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homerforsure · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

#whumptober2021 #no. 5 #betrayal #fic #911 #hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hockey au #allison can’t write a short fic to save her life #minimal edits #messy ending #questionable formatting #230 am #😴

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes

One - When Harry met Sally

Synopsis: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. Growing up, Bucky had not a doubt in his mind that his undeniable charm and his gorgeous smile would one day help him find the one. Now he realizes there’s so much more to romancing women, especially those from the 21st century. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is not a love story. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for EP1 of TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

“ Now in the movies they make it look so perfect And in the background they're always playing the right song And in the ending there's always a resolution But real life is more than just two hours long “

Some Avett Brothers song sounds from the little radio that sits on the corner of the counter. Thick drops of rain pearl against the window, racing each other down the glass before meeting up eventually and becoming one with each other.

(Y/N) refills the last of the mustard bottles, setting it on the counter next to the others. It’s a quiet night at the diner. The kitchen’s been closed for an hour now and usually, that’s when people stop coming in. While the Little Blue Diner is known for their hot dogs and burgers, neither their coffee nor their cold sandwiches are gonna win any prizes any time soon.

And yet …

Sure enough, as her eyes lift towards the figure slouched down in the corner booth, his gloved hand is already outstretched, signaling his desire for yet another refill.

A mixture between a chuckle and a scoff tumbles from her lips at the thought of him wanting more of the slightly burned liquid. If there’s one thing (Y/N) can admit to being bad at, it’s brewing coffee. Where there should be a rich brown color, hers usually ends up with an inky black hue and instead of leaving a hint of warm caramelization on your tongue hers just tastes bitter. It doesn’t seem to face the man in the corner though. Not even a little bit. To say this worries her is a bit of an understatement. No one in their right mind would take 7 refills of her witch's brew.

“ You okay, my dude ? “ (Y/N) inquires as she steps up to his table, coffee pot in hand.

The man doesn’t look up at her. He doesn’t have to. She’s acutely aware of the character currently occupying the corner booth. It’s a face she knows like the back of her hand. One that’s been staring at her from books and documentaries, one she’s been greeted by every time her dad took her with him to the Smithsonian. Though they do not dare look up at her, she’s so awfully familiar with the bright blue shade of his eyes, he might as well be a long-time friend.

“ I’m fine. “

Of all the lies in the world, “I’m fine” must be the most unbelievable one and yet the one told most often. No one who’s actually fine ever says those words. Those two words are reserved for the lonely and broken only. It’s like getting “I’m not fine at all” tattooed across your goddamn forehead.

“ Sure you are, that’s why you’re having the 7th refill of my god awful coffee. “

“ ‘s not that bad. “

“ Sure, if you’re into licking charcoal it’s probably not that bad. “

It’s just a split of a second, a fraction of a moment, but (Y/N) is sure she can see the corner of his lips lifting slightly. It falls back into the stoic scowl immediately but it was there. For a teeny tiny moment, there was the shadow of a smirk on his face and that’s a success in her book.

“ Either way, here’s how we’re gonna do this. I’ll give you one last refill, after that, I’m cutting you off, my friend. I know I’m a waitress and it’s my job to bring you what you want but I do not fancy watching you suffer a caffeine-induced heart attack in this very diner. I am not equipped to handle a situation like that and quite honestly they don’t pay me enough to deal with that either. “

His eyes are still trained on the scratched-up white linoleum table but ever so faintly he nods his head in silent agreement.

As promised, she pours him one last cup of coffee. A brew so dark it could rival the bubbling goo of a tar pit.

“ Enjoy your last cup of the night, Mr. Barnes. “

It’s then, as she’s just about to walk back behind the counter, as those words leave her lips, that he looks up for the first time since he’s walked in.

His eyes are the exact shade of blue she’s so familiar with but there’s something else about them. An infinite sadness haunts every spec of blue. Where she thought there would be a sparkle of adventure, a hint of mischief, there is just loneliness. This is not the man she’s read about in museums, heard about in stories. This man right here is completely and utterly lost.

“ I - I uh — “

He clears his throat, once, twice, then nervously brushes his hand across his face.

“ I can go if you don’t want me here. “

“ Huh? “

“ I asked if you want me to leave. “

As those words escape him, his eyes seem to grow even more devastated. They glimmer with memories of a time long gone and a future uncertain. Shine with hurt and fear.

“ Why would I ask you to leave? “

Bucky shrugs his shoulders in a way to make it look nonchalantly. It’s hard to seem casual though when you seem to carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders.

“ People who recognize me usually aren’t so keen on having me around. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m uh — I’m not people’s favorite person. “

It’s a sad thought, (Y/N) realizes, to be constantly bound to a past that is yours but never really belongs to you. To be forever linked with the horrible actions of a version of yourself you had no control over. And no matter how hard you try to set it all right and to repent for your wrongdoings, to some people it will never be enough.

“ No, you don’t have to leave, “ (Y/N) reassures before sliding into the booth opposite him. “ I don’t know you because of — because of what happened. I know you first and foremost as Sergeant Barnes, former officer of the 107th Infantry Regiment, part of the Howling Commandos, and best friend and brother to Steve Rogers. Everything else that’s — none of my business really. “

Bucky lifts his eyes off of the table again and while the sadness is still there, something else lingers for a moment. Curiosity, intrigue maybe, or just relief.

“ Wow. Didn’t think I’d run into someone reciting my life to me. Huh. “

“ My dad used to be a curator at the Smithsonian. He was in charge of the Captain America exhibition. I’ve seen your face a million times, visiting him at work. I gotta say though, you look way more approachable and friendly on the picture they put up. “

This time, it’s more than a fleeting moment, this time she’s sure about it, this time he lets out an actual chuckle.

“ I was a lot younger then, okay? Cut an old man some slack. “

“ Oh, you pulling the old man card now? “

“ Is it working? “ he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Not really. “

“ Ah, what a shame.”

Silence settles upon them again like a thick duvet filled with feathers, it’s not uncomfortable but it’s smothering anyway.

“ Do you wanna talk about it? Your sour mood, I mean.”

Bucky shrugs again “I have a therapist.”

“ Does she make you draw your feelings? “

He smiles again at that question. His smile, (Y/N) thinks, ain’t the worst thing she’s ever seen. She wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

“ No. Why? “

“ Mine did. She stopped pretty quickly though, I guess my drawings were too detailed and gory for her.”

“ Huh. “

“ Mmmh.”

After another sip of coffee, one he takes without grimacing, without showing any sign of disgust for the burnt brew, Bucky speaks up again.

“ Mine thinks I’m lying to her. “

“ Are you ?”

“ Well yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

“ Maybe telling her the truth would help you. “ (Y/N) suggests only to be met with a determined head shake No from Bucky.

The notification sound of a phone pulls them from their conversation and at the sight of the name on the display, Bucky lets an “oh shit” slip from his lips.

“ Don’t you sound excited about getting texts from your friends, “ (Y/N) jokes

“ I had a date last night. That’s her. “

“ Since she’s texting you I assume it went well. “

Bucky grimaces at her words, slightly shaking his head in disagreement.

“ No? “

“ I mean, I had fun and it went well — at first. She’s really sweet. But then we started talking and I may have run. “

“ Ran where? “

“ Away. “

“ Away as in you left. “

“ Mm-mmh”

“ Just like that? “

“ Yup. “

“ Why? “

He throws up his arms in frustration and shakes his head again as if to gather all his thoughts and rattle them neatly back into place.

“ I don’t know, okay? I haven’t been on a date since the 1940s. Everything I know about women and dating and romance seems antiquated. I’m overwhelmed and confused and I just don’t wanna do anything wrong.”

“ Dude, you ran from your date without any explanation. How much worse could you have handled it? “

“ Yeah well, hindsight is 20/20. “

While his words try to sound light and nonchalant, his shoulders tense and his whole demeanor seems to shift back into the gloomy state he’s been in since he entered the diner. Like a big cloud that’s following him around, casting shadows at all times and hardly allowing any light to shine through.

“ Look, I don’t think any of us know what the heck we’re doing half the time. Like, trust me I know what I’m talking about. Online dating means I have to choose between men who think posing with a dead fish will make me want to sleep with them, men who think knowing obscure Star Wars facts can replace having an actual personality, and men who send me pictures of their … privates without me ever giving any indication of wanting to see those. So yeah — dating can really s - be frustrating. “

Bucky regards her for a second, the right corner of his lips pulled into a lazy lopsided smirk.

“ Did you just censor yourself because you don’t wanna swear around me ?”

“ Maybe, but that’s beside the point. The point is, we’re all just human and in the end, we’re all just looking for someone to like us the way we are, all quirks and issues and baggage included. I know women might seem intimidating but really all we want is to be loved and appreciated. And not the over-the-top build-you-a-house, the notebook kind of love. More like the Harry and Sally kind.“

(Y/N) can almost see the gears working inside Bucky’s brain, the desperate attempt to make any sense of all the words and phrases she’s just thrown at him. A jumbled mess of pop culture references swirls through his head like a swarm of bees, chaotic and messy.

“ I have no idea what you just said. “

“ When Harry met Sally? “

Bucky just shrugs and shakes his head.

“ You’ve never seen it? “

“ I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being blipped away into oblivion for the last 5 years. So I haven’t really had the time to get into movies yet. “

This time it’s the gears in her own head that start turning.

“ What are you doing Friday night ? “ she asks, biting her lip in nervous anticipation.

“ I — I don’t know. “

That’s a bit of a lie, really. He does know. It’s the same thing he does pretty much every other day. He gets some takeout, brings it home, sits down in front of the tv, tries to get lost in whatever show they put on, fails at doing so, reads a few pages of a book, lays down to sleep, and then wakes up a little while later to yet another nightmare, tangled up in sweaty sheets, heart racing.

(Y/N) doesn’t need to know any of that though. He doesn’t tell his therapist so why would he tell a random stranger.

“ Well, don’t make any plans. We’re gonna kill 2 birds with 1 stone. “

“ We are? “

“ Yeah. Trust me on this one. “

“ I don’t even know you. “

“ Sure you do. “ (Y/N) says and taps the tag pinned to her baby blue polo shirt with the diner’s logo on the back. “ I’m the one who serves you just enough coffee to keep you happy but not have you die a painful and honestly mildly embarrassing death. “

Every part of him screams at him to say no. To stay away from her the way he does from most other people, even Sam. To get up and get out and not cause any more damage than he already has in other people’s life. But then he remembers his therapist's words, he remembers Leah’s face full of confusion and disappointment, he remembers the empty feeling in his chest. That feeling of pure and utter loneliness.

“ Alright, Friday works for me, (Y/N). “

“ Perfect, Bucky. “

“ Bring a jacket. “

The address and “Bring a jacket” that’s all she’s texted him. No explanation, no plan, nothing.

Bucks leans against the streetlamp, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Anxiety is washing through his system like tidal waves on a stormy ocean. This whole being spontaneous thing was much easier back in the 40s. When his shoulders weren’t so heavy with guilt. When he didn’t have to constantly face the consequences of his actions. Consequences of a past he can never quite outrun no matter how far he goes and how hard he tries.

Maybe this is good, he has to remind himself. Getting out of his comfort zone, if that even exists for him. Opening himself up to new opportunities. Maybe even make a friend. (Y/N) seem nice enough, if a bit peculiar.

His shrink would be proud of him. Getting out there, talking to people, being approachable. This must for sure earn him some kind of gold star equivalent in her notebook.

“ Hey there, Mr. Grumpyface. “

(Y/N)'s voice cuts through the chilly New York night like headlights through thick fog. She strolls towards him, lips pulled into a big bright smile. Leading up to tonight he’s spent quite a lot of time wondering if this is some kind of project for her, if maybe she sees him as a sort of charity case. Something to earn her karma points. It wouldn’t be the first time. But the genuine joy radiating from her face lets those worries melt away instantly.

Maybe, Bucky thinks, she really just thinks he’ll make a good friend. And maybe he can.

“ Hi, (Y/N). “

“ You brought a jacket” she points out, pinching the black leather between her fingers. Her nails are painted in various shades of red, each finger a different hue.

“ I did. You told me to. “

“ And you listened! “

“ Why wouldn’t I ? “ Bucky inquires, a look of confusion settling on his face.

“ You wouldn’t believe how many men think wearing a jacket when it’s cold out somehow clashes with their need to demonstrate their masculinity. “

“ Wow. “ he exclaims.

“ Yeah. So anyway, you ready to go up? “

She nods her head towards the house across the street. It’s a slim multiple-story brick building with rusty fire escapes. It looks like a residential lot, not much else that could give away (Y/N)’s plan for the rest of the night.

“ Up? “

“ Mm-mh. “ (Y/N) nods and motions towards the top of the building. “ to the roof. “

“ The roof? You’re not planning to push me off or anything, right? I don’t usually spend time with strangers on rooftops. “ he tells her, a smirk lifting the sides of his lips.

She grants him a smile in return. One of those that you try so hard to suppress but despite your best efforts they find their way onto your face anyway. Because some smiles demand to be smiled. And her smile is pretty cute, he thinks, it deserves to be seen.

“ Foiled again, damn Bucky. I’m a waitress with a useless degree in literature and creative writing but assassinating you was exactly what I had planned for tonight. Couldn’t let me have that one, huh? “

“ Sorry to spoil all the fun. “

She softly bumps her shoulder against his right side as she passes him and crosses the street. Her red skirt flutters around her knees like a ribbon of fire, bright and warm and —

“ You coming, grumpy ?”

“ Yeah uh — yeah sure. “

The walk upstairs is filled with chatter from her and nodding from Bucky. It’s been like this most of the time since — well since he’s really back. Other people usually do the talking and Bucky listens. It works most of the time. Works with Yori. Sometimes though, sometimes it doesn’t. He can see people getting frustrated with him. Hell his own therapist does and she knows the baggage he has to carry around.

This is different though, (Y/N) doesn’t seem to mind much. She’s a waterfall of words and topics and doesn’t seem to get bored or annoyed with him. It’s nice.

A heavy iron door swings open as they reach the top of the building and as soon as they step out onto the rooftop balcony they get engulfed in an ocean of lights. They’re strung from one end of the roof to the other and back again. Next to the door, a little makeshift bar is set up, and a guy in a Star Wars shirt hands out beers to people.

Multicolored deck chairs and beanbags are haphazardly placed across the entire roof, all pointing towards the corner furthest away from the door where a big white sheet hangs spanned between two poles.

“ Sooo you gonna tell me what we’re doing here? “ Bucky asks again as (Y/N) steers him towards a cluster of chairs in the back.

“ Some peeps I went to university with, set up movie screenings here every once in a while. I could pull some strings and got to choose the movie. “

“ We’re gonna watch a movie? “

“ Not just any movie, “ she exclaims and drops down onto one of the plastic deck chairs that looks like it used to be bright pink once but is now but a bleached blush colour from being exposed to the sun too much. “ We’re watching when Harry met Sally. “

Bucky slumps down on the chair next to her, a blue one with white daisy patterns.

“ Me not knowing this movie really does bother you, huh? “

“ It’s a classic, might as well start with this one. And anyway, maybe this can help you get back into the dating game. Ya know, help you understand modern romance. “

“ You think so? “

She shrugs and starts fumbling around in her bag, “ I dunno. It might. And if it doesn’t at least you’ll spend your time watching a good movie and get to experience the blessing of my company. Ah-ha! There you go “

Her hand reaches out holding a bag of M&Ms.

“ I brought snacks. “

More and more people start occupying the chairs and bean bags and a few minutes later a guy steps up in front of the sheet. He’s wearing a shirt with a black and white bird pattern, huge glasses with a brown frame, and jeans that don’t cover his ankles. He’s tall and lanky and his hair is so messy, Bucky wonders if it’s intentional or if he just hasn’t brushed it in a while.

“ Hi guys, I’m Andrew. For those of you who don’t know me, I live in apartment 2B and I just wanna say thank you for showing up and welcome you to our movie night under the stars. A few days ago we received a special request from one of our good friends and because she let me stay on her couch for several months back during our college days and I still owe her for that I couldn’t reject her request. So thanks to Miss (Y/N) over there in the pink chair you now get to spend the next 90 minutes watching Meg Ryan fall in love with Mike Wazowski. Enjoy. “

As he steps away from the sheet, the lights are turned off and the MGM logo pops up on the screen.

“ Trust me, Bucky. This one’s so good.” (Y/N) assures before throwing some M&Ms into her mouth, now entirely focused on the movie.

It takes a while for Bucky to relax. Being around so many people and not having any fear of what’s lurking around the corner is still very new. Letting go is never as easy as it sounds. Eventually though, his nerves settle down a little and as the movie progresses, he finds himself relaxing more and more. Something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not since Wakanda.

Exactly 46 minutes into the movie, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander to her left where Bucky, until now, sat slumped into his seat. Still perpetually grumpy but more chilled out and relaxed than she’s seen him before. Until now. A moaning Meg Ryan visible making him uncomfortable.

