville, Indiana. He and his sisters had been told their mother had gotten a large inheritance from her grandaunt (someone they had never met before), things needed to be watched over so they were going back -- little Bucky being reminded that he had been born there, but he didn’t know such a place. All he had ever known was New York -- Brooklyn was where he had spent 10 years playing and learning, it was where Steve was at.

With a hug and Steve’s information safely placed in his luggage, James Barnes and his family make the drive. A sour look on his face the entire time as his sisters seemed excited over the change, but maybe it might be over the fact they might get horses and have seen pictures of the old estate they will be living on -- just like things out of their picture books.

Twelve hours later, he’s in a completely new area -- there is green grass everywhere and tall homes with white fences around them. The new Barnes’ home was painted is dark green hues that mixed in with the large oak woods that surrounded it. The movers are bringing things out, as he looks around in momentary awe compared to the small apartment that cramped in the 6 family members. It’s while he’s looking around that he sees two adults walking up to his parents. George Barnes calls out to all his children to meet their new neighbors.

“This is James, he’s twelve and starting middle school,” his father explains, as he notices something move behind the tall woman as the slightly shorter man speaks.

“Our daughter is the same age!” he declares, as he pulls on the figure and brings her into the spotlight. She gives her name and welcomes the large family. Her eyes meets Bucky’s blue ones and she gives him a nervous smile. Little James’ heart speeds up for a moment before his sisters drag her away into the grassy front lawn.

Bucky Barnes, years later, swears it was love at first sight.

September.

There is a lack of children on your block before the Barnes came into your life and you happily accept all of them.

For James, it’s like Brooklyn all over again but with you instead of Stevie, though he doesn’t enjoy the fact that he has to share you with his sisters from time to time. You remind him of Stevie (he even shows you the letters the blond sends him) sometimes because while you are quiet, there is a strong core at your center -- you’re stubborn when you want to be and that often leads to small spats here and there when you want to do something (usually something quiet and indoors) and he had something else in mind (something loud and outdoors).

Like tonight, when he knows that he shouldn’t have ditched you for all those new kids he had meet in school. Everyone had ganged up on him as the new kid from New York and Bucky couldn’t say no to the attention, even if it had pushed you away from him -- he only saw your sad face before you disappeared into the main building with a blonde girl, and he couldn’t exactly apologize when you didn’t have any classes together

Clink! Clink!

You hear something tap at your window after dinnertime, while you’re trying your best to finish the math homework that had already been assigned. However, it’s too boring and dreadful that the first noise you hear catches your attention, as you walk over to the window and look out to the joined backyard your family and the Barnes share, that where you see him -- James standing there with handful of rocks in his hand. You frown.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” you huff out feeling all the anger from today raising within, as you call him all the bad words you can think in your 12-year-old head, but Bucky takes it all with a smile and a soft look in his blue eyes. He waits until you stop, out of breathe but much calmer than before.

“I’m sorry,” he says before pulling out a daisy chain, Rebecca probably made it, from his pocket. You stare at him for a long time and he is sure you’re going just ignore him, but you just nod and say okay.

“--But you owe me ice cream,” you say as an afterthought and he can’t help but grin.

The years are spent like that -- James, or as everyone else calls him “Bucky”, going into different cliques here and there -- one day he’s hanging out with the jocks, another he’s with the artists, and let’s not talk about those “alternative” and emo phases he went through, though somehow he always manages to have some of the highest grades in all of the school. James is always trying to find somewhere to belong as his sisters make friends and drift apart with age and you find your own things to be busy with, such as sports and student government. However, at the start of summer there is always that one rock thrown at your window -- all pretenses, false friends, and temporary girlfriends forgotten-- at you ran to your door to see a boyish smile and bright blue eyes.

Every summer you’re temporary James Barnes’ favorite person, and you cling onto that desperately for the rest of the year -- the memories making that nostalgia sweeter as he runs away to play a different person, thus ignoring you entirely.

Because you’ve known for a long time that he’ll always be yours.

Too bad the winter of your junior year finally makes you see the truth and how stupidly naive you were.

December.

Winter break is a short thing that you usually spent at home, enjoying the winter weather of your hometown by staying inside. You were old enough that your parents let you do your own thing now, as they went to banquets for your father’s affairs and later on the West Coast to visit family. The Barnes usually headed back to New York, though one or two sisters stayed as they got older -- James always went to visit Steve. So in your lonesome, you watch old movies, read anything you can get your hands on, and sleep for hours -- a true teenaged paradise.

Snuggling in your bed fort with some Hot Pockets and old movies until you hear a knock at the door, though due to the time of night you decide to stay in your cave, that’s until you hear that familiar clink, clink. You get up and rush to the window to have a cheeky looking James Barnes looking at you -- wearing a black leather jacket and a lip piercing. You couldn’t help but at admit that it did look in part of that outfit.

“What do ya want, James?” you yell as he lifts his hand to show you a black box, which just confuses you even more, so he decides to explain.

“I need some help dyeing my hair!” he yells back since he knows that you parents aren’t there, though Rebecca and Lizzie are probably at home, though you are wondering why he hadn’t gone to see Steve instead of staying here. He doesn’t wait for your answer, as he is already climbing up that vine wall on the side of your window -- like he had started doing since 8th grade. You yelp as he pushes his way through window.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly as you can’t help but shake your head for the moment. You shake your head before leading him to the bathroom at the side of your room since you know he won’t leave when his mind is already made up on something.

He sits on the toilet seat, taking off his jacket to reveal a short-sleeved band shirt that you aren’t quite so familiar with. He gives you the box as you start reading it. James hums a little tune as you start opening the box.

“So why exactly are you trying to dye your hair again?” you ask remembering the bright red he had for Halloween a few years back for a pretty girl to win a costume contest.

“I lost a bet with some punks in Rumlow’s group,” James shrugs like it’s nothing, as you can’t help but let out a hum of disapproval, while putting on the gloves that come with the box and making sure that everything is ready.

“Why are you trying to hangout with Rumlow, James?” you ask, as you take the bleach filled container and begin to run it through his hair. He looks up at you for a moment, blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“He’s cool, his parties are pretty wicked too,” he answers back as you frown, only for you to pull his head back down and keep going with the process as described on the back of the box.

“He’s dangerous,” you add, remembering what you had heard of Rumlow’s gang and the things his stepfather was good at hiding due to his connections to the affluent people of the city. It was on open secret and only the rowdy and stupid kind of folk fell into his schemes -- them and Bucky, you try to compromise in your head.

“Not everything ya daddy says is dangerous is, doll,” he chuckles, pressing his forehead against your shirt and you give silent thanks that it’s an old band shirt instead of something your mother would kill you over if it got a bleach stain on it. You finish and let him sit there for the color to sink it. You grab a plastic hair net and put it around his head with a smile.

“Just be safe,” you plea, dragging him up just a little so you can place a kiss on his cheek, “Please.”

You try to go back to a standing position, but a hand on your wrist drags you back. Blue eyes are smoldering with something you had never seen before, at least never in your direction, as he goes from looking at your face and straight at your lips. The air is heavy with anticipation as he bites his bottom lips for a moment, leaning it little by little -- giving you enough room to break this, whatever is happening. However, you looking at his own lips gives him all the motivation he needs to move in until---

There’s a knock and then the welcome yell of your father as your parents come back from their banquet earlier than usual. The moment passes and you’re out the door, to welcome them, as James lets out of curse of defeat, though not exactly sure of what the hell happened and questioning why his heart is racing so fast with you compared to all those other girls he had been with. Bucky knows he needs to leave and process everything that had just happened.

He goes out through the window of your bedroom, having done it several times before, not knowing that this was the last time you would really talk to each other.

January.

You don’t see James after the bathroom incident since you and your parents had traveled to the West Coast to visit family and work friends. You have long forgotten the incident and shoved it to the back of your head until the last possible minute when it all comes crashing back to you the night before school starts once more. You think about blond hair, bright blue eyes, and that laughter that never seems to be directed your way and for once it is. And you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to forget it.

You want to ask James a lot of things, want to know what he would have done if your parents’ hadn’t come back home earlier than promised, if he felt the same way you did. You’re all sweaty palms and a beating heart on the way to school -- it’s a new semester, but it could also potential lead to something else. You know that you and James hadn’t always had the best relationship, but then what the hell was he doing just about to kiss you?

“Good morning,” Sharon smiles as you enter the building and head to that old familiar locker, “Guess what I heard!”

“What?” you ask with a pitch too high, thinking that your closest friend has found out the only thing you haven’t told her. She raises an eyebrow at your strange attitude before going back to what she was talking about.

