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rpf-bat · 4 years ago

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Underground, Getting Down

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 14. Prompt: “Symphony”.

You’re a flutist, playing in the New York subway for tips. Gerard watches one of your performances, and decides that his next single, needs a mad flute solo.

Beneath the streets of New York, the subway station bustled, filled with people. Some moved up the stairs, towards the streets, and others down the steps, towards the trains. Everyone in the crowd was rushing on to their next destination. At the base of the staircase, you stood, playing your flute.

Your flute case sat propped open on the tiles in front of you. A few bills already lined the inside. A young woman dropped another fiver in, as you played Bach’s ‘Flute Sonata in A Minor’.

You lifted your face from the instrument for a moment, to call out, “Thank you!”

The woman had already turned away from you, rushing down the corridor to catch the E train. You shrugged, returning your lips to the flute’s embouchure hole. Even the best buskers, rarely made someone stop in their tracks. The song ended.

I think I’ll mix it up, you decided, do something more pop for the next song.

You picked the Bach sheet music up off your stand, placing it back in your bag. Then, you pulled out the sheet music for Jethro Tull’s ‘No Lullaby’. This one was usually more impressive-sounding, when you had your friend, who played guitar, with you to do the intro. But, he was busy today, at his day job at Starbucks. You would just have to launch right into your solo.

Your fingers danced over the keys, as the music echoed off the walls of the tunnel. You found your mind wandering, as you played.

I really thought, when I graduated, that I was gonna play for the New York Philharmonic, you recalled wistfully. But, the auditions for first chair ended up being competitive as hell. Instead of playing high society symphonies, I just play out here, for the commuters and hobos.

It wasn’t what you had dreamed of - but it was a living.

As you continued your song, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You glanced up from your songbook, and realized that a man was sitting, eerily still, on the steps. Hurried people were practically tripping over him, but he didn’t move, to get out of their way. He stayed exactly where he was. He didn’t look homeless, you considered. His face was hidden by thick aviator sunglasses, but his clothes suggested wealth. He was staring at you, with rapt attention, as if your flute, was the only sound in the world.

You found yourself blushing under his steady gaze, as the song concluded. You lowered your flute-holding arm to your side, and looked at the stranger again, curiously.

“Bravo!” he cried, clapping, and jumping up. “You were amazing!”

He walked over, and dropped a handful of bills, into your case.

Wait, what? All of those are hundreds!, you realized, eyes widening. Who the hell is this guy?

He pulled the sunglasses off his face, shaking his long, dark hair out of his eyes as he did so. Your jaw dropped, when you realized you recognized him.

“Hi,” he said casually, “my name’s Gerard Way.”

“I….I know who you are,” you stammered, scarcely believing this was real. Your inner emo kid was screaming. “What are you doing in New York?”

“Visiting family,” Gerard shrugged. “Well, technically, they live on the Jersey side of the river. But, I always have to stop by Forbidden Planet, when I’m in town.”

“Oh, you mean the comic shop, on Broadway?” you nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. I….I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Gerard grinned. “I really enjoyed that song, that you just did.”

“I….uh, really enjoy your music, too,” you said awkwardly. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl.

“I’m actually working on some new music right now,” Gerard revealed.

“What?” you blinked. “Really? Wasn’t your last album in like…..2014?”

“Yeah, Hesitant Alien was four years ago, already!” Gerard chuckled. “I think I’m definitely overdue for something new!”

“Oh, wow,” your heart hammered excitedly. “I can’t wait to hear the new record, when it comes out!”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna do a whole second album,” Gerard confessed. “I think I’m just gonna put a couple singles out, and see how it goes.”

“I….I see,” you mumbled. This was crazy. Why was he telling all this, to a random busker, that he just met?

“I wanted to thank you, Y/N,” Gerard went on. “There’s this song I’ve been working on, for a couple months now. it’s just not sounding right to me, quite yet. You helped me realize what it’s missing.”

“And, what is that?” you wondered, still feeling bewildered.

“A flute solo,” Gerard grinned.

“Huh?” you gasped. “Who uses flute music, in a rock n roll song? I mean, besides Jethro Tull?”

“I love Jethro Tull,” Gerard laughed. “But, for real, it’s not that weird. Billy Corgan had some flutes on ‘Drum + Fife’, on the album Monuments To An Elegy.”

“Oh, true,” you remembered. “Didn’t that drop in 2014, too?”

“Yeah, I actually got to open for him, on that tour!” Gerard said excitedly. “That was when I decided that I wanted to bring a flute into one of my own songs, someday.”

“Wow,” you realized, “You’re serious about this.”

“I am,” Gerard said, looking you in the eyes. “But….can we talk about this somewhere else? I’m worried if I stay in one place much longer, somebody is gonna spot me, and start asking for pictures.”

“Oh, uh, sure!” you nodded.

“I think if we go up to the street level, there’s a coffee shop, like, right outside,” Gerard suggested.

“You’re…..asking me to get a cup of coffee with you?” you grasped. Was this a date?

“Yeah,” Gerard said, turning red, as he awkwardly combed his fingers through his hair. “Is, uh, is that okay with you?”

“......Absolutely,” you smiled. “Just let me put my flute away!”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard had insisted on carrying your flute case for you, despite the short walk. He was such a gentleman. You did not, however, allow him to buy your cup of coffee for you. He’d already given you that absurd tip, when he first strolled over to your busking spot.

You stared at him across the table, as he sipped his latte. This still felt entirely unreal.

“So, the song I’m working on,” Gerard explained, “It’s called ‘Getting Down The Germs.’”

“...Germs?” you repeated, confused.

“The lyrics are still a work in progress,” Gerard admitted. He dug into the pocket of his green coat, and pulled out a small, tattered-looking notebook. He opened it to a page near the back, and pushed it towards you. “This is what I have so far.”

You took the book gingerly, feeling as if you’d been handed a holy text. The words on the page, were written in a surprisingly untidy scrawl:

It's never the same and the nights always glow

There's nothing to see and nowhere to go

It's easy to say you're happier when you're disturbed

The green lights in your head

Getting down the germs

I'm lazy and tame and the chimes always blow

A glimmering sound on the breeze when you go

It's never a shame and I've learned to live with the worms

Underground

Getting down the germs

“That sounds really good so far,” you complimented. “I’m guessing that’s supposed to be the chorus?”

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “I usually write the choruses first. The verses, I’m still figuring out.”

“Makes sense,” you replied, as you sipped your drink. “What about the melody?”

“Oh, the melody’s pretty much completely done,” Gerard clarified. “But….I don’t know. There’s this bridge that comes before the second verse. I originally planned for that to be a guitar solo, but it just doesn’t sound right.”

“You think the solo would sound better, played on a flute?” you surmised.

“Yeah, exactly!” Gerard said enthusiastically. You wondered if the caffeine was getting to him.

“....Do you even know how to play the flute?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “But, you do.”

“....What are you saying?” you blinked.

“That’s why I asked you to come up here with me,” Gerard explained. “Y/N…..would you be willing to go into the studio with me, and record a flute solo, for the track?”

You choked on your drink.

“Wh….What?” you wheezed, coughing from the coffee that had gone down the wrong way. “A-Are you serious?”

“....Can you breathe?” Gerard asked, putting a concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I can breathe,” you managed, trying not to hyperventilate even more.

“Good,” Gerard smiled, “because I am serious, Y/N. Your flute playing really impressed me. I won’t drag you all the way out to LA, of course. But, if I find a studio space, here in New York, will you work with me?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Oh my god, yes!”

This wasn’t what you had dreamed of - it was more.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A few days later, you found yourself in a recording studio, in Lower Manhattan. You’d never seen so much professional equipment like this before. You’d always just performed for live audiences.

Can I really do this?, you asked yourself, hit with a wave of uncertainty.

“Y/N, thank you so much for coming out here, and joining us today,” Gerard greeted you. His smile, somehow instantly put you at ease.

“This is Doug McKean,” he introduced, indicating a man in the corner. “He’s my producer.”

“Nice to meet you, Doug,” you said politely, shaking hands.

“And this is Ian Fowles,” Gerard said, indicating a second guy, with longer hair. “He was my touring guitarist, when I went on the road with Hesitant Alien.”

“Oh, I remember seeing him, when you guys played Irving Plaza,” you recalled.

“You were at that little gig we did, in Union Square?” Ian smiled.

“Yeah, of course I bought a ticket!” you smiled back. “You guys were amazing!”

“Aw, you really think so?” Gerard reddened, looking flattered.

“I really do,” you replied. My Chemical Romance had been your favorite band, since your teens. When they had broken up, five years ago, you had been heartbroken. But, you’d found Gerard’s solo work, to be equally amazing - just in a different way.

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Ian said quietly. “Has Gerard explained to you, what we’re going to be doing today?”

“Yeah, he said he wants me to do a flute solo for you guys,” you said, almost not believing your own words.

“Let’s start from the beginning of the song,” Doug directed. “Ian, can you take us from the top, please? I know we got a great take of your part yesterday, but I feel like we can still do better.”

“Definitely,” Ian agreed. He shrugged his guitar strap over his head, and stepped into the recording booth. You listened intently, as he played the opening notes. The tune was definitely different from anything MCR had done. But, it didn’t sound quite like Hesitant Alien, either. You were intrigued by the new musical direction that Gerard seemed to be heading in.

“Alright, cut,” Doug called, pressing a button, to stop recording. “Ian, that was good. Gerard, it’s your turn to get in there. I want to hear that verse you were working on the other day.”

“Alright,” Gerard nodded. You watched him put his headphones over his ears, and timidly approach the microphone. A blush crept into his cheeks. Did it make him nervous, to have you, as an audience?

“The answer’s always no,” Gerard sang, “to questions of a private nature…...the lights are always low, in settings of a conversation…..”

He seemed to grow more confident, as the song continued. By the time he got to the chorus, he was belting it out. He sounded incredible.

“....How was that?” he asked finally.

“Amazing,” you breathed.

Gerard’s cheeks reddened at your compliment. He stayed quiet, as he watched Doug take the vocal track, and mix it with Ian’s guitar playing. He played back the clip, of the two spliced together. The parts formed an even more impressive whole.

“Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn,” Doug commanded. “Show us what you can do.”

You gulped. You weren’t sure that you could do anything, that was on the same level, as what you just heard.

“You can do it,” Gerard encouraged. “You played an amazing solo, in front of a whole station worth of people yesterday. Playing for three dudes like us, should be nothing.”

That’s different, you thought to yourself. I don’t have a huge crush on everyone in the station.

“Here’s the sheet music,” Ian said, handing you a piece of paper. “I really like what Gerard’s composed here. But, I think he’s right. It’s going to sound better on your instrument, than mine.”

You took the sheet, and grabbed the flute case, out of your backpack. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the booth. Your fingers trembled on the middle joint of the flute. You glanced up at Gerard, who was sitting on the other side, of the pane of glass.

He gave you a friendly smile, and a dorky-looking thumbs-up. You chuckled, your nerves dissipating.

Alright, you told yourself. I got this. You brought your lips to the head joint, and began to play.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“I don’t know,” you said, as you stepped back out of the booth. “Do you think that was okay?”

“That was incredible,” Gerard gushed, pulling you into an impulsive hug. His arms were so soft and warm.

“Like, wow, what are you?” Ian gaped. “The secret lovechild of Ian Anderson, or something?”

“Ha, I wish,” you laughed. “I’m just your average band kid.”

“I wouldn’t call that average,” Gerard insisted, staring into your eyes, as he still held you close. “I was right….the flute just fits perfectly in with the song. And you’re the perfect person to play it.”

“Y/N, I can show you what the guitar and the flute will sound like together,” Doug offered, “If you could, uh, let go of her for a moment, Gee.”

“O-oh, right,” Gerard stammered, releasing you quickly. You blushed, and turned away.

Doug began to play the edited-together track for you. You couldn’t believe it - your flute, Ian’s guitar, and Gerard’s vocals, blended together, into something incredibly beautiful.

“I wasn’t sure if the flute was going to go well, with your style of music,” you confessed. “My background is the symphony orchestra. Most of the time, you only really see the flute, used in classical music, like that. I wasn’t sure if you could make it sound rock n’ roll. But...it works! Somehow.”

“It does,” Gerard agreed. “Y/N…..I’m so, so glad that I met you.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. It made your heart pound, for reasons you couldn’t articulate.

“Y/N,” Doug said, bringing you back to reality, “that first take was great, but I’d like you to try it again for me, please.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. “I’ll give it as many takes as it needs.”

“I feel like we could all use some coffee first, though,” Ian decided. “Doug? You want to run down the street with me, to get it?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s our turn, since Gerard ran and got the last round,” Doug agreed. “Y/N - what can we get you?”

“Oh, just a vanilla latte, I guess,” you decided.

“Coming right up,” Ian smiled. “We’ll be right back.”

The guitarist and producer got up and left. Your pulse quickened again, as you realized, that you were now alone in the room with Gerard. It felt different, than it had at the station, or the coffeeshop. Both of those times, there were plenty of other people around. But now…..?

“It’s just you and me,” Gerard said softly. He was still staring at you.

“Y-Yeah,” you said nervously. “I guess we got quite a day ahead of us, huh?”

“Yup,” Gerard said awkwardly. “Doug’s not gonna let you leave, until you get your part just right.”

“.....Gerard,” you asked, “why did you pick me for this job? You could have gotten anyone to play flute for you. I’m nobody.”

“I told you, your performance got my attention,” Gerard reminded you. “I was just passing through the station, minding my own business. But, when I heard the sound of your flute…..I stopped still. I was like, oh my god, this is the sound that I’ve been looking for.”

“Was it really that great?” you asked, feeling unsure of yourself.

“Yes!” Gerard insisted. “Y/N, I swear to god, it was like I was hypnotized. By that incredible sound….and by the beauty, of the person making it……”

“Beauty?” you repeated, your face going hot. Did he mean…..?

“I won’t lie to you,” Gerard said softly. “The moment I laid eyes on you, in that subway tunnel, I was so attracted to you.”

“You think I’m attractive?” you realized, eyes going wide.

“Yes,” Gerard whispered, looking you up and down, with evident desire. “I’m sorry…..you probably think I’m just a creepy, older dude….”

“You’re not creepy!” you shook your head. “Gerard, I’ve always thought that you were extremely good-looking.”

“You’re…..attracted to me, too?” Gerard put two and two together.

You weren’t sure which of you took a step towards the other first, but, before you knew it, you were in his arms. He kissed you gently, but your body quickly responded to him, and the kiss rapidly turned more passionate.

He pressed you against the studio wall, his hands trailing down your body, as the kiss continued.

“.....G-Gerard,” you gasped. “The others could walk back in, at any minute.”

“If they interrupt us,” Gerard said, his voice husky, “we could always continue this, at my hotel, after the recording session is over.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Gerard panted, as your lips found his neck. “Oh, fuck, yeah…..I got a room at a five star hotel in Times Square, that I would love to show you.”

“When do you have to go back to LA?” you asked, gasping for breath, as he kissed you again.

“I’m supposed to go home on Saturday,” Gerard confessed. “But, if you keep kissing me like that….I might just miss the flight.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #gothtober #i gotta stop posting these at 2 am

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theundercovermarvelfan · 4 years ago

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Whumptober 2020 - Day 26

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Day 26 If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad… Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

Natasha reached blindly for the cell phone buzzing insistently on her bedside table. Muscle memory had her sliding her thumb across the screen in order to answer the call, even before she had fully come back to consciousness, rolling over onto her back as she brought the phone to her ear.

“This better be damn important,” Natasha murmured into the phone, her words slurring with exhaustion. She had just come off a particularly difficult mission and she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours.

“Can you come get me?”

For a long moment, Natasha couldn’t get her only semi-awake brain to really comprehend what the words meant. She pulled the phone away from her eye and squinted into the annoyingly bright screen, blinking heavily until the caller ID came into focus.

“Clint?” she said as she put the phone back to her ear.

“Yeah.” There was something strange in his voice that Natasha couldn’t quite place. “Can you? Come get me?”

“Where are you?” Natasha asked, confused as she pushed herself up with one arm and glanced over at the digital clock on the bedside table. 2:46 am.

“Um. Out by… East Orange? I think?”

“East Orange?” Natasha said, suddenly feeling more awake. “In New Jersey?”

“Uh, yeah. I think.”

“Okay, what the fuck are you doing in New Jersey?” Natasha demanded as she pushed herself out of bed.

“I couldn’t… uh… you know…” There was a long pause and Natasha opened her mouth to ask if he was still there when he went on, “...sleep.”

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, her tone softening significantly.

“Yeah. Can you come?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Natasha assured him. “Turn on the tracking on your phone and I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks, Nat.”

“Hang tight. I’ll see you soon.”

Natasha pulled on the first clothes she could find, grabbed her keys and hurried out of her apartment in Avengers Tower. She hit the button for the elevator and waited impatiently for it to arrive on her floor. When the doors opened she went to stride in… only to stumble when she found that the elevator wasn’t empty like she assumed it would be at almost three in the morning.

“Natasha?”

“Steve?”

“What are you doing up?” they both said in unison.

“The serum doesn’t need eight hours of sleep,” Steve said. “I usually get up in the middle of the night for a work out. What about you?”

“I just got a call from Clint who needs me to pick him up at,” she looked down at her phone, “a Shell station in East Orange, New Jersey.”

As Steve stared blankly at her, she stepped fully into the elevator and hit the button for the parking garage. The elevator had already descended several floors before Steve finally found his voice.

“What the heck is Clint doing in Jersey?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Natasha sighed as she tapped her foot impatiently as she watched the floors countdown agonizingly slowly. The elevator stopped at the floor with the gym and Natasha sent Steve a questioning look when he didn’t immediately disembark. “Aren’t you going to the gym?”

“You want some company on the drive to Jersey?” Steve offered.

Natasha gave him an appreciative smile. “Yeah, that’d be good, I’m still pretty tired.”

Steve nodded as he reached out and hit the “close” button.

Just a few minutes later they were pulling out of the parking garage, Steve in the driver’s seat and Natasha in the passenger's seat, and heading toward New Jersey.

“Does he do this a lot?” Steve asked after they had been driving a good ten minutes.

“Huh?” Natasha hummed distractedly as she stared down at her phone, checking for the ump-teenth time that the little dot tracking his phone hadn’t moved.

“Does Clint do this a lot?” Steve repeated, then went on to clarify. “Disappear in the middle of the night?”

Natasha sighed as she dropped her phone back into her lap. “It happens from time to time. He’s had chronic night terrors ever since he was a kid and not that he’d ever admit it, but I think he rarely sleeps through the night. It gets worse after difficult missions. And when he’s up in the middle of the night he usually can’t sit still. So he’ll go to the range, go to the gym, or sometimes he’ll take his motorcycle out for a ride.”

“Has he ever called you to come get him like this?” Steve asked.

“Once before,” Natasha said flatly. “When he got in an accident and crashed his bike.”

Steve looked over at Natasha in surprise. “Do you think that’s what happened? Do you think he’s hurt?”

“He sounded… strange on the phone,” Natasha admitted. “He sounded kind of… unfocused and his words were slurring…”

“Maybe he’s had a few drinks?”

Natasha immediately shook her head. “Clint doesn’t drink. Never has. Something about having a violently abusive, alcoholic father has always put him off the idea of drinking.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Sorry, I didn’t know that.”

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Natasha acknowledged.

“I don’t blame him.”

It took them just over twenty minutes to close the gap between their dots on the GPS tracker on Natasha’s phone.

“It should be up here on the right,” Natasha said as she studied her phone.

“Yeah… I think I have an inkling of where he is,” Steve said uneasily.

Natasha looked up and her stomach dropped. She spotted the flashing blue and red lights coming from multiple vehicles before she spotted the gas station where Clint was supposed to be.

“Shit,” Natasha breathed.

There wasn’t much extra room around the gas station, so Steve quickly pulled into the adjacent parking lot of the Taco Bell next door. Natasha was out of the car before he came to a complete stop, hurrying over to the gas station and squinting through the bright, flashing lights that disoriented her for a moment.

Finally, she spotted Clint sitting on the curb outside of the convenience store attached to the gas station, a police officer standing over him and jotting something down on a pad.

“Clint!” Natasha gasped as she ran up to them.

Clint looked up at the sound of her voice, but his gaze was hazy and slid past her for a moment. He gave her a strained smile.

“Hey, Nat.”

“What happened?” Natasha demanded as she dropped down to a knee next to Clint, looking him up and down for any sign of injury. At least at a glance he seemed to be in once piece.

“He was in the store when three guys went in to rob it,” the police officer said. “After they got the money, they were gonna shoot the attendant, but your boyfriend intervened. Saved the kid’s life and took down all three robbers.” The officer sounded impressed, obviously having no idea who he was talking to or about. “He did get a nasty bump on the back of his head from one of the guys’ guns during the altercation, though. I told him he should go to the hospital, but he’s refusing.”

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, putting a hand to Clint’s cheek and tilting his head up so she could get a better look at his eyes. His gaze was a little glassy, but his pupils at least seemed to be dilating properly.

“‘M fine,” Clint mumbled. “I don’t need a… a...” he sighed tiredly as he waved a hand vaguely, “you know.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Natasha said sarcastically. He looked up at the police officer. “Thank you, officer. I can take it from here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the office said, nodding his head before walking away.

“C’mon,” Natasha said, standing up and reaching back down to pull Clint up to his feet. He swayed dangerously and Natasha wedged herself in next to him in order to keep him from falling over. “C’mon, let’s go,” she urged as she led them over to where Steve was hovering back by the car.

“Is he okay,” Steve asked with concern as he eyed the way that Clint was leaning on Natasha as they approached.

“Steve?” Clint said, confused.

“He got caught in a robbery attempt,” Natasha explained. “He subdued three guys, but apparently took a pretty good hit to the head. He’s likely got a concussion.”

Then, very suddenly, Clint tipped to the side that Natasha wasn’t supporting. She panicked for a moment, thinking he was about to collapse and she shifted quickly to try to catch him, Steve doing the same from Clint’s over side… until he leaned over, braced one hand on the car and heaved the contents of his stomach onto the pavement at his feet.

“Make that, he definitely has a concussion,” Natasha said flatly as he heaved again.

“I’ll call Bruce,” Steve said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Have him meet us on the med floor of the Tower.”

“Thanks,” Natasha said appreciatively, wincing as Clint dry heaved a few times, having emptied his stomach.

As Steve stepped away to make the call, Natasha put a hand on Clint’s back, rubbing it gently in order to provide what little comfort that she could. The dry heaving episode seemed to pass after a few minutes, and Clint braced both his forearms on the car as he struggled to catch his breath. He winced and then spit, trying to get the rancid taste out of his mouth.

“C’mon,” Natasha urged. “I think there’s a bottle of water in the car.”

Clint blinked blearily at her, looking even more dazed than he had before. She opened the door of the car and gently guided him into the backseat, closing the door behind him.

“How is he?” Steve asked as he came back.

“I think he’s getting more disoriented,” Natasha said grimmly. “Let’s just get him home. We can come back for his bike tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” Steve agreed.

As Steve slid back into the passenger’s seat, Natasha rounded the car and got into the backseat on the other side so that she could monitor Clint on the ride back to the Tower. She had Steve locate a bottle of water that had been rolling around on the floor of the front passenger’s seat for a week weeks now, and as Steve pulled back out into traffic, Natasha managed to get Clint to take a few small sips. As he sipped, she leaned over to check the back of his head with the flashlight on her phone. There was no blood, but a large bump where the gun had made contact with his skull.

“I need you to stay away until Bruce checks you out,” Natasha told him when he leaned his head back and his eyes sagged.

“I jus’ need some sleep,” Clint slurred.

