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outerbankspreferences · 4 years ago

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Into the Unknown - Sarah Cameron

Request: Can you please do a sarah x fem reader were reader is a pogue and they are oposites. Like the reader dresses more sweat shirts and mom jeans. And they are kinda rivals because she’s a pogue but they spend a day together and realize they have feelings for each other. Could you also add in somthing bout not really knowing if reader really like girls but descoverse she’s bi after talking with Sarah (sorry Ik this is vv specific but I’m feeling some sorta way towards sarah so yea)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 1531

A/N: I hope I portrayed this the way you wanted!

You hated the thought tog going to the Kook academy, but when you got offered a scholarship your parents didn’t want you to give it up. You were an amazing artist, and your art teacher at your old school had helped you get the scholarship. You didn’t come from much. Both of your parents worked fulltime to help support you and your siblings. At first you didn’t want to go because you didn’t want to leave your friends. The Pouges were the closest thing to family you had.

You only agreed because Kie went there, and said she finally wanted to have some friends. She had a falling out with Sarah Cameron the year prior. “Come on Y/N, it won’t be that bad. You can hang out with me. At least you’ll know someone.” Kie said sitting around the fire. “Oh yeah, hang out with the one who was no friends. Probably not a smart move.” JJ spoke up. Kie slapped him on the arm, “it’s the Kook princess’ fault I don’t have any friends. She told everyone I called the cops on her party.”

“But you did call the cops on her party. I was with you when you did it.” John B interrupted her. “Okay who’s side are you on? She invited everyone in the school but me. The bitch got what she deserved.” Kie snapped at him. It was an unspoken agreement that none of you liked Sarah after what she did to Kie. They were best friends in grade 9 and then Sarah threw a party and didn’t invite Kie, so she got the party busted. You can still remember her calling you all the time crying, you felt so bad because there was nothing you could do to help her.

“I plan on keeping my head down until graduation, I don’t want to meet anyone. I’ve got all the friends I need with you guys.” You said leaning back in your chair, watching the fire. “Probably a good idea.” Pope said to you, he knew how nervous you were for this.

It was finally your first day at the Kook academy. You and Kie shared a room but didn’t have any classes together. She had showed the day before where all your classes were so you wouldn’t get lost, but this place was huge. You had been looking for you AP Art History, when you bumped into someone, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking”- You cut yourself when you saw who it was, Sarah Cameron.

“It’s okay, you’re Y/N, right? I think I’ve seen you at the boneyard a couple of times.” She said smiling. You didn’t really know why but she made you nervous. It was something you’d never felt before. All sudden you had not idea what to say to her. You realized she was waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yeah that’s right. I’ve seen you there before too.” You confirmed, looking back down at your schedule. ‘don’t talk to her Y/N.’ you thought to yourself.

“What class are you trying to find. I couldn’t find my way around this place for like a month.” She said grabbing the schedule out of your hand. “Oh, AP Art History, I’m in that class too, follow me.” She said leading you the way to the class.

She was still looking over your schedule, “it looks like we have a lot of classes together, we should hang out I’ll help you find your way around. Who’s your roommate?” She asked walking fast through the halls, you were struggling to keep up. “Uh Kiara, and I’m sure I could find time to hang out.” You said trying to avoid the topic, Kie would kill you if you hung out with her. You guys made it to class right before the bell rang. “Kie would probably kill you for hanging out with me, it’ll be our little secret.” She said winking at you, and your heart flutter.

This kept up for weeks, always hanging out, you learned a lot about Sarah. She was an artist too, and you guys spent a lot of timing drawing each other. You would catch yourself sketching her when she wasn’t around, simply drawing her silhouette.

You’d never felt this way about another girl before. You always assumed that you were into boys, but maybe you were wrong. You and Kiara had gone down to the meal hall to eat supper, a normal night for the two of you. You hadn’t really been paying attention to what Kiara had been talking about, more focused on looking at Sarah. She seemed so confident with her friends, like she was on top of the world.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N.” Kie said waving a hand in your face, pulling out of your own little world. “Sorry, what did you say?” You blushed hoping she didn’t realize who you were staring at. “I said, Kelce asked me out for lunch next week, do you think I should go.” She seemed annoyed you weren’t listening in the first place. “I don’t know, he didn’t really have the time of day for back home so what’s different here? I think you should be careful.” You spoke honestly. She looked at you like you had five heads. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but you were known for speaking your mind with your friends.

“Well, aren’t you a supportive person.” She said laughing. You felt bad for what you said, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry Kie, I didn’t mean to be rude.” You spoke not wanting to start an argument. “I think I’m just going to go back to the room, I’m tired from volleyball today.” She said getting up, you tried to stop her put she didn’t listen. “Smooth move L/N.” You look up to see Sarah sitting in the place Kiara was sitting.

“What are you talking about?” You asked even though you knew she just watched the whole encounter happen. “Kie, I know it can be hard living with your friend. We’re all going to the beach tonight if you want to come.” She offered smiling at you. “I don’t know Sarah; I’m not really dressed for the beach.” You gestured to the mom jeans and sweater you wore down to supper.

“Yeah, I didn’t really want to go to the beach anyways, let’s go down to the art room, I still have to finish my project for Mr. Willis’s’ class. You both grab some snacks and head down laughing to each other. You got your easel all set up and started working on sketch. Sarah but some soft music on in the background to break up the silence. It was the nice thing about your friendship, you didn’t need to speak, just each others company was enough.

