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kitkatpancakestack · 3 years ago

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In which Eddie becomes famous. Sort of.

Consider this chapter a Tumblr exclusive bc ao3 keeps glitching on my pc when I try to upload BUT feel free to Read the rest of the interior designer!Eddie series on ao3!

XXIII

Evan Buckley— "I go by Buck, actually, please," — drops down to a stool in the loft of the fire station and grins up at the camera. “This is my jacket,” he says, pointing to the cover. The camera zooms in on the magazine, and then back to Buck’s face. “Do you know how many times Eddie has seen that in my closet and given me shit for it? Like a hundred times—oh, wait a minute, are we allowed to swear on this thing? You’ll just cut it out? Sweet. Okay. But, yeah, he always says it looks like a massive bird pooped on it . I totally thought I was losing my mind because I couldn't find the thing. Now I know why." He scratches his chin, a sheepish look crossing his face. "Sorry, um, what was the question again?”

Behind the camera, Julie Binet—one of the editors for Amateur Design magazine—clears her throat. “We asked you how long you’ve known Eddie Diaz.”

“Oh.” He laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Going on six years now.”

“What three words would you use to describe him?”

Buck’s eyes catch on something behind the camera and a mischievous grin curls his lips. “Stinky, lazy, and uninspiring.”

A muffled voice in the background says, “Fuck off.”

“Eddie. We’re on camera. The children.”

The camera spins and stops on Eddie where he's lounging on an arm chair, wearing an identical uniform to Buck. A TV plays HGTV in the background. Eddie pointedly looks down at the phone in his hands.

“Anyway,” Buck says, when the camera focuses back on him. “Seeing as this jacket is selling this issue of Amateur Design, I think I should have half the profits. Actually, consider me the recipient of sixty percent of anything Eddie makes off his neurotic design hobby in the future.”

“Neurotic?” Julie asks. The sound of a pencil scratching over paper fills the silence. “Can you elaborate?”

“Oh, yeah, Eddie’s just particular, that’s all.”

“Buck,” Eddie voices, sounding pained.

"You're smouldering on this thing."

Boots thud against the hard floor, and then Eddie appears and plucks the magazine out of Buck's hands. "I do not smoulder."

"Tell that to the magazine."

Eddie's eye twitches and he opens his mouth to say something, peeks at the camera, and just storms off instead.

“I’m his best friend,” Buck explains, looking pleased with himself.

A paper ball soars into the frame and nails Buck in the back of the head.

“Uh, I wasn’t aware this was an in-house interview.”

“All in the release we had your chief sign,” Julie states, and a file of papers appears. Robert Nash— "Bobby, please, Robert makes me sound a hundred years old," — grabs the file with a suspicious look in his eye and flickers briefly through it before nodding once.

“Okay,” he says. “What is this for again?”

“Amateur Design.”

“I’m not familiar with this show.”

“It’s not a show, sir, it’s a magazine.”

“A magazine?” Bobby’s frown deepens. “About design? And you’re interviewing Eddie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m . . . confused. Do you have a copy of this magazine?”

“Right here, Cap!” Buck waltzes in out of nowhere, plopping the magazine in Bobby’s hands. “Get a load of this guy, eh?”

Bobby looks at the cover, and then up at the camera. “Is this supposed to be Eddie?”

“He’s wearing my jacket!” Buck huffs. “I made him famous.”

“Huh.” Bobby’s face scrunches up. “I thought you gave that jacket away. It hurts my eyes.”

“I wore it one time . . .” Buck mutters, walking away from the camera.

Bobby continues analyzing the magazine cover, and then his head snaps up and he beckons somebody over. “Eddie? Just a second, please.”

Eddie slouches into view. “Yeah, Cap?”

Bobby turns the magazine around. “What’s this? You never said anything.”

“I’m pretty sure Buck did at some point.”

“Buck says a lot of things. I tune most of it out. You, however. That I would have remembered.”

“. . . Sorry?”

Bobby tuts his tongue, eyes twinkling. “It’s decided then. This is going up on the station fridge.”

Eddie stares up at the camera, looking scandalized.

The camera pans out from a close-up of the magazine cover tacked to the station fridge, and then Chimney’s face— "The meaning behind the nickname? Come on, now, that’s a second date story, sorry," —comes into view. He has an energy bar in each hand.

“This is fantastic,” he sighs, peeling the wrapper off one after sticking the other in his pocket. “Best thing that’s happened all year.”

“You said Eddie redesigned this firehouse?” Julie asks.

Chimney nods, thinking as he chews. “Oh, yeah. Well, I mean, we all thought it was Bobby who did it, because—I mean, it’s Eddie, you know? I love the guy, but you have to understand, the other day he had his laptop open to the Old Navy website and just . . . a dozen henleys in his cart, three of which were the same color." He stares sorrowfully at his half-eaten energy bar. "Chris always looks so sharp, d'you think he uses all his style juice for the day on his kid?"

The camera turns to Julie, who blinks in an effort to process his words. "I'm not sure."

Chimney considers the thought for a moment more before shrugging and biting into the bar. "Well, anyway. It’s always the ones you least expect, you know?”

“It’s a good look. Other fire stations have tried to copy it.”

Chimney chokes on his energy bar. “What? You’re serious?”

“There’s a station in Chicago who posted a picture on Twitter. They tagged Eddie in the design.”

“No shit—oh, shit, can I swear on this thing? You'll just cut it out? Awesome. Wow. I don’t really go on social media. Neither does Eddie, now that I think about it. His last post was like three years ago. Oh, my God.” Chimney cranes his neck, waving his second energy bar in the air. “Hey, Eddie! When’s the last time you logged on to Twitter?”

The camera pans over to Eddie walking up the steps. He turns around and walks back down.

"Wait, I thought this was about interior design. What does anybody care how many henleys I buy?"

The camera shifts over Eddie's shoulder and zooms in on the wide-eyed look on Chimney's face.

"Is this some kind of fashion magazine? I'm not—I thought you were called Amateur Design."

Chimney backs slowly toward the fire pole.

"Also, just for the record, there isn't anything wrong with henleys. My dad always said it was good to find a piece of clothing and stick with it. He had a bin full of polos."

Chimney snorts so hard he trips over his feet and nearly slams into the pole.

“No, I didn’t know Eddie was a closet design fanatic. And yet I’m not surprised. It’s a healthy hobby, though. Nothing wrong with it.”

Henrietta Wilson— "Call me Hen. If you say Henrietta I’ll think it’s my mother and hide," —taps a pen against the page of some sort of medical textbook. Behind her, Bobby smiles proudly at the magazine cover on the fridge before reaching inside for a carton of eggs.

“Is this really a big thing?” The camera focuses on Hen’s face. “Like, is Eddie leaving to design rooms for the President or something?”

“It could be a gateway to something much more,” Julie explains. “Some of our spotlighted amateur designers go on to have illustrious careers. One of them is the personal consultant for Oprah.”

“Oprah.” Hen whistles, shaking her head. “Karen is going to love this.”

A loud crash is heard in the background, followed by an undignified squawk. The camera follows Hen as she stands to track the noise down the stairs, where Eddie is hunched over laughing with his hands on his knees and Buck is on the ground with an upturned bucket of soap and water soaking through his uniform.

“Yeah,” Hen remarks dryly. “That guy. Working for Oprah. I can see it now.”

Eddie helps Buck to his feet and then shoves a dirty sponge in his face.

Hen gives the camera a flat look.

“Thank you again for sitting down with us in your house Eddie.”

“Of course,” Eddie says, rubbing his palms against the denim over his thighs. His eyes widen suddenly and he makes a move to stand. “Do you guys, uh, do you need anything? Water, tea, coffee—well, actually, Buck drank the rest of my coffee, but I think I have—”

“We’re quite alright, Eddie,” Julie cuts him off, and he sinks back into the couch, shoulders pensive. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“As our newest featured amateur designer, I just wanted to ask you some questions about your inspirations, how you got into design, the basic stuff. You ready?”

Eddie nods with a face that looks the opposite of ready. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess. Yes. I’m ready.”

“Great.” The camera widens to show Julie seated on the opposite end of the couch, angled toward Eddie, notebook in her lap. “Have you always enjoyed interior design?”

“Um, uh. Well. I guess? I mean, I didn’t really do much with it when I was younger, but I guess I always noticed. The design work and stuff, I mean. Yeah. I guess you could say I’ve always been aware of it.”

“You spend your days and nights as a firefighter, but have you ever considered doing design full time?”

Eddie laughs. “Oh, my—no, it’s never crossed my mind. I love what I do. Interior design has always been more of a stress relief thing.”

“Well, your ‘stress relief thing’ has garnered you a lot of attention.”

He laughs again, a little more nervously.

Julie shifts on the couch, a hawkish smile on her face. “Now, I’ll be hunted down if I don’t ask for our readers, but the people want to know: are you single?”

Eddie’s face reddens. “Um.”

“Just between us, Mr. Diaz.”

The camera shifts over and zooms in on a picture sitting on a table beside the couch, of Buck and Eddie and Christopher smiling together at the beach, as Eddie says, “No, I’m . . . I’m not really seeing anybody at the moment, I guess.”

“The people will be relieved,” Julie smirks, but notes his discomfort and smoothly glides to the next question. “What would you say your biggest inspiration is?”

Eddie’s eyes flit about the space. “Uh, I don’t think . . . I mean . . .”

The door opens, cutting off his sentence, and the camera follows Eddie’s gaze as Buck and Christopher walk through the door. Buck blinks at everybody gathered in the living room. Christopher grins a toothy smile.

“Awesome,” he breathes, as Buck says, “What?”

“Dude.” Eddie vaults off the couch. He corrals Buck in the hall, away from the crew. “I told you I had this stupid thing today. Weren’t you going to the zoo?”

“Zoo’s closed,” Buck answers, sneaking a peak at the interview crew over Eddie’s shoulder. “Something happened to one of the elephants. Some kid saw and totally freaked. There’s a lawsuit pending.”

“So you came back here?”

“Yeah, man, what’s the big deal? I’ll go to Christopher’s room. We’ll be quiet.”

Eddie drags a hand down his face, sighing heavily. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. This is stressful.”

Buck smiles, something soft and fond and amusing all at the same time. He rubs a hand down Eddie’s arm. “I know. Tough being in the spotlight, huh?”

“Screw you.”

“Mmhm.” He nudges his shoulder and follows Christopher down the hall. “Well be in the room. Definitely not listening to everything you say.”

Eddie groans and waits for the door to click shut before sitting back down on the couch. “Sorry. Where were we?”

“Biggest inspiration,” Julie repeats.

“Right,” Eddie says, and fumbles his way through an explanation. Something scuffs against the floor, and the camera switches to the nearest doorway where Buck is propped. He puts a finger to his lips when he sees the camera, eyes falling back on Eddie as he listens. He’s smiling.

After Eddie's interview, Julie talks quietly with the crew as everybody packs up. Eddie disappears down the hall with a mumbled excuse. Buck materializes by the camera and scoots closer. “I have my own copy of the magazine,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I’m going to keep it on my nightstand until the day I die.” And then, cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouts, “Hey, Eddie, will you sign a copy of the magazine for me?”

Something clatters in another room, followed by a muffled slew of words.

Buck turns back to the camera and grins.

Buck's first interview at the station got cut off by a call, so he lets the crew in his apartment to wrap it up.

“Oh, yeah, he signed it alright,” Buck says, a far off look in his eyes. After an awkward period of silence, he jerks to attention, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t—what? What is that look for? Is there something on my face?” He pats at his cheeks just as the door to his apartment opens and Eddie walks in, Christopher behind him.

“Oh, Jesus." Eddie ducks behind the bag of groceries in his arms. “Seriously? You could have warned me, man.”

Christopher gasps. “Am I going to be on TV?”

Buck scoffs, hopping up from the couch. The camera follows him as he walks toward the kitchen. “Sorry, buddy, it’s just for a magazine. Your dad isn’t that cool.”

“Wow. Ouch.”

Buck cackles, absorbing himself into the world of his two guests, seemingly forgetting that the camera crew is present. The camera pans over to the magazine forgotten on the couch, zooming in on the words scrawled across the inside flap in sharpie:

Thanks for always being my biggest inspiration.

—Eddie

#kitkat writes #interior designer!eddie #dont ask how long it took me to make that amateurish magazine cover the answer will be embarrassing for me #i had way too much fun with this it got away from me for sure

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daveeddiggsit · 5 years ago

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Broken, but Not Shattered

WIDEOUT MASTERLIST

Series: WIDEOUT (chpt vii)

Note: This took me so long to write. Partly bc I kept getting distracted from other projects, but partly bc it’s a hella long chapter. ANYWAYS, i really hope you enjoy. To me, it feels like a movie, but let me know your thoughts! Enjoy :)

Word Count: 10.1k

Pairing: Football Player!Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Warnings: injury. T has a panic attack at some point. poor T, he just needs a hug :( implied sex. angst. cursing. smooches. mental health struggle in wake of an incident. anxiety.

Summary: During your Senior year of high school, an unfortunate event happens during Thomas’ last football game of the regular season. Thomas gets pushed to his limits mentally and physically. How does your relationship fare in the wake of his injury?

Tagging: @coololdsoulpoetlove @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @lilangeldevil006 @pana-ce-a @merrahonthawall @katierpblogg @thespianbooks @a-hopeless-fan @uniquelystarchildthedragon @wcreech @sabbrriiinnaa @imperial-martian @harpersmariano @icanneverbesatisfied @underthewillowtreerycb @i-know-i-can

ELEVEN MONTHS LATER...

Your high school holds an annual tailgate before the final home football game of each season. This is the first time you are motivated (and excited) to attend the tailgate. The past three years, you’d decided to skip out, but due to this year being your Senior year (Thomas also may or may not have something to do with it), you partake in this year’s festivities along with the rest of the student body.

After the bell rings, dismissing everybody from their last class of the day, a sea of students migrates down to the football stadium. There, you and Maria discover food vendors of all sorts along with party games that are scattered around the perimeter of the stadium and in the parking lot. It almost feels like a carnival in a way, except there are no rides and you’re surrounded by a bunch of kids with a copious amount of school pride.

You and your best friend have fun and roam around for some time, getting a bite to eat at a vendor here and there. Everyone around you is having a blast, whether they’re walking around in their friend groups or playing games.

Eventually, you and Maria go to get some ice cream, but on the way you run into Ellie, a cheerleader who also happens to be a Senior. You’ve gotten to know her well due to your now frequent presence at Panther Football games and because she’s in your English class. You also hear a lot about her from Maria, who probably spends more time photographing the cheerleader than the actual football games now since they’ve met. You notice that she speaks of Ellie while gushing about her beauty and intelligence extremely often; it’s safe to say that Maria has an immense crush on her.

“Oh, hey, guys! Nice to see you.” Ellie says with a smile, causing you and your best friend to stop walking.

Although the cheerleader has greeted you both, her gaze barely wavers from Maria, and suddenly you feel like you are intruding. That’s when you decide that it’s time to become Maria’s wingwoman.

“Hey!” You grin widely, looking between her and Maria. “Ellie! Maria was actually just talking about you.” Your best friend’s eyes widen at your lack of subtlety.

“Really?” Ellie asks, her eyes brightening up as she turns her full attention to Maria who blushes slightly.

She coughs lightly to try and cover it up before her eyes quickly flit over to you in a panic. You raise your eyebrows and use your hand to gesture her to go on.

“Oh, um…” Maria starts, pulling your gaze away from you and towards Ellie. “Yeah, El, I uh was…” She glances up at you again over Ellie’s shoulder and you point to the ice cream truck next to you and mouth, ‘get ice cream.’ “...wondering if you wanted to come and get some ice cream with me? Us. At the truck.”

You have never ever, in your seven years of best friendship, seen Maria act this nervous around a girl… let alone need your help to talk to someone she likes. There’s something about this Ellie girl that has turned Maria completely shy and you can’t help but gush at how cute the both of them are.

“Oh, yeah! I’d really like that.” Ellie says happily, causing Maria to grin. They both turn around to walk towards the ice-cream truck and Maria stops for a second, noticing that you’re not with them anymore.

“Y/N, are you coming?” She asks, slightly more comfortable now that Ellie’s accepted her offer.

“No, you guys go. I just uh…” You try to think of an excuse when suddenly your phone vibrates, luckily giving you one. You glance down at it, seeing a text pop up from your boyfriend. “I just got a text from Thomas, so I should probably go meet him. You guys have fun, though!”

Ellie nods, saying, “We will! See you around, Y/N,” before gently grabbing Maria’s arm to lead her away.

Beaming, Maria turns her head towards you and mouths, “thanks, love you.” You send her a wink and blow her a kiss, watching her walk away with her soon-to-be beau. This is the happiest you’ve seen her in a long time and you’re beyond excited to see her finally want to start dating someone again after her last breakup with her lying ex-boyfriend, Alexander.

Satisfied with your work, you turn to walk through the crowds of students and towards the underneath of the bleachers: the breathtakingly romantic spot Thomas has chosen for you to meet.

When you arrive, you don’t spot him for a second before you feel a pair of arms snake around your waist from behind. A familiar voice sounds next to your ear, causing you to shiver unintentionally. “You’re looking mighty cute today, princess. You come here often?”

You relax against the warm body behind you once you realize who the voice belongs to. A small smile spreads across your cheeks as you respond. “Under the bleachers? Nah. I’m only here because I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” You can hear the smile in his voice as his arms wrap more snuggly around you. “Well, he must be a very lucky guy.”

You lean your head back against Thomas’ shoulder. “Yep. Extremely lucky, considering the fact that we’re both standing in the space where people do God knows what during games.”

He just laughs and nuzzles his face into your neck, his warm breath fanning out against you. He presses a few kisses there before his lips trail up to your cheek to press a chaste peck there as well. “I was wonderin’ how long it was gonna take for you to show up.” Thomas murmurs against your skin and your eyes flutter shut at the contact.

You muster up the strength to turn your body in his arms so that you can face him. Thomas is breathtakingly handsome as always, sporting his charcoal football jersey over a dark hoodie and a pair of black ripped jeans. He’s beaming and smiling down at you like you’re his whole world.

“It wasn’t that long.” You roll your eyes with a lazy grin tugging at your lips. “I was hanging with Maria until we ran into Ellie, so I left them alone to come meet you.”

“Yeah? They together yet? They keep dancin’ around each other; one of them needs to make a move.”

You laugh at Thomas’ words. “Hey, you make it sound like it’s easy.”

“They’re so obviously into each other! They need to just confess their feelings and get together. Can’t be that difficult.” Thomas shrugs, looking down at you.

You just give him a pointed look. “You’re one to talk, Jefferson. Do you remember how nervous you were before our first kiss? Your hands were literally shaking…”

Thomas withdraws his touch from your waist and crosses his arms over his chest. He licks his lips and looks away for a second before he speaks. “Alright, alright, come on, now.” His deadpanned gaze shifts back to you, but the glint in his eyes is playful. “You still gonna hold that over me? It’s almost been a year.”

You splay your arms out innocently as your mouth falls open with a smile. “It was cute!”

“I was vulnerable, Y/N!” He responds dramatically with wide eyes. “I didn’t know what you were feeling. What if you’d rejected me?”

“Well, I didn’t.” You take a step closer to him, reaching your hands up to wrap around his forearms to pull his arms back down around you, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, you’re just standing there with your hands on his forearms as you two stare at each other. “T, I obviously didn’t reject you.”

“I know that now.” Thomas finally unfolds his arms and brushes his hands up your arms and down your body before they come to a stop at your waist again. He hugs you close to him before he speaks again. “But I wasn’t sure if you were even into me like that back then.”

You grin, looking up at him and settling your hands on his chest. “Exactly, so don’t blame El and M for not rushing things. Let them figure it out on their own.”

“Alright, point made, sweetheart, point made.” He laughs, rolling his eyes before staring down at you with a gaze that you can’t quite describe. It makes your breath catch in your throat and your heart swell. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s soft but firm at the same time and it has a certain fondness to it that you can’t decipher — it’s like he’s sure of something, but doesn’t want to voice it.

The comfortable silence between you stretches on as he continues to stare unabashedly.

You grab a hold of the black polyester material of his jersey to pull him closer. “What?” You ask, breathing out a nervous laugh.

Thomas snaps out of his gaze by releasing a chuckle before he leans down, causing his face to near yours. His smile reaches his eyes and causes your heart to soar. “Nothin’... just—” His eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second. “You’re a good friend, baby.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, grinning as your noses brush against each other.

“Mhm.” He hums before he leans in to sweetly press his mouth to yours.

The kiss warms you up as his hands leave your waist to hold your face gently. Your fingers clutch his jersey tightly, pulling him against you as his lips slowly capture yours again and again, leaving you breathless.

Kissing Thomas never gets old; it’s always like a breath of fresh air. You revel in the sense of presence he creates every time you’re close to him. It’s relaxing, giving you a feeling of home and familiarity that only he can provide.

You two just stay there for a bit, hugging each other closely as the sounds of music and chatter from students can be heard in the distance. You’re content in his warm embrace, and he’s the only thing keeping you warm in the chilly Autumn weather.

Some time later, Thomas leads you out from under the bleachers to walk to the topside of them. You two sit at the front row towards the bottom of the vacant seats. Leaning your head against Thomas’ shoulder, you look out to the empty football field.

“So, a scout for W&M Football is gonna be at the game today.” Thomas voices softly, causing you to pull back enough to look him in the eye. “Coach said he’s been talking to him about me, so he flew out to watch me play in person.”

“Really? Holy shit, Thomas, that’s amazing.” You say, grinning and reaching a hand up to tenderly hold his cheek. “I’m proud of you, babe.”

He smiles and looks down bashfully before he gazes back at you. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, sweetheart. Haven’t impressed the guy enough to get a scholarship yet.”

“Exactly. ‘Yet.’ You will, you know that.” You say, moving your hand back down to lightly nudge his arm. “You’re the most ‘confident’ guy I know.” You put air quotes around confident because that’s what Thomas dubs himself instead of letting himself get called cocky.

He laughs, shaking his head before he looks back out, squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight. The golden rays bring out the brown in his curls and eyes, making them a more honey shade. “That I am, I suppose.”

“You nervous?” You ask, watching him closely. As much as Thomas pegs himself the confident (and sometimes arrogant by others) one on the outside, you know that he’s still human and experiences times of unsureness.

“For the game or the scout?”

“Both.” You answer, shrugging, watching a golf cart fly by on the track in front of you.

Thomas glances back at you and momentarily admires the way the sunlight illuminates your face. A smile spreads across his lips before he responds. “To be honest? Not really.” He says, causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “For the game? Not nervous at all. We beat Easton by 30 points last time we played them. And as far as the W&M scout goes, I am a bit nervous, but I know I should be fine as long as I play like I normally do.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Wow… and here I was thinking that Thomas Jefferson was turning a little modest on me.”

He just laughs, his gaze playful as he looks at you. “Never, darlin’. Can’t be unsure of myself when I got my girl on the sideline as my good luck charm.”

You grin and shake your head at him. “Well, for what it’s worth and not that you need any more words of encouragement — because you seem to have it all figured out,” You give him a pointed look that’s more teasing than anything serious. “I think you’re gonna be great today, T.” You say sweetly, perching your chin on his shoulder.

Thomas’ grin brightens and he moves to place his lips gently on your forehead before he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. He rests his head on top of yours as you both turn to watch the white lines on the turf get freshly painted over in preparation for the game later.

“Your words will always mean more to me than you think, sweetheart.” He says softly.

⋆﹥ ━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Maria shows up later than usual to the sideline to start setting up her gear. You can’t help but be slightly suspicious about her previous whereabouts and you wonder if it has to do with a certain cheerleader.

“Sooo…” You start off, the corner of your mouth twisting up into a knowing grin. “Where were you? Why’re you late?”

Maria just smiles bashfully as she starts to unpack her camera bag. “I’m getting some real Deja Vu from last year when you and Thomas got together, except now I’m in your shoes.”

You laugh, watching her as she blushes slightly and pauses her actions. “So, I’m guessing that you were with Ellie?” Maria nods, causing you to grin wider. “Are you guys official yet?”

You wait in anticipation as you stare at Maria who purses her lips before she looks away for a second. “I don’t know.” She mumbles.

“What?” You ask, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“I don’t know.” Maria repeats, looking back at you, shrugging her shoulders.

“What do you mean you don’t know, Maria?”

“I mean, she kissed me… and then we got interrupted by something, and then we didn’t really talk about labeling ourselves or anything, but she said to meet her after the game, so… I don’t know.”