“Hey,” Natasha snapped, poking him in the side as his eyes were sliding shut. “No sleeping.”

“Mean,” Clint mumbled, though at least his eyes were open again.

“It’s what you get when you go off on your own in the middle of the night,” Natasha scolded.

“Sorry,” Clint said with a light smirk.

“You know, Clint, if you ever need a sparring buddy in the middle of the night, I’m usually up at all hours too,” Steve spoke up, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.

“Between Steve’s Super Soldier Serum, Tony being a workaholic, Bruce’s ability to completely lose track of time, and my own shitty sleep schedule, there’s always someone awake at all hours in that damn Tower,” Natasha added. “There’s no reason for you to go off on your own when you can’t sleep, Clint.”

Clint looked a little surprised, like he’d never thought about that before. “I guess. Yeah.”

“So, no more running around New Jersey of all places, playing one man vigilante?” Steve prompted pointedly. “I’ll drive to Jersey once to pick you up as a professional courtesy, but next time at least confine your escapades to New York. Okay?”

Clint snorted a laugh. “Yeah, whatever you say, Cap.”

#whumptober2020 #no.26 #if you thought the head trauma was bad #concussion #Avengers #MCU #fic #robbery tw #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #Steve Rogers #captain america #fanfiction #whump

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switchseb · 3 years ago

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TEXTS | SEBLAINE

Let’s Restart; March 5 - 7, 2021 ( Before & after the first time )

( @blaineandersonsub )

March 5, 2021

Blaine Anderson

Um, hi Sir. I made you jambon beurre and coffee this morning, to hopefully help with the hangover. Could we meet before first class? Maybe in the parking lot? Or... we could do somewhere hidden if you'd prefer that.

Sebastian Smythe

I'll be in the gray BMW parked in the back corner of the parking lot. Meet me there before class.

Blaine Anderson

Yeah, okay. Will do, Sir.

Sebastian Smythe

liked this

Blaine Anderson

Sir? Are you still awake?

Sebastian Smythe

Yes. Are you okay?

Blaine Anderson

Yes, Sir. I just can't sleep. Are you okay?

Sebastian Smythe

Why wouldn't I be?

Blaine Anderson

I just wanted to make sure, since we're both up late. Can you call me sweetheart pl Can you sing to me? Even if just a voice clip, Sir?

Sebastian Smythe

I'm as fine as I always am.

[ VOICE MESSAGE ]: ⏯️All I wanna do, is come running home to you... come running home to you...

Blaine Anderson

Told you. Chills. Your voice is beautiful, Sir.

I know what it's like, and I am here for you because of that. For anything you need. Could we make plans? Maybe off campus, to keep people from seeing. Like, lunch or something one day next week? Or, maybe this weekend if you have the time?

---

March 6, 2021

Sebastian Smythe

You don't have to do that.

Blaine Anderson

But... maybe I want to, Sir.

I'm sorry for being so impulsive and... returning what happened. It won't happen again. But I do care for you.

Sebastian Smythe

What are you talking about, sweetheart?

Blaine Anderson

I missed you calling me that so bad oh my god I'm not sure which part you mean, so I'll just clarify all of it. I'm sorry for kissing you back, but I like you. A lot. So I don't mind chilling out and just... give you someone safe to talk to when you need it, Sir. I'd still like to scene with you sometimes, and hang out if you want though.

Sebastian Smythe

You don't have to apologize for that.

And if I want more from you? Just tell me when you want to have lunch and I'll make myself available.

Blaine Anderson

I feel like I need to, because... you just stopped talking to me. I missed you, and I don't want it to happen again. Does Monday or Tuesday lunch sound okay?

Sebastian Smythe

None of that was on you. It was all on me.

Let's do Monday.

Blaine Anderson

Would you be upset if it happened again?

Monday, cool. I can do that. Can I hug you when we're not on campus?

Sebastian Smythe

Yes.

Blaine Anderson

Okay. Prepare for a big one. 🙂

Sebastian Smythe

Will do, sweetheart.

Blaine Anderson

I'm gonna go jump back in the ocean, but... thank you. For talking to me again. I hope you have a good day, Sir.

Sebastian Smythe

Have fun.

Blaine Anderson

Is your sweet tooth still in tact, Sir?

Sebastian Smythe

Are you baking again?

Blaine Anderson

Maybe. 😬 I blame Pinterest.

You can't just show a guy oreo brownie pizza at 1am and not expect him to make it.

Sebastian Smythe

What are you doing up so late, sweetheart?

Blaine Anderson

I couldn't sleep Training to beat Gordon Ramsay in a cookoff one day. 😁 What about you, Sir?

Wait, this is baking. Make that Buddy Valastro.

Sebastian Smythe

Is that right? I actually know who Gordon Ramsay is, I have never heard of this Buddy Valastro.

I just couldn't sleep. But I think that's okay, it's the weekend. Plus I'm halfway into this bottle of cognac.

Blaine Anderson

I thought you said you know Gordon Ramsay for a second and... well, that would make your fancy private jet seem boring in comparison. I want to meet him one day and find out what qualifies someone to be a "donut." Have you really never seen Cake Boss before, Sir? We need to fix that. He makes all kinds of crazy cakes. Like dragons, and giant castles. It's actually kind of crazy. He owns a bakery in New Jersey.

Are you okay, Sir? Do you need anything? Or, maybe to let anything out?

Sebastian Smythe

You're rambling, sweetheart. I'm fine.

Blaine Anderson

Oh. Sorry. I got a little too excited, I think. I still like it. When you call me sweetheart. Well, Sir, I guess I'm just worried. That's a lot of alcohol content. I wish you lived on campus so I could hug y

Sebastian Smythe

You don't need to apologize. I already told you how adorable I think it is. I have a high alcohol tolerance, it's really not as much as it sounds.

Though it is horrible for my filter.

Blaine Anderson

Oh. Sure. Right. Adorable. Got it. That's me. Adorable. 😎👉👉 What do you think qualifies someone to be a donut? Horrible for your filter, and for your liver. Can I ask you something?

Sebastian Smythe

I'm sorry, I have no idea what qualifies someone to be a donut.

Blaine Anderson

That's okay. I guess the more important question is... what was it like for you? The kiss. The piano one.

Sebastian Smythe

That's a dangerous topic.

[...]

Why? What was it like for you?

Blaine Anderson

No, I know I just I still think about it, a lot. It didn't feel like just a kiss. To me, at least. But I guess I'm a little biased. I just wanted to see if maybe... you felt it too. It was dumb. Sorry.

Sebastian Smythe

[...]

Why do you think I reacted the way I did? Walking out and ignoring you?

[...]

It was too much.

Blaine Anderson

I just thought it was because we went to the same school, or maybe because of Queen Max. I had no idea you felt it too. Too much by who's standards?

Sebastian Smythe

What does Max have to do with this?

Too much by my standards. I can't afford to feel like this.

[...]

Now I've said to much.

Blaine Anderson

Just that we scene together, and she's a friend of mine. I wouldn't ever say anything just to reiterate, but... I thought that was why you left. I guess I was wrong.

For me?

Like... for guys?

It's okay, Sir. I swore I wouldn't talk to anyone, and I stand by that. But I also don't want to make you uncomfortable.

Sebastian Smythe

No, I left because you made me feel something I never felt before it wasn't that.

I'm not uncomfortable. I'm just not accustomed to sharing these thoughts with anyone but Frannie.

Blaine Anderson

Well, at least we know we were on the same page with how the kiss felt. I won't... ask for exclusivity, but... I'd like to do it again sometime. If you want. I want to. But... you know, if you wanted to.

For steam reasons.

I understand. But... I am here for you, Sir. Both of you, even. If the need ever arose. Closeting is... awful, and I just wish you didn't have to go through it.

Sebastian Smythe

You don't want to know what I want to do to you, sweetheart.

I don't want to talk about that anymore.

Blaine Anderson

Oh Well... what if I do, Sir?

That's okay, we don't have to. Consider it dropped, Sir. 🙂

Sebastian Smythe

Before or after I put you on your knees?

Good boy.

Blaine Anderson

Sir. Both? Please?

Sebastian Smythe

Are you whining already, sweetheart? I haven’t even started yet.

Blaine Anderson

Maybe if you started, I wouldn't have to whine 😇 you try going a month and a half withou

Sebastian Smythe

Well after I kiss you until you’re lips are swollen and tease relentlessly, I would gag that sassy mouth of yours. Make you strip and kneel and just admire you for a little bit.

Should I keep going?

---

March 7, 2021

Blaine Anderson

Oh God I... yes, Sir. Please. Please keep going.

Sebastian Smythe

Then I would replace the gag with my cock. Fuck your mouth and choke you with it until you cry.

Blaine Anderson

I'm free tonight? 🙂 please get me off campus Sir I

Sebastian Smythe

Are you sure?

Blaine Anderson

Yeah. I have dinner with my family at 5 but right after that I'm free. I want to see you.

Sebastian Smythe

I can meet you at your dorm at 7pm.

Blaine Anderson

Sounds good, Sir. Thank you.

I don't want to wear these uniforms. I'm not even sure Carter and Princess get the blue ones? I have to see. I don't want any status symbols. And now my friend is getting punished and I just... God.

Sebastian Smythe

I was born in bred in uniforms, so I suppose they don't bother me too much. It's just an outer layer. But why don't you breathe for me sweetheart. Stop whatever you're doing, and take five seconds to just breathe.

Blaine Anderson

Yes, Sir.

[...]

I... okay. Thank you. I forgot, you're super fancy. I guess I just need you here. And I'm happy you're coming later. Looks like we get that hug sooner than tomorrow. Would you be okay to stay and cuddle for a while? I'll give you oreo pizza in exchange?

Sebastian Smythe

You don't have to give me anything in exchange.

Blaine Anderson

If you're sure. I also kind of want to delve into what we talked about earlier, if that's something you'd want, Sir. Kind of wanting you to be the first person to make me cry and choke while I'm here.

Sebastian Smythe

What if I want to be the only person to do that to you? Fuck. I want it, yes.

Blaine Anderson

I can't wait, Sir. You're going to look even more handsome from my place on the floor.

Sebastian Smythe

Do you have any idea how your words are affecting me right now?

Blaine Anderson

Maybe just a little? 😊and I haven't even really tried yet, Sir.

Sebastian Smythe

We're going to chalk it off to weeks of build up.

Blaine Anderson

That's fair. I can't wait to end the dry spell for you, Sir. If you think that's bad, try a little over two months.

Sebastian Smythe

Well I haven't exactly had a dry spell, I meant more in regards to a build up with you.

Blaine Anderson

Oh. Oh. Well... that's awesome. Good. So, other people know about you then? Let's pretend I said "Blaine Dry Spell" then. Either way, I really can't wait for tonight.

Sebastian Smythe

Do other people know that I fuck men? Yes. Do they know that I'm in the closet and in a sham of a claim/engagement? No.

Blaine Anderson

Ahhh got it. So, what I'm hearing is... I'm special? 😊 Also if you hold off on eating dinner tonight, we could eat together? Have you ever had Filipino food?

Sebastian Smythe

It's possible.

Is that like Mexican food?

Blaine Anderson

I dunno, do you like unseasoned food, Sir?

🙂

Sebastian Smythe

Um... no?

Blaine Anderson

There you go. ❤️

They're two completely different places.

Just come try it. You'll like it. ❤️

Sebastian Smythe

Okay. I'll try it. I'm leaving my place now, is your place cleared out?

Blaine Anderson

Yes, Sir! It is. I can't wait to see you. I'll leave the door unlocked.

Sebastian Smythe

liked this

---

[ Fantasies Come True ]

Blaine Anderson

That was fun, Sir. I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime. 😊

Sebastian Smythe

I'm sorry I couldn't stay the night. I wanted to.

Blaine Anderson

I wanted you to too, Sir. I almost fell asleep on your chest like five times. Just my luck everything gets revealed when I can't even fall asleep with you.

Your chest is comfortable.

Sebastian Smythe

I know. We'll be able to fall asleep together one day soon.

Blaine Anderson

Just a few more weeks. You make it home okay?

Sebastian Smythe

Yeah, and it smells like bleach. I think Frannie stress cleaned.

Blaine Anderson

Is she doing okay, Sir?

Sebastian Smythe

She must be stressed about her father having a hand in this.

Blaine Anderson

I heard about that, actually. Why can't he just leave them alone?

Sebastian Smythe

Because he's an egotistical narcissist? I wish there was something I could do.

Blaine Anderson

You're a really good person, Sir. I hope you know that. The fact that you wish you could says a lot.

But you should also know that... he's unfortunately a miserable, terrible person. Unfortunately. So just... don't be hard on yourself, if you are. Please?

Sebastian Smythe

No one likes Russell, that doesn't make me a good person.

I'm not being hard on myself, I promise.

Blaine Anderson

That's true. But you want to help Miss Frannie. That's what makes you a good person. You're a good person for the people you care about, but still a good person.

Yes, Sir. Good. I don't want you to.

Sebastian Smythe

I suppose I just have to take your word for it, hm?

Are you still wearing my hoodie?

Blaine Anderson

You will. 🙂 because it's true.

I haven't taken it off. I like how big it is.

Sebastian Smythe

It looks good on you, sweetheart. So fucking good.

Blaine Anderson

You think? Good, because it's mine now. 😁

Still smells like your cologne and everything. I love it.

Sebastian Smythe

Is that right? And if I wanted it back? It's a very comfortable sweater.

Blaine Anderson

🥺🥺🥺

Sebastian Smythe

That's not fair for you to use against me, sweetheart.

Blaine Anderson

Well, what if I used them while on my knees for you? Does that sweeten the deal at all? 😁

Sebastian Smythe

That will only make me want to rip it off of you even more.

Blaine Anderson

Holy hell As hot as that sounds, I like it too much to knowingly get it ripped. Is there any way I can keep it, Sir? 🥺 I'll give you one of mine? It might fit, but even if not... you could put it on a pillow?

Sebastian Smythe

I suppose the image of you wearing it is far better than actually having it. Though now that you mentioned it, I would like a shirt of yours. For my pillow.

Blaine Anderson

Does that mean I can keep it, Sir? Perfect. I'll give it to you when we meet for lunch tomorrow. I'll give you one of the ones I wear most often.

Sebastian Smythe

Yes, as far as I'm concerned, it's yours. I would like that very much.

#blaine #texts: blaine #text: let's restart #texts: blaine3 #( the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you )

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everwitch-magiks · 5 years ago

Text

dance with somebody (ch. 5)

(ch. 1) (ch. 2) (ch. 3) (ch. 4)

Whiskey takes the stairs two steps at a time.

His heart is racing as he turns the corner, immediately heading for his own room. He barely registers passing by a vaguely curious Hops as he practically runs the last few steps. As soon as he's made it inside, he closes the door firmly behind himself and then locks it.

Whiskey's pulse is frighteningly close to a level that's comparable to mid-game in the playoffs, when the call finally connects.

“... Connor?”

Whiskey tries to take a breath – not even a deep breath, for fucks sake, if he could just fucking breathe at all-

“Beth. Hey.”

For some reason, Bethany Whisk almost laughs.

“For someone who did not just come out to our entire extended family, you sure sound like shit, Connor.”

Whiskey let’s himself sink down onto his bed, his head in his hands.

“What, uh. When’d you… How bad is it?”

The text hadn’t exactly clarified much. just outed myself to my parents and yours, over sunday dinner. everything a lil yikes. thought u should know

“Pretty bad.” Beth’s voice is strangely calm. “Although actually, not quite the worst case scenario? But close, yeah. Real close.”

“Shit,” Whiskey mutters.

“Yeah. My dad’s gone off somewhere – he sort of just got up and left, pretty soon after I’d said it? So that’ll be lots of fun when he gets back. Mom’s a lot calmer, comparatively. Said she needs to think. Which I’ve classified as ambiguous, but not completely hopeless.”

“What about…” Whiskey begins, his tone hoarse, and then he doesn’t finish the sentence.

He can’t finish the sentence.

“Oh, your folks weren’t too bad.” Beth pauses for a moment, as if to think. “I got the feeling they weren’t really angry – it was more like pity, I guess? Which wasn’t super fun either, gotta admit that. Your mom said it’s so sad I’ll never have children, and so of course I had to deliver the news that many lesbian women have plenty of kids, and then she looked, like, super confused. I’m so fucking relieved she stopped asking questions, after that.”

Whiskey gets up, only to sit back down again. He’s trembling all over. It’s almost like he can feel the way his whole world has just shifted, like there’s an actual, physical change between right now and five minutes ago.

"Are you… D'you need anything? What can I do?"

"Oh, Connor." Beth's tone is uncharacteristically soft. "You know, I pretty much knew I’d never have to worry about your reaction. Because actually, I have a feeling you get it – like, really get it. Don’t you?”

Whiskey freezes.

"Considering your hockey team," Beth continues, completely oblivious. "Your captain is the first out something, isn’t he? Which is so cool, by the way, even though I don’t give many fucks about hockey.”

It takes Whiskey a moment to find his voice again.

"First out NCAA men’s hockey captain,” he rattles off, and it’s lucky that’s something he could quote in his sleep, or he’d get the words all mixed up. “Yeah, uh. That was Bitty. He graduated this spring. But our captain this year – Dex – is actually dating his defence partner, so.”

"Defence what now?"

"Another player on our team."

“Wow,” Beth says, and there’s something not unlike wonder in her tone. “I guess it’s all true, those things they say about Samwell.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey returns unsteadily. “You have no idea, Beth.”

Beth is quiet for a moment.

“So I’m flying back tomorrow,” she says, and for some reason her voice sounds a little different from before – more determined. “You know, Samwell is less than a four hour drive from Columbia.”

“Is that so.”

“It is. We could, y’know. Hang out sometime? Anyway, you should meet Melanie.”

“... Oh,” Whiskey says, and it’s like he has to pause and process all over again. “Melanie. Huh.”

“You’ll like Mel,” Beth says eagerly. “And I could meet your team, maybe? That’d be fun.”

“That would be fun,” Whiskey says after a beat – it surprises him, that he actually, genuinely means it. He’s missed Beth. “Yeah. We should do that.”

“See, this is why you’re my favourite cousin.” Beth sounds extremely pleased. “Josh and Amy haven’t even returned my texts, yet.”

“To be fair, they kind of always sucked.”

“You speak the truth, my friend. Nothing but the truth.”

“Seriously, though,” Whiskey says. “If you, like, need anything? Anything at all? Let me know. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.” Beth’s tone is warm. “I think I’ll be fine. Like I said, I’m flying back tomorrow, and once I’m back at school there’s not much mom and dad can do, even if they try. I’m on a full scholarship, plus I’ve already got a paid internship lined up for next summer, so I’m basically financially independent at this point. And I’ve made some really amazing friends at Columbia. They’ll help me out.”

“They’ve got your back?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. Good.”

“So,” Beth continues, her tone for some reason a bit sly. “Your mom told me you’re back together with that girl from Phoenix? That was right before I dropped the big lesbian bomb on everyone, so I didn’t get to ask her, like, anything.”

“... Yeah,” Whiskey confirms uneasily. “We got back together during spring break last semester, yeah.”

“That’s nice.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Don’t you know?”

“I mean, I don’t see her a lot,” Whiskey tries.

Beth hums. “Long distance, huh. That’s tough.”

“No, that’s not…” Whiskey draws a shaky breath. It’s so much easier to lie to everyone else. “Beth. Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything, C.”

“Right.” Whiskey tries to keep his voice steady. “Just, can you promise me to… To pretend like I didn’t actually tell you? To just never bring it up again. Ever.”

“I mean, sure.” Beth’s tone is kind, if a little surprised. “If that’s what you want, sure.”

Whiskey closes his eyes, and breathes in.

“I slept with a guy.”

For a moment, Beth is quiet.

“All right,” she says gently. “You know that’s not the end of the world, right?”

“No, I guess.” Whiskey’s voice is shaking. “I’m just�� I don’t know.”

Beth hums. “You want to do it again?”

“We uh, we did.” Whiskey clears his throat. “A few times. Last semester.”

“Hold up,” Beth says, her tone startled. “You’ve been sleeping with a guy? Frequently?”

“Not since last semester,” Whiskey reminds her quickly. “But, uh, yeah. For a while there it was every now and then.”

Beth is quiet for a moment.

“Is this the part where I smoothly change the subject and we never speak of this again? Because I’m, like, dying to get all the details.”

Whiskey almost smiles.

Somehow, breathing feels a little easier than before.

“He’s on the lacrosse team,” he supplies, surprising himself.

“Athletic,” Beth concludes, her tone giddy. “Fit? Hot?”

“Really fit,” Whiskey admits. “And like, tall?”

“Fucking get it, Connor!” Beth laughs. “But you’re not seeing each other, anymore?”

“I’m back together with my girlfriend,” Whiskey reminds her tersely. “And me and that guy weren’t ever officially anything.”

“Right,” Beth agrees easily. “Still. Glad to hear you’re getting the full Samwell experience.”

“You could say that.” Whiskey sighs. “I just. I’m not sure… I don’t think I can ever do what you just did.”

“Okay,” Beth says gently. “Do you have to, though?”

“I mean, eventually,” Whiskey tells her uneasily. “Right? People come out, eventually.”

“Not everyone does. Some people don’t.”

Whiskey blinks.

“There’s really a lot more to being gay than coming out,” Beth continues. “I would know.”

“I’m not gay,” Whiskey says reflexively – and really, he isn’t. Not strictly.

“No labels, then? Cool, cool." There's warmth in Beth's voice as she continues. "You'll figure all of this out, Connor. I'm sure you will."

"You're not the first person to tell me that."

"Let's hope I won't be the last," Beth says brightly. "So. How many people know?"

"Noone," Whiskey says quickly – too quickly. "Well, you know now. Bitty found out accidentally, and I almost told Dex. Plus I guess that guy I was with has a hunch."

"Right," Beth says, and there's no judgement in her tone. "So when we come to see you, this conversation never happened. Obviously, I'm not telling Melanie."

"Yeah," Whiskey agrees. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Beth."

"No problem. And on that happy subject, when’s a good weekend for me and Mel to drive up for some Samwell shenanigans?”

“I can send you our game schedule," Whiskey suggests.

“Connor, you know I love you, but please tell me you don’t expect me to sit through an entire game of sports.”

“I mostly meant so you’ll know when we have away games,” Whiskey says, and to his own surprise he’s grinning slightly. “You know, so that I’m not in fucking New Jersey when you show up here.”

“Okay, fair point.” Beth pauses. “By the way. Are you any good?”

“What, at hockey?”

“No, at table tennis.” The eye-roll is near audible.

“I am,” Whiskey says. “Good, I mean. I’m the top scorer on our team.”

“Well, that’s only good if the team is.”

“You know, maybe you guys should actually drive up for a game weekend,” Whiskey tells her. “It’s really not a complete Samwell experience without a proper post-game kegster.”

“A what now?”

“A party, Beth. A huge party. At the hockey frat.”

“See, now you’re talking,” Beth says excitedly. “Hey. Mind if I bring some friends?”

(ch. 6)

#check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #checkpleasespoilers #connor whisk #OC: Bethany Whisk #dance with somebody #at it with the angst again #a bit lighter than the last part #hopeful #mentions of parents not reacting well to their kid coming out #evie writes #fanfiction

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foryouandbits · 5 years ago

Text

ASG

Based off this post of a headcanon of Bitty beating out the other skaters at the All-Star Game without even being in the league.

Read on AO3.