It made you nervous to be alone with her. You were sure her friends didn’t like you, and yours didn’t. “So how did you get into the academy Y/N? I’m not trying to be mean, but I know you’re a Pouge, I thought your parents couldn’t afford something like this.” She asked, careful about how she worded things. “Uh, I got a scholarship, my old art teacher sent some of my work in without me knowing. It was Kiara who convinced me to come. It looks better to art schools apparently. I’m going to need a lot of help if I want to leave the Outer banks.” You explained not looking up from your drawing.

You weren’t normally this open with people, but with Sarah it was just easy. You never felt judge by her, she would let you talk all your problems away and never interrupt you. “Do you want to leave? The Outer banks I mean.” She asked sounding sad you didn’t want to stay. “Yeah, it’s every Pouges dream. I think I still want to live by the ocean, just not here.” You explained. “Sometimes I wish I could just get up and leave today, you know? No explanation just packs a bag and never come back. Go from town to town working a little when I needed the money.” You said looking over at her.

She was staring back at you. “I wish I knew that freedom. I know you guys think being a Kook we have everything we could ever want, but I would kill for your freedom. I see you guys hanging out having so much fun in the summer. Know cares if you guys are late, or what you wear, or who you with. You don’t have an image to uphold.” You could tell she was being sincere about it. “We’ll leave one day Sarah, just me, you and the open road.” You said giggling, falling in love with the idea. “Promise?” she asked laughing, “Promise.” You replied.

When you talked to her like this, it was when you knew you loved her. Sometimes you were sad because she was dating Topper, and clearly not interested in women, but you were happy you got to spend these moments with her. Just the two of you talking. Not a Kook and a Pouge, but two friends with a mutual understanding.

TAG LIST: @drewstarkey @fttayla @lemur46 @pita0402

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron outerbanks #sarah outer banks #outer banks #madelyn cline #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron fic

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

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so sorry im late asking this (i was waiting for you to get more, super surprised you didn’t get more asks tbh) but could I hear more about your wips “I have a crush on Barbara Holland” “baby fic” and “HOH Steve” also if it’s not too much “girlyfriends” and “cali house” and “medical emergency” ik ik that’s a lot but I’d honestly want hear about ALL of you wips in that list if i could. thank u in advance

It’s alright anon! I’ll accept these asks until I run out of WIPs to talk about!

I have a crush on Barbara Holland- This one is a soulmates au, where Steve has his soulmates initials, B.H., on his wrist, and he is whole heartedly convinced that that person is Barb. He’s very much in love with her, and there’s lots of talk about how pretty and nice she is (hence the title lol) but eventually she reveals that he isn’t her soulmate. Before she had hid the initials on her own wrist under a watch or a chunky bracelet, but she feels guilty, and shows Steve that her mark had long ago faded, because her soulmate passed away when they were in elementary school. Steve decides, despite how much value he used to hold in the whole soulmate thing, he doesn’t care about who some stupid mark says he should be with, so him and Barb date until her death. He’s heart broken, but the sadness very quickly turns into so much anger after Billy Hargrove, another B.H. rolls into town with a little S.H. on his wrist. He feels like the universe or whoever is even in charge of this soulmate bullshit is spiting him for thinking he could fall in love with someone he wasn’t destined to be with, so he rejects Billy for a long, long time, even after he himself figured it out that Steve is his match. When he does start to feel that way about Billy, he struggles with so much guilt and has to go through a very long grieving process to be comfortable with his feelings, because he’s not even sure if they’re his genuine feelings or the work of this soulmate bond. Very long and very angsty.

baby fic- Nancy gets pregnant that first time at the party with Tommy and Carol, and her and Steve try really really hard to make things work out for their baby, but it just isn’t meant to be. They make an arrangement that the Harringtons are very not pleased with, where Nancy has the baby at the Byers house half the time (because let’s be honest I think the Wheelers house is not really a safe place to be raising a baby) and Steve has her the rest of the time. Because it was like, a much more mature breakup without the cheating and the drunken confessions, they’re still pretty close friends. When the upside down starts making an appearance again, they have to try to figure out how to navigate it with this little four month old baby, and that means getting some help involved. Billy shows up at the Byers and instead of a fight, Steve’s all exhausted like oh good, you’re finally here, and gives him the worlds fastest run down of this monster fighting shit with a crying baby on his hip, and like, Billy just can’t say no to him asking him to go into the tunnels while he watches the baby. There is eventual Harringrove after a while, but it’s a slow burn for sure. This is also probably the least serious and least angsty thing I have ever started to write.

HOH Stevie- They’re all in the government hospital getting their post Starcourt once overs, Billy and El of course being rushed into surgery, and Steve’s about to get discharged when he gets addressed by name and just, does not respond at all. The doctor is like hmm, and checks his ears, and they find out he has almost no hearing in his left ear, and only about forty percent in the right. All that head trauma from the Russians and then all of the explosions of the fireworks, it leaves him deaf.

Everyone tries to be supportive, but his dad refuses to let him get hearing aids because he doesn’t believe he actually needs them (Steve’s a diagnosed hypochondriac) so for the next several months while his parents are still home waiting for their next trip, he’s struggling. He basically gets iced out by the party because he just can’t hear anything they’re saying, and the kids get tired of repeating themselves, and Nancy got insulted the one time he told her her voice is too quiet, and Robin wants to do things right for him, but she forgets sometimes, and will ramble on about something without looking at him and everytime he’s like great, I didn’t catch a single word of that, lovely talk though. It’s very frustrating and isolating and nobody seems to want to make accommodations for him.

The very same day that his parents leave for their latest vacation, he goes back to hospital. At first he just has to get more testing done, since it had been upwards of six months since the last time they saw him, and on his way out he notices Max in the waiting room chairs. He hadn’t seen much of her at all since Starcourt, so he checks on her, and at first she tells him to go away, because her friends have said some not so nice things about how much time she spends at the hospital, and assumes Steve is there to tell her Billy isn’t worth it too. Because that’s not the case, he ends up going in the room to visit Billy with her.