“ You okay, grumpy? “

He doesn’t grant her a real answer, just scoffs and rolls his eyes. There’s a smile though, she’s sure. Somewhere hidden there is another smile.

“ So, what did we learn today? “

Bucky looks at (Y/N) who has her arms wrapped tightly around her middle shielding herself from the chilly night air. The movie night has ended a while ago and the two of them are slowly strolling along the New York City streets on the way back to (Y/N)’s apartment.

“ To take your own advice and dress warmer for a movie night? “

(Y/N) chuckles. “ No, grumpy. I meant the movie. “

He shrugs at her question. Quite honestly he hasn’t learned anything new. Nothing about the movie seemed in any way revolutionary to him nor does he see any benefit for himself and his dating life going forward. But the way she looks at him right now, expecting something grand not from him really but some beautiful consequences to her ideas, that makes him reconsider. Sure he could tell her that it was just a silly little movie about people falling in love but that would no doubt hurt her, even a tiny little bit. And if there’s anything Bucky has enough of, it’s hurting others.

“ I guess that men and women really can not be friends. “

“ Noooo! No. Is that really what you took from this movie? “

“ That’s literally what happened. “

“ Okay first of all it works, look at us! We’re friends! Second of all, that’s not what the movie is really about. It’s about love and vulnerability. It’s about overcoming all the tiny things that can work against you and your relationship. Like distance and timing and egotism. It’s about hiding who you are because really opening up to someone, being your authentic true self with all your faults and imperfections, that makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable is fucking scary. But love is worth it anyway. That’s what the movie is about. “

As Bucky noticed before, some smiles demand to be smiled. They need to be smiled because they’re important and they mean something. The one gracing his face now, that’s one of those. One of those you remember because you feel them all the way in your heart.

“ You think we’re friends? “

“ Oh, are we — are we not? “

“ No. I — no, we are! I’d like to be friends. “

(Y/N) abruptly stops in her tracks, turns towards him, and holds out her hand. “ To friendship.”

“ We’re shaking hands on it? What is this, a business deal? “

“ You know what, yeah now that you mention it that’s pretty lame. “ (Y/N) agrees, balling her hand into a fist “ how about a fist bump, bro? “

Bucky reluctantly knocks his right hand against hers before continuing his walk down the street. “You call me bro again I’m canceling the friendship. “

“ Alright. Noted. “

“ So have you talked to the girl again? “

“ Hmm? “

“ The one you went on a date with? “

“ Oh, Leah. Uh — no.”

“ Why not? “

Bucky throws her a look. One that says “are you kidding me?”. One that says “ you know why.”

“ Cause I ran out. That’s embarrassing. She’s gonna think I’m insane. She’s never gonna wanna see me again. “

“ I sincerely doubt that. You just gotta say sorry. I know in Love Story — that’s a novel and also a movie from the 70s — they say that ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry but that’s a load of bull. Just say sorry and ask her for a do-over. “

“ And then what? We play a rematch of battleships and talk about my trauma? “

“ Well, what did you do on dates in the 40s? “

That time, his youth, that seems like a different life altogether now. So much happened between then and now and the man he is now, has no relation to the boy he was then. Sometimes looking back hurts, makes it painfully obvious what he’s lost. But sometimes, like tonight, he can feel a hint of fondness coursing through him at the thought of times long gone.

“ Dancing, mostly.”

“ Like, ballroom dancing? “

“ Swing. “

“ You swing dance? “

“ I did. “

(Y/N) regards him through squinted eyes “ really? “

“ You don’t believe me? “

“ I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a dancer. “

Not a second later, Bucky’s gloved hand grabs onto her’s and twirls her towards him then away from him and back in.

“ You twirled me! “

“ Mm-mh.”

“ I’ve never been twirled. That’s so fun. “

It’s like autopilot taking over as Bucky holds onto her, twirling her again then pulling her in and swaying them in a circle. It’s not swing dancing, not even close but there’s no music either, and anyway, his dancing days are over. But sometimes you gotta make a point and if that means slow dancing in the middle of an empty street then that’s that.

The night wraps them in a blanket of comfort and intimacy as the stars and the New York skyline try to outshine each other. It’s a moment so peaceful, Bucky can’t remember the last time his heart felt so light, his mind felt so at ease, his entire being got to let go and just be alive and in the moment.

And then the shine of headlights rips them from their moment and makes them jump back onto the sidewalk.

“ Get off the road you fucking morons! “

“ Gotta love the big city folk. “

“ Yup. “

“ Hey, Bucky.”

“ What? “

“ You really can dance.”

“ Told you. “

“ Can I tell you a secret? “

“ Sure. “

“ I can’t dance for shit. “

“ That so? “

“ Yup. Which means you gotta teach me. “

“ Absolutely not.”

“ Oh, 100%! “

“ We’ll see about that.”

There are nights you try to forget. Nights that you wish to never ever remember. Ones that break you. That beat you down and leave you bruised and battered.

Then there are nights like this one that you want to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Those that fill you with joy and an immeasurable thirst for life. The ones that make you feel grateful to be alive right here and now.

The inevitable end of the night creeps closer as they arrive at (Y/N)’s front door. Neither of them really want to say goodnight but both know there’s no use in delaying it.

“ I hope you didn’t hate the movie too much, “ (Y/N) speaks up, leaning against the front door of her apartment complex.

“ No. It was fun! Although I still don’t know who Mike Wazulsky is. “

“ Mike Wazowski, he’s — you know what? That’s a conversation for another time. “

“ Alright, if you say so. “

“ Thanks for walking me home. “

“ Oh, yeah no need to thank me. It’s the right thing to do. “

For a moment they just stand and smile, trying to cherish the last few moments of this night.

“ We should do this more often. “ Bucky suggests, surprising even himself.

“ For sure. I still have so many movies to show you. “

“ Can’t wait. “

A slight sense of awkwardness falls over them as neither of them knows what to do. Go for a hug? Shakes hands? Wave goodbye?

“ I uh — I should go. “

“ Yeah, of course. Have a good night, Bucky.”

“ You too, (Y/N).”

“ Oh and Bucky? “

“ Yes? “

“ Give Leah a call. “

Bucky nods his head before turning around and walking back into the night.

As he takes the way back to his own home, there are only two things on Bucky’s mind: the vulnerability of falling in love and the question of who the hell Mike Wazowski was.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #mcu imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

Rangers, Lead the Way

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence, I had to use a lot of material from the actual episode, mention of domestic abuse

tagging: @detectiveinchicago

A/N: So, this is a new series. Basically, OA Zidan (FBI), Jay Halstead (Chicago PD), and Kenny Crosby (FBI: Most Wanted) all went to Ranger training together and kept in touch, something that was useful when they couldn’t be the one to keep their ‘partner’ safe and need to call one of the others for assistance when their ‘paartners’ are temporarily working with another member of the trio.

OA wasn't a name that he'd heard in a long time. They weren't in the same unit but they were in Rangers training together. Jay was one of the only two people there who didn't have it out for him solely because of his religion, while he was shocked to find a Muslim among the ranks at first, he quickly got over it. Not only did he trust that his superiors wouldn't let a terrorist into the army at all, let alone Ranger training, but OA was a U.S. citizen, and had a very personal hatred for everyone who sullied the name of Islam and used it for violence and their own personal gain. So he and Kenny Crosby befriended OA despite the shock and ignorance from their brothers and sisters in arms. They studied together, trained together, ate together, and bunked together. When they'd all been given different assignments they made sure to stay in touch. And they continued to call, email, and text each other after they'd all been discharged.

When Hailey got temporarily assigned to New York Jay was... Well, it's hard to describe how he felt. It was such a nightmarish combination of devastated, terrified, and heartbroken. It was like an icy hand had enclosed around his throat and was slowly squeezing, painfully closing his throat, all while his heart was being dissected out of his chest by another. Not only was he reliving one of the most traumatic moments of his life all over again, but Hailey was going to be in the field without him. She was going to be in danger without him there to watch her back.

And since Hailey was amazing, she could tell just by looking at him that his mind was dropping down into a dark place faster than Alice tumbled into Wonderland. "It's just temporary. And I'll be okay, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"I'm going to put in my time and come back as quickly as possible. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Hailey's words didn't reassure him in the slightest. How could they, when they didn't even reassure Hailey?

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

"Special Agent Zidan."

"Hey OA, it's Jay."

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Honestly, not great."

"What's wrong?"

"My- uh my partner..."

"Hailey Upton."

"Yeah. She's getting detailed out to the FBI for a bit. I found out that she's getting assigned to your unit."

"That makes sense, my partner's doing a UC detail right now, we'll probably be partnered together."

"OA... Watch out for her. Please. She is strong and more than capable of defending herself, and you quite frankly, but- she's my- I..."

"Don't worry, Jay. I'll have her back. She'll make it back to you."

"Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me."

OA looked at the now-empty desk that had been causing his heart to ache at the sight of it. His shoulder sagged at the pain that was pulling in his chest, the dark fog that filled his mind whenever he started to think, started to wonder, caused his head to throb. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

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"You will be partnered with Agent Zidan."

"Hi, I'm OA."

"Hi. Hailey."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Listen up, everyone. This is Detective Hailey Upton from Chicago PD. She will be with us for the next few weeks as part of our interagency training program."

"All right, so let's, uh, direct our attention to the screens here. Found the body of a young John Doe in St. Nicholas Park. A hundred yards from Alexander Hamilton's house. Federal land, federal case- and no, it is not where Aaron Burr shot him. The famed duel took place in-- anyone, anyone? Weehawken, New Jersey. Kristen knew. Unfortunately, there's far less clarity in the present homicide case. Evidence of torture and abuse, the victim was brown-skinned, but there was no other evidence of a hate crime. So let's dig in, get to work, start filling in the blanks. Yeah? Go."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

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"So, Chicago PD? Should I be nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"You guys have been in the news a lot and not for good reasons."

"Uh, yeah, we've had some issues, but they're being addressed. It's a great place. I'm proud to be a part of it. The next time you want to insult me, just come out and say it, you don't need to disguise it as a compliment. This car right here?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my way of saying we do things differently here."

"Mhmm."

"Just trying to keep it real." And keep you from getting hurt so that Halstead doesn't develop a full head of grey hair. "So, you spend much time in New York?"

"Nah, first time here."

"Any early observations?"

"Pizza's too thin. It's like a cracker with sauce on it. Just trying to keep it real."... Okay, so maybe it would've been nice if Jay had warned him that she had an axe to grind, but he could make do.

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

"If I hear you're harassing any more immigrants, I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna break your arm. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I forwarded Kristen the pictures of Aman. She'll get us a street block number based on the license plates in the background."

"Just like that, huh?"

"The FBI, Upton. Our tech resources are pretty sick. Look, it's not a big deal, but now that you're working with us, just try and be a little bit more careful. If that guy Prichard calls the Bureau complaining that you threatened to use force..."

"Look, man, I don't need a lesson on how to talk to people, all right?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with someone breaking that idiot's arm, it's just... It's just that the Bureau is hardcore, and they take that stuff really seriously."

"You're right. I'm sorry. If he files a beef, I'll eat it and make sure you're clear. All right?"

"Appreciate that. But what the hell's a beef?"

"It's an expression."

"I'm kidding. Kristen said Aman's house is around this area."

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So, Hailey is a badass. That was pretty damn cool to witness. Sidenote; Jay is going to murder him.

Hailey was fine, more than fine, she actually saved his ass. But that didn't matter, Jay had trusted him to protect Hailey and hadn't failed, but he hadn't done the best job either.

They'd been searching a house, and after coming down the stairs he completely missed an assailant in the kitchen. But Hailey hadn't. No, she saw him and got him out of the line of fire. He provided cover fire while she jumped back over to the wall at the end of the stairs. OA tensed, more than usual when he was in a firefight unless Maggie was- nope, not going there, the point is, he didn't miss the way a bullet penetrated the wall a few centimetres from Hailey's head.

"Halstead."

"Don't be mad-"

"Oh god-"

"Hailey's fine. One-hundred percent fine, not even a scratch. We just, uh, we got into a shootout with an assailant. He got a shot off close to her head. She's fine- more than fine! I swear! She actually saved my ass in that altercation! And I was covering her the whole time!"

"... That's it? That's a pretty normal day for us, OA. She's okay, you're okay... So, everything, is... Okay. And seriously, thanks again, man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I know that she can take care of herself and the others around her, but it's hard when I'm not the one there to have her six. So I really appreciate that I know and trust the person who is."

"Well, I'm glad that you're not gonna come at me like you did when I stole one of the cookies your mom made from your care package."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Plus, I know how it feels to... Not know. My partner is under right now and..."

"You're going out of your mind?"

"More than you can believe. I can't eat or sleep, and every time my phone buzzes I think it's a death notification instead of an emergency call from work."

"Sounds like you've got your own Hailey. You'll have to introduce me to Maggie one day."

"Yeah, I will. And Ken's definitely gonna have to introduce Hana. We have heard far too much about her to not even be able to put a face to the name."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I regret our 'no search' rule, but then I remember how much we embarrass each other."

"By the way, thank you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For saving my ass back there. In the house."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. You're welcome."

"Halstead, how much do get shot at, exactly?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She pushed me out of the path of a bullet and when I thanked her afterwards she treated it like it was nothing."

"... I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot I can do about people trying to kill us..."

"Jay. Dude."

"I can try to stop being 'idiotically reckless' as Hailey calls it, but I'm not trying to be a hero or a dumbass or anything, it's just that... If it's not me getting hurt..."

"...It's her."

"Yeah."

"We're both whipped, aren't we?"

"Oh, ridiculously whipped. The desk Sergeant at my precinct is constantly making fun of me for it."

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

"Just got ballistics back on the slugs fired at OA and Upton. They match the bullets that killed Aman, but get this; they also match the bullets pulled from a drive-by murder victim two months ago."

"Could they ID a suspect yet?"

"Yeah, arrested him too. Name is Santiago Gonzalez, known associate of the Latin Players. He's being held at MDC pending trial."

"Latin Players. That's a Chicago gang."

"Hmm, looks like they're expanding."

"So the Latin Players killed someone, they get arrested, go to jail, and the gun

stays on the street."

"And the new owner uses said gun to kill Aman, a studious Indian engineering student?"

"Right. What are we missing? How are these two murders connected?"

"Have OA and Upton pay a visit to Inmate Gonzalez. Maybe he can help us answer that question."

"Right."

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

"So this guy, Gonzalez, is originally from Chicago. Runs with the Latin Players, so maybe you should take the lead on this one. But go hard on him." Hailey and Gonzales were from the same city, same blood, this was her turf, and OA wanted to make sure that he abided by that.

"You want a reaction?" Hailey seemed to get exactly what he meant, what he wanted, but she also seemed hesitant, like she needed more than clarification. It was like she needed permission.

"A big one. Big enough to force him to call his people."

"I think I can do that." And just like that, she had a smirk in her voice and was walking ahead of him. OA could see the wheels turning in her head and a coolness to her features let him know that she'd come up with a game plan. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not.

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

"Where's the gun you used in the drive-by?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were less than a minute into the interrogation and he was already annoyed. Why did these guys always have to be so smug? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just let Hailey do her thing, only popping in to keep the flow going. "One of your friends used it to kill a civilian last night."

"Used it again this afternoon on us. Fired off ten rounds."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about." OA had to hold in a sigh.

"You're staring 20 to life on the case you're riding. Give us the name of the person you gave the gun to, and maybe I'll be able to get you a reduced sentence."

"Get my ass, blondie." OA quickly debated the pros and cons of stepping in. Honestly, this guy would probably just make him angrier with his smug attitude and sexist remarks, plus Hailey wasn't even phased. She was still in control, and she actually seemed a little... Bored.

"I'm not a fed like him. I'm Chicago police."

"So what?"

"Means I play by different rules. Also means I know the names of all the shot callers in the Latin Players. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna do a warrant sweep. Means a lot of people you know are gonna get arrested."

"That's not my problem."

"But it is. Because I'm gonna make sure that they know you are the snitch who gave them up."

"Now, you know nobody's gonna believe that."

"Really? Because in my experience, pissed-off bangers don't do their homework, and if they think you're a snitch, you're a snitch. In the street, rumours become facts like that."

"I'm done talking."

"Alright."

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

"So you think he believed us?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing, you just reminded me of my partner, Maggie, in there."

"Oh."

"In a good way."

"Then thank you."

"Can you cue up the audio feed?" The prison guard nodded back at OA and did as he asked.

"So where is your partner?"

"Uh, she is on an undercover assignment. That I know absolutely nothing about besides the fact that she is gone and unreachable."

"That's gotta be pretty tough."

"Yeah, but she's really good, so she'll be fine."

"We're up." The guard unmuted the computer and moved out of the way so that he and Hailey could see it clearly.