Early in the morning on the first of January, Jack Zimmermann was asleep in his bed with his boyfriend on his chest. Bitty had returned early from Georgia to spend the last few days of his winter break in Providence. They had hoped to ring in the new year together, but Jack had an away game and was in the air as 2016 turned to 2017. It was fine; that was the sacrifice they made so Jack could play professional hockey. A phone buzzed. Jack felt Bitty stir but neither of them woke. A second buzz was enough to fully wake Jack, who opened his eyes and looked over at the nightstand. It was still much too early. It was a holiday and he had the day off. While he wasn't planning on sleeping in, he was planning on a lazy morning in bed with Bitty. Usually early morning texts meant he was needed somewhere, and at the moment he was needed there in his bed with Bitty. The phone buzzed again. "You should look at those," murmured Bitty. "Mmm, no," said Jack, who wrapped his arm around Bitty, catching the cool print of his number on the back of Bitty's Providence Falconers shirsey. It wasn't a pleasant feeling on his fingertips, so he slipped his hand under the hem of the shirt to touch Bitty's skin instead. That was much better and it made Bitty sigh in the way he did when something felt good. Much to Jack's chagrin, Bitty lifted his head and took the phone from the nightstand. He quickly sat up. "What?" Jack asked, finally opening his eyes. Bitty's hair was mussed and stuck up more than just the usual cowlick at the crown of his head. His eyes were heavy and dark; he'd waited up for Jack to arrive home before they both fell into bed around two-thirty in the morning. Jack stared at him anyway as Bitty's expression lightened and his mouth turned into a broad smile. "What?" Jack asked again. "You've been selected for the All-Star Game," said Bitty, turning the phone toward Jack.

The phone displayed three notifications, all texts from George Martin: George Guess what? George Just got the call George You've been selected to the ASG this year! Jack rubbed at his eyes. It was much too early and they'd gone to bed much too late. "What?" he said again, but when he opened his eyes the notifications were still there, and George had texted again. George Up and at 'em, Jack. I need to confirm that you're in. Jack took the phone from Bitty and unlocked it so he could stare at the texts without the display dimming. He must have still been dreaming, or perhaps he was hallucinating, because this was ridiculous. This was his second season. It was entirely too early for him to be considered an All-Star. "You okay, sweetpea?" Bitty asked. He'd placed a hand on Jack's bare skin, on the six inches between the waist of his boxers and the hem of his rucked-up T-shirt. Jack frowned as he continued to look at the texts. His gaze flickered to Bitty, who was still smiling at him. Bitty took the phone out of his hands, put it on the nightstand, and then straddled Jack's hips, both of his hands on Jack's skin now as his beaming smile morphed into a smirk, something much too sexy for this early in the morning. "It's legit, honey," said Bitty, as if reading Jack's mind. "They want you on the All-Star team." "But…why?" Jack asked. "Because you are a star, Mister Zimmermann," said Bitty, and he leaned forward for a brief kiss before he returned upright. "You are a Stanley Cup champion. You are a Conn Smythe winner. You are an alternate captain —" "Alternate captain," Jack clarified. "Which you were named in your rookie year. I would not at all be surprised if you were chosen as the captain captain when the time comes to name one." Jack continued to frown, but Bitty looked so enticing, straddling his hips, touching his skin, grinning at him, and pointing out accomplishments as if they meant something. They did mean something, because Bitty had never doled out compliments for no reason. Not to Jack, not in their bed, not when they were alone. "Will you come with me?" Jack asked when he finally put his hands underneath Bitty's shirt. "To the ASG?" Bitty asked in surprise. "I… I don't know." "Guys usually bring their families," said Jack, running his hand up Bitty's side to hopefully remove the surprise and bring back the desire. "Yeah, their kids. Not their WAGs." "You're not a WAG," said Jack. "This is true," said Bitty. "Come with me," repeated Jack and his hands reached Bitty's armpits, the shirt coming with them, so he continued up until the shirt was off Bitty's body and on the floor. Jack returned his hands to Bitty's skin and slid them down to the waistband of his small sleep shorts, the kind he always wore to bed with Jack, because Jack liked them. At the present, Jack just wanted them gone. Bitty bent forward and gave Jack a deep kiss, allowing Jack to pull him down so their bodies were flush together. The phone buzzed again on the nightstand. They both ignored it. *** The 2017 All-Star Game took place in Los Angeles the last weekend of January. Jack flew in alone on Friday night. The opening dinner and after party were boring, so he schmoozed for the shortest amount of time possible and went to bed early. Bitty would be flying in on Saturday while Jack was in the press junket, but had to leave again right away in the morning to be back at Samwell in time for his game on Sunday afternoon. With the skills competition taking up most of the evening, Jack was disappointed that he'd only get a few hours alone with his boyfriend in the warmth of southern California before they both returned to the frigid Northeast. Jack was pacing in his hotel room, dressed in his suit, his eyes on the clock. Bitty was stuck in horrendous LA traffic and Jack needed to leave so he wasn't late. For some reason the All-Star Game included a red carpet, which he felt was both ridiculous and unnecessary. This was his first appearance at the ASG, and it might be his last if he missed the red carpet because he wanted to see his boyfriend. Savannah, the Falconers' Director of PR, sat in the armchair, her legs crossed, her hand to her temple, her eyes on the clock. "Jack, we've got to go." "Just another minute, he said they were almost here," said Jack, but he continued to pace in front of the king sized bed. "You can see him at the arena. People are already on the red carpet. If we don't leave now you're going to miss it, and I know there are fans waiting to see you." Jack groaned and finally sat on the bed when a loud knock sounded on the door. He jumped up just as quickly and ran to the door, which he opened to reveal Bitty with his carry-on suitcase, looking frazzled and annoyed. "Hi, sweetie. I am so sorry. I've heard that traffic in LA is bad but holy moly is it bad." "That's okay," said Jack, who paused at the door to give Bitty a kiss before he took the suitcase and brought it into the room. Savannah was on her feet. "Hi Bitty," she said. "We've got to get going. Are you riding in the car with us?" "Oh!" said Bitty and he looked at Jack. "Am I?" "Yes," said Jack. "Is that what you're wearing?" Savannah asked. Bitty looked down at himself. He was wearing jeans and his Samwell jersey. "Oh, sorry," he said. "There was a captains event right before my flight. I never changed. I can put on something else…" "No time," said Savannah. "Let's go." Savannah rushed them into the elevator and downstairs to the waiting black SUV. Savannah ushered Jack and Bitty into the back seat, and then she took the front. Once in the car, Jack relaxed, his hand in Bitty's, looking at his boyfriend rather than the road. "I'm glad you could come," said Jack, his head against the headrest as he looked at Bitty, who smiled happily at him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," said Bitty, and he brought Jack's hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "Are you nervous? Jack had completely forgotten that he was about to compete with forty-three of the best players in the league. He was one of the forty-four best players in the league. So far the weekend had a very laid back air about it, but even so, he wanted to do well. He could just imagine making a fool out of himself in the fastest skater competition. He already didn't think he belonged there. George had been the one to tell him about it, and he stared at her after she said it, just like he'd stared at the text that brought him here. He figured he'd be asked to compete in the accuracy challenge, or maybe the hardest shot, but George said he was one of the two selections from the Metropolitan division as the fastest skater. It made no sense. He and Bitty had just gone skating in Madison, and Bitty had just smoked him on a lap around the rink. Jack was not a fast skater. "You are, though," said George when Jack vocalized this. "The challenges are head-to-head between divisions. They specifically nominated you for this one, and honestly, Jack, I'd put money on you to win." Jack was nervous, actually, but with Bitty next to him, it wasn't so bad. He kissed Bitty instead of replying to him, and Bitty blushed as he glanced at the front of the car. It had been seven months since they kissed at center ice in front of an audience of millions, but even so, Bitty still looked around whenever Jack kissed him in front of people he didn't know. Jack rubbed his thumb over Bitty's knuckles and Bitty relaxed. "Where am I sitting?" Bitty asked. "Good question," said Jack. He looked toward the front. "Savannah, where is Bitty sitting?" "There's a WAG section at press level," said Savannah. "Bitty's not a WAG," said Jack. "WAG and boyfriend section," said Savannah tersely. Jack rolled his eyes; Savannah's team had tried to come up with an inclusive acronym that wasn't "wives and girlfriends and I guess also boyfriends and maybe husbands someday," and so far no one had come up with anything catchy enough to stick. Every time events came up that included family, it was still just WAGs with an afterthought of "and Bitty too." It was frustrating, but fortunately it was the only frustrating part of being out in a league notorious for its homophobia. The red carpet was mostly fans, but there was a line of photographers that snapped pictures of him after he got out of the car and headed toward the arena. A camera followed him to the halfway point of the carpet and then hastily returned to the street to welcome the next player. Jack waved at fans, some of whom held rainbow flags with the Providence Falconers' logo on it. He stopped for autographs, focusing on children in Falconers gear, and then waved and continued inside. There were cameras in here as well, but it was much quieter. To his surprise, Bitty stepped up next to him. Savannah was just a few feet behind; they must have both exited the car as well but kept their distance until they entered the arena. "Oh, hi," said Jack. "You want to come with me while I get my gear on?" "Okay," said Bitty, although he eyed a nearby camera warily. It was crowded in the dressing room. Jack's gear was already waiting in a stall on the Metropolitan side, but they shared the dressing room with the Atlantic division so there were really no fewer guys than normal in the room, and almost everyone had an entourage. There was a camera and a reporter from every major network. It was fortunate Bitty was small; he and Jack squeezed together in Jack's stall as Jack began to change clothes. Jack had just half his gear on when he realized Savannah was gone. He looked around; someone from the Atlantic division was lacing up skates for his son, who clearly was meant to come out on the ice with him. Jack looked at Bitty. "You want to come on the ice with me?" he asked. Bitty's eyes widened. "Ooh, I don't know, Jack. I don't think I'm allowed." "Why not? I bet I could get gear for you in a snap. You're already wearing your jersey." "Gear? Jack, don't be ridiculous. I'll stay with you until you need to go on the ice and then I'll go to the WAG section." "You mean the WAG and Bitty section," Jack said darkly and Bitty frowned. Jack sent off a text and by the time Jack was putting on his jersey, an equipment manager appeared with a full set of gear in Bitty's size, including skates.

Bitty shot Jack a look. "Are you serious?" Bitty asked. Jack smiled at him and stood to give Bitty room to change. Bitty looked around, but no one was paying attention to him, so he began to untie his shoes. The blue Falconers shorts didn't match his red and white Samwell jersey, but the skates fit, and when Bitty joined Jack on the ice after the opening ceremony, no one questioned his presence although several people requested an introduction.

"Hi, hi, oh my goodness hi," Bitty repeated as he shook hands with the current legends of hockey, his eyes wide and his smile immovable. Jack introduced him as "my boyfriend" and relished in the full feeling in his chest whenever he was able to do so, despite the cameras recording all of them for national broadcast, despite the eighteen thousand fans in attendance. He'd been so afraid of this for so long, ever since juniors, but there he stood with his boyfriend, and not a single person detracted from his happiness. During the first challenge, a four-man relay involving passing, puck control, stick-handling, and goalie goals, Shea Weber from the Canadiens had a five-minute conversation with Bitty about college hockey, which Shea bypassed by going directly from juniors to the NHL.

Bitty was still speaking with Shea when the next event began, a four line challenge that Jack would be participating in. Jack took hold of the stick that Bitty had been leaning on. "Oh, is it your turn already?" Bitty asked.

"Just for a group challenge. The fastest skater challenge is later."

"Good luck, sweetie," said Bitty as he handed over the stick, and he returned to his conversation. Jack joined his group of skaters at the center line. He would be part of the second group to go, and he began to feel nervous as he knelt on one knee, watching the first group as they set up at the blue line, aiming at the net that was mostly blocked apart from four very small openings. It looked ridiculously difficult but after the first group of players went and only one person actually scored a point, the pressure seemed to ease off. None of this really mattered and from the look of it, scoring even once seemed nearly impossible.

The first player in his group, Erik Karlsson, failed at getting both shots in the net. A referee turned to Jack and signaled that he take his place. He approached the center red line and let out a big breath. The audience seemed more chatty than cheery, but he heard a few screams when he set up and most audibly a shout from Bitty: "Show 'em how it's done, Jack!"

He juggled a puck on his stick and looked toward the net. There were holes in the upper corners and lower corners and while the uppers were larger and worth more points, Jack knew the chance of getting something in one of them was steep compared to just shooting along the ice into the lower corners. He had two chances so he decided to try for an upper on his first shot, but the puck smacked into the barrier rather than into the net, so he decided that attempting another in that direction was too risky. He took the other puck on his stick and Bitty shouted again, "You've got this!" He aimed for the lower right corner of the net, keeping the puck along the ice, and held his breath as it sailed forward. It hit the post but plinked in, and Jack pumped his fist as the crowd roared and Bitty wooed.

Smiling, Jack returned to the side of the ice and received fist bumps the two remaining members of the Metropolitan division. At the end of the challenge Jack was only one of four players who'd managed to net a puck, but Mike Smith, the goalie from the Arizona Coyotes, shot one in from his own goal line and as a result earned the Pacific division thirty points, so Jack's singular point made no difference. He skated across the rink back to Bitty, who beamed at him. "That was awesome, sweetie," he said and grabbed hold of Jack's arm in sort of a hug before he quickly let go.

"This is too much pressure," said Jack, which caused Bitty to roll his eyes. "I think you should do the next one for me."

"Me?" Bitty asked, scandalized. "Jack, this is your competition, not mine."

"I'm not fast enough. You do it."

Bitty rolled his eyes again, but after the accuracy challenge, Jack took Bitty's hand and dragged him across the ice with him. "Jack, seriously, I'm not in the NHL. I'm not allowed to do this." Jack pushed Bitty toward Nikita Kucherov, who gave Bitty a strange look, but didn't say anything as Jack knelt with them. There wasn't a lot of time for Bitty to protest, however, as the TV feed returned from commercial and Kucherov stood. The camera focused on him but then as the in-arena announcement stated, "First in the Fastest Skater Challenge, Nikita Kucherov from the Tampa Bay Lightning against Jack Zimmermann from the Providence Falconers," Jack pushed Bitty. Bitty stood and the camera moved to him rather than Jack. Bitty smiled shyly and waved.

Jack looked across the rink at the press box located between the two team benches. Kent Parson, who'd been injured the previous week and thus wouldn't compete, stood next to an announcer with a headset on. Jack couldn't help a smile; they'd grabbed a few players to commentate during the challenges, and of course Parse would be asked for this one since he'd won it the year before. Parse looked impassively at Bitty, but Jack knew his face well enough to know that Parse was stifling a scowl. As Bitty and Kucherov were directed to the starting line by a referee, the rinkside announcer, Scott Oake, quickly snatched Jack from the ice and handed him a headset. As soon as he put the headset on, he could hear Parse speaking.

"...like Jack found a substitute," Parse was saying.

"Jack," asked Scott, "who's this you've got taking your place?"

"This is Eric Bittle, my boyfriend," said Jack, and then there it was, the first hesitation. There was no way Scott didn't know Jack had a boyfriend, or hadn't made the connection, but it was clear he hadn't expected Jack to be so bold on national television.

"What jersey is he wearing tonight?" Scott asked after a significant pause.

"That would be his. He's the captain of the hockey team at Samwell University in Boston. And he's very fast, so I'm expecting him to win this heat," said Jack. He looked at the ice and Bitty stood at the blue line, Jack's stick in his hand, his eyes on the referee. The referee blew a whistle and Bitty bolted forward, the crowd cheering him on but Jack watching silently, enthralled by his speed and his grace. Bitty might have been the reason Jack could even be considered for this sort of challenge, but there was no question Jack would rather watch Bitty go than compete on his own. Kucherov wasn't far behind, but he was behind, and as they rounded the second turn and headed back to the original blue line to finish, the tip of Jack's stick crossed first. Jack looked up at the time: thirteen seconds even, as opposed to Kucherov's time of 13.16 seconds.

"Nice," Jack said.

"Eric Bittle has beaten the winning score from last year's competition of 13.172 seconds. Kent, how do you feel about Eric breaking your record?" asked a different announcer across the rink.

"That doesn't count," said Parse. "He doesn't even go here."

Jack laughed, and Parse did too, although Jack recognized his fake media laugh even through a headset and eighteen thousand cheering fans. Bitty skated over to Jack and he said, "Good job, bud," as Bitty approached. Bitty stopped next to him and Scott held out his microphone.

"That was an impressive time," Scott said. Bitty had to lean in to hear over the cheering. "Is this something you practiced coming in to tonight?"

"This is a drill I'm familiar with back at Samwell," said Bitty, slightly out of breath as he gestured to the setup of the rink, which was split in half with three cones marking the turns at the faceoff dots near the goal line. "I'm usually not racing against someone, though. That made it more fun."

"Well congratulations on winning the first heat. Let's see how the rest goes."

Jack kept his headset on the rest of the challenge, which was awkward. Bitty had just beat an NHL player in a lap around the rink, and while it didn't surprise Jack, it definitely turned him on, and he very much wanted to congratulate Bitty without a microphone next to his mouth and a camera in his face. Bitty stood with him, eventually regaining his breath, but as the next set of players raced, neither met his time. "Oh dear," said Bitty when he looked at the scoreboard. Jack's name remained on the display, Bitty's time next to it. The third set of players raced, and again neither beat Bitty's time, but the final heat contained Connor McDavid, who was well-known for his speed. Jack felt his heartbeat tick up as McDavid took the line. If anyone was going to beat Bitty's time it was him, but just over thirteen seconds later, Jack was looking at the scoreboard for the result, and he said a loud, "NICE!" when Connor McDavid's score posted just below Bitty's name, with a time of 13.02 seconds.

"Oh hey!" said Bitty, smiling brightly although his face was beet red. "Do I win something?"

"Every challenge winner gets $25,000," said Scott and Bitty's eyes glazed over in shock as he looked at Jack.

Jack couldn't stop grinning.

***

"You were so good, Bits," said Jack that evening back in the hotel room, Bitty still in his Samwell jersey per Jack's request, Jack still in his dress shirt and slacks per Bitty's request. They'd settled onto the bed but Jack couldn't keep his hands off Bitty's body, looking him up and down as he remembered the cheering of the crowd, the wind through Bitty's hair, Bitty's stick crossing the blue line an entire foot before Kucherov's. "Nobody else was even close."

"Connor McDavid was close," said Bitty.

"Barely."

"It was two hundredths of a second!"

"It was miles," said Jack and he put his face into Bitty's neck, kissing his sensitive skin there. Bitty squirmed. Jack lowered his hand from underneath Bitty's jersey to the back of his jeans, gripping his butt through the denim, which caused Bitty to squirm again. It was exactly what Jack wanted. Jack began to suck at the skin beneath Bitty's ear, but this time he squirmed too much and pulled away.

"Stop it, sweetpea, I've got a game tomorrow."

"But you taste good," whispered Jack into Bitty's ear. Bitty turned his head and caught Jack's mouth, and they kissed for what felt like hours only to be interrupted by the buzz of Jack's phone. Bitty pulled away and groaned, his head turned toward it, but Jack put his hand on the side of Bitty's head to direct him back.

"What if it's important?" Bitty asked.

"Then they'll text again."

Unfortunately, that was what happened, and Jack's phone buzzed a second time. He groaned and reached over Bitty's alluring body, fully clothed in his jeans and jersey, to the nightstand where his phone charged. He looked at it. George again.

George What time is Bitty’s game tomorrow? George I’ve got four scouts blowing up my phone

Jack stared at the message, an internal debate raging in his mind. George could have easily looked up the time of the Samwell game, as could the scouts, but she wasn't asking for information. She was asking for approval. Bitty in the NHL would be amazing; he'd always thought Bitty was a world-class player who elevated the game of those around him while still holding his own, but if Bitty wasn't on the Falconers, Jack would spend three fourths of every year away from him. At least now Bitty could pop in during the weekend, or just for a night if he didn't have an early class. There would be significantly less of that if Bitty were in the league as well.

This, however, wasn't Jack's decision. He showed his screen to Bitty for him to decide. Bitty took hold of the phone and stared at it, and as he did his eyes filled with tears that he successfully prevented from spilling over. "Really?" Bitty asked as he looked at Jack.

"Looks real to me," said Jack. "What do you think?"

"I... that would be wonderful," said Bitty immediately, which caused Jack's heart to sink. Four scouts blowing up George's phone didn't include the Falconers' too, otherwise George would have mentioned it. Bitty returned the phone and Jack put it back on the nightstand without responding. Bitty wiped at his eyes and when he took his his hands away from his face, he looked less wistful and more grounded. "It would be wonderful, but that's so much, Jack. What if I ended up in Florida or Texas or all the way in Vancouver? I'd never see you."

"This isn't about me," said Jack. "What do you want?"

Bitty was silent for a long time, looking away from Jack and up at the plain white ceiling. Jack lay on the pillow next to Bitty and held him loosely around the waist, but didn't speak and didn't nudge until Bitty looked back at him. "I love hockey," said Bitty. "I really do."

"But?" Jack asked, vocalizing what Bitty didn't.

"But I don't love it like you do. I don't think this is my life."

"You don't have to decide right now. We can get you an agent, see if you get any offers..."

Bitty shook his head decidedly. "No. Even if I was guaranteed to play with you, I can't. This isn't what I want."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

Bitty nodded, but the tears were back in his eyes. "Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God, I just said no to the NHL."

"It's not what you want," said Jack quietly, and he rubbed Bitty's stomach gently. "What do you want?"

Bitty lifted his head. "Well, I just won myself a little nest egg," he said. "I think we should get serious about the bakery. What was that place you saw the other day on your run?"

"It's a nice location. It's a busy street but there's enough parking," said Jack.

"I think we should do it," said Bitty. "I think I should do it."

"If that's what you want," said Jack, and Bitty smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I want," he said. "But you know what I want first?"

"What?"

Bitty kissed him again and let Jack roll him onto his back. "Thank God," said Jack as he tugged up the hem of Bitty's jersey. "I wanted to fuck you as soon as you crossed the finish line."

Bitty grinned. "You should have."

"I should have," said Jack. He removed Bitty's jersey and then kissed him again.

***

Jack Thank you, but he’s not interested Jack But you can tell Parse if he wants a rematch, he can eat Bitty’s dust at Faber

#ficlet #my fic #omgcp #zimbits

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whiskynottea · 5 years ago

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51 Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter 56, Chapter 57

AO3

Thank you @theministerskat for your beta! ❤️

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Chapter 58. Rain

How long can one night be?

It felt like I was lying in my bed for ages. I wanted to get up, run, do something, but the darkness was heavy outside my window, and my heart felt heavier.

My heart, the one that kept beating, no matter how many times my breath hitched in my throat.

My heart, carrying its own heavy load, waiting.

Holding off was slowly killing me, but I had resolved not to call him again.

Hours had passed while my phone remained silent. A sinking sensation wrapped around me, dragging me down, deeper and deeper.

What had happened, exactly?

I had spent the first few hours rationalizing.

What if something happened to him? No. John would call me. Jamie is fine.

Maybe he forgot his phone at the pool and they are all out celebrating now. But he would send something from John’s phone, right?

Not if he’s still mad at me for not calling him before the race.

Maybe he needs time, and he will call when he’s ready. He’s stressed, and he’s exaggerating. It will be okay.

If only he called sooner.

I had messed up, yes, but it wasn’t like I had been out for drinks, having fun, and ignoring him. And it wasn’t like we hadn’t talked all day. I would explain myself. I would tell him the truth and ask him to forgive me. Simple as that.

Not that I hadn’t done that in my texts already. But texts were not the same.

I closed my eyes and imagined his disappointment when the time had come and I didn’t call, when I didn’t reply to his messages. I could see in my mind’s eye how upset he must have been, his deep breaths as he tried to focus on the impending race. I hoped he’d thought of all the times I wished him good luck in the past, of how much I loved him and believed in him. Or at least to forget everything about me and give his best to the race.