“Bucky and Dot eloped!” Sharon squeals like it’s some time of forbidden romance when it’s just two stupid teenagers doing stupid things (as your father would say later on about the event), “Went all the way to Indianapolis, and now their parents are trying to bring them back!”

You remember badly dyed blond hair and bright blue eyes -- and you let it die.

“Good for them, I guess,” you shrug, unable to say anything else. Sharon agrees, deciding not to say anything about your current attitude as the bells rings to signal the start of first period.

February.

James and Dolores come back towards start of the month, embarrassed and guilty with rumors running wild from her being pregnant to money being involved. It’s too crazy for the redhead that her parents eventually send to out of the city, to where you don’t know and James -- well, you don’t care about that. You are too busy with badminton, student council, and your high-level courses. It gets to the point that the counselor tells you that you could graduate a year early.

That wasn’t your plan of action, you wanted to enjoy senior year but you weren’t going to have it be in Shelbyville, as you informed your parents that you wanted to move to the West Coast to live with your favorite aunt -- as a way to prepare yourself for college since all your choices were there.

They agree with your level headedness, though with some rules placed here and there. They make you wait until the start of summer for one and you agree with a sigh. At least it’s only a couple of more months, is all you can think.

March - May.

He swears that he tries talking to you, tries to catch your eye when you’re walking down the hall or when you walking back to the school bus. Bucky is an idiot and he needs to explain a lot of things, but after the incident with Dot, nobody wants to listen to him. His parents barely let him out of their watchful eyes, but he doesn’t blame them. His friends look at him like he’s a different person, unsure of who the real Bucky Barnes is. Hell, he doesn’t know anymore either. The school only lets him back in because of his grades, though the principal watches him and tell him not to run afoul.

His sisters are the only ones that have his back. The only people that listened to his side of the story and it was only until the end, when Rebecca finally talks that he realizes the truth about the whole matter.

“ Jamie, are you in love with our next door neighbor ?” she asks and it was like a firecracker sparked in front of him. He had been in love with you since 6th grade when you walked alongside a very nervous him to school. Even though he pushed you away whenever the spotlight was on him, you were always there with a soft smile on your face waiting in the background, waiting underneath that starry backdrop after he hit your bedroom window with that first rock.

Now, he had lost you. However, Bucky has always been stubborn, especially when it came to you.

He tries throwing a rock on your window one chilly May morning, he gets no response on the first, second, or third try. On the fourth, he sees something move from the inside. The air in his lungs freeze in anticipation only for his heart to stop instead when he sees the curtains close for the first time in years.

That’s the point that he confirmed that he had lost you.

June.

June marches in without notice as you prep the last bit of your items for the move. Your aunt having already received the major things over the last couple of weeks, now all that was left was a duffel bag and you ready to be sent the airport. All the goodbyes --to Sharon, to the Barnes sisters-- had been said and you were ready to move on and even though the bottom your throat ached at the thought of a certain boy -- you knew you were better than this. You couldn’t be stuck on Bucky Barnes forever.

Your mother gives you a hug and promises to visit you during the annual summer events the company has, as you promise to call her every other day. Your father is waiting in the front seat of the old car as you notice Rebecca Barnes, barely awake and in her pajamas, waiting near her home.

“We’ll miss ya,” she says with a sad smile as you pull her in for a hug. You promise to call or write when you can, but the little hiccup in your voice makes her realize that you are lying -- you’ll cut all ties to be a stronger person, that’s the type of person that she knows that you are. She wants to tell you that her older brother is in love with you, that he’s been a mess since the last time you had seen him.

“Take care of him,” is all you manage to whisper as she lets out a small sob because even with all the hurt you had felt over the years, over these past couple of months -- you still felt something. You just didn’t plan on ever acting up on it. Rebecca wanted to slap both of you over your heads, but it was too late.

She waves as you get into the car and drive away -- it’s like when she and her family first came here to find you. She just never thought she would see the day you would be leaving before them -- you always been a part of their lives and now she could only wonder how they would all deal without you. She gives your mother one last smile before heading back inside. She just didn’t expect to see Bucky waiting for her midway through the staircase, dressed and waiting for something to finally happen. Well, it had -- just not in the way he was expecting it to.

“Becca, why were you outside?” Bucky’s sleepy voice is hopeful from his position on the stairs. Maybe, his younger sister had finally been successful in being the mediator in this rough patch between the two of you. However, that happy thought is soon snuffed out at the sight of her sad blue eyes and scowl.

“I was saying goodbye,” she remarks as Bucky gets confused over her statement, “She left to the airport just now, going to Cali.”

“Like a trip?” Bucky asks. You and your parents had always gone these little trips during winter and summer breaks, which he had always hated since you left him all alone -- now he knew why. Rebecca shakes her head and Bucky’s heart stops.

He curses and hits the wall next to him with all his fury and anguish before heading back to his room. Bucky Barnes goes back and doesn’t come out for the next 3 months -- why would he?

You had taken the golden rays of summer with you and the world became a colorless afterthought.

Part 2

#tori2k #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes childhood friends au #fabiola trying to write #series: short stories #series: irreplaceable

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purekate88 · 6 years ago

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Here i go again pretending to be a writer again and I am pro choice so if you don’t like it and don’t read it.

This modern AU is not an attack on people who don’t to have children again I’m pro choice. Also lily and her family in this are low born purebloods but still upper middle class in the muggle world and mr. and mrs evans are social climbers but only in the wizarding world WARNING: Implied/past mpreg, severe physical bullying, severe internalized homophobia