You think for a second. “Well, if she wants you to meet her after the game, that means she wants to talk to you, right? So, just ask her then.”

“Ask her what?”

“Are you serious?” You give her a pointed look, a small grin pulling at your lips. “Ask her to be your girlfriend, dummy. That’s what you want, right?”

Maria busies herself by cleaning the lens of her camera with a rag. “I just… don’t wanna mess this up, Y/N. That’s why I get so nervous around her. All my past relationships have been shitty and… I don’t want her to turn into another one. You get what I mean?”

You nod in understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that, but hey,” you put a hand on her arm, causing her to look at you. “She’s different, though. You’ve said it before, and I can see it. I have a good feeling about this one… and I’m sure you do, too. I say go for it, M. I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. You deserve to be happy.”

You pause for a second before you ramble on. “Not that being in a relationship solely constitutes happiness, but… you know what I mean.”

Maria just smiles and looks down for a second before she puts her camera down and hugs you tightly. “Thanks, Y/N. Really, it means a lot.” She mumbles against your shoulder and you squeeze her back just as tightly.

“Any time, M. It’s what I’m here for.” You say softly, rubbing her back. “You give me advice all the time, now it’s my turn. It’s a two-way street. We gotta support each other.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Maria sighs when she pulls back from the hug. “Okay, I’m gonna ask her. After the game. If you’re cool with waiting around a little bit, I know I’m your ride home, so—”

You dismiss her worries with a wave of your hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get T to drive me. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Yeah, but tonight was supposed to be Girls’ Night…”

“Don’t worry about it, Maria.” You stress with a smile. “We’ll reschedule. Promise. When the game ends, you go get your girl. Win or lose… no matter what, okay?”

Maria nods and takes in a deep breath.

“Okay. Promise.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Thomas was right earlier. Easton High School’s football team is not a great team. The game is a complete blowout with your home team beating their opponent 38-7 at halftime. You can tell that the other team is salty from some things you can hear them yelling on the opposite side of the field, but they really have no grounds to talk because of the fact that they’re getting beat so badly by Thomas’ team.

You were also right earlier. Thomas has been having a phenomenal game. It’s one of the best games you’ve seen him play thus far — he has three touchdowns and it’s only the beginning of the third quarter.

Although Easton has the ball currently as they try to score, Thomas, Aaron, James, and the rest of his teammates standing on the sideline don’t seem fazed or worried at all. They’re all goofing around by laughing and making jokes with each other. At some point, Thomas even goes over to his position coach to ask for some Skittles and he gives him a handful.

You don’t even raise an eyebrow when you spot him with a handful of candy during games anymore. You’ve noticed him, James, and Aaron with them throughout the season and you have no desire to ask anymore.

It isn’t long before the Panthers’ defense stops Easton’s drive with an interception, allowing the ball to go back to the Panthers offense’s possession. You watch as Thomas scrambles to get on the field with his teammates after finishing the last of his candy. He’s lucky that his coach doesn’t see him chewing when he puts his helmet back on.

There’s still plenty of game left, and it looks like Coach Washington isn’t planning on backing down his offense just yet when he yells at them to score. He doesn’t plan on showing any mercy to the visiting team.

Thomas is on the side of the field closest to you, but he doesn’t notice because his focus is locked into the game now. You can hear him jawing off with his defender as they both line up at the line of scrimmage. If Thomas Jefferson is known for one thing on the field, it’s trash talking — especially if someone on the opposing team initiates it.

Jefferson keeps his composure as he riles his opponent up, enough for you to notice that the other guy is heated.

The ball is snapped, starting play and Thomas sprints ahead of his defender. The quarterback throws the ball in his direction and Thomas jumps up to catch it when suddenly he is tackled by his opponent before his fingers can even graze the football. It’s a dirty play to say the least, and this causes the home side of the stadium to erupt in massive boos.

You yell in disgust at the hit along with Maria who stands besides you, but luckily Thomas is up on his feet in no time and yelling in the face of his defender. James runs up to separate him so that he doesn’t get a personal foul.

The refs throw their flags and call a ‘pass interference’ penalty, which satisfies the home team and their fans. It’s not long before both teams go to the new line of scrimmage, which is much closer to the end zone now.

Play starts again and Thomas swiftly runs towards the end zone while faking out his defender once again. He’s able to catch the ball this time and sprints far ahead of the opponents of the other team. He slows down right before he gets to the end zone and tauntingly waves at the defender who tackled him in the previous play.

Next, everything feels like it’s slow motion.

Right before Thomas crosses the goal line, two of the defenders from the other team dive to tackle him from behind and you can hear the impact of their bodies hitting him from your position on the sideline. One of the tacklers comes up short and lands on Thomas’ left ankle, causing it to buckle while Thomas falls down along with it in the end zone.

The entire stadium erupt into cheers at the touchdown, unaware of the damage done to the star wide receiver. The defenders stand up and are pushed back by their teammates. Seconds pass by and gradually, the cheers start to die down as Thomas still lies face-down on the turf, his left hand weakly reaching towards his left ankle.

He’s not getting up.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly in your chest as panic starts to rise. Oh… oh no.

“Come on, baby. Come on. Get up.” You whisper under your breath. “You’re okay, Tommy. Please get up.”

Slowly, Thomas is able to get himself on his hands and knees, but it’s not without him yelping in pain. Your heart breaks for him.

James sprints and is crouched on the ground by Thomas’ side in no time. He puts a comforting hand on his back and you can see him talking to him, asking him if he’s okay. After a few seconds, James turns towards the sideline and signals for a trainer to go to them. Thomas slowly turns over so that he lies on his back with help from James and you can see his body writhe in pain as he reaches for his lower left leg again.

There’s an eerie quiet that blankets the stadium now. You don’t like it. You hate how a place filled with sounds of happiness and joy could morph into a space almost completely stripped of sound period — filled with emptiness and despair instead at the drop of a dime.

Now all the players on the field take a knee for Thomas as he’s slowly helped up by his teammates and the team trainers. They lead him to a golf cart where he sits, clutching at his left ankle. His helmet is still on, and you can’t see his face through his visor, but you know that he’s hurting beneath the mask as he hangs his head.

One of the defenders who tackled him has his helmet off now as he goes to apologize to Thomas. The guilt and regret is evident in his face that he caused something so detrimental to happen to a fellow athlete — because that’s all they are at the end of the day: athletes. They all play the same sport; ultimately, it doesn’t matter which team they play for. They’re all just doing what they love: playing football. And nobody deserves to have that be stripped away from them at the blink of an eye.

The forever silence is now broken as claps can be heard from everyone, showing sportsmanship and solidarity for Thomas and his injury as he’s driven off the field and towards the main building where the locker rooms are.

“Y/N…” Maria says softly next to you, and you finally notice that your hand has been placed over your mouth in shock for the past five minutes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I…” You start out, but your voice is wobbly. A single tear runs down your cheek and you wipe it away and sniffle as you try to stay strong. “What do I do?”

You have to stay strong for Thomas, but you feel helpless. You don’t know where to go, who to talk to. Are you allowed to go and see him in the locker room or do you wait until the game ends? Do you call his parents or will his coach take care of that? How bad is the injury? Is Thomas going to be okay?

You’re interrupted from your thoughts when the rest of the Panthers offense comes off the field. James stops when he reaches you.

“He needs you, Y/N.” He says, taking off his helmet. James looks just as worried as you feel. “It’s not looking good… and he’s gonna need someone to lean on. I know him, and with his parents gone in LA and the team still playing out the rest of the game… he shouldn’t be alone right now. He may act big and tough on the field in front of everyone, but you know how T is. He needs support.”

You nod slowly and sniffle before taking a deep breath. You look towards Maria and she nods at you, saying, “Go to him, Y/N.”

“Okay.” You whisper, looking between the two of them. “Okay.”

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Your mind races as you wait outside the trainer’s room where Thomas is getting treated by the team doctor. On your way inside, you went to the locker room to retrieve Thomas’ backpack per the request of one of the trainers standing in the hallway outside the medical room.

Despite it feeling like hours, it isn’t long before the team physician comes out of the room, causing you to perk up as you lean against the wall. The doctor whispers to the trainer and you pick up snippets of their conversation from your position next to the door.

“...has to go to the hospital for an x-ray… lots of swelling… unclear whether it’s fractured or a ruptured achilles.”

After they finish speaking, you ask if you can go in. They nod, and the doctor tells you that Thomas is being unresponsive to any questions that are being asked of him. The doctor asks you to break the news of a hospital visit being necessary tonight, and just like that you feel like you have a huge weight on your shoulders. But you don’t care because right now, you just want to see Thomas and make sure that he’s okay, so you just nod before you enter the room quickly with Thomas’ bag in your hands.

When you enter, you see Thomas on an exam table in a corner of the room. He’s just sitting there, both of his legs hanging off the table, his newly injured ankle out of his cleat and wrapped in ice to reduce the swelling. He still has his shoulder pads on and grass stains are evident on his dark uniform. He doesn’t notice you come in because his head is buried in his gloved hands.

You set his bag down, next to the door entrance and carefully make your way towards him. As you get closer, you can see his shoulders rise and fall with each shaky breath he takes. Gently, you place a hand on his arm, causing him to jump slightly.

“Hey, T. It’s okay, baby, it’s just me.” You say softly, tilting your head a little bit to make eye contact with him through his fingers. Slowly, he drops both of his hands to his lap, revealing his face to you. He looks like a ghost of his normal confident, cheery self. There are bags under his red eyes and you can tell that he is utterly exhausted.

But still, at the sight of you, Thomas’ lips twinge up into a sad smile (he doesn’t hide his distress as well as he thinks) as he reaches out to graze his fingers against your cheek.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He says, half-heartedly. He’s happy to see you, he really is, but his tone is dampened by the pain he is feeling. “What’re you doin’ in here? You should be out cheerin’ and havin’ fun with everyone else.” His voice is quiet, and you wonder if it’s because he’s afraid it will break if he speaks any louder.

“T, if you think I come to these games to hang with the rest of the team, you’re wrong. I come for you because I… I wanna support you.” You say earnestly, searching both of his eyes with yours.

At your words, he sends you a half-smile that turns into a grimace when his ankle throbs again. Thomas pats the space next to him, signaling for you to sit. You do, and immediately you notice his fidgeting and trembling hands that lay in his lap, still gloved from the game.

“Let’s get these off, yeah?” You say quietly, carefully reaching for his palms to place them in your lap. Your fingers gingerly undo the strap to each of his gloves and you peel them off his hands one by one before you place them neatly next to you.

When you’re done, Thomas’ right hand gently grabs one of yours and wordlessly laces your fingers together. He presses a warm kiss to the back of your hand as a silent thank you. Silence stretches between you two for a little while as you just sit there, your thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back of his hand.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask softly. You’re sure he has a million thoughts running through his mind, but you’re not sure how much more of this he can take before it finally sinks in and hits him.

“It hurts...” He says, releasing a shaky breath. You squeeze his hand in reassurance, letting him know your support wordlessly. While he’s been quiet since you’d walked into the room, your question unintentionally prompts Thomas to start pouring out his thoughts at rapid speed.

“And… an— and I don’t know if it’s broken or not. Or if I’ll be able to play football this season, or ever again for that matter. I… I do think it’s broken, though. I’ve had sprains and they’ve never hurt like this.”

You can hear his breathing start to quicken as he continues to ramble.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. What if this ends my career, Y/N? I can’t end my high school career like this. All my plans for the future: gone. What about scholarships? I wanted to be in the NFL like my dad. How am I supposed to get drafted by the Giants if I can’t— if I can’t play college ball?” He shakes his head at the mention of his father as his voice darkens slightly. “And speaking of my dad, why aren’t my parents here when I fucking need them? I fucking do everything for them and they can’t be here when I actually need them? They went to a charity event in LA instead of my last regular season game when they knew a scout would be watching tonight. Oh my god, the scout. What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay, T. Just breathe. You’re not alone in this.” You bring your other hand up to his cheek to turn his face towards you to make eye contact with him. You look at him firmly and tell him, “You’re going to be okay, babe. Let’s just take it one step at a time, one play at a time, just like Coach says, right?”

You vaguely remember Thomas telling you one night that Coach Washington lives by the ‘one play at a time’ code, which basically means taking things, in life and in football, one step at a time.

Fortunately, you see Thomas visibly begin to calm down from your words. It’s heartbreaking to see him have a panic attack like this; all you want is for him to feel better, so you continue to talk, letting your voice soothe him.

“Let’s just stay positive and focus on the next step right now, babe. And right now, that next step is getting you to a hospital so that we can get that ankle x-rayed. Okay? We can do that, right?”

Thomas takes in deep breaths, his breathing slowly turning back to normal. After searching your eyes, he exhales heavily and drops his head before he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yeah, we can do that.” He murmurs, so soft you can barely hear it. He starts to shake his head before he speaks again. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want you seein’ me like this. I’m a fucking mess. And I know this isn’t how we planned today would go.”

“T, you’re allowed to have emotions. I don’t care if you’re a mess, I want to know that you’re okay. I’m your girlfriend. I’m here for you always. Not just when you win games.”

Thomas licks his lips and nods before he looks at you; his gaze is full of gratefulness and admiration, but the sorrow is still clearly evident. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but hesitates and thinks better of it. Instead, he leans over to hug you closely against his side (as best as he can with his shoulder pads still on).

“Thank you, baby. You have no idea how much that means to me… how much you being here means to me.”

With the way Thomas has always treated you and the way he’s acting now, you feel like you do have an idea, though. He’s always shown you so much care and expressed how grateful he is through his actions every day. You know that you mean as much to him as he does to you… and that’s saying something.

You two stay like that for some time, but you know that you eventually have to pull away to follow the team physician’s orders and get him to the hospital. Slowly and gently, you pull back from his embrace and reach up to give Thomas a chaste kiss, it’s quick but reassuring at the same time.

“Okay, Tommy, let’s get these shoulder pads off you and get you to the hospital, yeah?”

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Fractured.

That is the word that sticks out most amidst the countless thoughts that swirl around Thomas’ head.

The hospital visit was surprisingly quick — in and out, resulting in Thomas leaving with crutches and a magenta cast on his left ankle.

His parents had called while he was in the waiting room with you and Danté, his trainer from the team (some adult supervision had to be involved even though you and Thomas are 18). His father had told him that they’d be on the first flight out of LAX and back home first thing tomorrow morning. Both of his parents are worried about him (his mother is more vocal about it than his father) especially after Thomas called them back up to tell them the results of his x-rays.

While he had felt his anxiety ignite again and spread throughout his chest at the news of his fractured ankle, he’d stayed strong in front of his family, the doctor, his trainer, and you. He took the news like a champ on the outside, but on the inside, he kept feeling like he could barely keep it together.

That’s where he is now: sitting silently in the passenger seat of his Mustang, trying to keep his emotions in check as you drive him home from the hospital. It’s not the first time you’ve driven his car, and while he’d normally make a charming comment about you looking extremely attractive driving the Mustang, he stays quiet. The repetitions of the doctor’s words still ring in Thomas’ mind, hindering him from acting anything like his usual self… and he hates it. He hates the effect that one word has on him.

Fractured. Fractured. Fractured.

“As you can see, your fibula is fractured right here above the lateral malleolus. Luckily, the bone isn’t displaced, so we’re gonna treat this as a…”

After hearing the word he’s dreaded most, Thomas zones out and gets lost in thought as he mindlessly watches the doctor point to various areas on the x-ray.

“...don’t think surgery will be necessary; however, we do believe a cast is imperative. This does mean that there will be no physical activity, of any sort, for at least six to eight weeks. Do I make myself clear?”

Thomas doesn’t respond, staring blankly at the man in the white coat in front of him.

“Did you hear what I said, Mr. Jefferson?” The doctor asks more sternly, and Thomas snaps out of it. He stares up at the physician, his eyes more alert.

“Yeah, Doc.” He says halfheartedly. He sounds so drained of energy, so unlike his usual self. “Loud and clear.”

Everything the doctor had told him at the hospital hadn’t exactly been a surprise; in fact, it’s exactly what Thomas had predicted. His ankle is broken and he won’t be able to play football for six to eight weeks… and that terrifies him.

His high school football career is officially over… and he won’t get to finish out the playoff season with his teammates.

The silence in the car stretches on and when you get to the familiar road that leads to Thomas’ house, you sneak a glance over at him. He’s staring out the window and you are aware of the fact that he hasn’t spoken since he was released from the hospital. You can only imagine the whirlwind of thoughts going through his mind right now and your heart once again breaks for him.

You take your right hand off the steering wheel to gently lace your fingers with his, giving him a comforting squeeze to signify your reassurance. He squeezes back weakly, giving you a good indication at where he is mentally. You don’t want to poke or prod him, so you allow the silence to linger in the space between you two until you finally reach his home.

Once you pull into his garage and close it behind you, you go to release Thomas’ hand and get out of the car, but he tightens his hold on your fingers, preventing you from going anywhere.

“T, babe, you gotta let me go so I can grab your stuff.” You say gently, letting the driver's side door fall shut after having already opened it. He’s still blankly staring out the side window when you turn to him. Thomas reluctantly lets go of your hand and you take that as an okay for you to get out.

You walk over to the passenger's side of the car to grab his crutches out of the back seat. With his crutches in your grasp, you go to open his door. He quickly wipes at his left eye before he slowly turns his body and swings his legs so that he faces your direction. His magenta wrapped ankle rests carefully against the concrete floor of the garage. Thomas eventually looks up at you, revealing his red eyes and tear-filled gaze.

“Hey…” You murmur, jumping to quickly take action, seeing Thomas clearly in a state of distress. You lean the crutches against the side of the Mustang before you move to caress his cheek.

Thomas just looks down and wipes at his eyes before clearing his throat. “I’m fine.” He croaks, his voice breaking and wavering as he sucks in a shaky deep breath.

He moves to stand up, but your hands go to press down firmly on his shoulders. Thomas doesn’t seem to protest or resist against your touch as he stays seated with his feet still planted on the concrete. You shake your head at him as you try to catch his teary gaze.

“You’re clearly not fine, T.” You voice softly as you step into the open space between his legs. You bring your hands up to hold his face gently. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but please, Tommy, don’t…” You pause, searching for the right words, “don’t hold it all in. You don’t need to be a big tough guy in front of me. I know you.”

A single tear rolls down his cheek as his resolve starts to slowly break. You tenderly wipe it away with your thumb as you gaze into his watering eyes.

“It’s okay to cry, babe.”

And then, the last of his walls come tumbling down. Thomas lets his tears fall freely now as his face contorts into a sob. Your eyebrows furrow in concern as his composure crumples. You pull him to you as he ducks his head to bury his face in the material of your sweater.

It’s the first time you’ve seen Thomas cry and all you want to do is be there for him and comfort him to make him feel better — to make all his pain disappear.

You just stand there, one hand holding his head to you and the other rubbing comforting circles on his back to soothe him. You can feel his body shake with each sob as you try your best to console him and work him through it, occasionally murmuring reassuring words to him.

It pains you to see him like this. All you can do is embrace him and let the torrent of his tears soak through your sweater. You could feel him clutch at the fabric from the back of your sweater as he hugs you tightly to him, like he’s grasping at the only thing — the only person — keeping him above water at the moment. He holds onto you because you’re the one saving him from sinking into the depths of his negative thoughts and anxiety.

Thomas clenches his fists again and again, not knowing whether to be angry (at his parents, at the guy who tackled him, at himself) or to give up all hope. You can hear his irregular breathing as he whimpers against you. Gently, you run your hand over his curls, time and time again, in an attempt to calm the silent war within his mind.

You stay like that for a while, soothing him as he lets out all of his pent up emotions. Over time, he gradually calms down, his breathing slowly returning back to a normal rhythm. Only the sounds of your and Thomas’ breathing can be heard as a tranquil quiet blankets the room.

Eventually, Thomas finally pulls back from you, eyes closed and he takes in a deep breath. It’s still slightly shaky, but he’s much better than the state he was in before.

You use your sleeve to gingerly wipe up the leftover tears that had wet his face. When you're done, both of your hands cup his cheeks as his eyes flutter back open. You send him a soft smile when you catch his gaze.

“There he is.” You whisper, letting your thumbs lightly caress his skin. “Hi, babe.”

He purses his lips before he responds, noticing the huge wet stain on the front of your sweater. “Shit, sweetheart. Sorry for fucking up your shirt.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, T. Just means that I can steal another one of your hoodies.”

That causes Thomas to crack a watery grin, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him smile in hours. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long because his expression returns to a serious one in a matter of just a few seconds.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He murmurs before sniffing; his gratefulness is evident in his gaze, but it’s accompanied by a hint of fatigue as well. “Really. Thank you so much, baby. For being here. Supporting me. I… I needed that.”

“Of course, I’m here, T. I’ll always be here, okay?” You say, watching him slowly nod. After a few moments you speak again. “How’re you feeling? Better?”

He shrugs, looking up at you tiredly. “A little. I still feel like shit, but at least I don’t feel like I’m about to explode.”

“Yeah, please don’t hold your feelings in like that, anymore. I really don’t wanna see my boyfriend explode because he’s ‘too manly to cry.’” You drop your hands from his face to form air quotes on the tail end of your sentence.

“Noted.” He breathes out a small laugh. Warmth blossoms in your chest as you watch him slowly turn back into his normal self. “Also, I feel gross and I’m in desperate need of a shower, so that’s not helping my mood right now, either.”

You grin at him. “Well, that can definitely be arranged once we get you outta this car.”

The small smile returns on Thomas’ face as you open the car door a little further, so that it’s open as wide as it can go. “That’s usually my job.” He says, causing you to raise an eyebrow as you grab ahold of his crutches once again.

“What?” You ask, watching Thomas rise as he slowly gets out of his car.

He grunts as he balances on his right foot and you hand him his crutches. When he situates himself and regains balance, he responds, nodding at the car door. “You opened the door for me earlier. That’s supposed to be my job, princess.”

You grin and roll your eyes, shutting the car door behind him as he moves forward towards the door to his house. “Yeah, well now it’s my turn to return the favor and treat you like a prince… especially given the current situation.”

You grab his backpack from the trunk of the Mustang as Thomas throws the door to his home open.

“Oh, you already do, darling.” He says over his shoulder before you follow him in.

When you get inside the house, you leave his bag by the door at Thomas’ request and drop his keys on the counter in the kitchen. Before Thomas goes to shower, he joins you in the kitchen and heats up (he insists on being the one to do it because he’s ‘not completely helpless’) some leftover macaroni in the microwave for you both as a late dinner. He’s starving after having played a game and gone through as much emotional and physical trauma as he did.

Halfway through your meal, you feel your phone vibrate repeatedly in your pocket. You realize you’ve forgotten about it for hours, having been worrying constantly about your boyfriend’s mental and physical health. You dig your phone out of your jeans to see your brother Erik calling you.

You glance over at Thomas who is nose deep in his dinner before you accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, finally, Jesus. Where are you? Why weren’t you responding to my texts?”

“I’ve been busy, tonight’s been a crazy night, okay?” You glance over at Thomas who’s now looking up at you from his food with an eyebrow raised. You mouth ‘Erik’ and he nods, returning to eat. “Thomas got injured at the game today. It was bad. Had to drive him to the hospital and everything.”

“Shit, man.” Erik says on the other line, sounding worried. He and Thomas had surprisingly gotten along well with each other since you two started dating. They play Madden with each other occasionally when Erik’s back in town, so you know they’ve created some sort of friendship/brotherly bond. “Are you still there? At the hospital?”

“No, we’re at his place now. Just got here. Eating dinner.” You say before you glance at Thomas who’s staring down at his food now. There’s no way you’re leaving him alone here overnight. “Listen, E, can you please do me a huge favor and cover for me? Just tell Mom and Dad I’m staying at Maria’s for the night. I can’t just leave T alone in an empty house when he just broke his ankle.”

“Broken ankle — Jesus, that’s rough.” Erik is quick to respond. “But, yeah, sis, I got you. You’ve covered for me plenty of times.”

You let out a sigh of relief, happy that you’ll have your parents off your back now. “Thanks, Erik.”

“So, how’s Thomas taking the news? Is he good to talk?”

You pull the phone away from your ear to ask Thomas if he wants to speak to your brother on the phone. You say Erik’s worried about him and he nods. You hand the phone to him and watch him as he holds it up to his ear.