It didn’t matter, really. Nothing was as important as winning the race.

I knew he would do well. He was the best swimmer I had ever seen.

It will be alright. He’ll call back and it will be alright.

I tried to stick with this line of thought and get some sleep. Make this endless night go by faster.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

Where was he? The chances he’d lost his phone were…scarce. He’d seen my texts and was still so angry that he couldn’t even reply?

A single message was all I needed. ‘I’m fine, won the race, we’ll talk tomorrow.’ How hard was that?

It was the first time Jamie had done this. The first time he blatantly ignored me. The first time he didn’t want to talk to me.

Or rather, the second. The first one had been when he got the scholarship, but that had been different.

This wasn’t at all like him.

Maybe he’s preparing a surprise for me?

The week following the New Jersey race would be a slack one. Maybe he’d come to visit me, to celebrate with me.

I let hope nestle in my chest, its arrival gifting me with a few full breaths. Maybe he was flying to England right now. A smile curled the corners of my mouth, up and up, until I was biting my bottom lip in a smile full of expectation.

A moment later, reality crashed on me. Exactly when I was the most vulnerable. It always does that, waiting in the corner until we give way to the dreams, and then rushes to overtake us. With a single move, reality names the dream an illusion and takes it away, with a low, malicious snicker.

My smile vanished in a matter of seconds. Jamie wasn’t coming, and I was a fool to even think he would. He was in New Jersey, celebrating with his friends.

The waiting was killing me. I held in my tears, refusing to cry when I didn’t even know why. When I didn’t know what was happening.

He had left me hanging. He had left me in the dark, alone, with no power over anything.

I felt small. Insignificant. Alone.

When the first tears stained my pillow, sleep took pity on me.

I didn’t dream.

–

Mary’s voice woke me and I felt her hand gently nudging my side.

“Claire? Are you coming to the lecture? We need to go in fifteen minutes.”

The lecture? Did the world have the audacity to go on when my life was crumbling?

For the first time in my life, I didn’t care about the lecture. I didn’t care about anything at all, after checking my phone to find that nothing had changed since the previous night.

That was a living hell, I was sure of it.

I pushed all thoughts and emotions deep down and got out of bed. It would do me no good to stay in the dorm all day, and I had practicals that I couldn’t miss anyway.

I brushed my teeth mechanically for a good five minutes and washed my face with freezing water until the bones in my hands ached from the cold.

Numb – I needed to be numb. Retreat to that place deep inside me where I was safe. A peal of cruel laughter left my lips.

This place, and all the bloody safe places inside me had been opened for him.

There was no safehouse, no hidden crypt. I had given everything and I had nowhere to go now.

I started crying again and immediately rinsed the tears away.

Get yourself together. Don’t think.

I left the bathroom and got dressed. Mary looked at me with a frown, but didn’t ask any questions. I loved her for it. No prying. She would patiently wait until I was ready to talk. Which meant never, in this case.

We walked to campus and headed towards the auditorium. I vaguely registered that it was an interesting lecture, one of those that would fill my head with questions and ideas on any other day. Not today.

Today, I took notes like an automaton. I breathed like an automaton. When the lecture finished, I talked to others like an automaton.

It was like living in virtual reality. I was at Oxford, going on with my day, responding to the stimuli around me as if they were real, but I had this feeling that everything was only a projection on a wall, and real-life would look like the earth had been destroyed by meteors. Or a collision with another planet.

Or maybe that was just my world.

I went on with my day as if nothing had changed, as if I could breathe as easily as the next student in the practical.

I nodded mechanically and I even smiled once or twice when everyone was laughing, because I felt like I had to.

I checked my phone every minute. It felt like a punch in the gut. When I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned it off, only to panic and turn it on five minutes later.

Not that I had missed anything.

I thought of texting Jamie again, but what else was there left to say? How many times can one apologize before those three words sound cheap?

I wrote ‘I love you’ at least ten times, only to erase the message a moment later. Didn’t he know that I loved him? What difference would a text make?

After our practical, I followed Mary to the library. I sat down with a heavy textbook and ended up reading the same line twenty times.

It was then that my phone vibrated against the wooden desk.

My heart jumped to my throat, and my knees trembled as I tried to stand up.

It was him, and he was smiling in the picture on my screen and I just wanted to fall back on my chair and start crying.

I didn’t. I swallowed hard, instead, and ran outside. Fat raindrops hit my face, but I hardly noticed them. I wore my earphones, and slid a finger across the screen.

“Hi,” I said, walking away from the entrance and leaning against the exterior wall, trying to shelter myself from the rain as well as I could. The light post was only four feet away, but my face was covered in shadows.

“Hi, Claire.” Jamie tried for a smile, but ended up taking a deep breath instead.

My heart was beating so fast I thought it would break through my chest. A ridiculous thought from an aspiring doctor, and yet there it was.

“How did it go?” I asked. “The race,” I clarified, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Second. I finished second.”

Second. Shit. Is this the reason he didn’t call?

His face was a mask, his voice colourless. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry? It sounded stupid. Don’t worry?

I nodded twice, before I mumbled, “Congratulations.” He didn’t seem to hear it. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder this time. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said, dismissively.

And then, silence. A long, heavy silence that stretched and stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore. It was stealing my breath.

“Did you celebrate last night?”

Jamie looked sideways, then back at me. “Aye, we went for drinks wi’ the team.”

“Nice.” I tried to smile. “Did you have fun?”

He closed his eyes and set his jaw. I saw his throat bobbing as he swallowed and waited for his answer, but his mouth opened only to close again.

“Are you alone?” I blurted. It was obvious that we couldn’t keep this conversation going for long, and I didn’t want to start talking about what really mattered if other people were in his room.

“Aye. John is out.”

I tried to smile, and let out a sigh before starting explaining myself. “Jamie, I am so, so, so sorry I didn’t manage to call you yesterday. I know you needed me to call and you’re angry at me, and you’re right… But I was in the middle of a tutorial and time went by, and –” I stopped abruptly and squeezed my eyes tight. “I am sorry.”

Jamie nodded but didn’t say a word. I couldn’t recognize the look in his eyes.

“Talk to me, please. Talk to me, Jamie, we will figure it out,” I pleaded in a quivering voice.

“Claire –”

“Yes?” I bit my lip hard, trying to keep the tears inside.

“I didna call ye yesterday and all day today, because I needed time to think.”

The wall behind me was rough underneath my fingertips as I pushed harder against it, wishing for the pain to ground me. To prepare me, somehow, for what was coming. I knew it. I knew him. I could see right through him. The way he talked, how he looked at me… I recognized that look now – the pain and regret, the determination. Tears blurred my vision before he could go on.

“This isna working, Claire,” Jamie said, and I felt a thousand daggers sinking into my heart. I felt them hovering around me all day, biding their time. A whimper left my mouth before I could stop it, and I pushed my lips together in reflex. I looked at Jamie, at the bloody screen, and tried to keep my raging emotions under control.

“What –” I started in a broken voice, and I summoned all my courage to go on. I wouldn’t stop this conversation before it had even started because I was crying. I pushed my fingernails into the wall, willing it to support me. “What do you mean?” When Jamie only shook his head, I continued. “Since when is it not working?” I huffed a laugh, challenging him. “I forgot to text you once, and that’s it? I’m not good enough for you?”

That rilled him up. “Did I ever say ye’re not good enough for me, Claire?” he demanded. “Dinna put words in my mouth!” He then murmured something under his breath, lowering his eyes.

“So what is this? You don’t call, don’t text, don’t even tell me that you need time to think and I’m here waiting for you to deign to inform me that things aren’t working out because the idea stuck in your head?”

“It’s not in my head! It’s in my life! This – what we have... It’s not what it once was, and –”

“And you want to end it?” I couldn’t believe I was uttering those words. This had to be a nightmare.

“Aye.” It could have been a whisper of the wind. It could have been a raindrop falling into the river. It could have been the rustling of leaves. But it was his voice, and the sound choked me. A small word I had heard him say thousands of times. The same word, ending it all.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I scraped my palm against the wall, and saw the hand holding my phone shaking.

“Why?”

Why are you giving up on us? Why aren’t you patient? Why are you tearing my heart out?

I couldn’t ask that. I wouldn’t. So I just whispered again, “Why?”

“I love ye, Claire,” he said, and I noticed for the first time that he was crying, too.

Hearing his words broke all the walls I’d tried to build to keep my despair aside. “This makes no fucking sense,” I sobbed.

“I ken, I ken,” he repeated. “I love ye, mo nighean donn, mo ghraidh, my Sassenach. I love ye so much and I wish you were here or I was there, but you’re not and I’m not and I canna go on like this.” He said it all with breath, and then this face paled, as if a chunk of life was torn out of his chest.

“No, no, no.” I shook my head violently, wet curls flying and sticking on my face. “We will make it work, we said we would, remember?”

He needed to remember. He just needed to know that we would be together no matter what, and then he would change his mind.

“I canna. I miss you, and this is not what I thought it would be. Seeing you once every three months? What kind of relationship is that?”

“Our relationship!” I all but screamed. “It’s our relationship and we’ll work on it. This is just the beginning and I am overwhelmed a bit by the workload here, but I will get the hang of it. I know I should have called before the race –”

“Claire!” he interrupted me. “This is not about the race. I mean, it is, but it’s not only that. Ye’re not here when I need to cuddle in bed with you after a hard day. Ye’re not here when I want to go out and dance and feel your body against mine. Ye’re not here when good things happen, when bad things happen, when nothing happens… Ye’re not here.”

“Of course I’m not there! I’m right here, doing my best to be a part of your life! And you knew that, Jamie Fraser! You knew I wouldn’t be there!”

“Your best…” he trailed off before finishing the thought. I was ready for another attack, when he said, “I hadna thought it would be so difficult.”

I repeated his words, mocking him.

“Yes Claire! I thought ye’d be with me until your term started, but no! God forbid! Ye had to volunteer and go to Zambia! And then –”

“You said you were okay with me going to Zambia!” I interrupted him, indignant. I felt my cheeks flaming in anger now.

“I said I didna like it! But ye didna step back! Ye said that ye really wanted to go and really, what choice did I have in the matter?”

I snorted, refusing to talk to him. I couldn’t believe that he was holding my trip to Zambia against me. What else was there that he had never talked about?

“Well, I’m not in Zambia right now.”

“Aye, and what good does it do to us? Ye have internet access and we still hardly talk. D’ye think that thirty minutes per day is enough to keep a relationship going? Because it isn’t!”

I took a long breath through my mouth, blinking at him. I couldn’t believe my ears. “We limit the time of the video calls because of your training,” I spat.

“And your practicals, your tutorials…” He shook his head and his red curls fell into his eyes. It had become one of my habits to run my fingers over his forehead and push them aside, but I knew that even if he was in front of me right now that would be the last thing I would do. Smack him on the forehead, maybe. “Ye didn’t come for my race, as we had agreed. Do ye ken how long it is since we had sex?” Jamie asked, bringing me back to our conversation.

I felt my eyebrows curving in an impossible arch. “What? So this – this is about sex?”

“No. Not only sex, but sex is important, too.”

“Our schedule is fucked up!” I declared.

“I ken!” he shot back. “This doesna change the facts though, does it?”

It didn’t. “We can do better,” I said, more calmly now. My breaths were short and fast, and I stopped for a moment, trying to collect myself. “I miss you, too.” Jamie didn’t reply. “I thought I was there for you, I thought what we had was enough.”

I slid down the wall, sitting on the wet pavement. I was soaked by this point and I didn’t care.

“I thought it would be enough. I wanted it to be.” Jamie’s voice was soft, as if he murmured something in my ear as we lay together in bed. “But I want to live, Claire, not to be constantly suspended between two continents. I want to live here, now. And I wanted to share now with you, even though I couldn’t share here. But I can’t even have that.”

Because I hadn’t sent a bloody good-luck-text. “I don’t know what else I can do. I can’t promise that I won’t mess up again, but I can promise that I will try not to. And I’ll be there in a few weeks. We will spend a whole month together.”

“Sassenach,” Jamie rasped, pained. “Stop. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? Love you?” I asked, with an incredulous laugh. “I don’t remember how life was before I loved you.”

Jamie rubbed a hand on his face. His eyes were red and puffed when he looked at me. “It pains me, Claire. It pains me to wake up and know you’re not in my arms, it pains me to count the days until I see ye again. I canna do it anymore.”

I had no breath to speak. Tears kept rolling down my face, and Jamie’s ragged breaths sounded closer through my earphones than the rain pattering on the pavement I sat on. I felt him closer than all the world around me and I wanted to reach out and grasp that feeling, afraid I would never have it again.

“So that’s it?” I croaked, and licked my lips, tasting the salt.

It couldn’t be it. We couldn’t end like this.

“I am sorry. I love you. I will always love you. But maybe this is for the best. For both of us, ye ken.” A sigh, and he continued. “I will focus on my life here, and you on yer studies…”

The words sounded unreal in my mind. I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t agree or oppose the notion, not that it mattered.

Love isn’t a cage. It’s not working that way. Love is like the wind, aiding us in staying airborne, lifting us higher.

“Goodbye, Jamie.”

My finger trembled as I ended the call. I felt the sky drop closer, crushing me. A flash of lightning tore up the darkness in the distance and I closed my eyes, wishing Jamie would be there to hold me in his arms.

But there would be no more Jamie. No one would hold me to keep me safe. No one would brush away the hair from my face. No one would kiss away the tears.

I held my breath in an attempt to verify that my heart was still beating.

It did. My treacherous heart went on with hollow, empty beats against my ribs.

My head hit the wall, and I stayed there, sobbing under the rain until Mary found me.

Chapter 59

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #sorry?

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detectivejigsawpines · 5 years ago

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Abyss-finale (Raise a glass to freedom)

...I have never been drunk in my life. Because I don't drink. Therefore my knowledge of how to be drunk is very limited, and mostly based on the idea that it's similar to being very, very sleep-deprived (which I have been on probably far more occasions than is healthy for me). My suspicion is that if I did drink, I would be either a very giggly drunk, or a very angry drunk.

Reading the chapter to the end will clarify why this is valid.

“You what?!”

Shermie and Ford both stared at Stan, aghast, as he continued to scramble eggs after telling them how he’d essentially bought himself from their father.

Stan grinned. “You shoulda seen the look on his face-it was even better than the time when we went to that restaurant with the triple-decker steak.”

Shermie snorted, hard. “Oh wow...I always knew you were crazy, Stanley, but this-this exceeded even my expectations.”

He did a little theatrical bow, twirling the spatula between his fingers. “That’s what I do best.”

When their mother came down, however, some of his ebullience-a lot of it, in fact-dissipated at the look on her face.

Ford’s stomach twisted in a hard knot, because even he could see that level of heartbreak.

Stan winced, and turned off the burner. “...Hey, Mom.”

Mom looked up at him sadly for a moment, before at last whispering, “This isn’t gonna be fixed, is it?”

Stan let out a sigh that was equal parts sad and frustrated as he set down the spatula he’d been using. “Whaddya want me ta do? Beg and plead for him ta say I’m part of the family again? It wouldn’t work, Mom, and even if it would…”

Even when he had still been mad at his brother, Ford knew he wouldn’t have wanted him to sacrifice his dignity to that extent. He wanted it even less now, when he understood better what had happened and wasn’t a stupid hormonal teenager.

Mom was trying hard not to cry now. “Stanley…”

“Am I gonna lose you too if I can’t make things up with him?” Stan suddenly asked.

It snapped Mom out of her despondency somewhat: her eyes widened, and then she jabbed a finger into her son’s chest.

“Stanley Pines! What kinda mother ya take me for?! What, ya think I’m gonna tell ya ta shove off just cuz your pa’s got a big stick up his-”

The rest of her words were muffled in Stan’s shirt as he pulled her into a hug.

“Just checkin’,” he whispered into her hair. “Love ya too, Mom.”

********

Pa came down a while later, and sat stoically through breakfast, before telling Shermie, “Pack up the car when you’re done. We’re leaving.”

Shermie blinked. “Already?”

He nodded. “Gotta get back to the shop. The rubes ain’t gonna fleece themselves.”

The oldest son sighed. “You got it, Pops.”

Pa gave him a sharp look at the slight insolence in his tone, but then went back to eating the eggs.

Since they hadn’t brought much, it didn’t take them long to get ready to leave. Mom held both her boys tightly, wringing out promises for them to call her more often, and then Shermie took his turn for some more affectionate noogying and apologies for not getting to spend more time checking out their home. Then they were putting their things in the car, leaving them alone on the porch with Pa.

Ford wondered if he was going to say-well, anything.

An apology was most likely too much to hope for, but-well, something. Something to prove that he was a human being, not a robot.

All he did, though, was give a small nod, and then turn away and head for the car.

As they watched it drive back down the road, Ford said, “...We need to go to Dan’s place.”

“What for?”

“I need a drink.”

********

On the Corduroy cabin’s front porch, Dan poured out more of his family’s home-brewed liquor and handed it over.

“Sounds like you guys had a rough time.”

“...Wasn’t so bad, not after I gave ‘im the money,” Stan muttered into his glass.

“Ya shouldn’t’ve done that,” Ford scolded; his words slurred more than usual, finally making him sound like a Jersey boy for once. “‘S wasted on ‘im. Prolly never even spend it.”

Stan shrugged, and held out his glass again. “S’not my money anymore. I don’t care.”

The part of Ford’s brain still capable of rational thought wondered what exactly was in this Corduroy family recipe. Dan had said it was apples...or mostly apples. Definitely had apples in it. It was powerful stuff, whatever it was; they’d only been doing this for half an hour and he’d already reached the point where the edges of his vision were going in and out of focus, and he needed to sit down even though he was already sitting down. He squinted at Dan.

“How’re you handlin’ this stuff so well? You’re lit-ral-lit-little-little-er-ally younger’n we are, you’ve had less years ta build up a tolerance for drink.”

Dan smirked. “Guess I’m just manlier than you.”

Ford glared. “Ha. Ha. You even drinkin’?”

Dan pointedly poured himself a glass of whatever-he-called this stuff (Crumble? Scramble? Something like that), from the same bottle they’d been using, and gulped down a shot.

Stan whistled appreciatively. “You’re good.”

“Got a lotta Scottish in my blood. Makes it easy.”

“Nice.”

****

“...I shoulda stood up ta him better,” Ford muttered finally.

The other two stared at him.

“He started sayin’ all this crap about you bein’ a-a bad influence an’ stuff, Stanley, and I tried ta defend you, but I just...froze up. I failed you again.”

“What? No, nononono, don’t do that ta yourself.” Stan scooted his chair over next to Ford’s, not heeding the horrible scraping noise it made on the wooden boards, and slung one big arm over his shoulder. “S’not your fault, ‘kay? Dad’s-Mom says I got pershonality, but he’s got one too. Big one. Size’a New York City-big. Not an easy one ta go up against.”

“What, are you-are you sayin’ I don’t have personality?” Ford gave Stan a wounded look.

“No, no, ‘course not. Jus’ not a pers’nality used ta fightin’ people. ‘Specially not Pa.” Stan squeezed him. “Not your fault.” He ruffled Ford’s hair...and then gaped at it in wonder. “Whoa. Your hair’s real...floofy. Heh heh. Floof, floof, floof.” He continued playing with it, giggling, until Ford swatted his hand.

He felt a little comforted by Stan’s words...but not much. “S my job,” he insisted stubbornly, staring at the middle of Stan’s three faces floating before his eyes on the assumption that it was the real one. “Needa...fix things. Last time-you were homeless cuz I couldn’t get over myself an’ help you, so I needa-”

“Hey, I shouldn’ta hung around your project, so I wouldn’t’ve broken it, so you coulda gone ta the dumb science college. You’re more important than a boat, Sixer, an’I made ya feel like-likit was the other way ‘round.” Stan suddenly snatched the bottle off the table, began chugging down the rest of its contents.

“Hey! No fair, gimme that.” Ford grabbed for it, leading to a sloppy tug-of-war that ended with the-grumble? No, scumble, that was the name of this stuff-splashed all over both of them.

Ford put the bottle back on the table with a resigned sigh, and then wrapped his arm around Stan.

“You’re more important’n a college, St’nley,” he murmured, letting his heavy eyes droop shut. “Shoulda remembered that too…”

****

Soon enough they were both snoring, completely passed out on each other.

Dan threw away the empty bottle, and went inside to grab a blanket, which he draped over both of them. Then, as the effects of the scumble finally started to hit him, he just made himself comfortable stretching out on the porch.

********

When they wake up, all three boys are VERY hungover. Stan and Ford end up staying until they're feeling well enough to stand and walk home without throwing up, while Ford tries to deduce the ingredients for a hangover cure Fiddleford came up with in college. As best he recalls, it included a raw egg, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce, but he could never get his friend to divulge the rest of it. He resolves to experiment until he deciphers it on his own-as soon as his head stops feeling like it's all stuffed with rocks that keep rolling around and banging into each other.

Stan has a few nightmares while he’s sleeping them off, but he doesn’t remember them that well when he wakes up, just being surrounded by a lot of indistinct whispers.

#flipside au #gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #filbrick pines is a jerk #filbrick pines #caryn pines #shermie pines #dan corduroy #boys bonding #getting drunk together #discworld reference

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gamerwoo · 6 years ago

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Wonwoo: Out of Luck

Anonymous asked: hi :) do u have requests open? if yes, can i send u a prompt for a wonwoo smut? :D Ok, so the prompt is "give me your hoodie and fuck me in it" lol dont ask and maybe for gamer!wonwoo? 👀👀 If youll feel inspired for this, thank you! ♡

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/warnings: pro gamer/overwatch league au, a little bit of fluff n angst but like it’s honestly all just mostly smut lmao (fingering, oral)

Word count: 4,147

Summary: Wonwoo has a lot of weird superstitions as a pro gamer, but he has two big ones: fucking you in his jersey before any games he’s particularly nervous for, and always wearing his lucky sweatshirt under his jersey during every game. However, when his team loses for the first time to yours, he fears that his lucky sweatshirt has run out of luck. So you decide to put some of your luck into it.

a/n: since I already have a gamer!wonwoo series, I decided to just put it in that universe. hope you don’t mind, anon!!

You walked into Wonwoo’s room after Minghao let you into their team house, the first thing greeting you being your boyfriend’s back. Of course, he was wearing his Serpents sweatshirt, which was completely black with the bright red printing. There were snakes that went down both arms, but the thing that your eyes were always drawn to was the ‘WONU’ printed on the back with his jersey number below it. Ever since the team manager gave the Serpents those sweatshirts before the recent season began about two months ago, Wonwoo’s worn it just about everyday.

“Doing something?” you asked with a small smirk.

Wonwoo turned, his glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose as he looked at you before he went back to scouring his floor that was already covered in clothes. He’d only been back in the team house for a couple months, but he already made a mess of his room.

“I can’t remember where my jersey went,” he replied in almost a mumble as he scratched the back of his head, making a bigger mess of his curly hair. “I didn’t leave it at yours, did I?”

“No, I gave it back after the Soonyoung incident,” you replied with a slight chuckle at the memory -- even if it did embarrass the hell out of you and you couldn’t look Soonyoung in the eyes for about two weeks. “Speaking of Soonyoung, is this why he won’t let you live with him and Chan?”

Wonwoo scoffed, bending over to shift through sweatshirts and t-shirts, “Please, have you seen his room? He’s messier than I am.”

“Why are you looking for your jersey anyway?” you questioned as you went to sit in his gaming chair, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “You don’t play until Thursday, and it’s Monday.”

Your boyfriend turned to look at you, a smirk that made your stomach do flips gracing his face. His voice was lower when he spoke.

“We’re facing the NYXL on Thursday, and I need all the luck I can get until then -- starting today.”

