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givemethatgold · 4 years ago

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Fix’er Upper - Part 13

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem! Reader Warnings: Talk of parent death Length: 2.1k words Notes: Okay bitches here we go. I’ve got 3 kids doing online schooling, a desk chair that just broke while I was halfway through typing this out, a raging headache, and couldn’t be fucked to edit. I love you al, thank you for sticking with me and this little brain baby of mine. My guidance counselor from high school can suck my dick, “You’re not a creative writer, Cher, you should considering taking Home Ec as an elective instead” I digress....

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"No." You glared at him and squeezed his hand harder, "You're doing that thing again.

Frankie's head whipped over to stare at you, shocked by your assertive tone.

"You're pulling away. You're stressed, out of your depth, don't know how to deal with it and so you're pulling away again-"

"You don't understand," Frankie interrupted you, shaking his head and trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. This only served to strengthen your resolve, and your grip on him.

"No." You declare again, trying to stay calm and have a mature conversation despite the tension and running emotions. "You told me to give you time to get your thoughts straight and vocalized. I can't do that if I'm not here to hear them. I can't understand your predicament if I leave. So," You moved so you're sitting cross-legged in front of him, making eye contact in an effort to show him he had your full attention. "Why don't you tell me what that phone call was about so we can start figuring it out, together."

The situation was more complex than you ever could have imagined. Frankie's ex-wife, Karla, had died. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver. Annie, thank the gods, hadn't been in the car at the time. Before she'd died at the hospital, Karla had managed to say a few words to the paramedics. At the time they didn't make sense, however, the paramedic had taken the time to write the words down and included the scrap of paper with the patient's chart. This evidence, as it turned out, had been monumental during the resulting legal battle for Annie, all of which took place without Frankie even being notified.

Child services, lawyers, extended family, and even doctors had been involved in the court proceedings. All arguing over the future of the six-year-old girl. All believing that they knew what was best for her, most believing that she should live with them, some having the gall to pretend that they weren't aware of the sizable life insurance payout she was about to receive.

Eight words. Eight simple, beautiful words whispered through the broken, bloody lips of a woman who knew she was about to die. A young girl's future was being held in suspense, and as fate would have it, a wise and sentimental judge was overseeing her case. Eight words were all it took to convince him that Annie's mother knew what was best for her own child.

"Francisco Morales. Trust with her, he's ready now."

From the time Frankie had received the phone call from Karla's family lawyer, the two of you had two days to prepare for Annie's arrival. Frankie worked his magic and erected a wall across the bedroom portion of his loft, allowing for the little girl to have some privacy but not feel like she was being closed in.

He had fretted for a least twenty five minutes over colour swatches at Hank’s Hardware before coming to the conclusion that he should leave it white and have Annie chose her room colours once she had settled in. He bought himself a new couch, as well, that would convert into a bed and serve as his bedroom for the time being.

The conversation you never had a chance to have with him was still in the back of your mind, but you understood that moving in together as a couple was hard enough. Moving in together with a kid neither of you knew, whose life had just been turned upside down against her will, would be catastrophic. Instead, you focused on being as much of a rock for Frankie as you could.

You made a trip to the city and bought girls bedding, some stuffed animals, and a few little decorations to help Annie feel like the new space was special for her. You also thought to pick up comfort food that a kid might crave, knowing that when you were six the best way to your heart was chocolate. Just before you left the city, a sign caught your attention and had you swerving to change lanes, normally you'd feel slightly bad about your obnoxious driving but today you just waved your middle finger at the rear window in a mock salute.

The flower shop had so many bouquets and you had no idea what kind of flowers the little girl might like. You also had the morbid realization that bouquets might remind her of all the flowers she surely saw at Karla's funeral. Just as you began to second guess yourself, a stand near the back caught your eye and made you smile.

The day of her arrival came quicker than you felt prepared for, never mind how Frankie must be feeling. He hadn't had too much time to worry about how having his daughter would change his life, but once the two of you were standing in his driveway doing nothing but waiting, the nerves had finally settled in. You could see deep, calming breaths he was taking as they condensed into little clouds in the freezing air.

Grabbing his clenched fist, you felt his fingers relax enough to allow your gloved ones to slide through them.

"It's going to be weird for everyone, she's probably nervous too." You weren't sure if the words were reassuring or not but nervous talking seemed to be your forte so you ran with it. "I mean, she's probably sad that she's leaving everything and everyone she's always known, excited about moving to a new place, then feeling bad that she's feeling another emotion besides grief. It can be hard to juggle loss and hope. Just show her how much you love her and be honest about why you couldn't be with her before. Kids are smart and are aware of way more than adults give them credit for."

A few moments later a black sedan slowly crept up the driveway. You wanted to stay, to meet the little girl but had the feeling that Annie and Frankie were going to need time to figure out their relationship without another person in the mix. Suddenly having a new parent was going to be hard enough on the little girl, you were afraid that she might see you as trying to replace her mom and push you away.

Rubbing Frankie's back for one last show of reassurance, you kissed his shoulder then took a few steps back. You figured this was the best way to be there to support him but also staying in the background for the time being. Before the car could fully come to a stop, the rear door was flying open and, in a blur of movement, a little body was flying out of it towards Frankie. You know how people will say that there are times in their lives where important moments fly by so fast they barely have time to enjoy them? Well, this wasn't one of them.

As Annie barreled her way towards Frankie, you saw in slow motion how his handsome face went from being creased with worry, to eyebrow raised shock, to breaking out in a teary smile. He had just begun to crouch down and open his arms in anticipation of holding his little girl when instead she ran right past him and locked herself in one of the sheds.

Time continued to move in slow motion, making it all the more heartbreaking watching your boyfriend's face crumple, the tears of joy turn to tears of pain as he recovered from his initial excitement and realized that his child didn't want to see him.

Tiny, muffled sobs broke the moment and brought time, and the horrible situation, back into focus. The Child Protective Services worker who had accompanied Annie from California was calling apologies to Frankie while running after the little girl, trying not to slip in the snow in her hurry.

You wanted to go to him, to lend him some form of comfort, but you were also aware that some types of grief don't appreciate witnesses. Deciding to stick around and be helpful in the background, you made your way into the loft and started making coffee and sandwiches, foreseeing a longer stay for the caseworker than initially thought.

Nearly forty minutes had passed before you emerged again with food and drinks on a tray and the two adults were still talking to Annie through the cracks in the door. She had stubbornly refused to come out, demanding that she be returned to her home at once and that she hated snow.

Once you had set down the tray and cleared the snow off a picnic table, Frankie thanked you with a kiss to your temple and introduced you to Sharon after he convinced her to take a break from the negotiations. Sharon, who had been with Annie since the day of the accident, began filling Frankie in on what had happened to his daughter in the past month between sips of coffee. He was given a folder with notes from child psychologists, doctors, a letter from her maternal grandparents, and a journal Sharon had kept that described the ways Annie had been processing her grief.

While they talked, you decided to walk over and sit next to the door of the shed, laying a wool blanket down to protect your butt from the cold. You had no idea what to say to the girl but you figured she might like to be reassured she wasn't alone. Settling down, you dug into your own sandwich and hummed quietly to yourself.

You nearly choked on your next bite when you heard a soft voice singing along with the tune you'd chosen.

"Lavender blue, dilly dilly. Rosemary Green, if you are king dilly dilly, I'll be your queen."

After you'd repeated the song twice more, you stopped the tune and said softly,

"I've never heard those lyrics before, they're different from how I learned them."

A long pause followed, making you worry that you'd offended the child back into silence.

"How do you sing it?" Came the sweetest little voice, made all the more adorable with the barest hint of a lisp.

"We always sang, 'Lavender green', for one. Which never made any sense to me so I really like how you did it-"

"Yeah, cause lavender is another name for purple," she interrupted you with a matter-of-fact tone, "saying it's green is just weird!"

"Hmmm, it might be different," you conceded, seeing the opportunity for a lesson. "But either way you sing it, it's still a really pretty song, isn't it? Things can be different but it doesn't mean one is only good and one is only bad. Each version just had different good things."

Annie went silent again but this time you didn't worry about it, you knew she was thinking about what you said and needed time to apply it to what was happening right now. You eventually heard the shifting of metal and the creak of wood and had to will yourself to sit still and calm. The way you had let her approach you had worked so far, jumping up out of excitement could possibly erase all the progress you'd made so far.

Your patience was rewarded when Annie stepped out of the shed and lowered herself so that she was sitting on the blanket right next to you. Turning your head just enough to see her in your peripheral, you noticed how dull her eyes looked. Her hair was a mess and her skin looked pale for a kid who had been living under California's sun.

"My mommy is dead."

The way it was stated as a fact, with very little emotion, broke your heart. She was so little, so young, and so unable to fully grasp what kind of future had been ripped away from her.

"I know, I'm sorry that that happened to your mom."

"That man is my daddy." She was pointing at Frankie now, who was still engrossed in his conversation with Sharon.

"He's a pretty lucky guy to have you."

"That's the lady who has been taking care of me, she's been nice."

You were a bit out of your comfort zone with the conversation but there was no way in hell you were going drop it so you cautiously trudged on. Maybe verbalizing relationships and titles was helping her process?

"I'm very happy to hear that you've been staying with someone nice. Your dad is a really nice person, too, ya know? You should see the nice bedroom he's set up for you! I even helped him bake you an apple pie. Do you like apples? Or pie?" Her eyes went wide and a spark of happiness suddenly lit her face, making her appear more childlike than before.

"Is this an apple farm?" She practically squealed. “Like in My Little Pony?!”

Her outburst had finally drawn the attention of the other two adults, who were now only realizing that Annie had exited the shed. Frankie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his two girls, beaming at each other. The twinge of jealousy from knowing that it had been you to draw her out was quickly squashed by how proud of you he was. He had been a little worried, although he hadn't voiced it, that his kid wouldn't take kindly to having a woman around but those fears were obviously for naught.

Part Fourteen

#Frankie Morales x fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Francisco Morales x fem!reader #Francisco Morales x f!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x fem!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x f!reader #fix'er upper #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales fanfiction

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theyilinglaozus · 4 years ago

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To celebrate the absolute insanity that is this little blog reaching a follower milestone of over 1,000 followers (honestly, how did that even happen?) I have decided that I would like to say a huge thank you by providing you all with the (very long time promised) list of some of favourite fanfictions!

Be warned. This is quite the long list. We’re sitting at 60+ fic recs here, and I’ve done my best with adding the most applicable tags for each. Some I’m sure will be old favourites to many in the fandom, but there’s also a few here which could potentially become one of your new favourites too. There are just so many amazingly talented writers within this fandom, and this is really just the tiniest slice of some of the fantastic stories out there in the wild. Thank you to all the many fic writers out there that provide such incredible content simply for both the love of the characters and the love of writing in general! 💖 I appreciate you for providing so many wonderful escapes and new journeys that we can once again join our beloved characters on.

And finally, thank you, to all my lovely followers. This list is for you.

Favourites

grow → cafecliche post canon. age regression. fluff.

(our friendship) up against the ropes → daltoneering modern au. friends with benefits. mutual pining. oblivious!wei ying. dom/sub undertones + other tags.

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts → aubreyli post canon. junior shenanigans. fluff.

where the chaos is → darkredloveknot post!drama canon. reunions. first kiss. first time. domestic.

Not rage but grief → dezemberzarin jealousy. established relationship. light angst.

tell some storm → qurbat post canon. hurt/comfort. fluff.

Sometimes the Shadow → northofallmusic rough sex. kink negotiation. breathplay.

your persuasions → phnelt modern au. size kink. pwp.

Cut Through The Clouds → phnelt modern au. pilot!lan wangji. flight attendant!wei wuxian.

Mo Money, Mo Problems → x_los canon divergence. confessions. getting together.

I’m Going Out (Gonna Make A Name For Me And You) → cosmicmilktea post canon. slow burn.

As You Like It → cosmicmilktea post canon. light angst. fluff.

Deeper grows my longing → feyburner post canon. getting together. first kiss.

one good thing → Yuu_chi modern au. ghost!wei wuxian. angst with a happy ending.

Sex, Science, and True Love: A Rigid Analysis of the Practical Applications of Dual Cultivation → aubreyli canon divergence. taoist sexual practices. still in progress.

there’s no promised goodbye here → anonymous modern au. post break-up. roommates. getting back together. angst and fluff.

Saw My Life in a Stranger’s Face → timetoboldlygo post canon. established relationship. light angst. domestic fluff.

How to Keep Your Diplomatic Asset Close (and Your Wei Ying Closer) by His Excellency → misscam cql!verse. getting together. fluff. smut. humour.

i don’t wanna lose you (i hope this never ends) → annemari post canon. sick fic. getting together.

I Don’t Want To Know → kuro modern au. post break-up. pining. angst and fluff.

wuxian → livsn fixing relationships (lan xichen and wei wuxian reconciliation)

paint smears on sunny days → SnowshadowAO3 single dad!lan wangji. art teacher!wei wuxian. a-yuan!. mutual pining. fluff and smut.

made of sunlight → retts body horror. body dysmorphia (wei wuxian over mo xuanyu’s body not being his original). angst and fluff. hurt/comfort. nightmares.

Love wakes me → dea_liberty modern au. famous!lan wangji. coffee shop owner!wei wuxian. found families (wei wuxian and the wens). reunions. angst. happy ending.

you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) → cicer modern au. slow burn. awkward flirting. fluff.

Take Root, Come Home → piecrust post canon. angst and fluff. established relationship.

your heartbeat, across the grass → fakeplasticlily modern au. footballer/soccer player!lan wangji. a-yuan!. oblivious wei wuxian. mutual pining. fluff. childhood friends.

the recluse at the end of the moonlit path → b_ofdale modern setting. immortal!lan wangji. reunions. asexual character. mutual pining.

between the lines → jywait modern au. gaming. mutual pining. fluff.

Silver & Gold → beeswaxing post canon. canon divergence. established relationship. age regression. angst and fluff. romance. mutual pining.

These Things Stay the Same → notevenyou modern au. accidents. minor character death. parents!wei wuxian and lan wangji. angst with a happy ending.

i’ll have you and you’ll have me → sundiscus modern au. established relationship. marriage proposal. fluff.

Martial Claims → yeolinski modern au. lawyers!lan wangji and wei wuxian. established relationship. juniors as interns. fluff and comedy.

r/relationships → vespertineflora modern au. viral reddit post. love confessions. oblivious wei wuxian. fluff.

nothing gold can stay → rikke canon divergence. golden core reveal. angst and fluff.

Tears of Pearl ‘verse → FleetofShippyShips

rebuttable presumption ‘verse → sarah-yyy

long way home series → idrilka

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight ‘verse → stiltonbasket

More Amazing Reads

yeah they’re just bros thanks for asking → victortor modern au. established relationship. aromantic wei wuxian. intimacy. fluff.

promise me the universe → somersaulter post canon. confessions. drunk wei wuxian. wen ning pov.

it goes like this → moonsteps modern au. soulmates. oblivious wei wuxian. humour. fluff.

The Guests of Cloud Recesses → cafecliche post canon. fluff. light angst. grief and mourning.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) → yiqie modern au. hurt/comfort. getting together. depression. happy ending. ⚠️ suicide attempt through overdose.

The Way It Wasn’t → KouriArashi canon divergence. fix-it fic. angst. family.

Standing Engagement → x_los sunshot campaign. golden core reveal. misunderstandings. accidental engagement.

your touch in the dark (your voice in the silence) → b_ofdale modern au. buskier!wei wuxian. musician!lan wangji. mutual pining. friends with benefits. asexual!wei wuxian.

Orchids in Lotus Pier → Vamillepudding canon divergence. misunderstandings. friends to lovers. lan wangji and jiang cheng are friends.

Two Unlucky Guys → saved modern au. pwp. first time. miscommunication. fluff and angst.

梅花开放 | the plum blossoms bloom → doubletan post canon. sickfic. hurt/comfort. angst. established relationship. ⚠️ major character death.

Charming → WangXianPatriarch post canon. jealousy. fluff. teasing.

Cave Survival (or: how the Xuanwu cave could have gone) → cerbykerby pining. oblivious wei wuxian. humour. fluff.

it’s you, it’s you, it’s always you → Fleetling modern au. friends to lovers. slow burn. fluff.

Closer Than Eternity → Netrixie modern au. reincarnation. immortal!lan wangji. angst with a happy ending.

How to propose to the love of your life in one simple step → CloudyInk royalty au. prince!lan wangji. general!wei wuxian.

Crazy, Rich Cultivators → ShanaStoryteller modern au. misunderstandings. established relationship.

a stone to break your soul, a song to save it → rikke canon divergence. arranged marriage.

This Time With Lanterns → ChaoticAndrogynous post novel canon. fluff. light angst. established relationship. wedding.

a single fire bright → magpie_fngrl canon divergence. fix-it fic. pining.

Hello IT. Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? → overmountainandmeadow modern au. IT director!lan wangji. graphic designer!wei wuxian. single dad!lan wangji. fluff. slow burn.

Walk the Circle in the Other Direction → notevenyou modern au. oblivious wei wuxian. bisexual!wei wuxian. childhood friends. fluff. coming out. brief wei wuxian/mianmian.

and in the spring i shed my skin → wvlfqveen modern/magical au. fluff. love confessions. shapeshifter!lan wangji. necromancer!wei wuxian.

the yungmeng accords series → cafecliche

misunderstood ‘verse → sysrae

Shameless Self-Plugging

Snowfall canon divergence. getting together. pwp.

A Brothers’ Love post canon. established relationship. fluff. gentle exposure therapy (wei wuxian working on his phobia of dogs).

Afternoon Retreat post canon. established relationship. fluff.

#fanfic rec #wangxian fanfic rec #the untamed fic rec #mdzs fic rec

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Seven, “The Tables Have Turned”

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and POV surveys

- Inspo tag

- Playlist

SNEAKYYYYYY PEEEEEK

“At least I had my orientation with Harry to look forward to that coming Friday, but I still wouldn’t start at his firm for another week after that. The anticipation was killing me, and so were the little moments Harry and I shared when I happened to remember them. Sometimes I wish the alcohol had stolen those memories away, because they hurt too much to remember, but then at other times I’d never wish them away, because they give me something irreplaceable - hope.”

Music Inspo: Everywhere by Niall Horan (click to listen)

“You think I like having you in here, destroying everything that was me until all that’s left is you and a dead shell? You're all I bloody think about ... dream about. You're in my gut ... my throat ... I'm drowning in you.”

- Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (S5 x E14)

“How’s yer dad doin’?” Harry asks me when I return to my seat across from him, the soda threatening to spill over the top of my cup.

“He’s doing good, thanks. It took a while for his energy to come back, and sometimes he gets tired easily, but it’s a process,” I answer, plucking a chip from the small white bag and drenching it in the yellow queso. “He’s pretty happy to have all of his hair back, and he’s started to get back into running and lifting weights. Late last summer he started back to work where he does construction.”

“Wow, I feel like I learn mo’ ‘bout yer dad e’ry time we talk ‘bout him. I didn’t know he was into weights and all that, good fer him. Bloody hell he’s like superman. Ya dunno how happy I am t’ hear he’s back on his feet, and doin’ well,” he murmurs with a gentle warmth adorning his features.

It spreads with a spark across my skin when I feel his fingers wrap around mine, squeezing my hand. I’m guilty again with an absence of words when I look back into his eyes, all syllables stolen away from me at the sight and by his gesture. I don’t need to say anything though because unspoken words pass between us as he stares back at me, memories unraveling from all of the times he showed up for me. I still don’t know how I could have ever doubted he cared about me.

“Thank you,” I reply emphatically, squeezing his toasty hand in return. His thumb brushes along the back of my hand before letting it go.

“Welcome, Becks. ‘m sorry I wasn’t there at tha end t’ celebrate,” he responds softly, sadness laced throughout his words as his head falls. His eyes avoid mine as he picks up a few pieces of shredded cheese that fell onto the wrapper laid in front of him.

“It’s okay, Harry, we both kinda forgot.” His head of curls goes up and down at my softly spoken words that only brush the surface. Regardless, I think that it did the job and he knows what I mean. We both know that we ignored the other and forgot, whether on accident or purpose. “I guess there are several reasons for our celebratory dinner and drinks.”

“Very true, bug,” he agrees, the dimples finding their way back onto his cheeks once again. The itchy nervousness abates when his eyes lift again to mine and he holds out his half-eaten taco, grease and warm sour cream dripping from it. “Cheers t’ yer dad’s recovery, catchin’ up with old friends, and tha best o’ all - Becks gettin’ tha associate position at me firm workin’ with me. ‘m excited t’ see what tha future holds for me new favourite lawyer.”

“Stop it, or else I’m going to start crying, and you’ve seen me cry more than enough,” I smile, blinking back the tears as I hold out my taco and bump it against his. “Cheers to new beginnings, Harry.”

“Cheers, Becks, and ‘s okay if ya cry. Happy tears are good too.”

“Very true,” I agree, taking a page from his book before I finish the rest of my taco, a silence falling over our table. It’s replaced with crinkling of wrappers, sips of soda, chewing of crunchy chips and chocolatey churros, and stolen glances at the other.

“How’re Skye and Robbie these days? What’re they up t’?” he inquires, squashing the wrapper of his third taco into a ball that he sets on the side of the tray for our trash. I watch as he plucks a quesadilla from the stack of dwindling food, but he stops and grabs a churro as well with a sly grin. “Hey, they’re fer me too.”

“Harry,” I warn teasingly, a giggle peeking out from my words which he quickly echos, although accidentally. “Um, they’re both good. Skye got a new job at a salon on the west side that she likes. It’s called Roots or something or other, and Robbie is still working at Black and Blue. He actually started dating a girl recently, but I’ve yet to meet her. God, it seems like everybody else is having luck with love, beside us. Myles told me he’s engaged now, and then Robbie’s girlfriend, and Skye said the other day she has a date this week.”

“Ya, we’re ratha pathetic, aren’t we? We haven’t even had any drinks yet and we’re gushin’ ‘bout bloody love,” he cracks, clucking his tongue before feeding the rest of the crisp churro between his rose lips. My oh my, is that a scenic sight right there.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” I remark, finishing my second taco and grabbing the remaining quesadilla, earning a disapproving head shake from him.

As the flavors of the tangy sour cream, fiery seasoned chicken, and gooey cheese melt on my tongue, our words hit a sensitive spot in my heart. I just hope we can avoid it for the rest of the night, or else I’m afraid I might blurt out some words I’ve been itching to say.

“Hurry up, ‘s bloody cold,” Harry titters, digging his hands further into the pockets of his matte black coat.

“How far are we even going?”

“Oh, hush, you. ‘s not very far, jus’ anotha block,” he answers, his lengthy legs far ahead of mine.

“Harry, that’s what you said like five minutes ago, and slow the fuck down!”

“Hey, watch tha language, there’s no need t’ swear,” he remarks, meeting my eyes over his shoulder with his brows quirked into a V. When we arrive at a busy intersection, our feet stop on the sidewalk, and a muttered curse falls from his lips.

“Oh, so you can swear, but I can’t?” I quip, poking his arm playfully.

“Yes, li’l one, I can. ‘m not bein’ a very good role model fer ya, am I now?” he replies, a hand leaving his pocket to pat the top of my head covered in a knit hat. I respond with a roll of my eyes as his sly grin graces my eyes. “Are ya shrinkin’ on me, Becks?”

“Don’t.”

He only giggles, turning back to the onslaught of moving lights around us. I’ve always enjoyed the sights of London like this, the neon and fluorescent signs hugging every street, and the towering buildings. Harry mumbles a ‘c’mon’, tugging on my sleeve until I follow him across the crosswalk. Soon, we come upon a pub with a green neon sign donning the front, reading ‘Murphy’s’ that Harry pulls me into. His long legs lead me through the entryway, across red-tiled flooring, and to the long wooden bar where boisterous laughs sound.

“Can I have two Purple Haze martinis, please?” Harry says to the bartender, a tall fellow with an interesting red mustache that curls at its ends. He nods and turns around to grab two martini glasses.

“What are Purple Hazes, like is it something Prince liked to drink?” I ask Harry, falling onto the black bar stool beside him.

“I dunno, but you’ll like it. Jus’ trust me,” he smiles as he slides off his coat, and I admire the new view of his side profile. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. Seven months both does and doesn’t feel like forever, especially compared to that day I found him standing at the front of that lecture hall. Yesterday, when I turned around to find him standing in Myles’ office, it felt like it had been years. I blame it on all of the hurt. “‘Scuse me, can we also get two Skittles shots? Thanks.”

“So, now you’re my drinking mentor too, huh?”

“Pretty much, ya,” he smirks, balling his hand into a fist that he lays his cheek on to look at me. The smile winding its way along his lips under the dim lights drills a hole into the armor around my heart that’s cracking more and more. “And yer not doin’ that sissy thing ya do where ya have a glass o’ water on tha side.”

“Harry, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow!”

“Becks, you’ll be fine! T’morrow’s a Saturday, anyways. What will it hurt?” he answers, shrugging his shoulders as the crinkles begin around his eyes. They almost disappear from my view when he looks to the bartender who sets the shots down in front of us, Harry mentioning adding it to his bill after thanking him. “Bottoms up, bug.”

“Oh, God,” I sigh, taking the greenish-yellow shotglass of liquid from his outstretched hand. “Stop looking at me that way.”