"Yo, just say the word, man. Chicago about to throw that heat."

"What are you talking about?"

Gonzalez sighed. "Police and FBI here sweating me, man."

"About what?"

"That piece that I left behind. I'm guess it's all connected to what happened on the night at Highbridge Park."

"All right, thanks for looking out."

"No doubt."

"Can you trace the number that he called?" OA was ansty, ready to get moving fast before their lead disappeared and from the honed in look in Hailey's eyes he could see she felt the same.

"Payphone up in Washington Heights." The prison guard was curt and efficient, exactly what they needed and OA was silently grateful.

"Okay. Thank you."

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

"I'm guessing that's his girlfriend."

"Hold on. I talked to her at the park, right before we found Ernesto's body." From the way her body tensed OA could tell Hailey wasn't happy she'd let this girl slip through her fingers. He could tell her that it wasn't her fault, no one was even remotely aware of this connection, but he knew that was pointless. Any passionate law enforcement officer would beat themselves over something like this, himself included.

"Ah, and we have a hit off of social rec. Her name is Harper Quinlan, 23 years old, last known address is 84 Groton Street, Queens, New York."

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

"Why were you at the park?" OA sat across from the young woman, dead set on getting all the information she knew. Arman's murder was quickly dissolving into a larger more horrifying crime and he was worried that the poor man who this had all started with would be forgotten and he didn't want to think about why that enraged him so much.

"I told you before. I was walking."

"Or was it to recover the glove that Lucas dropped after he killed his drug supplier?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"We have video of you in the driver's seat of Lucas' Range Rover at Highbridge Park the night that Lucas killed Ernesto Garcia, so you are now an official suspect in a murder investigation. That means no more lying, no more protecting your boyfriend. You either cooperate with us here and now, or you go to prison."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin Lucas' life. I just won't. He's a good person."

"Harper, good people don't sell drugs or kill people."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do. He's so nice, and... he's sweet... He really loves me."

"Lucas isn't who you think he is, Harper. Protecting him will only get you and more innocent people hurt. Tell me why you think he was in the park that night."

"I'm not gonna help you."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying to you? You're a suspect in a murder investigation here. Lying to protect him makes this worse. You're putting more lives at risk. Be smart. Tell me why you were there that night. Harper, you don't need to go to prison for him." OA knew he wasn't getting anywhere and was trying to think of some other- any other method- to try and get Harper to talk, when Hailey burst into the room. She looked calculated, like she had a plan or idea that needed to be executed exactly or else the worst might befall those she was trying to protect. Which, if he read her character right, was everyone.

"Unlock it."

"What's going on?" Harper was just as confused as he was, but he knew better than to show it.

"Do it. Pull up your texts."

"Oh, my God."

"What does it say?" Hailey already knew, that much was obvious, but whatever was going on needed to be as brutally real as possible to Harper, and voicing it out loud would drive whatever was going on home for Harper.

"'Return the product, or he's dead. You have four hours. Tell your man to meet us at the place we did our first deal.' Oh, my- oh, my God." Harper's sobs quickly took up the space of the interrogation room, it didn't matter that she hadn't seen her father in so long, losing him would devastate her, and the Latin Players knew that well.

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"Let me take a run at her. I might have an angle to play." OA watched Hailey carefully, trying to make out was she was thinking, what angle she could possibly have, but he hadn't known her nearly long enough for any of that. There was this... Knowing glint in her eyes, and a sort of dark confidence had taken over her aura. She was confident in whatever plan she had, obviously, he just had no way of predicting what it was. In that moment, OA could really see what made Jay all twisted over her. She didn't look excited to break the accomplice of a drug dealer, or eager to impress the FBI. She looked like she was ready to get elbow deep in someone else's mess just for the sake of protecting as many people as possible with her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence. So he just inclined his head and got ready to watch her work from the other side of the glass.

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"You're in a tough place right now, Harper. We have video of you at the scene of a murder, which makes you an accessory. You're looking at 15 to 20 years in prison. But if you cooperate, we can help you. We'll talk to the prosecutor, explain why you were there, help him understand the nature of your relationship with Lucas."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what's going on. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. That's not true. He's a good guy-"

"No, he's not. What are those bruises on your neck? You tried to cover them up, but I can see them. When you first met, I bet he was great. You guys hit it off, you had fun. He was everything you wanted. But then he started chipping away at your friends and your family. So you pop a pill to numb the pain and tell yourself everything's okay, just hoping that the abuse is gonna stop. Harper. It won't. I talked to your dad. He loves you very much. And he needs you right now. He's in a lot of danger. If these guys don't get their drugs back, they will kill him. The only thing that matters now is you helping us to find Lucas, so we can recover the drugs and find your dad." Watching Hailey in the interrogation room really was something else. From the slight waver of her tone, the palpable understanding in her voice that seemed to wrap a crying Harper in the first hug she's had in a long time, he could tell that she was exposing a pain-filled part of herself to this- this girl, this accomplice in drug dealing and murder. And still, she was able to remain professional and in control, and OA could honestly say that her incredible ability to do her job both made his heart ache for her and impressed him far more than he thought she would.

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They were in the surveillance van, waiting for Harper and the SWAT team to get in to place. What OA was itching to ask her was highly personal. He did not expect her to feel comfortable talking to him about it, but she'd given Harper some of her strength and after revealing something so heart-wrenching, the protective Egyptian older brother in him needed to make sure that she'd left enough for herself. "So, how do you know so much about abuse? I am sorry, I did not mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine. It's all good. Everyone becomes a cop for a reason. I guess that's mine."

"Uh, yeah."

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"Don't forget, Harper. He wants the cash to get out of town, but we need the location where he first met his dealer. That's where your dad is." OA nodded along to Hailey's instruction, keeping a critical eye on the emotionally distraught Harper.

"Babe. They took my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy that you deal with, they grabbed my father and texted me that they're gonna kill him unless we return the drugs that you took."

"Oh, no, no. I can't- I can't do that."

"They took my father!"

"Look, I feel bad, but they will kill me. Oh, Jesus, don't-"

"Lucas."

"Don't give me the sad eyes look."

"Lucas."

"I'm screwed. Look, I gotta look out for me- for us, you understand?"

"Look, I need to know where you and Ernesto did your first deal 'cause that's where they wanna meet."

"I just told you, I'm not going-"

"I will go! I'll call my uncle. He has a lot of money. Maybe I can negotiate a deal or something."

"I gotta get moving, all right, so give me the money."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Stay strong." Hailey could see her waver, could see her lose her ground and need someone to keep her steady. "Location first, then give him the money."

"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas!"

"I'll call you later on, all right?" Lucas, being the selfish douchebag that he is, grabs the bag of money and moves to book it, leaving his girlfriend who needs him behind.

"Damn it. Move in now!" OA sounded the call and immediately all agents left their posts and honed in on Lucas.

"Lucas!"

"You lying sack of..." Lucas, in an effort to prove that he really is a stellar guy, pulls out a gun and starts shooting at the agents, causing panic and fear in the civilians around them. Really, Harper? This guy?

"Get down! Get down!" Hailey pulled Harper out of the line of fire and pushed her to the ground before covering her with her own body, amazing OA with her selflessness yet again. You really picked a good one, Jay.

"Move, move!"

"Drop it!" Scola had joined them when Lucas went for the kill, forcing OA to do the same. Only OA was a good shot, though.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! Lucas..." Harper couldn't stop calling for him, and OA was certain that the only reason she hadn't crawled over to his body was that Hailey was holding her in place. "It's okay." Hailey seemed to be stuck on repeat, comforting Harper. OA personally couldn't see how someone who had been abused would mourn their abuser... But then again, he thankfully had never had to suffer through that. Unlike Hailey.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Sounded like he was ready to hit the road, so I'm guessing his dope is close by. Nothing back here." OA went to the Range Rover with Scola to look for anything- finding the drugs would've been preferable, but as long as it was a tangible clue, they could call it a win.

"Yeah. There's nothing here either."

"Any luck?" Hailey approached them, her I-know-something-that-you-don't-but-don't-worry-I'll-tell-you plastered on her face.

"Nope. Nothing."

"You have the keys on you?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me try something. Hop in. Shut the trunk." Hailey closed the driver's door, started the engine, pushed a button on the stereo and on the car door. A drawer illuminated by blue light opens, containing the missing drugs.

"I already pushed it. Nothing happened." Scola sounded mildly insulted, but OA just chuckled internally.

"Okay, Chicago." He was impressed, and he wasn't going to hide that. He was also going to give Jay a call later to tell him to ask her out already. There's no way a woman this amazing stays single for long.

"I have a CI who installs these things. Engine has to be on and doors closed in order for it to open."

"Okay, we got the dope. Now we just gotta figure out where to deliver it to."- OA

"Yep."

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"We have Lucas' texts from the phone he was carrying since Harper said he started doing business with the Latin Players about a month ago-" Kristen was leading their group of field agents and Jubal towards the front desks, explaining what she found, and while normally they would have totally enjoyed her explaining just how smart she is, things were a little time-sensitive.

"Yeah."

"We need to scrub that time period."

"There, on the 28th. There's a text that says, 'Meetings at 2. Let's do 9 instead of 8.'" One of the analysts pulled the info onto the computer screen in front of them, showing them the text records.

"'Let's do 9 instead of 8'? But the meeting's at 2:00. Is that some sort of code?" Jubal's mind was whirring away with Kristen's, figuring out exactly what it meant.

"Well, here's Lucas' GPS data from that day around that time." Kristen worked her magic so that Jubal could work his.

"All right, so from 1:37 to 3:12, he was in Brooklyn down by the river. Kris, can you zoom in? Get a more specific look at this. Yeah, over here. Can you drill down right there?"

"Okay."

"They met at 2:00 at a dock. Pier nine instead of pier eight. That's the meeting place." Scola voiced it out loud, like he was still in thought and hadn't had time to put all of the pieces in place internally first.

"There it is." Jubal's prideful voice made OA smirk.

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"We've got 67 minutes to get the drugs down to pier nine. Unfortunately, the guy we need to deliver the drugs is at the city morgue." Isobel voiced the dreadful obvious from her office, forcing them all to sigh and start their plan to catch Arman's killer from scratch.

"I'll go under as Lucas' friend. I'll give him the coke in exchange for Harper's dad." Hailey volunteered herself, but not with the same gusto she'd been working the entire case. Something was off and OA's 'spidey senses' were giving him no peace.

"No. These guys have done their homework. They're not gonna buy that." OA knew he made a good point, but he hoped that no one saw the way his shoulders went rigid.

"I get it, but I think I can pull it off."

"No, I agree with OA. It's too risky." Isobel agreed with him and OA felt like he could breathe again, he promised Jay that he'd watch her back, something he couldn't really do if he was watching her not with her. And if he were honest with himself, he'd become a little attached to her in the time they'd been partnered together, hoping that they would become friends.

"So we need a plan C."

"Let me do it. He's my father. I'm the one who got him into this awful situation. So let me do it. Let me do something meaningful. Something that will make me feel good about myself... Please. Gotta let me do it." Harper looked at Hailey, not even acknowledging the rest of the room.

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

"You're gonna do great. Just follow the plan we laid out."

"He doesn't get the second bag until you see your father."

"Right. Got it."

"And if your dad's not at the meeting place, you tell the man to bring him there. He'll say no. You stand your ground." Hailey seemed to be offering more comforting advice.

"You have more leverage than you think. This dope is worth a lot of money, and that's all they really care about." While he seemed to be offering more calculated advice.

"It's okay to be nervous. They'd be suspicious if you weren't. You good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay."

"Okay. Here we go."

"Alpha team in position."

"Where's Lucas?" The gang leader, covered in tattoos was menacing as he approached.

"He sent me instead."

"And my product? There's only one kilo here."

"The other four are close by."

"Close by doesn't do me no good."

"Show me where my father is, and I'll get you the other four."

"Don't get cute with me, mama. I'll cut your throat. Go get my dope."

"Let's get ready to move in."

"No, no. Give her a chance."- Hailey was confident, but OA couldn't help but side-eye her. Wondering just what made her so sure.

"You trying to get your dad killed? 'Cause, that's what's happen if you keep playing."

"I need to see him."

"He's alive. I promise."

"I need proof."

"[whistles] Right over there, chica."

"Okay, we got eyes on the dad. We're good to go."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's see if we can get him talking about Aman's murder. As soon as we see a weapon, we roll."

"Okay." OA knew that Hailey was smart, and she had been making great calls throughout this case, but he was still hesitant. An innocent man's life was in the balance, but he wanted justice for Arman too.

"Be a good girl, go get my dope. Do that, Big Papa walks. I'll go with you."

"So... So... How do I know you're not gonna kill me and my father once I give you the dope?"

"I don't kill civilians. Bad for business."

"You kill that Indian guy? He was a civilian."

"I try my best, but I'm not perfect, mama." Harper meekly retrieved the second bag from behind construction equipment.

"You did good, Harper." But 'good' wasn't enough for him. Suddenly a large silver gun was pointing at the middle of her forehead.

"FBI! Don't move!" OA lead the charge, coming out of hiding and announcing himself the second that they got confirmation that he murdered Arman they'd burst out of the van and beat SWAT to Harper, the Latin Players, and Harper's father.

"Drop your weapon now! Let me see your hands now! Put the gun on the ground! Step away! Put it down now!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!"

"Dad!"

"Let me go! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Honestly, he didn't give the tearful father-daughter reunion much attention or thought, but he noticed that Hailey did, if only for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. He didn't know what to make of that, though.

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"Hey."

"I just filed my 302. Do you need help with yours?"

"Nah, I just finished."

"So, I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about you either. But you're all right. For a fed."

"You wanna grab a beer?"

"I'm okay. You don't have to look after the new kid."

"I am pretty sure you don't need looking after. Come on, you saved my life. The least you can do is let me buy you a drink."

"For the tenth time, I didn't save your life. All right, let's grab a beer, but only if you tell me why you became a fed. I told you my reason. It's only fair you tell me yours."

"Deal."

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They didn't quite 'go out for a beer'. When OA heard Hailey's stomach throw a temper tantrum in the elevator he suggested going out for food that was accompanied by a beer. She'd agreed as long as they didn't go out for "crackers with sauce on them". OA had laughed, not even remotely or phased by Hailey's obsession with Chicago pizza. It's just another thing she shares with Jay. Besides, he wanted to take her somewhere else.

When they sat down Hailey looked around, taking it all in. Omar has been coming to this restaurant all his life. It had been open longer than he'd been alive, he'd even had his tenth birthday here. He hadn't brought Maggie here yet, not because he didn't think they were close enough, he just didn't know how she'd react to realizing that they are that close. "I hope you like Egyptian food."

"I've never had it, but I'm Greek and I know that there are a few shared foods and ingredients."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed Greek from 'Upton'."

"My parents changed it when they moved here, their name was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and there was some... Other stuff."

"I'm familiar with 'other stuff'. Do you want any recommendations or need me to explain anything on the menu?"

"You know what? You can choose what I eat tonight. If I like what you pick, I won't tease you for it the rest of the time I'm here."

"Well, for the record-"

"What record?" Hailey laughed.

"For the record, I am completely confident in my knowledge of food so I know I'll find something you'll like. After all, it can't really be bad so long as it's not non-Chicago pizza. Right?"

OA ended up choosing a dish called 'kushari', it wasn't like the Chicago or Mediterranean food Hailey was used to but she'd loved it. OA was smiling at her, proud of his victory, Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking at his impishness. "Tell me about your partner." The question caught him off guard and for a moment he'd felt a significant crack in his walls, leaving him exposed. Suddenly all the feelings he'd been pushing back since Maggie went UC enveloped and starting drowning him. Fear gripped his heart, haunting curiousity stabbed his mind, and loneliness hooked onto his soul. "OA? We don't have to talk about her, I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you."

"She's one of the most amazing people I know. She's smart, strong, generous, empathetic, courageous... She's honestly one of the most amazing people in my life and I love having her as my partner." Hailey looked at him the same way his sisters and mother did whenever he spoke about one of the most important people in his life. Like they were able to listen between his words and decipher another meaning to what he'd said. But like his mother, his sisters always gave him hell for it, she said nothing. I couldn't even dispute it if she did say anything.

"She sounds badass."

"She is. What about your partner? Tell me about them?" He'd narrowly averted saying 'him', unsure how she'd react if she knew just how close she and Jay really were, and just how much Jay had told him about her. She got this smitten grin on her face, and OA knew that the roles were reversed from a few moments ago when he had that same smirk and far off look in his eyes. "His name is Jay Halstead, and he's an amazing person, except for when he's getting himself shot, the reckless idiot. He would rather get shot at than get a needle which rattles me to no end, especially because he's so much more kind and intelligent than he gives himself credit for and we need him you know, alive, but still, I admire him so much. He makes me laugh and he just knows how to get to me, you know? I would... I would follow him anywhere. Wow... What is in this food? Truth serum? I'm not usually that open..." It was like he could literally see a forcefield shaping around her. Shrinking in on herself, her face hardening, hastily putting a forkful of food in her mouth. She looked at the wall behind him, pretending to be interested in the decorations, trying to pass off the slight panic in her eyes.