You never knew what it was with Wonwoo loving to see you in his jersey -- and loving even more when you wore it while he pressed you into the mattress or bent you over his desk or had you in his lap in his chair -- but you never complained, and you especially weren’t now since you barely even had the time to see Wonwoo in person in the last two weeks.

In an instant, you were up and helping Wonwoo search for his jersey, making him laugh at your eagerness.

“I think Serpents versus Warriors is a match everybody always looks forward to,” you could hear one of the casters saying as your team walked through the crowd and up to the stage. “Because of the known relationship between WonU on the Sozhou Serpents and m0chi on the Busan Warriors, people look forward to seeing this game.”

“Yeah, there’s something about watching a couple kill each other in a video game that really seems to rile everybody up,” the second caster agreed. “The matches between Serpents and Warriors might be even more popular than seeing the two home teams go up against each other.”

You just smirked to yourself, giving hi-fives to the fans on either side of you. Yuta in front of you turned his head to give you a playful smile before he carried on to the stage, following Jihoon, Jeonghan, Mingyu, and Hongbin up to the computers. As you passed by Wonwoo who sat at the very end of his row of computers, you smiled at him and shot a finger gun at him, making him blush slightly and roll his eyes.

It also made the crowd coo at both of you, which you ignored as you went to sit in your seat that was four away from Wonwoo.

Your coaches prepared you for this game ever since the Serpents’ first game. They were on a winning streak -- Wonwoo insisted it was the sweatshirt -- but your coaches were planning to bring that to an end. You and Wonwoo both knew well enough to not let the game get between you, which you learned that the hard way, so whether you beat him or not wouldn’t matter.

Keeping all of that in mind, you put on your headset and prepared for the game.

“So _____,” Mingyu spoke up, “what are the stakes between you and Woo?”

“What stakes?”

“If you win, are you getting a face full of mattress tonight?”

You heard the whole team groan, with Hongbin reminding Mingyu that their comms were being recorded, and Jihoon breathing out a, “Please just shut the fuck up.”

After the signing, you asked Mingyu to drop you off at the Serpents’ team house. You had been congratulated all night, as well as getting asked how Wonwoo was feeling about his team’s first loss of the season.

“Nobody likes losing, but he’s fine with it,” you shrugged even though you didn’t really get to see his reaction other than ‘shaking his hand’ at the end of the match which was actually him giving you a quick kiss and putting a childish pout on his face.

“He’s just happy he lost to his girlfriend rather than some other team,” Mingyu scoffed, sliding the poster he was signing over to Taehyung on his other side.

But now you were able to have a real conversation with him about the game -- although, judging from the texts Chan sent you, you were sure Wonwoo was losing his mind for whatever reason.

Not many people stayed at the team house anymore. Soonyoung and Chan had their own place they stayed when they did have to be in California for most of the year, Tao lived in his own apartment, and you had never really seen Sanghyuk around much at all. So as far as you knew, it was Wonwoo, Junhui, Minghao, and two or three other boys from the roster that you knew but only really interacted with while making the walk of shame out of the house in the morning.

You went up to Wonwoo’s room, only to find it empty. You frowned, turning around and trying to think of where he would be. Did he even come home? Maybe he went to Chan and Soonyoung’s.

“Hey, Hao?” you spoke up when you saw the Chinese player walking out of his room and down the hall.

He paused where you were, smiling at you, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Where’s Woo?”

“Um...” he paused as he tried to think, his glasses starting to slide down his nose when he slightly scrunched his face. “I think we went to the practice room for a bit. He might be streaming or something. He was really sulky after the match, though.”

All you could do was sigh and thank Minghao before you made your way back downstairs and walked through the large house until you got to their practice room where they usually held scrims. You knew Wonwoo was probably upset over his weird rituals not working, but you’d also never seen him upset over losing before. You weren’t really sure what to expect when you saw him.

Entering the room full of computers, you saw only one person inside: Wonwoo. His back was to you while he clicked away at the computer, clearly in the middle of a game. He occasionally mumbled something to himself, but you couldn’t hear what it was. You just knew it wasn’t in reply to Twitch chat because he only had one monitor to work with in the practice rooms.

“Hey, Wonwoo?” your voice was quiet and almost timid as you approached him.

It wasn’t that you were afraid he would snap at you, but you were afraid of somehow upsetting him further since you were the one who ended his winning streak.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and knocking off his headphones as “DEFEAT” showed up on the screen. His head laid back against the chair as he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands as you continued to make your cautious approach.

“I lost it,” he groaned.

You shrugged, leaning back against the desk as you gave him an apologetic look that he couldn’t see behind his hands, “It was just one match.”

“No, I mean my luck!” he clarified as he dropped his hands and looked up at you with a pout that you couldn’t help but melt at. “My luck is completely gone! Now I’m on a losing streak!”

“I doubt your luck is gone, Woo,” you chuckled.

“You took it,” he whined, gripping your hips to pull you closer before he buried his face in your stomach. “Ugh, it was probably from Monday.”

“But you beat New York, remember?” you reminded him as your fingers moved to play with his hair. “We didn’t do anything after Monday.”

The two of you had a ‘no sex before we face each other’ rule because you refused to give Wonwoo any sort of luck -- even if you didn’t believe that sex or his dumb sweatshirt made him any luckier. But it also just made sex after your game that much better.

“That was the last of it,” he insisted, his voice muffled by your body. “The rest of it went to you.”

All you could do was laugh softly, “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Give it baaaaack,” he whined.

“Wonwoo, I--” you paused, suddenly getting an idea. It might’ve been pretty stupid since it would feed into both of his dumb superstitions, but you would still get something out of it for yourself. You smirked, lightly gripping your boyfriend’s chin to make him look up at you. “I have an idea...”

“Will it make me win again?” he asked, a pout on his face and even in his tone. “Will it make my sweatshirt lucky again?”

“Maybe...”

He instantly perked up, “What is it?”

You bent down, whispering as seductively as you could manage, “Give me your hoodie and fuck me in it.”

You felt Wonwoo stiffen, and a soft groan came from the back of his throat as his hands tightened on your hips.

“Oh my god, why didn’t I think of that before?” he asked, though it was mostly to himself. “Get the door, okay?”

While you rushed to the door to lock it, Wonwoo stood up and took off his Serpents sweatshirt, as well as his white t-shirt that was underneath. When you turned back around, you saw Wonwoo wasn’t making any moved to remove his black joggers even though you could already see a small bulge forming in them.

He gestured for you to take off your own shirt, which you quickly did as you walked over to him. Your Warriors jersey was dropped, landing carelessly on the floor while you reached to un-clip your bra as well and toss that over onto another monitor.

“Arms up,” he instructed with a soft smile as his eyes raked your naked torso.

You stood in front of him, arms raised over your head. Wonwoo helped put his hoodie on you, chuckling when your head poked out of the top hole with your hair a mess. You couldn’t help but giggle, pushing the hood back and fixing your hair as best as you could.

While you did that, Wonwoo’s fingers moved down to your joggers, tugging on them until they made it far enough past your thighs to drop to the floor on their own. You suddenly felt arousal shoot through you, the realization of what was about to happen in the Serpent’s practice room. Somehow, the fact it was in the practice room only turned you on further.

Wonwoo gently pushed you to sit down in the chair he was just sitting in. He would’ve preferred doing this in his room, but he didn’t want to make the trip through the house and up the stairs -- plus there was less of a chance of being heard in the practice room. Not that he really cared if you were heard in the moment, but it made things less embarrassing afterwards.

Dropping down to his knees, Wonwoo’s eyes never left you. His eyes scanned over your body and how you bit your lip in anticipation, watching his every move. His tongue darted out to went his lips, always loving the look of you in something that was his -- especially if it belonged to his team and had his name on it. He felt that it really drove home that fact that you belonged to him.

“You always look so good,” he mumbled, dipping his head down to your clothed core as he put one of your legs over his shoulder.

You sucked in a breath when you felt his finger hook your panties and push them to the side. One of your hands went to his hair when you felt his plush lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking softly. The finger he used to move your underwear aside teased your entrance, making you wiggle your hips as much as you could just to get it inside you. Wonwoo chuckled softly, the vibrations against you making you moan out quietly as he slid his long digit in easily, curling it and pumping at a steady pace.

You swung your other leg over the arm of the chair, opening your legs further to give Wonwoo more access. He smirked against you, lifting his head a bit to speak.

“Eager?”

You weren’t even going to deny it, nodding your head shamelessly. He couldn’t help but laugh deep in his chest before he brought his mouth back to your clit. He added a second finger, your other hand that was gripping the other arm of the chair going to his hair as well. You whimpered his name softly as he scissored his fingers inside you, feeling how wet you became so quickly. The room was quickly filled with squelching sounds as his fingers moved in and out of you, pumping at a faster pace.

“Wonwoo,” you whined, your head falling to the side as you watched him eat you out.

“Hmm?”

“Fuck me.”

Wonwoo’s eyes darkened, pulling away from you. His fingers slid out and he put them in his mouth as he stood up, seeming to decide how he wanted to do this as he sucked your arousal off of his digits. You stayed perfectly still as you watched him, waiting to see what he’d want you to do.

His eyes drifted to his phone that was still on the desk, softly buzzing and glowing to life with a text. With his glasses on, he could see it was from his groupchat with Soonyoung and Chan.

Hoshi: so

Hoshi: hows it feel to lose to your girlfriend

Hoshi: hows it feel to have your winning streak completely obliterated by your own girlfriend

Hoshi: 😏😏

You watched as Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed before he looked at you, almost glaring at you.

“Sit on the desk,” he ordered, nodding his head toward the space between two of the monitors.

You got up from the chair and positioned yourself on the desk between the monitors, your hands pressed on the space behind you to prop you up. You lifted your hips as Wonwoo hooked his fingers in your underwear, sliding them off your legs in record time. He had this new fire ignited in him that you’d seen before when you’d beat him at almost anything that you’d turned into a competition or when he had a particularly rough stream or match. It made you excited, arousal starting to drip down your thighs.

Wonwoo bent down to get a condom from his backpack before he stood up and pushed his joggers and boxers down just enough for his erection to spring free. He tore the condom wrapper open before he rolled the condom down his length, stroking it a few times to get it fully hard as his eyes scanned over you a few times.

“I can’t believe you ended my streak,” he grumbled, his eyes locked on yours as he stepped forward to align himself with your entrance.

You giggled softly with a cocky smile, “Angry?”

“No,” he scoffed as he thrust into your sharply, causing you to gasp and sit up straighter. He smirked at your reaction as he added, “just annoyed.”

He set a pace that was much faster than you anticipated, having to put your hands further back on the desk near the wall just to steady yourself. His hands gripped your hips tightly, keeping them in place while the rest of you rocked back with each snap of his hips. Your head dropped back, just inches from hitting the wall, while your eyes were half open to look up at him.

Wonwoo’s hands slid up from your hips, moving under the hoodie as they traveled up your torso and to your breasts. He kneaded them roughly, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples and making you moan out his name.

“Come on,” you breathed, a lazy smile on your face as you moved one hand to hold onto Wonwoo’s shoulder, your legs wrapped around him as well, “you can do better than that. I beat your team and fucked up your winning streak, and this is the best you can do?”

“Shut up,” he grunted, moving one hand out from under your clothes to put against your neck. He didn’t squeeze it, he just rested it there as almost a threat.

“Holding back in-game first, and now this?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as a soft moan fell from your lips. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was working judging from the way his eyebrows set lower on his face in concentration. “No wonder you lost, Woo.”

Wonwoo gripped your thighs with both hands, pulling you forward in a sharp tug. You slipped to your back on the table, nearly hitting your head as you gasped. Wonwoo’s thrusts sped up as he put one of your legs over his shoulder, drowning out any teasing words that you wanted to say and replacing them with mewls of his name.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, groaning at the way you clenched around him at this new angle.

You nodded, shamelessly admitting it.

He bent over you, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other moved back to your hip, “You’re the biggest pain in my ass.”

His lips pressed to yours as his hips kept their fast, rough pace. One of your hands moved down to rub your clit in fast circles, chasing the high that you were so close to. His mouth moved down your jaw and to your neck, leaving wet kisses as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he hissed.

“Me too...” you whimpered, raising your hips as best as you could in your current position.

Wonwoo sat up straight again, his fingertips digging into your hips as he moved his hips as quickly as he could. You could feel your eyes threatening to close as your orgasm approached, your back arching off of the table.

You came with his name coming out in a high moan, followed by whatever profanity your brain could think of, your eyes closing as Wonwoo rode out your high while also getting himself to his own. Feeling you clench around him pushed him over the edge, high, breathy moans falling past his lips as his hips began to stutter.

After the two of you had managed to come down, Wonwoo slowly pulled out of you and removed the condom, tying it up as he made his way over to the trash. He adjusted his bottoms while you just laid on the desk and tried to catch your breath.

“You alright?” he asked with a soft chuckle, leaning over to look at your face.

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking the hand he offered to help pull you up. “Feel better now?”

“I wouldn’t have been so worked up had it not been for your big mouth,” he told you with a laugh, poking your stomach as you stood up.

“Listen, we both needed it,” you insisted as you grabbed your underwear and put them back on before you put your own joggers back on. “Do you think your hoodie is lucky enough now?”

“Eh, maybe wear it for a little longer to make sure your luck rubs off on it.”

“You just like seeing me in your clothes.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s all tied up, and this last round will decide who wins: the Suzhou Serpents or the Chengdu Hunters,” the castor announced as the clock counted down.

As always -- unless they were playing -- you went to the game with Hansol and Seungkwan. Despite the fact Seungkwan still insisted he wouldn’t root for “the enemy”, Hansol was very supportive and cheered for the Serpents anyway -- including the rival tank duo that Seungkwan still refused to warm up to.

“They’re close to winning,” Hansol said in your ear above all the yelling as the two teams ran out of spawn. “Do you think they’ll do it?”

“They better,” you sighed. “I can’t be forced to wear that sweatshirt 24 hours a day again."

While you did like wearing Wonwoo’s clothes, you didn’t want to be stuck in a hoodie when you were in LA. You had become a walking waterfall from how much you sweat just stepping outside, especially since the sweatshirt was black.

“I hope the Hunters win,” Seungkwan said for the umpteenth time, pouting as he watched the screen.

“You wanna see _____ in the Serpents jersey some more?” Hansol asked.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened, realizing it was a catch 22 -- he either wanted Wonwoo’s team to lose which would result in more Serpents apparel, or he wanted them to win which would mean he would be cheering for the enemy. You and Hansol just laughed at him before turning your attention back to the screen.

It was back and forth a lot, but it was finally down to 99% on each side. The Serpents had control of the map, but the Hunters could flip it at any time. You were standing up with half the crowd, shouting encouragement at the team you were rooting for. Hansol joined you, but Seungkwan stayed seated, contemplating his decisions.

Finally, somebody stepped too far off the point, and the overtime bar went down in a second, half the crowd going absolutely wild. The arena changed to the colors for the Serpents as the team stood and patted each other on the back for their victory.

As the Serpents walked across the stage to shake hands with the other team, Wonwoo’s eyes met yours in the crowd, flashing you a wink.

You left with Hansol and Seungkwan while Junhui went down to be interviewed. You went to the lobby to wait for Wonwoo while a handful of fans had gathered around the three of you, asking for pictures and autographs that you smiled and agreed to.

Finally, you felt an arm wrap around your waist as lips pressed to your temple.

“You did it,” Wonwoo grinned, pulling you closer into his side.

“I’m glad that whole crisis is over,” you told him. “It was silly.”

“Oh, _____!” you heard somebody call your name.

You turned around to see Soonyoung jogging over to you with a smug grin -- only letting it fall when he saw Hansol and Seungkwan beside you. Still, he went up and stopped in front of you, giggling to himself before he spoke.

“You left something in our practice room the other day,” he told you.

Your eyebrows furrowed while Wonwoo just gave him a puzzled look. Nobody had known you were in the practice room except Minghao, but they assumed you were just in and out.

“I did?” you asked, sure that you had brought everything home with you.

Soonyoung reached inside his half-zipped backpack, pulling out a bra that he let dangle on his finger by the strap. Your eyes widened as your cheeks heated up.

“This,” he began, swinging it a bit, “was on my monitor.”

You quickly grabbed the article of clothing before stuffing it in the pocket of Wonwoo’s hoodie. Seungkwan and Hansol were snickering behind you, Wonwoo joining in even though he knew he’d gotten caught about having sex in the practice room. But hey, it wasn’t like his underwear was found in there by his friends.

You glared at your boyfriend, growling under your breath, “I’m getting you back for this.”

He just smirked, “Can’t wait.”

950 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 5 years ago

Text

Which One? Ji Soo - Part 6

Genre: Coffee Shop!AU

Pairing: Ji Soo x You

Warnings: Use of the word ‘Soccer.’ I know non-Americans hate it, and I apologize. But I am American. What can I say? 🤷‍♀️ Oh, and also mentions of alcohol.

Prologue, Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Epilogue | Words: 3,951

“Go out?” you asked, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. It was a bit squeakier than normal, but... what about this situation was normal?

Ji Soo, a very handsome coffee shop owner, had just asked you out.

I mean, you’re pretty sure he was asking you out!

And, like... you couldn’t stress enough just how handsome he was.

So... definitely not your average Saturday night.

“Yeah,” Ji Soo assured you with a nod. “Go out. Like... get dinner? Or see a movie?”

Yeah, he was asking you out.

But there was just one thing stopping you from saying ‘yes’ immediately.

“Do you... have time to go out?”

Ji Soo chuckled softly, his lips tilting into a half-grin. “I, uh -- I asked Joo Hyuk to cover for me tomorrow night. Last Sunday was pretty slow. I guess people don’t want all that caffeine before they have to wake up on Monday morning.”

Oh, wow, that made your heart flutter. He had prepared for this and everything!

You opened your mouth to say that you would love to go out with him tomorrow night, but -- you stopped yourself.

Because there was just one problem.

“I... actually already have plans tomorrow night,” you said, your brow furrowing. “There’s a game at 7, and I have season tickets, so --”

“A game?” Ji Soo asked. He was clearly confused by what you’d just told him. “Season tickets? What kind of game?”

You weren’t surprised by how surprised he sounded. You were kind of a technology geek, so why on Earth would you enjoy sports?

“Soccer,” you explained with a tiny smile. “The Tigers. I have season tickets. My dad passed down his love of the game to me, and one of the first things I bought with my first real paycheck was a season pass.”

The expression on Ji Soo’s face was still one of confusion, but now there was some amusement mixed in there. “Huh,” he nodded. “Soccer. I had no idea.”

For a split second, you felt bad because you had to turn him down... but then you suddenly had an idea. You gasped slightly, your eyebrows shooting halfway up your forehead.

“Do you want to come with me?” you asked excitedly. “I can see if the seat next to me is open.”

Ji Soo also raised his eyebrows, and you thought maybe he would decline, but the grin tugging at his lips gave you hope. “Yeah? Yeah, of course, I would love to come. That sounds awesome, actually.”

Your heart fluttered for probably the ten thousandth time tonight, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling like the biggest goofball.

“It starts at 7,” you told him, clutching your laptop to your chest. “Should I pick you up here at 6? We can get food at the stadium.”

Ji Soo slid his hands into his pockets, and even though you couldn’t be absolutely sure, you had an inkling that the expression on his face was just as hopeful and giddy as yours.

“That sounds good,” he nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside right at 6. I know how you like to be on time.”

Oh, boy. First, he had prepared ahead of time to go on a date with you. And now he was promising to be on time because he knew that’s what you like?

The date wasn’t for another 21 hours, but you were already labeling it The Best Date Ever.

“Yes, I do,” you agreed with a soft laugh. “You’re right.”

“You should probably get used to saying that, by the way,” he said casually, taking one hand out of his pocket and reaching out to open your car door for you.

“Saying what?”

“You just said I was right,” he clarified. “You should get used to saying that because I’m right 99.9% of the time.”

You shot him a look which clearly said ‘Oh, yeah, right.’

“It’s true!” he argued, his eyebrows raised earnestly. “You’ll see, it really is true.”

You turned and ducked into your car, setting your laptop on the passenger seat and your bag down on the floor. “Okay, whatever you say,” you sighed, biting back a playful smirk.

“Drive safely,” he said as he leaned slightly against your open door. “Let me know when you get home?”

“I live less than ten minutes away,” you reminded him, chuckling softly but also awkwardly. It had just been such a long time since anyone besides Jane had made a request like that.

“Yeah... but still. Let me know.”

“I will,” you assured him with a nod. And just before you got into your car, you added a quiet, “See you tomorrow.”

Once you were fully and safely seated behind the wheel, Ji Soo gently closed your door and stepped back to allow you to reverse out of the parking spot. He stayed there as you drove away, lifting up one hand in a wave as you pulled out of the lot.

Oh, boy.

Oh, boy, oh, boy.

A date.

Tomorrow.

With Ji Soo.

Obviously, the first thing you did after you got home -- besides texting Ji Soo about your safe arrival, of course -- was call Jane.

You had barely gotten a whole sentence out before her high-pitched squeals filled the air. And your ear canal. You literally had to pull your phone away to protect your eardrum.

“I TOLD YOU!” she cried. “Didn’t I tell you?!”

“Yes, you told me,” you sighed, remembering just the other day when Ji Soo said ‘I told you so’ about your car troubles.

...Okay, now that you thought about it, Ji Soo and Jane were almost eerily similar. They both loved to tease you, they both were quick to point out when they were right, they were both incredibly kind and sweet, they both made you laugh, and... they both made you feel good about yourself.

When they weren’t embarrassing you, of course.

No wonder Jane had been able to predict the course of events between you and Ji Soo. They were practically the same person!

“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed,” you told her as you held back a huge, goofy grin.

“Gotta get some beauty rest before the big day tomorrow,” Jane squealed. “Not that you need it, but it’s always a plus to use a little less concealer. Night!”

“Good night, Jane,” you murmured affectionately before hanging up the phone.

After you got ready for bed, you settled in under the covers and got out your phone to look for Ji Soo’s ticket for the game tomorrow. Even if you couldn’t find one right next to you, you could trade yours out and find two together easily enough.

Just as you pulled up the ticket app, though, you got an Instagram notification.

TheMugShop (The Mug Coffee) is now following you.

Ooooooh.

You hastily pressed the banner alert, and your phone switched over to the Instagram app, heading straight to TheMugShop’s profile. First things first, you clicked ‘Follow back’ right away. They only had three followers so far (most likely Ji Soo, Joo Hyuk, and now you), but you were sure that would change fairly quickly.

Their bio read:

The Mug, your favorite locally-owned coffee shop. ☕️ 7a - 9p

all photos taken by @yourusername

And, to your surprise, there was already a picture posted. It was the picture you and Ji Soo had edited together tonight, one of a green tea latte since it was your beverage of choice (and because the green color was just so pretty) so you quickly clicked on it.

The caption made you both roll your eyes and laugh out loud.

“🍵❤️we like you a latte ❤️🍵come visit from 7-9 and try our green tea latte, a customer favorite”

You would bet five bucks Ji Soo had come up with that. You’d have to remember to ask him tomorrow.

Here’s a question for you:

Why are dates always in the evening?

Most of the time, people are nervous to go on a date. Especially a first date.

So, why would you subject yourself to going through almost the whole day waiting to meet up? Why would you spend hours and hours in anxiety? Why didn’t people just say ‘Hey, let’s meet for breakfast’?

Maybe you would start a new trend. Morning dates!

Except it was too late now. You’d bought a ticket for Ji Soo for the game tonight, and you couldn’t very well change the kickoff time.

