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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years ago

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Real or Fake? | Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by @edencherries / Summary: Nat and Steve try to set you and Bucky up by sending the two of you to be a fake couple on an undercover mission at a fancy gala. Will you two still be pretending by the end of the night?

A/N: okay so I absolutely love how this one turned out. Yes, I used Hunger Games (if you’ve read them, you know) as an inspiration for the whole real or fake thing. Obviously it is fiction and a hair cut/growing a beard isn’t a good disguise for the Winter Soldier, but this is my story and I can write whatever I want. (You’ll understand this after you read it)

@edencherries I hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting!! xx

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“and that’s why we are going to send the two of you in there.” Steve is standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Come again, who are the two you are talking about?” You ask, looking around the table. You wanted to make sure you heard him correctly.

“You two, y/l/n.” Nat motions to you and Bucky with her fingers, “It’s time for you to be the undercover couple instead of Steve and I.”

“They’ve seen enough of Romanoff and Rogers to know who they are. It would blow the whole mission.” Tony explains.

“Okay but won’t they recognize me as the Winter Soldier? It’s not like that is a secret anymore.”

“Exactly.” You add, “So, it can’t be me and Barnes.”

“I’m not against it being you and I.” Bucky says from across the table, “I just don’t want to put you in danger because someone makes me out as the Winter Soldier.”

You can’t help but blush at Bucky’s protectiveness. I mean, if he doesn’t care about it being you and him, then you shouldn’t either. You relax in your chair to hear what Tony has to say.

“Yes, well that’s why you’re going to have to cut your hair and grow this out.” He motions to his chin, “Just a little scruff. That’ll probably be just enough to hide the Winter Soldier look.”

Bucky subconsciously runs his fingers through his long hair, “If you say so.”

“You guys are going to really have to play the part.” Nat begins, “I mean, you two have to look like a married couple, in love. Not all embarrassed to touch or look a each other like you’re doing now.”

“We get it, Nat.” You mutter.

“Good.” She smiles, “Lets go get you your wardrobe picked out then. The GALA is in a week.”

“Barnes would like this one.” Nat holds up a dress and you scrunch your nose up at it.

“Why does it matter if Barnes likes it? Shouldn’t I be the one who likes it?”

“because he’s going to be your husband.” Nat shrugs and browses through the remaining dresses.

“Fake husband.” You correct before finding a dress that you adore.

“Not enough cleavage.”

you groan, “Nat! Come on. I don’t want my hoohas out in the open.”

She sighs, “Alright alright, go try it on.”

You do as she says and when you come out wearing the dress, her mindset changes, “Okay, fine I actually like it.”

“Then I’m going with this one.” When you turn to leave you hear her mutter something about Barnes is going to love it.

“We really have to try on tuxes? I have plenty.” Bucky says to Steve.

“yeah but you need a new one for this gala.” Steve shrugs, “Plus, Tony’s paying for it so why not.”

“Are you sure that sending y/n and I is a good idea? We don’t talk that much.”

“You guys are going to be great. I mean you two work well together. I’ve seen the two of you out in the field. The chemistry is great.”

“yeah but that’s.. not even close to acting like we’re married and in love.”

Steve sighs and puts a reassuring hand on Buck’s shoulder, “Look, you got this. Y/n is a beautiful woman and you two work well together. Who knows, maybe you two will fall in love by the end of the night.” Steve shrugs.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Yeah right.” If only he knew.

~ Night of the Gala ~

Nat had spent the afternoon getting you prepared for the gala. She went over the target and what needed to happen tonight while she helped with hair and makeup. And by helping, I mean she told the ladies what to do.

“And most importantly, have fun with Barnes tonight! It’s a luxurious night at one of the most anticipated parties of the year.”

“Okay, but we’re still on the job. We still have to get intel on the target.”

“Yeah but you two have to play the part, so you still get to have fun.” She fixed the bottom of your dress so you could see the final look in the mirror, “You look stunning!”

You tilt your head as you admire your reflection in the mirror. Getting dolled up like this was a rare occurrence, so this was a treat. “Its not too much?”

“No, it’s perfect. Tonight is going to be great.” She gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze, “We should get you to Barnes. He’s probably waiting for you.”

“I don’t know if I like this new look.” Bucky rubs at the stubble on his cheeks and chin.

“Facial hair is popular now. All the ladies love it.” Steve hands Bucky his suit jacket; you’d be down any minute now.

“When have I ever had to worry about what the ladies loved on men? They loved me anyway.” Bucky chuckles as he slips the suit jacket on.

“Yes, well, some of us weren’t that lucky.” He peeks over his shoulder when he hears you and Nat’s voice, “Look, if the night goes well, look in the left pocket of the jacket.”

Bucky looks at his best friend in confusion, “What?”

“If the night goes well, left pocket.” Steve quickly mutters out, but it was more of a jumbled mess as you and Nat approach. It leaves Bucky wondering what the heck Steve meant and if this was a mission, why would it matter if the night went well? He didn’t wonder for long, because his attention was somewhere else as soon as he laid eyes on you.

You wore the dress with such a confidence he wondered where it could have been all this time. Yeah, he’d seen you out in the field, kicking ass, but this was a different side of you; a different confidence. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you outside of your field uniform. Well, there was that one time... Knocking is very important.

“You..You look..” Bucky was tongue-tied. There wasn’t a word in the dictionary that could describe you. Not a word that would capture the immense beauty of what he was looking at in this very moment.

Luckily, Steve jumped in, “I think he’s looking for.. beautiful, stunning. You know somewhere along those lines.”

Bucky suddenly felt underdressed. did he put enough gel to slick his hair back? Did it look okay? Was his suit good enough? Did he put on enough deodorant? He put on his underwear, right?

“Your new look fits you well.” You motion to your face with your finger, “You look very handsome.”

He clears his throat as he fiddles with his coat, “It’s scratchy.”

You giggle, “facial hair is very popular now though. The ladies love it. I know I do.”

Bucky wasn’t sure why, but that comment made him feel giddy inside. What the hell was going on with him? Snap out of it Bucky! “Should we get going?” He holds his arm out for you and you gladly take it, slipping your arm through his, “Yes we should. Don’t want to be late!”

When you arrived at the event, the two of you signed into the party under fake names of course. As you made your way to your table, you two began searching the crowd for the target.

“I haven’t spotted him yet.”

“Yeah I don’t...” You take another look and you finally spot him as he enters the room. “He’s just entered the room.”

Bucky pulls your chair out for you, “Yeah I see him.”

“Apparently we’re supposed to gather intel on the guy, but Nat never specified what kind.”

“Steve didn’t mention it to me either. I guess we’re supposed to keep an eye on him?”

So, that’s exactly what the two of you did. You two played along as the happy couple, talking with the others at the table while dinner was served.

“So, how long have you two been married?” The woman asks with a smile. Oh god, you two didn’t even go over anything like in the car.

“4 years.” Bucky smiles at you as he takes your hand in his, “But we’ve been together for 6.”

“Oh that’s so wonderful! My husband, Carl and I have been married for 30 years!”

“Wow 30 years? That’s.. amazing.” You comment, thankful Bucky took the lead.

“You want to know the secret?” She leans in closer, “the sex!”

“Oh?” Bucky asks, raising his eyebrows questionably at you.

“No no!” She laughs, “I’m only messing with you two. This is going to sound so cheesy, but it’s love. It really is.” She looks longingly at her husband, “If you two love each other, that’s only half the hard work it takes to making a marriage last. The other half is being truthful. And of course respect, and trust. There’s a lot that goes into a happy and healthy marriage.”

You didn’t know if it was on purpose, but Bucky gently squeezed your hand at the end of the lady’s advice. Something about Bucky shifted after the two of you talked to that older couple. Bucky kept his hand on you, whether it be to hold your hand, put his hand on your thigh or even around the back of the chair. It left you feeling confused, because from what you’d heard, Bucky wasn’t one for physical affection. You weren’t sure if he was playing the part well or if this could somehow be real affection toward you.

The two of you swayed softly to the music. Bucky held you close to him, one hand in yours and the other on your waist, “Are you enjoying the night?”

“We’re technically supposed to be on a mission.”

“Yeah but we can still enjoy ourselves.” He pulls away to look down at you, moving a piece of hair of your shoulder, his fingers grazing your soft skin.

“Are you enjoying it?”

He chuckles, “I asked the question first, doll.”

You playfully roll your eyes and shrug softly, your eyes dancing around the crowd to make sure the target hadn’t left, “It’s only pretend..”

“Is it though?”

Your eyes snap back to Bucky’s.

“Is it only pretend?” His hand leaves your hip to run his finger along your cheek, “Are we really faking this?”

The skin on skin contact sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps covering your body, “I don’t know, Bucky. Are we?”

He smirks softly, “You really don’t know how to answer a question do you? You’re supposed to answer it with an actual answer, not a question.” His hand moves to your neck, cupping your cheek as if he was going to...

And then his lips meet yours. Bucky Barnes was kissing you. Oh god but was this real or fake? Was this a part of the married couple look? Was he only playing his part of your pretend husband? Even with the confusion, you returned the kiss. Your hands going to the back of his neck. If you were being honest, you didn’t want it to end.

Bucky’s lips slowly leave yours, his eyes locked on yours.

“Real or fake?” You whisper, gulping, “The kiss, was it real-”

To answer your question, his lips pressed against yours again.

As the party neared its end, you and Bucky decided it would be a good time to leave. Walking out of the event center hand and hand, Bucky remembered Steve’s advice. He patted his jacket and felt something in the inside pocket. When he pulled it out, it was a hotel key. The same one hosting the gala.

“That sly bastard.”

When the two of you opened the hotel room, inside it was only one large king size bed and a dozen roses sitting on the bedside table with a bottle of champagne and of course two glasses. There was also a note -

if you’re reading this, it means the night went well and our plan worked. Please make sure you give us credit at your wedding. Also, order whatever you want because Tony’s paying. We’ll tell him that later.

p.s. don’t be mad, this wasn’t a real mission. We picked the guy out from the guest list and told you to watch him. - Nat & Steve (aka Matchmakers)

Marvel tag list: @hommoturttle , @iheartsebastianstan , @5jacobm5 , @lovely-geek , @fangirl-swagg , @1-800-thanos , @jessyballet , @katiaw2

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Part 12

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here!

* You stare at the blank ceiling, the smooth unblemished surface like freshly fallen snow

* you should really put some nudie posters up there or something to lighten the mood a little.

* Light notes from the piano float around your room

* You sigh, so these are the facts as you know them:

* Edward is your best friend who has occasional bouts of brooding and flirtatious behavior.

* Bella is not albino, she has a lovely peach undertone, and a lovely grilled peach scent

* The entire coven has treated your attraction to this young lady’s blood like you got caught masturbating or wetting the bed or something

* “You don’t need to be embarrassed it’s a perfectly natural feeling.” Esme tells you while rubbing your shoulders

* “We’ve all been there” Rosalie reassures

* “Totally not a big deal, it happens to me everyday!” Jasper chimes in

* You wish sunlight hurt you so you could combust into flames on the spot

* The piano notes get louder, and you feel your mouth pinch into a frown.

* “Oh my god Edward! Read the room, I want brooding music!”

* Edward stops, up until then he had been playing a pretty cheerful Mozart piece

* You can tell he wants to ask why, you’ve been radiating joy non-stop since biology. But he decides against it

* “You really shouldn’t eat lying down.” He says as you sip blood while lying flat on your bed.

* “Okay dad.” You snort

* Edward starts to imagine what it would be like if you called him ‘daddy’

* All needy on top of him, your hands curled in fists against his chest, the breathy “daddy please” that leaves your mouth

* All of a sudden he’s ugly turned on

* “Ugh you’re no fun, I’m going to hang out with Rosalie”

* You leave the room and Edward has a total meltdown, is this what a kink is? Is he discovering a kink?!? At 100 years of age?!?!?!?

* Edward.exe is broken

* You don’t even make it to Rosalie’s room, you can smell them a mile away

* Broccoli, sugar and fat, and axe body spray. No peaches you realize with a sigh.

* They’ve only just barely rung the door bell when you open the door

* “Hey what are you guys doing here?”

* Jessica’s standing in front, looking pretty at ease, while Mike and Angela look equally uncomfortable.

* Makes sense, Jessica’s here all the time now either for homework or to watch TV.

* Mike and Angela haven’t been back since your sweet sixteen

* “How did you get down here so fast?”

* “I saw your car from upstairs” you say with a sheepish smile.

* You wish Alice would have given you a heads up, you weren’t planning on pretending to be human right now. Still you probably look raggedy enough right now in sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt

* You can probably pull this sick thing off

* “We just wanted to check up on you, I heard from Mike and Angela you got sick during class.” And then in a more annoyed tone Jessica adds “And I guess you’re too sick to respond to all my texts and calls”

* Oh crap, where is your phone.

* You pat your pockets, and think when you saw it last

* “I left it in my locker” you smack your head. You told Edward to go grab your bag from class but you forgot your phone.

* “Hey don’t worry about it, I can get it for you tomorrow if you want.” Jessica rushes to your side and pats your arm. You shake your head

* “No I can get it myself, I’m fine I just ate something bad.” You mumble.

* You’re not missing school tomorrow. You would literally risk murder to smell Bella again.

* It’s not insatiable thirst like described in the books, more like a craving, like someone might have for nachos.

* It itches at you for a while, but if you just distract yourself long enough you can move on

* “Would you like to come in? I think Esme just baked cookies or scones or something.”

* Esme likes to bake for the smell and donate the food to the local shelter. That, or take it for her employees at her architectural firm in town.

* Firm is a loose word, she has maybe four employees, and they get one job a month, but it seems to make her happy.

* Angela and Mike give each other looks but Jessica perks up

* “Is she making those delicious earl grey scones again?” You sniff the air

* “I think she made some of that orange zest butter too”

* “Omg I am so happy you left your phone at school” Jessica giggles walking inside past you, you hear her greet Esme with a squeal

* “They really are good.” You tell them and your remaining human friends enter the house carefully

* “Soooo where is everyone?” Mike asks taking a look around your living room.

* “Ummm Rosalie’s in the garage, Alice is probably meditating on the roof, Emmett’s at swim practice, and Jasper’s probably at the barn.”

* “What about Edward?” Angela asks before Mike can ask about the barn

* Last you saw him he was playing the piano in your room, but it’s been a while since then

* “He’s probably in his room monologuing about the degradation of the American dream or something.”

* You lead them into the kitchen where Esme and Jessica are already deep in conversation about the wonder of her baking

* “-side is so light and fluffy, how do you get the tea flavor though”

* “Witchcraft.” Esme jokes, giving a full smile before putting another tray in the oven. Only Jessica laughs, the other two are too nervous to even sit down

* “Why don’t I teach you how when you come over next week.”

* Yeah you’re pretty sure Jessica is really only a fan of the “eating” and not of the “baking”

* You’re half surprised when she seems happy at the invitation.

* “Oh that sounds great, I can’t wait for it!” Jessica’s practically beaming

* Where’s Edward when you need him? You wonder what her motivations are.

* Jasper is not going to like this. He’s already irritated enough that he’s kicked out of his own house every Friday when Jessica comes over to watch arrested development

* Before you can say anything to Esme the conversation moves forward

* “Did you guys hear about that security guard that died in Mason county?”

* She’s just making small talk, you know that. But you and Esme instantly tense at the mention

* Carlisle had mentioned he thought there was a nomad wandering through, they were still far enough not to cause the coven immediate trouble, but anything that brought more attention to them was a disadvantage

* “My Dad says he heard from Chief Swan it was probably a wild animal attack” Mike mumbles over a bite of scone, you figured he would be the easiest to win over with food

* You hide a smile behind your hand, he really is like a golden retriever

* “What kind of a wild animal climbs stairs into a building” Jessica mumbles over another bite of scone. And maybe to fit in, or maybe because she’s always been a nervous eater, Angela takes a bite too.

* “Oh wow, these are really good” she murmurs

* Esme Cullen ladies and gentleman, winning the hearts of teenagers with baked goods since 19XX

* “Well you kids stay safe, stay together if you can.” She pats your head and you nod.

* You don’t know the details of the attack, you get the feeling Carlisle still see’s you as a kid and he doesn’t want to burden you.

* But assuming the small changes that have happened have nothing to do with the large changes, that means Laurent, James and Victoria will be passing through soon.

* Maybe it’s for the best Bella doesn’t get involved with Edward until later.

* You’d really like to not get all mixed up in the whole “James Thing” if you can help it.

* “Are you staying for dinner? I’m thinking of whipping up some pasta, maybe a chicken?” Esme looks to you, yeah you have no idea how she’s going to manage that. Besides the baking basics there’s no actually food in this kitchen. And the one upstairs is just for your blood bags.

* “(Y/N), do you think...Carlisle would mind if we used one of... his chickens?”

* His chickens? The only chickens in the house-

* “No Esme! My chickens are only for love and chicken snuggles” and their blood which tastes very leans yet rich. “Not to eat!”

* “It would just be one-we’ll eat your least favorite!”

* You’re really hoping this is her way of chasing the humans out because she doesn’t want to cook.

* “No- oh my god- we’re going to the diner come on!” You say tugging Jessica and Angela to stand.

* “It was great seeing you again Mrs. Cullen, see you next week!” Jessica shouts as the three of them follow you out.

* “Going out? Is that such a good idea it’s late and a school night.” Edward says as he descends down the stairs

* “Oh my god, yes Dad I’ll be home before my curfew.” You say before leaving, cue Edward crumbling onto the stairs as he imagines you calling him “daddy” again

* “I’m going to hell, I’m definitely going to hell.” He mumbles, his face in his hand.

* It’s a really short drive to the diner, also known as the only place to eat in Forks in the mid 2000’s.

*There’s not even a McDonald’s. It’s almost sad

* And when you get there, while everyone moves ahead to the table you see a familiar face.

* “Oh, Hey Bella”

* Your eyes met and you figured it would be rude not to say anything. It looks like she’s here having dinner with her Dad.

*She really does look like her dad, same eyes, same cheekbones.

* “Nice to see you again Chief Swan”

* “Nice to see you too, how’s Carlisle doing? Heard it’s been busy at the hospital.”

* “Yeah, it’s like he doesn’t sleep anymore.” You grin at your own joke.

* “Are you feeling alright now?” Bella asks, she looks genuinely concerned

* “Yeah, I um, made some questionable food choices at lunch.”

* There’s an awkward moment of silence. You get the impression that Chief Swan and his daughter are both the “strong silent” types.

* It looks like they’ve both finished eating already

* If you had known she was going to be here you would have made Edward come with you.

* “Oh hey, do you want to join us for dinner?” It just seems like the friendly thing to do for the new girl, something on-brand with human character

* Definitely not because if you get on her good side now, maybe she won’t kick you out once her and Edward get married.

*Father and daughter exchange a glance and the familiar connection they have makes you nervous.

*“Of course you don’t have to, I know you’re here with your dad so-“

* “I’m sure Bella would love to join-“ Charlie says at the same time Bella says:

* “Wouldn’t it be kind of weird since I already ate.”

* Ah, so they’re not as in sync as you thought.

* You give your best “Golden Girl - You can totally trust me with your daughter” smile.

* “I’m actually not eating either,” you place a hand over your stomach like a human might. “The uh, Clam Linguine is still haunting me, so I’m sticking to broth and sprite.”

* Why did you say Clam? You don’t even eat meat, it’s how you’ve been getting away with eating so little at lunch.

* “not a lot of vegetarian choices” You say to your human friends who nod solemnly.

* Father and Daughter exchange another look likening telepathic communication and they both move to stand

* “I’m going to finish up some paperwork at the precinct, don’t stay out to late.” Charlie says, leaning down to kiss his daughter on the forehead

* You watch with warm eyes and a small smile twitching onto your lips

* Bella is so loved.

* You can’t believe she’s willing to break her dad’s heart just so she can be 19 forever.

* Which, as you are 19 forever, you can fairly say is overrated

* “Hey guys Bella’s joining us.”

* Your female friends offer her a polite smile, you see Angela gaze flick from the menu to Bella’s face. Silently calculating the worth of this opportunity

* Any intel on this new girl would be pretty valuable

* Same old Angela

* Mike sits up straight so fast that he actually knocks his silverware off the table.

* “H-hey Bella, Hi, w-what, what are you doing here?”

* “Eating.” Bella says it so bluntly that you can’t help but laugh.

* Mike flushes bright red and Jessica and Angela exchange a look before giggling.

* “I thought it would be cool if she came over since I didn’t get to talk to her much.” You take a seat next to Jessica and Bella follows by taking the last seat between you and Mike.

* You still catch whiffs of her scent her and there, especially when she’s sitting so close to you.

* But it’s not so bad, the peachy smell is making you a little lightheaded, but you can handle it.

* At least you’re not fantascizing about killing her and everyone in this room like a certain dork you know.

* “Do you guys want to do that promotion where we get the basket of fries for the table?” Jessica asks

* “I don’t like sharing fries with Mike he eats them all.” Angela mumbles

* Yeah you remember last time when after a football game the three of them actually sat down and divided the plate in three equal portions

* They even measured out each fry dividing up the extra long ones

* “Says the person who basically eats ketchup with a spoon.” Mike retorts and Angela scoffs

* “It’s America’s best condiment for a reason Mike.” Angela snaps back

* “I think we’re getting off track, I say Mike buys us all french fries to make up for all the times he hogged the joint basket” Jessica’s teasing but Mike takes it seriously

* “What so I’m a French fry monster now?”

* “Yes” Both Angela and Jessica respond in unison without looking up from their menu cards

* “What do you think Bella?” You’re surprised that Jessica’s the one asking. You get the feeling she’s not very happy about Mike’s crush on Bella.

* “I think Mike should buy everyone their own basket since he has such a bad history with sharing.”

* “You traitor!” Mike mocks hurt and you all laugh.

* You look at Bella through the corner of your eye, maybe it’s just the lighting but she looks pinker when she’s laughing.

* She looks happy as she starts contributing to the conversation.

* “I will say the pie here is really good, I wouldn’t share even if someone paid me to.”

* “Omg yes, the cheery icebox pie is out of this world” Jessica responds

* “I’m partial to chess pie” Mike pipes in and Angela laughs

* “You guys are crazy, the fruit custard they make is the best”

* You grin as your four new friends argue about the superior dessert, watching Bella laugh beside you.

* Welcome to team human Bella

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #edward and bella #bella swan x reader #Bella x reader #bella swan #Jessica Stanley x reader #mike newton #angela weber #midnight sun #superhero--imagines

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fa-headhoncho · 4 years ago

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Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 3

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt/Background: After turning yourself in to the government following the events of CA:TWS, they lock you up for the crimes you committed during your time at Hydra. Spending years there until Captain America got you on parole during the blip to help fight Thanos. Now, after doing community service acts and helping the broken society, when they give the new Captain America the shield, you’re thrown back into a life you didn’t want.

Word Count: 2058

Reader: Female

Warning: parole officers? canon level violence, john walker

Author’s Note: im being lazy and not writing rn but i have a stock pile of fics so get ready for shitty posts :p

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

=====

Once you get onto the plane, you don’t hold back your emotions. The fight was enough but how Walker talked to Sam and Bucky on the car ride over sent you over the edge. You had to admit, the kid had good intentions but there was something about him that was off.

You don’t even wait for his private jet to lift off before turning to him and pinning him against the nearest wall. Your forearm was laying across his chest while the other was hovering over the knife clipped onto your hip. His managers and friend stand up, rushing to try to pry you off of him but he raises a hand to stop them. “Who the hell do you think you fucking are, huh?”

“Captain America.” He simply responds, looking at down you with a cocky smile. You let out a scoff, the audacity of this man. “Look, I didn’t know that you knew them.”

“Yes, you did.” You exclaim while your forearm digs into his chest, “You read my parole reports, it shows where I spend my time and who I talk to, Bucky and Sam being the main two who I interact with. They’re my friends and you’re using me as a pawn. Steve wouldn’t have done that, Captain America wouldn’t have done that.”

“You talk about looking up to him but you’re nothing like him. You throw around ‘brother’ like it means nothing, you have no idea what those two have gone through with Steve. You hold the shield like it’s a toy and using it to get what you want.” Your voice is menacing low and you knew if you still had your parole officer that he would be scolding you for it.

“Captain America stood up for the little guys but you’re just using it as a title, abusing it to act like the hero you tried to be before. You’re a fucking joke.” You release him and walk away. The air in the room felt tense as you plop down on the chair closest to the exit, furthest away from his management team who didn’t know what just happened.

“If you think I’m going to stand by your side after how you just treated my friends, you’re dead fucking wrong.” You shake your head and lean forward in your seat.

He lets out a chuckle, taking a step towards you with his hands fisted by his side. “You’re going to help me if I say you are. I say the words and you’re locked back in the goddamn cell where you belong. Remember who brought you here in the first place.”

“Hey, John, calm down.” Hoskins finally buds in. Walker scoffs and shakes his head, following him to join the rest of their team.

You shift your eyes to the floor, knowing he’s right. The power the government is giving their new Captain is a desperate attempt to give hope to those after the Blip. It’s going straight to his head and you knew it was going to get worse in the long run.

The rest of the flight is awkward. The tension never settling even if Walker acts like nothing just happened. Hoskins was keeping a close eye on you like you were going to bounce back to your Hydra days and take out everyone on the plane. To be fair, you wanted to but you weren’t stupid and you didn’t want to give him another reason to send you back.

Once the plane touches down, you’re out the door. The group was barely out of the seats before they could see you disappear into the airport. Haling a cab and taking it back to the apartment they were renting for you, changing out of your gear and plopping down onto the bed.

The events of the day finally collapse down onto you. This situation was going to be a lot harder than you originally thought. Walker explained it as just one mission to see where the Flag Smashers were taking the stolen vaccines and you would be on your way. “Free at last” to use his words but now you were roped in for the long haul.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the look of betrayal on Bucky’s face either. He had confided in you about how he felt about the new Captain and how lost he felt. If Steve wasn’t right about Sam then what the hell was wrong with Bucky?

Before you realize it, tears were streaming down your cheeks. You knew it was too early to try to reach out to them so you decide to give them time. They were still processing their interactions with the new Captain and the new information about the Flag Smashers being super-soldiers.

If you were going to have to work with Walker, you were going to have to figure out a plan. Racking your brain for ideas, one comes to mind that would be risky. It would be worth it, though. Staring up at the ceiling, you start strategizing a way you could pull this off. You were one of Hydra’s best agents so hopefully, this would be easy. After going against your original thought and shooting Sam a quick text, you slowly drift off asleep.