"Maybe it's just my charming demeanour, or that I got personal first, really personal. Or maybe it's because you needed to tell that to someone you don't see every day."

"Yeah. Maybe." She still wouldn't look at him and a tense silence enveloped them until she took a deep breath and shook herself. Light seemingly went off in her head before she gave him an absolutely devilish smirk. "I believe I was promised your origin story."

"Is that what we're calling it? An 'origin story'?"

"It is now."

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"Halstead."

"Get your head out of your dumb ass and ask Hailey out."

"I- OA-"

"You won't regret it, Jay. I actually think that you will regret it if you don't."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to admit anything to myself, forget Hailey."

"When does life ever wait until you're ready, man? Neither of you work in a stable occupation, and even then the universe isn't exactly known for working on anyone else's timeline. I can literally feel you aching for her from here."

"But what if I'm not good enough."

"Oh, I've only known her for a few days and I already know that no one's good enough for her-"

"Damn have you adopted her as another honourary sibling? How many do you have now? And Hailey actually knows you've adopted her, right?"

"Not important, and don't try and change the subject."

"But if no one's good enough for her, then..."

"You're too hard on yourself Jay. No one's good enough for you either. Why shouldn't two people who are far too good for the world be together? You deserve happiness, Jay. You both do, and I think telling her that you're far gone with her would be a great start."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem."

"... So you think that I'm 'far too good for the world'?"

"And now I'm regretting every word we've spoken." No I don't, but your head really doesn't to get bigger.

"Nope, no take-backs. You think that I'm badass and amazing."

"I never said 'badass' or 'amazing'."

"Jay Halstead- described as 'far too good for the world' by the humble and decorated OA Zidan-"

"I also called you a 'dumbass' but whatever, goodnight Jay. And seriously, ask Hailey out."

#One Chicago #Chicago PD #hailey upton #hailey x jay #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead #upstead fic #jay halstead #OA Zidan #maggie bell #oa zidan x maggie bell #zibell #fbi cbs

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officialwittek · 4 years ago

Text

pt. 4

*gif is not mine*

word count: 2,101

Ever since my little conversation with the girls I haven’t been able to really be myself around Jeff. Now I notice the side glances, the lingering touches on my thigh, the way his breath hitches when I get pushed a little too close to him at parties, and everything else I haven’t noticed before. My friends were adamant that he liked me back but I couldn’t see it. Slowly I distanced myself from them, for one my manager thought it would be a good idea to release some new music soon so I was extra busy and I can’t really be around my friends without feeling like my heart is going to explode. Of course they started noticing and not a day went by where I didn’t get texts from at least three of them asking where I was and why I stopped coming around. Even Jason and Josh dropped my apartment to make sure I was still alive.

Three weeks have gone by since my sleepover with Jeff. We still talk but not as much as before. Carly and Natalie were constantly calling and texting and I truly felt bad, but it would seem like such a bullshit excuse to say it’s because of my crush on Jeff.

“Sage, this is... this is real good work. I’m thinking we finish it up, and be set to release it in two weeks” James, my manager, said listening to to the final of three of the songs

“Thanks dad, I think today we’re recording the last song. I’ll email you our final version by the end of the day” I reply, he ruffles my hair and nods, leaving for another meeting while the producer and I talk about the last track

We record for about four hours, fine tuning every last detail. After the two of us finally felt good about it we sent the file to James who also gave the approval. We sent it in the the higher ups who also gave us the ok. All the promotional pictures were finished, we had an album cover chosen, now to put it all together and make this my first serious piece of art. After the long morning I decided to head straight to my apartment. I wasn’t particularly hungry anyways. I parked my car and took the elevator up to my apartment.

I noticed shushing and brushed it off, thinking it was just Carly and Erin messing around. I unlock the door and see all of my friends crammed into this fairly small apartment. No one had their cameras out and they all had their arms crossed I sighed and put my things down before shutting the door.

“Before you even say anything. No I’m not on drugs, I don’t hate anyone, and I actually have been working on my music. My first EP is coming out in a few weeks” I explain, their faces relax and Carly walks up to me

“Don’t you ever try to ghost us like that again. We hated it” She said, wrapping her slender arms around my shoulders and I nodded, our friends came around and we all had a sweet group hug

“Well a congratulations are in order. I think we should celebrate tonight” David says, laughing loudly

“Fine, I’m stealing a Red Bull from your fridge though” I say, we all go downstairs and I finally notice some of their cars parked there

We all head to David’s house and I grab a Red Bull. We all sit in the living room. Filming dumb bits and getting ready for tonight. David wanted to throw it at his house since he wanted to keep it relatively small. Natalie, Carly, and Erin went to stock up for the night, asking me about all my favorite things. It took about an hour and a half for them to come back. Everyone helped get things from Nat‘s car and set up. We were finally ready and decided to start drinking before everyone got here.

“May Ilya and Zane stay away from the hospital. Amen” I yell, all of them cheering in response as we take our shots

After a few rounds of shots I was already pretty tipsy. I sat down at the couch, answering a few congratulatory texts from others. I talked to a few of our friends here and there. Jeff was nowhere to be found. I frowned a bit, but who can blame him? After all, I’m the one who made the decision to not talk to him.

“Do you think we could get a sneak peak?” Jason asks, taking a set next to me but I shake my head

“I want to keep it a complete surprise. Plus I’ve been thinking about having a release party and showing everyone there” I said, Jason actually thought that was a much better idea than just playing it

We made small talk here and there, apparently Wyatt has been dying to see my new studio. I loved Jason’s kids like they were my own family, especially since Wyatt and I have such a love for music.

“I’d love to have Wyatt at the studio. He can even record some things if he wants to. I know how to produce as well” I said, Jason damn near cried at the suggestion and we set a date

“Someone looks a little sober” Zane yells from behind us, I laugh and allow him to take me to the kitchen where the others were taking shots or making their best interpretations of different cocktails

After sampling everyone’s horrible attempt at a blackberry mojito it’s safe to say I was one shot away from exiting the physical realm. Especially since Zane decided it was appropriate to just dump nearly an entire bottle of rum in the drink. After a few minutes Todd headed to the door and let someone in. I heard the familiar accent and my heart dropped to my stomach. Jeff is here.

To be fair, I’m probably the only one who really cares that much, especially since I’m drunk as hell and I have a crush on the dude. I try to run and hide in a corner but there’s a lot more people now. I finally see an opening and head straight for the backyard. Thankfully no one noticed because Zane was too busy doing something extremely dangerous. I sit in one of the chairs we reserve for smoking, hitting my puff and scrolling mindlessly through TikTok, trying to get the thoughts out of my head. I hear the sliding door open and look up to see David.

“Alright what’s wrong? You look like we threw a party because we killed your dog” David jokes, my lips spread into a light smile

“Nothing, I’ve just been so exhausted lately with everything going on.. that’s all” I lie, I mean I’m not really lying, just not telling him the whole truth

“So it has nothing to do with Jeff showing up and you’re definitely overthinking and avoiding him even more. C’mon I’ve known you for forever, you can’t lie to me” He replies, his tone suddenly being serious

And it’s true, I’ve known David since I moved out here. He was my first real L.A friend. He’s seen me at my absolute lowest moments, and someone I could always go to whenever something was wrong. I hated that he could read me like a book.

“Fine, the Jeff thing is a contributing factor. But I’m being honest about the exhaustion” I say, crossing my arms like a child

We sit and talk, something we haven’t done in forever. It felt nice to have someone listen to me. After about half an hour of just talking we decide to head back inside. I felt too sober again and took some shots with Natalie and Toddy. I could feel Jeff’s eyes glaring a hole into the side of my head, but I was too sober to deal with anything right now.

At around 1:00 am. I got hungry and ordered DoorDash for everyone. All the other guests had left so it was just our main group scattered around the house. Jeff was surprisingly still here. Todd had whispered to me earlier that the only reason he was sticking around this late was to make sure I got home alright. I smiled at the sentiment, he was always making sure my drunk ass was safe.

Our DoorDash arrived and we all ate while watching some movie David found on Netflix. Jeff took a seat next to me, the look in his eyes was telling me he was going to ask for my permission so I simply nodded and scooted over so he could be comfortable. After we ate David wanted to get some last minute bits before we left for his vlog tomorrow.

“Jeff are you attracted to Sage?” David asks, my breath hitches in my throat, making me choke on my water

“No, I’ve blocked her out. Since she’s part of the friend group I don’t want to make anything weird” He replies, I can tell the answer even made David a little upset

Jason makes a joke to lighten the mood before there’s any tension which I greatly appreciate. Although Jeff’s words struck a cord, while I sit there repeating what he said it hits me. He’s right, I can’t guarantee that if Jeff and I were together that it would be for life and I can’t lose my second family. He’s right, it would never happen. Before I know it I feel my eyes watering and Natalie gently grabs my hand before leading me to her room with the rest of the girls in tow. When she closes the door I finally let it all out

“It’s ok princess, let it out” Mariah says, the girls wrapping me in a group hug

“It’s so stupid, we’re best friends before I let this stupid ass crush ruin everything but just hearing him say that out loud made it so much more concrete that we will never be together” I cry, resting my head on her shoulder

We have a little talk and I clean myself up before we all go back outside. At that point David was done filming and was looking through the footage on his camera to pick out some clips. Jeff was waiting patiently on the couch before Corinna spoke up.

“Hey Jeff, I’m gonna take Sage home. We have some plans tomorrow and it would just be easier if I stay over” She says, it’s sort of true, Corinna has some meetings in the morning and they’re closer to my place but she isn’t staying over

“Oh ok, I should head out then. I’ll see you guys later” Jeff says, saying his goodbyes and leaving

“So was anyone else uncomfortable with Jeff’s answer or was it just me?” David asks, the group agrees, it’s definitely in his right to say that I mean no is mad

“Yea, I wasn’t mad cause it’s his own opinion and Jeff is a big boy, but he seems to sort of lead you on for him to turn around and say that he doesn’t even see you like when we ask him about Natalie and Corinna” Heath replies, everyone nods in agreement and I just sigh

“I’m not mad, I mean I have been sort of ghosting everyone these past few weeks, maybe he’s just upset” I explain, Heath and Todd give me the look

“Baby that’s bullshit and you know it” Heath laughs, Todd agrees with him and taps my leg

“To be honest, he was very stressed out while you were gone” He says, I know he’s trying to make me feel better but it doesn’t really help

Corinna and I leave shortly after we have our little group talk. We caught up during the car ride and before I know it we’re at my apartment. We say goodbye and plan to meet for lunch tomorrow before I head up to my apartment. I knew Carly was probably fast asleep so I tried to be as quiet as possible.

I get ready for bed and climb into my warm blanket, wrapping myself like a burrito. I browse TikTok on my phone for a few minutes before setting my alarm. Just before I let sleep take over my phone buzzes on my nightstand.

Jeff: I missed you.. I’m sorry for being an asshole tonight. I had no idea that I was leading you on, but I didn’t know you had a crush on me..

Fuck.

#vlog sqaud #vlog squad imagine #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek

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yslkook · 4 years ago

Text

#do you have the bandwidth (7)

#corporate masterlist summary: the closer it gets to the new year, the more memorable moments you have. word count: 6.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol, discussion of mental health a/n: ENJOYYYY and thank you to @taestybae <333

After you had texted Jungkook after the holiday party, it seemed like neither of you went longer than a few days without texting each other. Most of it was for work related reasons- but Jungkook was aching to talk to you about anything outside of work.

And at work, his head spins when you spend a few extra minutes at his cubicle as you’re passing by-

“Your boss would be ashamed at the state of your desk plant,”

“We don’t all have a green thumb, okay-”

“You don’t need a green thumb to take care of a succulent, Jungkook! Look at it! She just needs a friend.”

“You be her friend then.”

“We are friends,” You murmur with a blinding smile, “Aren’t we?”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook swallows nervously.

And then you had asked him if he wanted to have lunch with you and Seokjin, a request that had made his head spin. Do you even know what you’re doing to him?

From the oblivious smile on your face, he thinks not.

But it’s so easy to insert himself into conversation with you. You always look to him, to make sure if he has something to say, that he says it. You do that with everyone, really. Whether it’s at work or not-

“Hey, I made a lot of samgyeopsal last night,” You say, opening your container once you’re seated at the table, “Figured you’d want some?”

Jungkook looks at you and then the container a few times. His stomach rumbles and his heart flips, a betrayal of his own body.

You’re already placing some in his plate without asking, along with some rice. It’s all so very domestic, despite the fact that you’re both in the middle of the office cafeteria.

“Jin likes samgyeopsal, too,” You muse, “Especially the way Grandma makes it. Grandma cooks so much better than me. She says Appa used to cook better than me, too.”

You laugh and Jungkook is stunned. He doesn’t think you’ve ever opened up about home to him before.

“What else do you like cooking?”

Your eyes light up as you rattle off different things you’re trying. You tell him you want to become better at baking-

“I’m a ready and willing test subject, here at your service.”

“Oh, really?” You snort, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jungkook eats his food in awe, his eyes wide and sparkling and lips tinted with sauce. It surprises you, how eager you are for his reaction. He moans in satisfaction, even closing his eyes as he chews.

Your face heats up. The noise that comes out of his mouth should most definitely be inappropriate for the general public of the office cafeteria.

“So much better than anything I could offer you,” Jungkook groans.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something, Jungkook.”

And while the end of the year means that things are starting to wind down with the holidays approaching- everyone is out of the office from Christmas Eve until the day after New Years- you still meet with your submissions team once before bowing out for the holiday.

It feels oddly nostalgic, as if you’re saying goodbye to friends rather than colleagues-

“Any plans, Sana?” Namjoon asks at the end of the meeting. All of your laptops are down, having finished your work about twenty minutes ago.

This was the best part. Finishing the work early so that you could catch up with each other. Ever since Tokyo, you’ve felt the bonds between the four of you strengthen into something more than just workplace associates.

“Going to my grandparents’ with my dad,” Sana replies, leaning back in her chair, “You?”

“Visiting the family. I’ll be here for new years though,” Namjoon muses and turns to you.

“Oh, yeah. Me too,” You nod and Jungkook nods in agreement.

“Nobody’s traveling this year?” Namjoon asks, “We’re all wasting our youth. But our families are gettin’ older, huh?”

Namjoon is nothing if not tactful.

“Maybe next year,” Jungkook jokes, eyes crinkling.

You groan and smack your palm to your forehead, “It’s too early for ‘next year’ jokes, Jungkook. Reign it in.”

“No such thing as too early,” Jungkook protests.

“You’re the type to come in the first day back and tell everyone that you haven’t seen them since last year,” You tease, and Jungkook lets out a surprised laugh.

“So what if I am? It’s a timeless joke!”

“Oh, is it?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes as you both playfully bicker. “Before we leave, since this is our last meeting for this project… Thank you for all of your hard work in the last few months. You’ve all really stepped up, and I’m proud to lead a team as strategic, smart, and flexible as this one.”

“Watch out, Namjoon, you’ll put a tear in my eye,” You interrupt with a grin. He shoots you an impressed glare and you shut your mouth.

“As you know, Tokyo will be here in February. And I expect nothing but the best from us. But until then… Enjoy the holiday, and be safe and well. And spend time with your loved ones.”

Jungkook catches the soft look in your eyes. You bite your bottom lip nervously, feeling like you have to say something. At least to Namjoon.

So you muster every ounce of bravery in you and open your mouth. “Thanks, Namjoon. For… everything.”

Well, nobody said you were a poet.

And sometimes you might text him after work, too. Sometimes you send pictures of your dinner and dessert to him. And he, without fail, compliments every single one of them with an array of emojis.

Jungkook sometimes can’t believe it. He finds himself asking Taehyung if he’s dreaming- that you’re really texting him. Taehyung rolls his eyes and smacks the back of his head.

Sometimes when you try new wines with Grandma, you tell him about it. You send him snapchat videos once in a while, after a few glasses of wine detailing your assessment of the wine-

Hey. It’s me. Today, I tried this five year old pinot noir. Don’t even like pinot noir like that. Don’t you think all wines taste the same? Except pinot noir. Pinot noir tastes like the devil’s lettuce.

When you send him snapchat videos, his heart seizes in his chest at the flash of your name on his screen. The camera will be facing you, voice slurring and a little high pitched. In one of them, he thinks you’re in your bed, under the covers half asleep.

And when he sends you little videos back, he stammers in nervousness. In fact, he drops his phone more than once while recording himself doing his skincare routine to send to you.