“Yo, what’s up, E?” Thomas greets; his voice sounds tired, but he sounds more like himself now. “I’ve been better. Hanging in there, I guess.”

You continue to eat the rest of your dinner as Thomas and Erik talk.

“Yeah, fractured actually. Doc said a bunch of scientific stuff, but I wasn’t really listening. I just know that I can’t finish out the season.” Thomas is quiet, staring down at the kitchen counter until he chuckles at something Erik says. “Yeah, there’ll always be Madden, bro. Just bummed because I wanna be on the cover one day and I can’t do that when I’m injured and at risk of losing scholarship opportunities.”

He listens to Erik’s words before he looks over at you, a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I know. She’s been with me all night since it happened. Honestly, I don’t know what’d I’d be doing right now without her. You’re sister’s a real one, bro. Y/N’s a life saver.”

You smile at him sweetly as he watches you with a soft glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, no, you won’t have to worry about that, trust me.” He breathes out a short laugh. “Alright, bro, I’ll catch you later.” He’s quiet for a few seconds as Erik responds. “I will. You, too. Alright, bye.”

Thomas hangs up and hands the phone back to you.

“You guys good?” You ask, putting your phone back in your pocket.

Thomas nods, finishing up the last of his dinner. “We’re good. Erik’s a good dude.”

“You sure, bro?” You tease, a grin tugging at your lips. “Why do you say ‘bro’ every other sentence when you’re talking to my bro, bro?”

By now, you know that Thomas code switches when he talks to his friends versus when he’s with you, but you can’t help but try to cheer him up by poking fun at him.

“Leave me alone, bro. That’s just the way I talk to all the bros, you wouldn’t understand.” He rolls eyes, a hint of a grin showing up on his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. You pick up your and Thomas’ plates and walk them over to the sink. “Just messin’ around, T. Givin’ you a hard time.”

“Yeah, bro, give the injured guy a hard time, because that’s a good idea.” Thomas deadpans. As put off as Thomas tries to act, he can’t stay pretend mad at you for long. After all, your attempt at lifting his mood and pushing him back towards his normal self is working.

“Okay, alright, lesson learned. Don’t make me feel guilty.” You voice before you walk back over to Thomas, chuckling in the process. “And stop calling me ‘bro.’ I like ‘sweetheart’ more.”

You send him a smile before you give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Alright. Noted, sweetheart.” Thomas murmurs with a lazy grin when you pull back.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Thomas doesn’t shower without making an offhand joke about you joining him. This time, he blames it on the fact that he’s ‘damaged goods’ and needs help undressing and that you’re really talented at that.

And although you roll your eyes and shove a trash bag at him so that he can cover his cast, you’re genuinely happy to see him bantering with you and joking around like he does normally. You know this injury is going to impact him immensely in the long run, both physically and mentally, but seeing him smile and joke around after pouring his heart out to you earlier in the garage really makes you extremely proud that he is holding his head high.

When you make sure that Thomas is all set to shower, you tell him to yell if he is actually in genuine need of your help. He says that he’ll be fine.

You make your way back to his room and get yourself comfortable. Although the tear stains on your sweater are now dry, you still go to Thomas’ closet to pick out one of his hoodies to sleep in. You also slip on some pajama shorts you’d left there from the last time you stayed over. It’s not your first time spending the night at Thomas’; the night of homecoming was… a lot of fun to say the least. And Thomas makes it a habit to sneak you into his room almost weekly, so you’ve resorted to leaving an extra change of clothes in his room just in case.

Finally comfortable in your new change of clothes, you fall back onto Thomas’ bed with a tired sigh before you grab your phone to check your messages. You see that you have a bunch of unread texts from Erik, Maria, and James.

Dismissing the texts from Erik because you just talked to him on the phone, you open the texts from James. He tells you that the Panthers won the game and that he and the rest of the team are worried about T. He also asks how Thomas is doing because he’s not answering his texts.

You respond, telling him about the fracture and that Thomas is taking it hard, but he’s staying strong and doing better now.

Then, you open the texts from Maria.

Maria (8:35pm): Hey, hope T’s doing okay

Maria (8:36pm): Hope YOU’RE okay too

Maria (9:07pm): Game’s over. Gonna go do the thing we talked about bc I made a promise, wish me luck

Y/N (11:13pm): hey, sorry M. haven’t really been checking my phone all night. T’s okay. broken ankle and he’s really bummed, but he’ll be okay. i’m doing okay too. being with T and seeing that he’s gonna be ok makes me worry a bit less

Y/N (11:13pm): but how’d the thing go?? please tell me it went well. u and ellie would b so cute together

Maria (11:15pm): No worries luv. Glad you and thomas are alright. Whole team was pretty shaken on the sideline after yall left. it was mad quiet even tho we were winning. And ellie was worried too.

Maria (11:16pm): Speaking of… the thing went well and I have a girlfriend now. Her name is ellie.

Y/N (11:16pm): omg congrats! beyond happy for u guys.

Y/N (11:16pm): T’s gonna be happy af lol when he finds out

Maria (11:18pm): Yeah now he can leave me tf alone about it every time he sees me

Y/N (11:19pm): lmao he was just tired of seeing yall circle around each other even tho u clearly had feelings for each other. i was too tbh

Y/N (11:19pm): but glad you guys are official now. you guys are ADORABLE together. i want all the details next time i see you, k?

Maria (11:20pm): I’ll give ALL the details on Monday lol. Promise.

Y/N (11:20pm): can’t wait

You grin at your phone, genuinely happy for Maria and Ellie. Then, you hear the bathroom door open and Thomas’ crutches sound from down the hall, each sound getting louder as he nears the bedroom.

When Thomas gets to the doorway, you sit up, directing your gaze to him. “I’m guessing you didn’t need help showering after all?” You ask, giving him a once over. He’s wearing shorts and no shirt. Some water droplets still linger on the muscles of his biceps and toned torso, like he was lazy to fully dry himself with his towel.

“Guess not.” He says with a shrug, making his way over to the bed. He sits down on his side, making himself comfortable by laying down, sighing in content as he does so. “Would have definitely been more entertaining had you joined, though.”

“I’m sure it would have.” You muse with a grin, sitting up crossing your feet under you. You decide to tell Thomas the news Maria texted you. “So, Maria and Ellie are dating now.”

Thomas smiles as he laces his fingers behind his head as he relaxes back on his pillow. “Yeah? ‘Bout time.”

“Yep. Also, James texted me. He said that y’all won the game and that he and the team wish you well. He wants you to text him back.”

“Eh, I’ll text him back tomorrow morning. I’m too exhausted right now.” He says, closing his eyes for a second. “But thanks for relaying the message, baby. Glad we won.”

You nod at him before moving off the bed to close his door and turn off the lights. When you get back in bed, Thomas speaks again.

“You know? On the phone, Erik said ‘no funny business,’ but honestly? Not like we haven’t done anythin’ in this bed already…”

Your jaw drops at his suggestive words and although they’re true, you push his shoulder lightly anyway. “Thomas!”

He chuckles softly, looking at you as you slip under the blankets with him. “It’s the truth.”

“I know but doesn’t mean you should say it like that.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. You can tell he’s still hurting deep inside. Thomas being alone with his thoughts in the shower must have gotten to him. You shift closer to him and he rests his head on your chest as you gently thread your fingers into his hair to massage his scalp.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly as you feel him rise and fall with every breath.

It’s an honest question that you’ve been wanting to know the answer to all night. His breathing is even and calm as he ponders his next words.

“You want the truth?” Thomas asks after a minute of silence.

“Always, T.”

Thomas wedges his arms under you to wrap them around your torso. He’s quiet for a few more seconds until he speaks again, his voice small.

“I’m scared, baby.”

You think about your next words carefully before you speak. “I think that’s normal, T. It’s okay to be scared.”

“Do you know how many careers end after an injury like mine?” He asks quietly, the vibrations of his voice reverberating on your chest. “I mean, I know the doc said I’d be better in six to eight weeks, but… who knows if I’ll be the same player? If I’ll be good enough again.”

“You will be.”

“What about college offers? What if no team wants me because of this fracture? Then, I won’t be able to market myself enough to go pro like my dad and I... I don’t think I could live with that, Y/N.”

“Hey, remember what I said in the locker room? One step at a time, baby. The NFL is a long way in the future, okay? Right now? Focus on healing yourself. Offers will come, but give them time. It’s still the beginning of the school year; you have time. You’re gonna get through this and you’re gonna be playing football again in no time. It’s probably gonna be a little difficult, but I know you can do it.”

You pull back to hold his face gently and look into his eyes which hold confliction within them once more. You can see the fear in them, the worry, and the flurry of emotions that he’s going through every second.

“You know why, T?” When Thomas shakes his head slightly, you continue. “Because you are Thomas Jefferson: the strongest guy I know. And I know that you won’t let anything get in the way of you achieving your goals.”

Silence stretches in the air for a few moments as your words sink in.

“And, T?” You start again before you give him a gaze that lets him know that you are absolutely sure of the next words you’re about to say. “Just know that I’ll be proud of you no matter what. I’m already proud of you and the person you are.”

He purses his lips, holding himself together as he closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to yours tenderly. His grip around your waist shakes slightly as he holds you tightly to him, as if he’s afraid you’ll let go.

Thomas cherishes moments like these with you — the fleeting moments where being with you gives him a sense of calm and peace. It’s night and day compared to the chaos he has to endure during practices and games with yelling coaches, teammates, and fans.

He loves football, though — he truly does. It’s been a constant in his life since the day he was brought into the world. Football has always been like his third parent; it’s taught him discipline, perseverance, and the importance of teamwork/family. Most of his crowning achievements thus far have been attributed to football and it’s something that he wants to stay in his life for the long-term future. Despite the fact that the sport has put him through more physical and mental pain than anything else, he’s still found a place for it in his heart.

But with you… with you Thomas has come to discover a different type of love. One that’s unconditional, unbreaking, and unforgiving. It’s the type of love that has him watching you with admiration at the most random moments. A certain kind of love that has him leaving home earlier in the mornings to pick you up from your house on his way to school just so he can spend a few extra minutes with you. It’s a love where he has completely, willingly given you his heart to do with as you please without him even really noticing.

So when you show Thomas your unconditional support by telling him that you believe in him, he cherishes that more than he would any compliment from a coach or recruiter.

As he sits here, with your hands in his hair and his forehead pressed against yours, feeling the warmest and most comfort he’s ever felt (despite the fact that he’s injured) — three little words pop up in his mind for what seems like the millionth time today amidst all the bad things he went through.

Not wanting to succumb to the stereotypes of teenage relationships where those three little words are thrown around like nothing, you and Thomas had elected early in your relationship that neither of you would say it until one is absolutely sure of it. Right now, Thomas has never been more sure of anything in his life. That’s when those three little words finally make their way to the tip of his tongue. And before he knows it, those words come tumbling out as a soft, breathless whisper.

“I love you.” He says, his eyes fluttering open so that he can firmly hold your gaze to let you know that he genuinely means it.

Thomas brings his slightly shaking hands up to gently press them against your cheeks so he can hold your face. He pulls back slightly and his eyes search yours. His voice is the most confident it’s been all night, but he doesn’t let it get louder than a murmur. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything, actually. I just want you to know that—”

“I love you, too, Thomas.” You whisper, cutting him off. “If it wasn’t obvious from my little speech before.”

Your words cause both you and Thomas to breathe out a quiet laugh as you hold one another. After a few moments, he leans in to press his warm lips to yours in a soft kiss.

When he pulls away, he hugs you close to him and the sound of each of your deep breaths soothe each other as you both edge closer towards sleep. This is the most tranquil Thomas has felt in a long time and he embraces the feeling fully. He doesn’t think about anything else for once. Just you and your presence and the sound of your even breathing.

It’s not long before both of you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

#Thomas Jefferson x Reader #thomas jefferson imagine #daveed x reader #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs imagine #jefferson x reader #tjeffs x reader #hamilton x reader #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction #high school au #football player au #wideout #injury tw #anxiety tw

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orbitariums · 5 years ago

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟒)

part three

note - i wanna thank everyone for reading once again! i'm currently in the process of writing imagines, those will be posted throughout the week, i don't want to clog up my blog bc i want y'all to see this chapter!

this one switches pov a lil more frequently, so bear with me <3 also not as smutty as other chapters, this is more of an emotionally-charged chapter!!! still a teensy bit smutty thooo. i want to make it clear that while this fic is definitely rooted in smut & sex & sex work, it is not porn without plot & will not ONLY be smut as i put effort and time into plot development / character development! i'm sure y'all know that tho. there will be conflict, there will be plot!!! i feel like that's clear already but there's discourse on smut happening rn and i wanna voice myself! omg anyways luv y'all enjoy the reaaad <3

new taglist!

playlist

word count - 8.3k

warnings - age gap, sex work, smut, vibrator, ANGSTYYY like hella dramatic, dirty talk

That slight shift that you and Steve both felt, that happiness that you realized came from talking to one another, only lasted so long... for you. You could hardly sit in your feelings about your situation with Steve before another thing that occupied all your time came crashing down upon you. Except this time, the thing brought you no such happiness or curiosity.

You had spent almost your entire senior year working on a special lab project about drought tolerant plants in Southern California where you lived and went to school, and your professor was making completing your project incredibly hard for you. And you felt incredibly stressed out about the entire situation - not only was the project necessary to graduate, but it was your heart and soul for the past year. Now, your professor was basically saying it was "ineligible."

"Ineligible?" Aaliyah repeated after you, after you told her what your professor had said.

"Whatever the hell that means," you huffed as you power walked down the street, hand in hand with Aaliyah, your free hand holding a coffee.

"That's so fucking annoying, holy shit," Aaliyah pressed a hand to her forehead. "He had the whole year to talk to you about changing your topic and...”

"And he never did," you sighed, frowning. You settled down onto a bench where the two of you sat next to each other, staring out into the busy streets and sipping your iced coffees.

California was a beautiful place, and you were a native, you'd lived there all your life. You knew the ins and outs of your city, knew Southern California like it was your backbone. And you loved it here - loved the sun, the beaches, the way the people were either shady in the best way or incredibly friendly. You'd never really known any other place like you knew this place. You were just glad that if you had to be stressed, you could do so in California.

Aaliyah pouted, feeling for you. She placed her hand on your knee to be comforting,

"Babe..."

"It's okay," you sighed. You sucked it up, like always, because you had learned how to fend for yourself ever since you realized that depending on others could only lead to downfall. You would figure this out the same way you figured everything else out... on your own. You figured out your house on your own, your job, your finances.

"Is it, though?" Aaliyah pursed her lips and squinted at you. Despite how much you tried to fend for yourself, Aaliyah was always there for you. She was one of your biggest supporters.

"I'll just keep visiting during his office hours and work this out."

Aaliyah rolled her eyes,

"Men are so annoying, girl. You know what, he probably wants to fuck you. With your fine ass. That's why he's doing all this."

You chuckled, shaking your head and covering your mouth, trilling back in response,

"Okay girl, don't get too ahead of yourself."

"I'm serious! Men are evil. Oh, except your fave."

You made a face, nearly choking on your iced coffee. This was news to you,

"Who are we talking about?"

"You know," Aaliyah sang slightly, nudging you and leaning against your shoulder. "Mr. Won't Show His Face."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but bit down on your straw with a knowing smile, eyes peeking out over the top of your shades. If you were being honest, this idea of Steve, whoever he really was, had been a fun thing to entertain during this period of stress. You'd been talking and engaging with him for two and a half weeks now, and the connection you two had was undeniable.

But you knew better - maybe he wasn't just another customer, because you could really talk to him and felt like he was real - then again, he was strictly a customer. You liked him, a lot, but you couldn't like him any more than you already did. That would be dangerous and silly, and create unrealistic expectations. It wasn't like you could go on dates or anything.

Still, talking to him (and performing for him) did help to distract you from your stress, at least for a small amount of time. Steve was becoming less shy, less inhibited. He cracked jokes and was starting to keep up with your innate sense of sexuality, starting to navigate you, find you the way a bee might find its nectar, hidden deep inside the curvatures of a flower.

If you were a flower, you'd probably be a sunflower - bright, yellow, almost always in a positive mood, or at least trying to keep yourself in a positive mood. More than that though, sunflowers were tall and looming - you felt like that represented your put togetherness and how hard you worked, how smart you were. Only sometimes it was hard to keep yourself up and tall, but you always did it, time and time again.

But when it came to Aaliyah's comments about Steve, she mostly just made you laugh.

"Haven't seen him yet, have you?" Aaliyah asked, raising her brows expectantly.

"No. And I'm fine with that. He's simply another very loyal customer who I happen to like."

"Hm," Aaliyah hummed, and you could tell her mind was up to something - some very wishful, and mischievous thinking.

"What are you up to?" you narrowed your eyes at her and glared at her, and she just shook her head with a lazy smile,

"Nothing. Just thinking that maybe it would be cool if he really was this really hot guy that you actually knew and he wasn't creepy and y'all... you know... started dating. Just to get your mind off a lot of crap. I know, I know, strictly against the rules, blah blah blah. No feelings for customers, it's basic shit. But in a perfect world..."

"I know," you sighed without thinking, sipping at your drink.

"You know?" Aaliyah questioned, surprised.

You shrugged,

"So I've thought about it. Except, you know, in a perfect world, I'd meet a guy like Steve in like, a farmer's market or something. Not on my shady ass cam shows."

Aaliyah snorted laughing, and at the sound of her laughter, you joined in.

You continued,

"I mean, not Steve exactly, because that would be weird. I just mean, a guy like Steve."

"You mean a guy who makes you feel the same way he makes you feel," Aaliyah corrected you, and you glared at her again, pushing her gently.

"Don't push it," you teased, but you meant it - you might have liked Steve, but that was all there was to it - you liked him, he was a distraction. And maybe even that was too much.

✺ ✺ ✺

As for Steve, he thoroughly enjoyed his time with you. He thought constantly about how you made him feel, how much he looked forward to talking to you. How everyday, his worry about your situation becoming more serious dissipated slowly. He could feel himself easing into you, everything that made up this character you created called Moonrose. Conversation seemed casual, like you knew each other in real life, it felt easy, and there was no pressure.

As for your connection, he had finally acknowledged that it was real, and more than either of you had wanted to realize at first. But now, there was no shame, no worry in acknowledging what the two of you had, because you were both smart enough to keep it at this level. It was like a shallow pool. There would be no drowning.

He mostly talked to Bucky about you when it came to the emotional aspect of it. He still feared that if he talked to Tony, it might come across as an issue, and might put a pause on what he had with you. But everyone noticed how different Steve was acting. Even without the phase he had gone through where he was sexually frustrated and angry, he still acted different.

Lighter on his feet, more smiley. And he was always on top of his work. You weren't distracting him from his duty, so that made the fact that he knew you had a unique connection with him more bearable. Because of you, he was learning to worry less. To have a little more fun.

It was a bright day that week, the sun filtering in through the large windows of the meeting room where everyone was gathered. Steve was engaging in some mindless conversation with Sam and Bucky in which they were debating whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza.

"No. I'm not sure why everyone keeps trying to put all these twists on pizza. It's pizza," Bucky scoffed, Sam rolling his eyes as a result.

"You're just closed off. With your old ass," Sam retorted, and Steve made a face. Sam raised his hands up in surrender. "You know what I mean. What about you Steve?"

Honestly, Steve had never even tried pineapple on pizza and he didn't understand why there was such a big fuss about the banal question.

"I don't really have an opinion," he shrugged, not expecting Sam and Bucky to start clamoring over him and trying to force him to pick a side.

Before he even got to grasp the situation, he felt Natasha patting his shoulder,

"Hey, mind if I use your laptop? Mine's gone haywire, don't really feel like messing with it right now."

"Yeah," Steve agreed without a second thought, setting his laptop on the table and letting Natasha handle it- she was better with tech stuff than he ever was.

Natasha would use his laptop to showcase some data and start off their morning. It seemed innocent enough —a simple, barely impacting sacrifice. But Steve clearly hadn't thought everything through, because the moment Natasha logged in and hooked up Steve's computer to the holographic projector, more than just data appeared on the screen.

In fact, a whole array of women, all of them engaging in various sexual acts or preparing themselves to, showed up on the screen. And at the top, where the browser was, were the words "girlsonfilm.com."

Steve hadn't noticed all the clamor, too busy thinking (thoughts of you and thoughts of work), until Bucky called it to his attention.

"Steve," he nudged him frantically, his voice a loud whisper.

When Steve looked up at the screen, his face couldn't have gone any redder. He hadn't thought about this at all, and he had clearly forgotten to close out his browser. His heart sunk all the way to his stomach - because it wasn't just Natasha seeing this, it was everybody. And that included Tony, who was glaring pointedly at Steve from the head of the table. Meanwhile, all the others were too busy heckling Natasha and making brash comments about what was appearing onscreen. To Steve's relief, your face didn't show up, but this just might have been worse than only your screen appearing.

"Woah, Nat, I didn't know you got down like that!" Sam hooted, cupping his mouth with his hands.

Natasha, though she was in shock as well, rolled her eyes,

"This is Steve's laptop."

Now a hush, then another clamor of confusion and heckling, all directed towards Steve. He couldn't recoil any more, feeling the pangs of embarrassment as his eyes flashed between every one of his teammates. He felt as if there were an asteroid approaching fast, and he was right where it would land, too slow to move out of its way.

"Steve, what do you know about 'girls on film'?" Sam nearly cackled, reading the name of the site.

Steve sighed deeply, locking eyes with Natasha as he mouthed "turn it off" to her.

"I am, I am," she ensured him, quickly disconnecting the laptop from the projection, unplugging completely.

A beat passed, everyone staring expectantly at Steve, who was staring down at the table, trying to process his own thoughts. Like for starters, why didn't he log out the last time, and why didn't he remember to log out? And then his mind went to deeper places. He hadn't been intentionally secretive with his actions, but he had been intentionally private. It had to do with his own growth, he was learning how to navigate a world that was new to him and somehow helping him at once. He didn't want to have to share this with everyone, it was nice having this to himself, he had no intentions of revealing what he had been doing in his past time that made him so happy.

One of the reasons he didn't want everyone to know about his situation was because he didn't want to have to be concerned with what everyone else might think. Because to begin with, being on a site for cam shows wasn't exactly everyone's idea of what Captain America might be up to these days.

It was a matter of his image, what values he was supposed to hold. This didn't exactly match, and Steve had just gotten over the idea that he was a bad, sneaky person because of what he chose to indulge in. At least here he knew it was ethical and not causing harm to you as a human being.

He also didn't want to have to deal with the insufferable questioning and teasing his team would put him through, or the judgment he thought they might put him through. He felt embarrassed, exposed, and like he had been ill prepared for a situation like this. He was just grateful they hadn't seen more, because that would've been a disaster. What they had seen was only at the surface level of what he'd been doing.

But his thinking was interrupted by Tony's voice, which broke through all the silence, and made Steve realize again the eyes that were on him.

"Well, jig's up," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Care to explain?"

Steve locked eyes with Tony, as if hopeful that he wouldn't have to, but he knew it was best for him to just spit it out. Tony shrugged apologetically, and Steve took in a deep sigh, looking around at everyone at the table.

"What was that?" Scott whimpered, probably the most distraught by what they had all seen.

Steve nodded solemnly and began to explain himself. He would tell the truth, but that didn't mean he had to tell them everything. You would be left out of this, if anything. He'd just explain to them that sometimes, duty calls - and sometimes, it's not at all work-related.

✺ ✺ ✺

It was just hours before your cam show when another disaster struck, the first one being the fact that your professor was giving you shit about your project. You were in the bathroom, getting ready for your show, fixing your hair up and doing your makeup, laying out an outfit, doing all the things you did to feel pretty before a show.

Your phone lay beside you on the bathroom table, pinging with messages every now and then. You ignored it, leaning closer into the mirror to get a look at your lipstick, dabbing your fingers into the pigment on your lips.

You smiled, feeling that gratifying sense of achievement. Despite what was going on with your professor, you felt like you were doing well in life. You usually had a positive mindset, enjoyed your work although you sometimes felt as if you were buried deep in all your occupations: student, office worker, cam girl, designer, young woman. Your life was never dull, and you wouldn't trade it for anything. Talking to Steve helped too, but it was more than that.

But that sense of satisfaction all seemed to dissolve when you looked down at your phone, and saw a text from an unsaved number, glaring bright on your glowing lock screen of you hiking with Aaliyah. Still, you recognized it immediately.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

I miss you. Text me back.