If tonight went well, you would bring it up for a second date. Although, you weren’t sure when a second date would happen. Ji Soo worked at the coffee shop every single day from 7-9 -- or at least, for now. They couldn’t afford to pay you to take pictures for them, so surely they couldn’t afford to pay a part-time employee.

To be honest, though... you didn’t care. You were more than happy to just go to the shop, have a drink, and see Ji Soo, even if just for a few minutes at a time.

But you were getting a little ahead of yourself.

You would see how tonight went and then start worrying about the future.

Somehow -- some way -- you managed to get through the better part of the day without freaking out. You cleaned up the rest of your place since you’d cleaned up your kitchen yesterday, and that alone successfully distracted you for most of the morning and afternoon.

Plus, you kept busy keeping up with the Tigers on Instagram, watching videos of them getting ready to play and getting hyped for the game.

By 5:45 that evening, you were all set and ready to go, donning your team jersey with your favorite player’s name and number on the back, as usual.

You were semi-fine -- meaning not extremely nervous -- until you turned into The Mug’s parking lot and saw Ji Soo waiting by the entrance for you.

Oh, god.

When you pulled up to the front, Ji Soo lifted a hand and grinned at you. He opened the passenger door once you stopped and slid into the seat.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding far less nervous than you felt at the moment.

“Hello,” you replied. Since you were behind the wheel, you had an excuse not to look over at him. You’d basically seen him as he’d stood outside the shop, and you could tell he looked extra good tonight. You weren’t sure how that was possible, but... apparently, it was.

“How are you?” he asked as he reached back to grab his seat belt.

“I’m excited for the game,” you told him. You decided to leave off the fact you were nervous for the date.

“You’re not nervous for the date?” he asked. You didn’t even need to look over at him to know he was smirking.

Of course. Of course, he knew what you were thinking. He was your best friend in male form!

You felt your cheeks warming as a shy smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head slightly in disbelief. “Well, yes,” you admitted. “But it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah? I’ve never been to a game before, so I’m curious.”

“Wait, really? You’ve never been to a game?”

“Nope.”

“Like any soccer game?”

“Any soccer game,” he confirmed with a chuckle. “Joo Hyuk has, but apparently, it takes a pretty girl to convince me.”

Awesome. Not even five minutes into the date, and you were already blushing wildly.

“They’re really fun,” you assured him, trying to hide a shy grin. “I mean, I think they’re really fun. Obviously. Hopefully, you’ll have a good time.”

“Oh, yeah. I think I will. I had a good time when we were editing a picture, so I definitely think I’ll have a good time tonight. As long as you’re there.”

Okay, you couldn’t hide your shy grin any longer, and you could feel Ji Soo’s eyes on you.

Judging by the car ride alone, you were in trouble tonight. If Ji Soo kept saying things like that, you were pretty sure your lips would get stuck in this little smile for the rest of your life.

“Have you always blushed so easily?” Ji Soo asked, reaching over and poking your cheek gently.

“Yes,” you chuckled. You shrugged your shoulder to try and push his arm away, but it was more of an instinctive reaction than anything.

“It’s cute,” he murmured. “Like, just on your own, you’re beautiful. But when you blush it’s just so cute.”

“Oh my gosh, can we not talk about me anymore?” you asked with just the slightest whine in your voice. But you still had that smile on your lips; honestly, you were for real on your way to smiling permanently. All because of him!

Ji Soo obliged, though, and he (somehow) managed not to make you blush the rest of the way to the stadium. He asked about the rules of the game, and that kept you talking for the whole ride.

By the time you parked, walked to the stadium, went through security, scanned your tickets, bought some pizza and beer, and found your seats, the team was out practicing on the field.

Ji Soo asked who all of the players were, so you pointed out each one, telling him what their name was and which position they played.

“Who’s on your jersey?” he asked with half a mouthful of pizza.

“Ah,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks blush for the first time in almost half an hour. “Number 16, Martinez.”

Ji Soo’s eyes searched the field, and they narrowed slightly when he found the number 16 jersey.

Of course, you liked Martinez because he was a good player...

But... you would be lying if you said he wasn’t the best-looking guy on the team.

Ji Soo turned his narrowed gaze over to you, and your eyes widened innocently.

“What?” you asked.

“I’m onto you,” he murmured, sounding utterly serious (which you knew meant he was teasing).

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You shook your head, still keeping up the innocent act as you ate your pizza.

Ji Soo simply smirked at you, and you had to look away because it wasn’t possible to eat properly if you weren’t breathing.

Once you had both finished your pizza, the game was just about to start. You took a quick gulp of beer as the team came back out onto the field in their uniforms. You stood from your seat and clapped, cupping your hands around your mouth and cheering along with the crowd.

Ji Soo stood up, and you were reminded just how tall he was. Most of the time, either one or both of you were sitting, so it was easy to forget that he not only had the face of a model but the body of a model, too. Tall, slim, but you could tell he was also muscular.

As the national anthem played, Ji Soo leaned over and casually rested his elbow on your shoulder.

And, if you can believe it, it made your heart flutter.

So, literally, everything this guy did had some sort of effect on you, I guess. Even if he was just resting his elbow on your shoulder.

Plus, he smelled really good. He always seemed to smell good, even though he worked pretty much all day, every day.

After the last note of the anthem rang through the stadium, you gulped down your anxiety and leaned just a little bit closer toward your date.

“You smell really good,” you told him, raising your voice over the din of the crowd.

Ji Soo simply smirked before reaching out and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

You were so tempted to just bury your face in his chest, but he had already let go before you could give in to the urge.

Thankfully, the referee blew the starting whistle so you could turn your attention to the game instead of how good Ji Soo smelled. Or how amazing just that one, quick hug had felt.

“Okay, you have to tell me what’s going on,” he said, his voice suddenly close to your ear.

You nodded and began your commentary, making sure to stay close to him so you didn’t bother the people around you. You told him what was going on, you answered any question he had, and you also still managed to react to the game as you usually did.

The first time the ref made a somewhat questionable call, your brow furrowed deeply and you yelled out your disagreement.

“OH, COME ON, REF!” you cried. “THAT WAS A FOUL! ARE YOU BLIND?!”

Now, obviously, you weren’t the only one who was yelling at the ref. But the way Ji Soo was looking at you right now, you might as well have been.

When you glanced over at him, a bit of a guilty smile appeared on your lips. “What?” you asked, chuckling.

“I had no idea you had this side to you,” he laughed. “You just seem so... sweet.”

“I am!” you countered.

“You just asked the referee if he was blind,” Ji Soo pointed out. “That’s not sweet.”

“Well! It was a clear foul!”

You went back to watching the game, but you felt Ji Soo lean in close, placing his lips right by your ear.

“Don’t worry,” he told you. “I like it.”

You simply pressed your lips together, your cheeks blazing.

Since the two of you had opted to buy food before the game, you decided to stay in your seats during halftime while almost everyone else in the stadium left.

“How do you like it so far?” you asked, reaching down to pick up your beer and down the last of it.

“Honestly, it’s a lot more fun than I thought,” Ji Soo admitted. “I don’t know why I always thought soccer was boring, but it’s really not.”

“No, not at all!”

“Joo Hyuk is going to be so pissed,” he chuckled.

“You’ll have to go to a game with him to make up for it,” you grinned, nudging him gently with your arm.

“As long as you come, too.”

“What?” you laughed. “Why do I have to come?”

“Because you’re the best commentator. I feel like I know all about soccer already! ...And because you are ridiculously cute when you’re yelling at the players.”

“Be quiet,” you muttered through your smile.

“It’s true!”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes in amusement.

Before Ji Soo could say anything else, Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” started blaring through the stadium speakers.

“Ooh, Kiss Cam!” you cried, tapping Ji Soo’s arm and pointing up to the jumbo screen hanging from the ceiling. “I love the Kiss Cam.”

“You do?” Ji Soo asked, sounding surprised.

You turned to look at him, nodding -- but then you froze.

Oh... god.

What if... what if the two of you were put up on the screen?

Oh, no no no no no.

Ji Soo would love it, surely, but...

It would be so embarrassing!

The cameramen had no way of knowing this, but it was just your first date! You had only hugged, and it had only lasted less than a second!

Your heart started hammering as couples came and went on the screen, and you could sincerely say you’d never been so nervous watching the Kiss Cam. Every time a new couple showed up, you held your breath, letting it out gently when you realized it wasn’t you and Ji Soo.

When an older couple finished kissing, the Kiss Cam logo came up and the announcer asked the crowd to give all of the couples a round of applause.

Oh, thank god. You had survived.

“Aw, man,” Ji Soo lamented, shaking his head. “I was hoping we would be on it.”

Of course, he would hope that.

Instead of letting him know you were not disappointed in the least, you simply reached over and patted his arm. “I’m sorry,” you said. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “You think there’s going to be a next time?”

You stared at him, blinking, your mouth slightly agape.

Uh...

Ji Soo smirked and lifted his arm, moving to rest it around your shoulders. “There better be a next time,” he smirked.

You couldn’t help but let out yet another sigh of relief.

And then... you settled down in your seat, leaning into him and tilting your head to rest it against his shoulder.

When the game was over (a satisfying 2-0 win for the Tigers, thank goodness), you and Ji Soo shuffled out of the stadium with the rest of the crowd. You headed up the stairs ahead of him, and as the people filed out with you, you felt Ji Soo’s fingers grasp yours.

Thankfully, he couldn’t see your face, but you would be surprised if he didn’t know you were blushing right now.

When you got to the top of stairs, instead of letting go of his hand, you linked your fingers through his more firmly. Ji Soo squeezed your hand as he walked beside you, and you shot him a shy grin.

Eventually, you made it out to the parking lot, and once the two of you were settled into your car, Ji Soo told you to drop him back off at the coffee shop.

“Joo Hyuk is still there, so I figure I should help him clean up some.”

“Can you please apologize to him for me?” you asked as you threw your car into reverse and began to back out of your spot. “I feel bad that he had to work by himself.”

“So, you feel bad for going out with me?” Ji Soo teased.

“No!” you chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh briefly. “We’re talking about hiring a part-timer. Hopefully. If business keeps up, we should be able to. And we can pay you for the pictures.”

“No, Ji Soo, I already told you that you don’t need to pay me. The free drinks are more than enough.”

“See? That’s why I thought you were sweet,” Ji Soo pointed out. “But then you started yelling at that ref. Now I’m afraid to ever get on your bad side.”

You simply laughed, shaking your head as you began the drive back to The Mug.

When you arrived at the shop, you pulled up as close to the door as you could since there were no other cars in the lot. You put the car in park and, a bit nervously, you turned toward Ji Soo.

“Thank you for coming,” you said softly. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“No, thank you for inviting me. I never thought our first date would be a sports game, but that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“...What do you mean?” you asked shyly.

“You’re full of surprises,” Ji soo told you with just the slightest of smirks.

For probably the millionth time tonight, you blushed.

And you wondered if there would ever be a time you didn’t blush around Ji Soo.

“Hey, so...” he continued. “I don’t really want our first kiss to be in the parking lot, but... if you wouldn’t mind...”

Well, the blushing certainly wasn’t going to be letting up anytime soon, was it?

He was asking you if you wouldn’t mind kissing him?

Really?

You didn’t let yourself think too much about it because you probably would have talked yourself out of saying ‘yes.’

And... you wanted to say ‘yes.’

So, you nodded quickly.

Part 7

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manrocket-mo · 6 years ago

Text

Leave the Light On - Morgan Rielly (Part 2)

requested: no

word count: 2,076

author’s note: if you haven’t read part 1, it is linked in my masterlist!

sorry this took sooo long! finally found some time to get motivated and write! please continue to send me feedback as I don’t usually write these multiple installment type fics. this is also being written in addition to mo soft/thrist imagines, so stay tuned for more of those and continue to send your requests in to inspire me!

song: Light On - Maggie Rogers

And I am finding out

There’s just no other way

That I’m still dancing at the end of the day

If you leave the light on

Then I’ll leave the light on

It has been two years since the breakdown that forced you to jump start your life. Two years from when you left everything familiar behind and started anew. Two years since you managed to pull yourself up from rock bottom and prove that the voice in the back of your head that said you would never amount to anything wrong.

But that didn’t mean you were happy. You were just content. And you were content leaving everything behind except for one thing, one person and it ate at you every day. You had forced him away and it was self-inflicted pain, it was your own fault. You couldn’t help but dream of how your life wouldn’t just be content. You dreamed of how perfect your life would be with him by your side. The loving, caring Morgan that had held onto you til the very end of your relationship. The loving, caring Morgan you had forced away when you couldn’t look yourself in the mirror. The loving, caring Morgan who had vowed to do whatever it took to make you whole again. And you pushed him away. You wouldn’t blame him if the chance ever came that he wouldn’t even want to look at you. You broke his heart. You destroyed everything you had together, a life built together, a love that was supposed to last forever. You destroyed the best thing that had ever been yours for the sureness of something mediocre. You sigh, looking to the photo you had stashed in your closet, sitting on the top shelf. You pull it down from its hiding spot and reminisce on the memories that poured out from the emotions you felt in that moment frozen in time. You traced the curve of his cheeks, raised with absolute joy as he took you in at the peak of the lookout, the backdrop of the lake and the mountains no where close to the beauty of the love that resonated from the two of you. You smiled sadly, the deep sorrow returning to you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had replaced the photo with one of his new forever love. He deserved that much. Someone who could love him wholly with no gaping holes of doubt. He deserved true love from someone who could love themself first. He deserved someone better than you. He deserved the happiness that you felt in that photo. You would never feel that true happiness again. Nothing that you had exchanged for it would ever come close to being worth it. You sighed and hugged the photo to you for a second, mustering the courage and strength needed to go on with tonight, to go on in your search for some semblance of happiness. You looked at it one last time, catching Morgan’s smile before slipping it back into place. Fortunately for you, your date seemed to have a sense for the length of time it’s been since you’ve been to a Leafs game and surprised you with tickets earlier in the day. You had no choice but to graciously accept with how excited he seemed to be. This was a splurge for a third date and despite the lack of a spark, he was sweet and treated you well and you would agree for him. Taking a look at your wardrobe, you stared at the jersey sitting on a hanger in the very back, barely peeking out. It was old and outdated with the years that have passed since it was gifted to you but you yearned for some semblance of the peace of a better time, you wanted to feel closer to him again even if that just meant his number and name branding you just as it did thousands of others in the stands. You wanted people to see that at one point, you were his. You grab it before you could chicken out and pull your crossbody over your shoulder as you slip out the front door to meet your date.

“GO, LEAFS GO!” Nate chanted along with the crowd, honestly having the time of his life. You smiled at him tightly despite the feeling of dread churning in the pit of your stomach. Your mind was nowhere near him or this date. Your mind was on the man on the ice, the man you knew all too well but at the same time, not at all anymore. “You a big Leafs fan?” He asked as you sat down following the anthem. “Big Rielly fan?” The corner of your lips tug up as you stared off into the distance. “Once upon a time,” you reminisced. Once upon a time, you were his biggest fan, biggest supporter. You wore his name and number proudly and cheered him on from the family section only a few rows up from your own. You weren’t afraid to yell and scream when things went wrong and make googley eyes when he did something right. You weren’t afraid of anything. You were a girl so in love and nothing else mattered. You couldn’t even fathom how quickly things changed. “Y/N!” your head shot up at the familiar voice. For all the time you had spent worrying about being in the same vicinity as Morgan, you hadn’t thought of being seen by the friends you shared with him. “Steph,” you breathed. It had been two years since you had contact with your best friend. Other than an “I can’t do this anymore,” and a good cry, that was where you had both left it. You didn’t just push Morgan away. “Y/N!” She yelled before meeting you halfway and pulling you into her arms. “Steph, it’s been so long,” you mumbled, forcing the tears back. This place was bringing much more than memories back to you. “How are you, Y/N? Are you good? Better now?” She took a step back and held your face in her hands, surveying you. “I can’t believe it’s you!” “I’m so sorry,” you apologized as you pulled her close again. “It’s so nice to see you again.” “Same here, Y/N.” She rubbed your back before pulling back once more. “Come, sit with us! We have to catch up. We have two years...” You smiled at her sadly. “I can’t... I’m not alone.” Her face fell as she realized what you meant and glanced to Nate behind you. “At least come see down to see Mitchy and Aus and Kappy. They miss you, Y/N. We all do.” She pleaded with you with big green eyes. Suddenly you felt an arm circle your waist and you felt sick. The warmth was not comforting, his presence a friendly reminder of how differently everything panned out. He cleared his throat, looking down at you. “This is... my friend, Nate. Nate, this is Steph.” He eagerly put his hand out to Steph. “So nice to meet you.” Steph smiled tightly, her eyes wandering back to you. “I hear you said something about going to see some old friends?” You shake your head. “That’s alright, we really should—“ “No, if you want to see your friends, I’d be glad to come with.” Of course he would. You huff, the beginning of annoyance touching you. You didn’t really want your present mingling with your past, especially the forged family you shared with Morgan. “Yeah, Y/N. Please come.” Steph grasped your hand in hers and gave you the sweet look she knew no one could ever resist. You missed it. You missed your best friend. And despite the feeling deep down, you once again agreed, much to her excitement. And that’s how you found yourself down by the locker room following the game, physically dragged down by Steph herself. You physically had to hold yourself together, your arms winding around your body as you were passed around the other wives and girlfriends, all so happy and surprised to see you. This familiarity and lack of belonging was really doing a number on you and it was only a matter of time before you were going to break. These were all your friends, your family at one point but without him, you didn’t know where you fit in anymore, if at all. It didn’t help your situation that all Nate could do was talk and introduce himself as your boyfriend. He didn’t take in the unease of your body language or the lack of presence. “Hey, are you alright?” Steph asks, her arm winding around you. You look to her and as you were about to truthfully reply, her eyes lit up like a thousand Christmas trees. “Mitchy! You kicked ass out there, baby!” You watched emptily as she ran up and hugged Mitch and he pulled her to him. You looked away, unable to process the feeling of grief that still left you reeling even after all these years. “Y/N?” You swiped at an escaped tear before looking up to take in another one of your long, lost friends. “Is that you hiding over there?!” Suddenly you were swept into Mitchy’s arms, an unexpected gesture. “We missed you, bub! How have you been?” You can’t help but smile at his energy. “I’ve been... okay,” you answer truthfully. “I’m Nate. It’s so great to meet you, Mitch.” “Nice to meet you, Nate?” Mitch looked at you, pointedly. “Y/N’s—“ “FRIEND,” you finally clarified, glaring up at Nate. “Would you look who it is. What’s up, Y/N?” Now it was Auston’s turn to pull you into a hug. “Nice to see you back ‘round here. Glad to see your good luck never ran out. Thanks for the dub, bub.” You smiled, leaning into his warmth as he had yet to let go. “You should come out, celebrate, let loose tonight with us. It’s been a while.” You were about to decline when Nate chimed in, no doubt to impress his favorite player. “Yeah, Y/N! We should let loose! It’s a Friday night!” “Y/N...” a soft contrast to the pompous yelling done by the man on your other side. You’d know that voice anywhere. You suddenly felt even warmer under Auston’s arm at the sweetest interruption, your heartbeat slowing at the familiarity of your name on his tongue.

“Morgan,” you breathed once you were able to catch your breath. And there he was, just as you’d always dreamed since the day you made that mistake, since the day you pushed him away and he was looking at you, looking through you, seeing the lost girl standing there lost without him.

You had to turn into Auston to wipe the tears that escaped your eyes. He pulls you into him, sensing that this was becoming too much for you. Morgan, Nate, all your friends, crowding on you.

“So… now that Rielly has joined in, we going out or what?”

“Dude.” You could feel Auston start to get heated, to which you patted his back to get him to calm down, despite your need for the same comfort.

“No, that’s alright, Aus… I’m.. I’m just gonna—“ the last place you wanted to be was out.

“I’ll take you home.” You looked back up to Morgan, surprised that he volunteered.

“You don’t—“

“Come on, Y/N. It’s Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner. Let’s just have one dri—“

“That’s enough!” Morgan turned his attention to Nate who actively ignored all the signs of your anxiety and continued to pressure you. “Y/N said no. She’s not going,” Morgan leveled, giving him a glaring warning before turning to you with soft, apologizing blues. “Come on.” Morgan extended his hand to you and you couldn’t help the shake in yours as you took it.

“What a jackass,” he mumbled as he pulled you away, not giving Nate a chance to say anything else. He led you down the long corridor, leading you to the garage.

“Thank you,” you whispered, lowly when you finally came to a stop. “I—“

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, leaning down. You could feel his breath on your face and although you felt so overwhelmed and drained, you answered truthfully.

“I will be,” you breathe, nodding your head. His warmth surrounded you, his fingers slowly squeezing around yours, the familiarity seeping into your veins. No matter the outcome, he was here with you and that in itself, after the absence you felt for so long, was enough. “One day, I will be.”

A/N: Part 3 coming soon!

#Morgan Rielly #Morgan Rielly imagine #Morgan Rielly imagines #Morgan Rielly x reader #NHL imagines #NHL Imagine #Auston Matthews #Mitch Marner

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as-write-as-rain · 5 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Dream (remix) - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A Sleeping Beauty/Winter Soldier remix, featuring the reader as a SHIELD agent who might have powers (or just a really finely tuned intuition)

Warnings: None. If you’ve seen and enjoyed the Captain America films, you shouldn’t find anything troubling here.

The third chapter of my Fairy Tale AU for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge! Life seems to be keeping me pretty consistent at publishing a chapter every two weeks, despite my attempts to go faster. That bug I picked up laid me low for longer than I would have liked -- that’s an unfortunate side effect of fibromyalgia, stuff hits me harder and lasts longer than it would for regular people. I promise I am working hard and hopefully will be able to publish more frequently in the near future ❤️

Chapter 3

Less than 24 hours later, you were rendezvousing at Pentagon City mall with Steve and Natasha, and trying to come up with a plan on the fly. While they headed to the Apple Store in an attempt to decode the contents of the zip drive, you were tasked with finding a getaway car. As you scoured the parking structure for the perfect vehicle, your mind was racing with the events of the last 12 hours – Director Fury was dead, and the three of you were now on the run from the organization you’d once considered your safe haven.

I still can’t believe he’s dead, you thought, shaking your head. Your thoughts kept drifting to those final moments, watching helplessly as the doctors struggled vainly to save him. If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it. If only I’d gotten in touch with Maria sooner, or been able to really make her understand.

Yet, even as these thoughts floated through your head, the rational part of your mind reminded you that you had contacted her with plenty of time to initiate a contingency plan. You’d definitely done everything you could.

Unfortunately, sometimes that’s still not enough.

You sighed and tried to refocus. You hadn’t even slept well, because of course you hadn’t had one of those nice dreams where you and Bucky cuddled in hammocks on the beach. No, instead you had to dream that you were wandering the dimly-lit hallways of a creepy old building, searching for someone, becoming more and more desperate to find them. You always woke up from those kinds of dreams feeling disoriented and horribly, terribly alone.

Which was definitely not helping things right now.

You finally targeted the perfect truck – a Chevy Silverado Z71 that would be able to handle whatever terrain or road conditions lay before you, all without calling attention to itself or its passengers – and were in the middle of hotwiring it when your phone beeped with a text from Nat.

Hope ur rdy 4 us, company’s here [kissy face]

You chuckled. Of course, even when she was in mortal danger, Nat always had time to send an emoji.

You hurried to finish your task, praying that whoever had been dispatched to bring the three of you in would stay busy inside the mall instead of wandering out here. At the very least, you were confident that your intuition would let you know if you were in immediate danger. Finally, the engine roared to life, and you dove into the driver’s seat.

You pulled up to the 1st floor mall exit, the squeal of the tires echoing throughout the garage, just as your friends came barreling through the door.