They do the small talk, the awkward, sorry about the fact that you’ve been in the hospital for six months now and nobody wants to come see you thing, and at some point Billy realizes that Steve can’t hear a damned thing he’s saying. He tests his theory by saying Steve’s name when he’s not looking and just waiting for him to answer but, surprise he doesn’t because he didn’t hear it at all, and Billy’s just like, you’re deaf aren’t you?

The progression of the fic is basically Steve coming to visit Billy everytime he has an appointment for his hearing (and more, but Bill doesn’t know that) but the day of his last appointment to make sure his hearing aids are functioning as well as they ever will for how bad off his hearing is, Billy’s acting different.

When he’d first walked into his room Billy had been surprisingly bright eyed and bushy-tailed for what he went through, but now he’s just acting all mopey. Max makes him tell Steve what’s wrong, and he confesses that he feels like he’s going to get left behind now that Steve’s all better, because then he has no real reason to visit him anymore. But Steve has one very good reason, and the rest of the story is him making sure Billy knows it.

girlyfriends- This’n’s sort of a non-canon compliant character study about aromantic! Billy, focusing on how awful and uncomfortable he felt with his past girlfriends, messing up dates and never going as far as they wanted him to, which at the time he pinned on liking boys instead, but then after he gets with Steve, he feels like this is different and he likes it, but he’s still not too big on all the lovey dovey, romance stuff. He rationalizes it as like, maybe just being a side effect of him being an asshole or something, but he‘s actually super insecure about how he is in relationships. There is a fluffy resolution though where he embraces his identity, it’s really not all doom and gloom, boo hoo I hate myself stuff.

cali house- Years after Starcourt, the boys have moved to a decent house in California using their government hush hush money, and they’re there for only about a month when Billy’s mother shows up at their door.

She says she caught wind that her son was back in town and wanted to come see him, after all this time. Billy of course lets her back in his life immediately, his mom meant so much to his recovery process and now that she’s here, he can’t turn her away, but Steve’s a little suspicious of her intentions.

He thinks that if she wanted to see Billy, she would’ve done that years ago before he ever even left Cali in the first place, or that you know, she wouldn’t have fucking left him behind. He tries to bring it up with Billy gently, but he won’t hear it, and he feels beyond hurt by the suggestion because he thinks Steve is just jealous that he’s spending time with his mother, who he hasn’t seen for upwards of fifteen years at this point.

They fight and avoid each other for a few days until Billy’s momma admits when he brings it up, over lunch or something saying like, “Steve thought you were using me or something, isn’t that crazy?” and she’s just like “Well, actually...”and tells him that money was tight, and she needed a little extra money, so Billy and his disability checks and his rich (boy)friend seemed like the perfect opportunity to get some.

He goes back home to Steve and expects him to be mad, to rub it in that he was right, but he’s really not, he’s super supportive, and you know, Billy finally realizes he doesn’t need to have this bullshit family thing with his mother, because he already has one, Max and Steve and his friends and all the people that actually care about him.

medical emergency (tw attempted suicide)-

Billy, who’s living on his own in an apartment downtown after Starcourt, deliberately doesn’t get his prescriptions refilled because he’s so done. He’s weak and he’s hurting and he doesn’t feel like himself anymore, and he just feels like he wouldn’t care if his body gave up, if he suffocated in his sleep or had another heart attack. So he doesn’t take care of himself, and when he runs out of oxygen he just doesn’t go get anymore, but he’s halfway to choking on his own blood when he realizes he doesn’t want to die.

He calls Steve, because he’s not calling the cops and he can’t remember anyone’s numbers in his panic, but Steve’s is written on his calendar, scribbled there because they were supposed to make plans for something with the kids. Steve takes him to the hospital, having to fight him to put the CPAP on him to make sure his lungs didn’t collapse before they could get him to Hawkins General, and Billy’s just, so bone tired.

They do all their treatment stuff and get his body back under control, so Steve finally asks him what happened, if maybe he needed someone around to help him remember his meds and stuff, and Billy just, he breaks, like a dam overfilled he just pours out with all of this helplessness and sadness he’d been feeling, how he doesn’t want to live the way he does or at all anymore, and Steve’s heart just breaks for him.

He moves in with him, nobody’s willing to leave him alone after what happened, and Steve (along with Billy getting a new therapist because the old one was incompetent enough to not notice how bad off he was) helps him to realize he has something to live for.

#answered #anonymous #ejs wips #ej writer #yeah theres no such thing as sending it late #if y’all want to ask me just ask me! dont worry about it!

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ikenbar · 5 years ago

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Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Ch2 Pt 5

Warnings: G A V I N F L U F F CITY! ALL ABOARD THE GAVIN FLUFF TRAIN!! TOOT TOOOT, slight angst? Honestly mostly fluff though lol, also sassy Ike. Sassy Ike for the win. Oh, and cliffhangers :D

(Chapter two’s prologue, parts one, two, three, and four here :))

((Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D))

Chapter two:

Part five:

The ride back to the bus stop was practically silent. All that could be heard was the car's motor and our steady breathing as we sat in silence. I was staring blankly out the open window in the front seat of the car. To my dismay, all of the traffic lights were against me as we hit every red light to the bus stop. I had scooted myself as far as I could to the door and away from Gavin and tried distracting myself with the scenery outside, but all I could think about were Gavin's harsh words. Do you know who you are mimicking when you act that way? Your father! The lump in my throat was back. He wasn't talking about Bart. He was talking about my fourth foster father. The foster parent who gave me all the scars I struggled to hide everyday. Both the mental ones and the physical ones. Gavin didn’t know all that though. All Gavin knew was what the police had on file. That one day, I had brought in my abusive foster father to the police department to be arrested and tried for domestic abuse. I rubbed my arm slightly as I remembered what happened that day. The movement was enough to stir Gavin into starting a conversation.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, "We, uh, are almost there."