“What way?” he inquires with a furrowed brow, holding the shot close to his grinning lips.

“Like you know we’re about to get drunk.”

“Cheers,” is all he says, clinking his glass against mine before downing the liquid effortlessly. Shaking my head, I exhale loudly as the liquid nears my lips, and then it burns with hints of sweet and sour on the way down. “See, not so bad, was it?”

“Shut up,” I retort in the middle of a cough racking my chest, setting down the glass with a clunk.

“I have a question,” he announces after his giggling dissolves into the air. “Ya neva told me how you and Skye met, so how’d it happen?”

“You’re thinking about that right now?” I quip, carding a hand through my hair after I slip off my mauve-colored beanie. He shyly nods as he fidgets with a ring on his left hand, meeting my gaze only shortly. “We met in first grade. She was scary at first, because one day early on she got mad at me for stealing her friend, or something- I can’t remember. Then the next day, she came up to me and we were both wearing pink Hello Kitty shoes, and decided to be best friends. Like they say, the rest was history, and we were joined at the hip from then on. We were in the same class a lot throughout the following years, took the same electives in high school, and moved to London together to go to uni.”

“Sounds ratha picturesque, dontcha think? Or I s’pose that’s how it goes with five-year olds,” Harry murmurs, nodding to the bartender when he brings us the purple martinis. An awe leaves my lips when I see the ombre of purple hues filling the glass. “‘s vodka, Curacao, Black Raspberry Liqueur, and cranberry juice. I think you’ll like it. Go ‘head, try it, Becks.”

I obey and bring the chilly glass to my mouth, relaxing at the sweet taste of berries, filling me with the color purple. Then I wince at the harsh bite of the alcohol, eliciting a titter from Harry whose foot I kick with mine. Beside me, he gulps down a quarter of the drink, unfazed.

“How about you and Myles?”

“Good question, I dunno if ‘ve eva told ya that story,” he hums, tickling his stubbly chin with his fingers while thinking. Even the way the skin between his eyebrows disappears when he’s thinking is cute. God, everything about him is and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it to myself once all of this alcohol passes my lips. As another drink of the martini burns my throat, I think I may be warming up to that idea, but there’s the possibility it could all be for nothing if the alcohol steals our memories away.

“We met in high school inn’a class I can’t rememba tha name of, but we both hadd’a crush on tha same girl, and we both played guitar. So it was natural,” he mumbles, licking his lips and making me feel woozy all over at the sight.

“Sure, that’s a real natural friendship,” I giggle. “You know I’m a lightweight, by the way.”

“Oh I know, ‘m bettin’ onnit,” he returns with a wink, bringing the large glass to his bubblegum lips.

“You know what’s good?” I follow, watching his thick eyebrows hike up his forehead. “That Kinky stuff,” I respond, taking another sip. I almost choke on it when I glance at the shocked look screwing up his face.

“Becks.”

“No, God- t-the vodka, Harry . . . not that other stuff,” I chuckle, my entirety collapsing into nervous laughter. His own echoes mine as a prickly warmth spreads like fire across my body.

“My bloody God, Rebecca Holte, are ya already feelin’ that drink?” he hums, his bony knee knocking against mine underneath the table. The fiery nervousness abates briefly at the mention of my formal name, one I can’t recall the last time I’ve heard him say in its entirety. It comes as a shock to me, considering at times I’m convinced he’s forgotten it.

“No, I-I just thought a liquor connoisseur such as yourself would know what I’m talking about.”

“Sure, I totally don’t believe you on that one, love,” he replies, scoffing when I softly hit his shoulder. “Yer prolly into handcuffs and gags, arentcha?”

“Harry Styles!” I exclaim, squirming when his hand covers my mouth. It falls within seconds, but the spicy vanilla smell coating his body remains with me, along with the warmth of his touch. Most of all, the familiarity and safety wrapped all in it causes a pang in my chest. “I do not do handcuffs, or bloody gags, and nor would I ever tell you, if I did.”

Words fleet his lips as he drowns them with another swallow of his violet martini. I turn away with my hair tickling my cheek as it shakes from side to side. It flies in front of my eyes when his fingers plunge into my sides, yanking laughs from my mouth as he lifts his eyebrows at me with a look that tells me to be quiet.

“I missed you,” I blurt out at random, feeling his fingers still on my side and his expression relaxes. The happiness falls from his eyes and cheeks, and with it I turn away, unable to deal with the disappointment I’m sure I’m on the verge of.

“I missed you too, y’know . . . loads,” Harry concurs, his fingers dangling at my side until they wander to my hands clasped in my lap. He steals one of them away and holds it against his leg, rubbing circles into my knuckles.

If this doesn’t make me spill the beans, then I’m positive the following liquor just may, and it all might come crashing down in front of me.

The next shot, a Lemon Drop, didn’t go down as smoothly. I felt like I was going to hack up a lung when I feel Harry’s warm hand on my back.

“Alright?” he murmurs in a rush, patting my back firmly until the cough subsides. “Sorry, that lemon one ‘s kinda hard sumtimes, ‘s ratha sour.”

“Ya think?” I respond, trying to make it go away with the last gulp of the Purple Haze, but it’s only a few seconds of relief.

I exhale and only feel his hand leave me when he orders a water, and two Tequila Sunrises, his a stronger one.

“Breathe, love, a water’s on ‘s way,” Harry hums, squeezing my arm. I nod and swallow hard, embarrassment coating me like a musty sheet.

“I thought you said no water.”

“Hush, I gotta take care o’ me li’l one,” he assures me, bringing a finger to his lips when I dare a look at him. A smile returns to my lips and remains there when the cold water graces them, him sipping at the Tequila Sunrise sat between his ringed fingers.

Oh, what I’d give to be able to wake up to a sunrise with him by my side. Oh, Harry.

“Hey, wha’s that ya got there?” he inquires, soon his painted nail lifting the bracelets from my right wrist. “Becks has a tattoo?! Since when?” he exclaims, astonishment and shock mixing into a cocktail amongst his features. His eyes bug out of his skull and then narrow when they return to my wrist.

“It’s a Queen Anne’s Lace, Robbie has one too, just on his upper arm and bigger. We got them when we were eighteen, um . . . . after our Gran passed. Grandma Holte . . Ann Holte,” I explain, helping him by removing the bracelets from around my wrist.

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or just him, but my wrist finds a new home in his palm that he turns to better look at. The shock is replaced by a slow smile transforming his face, bleeding into his eyes that find their way back to mine.

“‘s gorgeous, Becks, truly. ‘ve always found tattoos o’ flowers t’ be so beautiful, yer makin’ me want t’ get anotha one even mo’ now. I mean, I have tha rose and anotha sumwhere I think, but now I want anotha thanks t’ you,” he hums, tracing the ink with the tip of his thumb, just a whisper of his touch. “‘m sorry ‘bout yer Gran, sounded like it was premature which ‘s always tha worst. Knew ya were strong, but fook, ya amaze me e’ry day, Becks.” Unannounced tears press warmly at the back of my eyes as he admires the sprawling flower, tracing each little petal until he’s tracked them all.

“You didn’t think I was that badass, huh?”

“No, ‘ve always thought ya were a badass, babe. A flower tattoo jus’ takes the cake,” he quips, looking me in the eyes and sending another crack down the case in my chest.

I don’t know how many more little shocks like this I can take, or my heart, before it breaks free from the cage I locked it up in so long ago. I hid it there to protect it from him breaking it, again.

“This ‘s me,” he announces, bringing us to stop in the parking lot. My confusion only grows as I look around, until my eyes stop on the black Harley Davidson in front of us.

“What? It’s the middle of winter, Harry.”

“I know, I know. That’s what e’rybody says, but I dress warm. I like t’ take her out e’ry once in a while t’ keep her runnin’ good. Maybe ‘ll hafta take ya onn’a ride when ‘s not too cold fer pussy Becks,” he coos, voice rising to a mocking tone.

“I’m sorry I don’t like the cold wind ripping my skin off,” I titter and his eyes roll into the back of his head with a groan. I stand there awkwardly, eyes following him as he grabs the helmet from the locked bag towards the back seat.

“Ya sure yer good t’ drive, bug? I can give ya a ride if yer not too much o’ a puss puss,” Harry remarks, turning to face me as he holds the buckle strap to the side, a smirk claiming his face.

“Yeah I’m good, thanks. Those four waters and twenty trips to the bathroom helped,” I answer, although regretfully as everything inside of me screams at me to accept.

Girl, how dumb are you?

Quiet, demon, I can’t take it back now.

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that, love. I uh, reckon ‘ll see ya inn’a week then?” he replies, sliding the helmet over his dark curls, fingering the chin strap.

“Yeah, the eighteenth.”

“Don’t miss me too much now,” he jests from behind the lack of visor that he had pushed up and out of the way. Even with the bulky metallic gold helmet, he’s so goddamn sexy it’s unbelievable.

“As long as you don’t miss me too bad either.”

“Eh, ‘ll try not t’ but it’ll be hard,” he echoes jokingly, squishing his lips to the side with a thought and suddenly they collapse into a pout. Then, he winks at me as he settles onto his bike. “See ya inn’a week, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry. Have a good weekend, and careful driving.”

“You too, bug, drive safe. ‘ll talk t’ ya soon, gotta get tha recipe fer that Kinky Blue drink from ya,” he tells me, the bike rumbling to life when he twists the key in the ignition.

“Bye,” I exhale, taking one last look at him before I turn around. I put one foot in front of the other and walk away from him, my least favorite thing to do of all things on this planet.

From behind my steering wheel a few cars down, I watch in awe as he slides on gloves before toeing away the kickstand and pulling out of the lot, looking more handsome than ever.

Just when I think he can’t surprise me, he does just that, and in the best way possible. Every time.

“Care to explain where you’ve been all night, missy?”

“It’s not even eleven, Mom,” I respond with a firmness trying in my voice, but I can’t muster it as I slide off my boots. No, there’s not really any reason in the world that I could be upset right now, or feign anything other than utter happiness.

“I know, I can read a clock, Ree. Hey, what’s that big smile for? I never got to hear how your interview went yesterday.”

“Oh yeah,” I realize aloud, the words falling automatically as I hang up my coat in the closet by our front door. Boy, is that a lot to unpack and rehash, and yet I look forward to relaying it all to her. That way, I get to relive all of it a little bit, and I don’t mind if I do. “Well, you were out all night partying too, so you can’t be mad at me.”

“You got me there, I’m guilty. Or can I say that yet, Ms. Lawyer?” Skye responds, a lightness showing in her words. After closing the door to the closet, I find the anxious eagerness waiting in her eyes, bringing elation to the front of my mind as I nod.

“I got the job yesterday,” I barely am able to say before she crossed the room, surrounding me in a hug. “Harry called me when I got home from work and told me the good news!”

“Oh my god, Ree, that’s so amazing! I’m so happy for you, holy shit!” she exclaims, amazing me at her strength when she squeezes me with her noodle arms. “Was he happy to see you?!”

“Yeah, I think so, and fuck he looked so good, Skye. He hugged me the first second he saw me.”

“Aww, that’s so bloody cute. So, when do you start?”

Pulling away, I look her in the eyes and revel in the happy celebration coating me in waves again.

“Monday the twenty-eighth, but I have orientation with him next Friday.”

“Oooo, lucky you!” she smiles, and I swear my happiness about the whole thing has only doubled since she stopped being angry at me for applying.

“And I may or may not have just went out for those belated dinner and drinks with him tonight,” I reveal slowly yet eagerly, watching more shock paint her face and her jaw drops.

“Ree, you basically went out on a date with him, that’s my girl!”

“Skye, it wasn’t a date!” I protest feebly, because once again any of the negative emotions have no chance at outshining the wonderful positive ones right this second. “It was just to celebrate my new job, and to make up for the dinner we never had this summer, and the drinks he wanted to get for my birthday which also didn’t happen.”

“Wait, what?!” she almost explodes, nearly all of the emotions under the sun covering her face, if only for a few seconds at a time. “I thought you didn’t talk to him on your birthday?”

“Well yeah, I didn’t besides that one text,” I answer, and then I slowly see the realization shine in her eyes.

“You opened his presents?!” she shouts, coming to grab my arms as I giggle with a nod.

“Yeah, after I got home and right before he called. Talk about a lot of happy tears yesterday.”

“No wonder you weren’t answering my calls, and I don’t blame you, you were a busy girl. Busy with Harry,” Skye notes aloud, the same sunny emotions showing in her words, but they die down as she nears her finish. “I told you he still cared about you.”

“I know, you were right all along, and it kills me that I ever believed he didn’t. He got me a mini purple piano keyboard, a journal to write songs in, the first season of FRIENDS, and wrote me the sweetest birthday card. Then, he called right after to tell me I got the job, and fuck, it all seems like a dream sometimes. But then I called him at work today to set up the orientation, and he had the idea to get together tonight, and it’s all like a dream come true,” I tell her softly, and slowly it all doesn’t seem so fake anymore, but instead it feels just like the dream I’ve always wanted my life to become.

“Girl, you are so lucky,” Skye comments, dragging me by the hand over to the sofa where we fall with a thud, heads resting on the back cushion. “Did you kiss him tonight? Because God, Ree, you are both so in love with each other, I dunno how you haven’t kissed him already.”

“I don’t know,” I muse aloud, staring at the ceiling, but really all I can see is him smiling at me at the bar. His hand on my back when I was coughing, bringing my hand into his when we said we missed the other, and all of those feelings sitting in his eyes that I’m sure he could’ve seen in mine as well. “I think I’ll wait until I get settled at the job, because starting a new job is always the worst part and overwhelming enough as it is.”

“If you say so, Boops, but I figure that’s not too bad of an idea.”

“Yeah, guess why?” I counter, turning my head to face her, finding strands of purple hair sticking out of her messy bun. She looks back at me, confusion etched into the lines in her forehead. “He’s my mentor for the next few years and I’m his mentee, so I get to work with him every day and all day.”

“Ree, you should’ve led with that! Holy shit, why didn’t you?” she exclaims, swatting my arm in disbelief as I dissolve into a happy laugh. “That’s amazing! You get to work with him and under him, it sounds like a pretty good deal,” she chuckles, her laughing lips falling into a please smile.

“I know, I really can’t believe the last two days sometimes. I hit the jackpot, the Harry jackpot,” I giggle happily, relaxing against the sofa, trying to remember his spicy vanilla scent. If I try hard enough, I can smell it when his hand covered my mouth in a joke, and the warmth of his touch the few times our hands met. It wasn’t nearly enough times, though. “I have to work with Myles my entire second week though, because he’ll be in Scotland to try the case I’m helping him prep for my first week.”

“That’s shitty,” she grimaces, crossing her arms over her chest clad in a fuzzy blue bathrobe. “Just ask him out when he gets back then, it’d be too annoying starting to date while he’s away. If you didn’t, I’m pretty sure you’d die from missing him, Ree.”

“Fuck, I already might, I’m dreading it,” I sigh sadly, not even wanting to think about how pathetic I already feel not looking forward to that week.

“I know you are, but don’t. You have so much more to look forward to just in the next few weeks, and maybe you can sneak your second and third date in there, and a kiss perhaps.”

“Oh my God, Skye, shut up,” I retort, but it’s soon consumed by my laughter as she pulls me into her arms and her chin rests on my head.

“I’m so blooming happy for you, Ree. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“So have I, Skye, so fucking long,” I recall aloud, trying not to let the melancholy find me as I lose myself thinking about how ungodly perfect he looked tonight. And how I get to see that handsome face five days a week for the near future; talk about lucky. Talk about a dreamboat finally lifting its sail.

The next few days seemed as if they took twice as long, and the mild headache I woke up to on Saturday morning didn’t help. Although relaxing, the day dragged on and soon it was Sunday, with another long week ahead of me. At least I had my orientation with Harry to look forward to that coming Friday, but I still wouldn’t start at his firm for another week after that. The anticipation was killing me, and so were the little moments Harry and I shared when I happened to remember them. Sometimes I wish the alcohol had stolen those memories away because they hurt too much to remember, but then at other times I’d never wish them away, because they give me something irreplaceable - hope.

One of the many things they don’t tell you about becoming an adult is how music makes everything all the more tolerable, and exciting. Air Hostess by Busted fills one of my ears as I pass the aisle for boxed pasta, pasta sauces, and the like. On an endcap, I grab a box of fettuccine that I toss into my cart. Lifting my eyes, my legs move again and come across a figure that walks right out in front of me. Our metal carts bang against the other’s as a warmth tickles my insides, and my lips.

“God, Styles, you’re an awful driver,” I remark with a tsk, removing the earbuds to stuff into my pocket.

“Oh, hey, Becks. ‘m sorry I didn’t see ya there,” he comments, turning his tired green eyes to mine. He messes with the gray knit beanie covering most of his messy locks, and it suddenly makes me hyper aware of my godawful just-fell-out-of-bed appearance.

“No duh you didn’t,” I snicker, kneading the plastic sheath on the cart’s push bar. “Wow, nice Sunday Best, I’m impressed,” I tease, running my eyes over the baggy gray sweats covering his legs and the cream Abbey Road crewneck on his torso.

“You as well, Ms. Power Rangers,” he quips, nodding his head at my outfit that compares very much to his with black cheetah sweats, a hoodie, and beanie. “Which one was yer favourite since there was neva a purple one when we were li’l?”

“I know, I felt so ripped off by that,” I sigh, following him as he takes off and turns into the next aisle. “But I always loved the red power ranger, I don’t really know why.”

“Hmmm, interestin’ seein’ how he was always tha one in charge. D’ya have a thing fer bossy men or sumthin’, Becks?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh, tapping his bum with the front of my cart, earning evil eyes from him over his shoulder. “Who was your favorite Power Ranger, then?” I say, turning the tables to him. He comes to a stop in front of me, straying from his empty cart to grab a few cans of corn and peas.

“Green, I think. Can’t really rememba why,” he shrugs, placing the cans in the cart, soon returning to another section of shelves to pluck a large can of crushed tomatoes from it. “Which season was yer fav’?”

“Time Force, for sure.”

“Oh c’mon, Dino Force was far betta,” he scoffs disbelievingly, giving me another dirty look as he sets down the large can in his cart, crossing off something on the piece of blue paper he holds.

“Maybe you should be friends with my brother, seeing how you like all of the same stuff. The green Power Ranger was his favourite, and so was Dino Force,” I laugh, comparing two different brands of green beans, deciding on the cheaper one that I grab. My legs pass his cart and when I see him shrug his shoulders with a sly grin, I softly swat him on the arm, his name leaving me.

“Becks, ya betta watch it,” he giggles, catching my arm in his gentle grasp.

“Or what?”

“Don’t test me,” he warns, but the grin creasing his cheeks tells me otherwise, he’s harmless. I bump my shoulder against his after he lets go, but not without a tickle from him.

“Harry Styles,” I groan, grabbing a can of tuna from the shelf. His grin is wider when I turn around, rolling my eyes at him on my way back to my cart.

“Rebecca Holte,” he whines in a mocking voice, once again shocking me with his recollection of my name.

“Don’t, it sounds weird when you say my name like that.”

“It really does tho’,” he remarks agreeingly, words falling into a hearty laugh. I almost echo it until I spot the look on his face. Following his eyes to the shelves, I find his stuck to a display of Spaghettios. Some have meatballs in them, hotdogs, the pasta are in different shapes, and some cans are bigger than others. I’m not sure which one he’s looking at, but the absence of anything on his face whisks that question away. “Alright?” I ask softly, taking a few steps towards him, and he wakes back up when my hand touches his arm.

“Y-Ya,” he hums sadly, letting my fingers come around his forearm, almost as if I’m about to hook arms with him. God, I wish. “‘s been a while since ‘ve seen these, and even longa since I ate ‘em. I always used t’ eat ‘em at me granddad’s house with a piece o’ buttered bread,” he explains, nodding towards the arrangement.

“Oh, Harry,” I exhale, sadness bending my features as I squeeze his arm. He musters a forced laugh, carrying his eyes over to mine with apology held in them. “It’s almost been a year, hasn’t it?”

“Ya, this week. I can’t believe it,” he remarks softly, kneading his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger of his free right hand. “Almost think I should grab a can fer him, but I dunno if ‘d like ‘em now. I don’t wanna ruin that memory.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to buy it. You could buy or do something else to remember him, Harry.”

He nods beside me as I look up at him and watch the thoughts paint his face. It seems his face goes through every emotion within a minute - sadness, regret, confusion, frustration, grief, etc.

“Maybe get something you both like.”

“Ya, he loved those fudge-striped cookies, maybe I can find some o’ those instead,” he decides, tearing his eyes away from the lines of cans to meet mine. “Thanks . . Boops,” he smiles, that simple image calming the worrying of my heart.

I laugh and walk away from him, returning to my cart that I begin to push, but I find Harry’s in my way. With a playful groan, my lips part, “Come on, Harold, move it so we can go to the cookie aisle.”

“Hey, that’s not me name,” he responds, wrapping his bare fingers around the handle, giving me another glare over his shoulder.

“Well, neither is Rebecca, so don’t call me that.”

“But it ‘s actually yer name. Yer confusin’, y’know that?” he tuts, shaking his head as he looks straight ahead, moving down the aisle. “Hey, how’d ya eva come t’ be called ‘Boops’, anyways? I rememba Skye would call ya that sometimes when ‘d come ova.”

“God, I can’t believe you remember that nickname,” I groan, receiving a light chuckle from him ahead of me. On purpose, I bump the front of my cart against his bum again as he waits for somebody to pass.

“Becks- I mean, Rebecca, stop,” Harry says, turning halfway to meet my giggling eyes. One sits in his greens as well, but he only lets it show as a curling of one side of his mouth. “Ya I rememba, that’s all she called you. I think she did it on purpose.”

“Probably, knowing Skye she did it to bug me or embarrass me,” I comment, taking a right down the big aisle in between all of the smaller ones. Rows upon rows of cookies come before our eyes soon, along with baking supplies like flour, sugar, and chocolate chips. Dang, the amount of chocolate in this aisle is unreal, and somehow comforting. “My dad started it when I was a baby, or so I’ve been told. He’d tap my nose with his finger and it always made me laugh, I guess, so it stuck.”

“Aww, that’s adorable. Does he still boop yer nose when he calls ya that?”

“Sometimes,” I laugh, leaving my cart on the side as I pull out my phone, bringing up my shopping list. “So what are you all buying today?”

“That’s cute, y’know, and jus’ stockin’ up on some stuff. ‘m makin’ a pot pie t’night, so needed stuff fer that - carrots, an onion, celery, pie dough, broth, chicken, y’know,” he answers, bending down to squat so he can pull a pack of fudge stripes from the shelf. “Ah, here they are. I can’t rememba tha last time I had these eitha, but ‘m excited t’ try ‘em again, and think of Granddad when I have ‘em with a glass o’ milk.”

“Good idea,” I agree, patting him on the back as I tote a sack of flour in my other arm.

He finds me with his eyes over his shoulder, and those to-die-for dimples make an appearance again as his lips open with a smile, “Thanks, Boops,” he grins, tapping my nose with his finger. I want to tell him how original he’s being with that response, or the lack thereof, but the butterflies taking flight in my stomach consume all the bravery I had. “What’re you buyin’, hmm?”

“Same, just necessities.”

“Looks like yer bakin’ or sumthin’ with all that flour,” he comments, nodding to it as I set it down amongst the other items.

“Well, I’m going to make brownies, so yeah it’s a necessity, but that’s nothing new.”

“Ah, so Becks has become a baker, has she now?” he inquires, filling his arms with items up and down the aisle, because of course he is. I nod, joining him by a box of premade mixes, watching as he debates over which brownie mix to buy.

“I literally just said two seconds ago that I’m making homemade brownies, and you’re buying a box mix of them! Homemade is always better!” I exclaim, then groan with a disapproving shake of my head. “Harold.”

“Boops,” he returns, a smile winding its way up his cheeks covered in a light layer of dark facial hair. Now, that’s new, and what’s not to like? “I don’t mess with bakin’, so yes, ‘m buyin’ a box o’ premade. Unless ya’d like t’ make me some?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows at me with an idea forming inside of my head.

“Maybe if you stop calling me Boops and Rebecca, I will one time.”

“Noted,” he responds, winking at me as he replaces the box on the shelf.

“Good boy.”

He continues to smile at me, and quickly I remember what it’s like to stare into this sunlight, and how it’s not so bad sometimes. It’s quite wonderful, actually. The buzzing inside of my chest grows when his finger nears my face again, and then brushes under my eye.

“I like seein’ yer birthmark when ya don’t cover it up, ‘s pretty, Becks,” he hums, tracing his thumb over it, tickling my skin. A small ‘thanks’ drops from my lips at his words, and the buzzing only intensifies as he stares back at me. In that moment, I swear I could do it and I almost try to until he turns away. I attempt to find comfort in assuring myself that I don’t want our theoretical first kiss to be in the middle of the supermarket, lest anybody join us in this aisle. “I think that’s all I needed t’day.”

Thoughts are building into words on my tongue until the ringing of my phone interrupts my plans. This is definitely not all that I needed today, per say. Lifting it towards my face, I see my dad’s smiling face waiting for me, reminding me I haven’t spoken to him in days amidst everything going on. He’s already called a few times and I wasn’t able to answer, and he’s probably starting to grow concerned. I also really need to tell him about the new job. He’ll be so happy, and I can only imagine the suggestive things he’ll say about Harry. Oh boy.