“Howdy, Strangers. Need a lift?”

Steve didn’t even react to your pithy greeting; instead, he opened your door, taking you by surprise for once. “Hop in the back, I’ll drive.” When you didn’t move immediately, he clarified, “I know where we’re going and how to get there; we’ll fill you in on the road.” With a nod, you clambered into the backseat, and in minutes you were on 395 headed (roughly) north.

“So…” You leaned forward between the seats and blew a bubble with the gum you’d stolen from Nat’s pocket. When it popped, you prodded, “What’s the plan?”

Nat stretched a leg up on the dashboard and smirked, her eyes on Steve. “We’re taking a little trip down memory lane.”

“What, like Brooklyn? That’s like…” You tried to calculate the distance, but quickly gave up. “…a million hour drive.”

Steve rolled his eyes at both of you, but the split-second twitch of his lips told you he wasn’t really mad about your teasing. “We couldn’t crack the zip drive, but we were able to trace where it came from: Camp Lehigh.”

At the blank look on your face, Nat took pity on you. “New Jersey.”

You sat back with a huff.

“I think I would have preferred Brooklyn.”

Steve shook his head and glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Me too, to be honest.”

You sagged against the window, watching trees and cars speed past. At least the drive would be somewhat scenic; that’s something, right? You were just about to ask Nat to turn on the radio, hoping to find some good road trip tunes, when she spoke up again.

“I have a question for you, Rogers.” She studied him for a second before quickly adding, “Which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?”

He cut off her rambling. “What?” His tone, while exasperated, didn’t sound annoyed so much as amused.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?”

You almost swallowed your gum. “WHAT?!”

Grabbing her arm, you practically yelled in her ear, “Did you kiss Steve???” You turned to the now bright-red super soldier. “Did you kiss Nat?????”

“No! I mean, yes, technically, but – ugh! It was a diversionary tactic!!” Flustered Steve was always your favorite, and you fought to hide your grin.

“Aww come on, no need to be coy. I know you felt something,” Nat cooed flirtatiously, fluttering her eyelashes, and he looked like he might combust. You would have started cracking up if you weren’t so eager to hear more details.

Your grip on Nat’s arm tightened and you shook her a little, and you couldn’t resist adding a little teasing of your own. “All this time we’ve been wondering why he won’t go out with any of the girls we try to set him up with. Now we know, it’s because he’s been sweet on you!”

Steve squawked, turning even redder and clenching the wheel so hard you were afraid he might wrench it off. “It – it’s not like that!! We saw the Strike Team, they were searching the mall for us, and we needed to avoid them so the civilians would be safe….. And then we were about to pass Rumlow on the escalator, and then Natasha here said that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable and…” He trailed off, and the whole thing was so funny, you couldn’t hold your laughter in anymore.

Camp Lehigh was abandoned and overgrown, and definitely far from welcoming. You tried to squint your eyes and visualize a skinny pre-serum Steve running laps or striving to complete an obstacle course, using pictures and footage you’d seen in the Smithsonian exhibit to help anchor the scene. The image never quite crystallized, though; you always had trouble truly envisioning Steve as that small, scrawny figure in the photos. He’d been such a solid, powerful figure for as long as you’d known him.

Plus, from the minute you entered the camp, your senses had been on high alert, which really didn’t help your imagination either. You were overwhelmed with a really bad feeling, and knew danger was lurking somewhere nearby. You couldn’t identify the source, though, because it didn’t seem to be coming from a specific direction.

Except maybe…down? But that didn’t make any sense.

“What is it?” Nat had been in the middle of announcing that this was a dead end, when suddenly her tone changed. You turned to see Steve stalking towards a bunker, Nat trailing behind him.

“Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. This building is in the wrong place.” Thank goodness Steve knew rules and regulations like the back of his hand, or you might not even have noticed anything was out of place.

He smashed the lock with his handy shield, and the three of you entered the cold, musty building. Shivering, you brought up the rear, severely disliking the way it felt like a mausoleum.

Steve flicked a switch, and ancient fluorescent lights flickered aglow, illuminating an unassuming office space of some sort. Clunky old desks, filing cabinets, and office chairs were arrayed throughout the room; thick dust and cobwebs coated every surface, making it clear that no living being had been in here in a very long time.

And, inevitably, your feeling of impending doom increased.

Glancing around, you spied a large symbol on the wall just as Nat did, and realized that this must have been where SHIELD began, all those years ago. You supposed it made sense; Captain America began here too, and this had been their homebase of sorts. Of course when they came back from overseas, they would have chosen somewhere familiar, somewhere the seeds of SHIELD had already begun to sprout.

You followed your partners into a library or storage room of some sort, where a trio of prominently displayed photographs confirmed your hunch. You recognized all three people from the Smithsonian exhibit; but apparently Nat had never been, because her next question made you cringe.

“Who's the girl?”

You purposely avoided making eye contact with Steve, because you already knew how he must be feeling. This camp, the place where they first met and got to know each other, was already brimming with memories of her – and now her face was on the wall. Young. Vibrant. Fierce. Just the way he probably remembered her. He’d been to see her just yesterday, confronted yet again with the fact that a lifetime had passed him by in the blink of an eye; and he was left with an obsolete snapshot of a moment in time, and an ache for what could have been.

There was a long, awkward pause, and then Steve literally sidestepped the question by striding deeper into the room.

You’d just opened your mouth to whisper a quick-but-vague explanation to Nat, when he pointed to a cobwebbed bookshelf and pondered aloud, “If you're already working in a secret office...” He paused to insert his hand into the space between the bookcases, and then, with surprising ease, slid them apart, revealing a hidden alcove. “…why do you need to hide the elevator?”

A sudden spike of anxiety shot through you, and you knew that only danger waited below. But the feeling was different than the one you usually got when you were about to be physically attacked – and before you could pinpoint what was different about it, the elevator ride had ended and the doors were already opening into a cavernous basement filled with ancient computer relics.

#taras5kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #fairy tale au #marvel #once upon a dream (remix)

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ofsinnersandsaints · 5 years ago

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safer in your arms

rating: E word count: 3171 one shot

AO3

Karen's apartment is getting painted, and since she was given absolutely no notice, she needs a place to stay for the night- which is how Frank ends up waking from a nightmare in the middle of the night with Karen in his bed and going on instinct he reaches for her.

Frank was staring at a can of soup, trying to come up with the interest to make it when he heard the knock at his door. Exactly five people knew where he lived and four of those people he wouldn’t mind dropping by on a quiet Tuesday night.

The fifth he was just as likely to hit as offer him a beer.

Moving to the door he checked the peephole and quickly opened it. “Karen? Everything okay?”

Her smile was a little wry. “Yeah, everything’s good. Weirdly, I haven’t come to you because of a deadly government conspiracy and no one has shot at me recently.”

Frank braced a hand on the open doorway. “It’s still early in the week. Want to come in?”

“That’s exactly what I’m here for.” Frank furrowed his brow but opened the door wider to let her inside. His place was sparse but it wasn’t the first time she’d been by, so she knew what to expect. “I need a place to stay.”

He shut the door, and watched her drop her bag on the only armchair in the room before turning to face him. “My place is being painted.”

“They didn’t give you any kind of heads up?”

“No,” she smiled and dropped onto his couch and he realized she was basically dressed for an evening in, leggings and a loose tank top. She looked warm and soft and a little too welcoming for his sanity. “Apparently when your tenant is an investigative journalist you don’t give them a heads up about possible lead paint and risk them writing an expose on you.”

Frank laughed and settled next to her on the couch. “And that leaves you without a place to stay tonight.”

“I tried hotels before barging in on you,” she promised. “But the only places with any kind of availability are more than I can afford.”

“I don’t mind the company.” She looked genuinely shocked which almost made him laugh again. “Despite my reputation as a lone gunmen, I’ve spent most of my adult life surrounded people.”

She curled up on his couch like she belonged there, her arm on the back of it so she could rest her temple against her hand. “I never thought about it like that.”

“I was an only kid growing up, but I had a pack of friends and we were always in each other’s space and then the army. Shit, there wasn’t a day that went by I had more than ten minutes to myself.”

“And then you got married,” she added with a small smile.

Frank returned it because he knew how careful she was about bringing up his ghosts, but he was getting better about it. “Then I got married, so even when I wasn’t deployed with a hundred other guys bunked in a single tent I had her, and our first apartment was about as shitty as this one is. We were constantly bumping into each other.”

“Did you fight a lot?”

“We drove each other crazy those first few months,” he admitted. “But we figured it out. We made good.”

“And now you’re back in a shitty apartment,” she teased and he smiled at her, shaking his head because he didn’t have a defense against that. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“I think I’ve got a can of chicken soup.”

“That’s just sad, Frank.” She moved to her knees and braced herself on his shoulder so she could reach her bag on the chair. “I’m ordering pizza, my treat since you’re letting me crash on the couch.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Karen. You can take the bed.”

“Chivalry’s not dead,” she smirked, putting the phone to her ear. She ordered a pizza, loaded with everything but onions and anchovies, and then tossed her phone on the coffee table. “But seriously, I’m not taking your bed. You’re eleven feet tall, you wouldn’t get a minute of sleep.”

“I’ve slept in worst places.”

“Just because you have, doesn’t mean you should,” she argued, then tilted her head. “Can you share?”

“On occasion.”

“I sleep on the left side, that’s not up for negotiation.”

He felt like someone had tasered him, he was suddenly frozen and stupid. “You want to share the bed?”

“Sounds like the easiest solution,” she shrugged and got off the couch to take the three steps required to be in the kitchen. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“By all means,” he gestured towards the fridge. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, I will. Do you want a beer?”

“You’re offering me one of my own beers?” he clarified. “Sure, why not?”

She grabbed two bottles and returned to the couch, legs crossed as she faced him. “I’m glad you were home, I would have hated to break into the Punisher’s apartment.”

“This isn’t the Punisher’s home,” he reminded her. The intercom downstairs was for Pete Castiglione, a construction worker who was gone for long stretches at a time. It was an easy cover, and on occasion he actually did work legit jobs.

The last job he’d worked on, one of his coworkers had suggested a blind date but Frank had turned it down, not in small part because of the woman sitting next to him.

“And still, it’s the safest place in New York.”

That warmed him, that she figured him as somewhere safe, especially considering how much danger he’d put her in over the years. “That’s mostly because there’s nothing here worth stealing.”

“That’s not true,” she argued. “I brought my laptop so there’s that.”

“Do you need to work?”

“If you weren’t home I was going to sleep at the paper,” she explained with a shrug. “There’s a couch where I can get a few minutes of shut eye.”

He caught the evasion, barely there, but something he noticed it because of how her eyes avoided his. Frank remembered the diner, when she’d confessed that she’d gone with him because he’d never lied to her. He liked to believe that she’d never lied to him either.

Reaching over he picked up her bag and pulled out her computer so he could hand it to her. “Here.”

She looked guilty but reluctantly took it. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah, go for it. I get that you’ve got shit to do.”

“Thanks.” Karen opened the laptop and set in on the coffee table, shifting so she could lean forward and log in. “Do you want to know what it’s about?”

“Sure, since there’s a fifty/fifty chance I’ll have to save you from something regarding it might be good for me to be in the know.”

She spent the next half hour describing her investigation and he happily joined her in the conversation, mostly listening, but butting in now and again with questions of his own and the only time the conversation stopped was when the food came and they switched to the television as they shared slices of pizza.

“I’m going to crash,” she announced sometime around midnight. “Don’t feel like you have to go bed just because I am.”

“Okay,” he said as she got up and headed to the bedroom which was just on the other side of an open archway. He waited another fifteen minutes for the movie to end before following, stepping into the bathroom to ditch his street clothes for shorts and a t-shirt.

When he climbed into bed Karen was already breathing softly on the other side.

It had been a long time since he’d gone to bed with someone else, even longer since he’d fallen asleep next to someone and it was a strange feeling.

Not unwelcome, just different.

Turning on to his stomach he closed his eyes and with the warmth of Karen beside him, quickly fell to sleep.

He woke with a start, the room dark except for a flash of pale skin as cool hands touched his face in slow, soothing motions. “I’m here, Frank. I’m here.”

Karen, he realized, blindly reaching for her in the heavily shadowed darkness.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Shit, he must have said her name out loud.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but concerned, and close enough he could feel her breath on his cheek. “I think you were having a nightmare, you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nightmare,” he managed to get out, but even to himself it sounded more like a question. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming out. Frank’s hand found her shoulder and he ran his palms down her arm. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she promised and her fingers ran up and down the back of his neck as if trying to soothe something untamed and scared. “Do you need anything?”

Frank thought of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins from some unknown terror, of the erratic beat of his heart which was slowing with every caress of Karen’s touch.

“You,” he heard himself saying as his hands moved to her hips and clenched tightly, the jersey fabric wrinkling in his hands. “I need you.”

“You have me,” she promised, but he didn’t think she understood.

Frank ran his hands over her body, the pads of his fingers pressing into her spine. “I need you, Karen.”

She stilled in his hands and he expected her to pull away, or evade the suggestion, but after the span of a few heartbeats he could feel her lean forward, and in the dark her mouth found his.

He knew he shouldn’t think of her as salvation, that wasn’t healthy for either of them, but after the turmoil of whatever demons had been chasing him in his sleep she was like a drink of cool water, of moonlight pushing through the storm clouds.

Frank sipped on her lips, pushing the hem of her shirt up until she reached down and took it off. She wrapped her arms around his neck, moved to straddle him in the dark as his hand slid up to cover her breast.

The panic in his veins turned into something else as they kissed; Karen was slow and deliberate as if she could calm him down by touch and gesture alone, so even while he wanted to take and ravage she soothed and comforted.

It had been too long since he’d had someone to hold onto in the middle of the night.

She ran her hands down his back and pressed herself closer, the center of her pressing against his growing erection.

He wished he could see her better, but there was something intimate about touching and tasting her without being able to see her because he knew what she looked liked. He ran his hand through her hair, his thumb brushing the skin above her temple where he knew she had a small scar from the hotel.

Frank pressed his lips to the beauty marks on her neck, one on each side.

When had he memorized her so completely?

He pressed his hands to her lower back, holding her steady, so he could shift on the bed and lay Karen on her back. “I shouldn’t need you like I do,” he murmured against her skin as he kissed down her sternum, over the bit of lace that wasn’t quite a bra, and down her stomach. “But goddamn, I can’t stop myself.”

“You have me,” she promised, her fingers threading through his hair. “I’m here.”

With a tug he pulled down her leggings and underwear, leaving them on the floor as he kissed his way back up her legs, along the inside of her thighs. She stiffened beneath him which gave him pause. “I can stop.”

“No,” she whispered, he could feel as well as hear the shift of her body on the sheets. “I’m just pretty sure I’m dreaming.”

Frank kept his touch soft on her legs as he traced the length of her legs. “Is this what I do to you in your dreams, Karen?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. “But usually I can see you.”

“Next time,” he promised without even thinking about the words. If they kept the lights off, the world stayed somewhere else.

The darkness had always been theirs.

He used his tongue to spread those lips he hadn’t yet kissed, to find the hard bud already damp with arousal. With his lips and teeth, along with his tongue, he tasted and teased her in an ever quickening rhythm, taking her comfort and mixing it with his desperation.

Karen’s thighs tightened against his temples and he had to reach up to grasp her legs and hold her down and away. As much he wouldn’t mind dying in the heat of her, he wanted to hear her come first.

“Frank,” she whimpered, her body starting to clench beneath him. “Frank, I’m so close.”

“What do you need?”

“More.”

He shifted onto his hands, towering above her even though he could barely make her out in the shadows. Frank spit into his right hand and wrapped it around his erection, pumping himself a few times before guiding the head of his cock into her.

It was a slow slide as she shifted beneath him in an effort take more of him inside her.

Frank gripped the sheets on either side of Karen’s head, trying to control himself because he’d love nothing more than to take her quick and hard, a purging of sorts, but he wanted better for them both.

He dropped to one of his elbows, the other hand moved the bralette aside and cupped her breast and brought it to his mouth so he could lave her with his tongue, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked on her. All the while he was moving against her, with her, a slow in and out of slick friction.

Karen reached between them as he pleasured himself on her skin, he could feel her hand brushing against his erection whenever he pulled out and Frank shifted on the bed so he could watch the pale hand between them. Her fingers were busy on her clit, trying to get to the place they were both reaching for.

“What do you need?”

“Faster,” she answered as she put her free hand on the breast he’d been paying so much attention to, and Frank was entranced at the image of Karen taking what she wanted.

Frank obeyed the direction and braced himself on his elbows, picking up speed as he drove into her, realizing belatedly that he hadn’t put on a condom.

He realized he’d have to pull out, and he didn’t relish the idea of leaving the tight, wet heat of Karen’s cunt, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. But he couldn’t come before Karen, so he put one arm around her back and lifted her hips off the bed, changing the angle of his slid into her.

The strangled sound which came out of her mouth told him everything he needed to know, and even if it didn’t, Karen was more than happy to tell him. “God, yes. Right there, Frank. Right there.”

So he fucked her, the rapid speed echoed in the room with the sound of their flesh meeting.

“Yes,” Karen started saying, repeating the word as she reached out to hold onto his arm like an anchor. “Shit, Frank.”

And then she shattered beneath him, and Frank had half a second to pull out before coming himself, spending all over the sheets.

“Christ,” unable to hold himself up anymore he rested his weight on Karen. “I’m going to move in a minute.”

She chuckled beneath him, her hands running up and down his back. “You have thirty seconds before I won’t be able to breathe anymore.”

“Copy that,” Frank muttered, and then rolled off of her. “Fuck, what a way to wake up.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Karen told him as rolled over so she could look at him. “I couldn’t wake you up.”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s been a while since I’ve needed to worry about someone in bed with me when I have a nightmare. I’m going to get some clean sheets, feel free to use the shower if you need to clean up.”

“Thanks for that,” she said, her hand finding his. “You didn’t have to pull out.”

He shrugged because it seemed like basic decency to him. “I figured you were probably on something, but it felt rude to assume.”

“I am, on something I mean.” Karen sat up on the bed and now he wished for some light so he could see her a little better. “Was this a one-time thing, Frank? Take the comfort offered?”

Frank put his fingers around her arm and drew her forward so he could kiss her, tried to keep it soft and warm even though he was rarely either of those things. He’d try to be that, and so much more for her. “You have never been a one-time thing for me, Karen. And thank you.”

She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about, “I’m glad I could be here for you. I hate the idea of you having to go through this alone.”

“It doesn’t happen as often as it used to,” Frank admitted. “But I’m glad you were here, too.”

Karen framed his face and kissed him. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Frank nodded and while she used the restroom he pulled off the now dirty sheets, thought about the fact if Karen was going to be there on the regular he should invest in something better. “I’m impressed you have spare sheets,” Karen said from the doorway.

She was still naked except for the bralette, and now that the lights were on he could see every bit of perfection.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”

Her blush nearly covered her entire body even as she bent down to pick up her clothes and started redressing. “Thank you.”

“You’re not leaving are you?”

She laughed and finished pulling on her leggings, balling up her underwear and putting in her overnight bag. “No, I’ve just had enough bad shit happen to me I don’t like going to bed in clothes I can’t be interviewed by the police in. I don’t want to be jumped naked and unarmed.”

“Smart.” He’d pulled on his shorts and climbed into bed, Karen slipping under the sheets. “What time do have to be at work tomorrow?”

“I kind of come and go as I please, I don’t have a set schedule to be at the office. Why?”

Frank debated with himself before reaching over and pulling Karen against him, and he could feel her smile on his bare shoulder. “I was thinking we could get breakfast. I know this really great diner that recently remodeled after being shot up.”

Karen laughed, a bright, happy sound. “Maybe not there. The poor waitress would probably quit on sight.”

“Fair point. We’ll figure something out.”

She snuggled against him, her arm draped across his stomach. “We always do.”

#kastle #kastleff #ksw:#ksw: tantalizing tuesday #kastlesmutweek #kastlenetwork

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sunriseskog · 6 years ago

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comethru- Auston Matthews

Request: n/a this was entirely self induglent bc im sad and ive had comethru by Jermey Zucker stuck in my head for weeks

Word Count: 2,267

Warnings: cursing, angst, dudes being assholes, mentions of tr*ding auston

A/N: ive been on hiatus for a long ass time so any feedback is more than welcome!!!! also i am fully aware that i used this gift for my last post but its hot and i dont care

It had been a little over a month since Auston left. No… that’s not quite right. It had been a little over a month since Auston left Toronto. It had been just barely under a month since you had left Auston.

You weren’t entirely sure who the trade surprised more, but you did know for a fact that it had had a far greater effect on you than it had on Auston.

He had remained optimistic in the beginning. After all, Buffalo is barely a 2-hour drive on a bad day. On a good day, he could probably make it in an hour and a half. But the two of you had quickly reached the conclusion that either of you driving 4+ hours a day wasn’t practical, and it wasn’t fair to whoever drew the short end of the stick, pun intended. You knew he would never ask you to move for him, hell even moving in together had been a stretch for you, but you also knew that there was an unspoken expectation that eventually the both of you would relocate closer to the arena.

Before he had even reached the border, you had managed to convince yourself that this short distance relationship would cripple your relationship before you could even begin filling out the US immigration forms to move with him, let alone actually convince yourself to do it. So you backed off. You knew that trying to exhaust what was left of the relationship would only end up destroying you the both of you more than was necessary, so you let go. You knew it wouldn’t take him long to pick up on the fact that you were becoming distant, taking longer to respond to texts, barely calling him back and conveniently timing your responses with the specific intention of him not being able to pick up. You may have been stupid, but you sure as hell weren’t subtle. You knew that as long you were the bad guy in the scenario, it wouldn’t take him nearly as long to get over you, and as long as you remained in control of the situation, you knew that you’d come out of the tail end of things perfectly fine.

And you were. You were absolutely, positively fine. But that was all you were. You weren’t good or great or doing well, you were just… fine. You were off-kilter, sure, but you were surviving, and that was honestly all you had come to ask of yourself. You were sure that the other shoe would drop soon enough, you had ridden the high and now you were at the plateau, but the comedown seemed to always be lurking around the corner.

One too many sleepless nights in a row had come to significantly impact your sleeping schedule. It had gotten to the point where your boss had come to expect your work day to end at 5 am instead of 5 pm. It was nice, though. To see the city when it felt like no one else could. To have your whole day to yourself, even though it was technically night. Everything was much quieter, and there were moments where it felt like you might be the only person in the entire city to be awake, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You rarely interacted with anyone, you didn’t even wake up until hours after the last of your coworkers had left the building, and every errand you had to run could be completed via the self-checkout of the 24 hr supermarket a few blocks away from your apartment building. You weren’t lonely by any means, you just so happened to be alone.

Except on game nights. You were never alone on game nights. Luckily, there weren’t very many Toronto residents that enjoyed watching one of their franchise players play in a different teams jersey, but you still couldn’t help but punish yourself by watching his games whenever they were on at the sports bar you frequented. You told yourself that as long as someone else put the game on, and as long as you left with someone new before the game was over, then it wasn’t nearly as pathetic as it seemed.

An issue arose the first time Toronto played the Sabres. You hadn’t checked the schedule, you just knew that there was a game. You also knew that if you were ever alone when a game was on you would curl up with far too much ice cream and a borderline dangerous amount of rum, neither of which were ideal. Immediately upon entering the bar, you knew that it was far too crowded for there to not be a Leafs game on, it was nowhere near baseball season, and the sea of blue jerseys couldn’t be for any other team. An involuntary wince consumed your face as Auston’s name reached your ears, it seemed like every congregation of fans in the entire establishment were talking about him, and a cursory glance at the nearest screen confirmed your fears.