✺ ✺ ✺

Steve wasn't exactly keen on joining your live show today, but he did so anyway, because he still had time to himself despite the spiral of events that had happened earlier. There was nothing else to do, and he didn't want to miss out on you after attending almost all of your shows for the past almost three weeks. Didn't want to just leave unexpectedly.

It felt strange that he felt this tug of commitment, but he brushed it off. He was just fulfilling his needs, which should even be expected of him. He was stressed again, after being caught up like he was. And maybe that was all the more reason not to watch your show tonight, but he wouldn't devoid himself of the simple pleasures of life. He'd learned that lesson a while ago, from a special someone called Moonrose.

After everything transpired, he explained himself calmly to his team, slowly to ensure that they'd understand that this wasn't the beginning of a deviant phase, that he wasn't throwing away his work responsibilities to lurk on the NSFW side of the internet. Not that they ever thought that to begin with, they never questioned his abilities or his authority for a minute, not even in the midst of what they'd seen that had shocked them.

This was the product of Steve's own insecurities and his admittedly silly fear that he was somehow letting his team down. He told them that he was on the site, as recommended by Tony, to relieve some "frustration" that he felt he didn't have the time or the means to release in real life. He said that while it had helped him do that, he wasn't throwing away his responsibilities, nor was he dependent on the site or the things on it, or the people on it for that matter.

He knew that if they knew about you, all those private sessions, all those conversations you'd had, the connection you had built between the two of you, it might be a different story. But because they didn't, they appreciated his honesty. They were confused, it didn't seem like the kind of thing Steve would be into, and he ensured them that it was a shock to him as well.

But they didn't mind on the whole, it was just a shock to everyone at first. They didn't think it called for a meeting, thought it was almost humorous how serious Steve was being about such a trivial situation. Wanda had joked about how we've all been there, Thor denied ever having to do such a thing because: "I have all the romantic partners anyone could ask for. I could introduce you Steve, but these Asgardian women are fiery, far beyond anything I believe you could handle." In the end, Steve was relieved, felt like it didn't have the disastrous outcome he'd been expected.

But he could feel his guard slowly coming back up. That was a close call, and it was a little too close for comfort. He didn't want to disregard you, but he couldn't afford to sink further in, and get his team involved. He just didn't want to face the consequences he could imagine if they knew how much he decided to stick with you, how much you talked, how it was teetering off the range of normal customer to cam girl interaction.

It wasn't like he was careless when it came to his interactions with you, but he also didn't want his team to know about his business when it came to you. He didn't want them thinking he was engaging too much, didn't want it to get to the point where he was worrying again or felt like he needed to deny himself such wonderful feelings.

All these things were on his mind while he waited for your live show to start. When it did, and he saw your face, he felt a little bit alleviated. Just for now, he could have this fantasy to himself. If they knew about the site, so be it. At least he had you to himself.

"Hey guys," you mustered a smile, waving to the camera.

Unbeknownst to your viewers, you had spent the past few hours off camera panicking, on the verge of tears, calling Aaliyah frantically so she could help calm you down. That text from that mysterious unknown number had been from your ex's number. The same ex who made you fall into dependency patterns that you worked so hard to get out of, the one who made you feel like you had to work for his love. Like it wasn't something you deserved, just like anyone else.

You had worked so hard to finally wring out all the effects of him, all the bad habits you had fallen into because of him. That was part of the reason why you worked so hard. Not because you were actively avoiding him specifically, but because you were actively bettering yourself. You weren't looking for a relationship. But you knew that if you were in one now, the same things would never happen to you.

When you got that text, it triggered a flood of memories. Feelings you had to work to suppress and actually get over for months so you wouldn't fall back into the same desperate, needy patterns when it came to your relationships with people. All over a simple text from someone you hadn't heard from in almost a year. It hurt you how easy it was to get you to crack, even if you didn't spill out all the way. But on top of the added stress because of school, you were damn close.

You would do the show tonight, anyway. It helped you to escape, although Moonrose was a part of you, it didn't one hundred translate into real life. So in a way, this helped you escape real life. Just for a while. Just like Steve.

You grinned when you saw concerned comments from your watchers:

johnGuy182

Are you okay, moonrose? You seem a little sad.

zenongirl

Girl r u ok? i missed seeing your face!!!

"Guys, I'm okay," you grinned. And you actually felt better seeing comments from your supporters. It reminded you to cheer up - they were looking for a good show, not a sob story. You leaned back, revealing your stomach in the sheer, sparkly fringed bra you chose to wear (another piece you had designed by yourself). "It's been a looong day."

Steve watched silently, observing your behavior. He didn't notice drastic changes, but you did appear less chipper. Then again, he brushed it off. He didn't expect you to be smiley all the time, you were human too, and this was your work.

"But I'm okay," you reassured, giving that signature grin, genuine and charming and alluring. You were trying to gently distract yourself, get into your act. "I hope you're all just as lovely as I am. I have a special game for you today."

You directed your viewers to your spinning wheel, which you had been working on crafting that week for a game. You grinned as you spinned it. Each act on the wheel cost a certain amount of tokens, and by the end of the game you would garner a bunch of funds. The show went by relatively quickly as you played the game, eventually ending up completely naked.

As ordered by the spinning wheel, you were to use a vibrator. You held it against your clit at the highest setting as you watched the numbers of viewers and the tokens jump up, Steve watching as he stroked himself leisurely. Your legs shook as you restrained yourself from your orgasm so as to increase the length of your showtime, garner more coins to encourage you to come.

"Mm," you moaned, massaging the vibrator against your clit, getting wetter and slicker by the minute, sliding the toy between your folds. You laughed, breathless. "Fuck, this thing is so powerful. Someone make me come, please make me come. Just a few more tokens for me to come for you."

Steve was hesitant, but he decided to go ahead and give you the amount of tokens you needed. And when you heard the chime of the tokens being added to your account, and saw the name it was attached to, it was like a blast of euphoria. When your legs started to shake, when you started to moan and your stomach started to rise up and down, it was genuine. It was like you were back in a private room with him, although you weren't.

Your orgasm was blood-curdling in the best way, and you felt like you were releasing part of the stress of the past day, the past week. It didn't get any realer than this, once again you felt like he was really there to satisfy you.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, your mouth dropping open and your blood flowing, moaning. "Yes, Steve, I'm coming for you. Thank you for making me come, Steve!"

Steve had been stroking himself along with you as he watched, and only let himself come now that you had come, his cheeks heating up as he heard you moan his name, something he hadn't been expected. Something about you saying his name like that where everyone could hear, even though he enjoyed the intimacy of private rooms, felt victorious. It felt lewd, salacious, but he couldn't help but enjoy that aspect of it. He moaned through grit teeth while he came, stroking himself to completion.

You came down, thanking everyone for attending and ending the show. But it wasn't long after that you had requested Steve for a private chat. He accepted, because he had gotten used to you doing this a little more frequently. It didn't scare him any more, he just thought of it as making conversation, taking advantage of this connection you had with each other. So when you requested, who was he to say no.

When the chat log opened, you put on your best happy face for Steve, trying to conceal how fatigued this week, today in particular, had made you. But your tired, bleak voice gave it all away, buried deep beneath your smile,

"Hey, Steve."

Steve was surprised at the sound of your voice. Again, while he understood that you wouldn't be a happy go lucky fairy like personality all the time, he wasn't expecting this. You were smiling, but the weariness in your eyes was hard to miss. And your voice, which usually told light hearted tales, sounded worn down as if from tragedy. He was concerned, his eyebrows furrowed gently,

"Hi. How are you?"

"I'm good!" you exclaimed, trying your hardest to really sound "good."

But you were just tired. Tired and sad, and scared - scared of what the future had to hold. You were already dealing with school stress, and the text from your ex-boyfriend was like a bad omen, an anxiety-provoking assurance that things actually would not get better and they would in fact get progressively worse. You weren't even sure why you thought you should be talking to Steve if you were tired and just wanted to sleep off the weight of the week. It would be a weekend tomorrow, and one of your very rare days off.

Maybe you figured that you wanted to talk to him despite your fatigue, because conversation with Steve was a nice distraction. You had let yourself forget that this was still your job, and that you were too tired for anything sexual — you knew he liked talking to you, but you hadn't put into consideration the fact that he might request a sexual act from you. You would be burnt out if he did. The fact that you didn't think about that should've been telling, but your brain was too scattered to think straight.

Anyway, Steve called your bluff, and laughed quietly, his voice inquiring and pressing,

"How are you really?"

That was all it took to get a deep sigh to come from out of you, all it took to allow yourself to show your true feelings, at least the surface of them, what you felt comfortable showing a customer. You felt a sense of relief and gratefulness for Steve, like he was letting you breathe. And if anything, he especially wasn't enlisted to listen to your problems. But he wanted to, and for that you felt foolishly grateful.

Steve noted the deep sigh that came from out of you, and he frowned slightly. He could tell you had been holding this in for a while, and some part of him felt remorse for the fact that even though you clearly weren't in the right mindset, you went on and did your show anyway. He felt some guilt for being a part of the reason why you did your show.

You answered, allowing your voice to be as honest as possible.

"Honestly?" you chuckled a little, albeit bitterly. "I don't know if you really want to hear me rant to you."

Steve shook his head.

"Don't be silly," he grinned. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

You felt a warm rush in your chest from the reassurance, and the corner of your lip quirked up in a small smile, before you decided to dive in. You'd spare the emotional details, spare your private life. But it would be nice to talk to someone, just about the general things, right?

"Well, it's been a pretty stressful week, honestly. I mean, school's been the main source of my stress. My professor's such an asshole, he's basically been telling me my entire senior project, which I need to complete to graduate, needs to be redone? And I can't even fathom how I would have enough time to do that with like, two and a half months left of my senior year. I mean, he said I can keep most details, but I'd have to rework it, whatever that means."

You kept your emotions at bay, sighing in annoyance just at the story you told, because it really was irritating you. But then you felt deeper things, even more went into why you really were upset.

Steve nodded, just listening. He was prepared to offer advice, but in your situation, he thought that maybe just letting you rant would be best.

"That's gotta be annoying," he shook his head understandingly. "Whatever your project is, I'm sure it's wonderful. He shouldn't be forcing you to rework it or make any last minute changes."

"I know!" you nearly jumped up, feeling amped up now. "And it's just so fucking annoying because I work so hard and I'm really passionate about this project and it just feels like..."

It felt like you were about to overflow, like a pot of water that had been left on for too long. You were ranting almost uncontrollably now, maybe because of the fact that it was more than this that was tugging at you. Because you'd been carrying the weight of your life on your shoulders all the time, like Atlas carrying the sky, and it felt like that weight was finally starting to mean something.

Steve could see you were unraveling and he let you, he let you take the time you needed to feel everything you had been holding. If your connection was strong, it was at its strongest here. Sure, you and Steve chatted about a little bit of everything, even had deeper conversations here and there as the weeks went by. But you had yet to genuinely complain to him, because every time you spoke with him, you were happy go lucky Moonrose, with nothing to complain about to begin with. But now, you needed a release by any means, and you were just glad Steve was there for you, even if he wasn't really there. How unlike you to unfold in front of strangers.

Your breath stuttered as you took in a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm down, only further driving yourself into your rambling. You felt yourself tear up, your voice becoming watery as you continued,

"It just feels like all my work is turning to shit, and it's so fucking frustrating because I work so hard all the time, I do so much and I manage so much all the time."

The "hard work" you were talking about wasn't just school and work-related, it pertained to your journey, and how hard you had worked to be a better person. To support yourself. The emotions pent up inside of you, they were more than just being upset over a school project. The idea of someone toxic trying to re-enter your life, someone who had forced you to rework the entirety of your life, made you feel like you were on the verge of crashing. You knew better, but you didn't want to return to those dark days, where the light at the end of the winding tunnel that was your relationship seemed so far away. It was why you were so weary of relationships today. It was crazy how one person could change your life so easily.

Now you were crying, before you even noticed that you were crying. Tears just seemed to leak out of your eyes, sloshing wet and sudden against your cheeks and underneath your lashes. You wiped them away quickly with the back of your hand, frazzled at the fact that you were crying in front of a customer right now. Steve said he'd listen to you, he didn't say he'd watch you cry and be your therapist. You instantly regretted it, although you couldn't stop yourself, tears threatening to emerge again. If you were cracked before, you were spilling now.

Steve was surprised too, at the fact that you were crying. You appeared so put together to him, it was almost something he didn't expect from you. He was in shock at first, so much so that professionalism was not on his mind - it was an afterthought. Right now, instead of wondering if this was appropriate, he was occupied with you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, but you still hadn't stopped, tears falling out as you blinked. Composure was nothing now, you were sobbing, your shoulders slumped and your head hung as you sniffled. Still you enforced control, wiping away every tear that fell with the back of your hand. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to cry to you over this, that's so-"

Steve cut you off, shaking his head slowly,

"It's okay to cry, doll. We all have those days. I know better than anyone that we all have those days."

You mustered a smile, feeling cared for, feeling accounted for by someone who wasn't even obligated to have to see you like this. Still you shook your head, sniffling,

"I know. But it's-it's stupid, I shouldn't be crying in front of you."

"I'm not judging you," Steve said, so nonchalantly and firmly, so genuine that it almost scared you.

You blinked. He should've cared, and he should've judged you. To cry in front of Steve, a customer, was to imply he had some duty to comfort you when he probably just wanted a show. You knew that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but even you had rules when it came to what your customers got to see, and to you, that meant they didn't have to deal with your blues.

"Really?"

"Really," he reassured you with a nod.

Was Steve scared that by giving you this reassurance, this entire situation could become deeper than either of you could handle? Yes. But did he let himself shut down because of those pervasive thoughts that he might get himself into trouble? No. He didn't see you as a liability right now. Right now, even though the situation was certainly questionable (and this was something he had no doubt about. When emotions get into the mix, things could get tricky- he knew this), he saw you as someone who desperately needed someone to talk to. Maybe it wasn't smart of you to make him that someone, but regardless, he was, and who was Steve Rogers not to listen to a person in need?

You blinked away the last of your tears and swallowed hard. You were making this choice consciously, to tell Steve what had really gotten you to your breaking point. And maybe telling him meant you had trust in him, maybe too much trust for someone who, while great, was still a customer. But you felt like there was nothing you could lose from telling him. Maybe you'd even feel better after the fact.

You looked down, picking at the body glitter on your arm that you had applied before the show. Your voice was considerably quieter now perhaps because you were looking back on the moment with a clear mind for the first time since it happened. You hadn't been thinking straight ever since you received the text just hours ago. Now your brain was a little quieter with the help of your tears and Steve's reassurance.

"I think that the stress of this school project is making me resent how hard I work for everything, just to be met with this kind of result, you know? And it's even worse when... things seem to be going backwards. You know, like when you make so much progress, moving on from things that don't serve you, and you've finally done it and you get to flourish in it and then, it just gets taken away from you. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but that's just how this feels."

Steve nodded, his jaw ticking as he let your words settle in. Somehow, although your situation was so different from his, he felt like your words perfectly described how he felt with the world sometimes. It was even part of the reason he'd held off on talking to you like this, held off on getting too involved. He too had made so much progress in this world, which took so much getting adjusted to in a way that absolutely nobody else could relate to.

It was a world that he didn't even know, a world that he had never been properly introduced to. He'd had to fend for himself. He did his healing on his own, just like you had. And yet sometimes it felt like he had no control, like the universe was going the opposite way of all his plans. Then he felt stupid for even having plans to begin with, because in life, making plans was like comedy for the gods.

There was a weird feeling in his chest and stomach, like he'd been stabbed with a gutting realization, and the knife was just turning inside of him, churning his insides. He began to feel a sense of unease, because this deep conversation was beginning to feel incredibly personal. Even though you were talking about your own situation, he couldn't help but think about how much he resonated, and the fact that he felt like he could relate to you on such a deep level scared him. This was more than the conversations you'd had before, more than the simple similarities you and Steve shared. This felt like a conversation that might be too telling for his good and your own.

He swallowed his words as he listened to you continue. You chose your words carefully, but you had shed yourself of your inhibitions when it came to being truthful.

"Earlier... I heard from someone I hadn't heard from in a long time. And it kind of pushed me over the edge," out of your mouth stumbled a laugh. You were calmer now, and looked up at the camera, Steve swallowing hard when you did so. It was all so real, just like it was when you touched yourself and moaned Steve's name. "I think it just made me feel all those things I just explained. Because I feel like I worked so hard to rid myself of this person and them trying to come back just feels like all the things I worked so hard on are going to unravel. Even though I know they aren't, it feels like a setback. And that was like, the icing on the cake to this already terrible day, I guess."

You let out a breathy laugh and smiled gently, shaking your head slowly.

"I normally wouldn't be telling this to a customer. But here we are. Again, I'm sorry... I feel like I shouldn't have said anything? Should I... have said anything?"

In the brief silence that followed your question, both you and Steve were thinking the same thing - were you going to regret this? Intimacy both physically and emotionally was good when you capped it at what you both knew to be appropriate. When it came to the physical aspects, you each let your fantasies unwind.

And on the emotional aspect, though you had both grown closer and more open, some things just didn't get touched upon. But now you had just cried over the screen, and spoke from the depths of your heart. It was scary to open up in such an uncertain situation where your own privacy was an aspect that got involved. There was no doubt that it was too much. It was just a question of whether the result would be negative.

Steve sighed deeply, a crease forming in his forehead as he furrowed his brows together, folding his arms over his chest.

"I don't know..." he trailed off, took a breath, a leap, his body practically lurching forward. "But... it can't be a bad thing that you feel comfortable talking to me about this, can it?"

And there it was, that glint of hope he was trying his hardest to conceal. That feeling he got when he got off that call with you, the one where you both started giving into those unspoken thoughts. That this couldn't be so bad, that you could enjoy each other's company without worrying.

You smiled gently,

"I guess. It does feel weird though, it's not something I normally do. It feels like something I shouldn't be doing."

You could hear Steve breathing in deeply, and for a moment, you imagined what he might look like, envisioning the outline of a troubled face, eyebrows knit together. You snapped back to reality and made a face, confused by your abrupt thoughts. You had long gotten over the very brief desire to see Steve's face- why was it coming back again?

"I'll be honest, same here," Steve agreed with your sentiments.

"Do you always feel like you have to restrain what you say when you talk to people? Or is it just with me?" you added that last part in a quiet voice, biting your lip.

Steve chuckled briefly,

"Are you asking me if I have trust issues? Because I'd tell you, but I'd have to trust you to do that."

You shook your head and laughed at Steve's stupid joke, and shrugged.

"I could say the same thing, I think. This person I heard from earlier is... I developed those trust issues because of them. Or, my already existent trust issues became worse. But what's funny about it is that this person was once someone that I loved," even as the words were coming out you questioned why you were letting them, why you were allowing yourself to be so truthful in a situation like this at a time when you were so vulnerable.

Steve didn't reply, again feeling that sick feeling in his stomach that stemmed from his fear. The fear that this conversation were too serious, fear surrounding the fact that he was able to relate so much to such a personal situation of yours.

You spoke again, daring to ask the question that felt like a final blow to Steve's stomach,

"Have you ever been in love, Steve?"

Now Steve knew he was in uncharted territory. Not because he feared you might try to exploit him, but because he was so struck by the fact that he had allowed himself to feel so safe with you and get so close to you. He was surprised at himself for letting you feel safe enough to have these kinds of conversations with him. It all felt like a mistake now. He wanted a way out, any way out. He knew if he even attempted to answer that question, he would be making a big mistake. He had shared some of his most intimate moments with you, but always keeping in mind a very sharp line he didn't want to be crossed.

And in his mind, he thought of the one love he'd had, the one love that hadn't been fulfilled because of the situation he had been thrown into, one he had never signed up for. He thought of how the things he cared most for in life had been discarded, how, like you, he felt like it had gone to shit. How sometimes, though he tried his best to be grateful and had taken that journey of self-healing just like you, it all felt like some sick joke.

Could he even call it love? He wasn't sure. And he wasn't going to answer. He wasn't going to answer at all, because he wouldn't be talking to you again. There would be no chance for this dilemma to resurface, not with you, not on this site. He made the decision with haste and a heavy heart - he was done here.

The discomfort was well evident in his voice, answering loud and clear, though his voice was morose and a bit closed off. You sensed the shift immediately.

"I... I can't talk about that right now. Listen, I have to go."

You felt a pang in your chest at the sudden switch in his demeanor, straightening up and trying not to frown. All this time you had been letting the words spill out, telling yourself not to worry so much, reassuring yourself it was okay to make your feelings known. Now it felt like you should've never said anything at all. You started to stammer.

"Oh, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I was just... I feel like I got a little overwhelmed." You laughed nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Steve felt his throat ran dry as he blinked, feeling emotions come up to surface that he wasn't quite familiar with. Maybe he was grieving in advance, regretting the decision he was making to no longer speak with you, regretting the fact that he was letting fear get in the way of what he wanted so badly to be a good thing.

"No, I'm sorry. I feel like I let things go too far," Steve apologized, but the apology felt more like an insult.

Was he implying that whatever this was, you couldn't handle it, and that it was his fault for somehow leading you on? You had both made the connection with each other, it was an equal effort. And why was he acting like the two of you communicating at all was somehow below him, somehow a risk? If anything, you were the one risking it just by talking to him the way you did. You were opening up to him.

You almost felt betrayed - you had convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to listen to your problems and you told yourself it wasn't his responsibility to listen. And then he listened anyway, told you that he wanted to hear it, and you cried to him. You felt like you had made so many unusual accommodations just for him to scare off like this. He was just another person you had expressed your feelings to, only to regret it in the end.

"Too far?" you questioned, furrowing your brows.

Steve swallowed. In your voice he could hear a hint of frustration, but even worse- hurt. It pained him more than he cared for you to know.

"I don't think we should talk anymore," he said instead.

"What?" you were taken by surprise. "Steve, I'm... I'm not understanding. I... I don't usually open up to people like this, I mean, I thought maybe it was fine here, because I feel like I know you. But you're still a stranger. I understand you're a customer but I thought we were talking, I thought we broke through that wall-"

"We did. And we shouldn't have," Steve said, his voice so calm and firm that it was almost cold.

By now you were just staring into the computer camera, as if you were looking at him and waiting for him to come to his senses. But as you did that, you slowly came to your own. Because you weren't looking at him. You were looking at a black screen with his voice behind it. You realized you hadn't known Steve, not enough to talk about these things. And just like him, you too were full of regret. You kept all those walls up for the sake of customer relations, only to put them down and be met with this disastrous result.

Steve almost couldn't bare to look at your face anymore. You were confused, hurt. He could tell you regretted the fact that you had opened up. He was hurt too, but he wouldn't show it, or let it overcome him to the point where your methods of communication with each other became something neither of you could control. Still, yes, he was hurt.

But he had been through plenty of hardships in life. What was one more, even if it shouldn't have come to this point anyway?

"I'm sorry, Moonrose. We can't. Goodbye."

Chat over.

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert #reader insert #smut #captain america civil war #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america smut #captain america #girls on film #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel reader insert #steve rogers series #captain america series

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wretchedbitch · 4 years ago

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yea ik it’s been like 3 weeks since I finished the mandalorian but I finally wanna be cranky on main about chapter 15

bc no one else seems to be talking about it

I just ??????? okay.

For the most part, I enjoyed the episode. The fighting was cool, Bill Burr makes me laugh, and I think Mayfeld’s arc in the episode and the perspective put on the Empire and Imperial troopers was VERY cool. Like, to hear hero music for Imperial troopers because they’ve come to the rescue of our disguised heroes? That is some of the coolest shit I’ve seen come out of a property like Star Wars.

...But I think the scene where Din takes his helmet off (and has to sit with it off for like, 5-7 minutes) is the laziest writing the entire series has had to offer. Which is SUCH a bummer.

Let’s look at the scene:

Mayfeld is supposed to go up to the...let’s say, “coordinate kiosk” because I’m too lazy to look up specifics atm. Only he can’t, because he’s afraid of being recognized by his former superior. Okay, so far so good. This looks like some expected conflict to me. Now, maybe it’s just my sci-fi trained brain, familiar with genre tropes where facial recognition tech is an issue for the infiltrating hero because they need the face or the finger print or the retina of someone on the inside to get the information they need. Because, at this point, I’m expecting the conflict of “Mayfeld can’t do it” to turn into an adventure of getting the coordinates some other way.