"Yeah," I mumbled, leaning on the palm of my hand as I watched the buildings go by us, “I hope my bike wasn’t stolen while you held me hostage in the break room.”

“...is that your only mode of transportation?” Gavin’s tone made it seem like he wanted to make peace. I wasn't having it.

“I’m more concerned that I’d have to go back to the police station to make a report.”

“Oh come on, Ike.” Gavin gave an exasperated sigh, “You aren’t the only one bothered by this partnership, you know?” I looked over at Gavin. Did he really think I was angry at him because we were working together? What is it with him?!

“I’m surprised you heard him," I growled through my teeth, "from how much you were kissing his-”

"And we are here!” Gavin raised his voice and interrupted me, “I assume this is your bike?” Indeed it was. It was parked in the same place I had left it. It looked fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Thank goodness. I moved to unbuckle my seatbelt but Gavin stopped me by placing his hand over mine. I snapped my head towards him and flicked his hand away.

"Listen." His voice was soft again. The sound made me want to punch him in his gentle face, "I know how you feel about the police, but I also know you have a good moral compass. Though it may need some readjustment… you know that this guy needs to be taken down. Especially, If he is targeting Evolvers. We need to work together for this. So, at least this once, can we make a truce?" I stared at Gavin. This man. Who does he think he is fooling!? With the serious tone and the empty words… and the gentle look… and the soft voice… I sighed.

"Be at my place by six o'clock." I said, pushing open the door, "and bring the files. We can study there." Gavin nodded gratefully.

“Right.” He said seriously but there was a slight tone of relief, “Thank you Ike.” I felt my cheeks burn slightly. Whether it was from embarrassment or from anger, I didn’t know. I turned away quickly and got out of the car

"And don't eat dinner.” I huffed, “I've been simmering bone broth since yesterday and I don't want it to go to waste."

"You… cook?" Gavin asked, surprised.

"I do have a life you know." I shut the door and leaned on the open window, "Just because I like getting on your nerves, it doesn’t mean it’s my only pass time. Don't be late." Gavin nodded again.

"Don’t worry. I can't pass up the chance to eat a free home cooked meal made by the Ikamara Bikira.” Gavin smirked, “Especially after eating nothing but 'Cup 'O Sodium’ for the past week."

"Who said it was free?" I teased, "Later."

"Goodbye." Gavin pulled the car out of park. I stepped back and allowed him to drive away, watching him as he left. Mixed feelings overlapped my mind in a way they never had before. I shook my head and tried composing myself. He was still the rotten cop that hated me and I him. That gentleness about him was just an illusion he set up to try to get me to drop my guard. That wasn't happening. He wasn't going to get me with that stupid smile. I wasn't having it.

I put on a tough face as I walked to my bike. I had work I needed to get done. I wasn't going to spend my time thinking about Gavin.

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

I stirred the soup anxiously. I couldn't pay attention to work at all that day. All I could think about was Gavin the case. And how to solve the case. And the lives in danger because of the case. And how the case insulted me and almost got me in trouble with the chief. And how the case was challenging and impossibly irritating… why did I feel so drawn to hi- It… the case.

I sighed as I looked down at my watch. 6:20. He should have been here by now. What was keeping him? If this was some ploy to get me irritated, it was working. I contemplated pulling out my phone to call the police station when I heard a knock at the door. I quickly walked out of the kitchen and reached for the door knob, but I stopped myself. If he made me wait, I can make him wait too.

"Who is it?" I asked innocently.

"... it's Gavin." The guilty party answered.

"Gavin?" I leaned against the door casually and looked at my nails, which were filled with flour from the noodles I had made, "It can't be Gavin. Gavin was supposed to be here by six."

"I know." Gavin sighed, "The line at the store was longer than expected."

"A likely story." I responded angrily, masking my obvious confusion, "... what were you doing at the store?"

"If you open the door, I'll show you."

I rolled my eyes but complied. Gavin was standing there, still dressed in his uniform, but he also had a satchel across his chest and was holding a bottle of scotch. I arched an eyebrow.

"I, uh," Gavin started, rubbing his neck with his free hand as a redness blossomed through his ears, "I didn't want to come over empty handed." Watching him struggling with awkwardness erased my anger towards his tardiness immediately.

I sighed and took the bottle from him. I walked into the apartment, leaving the door open behind me. "Make yourself at home." I waved casually behind me to welcome him in, “The bathroom is up the stair and to the right. Dinner will be done soon."

"It smells great." Gavin said politely as he walked into the room and shut the door behind him. I stalled as I opened the cupboard above me. Man, it was weird to hear him compliment me. And so sincerely too.

"Thanks." I responded slowly, as I reached for a couple of glasses, “It’s a… family recipe.” There was a moment of quiet in the room. I could hear Gavin shucking off his bag and shoes as he made himself at home. The floorboards creaked as he slowly walked further into my apartment. I opened the bottle of scotch and poured it into the glasses. The air in the room had gotten tense and slightly awkward. Half of me wanted to retreat in the bathroom and never come out. The other half wanted to prove to Gavin that I wasn’t afraid of working with him… because I definitely wasn’t afraid of working with him. It had seemed like forever before Gavin’s voice finally cut through the air.

