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hero-deserves-to-be-happy · 7 months ago

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!!my own tag and a thanks in the authors notes!! :D!! am beaming over my words being that encouraging!! you guys really are the sweetest... wow...

first off wanted to reply- my favorite in the series so far's gotta be "am I ready for love? or maybe just a best friend"! I love how the various conversations and introspections flow, love the glimpses we get there of hero's college life and friends, and him intentionally opening up to zoey at the end and receiving that support is SO lovingly written and soso important and cathartic. I also really like the 3rd and 5th chapters of "when sun shines again"- aubrey being hurt on hero's behalf and tearfully wanting for him to have a "hero" of his own and sunny and hero hanging out and the stretch at the end after leaving the coffee shop are very dear to me ("You're Hero. I think you can do anything." is SO GOOD.). those are the bits I've probably revisited the most, but "under the weather" earns a shout out too though for being the work I was introduced to this series through! I'd been hesitant on it for purely personal taste (romances aren't typically my scene, and I can have a hard time connecting to fandom OCs; so I wasn't sure if it'd be for me- again, purely on my end ^^;), but ultimately I really like hero and I'm a sucker for a good sickfic xD so I gave it a shot, and I'm really glad I did!!

I also wanted to say, if it's alright: loneliness is a topic deeply important to me, and hearing the theming and intentions in your approach to it is really cool. I really appreciate it not being as simple as a feeling that just goes away once you're around people and have a good conversation or two- hero's loneliness is self-inflicted and behavioral, and something the work actively seeks to have him face, little by little. hearing your plans longterm in how you aim to handle it and where you plan to go makes me all the more excited to see what you guys have cooking!! I wholeheartedly believe it's good and important to tell and explore the kind of story this whole project is, and I thank you heartily for doing so.

(gonna cut myself short here and circle back around to share my thoughts on chapter 7 when I've got more time, so best tidings til then!) -🩶

Awww hello 🩶 Anon-Friend! It is such a joy to see you in our inbox again. Thank you so much for your ask!! 💕

You are so sweet, and you're very welcome for the words of thanks in the author's note for the most recent chapter. (We hope you enjoyed the chapter & that it was a good one for your thank you). The encouragement really means so much to us. It's a bit like Aubrey's "Pep Talk" skill in Headspace. Just getting told "You Can Do It" and that someone is actually very excited to read what we write, is interested in our project, and thinks that it is a meaningful and important story to tell is incredibly motivating! At this point, we have such a clear vision of this story and these characters in our minds so there's less of that sense of urgency to actually write it down (because we already know what happens), so to be told by someone else, "Hey, I really love this and I'm invested and I want to know what happens too" is really a great inspiration and motivation to finally get it written and posted for other people who want to see it. So really, thank you so much again for sharing that and all of your thoughts with us! It means everything 💖

Thank you so much for sharing about your favorite parts of the project so far too! We've put most of the discussion of that under the cut because of OMORI spoilers and because this ask is, once again, very lengthy. Apologies in advance for all the ramblings. ^^

It means so much to hear that you deeply connected with "Am I Ready For Love? Or Maybe Just A Best Friend" especially because that was kind of our way of testing the waters and seeing if there was even an interest in a story like this.

We honestly would have had no hard feelings if it just wasn't anyone's cup of tea. It's kind of funny, the personal preferences in fics & genres that you mentioned in your ask are very similar to mine (Acacia's). I have been writing fanfiction for over a decade (though was only was brave enough to start posting it a couple years ago), but I think I have written Canon Character x OC only 2 times ever and never, ever when there was an existing pairing. I also usually don't write romance at all. It's just generally not my thing and I generally prefer the platonic relationships between characters, but just like you said, ultimately, I love Hero and telling this story about his life after the good ending and giving him the chance to heal and to be happy and to open himself up to love again (if that's what he wants) was so important to me that I decided to give it a try even though it often feels I'm probably not the best person for the task. 😅

I think that's one of the big reasons why "When Sun Shines Again" is so broad in scope and is about so much more than just the (eventual) romance plotline. I mean we are over 54,000 words into this story and they haven't even met yet which I do feel guilty about but honestly it's because this story isn't just about that. It's about Hero making peace with his grief and learning how to build a new life for himself around it. The things that he has been through in his life are not things that he'll ever completely get over, but he can learn to get past them and can learn to be happy again. His life won't be the same as it was when Mari was alive, but that doesn't mean it can't be happy and can't be meaningful.

Again, we are both such passionate HeroMari shippers and we do sincerely hope that our series, even if it does involve Hero eventually finding love again, still reflects the reverence, respect, and love that we have for that relationship and how much we also wish that they had gotten their "forever." The last thing we would ever want to do is to try to erase or replace Mari, and I think that was one of the big inspirations for the "Am I Ready For Love..." story.

When I was first trying to imagine who is this person that Hero might open his heart to again, this scene--where he opens up to her about Mari--was the scene I could see vividly in my mind. I just kept going back to this idea of him being vulnerable with her and trusting her enough to tell her about Mari, back before it's even "relevant" since they're not dating (and that's not even on the radar). They're just friends, so she doesn't even really have to know (technically), but (like you so aptly said in your ask), he "intentionally open[s] up to her" because she sees him. She sees how lonely he is and how much he's hurting. And ultimately he shares this deeply personal pain with her, even though he doesn't know how she's going to react, and (l think it's addressed in multiple different side stories but) he is so moved and just awed by the fact that she cares about him so much that she cries.

It hasn't come up yet but will be established in "When Sun Shines Again" that Zoey is not a crier. Kyle has a line a couple of chapters from now about how he has only seen her cry one time (and "it was awful" and he "never want[s] to see that again") so this is kind of a big thing for her as a character. But even beyond that, to be shown such empathy and such support, means everything to Hero regardless of whether this person never cries or cries all the time. He has finally shared this very vulnerable part of himself that he never opens up about because he's so worried about hurting someone, and she cries--not because she's hurt or broken for her own sake but because her heart aches for him and his suffering. When she tells him that she wishes he had gotten his forever with Mari, she means it, even though she knows that might mean they would never meet, would never become friends. His happiness is more important to her than even that.

And to us, that's real love--in a platonic sense here, of course, but that qualifier really shouldn't matter. The fact that he's not even dating her at this point was intentional. It's platonic between them, but she still loves him this much and she shows him the support that Hero has so desperately wanted but never really allowed himself to have. Even if nothing romantic ever developed between them, Hero finding a friend in her and opening himself up and allowing himself to be vulnerable and ultimately finding that support and that comfort is so important. If anything it's more important than the idea of him finding "romantic love" again.

As much time & effort as we have devoted to this universe in which Hero loves romantically again, neither one of us are convinced that he needs a romantic relationship to be happy. It's very possible he will never even want one, and that's okay. But everyone wants and needs to be loved. And we are convinced that Hero will need friends, will need family, will need to open his heart to someone in some way (even a platonic one) in order to ever be happy again.

We named that fic after these really poignant lines from AJR's song "Turning Out" (YouTube; Spotify link in song title):

Am I ready for love? Or maybe just a best friend Should there be a difference Do you have instructions?

And we chose this because one of the big themes in this story and at this point in Hero's life, is that it doesn't really matter if he's ready for romantic love or just having a best friend again. What matters is that he opens himself up to love again in general. He closed off his heart when Mari died, not just to romance but to the love of his friends and family too, and it left him lonely. It's amazing how you addressed that in your ask as well and it means a lot to hear that you are really compelled by how we're handling that in the series so far too. Loneliness is a deeply painful experience because deep down everyone wants to be loved for who they really are and for their own sake. Hero cutting himself off from that has just left stagnant in misery, and we absolutely agree with you that a lot of this is self-inflicted and will not have an easy or quick fix but will be an ongoing process of healing and slowly opening his heart again. We hope we'll be able to do justice to that journey in our story because we truly believe that the only way for him to really break free from that kind of suffering is to allow himself to be vulnerable again.

And this means, to be vulnerable with anyone who loves him. When what matters is that Hero allows himself to be comforted, to be cared for, to be cried for, and to be loved again, there really shouldn't be a qualifier on that kind of love (i.e. romantic or platonic). In this case, there really shouldn't be a difference.

There are really no words to describe how much it means to us to hear you describe that scene as "SO lovingly written and so so important and cathartic." That was absolutely 100% what we were going for and what I really tried convey when I was writing it so it is so encouraging to hear that we succeeded in that.

We're also thrilled to hear that you enjoyed the Aubrey and Sunny chapters as well. Aubrey is my favorite character beside Hero and Sunny is Sprinkles' favorite, so I think we really brought our A-game for those chapters especially. 😅 In a lot of ways, those are kind of unexplored and underrated friendships so it was really nice to get to the opportunity to really give each of those the spotlight, and I'm honestly squealing a little at the specific lines and moments that you've chosen as especially meaningful to you. I actually cried real tears when I wrote that scene between Aubrey and Hero where she kind of breaks down and begs him to find someone to open up to and rely on because he's always been that person for her. I think it really sets the scene for what the rest of this story (particularly in this college portion) is really about.

That line from Sunny is one of my favorites in the series so far as well. We were really struggling a lot with how to end that Sunny chapter when I suddenly had this spark of inspiration of ending with this scene where Hero expresses this sort of uncertainty about his future and I could just hear that line from Sunny reassuring him that "You're Hero. I think you can do anything" and just kind rekindling that sense of purpose in him since he really has been so lost since Mari passed away.

Lastly, I'll admit I was a little surprised but very giddy to hear that it was actually "Under The Weather" that first got you interested in this series. That was an extremely self-indulgent fanfiction I wrote for my birthday, so I honestly wasn't really expecting anyone else to connect with it but I posted it anyway just in case (especially since like you mentioned, I think a lot of people enjoy sick fics). I've been so flattered and really blown away to hear that people have enjoyed that story and been moved by it. It's definitely one of my personal favorites, and it really means a lot to hear that not only is it dear to you too but also that it got you interested and invested in "When Sun Shines Again." 🥺

Thank you so much for sharing that with us and for sharing all of your lovely thoughts & feedback! We've really enjoyed getting to hear your very thoughtful takes and getting to have these discussions with you. Please take care, friend! 💙

#awww thank you so much for this ask #🩶 Anon-Friend #when sun shines again ⛅#when sun shines again commentary #omori spoilers

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seventeeneightyfine · 4 years ago

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me: can’t wait to indulge in my favorite hobby, creative writing me: *stares at an empty google doc for 45 mins* *googles “synonyms for ‘crawling’“ eight times* *then googles “synonyms for ‘iridescent’” eight more times* *puts forehead mournfully on keyboard so it goes ;lssjladfjlafds* *gets upset about side character drama yet again* *decides to make a spotify playlist* *deletes that playlist, dissatisfied* *writes one (1) single paragraph and half of the words in it are “hands”*

#i am once again asking for a pep talk because i have written myself into an abject hell of shapes and colors and now must deal with 'plot'#writing skills? i fucking unknew them #im in the home stretch with batv and it's killin me im out of descriptors AND brain cells #m

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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

#bnha 326 #all might #yagi toshinori #stain (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

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Forever and Never

A/N: I promise this isn’t a Ricky x Reader. I promise I promise. Also holy fucking shit I am not a cheerleader at all and I know how horrible the cheer is in this, plz don’t bully me

Warnings: sexual assault and a horribly written cheer

Word Count: 3267

—————————————

Three: You Could Be

“So, you and Richard were a couple again after you returned to Brownsville?”

“No… no, we were not.”

“But you let him believe you were.”

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

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart!”

I don’t think there was an ounce of me that actually liked Ricky.

“You, too, Aunt Pam!”

And I definitely didn’t mean to string him along like I did.

“Love you!”

It’s just…

“Love you too!”

Sometimes I had to prove to myself that I was worthy when it was clear that Stan had no feelings for me. When I stepped out the next morning and saw that he’d already left his home, I knew he was planning to catch up with Sydney and give her a ride to school. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal to me, but it still tugged at my heart just a bit. A part of me was angered at the thought of Stan trying anything with Sydney, while the rest was rational. He wasn’t mine, I wasn’t his. I had someone who clearly wanted me, but I always pushed him away. Why didn’t I like Ricky when I should have? We were everyone’s favorite couple, we hardly ever fought, he’d take me out to dates regularly. Sure, he had his faults, but so did I. So, why did I not like Richard Berry?

The day I felt my anger towards Stan embed itself into my veins was the same day the idea of Ricky and I being a couple once more was sparked. It started in science class. It seemed Ricky had been waiting for me to get there, for he was early to class for once. So early that he and I were the only ones in the room. I casually strolled to my desk, setting my backpack on the ground beside my seat. Ricky watched me with a patient smile, drumming rhythmically on his desk he was leaning on. When I sat in my seat, he then rested his elbows against his desk, a glint in his eye as he watched me. “Good morning, (Y/N).”

“Morning, Ricky. You’re in class early.”

“Ah, because I know you’re always here early. And I wanted to talk to you.”

“You always want to talk to me.” I hummed, taking out my materials for class. When my fingernail scratched against the fabric of my backpack, I hissed in dissatisfaction and gently bit my nail, trying to keep my mind at ease. This was another one of my compulsions. Ricky’s eyes flicked from my finger then back to my face, as if he’d just remembered what was wrong with me.

“Because I love talking with you, babe.” He grinned, taking a seat at his desk. I rolled my eyes and began to scold him, but he cut me off. “I know, I know. You don’t like it when I call you that. It’s just… I’m still getting used to it.”

“You’re still getting used to not calling me babe even after half a year since our break-up.” I deadpanned. Ricky moved his eyes all around, as if he was about to answer an obvious question.

“Yes? What did you expect, (Y/N)? For me to get over you so quick? Do you want me to say it? Do you honestly want me to say it?”

“Say what, Ricky?”

“I’m in love with you!”

“Still?” My eyes widened as I stared back at him in shock. He frantically nodded his head and I tried to formulate a sentence in my mind, but our classmates had begun filing in. As if I hadn’t just been confessed to, I turned forward in my seat, training my eyes on my notebook. I heard Dina greet me on the way to her seat, but I only gave a small smile. Ricky seemed to have understood my unresponsive behavior, for he turned forward as well.

Ten minutes. That’s how long Ricky waited to start talking to me again. Mr File was so invested in his lecture that he didn’t notice him turn in his seat towards me. “Are you planning on going to the pep rally?”

“Not really,” I sighed, scribbling notes into my book. “They’re not really my thing.”

“I’d really appreciate it if you were there.”

“I bet you would.”

He let out a sigh, almost of defeat, before his eyes moved towards the front of the class. “Dina will be there. I’m sure she’d like it if you were with her.”

Dina was going to the pep rally? Since when has she ever gone to pep rallies? My head lifted, a questioning look on my face. “Wait, what? Dina’s actually going?”

“Yeah, with Brad. And she’s… going to the game, too.”

Dropping my pen, I clenched my jaw. “You aren’t seriously asking-”

“I swear, you won’t regret it. It’ll be fun. And I need my number one cheerleader with me at my big game.”

Yeah, right. Ricky wouldn’t have noticed if I’d been in the stands, cheering him on like his lovesick puppy, or if I walked away the moment he turned around and showed back up at the end of the game. Or would he? Did he look for me in the stands? When they scored a touchdown, did he snap his head in my direction, eyes lighting up and hoping to see mine shine with pride? Like something out of the movies…

“Okay, fine.” I answered without even thinking. Shit. I could practically see the hearts in his eyes.

“You’re the best.” He grinned. Once we both turned our attention back to our teacher, everything settled in for me. Here I am, yet again, allowing myself into dangerous territory. Ricky was not good for me, he wasn’t good for me, he wasn’t good for me. But it was that stupid awestruck look on his face that pulled me in. It wasn’t his carefree attitude, his iconic fashion sense, or the way he danced barefoot in the middle of the street for anyone to see. Because that wasn’t him, and I liked all those things about Stan. But Stan didn’t look at me the way Ricky did, and I guess that was enough for me to seek attention from him.

I felt tapping on my shoulder and looked over to see Sydney, her arm stretched out towards me. She was holding a sloppily folded piece of paper. Smiling at her, I gently took the note and turned forward.

You look like you absolutely want to die

Grinning, I looked Stan’s way, only to find his eyes already trained downward, focused on his notes. Although, I also noticed that he kept glancing over at me from the corner of his eye. Rolling my head onto my shoulder, I scribbled my response, I do, before handing the note back to Sydney. I think the stars above loved me that day, because I had no more classes with Ricky for the remainder of the school day. It was much easier to slip through the crowd of students when he wasn’t on my back all the time.

When it came to lunch, I had two options: Dina and Sydney or Brad and Ricky. I only chose the latter when I couldn’t find Dina. Luckily, that day, she’d been sitting at a table with Sydney, the two immersed in a conversation. Dina was wildly gesturing with her hands as Sydney seemed to provide words every now and then with a small shrug. Striding over to their table, I set my tray of food down beside Sydney. “Mind if I crash your date?”

“We don’t mind.” Dina giggled as I took my seat. As I dug into my sandwich, I could feel eyes on me. My head lifted to meet Dina’s amused expression. “So, (Y/N), are you going to the game?”

Scoffing, I set my food down. “Yeah, but not because I want to…”

“Then why are you going?”

“For… Ricky, I guess.”

“For Ricky.” Her brows rose in shock, but it was obvious she knew what my answer would be. I was only half lying. Ricky was only a fraction of the reason I was going, Dina was the rest. Though, something was telling me that there was more to me attending this game than I thought. Maybe it was the mischievous look in Dina’s eyes, or maybe it was the jocks from Brad’s table glancing over at me and chuckling in amusement. As if the whole school knew of some big secret that involved me.

Dina offered to drive me to the game. It was honestly still very new, hanging out with her. She didn’t smoke and talk about the future as our doom, or sit in the dark and watch every Tim Burton film to ever touch humanity. We just… talked. Like, girl-talked. We sat in her room two hours before the game started, talking about clothes and shoes and Brad and Ricky. You know, girl shit.

“I think it’s cute that you’re going to the game for him.” She remarked as she touched up her face with some blush. Rolling my eyes, I flopped onto her bed.

“I wasn’t gonna go until he mentioned you…”

“Yeah, right. You can just admit that you still like him, (Y/N).”

“Oh, my god, Dina,” I exasperatedly sighed. “I do not like Ricky. I thought I made that clear last year.”

Dina turned to me before flopping onto her bed as well. “Oh, come on… He really likes you, (Y/N)... Like, you’re almost all he talks about.”

“Definitely not creepy-”

“Just give him another chance,” She pouted. “If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll make sure he never talks to you again, okay?”

“No one in this universe can keep Richard Berry from talking to me,” I lightly laughed, but stopped when her face fell into a deadpan. “Okay, fine… I’ll give him another shot…”

-------------------------------------------------

So, that night, I learned that Dina was a fucking traitor. I don’t necessarily mean that, but I was still taken aback by what she was a part of. The two of us had gotten the chance to watch the game from the sidelines, next to the cheerleaders. It gave Dina the perfect view of her boyfriend, and Ricky the perfect view of me. I swore he nearly snapped his neck in two trying to look over at me any chance he got. Whenever we’d lock eyes, I would simply wave politely. Head in the game, Richard, I thought.

I knew Dina wasn’t crazy about football, so I found it odd how her leg bounced rapidly as she watched our team head straight for a touchdown. As the crowd erupted in screams and the cheerleaders stood from the bench, Dina grinned over at me as if I should care. That’s when I heard the cheer.

“Give me a Z!”

“Z!”

“Give me an I!”

“I!”

“Give me a P!”

“P!”

“What’s that spell?!”

Wait.

“ZIP!”

The cheerleaders skipped over to me, Dina helping me stand to my feet. I felt a pit form in my stomach when they stood before me in formation, ten of the football players standing behind them. My eyes widened as the girls in front of me began their dance and cheer.

“Ready! Okay! Homecoming’s approaching near, and there’s something you need to hear! Ricky here is all alone, he needs someone to call his own! There is just one girl in town, who fits the bill and wears the crown!”

That had to have been the worst cheer I’d ever heard. My eyes searched the field for any clues as to what the hell was happening, my head swimming as the football players each began holding up a card with a letter on it. Spelling out “homecoming”.

“Ricky is your Mister Right, we promise you he’ll make your night! Z! I! P!”

My heart dropped as I watched Ricky walk in front of the girls, wearing a nervous smile. “Will you go to homecoming with me?”

Fuck. No.

“Uh… Yeah.” I blinked, the entirety of the field and stands bursting in cheers. Dina clapped from behind me before pushing me closer to Ricky. He had a smile so big, I thought his face would split. Without a warning, he enveloped me in a hug, nearly lifting me off the ground. Eyes wide, I could only wrap my arms around him in hopes I didn’t fall over. His teammates were patting him on the back in congratulations, including Brad.

“Yes! The power couple is back!” Brad gently shook his friend’s shoulder. Ricky chuckled at his behavior, his eyes never leaving me, even as he set me back down.

“I promise, I’ll make your night, Zip.”

“Yeah… That’s what they said…” I tried a smile, but it fell almost instantly. I laughed a bit to play it off as being nervous. Hell, I was nervous. I was embarrassed! I can’t believe I hadn’t seen that coming, even Dina was acting off! Guiding me back to the bench, Ricky placed a soft kiss on the top of my head before heading back onto the field. I plopped down beside the beaming Dina, the girl vibrating in excitement.

“Oh, my god, (Y/N)! That was so cute!”

“Did you know?” My head snapped over to her. She nodded and gently shook my arm.

“Yes, I helped come up with the idea!”

Someone kill me. Please. Zeus, strike me down with all your might, I’m ready to leave this cruel existence behind me. That’s all I could think as the game resumed as normal. I tried not to make it obvious that I was completely repulsed with the idea of spending a night by Ricky’s side. I only rested my head in my hand as if I were watching the game, consumed with boredom. In reality, my mind was racing with every possibility of homecoming night. I could always ditch him? No, that’s rude as hell. But I didn’t even want to go with him! But they worked so hard on that cheer. Well, not really, anyone could have written that piece-of-shit-cheer-

My thoughts were interrupted when Dina stood and rushed towards the sidelines. I watched as Ricky ran onto the field to assist Brad, who had just been tackled too roughly. I hadn’t seen exactly what happened, but I guess he rolled his ankle really bad or something. As the coaches helped him up, he let out a curse. Once he was on his feet, well actually his foot, everyone began calling out to him in praise. And like the mindless drone I was, I lazily cheered for him, too.