“I should take this,” I announce, bringing my eyes back to his. He nods as he arrives back in front of his cart. “It was nice to see you and only one of you,” I snicker, alluding to the far too many drinks we consumed the other night.

“You too, Becks, it was nice runnin’ into ya. ‘ll try not t’ crash carts with ya tha next time,” he returns with a warm smile, coming towards me as he pushes his cart. The next time? Can you please not tease me like this, Harry? I want all of the grocery shopping trips with you, even if they’re only like this where I can’t have my arm hooked through yours. Maybe one time we’ll only need one cart, just maybe. He lifts an arm and squeezes mine on his way down the aisle. “Take care, bug, ‘ll see ya Friday.”

“Bye, Harry. Careful driving that thing!” I call out, and this time he doesn’t give me a dirty look when he looks back at me. Instead, he sends me that blinding smile of his I love so damn much. “And, I’ll be thinking of you this week, I know it’ll be a hard one.”

“Thanks, bug, I appreciate it,” he returns, winking at me before turning back around and rounding the corner, just as I press Accept on my phone.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, waiting to hear my dad’s comforting voice.

“Hey, Boops. How’s my favourite girl?” he asks, the warmth in his voice providing me with happiness, and stealing it away at the same time. God, I miss him sometimes, I realize inside my thoughts. As I still stare down the aisle, I miss another man too.

It seems I’m always missing these two every second of every day, and one of Harry’s hugs that I wish I’d stolen a few seconds ago.

As the numbers climb in front of my eyes, the last few days flash before them. Somehow, I’m amazed when the number seventeen appears before my eyes in a bright red font. The last week has dragged on at times, thoughts of Harry and standing in this very lift occupying my every thought. Checking my watch, I’m glad to see I’m early, just like I had planned.

The gunmetal doors part in front of me and I’m rewarded with the sight of Seventeen in all of its glory. The buzzing returns in my chest, and so do the multitudes of butterflies in my gut as I look around. It does and doesn’t look the same as before, but it smells the same, and in some ways it sounds the same. The Cubiclers are gone and now more offices line the walls, and a certain somebody sits inside of one this very instant. The very same person I get to spend the entire day with, and it’s the first of oh so many. I take a long look around, admiring the gleaming tiled floors and the dark wooden walls, a new cream chandelier or two dotting the ceiling. God, that remodel must not have been cheap, I think silently, and soon wonder if a certain somebody’s father in construction had anything to do with it.

I almost expect to see him round one of the corners of the large floor dedicated to the firm, but I don’t, and I’m unsure of how I feel about it. It’s all washed away when I find the door I’ve been looking for, and it’s open.

“Hey, stranger,” I announce, leaning against the door frame with a cheeky grin plastered across my face. “Look at you with the fancy new office all to yourself.”

Their tousled head of sandy hair lifts from their computer screen, and I watch his eyes change almost entirely. My name falls from his lips as he stands up and crosses the room to me, enveloping me in a hug.

“What are you doing here? Does Harry know you’re here?”

“Yeah, he knows,” I smile against Asher’s shoulder, pulling away after a moment of being surrounded by his crisp cologne. “I work with him uh soon - I got the associate job, and he’s my mentor.”

Again, the look on his face changes in a blink, and astonishment paints him in stripes. A nervous laugh falls from his lips as he grips my shoulders and clucks his tongue in disbelief.

“You’re always good with the surprises, aren’t you?” Asher replies and I nod, waiting for him to say more. “Becky, t-this is what you want?”

“Yeah, it’s what I want. He’s already been so kind to me, and we’ve been talking a lot. He picked me over everybody else, Ash!” I respond, watching the words register with him as he nods the slightest. “I’m not going to let him get away this time.”

“As long as you’re happy, and he’s good to you,” he insists, pointing a stern finger at me dotted with shiny blonde hairs.

“Yes, he’s already being good to me, Ash. We went out for dinner and drinks that we meant to do this summer, and things are already looking up.”

“Good, good. That’s already progress, Becky,” he hums, and I mumble a brief agreement. “But still, what are you doing here now?”

“Oh, I have my orientation with him today, but I don’t start officially until the twenty-eighth, after I finish my job at the courts,” I reply, and he nods a little harder this time, biting on his thumb.

“I see, it’s all making some sense now, thank God. So, when are you going to ask him on a date?”

“Ash!” I exclaim, following him further into his plain looking office where he sits on the corner of his desk. He crosses his arms over the ochre button down showing a white t-shirt underneath. “It’s not even my first day of work yet!”

“So? You’re wasting precious time!” he argues, his loud chuckle soon stealing away his words. I groan as my eyes roll into the back of my head, soon pushing up the sleeve of my dark violet blazer to find my brown leather watch.

“Yeah, sitting here arguing with you,” I giggle, returning my eyes to his summer blues.

“No, you’re right, because you could be talking to him right now. You know, flirting with him and asking him on a date.”

“Ash, stop!” I laugh, turning to walk away, but I stop when I reach his door. “I like the new office by the way, I’m happy they finally made you head of I.T. I’m really happy for you,” I say softly pointing to the words on his door, hanging onto the handle as he meets my eyes softly.

“Thanks, Becky, I appreciate it. It was about time Bitchie Trishie retired anyways, fuck was she old.”

“Ditto,” I smile and he returns it right away. “I’m really happy to be back.”

“I’m happy you are too, and I’m sure Harry is as well. You should get going, you don’t want to make a bad uh, second impression,” he notes, shooing me away with his hand.

We say our goodbyes and I return to the hallway, straightening my unbuttoned blazer over my long slacks the same color for probably the twentieth time this morning. What feels like for the fiftieth time, I smooth down the chiffon black blouse tucked in underneath, hoping I ironed out every single wrinkle. Skye’s words from his morning when we said goodbye come back to me with a warm smile.

“Ree, if he doesn’t realize what he’s been missing the second he sees you in that outfit, I’m going to be very disappointed in him,” she mused, shaking her head with pursed lips and arms crossed over her chest as I laughed nervously.

My black pumps echo with every step I take on the immaculate floors, soon finding Amelia at the front desk who I wave at, not bothering to check in again. Asher’s comment and its ambiguity comes to mind as I take a right through the lobby. What did he mean that he’s sure Harry is happy I’m back, too? Since when do Asher and Harry talk, or when have they ever spoken to each other with more than three words? Does he know something that I don’t know?

I don’t get another second to think about it, because soon I turn down the hallway. His hallway. The nerves of anticipation and excitement come over me as a smile grows hastily on my lips. I’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than I think I know, probably months, or even years. It’s hard to believe that the last time I was in his office, it was two years ago. The thought appears with a sting when I remember the last time I was in his office, because of him walking in on Amber well, assaulting me. A moment that I ended when I walked away from him, and here I am walking back to him, and I couldn’t be happier.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

I see his door first, and how it’s ajar, letting a section of his office peek through. Then, I hear the Paul McCartney song escaping from his office, followed by his humming. The humming doesn’t match the song oddly enough, but it transports me back to the hospital in Madley when I was wrapped in his arms. It’s the same song he was humming then that I still can’t figure out. God, those kinds of things bug me.

I see him first, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that, because I get a few extra seconds to admire him. It allows me to remember the way he absently twirls a piece of hair around his finger when he’s lost in a thought, how he always crosses his legs at the ankles under his desk bobbing a foot to the music, and just how incredible he always manages to look in a suit. A pastel teal number hugs his trim body with a cream button up underneath, giving me a peek at his thick chest hair underneath. Oh, I could just eat him up. If only.

Swallowing, I take the time for a silent deep breath before rapping my knuckle against the cold glass of his door with nervous lips, “Good morning, boss.”

His head flies up and I think I’ve scared him almost, but the happiness that consumes his face is instantaneous and contagious as ever. It spreads across his flushed skin until my favorite little things about his smile appear before my eyes, making this all the more real. The perfect little curls falling over his forehead make it all the worse, and the better.

“Mornin’. Are ya ready t’ get started, Ms. Holte?”

“Yes, I’ve never been more ready,” I reply, the anxiousness abating as he stands from his chair.

“Great, then let’s get started with yer official orientation as a lawyer fer Styles and Lawson,” he announces, firmness playing in his words until they end with sunshine dancing across them, his footsteps finding their way to me. “Y’know, ‘ve been waitin’ a long time fer this day, Becks, too long.”

Me too, Harry. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever for this new beginning.

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years ago

Text

The Light in my Darkness - 23

Pairing: None at the moment

Warning: Still sad. Short chapter is short.

A/N: We’ve only got like 2 maybe three chapters left. It depends on how wordy the next chapter gets. The end is nigh.

***

The days that followed were filled with tears and work. So much work. You’d already completed your final projects for your classes and once your professors discovered you had a show at the 107, they were more than willing to release you from attending the last two weeks of the semester.

Your time was split between your studio and the gallery. Steve had already covered the windows so the two of you could start hanging and rearranging your work. Meanwhile you were still working on some last minute pieces which you would occasionally show up to the gallery with.

The opening was now a mere two days away and everything was in place. Steve and you had retired to his office after once last look around. He poured you a drink and handed it to you before taking a seat behind his desk.

“How are you?” he asked.

You frowned at the drink in you hand and shrugged. “Everything looks good. I’m a little nervous but I know I put forward my best. I—”

“I’m not talking about the show, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Steve had very tactfully not mentioned Clint once since Thanksgiving. You had been hoping he’d continue in that vein until roughly the end of time.

“I left you alone because I could see you using your work to process things, but the show’s ready. Your work is done. So how are you doing?” He tilted his head as he looked you over.

You sighed and leaned back in your seat. “He left me because I loved him too much even though I’m pretty sure he loved me too. He’s fucked up and aggravating and I miss him.” You gulped down the contents of your glass and sat it on the desk. “And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. He’s your friend.”

Steve gave a little shrug. “So are you. Besides, I like to think I’m a good enough friend I can tell Barton when he’s making a colossal mistake.”

That earned him a soft smile. “Thanks, Steve. I mean that.”

He nodded. “Go home, Y/N. Get some rest. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you Friday.”

***

“Busy,” Clint barked at the knock on his office door, expecting to be left alone after that.

The door opened and Natasha poked her head in with an arched brow and a frown. “Really?”

He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk. “I told Wade I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“Good for you. I don’t give a shit.” She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. He ignored her as she took one of the seats in front of his desk. He let the silence stretch. He had no desire for conversation. “Why are you being a dick?”

He glanced up at that. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “You heard me. No one wants to come anywhere near you. I’ve got messages from clients and employees alike wondering what the hell is going on and I have no idea what to tell them.”

“I don’t answer to them. Or you.”

“What about Wanda? Do you answer to her because she’s as tired of it as the rest of us?”

He tossed his pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair. “She called you?”

Nat made a sound of agreement.

Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better.”

“It seems to me that this wouldn’t be an issue if you just kept her. She was good for you.” She looked at her nails, purposely ignoring his eyes on her.

“You know why, Nat. It wouldn’t last. It never does.” He clenched his teeth in irritation with his best friend. He’d told her more than anyone. She should understand without making him talk about it.

“And this is based on your vast experience with healthy relationships?”

“All right, I get it. You think I should have stayed with her.” He just wanted this conversation to be over. He spent enough time thinking about Y/N without Nat bringing you up.

“I do, but that’s not the point.” She straightened in her seat, then leaned toward him. “Why is it that you insist in punishing yourself? Nothing that happened with Laura was your fault. She was a conniving bitch who thankfully represents a small minority of the women out there. Why do you keep letting her dictate your happiness?”

“It’s not about her. Not really.” He turned his chair so his back was to her as he looked out the window. “When I found out about everything…well, you know how I was. Peter and I were supposed to go camping for a week. Try out some prototypes. I canceled on him. He was a little disappointed but he didn’t mind. We rescheduled for another week.”

Clint cleared his throat. “But he knew the prototypes were important and needed to be tested so he decided to go up without me. He was old enough and the site was already reserved. He left me a note. I didn’t find it until after the accident. Until he…”

“Clint.” Her voice was soft and full of pain.

He shook his head. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. “I promised myself then that I would never allow myself to be broken like that again. I had to be there for Wanda.”

“Bullshit.”

He turned to face her. “What?”

“I mean, that was very touching and all, but it’s an excuse.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He’d never told anyone what he’d just admitted to her and this was her response?

“I’m going to be honest. When you lost Peter so soon after what happened with Laura, I was worried. Really worried. I couldn’t see how you were going to pull yourself out of it. But you did it. And you raised a kickass kid in the process, but she’s an adult now, Clint. You can’t keep using her as a reason to not take the chance.”

Nat got to her feet and headed to the door. She paused with her hand on the handle. “If anyone is worth the chance it’s Y/N, and you know it.” With that she was gone.

He buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t wrong about this. Was he?

***

You sorted through the mail as you walked up to your apartment, frowning as you came across an envelope from a law firm. Odinsons Attorneys at Law. Why did that sound familiar?

Once you were in your apartment and had put your things away, you sat in a chair and opened the envelope. You unfolded the single sheet inside and quickly skimmed the letter. You sucked in a breath as you realized what this was. After taking a minute to calm yourself, you went back to the beginning and read it again. This time you went slowly making certain you understood what you were being told.

Without really thinking about it, you pulled out your phone and called Wanda. “Did you know about this?” you asked before she’d even finished saying hello.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Y/N. I know about a lot of things and not so much about others.”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “I got a letter from Clint’s lawyer.”

“What?”

You hummed. “The apartment is mine as long as I am in school. He’s also paying my tuition and having a monthly allowance placed into an account in my name. I’m supposed to make an appointment to meet with them and fill out some paperwork.”

“Holy shit, Y/N. He really does love you.”

Your heart twinged with a jolt of hope you quickly shut down. “Or he feels guilty because I’m your best friend.”

“Guilt is an apartment with his daughter and tuition. Your own place and a monthly allowance is pure love.”

You shook your head, amused at her insistence. “You know I can’t accept this, right?”

“The hell you can’t.”

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging me to take your dad’s money.”

“Oh, sweetheart, take it all. Maybe he’ll come to his senses when he’s broke.”

#clint barton x reader #hawkeye x reader #jeremy renner x reader #avengers fanfiction #clint barton fanfiction #series #the light in my darkness #sugar daddy au

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readbeneaththelines · 5 years ago

Text

Just The Person I Need

Kwon JiYong is a Multi Million Dollar business man thrown into parenthood when his brother and sister-in-law die in an accident. leaving A son and daughter behind. Y/N is a nanny that loves what she does. What happens when their lives become intertwined? Will she be Just The Person He Needs?

Characters: Business Man!Kwon JiYong X Nanyy!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut somewhere along the way

Word Count: 1361

cr. to gif owner

He sat at the large conference room table, his lawyer Ko Simon, on his right. Across from them were two small children and another lawyer.

“Mr. Kwon, as stated in your brother’s will, his children’s care will be transferred to you. Mina and S have been informed of the adoption process and they are aware of everything involved to complete the adoption. Are there any questions or requested revisions from you or Mr. Ko?”

Kwon JiYong straightened himself in the overstuffed office chair, leaned over to his lawyer, then nodded in agreement. He grabbed a gold and Mother-of-Pearl encrusted pen from the breast pocket of his pin-striped suit blazer. Reaching for the stack of papers, he looked up at the man across from him.

“Where do I sign? Also, when can they move in with me permanently?”

His gaze moved between the two children before him. Mi-Sun was his niece aged six and Se-Jun was his nephew aged eight. His brother Dae-han and Sister-in-Law Eun-ji, were killed in a car accident two months ago. Their children have been living with JiYong since that fateful evening. He loved these kids as if they were his own. When his brother was still alive, they would get together twice a week. Mi-sun and Se-jun would spend a weekend each month at his estate. He was anxious to finalize the adoption and work on getting both of them settled, hopefully making the process as smooth as possible.

“Once the papers are filed, they will officially be yours. Since they are already living with you, I believe this should not change. Anything we can do to not cause undue stress would be in their best interest.”

Smiling at them, JiYong nodded in agreement. He wanted to do everything he could to make things as easy as possible on his niece and nephew. His own heart was broken at the loss of his brother, he couldn’t begin to imagine how they were feeling. He spent many night over the past two months, comforting a crying child as they woke up from a nightmare, talked about their parents, or saw anything that reminded them of ‘mommy and daddy’. He didn’t mind, of course, since they were a huge part of his life. Adopting them only seemed like the next natural course of action to take.

After signing the packet, he rose from his seat and walked around the large table, coming to kneel between the two childrens’ chairs. Resting a hand on each child’s shoulder, he smiled broadly at both of them. The kind of smile that reached both ears, a genuine smile.

“Okay you two, are you ready to head out and grab some lunch? You two have been so patient and I know you’re both hungry. How about we swing by the Bar-B-Que place near my work and grab some food?”

They nodded emphatically at the suggestion. Mi-sun reached for JiYong’s neck, wrapping her small arms securely around it as he stood up. Grabbing Se-jun’s hand, he hoisted his niece onto his hip. Together, the three of them thanked both lawyers and headed towards the heavy doors of the conference room. It really was a funny sight if you were a bystander. A young business mogul, dressed to the hilt in the most expensive suits, and two young kids clinging to him for what seemed like dear life.

Kwon JiYoong never saw himself as a father, never thinking that he would settle down long enough from work to start a family. His brother’s death hurdled him quickly into that role, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. He would always want what was best for both of them, the best schools, the best clothes, the best of everything he could offer. Not to spoil them per se, but to provide them with some semblance of a calm and relaxed life after what they had experienced.

Mi-sun had somehow inched her way into a piggy-back ride, while Se-jun dangled from JiYong’s left forearm. Setting them both down, they walked hand-in hand through the Bar-B-Que diner’s threshold. The owner’s wife, Mrs. Kim, greeted them with a toothy grin. She had known JiYong and Dae-han since they were babies. He still made time once a month to visit the elderly couple, even occasionally rolling up the sleeves of his Armani shirts to help clean tables at closing. Ji-yong would never forget where he came from, the hardships he and his brother faced growing up, and he would never let those two kids forget their past while helping them face their future.

“So, you two, what’s on the agenda for today? Wanna go shopping for some things to go in your rooms, or do you just want to hang around the estate and play outside?”

“What’s an adgedna, Uncle Ji?” Mi-sun’s small voice asked.

“Agenda, Mi. It means plans for the day. Everything you want to do, you write it down on paper so you won’t forget.” he told her as he tousled her long hair. Her smile warmed his heart as she thought about what she wanted to do.

“I want to look at some gaming systems, if that’s okay Uncle Ji. I might want to look for a new bed too. I mean, I really like the one in my room now, but it is just so big!”, Se-jun spread his arms wide, as he spoke of the California King bed he was sleeping on.

“Okay then, after we eat, we will go shopping for beds, games, and princess clothes, right Mi? Then we can go home and get your rooms ready for everything. I want you both to know that I am really excited and very happy that you are going to officially be mine. I hope you both feel the same way.”

“Of course Unca Ji, I’m very excited about it!” Mi-sun squealed as she hugged him. Se-jun wrapped his arms around JiYong’s neck and squeezed tight. He didn’t talk very much since losing his parents, and JiYong wanted to give him space to open up on his own.

After lunch, they drove to Lotte World Tower and Mall to begin the long day of shopping. Mi-sun picked out a pale pink canopy bed, with matching dresser and nightstand for her room. She chose a brightly colored rug and chair that would complete the “princess” theme in her room. Se-jun opted for various shades of blues and greens for his bedroom suite. Opting for the newest gaming system and a few games, he finished his shopping rather quickly. JiYong ordered everything to be delivered by the next morning and swiped his credit card, not even paying attention to the exorbitant total.

On the drive home, Mi-sun fell asleep while Se-jun played a game on his Uncle’s phone. Pulling up in front of a large castle-style house, he parked near the front steps. He lifted his niece from her booster seat and carried her tenderly to the couch, laying her on top of a white down-feather blanket. Wrapping the edge snuggly around her, he walked his nephew upstairs to his room.

“Okay Se, hand over the phone, I need to make some calls to work. Miss Hyun-mi will call you down for dinner, okay?” He held his hand out, waiting for his phone as Se-jun finished the game he was playing.

“Thanks for everything today Uncle Ji. I am pretty happy that we get to stay with you forever.”, Se-jun spoke as he hugged his Uncle waist tightly. Ji-yong could feel his nephew’s breathing changed as he began to cry.

“Hey there. I am really excited too. I really am. Thank you for being happy about this. I was worried that you both might be a little unsure, so thank you for telling me.” He hugged his nephew tight then patted the top of his head before he turned to walk downstairs. As he descended the steps, he heard the young boy playing, a smile stretching across his face.

Stopping to let the staff know they had returned, he made his way towards his home office. Well, to describe his office as just an office would do it injustice. It was bigger than most single family homes. It stretched over half the expanse of the main mansion’s first floor. There was a conference room and main office along with an assistant’s office. The south wall was floor to ceiling glass that looked out over a boat dock and vast lake. The scenery was breathtaking, and JiYongmade sure his desk was facing the large windows. This was his own fortress of solitude. A place where he can be himself and get away from all the madness of the outside world. Here he could let his guard down, return to the peace that he found being alone at times. He loved those two kids, but sometimes, just sometimes, he needed to get lost in his own world. Here was where he could do that. Sitting down at his desk, he checked his messages from the day. His assistant called, reminding him that he was to be at a meeting first thing in the morning. The next message was one of his partners, informing him that one of the companies that they oversaw had seen a decrease in profits over the last quarter and he wanted to get his input as to what the next step was. After an hour, he had checked all his messages and returned calls that needed to be followed up on. Leaning back in his chair, he ran his hands down his face. He didn’t know how he was going to manage two kids, a multimillion dollar company, and keep his sanity. All he knew was he had to find a way, and quick.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi@trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@kingsuckjin

#kwon jiyong fic #kwon jiyong #jiyong x reader #jiyong fluff #jiyong smut #jiyong angst

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bluehhj · 5 years ago

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listen to me — chapter 48

LISTEN TO ME — 0048

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 3.1K

a/n: first of all, hi, guys! before reading, I want to explain a few things: I stayed for like two (?) months on hiatus cause, well, I was busy dealing with the university, and at the same time, the news about woojin broke me and I found better to be on hiatus for a while to be able to organize myself better. and now, everything is fine, everything is solved and I'm back! and I want to make something very clear: woojin will still be present in "ltm", I won’t simply dispatch him from the story, cause yeah, he’s an important part of it, and besides that, forever, skz will be 9 or none and I’ll never leave him out, ok? anyway, let's finally get to the chapter. see you there at the end! <3

Yoorim could gather various events she wasn't proud of in her life and list them in alphabetical and chronological order, from her little candy theft at her grandmother's house to her low college grades, but nothing compared to being judged as a murderer and, not enough, to receive an arrest warrant.

Feelings of injustice, indignation and despair continually mingled and solidified into a heavy ball that sank like an anchor tied to her ankle. Fear turned to liquid and trickled into her eyes before she could even realize it and, suddenly, Yoorim was holding Woojin's arms in a clear sign of urgency.

"I didn't do that! Believe me, please!" she begged. She needed to hold on to something to keep herself from sinking deeper and deeper, and fortunately found her foothold when Kim returned the grip on her skin with an affectionate look.

"I know you didn't."

Woojin had no evidence to validate his certainty, on the contrary. There were a dozen reports below his eyes that evidenced the possible explicit lie in Yoorim's words, but he knew his friend and trusted her for too long to believe a simple handful of paper coming from Hwang Yeji.

"Take it easy, girl" Woojin stepped forward, letting Yoorim be protected behind his body. Hospital staff were already crowding around, curious, and Kim noticed Jade, Hyunjin and Changbin's arrival shortly after saying the next sentence. "It's one thing for you to tease Yoorim about your fraternal jealousy, it's another thing to make up such nonsense just to get revenge on her."

Quickly and with no idea what the hell was going on, but aware that the good thing shouldn't be, Hyunjin wrapped his hand around Yoorim and pulled her into a hug as he realized she wasn't well. Then he glanced at the handcuffs in his sister's hands, the papers Woojin now held, and the memory of seeing a police car when he left the car in the hospital parking lot.

And before Hyunjin asked what it was all about, Yoorim squeezed the hem of his coat and explained without much calm: "She wants to take me to jail because she thinks I sabotaged Jisung's car!"

Hyunjin's eyebrows immediately drew together and he turned to his sister, as if he'd just heard the stupidest thing in his life. "Are you drunk?"

Since she was killing Woojin with her gaze, processing what he had said last, Yeji didn't respond at first. She, then, shortened the distance between them and practically growled near the other's face: "Don't say what you don't know."

"Otherwise what?" although there was a revolver attached to her waist, Woojin wasn't intimidated. Even a cynical smile he opened. "Are you going to make up a story and arrest me too?"

"I don't have to invent anything, I just do my job" it was obvious that Yeji wanted to make him regret bitterly for each word, but she forced herself to maintain her decency so as not to create problems that might compromise her later. "Come on, Yoorim, I don't have all the time in the world."

"She's not going anywhere," Hyunjin intervened, squeezing Heo even more tightly against his body, so much so that the anchor rose slightly and the girl felt she could find firm ground again while in that embrace. "I don't care if these reports are fake or true, because just as the idiot, whoever he is, fooled everyone into sabotaging the car, he may have also managed to get these fingerprints there. Of course, if we don't consider the possibility that you were planning it all to harm Yoorim."