The fact that you willingly send him these silly snapchat videos of your sleepy voice, sends a flutter of butterflies through his belly.

Jungkook starts going to bed with a goodnight text from you more often than not.

You surprise him again, on a random Thursday night, asking him what he’s doing. It’s the Thursday before Christmas.

Normally, Seokjin is your go-to to text when you can’t sleep at night. But you find yourself curiously hovering over Jungkook’s text message thread more often than not these days.

Jungkook is playing video games and the moment he sees your name flash across his screen, he gets distracted. A chorus of protests echoes in his ears when he suddenly pauses to check his phone. It’s close to 1 AM, and he wonders what you’re doing awake.

you : hi you: what are you up to you: i cant sleep lol jungkook: is this a booty call? You: lmaoo shut up. if this was a booty call u would know jungkook: what’s a dude to think

Jungkook blames his next text on the fact that it’s after hours, also known as vulnerable hours.

jungkook: when a pretty girl texts u at 1 AM what am i meant to think you: idk, go ask whoever else is texting u at 1 AM

Of course, you don’t take the bait. Who does he think he is?

you: i was just thinking about u

He pretends like his hands don’t shake as he types his response to you. It appears that he’s feeling brave tonight.

jungkook: want to facetime?

His heart races in anticipation when he sees three dots on his screen. They go away in a flash and before disappointment settles in, you’re FaceTiming him.

Jungkook nearly fumbles his phone in his hand before he answers.

“H-hi,” He mumbles in greeting, a tired smile gracing his features.

You cannot believe that you’re FaceTiming Jungkook. You don’t remember FaceTiming anyone who wasn’t Jin. You wonder if he can feel your nerves through the screen.

“Hi,” You say with a wave, “What are you wearing?”

You wink at him, eyes dark, before bursting into laughter.

“I thought this wasn’t a booty call,” Jungkook deadpans. As if his cheeks aren’t pink from your words.

“‘S not,” You promise with a laugh, “Were you sleeping?”

“Nah, I was playing video games with-”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just barged in on your plans with your friends,” You say apologetically, chewing on your bottom lip, “I didn’t even ask if you were free-”

“Relax, I’m the one who asked if you wanted to FaceTime, remember?” Jungkook says soothingly, and you instantly feel your heart calming from the sincerity in his voice.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you thought this was a booty call,” You grin and Jungkook giggles.

What a sweet sound.

“I’m going to get into bed,” Jungkook murmurs, “Gimme a sec.”

He leaves his phone slanted on his chair, giving you a view of him walking away from you to refill his water bottle from the fridge. You can’t help but stare- even though his clothes are quite baggy, you can make out the outline of his ass through his sweatpants.

He does have a nice peach. You’ve always thought so. You could probably bounce a quarter off of his ass. Not that you ever would.

“I feel like I’m in your pocket,” You say once Jungkook picks his phone up and heads to his bedroom. He makes sure the lights are off before heading in and closing the door and puts his headphones in his ears.

“You can be my pocket pal,” Jungkook says, getting comfortable in bed.

“How flattering.”

You’re cuddled under your covers on your side, the light from your nightstand illuminating your face. Jungkook sees dark circles lining your undereyes, and a tint of nervousness in your gaze.

You look cozy and cuddly, a little contemplative, and he wonders what’s on your mind.

“Hey,” You say, voice turning a little serious, “Thank you. For… For answering my text. And for being my friend, in general.”

Your face is heating up, vulnerability pooling in your eyes. You want to look away- maintaining eye contact even through the camera feels like too much. But you’re working on it. You’re working on being more vulnerable to those around you.

You want to let him in. It hurts how much you want to let him in.

“O-oh. You don’t… You don’t have to thank me for being your friend,” Jungkook stammers. How must you feel about yourself if you feel the need to thank him for just being a friend to you? “Are you...okay?”

Your eyes widen and you play with the hem of your shirt to distract yourself for a second. “Yeah-”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Jungkook says softly.

You pause for a second, heart pounding in your ears. The only person you’ve ever talked to this about is Jin. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you spilled your thoughts to Jungkook.

You’ve never been the best with words.

“Um,” You say in a tight voice, “I just… I had a really hard day today at therapy. So I can’t sleep.”

Jungkook catches the hesitation in your tone. He’s not the best at comforting people, he thinks. But he’ll try, for you. For you, he’ll try anything.

“Are some days easier than others?” Jungkook asks, trying to probe what you’re comfortable with sharing and what you’re not.

“Yeah. I’ve had worse days, but this has been a tougher day than usual…”

“What do you usually do? On tough days?”

“Mostly just sleep. And then wake up feeling worse,” You laugh dryly.

“Maybe journaling would help. It’s a good way to get rid of the buzzing in your head,” Jungkook suggests and your eyes light up.

“Really? I’ve been thinking about it but I never know where to start,” You reply, “Do you journal?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Jungkook nods, “You just write...Whatever comes to mind. Get it off your chest. You can make your journals pretty too, if you want.”

“I’ll look into it,” You muse, “Thanks, JK.”

Jungkook’s eyes turn into crescents as he gives you a blinding smile. “Talking to friends helps, too. Even if you don’t want to share everything. Just talking helps.”

Your smile begins to fall and Jungkook quickly tries to backtrack but you beat him to it. “I don’t… have many friends, Jungkook,” You say softly, “As you may have gathered by now. I don’t think I have much to offer.”

Another dry laugh. It breaks his heart a little. What do you think of yourself? Do you recognize when the room lights up when you enter it, when people laugh at your jokes, when people praise you?

“You have me,” Jungkook says instantly, “You have me, you have Jin. I’m always here if you want an ear.”

“Even at 1 AM, when you’re playing video games with your friends and I’m the dumb bitch who interrupts-”

“Stop that,” Jungkook says firmly, “Yes, even at 1 AM. Especially at 1 AM.”

He reminds you of Jin, when he tells you to stop with the immediate self-deprecation. It makes you smile fondly.

“JK,” You say slowly, “I’m… here for you, too. If you ever need an ear.”

He throws you another blinding smile. It’s no surprise that your dreams that night are filled with that soft bunny smile.

As Seokjin claims, the best way to get to know someone is over food. Not that he’s wrong- but it’s the first time you’re meeting Yuna and you’re incredibly nervous.

You feel like you’re going on a first date. This unfamiliar first date feeling keeps creeping back more and more lately. How bothersome.

Grandma even asks you why you’re so jumpy-

“You finally going on a date?”

“No! I’m meeting Jin’s new girlfriend. Her name is Yuna,” You roll your eyes.

She gasps, “It’s about time someone snatched that boy up, if you wouldn’t.”

You arrive about ten minutes early to brunch, tapping your foot against the floor restlessly as you scroll through your phone. You wait at the table for them to arrive-

Jin nearly screeches your name from across the restaurant. A pretty woman, Yuna you presume, only laughs at his antics. She loops an arm around his upper arm easily. Despite many of the restaurant patrons glaring at them for causing a scene, Jin pays it no mind.

“Hi,” You breathe and Jin pulls you to him for a tight hug. He holds you in his arms, peering at you as if you’re transparent. “You gonna let me say hi to Yuna, or are you gonna keep staring?” You ask dryly.

Jin gasps, clearly affronted, “I haven’t seen you in days! Excuse me, for missing my best friend.”

“You’re excused,” You grin, but squeeze his arm in appreciation.

Yuna waves at you from next to Jin, rolling her eyes at him. “If he ever lets go of you, maybe I can finally say hello…”

“I knew this was a bad idea. Bringing you both together,” Jin grumbles.

“Hey, you made your bed. Now lay in it,” Yuna says, rubbing his cheek fondly.

To your surprise, Yuna doesn’t pull you for a hug immediately. Instead, she shakes your hand. It might seem awkward to anyone else, but you appreciate it. You appreciate not being hugged by someone you had just met. Jin probably told her that you don’t like impromptu hugs.

You’ve been on edge all morning. But it starts to fade away, slowly. When you sit down next to Yuna and across from Jin. Jin doesn’t mind that you both are engrossed in conversation without him- in fact, he encourages it. He only watches with adoring eyes, drinking his coffee.

“How did you and Jin meet,” You ask curiously, “He gave me the big picture, but lemme hear the details!”

“Seokjin! You never told your best friend how we met?” Yuna gasps, hand against her chest dramatically, “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“What! I did,” Jin pouts, glaring at her playfully.

“Oh, did you? Actually, I would be more offended if I was your best friend and didn’t know all of the details,” Yuna complains.

“Oh, I like her,” You grin, pointing to Yuna, “Bottom line, it’s Jin’s fault. So tell me then-”

“Well,” Yuna says, turning back to you, “As funny as it is, I met him at a coffee shop…”

And she tells you about how Jin started frequenting the same coffee shop for weeks in hopes that he’d catch a glimpse of her after the first time. Your heart aches only a little over the fact that you had no idea. It’s okay though- it’s not about you. She tells you that he had somehow figured out her coffee order and was waiting with her order when he asked for her number.

Yuna whispers that she was a sucker for him right off the bat, and you both share a laugh over that. Even though it’s only been a few weeks, a little over a month, you can see how much she likes him. And how much he likes her.

She also looks at you in the same way Jin does sometimes- like she can see right through you with knowing, curious eyes.

It doesn’t unnerve you as much as you thought it would.

You’re on a mission, with two bags of fried chicken in the passenger seat of your car. Today, you’re planning on paying a visit to Jimin and Hoseok in their dance studio. They’ve been here for years, and you haven’t seen them. Not even once.

First date jitters settle in your belly again. You’re only making good on your promise to them in Tokyo- that you wouldn’t be so much of a stranger again.

Fried chicken and bubble tea would be the way back into their hearts. Hopefully.

With a deep breath, you park your car into the lot, away from the rest of the cars. And you take your time pulling the food and trays of bubble tea out of your passenger seat before arriving at the front door of the studio. One of the students who is about to leave sees you struggling at the door, and lets you in without a second thought.

“Thank you,” You murmur and he nods at you before exiting the building.

You spot Jimin with his back turned away from you, talking to Hoseok. It must be something important, from how serious the expression on Hoseok’s face is. But Hoseok pulls away from Jimin when he sees you in the mirror that lines the wall.

He looks surprised, but gives you a bright smile.

“Uh,” You say, with a weak smile, “Hi. I brought food.”

“Is that fried chicken?” Jimin says, peeking at the bags. You nod and Jimin smiles, taking the bags from you and setting them on the floor.

“And you got our favorite bubble tea flavors,” Hoseok says in approval. You help him set the food and teas in front of you and stretch your legs.

“You should’ve texted! We could’ve gone to dinner or something,” Jimin says, plating the fried chicken for everyone.

“Ah, I wanted to…” You trail off, “Wanted to see the studio. And surprise you both. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Hoseok murmurs, scratching his chin. His eyes are warm and sunny, just as you remembered all those years ago. It’s interesting, how it’s been so many years since you’ve held a conversation with either of them. And yet, it feels like no time has passed at all.

You suppose that’s what adulthood is. And maybe you missed some of it while you were in your very own black hole.

“Tell me,” You demand softly, “Tell me everything. And where is Yoongi? Jin mentioned he has a recording studio?”

So they do- they tell you everything, from how they got the seed money for the school, how they train backup dancers and main dancers, and have just expanded their team so that they can train younger kids, too.

“Took a while to get here,” Hoseok shrugs, “But we’re here.”

“Yeah. We are,” You say wistfully, “I’m happy for you guys. I remember...how this was your dream. In school. So… I’m happy to see it come true.”

“Ah, don’t go getting all sappy on us now,” Jimin teases and you roll your eyes.

“Hey, finish your bubble tea. Let’s dance it out,” Hoseok says. Your lips part in surprise, about to protest. But they’re both persuasive and you’re not immune to their charms.

So you dance with them, the music bouncing off of the walls, the mirrors and reverberating in your blood and making your heart pound. You dance with them, you laugh, and you even cry a little.

Nerves seize you as you walk towards the karaoke bar from your Uber with Jin and Yuna. You had driven to Jin’s apartment and left your car there, to Uber (and pregame) with them. He refused to let you take an Uber by yourself all the way from home into the city. It’s been years and you’ve given up fighting him on it.

Yuna has an arm slinked around your shoulders as she leads you inside, seemingly sensing your nerves.

So many people, mostly faces you don’t recognize are at the karaoke bar. Yuna pulls you away, to introduce you to her girlfriends.

Yuri, Sooyoung, Seohyun. They talk to you as if you’ve been a part of their circle since the beginning. It makes you yearn for it- for girl friendship.

Yuri suggests a round of drinks and shots for everyone, and you go with her to the bar to get the bartender’s attention.

You catch Jungkook’s eye and you tell Yuri you’ll meet her at the bar.

“Hi, Jungkook,” You breathe, a little nervously. You smile brightly at him, opening your arms for a hug without a second thought. He also looks delicious, a fact that you had been all too aware of. He’s wearing a baggy white shirt and a bomber jacket, paired with tight, black jeans and combat boots. Two silver hoops sit pretty in each ear, and a metallic feather dangles from his right ear. He has his hair pinned back, exposing part of his undercut to you on his left side. On his right side, his hair falls over his eyes in an effortless waterfall.

You want to push his hair back. You resist the urge and clasp your clutch tightly.

He smells spicy and warm. Like always. You could drown in his arms, you think. You don’t want to let go of him, you quite enjoy the feel of his strong arms easily wrapped around you.

But he lets you go and you let him go.

“Hi,” He says, his eyes crinkling, “How’s it goin’?”

“Good,” You murmur, “You sober?”

“Nah, had a few drinks with Tae at home,” Jungkook says, pointing to Taehyung. Who’s currently chatting Yuri up at the bar.

“He’s trouble,” You laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I live with the guy.”

Jungkook had seen you walk in with Seokjin and Yuna earlier. You were deep in conversation with Yuna, throwing your head back in laughter. He’s glad- he’s glad that you’re finding friends outside of Jin. He knows it’s hard for you to open up. But he’s proud of you for trying.

He knows this because you’ve told him. Late at night, via text. During vulnerable hours, as he’s dubbed them. He’s flattered that you feel comfortable enough to share such things with him. He’s only known you again for a few months, but the way you had been in the beginning is a stark contrast from how you are now.

You’d been mean in the beginning, a little rough around the edges. But now, you’re a little softer. He likes you like this. Jungkook doesn’t like when you’re deliberately mean.

Even if you haven’t truly apologized for how you’d treated him in the beginning, he thinks it's mostly forgivable.

You look so pretty- is the first thought that runs through his head. As it generally always is. You’re wearing a black velvet off the shoulder top that proudly shows your tattoos off on display and a thin gold necklace at the base of your throat. A watch sits pretty on your wrist, your pants are tight around your thighs...

He could stare at you for hours. Jungkook loves the way your face relaxes when you laugh, loudly and genuinely.

Jungkook’s throat goes dry, the same way it did at the holiday party. He can’t keep his eyes off of you- your bare shoulders, the dip of your chest, the swell of your ass…

If he doesn’t watch himself, he might have to rub one out in one of the dirty bathroom stalls. And this time, he probably won’t be so lucky to be alone in the bathroom the way he was at the party.

He just can’t believe how pretty you are, and how he gets to see you like this as often as he does.

Taehyung snaps his fingers in front of Jungkook, waving his hand in front of his face. “Hellooooo,” Taehyung says, “Anyone home?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook grins, shoving his hand to the side.

“The hell are you staring at?” Taehyung mutters, following Jungkook’s line of sight and sees you, “Oh. No wonder. Your girl’s here.”

“She’s not my girl,” Jungkook protests.

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Taehyung scoffs, “You gonna make a move? Or should I?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shoving Taehyung’s shoulder. Seokjin approaches both of them, throwing an arm around them and Jungkook forces his eyes away from you. Jungkook smells alcohol on Jin’s breath- he’s screeching about how he wants them to meet Yuna-

“Jin, she’s right there,” Jungkook says with wide eyes, “You can just-”

Over the last few months, being under Namjoon and Seokjin’s tutelage feels like he’s gained two older brothers. While Jungkook was initially wary about developing such close relationships with colleagues, let alone superiors, the pull of friendship was too tight for him to really resist.

Jin smacks Jungkook’s shoulder roughly, “You think I don’t know that! That my girlfriend is right there! She’s with your girl-”

Jin’s smile twists into a smirk and Jungkook’s jaw drops.

“Close your mouth, Kook. Lookin’ like a damn fish outta water,” Jin says smugly, “I know everything. Don’t you forget it, kid.”

Jungkook just pouts at him, “I’m not a kid.”

“You kissin’ anyone at midnight?” Taehyung asks smoothly, with his legs spread and his arm over the back of the seat to face you.

You scoff, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He’s easy and fun to talk to. You don’t notice Jungkook’s smile dissolving into a pout.

Taehyung looks at Jungkook knowingly, with a smirk and innocent, dark eyes. Dangerous. “Wanna be my midnight kiss?”