After the game, Brad and Ricky treated Dina and I to a double date at some diner. I think I remember Dina mentioning that Sydney’s mom worked there. It was cozy and quiet, not many customers due to how late it was. I should’ve been relaxed, but when Ricky had his arm around me and tucked me into his side… I couldn’t help the feeling of bile in my throat. This wasn’t good. I shouldn’t be like this with him.

“Look at that,” Brad motioned towards the two of us, mouth full of fries. “America’s Power Couple. Back together again.”

“Yeah… good to be back…” Ricky happily smiled, squeezing me closer into his side.

-------------------------------------------------

“Ricky, are you gonna tell me what a covalent bond is or not?” I sighed as my boyfriend planted countless kisses across my jaw. I should’ve known he wouldn’t study if I came over. “Ricky, we need to study.”

“But you’re so smart, babe,” He chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about me.” I sighed as he moved his mouth to my neck. My body instinctively flinched away, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy sliding my chemistry textbook from my hands and carefully setting it on his floor beside our backpacks. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he gently laid us down on our sides so we faced each other. His dark brown eyes locked with my (e/c) ones, but his held a sort of fire.

“You wanna have sex?”

“U-Uh, what?” I stuttered. He shook his head the best he could with it being pressed against his bed. “Ricky, what?”

His hand slowly slid up my side and made its way under my shirt. I froze, whether in shock or panic, I wasn’t sure at the time. “Come on, babe… You know you want to…”

“I really don’t.” I firmly stated, pressing my palm against his chest to push him away, but he only grabbed me by the wrist, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my palm.

“Oh, but I think you do.” He rolled me onto my back. My heart rate increased as my voice rose.

“Ricky, seriously, stop!”

“You’re such a tease.”

“I’m not-”

The next thing I knew, his lips were latched onto mine, his tongue forcefully pushing its way into my mouth. I yelped and tried to shove him off of me, but Ricky was stronger than I was. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes as his hand slid near my bra. My breathing was labored from my incoming panic attack, but that seemed to only encourage him. I did what my first thought told me and lifted my foot towards his groin and kicked him as hard as I could. He ripped himself away from me and gripped his wound, not prepared for the harsh push that would send him to the ground. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I hopped off of his bed and grabbed my textbook, shoving it into my backpack.

“What the hell, (Y/N)?” Ricky slowly got to his feet, face painted in bewilderment. I gave him no explanation as I rushed out of his room. I had no car, I was scared to call anyone, so I decided to walk the whole way home. Once I was at the end of his street, I could hear his voice call out to me. “Where are you going?! (Y/N), get back here! Babe!”

But I paid him no mind. My arms made their way around my torso as my legs led me all the way to my aunt’s home. Everyone was eating dinner when I stormed inside. “(Y/N), you’re home early- Sweetheart?” I heard Aunt Pam call, but I only responded with the slam of my bedroom door. My back pressed against the door as I slowly slid down to my rear, burying my face into my hands. Quiet sobs filled my bedroom not too long afterwards, Jacob and Pam both attempting to pry what was wrong from me, but I refused to even respond to them. I was too in my head, too trapped in that moment.

The next day at school, I kept my head down, squeezing between everyone to get to classes early, to hide out in the bathrooms, but it was no use. When Ricky wanted to see me, he was going to see me. Just when I thought I was safe, he hugged me from behind. I stiffened immediately. “You didn’t text back.” He whispered into my neck. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I croaked out,

“S-Sorry…”

“It’s okay… I was just worried about you,” He turned me in his arms to face him. “Don’t just leave like that again.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” My eyes trailed away to see Stan, watching our interaction intently from his locker. “I’m sorry.”

-------------------------------------------------

“Yeah… It’s good to be back…” I took the kiss to my cheek without protest.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @give-the-boy-a-hug

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt x reader #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

Text

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries.

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too.

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever?

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas!

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter six

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I haven’t been back to the Music Store since Monday. Too scared Emily might actually kick me out because she doesn’t want to see me. Too scared if I don’t practice enough, I might totally flop on Saturday and risk a contract or Emily not joining our band. It does make me wonder if she ever missed me. If she’s been searching for me. If she’s listening to other music while cleaning instead of listening to me play the guitar. If she’s been thinking about me as much as I have been thinking about her. Whether it’s been her tiny little smile betraying her tough façade or her voice blending in with mine or belting out the lyrics, she’s been on my mind non-stop. “Another practice after school, boys?” Owen suggests when we’re at Jeremy’s locker, waiting for him to be ready to get to our first class. Jeremy and I both nod in agreement. We all need as much practice as we can get. Owen watches me tentatively, then says, “I went to the Music Store again last night, to make sure they got our name written down.” I don’t notice my eyes widening at this. “How was she?” I blurt out without thinking. “She seemed a bit off, actually. Easily startled, that one,” Owen chuckles, and I do too but I don’t know why. “I found her at the guitars, she was tuning one of the acoustic guitars when I walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. She jumped about five feet high before registering who I was,” Owen keeps his eyes on me tentatively, making sure he’s not overstepping because he knows how I’ve been feeling in the past week. “And when I asked her about the Open Mic Night, she had no clue what I was talking about at first, but then she checked the documents and she had us written down.” I can’t help but smile a little at his story. Sounds about right. That’s the Emily I’ve been keeping my eye on for the past two weeks. “She had us written down as Sunset Cure, but I made sure to change it.” “Sounds like her,” I mutter. Jeremy and Owen both chuckle and then the silence falls over us like a soft blanket until the bell rings and we all split up to get to class. I’m nervous with everything I do. Paying attention in class is hard because I can hear her voice singing that song she sang to the girl in the Music Store mixed in with the song we sang together. Then it makes me wonder if she’s been working on that and if she’s finished it. I left the piece of paper with the bridge on the piano, I hope she’s seen that and hasn’t thrown it out. Then my mind jumps to the question whether she was off yesterday when Owen saw her because she hadn’t seen me, but then again, that would be ridiculous. She’s pushed me away. Why would she think of me when she doesn’t even like me? “Charlie?” A voice shakes me awake from all my daydreams about Emily. When I look up, I find out every student in my class is staring at me, including the teacher. “Can you tell me the answer to the question I just asked the class?” I rack my brain trying to figure out what we were talking about. What class am I even in? “Pay attention, please, Charlie.” I simply nod my head in response but sulk back into Emily-thoughts the second the teacher turns away from me. This day is going to be hard. Tomorrow is going to be even harder.

“You’re still here?” Owen asks on Saturday morning when he finds me still in Jeremy’s garage. We’d been rehearsing until late last night, writing some more songs until we find the perfect one to perform tomorrow night at the Open Mic Night. We’d promised to pick it back up in the morning, but I never left. I’m not even sure if I slept at all. I kept singing Emily’s song. “Did you even sleep at all, bro?” Jeremy questions as he picks up his bass. His eyes are still squinty, meaning he hadn’t slept too much either. “I’m not sure,” I shrug. Owen sits down next to me on the sofa and I’m sure I’m getting the infamous Owen-pep-talk. Even though he’s solely interested in men, he does give some killer advice on women too. “I’m not telling you to forget about her, Char, but maybe don’t get your hopes up too in case she really, really doesn’t want to be a part of Sunset Curve.” He gives me a sharp look. “Then again, judging from how out of it she was Thursday, I think she kind of missed her favorite returning customer.” My heart swells up at the thoughts of her missing me. I push the feeling down because Owen is right. I can’t get my hopes up too high. “Can we rehearse Now or Never?” I ask, getting up from the sofa to pick up my electric guitar, “I think that one gives us the most chances.” Jeremy and Owen both hum in agreement and get to their instruments. While Jeremy grabs his bass, Owen settles behind his drums. “1-2-3!” Owen counts us in, clapping his sticks together in the air and off we go. Even though we’ve practiced this song the most out of repertoire, it’s still a bit rough and not good enough for any music execs. Or Emily.

We spend a good portion of the day rehearsing the song, having minimal breaks for food and toilet visits. I think my bandmates might already be sick of me saying “it’s not good enough, it needs to be perfect!”. I’m not sure if I care about what they think. “We’re doing it one last time, Charlie. If it’s not perfect after that, I think you might just have to take the odds and hope it’s good enough for the music execs,” Owen says an hour before the Open Mic Night. He’s a great friend, but he can’t hide his annoyance from me. “Or Emily!” Jeremy adds, a bit too excitedly, pointing to me for emphasis. “Yeah, sure, or Emily,” Owen agrees with an eyeroll. “Fine, one more time.” I grumble and put all I have into the song. We’re definitely going to need a shower after we’ve packed everything up to get to the Music Store. If I say the nerves are really kicking in, I mean my heart is nearly thumping out of my chest and I’m very near death. I don’t get this nervous for any other gig we’ve ever had.

“Alright, let’s pack up!” Jeremy claps his hands when we’re finally done and lifts his bass over his head to put the instrument in its case. Even though I think we could do with one more try, I follow his example and place my electric guitar into its case. “Oh, no! Emily actually told me we could use the equipment they have there,” Owen informs us right on time. “Let’s just all go home, take a shower, get dressed and meet each other there, okay?” Jeremy and I glance at each other, place our instruments in their cases anyway, and then leave the garage. Once I’m showered and dressed for tonight; my grey ‘RUSH’ muscle tank and black skinny jeans will do. Or should I make a proper effort since I’m seeing Emily again? Then again, I’m going to sweat my balls off during the song, so it’s not like I’m actually going to look hot. No. This will do. In attempts to boost my confidence a little bit, I comb my fingers through my hair and mess it up a little bit, looking up into the mirror. I never wanted to be that person that gives myself pep-talks in a mirror, but here we are. “You can do this. Whatever happens, it’s good exposure for the band.” After taking another deep breath, I grab the stuff I need and leave the house. Once I get to the Music Store, something inside me stops me from going in. Something is holding me back. I’m not sure if it’s the nerves of the gig or the nerves of seeing Emily again. All I know is that I can’t go inside. “What are you waiting for, Char?” The familiar voice of Jeremy’s relaxes me a bit. I look through the window of the shop, immediately spotting the girl I’m afraid of seeing again. She has a smile on her face as she sweeps up the shop, getting it ready for the Open Mic Night. I think she’s talking to her co-worker. “Ah! That girl! I’ve given her a three cent tip the other day. I think she appreciated me.” I turn my head to look at Jeremy for a moment, wondering what’s going on in that head of his. That’s when I notice someone else has joined us too. “Do you want us to go in first?” Owen asks. He’s halted behind me and Jeremy, looking at what we’re looking at. “Yes, please,” I squeak out, then cough, “Yes, please,” I repeat in my normal voice. Owen and Jeremy head inside while I trail behind them. I’m not sure if I’m hiding or just don’t want her to see me straight away. “Oh, hey! You’re the Three Cents tipper!” Her happy voice sounds so much prettier than the one she uses on me when she puts up that tough façade. Not prettier than her singing voice though. “I didn’t know you guys were in a band together.” “I’m Jeremy, I play bass.” It’s silent for a moment, probably as she’s figuring out how a bass player and a drummer would form a band by themselves. “Where are we playing?” he doesn’t leave her the time to think about who’s missing. He knows that if she thinks about it long enough, she’ll know I’m the third member of the band. “In the back,” she points to an open double door at the back, “Ash will show you. I’ll be in in a minute.” How is she so abrasive whenever she’s with me but a completely different, sweet person when talking to them? What did I do wrong? I follow Owen and Jeremy, who are following after Ash. In my mind, I’m praying Emily wouldn’t recognize me from the back, but as soon as I take a step, I hear the voice she’s reserved just for me. “Thought it would be you.” I turn to face her with my best apologetic smile plastered on my face. “You were hiding from me, Charles?” She points to my bandmates, who’ve left me to my devices. “Uhm… Not technically… I just stood behind them and they’re taller than me, so…” I hope my excuse is plausible enough for her to believe. Then again, she’s not stupid. “Haven’t seen you stalking my store too much this past week.” Her voice is somehow softer. Somewhere between how she sounds when talking to Owen and Jeremy, and how she sounds when talking to me. “Yeah, no… Uhm, I’ve been busy… You know, writing songs by myself and stuff.” I don’t mean for it to come out so passive-aggressive, but I can’t help it either. “I mean—” I want to correct myself, but Emily interrupts me. “It’s fine, Charles. I don’t care,” that stings, “Don’t you have a soundcheck to get to?” “Uhm, yeah… I guess…” I look at her one last time for just a second before trailing behind my bandmates who are already settled behind their instruments. At least we had that.

By the time soundcheck is over, the room has filled up to the brim with people. Some of them look very professional, others are really here for just the music. My lungs clasp together due to the nerves now even more kicking in. “Ready, Char?” Owen claps his hand on my back. “Nope, I think I might die,” I would never be able to hide these nerves from the boys. “Let’s hope you come back as a ghost then,” Jeremy jokes – I think, “Ooh! Maybe we could start a ghost band!” I can’t help but chuckle at that, and neither can Owen. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our monthly Open Mic Night!” Ash says into the microphone, her voice booming off the walls and filling the entire space. The crowd claps and cheers, but I doubt it’s because they know who’s coming. This is all Ash’s applause or maybe just excitement for some music. “First up, we have an up-and-coming band from our very own Los Feliz. Give it up for Sunset Cure!” I slowly turn my head to Owen, who’d told us he had made sure he changed the name. “I swear, I told her to correct it!” he says, holding up his hands in defense. When I look into the crowd and spot Emily in the back with the most mischievous grin on her face, I’m sure she did it on purpose to mess with me. As the three of us make our way onto the stage, surrounded by the excited cheers of the crowd, I glare at Emily at the back, but I can’t help but let a smile shine through. If this was her attempt to get rid of my nerves, it’s working because I’m distracted by all the questions about why she’d do this. “It’s actually Sunset Curve,” I say into the mic, not taking my eyes off of Emily. The mischievous grin isn’t going away anytime soon, I think. And for some reason, it makes her even more sexy. I strum my guitar a little, and so does Jeremy with his bass until Owen counts us in and we start rocking out. All of the nerves that had built up inside of me have subdued. Mainly because I don’t take my eyes off of the girl standing at the back, looking at us with her arms crossed and the mischief still persistent on her face. “Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge Electric hammer to the heart” Jeremy and Owen join in for backing vocals on the next part of the verse. “Clocks move forward But we don't get older, no Kept on climbing Till our stars collided” Jeremy and Owen now stop, leaving me to sing the next few lines by myself. “And all the times we fell behind Were just the keys to paradise” The chorus is for all three of us, our voices blending together nicely. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” While singing, I don’t tear my eyes off of Emily. I think I even caught a smile during that chorus. “Hear the noise, in my head It's calling out like a voice I can't forget One life, no regrets Catch up, got no time to catch my breath” I throw her a wink when Jeremy walks up to me to sing the pre-chorus with me into the same mic, as we do pretty much every show. It gets the most cheers, most of the time. “Clocks move faster Cause it's all we're after now, oh Won't stop climbing Cause this is our time, yeah” I push him away from me, focusing on Emily again. “When all the days felt black and white Those were the best shades of my life” We lapse into the chorus again and the crowd gets up from their chairs to dance along with us. Emily, however, stays put in the position I saw her in when the song started. Besides the occasional head-bop, she just stares with that mischievous grin and her arms crossed. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” As Owen takes the bridge, I walk to the edge of the stage to interact with the crowd. “We ain't searching for tomorrow” “Tomorrow,” Jeremy echoes. “'Cause we got all we need today” “Today” goes Jeremy again as I walk back to my microphone. “Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins,” I sing. “We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain,” Jeremy’s high note sends shivers down my spine, and I almost forget to move away from the microphone to do my favorite part. Owen and Jeremy move from their mics too, and all of us stop playing the instruments, shouting the first part of the chorus into the crowd whilst clapping our hands. Thankfully, the crowd obeys and claps along with us. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now” We pick up our instruments and move behind our microphones again, finishing up the song. “And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never.” The crowd erupts into explosive applause and cheers. But all I see is Emily, slow-clapping her way towards us, but stops when she reaches the last row of the crowd. I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as Owen and Jeremy join me for a bow. “That was explosive, you guys!” Ash says into the mic as she runs up the stage again. “Sunset Curve, everybody!” The applause doesn’t die down yet, instead, it just grows louder. “Tell your friends!” Jeremy yells, earning even more cheers from the ladies on the first row. The three of us walk off stage as Ash announces the next artist. The second I walk into the crowd; my eyes are scanning ferociously for any sign of Emily. “Sunset Curve,” a stranger approaches us, “My name’s Bob, I’m looking for hot new talent such as yourself,” he shakes hands with all of us, but I’m only half there. Emily is in the store again, cleaning up and sorting through stuff. It’s when I realize I don’t care what Bob over here thought. I need to know what Emily thought. “Yeah, yeah, just a second, Bob,” I say, not even looking at him and making my way to the store without saying another word or waiting for a response from Bob or any of the guys. “Hey,” I greet once I’ve approached the girl in the Music Store. It feels exactly the same as it did when I first met her, and she just sang that beautiful song. The nerves kicking in again, my hands getting clammy and my throat closing up. Exactly like that first day. “Ah, Rockstar,” she mumbles, not even awarding me with a glance. She does recognize my voice, though. That’s a plus. “That wasn’t half bad out there.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Half bad?” I ask, “Ems, me and my band rocked it out there.” If she’s surprised by the nickname, she doesn’t show it. I’m surprised myself that I used it. “Eh.” There’s that mischievous grin of hers again. Something tells me that means she doesn’t mean a word she says. I follow after her like an obedient puppy as she walks towards the piano again to sort through her sheet music. From over her shoulder, I can see my crumbled up paper sticking out of the bundle. “I think you liked our song, but you’re just too shy to tell me,” my mouth says without permission of my brain. She turns her head to me, giving me a sharp glare. “Sure, you tell yourself that, Charles.” I shake my head at her while she walks away from me again. “Can I help you with anything else? I still got work to do.” I bite my lip to make sure my mouth doesn’t go off without permission of my brain again. Because there are so many things I want to tell her. “Hey Emily!” Owen’s voice sounds from behind me, and when I turn my head, I find both bandmates standing beside me. Emily turns her head at the sound of Owen’s voice, a smile immediately turning her scowl reserved for me upside down. “Oh hey boys! You killed it out there!” My mouth drops open as I glance from my bandmates to Emily and back. “But—you,” I point to Emily, “W—me, Huh? What?!” All I get from her is that mischievous grin again. I knew she liked the song. Why can’t she just tell me the truth? She’s messing with me. “Thanks, girl!” Jeremy says with the widest grin on his face. “She’s nice, isn’t she, Char?” He pats me on the back, pointing to Emily for emphasis. “Yeah, very nice,” now it’s my time to scowl at her. “We just wanted to thank you for giving us a head’s up about this Open Mic thing,” Owen chimes in to simmer things down a little. “We had a very important guy talking to us just now.” I know the snarky emphasis on his words are directed at me, but I can’t be bothered to care. I just want to know what Emily’s deal is. Why can’t she warm up to me like she did to Owen and Jeremy? “Oh, that’s so good! But if it’s Bob, don’t believe him.” The boys and I glance at each other with wide eyes. “It was Bob, wasn’t it?” All three of us nod our heads in response. “Yeah, he’s a scammer. We try to keep him out, but he always manages to weasel his way back in.” “That’s why Ash came between us,” Owen now realizes. “Yeah…” Emily trails off, “Sorry, guys.” “Oh, it’s fine! At least you liked our song!” Jeremy says excitedly, “So much so you might join our band? Charlie over here tells us you’re an amazing singer-songwriter.” He pats my shoulder again. Emily’s smile falters, her eyes growing sadder with the second. She glances up at me. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do that. I – uhm… If I told you I had a really decent reason that I can’t talk about, would you believe me?” At least this answer is a bit less harsh than what she’s given me the other day. “So she is a witch!” Jeremy whispers with wide eyes. “What?” Emily’s sad face makes room for a confused face. Exactly the face Owen and I pull every day at least fifty times. “She’s not a witch, Jere!” I tell him off with an eyeroll. “We believe you have a good reason not to join our band,” Owen replies to Emily, “If you change your mind, we’ll welcome you with open arms.” His words seem to put that gorgeous smile of hers back on her pretty face. I sometimes forget how beautiful she really is until she smiles like that. With her long, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail that cascades alongside her neck, and her magical dark eyes with a fleck of green. I think she might just be the most beautiful girl I ever did see. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.” She glances at me and for once, her smile doesn’t turn back into a scowl. There’s a fuzzy, warm feeling in my chest. One that calms my heart down. One that seems to solve all of my problems at once. “See you around, Emily,” Owen taps the counter and turns around to make his way to the door. Jeremy throws up a peace sign whilst muttering a “Bye” and following behind Owen, leaving me with her. “Thanks for telling us about the Open Mic,” I tell her, pointing to the now closed double door with the music streaming out of it. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I raise my hand in a wave and turn around to go and find my bandmates again. “Hey,” her voice stops me halfway there, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” I turn my face and get rewarded with an actual, genuine smile from Emily. It even turns the corners of my mouth upwards. “See you, Charles.” Still calling me Charles. “Right, yeah,” I wave again, “See you, Ems.” I still catch a glimpse of a blush before I head out the door to find my bandmates waiting for me. “She liked our music?” Owen tries to cheer me up, even though that’s not necessary. I’ve been rewarded with the most beautiful, genuine smile from the most beautiful woman on this planet. I don’t need cheering up. “I’m sure she’ll join our band in no time,” says Jeremy with a reassuring smile. Even if she does, she’s not that abrasive towards me anymore. She even gave me a smile. A smile. From Emily.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92

Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #charlie x oc #oc emily fox #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #luke patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina

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argylemnwrites · 4 years ago

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I Fold

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Book 1, chapter 12)

Word Count: ~2400

Rating: PG-13 (language, mild sensuality)

Summary: Spending time with her always feels like a gamble

Author’s Note: Written for the @choicesmonthlychallenge for August 21 - temptation. With TRH3 coming out today, I found myself feeling a little bummed that I had no desire to play this series I once loved, so I decided to throw this together to revisit a time when I adored this series and these characters.