Yeji's gaze went from furious to something bordering on the wounded. She remained silent for the next few seconds, until she shook her head and smiled incredulously. "Do you really believe I would do that?"

"I do" Hyunjin was firm in his response which elicited a silent ardor in Yeji's chest. He felt it too, but, by then, he could no longer believe that his sister could facilitate anything about Yoorim and him.

"It would be so much easier if you just accepted the facts..." she hid her disappointment behind a bored tone of voice. "But no, let's do it the hard way."

"There are no facts."

"That's what you want to believe, but the small, almost nonexistent rational part of your brain knows they're right in front of you."

The anger in Hyunjin's eyes as he again looked at the evidence that the fingerprints really belonged to Yoorim could be spotted several miles away. Faced with his absence of words, Yeji resumed the dialogue.

"Your girlfriend won't get rid of the police station or the jail. You better convince her to come with me or I swear it's going to be worse, and you know very well I'm not kidding."

Hyunjin felt Yoorim tighten his coat again and turned his face to look at her closely. It hurt to see his girl so confused and scared and to be able to do nothing to get her permanently and immediately out of that situation that she, undoubtedly, didn't deserve to go through. On the other hand, Hyunjin couldn't break the agreement made about two years ago, when he promised Yoorim that he would always be by her side to protect her and not let anyone hurt her; so, he would keep fighting for her, if only for that he had to move rivers and mountains.

"Not without a lawyer."

Yeji rolled her eyes, impatiently. "We don't have time to get a lawyer now."

"Yes, we do. Hyoyeon won't be long in coming."

"Oh, and do you really think she's going to defend the girl who tried to kill her son?"

"Fucking grumpy girl!" Woojin freaked out, tugging at his own hair. "You're trusting this fucking report so much that you still don't realize that no one here is putting faith in it!"

Yoorim searched for the faces of Changbin and Jade, who had remained silent until then. When their eyes met, she felt even safer, for the couple didn't seem to distrust or judge her in any way, and her assumption gained full truth when the American finally spoke up for both of them: "There must be some mistake. Yoorim wouldn't do it."

Yeji bit her tongue, almost — and again — unable to stop herself from uttering anything that would compromise her as a professional. Still, she bubbled inside. She knew that her brother and his associates were not the best people there, but at least she thought they were smarter and less ignorant.

"My other purpose here is to talk to Han Jisung," she decided to change the subject before she sent her common sense to the air. Her fingers gathered the paperwork from Woojin's hands just before her eyes fell back on her brother. "I hope your lawyer will arrive in the meantime and you'll be able to convince her to come to your side, because, otherwise, I won't wait a second longer."

"He's recovering" Changbin objected. "It will do no good to burden him with all this now."

"It's not you giving the orders here," said that, she didn't wait for an answer and left the waiting room.

Woojin started to laugh, but nervously. His left eye twitched, as if he were having a tick. "This girl is pissing me off..."

"This girl has pissed me off," Hyunjin corrected. Yoorim could feel her boyfriend's body tense, from his marked jaw to the way he was pressing his feet to the floor. No less determined, Hyunjin undid the hug and grabbed Yoorim's hand to pull her in the same direction that Yeji followed; soon they were back in Jisung's room, who was staring at the policewoman with a question mark instead of his face.

"I don't know why your friends haven't told you yet, but I think it's high time you knew that your accident was actually a near perfect cri-..." Yeji was interrupted when Hyunjin shoved her shoulder.

"Shut up!" he scolded.

"You shut up!" she turned to him, finally annoyed. "And let me do my job!"

"This is not a job, this is a frame!"

"Look, I don't mess the things you do, so don't mess with mine either!"

The discussion became heated, typical of siblings who can't stand each other, and Jisung, who was more lost than onion in fruit salad, sought Yoorim's gaze and questioned her silently, but the girl had tears left on her cheeks and her emotional was too shaken to respond, which made Han even more worried.

"I told my mom to drop you in that dumpster, I told her so!"

"Guys, what is that?!" Hyoyeon widened her eyes as soon as she entered the room. She fortunately managed to put the discussion aside when Yeji seemed about to pull her revolver. "Someone will be here soon and kick us out! Calm down, please!"

It was said and done, as Jeongin, the doctor in charge of Jisung, joined the quintet when the altered voices reached the corridor. The last noise to be heard in the room was the sound of the door being closed by the boy, who gained the collective attention only with his presence, without even saying anything.

"You guys are bothering my patient," the rebuke, therefore, could be said in a mild intonation.

"See what you did?" Yeji hissed at Hyunjin.

"See what you did," he returned and didn't let go of Yoorim's hand even as he pulled out a chair and sat beside Jisung's bed, who was looking inquisitively at him. Hyunjin took a deep breath, resuming his calm, and took on the task of explaining the reality of the situation to his friend. "I hate to admit she's right, but the accident wasn't just a fatality, Sung. After Jinah and you came to the hospital, the police investigated what's left of the car and found that there was sabotage all over it, probably while you both were at your aunt's house. "

Hyunjin paused for Jisung to assimilate the weight of each piece of information, but, unlike what he imagined, Han wasn't surprised or scared.

Jisung wasn't stupid. He had spent too much time alone not to have rewound the tape hundreds of times and heeded the details of the latest events, and it was obvious that the suspicion about the car's sudden defects had planted a number of assumptions in his mind.

"The bastard..." he muttered to himself, breaking his "vow" of silence almost without realizing it. His hand fisted as anger surged up and down with the force of an avalanche. "Of course, sooner or later this idiot would be able to do something..."

"So you already suspected Yoorim?" Yeji broke in, and Jisung's angry and equally confused eyes caught hers instantly. It can be said that the two of them never had one of the best relations either.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's thinking I sabotaged you car," Yoorim explained, sitting on one of Hyunjin's thighs. She couldn't even say for sure when she got there, but it was reassuring to receive that affection on her back. "But I swear I don't know how my fingerprint went there. I was with Woojin and Changbin a little early, I just went home because I had a headache. I also have no idea where your aunt lives and, even if I knew, I have no reason to do such a horrible thing, especially with you, oppa. Jinah eonnie is also very important to me, it doesn't make any sense!"

Hyunjin left a kiss on Yoorim's cheek as she sniffed after her explanation was over. Yeji, as usual, felt the urge to vomit and wished her eyes would instantly burn.

"For an innocent, you feel so much on the skin, girl."

"You would also feel if you were accused of trying to kill your own friends while the only thing you have been doing is worrying and hoping they will recover soon," Yoorim retorted. "But of course you don't know what it is. You're too selfish to separate your personal life from your work and put yourself in other people's shoes."

"I'm not mixing anything, the digital is yours and that's it!" Yeji spread her hands on her thighs, frustrated. "And you wanna know something ?!" by now she was too annoyed at everyone's delay and distrust about something that she thought was so simple and clear. Besides, Yeji hated Yoorim. That alone was enough to make her blood boil. "It wouldn't surprise me if you were trying to kill your friends. After all, it wouldn't be the first time you killed anyone."

"Yeji!" Hyunjin cried out, but Yoorim's wound was already exposed and now bleeding again.

"I didn't kill anyone!" she just didn't get up and move toward Yeji because Hyunjin used both arms to keep her still in place.

"That's what you say to try to convince yourself otherwise, but even your dad can't look you in the eyes."

"Yeji, shut the fuck up!" Hyunjin intervened again. "This is not the subject now!"

"It wasn't my fault" Yoorim sobbed as tears began to flow down her cheeks once again. She didn't know how Yeji could fell so much pleasure in resuming that same conversation whenever the opportunity arose, but it was a fact that Heo couldn't just ignore it, because, even though years had passed, it hurt like it was recent. "I didn't ask to be born."

"You may not have asked for it, but you were born, destroyed your family and, as if that were not enough, destroyed mine too when you decided to approach my brother. That's all you can do, isn't it? Destroy everything you touch!"

"Enough!" Jeongin got tired of being patient. "I'll remind you guys that this is a hospital and things like that are solved elsewhere!" he turned to the policewoman then. "If you're done, I ask you to leave."

Yeji watched Yoorim's copious cry, who had her face buried in Hyunjin's neck as the boy hugged her tightly and whispered things she couldn't understand. Inevitably she felt guilty; not for her last sentences, but for losing control and, as Yoorim herself pointed out, mixing her personal life with her work for a moment that shouldn't have happened at all.

"I'm done," she replied, then, ashamed of herself. "Let's go to the police station, now."

"It wasn't her" after carefully examining the reports that came to his hands in the confusion, Jisung's firm voice was heard. "The funny thing is, I hit my head and you guys stop thinking."

"What do you mean, dear?" Hyoyeon, who at first didn't find it wise to take sides in the situation, approached the bed.

"Yoorim's father's store name is engraved on that ringlet," he pointed to the picture that clearly supported his statement. "And Yoorim works there, it's obvious that she touched it at some point."

"The ladder guy!" Woojin exclaimed and opened the door suddenly. No one, not even Jeongin, was surprised that he had been listening to the conversation for a long time. "Yoorim, didn't you say you sold a lot of strange stuff to a strange guy, and right on the day of the accident?! I said this damn stairwell would give you bad luck!"

Lost, Yoorim blinked and searched on her mind for the event Woojin was referring to, and it was with a snap that the plug finally fell. "He was wearing gloves..."

"Did you see his face?" asked Jisung, no less furious than before, though it was a contained hatred.

"No, because he was also wearing a mask, sunglasses, cap and black clothes, as if he was trying not to be recognized."

Han bit the inside of his cheek so hard it almost didn't bleed. Then he threw the reports on the floor and ran his hands through his hair. Woojin feared he might explode, but when his voice returned to the suddenly silent room, there was no rise in his low tone.

"Do you know what is most unbelievable?" Jisung asked rhetorically. "Jinah and I reported this guy months ago when he first threatened her, and the police did practically nothing because there was no evidence. They always expect the worst to happen to do something."

"It's not like that," Yeji replied, her calm restored. "If you are referring to Kim Minhwan, I've heard that a restrictive measure has been enacted."

"Measure that he mocked so easily that he was able to destroy the car inside a garage that wasn't even his own." Jisung heard noises that day too, but, like the others, had ignored it because it wasn't relevant at all. Stupid, he blamed himself in silence. "This man is crazy. He knew Jinah's footsteps and mine, too, and I bet it was no coincidence that Yoorim's fingerprint fell behind, because with it he's taking time." Jisung blinked quickly when he remembered the worst part. "And he's so obsessed with Jinah that his intention was to kill only me, so there was no airbag on the driver's side... But unfortunately it went wrong and now it's not me who is in a coma."

"Don't say unfortunately," Hyoyeon murmured, her mother's heart aching.

"I was supposed to die anyway" Jisung shook his uninjured shoulder and the glint of tears finally came to his eyes. "But Jinah wanted to play the heroin..."

No one knew that, and as Han struggled not to let the tears overflow, Woojin, Yoorim, Hyunjin, and Hyoyeon were hit by the thud. That Jinah was madly in love with Jisung, they had no doubt, but to the point of sacrificing herself that way for him...

Jeongin cleared his throat. He accepted that the discussion full of ups and downs lasted as long as Jisung wasn't uncomfortable, but, now that he seemed truly affected, Yang decided it was time to put a definite end to the situation.

"Sorry, but I really need you guys to excuse us now."

This time, none of those present objected, although Hyoyeon wanted to stay to put Jisung on her lap and hug him until all the sadness was gone from his body.

Already in the hallway, Hyunjin didn't melt the expression of few friends when looking at Yeji — they would have a serious talk later — and, in a cold voice, he asked: "What will it be? Do you still want to discuss something in the police station after all this?"

"I told you I'm just doing my job," she swallowed dry, feeling a bitter taste down her throat in front of what she was about to do, and turned to Yoorim. "So... Let's check the security cameras at your dad's store."

And never a single sentence left Heo so relieved.

a/n: almost this update doesn't come out, but here we are

well, I want to make it clear that I am officially back, like, no more hiatus, okay? and now I’ll be very present here, to finish 'listen to me' and '(don't) love me', so no worries

and I just want to say I missed you guys so bad and I’m sorry for not being present here

talking about the chapter now, the theory that many of you may have cultivated has finally been revealed, one less to list!!!

I believe yoorim's situation with yeji has gotten a little easier to understand (or maybe not), but I anticipate that it will be better explained soon

in the next chapter there will be more scenes related to what happened in that chapter, but there will be jisung plus jinah too, and there will be according to the disposition of each one to bring a box of tissues or not lol

I've said too much, I'll stop here, see you soon <3

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crvelsovls · 4 years ago

Text

—

ophelia tate has been walking around town. hazelgrove is familiar of the thirty-one year old hunter. she is aware of the supernatural residents in town. the people of hazelgrove can agree that the librarian can be vehement yet still be reticent. let’s just hope things in town can settle down. + delicate fingers adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across peach-tinted lips and a slender form shrouded in an air of mystery and intrigue.

s’up buttercups ?? ‘tis me again, here with my second gal ; ophelia. she’s my clever lil huntress who’s loosely based on various past muses of mine. she’s a lot more... innocent that delphine but she’s still quite fiery and sarcastic dkjsdsh anyways, i’ll save you all from my pointless babbles but as usual, pls flick that lil grey heart n i’ll shimmy my irish butt into your ims for plots !! : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. ophelia penelope tate.

nicknames. o, phe, & effie.

current age. thirty-one.

birthday. january thirty-first.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

species. human.

nationality. british.

religion. raised a catholic but no longer practices.

birthplace. london, england.

current residence. hazelgrove, me.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

romantic orientation. demiromantic.

education. english literature degree.

occupation. librarian at hazelgrove public library.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. natalie tate. †

birth father. alexander tate. †

full blood siblings. astrid tate. †

maternal grandmother. katherine reynolds.

maternal grandfather. marcus reynolds. †

paternal grandmother. anika tate.

paternal grandfather. edward tate. †

maternal aunts. odette reynolds.

maternal uncles. none.

paternal aunts. sophia tate.

paternal uncles. duncan tate. †

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, french, & latin.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, impulsive, guileful, & caustic.

positive traits. ardent, whimsical, intrepid, graceful, & poised.

strengths. etiquette, bold, rational, practical, original, perceptive, direct, & sociable.

weaknesses. dramatic, impulsive, quick-tempered, insensitive, impatient, risk-prone, unstructured, misses the bigger picture, & defiant.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, hand-to-hand combat, perception, persuasiveness, good judgment, & able to use initiative.

talents. retaining information, memory recall, knife throwing, & quick thinking.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. blue.

hair colour. blonde.

height. five feet, four inches.

weight. 52 kg.

build. she is of quite a petite stature, and slender with mild curves.

scars. a long, silvery one running along half her spine.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. yes, but usually wears contacts.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. aquarius.

element. air.

house. ravenclaw.

myers briggs type. estp-t.

alignment. neutral good.

enneagram. type seven.

temperament. sanguine

intelligence type. interpersonal.

character label. the orphic.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, & suicidal tendencies.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. nicotine.

vices. wrath, envy, & pride.

virtues. temperance, charity, & diligence.

allergies. penicillin.

diet. vegetarian.

dominant hand. left.

accent. mostly english with a mild twang of notable american.

blood type. b negative.

vehicle. bottle green 2015 volkswagen beetle.

BACKGROUND.

trigger(s). mention of exorcism, mentions of murder, & mentions of death.

born and raised in london, the tate family seemed picture-perfect. though, underneath, the story was very different from how it seemed. while ophelia and her younger sister were showered with love and affection, their parents remained mostly absent albeit for fleeting moments in time. it wasn’t until ophelia grew older that she became more curious about what led her parents astray for weeks at a time. under the illusion that her parents were simply important figures, perhaps lawyers or detectives, a childish ophelia had never considered that their lives had been tainted by a much more corrupt presence.

eventually, it transpired that her parents were hunters. more specifically, people who hunted down supernatural creatures and put an end to their existence. or, tried, at least. how ophelia stumbled across this fact was by pure chance. her grandfather had been visiting and she had walked into the basement where she witnessed her father and his father attempting to exorcise what she then described as a ‘man with black eyes.’ nowadays, she’d refer to said man and his kind as demonic bastards.

of course, with their sights elsewhere, the demon managed to free himself only to murder her father and grandfather in the process. if it hadn’t been for her mother, ophelia would have ceased to exist that night also. it was that night that her mother shipped them off to live with their aunt for a while but eventually, after a week or so, her mother returned.

seemingly, everything had been fine until one night when their home was attacked by a pair of vampires. these vampires having been survivors of their mothers attack on their nest, thus they tailed her and laid low until the most opportune moment where they attacked. how ophelia managed to escape that night was anybody’s guess. though the rest of the household hadn’t been so lucky.

having lost her parents, sister and aunt to supernatural creatures, ophelia grew up with a deep rooted hatred for every creature of the night. it had taken her many years to learn of each creature, their weaknesses, strengths and, most importantly, how to kill them. but once she had mastered the art, she set out on a mission to hunt like her parents before her. admittedly, in the beginning, she’d had some near misses, brushing with death many times. but with more hunts under her belt, the better she became.

eventually, ophelia decided to leave london behind in search of the states where she was certain there would be ample supernatural beings endangering the lives of innocents. she moved around for a few years until she settled in hazelgrove where she soon learned that the town harboured an abundance of things that went bump in the night. it was this fact alone that she opted for staying put where she also works as a librarian; constantly researching and reading up on various creatures.

becoming a hunter hadn’t been something that had ever crossed her mind until she’d lost everything. in fact, it had been a path that she should have never stumbled across if it hadn’t been for her witnessing the demon that night. still, nevertheless, it was the road she’d travelled down now and with resentment deep in her bones, there would be no stopping her.

PERSONALITY.

to all who encounter her, ophelia can appear on the surface an extremely reckless and careless woman with a huge tendency to adopt a sardonic tongue during almost all occasions. given her demeanour and attitude, it would be fair to assess that all the blonde is, is a satirical mouthpiece with a permanent simper corroded into the corner of her lips. despite this all, the shell of ophelia does contain much more substance. regardless of her blasé attitude, a passionate, whimsical girl remains deep within the high walls of her persona. it’s almost safe to say that the facade she paints over herself every day is nothing more than a basic ruse; a temporary fixture to aid in slowly but permanently fixing the broken fractions of her mind. it goes without saying that ophelia is constantly shrouded in mystery, concealing her true emotions and feigning any feelings whatsoever. although a sensitive, vulnerable aspect of her persona remains, it seldom prevails against her impulsive, sarcastic, intelligent nature. the problem with being clever is already knowing the things others try so desperately to hide from you. ophelia knows how others view her, she sees how they look at her. everybody assumes she’s too difficult to reason with and believe she’s even tougher to understand. it is this that enables ophelia to flirt with danger, use her words as a weapon and also a bargaining chip. it is this that gives ophelia an overwhelming sense of adrenaline, swimming through her veins and fuelling the fire that lies within the pit of her stomach.

QUICK FACTS.

can drink any man under the table.

smol but fierce.

one of those people who just excels at everything they try their hand at.

has a very high pain tolerance. seriously, it’s kinda freaky.

the only thing she’s truly terrified of is spiders. those eight-legged cretins have her shaking like a leaf.

absolutely adores animals. much prefers them to humans.

was raised a catholic and went to an all-girls catholic school but she no longer practices.

doesn’t drink much as she doesn’t like to be out of control even in the slightest.

she quite likes being a hunter and she does the job very well. attention to detail is key when she’s working.

is a very reckless driver, it’s a surprise she hasn’t been in an accident yet.

looks innocent but really isn’t in every sense of the word.

she’s that bitch that loves reading and has a thing for poetry.

she’s quite adventurous and loves to feel the adrenaline in her blood.

doesn’t take herself or her life too seriously.

a bit meddlesome and a troublemaker.

always up for a good time and is usually the life of the party.

outspoken and quick-witted with a sharp tongue.

WANTED PLOTS.

for wanted connections and potential plots, i’m open to just about anything so feel free to hmu for connections or any plots you can think of !! some i’d really love are :

best friend ( pls give my girl a bff she can tell everything to and can party with and just do best pal stuff with like platonic soul mates pls. )

childhood friend ( they maybe drifted apart ? )

an on off relationship ( pretty much like a fwb type situation or casual hookup situation that could develop into feelings or just remain casual. )

a potential love interest ( bonus points if it’s angsty. )

exes / past flings / one night stands.

enemies and rivals.

drinking / party buddies.

and obviously connections with fellow hunters and the supernatural oOoOoOo.

#mystichq:intro #exorcism /#murder /#death /#hmu for those plots yo!

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ofheroesandvillains · 6 years ago

Text

Throwback - Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes/fem!reader

Words: 5.2k Warnings: Bullying (not much though, and nothing violent) Summary: Request ‘Heyyy. Can you please do a Bucky(or Steve) x reader imagine where they meet again at a college reunion and since reader was always really quiet and bullied, she never though anyone from her class would like her but turns out, there was someone. You can change it up. Thank you :)’

Okay, so I want to thank @thebookwormslytherin for the request, and apologise because for some reason I didn’t see ‘college’ and assumed it was a high school reunion instead. Rookie move, my bad. But I hope this is okay! I feel like it got way too long, but at the same time it’s too short! I’m all over the place. Either way, thank you, my dear! xx

(gif not mine!)

Bucky hated this.

What the hell does anyone wear to a stupid reunion anyway? He huffed at his reflection, moodily tugging at the knot of his tie.

There was a mountain of clothes strewn across his bed, coat hangers littering the floor, and he still had no idea what to wear. It was his high school reunion and he’d be seeing all of his old classmates and friends in a little over an hour. After fifteen years, you’d think that Bucky couldn’t care less what these people thought of him.

And you’d be right, but there was one person that kept his heart hammering away like a woodpecker.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous about anything.”

Bucky glowered at his best friend through the mirror. Steve had been hovering for the past 15 minutes, impatiently waiting for him to finish preparing.

“Yeah, well, I want to make a good first impression.”

“They already know you,” Steve pointed out.

“No,” Bucky drew the word out like he was speaking to a 5-year-old, “they knew me. A lot’s changed, I’m…I know better.”

There was a sorrow in his words that triggered every sympathetic bone in Steve’s body. Bucky held onto his guilt for a long time.

But guilt wasn’t the only thing he felt where you were involved, and though he’d gone to great lengths to try and move on and meet other people, he’d always been convinced that you were the girl for him. Even if he’d never had the confidence to approach you about it.

‘I just know, Steve. You were convinced that Peg was ‘the one’ since pre-K, but you didn’t speak to her until college.’ That was his usual defence, and Steve didn’t really have a leg to stand on there. He married Peggy after years of thinking she was way out of his league.

But that was different. They stayed in the same town, went to the same college, and were friends long before any feelings were confessed. You left the moment you graduated, accepted into Stanford with a full-ride scholarship, and making a name for yourself as one of the best up-and-coming lawyers in the States. Steve didn’t deny that he was damn proud that you’d been able to show the world just what you could do, but he also knew that you’d left high school in your rearview long ago.

“Buck,” Steve began, his tone hesitant, “we don’t even know if she’ll be there tonight.”

“And I’m supposed to just leave this to chance?” His eyes widened, offended by the mere thought.

Steve sighed.

“Well, no, but I just think…” he tried to find the right words.

“What?”

“It’s been 15 years, pal, what are the chances she isn’t already seeing someone? Or married for that matter?” Steve gently pointed out.

It wasn’t like he wanted to crush his best friend’s hopes and dreams, but it really had been a long time, and your memories of him (if you had any to begin with) probably weren’t the best. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, Steve knew that he was just as oblivious to the situation as everyone else had been at the time, but he doubted it mattered very much to you.

Bucky’s heart clenched at the thought. He remembered a time when he’d tell his parents he was studying at the library just so he could make sure you got home safely after your shift. You worked there every second day and lived in a shadier part of town, the type of place that was barely safe for a grown man, let alone a teenage girl, but he’d make that trip whenever he could.

“It doesn’t matter,” he decided, “I at least want to apologise.”

Your family couldn’t afford much, and the kids at school were cruel. Not just to you, but your suffering broke his heart the most. The worst part was that he’d never even known that his own ‘friends’ bullied you until the end of your senior year.

In truth, he wasn’t the biggest fan of art class, but he’d taken it for a specific reason.

He was the first to class that day, and not for the first time in his high school life, he wished that Steve wasn’t in the year below him. It’d been a long year, but Bucky imagined that it would have gone a lot smoother if he had Steve there to help him keep a level head, instead of the usual group that attached themselves to him for some reason.

He was a decent-looking guy - granted, he didn’t think he was all that special, but the cheerleaders seemed to think that his dark hair and pale eyes were ‘to die for’. Bucky didn’t care much for them, but they weren’t completely terrible. After the first time he’d heard them making fun of Steve, they seemed to grow up and had even apologised for their actions. Most people knew not to mess with Steve, he was Bucky’s best friend after all, and they were a package deal.

Steve was still wise enough to leave whenever his old bullies decided to join them in the library or at lunchtime. He just hated that Bucky was so oblivious to the fact that the jocks and cheerleaders he sat with were still bullies…they just didn’t target Steve anymore.

And they definitely never picked on anyone when Bucky was around.

A few students trickled into class, and Bucky kept his eyes on the door. He didn’t know how long ago it started, but it was the first time he’d had a crush this big on someone. It was taking months for him to gather the courage to ask you out, and if he was being honest with himself, he still hadn’t quite been able to muster it. But he’d start today.