But, when the kiosk remains their only option and Din elects to get the coordinates himself and the conflict then becomes: “oh, you can’t do it not because you don’t have imperial credentials, but because it’s against your creed to remove your helmet” the scene really starts to fall apart for me.

Don’t get me wrong; I understand that every episode prior to this (and even Mayfeld’s conversation with Din earlier that same episode) has exposed Din to some alternative ideas and thinking about what it means to be a (good) Mandalorian. I actually think that is a VERY cool track to put his character on as he meets other Mandalorians and eventually becomes accidental king of Mandalore (however it is they choose to explore and continue that). So, I’m not mad about Din eventually taking his helmet off, on his own terms, and for Grogu’s sake. The series sets him up for that! It tracks! But, I’m having a really hard time buying that imperial, or ex-imperial, or whatever access is granted to anyone with a face. Like???

It’s 👏🏻 bad 👏🏻 writing !!! 👏🏻

Think of some OTHER reason he has to take his helmet off for Grogu (if you need two in a season THAT bad) !!!!

To make matters even WORSE, Din has to take his helmet off because Mayfeld is so worried about being recognized by Valin Hess but then he waltzes in front of the man to cover Din’s ass anyway.

For a character like Din, whose pretty defined by his dedication and loyalty to the way of the Mandalorian (as he knows it), and his insistence to covering his face (TO THE POINT OF LIKE, ACCEPTING DEATH OVER A FACE REVEAL C. S1 FINALE), this moment should have been handled with WAY more TLC. Season one finale? Where IG-11 says “I am no living thing” ????? Not a goddamn plot hole in sight. That shit was TIGHT. That was THE way to give us Din’s face after 8 episodes of buildup (not to mention resolve his established distrust with droids. GOOD! SHIT!).

In order to make this a proper compliment sandwich, Mayfeld having to cover Din was funny. “Brown Eyes” is FUNNY. That dynamic of exposed, awkward, and uncomfortable Din saved by fast talking Mayfeld? GOOD CONTENT. I’d even argue to say it adds something to Din’s character and how out of his element he was standing there bare faced when we’ve seen him as such a skilled, smart, and intuitive fighter up to this point. I will even give Pedro Pascal the highest of praise with his performance there, really selling that discomfort and vulnerability because even though my disbelief was spent, my heart was racing because despite my disappointment, the moment was tense.

But man ... that shit was whack.

#hannah talks #the mandalorian #any1 else as bummed out as I am : ' )

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 5 years ago

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The Couple Next Door IV (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part III Here

A/N: Happy Early Valentine’s Day, Y’all! I wrote a lot for the next part of this series, so I decided to split them up in two chapters. I’m posting this one tonight, and the other will be up at some point tomorrow afternoon.

This chapter is in 3rd Person Omniscient for Rogie like the previous one, and the reader will not be in this chapter but the next one, so I apologize if it’s not that good.

Don’t forget to show your support and enjoyment for the fic by leaving likes, comments, and reblogging!

Summary: Roger has a chat with the band, and does some more thinking.

(Roger can be Ben Hardy!Rog or Real!Rog. Whatever stirs your soup.)

WARNINGS: Swearing, s l o w b u r n, Mentions of sex (BuT nO sMuT [yet(?)]), no revision and editing bc I’m lazy, I think that’s it.

This one is leaning more towards an M rating than a T, so read at your own risk.

“Eh… no no no. Take it from the top. Roger?”

The blond looked through the window to Freddie, who just made it to the practice.

He was wearing some ridiculous flashy outfit as usual, a pair of massive white sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose while an equally distracting burgundy coat made its presence known on the singer’s shoulders. Whether he wore a shirt underneath is still a mystery.

In his right hand, Freddie held a steaming hot cup of tea, gripped tight by his long fingers, each nail painted black. From the waist down, although he couldn’t see, Roger wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was wearing booty shorts.

"You okay, Love?“

He only responded with a simple thumbs up, and an unenthusiastic look on his face; and although Fred didn’t seem too convinced, the music started playing, and Roger tried his part again.

"Been out of the flow all morning,” Brian informed the frontman, biting his thumbnail and crossing his legs from the wall he leaned against. “He got here, and didn’t count us in the first few times we played. Figured he needed some time to play for himself.”

"Hm,“ Freddie acknowledged, taking a peek at some loose papers scattered around the control desk and taking a sip of his tea.

"And how long ago did you two decide this?“

"Forty five minutes ago,” John grumbled at his spot at the control desk, legs crossed, and head propped up with his hand in bore.

"We tried confronting him and he’s not speaking,“ Brian explained. “Gave you a call and no one answered the phone. We assumed you were on your way.”

Freddie looked around the room, and he pointed at the second, empty seat at the control desk. “Where’s–”

After another timing mistake, Roger flung his drumstick towards the window, shouting profanities when the stick just riccoched and hit him right back, and startling the other three men in the process.

"… Y/n,“ Freddie finished carefully, eyes wide and focused on Roger’s movements.

"We both assume she’s got somethin’ to do with it. He won’t say anything.” John mumbled with a shrug.

Freddie pursed his lips, and sighed, scanning the control desk for the PA system’s button.

"Rog, my Love. Just… put the drumsticks down.“

Roger, who was about to send his second drumstick against the wall to meet the fate his first one did, lowered his arm slowly to his side, eyeing his band’s frontman in the window, who was twiddling his fingers at him.

"Good. Now, come on in here. We’re all gonna sit down. Have a chat.“

Roger’s shoulders slumped, and he left the recording room so he could regroup with his three other bandmates. Roger just frowned. Just as he suspected, Freddie was sporting a pair of body shorts.

Freddie moved his eyes from Roger to the empty seat next to John.

The drummer dropped into the chair, letting it roll him a little bit away from the staring eyes of the others.

"The others here tell me you’ve been a little… upset, since you’ve been here this morning."

Roger scoffed, and tried to stand from his chair, but Freddie dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know there’s something wrong,” Freddie quietly mumbled. “We just wanna help you. Tell us what’s wrong, and you’re helping us, too.”

Roger chewed the inside of his cheek, looking guiltily towards John and Brian. “… Hope you know I didn’t mean to shout earlier, yeah?"

"Kind of assumed so, yeah,” John offered a kind smile, to which Roger tried to return, but he just looked uncomfortable.

"It’s uh… it’s just, um…“

"Is… y'know… is y/n okay?”

Roger’s smile fell. “Wait, why? Why would she not be okay? Did you get a phone call from her?!” Roger stood up, “oh my God, is she okay?!”

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down, calm down!“ Brian intervened, hands up. "She’s fine. We’ve heard nothing from her. We were just asking you.”

Roger sat back down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. Yes. Yeah, it is her. She’s… Driving me nuts right now.”

"Why now? You two were perfectly fine last week.“

"It’s been the interactions with the neighbours,” Roger complained. “do you know how hard it is not to start sweating every time we hold hands in public now?”

John frowned. “But… You hold other girls’ hands all the time. Why would y/n be different?”

"I don’t know! I don’t know and that’s why I’m like this!“

Freddie smirked, and Roger could sense the glint in his eyes despite them still being covered by his sunglasses.

"Seems to me,” Freddie popped his lips. “Roger’s in love with y/n.”

John smirked at the thought, and Brian had this wide grin on his face Roger really wanted to slap off.

"Fred, I really don’t think that’s the problem here–“

”‘Ts weird. I’ve always had a thing for y/n, maybe I’m in love with her.“

"Seeing a girl naked by accident doesn’t mean you’re in love with her, John.” Roger snapped back nearly immediately, to which Brian chimed in:

"Funny how you’re the one telling John that when I had to say the same thing to you in high school.“

Roger was mad, but he was even more embarrassed. His face was a deep scarlet, and Freddie wasn’t sure if the colour of Roger’s cheeks were because of his fury, or because he knew Brian was right.

"Come talk to me, Roger. Talk to the King of Love,” Freddie coaxed Roger with his index finger as he fell back dramatically on the sofa against the wall opposite the control table.

Roger simply rolled his eyes and relocated to the empty seat on the sofa by Freddie’s feet. The frontman kicked his bare legs out and crossed them over Roger’s lap while stretching this thin arms and placing them behind his head.

"When’d this all start happening, Rog? I mean the weird feelings.“

To this, the drummer simply shrugged. "Last week we had dinner at the neighbours’. The husband was talking about children, and marriage, and it was like…"

Brian and John raised their eyebrows expectantly.

"It was like I wasn’t acting anymore.”

Freddie gave a knowing smile, and hummed gently. “Did you feel comfortable? Being domestic and romantic with her?"

"Fred, I’ve lived with those two for three years, and they have zero personal space.” Brian’s eyes moved from his reflection in Freddie’s sunglasses to the stressful gaze in Roger’s. “… is it different?”

"Bri, I had women over all the time when we lived with you. I had no reason to have a girlfriend. I slept around, got the physical affection I needed, and she was just a friend…“

John pursed his lips. ”Was,“

Roger nodded a little, his eyes casting downward and burning holes into his already torn jeans. "Yeah. Was."

The blond suddenly looked up at his other bandmates. "We’re pretending to be a couple in a conservative, strict neighbourhood. It’s not like y/n would allow me to invite groupies home with us while catty neighbours spy on us from across the way. I’m not getting the physical attention I used to have, especially since sleeping around is impossible now."

The room then fell silent, and no one exactly made an immediate effort to say anything.

And then John gave a half-shrug.

"Why don’t you ask y/n?"

"Ask her what?”

"Ask her to give you that attention,“ Freddie finished John’s point in a matter-of-fact tone.

”No,“ Roger gasped. "No. No no no!"

"What? It’s a great idea,” Brian tried to reason.

"It’s bloody suicide! What would she think of me?! A sex-addict? A creep? A waste of time?“

”Roger,“ Brian stopped Roger’s listing. "She’s a single, gorgeous woman who loves you with all her heart, romantically-speaking, or not. You two already have this sort of secret commitment thing happening anyways but with housing rather than physical affection.”

"And your point is…?“

Freddie took over for Brian then with a sigh. "She has nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose. Why would adding onto your deal be a bad thing?"

To this, Roger didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer. Freddie continued. "You sleep with women with no strings attached all the time. Living with your best friend while also bedding her doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What are you gonna do, catch feelings for her? You’re just horny.”

"… Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong?“

"That you’re stressed and just need a good lay?” John clarified.

"Absolutely.“

It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off Roger’s shoulders. All of his past issues were gone, out of his mind.

He had nothing to worry about.

"There’s that smile we all needed,” Freddie gushed at Roger, who lowered his head in mild embarrassment.

"C'mon Rog. Let’s get to work.“ Freddie jumped up to stand before the control table, and Brian took a seat next to John. Roger returned to his drum kit inside the recording room, and after a count-in, Roger started drumming.

Needless to say, practice was flawless for the rest of the day.

_______________________________

A/A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember, new chapter up tomorrow!

@culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap @amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy @pippin248

#bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #john deacon #brian may #freddie mercury

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aqvarius · 5 years ago

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HLITF: This is not the Story of your First Night: Soma - otona love - chapter 2 summary/translation

so i decided to spend the 700pt to buy all 6 chapters of this lol. my love for soma crosses all boundaries and languages and i decided i will get through this no matter how long it takes me. i find it kind of hard to translate sometimes because i have to figure out a lot of context re: pronouns/who’s doing what and also there’s a lot of like ‘vague’/euphemistic language when it comes to some of the more graphic bits haha. also i’m swapping into a primarily second person format because writing about “them” makes me feel weirdly voyeuristic (and somehow writing about “you” is less voyeuristic? makes no sense but i like it more lmao).

i’ve chosen to title this as “this is not the story of your first night” and have gone back and retitled the first chapter post which you can find here.

i’m thinking of shortening it to “not your first night” but please let me know if there’s a less clunky title that would work.

anyway i’m going to put this under a cut because it is really image heavy! this is a looong chapter and i ended up taking a lot more screenshots because there were so many moments i wanted to showcase.

click below to read my summary/translation of chapter 2!

soma: “i’ve been looking forward to this day with you”

anyway i just had to share how google decided to translate this next slide bc i’m screaming it’s so funny.

this is the original slide, which i think is basically saying: smiling as he’s about to make me cum with his fingers, kyokan [the instructor] casually/nonchalantly puts on a condom (😲)

you think, “i was hoping that this day would come too”

((alskdjflsdj they are SO CUTE together))

anyway you get really nervous and there’s a heartbeat sfx which is so funny because there has been no music in this story but there’s suddenly this loud thumping noise.

“with a whisper [of my name], kyokan slowly sinks himself onto me”

i think this means he’s lowering his weight onto you, sinking onto, rather than into - you at this point.

you moan his ‘name’ (kyokan/instructor) and in response he slowly but firmly spreads your legs and then sinks deeper onto you.

“ah... instructor’s ..... is getting really hard”

he rubs against your entrance* and your heart is pounding again. also the heartbeat sfx comes back lol.

*i don’t really know how to translate this part because it seems to be a really evasive way of talking about like “receiving parts” if i’m reading it correctly lol

“n-not there...!”

“his hard, hot tip touched my sensitive bead, my body trembled”

soma: “does it feel good here?”

((of course it does!!!!!! you know it does!!!!))

you respond affirmatively, and he says:

“harder? or more gentle?”

kyokan you are SUCH A TEASE!! omg i can’t believe this is all happening on the very night he confesses ahhhh. no wonder everyone always says soma is good with women laskjdfla

he tells you not to lose energy this time lol. your sensitive parts are being stimulated and your breaths become shallow... his hot mass, coated in your nectar, slowly enters you. quietly, gently and caringly... he gradually goes deeper and deeper.

“aah... i can feel kyokan’s heat in the core of my body...”

soma: “does it hurt?”

he is such a gentleman i’m swooning~

so anyway you say you’re okay so he says he’ll give you a little more (!!) can’t believe he’s saying that with that smile ugh my heart can’t take it.

you moan in response and in contrast to your soft voice, his cock [they call it his “that” lmao] powerfully pushes even deeper inside you.

“sugoi.... it’s so deep....”

i think that deep down we all knew this, but it’s official that soma is packing lol.

“finally, with the instructor... i’m one with my beloved instructor soma...”

“my heart is feeling as full as my body is feeling pleasure”

this is all so steamy but these two lines made me so emotional~~~ ((they’re so in love ahaslfkjsl my heart can’t take it)) i can’t quite yet figure out how to phrase that second line in as pretty of a way, but basically it’s saying that your heart is feeling full to the same extent as your body is feeling pleasure.

you both moan each other’s names and you wrap your arms around his back and you’re being embraced, holding on tight to him, and he holds you tightly in return. feeling his pulsing heartbeat, you instinctively become happy. by the way there’s also this random rustling sheets sfx that sometimes pops up that i also find really funny.

“the instructor’s thrusts gradually speed up to the rate of his heartbeat.”

you start moaning more and he asks:

soma: “too fast?”

you just respond in moans like “nn, ahh” lol, so he asks you again if it hurts, and then his movement slows because he’s worried that you haven’t answered him.

something that i’m learning about soma (as if i didn’t already know) is that he’s always checking in with you. in this case it’s because it’s your first time together but it’s something that he always seems to do and he loves teasing you so i wonder if in the later cases it’s more like light 言葉責め (verbal humiliation?) lol.

you respond no (that it doesn’t hurt) and he says

soma: “sorry, i don’t mean to be rough-”

but you’re like “no!! don’t stop yet...!” ((she’s having such a good time lmao)) but you can’t say it so you just bite your lip and shake your head

soma: “so it’s like that, is it?”

he’s guessed what you mean and starts thrusting rhythmically again. his long hair sways with each movement of his hips, making your skin tingle even more.

you feel embarrassed that you want him so badly right from the start, but even though you’re embarrassed, you can’t escape the pleasure dominating your entire body. in fact, you want even more. you don’t want him to see your lustful face so you cover your face with your hands, but soma takes your hands and laces your fingers with his.

soma: “show me the face you make when you feel me”

((!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i can’t handle this, i had to take a short break bc my heart is about to explode))

you note that you’re still unaccustomed to this instructor who refers to himself as “俺”** in bed, and then once again he pushes deep into you.

**俺 (ore) is a more informal/manly way of saying “I”. soma normally uses keigo/polite language when he talks so he tends to refer to himself with 私 (watashi) but when he’s in bed his speech pattern and language changes to be more aggressive/manly.

this is just soma panting/moaning but i love his blush sprite and i always include it wherever i can lol.

anyway, you have a glorious orgasm (which i was too lazy/noob to translate properly) and that concludes the flashback. ((also i'm probably wrong but i feel like the text implies that it’s her first, which means that sex with the ex hajime was... not that great lmao?))

the music comes back now as we return to the present which is nice haha. you reminisce that soma wasn’t as mean/teasing as he is now ((lmao!!!! i knew it)) and feel nostalgic thinking back to your first night.

you were so embarrassed at him asking you all those questions, but that’s just soma’s kindness.... or so it should be. with that, you get out of bed, reminding yourself that soma is always kind, and go to the bathroom to wash away the remnants of last night ...

anyway i thought that was the end of this chapter bc i’ve literally been sitting here translating for ages BUT IT’S NOT.

kurosawa: “nooo~ S [sadism] is sugoi desu ne...!”

it’s jarring to go from super steamy and emotional reminiscing about your first time with soma to suddenly kurosawa lmao. i also finally figured out that the ‘present’ (i.e. not the flashback) is set after graduation when you are already working as a full fledged public safety detective. anyway he tells you that he went to an SM bar yesterday and he was blown away by how amazing S is. only then do you realise what he means by S.

kurosawa says that the most amazing thing is that their kotobazeme (verbal abuse/humiliation) is no joke.

i just want to interlude here and say that i wrote this entirely summary completely chronologically and never went back to add anything retroactively and yet i was already talking about soma’s kotobazeme ages ago (and how on their first night he was probably genuinely checking in to make sure she was okay but now probably does it to tease her). i know my man so well lol

anyway, toru tries to give you an example of kotobazeme and gets all up close and is about to whisper in your ear and then ishigami is like “that’s enough”.

ayumu: “any more than that and it’ll be sexual harassment”

soma: “that’s right”

seeing my #1 and #2 faves together is giving me palpitations.

luckily, kurosawa backs off but then he says that ishigami is good at it (verbal abuse) ... and so is shusuke... and goto...

goto interrupts him and says “shut up” which immediately proves toru’s point lol. there’s some banter between goto and soma vs toru which i’m too tired to translate bc it’s 2am and i’ve been doing this for hours but anyway goto grabs him by the neck and drags him off.

you’re left wondering if the public safety division are all like the S types you get in SM bars... and that includes “shusuke-san” too. you ruminate on the word “kotobazeme” and then the next line is maybe my favourite line in the entire chapter script:

“no way... do we naturally do SM play now?!”

BECAUSE HE’S ALWAYS TEASING HER AND EMBARRASSING HER VERBALLY IN BED!!!!! I KNEW IT LMAO AND IT’S ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITE THINGS ABOUT SOMA

just as you’re realising this, you feel a tap on the shoulder. smiling as you turn around, you get a chill down your spine as you are faced with a slightly chilly 菩薩顔 bosatsu face. i have no idea how to translate this lol it’s like a buddhist thing. i guess it would be that really like... serene face?

soma: “we’re not like that”

he whispers in your ear and..... that’s the end of chapter 2.

wow that was a RIDE. i really hope you enjoyed this super long and fangirly/low quality summary! i really loved this chapter because we get to see that first night where soma was so sweet and caring and loving (although still a bit of a tease), but also we know the theme of this story which is about soma’s verbal humiliation which i’m sure you all know i just adore. and we also get to see some of soma’s moves in bed haha. i’m hoping that in the future chapters we’re going to get some more kotobazeme from soma which i’m so excited for lfakjsdlk what kinds of dirty things is he going to say!! and more importantly, what kinds of embarrassing things is he going to make YOU say?

ANYWAY this took me hours to do this lol and it’s 3am now and i’m so excited to post this and get some sleep. please reblog/like if you enjoyed. furthermore, i’ve set up a ko-fi page here and would be incredibly grateful if you would like to support me for translations and being able to purchase more routes to summarise in english! there’s one where kazuomi from masquerade kiss watches you masturbating which i really want to read and summarise/translate if i have the time/energy.

click here for chapter 3

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scullyeffect · 5 years ago

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mid year 2020 book tag

tagged by @foxmulders

Best book you’ve read so far in 2020: ‘behave: the biology of humans at our best and worst’ by robert sapolsky. changed my life. took me 4 months to read though (started it in 2019). it’s way too smart for me, but i’m smarter after reading it.

Best sequel you’ve read so far in 2020: n/a i’m not big on sequels. i’m starting season 2 of the office. that’s as far as i go. i guess you could count me listening to harry potter 4 with my french kids.

New release you haven’t read yet, but want to: lol i don’t know any new releases i shop at used book stores when i’m in france nothing is new and i’m not an online book shopper. if i am it’s because i can’t find it used.

Favorite new author (debut or new to you): paul auster (new to me)

Biggest disappointment: a self-published (i didn’t notice this while ordering it) semi-autobiographical novel about living as a child in occupied paris. i was researching this specific subject and when i got the book (i did have to order this one) i’m not kidding when i said i tore off the front cover (it had a swastika on it, WHY do books about ww2 do this for shock value??? who in their right mind is going to take a book like that in public in europe in good conscience???) and grabbed a pen and edited it like i’ve never edited anything before. it was so painful but i read the whole thing.

Biggest surprise: ok this one’s weird but i listened to harry potter 3 and we’re 6 hours into harry potter 4 (in french) and i’m just...i don’t know what i expected since it’s obviously translated and can’t preserve the vibe of the original, which i firmly believe is why i can’t fully appreciate ‘one hundred years of solitude’ (i think the translation i have is just wacky, or maybe it’s not the book/style for me), i’m quite disappointed in a) the voices, b) the translation of invented words/terminology, c) the translation in general. i’m not harry potter’s biggest fan and honestly am more familiar with the films than the books (even though i read all the books first bc they came out when i was a kid), so like overall who cares but anyway when i’m passively listening to the book i’m so miffed.

Book that made you happy: ‘neither here nor there’ by bill bryson. it’s about revisiting european cities he’d visited in his 20s. very short. slightly offensive in sections. overwhelmingly negative (mostly critique instead of appreciation, which is what i see SO OFTEN in non-fiction about foreigner’s experience in france and i am FED UP)

Newest fictional crush/newest favorite character: i really don’t really read much fiction, but the last character i enjoyed a LOT was Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. Obviously. OBVIOUSLY.

Book that made you cry: The Invention of Solitude by Paul Auster.

Favorite book to film adaptation you saw this year: Kramer vs. Kramer by Avery Corman adapted to film of same name in 1979. I’d seen Kramer vs. Kramer before reading it (when I was like 13 lol) and problematically like the film better than the book (probably because if the novel had been autobiographical in some way I think I would have been 80% more interested in it. can we tell I’m a psychology major who will never officially study it but is fascinated by other people’s lives...).

Most beautiful book you’ve bought or received this year so far: Don’t know. I listened to Wuthering Heights during quarantine on an audible free trial and that was fun to revisit since i don’t think i’ve touched it or thought about it since i was maybe 14.

Book you need to read by the end of the year: Don’t know. This stresses me. I go blocks of time without reading and i’ve come to accept that that’s okay. And I will usually pick non-fiction over fiction. I’ve read all the fiction I care for and am too lazy to seek anything out unless it’s a old/a classic or by a modern author i’m familiar with. And I’m extremely harsh when deciding if i’ll muddle through something i don’t like. i made it 1.5 chapters into ‘one hundred years of solitude’ (after previously trying the same thing two years in a row) and i was like YOU KNOW WHAT. MY MIND DOESN’T WANT THIS ONE. I’M ALLOWED TO NOT BE INTO SOMETHING EVERYONE ELSE SEEMS TO LOVE. IT’S FINE.

#i'm stressed #how can i love writing so much and yet am such a bad fiction reader??#sometimes non-fiction can have such a literary tone though??#also i usually don't read while i'm writing which means...majority of the time i'm not reading #because it ALWAYS influences me and i'm like 'well i'll write this original story oh wait it's just trying to be Run River nvm'

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poisoned-chicken-marsala · 6 years ago

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ok so I combined the last things I wrote because they belong together and I was too lazy to post them in the same thing but here we go. Same chapter thing as before, but put together under the cut bc it’s long. Please tell me what you think!