Drake stepped into the lounge almost tentatively, scanning the room quickly from the doorway and letting out a sigh when he confirmed he was alone. He didn’t want to think about the fact that there was a lot of disappointment mixed in with his relief at that realization.

He walked over to the bar, rooting through the bottles of liquor until he found the Bushmills he was looking for. He had no reason to suspect that she would be joining him tonight. She wouldn’t even know about this lounge at Applewood. But then again, she’d stumbled upon him in that lounge back at the palace without any warning, and she hadn’t exactly known where to find him then, at least at first. It had been pure coincidence.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was that he’d rather enjoyed the handful of nights they’d spent drinking whiskey and playing poker. Before they’d made the trip to Applewood, it had kind of settled into a late night tradition, with her waiting for him in the lounge after the first couple of times. But now, things were apparently back to normal, which Drake knew in his soul was for the best. Since his birthday yesterday, he was having thoughts he definitely shouldn’t be. Or rather, more thoughts he shouldn’t be. But part of him still just wanted to spend a little more time with her.

He took his glass of whiskey and headed for the couches, pulling out his phone and trying to not feel let down that it looked like she wasn’t joining him. After all, he’d never had problems drinking alone before she dropped into his life. So, he pulled up scores from the football matches today and was ready to watch some highlights when he heard the door creak open.

His eyes flew to the door in an instant. There she was, her dark hair swinging as she glanced around the room, a smile appearing when she met his gaze.

“There you are. I’ve been hunting for where you might be hiding,” she said, stepping fully into the lounge, closing the door behind her. She’d changed into a pair of tight jeans and a loose, purplish sort of top. She looked good, so much more comfortable than he’d seen her all day. “After not only being forced to bake today, but forced to bake with Olivia, I definitely need a drink.”

Drake moved to stand up and pour her some whiskey, but she shook her head. “I got it. Why don’t you find some cards?” And just like that, she was striding over to the bar like she owned the place. His eyes drifted down, watching the way her hips and ass rolled in those jeans before he snapped out of it, jerking his head to the side and standing up, running his hands through his hair as he made his way to the small cupboard off to the side. He needed to stop. He couldn’t let himself get carried away here.

“What’s on the drink menu tonight?” he heard her call out as he dug around, trying to find a deck of cards and some poker chips.

“Bushmills, but if you want something else, Liu-”

“Nah, that’s fine with me.” He heard the splash of liquid into a glass as he continued his search. He eventually found an old deck of cards, but there did not appear to be any chips.

“How’s the hunt going?” she asked, her voice much closer. She must be at the coffee table.

“I don’t think there are any poker chips here, Liu.” He reached his arm in as deep as he could, feeling around the back of the cupboard, but he was still coming up empty.

“Hmmm. Do you have any cash on you? We could use that.”

He pivoted to face her, finding her sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Are you literally trying to take my money? Because of all your potential marks at the manor, I’m probably the dumbest choice.”

She threw her head back and laughed at that, deep and rich, her black hair hanging like a surreal curtain behind her. “Maybe I just figured I could start small, gradually work my way through the court!” He chuckled lightly at that before she continued, “But seriously, I don’t know. I was just trying to come up with something we could use. So unless you have other ideas…” She trailed off with a little shrug, her dark eyes wide as they locked on his. The silence that followed was tense and expectant.

Drake swallowed roughly. He could think of one option besides poker chips as he let his eyes drift across her body, picturing each piece of clothing she was wearing piled on the table in front of her. Those damn jeans that fit her like a second skin. That shirt that was loose and slipping off her shoulder just a bit. The bra he knew was blue based on the strap he could see on that shoulder. Her panties, probably not a matching blue, but still undoubtedly perfect, regardless of color.

He tried to reign in his overactive imagination, dragging his eyes back to her face, shocked to see a coy little smirk on her face. It almost felt like she was flirting, like she wanted him to suggest strip poker or something, but he knew he had to be just imagining things, so he shook his head to get that way too appealing fantasy out of his mind, twisting back to the cupboard and looking at their actual options.

“How about Scrabble tiles?”

There was a slight pause before she answered, “That could work.”

So he tugged the old box of Scrabble from the shelf and joined her on the floor, resting his back against the couch behind him as he set the game on the coffee table and handed her the deck of cards, ignoring how her fingers brushed against his as he did so. As she shuffled the deck, he sorted out the tiles, dividing them into vowels and consonants, then sliding half of each pile over to her.

“Alright, vowels are one, consonants are five, ante is one? That work for you, Liu?”

She nodded. “Five card draw?” They’d mixed it up a couple of times, but they seemed to both prefer the standard.

“Sounds good.”

And so she dealt the cards. He watched her hands as she briskly alternated placing cards in front of each of them. He noticed a bit of glitter in her pink nail polish. He wasn’t sure if she knew that wasn’t exactly appropriate for court, or if she did and it was a tiny bit of rebellion. He liked to think it was the latter.

“So, how long do Apple Court cup-bearer duties last?” Riley asked as she picked up her cards, scanning them over without changing her expression. “Should you have tasted my whiskey before I had any?”

Drake lifted his eyes from the five cards he was holding to look at her. Her eyes were bright and playful, an eyebrow cocked and the corner of her lips quirked up.

“Ha. Ha,” he deadpanned, looking back at his cards, trying to decide whether he should play it safe and keep his pair of tens, or trade in one of them and to go for a flush as he tossed in an “I” as his initial bet. “Nice to see the power of being fake queen is already going to your head. Good practice for when you’re actually queen.”

She let out a little hum at that, but didn’t say anything else when she matched him with an “O.” It surprised Drake, as normally she gave as good as she got. But for whatever reason, his little teasing comment didn’t draw a response from her. He wondered if he’d struck a nerve. That hadn’t been his goal, but maybe she was worried he really saw her as just as stuck up and irritating as the rest of them. He didn’t know how that could be, because who else at court would sit on the floor and drink whiskey straight up with him? But this place tended to have a way of screwing with minds. He knew that better than anyone probably.

“Liu, I was just teasing. I know you aren’t-”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted, shaking her head lightly as she took the three cards he offered her and passed him three new ones from the deck. “It’s just… Do you really think I’ll be queen?”

He felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Of course she was just worried that Liam wasn’t as interested as she was. She didn’t care how he saw her at all. He glanced at his new cards, disappointed to find nothing useful. The pair of tens was going to have to be good enough. He tossed an “E” tile into the pot before he answered, “Liu, I’m not gonna act like a teenager and gossip about my best friend’s feelings. You are smart enough to see that-”

“That’s not what I meant. I… sometimes… I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I’m cut out to be queen, you know?”

His eyes jumped to her face, but she was staring at her hand, aggressively avoiding eye contact with him as she tossed in a “K” tile, raising his bet.

“Liu, where is this coming from?” He kept staring at her, trying to determine what she wanted here. Did she want a confidence boost and pep talk? Or did she want his honest assessment? Because while he was sure she could be an amazing queen, a breath of fresh air, bringing common sense and real world experiences to the role, he also was scared of what being queen might do to her. To be queen was to play peacemaker, to embody decorum and diplomacy at all times. And she was too fierce, too intense, too free to ever be truly happy locked away in that gilded cage.

She gave a little shrug after a moment, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I just don’t have anything in common with any of the other suitors. I’m nothing like them at all, and it just makes me wonder if I’m right for this. They’ve trained all their lives for this shit, and if I am so different from them, then I don’t see how I am remotely the right choice.”

“Your differences from them are why you are the right choice, Liu. You aren’t sheltered or out of touch or completely stuck up your own ass.”

“I just don’t know. It feels so weird and the closer the Coronation gets, I just…” she trailed off, biting her lip and staring at him with those damn eyes. She looked lost and unsure, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Did Olivia or Madeleine say something today?” It was the only thing he could think that would have made her suddenly unsettled.

Riley shook her head aggressively. “God no! And I know better than to let anything those bitches say get to me. I’ve just been thinking about it more lately, and I just can’t picture myself sitting there with a crown on my head and a smile plastered on my face.”

Drake shrugged. She wasn’t exactly wrong, and he wasn’t going to lie to her. She would have to put on a happy face publicly a lot when she married Liam.

When he didn’t say anything, she kept going. “Sometimes it all just feels so surreal, like I’m an actress in some cheap romance movie. I don’t know… I guess the only times I feel like I’m still a real human are…”

Her eyes dropped to the surface of the coffee table as she trailed off again. He followed her gaze, surprised to see her hand mere millimeters from his, his little finger nearly touching her thumb. It happened almost in slow motion, as he watched her thumb scoot over, brushing over the back of his hand deliberately.

Drake looked up and was shocked to find her staring at him, her gaze so intense it almost felt like it could cut through him. He didn’t know what she was looking for, what she was searching for in him, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the moment, to look away. So he stared right back. The urge to slide their hands together, the temptation to lean over and kiss her was so strong, he almost felt himself leaning towards her.

But he knew he couldn’t. It would be a massive mistake. She was just getting worn down by the stresses of the social season, and she was looking for comfort where she could find it. He knew it had to be true. Hell, the only reason she kept coming back for these midnight poker games was probably because she just needed a moment away from all the pressure and he kind of just represented the antithesis of that whole world. It had nothing to actually do with him beyond his outsider status.

She was here for Liam. He should be the one to kiss away her worries and fears, to hold her close, to reassure her. Drake was just supposed to keep an eye on her, not steal those intimate moments. So he closed his eyes, trying to break the spell it felt like she had him under with her stare as he cleared his throat, sliding his hand back. “I fold.”

He opened his eyes to find her still staring at him, an almost skeptical look in her eyes. He felt his cheeks getting slightly warm with her continued attention, so he shoved the handful of Scrabble tiles over to her, trying to move this evening back in a safer direction. “Here, just take your damn winnings so I can deal the next hand.”

She didn’t say anything as she tossed her hand onto the discard pile and handed him the deck. Out of curiosity, he flipped over those five cards. The five of clubs, the three and nine of diamonds, and the six and Jack of spades. She had nothing, had been bluffing the entire time.

“What can I say? Sometimes you just need to raise the stakes.” He glanced up at her statement and saw her watching him. “What did you have?”

“It doesn’t matter, Liu.” And with that, he shuffled his hand into the deck, dealing the cards out without saying another word. From where he was sitting, the stakes were already high enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #trr #choices fanfiction #the royal romance

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quixotic-writer · 4 years ago

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She’s in My Head I Must Confess

Song inspo: Whatsername — Green Day

A voicemail from a very drunk Q is coming through in real time, he hasn’t spoken to you in about 2-3 months since you guys broke up but it seems he can’t get over you. Seems as though you haven’t gotten over him too.

———————————————————

You sat on your couch with a wine glass in hand channel surfing to find something to kill your boredom on yet another unfulfilling and lonely Saturday night. You flick through growing more frustrated when you realize every channel has nothing to provide that will crave your entertainment hunger. Your pace quickens as you continue blasting through channels reading titles as the flash by, nothing quite catching your eye. However, you quickly stop once you see a familiar face on screen.

“This makes Q today’s big loser!” You hear Murr’s all too familiar voice fill the room. Your eyes bulge out of your skull and it feels as though in a matter of seconds you went through the stages of grief. It had been almost 3 months since you both silently broke it off in a heated argument you don’t even remember. All you remember is the anger you felt that made you so heated that it felt like your skin could melt off, and all you did was walk out and didn’t even try to talk. Neither of you tried texting or calling each other. As you stare at the screen before you, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him and something inside you stirs. Guilt? Loneliness? Longing? Your eyes deviate from the TV and glance over at your phone. But you quickly shut yours eyes and shake your head snapping yourself into a slightly more sober state of mind.

“No. You can’t do this. You’ve been on Wine o’clock for too long to even do that.” You give yourself a pep talk and hold yourself back from making a call in a drunken state that you know you’ll regret. You finish off the wine in your glass to take off the edge and turn the TV off not wanting any more influence for a potential bad decision.

Just then the landline phone for your house rings. Weird, no one ever calls that line. The only reason you have it is for grocery stores rewards memberships. Also it’s kinda funny to give creepy guys that number knowing you never answer that phone. It’s even funnier when they try and text it.

“Ah. Just let it go to voicemail.” You say letting the phone ring until it stops. You bring the half empty bottle of wine back to the kitchen counter and go to wash up your glass. As you begin turning everything off for the night, the phone finally goes to voicemail and you almost crap yourself the moment you hear who’s on the other end.

“H...Hey uuuumm. I didn’t want to call your cell. A stupid decision. So I... I thought to call your landline... no surprise you didn’t answer, I know you never answer this phone. You only give that number to grocery stores and weird guys.” Oh god Q is surely intoxicated. It’s strange though, seems like he had the same idea as you, but obviously had enough to drink to make him brave enough to follow through and abandon rational thought before taking action. You finish cleaning up and stand by the phone to listen as the voicemail continues rolling in real time.

“I thought I saw you here at the bar. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. She slapped me in the face when I tried talking to her. I think she thought I was a creep. I don’t think I am. I probably looked insane though. Listen, I called because that made me realize that god I... I miss you. I found a bunch of old photos we took in a box the other day too. I had told myself I would get rid of them after that blow up we had, but we just looked so happy. It was the picture we took together when we went on that picnic. You looked so pretty in that dress and with that smile that kills me, we looked so happy. It was a better time and I just miss you so much. I messed up, i’ll admit it. I.. I don’t even remember what we fought about. I think maybe we might have been too quick to just part. We... we didn’t even really get to talk, you just left. You disappeared so quickly out of my life, and geez did that scare me. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to just leave like that and disappear without a trace. I’ve been messed up since. I’ll be frank i’ve tried talking to other girls, it just doesn’t do it for me. I don’t feel the spark like I did with you. I’ve been thinking and drinking... mostly drinking, that you’re just someone I can’t seem to get out of my head. I recall everything we’ve done together, it’s been difficult trying to forget you, but the memories just don’t go away so easily and I think i’d rather do something about instead of becoming a raging alcoholic. I just want to talk to you again. I want to fix things.” He pauses and it was enough for you to finally reach for the phone and pick it up.

“Brian?” You say quickly interrupting his monologue of emotions.

“Fuck I didn’t think you were listening. I can’t believe you actually picked up.” He says, fear filling his voice.

“Yeah. I did. I’ve been doing some thinking and drinking of my own. Where are you right now?” You ask as your heart thumps out of your chest. Was this a good idea? But he sounds so genuine... he never was really bad, the argument was bad, the lack of communication, the lack of understanding.

“From your apartment? Like... couple blocks away.” Hearing his voice come through the phone was almost sobering. You knew you missed him, but you didn’t think hearing his voice talking to you again would make you so happy. Had it been a month ago, the circumstances would have been different. You decide to jump the gun like he did and make a crazy decision of your own. It’s time to grow up. It’s time to talk.

“Nothing can change what happened, but maybe what can change is the outcome. Maybe come over and we can talk things out?”

“I think i’d like that. I’ll be over soon.” You smile to yourself and end the call. You turn some of the lights back on and stand at the kitchen counter only to stare at the phone replaying all that had just happened in the theater of your mind. It all happened so suddenly, a spur of the moment decision, it made your palms sweat and your stomach tie into pretzel knots.

Soon enough a knock echoed at the door. You walk to the door, take a deep breath, and rip the band aid off. And there he was with his puppy dog eyes that made your heart melt looking a lot more sober than he sounded minutes ago.

“Hi.” He says quietly with a faint smile. You felt your heart skip a beat and heat rush in your cheeks. When you looked into his eyes, you could see a fiery passion burning behind them. Though you two were apart, you could feel the soul ties you had stringing you back together.

“Hi.” You step away from the door allowing him to step inside.

A new chapter in your lives was now being written together and intertwined again.

#brian quinn #impractical jokers #brian q quinn #q #q x reader #brian quinn imagine #brian x reader #suki writes #fluff

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atc74 · 5 years ago

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Hi, Again

Warnings: Fluff, angst (if you squint), Jensen being smooth, but the reader being smoother...

Summary: Jensen arrives to pick Y/N up for their date. She surely expected a fancy restaurant with overpriced tiny portions, but what she gets is something entirely different.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1610

Written for: @evansrogerskitten

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, my enabler for life

A/N: This is the long awaited sequel to Hi (read this first!), which was written as a request for @evansrogerskitten for a follower contest. This is a very special birthday gift, for a very special lady and very special friend. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASH! I hope you have an amazing day! I love you lady!

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

Like Jensen’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Previously in “Hi”

A tall gentleman in a black suit approached me with a sign that had my name on it. “Miss Y/N? I’m Philip and I will be your driver tonight. Please, follow me.” He led me to a large black SUV and held the back door open. When I looked up, the first thing I saw was Jensen’s face smiling at me. He held his hand out for me and smiled as I stepped inside, sliding into the seat next to him.

“Hi.”

Now...

“Hi,” I smiled back, my hand still in his.

“Hi,” Jensen said. “And, I already said that. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous, if you couldn’t tell.”

I laughed. I was sitting with Jensen Ackles in the back of a black SUV with heavily tinted windows in Vegas, after a Supernatural convention. Then I realized I was laughing and attempted to pull myself together. “Jensen, I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at this. It’s all a little surreal for me. What am I doing here?”

“What I said to you during the photo was the truth. For nearly a year, I have looked at every woman with even the slightest hint of red hair, just waiting for you to come through the line again, but it was never you. I had finally convinced myself I would never see you again, and then you were there, right in front of me. It was coincidence that brought you through my photos in Seattle, but I think it was serendipity that brought us together today.” Jensen clamped his mouth shut when he realized he was rambling.

“Serendipity?” I giggled, a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just not a word one hears in everyday conversation. Then again, this isn’t every day, is it?”

“But I feel it just...it fits,” Jensen chuckled, shrugging. “Even if it does sound a bit silly. I’m sorry if I caught you off guard. I don’t do this, like ever. But, I think Jared was sick of listening to me go on and on about you and he made me promise to ask you out if I ever saw you again. So you are here for two reasons; one, because I am a man of my word and two, you said yes.”

“I’d be a fool to say no. Or, I might be a fool for saying yes,” I said quietly, turning to look out the window at the desert flying by.

A warm hand landed on my arm and I turned back, regarding Jensen’s touch on my heated skin. “I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re brave for taking a chance like this. On me.”

I’d seen plenty of interviews and convention footage, but this might be the first time I’ve witnessed Jensen channel Dean Winchester. It was no secret that he’d been single for some time now, but at this very moment, he didn’t think he deserved a chance.

“Don’t do that, Jensen. Let’s have dinner and play it by ear. Who knows, by the end of the night, you might be changing your mind,” I winked, laying my hand over his.

“You’re wrong, but I think that sounds like a solid plan. We’re almost there,” he smiled, looking out the window.

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying desperately to figure out where we were. I didn’t think Jensen was a serial killer, but we were out in the middle of the desert.

“It’s a surprise, okay? Just a little bit longer, Y/N,” Jensen replied.

“You’re not taking me out to the desert to kill me, are you? I’ve watched enough television to know what happens out here at night,” I giggled nervously.

“Now that you’ve figured out my plan, I might as well get on with it,” Jensen scoffed, pulling my hand towards him quickly.

I was startled but the only sound I managed was a tiny squeak. I looked up and was met with the kindest smile and prettiest green eyes. His touch traveled the length of my arm until our fingers were entwined. He raised our joined hands and pressed a soft kiss to the back of my hand.

“It was indeed my plan to kill you...with kindness, and wow you with a really romantic dinner. Is that not okay with you?” And there it was, the patented Dean Winchester smirk, followed by a wink.

“Oh my god! I’m sorry! I’m ruining it!” I covered my face with my free hand, shaking my head. I took a deep breath before daring to meet his eyes. “That is actually really sweet and sounds like a great idea.”

“Awesome.”

We came to a stop, but as I reached for the door, Jensen stopped me, his hand still holding mine. “Just a few minutes longer. I’ll be right back. Please don’t get out. Or peek.” The look on his face told me he was serious, but there was an underlying twinkle in those green eyes, and I found myself nodding my promise to stay put.

As Jensen and Philip exited the vehicle, I took the opportunity to calm my nerves. I gave myself a quick pep talk and tried to remember what the volunteer had told me, more than once. “Don’t be nervous; he is a nice handsome boy, but he is still just a person.”

“He’s just a man, Y/N. This is just a date. You can do this. You are not going to f-” my pep talk was interrupted when my door swung open to reveal Jensen and his smiling, stupidly handsome face. My thoughts got the better of me. Yeah right. He’s just a man. He’s just the most beautiful human ever created.

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

Jensen took my hand once more in his, helping me step down from the vehicle. He placed both his hands on my shoulders, looked into my eyes and I was mesmerized. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t know why, but I did. I had absolutely no reason to trust this man, but I did. “I trust you, Jensen.”

He smiled wider than the Grand Canyon and turned my body away from him. It was then that I felt his hands covering my eyes. “No peeking, Y/N.”

We walked several feet, me shuffling carefully in front of him until he slowed his pace and I felt his hands slip from my eyes. “Keep your eyes closed for me, sugar.”

My skin tingled from his touch, my heart from his endearment. I nodded, feeling him slide around my body. “We’re going to sit down, right here. I got you, easy now.”

My body lowered to the ground, something soft covering it, a blanket maybe? “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking and taking in the surrounding area. It was breathtaking, and I stared in silence at the scene before me. We were sitting on a mountain side, high above the desert plains, and looking down at the Hoover Dam. It was lit up from the base in a cool blue light. With Lake Mead an inky midnight blue behind it, I’d never seen it look more beautiful, more ethereal.

“This is remarkable, Jensen.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m also hoping that this doesn’t outshine the rest of the evening I have planned,” he chuckled slightly, reaching behind him and revealing a honest to goodness picnic basket.

“Look at you, playing the romantic-picnic-overlooking-a-national-landmark-card,” I mentioned casually.

“Is it working?” Jensen winked. There was enough moonlight to see each other as it highlighted Black Canyon and the Colorado River below us.

“Hmmmm,” I coyly toyed with him, tapping my index finger against my lips. “Whatchya got in there?”

“Oh do I have stuff,” Jensen announced excitedly as he opened the basket, laying everything out in front of us. “We have a taco buffet with all the fixings, like five different types of salsa, chips, fresh guacamole and, wait for it...a pitcher of margaritas!”