Today he was going to ask you to sit with him. He’d get to know you, and you’d hopefully be interested in getting to know him. Then he’d just ask you to…wait, what was he going to ask? A date? It was too soon. A study session? You were the smartest kid in class. To be friends? He couldn’t friendzone himself!

His heart started racing in panic, and seeing you walk through the door did nothing to calm it. You made you way down the isle. He knew you always sat at the back near the window, so you’d have to pass by him anyway. And you did.

“H-Hey, Y/N.”

Bucky gave you his best smile, and you returned it with a small and surprised one of your own.

“Hi.”

“I uh…did you want to sit-”

You stumbled forward with a gasp when something collided with your shoulder, and you did well to keep your balance.

“Hey, Bucky! You would not believe what happened at lunch!”

A beautiful girl slid into the seat beside him uninvited, a beaming smile on her face, as if she hadn’t just made the both of them look like fools in front of you.

Stacey was the cheer captain at your school and everyone knew she’d been trying to get Bucky to ask her out for months. But Bucky paid her no attention as he watched you dejectedly make your way to your usual spot while you rubbed your sore shoulder. Your eyes flickered over to him for a split second before looking down at your desk instead.

“Mr Barnes?” Bucky turned to face the front at the sound of his name. He didn’t even notice that Ms Higgins had begun her class. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, everything flashed through his mind, but he settled for a shake of his head.

“Uh, no, ma’am.”

The class went on and you’d all be painting that day. You were happy sitting on your own, you always did anyway, but your earlier humiliation still played on a loop in your mind. You never wanted to be like the rest of the girls in school, falling for the popular boy who seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on people. His friends were a nightmare, but he’d always been kind to you. You decided that it was far too easy to fall for Bucky Barnes.

The one time he tried to talk to you in school…you shook your head, barely paying attention to your surroundings. If you’d been more vigilant, you probably would have noticed the stray backpack jutting out from beneath one of the desks.

But you didn’t.

You managed to keep your balance for the second time that day, but that didn’t change the fact that the paint you were carrying shot out to land on the unfortunate soul approaching you.

Well, it was just your luck, wasn’t it?

“Damn it! I’m so sorry-“

Bucky looked at you with wide-eyes, half stunned and half grateful that a bit of paint had been enough to get you to finally notice him. Reassuring words were already on his tongue when he was rudely interrupted.

“Oh my god, watch where you’re going, loser!”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he turned to Stacey with a mortified expression. A swell of protectiveness rushed over him and he frowned.

“Woah! Lay off, it was an accident.”

“More like she was an accident!” One of the guys from the football team chortled, much to the amusement of his neanderthals friends.

“Shut up, Lance!” Bucky barked back, a scowl immediately making its way onto his face. Where the hell did Ms Higgins wander off to?

“Lighten up, Bucky, he’s just messing around,” Stacey chewed her gum with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “besides, she’s used to it, right penniless?” A perfectly groomed brow arched up and she smirked.

Bucky could only watch on in horror as hurt flashed across your features before you silently dumped the paint bottles on a desk and walked out of the room. The words rang through his mind - ‘she’s used to it…’

Why? Why the hell would she be used to it?

He shook his head and bolted out of the class, ignoring Stacey’s call for him to come back.

“Wait! Hey, wait up!”

You were the only person in the empty hallway, so there was no avoiding him. He was panting lightly by the time he reached you.

“Look, I-I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t-“

“You’re sorry?” You gave a little huff, eyes glassy but too stubborn for anything else. “Well, that’s a first.”

“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed.

“Look, if this is you trying to clear your conscience before graduation, don’t bother.” There was a bitterness in your voice that he’d never heard before. “You grow thicker skin after the first few years. Like your girlfriend said, I’m used to it.”

With that said, you barged past a speechless Bucky, ignoring the sorrowful eyes that followed your every step as you went.

You managed to dodge him from then on. Mostly out of guilt though. You knew he hadn’t deserved your anger that day, if anything you should have been thanking him. No one usually stuck up for you, but the humiliation brought out the worst in you, and you took your anger out on the only person available at the time.

Whatever hope your mind had conjured was quickly banished, and you threw yourself into your schoolwork. Bucky Barnes would never look twice at someone who could barely afford a roof over her head. At least that’s what you always thought…

Graduation snuck up on him, there had been so much drama after he’d found out the truth and distanced himself from his old group, that he barely even noticed it was the end of the year.

You looked so beautiful. He thought you always looked beautiful, but there was something special about you that day. Maybe it was because he hadn’t properly seen in you in so long, or maybe it was the relief that he didn’t recognise on your face…

Whatever it was, he cherished it, because that would be the last time he’d see you for fifteen years.

If entering their old school taught Steve one thing, it was that no one seemed to outgrow their crush on Bucky Barnes. Women, men, married, single, it didn’t matter. He turned heads without even meaning to, and Steve cringed hard when he noticed the predatory way most of the women there stared at his best friend. What was even more alarming, was the fact that he was getting similar looks himself.

He blushed ten different shades of red under their attention, while Bucky stomped his way through the crowd, neck craning as he not-so-subtly sought out the object of his own desires. For a good while they carried on that way, Bucky weaving his way through groups, muttering a distracted ‘hey, how’s it goin’?’ whenever someone recognised him, and Steve narrowly avoiding painted talons that were desperate to rope him into conversation.

“Buck!” Steve’s shout was drowned out by the unnecessarily loud music, “Bucky!”

With a huff, he sped up and tugged his best friend back by the arm.

“Hey man, c’mon. This isn’t working. Why don’t we just sit down for a bit?”

Bucky looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it when he realised just how desperate Steve looked.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat with a nod, “yeah, okay.”

With a reassuring pat on Bucky’s back, Steve led them over to the edge of the room where the tables were scattered. Only a few people were sitting down for now, but it would only get busier as more people arrived. Bucky’s gaze swept over the floor twice more before he took to keeping an eye on the door as people came over to chat.

He could barely recognise a few of his old friends. Some had done well from themselves, others not so much, but all had been nice enough. Humbled by life, he supposed - at least quarterback Drew was. He was sporting an impressive beer-gut these days, but he’d never looked happier than when he harped on about his wife (who seemed like a real sweetheart) and his ‘rugrats’ as he called them.

Ten minutes passed, twenty, thirty even, before Bucky’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he finally admitted to himself that maybe he was wrong. The stars weren’t aligning and fate wasn’t on his side. You weren’t there, and why would you be? You were successful, a hotshot lawyer was what he’d heard, you had better things to do than attend some silly reunion with people you hated. Steve was right, you were probably married by now, to someone who loved you and treated you right. Wherever you were, Bucky just hoped you were happy.

Steve watched as his best friend’s mood took a swan dive.

“I’m sorry, Buck.” he gave Bucky’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, but Bucky barely forced a smile.

“Ah ’s’alright. It was wishful thinking, right?”

“Bucky-“ Steve tried.

“I’m gonna get some air, don’t miss me too much.” Bucky shot him a tight-lipped smile and left before Steve could get another word out.

You hated this.

High school was not a fun time for you, and even though you moved on long ago, there was a part of you that wanted to see it all one more time. Your best friend convinced you that it might be a good idea, to clear the air and to finally put that chapter of your life to rest.

Gamora was always the voice of reason.

So you’d agreed, and now here you were, avoiding everyone and everything anyway.

Music could be heard from down the hallway, but you hadn’t bothered heading down there just yet. What you really wanted to see was the one place you’d escape to every lunchtime and free period. Your old art room.

It looked just like you remembered, but they had left all of the old A3 binders Ms Higgins once stored your work in, out on each student’s desk. It was a nice surprise, and you found yourself smiling as you made your way over to your usual seat.

You flipped through the pages, cringing whenever you thought of just how much better you were at art now. You used to be so proud of your work, but you didn’t even recognise some of the faces you’d drawn. There was only one you’d ever spent more time than was necessary on. You smiled at the memory of him...

He never spent time with you outside of school (or inside of it for that matter), but that didn’t mean he never saw you. You worked at the small local library and even though Bucky would never admit it to anyone, he wouldn’t have stepped foot in the building if it wasn’t for you.

You never spoke to each other though, not really.

He’d come in to study when it was too loud at home - or when he just wanted to see you. You’d sit behind the counter studying when you weren’t busy sometimes, other times you would be carrying a bunch of books around to return to their usual places along the shelves.

Either way it was usually quiet, and he’d feel all of the tension leave his body as soon as your pretty eyes locked onto his own when he walked into the building. His lips would tug up into a small smile, and you’d give him one in return, before quickly looking away again. He thought it was cute.

That day went like any other, but this time you’d been bustling between the shelves with a stack of books in your hands. The cart was missing for some reason, as was the step ladder, which meant that you were stretching muscles you didn’t know you had as you tried to reach the top shelf on the tips of your toes.

You fell back onto your heels with a huff, before someone gently removed the final book from your hand, and slid it into place on the shelf. You quickly turned around when you registered the broad chest that brushed across your back.

Bucky watched as you scooted back into the bookshelf almost imperceptibly, your eyes widening a fraction.

“You looked like you needed a hand…” He trailed off quietly with a small and uncharacteristically nervous shrug.

Your gaze flickered around the room, not daring to look at him for too long at a time, as if he were the sun itself.

Pull yourself together. You shook your head lightly and gave him a grateful smile.

“Oh, um, thanks…I don’t know where Ms Harrison left the step ladder.”

“It’s no problem,” he returned your smile.

Your eyes locked onto his and for a moment you were caught in a strange stare-off. Both of you had plenty you wanted to say, and no idea how to say it. Regardless, the way he studied you with that unreadable look made you feel like he knew something you didn’t, but what that could be, you had no idea.

“Y/N?” Both teens turned to look at the source of the small voice, snapping out of whatever strange trance they’d been caught in.

“Hey, Harley…you need something, kiddo?” The little boy looked between the older kids shyly but nodded anyway.

“Can you help me with my homework, please?”

You gave the 6-year-old a bright smile. “I sure can, why don’t you go set up and I’ll be right over.”

Harley beamed, showing off his missing front teeth before skipping away. You sighed inwardly and looked back to Bucky, only to find that his attention was already on you. You were half grateful that Harley had interrupted your awkward chat, and half dejected that the rare interaction was officially over.

“I should probably let you get back to work…” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck.

You nodded lightly, “Y-Yeah, thanks again for the help.”

There was an amused glint in his eye - all he’d done was lift a book for you, but he gave you a nod regardless.

“See you at school, Y/N.”

You smiled shyly at the typical Bucky Barnes grin he sent your way before he turned to leave.

The noise of chatter and music died down the further he walked. A few stray couples had found their way into secluded classrooms, much to Bucky’s amusement, but no one stopped to chat or to bother him.

For the first time that night, he allowed himself to take in his old school. He wondered if any of his old teachers were still going strong, or if the students these days got into as much trouble as his own generation did. He doubted it.

The hallways looked the same, and from what he could see, not much had changed about the classrooms either - maybe some new equipment, but the large ’T + P’ that one of the older students etched into the bricks was still there.

A small smile settled on his face each time he saw something familiar, until a light at the end of the hallway caught his attention. It was coming from the last classroom on the left, one he knew quite well. Slowly, he made his way over, hoping he wasn’t about to intrude on another wayward couple.

The door was only partially open, and his breath caught in his throat the moment he stepped inside. The lone occupant of the room was facing away, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about who he was looking at.

Still so beautiful, though he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Y/N.”

“Christ!” You spun around, wide-eyed with a hand clutching your chest. He noticed the moment your fear gave way to panic, but didn’t understand why until his eyes landed on the binder flipped open on your desk.

He took a step closer and his lips parted in surprise.

“That- That’s not what it loo- I mean, it is, but…” you forced yourself to stop rambling with an awkward chuckle. “Oh, boy…”

Bucky laughed along with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I kinda snuck up on you there.”

You waved away his apology.

“No, it’s fine. Really…I was just,” you took in a deep breath and cast a glance around the room, “reminiscing, I guess.”

Your gaze settled on him once more, and boy had he aged well. That dark hair still looked thicker and softer than yours could ever be, and those eyes looked even bluer than you remembered. With a strong jawline covered in stubble, and muscles that filled out his dress shirt nicely, James Barnes was a sight for sore eyes. Then again, he always had been.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he nodded and his lips tugged into a conspiratory smirk, “a word of advice though, don’t head towards the gym unless you want to be picked apart by vultures.”

You laughed, “so nothing’s changed then, huh?”

He scrunched up his nose and shook his head, “nah!”

Bucky tucked his hands into his front pockets and moved to stand beside you. His smirk melted into something more genuine.

“This is really amazing, you know that?” His eyes were glued to the sketch of his own smiling face.

“Thank you,” you bit your lip, suddenly self-conscious, “I used to love drawing people, I just…I don’t know.”

“God, you must think I’m super weird or something,” you muttered, mainly to yourself but he picked up on it either way.

“What? No!” He insisted, “I mean, I’m honestly flattered.”

Bucky cracked a smile at the blank look you sent him.

“I’m serious!” He cried with a shrug. His smile was a full-blown grin by now, and you shook your head at the familiar sight.

It was so easy to talk to him now, like you were both two old friends having a chat. There were no ridiculous little rules about who was cool enough to associate with who, and it was surreal to think that the conversation was flowing as easily as it was considering you were never really friends to begin with.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a habit when you were thinking too much, but he mistook it for either embarrassment or discomfort. Probably both, he concluded.

His eyes softened and he jerked his head towards his own desk.

“If we’re sharing secrets, I think it’s only fair you know mine. Whaddaya say?”

You hesitated for a split second before following him over to his own desk. When you finally came to stand beside him, he slid a large red binder over. His initials were written in the top corner, and you looked over at him in question.

Are you sure?

He nodded with a soft smile.

Yes

You eased it open.

“Steve, he uh, he was always the better artist of the two of us. But he told me that it was easier if the subject was something you cared about.”

You flipped through the binder slowly, revealing page after page of graphite and watercolour, paint and oil, and the face you saw each time you looked in the mirror. There were colourful smiles, monochrome frowns, and every emotion in between.

“Never really managed to do you justice…”

It was overwhelming at first, the thought that he - Bucky Barnes, the most adored boy at your school back in those days - even knew your name at the time. But this? The way he captured your every emotion in every colour, and had taken the time to do so over and over again…there were no words.

“I don’t,” You shook your head slowly, “know what to say…”

“I had the biggest crush on you,” he blushed, looking down at his shoes, “and I know it’s overdue, but I want to apologise.”

Your head tilted in confusion, finally tearing your eyes away from the pages, and he heaved a sigh.

“I uh, I didn’t realise it at the time, that those assholes I used to call friends were treating you like that. It was my fault.” His jaw clenched and there was a pain in his eyes that you couldn’t believe was there on your behalf.

“Your fault?” You weren’t following his logic.

“I liked you. Stacey wasn’t a huge fan of that, and neither were her friends.”

Your brows shot up and he almost grimaced. He must have looked pathetic to you. Fifteen years later and holding onto the past. He probably wasn’t even a footnote in your life and you likely didn’t remember a thing about him. Steve was right, he should have let it go a long time ago.

“God, I told myself that I wouldn’t dump this all on you, that I-“ he huffed a derisive laugh, “-that I’d just apologise and let you be…”

He sighed, running a hand through his thick hair.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll just go.”

A hand shot out to catch his elbow as he turned to leave, and though he could have broken the hold and saved himself any further humiliation, he stayed put.

“James, wait.”

“Bucky,” he corrected, as if it were instinct by now.

“Bucky,” you offered a warm smile, ��those assholes you called ‘friends’ targeted me because they were assholes.” You said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He huffed in amusement, though it was more half-hearted than you would have liked.

“I don’t blame you, ya know?” You softly added, “I never have.”

He nodded hesitantly and your hand slipped down to his own to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Besides, Stacey and I are actually on kinda good terms at the moment. Have been for a few months,” you added.

Bucky’s looked horrified by the very idea.

“You’re kidding?”

He drew another laugh out of you. You didn’t remember the last time anyone had managed to do that as frequently as he’d been able to in the space of twenty minutes.

“Nope, I actually helped her with her divorce last year. She apologised, and well, she’s matured a lot since high school.” You nodded, almost proud of how far she’d come. Sometimes all it took was a little perspective, and seeing your old bully fall into a sobbing mess because of her cheating husband, had given you both perspective.

“Wow, that’s…surprising.” He winced when he realised how mean he sounded. “Sorry, I meant that’s great. Really.”

“I mean, Lance is still pretty much an ape so I understand your shock,” you joked and were happy to see the first genuine smile on his face after his confession.

You stared at each other for a moment too long, but neither of you seemed to mind. Whether he felt it too, you had no idea, but you weren’t in high school anymore and you were sick of contemplating the ‘what-ifs’.

“You know, I liked you too, back then.” And now.

Now it was his turn to look surprised.

“Yeah?” He almost looked awed by that bit of information.

“Yeah,” you tried to suppress your grin with little success, “and…I know this might be a little forward but, would you like to grab a drink some time?”

Bucky’s eyes widened.

“With you?”

“Um, yeah.” You nodded awkwardly.

He was so surprised that he didn’t notice how his words had come across until your smile faded.

“I’d like that,” he quickly reassured, before pausing “you’re…you’re not married, are you?”

Ah jeez. Why did he ask that? Stupid Steve and his stupid theoretical husband! Why would you ask him for a drink if you were married? You weren’t that kind of girl!

You cocked a brow in amusement, “well, yeah. But my husband doesn’t have to know.”

Bucky froze, and he swore that his heart stopped.

“I’m kidding…”

And started again. You chuckled at the obvious slump of his shoulders.

“Jesus, woman…” he gave your hand a squeeze with a relieved smile, “don’t even joke about that!”

You looked entirely too pleased with yourself as you bumped his shoulder with your own.

“We’ll call it even for the heart attack you gave me earlier.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes in good humour and they caught a glimpse of the clock, “you know, it’s only 8…we don’t have to wait for those drinks.”

“True…” you pursed your lips and nodded, “And who even likes reunions anyway?”

“No one I’ve ever met,” he added matter-of-factly, offering a hand.

You scooped his artwork up with your right arm and let him drag you out of the room with your left. Loud laughter rang out through the hallway as you raced to the exit hand-in-hand, before anyone spotted you.

Neither of you seemed to notice Steve step out of the stuffy gymnasium, nor the small smile on his face as he watch his best friend run through the halls like a teenager. He imagined what a stern-faced Ms Higgins would say if she could see you now. Steve jumped as a loud shriek filled the air, but Bucky merely howled like a hyena and doubled back to fetch the heel that had flown off in your great escape.

You slipped your other shoe off but he was having none of it, opting to scoop you up and carry you out himself. Steve shook his head, and fished his phone out of his pocket.

Heading home early, pal…enjoy the rest of your night.

It’s so late, let me know if you see any mistakes? Thank you for reading! xx

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #Steve Rogers #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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bobthebuilderhasallmyuwus · 5 years ago

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RK900xGavin Reed!

This is my first 900Reed fic, Suggestions always welcome and please let me know if you want more. Im going to make more anyway but I need validation lol

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He falls down onto his seat too quickly. Gavin was happy to finally be back in the office, for once. The last few cases had really been cracking down on him. He’d ask Hank for help, only, he wouldn’t. So, he stretches his aching back, and takes a satisfying sip of coffee. First sip in a long while, well more like 3 hours but for Gavin that was more than enough time since his last coffee break. He’s about to kick his feet up onto his desk and rest, when he hears Hank call his name.”Tsk” he swerves around to see why he was being bothered.

“Fowler called us up for one of his little “talks”, let’s get going ey smartass?”

Hank grins.

Gavin gets flustered and annoyed by the old man’s antics, “Yeah right behind you hardass.” he says with a grunt. First the cases, now he has to get yelled at by Fowler for the next 45 minutes, can’t a man just drink his coffee in peace. He approaches Fowlers office door, when two androids catches his eye. They both just stand silently, with their hands behind their backs. “Oh great,'' he thinks, “two more tool bags for the office.” He rolls his eyes and does his best not to make eye contact with the bots as he walks inside. He stands next to Hank, who looks just as tired as he does. Fowler had his back turned to them, as he always does when he’s about to dish it out. “Boys,” He says Firmly. “I know there’s been a few….. Complications around these days.”

Hank scoffs, “More than a few.”

Fowler begins to turn around, “And things aren’t always easy around here, so our pals from cyberlife decided to help us out.”

“Get on with it” Gavin says impatiently.

“If you would stop showing so much fucking disrepect, maybe I would.” He smiles sarcastically. ”Boys, Meet your new partners rk800, and rk900.” Hank and Gavin both give off similarly angry expressions, and begin to spout their protests.

“There’s no way-”

“If you think I-”

“Do this to-”

“I don’t need a-”

“If both of you would please SHUT THE FUCK UP, I’ll explain,” Fowler rolls back his shoulders and sighs. “Both of you have been serious pains in my ass. Hank,” He looks towards him, “You hardly show up on time, if ever.” He directs his gaze towards Gavin. “Gavin, you don’t get along well with others and cause accidents around here all the damn time.” The two interject once more.

“Jeffrey you know-”

“But I just-”

“Shut it” Fowler says sternly. “So both of you are going to help test out these prototype androids investigators, come meet your respective partners.” He gestures for the robots to come forward with his hand. They both step forward, completely in sync.

“Hank you’ve already met yours, Gavin, get along.” Gavin stares dumbfoundead at the piece of plastic behind him, He looks just like the other one, only a few inches taller and had these piercing gray eyes.

“Fowler if you think I am-”

“I have worked too hard to-”

“I SAID SHUT IT” Fowler roars out. “This is not-negotiable, you can either shut the fuck up and go do your job, or you can hand your badge in and walk out of this office right now.” Gavin and Hank share a mutual look of frustration, he lets out a sigh of submission. Fuck, he really was going to have to deal with an android being at his side from now on.

Gavin grumpily returns to his seat, and his unfortunate “partner” stands behind him, perfect posture as always. “Detective-”, “Shut it.” Gavin doesn't even want to hear, let alone speak to the pathetic creature behind him. The robot, however, does not get the hint. “Really, I think we should-,” “Hey,” Gavin interrupts him. He stands up from his chair and grabs rk900 by the top of his jacket, menacingly growling at him. “I didn’t work my ass off FOR 12 FUCKING YEARS, so I could get a oversized paperweight that was made yesterday to tell me how to do my fucking job.”

Gavin pushes 900 away with disgust. “So how about, you stay at your end of the office and ill stay on mine.” The Android doesn’t say anything, it just stands and stares, willingly taking whatever action Gavin chooses against him. His stoic face makes it seem as if nothing had happened at all, that pisses Gavin off even more. Gavin Flips 900 off with a scowl, turns around and sits down once more in his chair.

“Where is my end, Detective?”

Gavin scoffs “Over by the coffee machine, actually, shouldn't you be doing that right now? I could use a drink.” Gavin snickers mockingly.

“Very Well, Detective. I’ll go accomplish that right now.” 900 Says before walking off.

“Stupid fucking androids,” he mumbles to himself. “Dumb bucket of bolts cant even think for itself, let alone an entire investigation, what the fuck is going on here?” He sighs, and ruffles through the set of files in front of him. “No, no, no, ah-bingo!” He says as he pulls out a file. “Charlotte,” Said the tab on the file. He opens it and spreads out the different information kept inside. Articles, Journal Notes, Excerpts from a diary, DNA samples, all of this and still not one step closer to figuring out who's responsible for this case. He scratches his head in frustration. “Okay Okay, when you can't find anything new, it's better to review” He chimes to himself. It was a secret chant that Hank had taught him to help when he gets stuck in situations exactly like this one.

Gavin reassures himself and begins to review the information he had laid out so far.

Charlotte Campbell

- 10 Years old

- Blue eyes and auburn hair

- Went missing the 15th of September

- Last seen by the Maid at 4:30 PM on the day in question.

- William Campbell

- Father of Charlotte Campbell

- Husband of Savannah Campbell

- Occupation: Android Mechanic Liability Lawyer

- Came Home from work at 5:30 PM on the day in question

- Savannah Campbell

- Mother of Charlotte Campbell

- Wife of William Campbell

- Occupation: Fashion Designer

- Was occupied with work until Husband called to inform her daughter as missing.

Charlotte woke up at 9 AM, was alone with her mother (as her father had already left for work), until she left at at 10 AM. The android nanny then proceeded to continue Charlotte’s course lessons. She was homeschooled. Charlotte was up in the attic playing with the nanny, when a reported masked thief broke in through the window next to the backdoor of the house. The nanny, occupied with Charlotte farther away, had not yet detected this. But the Android maid had, it went to confront the intruder when it got repeatedly stabbed in the shoulders and chest, and collapsed on the ground, the last recorded timestamp being 08:15:2038-04:42:003. The nanny and Charlotte are presumed to have been taken, and have not been sighted since.

Those were the basics, he knew them all too well. He went over them countless times to see if he missed anything, any minuet details he may have glazed over. And here he was again checking for the same damn thing. “Think Gavin, Think!” He hits himself on the head. “There has to be something I’m missing, a piece I don’t have.” He looks over the file once more and his eyes trail to the pictures of the maid’s body, he focuses in on it, trying to make sure everything in the environment made sense.