He’s bold. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone as bold as Taehyung. But you understand why him and Jungkook click.

“You fuckin’ wish, Taehyung,” You swat his shoulder playfully, taking a long sip of your drink.

Jungkook crosses his arms across his chest petulantly. Taehyung knows about his not so secret crush on you. He’s doing this to annoy him, but also to tell him to get a move on with you.

But he likes slow, and he wants slow with you. If you’d ever give it to him.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Taehyung says loudly, looking over your head to Jungkook subtly.

“Oh, I can definitely blame you for trying,” You roll your eyes, “C’mon. Let me get us some drinks-”

“I don’t-”

“I know you don’t like alcohol. I saw they have this fancy peach and mango drink, thought you’d like it,” You shrug and Taehyung’s face splits into a broad smile.

“How thoughtful of you,” Taehyung beams, ruffling your hair fondly, “C’mon, Jungkook. Our girl is buying.”

You and Jungkook both roll your eyes this time, and you let your gaze land on him. “Your friend is a nuisance,” You mumble to Jungkook loudly, grinning when Taehyung pouts at you.

“Hey! I can hear you!”

“Good, that was the point.”

You were happy to be in settings like this without needing Seokjin to be a buffer for you. You think it’s progress- you can’t remember a single moment in the last five years that you didn’t need your best friend by your side to get you through events like this.

And now, you’re alone with Taehyung and Jungkook. All on your own. You think he might be proud of you. You think Appa might be proud of you, too.

“What can I get you, JK?” You ask, leaning close to him at the bar to hear what he says.

“Soju,” He says instantly, his breath close to your ear. A shiver trails up your spine at his low voice.

“Me too,” You murmur, “We’re the only ones with any taste in this entire establishment.”

His eyes crinkle when he laughs. You love the sound. Neither of you realize that Taehyung has long disappeared.

You lean against the bar, pushing most of your weight onto your elbows as you both wait for your drinks. Jungkook is so close to you that you can feel the warmth radiating through his white shirt and his leather jacket. You had already teased him for his white shirt before-

“You must have a lot of faith in yourself and in our friends if you think that white shirt will stay white all night.”

“I’ve got my good luck charm with me,” Jungkook winks at you.

Who does he think he is? You know he’s not talking about a physical charm, from the way he’s looking at you with stars in his eyes.

“Any resolutions this year, JK?” You prompt him, wringing your hands together.

“Nah, not really,” Jungkook shrugs, “Maybe just go see my parents and my brother more often. I wanna get back into photography, too.”

“Photography,” You hum, “That’s so very you.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” You nod with a small smile, “You seem like… You know how to capture a moment, even if it’s something mundane. You could make anything special, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush at your soft praise. He wants to make you feel special. “T-Thanks,” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “Do you have any resolutions for the new year?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “I think this year… I want to let myself be happier. Not much of a resolution but…” You trail off, suddenly alarmed.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“What?” Jungkook says with wide eyes, “You didn’t. Trust me.

“And for what it’s worth… You deserve to be happy. H-happy looks good on you.”

A pet name almost slips out of his lips. Almost. The beaming, bashful smile you give him makes his heart race and his insides warm.

“Is that the only thing that looks good on me?” You bat your lashes at him, lips formed into a pretty pout and Jungkook feels his knees weakening. He swallows nervously. Do you even know what you do to him?

Before he can muster a stuttering reply, the bartender appears with your bottles of soju. You turn a little too quickly on your heel, your heel slipping out from under you.

Of course you’re going to trip and bust your ass in front of everyone. And most importantly, in front of Jungkook. You squeeze your eyes for the inevitable thump of your ass hitting the wet floor, but it never comes.

Instead, you feel a warm, strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You feel your back against a solid chest. Your throat instantly goes dry and you force yourself to turn in his arms to look at him.

“You’re clumsy,” Jungkook says quietly, only for your ears. His eyes are teasing, his voice low from the rumble in his chest.

“N-no,” This time you’re the one who’s flustered, “Floor’s wet…”

Neither of you move away from each other. Your hand is still tight around his bicep, his hand firm against your waist. How is it that he always makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world?

He could kiss you. You could kiss him. He could kiss you. You could kiss him.

Instead, you stay in his arms for a little longer. Both of you sipping on your soju and sharing sweet smiles and starry eyes.

At least until Seokjin whisks you away, yelling at you for not even having one drink with him yet.

There are about thirty seconds left until the New Year. You can’t help it- you want to see Jungkook. He makes your heart flutter and pound at the same time- with his smile that you like to pretend burns a little brighter when it’s directed at you.

You find him, towards the back of the bar. He’s in conversation with Taehyung and Jimin but when Taehyung notices you noticing Jungkook, he grins to himself. And leaves the conversation, dragging Jimin with him.

You don’t notice that. You only see Jungkook.

The confusion in Jungkook’s doe eyes is cute, but it washes away when he sees you. His heart picks up again, throat going dry.

The countdown has begun already. Fifteen seconds left.

“Jungkook,” You say a little breathlessly. Jungkook can see the slick of tipsiness in your eyes when you flick your gaze from his lips to his eyes. You lean into him, chest to chest. Your voice catches in your throat when you realize your proximity.

You can see the mole beneath his pouty lower lip. Neither of you moves.

“Yeah?” He murmurs.

You could kiss him. He could kiss you. You could kiss him. He could kiss you.

Five!

“I just-”

Four!

“I’m happy you’re in my life again-”

Three!

Jungkook says your name. “Me too. Really happy-”

Two!

His eyes are wide, unsure but sparkling. Adoring, even. And he’s looking at you like that.

One!

A chorus of cheers erupt behind you and you muster all of your courage. To press your lips against his cheek gently. Jungkook’s heart stutters, singing at the lingering touch of your lips against his skin. It’s not much, but it’s enough for his cheeks to turn pink and for yours to heat up.

It’s just you and him in this crowded, noisy bar. Everything else fades away when you stand with him.

A soft gasp leaves his lips, blowing on your face. He gives you a bashful smile, and you’re surprised at your own actions.

Your name sounds so good on his tongue. Like honey.

“Happy new year,” Jungkook says softly. He dares to press his forehead to yours and you exhale shakily at the action. You feel warm all over, as if bubbly champagne has been poured into your veins. You feel his hand at your waist.

“Happy new year, JK,” You say easily with a disarming grin.

Jungkook wants to kiss you, kiss the gloss right off of your pretty lips. But not yet, not here. Not when he hasn’t taken you on a date, when he hasn’t even held your hand yet.

Not yet. Not here.

The way he looks at you, as if you’ve somehow captured stardust in your smile, it excites you and scares you at the same time. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you this intensely, as if they can see right through you.

It sets your nerves on fire. You sway on the spot, leaning into the warmth of his forehead on yours.

“Happy new year,” Jungkook says again, dimples on display. He wonders if you can feel the tremble of his hand against your waist. Or if you can feel the way his heart is about to explode out of his chest.

You think you could spend hours glancing into his deep, sparkling eyes. A flash of his cold eyes from months ago intrudes your memories, but it’s gone as soon as it comes.

His brown eyes are so warm and toasty- ringing in the new year with his soft gaze on you like this feels right.

tags: @koo-zy

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

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neutral-emerald · 4 years ago

Text

SILVER THE COSMIC TIME-JANITOR (or: dude, what's with all the alternate futures)

silver the hedgehog has a very simple backstory. he's a kindhearted, sorta-naive but altogether very driven psychic hedgehog here to save the world by time-traveling to the past (also known as present-day) to prevent the apocalyptic future he was born into from coming to pass!

[ID: A screenshot of Silver from Sonic 06. He’s glowing with cyan energy as he flies over a dark, post-apocalyptic city.]

...wait, if he's time traveling 200 years into the past to completely change the shape of the timeline, how do the stars manage to align such that he manages to be born at the exact same point in the new timeline with the exact same genetics? how are his parents born? does silver have parents?? and how does he do this no less than THREE SEPARATE TIMES??!

hey everyone, i'm tumblr user neutral-emerald here to make good on the idea i vaguely gestured at yesterday and point out silver's wildly inconsistent backstory(s) and then explain to you how this isn't just sega playing hopscotch with the concept of time travel, but actually TOTALLY EXPLAINABLE if you don't mind a whole lot of conjecture and "fuck dude i just think it'd be cool."

LET'S GO.

before i get started, a few things to establish.

first, this is about… half serious, tops. it’s less of a theory and more of an observation of something that’s weird and then throwing some possible explanations at it because i am a massive sucker for time-based nonsense. if you wanna take my observations and build your own conclusions, go for it. i’m not your boss.

second, i'm basing my conclusions off of both the games and the idw comics. the conclusions i draw are applicable to either continuity, but the logic does rest a decent amount on the comics, so just a heads-up in case you were expecting pure game canon from this.

and third, i'm working off like half a brain and very intermittent checks of the wiki and cutscene compilations, so there's probably many things i'm missing! if you notice something i said was wildly off-base, go ahead and correct me in the replies and i'll either edit the post or explain to you just how that detail doesn't actually matter, depending on whether it. y'know. matters.

with that out of the way, let's get into the first topic of discussion!

part 1: the future is inconsistent, y'all

now, i'm not sure if you've heard, but in the year 2006 sonic team released this little indie game creatively entitled Sonic the Hedgehog. it was a smash hit, won countless awards, and for some reason went down in history as a messy, incomplete bugfest. but that's not what matters. what matters is that it introduced Silver the Hedgehog.

silver hails from 200 years in the future. the world is a bleak, fiery place, and has been since the monster iblis was unleashed after princess elise's death. silver was born into this world, which we know since it's literally the first thing he says in his story.

[ID: A cropped line from Silver's story in Sonic 06. "This world was devastated before I was born."]

i'm not going to drag you through a beat-by-beat summary of the entire plot of sonic 06, you should know it already. silver meets mephiles, gets lied to about who caused the apocalypse, mephiles yeets him and blaze into the past, he tries to murder Sonic the Hedgehog™, and so on. eventually he helps kill god, and then sonic and elise travel further back in time to kill god even deader so that none of the game ever happened, and the bad future into which silver was born never happened, thus thoroughly scrubbing silver's existence from the timeline!

...until.

sonic rivals.

i'm not going to speak much on sonic rivals, mostly because i'm not super familiar with it. but what matters is that silver is back! he's still from the future, he's still here to change the past, and most importantly he wasn't deleted from existence by the destruction of solaris, unlike everything else from sonic 06 including everyone's memories of it. and obviously, whatever state his future is in, it's not the same as it was in sonic 06.

now, i don't have a single clue what is going on in rivals 2, so do inform me if there's some big information i'm missing from that one. all i know is he's fixing yet another possible apocalyptic future, like always. correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t have the patience to trawl through it myself.

then we've got sonic colors, in which silver is again from the future. notably, he’s definitely not from an apocalypse!

[ID: Some screenshots from the DS version of Sonic Colors, again cropped to just the text. Tails and Silver are talking to each other.

Tails: What's the future you came from like, Silver? Silver: A lot brighter than this. Silver: The sky is blue, and everybody's got a smile.]

sonic generations doesn't add much. again, correct me if i'm wrong, but i don't think we learn anything about what kind of future silver is from, and he's definitely not here to fix it this time. that's sonic's job! he's just hanging out like everyone else.

now, up until this point the future has been reasonably consistent, setting aside my somewhat abstract understanding of the rivals games. there's nothing to say that silver's not coming back in time from the same point in a single timeline, which is the one and only version of the future ever since the destruction of sonic 06.

UNTIL.

[ID: Two panels from the comic Sonic Forces: Stress Test. In the first panel, Silver looks worried as he lands in front of Knuckles, who looks skeptical.

Silver: We've got big trouble! Eggman— Knuckles: How can you be here? I thought you returned to the future?

In the second panel, Knuckles looks away with a self-assured grin, while Silver looks more panicked.

Knuckles: Oh wait— I must be dreaming! Silver: What? No! I've come back with a dire warning from the future!]

i have a lot of issues with sonic forces, especially with how its story is written. something i do NOT take issue with is the supplemental comics, mainly because they are WONDERFUL evidence for my crackpot time travel theory.

like i said, up until this point we don't really know whether silver has been experiencing separate instances of the future, or simply traveling back in time to prevent an also-time-traveling eggman nega from messing things up in the past. but here, we get some very juicy information:

[ID: Knuckles and Silver again. Knuckles has his arms crossed and is looking at Silver, who has a nervous look on his face as he slams a fist on the palm of his other hand.

Knuckles: Come again? Silver: Something happens that brings the world to ruin! But the historical records are sparse or make no sense. I came back to hopefully head off whatever's about to happen and save the future.]

silver travels back in time to prevent a terrible apocalypse. this is not the beautiful future silver came from in sonic colors— but this is the same silver. everyone recognizes him. he recognizes everyone. and yet, the future he came from is different.

part 2: silver is a walking paradox

allow me to remind you of what i pointed out when i was talking about sonic 06. silver was born into the iblis-apocalypse. considering no elaborate timeline nonsense happened to him before the events of the game (by his reckoning) i think we can safely assume he was born like a regular person with parents.

in the first post-06 timeline, silver was probably also born. let's be charitable, acknowledge that sonic team doesn't overthink the butterfly effect like i do, and say that silver was born to the same parents, because the universe likes to keep things nice and simple and contrive itself to make this particular character exist in this time period.

so, it's entirely fair that silver comes to exist in a post-06 timeline at the equivalent point in time, aka 200 years in the future. it's also fair that he travels back in time to prevent some kind of apocalypse, because that's his narrative role! it's what he does. when it's time for him to exist in the story, that's what he's there to do.

what isn't fair is the fact that it keeps happening.

[ID: A panel from the IDW comics. Sonic is stretching his legs while looking faintly exasperated at Silver, who is nervously holding his arm.

Silver: Er… No. I came back because defeating Eggman didn't save the future. Sonic: Couldn't even play along. Had to bring the mood down. Sonic: *sigh* Okay, what happened this time?]

[ID: The following panel, cropped to just Silver's text bubbles narrating over a starry sky.

Silver: When I left, my time had been conquered by the Eggman Empire. Everyone lived in fear, choking on polluted air. Silver: When I went back, the Eggman Empire was gone— but so was everyone else. Silver: There was nothing left. No people, no animals, no machinery. Only water and sparse, metallic plant life.]

allow me to summarize my understanding of all this: silver is from the future. normally, the future is good. sometimes it isn't. when it isn't good, he goes back in time and fixes things, then returns to the future to check if that fixed things.

the least conjecture-y interpretation i can come up with is that sometimes silver will go into the past, then go back to the future but end up in a Bad Timeline and thus go into the past again to fix things. there's no weird warping directly between bad timelines, he only gets there by way of the past.

but that's boring, so here's my PREFERRED interpretation.

silver hails from a good future, but sometimes it just changes. he's unstuck from time— if something weird happens in the past, he's the only one to know that the passage of fate was changed, because he went to bed in one timeline and woke up somewhere categorically worse, and the only way he can fix it is by figuring out just what caused this and going back in time to fix it.

or, to say it in a meme:

[ID: A picture of someone lying in a hospital bed with a nurse standing next to them, edited so that Silver is in the bed.

nurse: sir… you've been asleep for 2 hours silver: oh boy i can't wait to wake up in the same timeline i went to sleep in]

part 3: how did this happen?

it's one thing to point out that silver doesn't experience time like a normal hedgehog, and another thing to explain how and why this happens.

fyi, this is the part where i go wildly off the rails and start saying whatever i want. there's a ton of explanations one could come up with, most probably stemming back to sonic 06. i'm just going to go with my own, and probably not come up with a whole lot of concrete evidence because i'm just spitballing. this is me having a fun time. going "heeheehoohoo time traveling hedgehog go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

so. something i haven't touched upon is that in all games after sonic 06, silver can time travel. we never see him do it, it's never explained how he does it. all we know is that he's doing it under his own power.

which is kinda odd, don't you think? should he be able to do that?

in sonic 06, we see three mechanisms for time travel. first is the chaos emeralds. if two people perform Chaos Control with a chaos emerald apiece, they open up a swirling rift in the air which can send them to different points in time and space. silver can't be doing that, for obvious reasons— he's only one hedgehog, and he's not exactly running around with a chaos emerald at all times. that can't be how he does it.

second is a time machine eggman built. that obviously can't be it; the machine doesn't exist at all after the timeline gets wiped, and again, silver is doing this on his own. he's actively antagonistic towards eggman, even. absolutely not this one.

third and finally is mephiles, who can make big purple orbs to take himself and passengers to different points in time. this obviously can't be it either, for similar reasons to number 2, right? after all, mephiles is one half of solaris, who was destroyed before he could be split off. he doesn't exist to be silver's time-traveling uber driver.