“How did you do all this?” I was stunned. “And, have you been spying on me? Who told you I love Mexican?”

“I knew it!” Jensen pumped his fist victoriously. “Really it was a long shot, but I was craving Mexican and thought, what psycho doesn’t love tacos?”

“Holy crap! You just quoted Dean Winchester, but swapped waffles for tacos!” I laughed so hard I think I may have snorted.

“That was honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jensen laughed, pulling me into his arms.

We had a peaceful dinner overlooking the dam and the surrounding mountains, playing twenty questions about our lives. Jensen reached into the basket and pulled out yet another container. “And the piece de resistance.”

“Did you bring chocolate cake?” I eyed the decadence filled container with lustful eyes.

“Damn girl. Forget the way Dean Winchester looks at pie. I want you to look at me like you’re eying up this cake!” Jensen laughed, pulling the cover off and waving it in front of my mouth.

“Jensen, do not tease me. I will eat that with my fingers!” I warned him, but he didn’t give up. I reached up with two fingers, dipping into the cake and sliding them into my mouth, feeling bold.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, almost indiscernible over the sounds I was making. I noticed he seemed uncomfortable, but he teased me with cake, I could tease him back. I dipped my fingers back into the cake and held them in front of Jensen’s mouth. He took the bait. He grabbed my wrist with one large hand and halted my movements. His tongue snaked out, licking a bit of the sweet dessert from my fingers, before he dipped his head, sucking both of my fingers into his mouth.

The sounds coming from his mouth were purely pornographic, to say the least. I felt my nether regions tingle at the sight and sounds of Jensen Ackles licking chocolate cake from my fingers. Feeling even bolder, I leaned in, licking the rements from his lower lip. “Fuck, that’s delicious.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, sugar.”

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @manawhaat @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield @emoryhemsworth @imaginationisgrowth

Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @adoptdontshoppets @supernatural-jackles @fandom-princess-forevermore @akshi8278 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deanwanddamons

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen #supernatural rpf #evansrogerskitten #for the birthday girl

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

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CSI: Rogers and Barnes The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Prologue: Aye Aye Captain.

Series Intro: Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes are hot on the tail of Brooklyn’s latest criminal- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer. Captain Rogers assembles the best officers from the Brooklyn 101 Murder Unit. This specialist team, nicknamed The Avengers, are working in the dark as the killer leaves behind no clues, other than their choice of murder weapon- whichever beige cereal he/she chooses.

The team are in a race against time as the bodies begin to mount. Can they catch the perp before it’s too late?

Episode Summary: There’s a lake, and Steve’s in a suit. Someone he clearly has feelings for appears and we get the impression that he may have done something a little bit dumbassy… Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Dark Comedy themes. CSI:NY + Brooklyn 99 = CSI: Steeb!

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (will they, won’t they, did they???)

Song for Episode: Alien by Cary Brothers

A/N: Inspired by THAT picture of Mr Evans on set in his suit by the lake, myself and @icanfeelastormbrewing put our heads together and we present to you CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Serial Cereal Killer. I really hope you’re ready because this is a journey into our very, very odd minds but we promise there is a decent plot underneath all our Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes! You don’t need to have read that series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this from.

Our knowledge of American Policing is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

Episodes will be given individual warnings, summaries, pairings and songs so please pay attention to those.

PLEASE REBLOG and COMMENT!

Tags are open.

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

Main Masterlist

“Nice suit, punk.” Sergeant James Barnes smiled at his Captain, Steve Rogers, who sighed, dropping his hands to his hips.

“You’re a jerk, Bucky” Steve replied simply, eyeing his best friend through his Aviators, a small smile playing on his face.

“Ready for your big speech?” Bucky questioned.

Steve took a breath and looked around. It was a gorgeous, sunny May evening. The Lakehouse which had been hired by the NYPD for the Ceremony was full of people all milling around inside and out.

“Yeah.” he nodded “I think so.”

“Think so ain’t gonna cut it Steve.” Bucky chuckled “You got half the force out there. The Deputy Commissioner, the Commissioner…” “Buck, just don’t” Steve sighed “I’m well aware of who’s here, thanks.” “Well it’s hardly surprising…” Bucky said, taking a pull from his beer “It was a pretty big case. Thanos and The Children were terrorising Brooklyn for years. “And it was the 101that put him away.” Steve smiled “It was a good team effort.” “You gonna take that time out?” Bucky asked. Steve shrugged.

“I dunno.”

“You work too hard.” “Criminals don’t exactly take time out because we want to a holiday you know.” Steve said, looking at him. “I’m sure the Unit wouldn’t fall apart if you took a week out.” Bucky said “Stark’s right, you need to get a life man.” “Fuck you.” Steve shot back and Bucky snorted a laugh.

“Whatever.”

At that point, Deputy Commissioner Nick Fury approached them, and Steve nodded to him

“Sir.”

“They’re ready for you now Captain.” he said “You do your speech and then Senator Ross will join you on stage to hand out the Commendation to you and your Unit.” “Yes Sir.” he nodded.

“Knock ‘em dead Punk.” Bucky smiled, and Steve shot him one last look, before he took off his aviators and tucked them into his pocket, Bucky making his way to his seat.

He passed by the other members of his specialist unit, smiling as he went. Detectives Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff aka Clintasha on account of them hardly ever being apart, Patrol Officer Odinson, aka the Bungalow on account of him ‘not having much upstairs’ according to Bucky (which was ironic seeing a the guy was about 8 feet tall) and then on to his support staff- Tony Stark and Bruce Banner his forensic experts aka the Science Brothers, their Assistant Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, the lead Pathologist and Police Technician Wanda Maximoff.

After acknowledging them all, he walked up the steps to the stage to a round of applause and wolf whistles, and smiling he pulled his pre-written speech out of his pocket.

“Thank you.” he spoke into the microphone, squinting slightly against the sun “It’s my pleasure to welcome you to this celebration of achievement for the Brooklyn 101 and their efforts which led to the removal of a dangerous crime lord from our streets.” he paused as Clint gave a little cheer, followed by a shout.

“Go Avengers!”

More cheering and Steve smiled at his team before signalling with his large hands for them to settle down. As the noise died down he cleared his throat and glanced down at his notes again.

Bucky watched him, smiling to himself. Steve was good a public speaker, his ability to command an audience and simply make people listen was one of the many reasons he had risen through the ranks so quickly, alongside the fact that he had an impressive ability to manage people and a huge number of solved crimes to his name. Bucky was incredibly proud of his best friend. The tall, broad man on the stage was a far cry from that skinny little blonde haired punk he had grown up with, bailing out of fights constantly on the streets they had roamed as kids.

Steve caught Bucky’s eye, and his Sergeant flashed him a wink and he smiled before continuing.

“Months of hard work, long days and even longer nights went into putting Thanos away. And each and every single member of the 101 had a huge role to play. From Sergeant Barnes who commanded and led the team to Wanda who kept all our paperwork and reports water tight. No matter how meaningless you may have felt your contribution seemed on the outside, every single bit of it was influential in bringing Thanos to justice, and he I am over the moon to be able to thank you all for your efforts and service today.”

He paused and looked out and that was when he spotted her, gently weaving her way through the crowd that was stood up at the back of the seats. Not that it took much effort, he could have found those big green emeralds among millions of people. Her hair was different, not only shorter, but different. It curled round her left ear and her bangs swept across her face sweeping down and finishing in a longer point along the right hand side of her jaw. But those eyes were piercing through him the same way that they had always done. Steve had seen them shine with excitement, sparkle with laughter, darken with lust and close with utter bliss… he had also seen them water with disappointment and shrink with anger.

Just like they were doing now.

Steve had always been one for containment and keeping his emotions at bay, he was the righteous Captain everyone in his team looked up to after all and couldn't afford to let his emotions get in the way. At that moment though he struggled to focus on the page in his hands which he was surprised to find were shaking slightly. With a deep breath he steeled himself, cleared his throat and resumed his speech. Had he let that scrawny Brooklyn kid he once was come out, he would have stayed there slack jawed with nothing to say.

Bucky sensed something was off, he knew Steve too well not to notice. He turned around to follow his best friend gaze only to find a brunette young woman with gorgeous green eyes dressed in a sleeveless dark green cocktail dress adorned with little golden pineapples. Bucky turned back to the front and glanced at Natasha, whose sharp eye had also noticed Steve’s reaction. Bucky shrugged and motioned with his head to the back of the seats where the woman was stood. Natasha glanced back and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. She nudged Clint who turned to look, before he shared an imperceptible knowing glance with Natasha.

Ok, so they knew who she was. Bucky still had no idea.

When Steve finished his speech and the crowd erupted in a big round of applause, Senator Ross approached his spot on the stage and handed out the Commendation, giving Steve a brief hug and pat him on the back. Steve then showed it to his team mates who were now stood, cheering him from the front row under the stage and that was when Bucky saw Katie approach Tony, dropping a kiss to his cheek. As he looked at the faint resemblance between the two, understanding suddenly flooded his system. This had to be Katie Stark, the youngest child of the late Commander Howard Stark, Steve’s one time boss and mentor.

As Steve was dragged to the side for photos with the Senator and Chief, he continued to watch the unit out of the side of his eye. Tony said something to Katie’s ear as his arm curled round her shoulders and that smile Steve would have died for threatened to spread across her pretty face. Steve swallowed, and allowed himself to be rearranged for more photos with the Senator and Chief, before all to soon he was being dismissed to leave the spotlight to mingle with his friends to celebrate.

Get yourself together Steve, you can do this.

He took a moment to inhale deeply and give himself a pep talk, before he drew himself tall and walked over to where the members of the 101st .and Katie were.

As he approached he saw Thor sweep Katie into a huge hug and drop a kiss to her cheek. "Little Stark, you look fantastic. It's good to see you." "You too big guy" she grinned before she stepped forward to hug Clint and Natasha, her one time team mates "and you two." Steve shuffled uncomfortably, his collar and tie felt real tight. His hands slipped into his pockets and he rocked to and fro on the balls of his feet, a little tick he had whenever he got nervous. One that didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky.

"Not that we're not happy to see you but...what you doing here?" Clint asked, releasing her. "Was on a rare few days off and came to visit Tone" she said, smiling at her brother. "He insisted I come...share your success. Was a pretty big case you guys smashed." "Well me and Bruce were the ones that actually linked him to 30 crimes forensically but I don’t wanna brag..." Tony quipped and Katie rolled her eyes. "And he’s so modest about it too." Bucky grinned, flashing a huge smile at the girl in front of him "James Barnes, Bucky." "Pleasure to finally meet you Bucky." She smiled "I heard a lot about you. I'm Katie, Tony's sister." "You're Howard's daughter?" Bucky cocked his head to one side and she nodded. "Your dad was a legend. Sucks what happened to him and your mom. Choking on fondue...no way to go." "Thanks. He was good man." Katie said. And then her eyes flickered to the blonde Captain who took a deep breath as her green eyes grew colder. "Hi Katie" he said softly.

"Captain Rogers." Her reply was a little curt, and it cut him to the bone that she could be cold towards him, especially after everything they had been through over the past almost 10 years. But deep down he couldn't blame her. He had been a total jerk. He deserved her indignation.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good thank you.” she said.

“I hear you made Sergeant.” he said, and she nodded.

“Yeah, month or so back.” “Congratulations, you deserve it.” “Yeah, thanks, err…” She turned to Tony “Any chance we can get a drink, I’m gasping.” “For you kiddo, anything. Anyone else want one?”

Pretty much the entire unit nodded and they headed off to the bar leaving Steve and Bucky alone.

“Ok…” Bucky turned to his friend “What the fuck was that about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve sighed, looking back at him.

“Bull crap.” Bucky shot back “I thought you and here were fiends. When I was in Russia, for 5 years all I got was emails and shit telling me about her and what you’d been up to…now she looks like she wants to kill you.” Steve snorted “She probably does.”

“Wait, did you…” Bucky frowned, before his mouth fell open “You did didn’t you! You slept with Howard’s daughter!” “Shhhhh keep your voice down.” Steve hissed.

“Was that before or after he died?” “Bucky shut up.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, looking at his friend.

“Does Tony know?”

Steve gave a derisive laugh “Do you think I’d still be alive if he did?”

“Good point, he’d have probably designed some kind of murder-bot to kill you in your sleep…” Bucky mused. “You sly little punk, I didn’t know you had it in you. Well, she had it in her more like, but that’s by the by…”

“Buck, I swear to God…” Steve’s nostrils flared at his friend’s crassness and Bucky gave a howl of a laugh.

“I’m just toying with ya Stevie…I’m impressed. She’s hot.”

“Not a word.” Steve glared at his friend as the unit started to make their way back, various beers and glasses of wine clutched in their hand.

Bucky mimed a zip closing across his mouth and smiled, slightly surprised as Natasha handed both him and Steve a beer.

“Thought you might need a drink.” Natasha said quietly to Steve, shooting him a knowing look as Clint did the same. Steve groaned, he should have known. Nothing got past Clintasha. He swore the pair of them had been fucking spies or secret agents in a past life.

“So Katie…” Clint turned to the youngest Stark. “How’s DC?”

She smiled “I love it. It’s a beautiful place. Not home though.” “She misses me.” Tony interjected and Katie slapped him on his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“Like a hole in the head.”

Bucky laughed “What made you move over there?” he asked, ignoring the deep breath of annoyance from Steve to his left.

“Well, I wanted my Sergeant stripes” she said, nonchalantly “I was told there was no progression available in the 101st so imagine my chagrin when they replaced me with one.” Steve bristled slightly but he didn’t reply.

“Wait…I was your replacement?” Bucky frowned, looking at Steve.

“It wasn’t like that.” Steve said gently “The budget for a sergeant was only provided to me after you left Katie.” “Sure.” she shrugged “Anyway, it’s irrelevant now. The position in the SHIELD unit was too good to turn down so…” “Yeah you guys got a good result on the Mandarin Case.” Peter Parker looked at Katie

“It was hard going…” she nodded “I was undercover pretty much for a month, hence the haircut.” “Ha Steve knows all about being undercover….” Bucky snorted

“Shut up.” Steve said.

“What?” Bucky looked at him innocently “I was merely referring to your impressive moustache man…” Steve gave a groan as the unit began to laugh.

“As part of the Thanos op, Steve had to infiltrate the gang.” Tony looked at Katie who was frowning, not understanding the reference. “He basically shaved his beard off but left this God awful tache…he looked like a 1970s German Pornstar.” Katie snorted “Beard murdering…” she looked at Steve who simply shrugged giving her a small smile.

“Yeah well its coming back.” he shrugged, gently stroking his chin where there was a faint smattering of stubble.

“Hmmm.” she made a small noise, and then looked around, and smiled with a wave as Deputy Fury caught her eyes “Excuse me guys, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Steve watched her leave before he turned back to his team listening to their conversation. But he couldn’t focus. Just seeing her again was enough to send his head into an absolute whirl. She looked amazing, not that she hadn’t always. Maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seen her for 5 months that was making it worse. But all he could remember was her touch, the way her head would rest against his chest when he hugged her, the smell of her shampoo, the softness of her hand when she would take his…and then the feel of her lips on his, the smoothness of her skin…

Fuck! He had been a grade A jack ass.

Steve took another long pull from his bottle of Stella and looked around. Katie was just finishing a conversation with Fury and Pierce, before she excused herself and headed for the bar after shaking hands with both men.

Now or never, Rogers…

"I’m, err, going to get a refill..." speaking for the first time as he showed his team mates his almost empty beer bottle, "be right back."

“Course you are…” Bucky mumbled, as he watched Steve slope off. He turned to Natasha.

“So what’s the deal…” he asked, dropping his voice and turning side on to face her so that Tony wasn’t looking. “I mean I kinda figured something went down but…” “Well we don’t know for sure…” Natasha said “But they went home together after the Christmas party in December. Was a long time coming, they’d been dodging around each other for years.” “Yeah, both dating other people when it was clearly obvious they were head over heels for one another.” Clint added.

“But it got frosty. Like real frosty and she put in for a transfer request.”

Bucky sighed and looked over at Steve who was now stood by the woman. Stevie had always been useless with women, Bucky had all the luck in that department when they were growing up. That was until Steve went to University and discovered the Gym and signed up for an experimental Nutritional Programme called ‘Operation Rebirth’. 3 months later Steve’s physique had changed dramatically. Gone was the lanky, twig thin kid and in his place was a stocky, ripped, 6ft 2 adonis. Frankly it had put Bucky’s nose well out of joint as the women flocked around him. But he needn’t have bothered, he was still as fucking hopeless has he always had been,

And seemed he still was.

“What?” a voice said, and Bucky turned to see Tony stood there, looking at them, his brown eyes flashing as he glanced from Natasha to Clint and then to him.

Shit.

****************

When Steve reached the spot by the bar where Katie was waiting patiently for her Martini to be served (made with gin, obviously, he recalled as he had bought her enough- I’m not a heathen, Steve…) he gently touched her forearm and she turned around slowly with a sigh to face him. Steve know she had sensed his presence even before he touched her, she always could. Many years of friendship did that to you.

"Are you avoiding me?" he asked lightly.

"Does that surprise you?" she replied looking at him directly in the eyes.

"No, not really." he said looking shyly at the grass beneath his shiny black oxfords. With a sigh he looked back up, straight into those deep green orbs "Look, Katie, I hate how we ended things, I..."

"How WE ended things?" she cut in, "Are you for real? I didn't end anything, Steve, because there wasn’t actually anything to end was there? You made sure of that!"

"I'm sorry, Katie, I truly am." he spoke again.

"Sorry for what exactly?" she fired back.

She was pissed. He could sense it in the rising tone of her voice and the way her eyes seemed to squint in the way they always did when she was winding up for an argument. He had to do something before they attracted too much attention and Tony made an entrance.

"Look, can we maybe go for a walk by the lake?" he looked at her, his eyes pleading. "We can talk and errm..."

She sighed "Fine." and with that she started to make her way through the rest of the people at the reception heading towards the calm water. Once they reached a spot under a tree near a small jetty she stopped and turned to look at him.

"What do you want, Steve?" she asked shielding her eyes with her right hand from the sun that was beginning to set.

"To check in. I care about you, Katie" he answered looking at her with an almost apologetically.

"So, you care about me.” She snorted “That's rich."

"Of course, I do!" he almost yelled. "We've been best friends for what, almost ten years?"

“Were, Steve.” she stared at him, “Past Tense…”

He took a deep breath and looked away, the lump in his throat growing even larger. Her words feeling like a slap in the face, but he wasn’t sure exactly what else he had expected. Things hadn’t been the same. They hadn’t actually spoken since she had left for DC. And he was the reason she had left, regardless of how she dressed it up and pretended otherwise to everyone else.

He looked back at her, and saw her eyes. They bored right through him, a mixture of anger and melancholy.

He had to try and fix this, he had to….

“Look, Katie, I know you must hate me..."

"Steve..." she said putting a hand over his forearm, before pulling it back immediately, almost like it had been an involuntary reaction. And the fact she wasn’t comfortable showing him that type of friendly affection anymore made him feel even shittier than he already did. "I..." she was fumbling with the words and he remained silent whilst he waited for her to gather her thoughts. “You know what, you’re right, I did hate you. I hated what you did but…you know what the worst thing about all of this was?”

He looked at her waiting for her to continue.

“Was that I mostly hated myself" she finished quietly, her voice beginning to break and she looked away.

Steve was aghast at her statement. "Wha... what do you mean?" he asked stuttering. He wasn't prepared for something like that. Over the last few months his mined had conjured thousands of possible conversations and things she would say to him when they finally met each other again…but not that.

"I hated myself for letting you in, Steve" she inhaled deeply before looking back at him and continuing, trying to keep the tears at bay. "You knew how long it took me to get over Grant, you knew what that bastard did to me because you were there, you were my best friend. You wiped my tears, held me when I cried myself to sleep, you helped me pick up the pieces of myself, told me I was worth more. But then, when it came down to it…I clearly wasn’t, not to you anyway.”

Steve couldn't stand her gaze and looked down to his shoes, jaw clenching. "Katie, I..." he started to speak but did he know what to say?

"Let me finish, let me say this, Steve, please." she pleaded. "I trusted you, you knew how I felt about you, and you know how much it took to tell you that and let you in…" she swallowed hard "You broke through every goddamned wall I put up around me and what’s more, you broke me too."

"Breaking your heart was never my intention, doll" was the only thing he managed to say, swallowing thickly. He didn't even know how he could have possibly formed those words in his brain and actually uttered them, he was numb and wanted to tell her she meant so much to him, so much more than she could ever imagine…but the words just wouldn’t come.

"But you did." she said quietly, tears now threatening to spill. "And I need time to heal, Steve. There’s not going back from what happened. We can’t just go back to being best friends and hanging out…it doesn’t work like that.”

“Kiddo?” They both jerked a little at Tony’s voice as he approached. She hastily wiped at her eyes and Steve stood back, taking a deep breath. “You two alright?” “Yeah, just catching up.” Katie said, smiling at Tony.

“Huh, that what they call it?” Tony said, his voice somewhat steely and Steve felt himself blanche. He turned to Tony but before he could say anything, the man’s fist had connected with his face, cracking his nose, making him reel backwards.

“Tony!” he heard Katie say, loudly, and as Steve recovered from the blow he looked up to see her stood with her hands on his chest, pushing him away gently.

“I can’t believe you, you son of a bitch!” Tony was spewing, glaring at Steve. The Captain was relieved to see that Bucky and Thor were hastily making their way over. They were well enough removed from the crowd for this not to be seen, thankfully.

“Stark…” Thor said in his deep breath “Come on, calm down…” “Calm down, calm down?” Tony’s face contorted with fury “I just find out, he slept with my sister, and then…”

“I’m a big girl Tony.” Katie said gently “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, not like I did when we were kids…”

“I knew there was a reason you ran off to DC, and all the time it’s been him!” he said, looking at her, before he glared back at Steve. “You’re a piece of shit, Rogers…”

Steve waved off Bucky who had stepped forward to check he was ok.

“Come on…” Katie said, pushing Tony’s chest, “Time we left…” With that she turned to Thor and Bucky, gave them both a smile before she locked eyes with the Captain “Bye, Steve" she said turning around and beginning to walk away with Tony. Steve could do nothing else but watch as she walked out of his life for the second time in less than 6 months.