At 21 years old lily evans finds herself with an unwanted pregnancy only finding out moments ago she can’t put the blame on anyone her and james were having sex without protection willingly. With the war against voldemort and his death eaters and just yesterday finding out with the whole order that gellert grindelwald escaped azkanban and his way to voldemort. So yeah! everyone was stress out and needed something to relieve it with. lily sighs gets up from the toilet comes out of the bathroom and walks in to the living room where james and his friends were hanging out and having drinks james looks up at her lily asks to talk to him privately she gives it to him straight that she’s pregnant and she’s not going to keep it and that she never wants to have kids james just looks at her gobsmacked after he collected himself and ask her what if he wanted it and that it’s his kid too even tho james hated small children and the fact that true be told james potter was kind of selfish the only thing the cared about was having fun with his mates getting drunk and fucking. Lily looks at him smirks and tells him that he can go find someone else she’s still not keeping it and then the fighting starts they screamed at each other for a good 3 hours lily tells him she going for a walk to clear her head. At times like this lily really wants to talk to her friends but feels none of them really understood over the years of knowing her she remembers one who truly did and she dumped him for the people she has now she remembers him telling her and her sister about hogwarts and playing house dress up playing with dolls making flower crowns and she recalls being happy to find someone to play prince and princess with lily being the prince and her friend happily playing the role of princess lily remembers those light and beautiful days but she ended it all when she decides to go hogwarts her older sister petunia older by 1 year she recalls her sister telling their parents that she did not want to go hogwarts and that she get in ilvermorny that she want to go that school for long time lily recalls her parents worried faces but none the last let petunia go to ilvermorny. she remembers the busy floo station and her sister looking so happy she never saw her that happy before when they got to the american station petunia kiss and hug their parents goodbye and that the last she saw her petunia never came home even for the holidays she recalls her mother and father reading petunia letters from her first year at ilvermorny saying that she wants to stay alittle longer and that it will be good for her education their parents still worried but still said yes to her sister and then her sister’s the 1st and 2nd place trophies and ribbons arrived. Trophies and ribbons that came from academic competitions to athletics and performing arts if that wasn’t bad enough ilvermorny had this tradition of sending the guardians and the parents of their students reviews of the students progress ever 6 months the teachers writing to mr.and mrs. evans on how good of a student petunia is and how she’s so hard working. lily recalls every letter all said the same thing about her sister over the years it get even worst when petunia got her first role in a stage play at 4th year lily remembers her mother and father reading the goods news over dinner when she was home for winter holidays. Petunia said in her letter that the play was an open casting call for all ages she said her role was a small supporting one and the play was a dramedy and it will premiere in the summer. Lily and her parents when here opening night before they went home petunia told lily and their parents that she was already doing auditions for other plays.... she got two more roles by the end of the summer.Mrs. evans collected the overwhelming positive reviews over the years about her older daughter’s acting. Lily looks back on years at school when her sister become an even bigger star on stage and started auditioning for movies getting roles and roles one after the other and by the time petunia was 18 she was one of the muggle worlds biggest stars. lily starts to realize the people at school the people at home started to only talk about her sister and her parents loved it they reveled in the fact now their on top of the small upper class social circle in cokeworth like they always wanted mr. evans small shipping business get more clients and mrs. evans vintage store was getting more and more customers everyday the evans were on top of the world and if life could not get any sweeter they could finally afford a 5 bedroom house outside cokeworth where all of their new and dear upper middle class and upper class friends all lived and lily it wasn’t like she didn’t bask in the attention she got from her new social status. Lily started to notice it more the difference between her and her best friend his clothes his appearance basically everything about him didn’t fit in her new social circle especially in school all her new friends all came from the same social class as her. lily slowly stopped relating to her best friend in the 2nd half of their 1st year at hogwarts lily started minimize their interaction both at school and at home. On the summer holidays before school starts again lily and her mother were having lunch in the evans backyard mrs. evans looks at her little girl tells her she’s so proud of her on what she did. lily smiles but confuse on what her mother is saying lily asks her mother on what did she do that made her so proud mrs. evans responds by saying lily made so happy when lily stopped being friends with that severus boy and that the snape family were not good people and that mr.snape was a drunk and dead beat and what kind of mother let’s her son wear blouses and run around looking so improper lily’s mother also ads that her and lily’s father were always nervous when the boy was in their old house and that they thought he might take something of value like lily’s father watches or her mother’s jewelry or some of the family’s vintage silverware and antique fine china. She’s glad she raised lily to make the right choicest and what makes her even happier is that lily made real friends at school. It was early evening now lily sighs she’s tired she remembers it all her fucked up childhood where her and sister were against pinned each other by every adult in their family but mostly by their parents now she knew why her sister was so happy to leave and find something better. She realize later on in life how they made her the star of family and make petunia sit in the background because of the sole reason she was the pretty and skinny one that her poor older sister overcompensated by building her confidence around by being the best at academics sports and playing piano singing and being the best at modern dancing and what freed her from their parents acting. she remembers their mother telling petunia was to fat she needed to go on a diet she recalls overhearing their father once telling mrs.evans that he was worried about petunia it was going to be hard to marry petunia off to a good pureblood family because she was little to plump and plain unlike lily. Lily stop listening after her father said her name and locked herself in her room nowadays the evans rarely saw their two children. Lily gets up looks at her phone it’s still early she can still make it to the clinic to make appointment the nurse said they can schedule her in on monday lily smiles at the nurse tells her she’s fine with that and that she’ll see her next monday. lily comes in her apartment and her parents and lord potter are there sitting in her living room with james her mother stands up crying and hugs lily tells her she so happy for her. Lily looks at her mother she opens her mouth to tell her in the same fashion she told james about this and everyone in the room stood still like time stopped after she was done speaking to her mother mrs.evans broke down in tears. lily acted as if nothing ever happen and went to her bedroom she can still hear her mother sobbing to her father asking him where did she go wrong why did lily became this type of person. lily thinks to herself that she has no more fucks to give she knows her parents wanted her to marry james so they can up their status with the high born purebloods. she looks back on it they were a little to happy when they find out who was she dating at 14 they didn’t even care that james potter was known to do reckless and stupid things and he never changed he still was that judgemental cruel and highly manipulative boy from hogwarts. Lily remembers all cruel things he did to their former classmates and.....sev her best friend can she even call him that after all the things james and his friends did to him and that she ignore it in favor of being Lily evans the most beautiful girl in school with a movie star for sister and rich parents lily with truly perfect life with her picture perfect family and her gorgeous rich”prankster”boyfriend and all her perfect friends with equally picture perfect lives living in their expensive houses wearing their designer clothes‘shoes and bags with their perfectly “effortless”hair and makeup and nails the truly envy of all. She protected that image she made herself and for what she has nothing no real relationship with her sister no real friendships she stares at herself in the mirror and feeling the guilt slowly building up in her throat how could she let them do that to him. She remembers 3 vs 1 fights that left sev with the healers for weeks she recalls the disgusting names they used to call him and the damaging rumors they spend about him. And the time in 5th year when james came in the common room bragging about how he saved the slimy fucker from a dark creature to his friends and teammates and on the last week of 6th year was where everything really escalated james and sirius with peter along with 4 other of their friends also from gyffindor. Everyone in their house was pissed that year not only they lost the house cup to slytherin and they also lost the last quidditch game of the year to hufflepuff or the “house of idiots and morons”as james and his friends liked to call them. After that james and his friends started to harassing the 5th and 6th year slytherins and some of 3nd and 4th year snakes. But on the Last 3 days of that year james and his friends wanted more they wanted to really blow off some steam they went out those last 2 nights found slytherin prefects and a few ravenclaw prefects and some of the hufflepuff prefects and beat the shit out of them it was a terrifying 2 days but no one said anything because they knew that the headmaster will turn a blind eye as always or make gyffindor the victims again. The last and final noon of that school year was the most tensed and fear filled afternoon severus snape was found that morning half alive in the school courtyard madam pomfrey and healers quickly worked on the boy lily a few hours later heard from a classmate that madam pomfrey will move severus to St mungo’s hospital. lily couldn’t stop thinking about sev all summer she went to see him but couldn’t he was in intensive care only his mother was aloud to see him. The new and final school year finally came and more things came out about severus her friends dorcas and mary told her they heard from the girls that didn’t go home that summer severus was not only severely beaten but stabbed 14 times in the stomach lily vaguely remembers seeing sirius and james playing with knives one morning in 5th year and laughing about how their going to find and finally get that disgusting fuck. severus never came back to school and a month later drop out of hogwarts and was never seen or heard of again after a few weeks more things came to the light the whole student body was shock with the new information that severus snape was with child when the attack happen after hearing this she looked at her friends all of then looked hungry for more gossip Lily watches james and his friends from across the common room james and sirius with peter and with the rest of their friends all looking at remus lupin like they taught him a very valuable lesson.lily always thought that remus was the good one in james group of friends he never hurt anyone he never said anything bad about anyone he was a “good” prefect but remus never stopped james from hurting anyone everyone knew remus was of james closest friends. lily wonders what happen between them and suddenly feeling tired lily says to her friends she was going to lay down for a bit before she gets to her dorm room she passes out and wakes up a day later when she opened her eyes she saw her friends and boyfriend james he played the caring and doting boyfriend card so will but both knew they only use each other for status and image even now as adults and everyone last of their friends knew about this because they do the same thing to each other. lily sighs siting in front of her mirror questioning herself how and when did she get this reckless she had that inbred freak seed in side of her. After questioning her life decisions the former head girl stands up and decides she can “fix” her life later after her monday’s appointment starts to think about lighter things like what to wear how she’s going to do her hair and makeup on monday there’s a knock on her bedroom it’s Lord potter asking if he can come in and talk lily hesitates but lets the man in. Lord Wallace of house potter was intimidating handsome man from his height to muscular build he looked better then most men in their 20s lily’s father will never compare to this man both in intelligence and looks. Lord potter was divorce him and his ex wife lady euphemia of house fleamont they had an arrange marriage they were also 1st cousins an old practice from the high born pureblood families after him and lady euphemia had their first and only child they divorced with reasons that lord potter is still very much in love with his first lover and lady euphemia felt she already done her duty that her family requires of her. james was basically raised by nannies and a governess his parents give him what he wanted all the time so they didn’t have to deal with him. After a few moments of silence the man sighs and ask if she knew how he felt about her lily only nods she knew how lord potter and lady euphemia didn’t like her or parents and their social climbing ways she ask what he wanted to talk about lord potter sits and rest his forearms on his thighs looks right at lily it makes her feel uneasy. but just like how lily told james and her mother about the seed the man was straight to the point he tells that he needs her to give birth to the child and after she can sign away all her rights to the child and he’ll give her enough money so she can get away from her parents and never see them again just like her sister. before she can even ask lord potter tells her it’s because they made a mistake with james and says they’ll give him his inheritance and then disown him after the child is born. lily was alot of things but stupid was not one of them she smirks she knows a good deal when she sees one tells the sliver fox his the one going to pay for everything from new clothes to the prenatal workouts and the high end spas every week lord potter tells her that she has a deal and a year later lily evans changed her name and left england and never came back and that same year james potter was disown.