“You… kept the yearbook.” Gavin said this quietly, almost as if it was to himself. I turned around and saw that he was standing in front of the entertainment center with my old high school yearbook in his hands.

“Uh, yeah.” I picked up the glasses and walked over to him, “Loveland high. I spent my freshman year there. I had to leave early because… of... my dad.” Gavin looked up and caught my eyes in his. His eyes were traced with a complicated expression. He and I were thinking about the same thing. About what happened in the police station earlier that day. The air around us got even more tense.

To stop him from bringing up the topic, I handed him one of the glasses. He pulled his eyes away from me and to the glass, which he gladly accepted. I brought my attention to the yearbook in his hands, reminiscing about the school as I did. “I never really liked my time there. The kids were so judgemental because I couldn’t afford to have a nice closet like them… and I secluded myself a lot…” I looked closely at the faces on the pages, “Geez I don’t remember a single one of these kids.”

“Then… why did you keep the yearbook?”

“Because,” I placed my glass down on the entertainment center and took the book from Gavin. I started flipping through the pages, “Word had gotten around about what happened with my foster father. The school gave me the first copy of the year book and got as many students to sign it as they could. Most of the things written was stuff like, ‘I’m sorry to see you go!’ and ‘I wish I had gotten to know you better!’ What a bunch of frauds.” Gavin shifted his feet slightly next to me. “But, there was one response that seemed genuine.” The book opened to the page I continuously looked back on. It was the sophomore class’s group photo page. Handwritten notes had been scribbled all over but my eyes were set on the only one written in blue ink. I handed the book back to Gavin and pointed it out.

“‘I know you are more than what they say you are.’” Gavin read out loud, “‘Don’t let their words keep you from flying.’”

“I could only bring myself to read the notes when I was in my senior year.” I found myself saying this without realizing it, “This one was the one that convinced me that it didn’t matter who said what about me. If that one person, out of the hundreds in that whole school, really cared about me, the others were faceless. The times they had bullied me for being different were just... confetti. Meaningless decoration at the world’s best party.” I looked fondly at the blue ink on the page.

“That’s beautiful.” Gavin’s voice snapped me back to reality. I looked up at him and saw that his complicated gaze had never left me. I looked down and cleared my throat as warmth spread through my cheeks.

“Yeah, well,” I said as I reached for my glass again, “That’s all in the past now.” I turned and walked back to the kitchen, “It is a bummer that I can’t thank whoever wrote that, though.”

“Why not?”

“Cause they didn’t sign their name.” I turned into the kitchen and placed my glass on the bar. I took a spoon to the soup and stirred it slightly. “Dinner’s do-” I looked up from the pot and to Gavin. His face was twisted into a disgruntled emotion as he stared intently at the yearbook. “You alright there, Birdcop?” I asked. Gavin snapped his attention to me.

“Yeah.” He dismissively said, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf, “It’s just… nothing. It’s nothing" Gavin clapped his hands and walked over to the bar, “So, Birdcop is sticking, huh?"

"Yup!" I deadpanned, "You're not getting out of this one, Birdcop."

Gavin hummed his retort as he leaned against the bar. He was quiet for a moment, then he spoke timidly, "So, you don’t remember anyone from that school? Not a single person?”

“Not really.” I simply said, turning the stove off and pulling a couple of bowls out from the cupboard next to me, “There was no one really worth remembering.”

“Ah. I see.” Gavin sounded almost disappointed. I looked up at him. He had his head resting on the palm of his hand, looking down at the bar in thought. A question popped into my mind.

“Gavin, were you a student at Loveland high?” I asked slowly. Gavin looked up at me.

“What?” Gavin nervously chuckled, his posture straightening slightly.

“You heard me.” I arched my eyebrow.

“Well…” Gavin struggled with the frog in his throat, unintentionally answering my question. I walked briskly back to the entertainment center and pulled the yearbook back out.

“No, don’t!” Gavin pleaded as he stood up from the bar and followed me to the living space. I flipped back through the pictures quickly until I landed on a familiar face. It was Gavin alright but he looked much younger and childish in the photo. His hair was messy and his face was a lot more rounded. He had a bandage on his cheek, as well as a soft smile on his lips. His outfit donned a casual hoodie that had a very sporadic design on it.

“Here you are!,” I teased Gavin as he grew closer, “I don't know why I didn't recognize you before! Aw, you look adorable!” Gavin grabbed for the yearbook but I skillfully dodged him.

“Ike, come on.” He pleaded as he went to grab it again. I held out my hand, pushed against his chest, and turned my body away from him so his arms couldn’t reach the book.

“Lookit you! That is such a stylish hoodie you've got on! Who knew Birdcop had a sense of style!" I read the top of the page, "It says here you were a sophomore when the year I was there. Hey! Maybe you could-”

I felt a hand close around my wrist. Before I knew it, I was pulled into Gavin’s chest. My arm was pulled up and away from me, being tightly held so I couldn’t pull it away. A second hand was placed around my waist, stopping me from pushing away from him. The yearbook was shoved uncomfortably between us, though I paid no mind to it.

Gavin gave me a playful glare… but soon it melted from his face as our eyes locked. The air around us got tense again but it wasn’t the tenseness I was used to with him. It was almost as gentle as it was captivating. The ambient noises of the apartment faded out and the only thing that could be heard was a strong heartbeat, though it was unclear who it belonged to. We were so close I could feel his short and warm breath on my forehead. As well as his body warmth through his clothes. It was then when I finally noticed his loosened tie and the undone button on his shirt, showing part is collarbone and an old scar that he wore proudly. I felt his grasp on my wrist loosen as he slowly lowered my arm. His hand fell from mine as he placed it onto my back, pulling us even closer. The only thing reflected in his eyes was me, as was the only thing in my eyes was him. The heat from Gavin’s hand slowly started melting something within my heart. Something that had been frozen over for so long. A warm feeling started making its way through my body and pushed past the barrier which I had put up such a long time ago...