=====

Your leg bounces under the table as you stare at the clock above the door. It was half-past seven and the breakfast rush was winding down. The diner was slowly emptying, leaving a hand full of tables with families and friends enjoying their meal. The waitress comes up to your booth, standing there until you notice her.

“Ready to order yet, hun’?” The nice older lady questions, breaking your gaze from the entrance to her. You shake your head no before turning back to the door. She gives you a sad smile before looking down at her watch, “It’s been almost twenty minutes, sweetie, are you sure your friends are still coming?”

You nod quickly, no matter what kind of circumstances the two soldiers would never stand you up. Their hearts were too kind for that. “I was just a bit early, I’m kind of nervous.” You shyly admit, sending her a smile.

“Well, I’m bringing you something to eat at least,” She commands, you open your mouth to reject but she cuts you off, “on the house.” She gives you a firm look before walking off to the back.

Right as she disappears into the kitchen, the bell of the diner dings. Your head snaps to it and you can’t help the large smile that appears on your face at the sight of the duo walking in. The two immediately see you since you placed yourself right near the door.

Sam sends you back a smile while Bucky just eyes you down. You were wearing a simple sweater and pants while they were in their usual civilian gear, a ballcap and jacket. You couldn’t help but ogle at how good Bucky looked in the blue Hently you two bought when he first came to Brooklyn.

They slip into the booth, their broad figures barely fitting on the small seat. Sam elbows Bucky as he tries to get comfortable but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morning.” You try to make conversation. “How was the rest of your day yesterday?”

“He got arrested.” Sam bluntly says making your jaw drop. “He missed his check-in with the shrink.”

“I told you not to tell her.” Bucky makes out through clenched teeth, he just shrugs in response. You go to scold him but he holds a steady hand out, “You can yell at me all you want later, what do you want? We don’t have much time.” Your heart drops with how aggressive he’s being towards you.

“I want to help you.” You announce, ignoring Bucky’s eye roll as he remembers who you’re working with. He goes to tell you off just like he told Walker but you start rambling before he could utter a word, “I know it’s not the ideal situation but Walker wants me on his team. If I could earn his trust and figure out what their plans are, I can report back to you two.”

“And how do we not know this is a setup?” Sam points out, leaning forward on the table as Bucky looks around the diner for any sign of said Captain America, “They could be listening right now, they still have you under lock and key.”

You gleam at the mention of that, realizing that you haven’t told them the good news. “Not anymore.” You extend your leg out from under the table for Bucky to see your naked ankle. “Walker pulled some strings to get me off my parole earlier.”

A look of realization comes across Sam’s face once he pieces everything together. He knew how mad you were about the new Captain America, how you helped him and Bucky against the Smashers instead of the other two, and how you didn’t know anything about Bucky getting arrested made sense.

“So, you made a deal with the devil.” Bucky snarkily questions, a look of disappointment on his face.

You let out a scoff at his words, “I did what I had to do, James. Not all of us were lucky enough to get pardoned.” You spit back, tired of how he was acting. “He tricked me, told me it was just one simple favor to repay him. Now, he wants me to be a part of his team to take down the Flag Smashers. Told me if I didn’t help that he would send me back to jail and it would reset everything I had accomplished in the last five years.”

Bucky’s eyes soften at your confession, hanging his head in embarrassment at his assumptions. The waitress comes up and sets the small plate of food down in front of you, giving an awkward smile to the boys before walking off.

You let out a sigh, feeling bad for yelling at him. He was being a dick but that didn’t mean you had to be one back to him. He was going through a lot and this was the last thing he needed.

Grabbing the fork, you stare down at the pancakes. “You don’t have to forgive me or anything but just understand where I’m coming from, please.”

They share a look as they silently communicate. Bucky narrows his eyes and Sam tilts his head at him. You look between them as you try to figure out what’s going on.

“I can’t read your mind, cyborg. Use your words.” Sam finally spits out then elbows him one more time, “Will you please scoot over? I’m suffocating over here!”

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes at his friend. He gets up out of the booth and slips in next to you, using his larger form to push you closer to the window. Your eyes widen in surprise as he slings his arm to rest behind your head. He then takes the extra fork and stabs it into your hashbrowns.

Sam lets out an awe as he watches the two of you eat from your plate, “Don’t you two look so cute.”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both demand at the same time. He raises his hands up in defense, leaning back in the booth with a smug smile on his face. The two of you easily fall into conversation, catching up on things and giggling at the little jokes he was making. Suddenly, after a few moments of silence as the two of you enjoy the meal, you remember what Sam mentioned earlier.

Bucky lets out a little yelp when you send a swift smack to the back of his head, making the hashbrowns he was about to eat fall off his fork. “What the hell was that for?”

“For getting arrested, are you kidding me, James? Do you know what could’ve happened to you? I swear to God, James Buchanan Barnes, you will be the death of me—“ You continue to scold while Sam lets out a booming laugh. Mad at him for being so careless, you poke and prod at his chest but stop when you notice the expression on his face. Your heart can’t handle the way he pulls out his puppy dog eyes and his pouted lip. “Oh, don’t pull that shit with me.”

_____

untitled tfawts fic: @crowleysqueenofhell @mischiefmanaged71 @thewinterrbucky @lizajane3 @ahahafudge @spookycereal-s @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kittengirl998 @ sebby-staan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu #the winter solider x reader #twatws #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fic #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #sebastian stan

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moondustis · 4 years ago

Text

on the way (m)

pairing: seo johnny + reader genre: angst, smut | word count: 10k summary: “There’s a few ways you could tell this story. The tale of how you met one Seo Johnny, and how it all went down. But maybe there's no better way to do it than from the beginning.” or A love story told in 5 acts.

a/n: hello! yes, finally a new fic and yes it is college!au with a hint of fwb. i have been writing this for around 4 months now and i haven’t read some parts in awhile so it’s probably all around the place. if something doesn’t make a lot of sense, well... it is what it is lol. but yeah, hope you guys enjoy it!

act 1: messy affairs

See, there’s a few ways you could tell this story. The tale of how you met one Seo Johnny, and how it all went down. But maybe there's no better way to do it than from the beginning.

It’s a friday night, just like any other that happens after a mixture of weekly stress and the weird need to let it all out. It’s common, routine even, how you apply your makeup, pick your best outfit and scroll mindlessly through tinder in wait for your friends to arrive for a pre-game. It's common but not that usual, at least not until recently.

Your last year of college had brought a lot of feelings that you didn't think you were ready to deal with yet. A nostalgia that arrived too soon, when you would catch yourself thinking that a moment shared with roommates would be the last one. An uncertainty of the future and a constant stress between writing a thesis that somehow is supposed to summarize the entirety of the knowledge you had gotten in the last year.

And lastly, the reason why you're doing this: the unwavering fear that your life is just about to start. The same feeling you got when college just started, of freedom and new beginnings. But now, instead of the excitement and thrill, it's replaced by anxiety and the heavy weight of adulthood about to start. That's why you look into the mirror, again, applying your lip gloss with the screen of your phone still illuminated by a picture of a person just waiting to be swiped left or right. You just need to have fun, like you never will again.

It's that a too harsh way to start this? Well, back to Seo Johnny.

It's a friday night and your friends arrive, flavored vodka in hand, the cheap kind that tastes like it's not alcoholic at all. A shot for each and then you are all laughing and joking to pass time.

"Why do we have to pre game? I'm sure there will be plenty to drink." Sarah, a blonde girl with friendly cheeks asks. She tips the shot on her hand back anyway, despite the question.

"Hell no I'm not going to drink frat booze again, they are cheap." Ela, tall and smart and majoring is Social Politics, says.

You hum and Sarah asks "And we are not?"

"No, we have our dear friend making us drinks." Ela gestures wildly at Nicole, the bartender of the night who's wearing a dress that only battles your own in the matters of shortness. "We are fancy."

"She's mixing vodka with sprite." These statements make you laugh loudly.

Tinder is just a distraction as you all sit on the couch, a good way to find an easy date for the night and when the he in question shows up, a black and white picture on the illuminated screen of your phone, it earns a shriek from your friends that go on and on about how hot he looks.

"You should swipe right." Ela says, eyebrows dancing but you don't see it because you're busy rolling your eyes at your phone. Johnny stares at you.

"He's my friend." You say as if it's obvious but it's really not. The word friend feels a little weird in your mouth but how else could you describe it? College was good for you in the social aspect, you have a lot of friends, people you talk to in class, or that you meet at parties because you ran in the same circles. It usually doesn't go deeper than that, than a blunt shared or a joke about a teacher, but that's friendship anyway you conclude.

And Johnny , well, he was someone you knew, not well, but sometimes he would text you a joke that made you laugh, ask for help with an assignment, talk to you about anything during a party. He was fun, a friend, and an acquaintance. Whatever, that didn't matter and honestly neither did the way you met, through a mutual friend at a kickback. It was that and nothing more.

"Please, he flirts with you every chance he gets." Ela rolls her eyes right back at you.

"He flirts with anyone, I think." You argue, because it's true. Johnny is one of those people that just have this aura to them, that can make anyone interested with just a few words. He's naturally flirty, that's something easy to point out.

"Well he's hot." That too.

"True." Nicole says and it earns a deep sigh from you.

Acting on impulse or peer pressure, you don't know exactly, but you swipe right and then nothing happens. So you shrug and throw your phone away to down another shot.

✿

When you get to the party, it's already absolutely trashed, with freshmen spilling their drinks on the floor as some annoying EDM song blasts loud enough that you’re not very sure the thin windows of this house can handle. Frat parties were always the same, mildly boring and filled with people that didn't know how to act. It often escaped you the reasons why you continued to attend them.

You and your friends dance a little, laughing when the songs change to one that is even worse than the first one. Ela, despite her words from earlier, finds a bottle of vodka and proclaims loudly that a night can never end badly when it starts with shots, a statement you strongly disagree with but you down it anyway when she offers it and then another one just for good measure. Because it’s a friday, you deserve a little fun, right? Right.

Too tired of dancing you had found a place on a couch that was probably too old. Johnny finds you there when the shots just start to hit and you feel bubbly, like you're on a cloud.

"Hey there." He says with a blinding smile and if you weren't out of it you'd probably find it weird that he came to you, because most of the time you talked at parties was because you somehow ended up bumping into each other.

"Hi." You reply, elongating the word more than necessary and it seems to amuse him.

"Why are you sitting here by yourself?" He asks.

"Don't feel like dancing anymore." You say shrugging. "And what are you doing here sitting with me?"

You watch as he laughs slowly and fishes for his phone in his pocket. "See, I wanted to show you something."

It’s endearing, really, even more when his hand starts to wander, fingers barely ghosting your skin as he keeps his gaze glued to your face.

He kisses you deeply, head tilted to the side as he holds you close with both hands on your cheeks and you can’t do anything but let him take control. Is when he sucks on your bottom lip that you have to let out the moan you had been holding, embarrassingly too soon and only urging him on even more as he licks at your lips, asking for entrance that you so gladly give, letting his tongue slide against yours slowly. The feeling of his hands moving to your leg makes your head spin and want for more.

He kisses the breath out of you, quite literally, and you both have to part to catch it back with silly smiles, gasps of air and pecks still being pressed on your lips.

In your drunken haze, you smile when he rests his palm on your naked thigh, squeezing just slightly to test your interest. And you’re crazy, absolutely out of your mind because you show it by parting your legs just a little, just to tease, the smile never leaving your face as he mimics it with a subtle raise of his eyebrow.

And god forgive you for being such a stupid horny girl that just falls gives in so easily, taking Johnny’s wandering hand in yours and dragging him to the closest place you can find, which happens to be someone's bedroom. How nice and polite of you.

There’s not much beating around the bush. He pushes you into the bed, hovering over you and finally kisses you again, with hunger, hands on your neck and tongue sliding against yours in movements that are not shy from being desperate. And you love it, enough to have your mind swimming with the need to have him touch you anywhere that will make you feel good.

When you grip at his hair a little too harshly, he lets out a moan that goes straight to the bubble of arousal on the pit of your stomach. He’s a sight, with puffy lips and hair a mess as he drops to his knees in front of you, something you weren’t exactly expecting but will definitely not complain about.

He looks up at you, hands moving to rest at your thighs and oh, so gently parting them so he can fit in between. “Can I?” You almost die at the voice he asks for your consent in.

You nod, head spinning a little when you move to help him get yours panties off, the offending cotton fabric being thrown somewhere inside this poor person's bedroom.

A couple of things happen afterwards. Johnny parts your legs further, placing a misplaced kiss on your inner thigh. Then he goes for it with a tentative lick, as if testing the waters and just slightly as if he’s a little unsure of himself. You blink slowly in expectation.

“How do you like it?” The question makes you confused until you realize that he’s teasing you, a grin splattered across his face when you groan and try to move your hips but he keeps a grip on your legs.

“Asshole.” You mutter in what sounds more like a whine.

Which is a complete lie, because you’re already shivering in your skin and he knows that by the raise of his eyebrow in defiance. But still, your words spark something and he finally goes for it.

The first press of his tongue flat against you has your hands moving to grip at the bed sheets. He works in a pace that clearly shows that he knows what he’s doing, swirling his tongue a little to tease and then licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit to gather the wetness there.

He kisses your cunt the exact same way he did your lips, messily and desperate with the squelchy noises filling the room and setting your cheeks in heat from embarrassment. You don’t even need the long fingers he adds, slowly and then matching the pace of his sucks.

It’s a very quick orgasm, in the sense that it doesn’t take you half the time you thought it would to happen. He does a little thing with his tongue, flicking your clit and you’re crying out with your body arching from the bed as he continues to eat you out as your body trembles.

“Was I good?” He asks afterwards, words muffled because he’s still pressed against your bare center. He’s grinning, you can see it as well as the wetness that drips on his chin.

You don't reply, instead you push him upwards and kiss him again, tasting yourself on his tongue. You can feel his erection press against your hip when he brings you closer and it makes you want more.

He breaks the kiss then, palm comes to rest on your cheek, thumb on the other side of your face as he keeps you looking at him. He likes being in control, you have realized that even in this short interaction, and you apparently liked giving it to him.

You shiver when he brushes his thumb on your lips, getting them to part for him. “There you go, open your mouth.” He whispers, eyes glued to it. “Be good."

Parting your lips, you lick at his thumb before you’re sucking it, earning a grunt from him that almost makes you smirk. You put on a show, trying to get him as worked up as you are, your eyes not leaving his face.

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” He mutters, pressing his thumb on your tongue and you moan a little over it. “You want my cock on your mouth?”

You nod, smiling as he removes his wet finger from your mouth. “Yes.” Your voice is breathless, eyes glassy as you stare at him.

That earns you a smile and you feel a little pride in your chest. “That’s a good girl.” He taps your face. “Get on your knees then, baby. If you want it so bad.”

You do, positioning yourself in the middle of his parted thighs when he sits down on the bed and your mouth almost waters from anticipation.

Lifting his shirt a bit, you start by pressing kisses to his navel and he lets out a deep breath. Reaching down to unbutton his pants, you help him pull them down alongside his boxers and the sight of him hard for you is what really makes your mouth water. He's big in a way that you're sure you won't be able to fit it all inside without putting in some work.

You tease him just a little bit, placing just the small kiss at the tip before licking it slowly. He’s far less patient then you are, hand immediately moving to grip your hair. “Put it in, baby, don’t be bad for me now.”

Parting your lips, you put him in your mouth, going as far as you can go, wrapping your hand on what you can’t reach. He moans lowly, curses falling from his lips.

He lets his head fall back when you swirl your tongue around, bobbing your head slowly the way he likes. “That’s it, baby. Takin’ me so well.” You hum around him, earning yourself another moan.

You try to get him as far as you can, swallowing when you reach your limit and he grips your hair tighter. You can feel him pulsing inside your mouth and it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

He comes on your face, painting your cheeks and making you gasp a little in shock. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He mumbles, quick to search for something to clean you up with.

"It 's okay." You say, throat feeling sore and you try not to think about how that was the first time that ever happened for too long. "I liked it."

That makes him give you a look, and then he's saying with a laugh "You'll be the death of me."

act 2: ungodly hour

Maybe the fact that nothing really changes should be a sign by itself.

Johnny still nods to you when you pass by him around campus, and still asks you to ‘help a guy out’ by sending him pictures of your notes like you guys are nothing but good almost-friends. Because, well, that’s what you are and that’s good enough for you.

His face stays there on your tinder matches, no acknowledgement of it beyond his stupid joke back at the party happens and the only reminder you have of that night is the insatiable thoughts that cross your mind in the middle of a boring lecture. Because why would you pay attention to whatever your teacher is saying when you could remind bit by bit of how Johnny fucked you on his tiny dorm room, while maintaining a resting face.

Weirdly those memories don't hit you the next time you see him, because you’re too busy thinking about strawberry milkshake.

The line behind you is not even that big, considering it’s 3am and most drunk college kids prefer to go to the burger king, but the cashier has an annoyed look on his face as your friend slowly reads the menu as if there’s plenty to choose from at a place like Mcdonalds. “Hmm, we’ll have two large fries, a coke and...”

“A strawberry milkshake!” You try to go for whispering but it comes out louder and the cashier just hums.

There's just something about being slightly shit faced at this hour and at this place, that makes it all seem like it's not actually happening. Like you are in a dream that only gets better when the server calls your number and you are sipping on the milkshake you kept on talking about since leaving the club you went on.

Funnily enough, if this was in fact in a dream, it wouldn't be the first time Johnny showed up on one of yours.

He's sitting in a booth by himself, scrolling at his phone. His hair is pushed back by a snapback and your mind twirls for a second with the thought that he looks too good for someone who's here in an hour like this.

Maybe it's the remnants of alcohol still buzzing on your system. Or maybe it is the fact that you seem to have been losing your self consciousness more and more these days. Whatever it is, it leads you to the stand in front of Johnny with a smile on your face and your hand freezing from holding the milkshake.

It doesn't take long for him to notice you, a smile that makes you feel warm inside ready on his lips as you take a place right across from him like it was meant for you all this time.

"Hey there." He says, voice playful and you wonder if he had a few drinks himself before coming here. He must have had. "What's up?"

You shrug, a smile painting your own lips. "Nothing much." You say and for some reason you feel silly, in a way that makes you want to scream a little from excitement. Like a teenage girl with a crush. "Strawberry milkshake. You want some?"

Johnny laughs a little when you offer him the cup with the slightly bitten straw. "No, thank you. But it looks good."

"It is." You smile with lips closed around it.

For a moment, but not an uncomfortable one, you two just stare at each other. The sweet taste of your drinks fills your mind and makes you feel a little less dizzier.

"Had fun night?"

"Hmm, not really. Sorority parties suck." He nods in agreement. Most parties sucked anyway, that's why everyone had to get so wasted to be able to enjoy it while the high lasted. You liked feeling pretty after getting ready more than the whole rest of it. "What were you up to?"

"Got to DJ at this party with Mark, it was nice." He says it like it was no big deal, like it was something he did every other day. You had never actually seen Johnny play before, but from the way his instagram page was filled with posts about it and links to soundcloud songs, anyone could figure out it was at least a bit important to him.

You found it weird, that you didn't know much about this or anything else about Johnny besides what he would let you know. And vice versa. But at the same time it's nice getting to know it bit by bit, without a rush.

"That's really cool." Your voice is a little more excited than you expected it to be. "I really wanna see you play someday."

"Sure." He smiles sideways. Bashfulness doesn't really suit him. "I'll let you know the next time."

You nod, then you share a look. Someone screams at their friend about something you don't really care about because you're too busy watching Johnny as he watches you finish your milkshake. Is it chemistry that people call this? Because there is nothing very appealing about the drink you're having, or about the white light at this place, but there's tension in the way you can't really look away.

He looks like he wants to laugh but is too scared to break whatever is happening. You finish your milkshake with one last swallow of artificial sweetener and lick your lips. He finally breaks.

"Stop looking at me like that." He says it in a way that suggests something that it's already as clear as water.

You bat your eyelashes. "Like what exactly?"

He laughs, sweet and deep, then raises one eyebrow in challenge. "Like you want me to fuck you in the middle of this mcdonalds."

The scandalousness of the statement makes you laugh too, your words sounding half joke half true between smiles. "Well, maybe I want to."

"You don't really strike me as the type." He says it like he's unsure of it, like in the back of his mind he could actually believe you would do something as shocking as that. Truth be told, you don't even know it yourself. There's not a lot you have done when it comes to this and sometimes you even think back to him coming on your face, like it is the wildest thing that has ever happened.

"I could be." He raises his eyebrow again, this time not as a challenge but as genuine curiosity. You would like to know whether that is true or false as well.

Deep down you know that there are not many things you wouldn't let a guy like Johnny do to you.

He laughs, then pauses for a second and taps his fingers on the table as if looking for something to say. "You should let me take you out someday." Is what he decides on.

For some reason you don't think much of that at the moment. "You gotta take someone out before fucking them in public place?" You continue the joke, earning a low laugh and a head shake.

"I'm being serious."

How serious can someone really be at 4am with some alcohol on their system. This time you are the one raising your eyebrows, in pure doubt. He doesn't seem like the type who dates girls they fucked at a party once, or the type who dates girls like you. But thinking about it you don't really know what type of person Johnny is. Or what kind of girl you really are.

You click your teeth before smiling. "We'll see about that."

act 2: la petit mort

It’s not a text you get but instead a facebook invitation. It makes you laugh because men are truly all the same. Liking an old instagram picture, reacting with an emoji to something you post on stories. Never a message being straightforward, it’s like they are all physically incapable of that. You wonder if it’s because of fearing rejection.

See, dating it's not really your thing, never has been and the proof can be found in your few failed attempts. It just made you nervous, constantly on edge because it always involved a lot of confusing moments, of not knowing where it's going or what the other person is thinking. People are usually bad at the most important thing when it comes to this, communication. And you hated to be either on the side of conflict or of creating expectations too early.

But Johnny, well, he has got you interested. In a way that’s dangerous because it doesn’t happen very often, at least not with someone who seems interested as well or even the slightest bit possible.

And danger is not your area of expertise, not as of lately, but still you click on the green button and when saturday comes you’re walking inside a very underground party outside of campus.

You know it's the right place because there's some people outside smoking and the door is slightly open. You walk inside the two floor flat, the small bottle of wine you had brought shaking a little in your bag while you pass some people.

There's music playing but the sound of conversations is louder than that. The scent filling the room is undeniably familiar and it makes you wonder if there's a least one sober person in the room at the moment. You had been to parties like this before, not nearly as loud as the ones that happened on campus and with a lot less people. An amount that by the end of the night will have shrunk and the ones left will gather around the very old looking couch, share one last blunt and say unnecessary deep things and profess their deep affections for each other.

They were fun parties.

You don't talk to anyone because no one really attempts to talk to you first. That's just how you worked, social interactions never came as easy as it seemed to other people. You usually waited for people to approach and if they were nice you would cling to them. Sometimes you even practiced smiling in the foggy mirror after you showered. You practiced saying an icebreaker, smiling fakely after it, but you never really put it in practice.

You see Johnny before he sees you, surrounded by two boys that look particularly close. He looks effortlessly good, like he always does, with a black sweatshirt and light blue jeans. It makes you want to go there and hold his hand, lean against his chest, feel him loom above you and then kiss him in front of everyone as if it was normal, as if it meant nothing. You got this feeling a lot.

When he sees you he smiles big and makes his way to you with long and quick steps that don't take longer than three blinks from you.

"I thought you were going to DJ tonight." You say when he reaches you holding a bottle of beer.

He shrugs, standing very close to you now. "Nah, this is not that kind of party."

His eyes stay glued to you and you fight the urge to fix your hair. You wonder if he thinks you look good on the dress you chose.

"Hmm, it's not the kind of party I thought I would ever see you on." You point out, looking around as someone screams asking for them to play some song by an artist you don't know.

"To be honest this is much more my scene." He explains and this small piece of information he gives you about what he's really like makes you feel giddy for some reason. "The only reason I go to frat parties is because of Jaehyun."

Jaehyun was a dude that played on the football team and looked too good for his own good. Him and Johnny were always together, like they would break if someone separated them. "So that's who you got this weird frat boy aura you got from."

He laughs loudly. "Sure. But what about you? What's your scene?"

You pretend to think for a while. "I don't really know. I like very specific things that I only know I'm actually enjoying at the moment." It's a pretentious reply that you hope he finds funny.

He seems amused by it. "So, a moment type of girl."

He takes a sip of his beer and you take that moment to get the bottle of wine out of your bag. He laughs at it, as if the thought of you carrying wine around is very funny to him.

"Sure." You take a sip of your own. "You seem very keen on figuring out what kind of girl I am."

You enhance your question by raising your eyebrows as he starts leading you to a small empty couch. "Well, you're mysterious so I got to work with what I get." He says while sitting down and you follow, laughing because the last thing you would consider yourself is mysterious in any way.

"Trust me, you would get a lot more information if you just asked."

He nods, doing a whole scene of thinking of something to ask. "Ok then, why psychology?"

You almost laugh at the question because does anyone actually know why they chose their major? "I guess I like that the mind is the only thing that can understand itself." You say it in a pompous way so he knows you are not really that serious about that. "What about you? Why did you choose business?"

He looks forwards and moves as if to get more comfortable on the couch. It makes him get closer to you and your legs touch. "I don't know. Money, status, easier to get a job later on."

That makes you snort. "I don't think right now getting a job is easy in any area." You pause to drink some and then say, "You don't seem like someone who cares about those things, anyway."

He laughs just a little. "My parents do."

By his voice you can tell he doesn't really want to talk about that. Not right now at least.

"Well, at least when you are a famous dj the gossip magazines will be able to mention that you got a business degree you never used."

He leans into you when he laughs.

✿

The rest of the party is fun. You meet some of Johnny's friends that are too high to keep an actual conversation but are fun enough that you have a good time.

Johnny makes you laugh a lot and by the time you finish your wine you feel more drunk in his presence than on the alcohol itself.

There’s just something about Johnny’s presence that makes your legs go a little weak and your heart beat just a little faster, like you have a silly crush. He’s just funny, in a way that comes natural to him, and he makes you feel special, seeming interested in the things you say in a way that has your heart swoon. And on top of all that, like he couldn’t get any more perfect, he’s a whole 6’0 of man, all broad shoulders and always looking down at you with cute smiles.

It doesn't take you two long to reach his dorm, or for you to get on his bed. And when it’s like this, with him hovering over you, thrusting into you in a pace that has you seeing stars, the effect he has on you becomes painfully obvious.

It’s kind of embarrassing, really, how having him on top of you makes you feel so small and safe. How him hitting so deep inside when he gives you a sharp movement of his hips turns your inside into jelly. And all you can do in return is look up at him with glossy eyes and parted lips.