“I’m sorry” Bucky looked at his friend as he wiped at his bleeding nose with a handkerchief. “He overheard me and Natasha and…”

“I’m surprised it’s stayed a secret as long as it has.” Steve sighed “I deserved it, he’s right, I am a piece of shit.”

“We all do stupid shit bud.” Thor said, “Doesn’t make us bad people.” Bucky looked at Thor “That’s pretty smart for you.”

“I have my moments.” Thor shrugged, before he frowned “Unless you’re my brother, of course. He is inherently bad…but that’s another story.”

There was a pause, and then Bucky looked at Steve.

“Think you need another drink.” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll go grab you one.”

Steve smiled, knowing full well it was Bucky’s way of saying “I’ll give you a moment…”

His friend squeezed his shoulder before he turned and walked away leaving Steve stood, looking out across the lake. The tall blonde stood there, mulling the conversation they’d just had over and over in his mind. He knew he’d hurt her but now he understood the extent of that, he hated himself even more.

Steve Rogers was a man of honesty and principles. A man who believed that you faced up to your actions and took the consequences whatever they were, not merely hid from them. But here he had gone against every single thing he stood for. He’d let Katie walk away all those months ago without so much as a fight. Because it was easier, easier than being honest and explaining why he had done what he had done.

If time travel was possible, he’d go back and do everything differently.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan

#csi rogers and barnes #the serious cereal serial killer #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #natasha romanoff #thor #bruce banner #wanda maximoff #nick fury #sam wilson #peter parker #csi au #alternate universe #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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monaisme · 4 years ago

Text

One Week Later - Chapter Three

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

“Well, if I didn’t think the man was an asshat before...” Mr. Stark growled as he disconnected from the call and sat back on the couch next to a freshly wakened Peter. “Seriously! He told me to call when we were ready and now he’s all ‘call Wong—I’m busy.’ He’s the keeper of the freakin’ Time Stone and he can’t bother to find a few minutes between balancing chakras and making avocado paste to follow through on a promise?!”

Peter could sympathize with Mr. Stark’s frustration, but was definitely less vocal about it. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to see Dr. Strange specifically so he could thank the man for at least getting him back to Earth after the whole ‘thing,’ but he guessed he’d have to wait until they got back to New York.

Mr. Stark, it seemed, was just getting started though. “I mean, he just hung up! I don’t even have Wong’s number! How am I supposed to—?”

FRIDAY popped in from the device in his hand, “Boss, may I remind you that I can easily—?”

“Not now, FRI!” He gesticulated wildly, “I want to vent and you’re messing with my flow!”

“Tony, be kind.” Ms. Potts—um, Mrs. Stark chastised her husband from the adjoining bedroom where she was packing up her and Mr. Stark’s belongings. “All the wizards have been playing travel agent while everyone gets sorted and you know this. He can take a break if he wants to. We’ll just call Wong like he asked and be done.”

Mr. Stark scowled at the suggestion. “But Pep, I wanted to talk to him before we left. You know this!” He whined. “An entire universe knows we’re here, and we’ve just kicked some serious ass! We need to coordinate as soon as we get back, make sure that we have a plan in place for the next—”

“You’ll do no such thing, buster! You know that Bruce and Steve will have returned the stones by the time we’ve returned, so stop being difficult. He’s signed on to do the whole ‘Avengers’ thing...” She popped her head out the door and gave him a pointed look. “Whereas you, Anthony Edward Stark, are retired. You have other priorities in your life now.”

They shared a significant look then, and if Peter had been paying attention, he’d have probably noticed it but—well, Peter’s brain was still warring between finding the motivation to get up off the couch versus never getting up again.

He knew what Mr. Stark had said earlier was true, and appreciated the fact that he was fully in Peter’s corner; but now that he was calmer... uh, visibly calmer, he had to start figuring stuff out, asap.

Once Mr. Stark got ahold of Wong, who Peter thought he might have met at some point during his recovery, they’d be on their way. He’d only slept lightly for an hour or so, and Mrs. Stark didn’t need long to finish gathering up the personal items they’d been able to collect thanks to the very wizards Mr. Stark was still muttering about. It looked like it was only a small suitcase for the two of them, and Peter had—yeah. He took a steadying breath as he realized, Peter had nothing to grab. All he possessed were the sweats and t-shirt Mr. Stark had given him to wear after his time in the med bay.

He didn’t even have shoes to wear... home?

Reality wasn’t holding back from soundly smacked Peter in the face.

“Wong! Ol’ buddy! Tony Stark, here!” Mr. Stark boomed from beside him. “Your roommate, Dr. Strange, has volunteered you for Stark family relocation duty.” Mr. Stark looked at his watch, “What are you doing in about an hour?”

Peter could have heard the reply if he’d wanted to, but he was drawn to another phone, Mrs. Stark’s, ringing quietly in the bedroom.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the woman answered with a whisper. “How are you?”

Whoever answered was quiet—just quiet enough that Peter couldn’t hear anything in return over Mr. Stark’s conversation, and he knew he had no business being curious but—

“Perfect!” Mr. Stark grew louder, forcing Peter’s attention back to their plans. “Now, do you serve lunch on this trip or is it just a bag of peanuts and...” Mr. Stark stopped talking. From what Peter could hear, it seemed that Wong didn’t share Mr. Stark’s sense of humour. “Yes, Wong, I’m sorry.” Mr. Stark rolled his eyes and smirked at the boy. “Yes, I und... no.” Was Mr. Stark getting flustered? “Of course I can be respectful of... yes. I know—I know. Wait, what?—C’mon, you know I was only— But—No, Wong! C’mon—“ A defeated sigh, “Do I have to?—But?—okay! I KNOW!” Mr. Stark pinched his nose, huffed in frustration and then calmed. “Thank you, Wong. We’ll see you in a bit.”

FRIDAY disconnected the call when Mr. Stark turned his attention to Peter. “Kid, I hope you appreciate what I’m about to have to do for you.”

Having no clue what the man was talking about, Peter nodded. “Okay, sir.”

Mr. Stark glared.

“I mean Mr. Stark.” Peter really was trying to keep his struggling from being too obvious, but was apparently failing. “I’m sorry. I’m just...” Peter trailed off as he started fidgeting with his fingers. He couldn’t figure out his place and it left him feeling off kilter. His default setting in those moments had always been hyper-politeness—even if Mr. Stark didn’t like it.

Peter would just have to try harder.

Mr. Stark pulled him close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, but said nothing. It was kind of nice and maybe would have given him a chance to catch his breath, except that—

“Alright, dear heart, I’ll see you in a few days.” Mrs. Stark blew a kiss over the phone line, and disconnected from her own call.

Peter’s mind drifted to the bedroom for just a second, wondered who Mrs. Stark would be speaking to like that, and then was forced to come back to Mr. Stark.

“—get that this is a weird time for you, kiddo, but we’ll get home and get you settled in at the tower in no time at all. Happy’s already pulling your stuff from storage and we’ll set up the room next to May’s so you’re close by—we can wait on all that ‘other stuff’ while we get things figured out, but you can make that call once you’re ready. Does that work for you?”

Peter nodded.

Mrs. Stark exited the bedroom, her phone still in hand. “Any luck with Wong?” She asked. “I couldn’t hear the drama over my own call.” She wiggled her phone in the air. “But things are set, right?”

Mr. Stark smiled at her, “You’ll be pleased to know that everything is under control. I’ll grab our bag and we’ll be off once he gets here.” He side-hugged Peter, then finally got up off the couch. “I will, however, take a minute to see if I can grab a quick meet-up with T’challa seeing as our departure timeline has moved up.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. He was leaving?

Peter didn’t notice as Mr. Stark stared down at Peter, saw something, and then crouched down to meet his eyes. “Unless... are you going to be good here with Pepper?”

He hadn’t meant to convey his hesitance at being left with Mrs. Stark. She’d been nothing but kind to him and he had no reason to be concerned—it was just that he hadn’t been away from Mr. Stark in the last days and hours and everything felt so damned raw—and it was written all over his face. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark, really!” He stared back and cursed the fact that he could feel himself tearing up. “I’m good.”

Mr. Stark crooked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Okay,” he cried out at being called out. “I’m not good, but that doesn’t change the fact that you need to go see Mr. King T’challa!”

Mr. Stark snorted at his response. “Kid, how many times am I going to have to remind you? You were literally spit out powerless into the middle of a battle for the universe after being dusted for five years and have only just started to find out how different things are. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m about ready to drop everything to make sure you’re okay, okay?”

Peter cringed and wished he’d stop bringing it up... like REALLY wished he’d stop. The constant reminder made him feel—well, he didn’t know how he felt, but it wasn’t fantastic, so he rolled his eyes and tried to play it off. “I get that, Mr. Stark. Honest. I just—“ he didn’t know how to say that he had to start figuring stuff out and that him being coddled wasn’t gonna help when all was said and done. Peter looked over to Mrs. Stark, who was watching with interest. “Look, Mrs. Stark is right here and I’m pretty sure she can keep me from setting the room on fire while you’re gone, and...” Beyond that, he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Mr. Stark thought for a couple of seconds, then chuckled. “I’m being a bit of a helicopter parent, aren’t I?”

Rubbing the unfallen tears from his eyes, Peter just shrugged. “I guess?” He answered, but quickly qualified the answer, “But I know you’ve gone through stuff, too, so we’ve just gotta-- I don’t know, figure it out as we go?”

Mr. Stark just stared at him, like he was trying to figure something out, but not saying a word.

“Mr. Stark, you’ll be back soon, right?”

He nodded.

“Then we’ll be fine.” Peter looked over to Mrs. Stark, “Mrs. Stark can finish up with whatever she needs to do and I’ll see if I can find something to occupy myself for a bit. There’s a tonne of windows so I can check out all the scenery I’ve missed while laid up, and this suite has enough artwork to fill a wing at a museum! There’s stuff to do. You have to be back before Mr. Wong gets here anyways, so I know you won’t get distracted, right?”

Mr. Stark continued assessing. “You know that’s really sad, don’t you? Contenting yourself with looking out windows and checking out the pictures in the bathroom…”

Peter smiled back at him. “Just because I like science and building stuff doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate something beautiful, Mr. Stark. I’m a well rounded sorta’ guy.” He brushed his knuckles against an invisible lapel. “Trust me. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t know what it was, but something shifted and Mr. Stark seemed satisfied. “Alright, but if you decide you need me, you get Pepper to call me, okay?”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“Like if you miss me or feel sick or remember a joke you wanted to tell me, got it? No reason is a stupid reason if you need me here.”

Peter blinked back tears again at the obvious affection. “I’ve got it, Mr. Stark, but you should get going. You’ve only got forty-five minutes before Mr. Wong shows up.” He took a deep breath, then held it in.

“Right. Wong. Can’t wait for him to get here.” Mr. Stark replied dryly. “It’ll be great.”

Peter snorted. He almost wished he’d paid more attention to the call. “Yeah, it will be.”

“Well then,” Mr. Stark straightened up, and everyone politely ignored the popping and cracking of his back and knees. “I’m going to dash off really fast and then be right back.” He gave Mrs. Stark a quick peck on the cheek. “Take care of my spider for me, honey. He’s great entertainment when you’re looking for a distraction during a board meeting.” He gave Peter a wink, and then stepped toward the door.

Peter stood up and moved to stand beside Mrs. Potts.

Mr. Stark put a hand on the doorknob, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder at Peter and his wife. “Seriously, call for anything.”

With that declaration, Mr. Stark finally left the room.

The two of them simply stared at the door.

It took less than a minute for the silence to become awkward.

“So, how’s the shoulder feeling, Peter?” Mrs. Stark questioned politely.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt uncomfortable? “Oh,” Peter scrunched his forehead in thought as he cautiously moved his arm. “Um, wow.” He moved it a little more. “I think it’s better?!” He couldn’t hide his surprise as he stared back at her. “I wonder when that happened?”

Mrs. Stark smiled softly at him, “I don’t know, but I’m glad to know that you’re not in any pain.” She sat beside him on the couch and placed a tender hand on his arm. “It was hard for everyone to see you suffering— especially Tony so…”

“Yeah,” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck in discomfort. He didn’t like thinking about bothering other people when he was hurt, and this had been a situation he couldn’t work around. “Um, thanks, I guess?”

She smiled so kindly at him, but Peter didn’t know what to say, so the silence descended upon the pair once again.

Then Mrs. Stark clapped her hands together, startling Peter in the process.

“Art!” She blurted out. “You said that you wanted to look at some of the works in the suite, and it just so happens that Queen Ramonda gave me a little tour of the place before leaving us to settle in.” She was practically beaming. “I can give you some information on the pieces and maybe we can get to know each other a little… if you’d like?”

Peter wanted to decline. The urge to mindlessly meander as he tried to figure out what his next steps were was almost physical. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to be alone until Mr. Stark had gone.

But Mrs. Stark looked almost hopeful.

He smiled at her and hoped it didn’t look too fake, “I don’t want to take you away from whatever you have to do, Mrs. Stark.”

Her grin widened even more, if that was possible. “Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “We just need to grab our bags and we’re done—and I love doing stuff like this!” She stepped towards an incredible sculpture Peter hadn’t noticed before. “Did you know that before I completely flipped my life around and decided to go the Business Admin track at university, I planned to be an Art History major.”

Peter tried really hard to reconcile the Pepper Potts that ran Stark Industries and the Pepper Potts that would have spent her days walking the halls of art museums.

“You can’t picture it, can you?”

The question brought him up short. “I don’t think I can.” He answered honestly, “But that doesn’t mean anything. I mean really, to know me, would you ever imagine that I run around Queens in a unitard and a mask?”

She laughed out loud at the description, “Well, when you put it that way…”

Peter laughed along too, quieter but sincere.

When they’d both settled again, the quiet felt less tense, but Mrs. Stark still wouldn’t allow it to remain. “Do you really like art?” She asked, feeling less forced than the first time.

Peter didn’t think before he answered. “Yeah, I do. I was really looking forward to the field trip that day—my friend, MJ,” he blushed at the mention of her name. “She was going to show me a new photo exhibit that the museum had just opened up, and I was really excited to see it—plus Uncle Ben used to take me there when I was a kid.” He added, unprompted. “He needed to make sure my brain didn’t jam up with cogs and gears, he’d say.” He chuckled quietly, “But then…” Peter shrugged, the words no longer coming to him.

This time, the quiet served a purpose and so it was left to sit—until Peter was ready.

“So, tell me about the statue.” Peter piped up as he walked towards it. “And I have to ask, because it’s me—Am I allowed to touch this? ‘Cuz it’s screaming for me to—”

Mrs. Stark took the cue, gladly it seemed. Heavy stuff was over for now and it was time to move on.

“Queen Ramonda didn’t say either way, but this bust dates back to the 1600s so I’d wager a guess that we’ll just be looking with our eyes today. Alright, Peter?” She put a firm hand on Peter’s back, but gave a teasing wink.

Peter slumped in mock defeat. “Fine,” he pretend-grumped and then spent the next twenty minutes really looking at each piece of art with snippets of information being shared by Mrs. Stark. “MJ would definitely love this.” He decided. “She says everything you need to know about a civilization is demonstrated by how it treats its artists.” He smiled. “I wish I had my phone so I could take some pics to show her how—“ He stopped talking. “Oh.” He was growing tired of fading off into new realizations.

Mrs. Stark noticed his shift in mood and moved closer to him, “Peter? Are you alright?”

Peter stopped himself from answering immediately and focussed on the painting in front of him. He was trying to wrap his brain around another ‘something’ that he hadn’t considered and needed to not have another stupid breakdown in front in front of someone he didn’t really know. Seriously, Mr. Stark was bad enough—but to do it in front of his wife? He let out a torturous scream... in his head, which synced up to the actual heavy sigh he released. “Mrs. Stark? How do I find out if someone was snapped?” He tried not to sound so lost and pathetic but it couldn’t be helped. “I mean, the last time I saw Ned and MJ, I was jumping off of a school bus and heading towards that stupid space donut and now it’s been five years so who knows where they could be?”

She stepped closer still and put an arm around his shoulder. “There’s a registry, Peter. I can check it for you right now or we can check together when we get home, if you’d like... but maybe Tony already knows?” Mrs. Stark gave his shoulder a squeeze. “He was a little...” she seemed to search for a word before she continued, “hyper-focussed when he got back from Titan and anything that impacted the people in his inner circle was at the top of his agenda.” She turned to face him, keeping the contact. “That included you, so...”

Peter couldn’t make the decision. He simply couldn’t, and tried to let Mrs. Potts know, but all he could croak out was, “I... I...”

She enveloped the boy in a hug once she saw the impending panic, and he was remarkably okay with it, even as he tentatively returned the embrace.

“I know you don’t know me as well as the others, Peter, but I’ve gotten to know you through Tony and May—and I want you to know that I’m here for you, too, alright?”

He nodded into her shoulder.

“Doing all of this now, or in hour or even a day—it doesn’t change anything. It can wait until you’re ready. Okay? I know you’re physically all better now, but you’re still allowed to take time.”

He breathed in a calming breath, and exhaled.

“You have so many people in your corner, sweetie. You’ll get through this.”

He nodded again and stepped back from her after a second’s hesitation. “Um, thanks, Mrs. Stark. Sorry about that.” He chuckled nervously and dragged his hand through his hair.

“That’s not something to apologize for, Peter. Not ever.” She lightly scolded. “Now, did you want to look at another painting? Or did—“

“I’d like to look!” Peter suddenly blurted and then realized how crazy he must have sounded. “I mean, um... would it be alright if I used your phone to take a look? – If it’s not too much trouble. I just... I’d... I really want to know. That’s all... I think.”

“That’s not a problem at all.” She collected her phone from the coffee table where she’d discarded it before their impromptu art tour and tapped at the screen. “I haven’t been on the app since before so I’m not sure if or how it’s been organized, but there is a search function.” She swiped the screen, tapped an icon, and handed the phone over. “It looks like we have another ten or so minutes before Tony gets back, and Wong should be shortly after, so...”

Peter took the phone and stared wide-eyed at the screen.

“Do you want me to look for you?”

Peter shook his head. “I think I’m okay. I think it’s just... I just did the whole ‘tell me now’ thing with May and that didn’t work out so well for me, ya’ know? And here I am doing it again like an idiot. I can’t help but think—” He cut himself off.

“I can understand your hesitancy.” Mrs. Stark offered. “You’re in control here, though, so just say the word...”

The screen darkened in warning of the pending lock screen. He swiped his thumb across the gorilla glass and it lit up again. He thought about it for a second then looked up at Mrs. Stark. “Would it be okay if I did this alone?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll just step out while you—“She moved toward the suite door.

“No!” He called out to her. “Please don’t leave—just, can you maybe just hang out in the other room?” He blushed at his neediness. “I don’t want to be ALONE alone—just a little alone. And this should only take a second, right?” He tried to explain, and failed.

“I completely get it.” She pointed toward the bedroom she’d shared with Mr. Stark. “I’ll sneak in there and wait until you decide you’re ready. Does that work?” She asked.

“Yeah, um, thanks.”

She didn’t say anything else, just stepped into the bedroom and smiled at him in encouragement as she closed the door behind her.

And Peter was left holding the phone, with a search screen glaring back at him.

It wasn’t a big deal, right?

He tried to convince himself as he sat himself down on the couch.

Of course it wasn’t.

Not at all.

Which was why he held his breath as he first typed in “Edward Leeds.”

A couple thousand “Edward Leeds” suddenly filled the screen, primarily out of the UK. Of course it couldn’t be that easy he thought, and Peter was almost overwhelmed—until he caught sight of the ‘refine search’ field at the top of the new screen.

He remembered the day he’d met his best friend, and how insistent the boy was that Edward was a loser name—that Ned was where it was at and he’d be forever known only by that... ‘but don’t tell my mom, okay?’ Peter chuckled as he typed exactly that under “Nicknames” and pressed ‘go.’

Three hundred seven “Edward ‘Ned’ Leeds” popped up that time, which was definitely a more manageable number, even if it still sucked. Peter wasn’t shocked to see that most of them were still scattered through the UK, but with the list not going on forever, he could see all of those other Neds scattered through Australia, Canada, and even parts of Africa and South America. The twenty-eight US Neds were scattered throughout the country—but he only had his eye out for one Edward ‘Ned’ Leeds of New York, specifically Queens—and the one word beside his name in red: BLIPPED.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be alone when he got back home, he frantically typed in “Michelle Jones.” He had to remind himself that she also had a nickname so he wouldn’t freak out completely when the kazillion Michelle Jones filled the screen. He hit ‘refine search’ once more and typed in the two letters—‘m’ and ‘j.’

0 results showing.

Peter entered her name again, hated himself just a little for not knowing her middle name—if she even had a middle name—and hit ‘go.’ He refined the search again. Hit ‘go’ again.’

0 results showing.

“shit.”

“Language, kid. My virgin ears can’t handle that kind of potty talk.”

Peter did NOT jump a couple of feet of the couch and let loose a high pitched scream of terror when the unexpected voice came from behind him.

The door to the bedroom flew open and slammed against the wall as Mrs. Stark rushed into the living room calling out, “Peter! What’s wrong?!”

Mr. Stark’s laughter told her everything she needed to know and before a chest clutching Peter had even turned completely to glare at the man, Mrs. Potts was smacking him on the arm. “Tony, you jerk! Be good!”

“Hey!” He exclaimed as he tried to get away from his wife’s mock fury, “I didn’t know he hadn’t heard me come in!” He dodged another playful swat. “C’mon, Pep! Give me a break!”

She stopped her attack on Mr. Stark after giving him what Peter could only describe as a death stare and immediately turned her attention to Peter. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked.

Peter shook his head even as he tried to catch his breath. "Geez, Mr. Stark! Give a man some warning next time!"

Still trying to get his giggles under control, Mr. Stark defended himself. "You've got your Peter-tingle, kid. I figured you knew I was there!"

Mr. Stark was not endearing himself to the boy in this moment. "It's my spider-sense, Mr. Stark—Peter-tingle is stupid. I don't care what Aunt May says about it, and anyways, it only works when someone is trying to hurt or kill me. You don't count as that... even though I was about a second away from dying from a heart attack." Peter breathed deep, trying to calm his heart. "Geez. Not cool, man. Not cool at all."