Kara trudged home from the grocery store on a Thursday afternoon. It had been a relatively calm day for her, she had the day off of work and was very happy about that. Or, she felt like she should be happy about it, but she just felt off the whole day instead. She felt like her head had been in a fog and her body felt heavier than usual. It took so long to get groceries, even with a list detailing exactly what she needed. At least the stores she’d been to were mostly empty and she could wander mindlessly. But walking home required thought and Kara tried to engage herself with her surroundings while she made her way home by kicking a rock in front of her as she went. The rock came to a stop at the foot of some stairs after the last kick. The building they led up to was no longer in use and boarded up to discourage people from breaking and entering. Kara smiled slightly when she approached the steps. Almost home.

When she looked for the rock, she saw someone sitting on the steps and glanced to see who it was. To her surprise it was Narancia, a boy her and her friends had hung out with at the park many times. Did he live out this way? She didn’t know, and never thought it was polite to ask. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest a troubled look on his face that didn’t leave, even when he looked up to see who was there.

“Hi Narancia.” Kara said with a small smile. Narancia stared at her for a moment and didn’t reply. He rested his chin on his knees again and turned his attention back to the street. Kara’s backpack felt like it gained a hundred pounds when he brushed her off. She stood still for a moment, tilting her head and giving her friend? a curious look. What the hell was his problem?

“Are… are you okay?” She tried again, shuffling her feet. He looked up at her again, angry this time.

“Shut the fuck up.” Narancia snapped, letting go of his knees. Kara’s eyes widened in shock, her face burning. She stepped back on to a lower stair, staring at the patch of plants near where his hand was resting.

‘Oh. Did I overstep a boundary of some kind?’ She asked herself. The silence that settled between them lay thick and heavy, like a blanket. A minute passed (it seemed more like an hour) before she looked him in the face again. Kara figured she must have still looked shocked because Narancia’s face fell after a moment. To her surprise, he started to cry. Kara immediately walked back up to the step Narancia was sitting on and hesitated for a moment before reaching down and gently taking his arm.

“Come on, let’s go to my house. It’s not far.” She said softly and pulled him up to his feet.

————————————

The walk to her apartment felt like a dream. Kara unlocked the door when they arrived and ushered her friend inside, locking the door behind them and putting her backpack down on the floor. Narancia sat down on the sofa, only looking up when Kara offered him a fist full of tissues. She set the box down on the table and took a seat next to him, their knees touching. The radio on the windowsill played a song she didn’t know the name of, the melody interrupted by bouts of static and Narancia’s heavy breaths. Kara sighed and looked at the grocery bag. They could wait, she decided. There wasn’t anything that could spoil in there. She took a quick glance back at the crying boy. He was staring at the carpet, a tissue balled up in his left hand. Kara reached slowly to rest her hand on top of his. Narancia didn’t move.

Eventually, he stopped crying and stirred some time later, pulling his hand out from under hers. She watched him for a moment and pointed to a slightly cracked door through a small hallway when he turned towards her, feeling her eyes on him.

“Go wash your face. You’ll feel better.” Kara suggested and rose from her spot. Narancia got up too, picked up all of his tissues and shut the door to the bathroom once he was inside. Kara moved her bag from the floor to the kitchen and heard the tap begin to run. Guilt struck her when she unzipped the biggest pocket of her bag.

‘I should have done more.’ Kara scolded herself and let go of the bag. ‘I can ask him if he wants a hug when he comes out.’ She paced in the kitchen, heart pounding, humming to a song on the radio for what seemed like an eternity when the tap finally shut off. The door swung open. Kara straightened up and looked at her friend awkwardly standing in the bathroom doorway. He looked a little better, it was still obvious he had been crying. She walked over to him nervously.

“Do you want a hug?”

“… Yes.”

Kara closed the distance between them and loosely wrapped her arms around Narancia, tightening her grip on him when he hugged her back. They stood and listened to the radio for a moment which was broadcasting mostly static instead of music.

“I’m sorry.” Narancia said quietly after a moment, letting go of Kara. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You only asked me a question..”

“I accept your apology… Do you want some soup? I was going to make some for myself but I’m sure there is enough for you as well, if you’re hungry.” Kara changed the subject, walking back into the kitchen to her bag and zipped her bag open wider.

“I guess I’ll have some, since you’re offering.” Narancia replied, fiddling with a pen he found on the counter.

————————————

He sat down at the table and stared at a poster of a white clown holding.. Cocoa powder? He couldn’t tell, the poster was in another language he didn’t understand. It was a bit hard to see the clown’s features from where he was sitting. The only things he could really see were its open mouth and bright red cheeks. Narancia was so engrossed in the clown, Kara startled him when she set a bowl down in front of him and promptly walked passed him to the TV. She picked up a remote off the table in there and turned it on. A movie played on the screen, the dialogue of the characters clashing with the static from the radio. Kara turned that off and turned towards the TV to see what was going on. Narancia got up from the table and wandered into the living room, brushing past Kara.

There was a fish tank above the TV and more posters. And books everywhere:on the table, under the radio and in a large box beneath the shelf next to the TV. There were books on things from Hurricanes to Gems to what looked like novels. One titled The Moomins and The Great Flood caught his eye. Narancia knelt down and took it off the shelf, curiously looking at the cover. White, rotund creatures stood out against the dark forest backdrop on the front. He was right, it was a story book. The movie cut to a commercial break and Kara looked over at the shelf, doing a double take when she saw Narancia on the floor.

“What’ve you got there?” She asked. He held the book up for her to see, twisting it around slightly so he could read the title.

“The.. Moomins and The Great Flood.” He placed the book on the table and looked up at Kara. “What’s a Moomins?”

“Oh. I can tell you about that after we eat. I think the soup will be done soon.” Kara replied and hurried back to the kitchen to check. Narancia followed her and looked at the white clown poster again up close this time. The clown’s eyes were small and dark. They made it look crazy: solemn eyes and a big grin. Maybe the clown was confused as to how it was supposed to feel and he took a little comfort in that.

————————————————————————————–

Kara and Narancia sat on the couch, their soup bowls on top of the books on the coffee table. They were old books that she didn’t care if they got food on them, it would just give her a real excuse to get rid of them. They didn’t know the movie that was playing, they missed the very beginning. The plot made no sense and they only knew a few character names. Whatever. It was only background noise anyway, along with the occasional clink of a spoon against a bowl. The Moomins and The Great Flood lay forgotten on the table.

Kara glanced at her friend while she picked her bowl up again. Narancia was watching the movie, resting his chin on his fist and his other hand holding his empty bowl in his lap. He looked much better than earlier, she thought and peeked into her own bowl before he caught her staring. It was empty, much to her surprise. She didn’t remember finishing her soup and after a quick inspection of the table, she hadn’t spilled it. Huh. Kara stood up.

“Do you want any more soup?” She asked. Narancia looked away from the movie and shook his head.

“No, I’m good.” He replied and turned back to the TV for a second. “Thanks though.” He added quickly. Kara smiled slightly.

“Can I take your bowl then?” She extended her arm for it. Narancia nodded once and handed it over, stretching out over the length of the couch. Kara snorted and grabbed it from him, picking up his spoon off the middle cushion and walked into the kitchen. She filled the bowls with water and left them on the countertop. When she returned to the living room, she decided she was going to actually pay attention to the movie. It was fun to make up reasons certain characters were doing certain things. Of course they were all wrong when the big reveal of the villain’s evil scheme happened and filled in some of the holes in the story. When the credits rolled, Kara stretched, reaching up towards the ceiling. She looked over at the other side of the couch and did a double take, suddenly remembering Narancia was there. He had fallen asleep, his head propped up on his fist.

Guilt settled in Kara’s stomach as a heavy weight while she stared at her sleeping friend. How could I forget he was here? Ohdear, what time is it? Her heart lurched when she looked at the clock: it was a little after 10 pm. She went over to his side of the couch, kneeling next to the arm rest, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Narancia, wake up.” Kara said urgently. Narancia promptly woke up and rubbed his cheek where his fist had been. Kara let go of his shoulder and rose, glancing at the clock again.

“It’s, like, after 10 and I didn’t know if you had a certain time you needed to go home or something… I got sucked into the movie and lost track of time.” She admitted and fiddled with her braid. He was silent for a moment.

“I should probably go check in.. I ran off hours and hours ago. They’re probably worried about me..” Narancia said, not caring to elaborate on who he was talking about being concerned over his disappearance for the afternoon. He yawned, causing Kara to yawn as well, and got up off the couch. Kara followed him to the door, where he hesitated with his hand on the door knob.

“Thank you… for everything. I appreciate it and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Narancia apologized quietly and stared at the floor.

“I forgive you, and I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you…. I hope you’ll want to hang out again in the future, when we’re both not sad. If we watch a movie next time you come over, I promise I won’t forget you’re here.” Kara joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Narancia looked up from the floor and smirked.

“Yeah, that offended me so much.” He replied and opened the door and stepped out into the night. Kara rolled her eyes at him with a smile and stood in the doorway across from him.

“Good night, be safe on your way home.” She said, holding the door open when he let go.

“I will be, don’t worry. Good night.” He said with a small wave and turned to walk down the street. Kara watched him go until he turned a corner out of sight. She shut the door and locked it, walking into the kitchen to get to her room. The soup bowls caught her eye as she passed, deciding she would wash them in the morning. Sleep was more important.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo part 5 #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #jjba oc #jjba fanfiction #narancia ghirga #my oc #writers on tumblr #criticism is appreciated #aw shit here we go again #this must be the place #oh cee thingz

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foxghost · 7 years ago

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hi here’s another instalment of “I stayed up too late reading 鎮魂, edition chapter 13 - 26

Zhu Hong spends maybe 3 days a month being half snake (anaconda?). She keeps raw sliced meat in the office freezer, thaws it out in the microwave and “eats them like potato chips”

She also has snake pupils and a snake tongue. /this novel has all your monster needs

Zhu Hong: if you’re willing to sleep with me one night, I’d work for free Zhao Yunlan (totally seriously): …really? Zhu Hong: … (can’t believe he’s actually considering it)

The “black cloak envoy” in the show is named one-who-slay-souls in the book, and is exponentially more terrifying

take what prisoners? Send whom to jail? kills all the things

Zhao Yunlan: he’s kind of nice actually, but talks like an academic, uses too many words to say one thing

A “hungry ghost” is a shadow that is thin all over except for the stomach, with a mouth that opens 180 degrees, with arms like a mantis

Shen Wei’s first reaction on seeing it is to pick up a chair and BASH IT UNTIL IT STOPS MOVING

Shen Wei: shocked face that the cat is talking Daqing: Yes right but you just broke the head of a hungry ghost with a chair so why are you even shocked

Guo (repeats in his head): I am a cop Guo: is crying uncontrollably * Guo (to Shen Wei): I haven’t even had my first month’s salary — can’t i even SEE the money I won’t live to spend before i die? Shen Wei says nothing to this because laughing at him is probably improper Guo: Does professor Shen have wishes that has not been fulfilled? Shen Wei: Yes Shen Wei: There is a person, we are mere acquaintances, we have no relationship at all, in his heart, I am but a stranger he has spoken to a couple of times. But I still want to see him once more.

with a hungry ghost scratching at the door and Daqing promising rescue by Yunlan Shen Wei: Don't we have ways to save ourselves? Daqing: this is us — a common person, a garbage person, a vegetative person, and me — a lucky charm. Oh, ‘save ourselves’ you say. Do you think if we go into a hot steam wok, it would be enough to fill the gaps between a hungry ghost’s teeth?

amidst all this chaos, Guo is climbing Shen Wei’s leg bc he’s terrified, and Shen Wei’s priority is to HOLD HIS PANTS UP.

Lin Jing is … a monk? (fake monk, according to Yunlan)

Lin Jing: there are two men and a cat in there Yunlan: no way, Shen Wei wouldn’t abandon his student Lin Jing: … who is this Shen Wei Yunlan: mumbles nobody important Lin Jing: You only ever do that when you meet a beauty — is this Shen Wei a man or a woman? Yunlan: buddhist chant

when the hungry ghost is sucking up all the air + souls in a room, guo screams: I’m going to be sucked up!

and then somehow has the wherewithal to make up metaphors: i’m going to be sucked up like jello from a vacuum bag!

Yunlan cuts the energy between hungry ghost and guo, and guo starts falling — onto Shen Wei. Naturally, Yunlan rushes forward and catches Shen Wei into his arms and let Guo fall on his face

AND HIS FIRST PRIORITY IN THAT SECOND IS TO LOOK COOL

Zhao Yunlan holds onto Shen Wei’s waist and takes a halfstep the the side, and the lighter’s flame illuminates his face — handsome, cool, his features as chiselled as with a blade, gazing from the darkest place yet his pupils reflect the flame He successfully keep this act up like a big bad wolf, lowering his voice and looking into Shen Wei’s eyes, and like a hero protagonist saving a beauty in a movie, he asks quietly: Professor Shen, are you alright? At the same time, he completely ignores the whining intern on the floor.

Yunlan can hypnotise people and change/erase their memories of supernatural events, kind of MiB like

He does this to Shen Wei, carries him (like a bride, bc just before that Shen Wei’s leaning on his shoulder) takes him to his student’s hospital room, make sure he’s comfortably sitting, says a protective spell and EATS HIS TOFU

which is the chinese way of saying he took advantage, kisses the back of Shen Wei’s right hand and says: good night, sleeping beauty

of course, SHEN WEI wasn’t ASLEEP

he ‘saves’ the protective spell and leaves by the second floor window

i guess Shen Wei forgets about being human sometimes, only ghosts come and go by the WINDOW

Guo Changcheng GLOWS to someone who can see (like someone with a third eye) between worlds.

Apparently he’s been using his allowance to do charitable work for YEARS. There is so much merit built up in his ‘books’ he’s practically a saint

Guo Changcheng IS SO PURE

When the slayer arrives, the temperature drops below zero and the windows frost over

he has a black claok, doesn’t wear a mask. His face is just BLACK MIST.

He smells like winter. (and it’s nice?)

… like freshly fallen snow in the morning when one opens the door to it for the first time, that first breath you take on a snowy day — like endless and eternal snow that never melts, clean, yet extremely cold, mixed in with the scent of flowers dying in the frost — far and away, a fragrance like walking to the end of the world. But it’s only for a moment, because after that one’s nose feels frozen and can’t tell any smells apart.

Guo’s explanation in his head for this is: he’s from the southern hemisphere and it’s winter there. (omg)

And then the moment the slayer goes off with YUnlan he starts asking after his health seriously

the slayer is a motherhen (when it comes to yunlan anyway)

he uses the same tone of voice to kill ghosts as he does asking after ppl’s health and Guo thinks this is terrifying (it is)

Li Qian killed her grandmother, none of that heartwarming retconned stuff in the show

the Slayer finds out where the Reincarnation-dial is from Qian and Yunlan follows because he’s curious and finds the place … covered in bodies … of monsters and ghosts that the slayer’s just slain / beheaded.

Yunlan: What’s going on? We’re all responsible for the environment, your honour was only coming here to find a thing, how did this battle happen. tries to step around the bodies but there’s no place to put his feet (what battle? it was a SLAUGHTER)

So it seems Yunlan meeting Shen Wei in this life time was planned by the villain

Chu (old Chu from Zhao, Brother Chu from Guo) is thin as a moving skeleton, about the same age as Lin Jing

And they all slack off in the office MOST OF THE TIME

Yunlan pursues Shen Wei for 3 months, Shen Wei keeps on giving him excuses, the cat makes fun of him mercilessly

Yunlan is eventually reduced to buying a box of old books and stalking Shen Wei with his car on campus until the students are all staring and he has no choice but to knock on the window and asks WHAT ARE YOU DOING

so in the show they made this all about Yunlan being suspicious of him, but there’s none of that in the book, at this point he’s just pursuing the professor shamelessly

Yunlan: this is for you Shen Wei: … opens box No, this is too valuable I can’t take it Yunlan: makes up a bunch of lies my friend’'s emigrating they leave their books behind you take them Shen Wei: I — Yunlan: I what, we’re so familiar already, it’d be unconscionable to say no to keeping the books, see you, let’s have dinner this weekend drives off Shen Wei: is conflicted while suddenly standing on campus holding a heavy box Shen Wei: is happy Yunlan is being so lovely Shen Wei: is jealous that he may be like this with other people

So, Yunlan is an introvert

Yunlan’s heart is a little lazy, hasn’t interest in anything, there’s nothing of import at work right now, and aside from one important networking, occasionally harassing Shen Wei, he spends all his remaining time alone at home.

Yunlan lives in a studio apartment, ‘like a dog’, or ‘neither pig nor dog.’ in other words, MESSY

it’s Yunlan, apparently, that turned his role as ‘guardian’ / command of sealing the spirits(?) into a police department.

Yunlan has ended relationships (or have it ended on him) because he just doesn’t want to talk when he’s home

the reasons are “lack of communication”, “no passion” “Our personalities do not match, we don’t speak the same language” and “You have never loved me”

so he finally gets a date with Shen Wei on Sunday, and on Saturday he gets up at noon, eats bread and water and plays video games until he gets a massive stomachache

he stumbles out the door in his pajamas, a coat, and no socks in his shoes, to get food, and overhears a robbery taking place, and it’s SHEN WEI

they end up getting dinner afterwards and he eats like a starving man until he basically collapses from stomachache

Shen Wei takes him home and they trip over an open umbrella, it hasn’t rained in more than half a month

Shen Wei: Take off your clothes and go to bed Yunlan: But if I do you’ll say i’m improper Shen Wei: What Yunlan: is wearing pajamas under his coat has no socks Shen Wei: blushes Yunlan: shows off his chest You told me to take off my clothes Shen Wei: ZHAO YUNLAN WHY ARE YOU NOT WEARING SOCKS Shen Wei: WHAT HAVE YOU EATEN ALL DAY Yunlan: points at garbage can Shen Wei: the whole day? What’d you eat yesterday Yunlan: dunno, drank too much Shen Wei: Do you live like this everyday??? Yunlan: um, yeah? Shen Wei: about to die of anger

Yunlan, way to impress future husband, high-five

meanwhile, Yunlan’s thinking: he’s never angry, but he’s angry because he’s fallen for me. Because i’m handsome (NO JOKE)

Shen Wei: You’re not so young, and you’re established in your career, this is about time for you to find a girlfriend and make a home, ti’s best to have someone take care of you Yunlan: Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t noticed I’ve been pursuing YOU (looks depressed) Then fine, thank you for today, i’m alright, you can go home (fully expecting Shen Wei to feel sorry enough to come closer, Yunlan has a speech prepared and everything)

BUT HE LEAVES

And comes back the next morning 7am with groceries (gosh i love this trope) and takes care of Yunlan

Yunlan’s kitchen is full of kitchenware with the pricetags still on

Shen Wei preps food and heats his hands over the heater before touching Yunlan

to be precise, he strokes Yunlan’s hair and then kisses his own fingers (excuse the blogger. screams)

He feels as if he is a moth that has realised its fate, holding himself from the flame is painful

Yunlan comes out of his bath (in the afternoon) to find that Shen Wei’s cleaned his apartment, folded away his clothes, aired out his room, and made food

So naturally, he figures now’s the time to PROPOSE because wow he’s found THE ONE

Yunlan: Seriously, if you would agree, I will sell this place tomorrow, and buy a big place near your campus. Yunlan: I never thought about buying a big house before, it seemed like such a burden, but now I understand: if I want a person as my wife, then I must build a gold house to hide them. Shen Wei (thinks he’s making fun of him): Eat your food it’s getting cold Yunlan touches the back of Shen Wei’s hand: Even though it may not seem that way, but I’m perfectly serious

- queue requisite “i’m a man” and “you should have children” talk

Yunlan: I’m not obligated to propagate the earth for the sake of mankind, Teacher Shen, are you an ALIEN???

- Yunlan literally tells him: if you really want children we can get a surrogate, it’s easy enough to have kids when you have money - Shen Wei then refuses to go to a movie with him the next week but it’s because he’ll be out of town for a week and Yunlan counts that as a WIN

back at the office: Zhu Hong: Xiaoguo is a good kid, fast learner, but he’s too cowardly, it took him this long to accept food from me Yunlan: That’s natural, he’s afraid of people Zhu Hong: … Yunlan: He’s not afraid of you, because he obvs doesn’t think you’re people

earthquake news play on television Yunlan: Why wasn’t it a bigger earthquake, I had no my arms open ready to comfort him and everything Zhu Hong: Who’d you seduce this time Yunlan: Don’t make it sound so terrible, spring must come to the world and flowers must bloom, its fragrance cannot be missing romance, you ppl must not insult other people’s pure love Lin Jing: buddhist chant Zhu Hong: HELP.

Wang Zheng suddenly appear in the office during the day (she is a ghost, they dissipate in the light) and everyone rushes to close the blinds and give her incense

Yunlan (takes out cigarette): YOU Wang Zheng (moves backwards): Don’t make me breathe your second-hand smoke. Yunlan: …you’re a ghost, madam Wang Zheng, you’re not going to get lung cancer. Wang Zheng: Ghosts can smell smoke and fire, if you keep doing that, you’re going to turn into a human shaped mosquito incense.

Yunlan calls someone sister-in-law over the phone

Zhu Hong: How come director Song is his sister-in-law? He doesn’t even have a sister Daqing: Who knows, he goes out drinking and gains sister-in-laws (?)

- The ‘red’ threads connecting Yunlan and Shen Wei are myriad and golden (and Shen Wei can see them)

#fox text #fox reads 镇魂 #fox reads Guardian #at this rate i'll finish this book in another week

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infantacarlota · 6 years ago

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hi guys! here’s carlota’s bio + a list of wanted connections. if you’d like to plot please drop me a message and i’ll find you!! i’m seldom on the discord server bc i get overwhelmed easily/large group chats stress me out, but i love to chat and plot, in fact i’m a sucker for extensive plotting and i do want a bit of everything for carlota so pls throw any and all ideas you have my way.

- ̗̀✰ •【 LILY JAMES / FEMALE / 27 】announcing the arrival of her royal highness, ( CARLOTA LUÍSA ISABEL ), the ( INFANTA ) of ( PORTUGAL ). I’ve heard that she is ( IMPULSIVE ) & ( PARANOID ) but can also be ( INTUITIVE ) & ( PASSIONATE ). ( CARLOTA ) is arranged to marry ( MICHIEL HUISMAN, BOB MORLEY, ALFONSO HERRERA ). Rumor has it ( SHE'S THE REASON HER BROTHER THE CROWN PRINCE IS IN A COMA ). We hope you enjoy your stay at London!