“Detective”

He jolts up in his seat and quickly turns around to see the same smug ass android, but this time holding a coffee. “Ha!” Gavin smirks, “looks like your good for something after all.” He proudly takes the coffee from 900’s hands and places it on his desk. He quickly returns to analyzing the evidence and acting as if 900 wasn't there in the first place. “Physical Files Detective? Wouldn’t it be easier to use the interface?” Gavin lets out a huff of air. “Easier for dickheads like you maybe” he slaps his folder with his hand to emphasize its importance. “Me? I like a hard copy” he smiles arrogantly.

“Now why don’t you go back to your place, and start making coffee for the others. In fact, I think I might enjoy mine right now.” He snickered as he reaches for the coffee cup. He puts his lips to the opening and immediately starts gagging. He spits out hot coffee all over the evidence in front of him, watching it stain completely. He reaches for his throat. He feels it burning, as if there were holes evaporating his skin. “Some water, Detective?”

Gavin turns around once more to see 900 facing him, wearing almost what looks like a smile. Holding out a bottle of water in his hand. Gavin would love to yell and curse the fucker out, but he could barely feel his mouth, and that water was looking mighty wet. He angrily reaches out for the bottle but 900 slips it away before he can grab it. Gavin stands up looking like he’s ready to blow up, and is about to make a fist but before he could swing 900 simply pushes him back down on his chair.

“Now now Detective, don’t strain yourself.” 900 shakes the water bottle in front of Gavin’s face. “I suppose it’s clear by now that my place, isn’t near the coffee machine, is it?”

Gavin cant respond he just glares painfully at 900. 900 places down the water bottle behind Gavin, and onto his desk. “No, It isn’t Detective. You see my place, is to serve as an investigative assistant in this precinct, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Gavin wants so badly to punch this fucker in the face. He wants so badly to pin him to the ground and give him a few good swings. But he feels his hands reaching desperately for the water instead of the feeling of revenge. He opens the cap and quickly chugs it down, feeling the relief of cool water go down his esophagus. He lets out a hefty sigh when he’s done and stares daggers into 900 as he wipes the coffee from his mouth.

“Are we at an understanding here Detective?”

tbc~

#dbh #rk900 #reed900 #Gavin reed

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prodicalviews · 6 years ago

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Untitled

About a year ago I started writing this fic I was pretty tipsy (maybe even drunk). I remember laughing my head off like I was funny lol.

Please don't take this seriously, I mixed my drinks that night I was a mess the next day.

Feel free to call this drabble what you want. In the meantime, I’ll be updating all the fics this week. (yes all)

power to fanfic writers, may the new year grant you creativity, no writer's block, and clear skin.

I never understood why the landlord never warned me whenever we had a new tenant. Specifically when there’s a vacancy next to me. It shouldn’t be hard, the guy lived two doors down from me. Though I wasn’t going to say anything to that big burly man.

Three. Three people in the last 5 months went through this apartment. And of course being the nice genuine person I am I’d give them a welcoming pan of cake or cookies. I’d also befriend them, despite my loner tendencies. It never hurts to have someone watch after your cat when you go on a shopping trip.

No thanks to Abe, also known as the landlord. I found out we were getting a new tenant from Carol. My other neighbor. Honestly, I understood why those girls moved out. One, these condos were expensive. Two, shopping sprees daddies money didn’t fully cover were more important than rent. Three, everyone living here was either, doctors, lawyers or some other hotshot. So holding a conversation without sounding like an idiot was damn near impossible. Unless of course, you were talking to an actor or my downstairs neighbor, Jessie. Bless her heart. I can’t count how much celebrity’s I’ve met just walking to the dumpster. Just taking out some trash the other day and hey would you look at that, Nicholas Cage. Well, most of them were old time celebs but they were still famous, right?

As I was saying, right when I got to know these girls well enough. They went and left me. I’d ask Carol to watch Mike but she’s allergic to cats. Morgan was always busy with his son. Glenn and Maggie, well they wouldn’t even bother feeding him. I’m pretty sure Daryl would just throw him in the trash. Negan would watch him, but of course, that came with a sizable price and Jessie? I’m positive she’d kill him by accident. Sasha watched him before but now she’s always missing since she became chief of staff at the hospital. Abe would just have him testing landmines in the desert during my absence.

I stared down at my furless cat. His big brown doe eyes called to me. Yes, he was ugly. Everyone made sure to tell me this. But I loved him. He’s my little muse. But a girl needed new underwear, shoes, and blouses. I don’t know how I managed to survive this long, I haven’t gone shopping in a year. A whole year. And if that meant sucking up to whoever was moving boxes of their shit into condo 7 then so be it.

It wasn’t long before Mike started mewling for his morning breakfast. His stretchy skin rubbed against my bare legs. His meows only seemed to get louder.

“Don’t worry Mike, momma’s going to get your kibbles. You want kibbles don’t ya?” He meowed in response. I was positive on some level Mike understood me. He’s been with me for eight years now. Through thick and thin he stuck by my side. He was two when I lost my job at Atlanta’s art gallery. I decided to take a leap of faith, the money I made from the paintings sold over the years was meeting its end. Mike and I were barely surviving, with my last bit of funds I made a tedious treacherous journey down to LA in my small KIA. It wasn’t long before I lost hope. Selling paintings on the roadside didn’t pay the bill for that trash motel we stayed at. Eventually, I took a job waiting at a restaurant. It was a sight to behold, I earned my degree in the Arts yet I was waiting tables for the hillbillies, hippies and con artist of LA.

But I didn’t give up. After getting the green light to display my paintings in front of the diner I worked for. Things started to look better for me. I sold a few pieces, enough for me to relocate to a different motel. One that was more inhabitable. Dale never asked for compensation if I sold an art piece. He was a genuine man that wanted the best for me, along with a few of the other waitresses that were trying to get through school. So when he told me about an inquiry on my pieces from a man in a not so modest suite I knew he wasn’t lying.

One can say I’ve made a name for myself, six years later I supplied work for some of the biggest Galleries in the city. And a year since I had a stable neighbor in Condo 7 after Noah died. He was a young up and coming actor with a boisterous personality and a genuine smile. After dying in a head-on collision we all mourned his death.

Pulling open one of my cupboard, I grabbed the bag of overly expensive catnip along with Mike’s bowl. He nudges my leg urging me to hurry and serve his food. I loved him to death but his attitude needed an adjustment.

Pouring food into his bowl and I watched as he made a dash for it. It evoked a chuckle from me. We were living well. I admit we gained weight, his pudgy stomach touched the wooden panels of the kitchen floor and those five-star dishes went straight to my hips. It was Saturday, which meant I was due a visit from Carol shortly. Yes, Mike gave her allergies but it never stopped her from urging me out of my shell. Art has always been my safe haven. A man-made solace of the sort. I’ve never been one for an abundance of company, which is why, as my work became more popular I sold anonymously. My first name, Michonne, was still attached to everything I’ve painted but no one actually knew how I looked or my gender. Unless you count the assholes back in Atlanta, but I haven’t heard any news of them releasing images of my face. After all, Michonne wasn’t a common name. Along with my longtime neighbors and the folks who bought my work in the early stages of my career my secret was safe.

As if on cue, Carol’s signature knock sounded against the door. I rolled my eyes at the clock hanging over my stove. Nine o’clock sharp as always.

I took my time answering the door, we always had the same conversation. Like clockwork, so I wasn’t in a rush. Releasing my locks and turning the doorknob I was greeted by a smiling face equipped with a pan of chocolate cookies. My mouth was watering, my weakness. I returned her smile and relieved her of the pastries.

“That thing hasn’t sat on the couch yet as he?” She asked a bit weary. For Carol’s sake and peace of mind, I was sure to spray the couch and keep Mike away from her designated spot. I waved her off removing the plastic covering her pastries.

“By thing I assume you mean Mike.”

“Oh yes, him.” I could hear the humor in her voice. I shook my head and started the coffee maker in the kitchen.

“I thought you’d want to reserve some treats to sway our new neighbor with.” Oh shit, I almost forgot about them. This was my secret, I gave them baked goods, that Carol herself baked. Normally she’d bring in anything left over from her bakery. But this was different, these were chocolate cookies.

“They’re not even moved in yet.” I mentioned from the kitchen.

“Oh sweetie, where have you been for the past seven hours?” I was sleeping no doubt. “Last I check they were just moving the last of their furniture.” Carol was a dear, out of all my neighbors, we exchanged the most words. I’ll even go as far as to say she’s my closest friend.

“I don’t need to schmooze the new neighbors this early, it’s only nine o’clock. I’ll let them settle in first.” After the coffee maker screamed in wake of its completion I grabbed two mugs. Mine and Carol’s permanent Saturday morning mugs. I know. She literally bought a mug for my place that she uses. I poured us coffee adding sugar. I walked in the living area balancing our coffee and a plate of cookies.

Uncrossing her legs she took her mug from my hand and watched as I sat down. I took a careful sip of my coffee, it was hot and the scent from the beans was strong as I inhaled, just how I liked it.

“You wouldn’t have to schmooze them if you’d just buy your clothes online. This is the 21st century after all.” She is 40. Exactly ten years my senior, so her words were more than ironic. It made me feel decades old.

“Carol we’ve been through this too many times. I prefer to buy items that are my size exactly.” I wasn’t lying when I mentioned that Mike and I gained weight. Living the good life put me up a cup size and made jeans stop to my thighs when I squeezed into them. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t working out. There was a gym downstairs I utilized constantly, but once my hips and breast got bigger they decided to stay that way, despite all my effort and time. “So I buy them in the flesh.”

She just waved me off. “You don’t need to take a flight to buy clothes, Michonne.” She was right, but it was one of the perks hard earned money bought you. I clucked my tongue to the roof of my mouth deciding to change the topic of conversation.

“So how is Ezekiel doing?” And just like that her blue eyes glazed over. For as long as I knew Carol, they’ve been together. I even gave him a few pointers on how to grow his locs. I was glad they stuck together so I could watch his locs flourish past his shoulders. I was also elated for Carol. Ezekiel was a B list actor, one of my favorite actors since he played Victor on ‘The Last Knights’. It was among many of my TV favorites. Technically they lived together, but during filming season he had to go to a different state but they kept in touch. As to why they’ve been together for years without getting married was beyond me.

“He’s doing just fine.” Her cheeks were tainted pink. She still swooned over him like a lovesick teen. I smiled at her. “Instead of diverting to the man in my life let’s talk about your love life.” She sported a devilish smirk behind her gray flower mug.

Somehow I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I knew I was attractive, in fact, most of the men I met found me alluring. But since no one ever saw me with a man publically they assumed I was a lesbian. Obviously, since I didn’t want the hassle and stress of a relationship I welcomed the notion. Even Carol seemed on the fence about my sexuality.

“It’s nonexistent. I don’t get out much to meet anyone, hence another reason I need this shopping trip.” I told her taking big bites out of the cookie.

“If you’d just go out with me and the others that would change.” Yes, the monthly ritual they established. Once a month everyone would get dressed and have dinner usually followed by the night ending at a posh club. On more than one occasion Negan asked me to come. He was handsome. I’d go as far to say he was sexy, with dimpled cheeks, a wide smile and a nice head of hair. But my goodness was he a player. My guess is that he was juggling about 5 different women right now. Most lawyers I’ve met had multiple women. Of course, that didn’t stop him from wanting me.

“I’m not one for outings with packed crowds,” I mentioned.

Carol shook her head. “I have a feeling your life will change, Michonne. And soon too.”

“Are you hanging out with Gabriel again? My life changed six years ago. And for the better too.” Gabriel was a pastor and Morgan’s brother. He always stopped by to use our gym and Abe allowed it. He was even gifted with an ID for the front gate last Christmas. At this point, it wouldn’t be surprising if he moved into Morgan’s Condo.

As much as I complained about needing personal space, I loved everyone living here, in my own way. Jessie was questionable. I knew more about everyone’s personal life than they knew of mine. On occasions, I’d even give them advice and water their plants when I’m not working. I even parked bikes courtesy of Daryl Dixon. After Morgan’s nasty divorce I held down the fort and watched his son, Dwayne, when he was on call at the Hospital.

Of course, I was happy to do it. Dale’s good deeds rubbed off on me. Because of that, they’d help me in return. It wasn’t that no one wanted to watch Mike, they were eager to. But I couldn’t trust them to care for him, especially since they didn’t have the advantage of living next door to me. Where I held all of his emergency medicine. He had cancer, which explained why he was bald. Call me picky. I just prefer the person next to my condo to watch him if need be.

A loud horn blared from outside. My eyebrows furrowed silently questioning Carol. She shrugged and moved toward the window, I simply followed suit. There we were mugs still in hand peering through the open creases of my wooden blinds. I squinted trying to make out the face of a brunette.

“That must be her,” Carol whispered. “Wait I see a man in the car...” She paused. “He looks homeless.” I scowled in confusion. Abe always did background checks. He didn’t have connections to the military for nothing. I didn’t blame him for wanting to make sure people were able to pay their rent. Abe also offered a deal to share land, once you’ve paid a suitable size of money you were able to live in your condo without monthly rent. It was a choice he’d offer and it was cheaper in the long run. Of course, household bills still had to be paid. Some people like Daryl and Carol chose that from the start.

“Why are you whispering, it’s not like they’ll hear us through the window.”

“It’s more polite.”

“Like the action of peeping can be softened with whispering.” We both laughed before Carol shushed me. I caught a glimpse of the man, he was still inside the sleek black Porsche. He had quite the beard on him. He also wore a ratty baseball cap which probably caused him to be called homeless. It hid his face well so I couldn’t make out his features. The brunette went back to the window leaning in close to the bearded man. “Oh looks like they’re a couple.”

“What do you think they do?” I asked Carol still staring at the couple, mug in hand. I had no shame.

“I have no idea. But I’m guessing the woman’s a model. Though Abraham didn’t mention there would be two of them.” She did look like a model. Her silky hair reached past her shoulders, leading down to a trim tight body. Hopefully, she wasn’t another Jessie. Jessie did something to deserve my spite, she may not remember but I do. Oh, I remember very well.

The last person to move in was, in fact, Jessie Anderson, so in our defense, we did the same thing to Jessie when she moved in four years ago. Along with the three women who moved in over the last few months, if they counted. When Jessie modeled her way to her condo but couldn’t figure out how to open her own door. Bless her soul. We figured she had a sugar daddy or was a model. We were right on both counts.

“Oh goodness, we can’t have another Jessie.” Even Carol understood. After a moment the woman pulled away from the car and it drove off. She was heading this way. Shit!

We tried our best to scramble away from the window without spilling the remnants of our coffee. I switched on my TV opting to settle on a random station.

“You think she saw us?” She asked me.

“We’re inside unless she has a third all seen eye that’s impossible,” I told her taking in gulps of caffeine. I was quite sure we were in the clear so when a knock bounced off my door it caught me off guard. I spilled coffee on my capris night pants. A frustrated moan left my throat, these stains were hard to get rid of. I was forced to answer the door with a stain the size of a black hole on my white pants. I still had my locs gathered on top of my head, I decided against letting it down.

The door swung open and I was greeted by another smiling face for the second time this morning. It was the brunette. Up close she was actually quite stunning.

“Oh, I’m sorry I was actually looking for the landlord. I’m Lori by the way.’’ She stuck her hand out towards mine her nails gleamed with a clear coat of peach polish. I took her hand after a moment of silence.

“Michonne.” She was nice.

Her eyes lit up upon hearing my name. “You’re not Michonne the painter are you?” Her tone held curiosity.

“Umm, no. I’m not.” Although she seemed nice I didn’t know her. If the painting on my living room wall wasn’t any indication of who I was then she really didn’t need to know.

She rolled her eyes and dropped my hand. “Of course, she’d have enough money for better…uhh apparel maybe even a house.” Bitch! Her eyes darted to the stain on my pants. I wanted to scream ‘but bitch you’re living here too!’ I held my tongue. “How silly of me.”

“It was an honest mistake.” I had to suck up to this bitch? I think not. Funny how first impressions left a lasting mark. I’ll mourn the loss of new undergarments later. My only hope was that her boyfriend was nicer since her ring finger was bare.

Lori nodded lacing her hands together. “Like I said earlier, I was looking for the landlord.” Her tone was short all of a sudden like she didn’t want to stay by this door a minute longer. I pointed to the left.

“He’s two doors down. But if I were you I wouldn’t bother him this early on Saturday’s. If Sasha answers you’ll be in luck.” Abe didn’t have a knack for Saturday mornings, any time after eleven was better for him. I learned the hard way after the pipe in my bathroom burst. I ran to Abe banging on his door. By the time he answered, he was red-faced and shirtless. He fixed my plumbing problem but I was left with feeling that I interrupted something. He didn’t speak to me for a week.

Lori thanked me, clearly ignoring my warning and made her way to Abe’s door. I placed the locks back to their original position and turned to face Carol.

“Well isn’t she a dime.” Carol mentioned sarcastically. A dime indeed. I rubbed the stain on my pants although it didn’t do anything to fade it.

“Now I’m hoping she does catch Abe at a bad time.”

“Just take my advice Michonne, order clothes and have it delivered here. It’s what I always do.” We were back to that conversation again. We passed the time sitting together discussing neighborhood changes, our TV shows and of course neighborly gossip.

“Have you noticed that Maggie gained some weight?” Only Carol would notice these small things.

“So? I’ve gained weight.”

Carol shook her head, exasperated with my line of thinking. “Michonne, you weren’t having sex nonstop for the past two months.” I was a tiny bit offended. In fact I hadn’t had any sexual exploits since leaving Atlanta. That was years ago.

“How would you know this? You don’t even live next to them to hear anything.” She scoffed at me.

“I’ve seen enough displays of affection between them to light up a cow.” Maggie and Glenn had been married when I met them. They actually gave me hope that there was a forever. They always said they’d wait to have kids, both being in the drug research field. They wanted to focus on their careers before adding a little addition to the family.

“So you think she’s pregnant?” I bit into my cookie.

“I know.” Her eyes twinkled.

The infamous horn made its appearance again, prompting Carol and I back into peeping. Lori had a scowl on her face as she made her way to the sleek car.

“You think Abraham made her angry?” I questioned though I could care less.

“Oh, I’m sure they exchanged some words. Or her boyfriend said something to upset her.” She added when the heavily tinted window on the Porsche didn’t roll down. Carol was onto something there. Lori marched to the vehicle and tapped the glass. The door to the car opened revealing a strong arm that held it. Lori stepped in the open space successfully blocking our view. The suspense was killing me.

“I need to get a good look at the man, can she just move.” I felt the same way as Carol. This Saturday was more entertaining than just chatting about the mystery around Daryl. Except there wasn’t a mystery surrounding him, he was just a mechanic that owned a bike store. The vibe he had was mysterious though.

Lori moved and he was just about to exit the car when my landline rung off. What are the chances? I huffed and told Carol to give me a play by play. I dashed for the phone, promising myself to invest in something cordless.

Caller ID: Simon

I groaned knowing exactly what this call was about. I clicked call and greeted him sweetly. “Good morning, Simon. How are you?”

“Something tells me you’re not working on your piece since you answered this phone so quickly.” He knew me so well. Simon was the one who picked up my art and delivered them to galleries amongst other people. Technically he worked for me. It was rare for me to do my work on site. That usually required complete discretion and a sizable check.

Carol waved her arms around drawing in my attention. “Good lord Michonne, he isn’t homeless!”

I tried to split my attention between both Carol and Simon but it didn’t work for me. So I focused on Simon.

“When creativity hits me I’ll be sure to text you, Simon.” Whenever I lost momentum Simon always reminded me that I was working on a time frame.

“Be sure to. I forgot to mention the last time I made a pick up some guy name Gregory phoned me. He seemed adamant on talking to you. Said it was urgent. He sounded crazy so I shrugged it off.” The only Gregory that rung any alarms was the ‘Atlanta Gallery’ owner who fired me with little to no remorse. Last I heard business for him went down the drain.

“Thanks, Simon, if he calls you again let me know.”

“Sure thing.” I hung up and made my way back to Carol who was no longer peeping out the window. Disappointment filled me.

“I thought you were going to give me a play by play. Did they leave?” I checked outside the window again noticing the black car was absent. Just my luck.

“I did but you were in the deep end of your conversation on the phone.” She gazed at me expectantly.

Sighing I told her “Simon was just talking about my old boss calling him, said he sounded crazy.”

“Simon himself looks crazy.”

“In an artistic way Carol.” I defended him.

The thoughts in her head were clear on her face. It didn’t make any difference what I said. Anyone with messy hair and an array of paint covering them looked crazy unless it was me of course.

Mike made his grand entrance, he waltzes in and rubbed himself against my leg. Carol coughed beside me putting space between us.

“That’s my cue to leave, be sure to leave some cookies for the new neighbors.” It wasn’t as if I was going to devour the entire pan of cookies. After closing the door behind Carol I pulled my silk night top tighter around my body.

My place was vibrant due to some of my work being hung on its white walls. When I first moved in I wanted something modern. I also wanted parts to remain a canvas for my doings. I actually came across this place by accident. It had security and it was discreet. There was a twenty-minute drive before you came across another building. In total there were nine occupants in the building. Morgan, Daryl, Jessie, Glenn, and Maggie along with Negan lived on the lower level. Abe and Sasha, Carol, myself along with the new couple lived on the second floor. Despite the number of occupants, my place was a spacious two bedroom two bath. I used the extra room for my work. I was still on edge about moving in here permanently, Atlanta taught me nothing good last forever. Sighing, I turned on my speakers and headed for my safe haven. I worked until nightfall.

#i live for the applause #applause applause #i'm bumping right now #i really am not funny #cries #richonne fanfiction #richonne #richonne fic #there is actually more than one chapter #i was on a damn roll that night #TBC

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thranduilsperkybutt · 6 years ago

Photo

Gif source: 1 | 2 | 3

Series Masterlist

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Reader; Sam Winchester/Reader

Warnings: Some cursing. Lengthy exposition. Nothing else, really.

Word Count: 3,982 words

Reader Gender: Female

Author: Meg

Summary: You bring Charlie up to speed on things and learn a little more about Sam from a colleague. Car trouble causes delays but a handsome stranger swoops in and saves the day. [While You Were Sleeping AU, Coffee-Shop!AU? — I’m playing fast and loose with the plot.]

A/N: Ayyyy! Here’s part two! So this slow-burn is going slower than I planned, but I’ve got a lot of ideas! Next chapter things are going to start to heat up between Dean/Reader and I plan on going into some more detail on both of their pasts! Hope y’all keep enjoying!

| Part 2 | Long Road Home

“You told them what?”

“Shh!” you hiss quickly, glancing around the shop to make sure none of the patrons had been too disturbed by Charlie’s startled shout. Charlie, on the other hand, hardly seemed worried about the few curious eyes her outburst had drawn, too occupied with gaping at you in disbelief to notice. You couldn’t blame her; not after the story you filled her in on over the course of the morning, “I know, I know! All I wanted to do was make sure he was okay, but everything just snowballed out of control!”

“A snowball would be an understatement! You’re like Indiana Jones in Raiders, and the giant boulder that’s chasing you is the web of lies you’re weaving!” Charlie waves her hands at you dramatically, but there was a teasing tone in her voice, “You’re so doomed!”

“Thanks,” you comment sarcastically, “that’s really what I needed to hear right now, with the family dinner right around the corner. You’re a big help, Charlie.”

Leaning on the counter top, you’re thankful the Coffee House’s morning rush had decided to settle down with the nearing of noon, making it easier to finally have this talk with your friend. The night of the accident, the best you could do upon arriving home was to crash on your bed, your exhaustion taking all the wind out of you. But in the light of day, you found yourself seriously in need of Charlie’s insight on the situation, despite her reputation for brutal honesty or her lack of viable relationship advice. With her having gone to her class yesterday, you hadn’t seen her at work, and this was a conversation best had face-to-face.

“You know, you’re probably right,” reaching to take a sip of ice water from the Yeti you bought yourself this Christmas, a heavy sigh escapes you, “Maybe I should just back out of it. Come up with an excuse not to go---”

“Oh, no you don’t! You have to go to it,” Charlie interrupts, nearly making you choke on your water as her features smooth with her seriousness. She tugs her hair out of its falling messy ponytail, letting the fiery tendrils drape across her shoulders for an instant as she pops the band around her wrist.

“What? I thought I was ‘doomed,’ remember? Your words, not mine,” quoting her in the air with your index and middle fingers, you fix her with a skeptical brow. What’s with the sudden one-eighty? She was going to give you whiplash at this rate.

“Oh, you are still totally doomed, my dude,” she breaks into a teasing grin, pulling her hair back up to fix it into a, hopefully sturdier, bun, “but this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in the past three years I’ve known you! I’ve gotta’ see how it turns out. Nothing exciting ever happens to you!”

“Wow, Char,” rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Glad to know this is at least amusing for you! Meanwhile, I’ll just completely wallow in my own guilt about living a lie! His family--- they’re so nice to me. They wanted to know how we met, what made me know he was the one, and all I could say was that his eyes were kind. I don’t deserve how nice they are.”

“Okay, fine! If you won’t listen to me, listen to… Cas!” she calls, drawing him to look up from where he was currently in the midst of restocking the blueberry muffins, “Cas, please tell (Y/N) that she should go to her fake-fiancé’s family dinner!”

“Don’t drag Cas into this,” the protest does nothing to quell her enthusiasm. You can see it in her eyes, she was nowhere through with trying to convince you to go.