Mr. Stark jumped over the back of the couch and landed with a bounce beside Peter. "Aw, kid. I am sorry, but you were just sitting there and I was so excited to tell you about my visit with T'challa-- but... yeah, I guess you were a million miles away then?

Peter couldn't speak for a few seconds, as his mind re-focussed on the phone in his hand. "Um, no. Not that far-- just in Queens, I guess?"

Mr. Stark looked confused. "Queens?"

"Yeah," he answered back. "I was checking to see who'd been snapped and who hadn't, and, yeah..."

The sadness reflecting in Mr. Stark's face told Peter that he knew. "Peter, you could have asked." He sighed. "We just keep messing up, huh?" He sidled up closer to Peter and slung his arm around him again. "Well, Ned was snapped, but I guess you've seen that, right?"

Peter nodded 'yes.'

"Don't panic about him," Mr. Stark assured him. "He's safe and sound with his family and is waiting for you to call him when you get home."

"How...?"

"Happy does more than empty storage lockers, buddy. I promise you, Ned and his family are fine and your Guy in the Chair is ready and waiting for your return."

"Thank goodness." Peter breathed a sigh of relief. "But did you check up on MJ, too? Where is she? Is she safe, too?"

"Well, your friend MJ, she obviously didn't get snapped," Mr. Stark gestured the phone in Peter's hand, "And by the time we were in communication with people there at the tower, she had already tried to set up camp in the lobby and was going to wait for me to get back... well, for you to get back, but that didn't work out so..."

Peter couldn't hide his confusion.

"Don't worry. She’s good, I promise. We set her up in a suite, too. Her mom had been snapped, but her step-dad was still in the picture so she decided she needed to bail, but fast. I guess he was a real winner so..."

Peter snorted at the understatement. "You could say that."

Mr. Stark did his crooked eyebrow thing and Peter knew he needed to explain. "Let's just say that Spider-Man had to make a visit or two to the apartment when MJ's mom was working overnight shifts.

Mr. Stark almost growled at that information. "Well then I don't feel nearly so bad about hiding her away until she could head off to college."

"Good. You shouldn't-- but college?"

"Of course college. MJ's smart as a whip, and I wasn't gonna let that brain rot at some community college because her low-life step dad was drinking away her college fund."

Peter smiled bigger than he could remember at that, "You sent her to college?"

"You know, you could just call her when you get back, you know. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you. Besides, she may seem tough as nails, but that kid gets homesick just like the rest of them."

Peter flushed and fiddled with the phone he kept forgetting he still held. "Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure that twenty-three year old MJ is not waiting for a call from me."

"C'mon, Pete, maybe she's spent the last five years living a different life than you all had planned, but you were still one of her best friends and that doesn't change."

Peter smiled again, a little more tentative. "You don't think she'll think it's weird?"

And Mr. Stark laughed again. "It's MJ, of course she'll think it's weird, but if you think she'll give two craps about that, then you didn't know her nearly as well as you say you did."

Peter knew he was right, and was just about to say so when there was a knock at the door and Mr. Wong was hollering through it. "Let's go, Stark, I left something simmering on the stove back at the Sanctum Sanctorum."

Mrs. Stark was the one to actually open the door to the man, and Peter stood up to introduce himself to the man-- or at least he thought he would. Mr. Wong focussed completely on the man still sitting on the couch, "Stark."

Mr. Stark lifted himself off the couch and turned to face him. "Wong."

The men simply stared at each other, assessing, when Mr. Stark finally spoke. “Look, Wong, I shouldn’t have been so glib about the whole,” Mr. Stark waved his hands in the air, “thing, and I’m sorry. Let’s just call it good and be done, okay?”

Wong stared, but said nothing.

“Really?”

A dead stare.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Peter watched Mr. Stark work himself up to do... something. Whatever it was, it had to be awful for Mr. Stark’s reaction.

"Oh, great and powerful Wong..." and then Mr. Stark stopped. He huffed and put his hands on his hips. "Are you really going to make me say this?"

Mr. Wong stared back, "You know my conditions."

"Fine."

Was Mr. Stark sulking?

He started again, "Oh, great and powerful Wong..." and then he stomped his foot. "Look, I said I was sorry. I won't be so--"

"You'd have been done by now if you stopped delaying, Stark. I'm waiting."

Peter looked to the door where Mrs. Stark was still standing. She was looking just as confused as Peter felt.

Mr. Stark took a deep breath and started once more. "Oh, great and powerful Wong." He paused, but only to clear his throat. "It must have been cold there in my shadow, to never have sunlight on your face. You were content to let me shine, that's your way. You always walked a step behind. So I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strength. A beautiful face without a name...”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing and side-stepped cautiously away from the men and closer to Mrs. Stark, whose mouth was hanging open in disbelief. “Um, Mrs. Stark, is Mr. Stark quoting Bette Midler lyrics?”

She could only nod.

“Okay,” he squeaked back. “Just wanted to make sure we were seeing the same thing.”

It took a minute for him to make his way through all the lyrics, but just as Mr. Stark rattled off the last lines of the song, Mr. Wong folded his arms and smiled in sick satisfaction. “Perfect. I’m sure Mr. Master of the Mystic Arts will appreciate your cooperation while he’s matching socks for the next month.”

Mr. Stark sputtered in disbelief, but before he could say an actual word, Mr. Wong turned to Peter, bowed, and smiled. “Ah, young Mr. Parker. It is a pleasure to finally meet you now that you are awake.”

Peter bowed back shyly, but Mr. Stark had finally found his words. “Wait a minute here. You said that I’d offended you and that you’d only forgive me if I quoted—“ He blustered a little more, “You said it was soothing!”

Mr. Wong laughed stiffly. “I know what I said! But I’d already bet Stephen that I could get you to quote a song from an 80s soundtrack and I really wanted to get out of laundry.”

“And making dinner, maybe? Is he actually watching that pot on the stove, too?” Mr. Stark snarked back.

“Nah. We’re ordering pizza tonight. I just wanted you to hurry, is all.” Wong turned his attention back to Peter. “And I can imagine you want to get home, too.”

Peter, who was quietly chuckling at the interaction, nodded. “Yes, please, Mr. Wong,” he answered back politely. “If it’s not a problem?”

“It’s just Wong, kid, and because you asked so nicely,” he made a point to stare accusingly at Mr. Stark and then looked back to Peter, “I’ll get right to it.” He addressed the room. “Do you have everything you need? Polite or not, I’m not coming back for a toothbrush.”

“I’m all set, Mr. Wong, but, I guess, um...” Peter stood patiently while Mr. And Mrs. Stark took the hint and rushed into the bedroom to do a quick once over and grab the already packed suitcase. It was barely a minute before they were back and ready to go.

Wong nodded in satisfaction. “Alright then, let’s go.”

Peter watched in fascination as Mr. Wong placed a weird ring on his left hand and started making a circular motion with his right. In only seconds, sparks flew and a circle formed, then grew larger, and larger—and then large enough that they’d all be able to step through without even needing to duck their heads. “How does this work? Do you come through with us?” Peter asked.

Mr. Wong smiled again and shook his head. “No, I’ll head back to the Sanctum and replay my memories for Stephen after you’ve all stepped through, so get a move on.” He gave a teasing wink then gestured to the circle, still sparking. “There’s nothing special to it, Peter. Whenever you’re ready.”

Peter’s capacity for boldness had apparently fled and he stared timidly at the circle.

Mrs. Stark stepped up, pulled her phone from Peter’s hand and then grabbed hold of it. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I think I could go for pizza, too. What do you say, Peter?”

He appreciated the anchor, grabbed onto it. “Sure, Mrs. Stark. That sounds great.” He turned to Mr. Wong one last time. “Thank you for doing this, Mr. Wong. I’m grateful—and I guess for all the things you and the other wizards did for everyone.”

Wong snorted. “We’re sorcerers, Peter, and don’t let this guy tell you anything different.” He thumbed over at the waiting Mr. Stark. “And you’re welcome. Now go, kick your feet up, and order that pizza. We’ll see each other again.”

Peter grinned back at the man—sorcerer. “If you say so—take care.” And he and Mrs. Stark stepped through what Peter figured had to be some sort of portal. “Mr. Stark?” Peter called back, “Are you coming?”

“One sec, Pete,” Mr. Stark replied and turned back to Mr. Wong saying something that Peter couldn’t hear for the distortion between the two locations.

But if he could have heard, he’d have heard Mr. Stark give a tentative thank you for the show— that it would be something Peter could laugh about for a while.

And Wong’s reply. “He’ll need the happy memories, Stark. Help him make them.”

#fanfiction #IronDad and SpiderSon #Avengers: Endgame #non-compliant #ao3fic #AO3 fanfic #OBlossom

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penaltybox14 · 4 years ago

Text

Decofiremen: The Letter

@zeitheist @darknight-brightstar @squad51goals Oh no more Decofiremen. Is it still found family if you’re finding it again? Do you get double points for that?

Or, Josiah is way in over his head.

...

Josiah sits at his desk a long time, and the pile of scrapped letters grows around him, and the bells pass the day away. With the windows open to the big yard, he can feel like chill in the autumn air, the swift kiss of a one-time lover in the morning.

Monroe is shouting at his team - quicker this, steadier that. An engine coughs, groans, and finally turns over, to cheers and clapping - that'd be Lieutenant Jackson, who brought his new rank and a second kerodiesel up from the city back in early summer. He keeps carefully and deliberately breaking the engines piece by piece, teaching the lads to put them back together again. He will likely do something after dinner like pull the fan-belts or throw bacon grease into the pump levers - Josiah thinks the oakbellies would have a faint if they knew what Jackson was doing, but Jackson knows the kerodiesels like some men knew their horses, and Josiah trusts him.

But what choice does he have? He was shipped here to be masters of men who had more than a decade of service on him, and belts so heavy with commendation, so fat with brass you'd need a team three abreast to carry them. He stands beside them some mornings and feels as if he ought to be in line with the lads instead.

Lieutenant T. Castor, Engine 27, Bronx Battalion District ...

No. He crumples the paper and shoves it off the desk to where the waste-paper basket probably is, buried somewhere. He taps his pen on the blotter, leaving little wet, smokey blobs of ink on the worn leather. No, too formal, that. When did he get so formal? His fingers are callused and cracked, still thickest where they gripped the horse and axe. There is a deep scar on his right arm where Chubs, their old bay gelding, bit him for not giving up a mint. His left arm is a muddled, molten map, scoured of hair and curiously pale, so he pulls the sleeve down. For the chill.

Lt. Thomas -

Now what was Silky's middle name? Did he ever know it?

Lt Castor -

No, God, no. They were on nicknames before they even hit the cobbles together. Never so tough-tongued as a surname between them. Thomas, he'd said, at breakfast. I'm Thomas. I about ran you over yesterday, I'm sorry. Grab an extra biscuit, Eddy's recipe is the best.

Silky was almost eighteen, and he was wide about the shoulders but leggy, like a colt at Saratoga. He had auburn hair and a broad, friendly face, and he didn't know his family, and he had been at the foundling hospital in the city and then Mary of the Assumption Home, which was in Nyack, and then he had gone to school with the Jesuits at Saint Joseph's in Rochester, and Captain Parson had come to see him about a month ago and asked if he didn't want to come and be a fireman, and Captain Parson seemed so awfully familiar well, he couldn't help but say yes.

Josiah found all of this out in line at the mess before they even sat down.

I'm sorry. The brothers told me I talk too much. Actually the sisters said that, too. But I was the best at reading the Latin at Mass, they told me. What's your name?

Silky - someone started calling him Silky sometime that winter, and Josiah can't recall why, but maybe it was during a card game, or maybe it was because he kept his hair slicked down with some sort of glue he got from the drug store in town, or maybe it was just because he could have talked the ladders into becoming trees again, his voice so smooth and his eyes so kind. Silky had no enemies, had probably never had an enemy, except after card games in the wintertime. That was Silky.

Birchy! We're doing ladder runs today - come let's be on my team.

I bet I can get Peps to hit the quarter-mile gate in a flat minute, Birchy, will you time?

Silky made a man want to be better, not to beat him, but because he cheered it so. Which was why Silky was so often the second man on the line - he would push you, and you knew you couldn't, wouldn't ever need to, turn back. No matter where the fire glows, the song said, we'll bring the bastard down. And they would - when things shone, when his leg was solid under him, he could catch the humming edge of a thought before it hit Silky's tongue, and Silky rested in his amicable quiet, and the two of them brought terror and some begrudging respect to their captain.

The sun was good, then. The summer was high and the winter never cut through their coats. They had grown up together, until the smoke came and the beam fell and neither of them was enough to see it coming.

Through the ether and the pain, Silky's voice pulled him back, over and over, even when he wanted to leave, even when he wanted the echoes and the needles and the endless white - the white coats, the white sheets, the white, stark, sterile ward - to end. Silky pulled him back. Silky's hands in their white wrappings held his, and his Sear murmured as earnestly as his voice did. Him that would persuade the devil to abandon his house, him that would settle a horse with his eyes.

There were long days, endless days, when he wanted to fall forever. Yet Silky pulled him back.

Silky had written him letters just about every week, after his promotion, when he was assigned to Wynantskill. Eddy or Lufty Parker would dutifully leave them on his desk, where they stacked, precarious and unopened. After a while the letters came every month, and Eddy stopped clearing his throat when he brought one, and Lufty stopped staring meaningfully at the pile, and Josiah had dumped them wholesale into a drawer to stop the burning in his chest when he saw Silky's precise Jesuit cursive on the envelopes.

He'd put the key under the blotter. So there is one less drawer to use. So it is.

After the first night, young Cleary hasn't said much to anybody. Antoine and Ellis have been pressing Lufty Parker to let him participate in some of the day's drills, and Jules keeps trying to coax the boy into one of the evening's baseball games. Josiah sees him watching Betram Cochrane play the fiddle in the evenings, and remembers piano lessons, and a little girl with a pink bow and a dutch bob, and remembers chloroform and morphine and nursing sisters in dark capes and white hats. The little fellow calls him Capper, which he ought to mind, but he can't bring himself to discourage. He calls the boy Davey, or young Cleary, depending on who's listening.

Outside, Antoine is lining up his team to race for the ladders. He calls for David Cleary on the line, and Josiah hears Monroe sighing mightily and telling Antoine, again, that Cleary is not in training, Cleary is not even sixteen, and would you please stop asking.

Antoine is going to make his captain gray, wherever he is assigned. He thinks Antoine could be a driver - he is brave enough, to take the narrow streets at speed - but that he will have his own house someday, too. Josiah should look to send him to the Bronx, where the tenements are so tight they seem to be held together with moss and mothers' shouting, where there will be many families who will need his courage and his kindness.

Engine 27, Lieutenant -

No, no.

Ellis is arguing that a growing boy needs exercise and fresh air, not just to sit on the sidelines.

Josiah pulls the key from under the blotter, then puts it back again. Then pulls it out.

In the drawer are more than a dozen letters, neatly sealed, which get thinner as the months draw out between them.

He puts the key back again.

Silky sat by his bedside at Bellevue, his auburn hair loosed from its dapper glue to spring in waves around his temples. Josiah had wanted so badly to leave, to shed his body, to tumble down some ethereal stairwell in a dreamless morphine sleep where the sun was bright and nothing hurt, where his leg would be straight forever. But Silky held him pinned to the dark, smoking earth, and a part of him had hated him for it, and the hate was like an abscessed hoof, rank and hot. He could never ride the boards again, he could never go back, yet Silky pulled him back anyway. The selfish bastard, who had sweat and fevered with him when the sear broke.

An evening breeze rustles the crumpled sheets, the abandoned lines, the empty words around him. Ellis and Antoine are arguing for Davey's sake, and Monroe sounds close to giving in. Good for them.

He grabs the edge of the desk and heaves himself, haltingly, the few lumbering steps to the window, leaning out over Monroe's bald spot.

"Captain Monroe!"

Monroe looks as surprised as the lads to see him, leaning, gritting against his leg, out the window.

No one can see how white his knuckles are in the long afternoon light.

"Monroe, for God's sake. Just let the boy try for it. Antoine, so help me, if young Cleary injures himself, I'll saddle a horse with your hide."

Antoine is grinning, his black eyes bright as apples.

"Birch - "

"A boy needs to run, Monroe."

Monroe throws up his hands. "Fine then! Fine! Let the little fellow break his face! Let the state's hand come and flick us off the map like a horsefly! Fine! Antoine! Line 'em up!"

Josiah smiles, and hauls himself back to his desk.

My old friend, he writes, I am so sorry I haven't written. Please feel free not to forgive me. But I must tell you about the situation I find myself in - you were always the cleverer of the two of us, Silky. You could have talked the dead to dancing from their graves. My right hand, whatever God you once believed in has seen fit to trade a boy just twelve his family for his sear, and now at fourteen, he has finally come to us. Yes, he is too young to train, but he is too young for many things, and once, you told me that the Jesuits told you that God does not give us more than we cannot carry. Well, my first and last friend, this is more line than I can drag by myself. If you cannot bear to forgive my silence, Silky, than please bear to give me some advice. They gave me my captain's coat because they did not know what else to do, and I am lost. You were my brother from the day we met face-to-horse, and you shared the sear with me. What am I to do with this boy? I know that he is ours, he is our youngest brother, but I know we cannot replace his family. But when I was lost, Thomas, and wanted to stay that way, you pulled me back, bastard that you were and are. If anybody can tell me what to do now, that he is with us at last, it's you.

Your foolish and misguided friend, who apologizes for what it's worth,

Truly,

Birchy.

#decofire #decofiremen #original works #found family #found it now what #apologies are hard yo #if you need to picture silky just picture that hot guy in the munsingwear ads but with auburn hair #there you go

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feistypaants-archived · 5 years ago

Text

Between The Pipes [Chapter 19]

Rating: M Words: 2241 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: idk !! This chapter wouldn’t come out how i wanted it to. At least they talked, kind of, even if it’s... still bad and they’re still kind of dumb.

They just want to be together, it doesn’t matter how, dumb children.

Enjoy!

Anna hadn’t seen Kristoff in five days.

Rather, she had seen him, but then immediately ran the other direction before he could see her. He had texted her just once, asking if everything was okay, if they could talk about everything, and Anna had… not replied. She was busy, yeah, that was it. He wasn’t playing so she didn’t see him at games, and she started avoiding practices since she wasn’t required to attend them.

But it had been five days, and she needed to stop avoiding this.

Kristoff did extra practice on his own while on leave from playing, and Anna made sure she’d be able to catch him. She came early, while the rest of the team was still on the ice, and sat patiently in the wings, waiting for the rest of them to leave. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to say, but there was something in her gut that told her it would come to her at the right moment.

Standing and heading towards the ice, she startled when she heard another voice calling her name.

“Anna?” Sven asked, practically trotting up to her in his full gear. “Hey, um, glad you’re here.”

She blinked up at him for a moment before giving him her best smile. “Yeah, I’m… here to talk to Kristoff. We’ve, um, been fighting… a bit…”

Sven waved his hand between them, shaking off his glove. “Nah, I know about the… situation.”

Oh. She shouldn’t have been so surprised.

“Look, ah,” he placed a hand on her shoulder and led her a little off to the side. “I…” he sighed, blowing out a deep sigh. “I know that it’s fake, and that… maybe you’re not feeling some sort of way but…” He looked towards the ice, frowning. “Kristoff… he’s… gentler? I guess, than he lets on. His feelings…” he sighed. “Just, look, that’s my boy, that’s my best friend, right?”

Anna nodded.

“Don’t hurt him, okay?” He patted her and shrugged. “That’s… that’s it. Whether you guys come up with something together or… I don’t know. Just… please don’t make it worse, for him.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, so she swallowed the tightness in her throat and nodded again. “Yeah,” she hummed, feeling stupid.

Sven gave her one more curt nod before leaving.

Anna wasn’t entirely positive what that had been about, but if Sven felt like he had to say something to her, she was pretty sure ignoring him had been the worst thing she could have done. A heavy sigh and a short, internal pep-talk later, Anna headed towards the ice.

She watched him for a moment. He had pulled their shooting machine onto the ice and was blocking difficult, fast and hard shots one after another until he wore himself out. After one particularly difficult five-hole save, the machine whirred to a stop, and Kristoff dropped to his knees on the ice.

“Nice save,” she called, growing tense when his head turned to her.

Kristoff stayed silent, simply shook off his glove and began gathering pucks.

“I wanted to talk.”

She heard him laugh. “Oh, all right. Now she wants to talk.”

“Kristoff —“

He pushed his mask up on his forehead and glared at her, sweat dripping from his hair. “I’m not yelling this across the ice, and I’m not stopping. So get out here if you want to talk.”

Hesitating, she braced her palms against the boards. “I… can’t skate. I’m actually kind of scared of skating, I could not tell you why.””

Kristoff sighed as he piled up the pucks on top of the machine. “Go get some skates from the supply room.”

“What?”

He pushed his mask back down over his face. “Get some skates. You need to learn before the family skate event.”

Kristoff didn’t seem like he had any interest in arguing, so she left, let the supply manager properly size her feet, and came back about thirty minutes later, skates in hand.

She supposed he had done another few rounds while she was gone, because he was just getting off the ice and working on removing the bulkiest of his gear. She hardly had a moment to admire his sweat soaked undershirt before he was pulling a hoodie on over his head and sitting down to unfasten his leg pads.

Sighing and trying to keep herself lighthearted, Anna let herself practically fall into the seat beside him, holding up the skates so he could see. “It does not surprise me that you’re making me do this right now.”

He laughed a little, then, and looked up at her. “Well, how bad would it look if my own girlfriend couldn’t even skate?”

Anna smiled, an apology on the tip of her tongue before he stood up, knelt before her, and held up a hand. She looked at him, confusion clearly written on her features, before he pointed at the skate and made a give it here motion with his hands. She did, and before she knew it, he was very gently placing her feet into the skates, adjusting them around her ankles, and tying them -

“Ow, ow.”

“Sorry.”

- just a little too tightly.

Kristoff stood up off the ground, dusting his knees, and held out a hand to help her off the bench. “How do they feel?”

Anna grimaced and rocked up on her toes, using his firm hand for balance. “Like I’m walking on a blade. So, I suppose, how they’re supposed to feel.”

“You get used to it.” He started walking backwards, guiding her to the door that let out onto the ice, and stepped onto it with such ease that Anna felt herself tensing up knowing that there was no way it was as simple as it looked.