...right?

well, obviously. i'm not going to try and tell you that mephiles is secretly alive and shepherding silver back and forth between timelines for no reason. that's ridiculous. no, i'm going to try and tell you that silver is mephiles.

or rather, he's solaris. or RATHER, he's the new solaris, sorta-ascended to the role of Time God after the old one got blown out like a birthday candle.

like i said, i'm going wildly off the rails and as such don't have any concrete evidence to explain why it's this instead of something else, but hear me out. after elise blew out the flame of hope, the universe was left in an interesting situation. someone needs to be in charge of the flow of time, but the previous time-god was just unceremoniously destroyed. but all the power and energy of a time-god has to go somewhere, in some form, in some time.

with nothing else to go off of, the role of time-god starts flipping through every notable being it had interacted with. they're all solidly accounted for in the timeline, except for one. silver the hedgehog was born into a timeline that cannot exist. silver the hedgehog does not, and cannot exist. silver the hedgehog interacted quite a bit with both sides of solaris— he spent a substantial amount of time fighting back iblis, and associated with mephiles, even being one of the few people to directly experience his time travel abilities. silver the hedgehog tried and failed to absorb iblis into himself.

here's my theory: after sonic 06, the universe reasserted itself such that silver was the new Solaris. silver is not consciously aware that this is what he is, but he knows that he can time travel. sometimes the timeline will rearrange itself around silver. he is unaffected by this because he is a higher being unaffected by such petty trifles as "an origin" or "paradoxes".

silver the hedgehog probably doesn't have parents. he sprang into existence one day and everyone just kind of went with it, himself included.

oh also something i thought was neat but couldn't think of where to put:

[ID: More cropped dialogue, this time from Team Sonic Racing.

Silver: I'm fine. It's just, something bad is gonna happen. I can't explain it. I just feel it. Blaze: Have your travels through time given you precognition? Silver: I don't know. Maybe they have. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.]

silver might be becoming psychic in a future-vision kinda way. that, or he’s riddled with anxiety. possibly both.

TL;DR

silver hails from no less than three separate timelines, his existence is a tangled web of who-knows-how-many grandfather paradoxes, and i choose to believe that he's god.

if anyone who cares more about evidence wants to gather up like, little one-off clues that support or conflict with my conclusions, go right ahead. or just throw your own arbitrary headcanons for what's going on with this at me. or incorporate these ideas into an au or something! i just want more people thinking about what the Fuck is up with silver post-06, because by god there is a WHOLE lot of potential packed in there

anyway thanks for reading make sure to like comment and subscribe—

#hey guys check out how hard i can gesture at a corkboard #is it remotely coherent? not a clue! i cannot process my own writing #sonic theory #silver the hedgehog #text #dot txt

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

Arc [Coming Home] - MARK |Swing!|

Again, this part contains many events in Spiderman: Homecoming, so spoiler alert! The timeline has also been changed so Civil War happens after Homecoming. Thanks again to @deathbykpopboys for inspiring this series :)

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing, violence (esp. in this chapter), PANIC ATTACKS IN FUTURE CHAPTERS (I in no way meant to romanticize these triggers. If you feel I did, please let me know and I will fix it.)

Word Count: 7.8k

A school dance takes a backseat to bringing down an illegal weapons trade.

Attach >> Arc { 1 - Drifting Apart | 2 - Coming Home } >> Fall { 1 - Spiral | 2 - Rise }

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

If things were chilly before, they’re freezing now. You and Mark won’t even talk to each other.

Surprisingly, not a lot of people ask about what’s going on between you two. Maybe it’s because they can already sense that you don’t want to talk about it. Maybe it’s because you already told enough people off last year after they decided to pry into your nonexistent love life.

Anyway, even if they did ask, what would you say? Oh, Mark didn’t want to find the root cause behind the group dealing illegal fucking weapons made from alien material, and I did.

You’d get placed in a mental institution.

Patrols aren’t peaceful anymore. You go earlier now since the university labs need to be fixed up, which just means more hours of strained silence as you help people with directions and beat up muggers. The two of you still patrol on the same schedule, but you watch completely different sides of Queens.

You rarely, if ever, call on him for help anymore. It’s not like there’s that much going on anyway.

One week passes like this, then two. You skulk around the university every day after school, trying to find out literally anything about the weapons dealers, but the explosion blew everything up. You come to realize just how lucky you and Mark were to have made it out alive.

Still doesn’t mean you think he’s right.

You head home from the university one evening, ready to go out and patrol for a bit. Normally, you keep your suit at school now – it’s easier to just pick it up to change right after visiting university. Today, though, you wanted a snack, so you came home first.

To your surprise, just as you’ve pulled out your suit, you hear Johnny walk through the apartment door.

“Hey, Johnny.” You walk out of your room and give him a tired smile. “Did you get out early?”

“No, right on time.” Your brother gives you a quick hug. “There wasn’t any extra work to get done today, so we all left on the clock. I was just going to go out and get some food for us – give me half an hour?”

No patrolling tonight, then. That’s fine. “Sure.” You smile.

“Are you all right?” Johnny frowns slightly, leaning in slightly. “You look a little sick.”

You force a laugh. “Not sick. Just tired.”

Johnny still looks unconvinced. “You’ve been like this for a while,” he says carefully. “I know school’s stressful, but you didn’t used to be this tired.” He looks closer, eyes narrowing. “Have you been getting into fights? You look a little beat up.”

“Johnny, what?” You heave a sigh of (faked) disbelief. “I can’t even beat anyone in an arm-wrestling match. How do you expect me to get into fights? I yell a lot, but I’m not stupid. I just get bruises from moving around when I sleep.”

Your brother acquiesces. “Well, if anything’s going on, tell me, all right?” He smiles.

“Seriously, dude.” You smile back. “It’s just a little drama at school, that’s all. If you get me my favorite Chinese, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine again.”

“If you say so.” Johnny starts turning around, then pauses. “How come Mark hasn’t been around in some time?”

Right. That.

“He’s, um, working on a project for Tuan,” you say quickly. “It’s taking up a lot of his time. Tuan wants a paper and presentation done before next month is over.”

“Shit.” Johnny whistles. “You kids just keep getting smarter and smarter.”

“As if you aren’t smart enough,” you scoff.

“You flatter me.” Your brother laughs, ruffling your hair. “Be back soon.” With a quick kiss on your head, he leaves the apartment and you throw yourself onto the couch.

And not two minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

“Johnny? Did you forget some –”

It’s not Johnny.

It’s Haechan.

“Oh, hi, Haechan.” You smile. “Why’re you here?”

“Hi Y/N! I just wanted to ask you some stuff.” He smiles blindingly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure. Leave your shoes here.” You close the door behind your friend. “My brother’s out for a bit, but he’ll be back soon. You can come into my room.”

Haechan follows behind as you walk across the small apartment to your bedroom. You open the door.

And you realize your mistake.

“Fuck, wait –” you panic, trying to close the door again. “Um –”

Too late. Haechan’s already seen the black hoodie and pale mask sitting on your bed.

Utter silence reigns in the apartment.

“You’re Spiderwoman?” Haechan finally shrieks, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. “What the fuck, Y/N?”

You wince, lurching out of his grip. “Don’t call me that,” you groan, sinking to the floor. “Not Spiderwoman. I don’t like that.”

Haechan doesn’t even hear you. “How the fuck did that even happen?”

“God, okay, please just shut up and calm down before the entire neighborhood hears you.” You shove Haechan into your room and close the door. “Do not interrupt me while I explain.”

So you tell him everything – OsCorp, the spider bite, deciding to fight crime. You pause a little after talking about the alien weaponry, unsure whether to go into the details of your fight with Mark.

Haechan looks blindsided. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “So on top of school and lab work and AcaDec, you’re patrolling Queens until, like, two a.m.?”

You shrug. “Yeah.”

“Man, what the fuck.” He flops down on your bed. “That’s just…”

Silence comes over the room once more.

“Okay, I’m just going to file away all this information for processing later, I’m too sleep-deprived for this. Keep your phone on, I’m going to send you so many texts later. Anyway, I’m just here because I wanted to ask you what your and Mark’s deal is.” Haechan sits up again. “Because Mark’s being a little bitch and won’t say anything. You know he asked Lia to homecoming?”

Something stings in your stomach at the mention of Lia. “Yeah, I know.” You heard the news last week. “Well, I guess it’s easier to tell, now that you know.”

By the time you’ve finished talking about all of your fucked-up adventures with alien weapons and the vulture man, you think Haechan is going to have an aneurysm.

“So you’re pissed at Mark because he doesn’t want to fight alien guns, and he’s pissed at you because he thinks you have a death wish,” he eventually summarizes.

You nod.

“That’s a mess.”

You snort. “You think?”

More silence.

“So, are you going to homecoming?” Haechan asks, randomly changing the subject.

“The fuck kinda topic change –” You sigh. “I don’t know.”

You have a dress, bought on sale at a department store with Jihyo, Yeri, and Lia. The whole time, you wanted to just curl in on yourself and disappear because you’d already known Lia was going to the dance with Mark, but you somehow survived. It’s relatively cheap, but according to the other girls – even Lia, who seemed very uncomfortable every time she looked at you – it looks great.

So you have a dress. You also have shoes, a pair of low heels that Jihyo lent you. Yeri has also promised to do your hair. You could definitely go to homecoming.

Whether or not you want to is another question.

“Hey, just go.” Haechan flops onto your bed again, jostling your blankets. “You don’t have to talk to Mark. Just go with Jihyo and Yeri. It’s junior year, might as well celebrate before the year goes to shit.”

“Are you going?” you ask.

“Duh.”

You picture the dress hanging in your closet. You imagine putting on Jihyo’s heels, Yeri’s smooth hands tying back your hair. You imagine laughing in a way you haven’t in weeks as you watch people whirl around stupidly on the dance floor.

With a sigh, you nod. “I’ll go.”

. . . . .

Mark hasn’t felt this nervous in what feels like forever. It’s not the terrifying kind of nervous, the kind that he feels when he’s breaking and entering secure university labs. This is a good kind of nervous – heart pounding not in terror, but with anticipation.

Aunt Mei drives him to Lia’s house after cooing over how handsome he looks in the suit they rented. It isn’t anything special, really, but Mark thinks he looks good. With a last reminder to “have fun!”, Mei drives to her night shift at the hospital, leaving him to ring the doorbell.

Lia’s mom opens the door. She’s a beautiful woman with a wide smile, and she immediately makes Mark feel welcome. “Come in, come in,” she says, waving him into the house. “You can wait for Lia in the kitchen, she’ll be down in just a minute.”

So there he stands, fiddling around with the corsage box in his hands. The house is a lot bigger than he thought – at the party, with the rooms so full of people, it seemed much smaller. He likes this change.

“Oh, hello. You must be Marcus!”

Mark turns around so fast it feels like he got whiplash.

Standing in front of him is who he thinks is Lia’s dad.

Which is bad, because Mark knows him as the vulture dude.

Belatedly, he realizes the vulture man – Lia’s dad? Jesus Christ, now he’s shaking – is holding out a hand. Gingerly, Mark reaches around and shakes it with fingers clammy with sweat, hoping his smile doesn’t look too fake. “M-Mark, actually,” he stutters.

“Well, it’s very good to meet you, Mark. Lia’s talked about you a lot. I’m Adrian Toomes.” That’s all he gets out before Lia comes down the stairs.

Mark is sure she looks beautiful. Her dress sparkles and she’s smiling widely as she takes the corsage and he takes her hand like he’s supposed to. But on the inside, he’s freaking out.

What do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what the fuck do I do –

“I’ll drive you two there.” Mr. Toomes’s voice breaks through Mark’s swirling thoughts, turning them into a pool of existential dread. “I’ve got a flight in two hours, but I think I can spare the time to send my daughter off.”

“W-where’s your flight, sir?” Mark asks, hoping he sounds politely interested and not deathly afraid.

“New Jersey.” Mr. Toomes smiles at him. “I’m a parts collector, see, so I’m going off to inspect a new shipment.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Mark’s head. “I see,” he says faintly.

He’s pretty sure he’s sweating as he enters the car. Lia goes on her phone, still holding his hand, and smiles at him. He tries to smile back.

“So, Mark, Lia tells me you’re pretty smart.” Mr. Toomes smiles into the rearview mirror. “Considering you go to Midtown, that must be a pretty big compliment, huh?”

“He’s seriously smart, Dad.” Lia smiles back. “He’s probably going to be valedictorian.”

Mark laughs nervously. “Well, there’s still some competition…”

“Oh, hush.” She squeezes his hand. “He’s the best at physics on the AcaDec team, and he works in Professor Tuan’s lab after school! You know, the lab at… was it NYU?”

Mark’s eyes go wide. He knows he spoke during the confrontation at the university, but until now, vulture man hasn’t connected the dots yet. Maybe he just didn’t recognize Mark’s voice.

“This is the vulture dude?”

He winces.

Please don’t make the connection, please don’t make the connection, please…

His stomach plummets as Mr. Toomes’s eyes narrow. “Really? NYU? What do you do?”

“Oh, um, I help Professor Tuan build things, test material strength, write some simulation programs…” he trails off. “Not much.”

“Oh, shut up!” Lia starts talking again, but Mark can’t even think properly. Terror blurs his vision and fills his mind.

What should he do?

He told you he was going to give all of this up. He told you he didn’t want to die because of this mess. But there’s a clear lead right in front of him, the guy definitely recognizes him, and if he doesn’t do something tonight, this new shipment of whatever it is will probably escalate things to a whole new level.

Dimly, he registers the fact that Mr. Toomes has pulled up in front of the school. “Lia, darling, you go on first. I want to have a little talk with Mark here before I let him go.”

Mark feels sick.

Lia just rolls her eyes, oblivious to the turmoil occurring in his mind. “Don’t roast my date, Dad,” she warns playfully.

“I won’t.” He laughs, letting her kiss his cheek. “Now run along.”

Lia’s dad’s eyes turn blank immediately after the car door slams closed. Slowly, he turns around to face Mark.

The coldness radiating off his expression freezes Mark in place.

“Does she know?”

Mark almost squeaks. “Know… what?”

“So she doesn’t.” Mr. Toomes nods. “That’s good. Good boy.”

That shakes him to the core.

“I thought I knew your voice.” The man smirks slightly. “It’s all right. I’ve got a few secrets of my own. And I’ll tell you one thing – everything I’ve ever done was for my family. Every. Single. Thing.”

Outwardly, Mark doesn’t change his expression. Internally, he finds his resolve hardening.

How is selling illegal weapons something to do for your family? How is making crime even more prevalent something to do for your family? How is threatening to kill two sixteen-year-old kids something to do for your family?

If Toomes wasn’t the leader of this operation, Mark might back down. But his fancy house? His clear wealth?

That doesn’t give him much in Mark’s book.

“Lia likes you a lot. Likes Spiderman and Spiderwoman too, or whatever you and your little friend call yourselves.” He smirks again. “She’s my daughter. I love her. So for that, I’ll cut you a deal.”

Mark stays silent.

“You walk through those doors. You forget all of this ever happened. You and your buddy Spiderwoman never interfere with my business ever again.” His eyes narrow. “Or I will find every single person you hold dear and kill them in front of you.”

Silence.

“That’s how far I’ll go to protect my family.” Mr. Toomes smiles again, but it’s not a pleasant one.

More silence.

“Hey. I just saved your life.” His voice takes on a sharper edge. “What do you say?”

Mark swallows. “Thank you,” he mutters.

“You’re welcome.” The smile comes back, wolfish this time. “Now you go in there and show my daughter a good time.” He chuckles slightly. “Just not too good of a time.”

Mark nods. He opens the door, steps outside, and closes it.

He leaves his phone in the backseat.

. . . . .

You’re in the corner with Yeri, waiting for Jihyo and Daniel, when Lia walks through the door. Your eyes narrow.

“Where’s Mark?” Yeri expresses your question for you.

A barbed insult rises on your tongue, but you swallow it. Mark, whatever he said to you and you said to him, isn’t a bad person. He wouldn’t leave his date hanging. And sure enough, a few minutes later, he walks in too.

Only he doesn’t head for Lia.

His eyes search the room, clearly looking for someone else even though Lia’s almost directly in front of him. They settle on you, and he immediately starts walking – almost running – over.

“Why’s he coming here?” Yeri mutters. Annoyance starts building up in your chest as well, until Mark gets close enough for you to see the panicked but resolute expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he breathes once he reaches you. “Y/N, please, can we talk?”

The petty part of you wants to say no, but the rational part of you pushes it back. Mark looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. You’ve only ever seen him like this before when he’s full-on panicking.

Like that first anniversary of his uncle’s death.

You nod. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go. Now.”

Yeri makes a noise of concern in her throat, but you flash her a quick smile. “It’s fine, Yeri. Have fun with Jihyo and Daniel, all right? I’ll find you.”

You have a feeling you won’t.