Remus lupin just woke up from another nightmare again sits up turns his head looks out it's already light outside sighs and decides to get ready for the day the young 22 year old werewolf looks out at the sun rising he always thinks about him at this hour especially after a nightmare.Remus parks in front of the large brick hospital after everything that happen at hogwarts he decides to leave everything behind in his world for the muggle one but also to try find him lately his been making a few progress with his private investigator a half-blood named brian mask found some information on the snape family and what happen to them after severus stopped going to school but after tonight he'll know more but the private investigator he hired said he has more to tell him remus sighs and gets out of his car walks in the hospital greets his co-workers in this world he wasn't remus lupin high born pureblood wizard son of the house lupin in the muggle world he was Dr.adam erikson an Er doctor just a ordinary man with a good job he made sure not to draw attention to himself and live a normal life and have an ordinary routine wake up workout eat take his wolfsbane twice a day drive to work go home and check his emails repeat. After his second surgery that night remus smiles tells his co workers that his going home and have a good night. An hour lately remus get back to his apartment sit on his black large sofa with his laptop opens the email that his P.I send him and starts to read his P.I. brian mask tells him that a year after severus(or savvy as he used to call him)disappeared. Mr.snape and some of his co-workers died in a horrible factory accident and the company that own it paid off the families to the some of 2 million pounds each. mrs.snape moved them to london for her son to get full face and body reconstructive surgery and after a year of rehabilitation with a stroke of luck within the same year the long disinherited mrs.eileen snape received her inheritance from her younger brother the now Lord valentino of the house phylarchus and welcomed them back to the family. After reading half of the email the young doctor needs to take a break he needs a minute to get all his feelings out.The feeling of happiness that his savvy with all his bad luck finally something good happen to him and his mother but the feeling of horrible guilt and self-loathing that if he wasn't a coward that if he just stood up to james potter and told the fucker that his staying with severus and that sirius and him can go eat shit his savvy wouldn't need surgery on his face and body. After sobbing non-stop for 2 hours remus takes a deep breath and stands up walks to his modern kitchen make himself some tea a few seconds pass walks back to his sleek grey and black living room and continues to read. In the same year miss.eileen hired private tutors for her son to finish his education both muggle and wizard after miss eileen moved residence to a town in italy's mountainous northern region.Remus's P.I. continues that severus went on to attend University of Milan remus reads on his P.I. goes on says that he could not get close to severus to talk because his always surrounded by bodyguards but he did manage to get pictures of him from the far. Remus eyes widen he immediately clicked on folder to see his savvy face his eye started to water "He looks so good" remus thought looking at his savvy's face while he was laughing at something one of his guards said remus admiring his first and last loves face his pale skin looked healthy his jet black hair looked full and shiny his aquiline nose was no longer crooked from the years of abuse his misaligned jaw and teeth both straighten and fix his once skinny underweight body was now a healthy pear shape.The strawberry blonde haired doctor always thought that his love was a late blooming flower. Now that he blossom remus knew that he would not be the only man who wanted this classic gothic beauty remus thinks he needs to move fast he already knows that his former best friend is also trying to find severus. Remus doesn't want to know why james was so obsessed with his gothic beauty but the werewolf knew james potter well enough to know his still obsessed with him and james trying to find him as well. Remus lupin remembers all the things james potter did when they were still in school and still friends he remembers the 1st year at hogwarts just getting to know each other and just ignoring the fact that james was alittle weird james used to laugh or smile when someone got hurt or he would to dare their friends to do dangerous things. Now he recalls remus realize james was incredibly manipulative he controlled and molded remus and their other friends to his liking he made them all dependent on him so they never leave and when they try to....they got punish james made them do horrible and humiliating things. All those 7 years at hogwarts james potter ruled over the school with an iron fist either you loved or lusted after james but if you fought against him or broke one of his rules make sure your family has the money to get you of hogwarts there was one rule The ONE rule no one dares to break remus warned the on-coming 1st years about it. ‘Never ever under no circumstances that you touch look or speak to severus snape’

But james an exception for remus in 4th year because slughorn told them that their partners that slughorn chosen for them will be with them an till 7th year

https://www.wattpad.com/user/NoviceWriter1888

#jeverus #snames #novice writer #snupin

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francesderwent · 7 years ago

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“In Need of a Generic Father Figure” A Veronica Mars Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies Meet-Cute LV AU Week Day 7 Canon-typical language, but otherwise general audiences On AO3 Inspired by this post and that one scene in Charlie Don’t Surf.

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It was supposed to be a kind of housewarming-slash-homecoming party, the kind of event that was totally low key in its formulation and planning stage but got completely out of hand once things got rolling. All their friends from the old neighborhood were coming over, and it was supposed to be all nostalgic idiocy born from the eternal familiarity of each having been present for one another’s particular flavor of shitty childhood. There were no delusions about the depth of this bond, and so they weren’t expecting it to be a great party, not the best night of anyone’s life by any means, but it was the sort of gathering you could predict, could depend on. Low-pressure, low stakes, low key.

So, precisely the kind of event which would have a giant wrench thrown into it if you were to add in an unknown factor, say, a perfect stranger to man the grill.

“But he wouldn’t be a stranger,” Dick is insisting. “He’d be a dad.”

Logan gapes at him. “Whose dad?”

Dick shrugs, ineloquently.

“So by dad, you just mean some unknown-as-yet male person who has at one point fathered a child?”

“Sure.”

“So, some unknown person’s father, standing on the corner of our property, making hamburgers.”

“Grilling hamburgers, that’s essential.” Dick looks up from his computer and gives Logan a look like he’s disappointed in him for missing an obvious point. “And it’s not just some random sperm donor, dude, he has to be fatherly and shit. I put it in the ad.”

“Ah yes, the ad,” Logan says. “The Craigslist ad, which you put up online without consulting or telling me. I read the ad. And yet here I stand, questioning the entire premise behind it.” But Dick has returned to his computer, presumably to scroll through his emailed responses. Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, the court recognizes that grilled hamburgers are better than any alternative. But why do we need someone else to come grill? You and I are fair-to-average at setting things on fire already.”

“We don’t have a grill.”

“No, but we both have trust funds that kicked in some time ago. You may remember them. They’re how we afforded the house…”

Dick huffs. “So we just buy a grill?” Logan gives him the raised eyebrows and jazz hands: duh. Dick bangs on the space bar. “Just buy one, from the depths of our rich boy pockets, without working for it or anything.”

Logan stares. “Are you having some kind of break?”

“It’s stupid to spend money if we could just borrow one.”

“Okaaaay,” Logan says. “So why aren’t you advertising for a grill we can borrow?”

“Because!”

“Because what, Dick?”

“Your dad is supposed to teach you how to grill!” Dick bites out.

They stare at each other for a long beat, then Dick tears his eyes away and starts clattering angrily on his keyboard. Logan sighs, then gingerly sits next to him on the sofa.

“You know,” he says, careful to keep his tone conversational, “if you wanted to sign up for one of those programs for kids with deadbeat dads where they hang out with well-adjusted adult men and learn life skills, I would have happily signed up with you, but we really should have done that when we were younger.”

Dick throws an elbow into his ribs half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“I’m not saying, like, when we were twelve,” Logan goes on, warming to the topic, “because we mostly hadn’t figured out our dads were deadbeat by then. But definitely before we finished college and joined the workforce. I’m thinking like nineteen or twenty would have been the ideal age. Our father figures could have taught us to consume alcohol, in addition to teaching us to grill.”

“We were already pretty good at drinking alcohol by then,” Dick reminds him.

“Then they could have given us a strict talking-to about underage drinking,” Logan says. “It’s far too late for that now, and we’ve missed our chance.”

“Missed our chance…” Dick echoes.

Logan looks at him sideways.

Dick catches his eye and actually sniffs a little. “I know it’s stupid. You don’t have to tell me it’s stupid.”

Logan shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not stupid, man. I just wish we knew of some actual father figure we could get to sub in for you, rather than resorting to Craigslist dads.”

“It’s not just for me, dude,” Dick insists. “I know you care about this shit, too.”

Logan cracks a smile despite himself. “If some guy with a beer gut shows up and grills me a hamburger and calls me ‘sport’, that’s not going to make the old man any less of an abusive asshole.”

“I know, but we can make some nicer memories can’t we? Some nice dad-memories?”

For a second, Logan allows himself to enter into the delusion, but almost immediately becomes sidetracked on the mental image of Gregory Peck from To Kill a Mockingbird standing in their backyard, holding a light beer and grinning affably. That would be one thing �� but he can’t imagine that any fathers like that actually exist in the world. No, this dad was probably going to be more or less a deadbeat himself, or else how would he have time to babysit a bunch of profligate twenty-somethings? At best, it would be some old guy whose kids were too grown-up and busy to talk to him anymore, a dad whose desperate neediness for attention and affirmation matches Dick’s. But then again, Dick will inevitably be drunk for the entire party – he wouldn’t notice if the dad was an escaped convict in black and white stripes with a literal ball and chain on his ankle. What harm could it do? He sighs, asks in a wry tone, “Are you going to ask for proof of paternity, or is this person going to be a fake dad on top of being random?”