She laughed, pulling back from him. “No, no, that’s… that’s slippery.”

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled too, leaning against the boards and bringing his face so close to hers that Anna could feel his breath. “It’s ice.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kristoff pushed back, amusement lighting his entire face up. “But you make it so easy.”

Anna tried to fight the smile that was stretching her cheeks, but it was absolutely no use. This was the Kristoff she had been starting to like - the one who teased her with ease, who played and smiled but still took her seriously and liked her the way she was — at least… she thought he did.

“Seriously though, come here, just… step on sideways and put your weight… yeah,” he held out his hands and helped guide her onto the ice. “Yeah, like that, it helps you not just fall immediately on your ass.”

Anna laughed, one hand on him, the other gripping the boards with fear. “At least there’s some cushion back there.”

He groaned. “Come on, don’t mention your ass.”

“You mentioned it first!”

Kristoff couldn’t help but smile. “Well it’s nice, all right, so sue me. I am still a man.”

Anna lifted her other hand from the boards, trusting him to catch her if she slipped. “All right, all right, teach me the ways of the hockey player.”

He taught her the basics, how to move, how to stop, how to shift your weight to turn, and soon enough Anna was skating with, well, relative ease as he kept his hands right there in case she needed him. It only happened once, where she tripped over her own skates and fell backwards, sighing with relief as his hands caught her under her arms and righted her almost immediately.

“See?” Kristoff was grinning as he skated backwards in front of her, mirroring the smile she couldn’t wipe off of her own face. “Easy, right?”

Anna nodded as she found her rhythm, glad that this really wasn’t as difficult as it seemed to be, and followed him around the ice for a little while longer. “Yes, but my feet hurt now.” She started heading towards the exit and stumbled just a little as she heard the scratch of him sliding to a stop. But soon enough they were both back on the bench, Anna unlacing her skates as Kristoff started to gather up some of his gear.

She needed to say something, right? She couldn’t just ignore this forever.

“Kristoff… I’m… I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, me, too.”

“For… ignoring you a bit.”

“Yeah.” He dropped his stuff and sat back down beside her. “Look, Anna… Like, I know I was kind of an asshole -“

“Kind of?”

“Right, totally an asshole,” he laughed and shrugged again, dropping his head a bit. “But… I don’t know. I’m just sorry for it. I was playing like garbage and I needed someone to blame, I guess.”

Anna nodded, her own shoulders lifting. “Did you figure it out?”

Kristoff laughed again, shaking his head. “Yeah. But it’s kind of shitty and embarrassing.”

She kicked her feet out and leaned back on the bench. “Lay it on me, Bjorgman.”

He sighed, spinning on the bench to face her, swinging so one leg rested on either side. “I was so, ridiculously pent up and frustrated because you’re just…” he gestured up and down with one hand. “You’re you and you’re nice and warm and fucking hot and I had to keep trying to convince myself that I didn’t actually like you because the truth of that was… too much.”

Anna had turned her head to look at him, a frown gracing her features. “Why?”

His throat bobbed, and he sighed. “I… I’m being serious when I say I don’t date. I don’t want to start something because… I… I want a family, Anna. I want a really big family, right?”

She swallowed and nodded, turning her eyes downward.

“But… I don’t want to start anything until my career is done, because…” He ran a hand through his hair, shrugging. “I’m afraid I’ll be like my … like my dad. My birth…” He trailed off, tilting his head to the side and averting his gaze.

Anna turned to face him, her legs straddling the bench as well, and placed her warm hands on his knees. “What happened?”

“He…” Kristoff sighed, and looked at her again. “He only cared about being the best in the world. My mother left us and he didn’t care, and I was taken away… and he didn’t care. I…” He swallowed and then cleared his throat. “I think he was relieved, honestly. That he didn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Kristoff…. but…” Anna felt her entire face soften, and couldn’t help but lean closer to him. “You do know that… dating someone doesn’t mean you have to have kids right away, yeah?” There was silence for a beat too long to be comfortable, before he looked away.

“The second I find the person I want to spend my life with,” he blew out a breath and let out one uncomfortable laugh. “I’m going to want to start that family. So…” He shrugged. “Better to not let myself even try, you know?”

She had to know. “So…” Anna pressed on, squeezing lightly where her hands still rested on his knees. “Why… why is liking me too much?”

Because she liked him. Because she wanted him to keep kissing her. Because she wanted him to let her in. Because —

“I… don’t want to think too hard about that,” he pulled back from her, his face hardening as he shut down again.

“Okay,” she scrambled, wanting him to come back, to soften and keep letting her in. “Okay, that’s… that’s fine.” She bit her lip, wondering if she was about to make a mistake. “Could we just… have fun? For now?”

Kristoff blinked twice, but came back to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“I mean,” she flushed, finally letting go of his knees to clasp her hands together in her own lap, staring down at them. “We’re still… pretending to date, right? And… yeah okay we haven’t talked about it but the other night was…” Anna sighed and laughed, pushing her bangs back. “It was really fun, right? Like that worked…”

She couldn’t bear to look up at him now.

“Like if we already have to spend all of our time together and we’re both pent up - like obviously we’re both really pent up - and it helps with your game or whatever maybe we can just…” Anna finally took a breath before looking up at him. “Try… something casual? Because it was fun and…”

She couldn’t read his expression, until the tiniest quirk of a smile started pulling on the corner of his lip.

“I mean,” she sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest to practically hold herself together. “I don’t need any sort of… commitment, or anything… If you… want to… I… wouldn’t mind… ”

He reached forward to slide a palm up her thigh and smirked. “I mean, yeah, shit, if you want to… How could I turn that offer down?”

And then he was kissing her, pulling her up into his lap, and the way his hands grabbed at every part of her was answer enough.

Maybe she was making a mistake…

But fuck, she’d make it a thousand times more if it meant she got to have him, even just for a little while.

#btpfic #feistypantswrites

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exosmutfactory · 5 years ago

Text

Six Phases 001

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: Here’s part 1! I do warn you it’s 5.8k+ long (baekhyun’s fault as always) 👉🏼👈🏼 hope you like it, let me know in my ask box if you want 🌹 Enjoy ♡ ♡

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst & smut (later on) ]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Track 03

Being the new girl on campus is never easy, nor the one in town. And because of a certain situation that occurred a month before high school graduation, the summer following it was spent getting over the traumatizing affair… And the following 9 months.

Don’t worry, the lesson from it all has been learned well.

“Damn this place is huge.” I squint, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand. For the weather to be a mere 78 degrees it sure doesn’t keep the bright star from bearing down on me. Spotting a building that has “Dormitory” written clearly on the side I push my glasses farther up my nose and pull my suitcase along.

Receiving the directions and details to my room goes smoothly, but just as I’m turning to the elevators I slam into someone else.

“Fu–” I sigh, rubbing the tip of my nose as I step back. “Sorry,” I mumble already feeling the embarrassment on my cheeks as I lift my head only to be met by a broad chest.

Lifting my chin farther I’m met with friendly, sparkly brown eyes and a dashing smile. “It’s alright.”

I blink, nodding silently as my heart skips a beat. Curly brown hair; puppy eyes; thin yet pouty lips. I shift my eyes away before I get even more caught up in his smile, or worse, checking him out.

“Do you need any help?” His voice rings again. A melodic sound I’m quickly finding myself liking more and more.

Meeting his eyes again his gaze sweeps over the suitcase in my hand along with the full backpack on my back before completing the eye contact. I try not to blush farther, “No, I’m alright.”

He nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans. “Don’t freak out if the elevator stops working.” He calls as I pass by him. “If it stops moving wait a few seconds before pressing the floor you want again.”

Looking back his way I forget our height difference until all I see is his white t-shirt and long neck. I nod once attempting to send him a small smile that he quickly returns. “Thanks.”

He smiles even more, waving a little as I step through the dreaded metal doors and tap Floor 3 with my knuckles.

His friendly gestures stay on my mind until I trip over nothing trying to step out onto my floor. Making a noise in embarrassment I check to make sure no one else saw before taking out the directions to my room. 304

Carefully discovering the left side of the hall has all the even room numbers I slowly made my way down. The desired dorm is 3 doors away from the staircase. Reading back over the paper my roommate’s name is Jenny.

Gathering myself I give a little mental pep talk, knocking politely on the door as the sound of laughter reaches my ears.

“Oh, hold on.” Comes muffled through the door. The next second a click is heard before vibrant blue hair and light blue eyes peek out. “Hello, how may I help you?”

“Um..” Blinking at the welcoming smile on her face I quietly hold up my paper in fear of squeaking in reply.

Her eyes drift over the document. “Oh!” She smiles even more, opening the door fully. “Come in! I didn’t expect you to get here so soon.” She continues sheepishly as I step over the threshold, taking in the state of the room. One side is obviously occupied; clothes spewed all over the bed.

“It’s okay.” I softly reply slowly shrugging off my backpack. “So!” She begins as I set it on the floor. “I’m Jenny as you already know.“ She jokes. "What’s your name? Where are you from?”

Looking her way she’s perched on her bed, eyes focused completely towards me. I shift my eyes away after a few moments, quietly mumbling my name.

“Riley?" She tilts her head, smiling again as I nod. "Your name is pretty.”

“Thank you." Fishing through my pocket I pull out my phone, taking if off airplane-mode.

"I haven’t seen you around before, are you a freshman?”

“Yes." Briefly checking my notifications and sending an ‘I made it’ to mom I put my phone back. "I’m nearly 19 but I took a gap year so.." I peek at her, "Here I am.”

She nods, looking intrigued as I start unpacking my suitcase. “Did you live close by or from out of state?”

I smirk, carefully tucking my folded clothes into the empty dresser. “I’m from a boring town down south.”

“Ah," She blinks, "Well that’s cool! I hope you like it here." Her face turns serious. "We just met but if anyone gives you problems, you let me know, okay?”

Taking in her expression I nod.

Another smile spreads on Jenny’s face. “Now show me your timetable.”

/////

The first-week breezes by relatively fast, assignment after assignment of due dates coming from left and right. Luckily I was smart enough to research every possible way to study over my year out of school. Traveling to new countries and places during a gap year? Haha yeah. Not me.

“So Riley,” I’m greeted with the second I walk into my dorm room. I carefully set down my stack of textbooks and tablet on the desk before turning to Jenny with a quirked brow.

“I know you just got here,” She begins, perched on the edge of her bed. “But there’s a party this weekend–”

“You mean tomorrow?” I blink as it is quite literally the late afternoon of Friday.

Jenny smiles sheepishly, “Do you want to go?” Seeing the look on my face she adds, “I swear I’ll stay with you the whole night.”

Yeah, where have I heard that before. “I’ll think about it,” Checking the time I look back at her. “I’m going out and will stop for food on the way back. Want anything?”

Her eyes light up at the mention of food, nodding and excitedly telling me what she would like.

As I exit the small safe space once again my lips quirk into a smirk. Time to go shopping.

A little more than 24 hours later I find myself trying to relax in the passenger’s seat of Jenny’s small convertible; nervously fiddling with the thin straps of my dress.

“I’m surprised you agreed honestly,” She starts eyes focused entirely on the road. “And that dress.” Her eyes flicker over at me, “Forest green and backless? Damn you’re brave. And gorgeous.”

Thankfully the early night is just dark enough to hide my burning cheeks, “Thank you.”

She smiles knowingly, steering the wheel with both hands. “Lucky me I have to keep boys off you all night.”

I laugh heartily at that catching the teasing smile on her face. “I don’t know about all that.” I joke watching as the street lights flow by, “I’m pretty good at holding my own.”

“Brave, gorgeous and independent.” She pulls the car to a stop looking over at me. “Oh honey, they are going to drool over you.”

Giggling as she looks in the rearview mirror, I take a look around at the giant house up ahead. Cars lined along the street as dozens of party-goers head towards the booming bass of music.

“Riley, does my eyeshadow look okay?”

Turning back to her I take in the perfect spread and shiny golden glitter over her eyes; nodding, “Damn near perfect.”

She smiles, “Now you’re speaking my language.” With a sigh she turns fully to me, smoothing the front of her black A-line dress. “Ready?”

Nodding we both step out the car feeling the late summer night breeze rolling in. Closing the door I follow after Jenny as he heads up the hill, our respective heels clicking loudly against the concrete.

“I swear I’m filled with regret every time I face this sidewalk.” She pants sending me into another fit of laughter. “Oh shut it Miss 3 Inches, You’re one to laugh!”

I shrug smiling so much it nearly hurts, “Your silver stilettos make your legs look great, Jen.”

“Oh, now you’re just trying to butter me up.” She rolls her eyes until they widen; suddenly she stops making me freeze mid-step to not bump into her. “Hey Riley, look.” Whispering she discreetly points somewhere farther ahead.

Being as inconspicuous as possible I crane my neck while pretending to shake out my skater skirt, eyeing the group moving towards the house.

“Those guys.” She continues, “Are bad news. Make sure you stay away from them, okay?”

Just as she finishes her sentence I spot a head of silver hair, the shine of it catching in the dim glow of a streetlight. My heart quickens in unease as I nod in front of her concerned eyes. “Okay.”

Like always a smile finds its way to her face, “Good.” Grabbing my hand she starts walking again, “Let’s go have fun!”

I chuckle following her lead. The house is a lovely mansion with clean-cut hedges and a stone walkway leading up to the white, front double doors. Held open as people stream in past two men seemingly standing guard. One noticeably shorter than the other with a close-cut haircut and big eyes. The taller sporting a burgundy suit with no shirt underneath; a teasing smirk that I can guess is usually placed on his pouty lips.

“On door duty again, huh?” Jenny teases. “How much are they paying you this time Kyungsoo.”

“Not nearly enough.” The shorter replies. His lips are nicely shaped, I bet..

“Daydreaming about Soo’s heart-shaped lips, eh?”

I flinch back from the taller, tensing at the feeling of his breath fanning over my ear.

“No need to glare at me Dollface.” He chuckles holding his hands up in surrender. “Who’s the cutie, Jenny?”

“No one you need to know.” She mutters pushing me protectively behind her away from his hungry gaze.

“Well then.” He mumbles not even surprised, gesturing to the open doors. “Guess I’ll have to find out on my own–” He flinches back as Kyungsoo lifts a fist in his direction.

“Please excuse him.” He sighs. “Come on in.”

Jenny’s smile is bright as he reaches in for a hug, “Thank you Soo~” Looking back at me she grabs my wrist and pulls me ahead, shooting one last glare at the tall man as she urges me to walk inside first.

Stepping carefully into the house I make quick work of analyzing my surroundings. Makeshift dance floor to the left; expensive in-home-bar to the right. Grand stairs leading up to the second floor right ahead and surely plenty of bathrooms scattered around the whole place.

“So, what do you wanna do first?” I jump at Jenny’s voice in my ear, blinking back at her as she smiles innocently. My eyes drift to the dancefloor and she immediately shakes her head, “Here. You’ll want a drink or two before you start mingling with those idiots.” She sends me a pointed look. “Trust me.”

Before I even nod in agreement she is leading the way to the bar, keeping a reassuring grip on my wrist as we bump into careless strangers standing in the middle of the room. “Minseok!”

A handsome man with black hair and cat-like eyes looks up from shining a glass behind the bar, a friendly smile forming on his lips. “Jenny, what can I get you and your friend?” His eyes peek curiously at me.

Realizing I’m hiding behind Jenny like a little lost cub I step closer to the bar, feeling her eyes on me. “Do you perhaps have Gin?” He nods. “Brandy? Vodka?” Nodding once again, I rest my chin on my palm, quirking my lips into a half-smirk. “Dr Pepper?”

He returns the expression. “Maybe.”

“Hmm.” Grinning I finally settle on, “Vodka and Dr Pepper…Mostly the pepper, please.”

His laugh can’t be heard well over the booming music but I can tell he means well by the understanding look in his eyes. “Coming right up, Beautiful.”

Flushing I discreetly fan my cheeks with my hand, looking away as Jenny tells him her order as well. Instantly I feel a pair of eyes on me. Leaning my elbows back on the bar I lazily sweep my gaze across the room.

There. Just at the edge of the dancefloor. Adoring an all-black outfit consisting of a silk shirt, waist-length silver button jacket, and tight-fitting leather pants. Leather two-inch heeled boots and partially slicked-back silver hair completing the look. With a start in my chest, I realize it’s the same guy I bumped into at the beginning of the week. His once-friendly gaze and welcoming smile traded in for a piercing, hungry stare. The longer I continue the eye contact the hotter it gets in the room.

“Here you go.” Minseok’s voice brings me back to the present. The heated spell put over me by the handsome stranger broken as I turn to my full glass seated on the bar. Taking a tentative sip of the concoction I licked my lips, smiling at the flavor.

“How is it?” He asks. Jenny even turns to see my reaction.

“Perfect.” I nearly purr, throwing it back to chug the rest.

“Whoa!” Jenny exclaims, her beer held carefully in hand as I licked my lips again. “Damn girl, if I didn’t know any better I’d be envious.”

“I’m a lightweight,” I mumble, kindly asking Minseok for another.

“I can tell.”

Sending a weak glare her way she just shrugs in return, smiling unapologetically.

That same feeling of a stare never quite goes away as I take time to savor my next drink.

“So, you like your drinks heavily diluted, huh?” Jenny inquires.

“I don’t like the burn…” I start wrinkling my nose, “It’s starting to set in.”

She giggles at my misery. “What a baby you are.”

Nodding in agreement I down the rest of the tasty drink neatly placing the glass back on the bar. “Thank you, Minseok.”

He nods smiling as he picks it up, “Have fun on the floor.” He quirks a brow, “Be careful.”

Smiling politely I glance at Jenny before twirling around, making my way to the crowd of grinding bodies. Not surprisingly there is a clear empty space right in the middle of the floor.

Being extra I sway my hips as I walk to the dead center already feeling a handful of eyes on me. Ignoring them I let the beat of a familiar song take me over.

“I don’t hate it. You tell me. I’m nervous.”

Slowly body rolling sensually from side to side to the time of the song I walk forward with one foot in front of the other, praising myself for deciding to let my hair down in loose beach waves for the evening. Once the bass kicks in I speed up the tempo, running a hand through my hair and down my body with a smile on my face.

“She’s so selfish, but I like it.”

Letting the song take complete control, I let loose. Dancing my best as my skirt swishes around; spinning on my heels as the alcoholic buzz finally makes me feel warm all over. Or maybe it’s the curious heads turning. Surprisingly no one dares to approach. Their dance partners near slapping them every time they slow down to look my way.

Shrugging inwardly I twirl around as if no one else is in the room, busting out my favorite dance moves and teases memorized from countless youtube videos and dancer dvds.

Just as the second chorus hits a pair of hands land on my hips. Smirking I keep my back to them enjoying the feel of smooth silky material on my bare skin as they move closer.

“Betcha. We were destiny. I’m gonna getcha.”

Reaching my arm up to wrap around the back of their neck I can’t help giggling at the feel of their grip tightening on my hips; digging my fingers into their soft strands. Feeling their lips brush against my neck I decided that it’s time to turn around, my eyes widening at the familiar pair of brown eyes and smirking lips.

Backing away as the music slows down I take a good look at him, his outfit looking even more stunning up close. We circle around each other like predator and prey, not daring to take that first step closer to the other. Not quite ready to go in for the kill.

He licks his lips as his eyeliner eyes meet mine again, showing off his own moves as the beat kicks back in. I stand there awestruck at the art of broad shoulders and thick thighs moving about before starting back up on my own groove; him being quick enough to compliment my movements.

We draw in closer and closer to each other until the chorus hits again. I dance around him as he watches with an amused smirk, my cheeks flushing as I notice his hard stare set on me.

“You’re gonna be mine, I. Oh baby in time, I.”

“Betcha. It’s something certain ma girl I meet ya.”

As the last of the song plays he pulls me in, holding my hand up and gripping my waist with the other before whispering the final words in my ear, “You’re gonna be mine.”

Looking into his warm brown eyes I glance down at the mole above his pretty lips, licking my own subconsciously before I can stop it. His own orbs shoot down to capture the action, slowly leaning in until the rambunctious noise of drunk people cheering breaks the atmosphere.

Snapping out of my daze I step out of his arms, blinking at him in shock from a safe distance as he keeps his eyes on me a frown beginning to form on his lips.

“Riley!”

Gulping with a headache coming on I spin around to a mad looking Jenny. “J-Jen–”

She shakes her head, grabbing my wrist, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She throws a glare over my shoulder, quickly making way back out of the crowd of grinding bodies.

I can’t help shooting one last look back myself as a familiar Grande song plays, not missing the daring smirk and challenging quirk of brow on his handsome face.

“Jenny.” I begin as she practically drags me back to the bar. “Jenny, who is he?”

She wordlessly points at a barstool and I take a seat, accepting the water bottle she hands me.

She sighs running a hand through her short, faded blue hair. “He is Byun Baekhyun.” Sending me a pointed look she continues with distaste clear in her voice. “The notorious playboy on campus.”

Remembering the feel of his hands on my hips and lips on my neck I blush in realization; turning near scarlet as Jenny crosses her arms with a knowing look on her face. “Oh.”

She sighs as my eyes flicker to a brunet man coming up behind her. “Yeah, so drink a bit of that and we’ll head on out–” Gasping a look of pure shock and a flash of fear crosses her face as he wraps his arms around her. She turns around on the spot, “J-Jongdae?”

The man with light-brown hair grins lazily, “Hey babe.”

Judging by his sluggish movements and her stiff expression he is shit-faced drunk and she knows it. Sighing once again she pats his chest, glancing over at me. “Let me help you get to your room, Dae.” Barely responding he lets her drape his arm over her shoulder, her tiny form managing to stand them both up.

I stand up to assist but she just shook her head, sending me one last apologetic look before slowly walking him in the direction of the stairs.

Minseok even shoots me a sympathetic look as I notice a man approaching out of the corner of my eye. Sipping steadily I ignore him as he leans across the counter most likely ordering a drink. My eyes seem to naturally drift over to where I last saw the infamous Byun Baekhyun. A twinge of disappointment pricking my chest when I see no silver hair insight.

“Hey,” A voice whispering in my ear has me jumping back, looking at the stranger with furrowed brows. It’s the same guy I saw walking up earlier.