“God, I dreamed of fucking you.” He knows what he’s doing. Even worse, knows how to get to you with just a few words. “Do you like it, baby?” He asks, voice hoarse and lips turning into a barely not there smirk.

“Huh?” Is what you can reply with because you’re way out of it to make sense of his words. It just makes his smirk grow wider, hands moving to grip at your thighs so he can get your legs to open wider.

When he fucks into you faster, his cock hitting the spot that has you absolutely and completely losing your mind, he tries again. “Do you like how — Fuck— How big I feel?” His words are barely a groan from being just affected as you are. He sounds cocky but in a way that makes your eyes cross.

And you nod, enthusiastically so, because you do. It makes you shy, saying it out loud, but he seems well aware how much you love having him inside of you, the feeling of being full, the only thing that swims around your mind.

“Hmm, can you feel me here?” This time the question is accompanied by his palm on your lower belly, where a hint of a bulge forms when he gives you a deep thrust.

“Y-Yes.” You practically wail, body tingling from being so close. “You feel so —- Ughnnn.”

His chuckle is a mix of laughter and a moan, his lips coming down on yours in a kiss that’s as messy as it is desperate. “Are you shy, hmm? C-Can’t even say you like my cock inside of you.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Ah. I like it. I like it so much.”

He groans deep in his chest, hips still working. “You’ll drive me crazy one day, know that?"

What he doesn’t say but you know it’s true, it’s that he likes it as much as you do.

✿

What it becomes, is something you don't know exactly how to describe. All you know is that you spend a lot of time in Johnny's dorm these days. So much that you decorated every detail from it, from the fancy music equipment to the posters on the wall.

He fucks you in every way possible and it's weird that someone could know exactly how to please you, how to get you screaming. And then the two of you talk for hours, something putting on something to watch on his notebook while sharing ice cream, other times just laying down in silence until you fall asleep.

It's something you're not quite sure to navigate. How easy it feels when you are with him, and how right it feels. You two navigate this uncertain thing very smoothly and the need to put a name to it, asking the 'what are we' question escapes you often.

Right now you two lay down on his small bed, bare legs touching and the thin sheet on top of you barely covers anything. It was a rare thing to feel this comfortable with someone.

He's talking about something his mother said to him on the phone, about drinking green tea and you just listen, enjoying the sound of his voice until he stops and looks down at you with a small smile.

"Every time I talk about my parents you get this look." He says and you make a weird face at him.

"No I don't." You defend yourself and he chuckles.

"You do." He accuses. "Are you analyzing my parental relationship?"

You scoff, turning around to face him better. "No. I'm just friendly, feeling sorrow because of the fact you didn't get to choose what to study."

He looks back at you, looking soft with the late afternoon peeking in from his half closed window. "It's fine, really. I can study engine sound later on, there's no expiration. Besides, they did so much for me this is the least I can do."

You fight the urge to point out that he doesn't really owe them anything. It was hard sometimes to make sense of the way other people navigated their parental relationships. So all you say is a small "Yeah…"

"What about your parents? What are they like?"

"I don't know. They are divorced, so I haven't really talked to my father in a while." You hope he doesn't see this as weird. Every time he talks about his family they seem so normal, that it makes you envy him a bit. You always think that if you talk about your parents, people will think you're somehow messed up because of it, so you always keep it short. Johnny doesn't seem to mind it. "My mom is cool, I guess. She's funny."

He hums "I would like to meet her someday." It sounds like a bold statement. Something that means something, but he says with an ease that makes the thought of it seem pleasant. You realize you would like that to happen as well.

"She would like you." Is what you say with as much ease as he did.

A comfortable silence feels the room then, with only the low sound of the fan turning filling your ears. You don't think about how the room smells like sex, or about how summer is approaching and you'll probably not be able to see each other for a while.

"Are you going home for the summer?" You decide to ask.

He turns to look at you again. "Yeah, what about you?"

"I'm gonna start my internship. Work on my thesis." You had talked about both these things before, how important they were for you and the mention of it makes him smile.

"That's really nice." He says and you give him a tiny smile.

You swallow a lump in your throat then, the 2 months you'll stay apart hitting you and you just let the words escape your mouth. "I'm gonna miss you. Really."

He says it back by kissing you, softly and then with meaning. It happens naturally after that, like there wasn't anything else that made more sense than being as close to each other as possible right now.

When he enters you, you look up at him in what you think is awe. Your eyes hazy, barely able to keep open and lips parting in yet another moan.

It’s a nice view, in your defense, of Johnny hovering over you, looking so big as he fucks you so well you’re sure your second orgasm of the night is already approaching. You’re not embarrassed to say that most of the times this happens you go a little dumb in the head, your mind swimming in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.

“Oh, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He’s always proud of being able to get you like this, to be the only one who does so.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Good?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you on the brink of your release. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally coming inside of the condom.

“You look so pretty like this.” He’ll say afterwards when he’s still inside of you, too lazy to move as you brush the hair out of his face.

And you’ll smile, in the way he seems to like so much, and say “You look pretty all the time�� just to get him to smile at you.

act 3: yellow light (hit the brakes)

The rain was predictable. It had been raining every other day the entire month, on your way to work early in the morning you always ended up stepping on a pool and ruining your entire day because of your wet socks.

Not a lot of the people you knew had a car, or would willing to go out of their way to give you a lift. Your finger had hovered on top of Johnny’s contact for a while, not out of confidence that he would help you because you knew he would. But you hadn't really talked since summer started. There were random interactions, like replying to one of his instagram stories commenting on how intelectual posting pictures at The Louvre made him look and him making a joke about it or sharing a trivia about french people.

Besides, bothering people made you uncomfortable, as if that somehow put you in debt and in a state of vulnerability with the person.

But Johnny doesn’t look like he’s going to hold a grudge against you over a lift. Instead, when you apologize for making him come all the way there, he says “I was in the area anyway.”

Which you doubt, but you don’t say anything so you just smile and thank him again.

It's somehow weird that you don't even expect him to mention what happened last term. You fight the urge to say it out loud, mention a small detail about the whole thing just for him to laugh and somehow confirm to you that it really happened. It scared you sometimes how things were so momentary, as if life was supposed to be just a collection of things you would remember about and feel sad about.

But it’s easy with Johnny, had been from the start. In a way that makes you think that some people are really meant to meet if only for a moment.

You had expected the casual friendship you had with the other friends you had met at college to fade slowly, which had happened. Without the bond of parties and fun there wasn’t much left there, and that was fine, you were never really lonely because you didn’t have a lot of time to be. Your mind was also set in a routine and state of tiredness that anything out of that seemed to set it in a frenzy and it would just shut down, making it hard to make conversation naturally.

Work was usually quiet, but sometimes the girl that was also accepted for the internship would try to strike conversation about her thesis and while she was talking your gaze would be focused forward while your mind went somewhere else. She never pointed that out, probably because she just wanted to talk and not really listen. You were fine with that.

But with Johnny the silence is not the kind that makes you wonder if you should say something. You think that if you were to get in a daze right now he would try to pull you out, ask what you were daydreaming about, or maybe that’s you building your other life, the one you think about before going to sleep.

You watch the window wipe, swiping away the raindrops as Johnny picks a song. It’s just a little past 6 but the clouds make it look much later.

“How is the internship going?” Johnny asks after he sets on a song you don’t really know.

You shrug. Not long ago you had told him how excited you were for this, as if you thought your life would start with this idealized career you had created in your mind. At the time having to watch people your age sign forms about how depressed they are didn’t seem that bad. “It’s fine, not that busy at night so I get to work on my thesis when they give me those shifts.”

That involves a lot of reading multiple times the same page of articles written by pretentious men that think using difficult sentences makes them smarter. You think your advisor expects the same from you, fancy nomenclature but the human mind is already complicated enough by itself.

“And how is that going?” Johnny has no idea what you’re writing about, no one actually does. Sometimes you even doubt yourself, does it really matter to talk about something that feels so specific to your reality? Because it does seem like everyone else is doing a good job at living and not feeling like they are disconnected from reality.

You scoff and shake your head missing the way his lips corners lift just a little. “The best way it can, I suppose.”

“Good enough.” He says in his cheerful voice. “When are you going to become that kind of person that can't stop talking about what they are studying?"

That makes you laugh a little. If there was something you were familiar with, it was people who loved to talk about their thesis as if they would come up with the solution to all of the world's problems. "I don't think that really suits me." Just mentioning it made you actually a little sick.

"Yeah, because you are mysterious and all."

And there it is. Just this small reference to a past conversation you had with him, alone in your small dorm room, makes you feel giddy. You could even blush if you thought hard enough about it.

"Exactly, a box of surprises." You say, in a funny voice and his laugh makes you smile.

Outside the rain is still going strong and you can see students running around trying to find shelter while laughing and using their backpacks as improvised umbrellas. The sky is completely dark now and it makes you want to be in bed, safe and sound.

You go to ask Johnny about his summer in France, but he beats you to it. He had always been better at conversations, anyway.

"I saw that friend of yours, Ela I think." He mentions casually. "She's dating a friend of mine."

You knew that because of the numerous pictures on your instagram feed, but for some reason you pretend to be mildly surprised "Oh really? I haven't really talked to her in awhile." A shrug. "We don't have much in common, turns out."

He hums sympathetically. "Yeah that makes sense. But they both seem happy."

"Yeah." The topic doesn't really interest you. You can't barely remember a time where your past friends' love lives had any affect on you, now it's just a piece of information you'll forget about in a few hours.

"What about you, seeing anyone at the moment?" The question makes you raise both your eyebrows as you let out a laugh that sounds suspicious. It's a weird thing for him to ask but at the same time not really.

You sigh and he looks at you with a funny face, as if he's amused. I don't think I have the energy for that. What about you?"

He shrugs, turning his face to the front again. "Not really."

Months ago you think you would have made a flirty commentary about that. Something along the lines of 'That's good, I get jealous easily.' and it would have made him laugh. But now you just hum, not out of interest but because you are not sure how you would react to the potential outcome.

It should've felt obvious that he would somehow mention your relationship. You always thought that when you two talked about it, it would be bringing up the months you would see each other every day, and how you spend more time at his place than at your own. But what he says is, "Remember when you refused me?"

He says it in a funny voice, like old friends reminiscing on the past. You get confused with the pace of the conversations and ask "What?"

"At McDonalds. I asked you out and you said 'We'll see about it.'" He says it laughing, which means he's not hurt by that.

"I didn't think you remembered that." You mutter, because you really didn't. "And please, I wasn't rejecting you."

The last part is a lie. At the time you didn't think he was serious about it. Now, you don't know exactly what you think.

"Right, right. When you put me down nicely."

That makes you roll your eyes, laughing alongside him. "Yeah, right."

When the laugh dies down you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. You feel a weird sensation in your chest.

"Why did you?" He asks, voice not much more serious but the question has weight that his past sentences didn't have.

You could tell him the truth, of what kind of person you thought he was and how that changed. You definitely couldn't open up about what kind of person you were. So you settle for this: "I don't know, I think.. I mean, I'm not sure we would have worked out back then."

He hums loudly, then clicks his tongue. "Yeah. I don't know either." His voice is soft then, mixing perfectly with the muted rain sound and the song still playing. "You can never know."

You turn your face to look at him. There's no way to do it without him noticing that you are staring, but you do it without a hint of shame.

If you thought about it hard enough, about everything that happened, you would still not be able to point out exactly what would have happened if something more serious took place. And that's a weird thing to think about, because there was never a point in your relationship where neither of you decided it was meant to be casual, that's just how it turned out to be.

Later at night you will think about how there's nothing really casual about the way you can perfectly picture Johnny when you close your eyes, laying on your bed shirtless, hair a mess and face illuminated by the sun peaking out your window. How there's nothing casual at all about the fact that it has never felt like it did with anyone else.

But now, you just look at him with your heart ready to burst and you say. " We should watch a movie together someday."

He laughs, looks at you for a second and says "Yeah, we should."

act 4: what’s going on?

You didn’t feel particularly fond of mondays. Having to let go of the leisureliness of the weekend behind and welcome another week ahead never felt like a good idea when your phone alarm would start ringing at 7am.

It's not that the weekend was much better than that. All you ever did was read books that made your head ache for hours and then write never ending paragraphs that you hoped would make sense for anyone besides yourself. It was easy to become some sort of alienated when you stayed focused inside your room for so long, and having to remember that there was a whole life outside was a little painful.

When you walk inside the clinic the sound of the coffee machine being turned on reaches your ears and you mutter a small good morning to the psychiatrist that usually took the morning shifts. She was tall and always looked put together with a blazer jacket and red lipstick. Her friendly face made you suspicious for some reason.

"Good weekend?" She asks as you place your things on the front desk and you spare a smile to make her think you are interested in talking about your weekend.

"Yeah, sure." You turn on the old computer they got for you to use. A blue screen greets your eyes, then it glitches for a second like it always does. "What about you?"

It might sound like you're not a very nice person if you say you don't really care how her weekend went. Or that you would wish the conversation would have stopped at the greeting. But you really don't. These days talking to people takes a lot of effort and most of the time you wish you'd be just swallowed by silence and left alone.

"It was great, thank you." She says while adding sugar to her coffee. You are sitting down now and she turns to look at you with a sympathetic face. "Listen, I have a free spot this morning, if you'd like to talk a little."

You blink slowly, taking a moment to process the words she said, but it really doesn't take a genius to understand she's offering you counseling. Most likely because she thinks you need it.

And you're not about to argue that you don't, because you more than anything else know that you do, but you feel like you're not ready for it yet. As if you have things to figure out first. "Oh, that's very nice of you to offer." You say, uncertain how exactly to handle this. "But I have some things to get done."

The lie is accepted easily but she still raises her eyebrow a little. Still, she says. "Alright, then. Just remember I'm one door away."

You thank her, smiling politely until she finally leaves to her office. The computer is still loading and you let out another deep sigh, considering drinking a cup of coffee but deciding against it to not trouble your anxiety any more.

What happens next couldn't possibly be predicted. You take your phone out of your bag and open instagram out of habit, to pass some time. Johnny's profile is still the first one that shows up on the stories board, probably from all the time you spent messaging each other in the past.

It had been a while since you two talked to each other, but you kept up with his whereabouts from looking at the pictures he posted with friends and of random things. More often than not you fought the urge to reply to them, as if you didn't really know each other anymore.

You don't expect to see him with a girl when you click on his photo. But there he is, with arms around her and a single heart. You tap on to the next one and it's a repost from someone else's instagram, of a picture of him and the girl kissing while laughing.

There's a few words you can use to describe how you feel. Your heart drops and you go cold, blinking very slowly as the pictures change to another person's stories and for a second it's like it didn't happen. Like it was just a trick of the eye.

Would it be silly to cry over this? You think it would so you take a deep breath and try to not think about it anymore.

✿

It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that you probably loved him. Or at least felt a deep kind of infatuation. Sometimes at night you lay in bed and wonder what exactly went wrong and you can't really find an answer to that. It just naturally happened.

Maybe you should have said something, maybe if you did things would've stayed the same. You wish that at the time you knew what to say but now it was a little too late.

You stare at your blank ceiling, your skin tingling where it touches you sheets. Looking at couples always made you feel weird, with jealousy maybe because you never thought that was something for you. Being in love has always been something that other people got to experience, and you got to watch it but never try it for yourself.

Maybe there was something wrong with how you worked, how you viewed this whole thing. You wish you knew what so you could fix it.

Sometimes when you close your eyes you imagine someone wrapping arms around you, with a familiar cologne that makes you feel at home. the person doesn’t complain when you hug them tighter, probably knows this is what you need.

You think of all the men you had dated, the ones who disappeared out of nowhere and the ones who treated you like shit because you allowed it. You didn't really know how it really had to work until you met Johnny.

It had never felt like that. Gentle and soft and easy.

How to separate true loneliness from the mere need to feel something, to have someone want you? That’s a trick question and you think about it until you fall asleep.

✿

For you last month in college, you don’t do much.

The internship ends with the old lady that was in charge of the clinic telling you what an amazing job you did, and how she knows for sure you will exceed in the area. She writes a beautiful recommendation letter, mentions a few professional names and then sends you away.

A week before its deadline you send out your finished thesis to your advisor, after spending half an hour staring at your email until you can press send. You got a reply two hours later with pleasantries and a date for your final presentation.

As you wait for it there's nothing a lot to do. Some days you walk around campus without a real destination in mind, stopping by the cafeteria and the library on your way. There's not many people around this time of the year, most have gone already and the ones that stayed spend time rehearsing for presentations or hanging out with friends.

You get texts from people you haven't talked to in months, wishing you good luck and inviting you to parties that you attend once or twice just to get one last taste of it.

It’s weird that you don’t feel the deep sense of realization you thought you would. You lay down on the small bed you slept on for two years, stare at the empty walls of your dorm now that you’ve put all your things away, and you feel almost normal. Sure there’s a little ball of emptiness and excitement on your stomach alongside pride for finishing this and for having grown up so much since freshman year. But besides that you just feel normal.

Maybe this is what being alive is, experiencing life changing moments and not feeling like they mean much. Maybe some moments are just meant to be remembered as special, and not lived as such.

Your presentation goes well, you don’t trip over your words and your teachers compliment your great work afterwards. You cry, in front of a bunch of people you don’t know, and let out a deep breath of relief.

Ten days later you graduate, wearing the usual attire and walking on stage with a smile on your face when your name is called. No one screams your name or cheers loudly because plane tickets were too expensive for your parents to attend. The claps from your classmates are still nice.

You don’t expect to see Johnny there, but he shows up wearing a suit that looks alien compared to the clothes he wears daily. He looks good, familiar and it makes a lump form on your throat.

You hadn’t really talked to each other in a while. It had been a natural thing to happen, for the two of you to fall a little apart. But still, when he waves at you, you make your way to him easily.

“Finally got your ticket out of this place, huh?” He jokes with a smile on his lips that you can’t help but mimic.

“Yeah, I’m finally free.” You joke back.

You inhale softly when he hugs you, so close that you can hear his heartbeat. He surrounds you with him and you think you would drown right now if he allowed you to. “Congratulations, ____.” He says quietly, almost whispering your name.

You’re both smiling when you part. “Soon it’ll be you.”

Before he can reply a familiar face makes her way to where you two are. Johnny circles her waist when she gets close enough and you fight as to not let your smile fall. He introduces her as his girlfriend, a biomedicine student that smiles big when she congratulates you on graduating and expresses how she can’t wait for her turn to come.

She’s very pretty is what you keep thinking about as you make small talk that feels a little painful.

After some time Johnny says “Well, we should leave you to go talk to your family. It was really nice to see you, ____.”

His words sound genuine and you smile when he hugs you again.

You don’t tell them there’s not really anyone you know for you to talk to. Instead, you walk to your dorm with your heels clicking on the asphalt.

act 5: old friend / late spring

Your feet hurt a little from standing too much and not even the coldness of the beer you’re having can make you ignore it.

The truth is that you really wanted to be home right now, eating leftovers while you watched a movie. But instead, you’re in the bar your colleagues always attended after work to share a laugh and complain about mundane things while enjoying the 2 for 1 deal they had on friday for happy hour.

Working in an office with people wearing suits hadn’t been what you had envisioned yourself doing two years after graduating. You had always dreamt of having your own clinic, becoming a therapist or even working at a hospital. But times were hard and the human relations department of a marketing company had been what you had to go for.

It’s not as boring as it sounds, and you get to know about every gossip firsthand so you settle for it very easily. But having to be at a bar after a whole tiring week was not on your favorites list.

You excuse yourself from the group when they start talking about something you were tired of hearing. A gossip about the boss sleeping with someone from the finance department that you knew about months ago.

You walk to the bar, cursing your heels until you finally sit on a stool, ordering another beer that you know is gonna be your last before you decide to escape. There’s loud conversation happening all around you and a song playing over it. Your back hurts a bit and you wonder when life has become so mundane.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the man that sits right next to you until he’s ordering a beer and the voice seems familiar.

Your heart jumps out of your chest when you look at him and Johnny stands there in all his glory, with blonde hair and a very fancy suit. “Oh my fucking god.” Is the only thing you manage to mumble.

For a second you think you might be dreaming, but when he turns and looks at you his face contorts in the most amusing expression of surprise.

Maybe this is what being alive is, experiencing life changing moments and not feeling like they mean much. Maybe some moments are just meant to be remembered as special, and not lived as such.

The two of you hug while laughing and he keeps muttering something that sounds like a ��no way.’

“I can’t believe this! What are you doing here?” You ask excitedly and he laughs.

“I’m working on a office a few blocks from here.” He explains. “Just started a few days ago.”

“I work around here too.” You exclaim and it’s like you could buzz from how excited you feel about this.

You talk about things easily, both sharing what you have been doing for the past years.

“This is crazy. I haven’t heard from you since college.” He says and it makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn’t last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Suddenly you’re hit with memories from those years and everything that happened between the two of you. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that he’s probably thinking the same thing as you are.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “Who would’ve thought we would reunite after those years in a sketchy bar.” You joke, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face before he replies. “I would have never guessed this was your kind of scene.”

The way he says it makes you snort. “It’s definitely not.”

“Yeah.” He nods while laughing, “Still a moment kind of girl then?”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you take a sip of your beer. “Seems to me like you still got me all figured out.”

“Do I? I used to think that I did but after all it happened I wasn’t so sure anymore.” He says avoiding your eyes a little and a lump forms on your throat. “To be honest I don’t really understand what happened.”

You nod, turning to face him. “I think it wasn’t the right time.” It’s what you decide to say and he hums.

“When is ever the right time for anything?” He asks and it makes you laugh loudly.

You share a look then, one that says more than you could ever do with words. He smiles and then you smile back, like old friends would. “Maybe we met again for a reason.”

Deep down, you know this is one of those moments happening. One that you’ll look back on the future and remember that it is where it all began. Again.

#johnny scenarios #JOHNNY SMUT #nct smut #nct scenarios #neowritingsnet #i honestly think this is bad lol #but well ENJOY

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smallstoriesiwrite · 3 years ago

Text

Second choice part 2

when the reader is use to Tenya putting them second all the time will the reader forgive him? or will she move on? better yet will she return home with long term childhood friends?

Tenya x Fem!reader

A/N: thank you so much for so much likes on my last story. yes I am adding the Marley warriors into this because a bitch adores them. this might be 4 or 5 part series. of who you choose to stay with ( im guessing Tenyas but im a hoe who loves to fuck shit up sooo you will see!!!)

NEWAYS love yo selfs and drink water <3

part one

[ 3 weeks passed by]

“Okay remember we have a 3 day weekend starting tomorrow Friday. If your going home tell me and I’ll check you out and please contact me if you have any questions. Stay safe. Class dismissed” Aizawa says

My classmates all burst into talk that bothers me completely.

God why are they so loud. I need to get out before I tell them to shut up.

Good thing I’m going Home to my family for this weekend.

I missed my parents and siblings.

Sighing I walked to Shoji

“Hey Sho ready to go?”

Shoji has been the only person talking to after the outburst that happen. He was the only one that understood the situation and was probably the only reason at times I was laughing.

“Hey y/n. Yeah I’m ready let’s head out” Shoji says while putting his hand in the lower of my back

I felt the eyes of my remaining classmates look at me and Shoji.

I looked back at them with a cold glare and said

“Got a fucking starring problem?”

“N-no” the class said in sync

I rolled my eyes and continued walking off.

“So you going home for the 3 day weekend Y/n?” Shoji said while walking toward his dorm

“Yeah I want to be home with my family and my siblings. Some down time you know?” I say

“That’s good! Not going to lie I do miss being out this school.” Shoji says while grabbing his keys to unlock his door

I see Tenya, Deku and Shoto walk by to Tenyas dorm that happens to be right next of Shojis dorm.

“Wait why don’t you come to my house this weekend!” I say

“What?! No no y/n that’s your time to be with your family I don’t want to intrude” Shoji says frantically and waving his arms.

“Sho you have meet my family before they would love you to come over” I say grabbing his keys and unlocking the door “And besides your the only person right now that doesn’t see me as a emotional shit down person. You and my family and outside school friends happen to be the only silver lining I have just now.”

Opening the door I motion Shoji in and walked in myself and shutting the door.

I put the keys on his desk and walked toward his bed and through myself on top of it

“What do you mean by your silver lining y/n? And please shut your eyes for a moment I’m changing” Shoji said

Grabbing his nearest blanket I threw the blanket over me

“Well Sho by silver lining I mean that you are kinda my sun in the middle of the hurricane. You didn’t judge me when I did my outburst. You went to go check on me hours after the incident because you knew I needed to cool down before lashing out. Hell you sit at lunch with me when your friends say not to. And you have been there for me for so much even before I dated Iida and during as well. So yes you are part of my silver lining as much as my family and friends that don’t come here to UA.” I say

I feel movement on the bed and arms wrap around me.

This took me by shock and I pull the blanket down to see Shoji almost in tears.

“SHO WHATS WRONG?! DID I UPSET-“ I say frantically pushing back a bit to cup his face

“I’m fine y/n. I’m just shocked that you would even consider me such a close friend to you.” Shoji says in his wobbly voice

“Sho. I know I don’t say it much but I do genially care about you. Like you mean the world to me. Hell my family considers you family.” I say while sitting in front of him

He smiles and attacks me with another hug

“SHOJIIIIII!!!!!” I wine out

We both turn into fits of giggles and he pulled me up

“Okay let me start packing so we can head out tonight.” Sho said walking to get his to go bag ready

I pulled my laptop out my backpack and FaceTimed my Mom to tell her Shoji is coming for the weekend

Tenya POV

It’s been 3 weeks and I can’t find the courage or strength to talk to y/n.

Have I really put her second ?!

I didn’t mean to shes everything to me.

God why am I not fighting for this!

In class I saw y/n wasn’t paying attention in class more in her little world. She does that a lot when she’s not in the mood to learn.

After Professor Aizawa dismissed us I saw Shoji and y/n walk out together. I stared because the fact Shoji had his hand on her lower back. I didn’t notice it at first until Shoto said

“Does Shoji have his hand on her lower back?!”

Our group of friends heard and turned to see y/n and Shoji walking out.

We stared for too long because the fact y/n gave us a deadly glare and walked away.

Sighing I picked up my book bag and left to my room with Midorya and Shoto.

While walking to my dorm midorya spoke up

“Hey have you tried talking to her. I know you miss her and you want to fix it.”

Sighing I respond

“No i haven’t. But I want to talk to her when she’s comfortable and not in a situation where she has to shut down and let herself be emotionally unavailable and let her thought and actions go by what her body feels at the time.”