STATS

name: carlota luísa isabel, house of coimbra, infanta of portugal age: 26 family:

henrique (father, deceased) terezia (mother, deceased) luís (uncle, 52, regent, childless younger brother of henrique) pedro (brother, 33, in a coma) ____ (brother, 29-31) ____ (brother, 27-29) ____ (brother, 23-24) silvia (sister, 22-23) ____ (brother, 19-20)

relationship status: betrothed to espen jarle lillegarde, crown prince of norway. language(s) spoken: portuguese (fluent), english (fluent), french (well), spanish (fluent), italian (decently), deutsch(okay-ish), danish (okay-ish) eyes: brown hair: brown physical ailments: not an ailment per se, but she broke her right arm in her youth and it didn't heal properly so it's slightly crooked at the elbow. she's a little self-conscious about it and it aches at times, especially if she has to carry something heavy, but for the moment that's about it. neurological ailments: low key depressed but isn't even close to being aware of it because depression is such a foreign thing to her. this quote explains it nicely:

"Being an extrovert with depression and constantly maintaining a lively personality can sometimes feel like you are lying to the world. It makes depression something only you can deal with, when you can finally take off “the mask” [...] suffering from depression as an extrovert comes down to not being taken seriously. It’s hearing how you must be over-exaggerating your condition because there is no way you can be laughing with friends on the same night you go home and cry yourself to sleep. [...] is knowing that people will make you happy because sometimes being happy by yourself seems like an impossible task. It is having a constant need to be there for everyone but yourself. It is – as crazy as this sounds – feeling as if you aren’t allowed to be depressed [...] You have to be the person people gravitate towards to when they want to have a good time."

smoking: mostly in the past drugs: in the past and here's to hoping it stays there alcohol: in the past: drank a lot and often during her teenage/boarding school years. started drinking way less after that and was primarily a social drinker, but enjoyed a glass of wine every other meal. currently: keeps telling herself she'll have just one or two glasses but ends up drinking the whole bottle. when she's feeling down, it helps her stay bubbly, like people are used to see her. tattoos: pretty much always covered. 1 dainty lavender tattoo under her left breast, 1 small conch shell on the inside of her left arm style: enjoys looking stylish but values comfort above all else. doesn't follow fashion trends but enjoys playing with styles. has worn pant suits, bowties, and ties to several events. she often opts for comfortable flats (even trainers when she was younger) when wearing long dresses that cover her feet. secret: she’s the reason her brother, the king, is in a coma

personality

sociable, bubbly, energetic, romantic, intuitive, impulsive, kind, compassionate, audacious, youthful, low-key very sad and depressed, curious, passionate, slightly air-headed, well meaning, romantic, at times speaks without thinking, used to be very gullible growing up, insecure, authentic, bad liar, self-deprecating (esp in the past couple years)

BIO (tw: death, drugs):

[ for carlota’s full / proper bio + more in-depth explanations, please click here & check the ‘biography’ tab.]

for nearly half a decade before carlota’s father was born, instability was the norm in portugal. carlota’s father was born just as the conflict was drawing to an end and he spent his whole life honoring his father’s hard work, heavily focusing on diplomacy, and being slightly ( but understandably ) paranoid about the safety of his family.

like his parents, carlota’s father was fortunate to marry out of love. carlota’s mother isn’t portuguese ( she's a hungarian princess ) nor was she supposed to have become henrique’s wife, but the two had been in love almost since they first met when they were teenagers. at court, some never fully accepted terezia, still, the pair was very happy together.

carlota’s family was always very close-knit and kinda nosy about each other’s business. she has always enjoyed this greatly as she’s a family and people-person, but at times it felt suffocating, even when she was only a child.

carlota’s innate almost child-like passion and curiosity for life as well as her good-humored casual demeanor have always been both a blessing and a curse and often landed into trouble. she’s well-meaning, always, but sometimes speaks without thinking or acts impulsively. she’s a little bit air-headed and selfish in this manner, and her emotions and feelings often control her more than she controls them.

still, she has three older brothers with very strong personalities so from a very early age she’s been trying to keep up with them and showing them that girls can do everything boys can. she’s never been rebellious or assertive by nature, although she likes to make bold choices and statements at times, but having a lot of brothers just forced those sides of her to develop.

when she was 8, shortly after her youngest brother was born her mother passed away - this was carlota’s first heartbreak

carlota’s relationship with her father was always...... not complicated, but perhaps filled with misunderstandings and good intentions gone wrong. he kept her at bay a lot because carlota has her mother’s demeanor, and he worried immensely about her future. her father always felt like out of all his children carlota was going to be the one who was going to struggle the most with an arranged marriage so he was always pressuring her to focus on her romantic life in a serious manner which carlota often found bothersome.

in her teens carlota felt very isolated and out of place. surrounded by people but all alone. that's how she felt.

annnnnnd then her father sent her to boarding school which was never supposed to have happened but he changed his mind thinking it was the best for carlota (spoiler alert - it wasn’t)

carlota was extremely upset and sad over this. being apart from her family and friends she had known all her life brought her great pain and frustration. she also couldn’t understand her father’s change of heart, and a part of her felt like she had done something deeply wrong. honestly she felt kind of abandoned.

these years were somewhat tumultuous, especially because she wasn’t making the right kind of friends - the ones that are good for you. this lead her to have made several questionable life choices. she also got in the habit of drinking too much and doing drugs (she never officially went to rehab but she was very close to and she honestly probably should have gone even if only to really file this chapter of her life away).

all of this is, mostly, behind her thought. it took years but she realised she was fostering unhealthy friendships and habits and that the longer it took her to walk away the harder it would become to do so at all. eventually she cut them all out of her life.

( “what is it with you and your uncontrollable need to be liked?” one of her acquaintances from boarding school asked her once, and she was already a little drunk, so the words didn’t hit her as hard as they normally would have. her shoulders simply rose and fell in a lazy shrug. “i don’t know.” it had been an honest answer, she kept talking anyway, no filter between her thoughts and her mouth. “i guess i - well, i've never been the pretty one, or the smart one, or the brooding one, or the bold one, or the funny one... but i’ve always been good at meeting people so i guess... i guess very early on i just thought ‘maybe i can be the likable one’.” )

her father died of heart decease when she was 21. she always got along with her eldest brother and the two became even closer after their father’s death, however, a couple months before the summit carlota thought she wouldn’t be participating as she had been seeing someone, but the boy ended up deciding that they were better off parting ways. it was all very last minute and out of the blue and he did it via text and she didn’t take the news well in the least so she ended up resorting to finding comfort in bad old habits and companies.

her brother grew increasingly worried and one day the two had a quarrel in the palace’s foyer after carlota showed up to dinner so merrily out of it she could barely stand. at one point he tried to reach for her but she pushed him away - once, twice, trice, and on the forth time he lost his balance and fell down the long imposing staircase.

she was so inebriated that it took her brain moment to register what had happened but once it dawned on her she was immediately struck by a wave of frantic panic and promptly made her way down the staircase ( nearly tripping on her own feet and tumbling down multiple times ). her brother was still conscious when she reached him, falling on her knees by his side, already crying and apologizing. the last thing he told her was to leave so no one would blame her for what had happened.

carlota is not an agitator. she’s not pro nor against the summit. she dislikes the idea of spending her life with a stranger or someone who won’t love her, but above that at the moment she simply feels a great weight of responsibility towards her brother and is just trying to do what he wanted her to. she’s going with the flow in a dutiful manner, trying to always be on her best behaviour, while at the same time trying to stay as true to herself as possible.

at the moment, she almost likes that things are being figured out for her. it goes against her usual demeanor, but she has so much on her mind and feels so much guilt that anything that figures out her responsibilities for her is welcome. frankly, she’s walking towards a big depression, but depression isn’t something she has ever experienced before and personally doesn’t think it’s something she herself could experience.

i want SO MANY THINGS for carlota. good and bad. i want positive character development, i want negative character development. i want to break her and put her together again. i want her to grow, learn, and face past mistakes... and maybe make new ones.

i’m all about extensive plotting, and i’m in things for the long run, so throw all the ideas at me.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

FAMILY

siblings - ill be posting her family request here.

cousins: carlota’s mother wasn’t portuguese, she was likely german, hungarian, belgian, austrian, english, or french. so if your character is from one of those countries and you’d be up for them being related to carlota let me know!!!

ON GOOD TERMS

(open) best friend: someone carlota is very close to at the moment

(open) childhood friend(s): someone carlota has known pretty much all of her life

(open) accidental friendship: carlota and this person weren’t supposed to get along because of their personalities but instead of clashing, to everyone’s surprise, they compliment each other nicely

(open) “a boy tried to make us compete for his attention so we ditched him and became close friends”: self-explanatory lmao i’d love for them to be super close. or maybe he was dating the girl and tried to fool around with carlota so she told the other girl and she dumped and him and her and carlota became close friends. many options.

(open) exes on good terms: i love this trope - two people who dated but who are still friendly (and possibly super close)

(open) one time date (positive): carlota and this person went on a date/found themselves on a date but quickly figured out they’d be better off as friends, and they are

ON BAD TERMS OR IFFY

(open) the guy who ditched her: carlota didn't think she would be participating in the summit as she was beginning to develop a relationship with someone. whether they were officially seeing each other/dating or not is open, but around four months ago he ended what they had, momentarily leaving carlota in a really bad place. i left this super open and vague on purpose, i would love to plot it with whoever takes him.

(open) the boy from the “a boy tried to make us compete for his attention so we ditched him and became close friends” connection: self-explanatory lmao

(open) betrothal’s romantic interest: i’d obviously love for carlota and her betrothal to be end game (like, romantically, not just being married for appearances) but i’m also big on stuff taking its time and i’d love for her betrothal’s to have a romantic interest (even if it’s onesided and he’s not interested in her - altho he can be obviously). above all, i just want a scene like this one lmao

(open) clashed from the start: clarlota and this person never got along (open)

(open) former teenage-hood friends: carlota and these people used to be close when they were teenagers but aren’t anymore.

(open) former best friend: carlota and this person used to be very close but something happened that drove them apart. maybe they were part of the same group of friends and when carlota suddenly started bailing on and not wanting to be associated with them the former best friend felt used and betrayed, like they were had only been a “party” friend to carlota

(open) exes on bad terms: self explanatory

(open) one time date (negative): carlota and this person went on a date/found themselves on a date and it went awful

(open) toxic romance:

NEUTRAL OR UNCLEAR

betrothal: i’d obviously love for carlota and her betrothal to be end game (like, romantically, not just being married for appearances) but obvs that’s not mandatory. his personality is completely open, honestly do with him whatever you wish i just ask that he’s not a very artsy person. as a suggestion, i’d love for his secret to be something like he has toddler from a past fling/relationship, or even if that’s not his secret i honestly just like the idea of him having a secret or not so secret kid. fc suggestions for him are: michiel huisman, bob morley, oliver jackson cohen, and santiago cabrera.

(open) star-crossed: carlota and this character have, or had, feelings for each other but for whatever reason their relationship just can’t work out.

(open) met in a bar: : this could have happened when they were kids/teens or recently. carlota and this royal met in a bar without knowing of each other’s backgrounds.

(open) push and pull: : there’s flirtation and mutual interest… and there’s also a lot of annoyance.

(open) bonded over doing smth they shouldn’t: this could have happened when they were kids/teens or recently. carlota and this person were caught (or nearly caught) doing something they shouldn’t be doing (such as sneaking out or sneaking back in)… individually. it was a chance encounter and their first meeting & can go many ways.

(open) flirtation: (open)

(open) accidental bonding: this person accidentally confided something in carlota, whether because they were drunk/tipsy, or simply completely saturated and needed to vent.

(open) betrothal’s ex: id honestly love for carlota to meet an ex of her betrothal and they get along super well. i have several ideas for this tbh but yeah!!

#buckingham:intro

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tenscupcake · 7 years ago

Text

the null hypothesis (3/?)

fitzsimmons. teen. ~3.9k this ch. woo! a fast update this time. hopefully i can stay on a good schedule with ep so i can keep that up. i seriously just want to post the whole fic rn bc i love it so much. hope you guys enjoy. summary: roughly one out of every six people can't feel touch; that is, until their soulmate touches them. fitz and jemma are two indignant contributors to that statistic, content to devote their lives to science rather than searching for their supposed 'other half.' both too clever for high school, they head off to university at sixteen, completely unaware their fates are about to become intertwined. but in a world where soulmates don't always match, it's not always easy to confess to a stranger. a soulmate au with a twist. this chapter on ao3 | back to chapter 1 on ao3

As much as Jemma wanted to enjoy her first week at Uni, for the most part it’s been profoundly boring. By Friday, she’s finished the reading and assignments for the next two weeks, even started on projects that haven’t been assigned yet. There’s only one class where she actually learns a few things the first week: physical chemistry. Relatively speaking, it’s always been one of her weak points.

The non-science, general education requirements on her schedule this semester have got to be the worst: world history and psychology. Two subjects that, admittedly, she hadn’t taken courses or AP exams for during her high school/community college years, too busy filling out her schedule with as many biology and biochemistry courses as she could. But in retrospect, she really should have gotten some of these out of the way early. The subject matter mostly feels like common knowledge. She’s learned everything they’ve covered so far just by visiting a couple of museums, watching the occasional documentary on National Geographic, and having bloody common sense.

Still, the most boring course of all has got to be general chemistry. Now there’s a class where the syllabus contains nothing she hasn’t learned already. But the university simply wouldn’t let her transfer those particular credits from community college. What a waste.

She’s hoping her major-specific courses will pick up a bit as the semester goes on: microbiology and genetics. In fact, she’s confident they will; it just happens that the first week entails a substantial amount of review of basic biological concepts.

More than anything else about attending university, she was looking forward to the labs: a chance to apply some of the skills she’s acquired. As it’s uncommon to let prepubescent children play with caustics or BSL-II microbes, there haven’t been many appropriate settings to practice her laboratory skills. It was always her favourite part of her community college courses, so she’s positive that the absence of labs during the first week of class is contributing to her sense of disappointment.

So, going into the second week when the lab portions of her courses will finally be meeting, her hopes are still high.

Her first one of the week is Gen Chem, Tuesday afternoon. Though it’s the least stimulating science course by far, she walks into the chemistry building with purpose and optimism. Though it’s unlikely any of the concepts will be new to her, perhaps she can learn a new laboratory technique or two.

She’s the first person into the lab, aside from the TA, and she takes a seat near the front of the room, against the wall, ready to tackle whatever protocol they throw at her.

But when turns to the page in the lab manual that’s written on the whiteboard, it takes everything in her not to sigh.

Reactions of copper.

How utterly elementary.

Still, the lab portion of the course is not optional. She pulls out one of several fresh lab notebooks from her backpack, designates it with a label for CHEM100A, and starts writing out the title, objective, and methods anyway.

The rest of the students in the section slowly trickle in as it gets closer to the class start time, and Jemma grows increasingly anxious as they all pair up with one another without hesitation. Roommates, met at orientation, knew each other in high school: whatever the backstory between the pairs may be, they all seem to already know each other. Jemma should have expected as much. Being a minor, she’s not allowed to have a roommate, but even if it weren’t against university rules, who would want to room with a teenager? And, in the same vein, who would want to have one as a lab partner? None of them know her, or the fact that she’s nothing like a typical sixteen-year-old.

She finds herself torn. On one hand, she hoping there’s an odd number of students in the class, because she’ll probably finish the experiment faster on her own. But on the other, she sort of hopes it’s an even number. Even if she has to spend all three hours in here with a chemistry amateur, perhaps she can make a friend. That’s one thing she desperately needs.

But the minute hand on the clock ticks to two, and the TA leading the lab starts his introductory spiel on laboratory safety before anyone takes the empty stool next to hers. She supposes it’s for the best.

As the TA – Jason, his name is – rambles on, Jemma’s thoughts take a turn for the worse. What if he notices she’s alone, and decides to rope her into another established group of two, turning her into the world’s worst third wheel? (Well, chemistry-wise, she’d probably get all of the work done, but socially speaking, a third wheel.)

But at eight minutes past, before she can dread such a possibility any longer, an out of sight door swings open, and someone comes stumbling in.

With all the shelves and ventilation shafts above the benches, she can’t properly see them, can only vaguely see a figure and hear their shuffling feet and panting breaths, as though they’ve been running. She wonders whether there’s an unpaired student across the lab after all, an empty seat out of her sight that the late stranger will occupy.

But the mystery person circles around to the front of the lab, heading straight for the TA in his search for an empty stool. He’s a pasty-looking bloke with short, curly hair, a striped tie in glaring contrast to the chequered shirt tucked into his kahki trousers. His fair cheeks are flushed pink, and he’s quite out of breath, presumably from running here. He looks so… young. Like he should still be in high school.

What sort of college student runs to class?

“I just finished explaining to the rest of the class,” Jason addresses the late boy. “Being more than five minutes late to a lab means you can’t participate in that lab, and you’ll have to take a zero. You’re all right for today. But starting next week, be on time or don’t come at all.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy responds, barely audible to her. She thinks she sees him roll his eyes.

“Anyone missing a partner?” Jason raises his voice, addressing the entire lab, and Jemma’s stomach sinks.

The boy pauses at the front of the lab, glancing around. Oh, brother. Like Jason hasn’t already seen her sitting by herself? Must he draw the entire section’s attention to the fact that she has no friends?

Holding her breath, she tentatively raises her hand, only just next to her face. Hoping that at least the students on the other end of the lab won’t see her, or have this introductory memory of her. The boy takes a deep breath as though he’s disappointed, and ducks his head as he hurries to the empty stool beside her.

“Excellent,” the professor exclaims. “The two young geniuses get to work together. This’ll be interesting.”

Huh? ‘Two young geniuses?’ Is he her age, after all?

Her gut instinct is to be excited. Someone else her age might be nice, an opportunity to make a friend. But right now, she can’t seem to maintain any level of excitement about the boy now approaching her. He clearly doesn’t have the same priorities. Late to the first laboratory? Rolling his eyes like he’s too good to be here? She doesn’t need a smart arse.

He slumps onto his seat, dropping his backpack so loudly it drowns out a couple of Jason’s next words. Not that it matters; she’s already written down the entire protocol and she’s well aware of both OSHA and university laboratory safety guidelines, thanks very much.

The irresponsible mystery boy rushes to catch up, scrambling to put on his coat and gloves, and pulling out a notebook and pen, scribbling down the protocol in chicken scratch. She looks away, realizing she shouldn’t care what his handwriting looks like.

It’s only a couple more minutes before Jason gives them permission to begin, and Jemma sighs while the rest of the students hastily rise to collect their materials. Her partner isn’t quite ready yet.

She supposes she should give him a second chance, though. He could have an excellent reason for being late, aside from laziness. A car accident, a sick grandfather. She should give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she’s stuck with him for sixteen weeks now.

“I’m Jemma,” she offers with a smile. “Simmons,” she adds. Pausing his mad scribbling, he glances over at her in surprise.

“Leo,” he replies. Putting far less effort into his returning smile, he turns back to his notebook. “Fitz,” he adds.

“Right then, Leo,” she says, not caring if he’s finished or not. No time to waste. “I’ll get the reagents. You can get the other supplies.” She heads for the table at the opposite corner of the room where their reagents have been pre-prepared without giving him time to respond.

It’s one of the hardest things she’s ever done, watching these technically-adults try to use the safety pump on the nitric acid. She barely stops one of them from using the same pipet for sodium hydroxide as sulphuric acid, and another from diluting their acid solution by adding water to it. “Acid to water, never water to acid!” she can’t help but shout, and it captures the attention of the roaming TA. As Jason approaches to give the hapless student a repeat lecture on safe practices for corrosives, Jemma seizes her window to access the reagent bottles she needs.

When she returns to the other end of the room, Leo already has a pre-1982 penny, a hot plate, a crucible, and extra glassware set up in their fume hood. She’s not sure how he found everything so quickly. He missed the walkthrough of where each of the items were located in the lab.

“Found everything all right, then?” she asks.

“Hard to misplace a hot plate,” he quips.

Oh. He’s Scottish, then.

In an instant, she finds her heart softening to him a bit. It was not easy transferring here during high school, and she can’t help but wonder whether he just moved here. His accent seems unmistakeable now. She doesn’t know how she didn’t notice it before. Not expecting it, she supposes. She can’t remember ever meeting a Scottish person since she moved to America. Assuming he was American, she thought he just had an unusual pronunciation of his name. But glancing over at his now-closed notebook resting on the lip of the hood, she sees ‘Leo Fitz’ and finds herself thinking it’s a bit cute. Fitz.

Her curiosity gets the better of her.

“Not from around here, I’m guessing?” she asks as she places the penny in one of the beakers he got.

“Glasgow,” he answers, pouring the correct volume reagent into the beaker without being prompted, with neither a splash nor a dribble.

“Sheffield,” she volunteers, spirits lifted that so far he’s not completely incompetent at chemistry.

He’s not terribly talkative yet, and she’s not sure whether to chalk it up to nerves or an ego. But she can’t help trying to engaging him a little more; it’d be so nice to have a friend her age.

“What’s your opinion of America so far?” she ventures as they watch their penny dissolve.

“Lives up to the stereotypes.”

She chuckles. She could say the same thing.

Still, it’s not the detailed answer she’d hoped for. There’s got to be some way to get this boy to talk, but she’s not sure how to find it out. She surreptitiously looks to his backpack and the lanyard sitting at his station, but they’re both utterly plain and black, no stickers or themes to be found. She’s starting to second guess whether she wants to be friends with him at all.

To her surprise, after the following step, he asks her a question.

“When’d you move here?”

“About three years ago, now.”

“Hmm. Me too.” As though it’s a trivial thing, immigrating to a new country.

“Though we didn’t move here, specifically to New Jersey, I mean,” she qualifies. “My parents are in Los Angeles.”

“Ah,” Fitz nods. “Yeah, my... my mum, she’s in New York.”

“How old are you?” she asks, since the can of worms has been opened now.

“Sixteen,” he says, shrugging just slightly like he’s a bit proud of himself.

“Seriously?” she asks, not able to help herself from beaming at him a bit.

“Seriously.” He nods.

“I am too,” she says. “Couldn’t stand another day of high school,” she adds.

He chuckles a bit, at that. And though she doesn’t understand why, Jemma finds herself quite happy she’s at least capable of making him laugh.

They’re both quiet as they carry on the next step of the experiment. Jemma is more impressed by the minute at Fitz’s knack for chemistry. She doesn’t know if she could’ve asked for a better partner. Despite being late and having hardly any time to read the manual, he seems to have memorized the protocol. He helps her setup each new step before she has to ask.

“What’s your major?” she asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, if only because she doesn’t want to seem desperate for someone to talk to.

“Engineering.”

Of course. A numbers bloke. It’s all math and physics to them, it’s no wonder he can barely hold a conversation.

“Biochem,” she counters, without prompting.

Despite their mismatched fields of study, they work surprisingly well together. Still, worried they may not have much curriculum in common outside this wretched lab, she narrows her inquiries into ones strictly related to it.

“When are Dr. White’s office hours, again?” she asks. Just to get the ball rolling.

“Er… I dunno,” he responds, looking at her like she’s mad for asking. “Isn’t that in the syllabus?”

She tries a different avenue a few minutes later.

“Have you done the textbook readings yet?” He probably doesn’t need to read it, from the looks of it, but perhaps they can discuss how easy this course is together. Have a laugh at the first chapter of the text explaining the properties of water.

It takes him a moment to answer. “I’ve sort of been busy with other classes, actually.”

Jemma is growing frustrated. The more she tries to engage with him, the more he seems like a self-absorbed knob.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding along. “Me too.” In an attempt to salvage her dignity, she adds: “Never know what could show up on an exam, though.”

Discouraged, she decides to makes one final school-related attempt.

“Have you been to the library yet? Or logged onto the online database? There’s more journal subscriptions than I could ever read. Molecular biology, physiology, pharmacology… and I know they’ve got lots of engineering ones, too.”

“I’ve been meaning to but, not yet.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “The truth is, I spend most of my free time working on projects of my own.”

“Really?” Whether or not he meant it, she interprets it as him throwing her a bone. “Like what?”

“Well, right now I’m working on this sort of, drone. It’s multifunctional. Designed to gather intel in places that are too dangerous for humans. Contamination sites, outer space, that sort of thing.”

Here it is. This is what will get him talking. She should’ve led with this, asking him about machines and things. She hasn’t heard him string together sentences like this the entire hour and a half she’s been by his side. And more than that: as he’s pouring sodium hydroxide and outlining the functions he has planned for his drone, she realizes he’s smiling as he does it. Properly smiling. She should steer the conversation toward engineering more often. His smile is quite lovely. And he’s clearly passionate about this project, and that’s something she can relate to. Perhaps their friendship isn’t doomed after all.

“Sounds fascinating,” she offers. “And you do that all on your own?”

“For the most part, yeah.”

He reciprocates by asking what sort of projects she’s been involved in for biochemistry. She decides to tell him about the pharmaceutical internship she did before she arrived here. She leaves out the fact that, due to her age and inexperience, she was not allowed to directly conduct any experiments and was instead responsible for dishes and paperwork, thinking the genius doesn’t need to know. It’s not quite fair, after all. The only reasons she doesn’t have a side project of her own at the moment are logistical in nature. It’s not as easy for a biochemist to keep their own experiments, unless she wants to go capture some animals and keep them in her dorm. Or grow a garden inside of it.

But just then, Jason walks up behind them and asks where they’re at.

“We’ve just finished precipitating the copper metal –” Jemma begins.

“We’re just about to dry the sample –” Leo begins at the same time. They glare over at each other, but neither truncates their sentence.

Jason merely laughs, and continues his rounds.

They can’t agree on how to collect the copper solids, either. They both want to go off-protocol for increased accuracy, but disagree on how. They end up flipping a second (undissolved) penny, and Jemma loses.

Jemma is starting to think it’d be a terrible idea for them to work together on anything outside the confines of this painfully easy laboratory. With more complicated problems, they’d surely find even bigger things to squabble about.

They finish up fairly quickly after that, without any more small-talk. They record the mass of their copper and turn in the carbon copies of their methods and observations.

But once again, they disagree on how to dispose of their leftover acids and bases. He wants to walk them over to the corrosive waste storage; she wants to neutralize them and place them in the general non-halogenated waste bin.

At least this time, Jemma wins the coin toss.

Once they’ve finished cleaning up, Jemma remembers the beginning of the lab. The fact that he walked in eight minutes late, and Jason’s stern reminder about not being able to participate in the future.