Dick lights up. “That’s a great idea, I’ll edit that in!” He resumes typing at a frenzied pace; Logan watches bemusedly.

Still. It’s one weird thing on one day. It won’t make any difference one way or another, in the long run.

Nobody’s life was ever changed because a stranger made them a hamburger.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

After that, Logan tries to extricate himself from the whole dad-audition process, but Dick is, as usual, both oblivious and incorrigible. Logan very quickly comes to dread the phrases “hey, listen to this” and “what about this”, since both are sure signs that he’s about to be read a joke resumé with phrases like “excels at offering positive reinforcement”, or shown a headshot of a guy in a sweater vest. So when he gets home from work and the first thing he hears is “Logan, dude, this is the one”, his first response is to groan and flop face first onto the sofa. They found the sofa at the side of the road the second week in the house and it is therefore a little worn out, so the decision to be dramatic hurts.

“Asshole,” Dick tells him absently, wandering in from the next room holding his laptop. “Listen: father for twenty-plus years, expert level jokes and manly affection, bonus secret-family-recipe hot sauce.”

“The hot sauce is a nice touch,” Logan admits, rolling over onto his back and kicking his feet up onto the sofa arm. “All of the other applicants have really fixated on the ‘dad’ part of ‘grill dad’.”

Dick nods so enthusedly it looks painful. “I know, right? And get this, there’s an attached letter from his kid,” he says. “Dear advertiser, I can confirm that the applicant has been my father for my entire life, and I can honestly say that he has excelled at the position. You would be lucky to have him at your party, where he would strike just the right balance between embarrassing and fun, call all of you by the wrong names and then substitute “son” or “honey”, and repeatedly tell you he’s proud of you. His hamburgers are to die for, and he brings his own fire extinguisher in case anything should go wrong. He has my unreserved recommendation. Also, if this is some kind of dad kidnapping scheme, I will hunt you down and kill you. Cordially, V. Mars.” Dick looks up expectantly; Logan fights a smile.

“They wrote a letter of recommendation for their dad?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hmm,” Logan says neutrally, then says, “Mr. Mars,” trying it out, hitting the ‘r’s and dragging out the ‘s’.

“Keith Mars,” Dick adds helpfully, and turns the computer so Logan can see the attached photo. Keith Mars is bald, just slightly on the portly side, staring adoringly down at the tiny pigtailed child with whom he is dancing, her feet on his – V. Mars is a girl, apparently. Dick tabs to the next picture: Keith Mars standing next to a grill holding a hot dog over the head of a plaintive-looking pitbull while a gap-toothed, elementary-school-aged V. Mars laughs in the background with a blue-haired friend. In the third picture Keith is older, wearing a suit and grinning widely, hugging someone in graduation regalia, her face obscured by her cap. “He looks cool, right?” Dick prompts eagerly.

“Yeah,” Logan says, tearing his eyes away from the graduation photo. Neither he nor Dick had had any relatives attend their college graduation, and he’d seen plenty of family reunions at the baccalaureate celebration that seemed more stiff and awkward than anything else, but Keith looks like he just might burst with pride. “Yeah, he seems nice.”

“Like a real dad, right?” Dick persists.

Logan snorts. “As if I have any experience with which to judge that quality.”

Dick offers a fist bump and Logan complies. “Trauma twins!” Dick says, sing-song. Logan rolls his eyes. “But he seems legit?” Dick says, returning to the salient point. “This is okay?”

Logan stands and claps his roommate on the shoulder. “Sure, man. If you say this is the one, I think you’re probably right.”

Dick beams at him. “I’ll tell him he got the gig!”

“Cool,” Logan says drily. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Since Dick thinks it would be acceptable to simply explain the dad-for-hire situation when their guests show up, Logan finds himself calling each invitee one by one the day before the party and beginning with the statement, “So you know how Dick has a tenuous relationship with reality?” Lilly laughs for a full minute and a half, and Duncan, no matter how many times Logan runs through the concept, just doesn’t seem to get it, but everyone else just thinks it’s sad.

“Oh my god, our lives suck,” Gia says, sounding as if she just realized it. “Does no one in our group have a functioning father figure?”

“Carrie’s dad was okay,” Logan offers. “But he moved out of state a few years back.”

“And he never knew how to grill!” Dick yells through his bedroom door.

“And he never knew how to grill,” Logan repeats.

“Yeah, well,” Gia says skeptically, “I’m bringing extra booze for when this weird-ass idea causes someone to have an emotional breakdown.”

“Appreciated.”

And when the day arrives, booze is the one thing they do seem to have enough of.

“Why did we say we were going to supply ingredients?” Logan wonders aloud as he methodically opens and shuts every cupboard in their kitchen. “You forgot to buy onions, we don’t own any spices, I don’t even think we have salt and pepper –”

“Logan. Man! Relax.” As anticipated, Dick is already halfway to trashed, and far from caring if their hamburgers are seasoned.

“This was your idea,” Logan says, accusing sliding into sardonic. “You’re the one who wanted to make some new dad-memories, and now because you were overly confident in a Craigslist ad, our new dad is already going to be disappointed in us.”

“Dude, holy shit –” Dick bursts out laughing and can’t continue his thought. Logan turns around to glare at him in exasperation. “What if –” Dick stammers, chortling, “what if he says the thing? ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed?’ How absolutely sick would that be?” He’s wheezing now, and Logan can’t think of anything to do except stare at him. “Just like a real dad!” Dick howls.

Logan stands, frozen, for a beat longer, and then abandons his search for the probably-nonexistent spice cabinet to reach for the scotch instead. “Gia was right,” he says flatly. “This is going to end in tears.” He pulls a little too sharply on the tab of the wax seal and it snaps off with the seal still in place. He looks at it in consternation, and it is at this point that the doorbell rings. Dick makes no sign of moving from his position, giggling slumped over the kitchen table, so Logan jogs to the front hallway, only to discover that Dick has placed all the beer they bought in front of the door, barricading it closed. He’s kicking six packs out of the way and trying to open the scotch bottle with his teeth when he finally manages to wrench open the door and is greeted by the genial but not-quite-non-threatening face of Keith Mars.

For a moment the desire to say something dismissive rises up, as if this was still high school and he was still incapable of engaging with an adult on mutually respectful terms, but Logan takes a deep breath and forces it down. “Mr. Mars,” he says.

Keith sticks out a hand. “Richard?”

Logan snorts, but accepts the handshake. “Richard is inside. I’m the roommate, Logan.”

Keith’s eyes drop to the scotch bottle still in Logan’s hand. “I hate it when that happens,” he says mildly.

Logan makes a non-committal noise. “We probably have a wine opener somewhere that should do the trick.”

“We don’t!” Dick yells from the kitchen. “I told the chicks to bring one!”

“That would be Richard,” Logan tells Keith wryly. Keith raises his eyebrows, but then reaches into his jacket pocket and offers Logan a multi-tool. “Thanks,” Logan says uncomfortably, looking down to flip through utensils instead of making eye contact. “Can I offer you anything?”

“Nope,” says Keith cheerfully, “just point me to the backyard and I’ll get the grill fired up.”

“Get the grill fired up!” Dick’s voice repeats, maniacally.

“He’s fine,” says Logan, unconvinced himself. “The backyard’s through this way.”

“No!” Dick stumbles into the hallway and spreads his arms wide, probably so as best to show off the tshirt he bought specifically for the occasion which reads “you’re all up in my grill”, a decided improvement over the grill-themed shirt Logan had to initially talk him down from, which had a meat-related innuendo on it. “I will show you to the backyard, sir!”

Keith offers a hand. “Keith Mars.”

“Awesome, dude.” Dick shakes his hand, which is apparently hilarious because he cracks himself up again. “Welcome to the party!”

Keith glances at Logan, who shrugs. “I’m just happy to be included,” Keith says, sounding, against all odds, like he means it.

“Dope,” Dick responds. “Follow me, mon capitan, I will show you to your grill kingdom!”

“Please stop mixing your metaphors,” Logan tells him, but Keith waves him off and allows Dick to sling an arm around his shoulder and lead him towards the screen door to the backyard.

“Dude, seriously, your application was whack,” Dick says. “I was like, whoa, this guy is like a serious dad!” Logan is watching them go, wondering if he’s responsible for making Keith feel safe and if he should therefore follow, when there’s a voice at shoulder-level behind him.