“So a clear mind in a way. Like in the comfort of her own environment.” Shoto says

“EXACTLY!” I say

Walking to my room I see Y/n leaning on the wall and talking to Shoji.

Calmly and smoothly.

In the process of opening my door I see y/n smile a bit and I thought the world stop for just a moment.

Seeing we walk into his room so gracefully.

“Hey Iida are you there” I hear Shoto say

“AH yes yes Im here. Sorry!” I say opening the door to let the boys in

Settling down I hear Midorya say

“Iida you are still head over heels for her. Why did you ever put her second.”

Sighing sadly I sat on the floor with my head in my hands

“I don’t know. I love her. Everything she does and how she can be such a punk to everyone. But as soon as it comes to her family she softens up. The way she interacts with animals. Or when her favorite characters from her favorite anime come on the television. As well the way she is so honest with everyone and not caring what anyone says. To the way she dresses. To the way she plays the ukulele guitar and so much instruments and the way she sings so softly but with power in rock songs.”

Tears started to form in my eyes

“I didn’t notice she was hurting until 3 weeks ago. She finally broke. And as a boyfriend I should have never let her believe she wasn’t lovable. She’s so lovable. She has flaws like me. But every of her flaw is so beautiful in my eyes.”

Softly crying I hear Shoto say

“Win her back.”

Looking up i say

“How. How do I win back someone that doesn’t believe in second chances. That’s her biggest pet peeve. She has only given second chances to certain people. And even then it’s rare.”

“Show her that your worth one more chance.” Shoto says

“Your brother Iida might know a way. He’s dating y/n sister after all?” Midorya spoke up

“Yeah they have been dating for more than 4 years now. She’s been though thick and thin with him. I didn’t even know out siblings where dating till y/n sister Athena picked up y/n for a doctors appointment and I saw her. But definitely I will call my brother now!”

I say rushing to my laptop

Ringing my brother I waited for him to answer

“Hello?”

“Brother hi!”

“Hey Tenya what’s up?”

“Well I was hoping you can help me with something if you are not busy?”

“Shoot what’s up?”

“Well you know how me and y/n are not together anymore because of me not giving her time and putting her second-“

“So your finally admitting that you where putting her second when she came first. In love and time” Tensie said scolding me

Looking down with tears forming

“Yes I’d finally have to admit that I was putting her second.”

Looking up with tears rolling down I choked out

“Please I want her back”

Tensie sighed and explain the plan

[time skip to y/n house]

Y/n POV

Arriving home with Shoji I see my family waiting for us at the door.

Smiling I slung my bag over my shoulder and closed the taxi door.

Playing

I grab Shoji arm and raced to my front door

My Parents greeted us and told us to head to dinner with them

While eating dinner with retome and conversing i hear my mom say

“Y/n sweety just wanted to tell you that the Iida family will be spending the 3 day weekend with us. As well with Zeke and his friends are coming in to see you.”

I stared at my mom

“WHAT?!”

“Are you not happy?” Dad said

“I am for Zeke and the crew haven’t seen them in roughly a year. But why the Iida family.” I say mumbling the last part

“Well you so forget Tensie is my boyfriend and Kyo best friend?” Athena spoke up

“I’m fine with him coming I could care less but why the whole damn family like. It was supposed to be us family plus Shoji and Zeke and the crew.” I argued back

“They are friends as much as Zeke and the rest of your friends from Marley. They are going all to be here till Sunday afternoon understand? The house is big enough do you to ignore The Iidas if you want. Shoji will be by your side and us as well. Plus the moral support of your 7 other friends coming in to visit you.” My father States

I sighed and agreed and finish dinner and head to bed.

Dropping off Shoji at his guest bedroom that isn’t too far from my room he spoke up

“You will be fine y/n I understand you don’t want Iida around. But his brother happens to be in love with your sister and best friends with your brother. I’ll be here for you and your other friends I can’t die to meet. You have told me so much about the 7 that basically helped you train and become your friends as well.”

Sighing I leaned to the wall

“I know it’s just bad enough I see him at school and he doesn’t even try to reach out.”

Groaning i looked at Shoji

“I need to move on.”

Shoji looked shocked but didn’t say nothing

Chuckling I looked down and spoke

“Thank god Zeke and the gang are coming. I needed a break from my crazy life and they just happen to be peace but enough chaos. Your gonna love them Sho.”

Standings straight I continue

“Well Sho I atta go to bed. Tomorrow everyone arrives. I need sleep I’ll see you in the morning sweet dreams Sho. “

Shoji smiled and pats my head

“Sweet dreams as well y/n”

Smiling i walked to my room and closed my door when I heard my messages go off.

I pick it up and see from Zeke.

Zeke👑: Hey shorty we are on the train to you as we speak. Get there tomorrow around 8am I expect your famous banana pancakes.

Y/n✨: bold of you to assume I’ll be up at that time

Zeke👑: im going to tell Reiner you are mean to me 😢

Y/n✨: what is he gonna do about it?

Zeke👑: please make us food someone decided to blow most of our food money for tomorrow on blankets - Rei

Y/n✨: let me guess pieck ?

Zeke👑: yep. - Rei

Zeke👑: please? -Rei

Y/n✨: 😑fine just because you said please😫

Zeke👑: thank you see you tomorrow. Get some sleep - Rei

Y/n✨: yall too sleep well see you tomorrow

putting my phone to charge on my desk I see a picture of the gang from a year ago when I went to go visit them. smiling I looked at the picture and though "it wouldn't be so bad to move back with them."

( link to this photo. this art is not mine at all https://pin.it/7LfNDiJ )

#tenya iida angst #tenya iida x reader #mha tenya #part 2 #marley warriors #crossover

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

Text

Deja Vu (Ethan x MC)

Summary: While on their honeymoon, Ethan and Naomi come face to face with a blast from his past.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: Wow, how has it been almost 4 months since I’ve written for Ethan?? Insanity.

~v~

The Waldorf Astoria all the way in Amsterdam is the last place she ever thought she’d see Ethan Ramsey again. A five star hotel on a different continent should be an escape, but here he is, at the front desk talking to the receptionist without a care in the world.

It’s been 15 years, and not much has changed for him. Older obviously, his hair is graying along the temples, a few wrinkles settling in around his eyes, and he has a beard, a full beard. He looks...good. She’ll even admit to saying he looks great. Terribly so.

What are the odds that they’d both end up in the same place at the same time like this? After all this time passing by? She almost wants to say it’s fate trying to tell her something.

So she takes the plunge and greets him. “Ethan? Ethan Ramsey?”

The sound of his name being called grabs his attention, and he turns around. His eyes widen in shock, and she can see just how blue they are.

Ethan almost feels like he’s looking at a ghost. He hasn’t seen Victoria Sharpe since he was in medical school, not since he saw her with Tobias. And it’s been years since he’s given the moment so much as a passing thought. And now she’s here, in the flesh.

Her dark auburn hair is much shorter than he remembers. When they were younger, it flowed down to her waist, and now it doesn’t even pass her shoulders. She’s wearing glasses, the thick frames hiding her wide green eyes and most of her face, a face that had him entranced back in his twenties.

“Victoria Sharpe.”

Victoria smiles brightly and steps forward to hug Ethan, but his body goes rigid and he takes a step back as if her touch could burn him. She almost goes in for a handshake, but Ethan’s hands stay rooted at his side and he gives her a curt nod instead. She receives the message loud and clear that he doesn’t want to touch her.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Victoria says brightly. “How have you been? Last I heard, you were in Boston, right? Under the tutelage of Dr. Naveen Banerji, working on his special diagnostics team.”

“Yeah, I’m still at Edenbrook, er-Bloom Edenbrook, as it goes by these days. I started my residency there and never looked back. But Banerji doesn’t practice anymore, he’s now the chief of the hospital.”

“I spent my residency in Houston, and then I landed in San Francisco, where I’ve been for the past 7 years.”

It’s not information that Ethan was fishing for, nor does he truly care. Not wanting to be terribly rude, Ethan hums, acknowledging the fact that he heard her speak. He doesn’t want to be trapped in an awkward small talk situation with this woman, especially when he has nothing to say.

Victoria frowns. Ethan was always a tough nut to crack, even when they were dating, but there’s an uncomfortable distance between the two of them now, and she doesn’t know how to navigate it.

“Are you in Amsterdam for the AMA conference as well?” Victoria asks. Surely this is the best way to get him to talk: their shared love of medicine. “There’s supposed to be a meeting on hematology hosted by Dr. Arthur Saunders, and I remember how much you admired him back in our John Hopkins days.”

Ethan’s eyebrow raises in question. He didn’t even know there was supposed to be a conference in Amsterdam. He shakes his head. “No, I’m not here for any conference, I’m here with–”

“Okay, the concierge just gave me the rundown on all of the cool places we have to hit up while we’re here! There’s so many restaurants I want to try.”

Victoria watches as a woman excitedly wraps an arm around Ethan’s waist and hugs him close to her. Whatever cold front he was putting on a mere seconds ago dissipates as he smiles warmly, and drops a kiss onto her forehead.

“We’re only here for a week, darling, please pick the restaurants wisely.”

“Apparently, we have to go to some place called Foodhallen. It’s a one stop-shop for all sorts of goodies.”

“That sounds fun,” Ethan murmurs. “How about we go tonight?”

“I was thinking we should order room service tonight,” Ethan doesn’t miss the way her eyes twinkle as she speaks, “so we don’t have to leave the bedroom.”

“Mhmm, I like that line of thinking.”

It becomes apparent that Ethan has forgotten all about her, his attention now solely on the woman clinging to his side. Victoria clears her throat in an attempt to regain some of the attention. When the couple breaks apart, Victoria looks to Ethan, wondering if he’ll introduce her.

When he makes no effort to do so, the woman at his side thrusts her hand out. “Hi, I’m Naomi.”

Victoria grabs her hand, giving it a firm shake. “Victoria.”

She’s gorgeous, Victoria notices it instantly. Her huge brown eyes are deep and expressive, her long curly hair going past her shoulders. Even with bags under her eyes, the younger woman is a stunner.

“Naomi, this is Dr. Victoria Sharpe. We went to medical school together. Dr. Sharpe, this is my wife, Dr. Naomi Valentine.”

Victoria bristles at the introduction. Given their history, reducing her to any old classmate just seems wrong. They were together for almost two years, for goodness sake. They were attached at the hip, and while the relationship didn’t end well, there’s no need to trivialize who she was to him. But she doesn’t dwell on it for long, because she’s more interested in Naomi’s moniker. Out of all the things Naomi could’ve been introduced as, Ethan’s wife was not what Victoria expected to hear. He got married? But Ethan Ramsey isn’t the marrying type. “Your wife?”

The word sends a pleasant shiver up Ethan’s spine and he smiles warmly. Sure, it’s been a week since they exchanged vows and the newness hasn’t worn off yet, but Ethan still can’t believe it. Naomi is his wife, and he’s obsessed with saying it.

“Yes,” Ethan nods. “That’s what I was saying, we’re not here for a conference, we’re actually here for our honeymoon.”

Victoria’s stomach rolls upon hearing that, but she plasters on a smile, nonetheless. Her cheeks hurt and her shiny white teeth are probably blinding them, but Victoria powers through. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Ethan turns to Naomi, Victoria’s presence already fading from his mind. “While you were off making friends with the concierge, I got us checked into our room. Someone already took up our luggage for us. Are you ready?”

“Am I ready to dive onto a pile of down feathers and pass out for the next few hours? Absolutely.”

Ethan takes her hand, interlocking their fingers. “Then let’s go.”

He barely spares Victoria another glance before turning on his heel and walking away, but Naomi, always more gracious and poised than him, gives Victoria a warm parting smile. “It’s always nice to meet a fellow Hopkins alum. Enjoy your stay, Dr. Sharpe!”

“Thank you,” Victoria replies, even though she’s almost positive they didn’t hear. Ethan is whispering something into Naomi’s ear, and she’s giggling as they walk off.

It takes the newlyweds a few minutes to make it to their room—an 1,100 square-foot suite, because Ethan wasn’t going to subject his bride to anything less than the best—and true to her word, Naomi’s first line of business and falling face first onto their bed. It’s covered in red roses which all splay wildly around her, as she gives them no attention.

“I’m exhausted,” she says, the 10 hour flight getting the best of her. Ethan chuckles and grabs her foot, helping her out of her shoes. They fall onto the soft rug with a thud. “Why didn’t we pick somewhere closer for our honeymoon, like New York? The Hamptons would’ve been lovely this time of the year.”

“You said you wanted to add another stamp to your passport.”

“Well stop listening to me,” Naomi grumbles.

Ethan leans over his new wife and kisses the back of her head. “Famous last words, Valentine.”

Naomi rolls over in order to look Ethan in the eye. “So, the woman we met downstairs. That was the Victoria, right? The one you and Tobias were both after?”

Ethan’s eyes close and his head drops at the question. He knows whatever comes next won’t be all that enjoyable.”

He nods anyway. “That was Victoria, the one I thought I was in a relationship with until Tobias threw his hat in the ring. Then we did the back and forth thing for almost 6 months, before she chose to be with him.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi replies, a small frown playing on her lips. Sure it was a long time ago, but she hates hearing about anything that has caused Ethan pain.

Ge shrugs. He’s long let go of his anger over that situation and the subsequent fallout. “It’s whatever.”

“No, it’s not whatever,” Naomi argues. “She messed with you, and broke your heart.”

“I survived,” Ethan says. “I haven’t thought about that woman since I mentioned her in passing nearly three years ago, on Leland Bloom’s yacht. She didn’t ruin me for future relationships, I didn’t carry a torch for her, there’s no leftover baggage, no need for closure, nothing. If anything, I look back on that time of my like in annoyance. Annoyed at how I lost years of friendship with Tobias over a woman that neither of us ended up with, and annoyed with myself that I let her hold so much power over me.”

24 year old Ethan was head over heels for Victoria. He would’ve done any and everything for her. And like a siren leading him to certain death, she wielded that power over him—and Tobias—whenever she saw fit. It took him a long time to realize just how toxic and dysfunctional the love triangle really was, and it’s not something he’s particularly keen on rehashing.

“It’s hard to imagine you letting someone hold power over you.”

“You’ve had power over me since the beginning, Valentine. Mind, body, and soul. But the difference is I yield to you, with no hesitation.”

Naomi smiles. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he never fails to take her breath away. “Well lucky for you, I intend on using my superpowers for good.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Naomi grabs a handful of her husband’s shirt and pulls him towards her, though it doesn’t take much effort and he comes willingly. Warmth floods his chest, and just like that, all thoughts of Victoria Sharpe are banished from Ethan’s mind, as all he can focus on is Naomi, the smell of her jasmine perfume filling his nostrils and her lips against his.

“Are you sure you’re okay after seeing her?” Naomi asks after breaking the kiss, her hand gently raking through his beard.

“It was a surprise,” Ethan admits. His gaze slides over Naomi’s sparkling engagement ring. “But I’m in Amsterdam with the love of my life, celebrating my honeymoon, and she is nothing more than a memory. You have my full, undivided attention, now and forevermore.”

“Good. You know what we should d-do?” Her breath hitches as Ethan resumes kissing her, the juncture between her neck and shoulder his new target. His tongue slides over the warm skin, her pulse pounding erratically, and Naomi is sure she’s lost the ability to breathe.

“What?”

“Order a bottle of champagne and break in that super huge shower in the en-suite.”

Ethan is off of her in a flash, his hands never leaving her as he sweeps a giggling Naomi off of the bed and into his arms. “I knew I married you for a reason. You have excellent ideas.”

~v~

The next morning, Victoria spots Naomi in the hotel’s restaurant, sipping on a cup of coffee, reading a magazine. It’s a huge five star hotel, part of Victoria hoped she didn’t have to run into the newly minted Missus Ethan Ramsey for the rest of their duration here.

But the other part of Victoria couldn’t stop her morbid curiosity. Who the hell is Naomi Valentine? And what makes her so special?

She spent the night researching the younger woman. Naomi has private social media accounts, but that didn’t stop her from getting information that is public record. Her profile on the Bloom Edenbrook website says she’s from Washington D.C. and got her BS and MD both from John Hopkins. She found news articles and videos detailing an attempted murder that happened at the hospital a few years ago, involving Naomi, the former senator of Massachusetts, and a few other hospital staff. She poured over research articles written by Naomi and Ethan detailing septic shock, an ailment that nearly killed Dr. Naveen Banerji a few years ago.

Unable to stop herself, Victoria marches over to the table currently occupied by her fellow doctor. Sensing her presence, Naomi looks up, shock flitting across her features. Realizing she must look wild, Naomi smiles at her. “Good morning, Dr. Sharpe.”

“Victoria.”

“Good morning, Victoria.”

“Do you mind if I sit?” Victoria asks, gesturing to the empty seat at the table. Wordlessly, Naomi nods her head. “Thank you.”

Why on earth am I here? Victoria thinks to herself. In what universe is the acceptable or appropriate conduct?

“You’re up early,” Victoria says.

“I was too excited to sleep, despite the jet lag.”

Naomi doesn’t say anything further because there’s no need to. She was perfectly content by herself. If Victoria wants to say something, she’s going to have to open her mouth and do so, because Naomi feels no compelling reason to initiate small talk.

The silence stretches for a long time, with Victoria unable to start the conversation. As the painstaking time stretches on, the urge to get up and run away gets stronger and stronger.

Her eyes settle on Naomi’s engagement ring, an incredibly large princess cut diamond and a simple platinum band on top of it, and she’s reminded of why she’s here in the first place. She’s sitting in front of Ethan Ramsey’s wife.

“I’m sorry, this is just...surreal,” Victoria says.

“What?”

“The Ethan I know doesn’t agree with marriage, so to know that he’s on his honeymoon is weird.”

“I love him, he loves me. He said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, simple as that. The Ethan I know and the Ethan you knew are vastly different,” Naomi says, making the deliberate distinction. He’s changed a lot in the past 3 years, let alone the past 15.”

“I just can’t imagine it. Back in school, Ethan’s steadfastness was so intense, it was almost like he had tunnel vision. There was absolutely no room for him to see a grey area or compromise.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. It’s good to know that part of Ethan has endured. “He’s still like that sometimes. A lot of times. But I argue him down, and it’s been like that since the day we met. I don’t think he was used to it, but I force him to think outside the box. He grounds me when its time to color inside the lines again.”

“Good for you.”

They fall into silence again, though this stretch is a bit more comfortable than the last.

Naomi takes a sip of coffee before clearing her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“How did things end between you and Ethan?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s given you all of the gritty details.”

“He hasn’t, actually. I only know the bare minimum.”

Victoria’s face flushes, cheeks turning pink as she thinks back on her relationships with both Ethan and Tobias. “Ethan asked me out during our second year of medical school. He and I...we were good, when we were good. Dating him was fun, he had a confidence about him that choked a room, he was great in bed,” and now it’s Naomi’s turn to flush, and she tilts her head slightly, not knowing how to respond to that. Is she supposed to say something snarky? Laugh and agree? “I’m sorry, that was so inappropriate of me.”

“Apology accepted.”

“While what we had was fun, I was convinced that it was meant to be a fling, something that was going to fizzle out eventually. He never said it aloud, but I know Ethan was in much deeper than I, but we were at a standstill. Then Tobias told me he was interested. I should’ve shut him. And I should’ve told Ethan that our relationship had run its course, but I didn’t. They were at the top of their class, poised to be two of the greatest doctors of our generation, they were extremely gorgeous, and they wanted me.”

Victoria sighs heavily. “I was fully aware of what I was doing, but I didn’t care. You can’t imagine the power trip I was on. I had them wrapped around my pinky finger, if I said jump, they were already 5 feet in the air. I was a young woman in my 20s, I was having more fun than I knew how to handle. I played them like fiddles against each other because I knew I could. I would get away with it. And then Ethan issued an ultimatum, saying I had a decision to make, because he was tired of sharing me. I decided to pick Tobias. He was so charismatic, fun, and easygoing. I was able to justify things because like I said, I couldn’t continue having a real relationship with Ethan. He was vehemently against marriage, like, would go on. He didn’t want children. He wasn’t made for the life I wanted to carve out for the life I wanted to have.”’

Victoria’s nails dig into her palm as she tries to breathe. Had she misjudged the entire situation? If she stuck around and not pulled both men into a love triangle, could she be the one in Naomi’s shoes, wearing a ring the size of the moon on her finger, living happily ever after?

“I’m not particularly proud of my med school days,” Victoria continues. “It was selfish and callous, and I’m sure Ethan probably hates me.”

“He doesn’t,” Naomi insists, with a shake of her head. “So don’t go around holding onto any guilt. Just...learn from it and do your best.”

Victoria locks eyes with Naomi. She wants to dislike her, so much so. If Naomi is horrible, it’d soothe some of the ache in her chest, and she could continue on believing that what she did to Ethan didn’t matter. But she can’t. By all accounts, Naomi Valentine is…impressive. Smart as a whip, gorgeous, and highly accomplished for someone who’s only been a doctor for around 4 years. And the fact that she’s even giving Victoria the time of day proves that she’s a decent person.

“There you are!”

The hairs on Victoria’s neck stand up as she hears Ethan’s voice from behind. She sees him out of her peripheral as he glides to Naomi, either not noticing her presence at the table or choosing to ignore it.

“I needed caffeine,” Naomi replies, craning her neck to greet Ethan with a kiss. “And I decided to let you sleep in.”

“Thank you.”

Victoria averts her gaze. It feels like she’s intruding on a rather intimate moment, and she doesn’t want to interrupt.

When they break away is when Ethan finally spares a glance her way. His eyes go wide, and yeah, that’s confirmation enough that he didn’t notice her.

“Dr. Sharpe,” he exhales deeply through his nose. “I didn’t know you were here.” His eyes flicker over to Naomi and his hackles go up, defensive and ready to strike at any given moment.

Victoria notices it instantly, his protectiveness over Naomi. Her stomach twists uncomfortably. She couldn’t really blame him, their previous relationship ended on a sour note and didn’t inspire any trust within the man.

Before she can open her mouth to explain, Naomi jumps in. “We were just having some old fashioned girl chat,” she says smoothly, touching her husband’s hand, and he does relax a little bit at the contact.

“I’ve taken up too much of your time,” Victoria announces. She stands up. “Thank you for entertaining an old lady.”

“You’re not old, and it’s no problem,” Naomi shoots back. She stands up as well, finishing the rest of her coffee as she does so. “Enjoy the rest of your time here.”

“You as well.”

Victoria watches as Ethan pulls out his wallet. He tosses a few bills onto the table, paying for Naomi’s drink as well as a generous tip. “Are you ready to go?”

“Always.” Naomi slips her arm around Ethan. Come on handsome, we have some obnoxious tourist-y activities to do.”

Before they walk off, Naomi gives Victoria one more glance. Both women nod at each other, silently saying goodbye. Once they’re out of the restaurant, Ethan garners her attention. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. She just wanted to meet the amazing woman who managed to lock down the elusive commitment-phone known as Ethan Ramsey.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“Our story isn’t really her business, I said you’ve grown and we love each other, and we wanted to get married. And then she gave me her version of your relationship.” He doesn’t respond to that, but Naomi does hear him scoff slightly. “Do you want to know what she told me?”

“No.”

That’s a shock. If the roles were reversed, Naomi would covet every single detail. “No?”

“No.” Ethan stops walking and Naomi follows suit. He turns, looking her in the eye. “I meant what I said to you yesterday. I don’t need any sort of closure from that chapter of my life. You, Naomi Marie Ramsey, are the only woman in my life that I care about.”

Even though she hasn’t made any sort of effort to change her name, she still giggles at being called Ramsey. Surging forward, she captures his lips in a kiss. It doesn’t take Ethan long to respond, his hand traveling to the small of her back, holding her close.

Too soon for her liking, Ethan breaks apart from her, resting his forehead on hers. “You know, if you want to actually explore anything other than the four walls of our suite, I suggest we put this on pause. You wanted to do some exploring, last I heard.”

“You’re right,” Naomi relents, pecking him on the lips once more for good measure. “Now let’s go shopping, Dr. Ramsey. I didn’t marry rich for nothing.”

~v~

Tags: @mercury84choices @mvalentine @sizzlingcashherohumanoid @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @brycesgirl @akshara16 @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

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whumpersdump · 3 years ago

Text

Project Rebirth - CH4: Final Touches

Content! From Whumper’s POV. (They’ll get a title soon btw, I just haven’t decided on a name yet).

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: (None of these are graphic) Restraints / blink-and-you-miss it use of “it” as a pronoun / dehuminization / non-con surgery (non-graphic, whumpee isn’t awake) / lab whump / pet whump / sedation / sensory deprivation (not from Whumpee’s POV) / brain-fiddling? (he talks of an implant that restricts basically everything from speaking to moving. It’s mentioned, not shown)

Everything is set for the first practical stage of Project Rebirth to begin. All that is need is some final surgical attention, and a last talk to Whumper’s new investors. Also no editing we die like Toby’s previous owner...

Whumper sat next to Subject One, like he had every moment of spare time in the past five days. The last two, they barely twitched a muscle. Of course this was in part because of the starvation, but it was nice to have achieved nonetheless. Even if would wear of. Their body may be still, but the occasional twitch, hitch of a breath, told him their mind was racing.

He already picked out a name for them. Their masterpiece, even if it would take nine months before he would see their frantic eyes again. Everything was prepared. Their nursery—which was a rather misleading name, but it fit the process, and the marketing—was almost done, the housing facility would be complete in three months.

Subject One was the only one who really needed to be in the container for the sake of the time that it would give Whumper, but the aspect fit the aesthetic his investors expected. It would be what kept the program running for decades to come.

Subject One shuddered. They’d gotten the message. He’d chosen one of his newly acquired sponsors to deliver it through the earpieces. Not because it needed to be. He could just as easily move, then sedate the subject. Make the chaos in their mind spike just before they’d awake in ominous calm. Comforting calm, though it would take a while for the subject to feel about in that way. They had nine months, it would be enough.

The sponsors needed to feel special anyway. Some of them could make perfect pets, the way they seemed to crave special attention. He could try it someday. With this Project, even they could be reborn.

He nodded at Toby. “Bring them to the surgeon. It’s time for stage 3.”

Toby exited the corner he’d been standing in for the past day. It was a test, to see how obedient he really was. So far, Whumper had been pleased. Sure, seeing pets shiver at the thought of accidentally moving a muscle without permission could be rewarding, but it didn’t bring the type of productivity he needed. Toby’s compliant personality, in combination with Whumper’s training, did.

Toby reached for the subject’s shoulder like he always did.

“Not anymore, Toby,” Whumper commanded. “No more touching of any kind. You can move them, tube and all.”