Cas’ dark brows draw together in confusion beneath the Charlie’s Coffee House cap he wore, before he decides it’s better to not question her too much, and fixates his sapphire eyes on you, “You should go to your fake-fiancé’s family dinner.”

In all honesty, you didn’t need much convincing to go. Somewhere buried beneath the rational side of you who knew there was something morally wrong with lying to Sam’s family more than you already had, was a desperate want to experience a family dinner. You ached to have at least one day’s worth of the simple family gathering you never got to have. Living your life with an estranged family was better than being around them, but it still hurt that you could never experience the things that normal families got to. Gathering around a dinner table always seemed just barely out of your family’s reach, each Christmas or Thanksgiving being filled with some sort of drama or falling-out. The dysfunctional circular motions your family went in each year resulted in your slow drift away from them, until it culminated in this year, when you hadn’t even received so much as a phone call on Christmas.

As one last-ditch effort to talk yourself out of it and listen to the morally-correct angel clinging onto your shoulder by a thread, you murmur, “I should tell them I’m not his fiancée. Ripping the band-aid off sooner is better than later, right?”

While you had expected Charlie to start in on you, it’s Cas that pulls your listening ear back to him, “While I did not catch all of your story, (Y/N), I believe I’ve heard enough to have a grasp on the situation you find yourself in. From my perspective, I don’t think you should tell your fake-fiancée’s family the truth right now.”

“Someone pinch me! Did the saint just tell you to lie?” Charlie quips, making Cas’ shoot her a mildly annoyed glare at her teasing nickname for him.

“All I’m saying is, what good would come from it? Think about it,” Cas begins, leaning beside you on the counter as he tries to make his point clear, “if you do tell them, yes, they most likely would be upset, but they also are having to handle their son’s accident, too. Do you really think it is the time to give them the truth? It’s a mercy to keep it to yourself, at least for now.”

“What happens when Sam wakes up, though? It’s going to be even worse, then, if I don’t come clean now,” you worry your bottom lip with your teeth, feeling quite stuck between a rock and a hard place. It seemed that whatever you did, the end result left you hurting them, and admitting the embarrassing truth that you’d lied, regardless of what your initial intentions were.

What was the saying? The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You never quite put too much thought into the phrase until right now.

“When Sam does wake up, at least that is one less thing they have to worry about,” he offers.

“Our friendly neighborhood saint has a point,” Charlie hums, gripping Cas’ shoulder in her own proud approval. “Maybe you should put it off until Sam’s back up and running. At least they won’t have to worry about you and Sam at the same time.”

“Ugh, I hate to say that you two are probably right,” you groan, rubbing your temples, “how did I get myself into this mess?”

“You told a fib,” it comes out jokingly, but all it makes you want to do is smack her for it. Luckily, you’re saved from the conversation by a vibrating in your back pocket. Pointing up your index finger in the universal gesture for them to hold on a second, you pull the phone from your pocket, not recognizing the name there.

Arthur Ketch, it announced.

“Huh,” you huff, debating whether you should even answer the call. It wasn’t even your phone, it was Sam’s. You had just been toting it around in case it got a call, but you hadn’t actually thought you would be on the receiving end of one, as Sam was in the hospital.

“Did you purchase a new phone?” Cas wonders, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s… Sam’s,” the admission earns a scandalized gasp from Charlie, and you quickly explain, “The hospital gave me his stuff! I’m the fiancée, remember?” Finally deciding it could be something important, you move away from the two of them, if only for the space to breathe that the distance provided. Swiping to answer, you lift the cell to your ear and motion for them to be quiet, “Hello? This is Sam’s phone.”

“Uhm, hello,” the man’s voice was accented, but curious, as he drawled through the crackly reception of the phone, “To whom am I speaking?”

“This is (Y/N), I’m… taking Sam’s calls while he’s in the hospital. Would you like to leave a message?”

“In the hospital? My goodness, so that explains why he hasn’t called in to the office! What’s he gone and done to himself this time?”

“He was hit by a car on Wednesday,” you reply, choosing the blunt approach. “He’s in a coma right now, but the doctors think he’s doing better. Sorry--- you said ‘the office?’ Are you from Sam’s work?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. This is Arthur Ketch of MacLeod and Associates. I was calling to see why Sam had neglected work, but I dare say this is quite a valid excuse for not showing up, or giving a call-in, for that matter,” Arthur chuckled in his own amusement, before adding. “Which hospital did you say he was in, again?”

“I didn’t, actually, but he’s at Lawrence Memorial,” you wondered if your frown was audible through the phone. This guy didn’t even sound too upset at the news that Sam was in the hospital, as if this were just another business phone call. Freakin’ lawyers.

“We’re very sorry to hear that. I will definitely pass on the news to our partners. Of course, we wish Sam will get well soon,” he pauses, before adding, “He is one of our best attorneys, after all. But, it can’t be helped. Please, be certain to send our sympathies to his family. It is truly bad luck after the last accident.”

“The… last accident?” you press, only to hear Arthur click his tongue in response.

“It isn’t my place to say…”

“I’m sure the doctors would want to know about it,” a bit worried now, you wondered how Sam could have been hurt before. It could really be some information the doctors needed to know! It wasn’t as if his family knew a thing about him, it seemed.

“Well, I suppose you’re right.”

While Charlie was spending her Friday night on a much-anticipated date with her online friend Ruthy, who she had spent the last three months gushing to you about, you had a date of your own at the hospital.

Your Jeep had other ideas, though.

“Damn it,” you growl, kicking angrily at the tire that was comically flat, as if just for God to laugh at you. “Just had to ignore that repair, didn’t you, (Y/N)?” The nail that you’d been avoiding paying to have fixed until payday had finally taken its toll, when your tire had blown on the highway. Really, you were lucky you didn’t wreck when you felt the threatening thump-thump-thump of your rim on asphalt, but sitting at the side of the road, all you could do was blame yourself for this.

The sun was already low in the sky, and in another hour sunset would settle into nightfall. The last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road with a spare you couldn’t even put on because your damn lug-nuts were on too tight for you to be able to get off. With a defeated sigh, you crouch back down to take up the lug wrench once again, in the hopes that maybe third time's the charm and you find some strength you hadn’t had before.

You’re in the middle of struggling with it, a slew of grumbled profanities slipping from you, when the low rumble of an engine draws closer in the distance. Your attention isn’t drawn from your own work until you hear the car pull off the road, and you find the driver stopping a little behind your Jeep, blinding you slightly with the circular headlights and drawing your hand up to shield your eyes.

For a moment, your heart skips with icy adrenaline. You’d seen enough horror movies to know where this could go.

When the lights turn off, you blink away your blindness, the spots in your vision resolving just as the driver’s door opens and a man steps out, calling to you, “You need some help over there, princess?”

He was tall, with short hair that bordered on a buzz in the back, and stubble trailing along his jaw. His smile was warm, though, blindingly white teeth parting his plump lips. A leather jacket framed his broad shoulders, with a flannel layered beneath it, nearly covering the Henley that peeked from below.

But it was the car that caught your eye next. All black and sleek and something right out of a period piece set in the sixties. It was a car that was cared for--- fawned over--- that much was apparent.

Hell, it looked better than the old and slightly rusted ‘95 Jeep you bought off your uncle back in the day for two grand before leaving town, and was probably twice the age. At least. You were guessing it was a Chevy.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” you respond cautiously, after weighing your options. No way were you getting these lugs off by yourself, “Just having a hard time with the lug-nuts, is all.”

“Hey, leave it to me. I gotta’ impact wrench in my trunk, it’ll be better than that old thing you’re using,” you hadn’t thought his smile could get wider, but you caught a glimpse of it before he turned to move to his trunk, popping it and rummaging around. Your watch never left him, not wanting to turn your back on a stranger on the side of the highway.

It had absolutely nothing to do with how attractive he was. Yeah, nothing at all to do with that.

It doesn’t take him all that long to fish the wrench from his trunk, which he shakes a bit in his hand at you as if he’s discovered a treasure, before he makes his way on over. When he comes closer, you notice his eyes are green, right before he leans down towards your tire.

“I appreciate it,” you begin, but he just waves you off, taking the lugs off as if you hadn’t been struggling for the last thirty minutes with the damned things. You might just need to get yourself a wrench like the one he had, if you could save up enough.

“Don’t mention it. These things can be a bitch to get off with the manual wrenches, especially if they were tightened in a shop,” he sighs, making quick work of the flat and replacing it with your spare as you put the now-ruined tire in your cargo. By the time you come back around to the side of your car, he’s already lowering the jack, seemingly finished.

“There, should get you home now,” and he was grinning at you again.

“You have no idea what a life saver you are,” you sigh gratefully, but feeling a little guilty for taking up this kind stranger’s time, “I’d pay you for your time, but all I’ve got is like five bucks in cash and a gift card to Charlie’s Coffee House on me.”

He laughs at that, “Don’t worry about it. Just call it helping a damsel in distress.” With a playful wink, he moves around you to head back to his car, leaving you with the jack and repaired tire.

Still, you call after him, offering a wave as you climb back into your Jeep, “Thanks, stranger!”

Albeit a little later than you intended, you eventually arrived at the hospital to hand off the information you learned that morning from Arthur Ketch. Telling yourself you were there to pass on the info wasn’t enough to deny the fact that you didn’t want to go back to your empty house just yet. You could have turned around and went home as soon as you finished your conversation with the nurse, but instead you lingered, moving to Sam’s bedside.

“Hey,” you murmur low, almost half-hoping for an answer that doesn’t come, your only response his steady breathing, “do you mind if I sit?” With the chair comes a contented sigh, the ache in your heels subsiding just a bit as you finally get off your feet for the day. With a sigh, you murmur, “You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” Looking around the hospital room, you notice the things that hadn’t been there the day before.

There were flowers, an assortment of daisies in all different hues, along with the Get Well Soon cards that Jo had littered the windowsill with. A militarian-looking duffel bag was in the corner of the room, left by John, stuffed full of an extra set of clothes as if Sam could wake up at any moment and walk out of here. A tug in your heart reminded you how you wished he would, not just for his own sake, but for theirs.

“They love you,” a soft smile comes to your lips. “Mary misses you, more than from just this... I can tell.” Looking back to Sam, you sigh, “I’m sorry I roped you into this whole, engagement thing, but I couldn’t tell them I wasn’t really getting married to you. They let me in, and I can’t bring myself to tell them different.” Your hands fidget with your bag as you dangle it between your knees, your elbows resting on your thighs as you lean towards him, “I know it’s probably selfish, but I’m going to go to the family dinner, Sam. I don’t expect you to wake up and fall madly in love with me at first sight or anything--- I’m not going to ever be a perfect model girlfriend, like I’m absolutely positive you’ve had in the past--- no matter how awesome it would be to feel wanted like that, and if it was by you, that would be amazing, because the more and more I hear about you, the more amazing you apparently are. I know you’ll wake up and I’ll have to go on with my life. I know I’m going to have to let them go, but I just…” you huff out a chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it, “I don’t want to be alone for once, you know? I just want to have this one dinner, okay? Is that really so bad?”

Of course, Sam doesn’t answer. He just breathes steadily. He could have tricked you into thinking he was sleeping, if it weren’t for the hospital gown and the beeping of the monitors in the background.

Pursing your lips, you add dryly, reaching to brush his hair out of his face, “You’re a pretty good listener. Thanks, Sam.”

With a sigh, you will a smile onto your face, “Hey, on a lighter note, I got you something.” You fish through your back, pulling out the small, stuffed bear who proudly wore a tiny Lawrence Memorial shirt and had Feel Better embroidered on its left paw. It brings an embarrassed chuckle from you, “The gift shop is lined with rows of these things, but I think this one’s the cutest.” You sit it on the bedside table, making sure the bear can sit upright on its own before letting it go.

Dean’s anger was tempered just enough by the time he got to the hospital that he wasn’t entirely steaming as the elevator let him off at the floor his brother was apparently on.

“You needed to be focused on finishing the job. It’s not like you could have finished in Chicago any faster.”

Yeah, well, he could have damn well tried if he’d known something like this had happened. Dean would have dropped everything, job be damned. But he didn’t want to fight with his dad right now. Right now, Dean wanted to see his little brother.

Frustration and worry matched themselves in equal strides as he moved towards the nurse’s station, catching the eye of a plump woman with latte hued skin as he leaned over the counter to ask her softly for directions to his room.

“Oh, he’s in three-oh-eight, right over there on the left,” the nurse points out to him the room, drawing his eye to spot the glass-lined room. Dean’s about to thank her and head over, when she adds, “Just knock before you go in.”

“Wait--- I thought Sam was in a coma?” Dean raises a brow.

“So you don’t startle the fiancée,” she explains, looking with pity towards the room, “Poor thing comes by every night to check on him.”

Dean does a good job of hiding his shock. Keeping the emotion simmering beneath the surface. The most she gets is his widened eyes, though they turn towards the room quickly enough.

“Thanks for the tip.”

Dean maneuvers around another nurse wheeling a vitals machine as he makes his way to the door, peering through the window as inconspicuously as possible to catch sight of the fiancée he hadn’t known Sam had.

Her back was to him, seated in a chair as she leaned a bit on the edge of Sam’s bedside. Her fingers fiddled with a teddybear on the nightstand, trying to keep it from falling over before she could be satisfied with leaving it alone. A hint of recognition flashes through him as he stares at her, before moving to open the door without a knock.

The sound of the door opening draws your attention, and instinctively you move away from the bedside in case it was a doctor or nurse who needed to get to Sam, only for your eyes to find someone entirely different.

“It is you,” comes from the man in the doorway, who looked on at you with an incredulous look in his green eyes.

It was the guy who fixed your tire.

“Y-You! What are you doing here!” you stood, immediately on edge, your mind rushing back to the worst-case, horror-movie scenario, “Did you follow me?!”

“What?” his nose wrinkles up at the accusation, rolling his eyes, “No! I’m not some freakin’ creep who goes around stalking chicks who have flat tires on the freeway. Sam’s my brother!”

You weren’t as good at hiding your shock, your mouth parting slightly at the news, as your finger pointed at him warily, “So you’re Dean, then?”

“Now you’re on the right track, princess,” he sighs, before his eyes widen a fraction at himself and his hand comes to rub the back of his neck nervously, “Eh, I mean--- Guess it’s about time I learned your name, huh?”

“Oh! Yeah. Right,” you stammer, before offering it and an apology, “Sorry.”

“Well,” Dean frowns, glancing to Sam as he moves to the side of the bed, reaching out to give his brother’s hand a squeeze, “wish we met under better circumstances.” Dean’s eyes find yours again, studying you as you stood there awkwardly, as if trying to figure something out in his mind, before speaking, “So… you’re Sam’s fianceé, huh?” He said it like he already knew the answer, but just wanted to hear it confirmed from you for himself.

Heat burns at the back of your mind as you stammer out your lie, poorly, “Y-Yep. That’s me.”

Dean must take your nervousness for something else, because he just shakes his head with a sad sounding sigh, “I can get why he wouldn’t want to tell everyone all at once, but… I just can’t believe he didn’t tell me about you, though.”

#dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfic #author meg #female reader insert #supernatural female reader insert #fanfiction #newstuff female reader insert #fanfic by me #gif not mine

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oskarwing · 6 years ago

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Ever since I saw you in that crap car, I couldn’t stop thinking about you

Work at Bobby’s garage is great. He's surrounded by cars of different varieties and he has all the money he needs and then some to send to Sam every month.

Of course, little brother doesn't like that at all. Dean stopped counting all the times Sammy explained to him that he doesn't need the money because he has a scholarship and a job which makes enough money. Dean’s always brushing that off. Sam’s in college and college kids should get financially supported by their families (“By their parents, Dean. Not their siblings.”) and Dean is the only family Sam has left so, of course, he'll take care of it, like he’s always been taking care of Sammy.

Also, it wasn't long until Sam was a rich lawyer anyway. Then Dean would be able to use the money for himself, maybe buy a TV rather than watch every show or movie on the laptop Sam had gotten him for Christmas once even though he had told him that he didn't really need anything like that. It’s pretty neat though and Dean gets himself a Netflix subscription every time he has a vacation. He still thinks Sammy shouldn't have bought him the thing. He can use his phone the same way after all. But Sam had told him to shut up and accept a good thing for once. At the end that was what Dean did but only if Sammy also accept the nice things he was giving him, meaning the money every month.

Which is why he is so glad that Bobby is providing him work at the garage. It isn't only a way to get money but also work he really enjoys. He always loved cars and working on them is great. Maybe it isn't his dream job exactly but he never really had one in the first place he thinks. So working at Bobby’s is good enough.

One thing that is also amazing is learning about all these elderly car owners who always come in with a history lesson on their cars. It’s a lot of fun giving old Mrs. Ransom's well kept VW beetle - which she’d been driving since it was a new car - an oil change and listening to all the adventures she’d had in it. “Back then it meant huge independence for me, you know?” she tells him this afternoon. “I bought it from the money I made at my first job, after I saved up on it for a bit and I wouldn’t have given up on it for anything. Not even for my husband, who thought we didn’t need two cars and wanted to just keep his. But you have to understand that this car is mine. In every way you know? I wouldn’t give it up for anything. His car broke really soon after we fought about it anyway, so we kept mine… he cursed about it until the day he died… oh honey, I’m sorry I’ve been talking your ear off again haven’t I?”

Dean shakes his head. “It’s okay Ma’am, you know I love listening to you talking about the good old times while I’m working.” The old lady smiles. “And what a good listener you are,” she tells him and when she pays she gives him fifteen dollars more than she needs to and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Buy something nice for yourself for it. Or for someone special, okay?” she tells him in a tone that says he better accept the money. And he does. He thinks about using it as a way to buy a nice birthday present for Sam, spring is coming fast now and with spring Sam's birthday in early May isn't that far off.

Maybe he can buy Sammy a new phone if he starts saving money for it now. He knows his little brother has problems with his old one at the moment. So, a phone is a good investment he guesses.

While he's still thinking about what to do with the money he hears a new car arrive. The motor is rattling and the car is already sounding bad. It’s even worse when he sees it. It wasn’t a nice car, to begin with, Dean thinks but whoever the owner is must not give a care about the poor thing because it’s not only dirty and clearly not cared for very well it’s also full of scratches and the varnish (a pale brown as far as he can tell) is flaking giving a free sight onto rusting metal. There are also a few big dents in the car and Dean starts to think about what kind of accident could have caused these.

He walks over to the crab car to tell the owner that this is not a junkyard and he doesn’t think they’ll be able to fix that rolling catastrophe, biting his lip as he moves towards it. The car door opens slowly and the driver gets out of the car. Dean stops on his way.

This guy is definitely not who he expected. What he expected was some kind of slimy pimp type who looked like he didn’t care about his hygiene just as well as he did about his car. The guy getting out of the car doesn’t look like that at all. He’s light-skinned with messy dark hair, wearing a beige trench coat over a suit and he’s very attractive as well.

He looks at Dean. “Hello. Do you work here?” he asks him. Dean nods, not wanting to tell the car owner off anymore. “I… I think there’s something wrong with my car.” He thinks? There’s no possible way anyone could think that there was anything right with that car. “Uh seems like it,” Dean says. “That’s why people normally come here. What’s your problem?” “There’s some kind of rattling going on in the motor and sometimes it just stops while I’m on the road.”

“Alright. Understood.” He probably won’t get any more out of the guy, he really doesn’t seem to know much about cars. Or anything really.

“I’ll look into the motor and we’ll see what we can do with it…” he tells the car owner and the man looks relieved. “Thank you,” he says. “I was in four garages already and I was rejected every time… they said I wouldn’t be able to find a place that would fix my car.” “I mean…” Dean sighs. “Look, I can’t promise you any miracles. She does look like she’s been through a lot. But I can try.”

The stranger nods and then frowns a little. “Did you just call my car a she?” he asks. “Uh… yeah, I do that…” Dean bites his tongue. “I… uhm do that with most cars.” “Oh, I understand,” the man says, though he looks like he doesn’t understand at all. “Are all cars females to you then?” “No, I mean… there are male cars too,” he says. Mrs. Ransom’s beetle for example. That’s a male car. “And how do you choose that?” “I dunno. Just comes to me I guess,” Dean shrugs and laughs awkwardly. “My car’s a girl definitely and she’s a good one too.”

Now the stranger is smiling a little. “Can you tell me when it’ll be done?” “I dunno… it really depends on what state it’s in but I’d say at least a few weeks up to a month.” The stranger breathes out deeply. “I mean first I have to look into the motor like I said. Then we’ll know what’s going on really.” “Okay,” the man says and watches Dean expectantly.

He gets to work trying to ignore the way this guy is staring at him while he tests everything. “Alright. I think I need to exchange some things get everything working again but I mean it should take me a month and a half if I can work quickly,” he explains finally The man smiles widely. “Thank you…” Dean grins. “Do you want me to take care of your girl's appearance as well?” He nods. “Will that take longer?” he asks. “Maybe a day or two,” Dean says. “Alright,” the attractive car owner with the unattractive car is okay with getting a slightly more attractive car. Great. “The same color?” Dean asks. “Yes.

Dean nods and takes him to the office so they can discuss payment and make the thing official and he may or may not have been very interested in the name of his new customer (Castiel Novak that's not a name you come by every day) and he tells him he'll call as soon as the car is fixed. Castiel nods and the deal is done. He thanks Dean again for taking care of the car catastrophe and then he's gone.

Now it'll take until Dean fixes the car until he will see him again.

Dean works on the car for the next few weeks. Bobby doesn't really mind it because Castiel's car is the only big thing they got at the moment.

So Dean got a lot of time to spend under and around it thinking about the owner. What a guy. Really. Good looking and nice with just enough weirdness about him to peak Dean's interest without scaring him away. He hums softly while he works and tries to imagine what kinda guy Castiel is. What kind of job does he have? Or is he still in college? He looked young enough to be. When he gets home what is the first thing he does? What is the last thing he does? Does he sometimes think about the awkward mechanic fixing his car? Probably only when he wants to know how long it will take until the car is finally done.

Dean isn’t getting false hopes. He’s merely this guy's car-fixer. Just a secondary character in his life, probably not even that. He probably doesn’t even remember his face. Dean normally wouldn't either but the guy is just something to remember.

Especially his eyes. Gosh. His eyes were wonderful. Dean had only noticed them once he was near the guy. They were a deep blue and he really thought they were amazingly good looking.

This is how Dean spends most of his days for the next few weeks while Bobby works on the other cars that come in sometimes. Dean’s actually getting the car fixed a lot quicker than he thought he would. He has to wait for over a day before he gets the spare parts but when they arrive Dean is back at work every day on Castiel’s car.

One day Bobby calls him out on it. “Boy, you’ve always been a hard-working son of a bitch but you’ve been working on that damned car like a mad man,” Bobby says and looks at him. “You could almost believe it was your own. We both know that it has maybe a few more months to go at best if the owner keeps his attitude towards taking care of it which is obviously none existing.” Dean shrugs. “I guess I really just want to get it done.” “Why did you even accept to fix this thing?” Bobby asks him gruffly. Dean shrugs again. “I dunno…” Bobby eyes him. “Was it the owner?” Dean looks away embarrassed at how easily his employer can read him. “Idjit,” Bobby says but that’s the last thing Dean hears of that discussion.

Dean’s done with the car a week before he told Castiel he would be. He calls him the day after he’s done with his work. “Hello?” the deep voice he remembers so well asks. “Hey Ca… Mr. Novak,” he says feeling his cheeks burning. He’s been calling him Castiel in his head the whole time but he needs to be professional now. “It’s Dean Winchester from Singer’s Garage? Your car is done.” “Already?” Castiel sounds excited. “Yes,” Dean says. “You can pick it up as soon as you have time.” “Oh! That’s great, thank you!” “It’s my job,” Dean says.

Castiel comes to pick up the car the next day. He drives the car to test it (after Dean suggested it) and tells Dean that it’s driving better than when he bought it. Dean doesn’t really find it hard to believe that.

Castiel gives him the pay and just like Mrs. Ransom before adds a few dollars more than he needs to. Dean thanks him and waves when he drives away, thinking about the fact that he probably won’t ever see this attractive and interesting customer again.

At the end of April Dean has enough money to buy Sammy a new phone. He’s been working even harder after Castiel left the car behind trying to get the money together before the 2nd of May.

It’s Mrs. Ransom again who hands him the last few dollars for it. She looks at him questioning. “Are you alright, honey?” He nods. “Yeah…” “Are you sure? You look a little pale,” she tells him. “Yeah, just been working a lot since February,” he shrugs. “Oh is Mr. Singer working you too hard?” she sounds almost angry when she says that. “No, he isn’t… I’ve been just working so I’ll have enough money for my brother’s birthday,” Dean explains. That makes Mrs. Ransom brighten up again. “Oh, sweetie, that’s so nice of you…” She reaches into her pocket and presses fifty dollars into his hands even though she already paid him. “So, this money is for your brother’s birthday but I also want you to use a part of it for yourself, alright?” “Okay,” Dean promises.

So now he’s buying the phone for Sam. Hoping he’ll like it. Dean looks over the smartphones displayed thinking about which one Sam would like the most.