The bad news was that if you stayed, you would have to watch Auston play, which was bound to be painful for any Leafs fan, but this one would hurt you just a little more than all the others— the knowledge that he was just across the city weighed heavily on your shoulders as you pushed through the crowd to find an empty stool somewhere. The worse news was that there was no way in hell a single guy in here would be willing to leave before the game was over, so you’d either have to watch all of it and then fuck the feelings away, or go home and watch all of it and probably end up crying for a majority of the third period. The former seemed like a more viable option at the time.

Now, though? You wished you had just gone home. Because it turns out you were wrong, there was a dude at the bar who was willing to leave before the end, as it would turn out, he was ready to leave before the second period was halfway through. That should have been your first red flag.

In your defense, you had a lot of other shit going on, and your brain was far too preoccupied coping with the stress that the game was bringing to consider the fact that the nice guy who had been paying for your drinks might not turn out to be that nice after all.

On the cab ride back to your apartment, you found out that his name was Sam and he was a lifelong Leafs fan. The two of you bonded over having grown up around hockey without actually playing it, and you even shared a cigarette at the entrance of your building’s lobby. It wasn’t until the two of you stepped into your living room that things took a turn for the worse.

The framed and signed Matthews jersey on the mantle had been more of a joke than anything else, all of your friends thought it was funny while the two of you were together, and you hadn’t had anyone over since the breakup, so you hadn’t found a reason to convince yourself to take it down. The look of disgust on Sam’s face as soon as he laid eyes on it would have been a fairly convincing reason if you actually gave a shit what he thought about you.

“That’s borderline sacrilege,” he commented, gesturing towards the display. You shot him an incredulous look, waiting for him to give any indication that he was making a joke.

“What?” You questioned, not really confused, just wanting to clarify if he was saying. What you thought he was saying.

“You can’t seriously call yourself a leafs fan and still support that guy! He’s a traitor,” He asserted. His over passionate gesturing indicated that he was genuinely this invested in the topic, which should have been your second red flag.

“I mean c’mon, (Y/N),” He continued. “You’re not stupid, are you?”

You couldn’t help but scoff at how pretentious and condescending he was being, without seeming to realize that he was acting like an absolute prick.

“I can assure you, Samuel,” You drawled sarcastically. “I am anything but stupid, but you have got to be absolutely moronic if you genuinely believe that I’m going to let you fuck me after speaking to me like I'm a goddamn child. Your kinks are your business but that's not really my style,” you sneered as you moved towards the doorway in order to invite him to throw himself out so you didn’t have to bother touching him any more than you already had.

“Now why don’t you get the fuck out of my house, dick head,” You spoke as your lip curled and your brow quirked, gesturing through the doorway to drive the point through his thick skull.

“Gladly,” He scoffed, slamming his shoulder into yours as he stepped past you. “Not like I’d want to fuck a whore like you anyways!” He shouted over his should as he started towards the stairs.

“Open your mouth that wide again and I’m gonna have to ask you to chortle my cock, Samuel” You responded, giving a middle finger to his back for your own satisfaction. You had never been one to censor your insults, and over the years they had become more and more lewd. This, of course, had never really presented itself as a problem until you caught the eye of your neighbor as you turned to storm back inside of your apartment. You couldn’t help but wince apologetically at the old woman, giving her a repentant head nod as you shuffled back inside.

You let your back hit the inside of the door, sliding roughly down until your tailbone hit the hardwood floor beneath your feet. Of course, the first substantial interaction you had in over a month would turn out to be a spectacular disaster. And of course, it was because of Auston. Realistically, you knew it wasn’t his fault, you just really really needed someone else to blame right now. You carded your fingers through your scalp roughly, and let out an elongated groan in the hopes that it would satisfy the overwhelming urge that you had had to scream at the top of your lungs for the past month or so.

As you stared at your own intertwined fingers in an attempt to calm yourself down, you couldn’t help but notice that your fingers were shaking. This wasn’t a recent development by any means, but this was the first time that you had noticed it being this aggressive. It usually only happened when you had coffee, which was why you had abstained from it for a majority of your life. As you looked back on what your routine had become, you realized that through all the late nights and later mornings, you had been popping caffeine pills and ordering espressos far more than the ‘one-time thing’ you told yourself it was. The realization that your life had done a complete 180 in the span of 5 weeks began to weigh on you, and it seemed like your mind was consumed entirely by flurries of memories of bad habits you had fallen back into and the lifeless moments you had spent floundering, convincing yourself that you were fine on your own, despite the fact that that was anything but the truth.

It didn’t take very long to find his contact picture in your recent messages. You hadn’t had much of a reason to talk to that many people lately. It took longer to open up the message thread, trying to prepare yourself to view the unbearably awkward finality of your most recent messages to each other. The preview underneath his name only served as a painful reminder that the last time he had texted you was to say that he loved you. And you hadn’t said it back.

You weren’t sure if he was going to respond, hell you went sure he was even going to read it. For all you knew it was entirely within the realm of possibility that he had blocked you a while ago. You knew exactly what to say, surprisingly, that wasn’t the hard part. Of the few letters that you typed, the closer you got to reaching out to him again seemed to calm you down more and more. By the time you tacked on the question mark at the end, your fingers had stopped trembling for there first time in what you could assume had been at least a couple of weeks. You let your phone drop to the floor as soon as you hit send, either he would be here within the hour or his response wouldn’t be worth reading. Those were the only options on the table. Either he was going to come and the two of you were going to get to be okay for a little while, or it truly was the end. If that was the case then you really didn’t want to see what he had to say. You heard your phone vibrate from where it laid just a couple feet away, and as much as the desire consumed you, you couldn’t bring yourself to move to see what it said. So you sat there, and waited to see if you would be able to hear those oh so familiar footsteps ascending your staircase again, responding to your oh so familiar request.

‘come thru?’

#i am literally begging you to tell me what you think #auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #imagines #imagine

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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sometimes a fantasy [is all you need] (branjie) -- frenchy

a/n: hi hello!! i’m frenchy, & this is my first fic on here, despite being a longtime reader!! i sent an ask addressing my inspiration to write a branjie get-back-together fic, where they are hiding their still existing feelings behind a pr stunt/their social media interactions & fall back together through these/acknowledge that it’s deeper than they are pretending. it seemed to interest quite a few people so here she is!! this can be read as a long one shot, but considering how much content they are providing us with, i may continue it?? maybe!

ps. this does not include all the things they’ve posted thus far, but i will definitely try to include most of what we’ve seen so far as references/plot points in future parts if i continue this! ! this takes place while the show is airing, beginning action-wise after episode 4’s airing. it heavily involves the video with branjie that nina west posted on her instagram a few days ago! also, i am not giving into the assumption that they are actually broken up, but in the context of this fic, those rumors are true! okay that is enough, i am super excited about this, i hope you all enjoy ahhh!! <3

@Bhytes1: Hey Papi

@VanessaVanjie: @Bhytes1 What

*****

It had begun innocently enough.

Or, at least, that’s what the both of them would claim if ever asked about it. A tweet or two there, a cryptic emoji-strung comment here, and a handful of tooth-rotting gif interactions. It was almost rare for a day to pass without at least once mentioning of each other through social media, whether direct or not.

Brooke Lynn recognized the necessity for this. They both did. That’s why they were doing it.

They hadn’t necessarily discussed the inevitability of fans indulging in their on-screen romance, but there was an unspoken agreement between them, as well as with their fellow RuGirls. No one would bring up their current relationship status, and all would remain playful – that’s how fanservice worked, after all. Give the fans what they wanted, to ensure they would stay in tow. It reaped many a benefit not only for the show’s ratings, but for the queens involved. The season was only a few episodes deep, and already the interest in Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had spiked – both as a duo, and as individual performers. Brooke liked to believe it was her own doing that attracted so many new fans at such an early stage, though she had to give some credit to her more widely known castmate.

Still, as harmless as it posed to be, it didn’t take long for them to be accused of insincerity. A dozen tweets couldn’t change the fact that they were no longer together, that their relationship had ended before the season had even begun airing. They knew it, their fellow queens knew it – hell, half the fans knew it, even if they had not disclosed it officially. The fandom they found themselves thrust into wasn’t one unknown for spreading gossip and spoilers. The breakup had gone smoothly for the most part, at least when concerned with the public eye. It had been a quick discussion, albeit a tense one: was it smart to remain together when their lives were about to be changed? The two of them were self-aware and smart enough to recognize that their personal growth required separation. That the glorification of their growing relationship on TV would only put a strain on what they had in the present. Neither of them wanted to risk the prospect of resentment.

But they were being proven wrong, day by day. They talked and responded to each other every day, typically without any push from outside sources. They found themselves going from simply answering questions about each other and acknowledging fan reactions, to seeking out each other, interacting with no prompting. It was for the fans, yes, but Brooke never sensed any tension between the two of them. Maybe she was misinterpreting, but she and Vanessa seemed to do the whole “indulging the fans” thing flawlessly. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

And that’s what led them to where they were tonight, in a small office at REBAR Chelsea, too many people for too small a room. The music was almost deafening outside the walls, but was no match for the voices in said room. Specifically, Vanessa. Loud, brazen Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, in a glittery upside-down jersey dress, off her shoulders, her makeup freshly set and her adrenaline pumping even before having stepped out onstage for the night. She had been meticulously placing her blonde wig on her head in the mirror, making an effort to chime in more-than-occasionally to the conversation Nina West found herself deep in with a friend, despite being across the room. Brooke opted to sit in the corner, scrolling through her phone, Vanessa being the sole one of the three of them in drag for the night.

“More than iconic, really. The fans love it,” Nina’s friend had said, prompting Brooke to glance towards them. She hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said, though the mention of fans always peaked her interest. “Definitely need a recreation of that iconic moment at the reunion.”

“Iconic moment?” Brooke asked through a growing smile, interrupting, causing heads to turn towards the new voice contributing to the conversation. Nina laughed, with a hint of hesitation, turning her body fully to face Brooke, still sat in the corner of the seemingly-shrinking room.

She nodded enthusiastically, eyebrows up. “Untucked. Y’know how funny everyone found my reaction to you and Vanessa?” Nina clarified, gesturing towards the mentioned queen, who glanced at them through the reflection of the body-length mirror, still messing with her wig.

Brooke made a noise of understanding. “They live for their memes, bitch,” she answered. Naturally, she had seen the uproar that the last Untucked had caused, specifically when concerned with Nina’s shock towards the kiss. Brooke heard Vanessa laugh under her breath, accompanied by a curt nod signifying her agreement to Brooke’s statement.

“It’s crazy,” Nina nodded as well, proceeding to take a sip from the glass of water she held tightly in her right hand. She was halfway through swallowing when her eyes widened, an excited yet smug smile bringing the conversation back from its natural pause. “Why wait for the reunion? I mean, like, it’s fresh right now! Imagine how funny a recreation would be if we made it right now. We’re all here, aren’t we?” She nodded towards Vanessa before looking back to Brooke.

“So, milk it?”

“You and Vanjie should be pros at that with how you’re playing off this ‘on screen romance’ stuff,” Nina raised her free hand to provide seemingly unnecessary air quotes. Brooke scoffed gently. The romance was real, the follow up was not. It wasn’t, none of the tweets or interactions held any merit. But Brooke almost felt a personal offense at the implication that what they had before was fake, even if she had just misunderstood and Nina didn’t mean it that way. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did. “It’ll fare well for the two of you, and it’s all good fun. What’s the consensus?”

There was a moment of tentative silence, a sudden hush. It was unusual for Vanessa to not be bouncing off the walls, her adrenaline from before nowhere to be found. Brooke looked over at her, making quick eye contact with her through the mirror. Vanessa raised a painted eyebrow at her, as if asking – no, suggesting, that it could be a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Could be funny,” Brooke answered for the two of them, her smile returning.

Nina nodded, handing her phone to the woman at her side. “Let’s do it!” She straightened her denim jacket, water still in her hand, posing as a makeshift cocktail. Brooke stood from her seat, clearing her throat and watching as Vanessa finally turned her back to the mirror and faced the rest of them, a smile now adorned and her reluctance from before vanishing at the sight of a camera. The sight brought a certain weakness to Brooke, if only for a moment, just as it had every time she saw that smile. There was nothing different in how Vanessa made her feel still, she could appreciate things like that about her even if they weren’t an item.

“So, what, just kiss? Like in the Untucked?” Brooke made an effort to look away from Vanessa, but it felt like the reluctance Vanjie held was instead transferred to her. It was the same loss of focus she became familiar with during drag race, where even the just the knowledge of Vanessa being in the same room was enough of a distraction. She never complained, though.

“Yeah. Just like in the Untucked,” Nina kept herself at a distance from the other two queens, her body facing the now three people with phone cameras posed at them, others in the room joining in to capture the moment.

Vanessa again quirked an eyebrow at Brooke, who felt herself get uncharacteristically nervous. Why was she nervous? She hoped no one clocked her uneasy breathing, or heard her heartbeat as loudly as she did. She considered herself a good actress, but it was easier being playful and coy through twitter – how does one kiss their ex on camera, casually enough to make it look natural and real, but not too comfortable as to earn speculation from Vanessa herself, who clearly had no problem playing this up in front of the camera. It was certainly a tricky situation they were in. She wondered for a moment if Vanessa was struggling in the same way.

Brooke made a mental note to bring it up someday.

She wondered how long she stood spacing out, due to Vanessa no longer regarding her and instead living her directing fantasy. “You gotta start, like they did – like they did when we did this, you gotta say action,” she was instructing those who were filming, gesturing wildly.

“Ready? Yeah,” the woman nodded along, halfheartedly taking in Vanjie’s words, already having pressed the record button. “Okay ready?”

“Do it now,” Vanessa told her, and Brooke registered the deep breath that Vanessa took moments before they were to kiss.

“Action. Action.”

It was a blur after that – perhaps not in the moment, as she was conscious enough to chime in with a comically over-exaggerated “Did ya’ll see that?” after Nina and Vanessa both quoted it themselves. But when Brooke thought back to the video that ended up attracting attention on Nina’s Instagram later that night, she hardly could recall the details. It was foggy, most of it. Excluding the kiss.

Was she right in calling it a kiss? It was hardly that. A quick peck, reminiscent of the one they were recreating, not even enough for Vanessa’s lipstick to transfer onto Brooke’s unpainted lips. Not even enough to Brooke to over-analyze. Or so she thought.

Nina retrieved her phone as soon as they had finished the reenactment, smiling to herself as she hit play to watch the video. Vanessa quickly joined her to watch it, her smile losing its sincerity as they watched. Brooke remained across the room, attempting to gauge their reactions under the guise of gathering her own bearings, picking her own phone back up from where she had been sitting.

“S’it good? Convincing, too?” Brooke asked after the video had ended, the unasked ‘Too convincing?’ threatening to spill from her lips. She noticed that while Nina appeared overjoyed at the video, laughing to herself and pocketing her phone, Vanessa’s expression offered an air of concern. The look of trouble alone revived Brooke’s anxiety.

“Yeah, no, it’s good. Really good, thanks, guys,” Nina addressed both the ex-couple and those who had recorded the video, each from different angles, though only one would end up on the Ohioan’s Instagram. “I’m going to head out there, good luck up there tonight, girl,” Nina nudged Vanessa, who only gave a halfhearted smile and a quiet ‘Thanks’ in response.

Nina turned to leave, the others all following her, leaving after them a tension that filled the room. The room that only Vanessa and Brooke were left in.

“Hm,” Vanessa returned to her place in front of the mirror, lost in thought and not acknowledging that she wasn’t alone. Brooke sat back down, one hand occupied by her phone and the other fidgeting with the hem of her black blazer. Maybe she was overestimating how long and uncomfortable the silence felt, but Brooke wasn’t so sure it was that crazy of an exaggeration.

“Definitely should help fuel that fire,” Brooke spoke up, choosing to entertain the prospect of discussing the kiss rather than sitting in that loud silence. Vanessa didn’t stop touching up her makeup in the mirror to look at Brooke, just nodded. “Maybe we could post a picture together at some point soon. Is that too much?” Brooke laughed, not sure if her laugh was directed at her own question or Vanjie’s lack of an answer.

After another extended silence, Vanessa suddenly turned around to grab her own phone off the small table in the center of the room. “Let’s do it.”

Brooke was taken aback, needing a second to readjust to Vanessa’s usual volume returning after having been quiet in thought for so long. She watched as Vanessa snapped her fingers expectedly, waiting for Brooke to stand up, plausibly for a selfie.

“What, right now? We can’t post it right now, girl.”

“And why not?” Vanessa countered, her free hand going to her hip. “If we gonna do this, we have to keep feeding the children. We can’t let them go hungry,” she attempted to lighten up the tension in the room that had been there ever since Nina and the others left.

Brooke chuckled deeply, shaking her head. “Not after that video. Give it a week, maybe.” She hoped Vanessa would understand where she was coming from and drop it. She had thought they shared that logic in this situation, in the faux flirting and how it worked PR wise. It was bad to over-saturate this.

“Hmm,” Vanessa repeated from before, evidently unconvinced. She dropped her phone back, heading towards the door. Brooke felt relief ease her anxiety, focusing back on her own phone.

She didn’t even notice that Vanessa had paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder back at the man out of drag.

“That’s mighty shady of you, Miss Brooke,” the graveness in her voice forced Brooke to look up, making sincere eye contact for the first time that night. “Reeaaaaalll shady.” Vanessa’s tone held a certain hesitance, a caution. She was unique in that way, in the way that she carried herself in private compared to in the public eye. While most minded themselves and grew wary when being watched, in regards to what they say, how they act – she was the opposite. Upon the chaos of the Werk Room, the need to be recognized on national television, Vanessa tended to surrender her control. She was brash, and loud, and unapologetic; she was likable for this.

That wasn’t the Vanessa that stood now before Brooke in the stuffy room.

Brooke raised a single eyebrow, unsure if her growing smirk was welcome. Unsure of whether this was a real dig, or a classic shady Vanjie joke.

“Shady? And, what? You’re innocent in this?”

No longer looking over her shoulder, Vanessa turned fully to face Brooke, her back to the hall. Brooke noted the way her eyes subtly narrowed under her four pairs of stacked lashes, her head cocking with a void of amusement. She didn’t answer or play off of Brooke as she normally would have if this was a lighthearted exchange, instead opting to stay quiet, as if observing Brooke, sizing her up. Her painted eyebrows furrowed with the narrowing of her eyes, though her concentration felt deeper than her simply fabricating another shady comment to hit back with. If she wanted to, she would have already thrown it – she was quick witted enough to bypass usual brainstorming.

When Vanessa cracked a weak smile (albeit it didn’t reach her eyes), Brooke let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I never said I was innocent. In any meaning of the word. We both know that,” Vanessa took a step forward, back into the room, her voice knocked down a few volumes, for Brooke to hear only. “Even the fans know that, with some of the things we’ve been tweetin’ and sayin’. Whether they’re real or not,” she added, shrugging.

“They’re not,” Brooke challenged, saying matter-of-factly.

“See, that!” Vanessa laughed, pointing to Brooke. “You betta stop! Stop that, bitch.”

Confused, Brooke glanced Vanessa up and down. “What? Stop what?” She wished she could claim naivety. She knew exactly what Vanessa was saying.

Instead of answering her, Vanessa once again stood before her, looking down at her – not much, as even with Brooke seated and Vanessa in heels, the height difference made it so that they weren’t at an unusually unfair playing field now. She waited for an instant, to see if Brooke would say something. When she didn’t, Vanessa crossed over to sit in the empty chair beside her. Brooke didn’t ask if she sat so close to the edge intentionally, to be as close as possible to the Canadian queen.

That tense psychic feeling was back, but it felt different this time. She just couldn’t point to what changed. Was the whole room engulfed by this feeling, or just the few inches between the two? Regardless, Brooke felt her stomach knot, and had to stop her leg from bouncing in the space between them. If only Vanessa would get to the point. The point Brooke already knew she was making.

“Y’know, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa drew out her words, in a sort of emphatic yet teasing manner, it being uncommon for her to use the second part of Brooke’s drag name unless addressing her by full name. Her gaze dropped, and Brooke instinctively followed it – they both watched as Vanessa’s right hand moved to draw mindless patterns on Brooke’s pant leg, right above the knee. If it weren’t for how close Vanessa’s voice was when she spoke, Brooke could have easily hyper focused on the way Vanessa’s hand traced gently up and down. “At some point we have to quit pretending like this is only for the fans.”

“We talked about this,” Brooke kept her voice solid, despite the way Vanessa dropped her’s to just barely above a whisper. They both looked back up at the same time, although neither one backed off. Brooke could have sworn they were closer than they had been before Vanjie had taken her seat.

“Really?” Vanessa frowned, puzzled. There was a cloud of doubt in her eyes. “Musta been out of it ‘cause I can’t seem to remember us doing that. I think you’re mistaken, Miss Brooke.”

Brooke swallowed, shaking her head weakly, and tried to look away. She trained her eyes to a bulletin board on the wall. She had more than enough time to push the other queen away, or scoot back, or even get up.

She stayed where she was, could feel Vanessa’s eyes on her.

When she realized Brooke was adamant on not entertaining the conversation, Vanessa continued. “So. Tell me, then… What you’re tryna say is that if I were to kiss you right now, with no one around to see it, you’d pull out a camera to take a picture of it? You’d tweet about it? It wouldn’t feel real to you, at all?” She knew what she was doing, she could tell Brooke was trying her hardest not to look at her.

Until she did, her eyes making contact with Vanessa’s again, mere centimeters from her face. “Is that hypothetical?” Brooke’s voice entered into a whisper. She made the mistake of glancing down towards Vanessa’s coated lips. She wasn’t fast enough in fixing her error, as Vanessa had already noticed and consequently did the same, a smirk playing at her lips.

“It don’t gotta be. That one’s up to you,” Vanessa breathed, yet the way she inched impossibly closer said otherwise.

“I–”

Before Brooke could allow the anticipation to drive her crazy, Vanessa’s lips were on her’s.

It was nothing like the kisses they shared on camera, neither drag race or the peck for Nina’s video. It was only the two of them, no pressure or expectation forcing them to maneuver with any caution. The kiss all too similar to the ones they would share after finally finding privacy in between filming, after not having seen each other for a week due to gigs, after spending the weekend together and waking up clinging to each other in the morning. It was all familiarity and comfort, butterflies and giddiness, as their lips moved in a passionate fervor. They didn’t think about posing, or the door to the room being wide open, or mixing nonchalance with playfulness.

Brooke had just released the tension in her body, the reluctance she feigned, when Vanessa broke the kiss.

“Mm?” Brooke blinked, fog passing slowly.

Vanessa moved away from her with a coquettish wink, flipping her wig dramatically over her shoulder that said wig didn’t even reach. “I got a show to do.”

That little fucker, Brooke huffed a laugh with an incredulous shake to her head.

“Maybe a reenactment later?” Vanessa paused again at the door, “Good luck tweetin’ unsuspiciously about that one and not bein’ urged to give me a private phone call after.” And with that, Vanessa vanished around the corner, Brooke not seeing the bashful smile she wore all the way to the stage. And she didn’t know that Brooke wore one to match.

*****

That night, the first thing Brooke saw upon opening Instagram was that damn video. As well as all the reposts and screenshots she had accordingly been tagged in. She prepared herself before playing it, not having seen it yet.

Stopping herself from smiling was out of the question as she watched the fifteen second clip. She watched it more than once, not breaking the natural loop it made whenever it ended.

And if she texted Nina later to send her the video, simply to rewatch the way Vanessa smiled into their kiss, well, she wouldn’t bring that part up.

*****

@Bhytes1: Because everyone loves a dramatic re-enactment

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #angst #frenchy #submission #canon compliant #s11 #sometimes a fantasy

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