Toby obeyed. With precision, he took the hand truck out of place and rolled it over to the doors that opened to the medical wing. Subject One would feel this, but it wasn’t enough to skew the results. If anything, it could amplify the result he was looking for.

He followed behind Toby, but entered the door to the watching room instead of the OR like Toby did. That’s where his funding was waiting. He hated having to care about it, but money was simply necessary for him to scale up the Project. “Thank you for coming back,” he told the seven investors waiting for him. “As I’ve said before, most of the program is completely tailored to your pet and the pet you wish they become. That means, no program looks or feels the same. This part though, they all have in common.”

He guided their gazes down to the OR—where the surgeon had sedated the subject—and begun the procedure. Toby watched from his corner, as Whumper had told him to. This would be the only time he was allowed this close to a subject before Rebirth, so Whumper made sure he knew as much as possible. The pet didn’t lie. He used to, but his previous owner trained it out of him.

If he were to fulfill any purpose at all in the future, he would have to learn to. Knowing about the stages before meeting the Reborn subjects was a good way to teach them. After all, he’d be the one to truly push the subject’s minds over the edge.

The investors patiently waited for Whumper to explain what was happening. “The implant all subjects receive is what makes this project so realistic. Like a newborn child, they have to learn everything. Eating, speaking, resisting, if you want them to. All in an effort to recreate them into the pet they were always meant to be. Now of course, some of them have skills we do want them to keep. Take Toby down there, he’s a master on the piano. For each pet, the implant’s functions can be customized.”

One of the investors raised her hand. “What are your plans for this one then?” she asked. “Does it have anything worth keeping?”

Whumper smiled. “In a less dire situation, we might have chosen to keep certain parts of them, but as you’ve noticed this is not the average pet we’re talking about. They will be reborn a blank slate. The only thing any pets are allowed to keep is their understanding of language—so they can obey commands, and their ability form minimal amounts of coherent thought and memory. We’ve found that this process works best if to some extent, the pets are aware of the changes. A risk, I know, especially with this one, but it will prove efficient.”

He straightened his tie. “This one in particular has quite the mouth, and they tend to use a bit too much of what they hear against their trainers. For that reason, we’ve limited their access to their vocabulary a bit more than usual. They’ll be able to understand simple sentences, but we won’t have to worry about their natural perceptiveness.”

“What’s he doing to their eyes?” a second investor asked.

Whumper’s heart fluttered. He’d hoped they’d ask. “Those, are highly sophisticated remote-controlled lenses.” They weren’t necessary, they function was mostly aesthetical from the subject’s perspective. They helped make it all a bit more realistic on both sides, though.

“They don’t have to be removed, ever. Which is why we’re putting them in so early. They control the subject’s ability to see color, and light. Like them implant, we can control them from behind the scenes. They aren’t vital, but they smooth out the transition from the Rebirth into the following stages of the program.”

He glanced down into the OR, where the surgeon was finishing up, and the other staff had begun to prepare the subject for stage 4’s container. “I’m afraid that I can’t show you anymore at this point, so my staff can take on this challenge with as little distraction as possible. However I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Several hands shot up. Whumper smiled.

“What are they doing?” Was the first question.

Whumper gazed down. Four people were removing the restraints and the jacket, and outfitted the subject in the thin white suit that would help keep them healthy and alive throughout the following stage.

They connected the dozens of tubes and wires that would take care of everything they couldn’t handle from outside the container, as he called it. “I’m afraid this is another one of those trade secrets, but what I can tell you is that in spite of how it looks, this will make the pre-Birth stage as realistic as it can be.”

“What about these nurseries that your people kept going on about. I’m sure they’re important, but it all sounds a bit too… human for my taste. I prefer my pets are used to the necessary restraints and housing conditions, so to speak.”

Whumper nodded. He wasn’t surprised to hear this investor thought his standard approach too kind. She’d demanded her pets were kept muzzled and bound at the facility’s daycare, even though they were among the most compliant creatures he’d ever seen.

“As I said,” he answered. “Everything can be customized. This subject I believe, will gain more from approach that teaches them that as a placeable pet, they will be cared for as long they don’t resist. Should you trust us with your pets though, if we decide after the evaluation that another approach may achieve the desired results more efficiently, we’re prepared. We have nurseries of all kinds, and our staff is prepared to fulfill any role they need to play.”

That seemed to please them. Whumper turned to the last question.

“How long does this program take?”

“We have multiple options. The standard program Subject One will go through can take up to sixteen years starting at the Rebirth, with a minimum time of three years. Now of course, that is a long time for a pet to be away. We have two accelerated programs that last either a few months, or even just a few weeks. You’re free to choose, but after the evaluation we will provide you with a suggestion. Not all pets need the full experience. Especially if they’re not old enough to be placed, a longer program can harm the natural development.”

A frown formed on a few faces.

“I can see you’re worried about the results I’ve promised you. You won’t have to wait long. The program may be an intense procedure, but the results will start to show after just a few weeks. The rest of the Project is about making them last, so these—” He dangled the subject’s bright red collar in front of them— “will soon be no more than a reminder of what I’ve solved.”

Whumper clasped his hands. The subject was moved out of the OR, into the container hall. “I must go now. My assistant will be up shortly to escort you out. I should mention Toby’s not allowed to be too talkative around strangers, but he’s still learning. If he breaks any rules, please contact me. He doesn’t respond well to strangers punishing him, he’s a bit too loyal for that.”

Taglist (asks are open if you wanna be added or removed): @suspicious-whumping-egg

#whump #pet whump #non-con surgery tw #lab whump #Project Rebirth #Toby is next up #After that the 'creepy whumper' aspect is really going to start rolling #Also I should mention that 'pets' aren't just used as pets in this universe #Toby for example is a genuine lab assistant. Whumper doesn't care about pet beds and the like #There is a power dynamic and he longs to keep it in place. Period.#Doesn't mean he won't play the part though

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rosesxnish · 3 years ago

Text

I could have but I didnt- Pt.5

Pairing: Bucky x Reader; Loki x Reader

Summary: You have always had these powers but you never realized how, until one day you finally do and it changes everything in your life, your friends, your love, no one trusts you anymore, except one person who you never thought would be your only remaining friend, even in your nightmares.

A/N: You ever start writing something and you know how it’s gunna go but there’s this 2-3 parts that need to be there but you haven’t planned them, yea, this is one of them. Also, someone told me that Tumblr is easier to use on a pc so I thought I should give it a try. I just wanted everyone to know that English is not my first language but I’m trying. I’d really appreciate it if you dropped a reply down there when you finish reading it.

---

“Strange? No he’s not coming anywhere near my house.” Tony howls.

“Y/N, just say it, whatever it is, and we’ll talk to Thor soon enough, we’ll tell him if you don’t want to,” Steve shrugged.

“It’s alright y/n, we got you,” you finally hear that one voice that mattered the most.

You want to let everything out but you keep thinking about it, over and over again, Should you wait for Thor?, Should you talk to Strange?

You move to a chair that is placed right beside the coffee table and you just know you have to say it now, no matter how weak you appear in front of these people you barely know, you have to, so you speak up.

“Strange taught me a few tricks that he learnt from the Ancient One and he told me that his power was focused on, well, he needed something that made him draw his powers, but me, I was born with powers so I didn’t need to use an object to draw them,” you say as your brain just processes how complicated that would have sounded to everyone else.

“Where does that bring us?,” Nat says.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you raise an eyebrow, moving your face in her direction.

You stand up and start pacing in the room.

“So he can control his power but in my case, if I grow weak, my powers can control me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Wanda speaks for the first time.

“I know, now whenever I use too much of my powers and grow week, a spirit, which according to Stephen, is an Asgardian spirit, takes over my body, and it wants something on Midgard, it was sent for a purpose unknown, and that brings me back to the point, I NEED TO TALK TO THOR!” you state.

“Wait what? This makes absolutely no sense,” Tony says, moving around to find a seat.

Everyone starts talking to each other and then Bruce, who isn’t really the talking type, walks up to you, “Y/n you sure that’s all you wanna say?”

“There’s gotta be more, what really happened, not that it’s not already terrifying for you but you gotta tell us everything,” Bucky holds your hand.

“Okay!” you breathe, “When I moved to Dr. Strange’s place, he taught me about how his powers worked and then he taught me about how Wanda’s powers worked because he wanted to see if mine worked the same way but he was right, mine were different, different than anything he had studied. My power isn’t just making people feel, I can do a lot more than that, that is what they would probably be teaching a 4 year old there on Asgard.”

“So you are a witch? But how? Asgardians live too long, and there life and age everything works differently,” said Steve.

“Boom! Exactly, I am not Asgardian, that spirit inside me is, but what I don’t understand is that how do I possess the powers of a spirit that only shows up when I am weak. So Stephen has this crazy theory, that it probably summoned it’s powers inside me.”

“What is this? Harry potter?,” Tony squeaks

“That’s what I said. Apparently, a witch can pass on it’s powers, to, her kids. The only thing that doesn’t fit is,” you say, as you are on the verge of breaking down, “that would mean I’m either adopted, or my mom is not my real mom.”

You were able to keep it all together this whole time, you were doing amazing, it was all great, but this, you couldn’t have possibly said this with a straight face. You are now shaking and you can see the shock on everyone’s face. It’s not everyday you tell a bunch of people that you are in your 20s and you think you might be adopted. You feel like the ground beneath your feet’s moving, its’s not the first time but no one can ever get used to a feeling like this. Luckily for you, Bucky catches you as soon as he notices you are trembling.

“I got you, you have me, we’ll figure this out,” he says.

“I wanna say more,” everyone's eyes” move towards you as you say that.

“You sure?” Bucky asks and you just nod in response.

He places you down on a couch and sits right beside you, his human arm, rubbing your shoulders.

“So Stephen asked me to cast a spell and I couldn’t do it, it was too complicated. It took me days to finally get it, and when it happened, I was gone,” you pause again, “Then we started reading everything we had on the witches of nine realms, and there was a lot but still not good enough, once we finished it all, things got more confusing, that’s when we made the conclusion that I..”, your voice breaks again, “well I haven’t talked to my parents about it yet. they didn’t even know where I was. My dad’s been calling me and I don’t know how to talk to him.”

“What happened this time? When she? The spirit?,” Wanda looks at you.

“When my father was constantly calling and texting me, I had to do something and I didn’t want to talk to him.”

“What did you do y/n?,” Bucky asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“I tried a spell, so that I can remember things that I saw as a child, but I couldn't complete it, I was too weak.”

“I would never do anything to him, I’d rather die than even thinking about it,” you look at Bucky and hide in his neck.

“So we aren’t sure about anything? It’s all assumptions,” Tony inquired.

“Not really, no. But what we do know is that I can’t manage to be vulnerable or weak, I don’t know how I have managed it all those years but now whoever it is has access to me, easier than ever.”

“Would you guys mind if I go up for a bit?” you ask.

“Not at all”, you hear the words when you are already out of the kitchen, Bucky’s hands, giving you support.

---

It’s been almost 3 hours since you came in the room, you have no idea what is happening downstairs right now. Bucky wanted to stay but you asked him to leave and get some rest himself. You need alone time right now, you need time to think because your mind is all over the place right now.

You watch the sunset from the window, it’s beautiful and you think about home, everything back in New Orleans, your family, all those amazing memories, Was that all a lie? Or did they actually love you? But why did they never tell you then? Why not tell you when you had every right to know?

“She sings”, Bucky smiles as he enters the room with a glass of juice.

You start humming that one song your mom always loved, “Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, Sunshine almost always makes me high...”

“Sometimes,” you sing the word which makes Bucky chuckle.

“So what’s the plan?” Bucky sits on the corner of your bed.

“Do I make you vulnerable too?” he asks, shifting his gaze towards the door.

You get off the bed, walk to the door and close it.

“I didn’t say everything.”

“What do you mean?” he raises his eyebrows.

“When I’m weak, me and that spirit have to share one mind space, she’s in my head and so am I.”

“But that’s not-”

“Possible, I know, so if we both keep living in there, my mind space will shatter, into pieces.”

“Jesus y/n, why didn’t you tell that to everyone?”

“Because I don’t want to. I know how to end her. I have to defeat her in my mind, not by thinking of defeating her, actually kill her in there.”

“Is that even possible?,” Bucky looks at you with worried eyes.

“I’ve seen a lot that was never supposed to be possible, I don’t think there’s something impossible anymore.”

“We should talk about this-”

You know exactly what he’s going to say, so you cut him off.

“Are you with me? That’s all I wanna know?”

“Of course I am. Tell me how does it work.” he basically bashes his fist on the nightstand.

“I can’t actually do it until, I invite her back.”

“I didn’t say I’ll help you with this stupidity.”

Bucky stands up.

“No you won’t, you need to train me.”

“What do you mean?”, he walks back towards your bed.

“My strength in my head is exactly the same as my strength in real life, only different part, neither me not the witch can use our powers there, it’s a hand to hand, and I need to end her, and YOU, you will train me.”

“We are gonna do this, then.” Bucky kisses your forehead.

“Hell yeah we are.”

---

Bucky suggests that it would be a good idea to have someone from the team in on your plan and you agree. So within the next week, you have two trained assassins teaching you all the tricks they have learnt through the years. While the whole team doesn’t know about your plan, they really support you with the training because according to them you are training to be a part of the greatest team of all time, the Avengers.

As of now, you have no intention to fight whatever’s in your head because as long as you stay in the limit of your powers, it can’t take over you but one day you might have to, and that is the day you are preparing for.

• • •

Previous ♡ Next

So this is where the story actually begins, I’d suggest you all to sit tight for the next parts! I’m gonna make a masterlist and I’ll include a story playlist in it and I’ll update it with every chapter. Share the series with people who you think might like it. feedback is appreciated...

Let me know if you wanna be in the taglist, don’t really have one yet!

Taglist: (:/)

@vicmc624 @that-one-girl-that-simps

@igotswayed

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airis-paris14 · 4 years ago

Text

Wonder What She Thinks 4

Summary: She learns to put herself first and he loses the best thing he ever had.

Masterlist || 4 || 5

I’m not the jealous type, I like the other guys, I wish you all the best, I’ll help you pick her dress… I’m actually happy for you. - “Wonder What she Thinks of Me” Chloe x Halle

“I can’t believe y’all are making me do this,” Zoe huffed as she dipped all three tests in the cup by the sink. “Girl please,” Sylia dismissed, “you’re lucky you got a roommate who’s an OB. I can spot a pregnant lady from a mile away.”

“And if you’re not pregnant, at least you know you aren’t,” Kenois shrugged from her position on the closed toilet. “And what if I am?” Zoe frowned, setting the tops back on each of the clear blue tests. “What do you wanna do? You wanna terminate? Give up for adoption? Keep?”

“I wanna keep it. I can financially support a baby and I’m already kind of attached to the idea of having a little me running around. I just don’t know how the father is gonna take it,” the young nurse admitted. “Who is the baby daddy?” Kenois prodded. “Is it that dude you had the one-night stand with?”

“That’s the only timeline that fits.” Zoe tapped her fingers on the counter behind her. “Well, at least it isn’t T’Challa’s. With his engagement he-“ Sylvia trailed off noticing the change in her friend's face. “Unless the one-night stand was T’Challa.” She raised an eyebrow and Zoe dropped her face into her hands.

“Zoe,” Kenois groaned.

“I know. I know. I regretted it as soon as it happened,“ She moaned. “Not that! How come you didn’t tell us!”

“You said you hadn’t heard from him in months,” Sylia frowned. “I haven’t. We had a drunken conversation when I spotted him out, I cussed him out for ghosting, he made the usual promises, and we had sex. I left before he even woke up the next morning,” Zoe shrugged. “And now you’re having an engaged man’s baby,” Kenois added.

“We don’t know that she’s pregnant yet,” Sylvia pushed back. “I thought you could spot a pregnant lady from a mile away?” Zoe teased.

“Heaux, I'm tryna help you!”Sylia kissed her teeth.

The group dissolved into laughter and Zoe raised her hands in surrender. “Besides I’d be a bad doctor if I didn’t consider that the symptoms I’m seeing couldn’t be the result of something else, like your recent switch in birth control, which you should really stop taking until we can get an official test done in the lab.”

The nurse nodded before looking at her two best friends. “What would I do without y’all?” She began tearing up and the other women pulled her into a group hug. “You’ll never have to find out, because we’ll always be here,” Kenois pulled back, wiping her friend’s tears. Sylia nodded in agreement. “We’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll deliver the baby, and Kenois will be her pediatrician until she graduates college, then we’ll all cry as we watch our baby go off and live life.”

“What if it’s a boy?” Kenois teased. The gynecologist shrugged, “He’d throw off the dynamic, but we’d make it work. Make sure he knows how to treat a woman and get him all dressed up in little suits and sweaters.” Sylia gushed.

“Y’all, I’m terrified,” Zoe whispered out, causing her friends to stop their chatter. “I mean I’m not married, my baby’s father is royalty and engaged to someone who is not me-“ Zoe paused before dropping her head between her knees, “and I kissed Michael,” she moaned. “Umm come again?”Kenois demanded with a smile covering her face. “When he took me to the club last night, we kissed,” she repeated.

“Okay, well how do you feel about it?” Sylia pried, trying to understand where her friend's head was at. “I loved it,” the nurse sighed. “I loved being with him, but this is gonna mess all that up.”

“You don’t know that,” Sylia soothed, hopping up to sit next to her friend. “And if he’s gonna stop talking to you over this, then he wasn’t the right one in the first place,” Kenois added. “Y’all are close because you communicate well. So sit him down and just talk about it. See where his head is at before you assume your friendship or relationship is over.”

“I don’t know. If I’m pregnant, it’s not just me anymore. I’ll have a child and we’ll be a package deal. He didn’t sign up for that.”

“At least give Michael a chance to prove you wrong,” Kenois frowned, wiping her friend’s tears. Zoe nodded as they heard the front door open and shut. “You expecting anybody?” Sylia looked at her two roommates who shook their heads.

“Iman! Sylia! Keni! Y’all left your door open again! Where y’all at?”

“Damn that nigga yelling like he pay rent,” Kenois laughed and shook her head. “I’ll go get him,” Zoe wiped her face and left the bathroom. “Where y’all at?” Michael yelled, bumping into Zoe as she came into the living room. “We were in my bathroom. And you just walking into people’s houses now?”

“Y’all the one with an open door policy. I just took advantage. No one was answering my calls and I was knocking on the door for ten minutes,” Michael moved around her to place takeout bags on their kitchen table, “Y’all need to stop doing that, what if I was some dude tryna do y’all harm?” He pulled Zoe-Iman into a hug and she relaxed in his embrace before he pulled away.

“Well I’d be calling the police right now, not standing in the kitchen,” Zoe smirked following him as he started pulling food out of the takeout bags. “Haha,” he deadpanned, “just try and lock the door, please. I already worry about y’all enough as is. Three black women living alone in this non-gated apartment complex. Weirdos just be walking in off the street-“

“Like you?”

Michael stopped and frowned, “You bout to make me pack up this breakfast and leave Iman.”

“I’m just kidding I’m sorry,” she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. He reciprocated the gesture and frowned as she finished speaking, “We’ll do better at locking the door. Your concern is noted and appreciated.”

“Why you been crying?”

Zoe blanched, remembering the cause of her tears. Michael had that magic effect, he could make her worries fade away effortlessly. “Oh,” she mumbled, looking away before he turned her face back to his. “I just wanna help Iman.” He searched her face as her muscles relaxed. Zoe cleared her throat,” I might be pregnant,” she answered. The room went silent and Michael dropped his hand from her face. “Okay, have you taken a test? You need me to get some?”

The nurse shook her head, “That’s what we were doing in the bathroom. Just waiting for the timer to go off. It’s probably gone off by now though,” she murmured. “Okay,” the actor ran his hand over his head, “You wanna go look?”

Zoe shook her head, “Not yet. I’m actually terrified to go back in there.”

She and Michael chuckled, “Do you know who the father is?”

“T’Challa.” She whispered.

“I thought you hadn’t seen him in months?”

“I haven’t, but before the disco club, we had a drunk one-night thing about two months ago. I was so embarrassed when I woke up. I left before he got up and swore I’d never tell anybody. Then I broke it off with him after the first night at the club and here we are,” she explained. Michael pulled her in for another hug and the two stood in the kitchen laying on each other just enjoying the embrace. “You know, this doesn’t change how I feel about you,” Michael started.

“Really?”

He nodded, his chin remained stationed on her head, “If we get together. I want all of you and that includes the child growing inside of you. They are a piece of you and for that, I already know I’m gonna love them. Even if we don’t work out as a couple, you and this child will always have me.”

Zoe felt tears filling her eyes and Michael laughed as she tried to hide it, “You so emotional” he laughed wiping her tears. “It’s not funny. It’s probably hormones,” she excused standing up to wipe her own tears. “It’s definitely hormones,” Sylia interjected from where she stood at the entrance to the kitchen. “All three?” Zoe asked and her friend nodded. “What do you mean?” Michael frowned. “All three of the pregnancy tests came back positive,” Sylia elaborated.

****

“You can’t see it right?” Zoe fretted checking to see if her five-month baby bump was visible in her dress. “No, but I still think you should tell him” Kenois pushed while watching her friend search for her shoes. Zoe stood up with one shoe in her hand, “And say what? I haven't seen you in 3 months but I’m having your baby. Oh and congratulations on getting married!” The nurse rolled her eyes and bent back down to slip the heel on her foot.

“He deserves to know he is going to have an heir in six months. Preferably before he gets married.” Kenois's eyes followed her friend as she moved around the room. “He made the decision to delete my number,” Zoe-Iman argued. “He wanted me out of his life so that he could curate this perfect image with this perfect bride and now I have to show up at their perfect wedding to play the perfect supportive best friend when I haven’t seen this man in months. He obviously still knows where we live so if he wanted to have me in his life he would have come by. But he didn’t. I will not put my child through the heartbreak of only having a father who will love them in secret.”

“Iman-“

“That is my final decision,” the nurse interrupted, grabbing her purse off of the bed and walking into the front room. “You’re going to regret this,” Kenois sighed, turning off the light and following her out.

“Hey hey,” Michael stood up off of the couch hugging Kenois then pulling his girlfriend in for a hug and kiss. “Hey baby,” Zoe smiled. “How’d you get in, I’m sure we double-locked the door last night,” Kenois asked, watching her friend interact with her new boo. Even though she was upset that Zoe-Iman wouldn’t tell T’Challa that they were expecting, she was very happy her friend had moved on. She’d watched the prince string her along for years, pretending he’d only wanted to be friends while doing everything a boyfriend should do. Zoe tried to explain it away, but Kenois saw the signs. She knew T’Challa would only break her girl’s heart and she was glad Michael could intervene and show Zoe what real love looked like.

“I let him in,” Sylia replied, leaving the kitchen with two bottles of water, handing one to the actor. “But, thank you for locking the door. Gives me some peace of mind. Especially with my main man staying here too,” Michael reached for Zoe’s bump as she swatted his hand away. “Stop. I’ve got it draped just right so my bump is hidden,” the mother fussed. “Girl,” Sylia raised an eyebrow, “that’s like trying to hide a boulder under a blanket,” the woman teased and shook her head. Zoe-Iman scoffed, “Wooow,” Zoe squinted, “I just don’t want all eyes on me. I just wanna get there, play the supportive best friend, and leave. No questions and no pitiful looks from anyone who can make an educated guess. And moreover, no drama in the press. I want a clean break.”

Ima, you know y’all are having a baby right? That’s never gonna be possible,” Michael took her hand in his and squeezed. Zoe looked away biting her lip. “Unless you’re still not planning to tell him he’s having a baby?” Sylia raised an eyebrow.

“I am the one having the baby! Not him,” Zoe insisted. “Baby, you should at least give him the option to have the child in his life. Tell him now and if he cuts y’all off again it’s his loss and you never have to see him again. But him being involved in this child’s life, is not your decision to make. He should know.” Michael frowned and lifted her face to his.

“I’ll think about it. But it won’t be today. I can’t do that to his fiancée on her wedding day,” Zoe grabbed a light jacket and walked out of the apartment leaving her boyfriend, and best friends behind.

****

“You okay?” Michael whispered in his lady’s ear. His hand rested on her lower back guiding her to their seats in the grand venue. “Right as rain,” she sighed, accepting his help to sink down in the seat. “We’re gonna go find the guys,” Kenois let the couple know before she and Sylia wandered off. “You’re ruining your perfect drape,” Michael teased as he lifted her hand that had started rubbing her five-month belly. A nervous habit she’d acquired since the moment it appeared. “Thank you,” she offered a shy smile.

“You ever think about your wedding?” Michael asked. “Sometimes,” Iman shrugged.

“Well, what’s it like?” Michael nudged her shoulder.

“I don’t want anything this big, but I want to go all out for the people I love. Small guest list, but really over the top. Flowers from ceilings, dance floors, chandeliers, maybe that really good quality fake grass in some areas so I can walk around without my shoes on.”

“I don’t understand why you always wanna be barefoot,” Michael shook his head and bit his lip. The expectant woman shrugged, “It’s the country in me. My toes feel trapped in socks and shoes. You ever walked a creek?”

“Walk a creek?”

“Yeah we used to have this creek through our yard and we’d take off our shoes, roll up our pants, and wade down the stream. Just walking on the rocks.”

“With the fish and everything?” His eyes bugged. Iman laughed, “You leave them alone, they leave you alone. Besides I learned to swim in a lake, fish don’t scare me anymore.”

“You swam in lake water? Y’all wildin’,” the actor cackled. The nurse elbowed him before joining in his amusement. “It’s not that bad. At least it ain’t got sharks,” she reasoned.

“Umm-hmm, all I know is you’d have to convince me before I go hopping in a lake anytime soon.”

“We can start with creeks and work our way up. Once the little bean is old enough, I definitely wanna make it a tradition. I want Lil bean to appreciate nature and the finer luxuries in life equally.”

“Like a boujee country hybrid?”

“Exactly,” Iman smiled, “Imma take them to the camp I went to-“

“ZoeZoe,” Camden tapped the mother on her shoulder, “What’s up Mike?” he dapped him up before addressing Zoe.

“T wants to see you,” Camden sighed. Zoe felt her heart drop, “Me? Why does he want to see me?”

“Look, I wish I knew but he’s throwing a mini tantrum. I just need him to either call off the wedding or be out here at that altar in fifteen minutes and you’re the only one he’s gonna listen to.”

Zoe huffed as Michael helped her up from the seat. “You’re a lifesaver Iman,” Camden kissed her cheek as he took Michael’s position and escorted her to T’Challa’s dressing room.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed. “How’s the little bean?” Camden asked as they navigated the long hallways of the venue. Zoe smiled and glanced at her little baby bump, “They’re great. Their little heartbeat is easily my favorite thing to hear in the world.”