“So that’s the Craigslist guy?”

He turns, smoothly accepts the proffered casserole dish. “Craigslist dad, actually, or you’re missing the whole point.”

Carrie stands on her toes to look over his shoulder at where Keith is patiently observing Dick’s wild gesticulating at all the ingredients they bought. “Huh,” she says. “I guess he does kind of look like a dad.”

“I should hope so, we took the casting call very seriously.”

Carrie rolls her eyes. “That’s a fruit salad,” she informs him, indicating the dish he’s holding. “I’ve just gotta grab my guitar out of my car and then I can help set up or whatever.”

“You brought your guitar?” Logan repeats. “Are we gonna sit in a circle and sing campfire songs? What the hell kind of barbecue do you think this is?”

“A nice wholesome one, of course. You were kind enough to invite Susan and her kid, and you specifically got a random dad to come grill you food.” After a pause and seemingly despite herself, Carrie asks, “You really couldn’t have just bought a grill yourselves?”

Logan sighs. “Actually, the grill is ours. Keith had one but it wouldn’t fit in his car, so Dick went straight out and got the most expensive one there was.”

“Don’t all serious dads own pickup trucks?”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“And now you have your own grill.”

“We even managed to work it ourselves; we made marshmallows over it last night.”

Carrie makes a face. “I can’t believe you guys are living together. You’ll both starve to death or suffocate under dirty laundry within a month.”

“Nah,” says Logan, dismissive, “we can live on marshmallows for at least two months, and we can just buy new clothes and burn our dirty laundry on the grill.”

“That,” Carrie tells him calmly, “is disgusting.”

“People who bring acoustic guitars to house parties shouldn’t throw stones,” Logan counters.

She laughs and flips him off. “When’s everyone else getting here?”

He indicates careless ignorance with a wave of the hand. “Hopefully soon. I think we need to set up a watch rotation to make sure Dick doesn’t start crying on the grill dad.”

Carrie snorts, tosses him her keys; he manages to switch the fruit salad to one hand and snag them in the hand holding the scotch. “In that case, you go grab my guitar out of the trunk. What did you say the guy’s name is?”

“Keith Mars.”

“Got it. Do not leave me out there by myself for more than a minute.”

“Of course not! In fact, I wouldn’t dream of getting in your car and driving far, far away from here.”

She elbows past him, laughing, and jogs through the house to make a dramatic exit out the back door, where she is greeted by Dick’s incoherent shouts. Logan sighs, then picks his way back through the six-packs to the kitchen to put everything down, finally open the scotch, and knock back half a drink. When he gets back out to the driveway Casey Gant is there with his newest arm-candy girlfriend, and Logan finds himself cajoled into giving a house tour so he can explain to her why he and Dick decided on this house, how all the guests know each other, and that, no, Casey wasn’t lying about the Craigslist situation. By the time Logan manages to extricate himself, everyone has arrived and is milling around the backyard. Carrie waves to him from a picnic blanket in the middle of the lawn, where she is in fact playing guitar for Susan and her adolescent daughter. He likes Susan and the kid fine, but the three of them seem to be working on a warble-y song from the latest Disney princess sensation, so he hides a grimace, waves back, and looks elsewhere. There’s a few people clustered around the grill, listening to Keith tell some story which is apparently fascinating; Logan gives them a wide berth and joins Lilly and Gia instead, who are standing off to the side eyeing the whole scene skeptically.

“Don’t you ladies want to take advantage of this unique opportunity to interact with a genuine, human parent?” he asks.

“Nope,” says Gia, at the same time as Lilly says “Not even a little.”

Logan snorts. “Well, cheers to that, I suppose.”

“Yes, cheers!” Lilly says. “To dealing with our issues in therapy, rather than projecting all of our buried hopes onto a stranger with a novelty apron who could never live up to our ideals anyway.”

“Like motherfucking adults,” Logan echoes solemnly. They clink glasses.

Gia looks contemplative. “It’s not so much that he’s a random stranger,” she says. “I even kind of trust that he’s for real, you know?”

“I know,” Lilly retorts, pausing to take a big gulp of her drink. “That’s the worst part. Dick introduced me to him when I got here, and he was immediately more interested in my life and my job than my parents have ever been.”

“Yeah, but like, actually interested,” Gia adds, “like he thought I was worth his time and couldn’t wait to hear more about me.”

“How dare he,” Logan says mildly.

Gia elbows him in the ribs. “I don’t see you over there talking to him.”

Logan shrugs. “If I met him on the street maybe I’d be able to trust that he’s the real deal, but the fact that he answered the ad just seems fundamentally suspicious.”

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t paying him, are you?” says Lilly.

“Just in beer.”

“He’s probably just lonely,” Gia suggests.

“I thought the same thing,” says Logan. “But if he’s such a good father, then wouldn’t his own kid want to see him? So why would he need us?”

Lilly pats him on the shoulder. “Logan, you’ve honed your trust issues and pessimism into quite an art.”

He huffs, irritable despite himself. “I’m just saying, don’t anyone go writing him into their will just yet.” Gia looks at him little worriedly, and he attempts a reassuring smile. “I need another drink, can I get either of you anything?” They both wave him off, and he makes for the deck where all the refreshments are, but in his haste to get away, forgets to avoid the grill group and accidentally makes eye contact with Dick. Dick, of course, begins frantically waving him over, and though Logan lifts a hand in acknowledgement and tries to stay course, this only means that Dick starts yelling his name. Logan silently swears to himself that he will not enter the fatherland without a drink in hand, so yells back that he’ll be right there and prays that they’ll be out of something on the drinks and appetizers table so he’ll have to go inside to get it, if not drive to the store. Tragically, Carrie is already there, refilling chip bowls, and when he offers to help she just gives him an unsympathetic look.

“Go get it over with, before Dick convinces everyone to start chanting your name,” she says.

Logan sighs, grabs the beer with the highest alcohol content he can find, and skips down the stairs. “Logan!’ Dick crows. “Logan’s here, guys!”

“I live here,” Logan reminds him. The obvious statement is greeted by polite laughs from the Keith fan-club and drunken giggling from Dick.

“Get this, Logan!” he says, childlike excitement radiating off him in waves. “We didn’t even need salt and pepper, Keith brought his own burger rub!”

Logan looks obligingly at Keith, who nods. “Secret family recipe.”

“I thought the secret was the hot sauce?” Logan says.

“I’ve got that, too.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Everything’s a secret with you, Mr. Mars. And here I thought we were just on the verge of opening up to each other.”

Keith laughs good-naturedly. “I’m an open book, Logan.”

Logan is mentally scrolling through options for sarcastic replies which aren’t overly combative when suddenly he feels very, uncomfortably cold, from the back of his neck down, and can do nothing but gasp stupidly. For a moment he thinks Dick has poured ice down his back, but Dick is standing on the other side of the grill from him, looking genuinely surprised albeit delighted. Logan cranes his neck and turns in a circle, but can’t see what’s been spilled on him, though it’s entirely clear who’s to blame. “Duncan,” Logan says, flat and edging toward a growl.

Duncan has the nerve to roll his eyes. “Come on, man, it’s not my fault.”

Logan gestures to where Duncan has clearly dropped his solo cup and half a plate of appetizers on the lawn. “And how do you figure that?”

Duncan shrugs. “You know how hard it is to hold a drink and a plate of stuff at the same time.”

“Hmm, then maybe you should go inside and eat at the table – or better yet, maybe the family down the block can loan us their high chair.”

Duncan scowls at him. “Do you have to be like this, Logan, seriously? It’s just a shirt. And it’s your freaking house, you can just go in and change.”

Logan flicks his eyes over at Keith, who thankfully doesn’t appear inclined to use his fake fatherly authority to intervene and is pretending to look intently at something across the way. Logan fakes a laugh and says as evenly as he can manage, “And it was your freaking drink, so you could have just apologized.” Keith abandons his examination of the next-door-neighbor’s maple tree to give Logan a side-eyed smile, and for a moment, Logan feels a vague sense of satisfaction, before he remembers that he doesn’t care about Keith’s approval. He makes a wry face back.

“Logan,” Keith says mildly, “keep an eye on the grill? I need to grab something I left in the kitchen.”

“No problem, Mr. Mars,” Logan answers, saluting sloppily. Keith nods at him, and then pats Duncan on the shoulder as he passes; Logan interprets the move as condescending and is pleased again, and again annoyed at himself for being pleased. As a pathetic attempt at distracting himself, he pulls his arms into what was previously his favorite gray v-neck and puts it back on backwards so he can look at the stain, and then is horrified all over again. “Duncan, what the fuck were you drinking?” he demands.