“Ike.” Gavin’s voice was the softest I have ever heard it, making me become aware of the situation we were in. “I-”

I forced Gavin away from me.

“What’s wrong?” Gavin’s voice was still soft. It made me cringe slightly.

“N-nothing.” I backed further away, avoiding eye contact with him. I held the yearbook close to my chest. This is all just a ploy for him to get under my skin. I assured myself as I tapped at the yearbook, To get my hopes up, only to demolish them at their peak. To use me then leave me. Just like everyone else did. Just like every man did. Just like any cop would. I racked my mind for an excuse to get away from him. “I… don’t want the soup to burn.” I managed to find the professional tone that I held before as I quickly turned from Gavin. I threw the yearbook onto the couch. I’m not going to let Gavin be the one to break down my well built walls. We are here on business. That is all. Not to reminisce of the past. Not to joke around. Not to be that close. Not to feel that warmth... The warmth that felt so nice... No, Just to find the man who ordered the hit on me. That was all. I straightened my posture into one of defiance as I felt my heart freeze over again. I put back up the barriers I had almost dropped as I entered the kitchen.

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ikenbar · 5 years ago

Text

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Pt 3

Warnings: Angst (more of a misunderstanding but it’s still there), burns and talk about blisters, foreshadowing, some fluff but don’t get your hopes up, and, finally, cliff hangers

(Chapter One parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven here :))

((Please read the author’s note on part one :)))

Chapter one:

Part three:

Victor’s office was large and spacious. The first thing that caught my eyes was a large white desk in the middle of the room that fit the modern aesthetic. The walls were made up of shelves that held a variety of books and priceless looking abstract sculptures. There was a large TV screen between two of the shelves, revealing a stone laced wall behind it. A couch and a small coffee table sat in the corner of the room, making the once intimidating looking room feel almost cozy. Though the couch looked too perfect to sit in and the table was so pristine, it seemed as if it was only used to hold a neat stack of magazines. In general, the room reminded me of one thing. My office. Though mine didn’t look nearly as expensive, we had the same lay out. Shelves filled with objects and books on the walls, a comfortable sitting area, and a desk that sat in the middle of the room. Maybe Bart was right. Maybe we really are alike.

I focused my attention on the desk, where a raven-haired gentleman sat staring at his computer screen. His hair was carefully cut just past his sharp eyebrows, one of which was pointed in a tall arch as if unsatisfied by what he was seeing before him. His ink black eyes reflected the screen perfectly. His lips were thin and tightly pressed together. The black suit he wore seemed to fit him perfectly. As if he had paid a lot of money to be sure it did just that. His body was lean but healthily built. He obviously took very good care of himself. I couldn’t pin whether that was commendable or just pompous. There was no way this wasn’t Victor.

I closed the door behind me causing Victor to look up. “Can I help you?” His voice was cold, deep, and dismissive. One would quake at the tone he emanated. I didn’t.

“I don’t know. Can you?” I asked, maintaining my position by the door.

Victor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for this.” The tone of his voice seemed to match the meaning of his words, “I have a meeting that is already running late. You can talk to my secretary for times that I am available. Otherwise, take your sales pitch elsewhere.” Sales pitch? What game was he playing? Is this normally how he would start his meetings? With a trick question? I didn't take Victor for a joker. Still, I decided to play along.

“Who’s this meeting with?”

Victor looked dismissively towards me. I folded my arms dominantly. He opened his mouth in a manner that practically told me off without a word being uttered from his lips. I raised an eyebrow, mimicking the way he had been looking at his computer. Victor, obviously already done with the conversation, sighed.

“One of the heads of Ike ‘n Bar Productions. Though it seems this meeting doesn’t matter as much to them as it does to me.” Victor stood up from his desk and took a file from it up with him, justifying the height that Bart had explained to me.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, slowly growing impatient.

“Because it is almost three thirty and he still hasn’t shown.” Victor checked his watch. I froze. He? Didn’t Bart tell him I was going to the meeting? Why would he be waiting for Bar-... Victor wasn’t playing a game. He really didn’t expect me to be there. He thought Ike was a guy's name. My headache rose again.

Two hours earlier:

There was a knock on the office door. “Come in.” Victor demanded. The door opened and Goldman came timidly through it.

“The Ike ‘n Bar Productions Company’s head just called.” Goldman approached the desk, “Something came up so Bart won’t be attending.”

“Very well.” Victor directed his attention to the computer next to him, “Push forward my five o’clock meeting.”

“You didn’t let me finish, sir.” Goldman chuckled awkwardly, “Bart won’t be attending but his co-head, Ike, will.” Victor picked up the folder from his desk about the Ike ‘n Bar Productions Company. He skimmed over the contents. Bartholomew Schmidt started his company two years ago alongside someone named Ike Bakira. There wasn’t much written about them. Only that their name was Ike and that they run the company in the background. It did specify one other thing.

“What do we know about her?” Victor asked, rereading the folder for details he might have missed about the woman.

“Him, sir.” Goldman corrected, “Ike Is a man.”

“The document says otherwise.” Victor looked up skeptically at Goldman.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, sir. I asked around the office and to people who have met him and this Ike was described to have no feminine instincts. He orders people around the office like a Colonel in the military. He fires people for being a minute late to turn in their reports. The reason why he stays in the office most of the time is because his glare could scare children. Interviews are off the table because he can’t emote at all-”

“Goldman,” Victor held a hand up, “everything you have told me sounds more like speculation then solid facts.”