Camden smiled as she talked about her child. He, like the rest of their friend group, was ecstatic to welcome their new addition. He or she was gonna be everybody's nephew, or niece since Iman insisted it was a little girl. He was also glad that Iman moved on from his friend, he loved T, but the man was too indecisive for his own good. He’d definitely lost a jewel in choosing Nakia over Iman. Not that he didn’t like Nakia, she seemed like a really sweet woman, but T’Challa had so much history with Iman that nothing would be able to replace it. Especially now that they were having a baby.

The A&T alum stopped in front of a suite door and sighed. “This is it,” he reached for the door but paused when Zoe stopped him. “Is my bump, is it noticeable?” She bit her lip and Camden scrunched up his face. “Yeah, but why you trying to hide it?” The nurse's face said it all, “You haven’t told him?”

Camden led Zoe away from the door and into a private corridor. “I knew y’all weren’t on good terms, but Zoe you have to tell him! How would you feel if a girl had my baby and kept it from me?”

“This isn’t the same! T’Challa is a prince. T’Challa is engaged! It’s his wedding day for god's sake. I can’t ruin this day for him!” she whisper yelled. Cam sucked his teeth, “Girl, you know that man would end this whole ceremony for you in a heart-“

“No, no he wouldn’t. This whole image ordeal has changed him. Maybe in college, he would have done that but I’m not what he’s so desperately searching for. Add in a baby and I’m definitely not what he needs anymore. He’ll be fine,” Zoe insisted.

“Look I cannot force you to tell him, but if you do not, I will. And that’s a promise,” Camden cut Zoe off as she opened her mouth. The young mother sighed and walked back over to the door. She knocked twice before letting herself in. “T’Challa?”

The groom looked up as Zoe shut the door behind her. “You came,” his face softened. Zoe took a moment to see how much he’d aged in the past three months. His eyes looked tired and he hadn’t been eating well. He looked like this quarter of a year had been exam week every week. He stood and reached for her hand but she moved away. “You look nice,” she offered, looking him over quickly. “I look like a joke,” the king scoffed. The pair stared at each other in silence. “Am I making the right decision?” The prince asked.

“You’re asking me?” Zoe raised an eyebrow.

“Iman, I always ask for your advice.”

“Yes, but you do realize you’re asking me whether or not you should marry the woman whom you cut me out of your life for right?”

“I-“ the king walked over to the couch and sunk into it. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel so lost without you by my side Iman. I want you to be the one wearing white and walking down the aisle at this white wedding-“

“That’s not what I want anymore T’Challa. You threw me away like I meant nothing to you. At her first suggestion, you erased me from your life.”

The future king stood and moved closer to her but Zoe-Iman moved in the opposite direction. “I made a mistake Iman. If I could take it back I would-“

“But you can’t.” She cut him off. “What you fail to understand is that you broke me T’Challa. You strung me along with promises of a relationship for years. Then we started being together physically and there were more promises. Then you broke my heart and didn’t even stay around to make sure it would start beating again. You just vanished, then we had that one night, and I realized I had to protect myself. Which meant leaving you behind. We both made the best decisions for ourselves at that moment. Only one of us regrets it. I want us to just be friends.”

“I can’t just be friends!”

“Well your majesty, that's your decision and your problem,” Zoe shrugged. “But I’m here now,” the prince insisted, “I’ll stay this time. I’m gonna call off this wedding to show you my promises aren’t empty.”

Zoe raised a hand to stop his rambling, “T’Challa stop. Call off this wedding because you don’t love Nakia, not because you want to prove something to me. I have already moved on, or I’m trying to,” she admitted.

“You are with somebody else? Already?”

“We were never together, T'Challa. You made that very clear,” the mother reminded, “You were dating and proposing to other women the whole time we were having sex. So don’t say anything to me about finding someone who is proud to be with me in front of everyone. Someone who loves me out loud. I am happy now, and I want that for you. It just will not be with me.”

“So that is it? There will never be anything between us in any official capacity?”

Zoe fidgeted with her hands, “I wouldn’t say that your majesty,” she rested a hand on her bump.”We will be forever linked.”

“You are pregnant?” His eyes widened as Zoe smoothed out her dress to reveal her bump. The prince looked like tears would fall any second.

“We didn’t use protection that last time in the hotel, and I was switching birth controls. But obviously, I wasn’t thinking about that when I was drunk,” Zoe rambled. “May I?” The king interrupted, gesturing towards her stomach. The nurse nodded and the king bent down running a hand over her bump biting his lip. “Zoe,” he looked up, “I have to marry the mother of my child.”

“T’Challa no,” she stepped back, “We can co-parent but I have found something else worth fighting for. I won’t marry you just because I am having your child.”

“Iman please,” the prince begged, “I can’t lose you and this child on the same day.”

“No T’Challa. Do whatever you feel necessary today, marry Nakia or not, but everyone thought you at least deserved to at least know you were having a child. I did not do this to win you back.”

“And what about you? You were not going to tell me, my love?”

“Don’t call me that,” Zoe replied, purposely ignoring his question. “Zoe-“

“Whatever decision you make about Nakia, it does not matter to me. They just thought you should know so you can decide how or if you want to be in this child’s life.”

The king stood and nodded. “I want to be there, I will be there. But it will take some time, just trust me.”

“You are not making this promise to me, you are making a promise to this child. There is nothing for me to forgive,”

“Ayy, T’Challa we gotta go man. Make a decision!” Camden banged on the door. “Just promise you will forgive me. I need you to promise-“

“What am I forgiving?”

“Just promise me,” T’Challa pleaded as he grabbed his suit jacket, pausing to kiss Zoe’s cheek. “I love you,” he cupped her cheek before hurrying out of the door.

“What’s he gonna do?” Camden asked, walking in and offering her his arm to lead her back to her seat. “I don’t know, but I told him about the baby.”

“And?”

“I truly don’t know. He just said it would take time. Well, he asked me to marry him then when I rejected his offer, he asked me to forgive him and wait for him.”

“Forgive him for what?” Camden asked. “I don’t know,” Zoe glanced at the altar, “but I have a feeling we are about to find out.” She gave Camden a quick hug before re-finding her seat in the venue.

****

“Well that was awkward,” Michael whispered in Zoe’s ear as he helped her settle into her seat at their assigned table. “Stop,” Zoe hit his shoulder fighting off her own laughter. He only offered a grin as he took his own seat next to her. “You feeling okay? You need anything?” The expectant mother shook her head, I’m fine. Just ready to go honestly.”

Michael nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulder before the master of ceremonies stole their attention. After each member of the bridal party had been introduced came the moment Zoe had been dreading since T’Challa appeared at the altar in the front of the church. “Now presenting, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. T’Challa Udaku, Their Royal Highnesses Prince and Princess of Wakanda!” The young married couple processed in and Zoe immediately regretted even showing up. Sensing her distress, Michael wraps her hand in his own and leaned into her ear, “I can’t wait to do that with you. If you’ll let me of course.” Zoe smiled at her boyfriend and bit her lip, “You want me to have your last name?”

“Yeah if you’ll take it,” the actor grinned. Their conversation was interrupted once again by the MC as T’Challa and Nakia headed to the floor for their first dance. As the song cued up Zoe turned back to the actor, “What if I wanna hyphenate?”

“You wanna be Mrs. James-Jordan?” The actor stared. The mother took a moment to think before giggling and shaking her head, “Nah, Mrs. Jordan sounds better.”

“Damn right it does,” Michael pulled her in closer as they broke out into quiet laughter. Across the room, T’Challa’s attention was pulled to the sound of Zoe’s laughter. He never stopped dancing, but his new wife could tell that she’d lost his attention. Not wanting to make a scene, she laid her head back on his chest and sighed, hoping she’d made the right decision in bowing to her father's wishes. Sure she loved T’Challa, but she couldn’t help feeling that his heart belonged to another. He’d been doing well for the last six months leading up to the wedding but all day, it seemed that his attention had been elsewhere and the bride couldn’t help but feel neglected. She snuck a glance at the woman who her husband had been staring at all night. She was here with a man, who seemed to be her significant other. They’d been giggling and sneaking glances the whole day and Nakia found them quite adorable. She hoped that she and T’Challa would get to that point one day, including the slight baby bump she could make out under the woman’s dress. Not because it was overly noticeable, but simply because she’d been longing to see the same bulge on her own form for a few months. As the dance ended, Nakia watched the man lead the mysterious woman out of the main room onto one of the many ballroom balconies. With the couple out of the room, T’Challa’s attention turned back to her and they continued through the reception motions. After receiving her plate of food, Nakia glanced out on the balcony to see the couple slow dancing as the sunset behind them. The boyfriend had the woman’s shoes in his hands as she danced barefoot on the marble tile. She smiled to herself and made a note to try and escape to one with T’Challa before the night was over.

****

“You thought about any names?” Michael murmured as he swayed slowly to Zoe-Iman’s slow dancing playlist. All the Man I Need by Whitney Houston was pouring out of her phone as the two held each other close. “I don’t know, I’ve really only ever thought about girl names to be honest.”

“What do you like for a girl?”

“I’m between Oyne and Ellijay for her first name. But for her middle name, I love Ka’iulani.”

“That’s different,” Michael hummed. “It’s Hawaiian. It means royal sacred one. Kind of ironic given her parentage, but I’ve had it picked out for years.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Michael pulled back and leaned down to peck her lips. Without her heels, Zoe’s 5’6 frame seemed short compared to his six-foot stature. “You want me to help you think of some boy names,” he offered as the song switched to Blue by Beyoncé. “Maybe, if T’Challa comes around I’d like to let him name it if Lil bean is a boy,” Zoe revealed. “That’s fair,” the star nodded as Zoe returned to her position on his chest, “I’m glad you told him,” Michael smiled. “Yeah, it feels better knowing that he knows.” Zoe agreed. “What made you change your mind?”

“Cam threatened to tell him if I didn’t.” Michael laughed and Zoe fought back a grin of her own. “Cam is always playing the big brother.”

“And he does it well,” Zoe sighed as the song switched to I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston. The couple settled into quiet, Michael placed a kiss on Zoe’s lips as the balcony door further down opened and interrupted their silence. “Oh, I didn’t know that the balconies were all connected,” Nakia apologized once they noticed Michael and Zoe’s music playing. T’Challa eyes were glued to the way Michael was holding Zoe, kicking himself for never dancing with her when she asked.

He recognized this song as one of her favorites and felt his heart crack even more. She was glowing with happiness and he hated that he’d never get to be the reason for it. “It’s alright,” Zoe reassured the new queen, “We should probably go eat anyway.” Zoe looked up at Michael who agreed. “Congratulations, to both of you,” Michael smiled. “You two as well,” Nakia grinned, glancing at Zoe’s tiny bump. “Sorry,” Zoe looked confused before Nakia quickly elaborated, “On the baby,” she gestured and Zoe froze as did T’Challa. If only this poor woman knew, “Oh thank you,” Michael squeezed her hand in reassurance before they grabbed her phone and headed inside.

“I think I’m ready to go,” Zoe sighed. “Aight then. You wanna wait here while I go grab our stuff from the table?” The mother nodded. With a final kiss to her forehead, Michael headed off and someone else caught her attention. “You can not leave without saying hello to your sister,” Shuri grinned. “A smile spread across Zoe’s face at the sight of the princess. The teen pulled her into a quick hug, frowning when she felt the bump, but the Queen mother joined in before she could ask any questions. “ I knew I had been dreaming of fish lately,” she whispered in Zoe’s ear before pulling back from the hug. “Hey,” Michael smiled, confusion lacing his eyes as Zoe stepped back from the queen. “Michael, this is Her Majesty Queen Ramonda, Queen Mother of Wakanda, and Her Royal Highness Shuri Udaku, Princess of Wakanda. T’Challa’s mother and sister. This is Michael B. Jordan, my boyfriend.” Zoe introduced and couldn’t miss the slight frown that ghosted Ramonda’s face. “It is so nice to meet you both,” Michael grinned, kissing both Ramonda and Shuri’s hands.

“It is nice to meet you as well. Are you all leaving?”

Zoe nodded, “Yes, the little one has worn me out for the day.” The Queen chuckled and nodded, “Yes I’m afraid they will drain your energy from now on. We should have lunch though, are you free tomorrow?” Nodding, the queen and Iman scheduled a time and place to meet up. After a quick detour to say hello to the king and goodbye to their friends, the young couple was finally able to escape the party.

You never told me what exactly happened when you went to talk to T’Challa,” Michael traced his fingers leisurely over Zoe’s arms as she lay in between his legs. “Nothing much,” she sighed. “He asked me if he should marry Nakia, and of course I wanted to cuss him out.”

Michael chuckled as Zoe continued, “Once I explained why that question was inappropriate for him to ask me, he finally revealed that he wanted to get back together and I turned him down, told him that I was pregnant, and-“ Zoe hesitated remembering what had happened next. She bit down on her lip as she felt Michael shift below her. “And what?”

“He asked me to marry him and I rejected him,” she finished. “Asked you to marry him?! Is he serious?”

“I don’t know but I flat out told him that it would never happen, I had something else worth fighting for and I wasn’t just gonna leave it behind,” she smiled up at him. “Damn right, I’m not giving you up without a fight, but are you sure it’s not a law or something?”

Zoe frowned, “I hadn’t thought about it but he’s gonna have to figure it out. Either that or I’m having two husbands.” Michael scoffed as Zoe died of laughter, “Nah, once you Mrs. Michael B Jordan I am not sharing you with anyone but Lil bean.”

*****

“And T’Challa knows about this?” King T’Chaka frowned. The royal family and Zari had been enjoying a rather peaceful lunch as Zari caught them up to speed about what had been going on for the almost two years since her visit to Wakanda. “Yes sir, I told him yesterday.”

“Yesterday? And he still married Nakia?” Shuri exclaimed. “Not that I don’t like her,” Shuri clarified under her parent’s stare. “Why did you wait so late to tell him, sweet girl?” Ramonda frowned.

Zari looked up confused, “T’Challa cut me out of his life about four months ago. Yesterday was the first time I’d seen him since then.”

“He told us that he was talking to you often.”

The mother shook her head, “I think Nakia got suspicious of how close we were and he blocked me on everything.”

“How did this happen then?” The king gestured at her bump. Zoe felt the blood rush to her face, “One day we saw each other in passing and he convinced me that he was ready to make our relationship official with you all-“

“So when you came to visit, there was something going on between the both of you?” Ramonda interrupted.

“Yes ma’am. T’Challa insisted it stay a secret-“

“Because he thought I would not approve?” Zoe nodded and the aging king sighed. “Dear girl I- We- have all always approved of you. In T’Challa’s younger years I was very adamant about him not marrying an outsider, but we all mellow with age.” The king and Zoe laughed, “I want you to know, and I believe I speak for everyone when I say, that we are all overjoyed at welcoming a new member of our family.”

Zoe teared up as Shuri, the king, and the queen all reached for her hands. “I’m sorry, I've been a bit of an emotional mess recently.”

“Totally understandable, it will only get worse as they get older.” Ramonda smiled. “Well let's celebrate!” The king clapped, “if I recall correctly, Raspberry Cheesecake is your favorite dessert?” The king smiled. Zoe-Iman wiped her eyes as a laugh tumbled out from her lips. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Please! No formalities before and none required now. You are carrying my first grandchild. Father or baba is fine with me if it is fine with you,” the older man smiled before ordering a raspberry cheesecake to be brought to the table.

***

“So, who was the girl from yesterday?” Nakia rubbed the last of the coconut oil on her hands into her skin before placing the lid back on the jar. “Who?” T’Challa asked, walking out of the closet buttoning the second to last button on his shirt. “The girl from the balcony. You were staring at her and her boyfriend the whole night.” Nakia stood and shrugged out of her robe to step into her outfit for the day. “Oh, you mean Zari? I wasn’t staring at her,” the prince replied, sliding into his shoes. He watched as his new wife slipped her dress over her form and turned so he could zip it up for her.

Nakia laughs, “T’Challa you were staring so hard I’m surprised the poor girl didn’t have a hole burned through her head.” The woman turned to smooth his shirt and smiled up at the frowning prince. “Aren’t wives usually upset about things like this?”

“Should I be?” Nakia suddenly frowned. “No, but it just seems like you wouldn’t like the idea of me staring at another woman.”

Nakia stepped away to slip into her shoes. “Well, I wasn’t, but you are starting to make me feel like I should be upset. She had a boyfriend, who she’s expecting a baby with. I assumed she was just a friend you had not seen in a while. Besides, you married me so I hoped I had nothing to worry about.” She grabbed her purse before turning back to her husband. “You do not have anything to worry about. She is, was, a really close friend at one point she was more than a friend.” The newly married man admitted.

“How recently was this, we’ve only been dating for a little while,” Nakia raised her eyebrow. “She was the girl whose number I deleted,” the prince sighed. Nakia set her purse down and wiped a hand over her face. “T’Challa, be honest with me. Is there any chance that the baby could be yours?”

T’Challa cleared his throat, “We will be late-”

“Do not ignore me T’Challa! I am your wife, no matter how much I am regretting this expedited engagement.”

“The child is mine.”

Nakia nodded, “And just when were you going to tell me? When the child was born and you suddenly have an heir who did not come from my womb!”

“I just found out yesterday!”

“Do your parents know?”

“I am not sure,” the future king sighed. “Then we need to tell them today, at brunch.” Nakia grabbed her clutch and walked out before turning around. “And do not even think about returning to the same bed as me tonight.”

***

Michael: I’m outside when you are ready love

Zoe-Iman smiled at the text message that dinged across her screen. She finished the last bite of her cheesecake and looked up at the family. “I really hate to leave, but I have a doctor’s appointment to get to.”

“You’re not driving, are you? We can have someone take you if you’d like?” Ramonda offered, concerned at the thought of the pregnant woman driving alone. Iman stood from the table and the rest of the family followed, “No, Michael is outside waiting to take me.”

“Good,” King T’Chaka smiled, “He sounds like a keeper.” the older man winked. “I think he is,” Zoe laughed.”Next time, you bring him to lunch as well. We want to meet him.” Ramonda grinned. “I’ll let him know,” Zari promised, “It all works out because you all have crazy schedules, we’ll schedule it ahead of time.”

“You got my American number right? So we can facetime?” Shuri double-checked. “Got it,” Zari reassured showing her where the number was saved in her phone as ‘little sister’. “When you call please make sure you talk to us as well. I wanna know everything,” Ramonda reminded Zoe and laughed.

“I promise, I’ll text Shuri an update after my appointment. Can you all make sure T’Challa receives them as well, we still don’t have any contact.”

The monarchs frowned before T’Chaka nodded, “I’ll talk to him about that as well. For now, we will make sure the messages get passed along.” Each member of the family pulled Zoe in for a hug, Ramonda pressing a kiss to her forehead before letting the girl go. She waved goodbye as some of the waitstaff cleared and replaced their table settings. Glancing down to text Michael back she walked into someone before realizing it was the prince himself, with his new wife. Nakia glanced at her husband before offering Zoe a tight smile. “Your highnesses,” Zoe-Iman bowed her head in respect. Nakia bowed her head in return, “I don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Zoe-Iman, but you can call me Zoe.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nakia replied, wishing that she didn’t know what she knew. “What are you doing here?” T’Challa asked. “I- your mother, she invited me to brunch, to catch up.”

“You’re already leaving?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment-”

“Is everything okay?” T’Challa interrupted looking panicked. “Yes, it's just my bi-weekly check-up.”

“You’re going alone?” Nakia interjected, not wanting T’Challa to go, but understanding she had absolutely nothing to resent this woman for. “No, my boyfriend Michael is waiting outside,” Zoe glanced at her phone that held several missed text messages, “And he’s freaking out slightly so I should probably get going. It was nice to see you both. I’ll send any news to Shuri if you’d like to hear what happens,” the expecting mother glanced up at the king. He only nodded in reply before Zoe took her cue and hightailed it out of the door.

****

“Mrs. Jordan?” the nurse called and Michael nudged his girlfriend to stand up. “You think you’re slick don’t you?” Zoe laughed as he helped her out of her seat. “Manifestation,” he winked as she slightly waddled over to the smiling woman. “Zoe-Iman you didn’t tell me you’d gotten married?!” Kenisha gasped as she led her coworker to the back. “I didn’t,” the mother rolled her eyes and hugged her friend, “Michael’s trying to be funny.”

The actor had become well known to many of the women in the office, even before he officially started dating Zoe. He’d always show up waiting to take her out to lunch, or bring her lunch on days he knew she couldn’t step away or he didn’t have much free time. “A test run huh?” she wiggled her eyebrows at Michael as he helped Zoe onto the scale. “You better believe it. It sounds good too doesn’t it?”

Kenisha laughed,” That it does. Sylia will be in in a minute. She just got back from the hospital.”

“What happened?” Zoe asked as she waddled behind the nurse into the exam room and Michael helped her onto the bed. “Girl, Peggy Johnson almost went into labor when her husband did one of them tik tok pranks on her. You know sis pregnant with her second set of twins. He needs to sit himself down somewhere. That poor woman do so much as sneeze them babies gon come flying out.” Kenisha shook her head as Zoe laughed. “Sylia just said they were Braxton-Hicks though, but I think they’re gonna keep her overnight just in case.”

Zoe nodded, “Yeah, you know twins tend to come early. Bless her heart, I couldn’t do it. I can’t imagine pushing two babies out at once. I would like my body back after this is said and done.”

Kenisha nodded as she finished setting up the room, “Yep, and this is her second set! She said at the last appointment she wants them tubes tied, sniped, and cauterized.”

“Who can blame her,” Zoe laughed. “You're not getting your tubes tied are you?” Michael rubbed his thumb in circles over Zoe’s hand. “Why? You want your chance to knock me up?” Zoe laughed but Michael nodded seriously. “At least once. I know you are already gonna have this baby, who I love as my own, but I would like a little you or me running around hopefully.”

Zoe nodded. “I know, I wasn’t going to tie them anyway. I want at least three kids.”

“Aww y’all are so cute, “Kenisha gushed before raising the ready colored marker outside of the door and heading off.

“Hey, mama!” Sylia grinned as she walked into the room a few seconds later, rubbing in her hand sanitizer. “Hey Syl,” Zoe laughed. Sylia hugged her friend and Michael before scooting over on her rolling stool. “Well, if you’ll lift your shirt, we’ll get started with the ultrasound. I live with you so no need to go over the diet and medicine formalities. Just let me know if something feels off.” Zoe nodded as the machine whirred to life and Sylia prepped her stomach with the clear cold gel. Michael pulled Zoe’s hand into his lips and pressed a kiss to it as the heartbeat filled the room. Sylia frowned at the screen before moving the wand closer to the top of Iman’s stomach. Zoe felt her stomach drop as two heartbeats filled the room.

“Why is it echoing? Michael looked between the two women. “Bakari, that’s not an echo. Zoe is having twins.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

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guiltypleasurefandomface · 3 years ago

Text

5+1 - phonebook edition

This was inspired by this post so thank you to @stesichoreanpalinode and @a-froger-epic for the inspiration!

TW for mentioning Freddie’s death!

1) Brian’s dashing between his room and the shower because they’re running late and Roger’s decided it’s best they put the food order in to pick up on their way rather than go in and wait for it to be freshly made whilst they’re there. Roger knocks on the door and shouts to be heared over the noise of the shower.

Roger: What’s the number for the chinese place? Brian: It’s uh, look for the menu, it’ll be on the phone table Roger: I did, there’s no chinese menus there Brian: Oh. It’ll be in my phonebook then! My one, I mean Roger: The green book? Brian: That’s the one Roger: Alright! Roger: Brian, why am I in your phonebook as Roger Mitch Baker? Brian: Why were you snooping? Roger: Wanted to see if you had any interesting numbers in there. Brian: Did you call the chinese place? Roger: Yeah. It’ll ready by the time we get there

2) The hepatitus crisis. The nurses have said it might be best to “get the family around”.

Miami: We need to call Brian’s parents Roger: They haven’t really talked much... you know Miami: I know. Do you want me to call them? Roger: ... No. I’ll do it. Freddie: I can do it darling. You can stay with Brian and I’ll- Roger: No. I know where his phone book is.

Brian: Mum said you called them. Roger: Yeah. Was that the right thing to do? Brian: Yeah... Thak you. Roger: You’d do it for me. Brian: ... Roger: ... I saw I’m now just plain Rog in your phone book Brian: What have I told you about snooping?

3) They got to number 1 and survived a broken lift, and now they have loads of people who want to talk to them. They’ve been given cards of various music industry people, some journalists who seem like the good ones in the job to share their love of music, not the gutter press constantly implying Freddie’s on his way out of the band and Roger’s too beautiful to actually be a drummer... Brian makes use of their night in to transfer some of the cards he has in his pocket in to his phonebook, so he doesn’t lose any of the numbers he wants to keep.

Roger: Who’s Mike Hall? Brian: The guitar engineer from Guildford. Roger: Hm. Why are you writing his number down? Freddie: Jealous, Roggie? Roger gives Freddie the finger. Brian: He wanted to talk about Red. He wants to improve his own home made guitar. Roger: Hm. Roger snatches the notebook. Brian: Give it back, you child. Roger: Roger and Dom? Am I seriously in your phonebook as Roger and Dom? Brian: You do live together, Rog. Roger: Well yeah but you don’t call Dom... do you? Brian: Yes, Rog, we regularly complain about you every saturday morning. Give it back Roger: Yeah but, you don’t really do you? Roger hands the phone book back. Brian: Of course not. I’ve got enough problems, I don’t need Chrissie thinking I’m having some sort of phone affair with your girlfriend Roger: ... Well that’s not what I meant but thanks. Fine.

4) Roger marries and then divorces Dom. Brian finalises his divorce to Chrissie. Brian takes the time to clear out his phone book, it is after all falling to pieces and old and not all numbers are relevant anymore.

By the time he gets to the T’s, he’s gone a bit stir crazy. He’d already written down Freddie in his book as God Messenger Freddie and Jim and cats (+J+J+P+J etc).

He writes down The Best Little Drummer Boy in England +Mobile - +Car Phone -

A few months later when he needs to look up the number of a plumber, he’s put on hold and gets bored whilst waiting so flicks through his phone book. He finds the word “little” crossed out and “looking” written just above it in familiar handwriting, in red pen. And... he can’t bring himself to not agree with that. He laughs and nods and closes the phone book.

5) Roger has a new wife. A whole new house. Brian had both of these things too, now he just has the house. He had a whole new divorce after a whole new affair, and he supposes he’s only got himself to blame. But, he also has a new phone book so... no that’s just as bleak.