Now, finally, Duncan has the grace to look ashamed, or at least defensive. “Mike’s,” he mutters.

“Mike’s lemonade is not this color.”

“It was Mike’s hard black cherry lemonade, alright!”

There are various titters from the group; Logan snorts inadvertently and lifts up the shirt to sniff the purple-y stain, which smells more like sugar than anything else. He knows he should stop pushing, but can’t quite restrain a “Dude, really?”, which turns the titters into full-fledged barks of laughter.

Duncan snaps. “Why do you have to be such a –”

“Donut!”

Duncan freezes at the sound of Lilly’s voice.

“Quit being a drip!” she yells. “Or go home!”

For a second, Duncan turns his glare back on Logan with full force, and Logan almost thinks he’s going to spit in his face or something, but then he just kicks at his dropped solo cup and slinks off toward the front yard.

“Wo-o-ow,” says Dick, with barely contained glee. “This really is the best party ever.”

Logan rolls his eyes, grabs the spatula hanging off the grill, and starts idly pushing burgers around to have something to do. “You’re happy with your Craigslist investment?” he asks Dick.

“Absolutely, dude!”

“And the weirdness of the concept still hasn’t dawned on you?” Casey adds, snickering.

“How could it be weird? Keith is awesome, and he’s the perfect addition to the party, just like the application said.”

“Of course he is.”

Logan jumps, almost drops a burger on the ground, and then turns to find that Duncan’s place in the circle has been filled. She’s on the shorter side, with blonde hair falling down her back in waves, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder, and a completely unreadable expression on her face – and based on the looks she’s getting from the others, no one else has the faintest idea who she is either. “Uh –” Logan says.

“Keith Mars is still here, right?” she asks, voice somewhere between businesslike and belligerent.

“Well –”

“He just went inside,” Dick says, helpfully. “He’ll be back out in a minute.”

Logan groans. “Dick, remind me never to commit any crimes you’d have to be interrogated about.”

Dick shrugs, the whole movement exaggerated by drunkenness. “Look at her, man, what’s she gonna do?”

Logan looks at her, less sure that he should be unintimidated than Dick seems to be; she gives him an unimpressed once-over, but then cracks a smile seemingly despite herself. “So was it some combination of getting dressed in the dark and a wet tshirt competition, or is this a bold fashion choice?”

Logan glances down at his backwards v-neck and the damp, purple circle on his chest. “Bold fashion choice,” he answers, looking up to raise his eyebrows at her.

“I wouldn’t have been able to picture it,” she says, looking him up and down again, “but now that I see it, I guess it works. In fact, you should only wear this. Like, ever.”

Logan grins awkwardly, unsure whether she’s mocking him or flirting with him, and still unsure what he, as a homeowner, is supposed to do about strangers in his backyard, even if they are exceptionally cute.

“So, this is weird,” Dick offers.

“Hey, honey!” Logan turns; Keith is coming down the steps of the deck with burger buns and cheese in hand, beaming at the interloper.

“And it just got weirder,” Casey announces.

“Yup,” echoes his date. “More drinks?”

“You bet.” They wander off arm in arm; Casey salutes Logan with his beer can.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” Keith says, dumping his armful of food onto the picnic table so he can hug the blonde girl.

She shrugs, looking considerably more relaxed now that he’s appeared. “I’m an only child, dad, you didn’t honestly expect me to let you adopt a whole party without at least coming over to check up on you. I’ve never had to share before.”

Keith laughs. “Of course, why didn’t I think of that. Why wouldn’t my grown adult daughter show up at an honest Craigslist gig to make sure she wasn’t losing her spot as my favorite child?”

“I dunno,” Dick says suspiciously, “I think she might also be here to flirt with Logan.”

“You two have met?” Keith turns a surprised look on Logan, who does his best innocent blink and tries not to broadcast that a few seconds ago he was considering using Duncan’s spill as an excuse to take his shirt off in front of this girl.

“Only just now,” Keith’s daughter assures him.

Logan nods. “You’re V. Mars?”

“Veronica,” she answers. She offers her hand to shake.

“Don’t take this personally,” Logan says, “but I wouldn’t. I’m honestly kind of covered in Mike’s hard black cherry lemonade.”

“That exists?” she says.

“There’s no limit to the abominations which crawl this earth,” he replies, straight-faced. She laughs.

“See what I mean,” Dick says to Keith. Keith looks at him blankly; Dick belches, shoots Logan a complicated and incomprehensible hand gesture, and wanders off after Casey, leaving Logan alone with the two Marses. He looks back and forth between them, trying not to stare, and wondering if it would be weird to ask what kind of degree Veronica just graduated with based on the picture Keith sent.

“So!” Veronica says, into the strained silence. “You’ve been treating my dad well?”

“He’s getting all of the standard grill-dad benefits,” Logan answers. “We didn’t want to have the agency all over us, or god forbid, the unions.”

Veronica smiles in acknowledgment, but her eyes flick to her dad with something like nervousness.

“Do you two need a minute?” Logan offers.

“No!” says Keith, confidently calm. “Everything’s all fine, here. Son, can you start putting cheese on hamburger buns? Veronica, honey, help him?”

Veronica rolls her eyes, but bumps Logan out of the way with her hip so she can grab the cheese. “So, daaad,” she says, sing-song.

“Veronica,” he says, warningly.

She actually pouts. “Come on, dad,” she says, the words coming quicker now. “It’s pretty clear Logan doesn’t care about you being his fake father for the day; his entire body flinched when you called him son.”

Logan hands her a hamburger bun he removed from the block of them in the bag, says mildly, “I thought I managed to reserve my flinch to only seventy percent of my body.”

“Nope!” Veronica gives him an apologetic smile, and then turns back to Keith. “Dad, please.”

Keith glances at Logan, back at her, and sighs. “Make it quick, Veronica.”

She drops the package of cheese and reaches into her bag to retrieve a giant camera. “So-o-o,” she says, lowering her voice, “you know that guy I’ve been on all week for a completely unrelated…work thing?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, he just walked through the front door of your guy’s house.”

“No, he didn’t,” Keith says drily. She tabs through a few photos on the display, shows him one. Keith looks at her. “That can’t be good.”

She lets out a huff of breath. “No, I didn’t think so either.”

“I can see both exits from here, honey, and I haven’t turned my back once.”

“From here?” Logan repeats.

They ignore him. “If I didn’t notice him going in, it was because I wasn’t looking for people entering,” Keith continues, reassuringly. “Nobody could have gotten away, so they must all just be inside. We’ll wait it out, it’ll be fine.”

Logan is just about to give up and leave them to it so he can find another drink, and maybe even change his shirt, but that, of course, is when the air is filled with the sound of breaking glass.

Some kind of instinct takes over and he dives in between the sound and Veronica, dragging her to the ground with him despite her incoherent noise of protest. He looks up in time to see a flailing person hit the ground below the next-door-neighbor’s maple tree, surrounded by the debris from the shattered second-story window.

“That’s yours!” Veronica gasps, but Keith has already produced a gun from somewhere under his novelty apron and is pointing it at where the fallen man has gotten unsteadily to his feet.

“Police!” Keith shouts. “Don’t move!”

There’s a stunned pause, Logan takes in the faces of gaping astonishment on his friends, and then the man takes off running in the opposite direction. Keith lets out a brief curse and rips off his apron. “He’s running,” he announces to thin air, and Logan hears a siren start up down the street, so apparently he really is police. Keith throws the apron at Veronica. “Don’t let the hamburgers burn,” he orders, and then he climbs on the picnic table, vaults clumsily over the neighbor’s fence, and takes off after the runner.

“You’re going to strain your back,” Veronica yells after him, almost petulant. She elbows Logan in the ribs and he rolls off her, not sure whether she’s about to join in the chase herself or whether she’s just going to lay into him for tackling her. She gets up, checks her camera and is apparently convinced that its not broken, but still looks dissatisfied about something. She peeks into the grill, lifts a single burger with the forgotten spatula. “They’re not going to burn,” she says, disdainfully.

“Dude.” Dick jogs over so he can give Logan a hand up off the ground. “Dude,” Dick repeats, “is it just me or was our grill-dad packing heat?”

Logan pats his arm. “Not only was he packing heat, but he was almost definitely using us to surveille the house next door.”

Dick looks flabbergasted. “Shit, man. Even my fake dad didn’t really want to spend time with me.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back, once they’ve collared the guy,” Veronica offers. As if inspired, she removes the first burger patty from the grill, puts it on one of their prepared buns, and hands it to him.