“You come here often?” He continues his eyes lazily gazing over my form. If it wasn’t for his obviously reeking breath just from his unstable stance alone everyone in the room can see he’s drunk.

Feeling like I’ve had enough social interaction for the night—which I have—I turn back to my water, nearly downing the rest of the bottle. A hard nudge to my ribs has me wincing full-on glaring at the obnoxious person. “Want me to get you a drink?” He tries a smirk growing on his face as he stares at mine.

“No.” I pointedly say through gritted teeth; crushing the empty water bottle in my hand.

He chuckles at the sight brushing badly dyed blonde hair out of his eyes. “Oh well, your loss cutie.”

Leaning over to share farewells with Minseok I slowly relax my grip on the squeezed plastic, swiftly walking away from the bar. Realizing yet again that Jenny is busy and my ride I sigh venturing farther into the house. “The bathrooms have to be somewhere,” I mumble listening close to every door before daring to touch the knob. No matter how loud the music is out front people really don’t know how to tone it down on the pornographic noises. I lean away from the last door on the main left hallway with a deep sigh and heavy bladder.

Noticing a shorter darker hallway adjoined to it I peek my head around the corner. No noise seems to come from this part of the house. I have the sudden urge to bring out my phone as a guide until I remember how easy it’ll be to drop it in my state. With a shake of my head, I carefully listen through the first door; deeming it safe and opening to a nicely decorated bathroom.

Before I get the chance to enter I’m roughly yanked back and spun around, finding myself pressed up to the wall by that fucking douchebag from earlier.

“Gotcha.” He chuckles breath even more disgusting than last time.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing,” My brows raise more with my voice. “But if you don’t back the fuck up we’re going to have a prob-”

He slaps a hand over my mouth, my eye twitching at the feel of sweat and god knows what else contaminating my skin. “The only problem,” He begins scarily calm, the humor fading from his face as he tightens his grip. “Is your fucking mouth.”

My eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing, using all my strength to push him off. Unfortunately, the man seems to be made of steel rather than muscle as he doesn’t move an inch beside the bruising grip on my wrist. I flinch pressing my back as close to the wall as possible as he leans in with a cruel chuckle shaking his head. Sighing at the turn of events I put on a fearful look hiding the hate in my eyes as he looks into mine, sickly satisfied.

“Now this,” He drags a hand down my waist, grossly chapped lips growing closer to mine, “Is more like it-”

Before I can stomp with all my might on his foot, he’s falling over with a yelp. Another figure just behind him with a textbook in his hands. “What have I fucking told you about showing your face around here, Lee?” His voice is calm with a cutting edge underneath.

I stay pressed to the wall slowly inching away as he goes to stand over the whimpering man on the floor. “What about not bringing your sick fucking ass around did you not understand?” He kicks him hard in the ribs, “Drinking my alcohol and harassing my guests.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry-”

“Hey you.” The mystery man calls out. Noting that we are the only ones in the hall, I freeze.

He takes a peek over at me before crouching in front of the pathetically crying man, although come to think of it if someone slammed my head with a book I’d be sobbing too. “I’ll deal with you later.” He moves to slowly stand, and with a new sense of adrenaline; I bolt. Barely making it around the corner when a pair of arms wrap around me.

“Hey.” He mumbles picking me up with strength as I thrash in his arms. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sighs, squeezing his unfairly strong arms around me. I growl in frustration, cursing the male population as I lay limp, staring up at the ceiling in a daze as he carries me to who knows where. Closing my eyes in a stressed manner I tense at the feeling of climbing upstairs.

“Relax.” He says again, kicking a door open and setting me down on a bed like a child. When he moves away I quickly sit up prepared to jump back onto my feet even as the room starts to spin. He’s already closing the door; locking it before turning back to me with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re staying here.”

“Excuse me.” I aim to snap only for it to come out as a pathetic wavering reply. He uncrosses his arms as I take a closer look at him; my brain taking a second to register the silver hair on his head. It’s in a fluffy more boyish state over his forehead than it was earlier out on the floor. Byun Baekhyun. He takes a step closer and I back away on instinct, heart nearly racing out my chest as he stands before me.

He crouches down to my level, cupping my face in his large hand. For some reason, I don’t flinch back at the warm contact; lost in his eyes that turn concerned as he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “You’re crying.” He mumbles a frown on his face.

I am? I blink a few times, reaching up to wipe the blur from my eyes but freezing again as he does it for me; gently brushing my tears aside.

“Jenny is going to kill me.” He sighs hand dropping as he stands back up to his full height. Taking him in once again, I notice the absence of his waist jacket; it is draped over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room.

“Alright, lay back.” He says running a hand through his hair.

My heart drops below my feet as my face burns scarlet. “W-What?”

“I’m tucking you in.” His brows raise meaningfully as he reaches down for my boots; carefully unbuckling and zipping with nimble fingers.

Suddenly hit with all the events of the evening all at once, from the drinking to dancing to panic to this, with tear-filled eyes I blurt out an “I-I need to go…bathroom.”

He looks up at me midway through pulling off the first boot. “Let’s get these off first, okay?”

All I can do is nod as he keeps his eyes on me, gently rubbing my ankle. After my shoes are off he picks me up again even though my legs are perfectly fine just to set me down in front of his personal bathroom two feet away from the bed.

Taking a few minutes to use the bathroom and get myself together, I clumsily walk back out into the room. This time he guides me back to bed with a hand resting respectfully on my waist. Everything after that is a blur. Only a sense of comfort and the smell of vanilla before my head hits the pillow.

Even the slightest headache after a night of partying puts me in an unpleasant mood for the rest of the day. I can already feel one coming on as I nuzzle deeper into my pillow, surprisingly soft as a baby’s blanket with a hint of vanilla-

Opening my eyes they nearly pop out at the unfamiliar surroundings and even more so at the large t-shirt covering my chest. I sit up in a rush and pull at the loose white material feeling a little silly at the thought that I have seen this same shirt once before. Looking back at the pillow it is indeed covered with a blue baby’s blanket; the material fluffy and warm to the touch. I flush at the obvious hint of wetness on it. First I sleep in another person’s bed and then I drool!?

Can the ground just open up and swallow me whole.

Burying my face in my hands I sigh deeply, working my nerve before leaping out of the unfairly comfortable bed. Mansion. I conclude taking note of the grand windows and elegant doors. Peeking out of the bedroom I tug down on the bottom of my shirt. The material nearly brushing the back of my knees bringing me comfort as I make my way down the hall; holding the wall with my hand on my forehead as I search for the stairs. Luckily they’re not hard to find.

Moving down each step as slow and quiet as possible, my sock-clad feet silently glide across the wooden ground floor.

“You get lucky last night, Byun?” A barely familiar voice teases. I look towards an open area recognizing it as the side I didn’t venture through last night.

My eyes widen in realization; all of last night’s events flooding my mind. Oh god. I run quietly to lean my back against the wall behind the bar.

“Yes,” Baekhyun replies after a short pause, “But not…quite in the way you’d expect.”

“What does that even mean?” The other voices my thoughts, the twinkle of silverware sliding across a glass plate filling the silence.

“..I-”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, is it?”

Flinching away from the unfamiliar deep voice I look up at a tall man with big eyes and oddly adorable ears to match. Though the serious expression on his face is not one to mess with. Filled with a sense of guilt and dread I nervously lick my lips,“I-”

“Do you not know the rules?” He squints looking me over scrutinizingly with a condescending hum. “You must be new, so I’ll tell you this.”

Already guessing where this is going as the situation at hand continues to dawn on me, I blink back at him with a blank face.

“You are supposed to leave the house as soon as you are finished or to be gone the next day.” His eyes run over me in disapproval. “Not in Baekhyun’s clothes intruding on breakfast. However..” He licks his lips a smirk forming. “You’re pretty cute.”

I lean back as he crowds my space, bracing his hand on the wall next to my head. “How ‘bout this…” He whispers into my ear. “Wait up in my room and we can forget this ever happened.” He pulls back to smirk down at me, “You don’t want to lose Baekhyun’s favor, do you-”

“Park Chanyeol!”

The loud clang of metal against something solid echoes in the air, ‘Chanyeol’ groaning loudly as he steps to the side. “Baek what the fuck.” He hisses clutching the back of his head.

A body steps in between us; familiar broad shoulders decked in a leather jacket with a cap on their head. “Stay away from her.” Baekhyun mutters a frying pan in his hands.

“What do you mean you didn’t get laid, Baekhy-" A familiar brunet freezes soon after rounding the corner, eyeing all of us warily. "Do I even want to know?

Baekhyun clenches his jaw. "This,” He gestures to me, “Is Jenny’s friend.”

Both men drop their jaws at the same time. “Oh fuck.”

20 minutes later I’m back in my dress seated between a timid Jongdae and tense Baekhyun at a glass dining table.

“So… Riley was it?” Chanyeol clears his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah.” I can’t help wincing at the atmosphere. The combination of his fearful tone, Jongdae’s curious stare, and Baekhyun’s arms crossed over his chest adding onto my anxiety.

The giant turns around, walking by a watchful Baekhyun to slide the scrambled eggs onto my plate. “I’m sorry about earlier.” He mumbles rubbing the back of his neck, “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

I quickly shake my head feeling 3 sets of eyes on me. “No no, no need, it’s all good.” Cracking a small smile I focus on his chest only concealed by a tacky baby pink apron. The sight making me chuckle internally. “And thank you for the eggs.”

He shakes his head fluffy blonde locks bouncing at the action, “No problem.” With an equally small smile, he walks off with the pan in the direction of what I presume is the kitchen.

“So…” Jongdae breaks the silence, a mug of coffee between his palms. “How did you and Baekhyun meet?”

That stare I’m growing way too familiar with falls on me again as I pick at my food. “Well,” Subconsciously looking around I spot an unopened Dr. Pepper bottle across the table. Before I think too much on it, I reach over to grab it; stretching farther when it barely grazes my fingertips.

A slender hand grabs it easily, placing it in front of me as my heart picks up. Barely sparing Baekhyun a glance, I open the bottle and take a swig with slightly flushed cheeks. “We met on the floor last night-”

“Really?” Jongdae blinks a bit of disbelief in his voice. “Huh. Usually the bi-” He takes a peek behind me and stops with a cough, bring his mug to his lips. “Women Baekhyun meets end up in his bed by the end of the night."

Lifting a brow I ignore the obviously glaring man behind me. "I’m not one of those women.”

Jongdae throws his head back in laughter, coffee forgotten as his rambunctious noise fills the air. “Right.” He chuckles. “That’s what they all say till they’re shoving his cock in their mouth.”

Overcome with rage and embarrassment, I throw my napkin onto my cold eggs standing up so fast my chair screeches in protest.

Baekhyun gets up as well as I pointedly march out into the front of the house.

“Riley… Riley!”

I yank my wrist from his hold breathing deeply as he grabs it again, pulling me to face him. “What.”

He looks me over, messy silver hair flopped onto his forehead as I wonder what state my own is in. “I’m sorry, Jongdae is just-”

“Is he right?” I cut him off staring him down even as I have to keep my head tilted up. “Is he right to assume those things about me? About you?”

All Baekhyun has to offer is an unreadable stare. I pull away from his hold and walk back out the double doors I regret ever entering in the first place.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #citylights inspired #baekhyun romance

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whiskynottea · 5 years ago

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

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

AO3

Thank you @theministerskat for your beta! ❤️

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Chapter 57. Juggling and Swimming

Jugglers.

People skilled enough to throw three, four, five balls into the air, and with swift and precise maneuvers of their hands, keep them flying over their head. Easily. While smiling.

I remember watching them as a child, open-mouthed, mesmerized. I always kept my eyes on the fast-moving balls, as if studying their hands would steal the magic away. As a consequence, I never tried juggling myself. I was sure that I would drop the little balls -- or lemons, I had seen a guy juggling at the side of the road using the yellowest lemons once -- even before throwing them up in the first place.

Maybe if I had tried to juggle before, my life at university would be easier. Because it felt like juggling. I often found myself lying on my bed after midnight with my eyes closed, not because I sought sleep, but because I was trying to imagine how I would manage to keep all the tasks I had undertaken -- my very own lemons -- successfully flying around me and not send them crashing to the ground.

If I finish this essay on Tuesday night, and then start with the presentation for Dr. Raymond after Wednesday’s practical…

No.

If I first work on the presentation, on Monday…

Shit. We have the ‘Dissection Drinks’ on Monday night. I can’t miss it again.

No matter how I tried to schedule my tasks, my lemons were one too many.

Jenny had called me twice that week, and both times I had texted back, explaining that I was in the middle of a lecture and I would call her later. Texts had never been Jenny’s preferred means of communication. Which was more than odd, since she had to be the only Gen Z-er who hated texts. With practicals after my lecture and heading to the library to prepare for the tutorials after that, later had become tomorrow, and tomorrow became the day after.

Don’t forget to call Jenny, I would think to myself at the most irrelevant and inconvenient times. Tomorrow morning. I will call her tomorrow. Before she comes down to Oxford herself and I have to justify the radio silence to Jenny face-to-face.

With Joe things were different. He demanded pictures from my college, my dorm, and my textbooks, so we could compare our respective medical schools and start bickering about whose university was better. It was utterly ridiculous and we both knew it -- since mine was the Oxford University and there was no real competition, to begin with. Not that Joe would ever agree with that notion. We usually texted when I was in the library and ended up writing in caps, our conversation nothing more than ludicrous arguments. I had choked more than once in my desperate attempt to swallow my laughter, but it was more difficult to pretend that I wasn’t aware of the irritated glances shot at me from my fellow students who were trying to study in silence. To Gail’s utter despair, Joe kept arguing with me even when they were together, and on top of that, he tried to pull her into the debate. When Gail grabbed his phone and started talking New York bagels and pancakes, I knew the conversation was over.

Apart from feeling totally overwhelmed by the workload, life at Oxford was good. More than good. Mary and I got along fine, and when we weren’t deep in the library researching for the essays we had to prepare for Dr. Hildegard’s or Dr. Raymond’s tutorials, we had late nights together with Malva and Davie, drinking beers and discussing professors and medics from other colleges. Davie had proposed we call ourselves the very humble ‘Lifesavers’, while I was inclined more towards Malva’s ‘Where’s the Finish’. We settled for ‘Four Angry Pencils’ and we were very proud of our little team.

Texting with Jamie was a constant. He was becoming more and more stressed as his meet in New Jersey approached, and I pulled out all my feel good moves to calm him down. Silly, sweet gifs in the middle of the day, ridiculous voice messages, goofy selfies... We stopped calling in the morning because he was literally running to the pool the moment he woke, and we kept our conversations short at night because he was usually exhausted and needed sleep. No matter how much I smiled or played the fool, he was getting more distant as the days passed by.

“Ye don’t understand, Claire,” he would say, again and again, even though I insisted that I did understand. “It’s very important to do well in this meet.”

I would spend the rest of the call reassuring him that I knew how much the meet meant to him and that he would do great, until at last, he would mumble that I was right and he shouldn’t be so nervous, but that he couldn’t help it. By the time we would say goodnight, he would become my sweat Scot again, sure of himself and his abilities. Until the next morning.

The Wolverines departed for New Jersey on a rainy Tuesday -- or at least it was drizzling in Oxford. When he was with his teammates, Jamie fell back into being much closer to his old self. He was sending pictures of himself and John making silly faces or smiling like loons, and when he called, his voice sounded aloof, unconcerned. I wasn’t sure whether he strived to maintain a cool facade in front of the others or if he really relaxed around them. I could see that the strain back on his face, however, a frown establishing itself between his eyebrows, the moment he was alone.

“No matter what happens tomorrow, know that we are very proud of you and that won’t change,” I told him the night before the competition and saw him heaving a deep sigh, his chest deflating.

“What if I fail, Claire? What if I’m not as good as they thought I would be? I can’t continue here without the scholarship and I don’t want to go back to Scotland like that.”

I looked him in the eye and put on my most serious face. “Jamie,” I intoned, trying to keep my voice harsh on purpose. “Stop doing that. It’s not fair! You’re doing a disservice to yourself, can’t you see that?”

“What if --”

“There are no what-ifs. I’ll have none of that,” I announced as if I was his mother and he was asking for another scoop of ice-cream. “You will go out there, and you will swim. Remember what I had written on your birthday cake last year?”

I could still see the dark blue buttercream letters if I closed my eyes. Not my most beautiful work, but it had served its purpose.

“Just keep swimming,” Jamie replied, and I could swear I saw a smile crack on his lips.

“Just keep swimming, Jamie. I’ve seen you swim, I’ve been there. You swim because you love to. And you’re good at it because when you’re in the pool, you feel free. Don’t be afraid, you stupid Scot! Live it! Go out there and enjoy yourself!”

He rubbed his face with his palms, then ran a hand through his hair. “Ye’re right, I guess.”

“I am. I always am,” I amended. “You should know it by now.”

Jamie snorted, but didn’t disagree. He was smiling now. A wide, toothy smile. “I will think of you the entire time,” I said, softly. “You won’t be alone, I promise.”

Jamie nodded but didn’t speak.

“I won’t be in the bleachers but I will be thinking of you,” I said again and felt the guilt painfully squeezing my heart. Jamie needed me and I had chosen to stay in Oxford. Not that it had been the wrong decision. It just hadn’t been the right one, either.

“I ken, babe. ‘Tis irrational, this worry.” The camera lost focus as Jamie moved to lie in bed. When his beautiful blue eyes were back on mine, I gave him my biggest smile.

“It is. Don’t let it eat at you. But first, you need to get some rest, and I need to go to bed because we have Hildegard’s tutorial tomorrow and it’s a pain in the arse.”

We ended the call and I returned to my room, my heavy steps the only sound in the corridors. Speaking with Jamie before he went to bed had made me Oxford’s resident nocturnal animal. I fell asleep the moment my head sank oin to the pillow and dreamed of swimming pools, wet auburn curls, and finishing times.

Jamie was more cheerful the following day, but I could tell he still wasn’t completely himself. I went on with my pep talk as I had prepared it, trying to boost his confidence in a break between two practicals, and promised again that I would be thinking of him. Before hanging up I risked sending him a ridiculously loud kiss while wishing no one was around to hear it. I returned to the class keeping my head low, in case anyone would identify me as the silly girl kissing a screen.

I hadn’t wished Jamie good luck, because I planned on calling him again right before his race. It was our little tradition since we had been in Scotland. He would say “I will imagine that I’m swimming towards you, Sassenach,” and I would reply, “Come find me, then, ridiculous Scot.”

It was cheesier than I could usually handle, but Jamie insisted that he loved the way I blushed every time before I said my part. And that was the reason he demanded we hold onto our own version of ‘good luck’.

I spent a good part of the practical checking the time, counting down the hours to Jamie’s race. It was two hours later when Mary stood in front of me, asking if I was ready for Hildegard’s tutorial. I was ready to nod when I checked my bag and realized I had forgotten the USB drive with our presentations back in the dorm. And like that, we found ourselves running in the rain, boots splashing through puddles and breaths hitching in our throats, frantic to get the flash drive and be back before the tutorial started.

We made it. We entered the class with our cheeks red, our hair matted on our faces and coats soaked in water, but we made it on time. Dr. Hildegard crooked an eyebrow but gestured towards two empty seats without any verbal comment, and I felt immensely grateful towards the taciturn professor.

The tutorial was amazing. Dr. Hildegard was so serious and collected, that she kept making jokes we only got when it was too late. She managed to stop Mary’s stuttering while she was a few slides in her presentation by subtly praising her work, and after mentioning a few points I should have addressed differently in mine, she concluded that it was one of the best presentations she had seen from a fresher. I beamed and nodded repeatedly my thanks before I found my voice to properly thank her.

When we left the tutorial, I realized that I had missed the time window for Jamie’s ‘good luck call’.

I had six unanswered calls and two texts on my phone.

Scot: We left the room and we’re heading to the pool.

Scot: Oh god, there are so many people here. I think the backstroke race is in fifteen minutes or so.

Scot: Sassenach?

Scot: A few minutes left, babe.

Scot: Where are you?

Scot: Claire? Where are you?

Scot: I’m going.

I wanted the earth to open beneath my feet and swallow me up. I had promised I would think of him during his race and instead I had been thinking of… physiology.

Not listening to what Mary was saying about our next tutorial, I called Jamie. It was an hour since I had received his last text and the race must be over now. He didn’t answer.

I called again. And again.

Feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks, I texted him.

Sassenach: How did it go?

It wasn’t enough.

Sassenach: I’m sorry I didn’t call.

Sassenach: I’m so, so, so sorry Jamie.

Sassenach: I was in Hildegard’s tutorial, and got carried away.

I waited for a minute after that, then called him again. Nothing. The initial plan was to leave the class at some point to call Jamie, but with presenting my work and then listening to the others... I had forgotten.

Sassenach: Jamie, please pick up your phone.

It wasn’t that terrible, was it? I didn’t say good luck before a race. A single race. I had talked to him that morning and every day before that. He knew that I would think of him…

I paused on this thought. I had said that I would think of him, but I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking of him at the time of the race. I had promised.

Pulling my hood over my head I walked back to the dorm, my eyes fixed on my phone.

Sassenach: I’m sorry.

Jamie needed me and I had disappointed him. And even though calling him for one last time didn’t seem that important to me, it obviously was important for him. I had messed up. Royally.

I entered my room and changed out of my clothes, but didn’t dare take a shower. He might reply at any moment. Maybe he hadn’t seen his phone yet. Maybe he was with the rest of the team, celebrating his victory. It wasn’t the end of the world.

As if there was a chance Jamie wouldn’t reply to my texts, no matter where he was.

It was irrational. He was irrational. I repeated that thought to myself, trying to smother the burning feeling that kept eating at my heart.

Jamie needed me and I hadn’t been there.

I wore an old t-shirt I had stolen from him when I visited Michigan and buried myself under the blankets. I unlocked my phone and kept looking at my screensaver. He was hugging me tight and we were both smiling at the camera.

It was just a call, it couldn’t be that bad. I had always been there. People make mistakes.

I looked at Jamie’s eyes in the picture, so slanted from his smile that I could barely see the blue in them. I called him again.

One more time.

And again.

Two hours had passed. I saw the lemons I had flying over my head, falling, crashing down.

I set my jaw, tried not to cry, and sent yet another text.

Sassenach: Call me. Please?

Chapter 58

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

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