He couldn’t bare to not include Freddie in it so his information is copied over, John’s, Crystal’s, most of the other Roadie’s because more memorial shows are planned. Chrissie’s, Chrissie’s mum’s too. A lot of numbers over the last few years were put in where there was space, 4 of them Roger at the holiday homes, with no attention to alphabetical order, so he tries to correct that as he goes along.

He goes back to the T’s for Roger’s name and number. He doesn’t think too much of pang in his chest when he writes “Roger and Debbie”.

He vows this to be the last time he ever writes in any of Roger’s new numbers in a bloody phone book. It was ridiculous how often he’d had to do it over the years. If Roger gets a new phone, or a new house, or a new wife, then Roger would just have to find some way to answer the phone at the number Brian has in his phone book, or Roger will have to be the one to ring Brian.

Roger and Adam are in the kitchen of the penthouse suite, it’s breakfast time and it’s their day off. Adam is eating a fruit salad, Roger has an empty plate in front of him and he’s glaring at his iPhone.

Roger: There’s something wrong with this bloody thing, again. Adam, smirking: You know, they make these special phones now, for er, the older market. Roger: Shut it you. Adam: Big buttons. Roger: It just won’t ring out. Adam: Even a little button on the back to call your emergency contact, incase you’ve fallen and you can’t get up. Roger: We can fire you Adam: You Couuuulllld... But you won’t.. Roger: Brian! You’re the apple fan boy, whats up with this fucking thing? Brian comes out of his room, loose tshirt, loose pyjama pants, bed head with curls that are still flat on one side from sleeping on them. Brian: What fucking thing? Adam: This sounds like a conversation not fit for my ears... Roger: You can either be a help or a hindrance, which one do you want to choose? Adam: I think hindrance. I like the sound of that word Roger: Brian, what’s wrong with my phone Brian, sitting down and getting an apple from the fruit bowl: I don’t know, Rog, what is wrong with your phone? Roger: It won’t let me ring anyone Brian: Let me see. Roger gives him his phone Brian: Hm.... Brian pokes around the phone. Brian: Strange. The settings are all off, I don’t know. Did you piss off Apple somehow? Roger: Probably. Do I need to send it back? Brian: Let me play with it a bit. Do you want to borrow mine? Roger: If that’s alright. I just want to text the kids good morning. You know. Dad stuff. Brian takes out his phone and passes it to Roger. Brian: Here you go. Roger: Thanks, love.

Brian resets the phone a few times, messes with the settings, frowns at it, leaves it on the table to do it’s thing whilst he eats a healthy breakfast, following his apple with some peanut butter on toast, but eventually the signals back up, the phone’s on data and, with no way of knowing what was wrong with it, the phone was now fixed.

Brian picked up the phone and rung his own phone. The phone in Roger’s hand rings out, and the little screen changes to a picture of Brian and Roger together, with the name “Mr Husband” written over it. Adam: That is still so cute. It’s so 7th Grade but it’s cute. Roger answers the phone: You fixed it then? Brian, on Roger’s phone: Yes Roger: Okay. Thank you. Brian: You’re welcome, love. Roger: I’m going to hang up now Brian laughs: Okay. Roger hangs up and Brian hands back Roger’s phone back to Roger, and Roger hands Brian’s phone back to Brian. Adam: You know, I almost miss the fit Roger would pitch everytime he saw his name was Santa Claus in your phone. Roger: Oh, I can pitch a fit over anything if you’d like me to Brian: It’s true, he would. Let me tell you the fit he almost pitched when he saw me write Rog and Dom in my phonebook. I never did figure out what that was about... Adam didn’t answer, but his sudden coughing fit did sort of sound the word “territory issues”.

#OOps I maylor'd #Queen RPF #It's not a fic #But it's not not a fic #I'm going to bed now

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

Text

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first:

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense.

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go.

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it.

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit.

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world.

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

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

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic #guess who spent 48 hours doing nothing but writing and formatting #can I get a wahoo

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

Note

prompt 4, lee jeno, streetracer au

prompt: “Everyone told me I’m crazy picking up a boy that drives a Camry.”

extra: streetracer au

note: suggestive (mild mentions of sex), jeno + cars which might be emotionally overwhelming for y’all because PHEW is it overwhelming for me omfg, this one’s a little long for a drabble but overall it isn’t super long (it’s like... 1.4k?)... i lowkey wanna write a racer jeno fic but idk lmk if that’s something the people want lmfao

july 5th, 2020.

it’s the first race of his you’ve ever seen.

you’ve memorized the course, a consequence of hours spent staring at the map until it’s been imprinted beneath your eyelids. the route ends where it starts, and the rest of the roads will be closed off - you’re sure renjun, one of the officiants, has bribed the city’s construction sector to ensure this - so no bystanders are hurt, but you don’t particularly care about unlucky pedestrians or drivers that could be potential collateral damage. still, it’s on the outskirts of the city, so there wasn’t as much risk as there could’ve been to start with.

it sounds bad when you think of it, but you can’t bring yourself to be repentant of what you worry about and what you don’t. after all, your focus is exactly where it should be:

jeno lee.

your boyfriend hasn’t been shy in letting you know about his pastimes: he’d told you about his penchant for speeding through the city in his toyota camry after the fifth date, had murmured it into the skin of your bare shoulder as his fingers skimmed your bare waist. it was the first night you’d stayed over, waking up to the sunrise, coffee, and round two. his apartment was - is - tiny compared to yours, a studio apartment just big enough to live in versus your penthouse suite uptown. still, from that night on, his place feels more like home than yours ever will.

you hadn’t really talked about how worried you are for him then, instead allowing him to give and take to and from you as he pleased. you still haven’t talked about how worried you are for him, although instead of being in his bed at 2 am you’re on the sidelines of one of his street races, 2 way radio in one hand and phone open to a police scanner app in the other.

it’s insane, you think to yourself, that you’re an active participant in a highly illegal race. if any of your friends - who all believe jeno to be a terrible influence, in his tattooed glory and always shrouded in cigarette smoke - could see you now, they might have simultaneous aneurysms. they’re all far too enveloped in the socialite life you’re trying desperately to shed.

none of that matters to you now, though - what matters is the cars you can see emerging from a turn far, far off in the distance. there’s only two - a bright red civic and a sleek black camry, the latter carrying your boyfriend and his best friend jaemin - and they’re neck and neck, tire to tire. it’s a short race, a quick couple of loops around the track that’s been laid out for the night. there’s prize money, yes, but it’s only a couple hundred bucks - if jeno wins, he’ll put his half towards paying his rent.

you watch with bated breath as the cars get closer and closer, your eyes trained on their front bumpers. renjun makes his way to the center of the starting line, his faith in the two drivers astounding you as he waits patiently for them to near him. mark jogs across to set up a slow motion camera on the other side, and, on your right, jisung sets one up as well. renjun stands still, gaze piercing the night as he stares straight ahead. before anyone can process the end of the race, both cars race past. your hair flies up from the wind generated by the cars’ speeds, and you hear the distinct sounds of two sets of brakes squealing as both cars finally, finally come to a rest.

you hold your breath as mark and jisung analyze their films. donghyuck pushes open the drivers’ door of the civic, with chenle walking out of the passengers’ side. jaemin leaves the camry first, and jeno follows, running his hands through his hair as he gets out. you’re too focused on mark and jisung to notice your boyfriend until his cologne engulfs you, just moments before he pulls you into his side by your waist.

“how was your first race?” he whispers, lips right by your ear as he leans towards you. you relax against his hold as you mumble a ‘good’, and he presses his lips to your hairline as the two of you wait. yes, winning the race is, at most, rent money and a mild sense of pride, but jeno’s arms are tense around you.

he loves cars, and he loves racing them for enjoyment, yes, but you know that he’d rather be racing them to win and only to win. his dreams are lofty, but if he can win another streetrace, who’s to say he can’t keep winning his way up until he’s good enough for the big leagues? he’s beaten every racer in the city except for donghyuck, and whoever wins this race will hold the unofficial title of truly being the best of the best.

tonight has been jeno’s toughest race to date. he wants to live off the adrenaline just a little longer... that, and rent is due next week.

after eons, mark raises his head.

“i’ve got jeno,” he calls out, and jeno’s arms pull even tighter around you as he awaits the final verdict.

“so do i.” jisung responds, only just loudly enough to be heard by everyone. without meaning to, you let out a laugh of pure, unadulterated joy, and jeno spins you around to hug you properly. you hear donghyuck and chenle congratulate him, feel jeno get handed $100 by renjun while the other $100 goes to jaemin. you’re basking in your pride, face against jeno’s jacket.

it’s the first victory of his that you witness, but it certainly isn’t the last.

♕ ♕ ♕

september 12th, 2024.

“you know,” you start, words coming out in a satiated sigh as you shift to lay on your side. the silk sheets of the hotel suite’s bed tangle between your legs as you begin to trace random patterns on jeno’s skin.

“hm?” your fiancé prompts, smiling down gently at you as you lay your hand flat on his chest.

“way back when, everyone - all of my ‘friends’ - told me that i was crazy for picking up a boy who rode around in a camry and, quote unquote, looked like trouble. i wonder if they’re watching you now.” you glance up to meet his gaze, and the corner of his eyes crinkle as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

“don’t know if i ever stopped looking like trouble, to be honest, even if i don’t drive my camry anymore. haven’t changed much in these past four years.” jeno’s voice is husky at this time of night, just a little gravelly and soft enough to where you strain a little to listen. he never fails to make your heart do somersaults, even after five years of knowing him.

“you literally just won the italian grand prix, and you say you haven’t changed much?” your tone is still soft, though not without an edge of incredulity. jeno traces a finger down your naked side, moving so he’s pillowing his head with his forearm, all just to see you properly.

“i’m still the same guy, just with money and a better job. my morals are the same, fundamentals are the same - my love for you, what defines me, it’s still the same. just because i’ve got a couple of pro racing trophies under my belt -”

“- eight -” you interrupt, brow furrowed at jeno short-selling himself. he sees this, raising his hand to tease against your scalp.

“- under my belt,” he continues. “it doesn’t mean anything truly important has changed.”

“... i guess.” you finally acquiesce, and jeno fondly tugs you close so that you’re lying on top of him. the new position has something stirring in his chest, and he brings his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw before pulling you gently towards him.

“wanna know what i’m putting my prize money towards?” he asks, words sounding harder than they should. you squirm slightly, still just a little fucked out from earlier, but jeno’s always had a way of making you want more.

“what?” you ask, shifting so you’re straddling him. he lets you plant your hands on his chest before he responds, the beginning of a smirk evident against his plush lips.

“our honeymoon,” he whispers, leaning up so his lips are brushing yours. “wanna put all that cash towards a room with enough surfaces for me to bend you over to last us a whole week.”

jeno closes the space between the two of you with a bruising kiss, and you find that he’s right - nothing really has changed in the past four years. he still fits you perfectly, body made for your own.

some things never change at all.

#raya4k #anonymous #jeno #nct dream #nct #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #nct dream scenario #nct dream scenarios

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fandom-hoarder · 4 years ago

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listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

#ask #@princessconsuelapark #stanford era #sam winchester #pre-stanford era #sam n dean #john winchester's a+ parenting #long post

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misedejem · 4 years ago

Text

Date Nights

Series: Persona 4 Ship: Kannao (Kanji Tatsumi/Naoto Shirogane) Word count: 9196

If ever Naoto was feeling low, Kanji would try harder than ever to show her how much he cared. Little gestures of good will and love that would go towards easing the pain. It had been that way from when they first met, and was still the case after over fifteen years.

So when Naoto found herself with Kanji in a slump and a few hours to spare, she took it upon herself to do the same.

(Basically lots of domestic future headcanon shenaningans~ As a note, Naoto is genderfluid in my fics, and this one uses she/her. AO3 link in the notes)

It had been an awfully long time since the Shiroganes had been working away from home at the same time.

Kanji had become unemployed almost two years ago and had been pooling his resources into his online store since then. And Naoto had been on leave a full year now, because of Chihiro, and then the upheaval and transfer of half the Shirogane agency from Tokyo to Yasoinaba. Save the odd local case, she’d effectively been forced to hang up the detective cap until life calmed down enough for her to return.

It was… a much-needed break. They could mutually agree on that.

Then, less than a month between moving into a house and the agency reopening, Yu Narukami had appeared on their doorstep one evening with ‘encouragement bentos’ and a request. The middle school he worked in as guidance counsellor had suddenly lost a teacher temporarily due to illness. The art teacher. She’d probably need at least six months to recover, but the new semester started in September and it was far too tight a deadline for the board to submit a request for a replacement.

“I mentioned you used to work as an art teacher in Tokyo, Kanji, and they said to ask you as soon as possible.”

Neither of them could have foreseen such a thing… But in a week, their situation had changed from both of them being at home, to both of them returning to work just a day apart from one another.

One day.

What a rare commodity that was.

As much as she adored it, Naoto’s career had always been taxing, keeping her late at night and seldom offering her a chance to catch her breath. After all, the Shirogane agency was lauded all across the country. Grampa had made such a name for it before he had died, and the attention she had gained from the media as the ‘first Detective Prince’ had only served to bolster the Shirogane name’s shining reputation once she’d taken over. That, and the fact that it was the only remaining detective agency in the country that specialised in Shadow-related incidents. They’d become ever more prevalent since the mental shutdowns and the Phantom Thieves incidents a decade ago had made knowledge of them more widespread in the seedier depths of society, and the Shadow Operatives had ensured to keep her busy when the cases grew too complex for them to handle.

That’s why they’d come back to Inaba of all places. With the TV World still very much active, it was the most potent place for illicit Shadow activities to occur in all Japan. And with the murmurings of new information cropping up, the higher ups had figured it may be a good idea to have a team of investigators to hand.

The detective had a lot of work waiting for her when her leave expired.

So, for her to be the one left with the house instead of Kanji for a full day… Well, she couldn’t exactly waste such an occasion.

“Momo, no -! Don’t… climb in there…” Naoto sighed, watching as her orange tabby clambered her way into one of the cardboard boxes at the far end of the room. She knew it was a fruitless effort to try and stop her. Their other cat didn’t house much love for boxes, but Mochi had been found in one as a kitten and clearly had developed a natural affinity towards them as a result. Half their move had been spent trying to keep her out of them long enough to fill them.

“If you wish to help, the very least you could do would be to climb into the ones I haven’t yet searched,” she told her, crossing over to the box and hoisting Mochi out. “That way, I won’t be wasting any time by delving into boxes twice when I retrieve you.”

Unfortunately, Naoto’s request was not met with much approval. The cat just mewled indignantly, clearly unimpressed and unwilling to cooperate, and scampered behind the large pile in the centre of the garage, leaving the detective to continue her investigation on her own.

It was frankly impressive that all the miscellany crammed into these boxes had fit into their Tokyo apartment; big though it was, it had been severely lacking in storage. Half their belongings – all the stuff they didn’t desperately need - were all packed up in this room, waiting for a spare moment to be put in their rightful place. They’d had five weeks to unpack, and perhaps if they’d still been living as just the two of them, they’d have made more of a dent in it. That would certainly have made Naoto’s current task a considerable deal easier. But all the free time they had now was devoted to Chihiro. She was only just coming up on her first birthday, and she was still very much dependant on her parents every moment that she was awake. Even now, Naoto was only able to search the room because the infant was taking her midmorning nap.

She was looking for a binder Kanji had put together, containing a collection of their favourite recipes that he’d found online or written down over the years. Somehow, it had gotten separated from the recipe books when they had packed away their kitchen, and it had not yet resurfaced. This was a major blockade in her plan for the day. She needed that binder. Desperately.

Kanji had seemed rather perturbed as he’d prepared for work that morning. In fact, he’d seemed uneasy about it from the moment Yu had asked him to take it. It was… unlike him. He’d worked as an art teacher in a middle school back in the city for four years, and he’d loved every minute of it.

“Hmm? Course I want the job,” he’d told her when she’d questioned him about it over breakfast. “I miss this kinda shit, you know that.”

He had a smile on his face as he tried spooning a blob of mushed fruits into Chihiro’s mouth, but it was a strained smile if nothing else.

“You just seem tense, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well… So do you. Goin’ back to work after havin’ a kid is s’posed to be kinda rough.” He shrugged.

“I can’t deny that…” Naoto sighed. “Even knowing that your mother will be there for her, and that you’re only doing part time hours, the idea of leaving her alone at all is more taxing on me than I could ever have expected… That’s all it is though?”

Naoto could think of several other reasons Kanji might have to be nervous about this particular job. But on the off chance that they hadn’t crossed his mind yet, she refrained from bringing them up. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel worse.

There was a pause, filled only by Chihiro’s babbles and the sound of the cats zooming about the living room after one another in a burst of energy. As he scraped the last of the baby food from the pot and offered it to their daughter, Kanji’s face began to fall ever so slightly, and before long he was sighing.

“I really gotta… stop overlookin’ that I’m married to a detective. I am scared shitless of leavin’ Chihiro for the first time. If anythin’s wrong, it’s that most of all. But uh… Otherwise I’m just a little weirded out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Middle school – this middle school – is kinda… where I started to get a bad rep… What… I dunno, what if they take one look at me and realise who I am and kick me out? Like, they don’t realise ‘Shirogane Kanji’ is actually ‘Tatsumi Kanji’ an’ once they do they won’t want me anymore? They don’t know why I resigned from my last job either, what if they think I did something bad an’–”

As his voice grew louder and more sporadic, his panic becoming so apparent that it was palpable, Naoto scooted her way over to him and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head gently on his chest.

“You left on your own terms because you disliked the way the school was being run. You don’t have to disclose why. And Kan-chan… you don’t mean to tell me that I’ve kept you from your hometown for so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like? Inaba isn’t overly massive – rumours spread fast. I daresay there isn’t a person here who doesn’t know that the Tatsumi boy married that Detective Shirogane person. Especially not with how much your mother talks about us.”

She held him close for a while, rubbing her hand across his back even after his heart stopped pounding so hard, and his muscles began to relax.

“Yeah… I know… I know it’s a stupid thing to worry about, an’ that there ain’t no point in getting’ worked up about it…”

“Well, it’s not… stupid. I’d say it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to be concerned about, given the impact it had on you in the past. But I can assure you of this: they wouldn’t have hired you if they thought you were unfit for the position.”

He nodded, and a smile appeared on his face again – a genuine one, this time. For the rest of the morning, his dour disposition had dissipated somewhat, and his spirits certainly seemed higher when he had left the house.

But even if she had managed to cheer him up, Naoto knew the day would be a challenge for him no matter how many positive sentiments she sent his way. Returning to a place you had been mistreated, even after nearly twenty years had passed, was difficult enough as it was, without the thought of leaving your baby for the first time nagging at you as well.

That’s why she needed that binder. It contained the recipe for one of Kanji’s all-time favourite curries, one she believed even she could produce, and she figured he might need something like that when he returned home.

He often did little ‘date nights’ from home for them, for birthdays or anniversaries, or even just when Naoto was struggling with a tough case and needed a distraction or treat. They would put on whatever was comfortable, sit down with a meal and a drink, and more often than not, end up in a snuggled-up heap on the couch with a movie flickering on in the background. She hosted her fair share of them as well, but admittedly hers often involved an expensive night out at a restaurant. Kanji was the better cook, and he considered it a hobby more than simply something one needed to do to survive, but Naoto lacked the skill or drive to make a hand-crafted date night even without her long hours.

But this night would be an exception. She suddenly found herself with eight hours at home without him, and she would be a fool not to use that time to surprise him in the same way he always would with her. She’d throw him a date night so damn enjoyable that he’d forget all about his anxieties, no matter the cost.

That was… if she could find the damned recipe she needed to carry out her plan.

And so, she perused box after box in her investigation, leaving not even one overlooked. Old case files she’d had sent over from the Shirogane estate that had once belonged to her grandfather. An assortment of holiday decorations that really needed separating by date. Kanji’s miscellaneous box of scrap material. A box marked for charity of Naoto’s old clothes that had stopped fitting since she’d had Chihiro. Plushies. More plushies. Even the container of extra crockery, things that had come from the kitchen itself, bore no sign of the item she sought. An hour passed as though it were seconds, yielding nothing of value.

Had Kanji already moved it? It wasn’t as though she could ask him… Had they forgotten it? No, that apartment was spotless when they’d moved out. She’d triple checked it herself.

She foresaw herself spending all day searching at this rate… but she didn’t have all day. He’d be staying late for a debriefing, but even so, Kanji would still probably be home for five o’clock, and she still had to go to Junes to fetch the ingredients she was going to need.

Perhaps she could look it up online again? That was where Kanji had found it originally…

She sat herself, cross legged, on an old rug and pulled out her phone, plugging in the name of the recipe into a search engine, lifting her arm so that Mochi – tired of hiding – could come and curl up in her lap. And then, running the fingers of her free hand through Mochi’s fur, she began to scroll and click every site she could find.

But she recalled vividly the constitution of the page she was searching for, and none of these were it. She’d never read the words herself – having never made the recipe – and Kanji had decided to crop the name of the site it was from to maintain the ‘aesthetic’ of the folder, but she knew what it looked like. The colours, the typeface, the accompanying picture.

Nothing.

It was entirely possible the site had been redesigned or deleted. In which case she was out of luck online… It wouldn’t work for her to try a different recipe, it had to be that one. If it wasn’t that one, it wouldn’t taste the same, and then it wouldn’t be his favourite. Irritation began to swell within her as her endeavour began to look more fruitless, and she had to take a few moments to breathe and calm a little before moving onto her last resort: checking with Mrs. Tatsumi, with Yakushiji, and the Investigation Team on the off chance that maybe Kanji had lent them the recipe at some point.

Nos all around.

The irritation grew stronger.

And then, as though a timer had gone off signifying the end of her allotted time, the baby monitor sprung to life.

***

“Are… You even listening?”

Naoto huffed and folded her arms, wearing her most devastating expression of disappointment as she shook her head. She’d been talking for a good ten minutes, and she was beginning to wonder if any of it had been heard at all.

“’Course we are. You want to do something cute and romantic for the big guy, because you’re secretly a massive softie, but your first idea went bust.”

Yosuke offered her a cheeky wink and raised his soda cup in a mock toast, before turning back to fawn over Chihiro in Chie’s arms.

“But I dunno how you expect us to concentrate on anything else when you’ve brought this adorable little muffin along,” Chie added, putting on a baby voice and ‘booping’ said muffin on the nose. Chihiro giggled, her tiny face absolutely beaming with delight.

“Oh, I expect you to manage perfectly. If I can – if Kanji can – despite seeing every cute thing she ever does, then it should be no problem for somebody only exposed to it for a short while.”

A couple of hours had passed since Naoto had given up her search for the original recipe and had elected to change tactic. She would simply have to find… a different meal entirely. One that would still mean as much to Kanji. But a quick scour of the recipe books they had on hand in the kitchen yielded nothing. And so, once Chihiro was fed and dressed appropriately for the late summer warmth, she walked her over to Junes to grab some supplies, hoping that by some pure miracle, looking at the ingredients on offer would spark some form of inspiration within her. Only, out of sheer coincidence, she had managed to time her visit perfectly with the end of Yosuke’s shift, and Chie’s day off.

The two of them could often be found talking in the food court on their off-hours. It had been that way since high school, through all the changes and remodels they’d made to the layout of the store over the years and would likely continue to be that way as long as Junes stood and they remained in Inaba. It was the secret headquarters of the Investigation Team, after all. It wasn’t a place you could so easily give up.

So, guided by tradition, they all sat together, sharing a Takoyaki selection in the summer breeze – a welcome change from the mustiness of the Shirogane residence garage – Yosuke and Chie completely spellbound by the baby while Naoto explained her predicament. She had hoped they’d be a little more attentive, and frankly more helpful, but… she supposed she couldn’t fault them. Chihiro was effectively their niece, and she’d been in Tokyo for the past year.

But at least they were making her happy. Seeing her so ecstatic, despite Kanji being gone for so long, certainly helped ease some of the anxieties she had been feeling about leaving her. Getting her acquainted properly with the people who would likely be babysitting her until well into her teens was certainly not a bad thing… although… Naoto was on a tight schedule.

“Aaanyway.” She rapped the table lightly with the tips of her fingers. “Regretfully my first idea – the one that was ah… ‘bust’, as you said – was also my only idea. I’m currently running at a loss on where to proceed from here…”

At the very least they were nodding along now, and looking at her as she spoke.

“…Chie-chan, do you have date nights? What do you usually do?”

“Hmm? Yeah, of course we do! But, uh… Yukiko and I always go out for ‘em. You know, because the inn keeps her so busy and I –”

“Can’t cook anything without it coming out tasting of cardboard?” Yosuke supplied, grinning. Chie shot him a mean look, but nodded nonetheless.

“Pretty much…”

“In most instances, that would be my go-to as well,” Naoto said, holding back a grin at Yosuke’s comment. “Hand-crafted anything is Kanji’s forte, not mine, but… we both agree the ones at home are more enjoyable, no matter how good the food may be in a restaurant.”

“You’re like… the most private people I’ve ever known, so that isn’t surprising.”

She gave an affirming nod. Lovely as it was to go all out sometimes at an expensive eatery, there were always… stares. No matter where they were, people would see them and notice. Sometimes they’d simply recognise the Detective Prince, and that was all they’d see. But other times their eyes would linger longer. They’d take note of Kanji’s piercings and spikes combined with the cute animals and soft colours, analyse Naoto’s dedication to old English fashion and deliberate lack of conformity to any gender, and then keep their gazes trained on the two of them as they attempted to pick apart every contrasting aspect. The way they looked and dressed alone, the way they looked and dressed together… it made going out in public difficult for two people who both struggled to some degree with social anxieties and a history of being scrutinised for the way they were.

Kanji had left the house worrying he was going to be judged. She didn’t want to put him through that twice in one day.

“Well, is there anything else you’ve made before that you know he likes?” Yosuke asked, helping himself to the Takoyaki

Naoto frowned. “Well, yes, but all of it is rather… typical? I have a small repertoire, you see.”

“So you want something different? Hmm… Why don’t you just go ham?” Chie suggested with a genuine smile. “Grab stuff you think’ll go together and make a totally new curry. Heck, doesn’t even gotta be curry.”

“That’s how you end up with Mystery Food X: Redux,” Yosuke warned, and Chie’s smile instantly vanished. “Though actually, Naoto… In your sensible hands you’d probably be okay. You actually know how to cook.”

“If I wasn’t holding a baby right now, I would kick you.”