“Trust me, Mr. Victor.” Goldman folded his arms, “There is no way this guy can be a woman.”

Present:

“My secretary sent you in instead of him in." Victor continued impatiently, "Meaning he isn’t here. Meaning he doesn’t want the funding I can offer. Meaning he. Doesn’t. Care.” I gripped at my sleeves. Who does this guy think he is?! How dare he look me in the eye and tell me that I don't care about my company?! And assume the name "Ike" only belongs to a certain gender?!

“What if he already came and thought you had cancelled the meeting.” I said. My voice, that sounded darker than before, made Victor finally look up at me, “After all, thirty minutes of waiting would be quite a while. It’s almost unprofessional.”

Victor’s eyes flashed with anger and uncertainty. “Didn’t I tell you to schedule a meeting with my secretary?”

“No need. I already have one.”

There was a knock at the door from behind me. Victor held his eye contact with me for a moment before calling to the door.

“Come in.”

Goldman poked his head through the door. After catching my eye, he smiled and walked in with a mug in his hand. “Your coffee, Ms. Ike!” I nodded and took the mug from his hand.

“Thank y-” I took one look at the mug and grimaced, “... this coffee is cold.”

“What?!” Goldman quickly took the cup and felt it, “Ah, I’m so sorry, Ms. Ike. I wasn’t paying attention. I will brew a fresh cup for you right away.” With that, Goldman rushed out of the office and shut the door behind him. Leaving Victor and I alone again. I turned and looked back to Victor. The look of restrained shock in his eyes was priceless.

“Anyway.” I resumed my folded arm position, “You were telling me about how I didn’t care about my company.”

“Ms. Ike,” Victor started, “I-”

“That’s Ikamara to you.” I interrupted, placing my briefcase on one of the chairs in front of Victor’s desk and removing my blazer, “because apparently you need reminding that names don’t belong to a specific gender.” Victor opened his mouth to reply but my headache was at the brink of bursting. I couldn’t take any more arguing, “It’s in the past.” I rubbed my temple and closed my eyes. “Let’s just start the meeting.” After a moment of silence Victor agreed.

“Take a seat.” He offered, gesturing to the seat that my briefcase occupied. I shook my head and opened my briefcase instead.

“I’d prefer to stand.” I deadpanned. I just wanted that day to be done. I just wanted his dumb money so I could make my dumb show and get more dumb views to further my father's dumb dream. Was that too much to ask? I pulled out the show proposal and handed it to Victor. He was still standing as he reached for the file. I retracted it slightly. “You can sit if you want.” I assured him.

“I’d prefer to stand.” His tone was defiant. He took the file but I didn't let it go. We locked eyes. This man was nothing like what my father had described. From the supposed striking poker-face to the power stance, he was someone else entirely. He seemed emotionless but still treated people like they were human. His stance, though towering and intense, had a sense of protection. From his hair to his suit to his eyes, there was one word that came to mind. Pretentious. He may have treated me like a human, but he obviously thinks humans were below him. His stance may be protective, but it was protective of himself. All he cared about was his looks and his company. How could I have been so nervous to meet him? This man was like every other capitalist I knew, full of it. ‘He really isn’t all that cold hearted’ my left shoe.

I eyed him coldly. Victor picked up on this and reciprocated by arching his eyebrow. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever. I finally sighed and let go of the file.

“Have it your way.” I said preparing the other papers in the case. Not that there is any other way you’d rather have it… I thought to myself. Victor opened the file in his hand as I cleared my throat and began the speech I had practiced in my head for the past two and a half hours, “The Ike ‘n Bar Productions Company would like to ask for funding for our upcoming TV show, Miracle Writer. The premise of the show features a character named Nix who can see the dead. She can speak to them and uses her talent to write the stories they have to share. Things go well at first as her stories are getting published and she becomes well known for being a ‘medium’ writer. But things start to go downhill when a ghost comes to Nix telling her he was murdered. They go to the cops, but they don’t believe a word she has to say. So, she teams up with a struggling, private investigating business to uncover the truth and put those spirits to rest.” I take a moment to allow Victor to finish reading the file. He looked up at me. I quickly avoided his eyes as I pulled a contract from my case. “We’d like you to help fund for a good SFX company so that the ghosts in the TV show could come across as realistic and captivating as possible.” I handed the contract to Victor who took it and immediately started reading it. “Any questions?” I asked this meaningfully. Before the meeting I was sure to write a large list of possible questions and answers that he could have for me. I was ready for anything.

“... Do you believe in superpowers?”

I wasn’t ready for that. “Excuse me?” I asked, hoping it was a joke.

“It’s a simple question.” Victor looked up from the papers in his hands.

I eyed him for a moment before carefully choosing my words, “I believe that science has come to the point where we can use technology and chemistry to further advance humans and their biology, and in that way, we would believe that there is such a thing as ‘superpowers.’” I was sure to use air quotes to specify my point, “But if you are referring to the science fiction version where people magically come in possession of such an ability, then no. I don’t believe in superpowers.”

“Then how do you plan to convey as such through the screen?”

“My skepticism of such a topic is precisely why we will be able to obtain such a strong tie to the audience.” I answered without hesitation, “I will be able to see the show through a skeptic’s eye and make it so our points are more believable.” Victor opened his mouth to say something else. I interrupted him, knowing exactly what he was going to say next, “My protege, Bart, is a believer in these ‘superpowers.’ His creative input will still keep the sort of magic that the viewers are looking for in the show.”