“I hope you don’t make a habit of being late,” she warns Leo, trying to sound stern. “It’s not only your grade that’s dependent on your punctuality.” She might be coming off a bit rude at this point, but she doesn’t care as much as she should. He’s been a bit rude on a few occasions already.

“Couldn’t find the building, that’s all,” he mumbles through his teeth, his face slowly going red.

It’s absolutely not the excellent excuse she anticipated, and Jemma isn’t pleased that he hasn’t given her any assurance he won’t be late in the future.

Still, as they take off their PPE and pack up their things, she starts to feel guilty about her brusqueness. She does have to spend dozens more hours with him in here, and he’s far from the worst lab partner she could have. He’s very clever, at least, and they completed the experiment without any errors or holdups.

“Looks like you guys make quite the team,” Jason says, coming up behind them by surprise again. “I’ll have to come up with some extra experimentation for you two next week, since this was clearly too easy for you.”

She definitely hears Leo sigh.

Jemma can’t let them leave them off like this.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Fitz,” she says before either of them can leave.

It’s too late when she realizes she called him ‘Fitz’ instead of ‘Leo.’ He doesn’t comment on her fixation with his last name, and she’s too embarrassed to acknowledge the slip-up and correct herself.

“Yeah,” he says, slinging his backpack on. “You too.”

Before he can turn away, she holds out her hand in a gesture of goodwill. An olive branch.

“See you next week?” she says, gently smiling at him.

For a moment he’s frozen with surprise, just staring down at her hand. But eventually he reaches for her extended hand with an equally apologetic smile, almost as though he realizes they’ve both cocked it up a bit.

But as soon as his hand touches hers, she forgets about all that. Him stumbling in late, their disagreements, his thinly veiled irritation with her questions. Because this is not like any other handshake she’s ever had – a vague pressure deep under her skin to indicate the other person has squeezed her hand sufficiently hard.

This is so much more than that.

A million dead neurons resurrect beneath his hesitant touch, flooding her brain with signals it’s not nearly prepared to receive. Callouses on his palms from working with his hands too much, the layer of slick moisture coating their hands from hours of wearing gloves. Every individual metacarpophalangeal joint pressing into her palm, the whispers of hairs on the back of his hand against the pad of her thumb. The extra strength tucked away in his larger, thicker grip that really only comes from having ten times the circulating testosterone.

It’s him.

Oh, God, it’s him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s a reticent engineer, that he was late or that they seem to love to annoy and interrupt each other. Suddenly all that matters to Jemma is that this endearingly pasty hand feels like it was meant for hers. That this clever, slightly grumpy, painfully quiet boy is the soulmate she’s spent her life waiting for. The boy she’s supposed to be with forever.

She realizes she’s still staring down at their linked hands, and that this conciliatory handshake has gone on far too long. She glances back up to his face, to find him staring blankly down at her hand, too. When he meets her eyes it’s only a fraction of a second later, but it feels like a lifetime.

Okay. Don’t panic, she tells herself. Assess the situation.

But he doesn’t look like he’s just experienced what she has. She’s heard stories, watched films, even seen it with her own eyes a handful of times. There’s almost always shouting, squealing of some kind. But Fitz – damn it, Leo – is silent.

Suddenly, he yanks his hand away.

She inhales sharply at the rush of friction across her skin, sending zings all the way up her arm.

Paralysed with shock, all she can do is watch Fitz as his expression turns grave, like he’s both confused and disturbed by this lengthy episode of physical contact.

An image of Uncle Jeff still in tears over Aunt Emily six months after she’d left flashes in her mind.

This can’t be a match, either.

Tears welling up in her eyes, Jemma quickly concludes she can’t let on what’s just happened. He’d transfer himself to a different lab section in an instant if he found out.

But before she can figure out a way to improvise a professional farewell, he gives her a quick mumbled affirmative to whatever she’d asked (what was it???) and practically leaves skid marks on the linoleum as he turns around to head for the nearest exit door. In what seems like a fraction of a second, the door is slamming into its stopper and he’s out of sight.

#fstag #fsfic #fitzsimmons #aaaaaaaaaaa #time to do a lot of reading on almonds #oh yeah #sexy stuff be jealous #written by yours truly

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evenifyoudontfic · 8 years ago

Text

Even If You Don’t: Chapter 14

Previous Chapter

Mari’s POV

“Mari,” I heard someone sing, “Time to wake up.” I let out a soft whine, turning myself so my back was facing whoever it was – I just woke up from my nap; I can’t tell. They chuckled under their breath before pulling the curtain of my bunk open further. “C’mon, princess,” they said, letting me know it was Calum, “You’re needed for soundcheck.”

“Tell Ash to do it,” I replied, my voice muffled by my pillow. He laughed a little louder that time.

“I think that defeats the whole purpose, baby girl – you and Ash are completely different drummers.”

“I’m better though, right?” I asked, finally turning to lay on my back so I could look at him.

“Of course you are,” Calum smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheekbone, “Now, come on. If you get up now, I’ll carry you to the stage.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart, Hood,” I rolled my eyes but got up anyway.

“Got you out of bed, didn’t it?” he smirked.

Calum turned away from me, allowing me to hop onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his neck – careful not to choke him – and laid my head on his shoulder. I reached down when he got to the door, opening it so he could get off the bus and then pushing it closed when he was on the pavement, as well as opening the venue door when he got there. As he was walking through the hallway, I was breathing in and out deeply, apparently worrying Calum.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, his hand squeezing my thigh gently. I didn’t directly answer the question – I just pressed a kiss to the skin where his shoulder met his neck.

“You smell good,” I murmured, hearing him smile.

“I smell the way I always do, princess,” he reminded me.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t smell good,” I sassed, kissing him again. He didn’t respond that time, but I did hear him chuckle softly as we entered the room where the stage was.

Later that night

We had just finished our third song and went into the talking bit. This was the second time we had a crowd of well over 10,000 people and we were absolutely ecstatic. Being on the tour for a few months before we hit the United States, a lot more people were now fans of our band and could actually sing every word of our songs with us – and we loved hearing our lyrics screamed back at us.

“You all sound amazing, by the way!” Kenzie chirped, making the crowd cheer.

“Yeah! We’re so relieved as well!” Vanessa nodded, “I think every other country’s perception of America is that they’re lazy.”

“I think that’s just because our American is,” Kaylynn snickered.

“I’m putting in my resignation – effective immediately,” I stated as everyone laughed along, “I don’t wanna be in this band anymore. If anyone in the crowd is a drummer and you feel like putting up with daily verbal abuse, find one of them-” I motioned to the three girls in front of me. “-after the show because I quit.”

“You can’t quit until after this song, Mar,” Kenzie giggled.

“Yeah, you’ve been waiting to do this one since we started this tour,” Vanessa chimed in.

“You guys didn’t even let me pick my solo! The song is about an American girl, I’m an American girl... I think I should have gotten to pick my solo,” I said, making the crowd scream as they now knew what song we were doing for we 5SOS cover.

“We gave you your favorite solo anyway!” Kenzie defended.

“You can quit after this song,” Kaylynn repeated Kenzie’s previous statement with a grin, “We’ll do the rest of the show acoustic and then find a new drummer.”

“You’re gonna find a new drummer before tomorrow night’s show?” I couldn’t keep myself from smiling anymore.

“Or Ashton can fill in until we find one.”

“Hey, Ash!” I called, looking over at where the boys were standing, “You wanna do that?!”

“No, thank you!” he shouted back since he wasn’t in my line of view, giggling lightly, “I’m good!”

“See?” I grinned cockily, “He doesn’t want to do it.”

“Fine – we’ll stop making fun of you then,” Kaylynn shook her head.

“No, you won’t,” I rolled my eyes, beginning to tap the pedal under my foot to start the song.

“We love you, Mar,” Vanessa sang as she and the other girls started playing as well.

“We wanna hear you guys, okay? As loud as you can!” Kenzie addressed the crowd, “We know you know this one!”

[Kenzie]

I love that accent you have when you say hello You relocated from New York a month ago That minivan that you drive really gets me going And if it feels like it's right, then it can't be wrong

[Vanessa]

No one understands the chemistry we have And it came out of nowhere

[Kenzie, Kaylynn]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Vanessa]

It's not like we planned this, it's getting out of hand And now we're gonna go there

[Kenzie, Kaylynn]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

Walk my way, Mrs All American Say my name, no need to pretend Don't be shy, Mrs All American I'll show you why you're not gonna walk away

[Vanessa]

Yeah

[Mari]

Not just a neighbor, oh hey there, I'll ring your bell Open your door, pucker up, and I'll kiss you well My lips are sealed, there's nobody that I would tell Your secret's mine, close your eyes, and I'll make you melt

[Vanessa]

No one understands the chemistry we have And it came out of nowhere

[Kenzie, Kaylynn]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Vanessa]

It's not like we planned this, it's getting out of hand And now we're gonna go there

[Kenzie, Kaylynn]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

Walk my way, Mrs All American Say my name, no need to pretend Don't be shy, Mrs All American I'll show you why you're not gonna walk away

[Vanessa]

Oh, yeah

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

Na na na na na na na na

[Mari]

You know what she like

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

Na na na na na na na na

[Mari]

You know what she like

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

Na na na na na na na na

[Mari]

Naaaa, you know what she like

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

Na na na na na na na

Walk my way, Mrs All American Say my name, no need to pretend Don't be shy, Mrs All American I'll show you why you're not gonna walk away

[Mari]

Walk my way

[Vanessa]

Oh, yeah

[Mari]

Say my name

[Kaylynn]

You're not gonna walk away

[Mari]

Don't be shy I'll show you why

[All]

You're not gonna walk away

Song used: “Mrs All American” by 5 Seconds of Summer

i wish i knew how to end chapters just as much as u wish i did

i’m updating today bc i didn’t want to wait until tuesday this time lmao

Next Chapter

#calum hood #5sos #evenifyoudontfic #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum fanfic #calum hood fan fiction #5sos fanfic #5sos fan fiction #5sos fic #sounds live feels live #slfl

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sweetnestor · 8 years ago

Text

Story of Another Us | Week 7, Part 1

university au, platonic af, now on ao3!

this is the point where we (I, the lazy author) start skipping weeks, so donut fret for not finding weeks 5 and 6 bc they donut exist :)

previous chapter

Tell me if you wanted it at all

“Let me hear you,” Jack said.

I remained quiet, my face beet red.

“Come on, Bellers,” he coaxed.

“I don’t sing in front of people!” I blurted out, tangling my fingers together nervously.

“You sing in front of me!” interjected Mark, who was sat next to Jack on the sofa.

I hesitated. “B-But that’s different…”

“No, you always want someone to hear you sing before you post it on your channel!” he told me. “And it’s just me and Jack, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I looked down at my keyboard. I was excited to sing for them earlier, but then the time came and I got cold feet. One of the few things I was proud of about myself was my ability to sing. I had perfect pitch since I took classes as a child. I could sing big vocals like it was nothing, high notes came easy to me. It was just intimidating every time someone heard me sing. I was being watched and judged and I was never good under that kind of stress.

But it was just Mark and Jack. I shouldn’t have been so nervous, but I was always nervous. I inhaled deeply and played the first few notes of the song I had chosen.

“I can still taste the ocean, like it was today…

You said ‘please keep on holding my hands’ and the rain it came too soon,

I will wait for you to love me again”

I kept my eyes on my fingers pressing the keys. In all honesty, I only wanted to sing this particular song to Mark because it made me think of him. I figured I would hint at it in the description box if I decided to be brave.

“Guess I was running from something, I was running back to you…”

Have you ever listened to a song and you just wanted to live in it? Or inject it into your veins? I had strong feelings when I heard this song, feelings similar to when I realized I really loved my boyfriend.

I took a quick glance at the two guys. They both had matching grins on their faces. I kept singing, slowly detaching myself from reality and getting lost in the music. And then came my favorite line:

“The darkest night never felt so bright with you by my side…”

That particular line always made me emotional. I was full of darkness, I was negative. But I had Mark, and he was my light in this mess that was my life. I hadn’t realized how down I was until I wasn’t really there anymore. I didn’t expect him to “heal” or “fix” me, I just needed his help.

“What did I tell you?” he said to Jack when I had finished. “She’s incredible, right?”

My face went back to red.

“Yes, she is!” Jack agreed. “You’re really talented, Bella!”

“Thank you,” I responded.

“They’re going to love you,” Mark told me.

The next time I sang Outer Space, I had my camera on. I did it one take and just uploaded the video. I did covers every now and again on my channel. Those, along with the occasional daily vlogs, were insanely popular compared to my makeup tutorials/rants.

Mark went back to his house after I posted my video. He was always busy with whatever projects he had going on. He was script writing, preparing sketches with Matt and Ryan, editing videos, and slowly but surely working on a tour. That was mainly why I barely saw him these days, even when I stayed at his house. The only reason why it didn’t bother me that much was because I had Jack to keep me company.

Once I thought of that, it dawned on me that he wasn’t going to be here permanently. The semester ends in May, then he would be going back to Ireland. What would I do then? He was the only friend I had. I never realized how alone I was until he came along. I had fun with him. He was slowly taking me out of my shell.

I mean, yes, I had Mark. But like I said, he was always busy, and it’s considered “healthy” and “normal” to have other friends besides your boyfriend. I didn’t know what I was going to do when I was alone again.

What did I do to distract myself from my future of crippling loneliness? I isolated myself in my bathroom and washed my collection of makeup brushes. When you’re a socially anxious makeup artist who uses online shopping as a coping mechanism, that takes up a lot of time. I had barely gotten through one brand of brushes before I heard footsteps out in my room.

“Baller!” Jack called. That’s a new one.

“In here!” I replied, reached over from the sink to open the door.

He came over and saw me, tilting his head. “What are you doing?”

“Washing brushes,” I said.

“All of those?” he asked in surprise, pointing to the giant pile on the counter.

I shrugged. “I’ve been putting off cleaning them.”

“Do you need help? Looks like you’re going to be here a while.”

“Sure, if you’re not busy.”

He happily approached the counter and stood next to me by the sink. I handed him a dirty brush and showed him how to properly wash it. It was simple, and now that there were two of us doing, things were getting done faster.

“So, what got you into makeup?” he prompted after a while. “Why do you like it so much?”

Oh man.

“Are you sure you wanna hear that story?” I asked in response.

“Yes!”

I sighed. This was a tough subject. “To put it shortly, there was a point in my life where everything sucked. I mean, there’s been plenty of times where everything sucked, but this one was pretty bad. I just wanted to feel good about something, so I bought a cheap little eyeshadow palette and wore that whenever I was down. Of course, that expanded and escalated, and here I am now.”

Jack nodded. “So you wear makeup when you’re sad?”

“I used to. But now I do it because I love it and it’s fun. I actually went to beauty school and everything, but I never finished it because of YouTube.”

“Well, that’s cool.” Jack put one brush aside and picked up another. “I didn’t know it was personal, by the way, I’m sorry if I was prying or anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve wanted to make a video on why I got into makeup for a long time since I never talked about it, but I don’t want to seem depressing. Like… I want something like that to be helpful instead of just sharing my sob story.”

“It must be really serious then. Don’t worry about how you’ll sound. If you think you need to talk about it, then do it. If you think it’ll help someone, that’s even better.”

It was itching at me now that I had spoken out loud about it. I had never talked about this with anyone. Not Mark, not even my therapist. It was like a crying fit stuck in my throat and it refused to come out. Not that I particularly wanted it to, anyway.

“I’m still thinking about it,” I concluded.

“Well, no matter what you decide,” Jack said, “you have my support.”

“Thank you.”

He was so easy to talk to. I was fighting myself not to just spill everything out and burden him with the things that I’ve done. I couldn’t expose him to how bad I really was, and I really didn’t want to tell him something that I couldn’t even tell to my boyfriend.

Ironically, Jack asked if Mark knew this deep, dark story, and I said no. I hadn’t told anyone.

“Do you think you need to talk about it?”

“Yeah, but not anytime soon.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. It’s a thing of the past.”

Exams and midterms still took place. It was mainly for the students transferring to actual universities after YTU closed for good, but everybody attending still had to take them. I was never good at studying, or good at school in general, but I managed to get by.

One of my classes, English, required group work, and that was a nightmare. I was interacting with others, but I still remained friendless. My yoga class sometimes involved partner poses, but I had Jack there to help me. That was probably one reason why we got closer.

But alas, Jack was leaving soon and then things won’t be the same anymore. I had Sophie - kind of - she was more of an acquaintance. She would mostly talk and I would listen. She had plenty of other friends, and her best friend, who I had in my yoga class. I was easily replaceable.

I had Mark too, but he was spreading himself thin lately. As much as he denied it, he was slowly stressing himself out. I would try to help him, but I was afraid of making him snap. He was just busy all the time, practically leaving me alone with Jack. Maybe that was another reason I got close to him. But that’s what Mark wanted, right? He wanted me to have at least one friend so that way, he didn’t have to worry or feel guilty that he was away from me all the time. That wasn’t a bad thing, I did need friendship.

It was a typical warm day… well, it wasn’t warm to me. Jack was a bit miserable, claiming it was “hot as fucking balls.”

“This is nothing compared to the summertime,” I told him, amused. “In my hometown, it’s all desert, so you’d get the dryest heat of your life. Oh, and during the spring, it’s so windy that you’re pretty much eating dirt.”

We were both out of class early due to exams. We had extra time to kill. It was nearing five o’clock and the campus was particularly barren. I didn’t have any videos to film today, and Jack liked to film well into the night.

“Can we go to the Tube?” he asked. “I heard it’s good.”

“Really?” I asked in response, my stomach immediately flipping over.

The Tube was a diner/bar specifically for vloggers, and it was connected with the university. I had only been there once, and I ended up having a panic attack in the bathroom. That was the last time I went to a restaurant… until I started dating Mark.

“Yeah, I’ve never been there! Please?” Jack asked, giving me and exaggerated pout.

I had to give in. I didn’t want to ruin everything, even if it meant sacrificing my own comfort and mental health. We walked down the street to the diner, my jaw clenched shut from the nerves.

Jack went to order us drinks while I found us a booth. It wasn’t particularly busy today, but there were intimidating vloggers scattered here and there. Some of them were looking at Jack, who was far more known and respected than I was.

He came over to the booth with two beers and sat across from me. “I don’t know what you like, so I went with Coors.”

“That’s fine,” I said, accepting the bottle and taking a gulp. Alcohol helped me relax in social situations. “I actually don’t drink that much.” Because I never go outside, therefore I had no reason to cope-drink.

“How come?” he asked. “You strike me as someone who does shots and cocktails.”

I shook my head, chuckling a little. “Nope. The idea that a liquid can impair your thoughts and actions is a bit terrifying.” Yet it’s one of your maladaptive behaviors. Okay then, Bella.

Jack rolled his eyes, amused. “Are you a lightweight, Bellers?”

I was embarrassed by that little fact for some reason. “No…”

“Chug your beer, then.”

“iChale! No way!”

“Come on! I’ll do it with you! Look!” Without missing a beat, Jack took his own bottle and began to down it.

Fuck it. This bout of nerves and anxiety wasn’t going to go down by itself. I tipped down my beverage, though I didn’t feel any different once I finished it. Beer never really did it for me, I needed something stronger.

“You drunk yet?” Jack jokingly asked when he put down his empty bottle.

“It’s gonna take more than that, mijito,” I said back.

At one point, a waiter came by and replaced our drinks with new ones. Jack ordered some food as well, and we got settled in.

“So, how’d you meet Signe?” I asked.

“She made some art of me, and I started talking to her on Tumblr,” he replied. “There was this time where she was streaming, she was drawing a picture of me. I went onto the stream and watched a little bit, and I told her ‘you better draw me pretty.’ She told me to go fuck myself.”

I giggled. “How romantic.”

“Yeah… I really miss her.” He took another sip of his beer. “How did you and Mark meet?”

“It was here at YTU. We had some classes together, and we were partnered together on a project,” I said. “And you know me, I was super quiet and awkward. Except, when he tried to make conversation with me, I did not want to cooperate.”

“Same old Bella,” Jack commented, smiling. “So you were friends before you started dating?”

“Yeah, we only started dating in October, but we’re pretty close.”

“Do you not drink because he can’t?”

“It’s a personal choice. You’d think with all the shit I have in here-” I pointed to my head “-I’d be a raging alcoholic. But no.”

“That makes you a very strong person. I respect that.”

I smiled. “Thanks, dude! Wanna do a shot or two?”

“Sure!”

When the waiter came with our food, I managed to order two tequila shots. One bright side of my drinking-in-social-situations habit, I could do things on my own without shaking as much. However, I was still too polite and shy to say anything when we were presented with a whole plate of tequila shots.

Jack was giggling once the waiter had gone. “Is this what you ordered?”

I hesitated. “I did say a shot or two…”

“Oh, tiny little Baller. Ready?” He took one small glass and held it up.

I took a deep breath and held up my own. “Let’s do this. To… friendship?”

“To friendship!”

And down went the first shot.

It burned my throat, but not enough to make me want to throw it back up. It just made me want to drink more. I was feeling better and more free as the alcohol set into my system. More people entered the diner, and I wasn’t plagued with the urge to hide in the bathroom. But if I did feel that, then I had more tequila to help me out with that.

I looked through my phone at one point, some time after emptying two more shot glasses. I was making sure I didn’t receive any texts from Mark. As usual, I had no new notifications, so I scrolled on Tumblr, and my heart began to burst.

“Jack,” I said urgently. “I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me,” he replied, leaning forward in his seat. His cheeks were flushed.

“You fans are so fucking nice, dude. I love them.”

“I know! Thank you! They’re being nice to you?”

“They’re drawing fanart, and they say my makeup is pretty!” I could have cried in that moment. “They also have this funny idea that we should be together.”

“That's called shipping,” Jack pointed out.

“I know, I'm just thinking,” I said, “maybe the shippers are going to my head or something.” I hesitated. “Do you think if you didn't have Signe, and I didn't have Mark, that we…” I let my sentence finish itself.

He actually considered it, looking at his empty shot glass with a lot of thought. “I don't know. I can't imagine myself with anyone but Signe. You and me? Maybe… in another life probably.”

“Another story,” I added. “Una historia de otros nosotros.”

“I'm going to pretend like I understood that.” Jack chuckled. “Do you actually think we could work?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, we're complete opposites, but maybe that's not a bad thing. You bring out my happy, energetic side, and I…”

“You teach me how to shut the fuck up,” Jack continued. “No but really, you taught me more about anxiety.”

“You make me want to be a better person,” I said, my words slurring a little bit. “You’ve made me feel less lonely. God, you're such a nice, good person Jack! I don't deserve a friend like you!”

“Aw, you're so sweet, Baller!” he replied. “I'm glad we're friends on some level, y'know? Sure, in another story we could be more than that, but I'm happy where we are right now. Besties, and nothing more.”

“Exactly! We should get bracelets or something...” I could have cried, this was such a nice moment. I really did love Jack, as much as you can love a good friend.

“If you and Mark ever break up, I'm still hanging out with you,” he said. “That's how close I think we are.”

“Bros before hoes doesn't apply to me?”

“You're a bro! The best bro, queen of the bros!”

“You sound like Felix.” I giggled.

“Maybe that's a sign we've had too much to drink. Let's call someone, shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” I pulled out my phone, somehow managing to dial Mark.

“Bellaboo!” he greeted upon answering.

“Hi Markimoo!” I greeted back, giggling like a little girl. “My love, my life, my wife!”

He chuckled on the other line. “Where are you?”

“Me and the Jack decided to have special friend time,” I explained. “We’re having fun, but maybe too much fun. There was tequila involved.”

“Oh, I understand. Can you drive, babe?”

Everything he was saying was funny. “I don’t think so. Could you be the bestest, sweetest person ever and pick us up? Estamos cerca del universidad, si sabes?”

“English, honey,” he told me.

“Y’know that one bar, restaurant, thing by campus? That’s where you’ll find me and my son.”

“Jack is your son now?” Mark laughed.

“Yes, I adopted him, and we’re raising him together! Right, Jack?”

“Right!” he replied even though he didn’t hear what me and Mark were talking about.

“Okay, I’ll be right there, baby,” Mark told me.

“Thank yooouu, I love yoouu,” I sang before hanging up.

_______

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#jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye x reader #jacksepticeye x oc #markiplier x oc #markiplier x reader #markiplier fanfiction #sweetheart writes #soau #is where i put my read more break considered clickbait???

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