He’s picked out three models when somebody taps his shoulder. Dean turns around and almost drops the phone he’s been looking at when he sees the big blue eyes. He’s been thinking about these eyes while he was fixing the car belonging to the person with these eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says and smiles at him softly. “Look Gabriel this is the mechanic who fixed my car,” he tells a small man behind him. Gabriel grins at Dean and wings. “You did a really good job with that car.” “Thanks,” Dean says and grins but looks at his shoes otherwise. “You know what, Cassie, I gotta go and look at those washing machines again...” Gabriel excuses himself. “Oh, alright,” Castiel watches as Gabriel leaves them there. When he’s gone he smiles at Dean again. “I wanted to thank you for the work you did with my car,” he tells him. “It drives amazingly now.” “That’s awesome,” Dean says and grins. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.” Castiel’s eyes get bigger. “Of course I’ll remember you,” he tells him and smiles. “Well, I’m glad your car is working again…” Dean says again. “Me too. Your work was amazing,” he says when he looks at his feet. “I… I actually wanted to ask you a question.” “Yeah?” “Would you maybe like to see me from outside of fixing my car? Like… like on a date?” Dean feels himself blush. “I’d like that.”

In the end, he does use a part of Mrs. Ransom’s money for himself after Sam’s birthday passed. Well for a dinner at least. They eat at an awesome Italian place and they talk for a long time. Dean feels butterflies in his stomach flying loopings. They’re talking about what a great thing it is that they were both in the store and that Cas had recognized him and the courage to walk up to him. “What about you? Did you immediately remember me?” “Yeah…” Dean says and blushes. “I… I actually couldn’t stop thinking about you since I saw you in your car…” Castiel smiles at him and grins a little. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. I just wanted to get my car fixed and then I saw you and… I’m guessing sometimes these things just happen.” “I guess so. We gotta thank your car for this.” “Yes, thank god it was so broken.” Dean laughs and looks over at him. “I mean… you gotta take better care of her though. Or she’ll break worse very soon.”

Only a year later Dean’s taking care of Cas’ new car in their driveway.

#hunters1stwritingchallenge #mechanic!dean #Destiel fanfic #awkward dean winchester #I tried a new thing don't know if it's working

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positiveparker · 6 years ago

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I Miss You Part 4 (Harrison Osterfield)

Also Guys I am not depicting Tom as a bad person he is honestly my fav, this is just a fic please don’t take it to heart :) Also the gif is mine and it is actually Tom! Tell me if you want a Part 5 :) - L

- pairing ; its complicated ahhh

- warnings ; violence, swearing, car accident

- song ; all the stars by Kendrick Lamar ft SZA (listen here)

- masterlist

- prompt list

not my gif

Tom ; darling whats going on

I reread the text over and over again, my heart pounding in my ears. I tapped on the notification, attached was the picture of Haz and I kissing, this time it was at a different angle (different photographer of course). “(y/n), Harry is ringing me” Haz blurted, he stood up and went to the other room.

Tom ; (y/n) I know you are reading my messages, I am on the way home. I am at the airport.

Tom ; darling seriously

Mum ; sweetheart give Tom a ring he is worried about you

Nicola Holland ; hello (y/n) Sam has just showed me the pictures, do you want lawyers involved?

Harry Holland; (y/n) what the fuck?! Is that you?

(best friend) ; omg babe ring me are you alright

Everything overwhelmed me, I grabbed the car keys and stormed out of the flat leaving Haz behind me. I ran out onto the street and clicked open the car.

“(y/n)! WHAT THE FUCK!” I heard Haz shout from out the window, then paparazzi starting running towards me. I dipped into the car revving the engine.

“shit shit shit” I whispered. The car started up and I sped away, the cameras still flashing in my face. The paparazzi ran after me until I lost them on the motorway.

*vvvvv vvvvv vvvvvv* my phone vibrated, it was Haz. I stared at it for too long and ended up in the wrong lane. Cars behind me beeped viciously but I just ignored them. I swiped my finger across my screen and switched on speaker.

“(y/n) my love?” Haz said breathily, he sounded worried which made my heart sink.

“Haz I’m picking up Tom”

“what?”

“he is at stansted airport”

“i’ve just been on the phone with Harry and Nicola, its all over the news and magazines”

“shit shit fuck” I shouted slamming my palms against the wheel. I rested my forehead against the wheel and took a deep breath.

“are you sure it’s a good idea to see Tom right now”

“i need to see him” I replied bluntly

“(y/n) I don’t think its a good idea”

“look Haz I don’t need your advice right now” and then I swiped off the call interrupting his pleas.

I swerved through traffic and finally parked in the arrival carpark. I ran into the airport and already spotted paparazzi at the gate. I flipped my hood up again and ran towards them. I waited off to the side, trying to avoid them. Then suddenly they all became alerted and cameras were clicking and flashing. I tried to spot Tom and then finally the crowd parted and Tom was there. He looked upset which made my stomach clench.

“TOM” I shouted

“TOM TOM TOM TOM” I repeated running towards him. Tom looked up and spotted me, so did the paparazzi. Tom glared at me and stopped walking. I ran towards him and pulled him into a hug.

“sweetie” I tried smiling

“how can you say that right now” he muttered through gritted teeth

“i am sorry, I don’t have feelings for Haz you know that”

“do I?”

“yes, I love you” I leant in to kiss him but he turned away

“I was gonna surprise you on your birthday but it seems you were already busy” Tom spat, he started walking away but I ran after him

“please listen” I pleaded

“listen Tom”

“Tom please”

“Tom I am so sorry” I kept repeating but he didn’t even waver his gaze. His security guard tried lead him to his car and opened the door. I jumped in much to the security guards anger.

“look Tom I am so sorry please fucking listen to me” I cried

“(y/n) I go away for 2 weeks and you go and kiss another guy, oh and my best friend by the way”

“you have no idea what its like without you here”

“i expected you to be loyal”

“but you’re travelling the world, meeting models and posing with them. You expect me not to be mad, well for all I know you are screwing one of them” then my words were interrupted by a hard sharp pain on my cheek, Tom had slapped me. I clasped the hurting side of my face and looked up at him. Tears spilled down my cheeks and my lips quivered.

“(y/n) I didn’t mean that I-“ Tom replied his face dropping, he reached out his hand. But before he could grab me and say sorry I had run away. I ran crying back to my car, with cameras flashing in my face.

“(y/n)!” They repeatedly shouted

“(y/n) what happened? Are you ok?” They screamed in my ears.

“happy birthday (y/n)!”

“where’s Tom?”

The shouting rang in my ears and shook my whole body as I ran back to my car.

I finally reached my car and drove away. I cried and sobbed until I could barely see. All the lights of the cars bubbled through my tears. The traffic was terrible and then an ambulance sirened by. The chain of cars carried on moving and then everything was I slow motion. We approached the scene, an engine revved and then a car was moving towards me. It started speeding away and then straight into my car. Glass shattered all over me, a mist covered my vision, ringing penetrated my ears.

My eyes opened and I felt my way through the mist. I pushed against the door next to me, it flung open and I fell onto the road coughing.

“hello, miss” a male voice shouted

“hello”

“what’s your name?”

A arm hoisted me up and kept me standing. My eyes unblurred to see a man asking me questions, I tuned into his talking.

“is there anyone we can call?”

“yes” I breathed

“are you hurt”

“i don’t think so” I coughed, my legs were shaking.

“the police are coming” he shouted over my shoulder at other people.

I sat hazily in the back of an ambulance, then Haz was in front of me. He looked pale as ever with a tear stained face. I started crying as soon as I fell into his arms again. I breathed heavily and sobbed into his t-shirt, the same sweet smell of him cured my tears.

“(y/n)?”

I looked over to see Tom, he looked even more worried than Haz. I left Haz’s arms and re entered Tom’s.

“don’t scare me like that” he breathed into my hair

I leant away and expected Haz to be near.

“where is Haz?”

“he told me everything” Tom smiled

“I know that you don’t like him and he forced himself on you”

“what?”

“yeah, babe you should have explained” Tom smiled slinging his arm around me

I was so in shock I didn’t even retaliate I just carried on hugging tom. Although my heart sank to the pit of my soul, I didn’t want to be in Tom’s arms. I wanted to be in Haz’s.

#peter parker #marvel #marvel fan fiction #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland as spiderman #marvel birthday #marvel mutuals #haz x reader #haz osterfield #tom holland masterlist #harry holland #fanfiction #madterlidt #au #tom holland au

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baldtaelovemaze · 6 years ago

Text

Love me for me (1)

What kind of love story starts with two people locked in a classroom and ends with the two same people in a courtroom? This one. After unfortunate circumstances, Venice is forced to illegally change her identity and live as a boy in a all boys school.

She planned everything out. Every. Single.detail. but no matter how much she tries, she can’t stop herself from falling for the son of one of the biggest lawyers.

Is loving the man of her dreams worth years in jail?

Reader (OC) X jungkook ft.Taehyung

Warnings: mature language

Words: 3k

"Dear Miss. Abass, unfortunately, your demand at Yale University has been Rejected-"

“fuck”

Orbs clouded, I rip apart the letter. The torn cream pieces dance with the wind my fan generates and I watch them gracefully fall to the floor, blending perfectly with the wood.

Years of studying, isolation, practically not having a social life I forced upon myself to proudly become a valedictorian graduate but everything i did was in vain.

On the floor lays the last piece of hope I once clung on to. Now crushed under the weight of disappointment and failure, my chest hitches as I desperately try to hold back a sob. Water gathers at the rims of my heterochromia eyes. Left one a muddy green and the other a murky blue with a tinge of that same muddy green who manages to stick out no matter what like I do so very well. Intentionally or not.

I don’t cry, instead, I sniff away all the mucus who threatens to slide down my nasal passages and roll myself into bed.

For a moment, the smell of the freshly cleaned sheets and my dearest pillow make me forget of the hell hole I am in, of the chains that confine me.

That moment is short-lived when it all comes back rushing down on me like a wave. These chains that I have, invisible to the human or anything supernatural expect me. This rope around my neck who never ceases to tighten as time goes by.

I ponder on this fact. Or is it a question? It’s something I definitely know the answer to. So a fact it is.

The chains that hold me aren’t emotional or even close to physical. Nor did I ever do anything to earn them but that’s how the system works.

The system refused every single application I sent to prestigious universities. Not one of them accepted me even after they had contacted me for scholarships offers. Claiming that “my chosen classes were already full and to try elsewhere.’

It wasn’t a coincidence. Out of everyone, I should know that. Because I knew the system far too well.

That system chained me without even binding my wrist to chains, that system took my freedom away without truly stripping me of my rights, that system tied a noose around my neck and is waiting for any given occasion to rip away the chair from under my feet.

The system doesn't want my education to blossom. the system wants me to settle for less every time then die. That’s our government. the system is our government and it’s trying to kill me off.

I could apply at a community college and get accepted in mere seconds but that's what they want. That is their plan and no matter what, I will not succumb to it, not after seeing how it ended for father. Not after seeing that.

I gulp at the thought of him. My body and mind react instantly at the mere idea of my father. My breathing becomes ragged and I sense my palms get clammy and sweaty. The noose around my neck feels like it got ten times tighter. Even though nothing is truly there, my brain acknowledges the hard rope covered in sharp split ends digging at the skin of my neck. My hands who once were tucked underneath the pillow flock to my neck, grasping around nothing but my own skin.

I seal my eyes shut and begin chanting the only thing that calms me down during my breakdowns.

“A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I....”

the alphabet, something you often associate with learning toddlers full of life and not a 19-year-old having a nervous breakdown.

“J, K, L, M, O, P, Q, R, S!!” I scream loud, frail body shaking like a leaf as I try my best to block out the nose, block out the shots and the footsteps who are threateningly close. I hiccup between a sob when I feel his big greasy hands grip my long ebony hair, yanking me back painfully, he throws my whole body across the room.

what letter was I at? I forgot. Now I can barely breathe. I frustrate the man furthermore. I know this when he yells “shut the fuck up. Make another sound and your lovely mother gets it.” I open my eyes and stop breathing altogether. She lays on the floor.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of theses awful flashbacks as I shoot up from bed to reach for the pieces of paper, crumble them into a tiny ball and neatly shoot them in my plastic dollar-store basketball net who hangs just above the door. It hits the rim before falling on the floor with a plop.

“damn, where did my basketballs skill go?” I ask my self, feeling slightly better due to the self-pity that seems to have eaten me whole.

The alphabet always calms me down, it brings me back to earth when I need it the most -when my anxiety decides to lock me in my painful past.

My back now on the bed, I look at my white ceiling, its time to think rationally, like an adult - I smile to myself. Like an adult, huh? I quickly recognize the fact that most adults don’t actually know what they are doing. Most of the time they let themselves get dragged with the wave. Some try to overpower the water while others succumb to it and others find a way to float, to stay on the surface no matter how strong the storm gets.

I huff a breath of defeat "what am I going to do? It was the last one on the list.” I toy with my phone. I run my fingers against its smooth metal surface all while making sure to not unlock it by accident with the touch ID.

I've been ignoring Haerin’s messages for a while now.

I frown, hoping that she won’t misunderstand and think that I a mad at her.

the screen lights up.

Haerin: Don’t worry I know that you’re not mad at me or anything but I'm just worried.. plus I kinda miss your ugly ass so text back soon. I can’t believe you’re making me seem like a desperate hoe by ignoring all my text. Your fuckgirl mode has, unfortunately, been activated :/ [2:45]

I snort. Not being able to ignore her for any longer, I text back.

Me: I usually don’t text girls back after we fuck... but ur kinda special so come over or whatever... [2:46 pm]

Haerin: omg okay daddy! I’ll bring take out that way my ass won’t be the only thing you’ll eat today! I'm omw bitch you have some explaining to do. [2:46]

I chuckle and lock my phone.

With the stretch of my limbs, I'm out of bed and I beeline straight to the bathroom.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “fucking hell, I barely look alive.”

after peeing and a quick face wash, I stand in front of the mirror and notice that my pixie cut may need a trim soon. I can’t ever let my hair grow past my ears and I rather not think about the reason behind this -not yet at least, not yet.

I watch the clear droplet of water cling on to the curl near my forehead before dropping and rolling down my tawny skin. I can’t help but to glance down at my neck, it’s red. I pray that I won’t bruise. I take in the fact that my new skin care routine has been working marvelously. From my high cheekbones, my narrow chin and slightly protruding forehead my skin is spotless.

"Venice, you little thot, I have arrived in your domicile"

I jump in surprise at first. After a smile covers my plump lips when I realize who that voice belongs to. I step out of the bathroom which is linked to my room and meet the fake redhead.

In a matter of seconds, I am engulfed in her tight embrace. Face hidden in the crook of her armpit I notice that the tall girl is wearing her favorite mustard hoodie.

I break the hug. “ I missed you too,” I say, gazing up at her through my short lashes. I see the worry in her slanted eyes but I know she isn’t judging, she never does.

“let’s talk, okay?” her voice is soft when she speaks. I nod and lead her to my bed.

A couple tears, three hugs, and many heartfelt words later, we lay diagonally on my bed. Looking up at the ceiling. With a shift in position, I look over at Haerin’s toes who never fail to not be ugly and stinky but who can blame her? She's an aspiring basketball player. Now I look up to her profile. It seems like the ceiling is long forgotten and that she is currently deep in thought, I can tell by the way her straight thick brows furrow and how she chews almost aggressively her full bottom lip. I Am caught red-handed when she suddenly turns at catches me staring.

“I've got an idea.” her lips part as she smiles, revealing the gap in the middle of her two front teeth that fits her so well.

“Shoot”

“How about we watch old Disney movies to take off some of your stress for today? let's deal this fucktard of a situation tomorrow. '' She pushes her elbow underneath her to lift herself. Her round glasses droop down the bridge of her nose but she's quick to push them back with the help of her lanky fingers.

I smiled at the idea. I ask myself how can someone be so pure and genuine sometimes.

''Okay, but just don't put anything with romance in it. I don't want to be reminded of the fact that the only thing I wake up next to in bed is my life-sized Makoto Tachibana pillow.'' My feet drag on the warm floor as Haerin intertwines her arm with mine. '' That's extremely sad and I hope that you'll throw it out once you get a boyfriend-'' she stops in her tracks and looks at me.

we both stare at each other only to explode with laughter.

''BAHAHA! I can't believe I just said that! You? a boyfriend? I think WinWin would finally be getting lines in songs before that happens.'' wiping away the tear that escaped, we go down the stairs and she grabs the laptop on the kitchen counter before plopping herself beside me on the sofa.

''Shut up you shouldn't be the one to speak here.'' I laugh back with her.

''Whatever ugly loser, go grabs snacks that way we can stuff our faces and I'll pick a movie'' She orders and am up in seconds.

''I know you said no romance but I still picked the Amanda Bynes movie She's the man '' Haerin informs me as I come back into the living room

I shrug my shoulders, indifferent.

''I don't care what we watch at this point, anything to get my stress down.'' I slur on my words near the end, taking a big fat handful of popcorn and shoving it down my throat.

'We could watch porn then'' she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I pinch her left nipple.

''shut up and play the god damn movie.''

And with a click, the movie is playing and I am finally relaxing.

About an hour and forty-five minutes later the movie is done and you're left with a strange idea in mind.

''hey Haerin..'' you start off

her eyes squint, which suggests that she's thinking . ''hm?''

''Are you possibly thinking the same thing as me ?'' now my eyes squint, trying my best to read her expression.

'' If you are thinking about dressing yourself up as a male and infiltrating the all-boys prestigious Uni then yes, we are thinking the same thing!'' her grip on my wrists is tight and I feel light headed when she shakes me like a polaroid as soon as I nod.

''CALL CHRISTIAN RIGHT NOW! SOME MADAME DOUBTFIRE MAKEOVER SHIT IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN THIS BITCH!'' She screams at the top of her lungs.

"You called me here because am what?" Christian took place on the sofa beside me. Brows creased together, he leaned forward, as if he hadn't heard me the first time. He heard me perfectly fine. "Because you're the dude-dest dude I know and I need to learn how to become a dude."

He drowns himself deeper in the couch, taking a chunk of his locks between his fingers, he let out an exasperated "what kind of fucking drugs do you guys take to come up with this shit?" And shortly after "Okay, I'll help."

This was our relationship. Christian Yu a very stable young adult that happened to be my childhood neighbor. Even when I moved out of my mother's home, he never left me behind. Kind of like a big brother that allows me to do dumb shit only with his supervision.

"This might seem crazy but just trust me on this. It might work,"I reassure.

His eyes bulge “What exactly might work Venice please don’t tell-”

“I can’t keep living on like this. I don’t want to live a meaningless life all while knowing that I can achieve so much more. Just entering that school and studying to become a lawyer would be a huge step for me” my jaw clenches “Its a step towards my goal and..” nostrils flared, I watch Christian tense, the weight of my words slowly seep into his pores, completely changing his first resolve. “ I will fulfill it no matter what”.

“I understand what you want to do but wouldn't that be proving what the government is doing to people like you -no offense, right? You're just doing what they expect of the children of criminals, you're becoming one too” He remains tense. Lower lip stuck between his pearly teeth, Christian avoids eye contact.

“Reflect on this: What do criminals have in common?” I get up from the couch under the perplexed gaze of my friend.

Lips puckered, brows screwed together, he comes up with an answer quickly “Its simple, they do illegal things!”

“That's partially true but I want you do think of the biggest names in the dark world, the infamous one. What brought them together besides the fact that what they did was prohibited?” I am patient, smiling down at my friend who racks his brain fora retort. His wide shoulder slump, not knowing where exactly am I go going with this. I give in, choosing to spare him a brain burn out “they were all selfish.”

“W-What?”

“yes, it really is that simple.” I smirk “ Just think about it, All their lives, their goal was to enrich themselves, gain profit or some form of power. They were ready to do whatever it took to gain these things. Kill, steal ect. What separates me from them is that I am not only doing this for me but the others who suffer alongside me in silence. We both know that the system is wrong and should be taken down even if that means sacrificing the little freedom I have.” I exhale, coming back to sit near Christian on the couch.

He sighs, elbows now up on his tighs, he rubs his eyes. “Fine, I support you in this but please don't you dare end up in jail or else-”

“You’ll lose your mind since you can't live without her.” Haerin finally speaks. She had remained so silent I forgot that she was even there.

“Y-yeah, you're probably right actually, I don't think I can't live without either of my girls” he pipes, scooping both of us in his toned arms and engulfing us in a tight hug.

“Let me go, Chris, my face is literally buried in your armpits” Haerin whines.

“Then smell them!”

“Oh no, you don”t-”I send my knee in his crotch in a matter of seconds, making him groan in agony all while curling into a ball on the floor. Haerin stares unbothered, pulling out her phone and calling someone. The conversation is short but it leaves a smile on her lips when she hangs up.

"Okay whores, I just called the best makeup artist in town. After you get your lesson on how to become an owner of a dick and get a makeup lesson cuz god knows you struggling in that.." Haerin shakes her head and muffles a laugh with her hand when I pipe out “bitch.”

"You will go in the room and do what you have to do to make the world believe you are a man."

"Okay, let's start then!" the serious and somber mood is gone, excitement is now what is left behind. Am thrilled, justice pumps through my veins and it's only fueled more by the support of my friends. I can do this

"Okay let's start then...but no homo"

"I know I taught you to use 'no homo' but it doesn't mean you need to say it in every sentence, Venice," Christian shouts from the kitchen, watching the makeup artist teach me the basics on how to make my face look more masculine and the brands that stay on the longest.

Haerin had told her that we were just filming a really weird porno and the women weirdly enough, nodded as if what Haerin said was something that she had seen often.

A couple more minutes spent by my side and she was out of the house, I shooed Christian and Haerin out as well.

With years of fraudulent knowledge in my hands, creating a new identity would be a breeze.

What should my new name be?

I grab my phone and open the group chat

Me: I need Name ideas, got anything? [5:15]

Chris: keep it simple... something like Steve Duncan or whatever [5:17]

Haerin: Don't listen to this loser, Bob Mcniplecoker shall be your new name, beloved ;) [5:17]

Chris: i- [5:18]

Me: 00Ooo thank you Haerin! very cool! [5:18]

Chris: please don't tell me you're actually using that- why am I the only sane person in this group? [5:19]

I shut off my phone, content with the name and ready to get down to serious business. Hours and hours of serious business.

Creating a whole new identity sure was time-consuming.

The wait was over.

The letter who held my fate had arrived to my surprising displeasure. I huffed a breath of frustration. Why am I so nervous? With the grades I have, it is certain I’ll be getting in but why can't I open it?

The pretty creme letter waited for no one other than me to open it. I was first made known of its presence when I was taking a shit and my uncle so kindly slid it under the door when he was staying over for a couple days.

All Boys: Great Jeon University

I had just finished taking a shit but after re-reading the letter I felt like taking a second shit. Curling on the floor, my nose rose up in defiance as I glanced at the paper, still centimeters away from under the door.

Let's just open the letter and get this over with.

With trembling hands, I reached over to the letter but I at last second I let my hand fell back to my side.

This Is so stressful! Is it possible to vomit and shit your pants all at the same time? I shot up, heading to the sink determined, with a couple splashes of cold water on my face I stared at myself in the mirror, determined.

I pursued my full lips, taking in a pimple that formed right next to my thick brows. This stress is really getting to me. I know damn well that a pimple wouldn't have been there otherwise.

"Okay you big wuss, tear that shit open !" I gas myself up, finally picking up the letter, I rip the envelope, already expecting the worst.

"Dear Mister. Mcniplecocker, we are glad to inform you that you have been accepted-"

“Oh thank God...” relief washes down on me like a ton of bricks. ”Thank

god..”I exhale, I can't contain the small smile that forms on my lips.

"THIS CALL FOR DANGEROUSLY HIGH AMOUNTS OF CALORIES !" Haerin shouts, grabbing the takeout menu to order too much food and possibly max out her credit card. She is reckless and often thinks of the consequences after she does something but if she ever got in trouble with the law due to her shenanigans, me, a soon to be law student would help her.

Christian took his usual seat at my right and Haerin at my left on our favorite brown couch. They were here so often on this couch that their butts were permanently imprinted.

"I need to tell you guys about this girl I've met. She's older but I swear I've never seen a woman more beautiful" Christian gushed, tugging on my shirt. "Oh, my man is finally getting some action! I started getting worried for you I was almost going to ship you with Haerin."

The girl snapped her head to look at me at the mention of her name. "Excuse me? Me and Christian? I'd rather let your creepy pillow anime guy date me." She snickered and I scoffed "Bitch, you wish Makoto Tachibana would be with your dusty crusty ass plus you're acting like Christian is ugly! I mean he might be a lil on the grandpa side since he's so old but-"

He deadpanned. "I'm literally 25 ???"

"Anyways, in two months I'll be going to one of the most prestigious schools and I'll be a lawyer. If one of you ever gets in trouble with the law don't call me because I'll be the one making sure you go to jail." I joke, picking a movie on the laptop.

I was over the moon. Things were going my way and it felt good, so good.

"If you ever do get caught, who will defend you ?" Christian hesitated when he asked, not wanting to stress me.

"Don't jinx it, idiot. I won't happen, don't worry." Haerin leaned forward, taking my hand in hers and gave me a small smile not knowing that the damage was already done.

It was something that I ridiculously tried shoving at the back of my brain. It was something I needed to face. I was going to be a lawyer for crying out loud, I knew that I could face time in jail and fines I wouldn't be able to afford to pay.

It was something I was ready to risk. For my education. I was breaking the law in order to work as a person who enforced the law. How ironic.

"Yeah, don't jinx it, Chris."

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