“Without a recipe at all…?” For a moment, the detective was left perplexed. But before long, a thought came across her mind, and that irritation from earlier came grumbling back into her periphery. “Yosuke-kun. Please. I simply don’t have the time to spare for your… japes and mockery. I need you to be serious.”

She expected him to laugh, as he often would when she caught him out while he was joking. She didn’t do so very often, loathe as she was to admit it, and it had become something of a game to Yosuke to see how long he could keep pushing her buttons.

But this time he threw up his hands instead, with… was that his face now contorted in confusion as well?

“H-hey, I am being serious. Promise. If you genuinely have no other ideas, then I begrudgingly accept that Chie might be onto something.”

“And I’m supposed to do that without instructions?” She asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows. Was she being foolish and naïve? Or was Yosuke the one reeking of inexperience? “You act as though you believe I have time to memorise every food combination, and how to make them work. I am a detective, not a chef, Yosuke-kun. Recipes exist so that I don’t have to preoccupy my brain with trivialities such as cooking from memory.”

“Hey, it was Chie’s idea, not mine!”

“You should know better.”

The raised voices and snipes were a staple of any conversation involving Yosuke and Chie, and at this point Naoto had come to learn that it was largely performative. They ‘fought’ with warm regards. She’d even reached a point where she was able to go along with it without utterly deflating the mood. But to Chihiro, with no grasp of the concept of banter, it was all just loud, frightening noises coming from people she didn’t know all too well. The conversation very quickly had to switch courses when a crying spell threatened to rear its head.

“You know… you never asked me what I do for date nights,” Yosuke pointed out once the baby had been settled. She now lay propped up on Naoto’s lap, nodding off with her little head resting on her chest. Naoto constantly considered herself fortunate that Chihiro wasn’t especially fussy. Sometimes on a good day all she needed to calm right down was a cuddle.

“Hmm?” she looked up. If Yosuke had said anything before that, she had been too preoccupied with gently coaxing her daughter to nap to hear it. “Oh, no, I suppose I didn’t…”

Chie, who had moved into the more comfortable position of resting her chin on her hand now her arms were free, scoffed slightly.

“Dude. Maybe because you don’t have anybody to date?”

“Well… No, but I’ve been on dates. More than one with the same person. I have experience, I’m just… not experiencing it right now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, casting his gaze off to the side. “Dinner dates aren’t really my thing though…”

“So, why’d you even bring it up?”

“Hey! I’ve been on… like, one dinner date. I’m just not the guru of them!” He shrugged. “It’s an interesting story actually… I got set up a few years ago by my bandmates, and it turns out the guy isn’t my type at all. But I didn’t want to say no without at least giving him a chance, so… Y’know. He wants to go out to this fancy French place, but we get there and they’re closing early because of… Uh, I think the kitchen flooded or something like that? So, he takes me back to his place and leaves me there, runs off to go shopping, and comes back and cooks a three-course French meal himself.”

“And you didn’t marry him on the spot?”

“Nah. We did a couple more dates but it didn’t really work out. We weren’t super compatible...”

“Is this why you get Rise to vet anybody you’re gonna date now?”

“Pretty much. You guys know me best, so…”

The two of them continued to talk, but from Naoto’s perspective, their voices had been drowned by her thoughts into a dull and distant murmur. From the moment Yosuke had finished his story, the gears in her brain had whirred into motion, working their way into fabricating a plan formed from his words.

It had hit her at last. A wave of inspiration and relief, tantamount to the feeling she would have when she’d finally cracked the secret to a particularly arduous case.

A plan. Followed by a conjured image of how Kanji’s face might look when he saw it.

“Yosuke-kun…” she began, standing slowly so that she did not wake the baby and gently lowering her into the buggy she had parked next to her seat. “Would you be able to look something up for me? While my hands are full.”

***

January 19th, 2025. Little over a year and a half ago. London, England. They’d been abroad for a few weeks at that point, Naoto on a case for the Shadow Operatives, and Kanji taking advantage of her hotel room to table at an artist’s alley in a convention.

It was something of a special occasion. Kanji’s 29th birthday had been the original cause for celebration, but to him at least that was very much an aside. It was, what, only three hours prior to reaching the restaurant that they’d found out Naoto was pregnant.

There had been several sources for the reasoning behind Naoto’s choice in establishment, and unlike most of her destination picks while they’d been in London, none of them had a single thing to do with Sherlock Holmes. The ones that stood out the most: a churning in her stomach – simultaneously a mental and a physical reaction to her current condition – and a particularly mournful image of her mother-in-law from a few months prior.

“There was this little place my late husband and I would always take Kanji when he was young, if we had to travel to Okina. Italian, it was, family run. I just heard from a customer that it was recently shut down because the owner passed. It has me a little down to think of, that’s all Naoto dear.”

A precious memory from Kanji’s childhood was no small matter, harrowing as such a thing was to think. And Italian… parsing through her options in her mind as she browsed the local restaurants on one of those food apps, Naoto took note of how the one being advertised made her insides turn the least at the thoughts of it. It was one of those smaller, more community-based places, while the others were either going to be full of too-rich smells for her poor stomach to handle, or full of classy, antiquated rules and stares that she didn’t feel up to taking that day.

She didn’t want to make her husband eat hotel food on his birthday… And nor did she want to worry him all evening by being exceptionally edgy. So it didn’t take very long at all for her to have dialled the number for the family-run Italian place, and had booked them a table for two that evening.

The food had been… good. Standard fare for that kind of place. But Naoto was a harsh critic – even without feeling deeply unwell, she had been to Italy. And yet, in all the fifteen years she had known Kanji, she could not recall a single meal out where he seemed to have enjoyed himself quite as much as that. The rush of euphoria from learning he was going to be a father had apparently been enough to turn any experience he may have had that night into the best date night of his life. And Naoto knew the kind of man he was. Sentimental, perceptive, prone to dwelling on the little things. He’d remember, starkly, what he had eaten then.

It was just a pasta meal. She recalled it being made with chicken and a creamy, pesto-based sauce, and Yosuke’s internet search had quickly pulled up a recipe for something along those lines. It wouldn’t be the same – these places kept their recipes close to the heart – but that didn’t matter. Her plan had now become a case of finding something symbolic, over finding something that tasted good.

“I think he’s really starting to rub off on you,” Yosuke had noted as Naoto had prepared to rush off to grab the ingredients from the recipe he had found. “Kanji, I mean. In a good way.”

She’d queried him on that. Her own sharpness didn’t exactly extend to analysing herself.

“I just meant that five years ago, I don’t think you’d ever have thought to do something like this. I always took you for the… less cliché of the two of you. Didn’t you propose to him spontaneously in a cat café? If you don’t mind me asking… why is this the first thing you thought to do for him?”

A pause for Naoto to collect her thoughts. One that, much to everyone’s surprise, didn’t last nearly as long as it might have.

“It’s… because this is logical to me. A dinner date – it’s the simplest, most common activity in the books. It’s a cliché because its effective. Because food is one of those love languages that transcends barriers, and to somebody who struggles in most social situations, like Kanji, like me, you must understand that something like this is a life saver. It’s a change to our routine that really doesn’t change all that much.” She smiled to herself. “Kanji does this to make me feel happy. So many people do, for the person they love. It only makes sense to me that I follow their lead.”

It was that way for most matters of the heart, she thought to herself as she balanced a packet of chicken on the hood of the buggy. She had never known how to act in these situations, how to express the feelings she had. And while she’d devised some unique little ways that she had managed to convey to Kanji, oftentimes the most effective means of telling him that she loved him was to simply use another person’s idea as a foundation. She had her own experiences as proof that it worked. After all, Kanji was a person who had been so starved for and scared of affection as a child that now, almost anything that said ‘I care about you’ was enough to draw him to tears. And Naoto was no different. He was more physical than her, and really that was the only major way in which their feelings towards romance diverged. The things that made one of them happy was sure to leave the other in the same state.

***

Naoto loved Kanji more than she hated cooking. That was really the defining fact that made this entire plan of hers possible at all.

Because she really hated cooking.

“I’ll prolly be home in like… forty minutes,” Kanji had told her over the phone when she’d given him a tentative call at just gone four to gauge how long she had. Pasta wasn’t exactly something she could make well in advance – just the thought of reheating it or overcooking it made her skin crawl. It was one of those things she needed to be perfect. Kanji, thankfully, didn’t have a preference.

So, she’d had to leave making the actual meal until as close to Kanji’s arrival as she could predict. But it wasn’t as though she had time to spare… She had to make the table, feed the cats, feed the baby, put the baby down for a nap…

Then she had to cook the chicken and the pasta… that was fine, it just… radiated a lot of heat for a day that was already rather warm. Inaba’s houses were old, and they didn’t yet have much ventilation or air conditioning.

Then was the sauce, and she had to do some vegetables, but she had to keep stirring the sauce so it didn’t ruin the consistency, and she had to keep turning the meat and the veggies so they wouldn’t burn, and oh, the pasta might stick or become overdone if she wasn’t careful. Then it would just become stressful. Every meal, every time. No matter how methodical she tried to be, it would always devolve into this.

It was a focus thing, she was sure. When she homed in on a task or a detail, it became quite difficult to switch gears on the fly. A useful skill for analysing a murder case. Not so much for cooking.

It was why, when they were both at home, she and Kanji would often just cook dinner together.

But occasionally, and for the sake of somebody she cared about, it was worth it.

She was just at the stage where she was plating up the food, trying to get it to look as it did in the picture on the website, when the familiar sight of an old, dusty car that had at one point been purple staggered its way up their driveway, starkly contrasted with the shiny motorcycle it had pulled up next to. As Kanji climbed from the car, Naoto carefully studied his face, trying to glean from his expression how exactly he was feeling in that moment. But Kanji had a naturally angry look to him, so such a task was often difficult to undertake.

“You makin’ garlic bread, Nao?” he called from the porch almost as soon as the door had slid shut.

“You’ll see,” was all she said in response. With Kanji just moments away from seeing what she had done, she found herself buzzing with anticipation.

“Wuzzat s’posed to mean?” he asked, sticking his head around the door into the kitchen.

For a moment, his forehead crinkled as he took everything in, his eyes lingering on the table made up as closely to that of a restaurant as Naoto could manage, with cloth, candles, and an arrangement of Kanji’s favourite red roses (albeit that was rather haphazardly done).

And in that moment Naoto felt as though her heart had somehow managed to stall.

But the tension was brief, quickly dissipated by the biggest, goofiest grin taking up a huge portion of Kanji’s face.

He strode into the room and pulled his partner into a powerful hug all in a motion that was so fluid, you wouldn’t think it was Kanji performing it.

“I can see you’re ready to reopen the agency, huh?”

Naoto smiled and shook her head, before snuggling her cheek into Kanji’s chest. “Don’t mistake this for a fit of boredom – I’ve been anything but. Welcome to our first date night back in Inaba.”

“Huh? W-wait, hold up… Date night? You did this… fer me?”

His eyes threatened to grow wider than his smile had those few moments earlier, as the realisation of the circumstances slowly began to dawn on him.

Then, as was customary for Kanji whenever Naoto would do anything for him ever, his face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, and he began stammering unintelligible gibberish.

“Quickly now, before it cools down!”

“Y…Yuh…”

This was… odd. Kanji seemed unequivocally, unprecedentedly broken. His movements as he crossed to the counter and grabbed his plate, were mechanical, shaken, even. They weren’t unheard of for him, but it was as though they had suddenly been transported fifteen years into the past once more. Before they had fallen in love, before they’d even been close friends, when Kanji was so overcome with embarrassment whenever they spoke that he would be unable to function.

Now they were married, it wasn’t exactly commonplace.

Had something happened to him at work which had left him overwhelmed?

“Kanji?” Naoto called out tentatively as they took their seats.

“…huh?”

“You seem… Rather out of it.”

He blinked a couple of times and shook his head. “Right. Yeah… Sorry…”

He cleared his throat and repeated the process of shaking his head.

“It’s just, uh… ‘M kinda at a loss for words. This is… Wow.”

A tension she hadn’t recognised until it was gone suddenly flooded from her body with a sigh of relief.

“For a moment there I was concerned that something was wrong, so –”

“More like… everythin’ is right. I never pegged you fer someone who’d do date nights Tatsumi style.”

“…Tatsumi style? So this…” she waved an arm across the table. “This is something you observed… what, from your parents?”

He nodded. Naoto didn’t realise it was possible for him to turn redder until just then.

“Ain’t really a lotta options for fancy restaurants like what you do out here. Ma and my old man always improvised at home. I know cookin’ yer partner a meal ain’t somethin’ my folks made up, they just ended up callin’ it that… Nickname kinda stuck.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, I suppose I have rather adopted a Tatsumi way of behaving today. Our roles have been utterly reversed. Why, I daresay after dinner, I shall take up a crochet project, and you’ll lull our Chihiro to sleep by reading her more of ‘A Study in Scarlet’.”

“I love you, Naoto.”

“Eh?”

But instead of elaborating, Kanji simply left his partner to turn an equally furious shade of red while he took a bite of the food. Naoto found herself so flustered that she didn’t even have time to be nervous about him trying the dish.

But, she supposed, she didn’t really have anything to worry about. This was Kanji.

“…I better never hear the words ‘I’m not very good at cooking’ comin’ from yer mouth again.”

“Well… Regardless of the quality of the food –” she began, about to launch into a spiel about how the mess she made, and how stressful it was for her, suggested that she technically wasn’t exactly on the level of a master. But all it took from Kanji was a single glare, and she stopped herself.

This was supposed to be a pleasant evening. And he did hate when she was self-deprecating in any capacity.

“I’m glad you like it Kan-chan.” She smiled, taking her own first bite. Hmm. Not bad. She wasn’t sure how this was supposed to taste – she’d been feeling far too unwell that night in London to eat much at all, so she’d ordered a lighter dish – but how it did taste was pleasant.

“Better than it was on my birthday that one time. Dunno if you remember, but at that one Italian place when we were in England –”

“Where do you suppose I gained the inspiration to make this particular meal?”

“Huh? Well shit, haha. Last time I ever doubt yer memory.”

“Hm, well… I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting that day…”

Kanji slid his free hand across the table and placed it atop hers, rubbing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles. Strange, she noted, that the nail was still painted black; she was sure the school would make him take the colour off alongside his piercings.

A nagging feeling in her chest, her stomach, her mind was begging her to ask him how it had gone. But it was not the only train of thought on the feeling that she had. What if Kanji didn’t want to talk about it yet? What if it was best to simply… enjoy the meal in ignorant bliss? Was he waiting for the right time, or for her to say something?

He looked as though he were about to speak now, was that the subject he was going to bring up?

“How has Chihiro been today?”

No. Of course not. The subject of work would have to wait.

As with… most of their conversations over the past year, the rest of the meal was largely dominated with Chihiro. Naoto describing, in detail, exactly what she had done, and Kanji’s expression growing fonder and fonder with every word. By the time they were done eating, he looked as though he were going to cry.

“Kinda sad that this is our lives goin’ forwards…”

“Hm?”

“Nothin’… just been missin’ her at work is all.”

The nagging feeling was very quickly becoming anxiety. The first mention of his day all evening, and it was something negative.

“Kanji, was everything –”

A sound suddenly stole her words before she had the chance to finish. A baby crying, as audible through the walls as it was the baby monitor on the counter.

“Prolly needs changing, huh?” Kanji smiled, rising to his feet. “Mind if I take this?”

“Please… She probably misses you too.”

In the time that Kanji was attending to the baby, Naoto managed to load everything that needed cleaning into the dishwasher, and found her way to the living room, and then to the couch. But her mind wasn’t exactly responsive as she did so.

Kanji… was worse than she had anticipated… More than just a simple meal could possibly hope to fix. Why on earth… What delusion had she been under to think, with how he’d been these past few days, that a little romantic gesture would be all he needed to feel better.

Amidst the haze that was buzzing in her mind, she vaguely registered her hands clenching into fists.

At some point, goodness knew when, Kanji had reappeared in the room and had sat down next to her, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“She’s back down. Heh… Wanted to play as soon as she saw me, the little tyke, but could barely keep her eyes open long enough to do it.”

“She’s had… a busy day.”

“Ain’t we all?” he said with an air of exhaustion about him, placing his glasses gently on the kotatsu in front of them and then sinking back into the couch. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“I’ve been ready for weeks. Waiting on other people…” Naoto mumbled in response. Her gaze had fallen as she’d spoken to her socks, and she could not bring herself to remove it until Kanji nudged her with his arm.

“Hey. You good, Nao?”

“…Are you?”

That brought the conversation to a standstill.

“Would ya believe me if I told ya I was jus’ tired?”

“Only… partially.”

He gave her a half smile and repositioned himself so that his head lay on her shoulder.

“It was… a pretty exhaustin’ day… Lotta new stuff. Lotta old stuff too… that school ain’t changed in twenty years. Amazing it’s managed so long.”

Naoto just made an affirming noise and let her hand come to rest on his shoulder, pressing her cheek onto the top of his head. Best just to let him speak, she thought.

“Ain’t none of the people I knew still there but… they knew who I was. Course they did… didn’t expect any different. An’ you know what?”

“Hm?”

“Most of ‘em just complimented me on the plushies. They knew me ‘cause of the shop, not… ‘cause of the delinquent shit.”

“Well, that’s… good, is it not? That’s what we hoped would happen.”

She felt him shift his head as though he were trying to nod. His arm had worked its way around her waist, and she felt him bunching up the fabric of her dress shirt in his fingers as he spoke. It was an unconscious habit of his. Most notable when he was nervous.

“Yeah… Never said it weren’t good. Jus’ that I was tired. And that I missed my kid. And you.”

Naoto drew a deep breath. “It seemed like something was wrong, that’s all. I’ve been worried about you. All day. All week.”

“…That why you’re not okay?”

“Yes! Effectively!”

Another brief standstill.

“Sorry ‘bout that… Really… Last thing I wanted was for my bullshit worrying over nothing to affect you too.”

Naoto squeezed his shoulder slightly.

“You should know by now that such a thing is impossible. The same can be said of you, to me. We’ve been in this partnership since we were in high-school, Kan-chan, we can’t simply… hide our true feelings any longer. We know each other too well to be caught out.”

“Yeah… s’pose you’re right… I did appreciate it though. Back before I went in today and realised my worries were a load ‘a crap. I… I dunno, I guess comin’ back to Inaba after so long had me thinkin’ that everythin’ was gonna go back to the way it was.”

“Kanji… You weren’t… Please don’t tell me you’ve been thinking that way since we first planned to come.”

Silence. Naoto’s heart dropped. Obviously, that meant she was right on the mark.

Good lord, she had still been expecting when they’d first discussed moving back! Their daughter was one in a week!

“’s in the past now though. All of it,” he said eventually. “Physically this place ain’t no different, but I guess the vibe has changed since we were kids. Maybe… Enough time has passed now that I ain’t gotta worry about… the guy I was.”

“Kanji… I rescind what I said earlier. About how it’s impossible to hide our feelings from each other. Please… when it’s something serious like this, I implore you to tell me.”

Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry. If she did, he’d try to make this about her, and dammit, she was tired of it being about her. The entire point of everything she had done that day was to make it about Kanji for once in his life.

“…’M sorry, Nao…”

After that, for a long while neither of them spoke. They simply adjusted themselves into a position where they could more easily cuddle and sat there, snuggled into each other as the dwindling oranges and purples of the twilight sky gave way to darkness.

Kanji was the one to break the silence, his voice so slick with sleepiness that it was demure in a way which was much unlike him.

“Hey Nao… Yer still awake, right?”

“Mmhmm…” she responded. It was… mostly true.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’. I got a new goal now we’re back here… I wanna be able to look that bastard in the eye and tell him he ain’t me. Not because I’m denyin’ anythin’, but because he ain’t.”

“Him? Your Shadow?”

“Yeah. Like you can, y’know? If your Shadow popped their head back up and started sayin’ the same shit as before, you could just tell ‘em: ‘you’re wrong.’ ‘Cause they would be.”

“But they wouldn’t say something like that. My age and gender no longer cause me grief to the level they had in my youth, so my Shadow wouldn’t bring them up.”

Of course, they wouldn’t. Naoto thought that was obvious. She was thirty-one, very much an adult, and any doubt she had about whether she was a man or a woman were significantly eased when she had learned that she could be both and neither. She had no lack of confidence in those aspects of herself, regardless now of what other people thought, so there was no way the Shadow could use them as ammunition if they were to reappear.

But based on Kanji’s next statement, suddenly full of more vigour than his words prior, she wondered if perhaps she had misunderstood where he was coming from.

“Yeah, but that’s what I’m saying! The stuff your Shadow said back then… It ain’t even crossin’ your mind anymore. I wanna be the same… I mean… It’s not that I ain’t happy with who I am. I like cute shit, and sewing, and all the stuff like that. Shit, I’m bi as hell. I can say that stuff proudly. It’s…” he huffed. “For some reason, it’s like I can be confident in myself all I want, but in my head it don’t mean shit unless everyone else feels the same way. An' as long as I got a history as 'the guy who beats up bikers', it's like that day ain't gonna come... I’m… still scared shitless of bein’ rejected after all these years... It’s like… every time I meet a new group of people, I just end up wonderin’ how long its gonna be before they brand me a thug and cut me and everyone I care about off. Think that’s kinda the reason it’s been weighin’ on me again so much more recently. I start comin’ up with scenarios in my head where it gets outta hand and Chihiro gets hurt ‘cause of it.”

As he spoke, his hug became tighter.

“Kan-chan…”

“So, my goal is to get to a place where I don’t constantly worry about that stuff. Where if that bastard showed up again and said that kinda shit, I could deny him with my whole heart and know for certain that I’m right an’ he’s wrong. An’ before you say shit, I know that ain’t how Shadows work. That’s jus’ the image I use in my head to try an’ visualise what I’m itchin’ to do.”

He added that last part with a hint of a laugh to his tone.

So that was why he took a job he was so caught up about? As some concrete way of proving to himself that he would be okay if he did?

A self-destructive means of gathering evidence for a hypothesis… hm… perhaps Naoto’s inheritance of Kanji’s traits over the years had gone the other way as well.

“I didn’t realise it was possible to be so unbelievably proud of somebody, while simultaneously thinking them a fool…” Naoto ensured to keep her own tone bright, so that he would know she spoke in endearing terms. “You know I would have supported you through this if only you had told me –”

“Hah. Yer actin’ like you take me for the kinda guy who thinks this shit through… this ain’t exactly something I’ve been plannin’ or nothin’, it just sorta… came to me now.”

Oh, so it was a subconscious instinct?

Then perhaps he would be safe from her bad influence for just a little while longer…

“Well… regardless of how much preparation has gone into it… it is a good goal to have in mind, so long as you’re comfortable with the pain it may bring in the process.”

“Yeah. No problem. Anyway…” he sat up and looked her in the eyes. “What was that you were implyin’ with the whole ‘you know I would have supported you’ bull you just said?”

Naoto frowned. “It’s the truth –”

“Yeah, I know it’s the truth. Because you have been supportin’ me, dumbass. You ain’t ever stopped.” He thrust his arm in the vague, general direction of the kitchen, a wild delight dancing in his eyes. “You spent the last day of yer maternity leave makin’ sure I’d have a good evenin’ because you thought I needed cheerin’ up.”

Naoto felt her cheeks heat up. “I… I only did what you would do for me…”

“Yeah, but it ain’t like I made you do it. You still made the decision. It’s amazin’, an yer incredible, and adorable, an’ you make a freakin’ awesome pasta, an’ I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

She knew she was blushing harder and harder with every word, to the point where all she could think to do was bury her face into his shoulder.

“Feel kinda bad that we kinda got side-tracked from the ‘date night’ though… Sorry if you had anything else planned.”

“No, no, don’t feel bad. I did this because I thought you needed it, Kanji. And I don’t suppose I’m wrong in suggesting that you very much needed this talk as well?”

“…You ain’t wrong… Not at all.”

“And do you feel any better for having it?”

“Mmhmm.”

Naoto lifted her head and gave him her warmest smile. “Then I can safely declare this date night a resounding success.”

“Damn right, you can! But uh… I don’t wanna take away from anythin’ else you mighta wanted to do, so –”

The heat in her cheeks returned as quickly as it had vanished, and she sheepishly averted his gaze. Right. Date night was usually more than a meal.

“Uhm... About that. Kanji, I’ll be perfectly honest with you, I… I was so caught up in trying to find a recipe for dinner that it never even occurred to me to look for a movie or something to do afterwards.”

She offered him an apologetic look, but his immediate response was only to laugh and hold her closer.

“Don’t think I coulda made it through a movie anyway… I’m beat…”

“As am I. I think I may drift off here…”

It quickly became apparent that each of their ideal end to the evening would be to turn in early and hope to gain a restful night – something that was near impossible with a small child. Whether such a thing was an indication of how eventful their day had been, or whether it was simply a sign of them getting older, neither really cared to consider. Instead, they just ensured the house was secure, called the cats to follow them, and moved upstairs as quietly as they could so that their footsteps wouldn’t cause Chihiro to stir.

It wasn’t until Naoto had switched her outfit for one of Kanji’s old shirts and was brushing her teeth in the upstairs bathroom that it dawned on her: there was still one aspect of her day that had yet to be cleared up.

And now that it had come to mind, she feared she may be unable to sleep until she had an answer.

“Kan-chan?”

“Hm?”

“You know the binder you keep with recipe print-outs…? Do you have any idea what box it’s in?”

His face was mostly buried by the bedsheets by now, but she could tell from the part she could see that he was thinking hard.

“Uh… Oh! My car.”

“…Your car?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want the other kitchen stuff to squash it, so I put it separate. I see it every time I go in there an’ I keep saying I’ll bring it in and never do. How come…?”

Naoto heaved a great sigh and flopped on the bed besides him. It wasn’t until her face hit the pillow that she realised exactly how exhausting her day had been. “So you had it all along… I never would have found it.”

“You were lookin’ for it?”

“I was. I wanted to make you that curry instead, the one you called your favourite.”

“Ohhhh. I getcha now." He laughed. "That woulda been a good choice. But y’know anythin’ would have been fine. I got a real soft-spot for Italian food, hehe.”

“I like that curry myself though,” she added, as she shuffled under the covers. “It’s rare to find something spicy that you can handle as much as I…”

“You do, huh? I see.”

There was silence for a while. And then…

“Hey, Naoto…?”

“Mmm?”

“When’s your next day off?”

“My next day off…? That would be Sunday… Why?”

But Kanji didn’t answer. Instead, he just leaned over to kiss her goodnight, and then, with a sleepy smile, he rolled over and went to sleep.

#persona 4 #kanji tatsumi #naoto shirogane #kannao #misede writes

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