Dick looks at it suspiciously, takes a bite, and then nods, but adds accusingly, “Whatever, man. I’m going to need therapy from this.” He shoots a finger gun at Logan. “So, you do whatever you’re doing here, I’m gonna go apologize to Susan for exposing her child to all this violence.”

“That’s really mature and responsible of you, Dick,” Logan says, surprised.

“Duh,” says Dick. “It’s up to us to break the cycle.” And with that, he heads back towards the rest of the party, who are all staring at Veronica with no small amount of apprehension. She doesn’t seem to notice, but absently picks up Keith’s apron and puts it on, and starts assembling burgers.

Logan can’t help but ask, “You’re not going to follow them?”

“Nope,” she says, shortly, “not my case.”

“Do you need to go after…your guy?”

“No, I’ve got the pictures I needed.”

“Then I’m sure Keith would appreciate the backup…?”

She lets out a short laugh, and Logan sees with dawning comprehension that she’s worried. “He needs it,” she answers, “but he wouldn’t appreciate it. I don’t have the clearance.”

“You’re not his partner?”

She turns to look at him like he’s an idiot. “No-o-o,” she says. “I’m his daughter.”

Logan grins, lifts his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure how deep the undercover scheme went.” She snorts, flips her hair over her shoulder, and turns back to the grill. “That one on the right is getting a little overdone,” he says, pointing.

“No it’s not.” She swats his hand away, and then moves the offending burger closer to the coals, Logan suspects just to be contrary.

“So you’re not a cop?” he tries again. She shoots him an exasperated glance over her shoulder, he grins, says, “If you’re not a cop, why were you surveilling the house too?”

She huffs a sigh, puts the spatula down with a clatter, and reaches for her bag where it had fallen on the ground. “Here,” she says, and tosses something at him. He catches it, turns it around, opens it.

“You’re a private detective?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Not a cop?”

“I’m going to throw a hamburger at you.”

Logan laughs. “So, what, you didn’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

“I did, he didn’t,” Veronica says casually, returning her focus to the grill. “He wanted me to aim higher. I got accepted to Quantico, and was sent home after three weeks because of my issue with authority.” She shrugs, spins the spatula like a baton. “Turns out, I’m more suited for private eye work than I am for either the feds or the boys in blue anyway.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

Logan shrugs, thinking that she was already exceptionally cute, but she just became the most fascinating person on the planet. “I don’t know.”

She removes the last burger from the grill and spins to look at him, hands on her hips. He feels a goofy grin spreading over his face, and she rolls her eyes at him. “What, Logan?”

“You should only wear this.”

She looks down at Keith’s apron, which reads in big, bold letters, “NEVER TRUST A SKINNY CHEF”. She snorts. “If you haven’t figured out yet that you shouldn’t trust me, no amount of written reminders are going to do the trick.”

Logan ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck. “So I’m trusting, sue me.”

“Ah!” She taps her chin with one finger, mock-contemplative. “Is that how you ended up advertising for a strange dad to on-site cater your barbecue?”

“That wasn’t my idea.” Veronica raises her eyebrows, Logan adds, “I actually feel a lot better about your dad now.”

“You feel a lot better about him now that you know he deceived you?”

“Well, yeah,” Logan admits. “He seemed way too normal to be the kind of person who responds to Craigslist ads, so there definitely had to be a catch.” She raises her eyebrows at him, he adds lamely, “So it’s nice that the catch was he’s mainly here to catch bad guys.”

As if on cue, Veronica’s cell phone buzzes; she picks up on the first ring. “Dad?” The worry smooths away from her face at his response, and she mouths a quick apology to Logan before retreating into the corner of the yard to debrief. The last thing he hears her say is “I can’t believe you jumped over that fence, are you trying to kill me?”

Logan walks over to where Dick and Gia are relating the main event to Duncan, who has reemerged and is trying very hard to appear as if he doesn’t regret missing out. “Then Keith magically pulled a gun out of nowhere,” Dick says, miming in slow motion, “and yelled get on the ground or I’ll shoot!”

“He didn’t exactly yell that,” Gia puts in. “I’m pretty sure he basically just said ‘police’.”

Dick ignores her, too invested in the story. “But the guy just books it, and so Keith literally vaulted over the fence and chased after him, yelling and firing at him –”

“No,” Gia says.

Duncan rolls his eyes. “This is what you get for inviting strangers into your home,” he says derisively.

“Trained professionals to arrest the criminal who apparently lived next door to us anyway?” Logan pipes up.

“Professional or not,” Gia says, upbeat, “as soon as shit started to go down, Logan shielded the cop’s daughter with his body, which was pretty cool.”

“Aww,” says Lilly, coming up to put an arm around her brother’s shoulders. “And you were out in the car, sulking because everyone laughed at your drink choice!”

Reminded, Logan glances down at his shirt, which he’d mostly forgotten in all the excitement; it is now starting to stick to his skin uncomfortably. What the hell, Keith won’t be back for twenty minutes at least; he can definitely get some mileage out of this. He takes the shirt off. The girls wolf-whistle, Duncan groans.

“You know,” Lilly suggests slyly, “there are definitely easier ways than Craigslist to incorporate a new father figure into your life.”

“What?” says Dick, immediately intrigued. “Is there a more specific service?”

“Is there?” Logan repeats, alarmed.

Lilly starts laughing. “You’re both idiots,” Duncan tells them, with significantly more affection now that his knowing something they don’t has reestablished him in a position of authority.

Gia appears to be about ready to take pity on them, but is interrupted by Veronica’s return. “They got the guy,” she announces. “Dad is driving him to the station. Logan, he says he’s leaving you in charge until he gets back, not Richard.”

Dick flips her off; Logan replies, “I’m touched that he’s ceding authority to me in my own home.”

Veronica performs an elaborate double take, gestures at the house. “This is yours?”

“As far as the eye can see, or at least until where I imagine the police tape will be going up.”

“It’s my house, too,” Dick puts in.

Veronica ignores him. “I took you for an out-of-towner,” she tells Logan.

The fact that she thought of this means she’s not uninterested in the possibility of seeing him again. “Nope, local boy, though and through.”

Veronica eyes him thoughtfully. “And why are you half naked?”

He realizes he doesn’t actually have a good reason. “I was really starting to smell?”

She pretends to consider this. “I guess I’ll take it,” she finally says. Lilly starts cackling.

Logan tries not to preen. “Veronica, this is everybody; everybody, Veronica.” Veronica waves awkwardly.

“Are you going to stick around until your dad gets back?” Gia asks, faux-innocent.

Veronica looks sidelong at Logan. “Stay,” he says, hearing it come out somehow as if he were laying his heart on the line. He adds, more casually, “You can scold him for his fence-jumping.”

She considers him. “Do you have anything other than Mike’s hard black cherry lemonade?”

He cracks a smile. “I think I can scare something up.”

“The good stuff is all inside,” Lilly lies, straight-faced, then elbows Duncan, who says with faux-enthusiasm, “Oh yeah, and while you’re in there, maybe Logan could put a shirt on.”

“Like, if one jumps out at him,” Gia puts in. “Not every color works on Logan.”

“Yeah,” says Lilly. “He went through a whole orange phase. It was bad.”

Veronica looks bewilderedly around the circle, then back up at Logan. “I guess I could stay awhile,” she says, a smile pulling at her mouth.

“Don’t forget to grab hamburgers before you go in,” Dick says, serious. “That’s literally the whole point.”

“Right,” says Logan, not taking his eyes off Veronica. “Thank goodness for those hamburgers.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Yahoo answers post from user MeCasablancasIsTooCasablancas:

So a few years ago I met this really cool dad, super great, very wise, lot to offer as a father figure. I put a lot of effort into getting to know him and he’s always been totally chill. My roommate, on the other hand, barely wanted to talk to the dad, from day one. Only problem is, now that’s changed and we’re in competition, and I was wondering, how do I make sure that my prior claim to the dad is respected? My roommate didn’t even want a dad, but now just because he’s marrying the guy’s daughter everyone’s telling me father-in-law trumps the fact that I clearly called dibs? This can’t be right.

Also, the wedding is in two months, and even though there’s no way they go through with it, just in case please go to Craigslist and look for my post seeking a new roommate. If it helps, we have a grill.

#LV AU week #veronica mars #cate fic #vm #this fic brought to you by general insanity and my conveniently timed spring break #aaaaaaaand that's it for now folks!!#I promise I am working on the teachers AU #it's just very difficult to write a teacher AU #without including lots of stuff about students #which takes up space and time

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