Victor closed his mouth and slowly nodded. He looked back down at the contract in thought. There was a knock at the door and, before Victor could call him in, Goldman peeked back into the room. He smiled as he brought in a new mug with steam visibly protruding from it. “Sorry for the wait!” He said cheerfully, walking up next to me to hand me the mug “I didn’t know if you wanted cream or sugar with it, so I kept it black. I could run and get you some really quick, if you’d like!”

“No need.” Victor said this before I could. He closed the files in his hand and handed them to me, “We are about done here.”

“Oh really?” I asked refusing to take the files and mug of coffee. “Why is that?"

“I don’t see this show going beyond one season. After a few episodes it will just seem like you are repeating yourself and the plot will die with your viewer count.” Victor’s tone was tactless and undermining. As if the very thought of the show was a waste of time. This aggravated me, “Do you even have any idea who you're hiring? This story would only be good if you were able to hook your audience with a good cast. If you can barely afford a good SFX team, how are you going to be able to afford a good cast?” He got me again. I hadn't even started to think about the cast for the show. I bet I would have if Bart had given me some more time to prep. I looked around the room for inspiration. My eyes fell on my blazer resting on the chair next to me. I raised my eyebrow as I saw the metallic business card poking out from inside my jacket.

“What if I told you I could get Kiro on the show?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, “That would pull in quite a lot of views from that one name alone.”

“And just how do you plan on getting away with that?”

“He owes me a favor.” I said simply, delicately pushing the card securely into the pocket of the blazer. I looked back up at Victor, who was giving me a skeptical look. I ignored it and continued, “As for the seasonal issue, we have plans for that as well. With your help, we will make up to six seasons. In fact, I have the plans for that right here.”

I moved back to my case but, as I did so, I lightly brushed Goldman’s leg. Causing him to jump and lose control of the mug in his hand. With a large splash the mug came crashing into my left arm as hot coffee poured all over my white shirt. “Are you thick?!” Victor yelled at Goldman for his incompetence as he briskly walked around his desk, “Have you forgotten how to hold a mug?!” Goldman apologized profusely and started dabbing at the coffee with a handkerchief. I couldn’t care less about my shirt. I reached for my briefcase but was stopped as Victor pulled at my arm. He started to unbutton my sleeve.

“No!” I forcefully pulled my arm away from his hold, causing Victor and Goldman to look at me with surprise. “I mean.” I quickly settled my panicked tone and regained my composure, “I’m fine. No need to fuss over me.”

“But that was piping hot coffee.” Goldman rung the handkerchief in his hand, “You must be in pain-"

“I’ve felt worse.” I reassured him, going back into my briefcase and pulling out a slightly soaked folder. I held the folder out to Victor and changed the topic, “Here. They may be a bit wet, but you can still make out the details.”

“Ms. Ike-...amara, You should change out of that shirt as soon as possible.” Victor advised seriously, ignoring the folder in my hand “For the benefit of the shirt and yourself.”

“Oh yes, because buying a new white shirt would be too difficult.” I rolled my eyes, “I’m fine, really.”

“There is no need for you to put on a face. Those burns need to be treated right away.”

I opened my mouth to retaliate again but Goldman stopped me. “Please, Ms. Ike, take care of yourself first. The meeting can wait.”

Everything in me told me to fight back, to make sure this deal was settled. But with the throbbing headache and the look of determination in Victor’s eyes, I knew it was time to cave. I sighed and pulled out my wallet from my, thankfully, dry pants pocket. I whipped out my business card and gave it to Victor. “Keep the papers and contact me about your final verdict.” I said with determination dripping from my mouth. Victor obediently took the card and, finally, the folder from my other hand.

“Send LFG the dry cleaning bill.” Victor added, “Goldman will take care of it.” Goldman cringed slightly after hearing this but he nodded.

“O-of course I will!” He smiled politely. I nodded and closed my briefcase. I carefully inspected the blazer next to it and found there was a small splash of coffee on the back. But, thankfully, it was nowhere near the pockets or the contents therein. I nodded to the men, “Thank you for your time.” I shook hands with both of them and took up my stuff. I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

Once in the empty elevator, I pressed the lobby button and the doors closed. As soon as they did, I clutched my head in agony. That meeting could have gone better. So. Much. Better. Now we weren’t going to get the funding for the show that we had wanted, and it would have been my fault. Bart should have done the interview… no. Bart should have given me the day to prepare instead of two measly hours. I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out the Advil that I had stashed away there. “If only I had something to wash it down with.” I muttered to myself as I looked down at my coffee stain on my shirt. For the first time in my life, I thanked the stars that I couldn’t feel anything in my left arm. I unbuttoned my shirt slightly and took a peek at my arm. It looked red and parts of it started to blister. I sighed and buttoned up the shirt again. Just another blemish added to the record.

I finally took the pills that I held in my hand. The feeling of the dry pills going down my throat made me shiver but that was a much better feeling then the headache I had put off for so long.

My phone sprang to life from my pocket and started ringing the tone I had saved for my father. I grimaced slightly and pulled my phone out to answer it.

“Hello?” I asked halfheartedly.

“Hey! How did the interview go?” Bart’s cheery voice made me cringe.

“.... I’ll tell you at dinner.” I managed to say.

“Oo! A celebratory dinner I hope?”

“Think what you’d like. I have to stop my apartment and change. I’ll meet you at the house around five thirty.”

“Sounds good. You did good kid! I’m proud of you.” Bart’s tone showed that he really meant it. I closed my eyes tight.

“Thanks.” I held back a lump in my throat, “I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up the phone before hearing his goodbye and slumped onto the wall behind me. “I could still turn this day around.” I thought aloud, “I could still have a good day…. How many times do I have to say that before it comes true?”

The elevator doors opened. Composing myself, I walked out into the lobby.

End of Part Three

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