Mark all but drags you out of the decorated cafeteria and into an empty, dark hallway. “Mark?” You grab his wrist, forcing him to turn around. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

“Lia’s dad is vulture man.”

Your knees go weak. “Run that by me one more time.”

“Lia’s dad is vulture man,” Mark says again, looking more and more panicked by the second. “He drove us here and when Lia mentioned I work with Tuan, he made the connection. He heard me talk that night with the explosions, remember?”

You do. All too well.

“He let me go if I promised not to say anything and now he’s going to pick up a fucking shipment somewhere in New Jersey and I left my phone in his backseat so one of us could stay behind and track it –”

You cut Mark off before he starts hyperventilating. “Haechan.”

“What? What does Haechan –”

“He came over one day and accidentally saw my outfit,” you explain. “He knows, Mark.”

Mark just takes it without further explanation. That’s how you know how frazzled he is. “Okay, so –”

You’re already calling him. Haechan picks up after two rings. “Y/N?”

“Come to the hallway just behind the cafeteria.” You hang up.

Haechan appears a minute later, looking extremely ruffled. “What’s going on?”

“Go to the library. Disable the cameras. Track Mark’s phone. We’re going after vulture man.”

“Wait, what –”

“Go!” you snap.

He goes.

“You keep your suit at school, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, just start sprinting down the halls. “Go get it and meet me at the back exit.”

Five minutes later, you’ve stripped out of your dress and are pulling on your mask as you race outside. Mark’s already there. You call Haechan. “Where’s Mark’s phone?”

“On 116th, heading north.” A keyboard clacks in the background. “If you go now, you can catch him. Traffic’s a bitch.”

Mark looks at you. You look at him.

Together, you swing onto the school rooftop and start running.

. . .

After fifteen minutes of nonstop sprinting and swinging and cursing when Haechan tells you to change directions, Mark finally spots the tail of the car. “There!” he yells, pointing to the streets as it takes a sharp turn and disappears.

Something doesn’t feel right. That road doesn’t go to the airport.

In fact, now that you think of it, you’ve been going in the complete opposite direction this entire time.

“The fuck?” you yell, leaping onto a streetlight. “That’s not the way to the airport! Haechan! Where’s he headed?”

“Don’t fucking know!” Haechan hisses into the phone. “Just keep going or you’ll lose him!”

You lose the car five minutes later. Haechan gets you back on track after five more. Fifteen excruciating minutes pass before Haechan finally says the car’s stopped.

“He’s at the old industrial park! You know, the one with the building that’s abandoned and shit? The one that everyone thinks is haunted?”

“Mark!” you screech above the noise of traffic. “I thought you said he was going to New Jersey!”

“I don’t fucking know! That’s what he told me! Obviously he lied!” Mark yells, still sprinting. Cursing under your breath, you follow.

Finally, you can see the park up ahead. The last few steps you take are more like stumbling than running. You almost collapse onto the ground right then and there.

“Okay,” Mark gasps, picking up the phone you’ve dropped. “We’re good, Haechan. Thanks. Just –” he wheezes – “be ready in case we call again.”

“Got it.” Haechan coughs slightly. “Be careful.”

The line goes dead.

The abandoned building looms ahead, dark and foreboding. You swallow.

“Let’s go.”

. . . . .

There’s a very clear reason why everyone thinks this industrial park is haunted. One: it looks haunted. Two: it used to house a very dangerous, non-law-abiding factory, and multiple people died in it. Three: it fucking looks haunted.

When Mark was younger, someone once dared him to come here and stay in the building alone for ten minutes. He didn’t take it, because he was a coward, but he also wasn’t stupid.

Now he’s just as much of a coward, but he’s obtained the stupid. Which is why he’s about to walk into the building that no one willingly goes into because they’re not stupid.

“I’ll go first,” he whispers. “It’ll be better if he thinks I’m alone.”

You nod. “I’ll be on the ceiling.”

Mark steps into the abandoned factory without you by his side. He can hear you stepping quietly above, which comforts him slightly, but it’s still strange to be walking through the empty halls all on his own. Your outline is barely visible to him in the dark.

The inside actually looks clean. Clearly, Lia’s dad has been using this place for some time. Parts and pieces of machinery litter tables spread out between several rooms. Some of them glow.

Mark moves faster. Hopefully he hasn’t left yet, hopefully he’s still here…

He rounds one more corner and turns into a humongous empty room. At the other end, Toomes stands, back to Mark, tinkering with something on another table.

Web strands streak out of the shooter on Mark’s wrist, pinning Toomes’s leg to the floor. The man looks around, barely fazed, and sighs. “Hey, Mark. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s over,” Mark calls, stepping forward. “I’ve got you.”

Despite his words, though, he feels he couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You know, Mark, I really do admire your grit and perseverance.” Toomes turns fully, leaning against the table. “I see why Lia likes you. Gotta admit, at first, I kind of thought, ‘really?’ But I see it now.”

“Why would you do this to her?” Mark presses.

Toomes chuckles. “To her? On the contrary, young man, I’ve done all of this for her.”

Sure.

He must sense the nonplussed look on Mark’s face, even behind the mask, because he just sighs. “Mark. Listen. You’re too young. You don’t know how the world works.”

“Yeah, but I do understand that selling high-powered weapons made of alien materials that could potentially do more harm to citizens than a crate of machine guns combined is wrong,” Mark snaps.

“How do you think people like Stark paid for their shit? Their toys?” Toomes gestures broadly with one hand. “Those people up there, they don’t care about the underdogs like you and me. We clean their messes, fight their wars, and what do they do? They’re powerful. They just do whatever they want. They don’t care about us.” He sighs again. “That’s just how it is.”

Real anger starts to boil in Mark’s stomach. “Do not lump me with you,” he snarls. “On the contrary, I do know what you’re talking about. My uncle died when someone shot him in the stomach, and no one could find the shooter to bring him to justice. Just closed the investigation and let it rot. My best friend’s parents died after some drunk rich kid crashed their car. Daddy just paid off the courts, let the kid go free on probation. You think I don’t know how the world works?” He heaves in a breath. “The difference is, we – ” he catches himself before revealing he isn’t alone – “I’m trying to make it a better place. You’re so rotten that you think making the world worse is setting things right.”

Silence.

Mark sighs. “Why are you telling me all of this, anyway?”

“Because I want you to understand.” His eyes flicker upwards, and he smirks. “Oh, and I needed a bit of time to get her airborne.”

Her?

There’s a whizzing noise, and then you yell. A loud crunch sounds before Mark can even blink, and then you’re landing on the floor amidst a cloud of concrete dust.

“Should call her Raid, huh?” Toomes pats the flying metal device affectionately. “Pretty good at flushing out the roaches.”

“The only roach here is you,” you spit, standing up. “And the difference is that Raid kills.”

Toomes just lets the thing go.

The next few seconds are a blur. The device moves faster than he ever imagined anything could. Pillars crunch as it zooms through concrete. React or die – there’s no time to even think.

“I’m sorry, Mark.” Toomes’s voice carries through the room.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Mark yells. “It hasn’t even touched us!”

“True.” Toomes shrugs. “Then again, it wasn’t really trying to.”

Several more pillars crunch. Mark’s danger sense goes off like nuts.

Concrete blocks start crashing down all around him.

“If you get out of here, tell Mr. Stark I said hello,” Toomes laughs.

The last thing Mark hears is his voice screaming your name.

. . . . .

Trapped under several chunks of concrete, the first coherent thought that runs through your mind is where is Mark.

Then: how do I get out of here.

Panic bubbles in your chest when you finally register that concrete blocks have you encased on all sides. One pins your legs down. Two more flank your sides. Another rests on top of the others, giving you just enough air to breath but not nearly enough to move. A last block pretty much locks your head in.

You’re fully trapped.

Hysteria builds in your throat. You breathe faster. “Mark?” you yell as loud as you can. “Mark?” Your words turn to dry, choked sobs as you struggle underneath the blocks. “Anyone! Someone, help – Mark? MARK!”

There’s no reply.

You lie there for an untold amount of time, trying to calm your breathing. A few seconds? A few minutes? An hour? You don’t know. All you can think of is that you need to get out of here.

Come hell or high water, you’re finding Mark.

And then you’re going to hunt a vulture down.

Another deep breath. And then another. Your legs are pinned to the ground, not hard enough to break them – another block must be in the path of the more immediate one – but not enough for any movement at all. There’s a little space between your chest and the block above it, though.

You push.

The block shifts.

You push harder.

It shifts some more.

You scream as you shove your hands upward with all of your remaining energy. There’s a loud crumbling noise, a rush of dust that makes you cough and sneeze, and then your torso is free.

Moving the block on your legs is easier, though you’re far more drained than before. Throwing off the other concrete chunks, you stand up and start screaming Mark’s name again.

Time passes far too quickly and far too slowly as you stumble through the mess of rubble, hoarsely shouting for Mark. At some point, the shouts devolve into loud sobs and pleas and prayers to whatever god is listening to please, please help me find my best friend, I can’t live without him, I’m sorry for everything I thought about him these past few weeks, I love him and I want him back, please –

“Mark!” you scream, ready to sink to your knees with exhaustion. “Mark, please!”

You can’t live without him. You can’t. He pulls you from the earth when you get too jaded, softens your rough edges, smooths you into something beautiful that you wouldn’t be without him.

He can’t die.

“Y/N?”

It’s faint, but it’s there. You whip around in that direction, stepping lightly around the rubble to not bring more blocks down on him. “Mark?” you call.

“Here!”

You zero in on a pile of slightly moving blocks. With a chest nearly bursting with relief, you race over and start shoving them away. Slowly, Mark’s face becomes visible beneath a cloud of dust.

The sound of coughing never sounded more like a blessing in your entire life.

“Mark,” you sob, pulling your friend out of the mess. “Mark, holy fuck, I’m so sorry – I shouldn’t have yelled at you about pursuing this – I’m so fucking stupid, I thought you died –”

“Y/N,” he whispers hoarsely, wrapping his trembling arms around you. “Y/N, you’re here.”

He sounds so disbelieving, like he thought you were dead or dying. Maybe he still thinks that. It breaks your heart. “I’m here, Mark.” You bury your face in his shoulder. “I’m here.”

For several seconds, the two of you just sit there, exhausted, crying into each other’s necks. “I’m sorry,” Mark finally mumbles into your skin. “I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I’m so sorry.”

You let out a choked laugh. “I’m sorry for overreacting. Sorry for yelling about you not wanting to continue – just fucking look where this got us.”

Mark pulls away. “No, don’t apologize for that.” He wipes his eyes, looking determined. “We’re alive. We’ve got Toomes.” You follow his gaze to an empty billboard just beyond the rubble. Metal wings, pressed together like a vulture’s, glimmer in the city lights. “We’re going to finish this.”

“You sure?” Not that you don’t want to. You’re itching to push that stupid scavenger off of a cliff, but you worry about Mark’s injuries. “You’re not hurt or anything?”

“No more than you.” Mark sets his jaw. “Let’s do this.”

You nod. “What was the last thing Toomes said? Something about Stark?”

Mark bites his lip. “Yeah. Something about telling Stark hello…” His eyes widen. “Isn’t Stark Industries moving a lot of stuff to the Avengers compound?”

Your heart stops. It’s all the news has been talking about for the past few weeks, how Stark is moving business to the Avengers headquarters. Stark Industries stock has been going nuts, apparently. You never remembered the exact date because you didn’t care, but…

“Today’s moving day,” you say grimly. You pat the pocket of your pants, surprised to see that your phone is still there in one piece. A quick text to Haechan tells him to track your phone, if he can.

Mark swallows, looking at the vulture glinting on the billboard. “Let’s go.”

. . . . .

The two of you stumble out of all the rubble just as the vulture is getting ready for takeoff.

A desperate shot of fluid and a leap gets Mark onto the billboard. Another string of webbing attaches him to one of the vulture wings. You stick yourself to the other.

Only pure instinct keeps Mark holding tight to the webbing, praying to the heavens that your synthetic webs will stay strong. He prays that you can hold on. He prays that Toomes won’t notice the two of you dragging along behind him as the webbing torturously swings him around. He forces himself not to look down, even as Toomes flies up higher and higher past skyscrapers and low-hanging clouds.

Mark looks over slightly, just to check on how you’re doing. Even in the dark, he can tell your eyes are squeezed completely shut, fingers gripping your string of webs as tightly as possible. Your lips are pressed together. Probably so you don’t scream.

Good idea. Mark shuts his mouth and looks ahead.

Then he sees the thing that Toomes is aiming for.

A huge jet looms ahead. To anyone down below, it would look like just like the passing clouds – there’s a sort of camouflage on it. But Mark’s close enough to see the outline of the plane, to notice the clear Stark seal on one wing.

His heart plummets even lower, if possible.

Then there’s no time to think because the vulture is landing and Mark is being bumped against the side of the plane and ow, this fucking hurts, this is such a mess –

A purple rectangle glows farther ahead on the belly of the jet. Mark registers you lashing out another string of webbing onto the plane as Toomes disappears into the glowing patch.

He’s inside the plane.

Mark starts sliding backward before he can fully process that thought. He thinks he hears you scream his name but he doesn’t have time to register it. His heart races as he scrabbles awkwardly on the underside of the plane until a lucky shot from his web shooter latches him into place.

And he doesn’t even have the time to take a fucking breath because Toomes is inside the plane and now he has to find a way to fuck around with the plane to take it down. The two of you are going to have to try to get the vulture’s attention.

Somehow, Mark finds himself splayed upside down on the bottom of plane. His palms stick to the jet – he’s never going to take being sticky for granted now – but his feet are scrambling. He finds a foothold in a tile or a bar or something and sighs in relief.

You yell something that’s garbled by the wind. “What?” Mark shouts.

“KICK!”

Without bothering to question you, he does.

His foothold disappears. Mark screams, curses, then steadies himself again. Why did you…?

Toomes climbs out of the purple patch, spitting mad.

Oh, fuck. Whatever his foothold was, it must have disappeared through the purple opening when he kicked it.

Well, it got the vulture’s attention, all right.

Wings shoot past Mark with blinding speed, nearly taking his scalp off. He ducks just in time, but when he lifts his head again, the vulture’s picked you up and is speeding off.

“NO!”

Mark raises an arm, not caring how precarious his position is, and shoots a web into the vulture’s wings.

It stops Toomes, especially after you shoot your own web onto one of the plane’s engines, causing his momentum to slam him backward into the plane right next to said engine.

And then you fly into the engine itself.

. . . . .

You can feel the engine literally trying to tear your clothes apart. One web keeps the engine far enough away that it stops trying to eat your skin, but you can still feel the pure heat and energy radiating off of it.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

With a loud cracking noise that you can hear above the whipping wind, the engine begins splitting off from the rest of the plane, nearly taking you with it.

Your anxious scrabbling rewards you with one hand on the edge of the plane, but the engine’s still trailing behind.

An idea springs into your mind. A plane is more likely to go down without an engine, and most of Stark’s planes don’t have human pilots.

If you can get the plane to crash…

Your legs slam down once, twice, three times, breaking the engine off completely. You haul yourself into a more stable position, ducking just in time for Toomes to come racing over your head.

Mark shouts something unintelligible. Vulture wings race over to attack him instead. You shoot webs wildly, trying to immobilize the wings, to hold you to the plane, to do something, anything.

One of the vulture wings sinks into the top of the plane.

“Those things were sharp?” you yell, unable to contain your thoughts anymore.

“The plane’s heading –” wind whistles as Mark shouts – “city!”

With wide eyes, you catch on. The plane is literally on course to crash into the buildings just off the beach.

Fuck fuck fuck how do we get it to land on the beach instead –

You lash out with another shot of web fluid, latching onto one of the plane’s wings. “PULL!” you shriek, motioning wildly for Mark to do the same.

Turn turn fucking turn PLEASE turn –

And somehow, as the jet plummets down so fast you can feel it scraping the tops of the roller coasters and buildings lining the beach’s pier, the two of you pull it off course enough to crash land on the empty beach.

You slam onto the sand. Your head throbs. Webbing is still attaching you to the plane.

Everything’s on fire. You can’t breathe. Slowly, with trembling fingers, you pull off your mask, beyond caring if Toomes sees who you are. He already knows Mark. At least he doesn’t know your name.

Air comes a bit easier then, even if the smoke finds a quicker path to your lungs too. Coughs rack your body and you turn to your side, trembling.

“God, what the fuck,” you mumble. Everything sounds muffled, like you’re underwater. Your sit up slowly. A small, dark lump swims into your vision.

Mark.

Something gets you to stand fully and start wobbling towards your best friend. By some fucking miracle, he starts to stir, sitting up just as you fall to the sand next to him.

There’s a second of silence.

Then vulture wings snap out and toss the two of you back into the air.

Toomes stands as you slam back into the sand, barely fazed, with a manic smile on his face. “Hey, Marcus and friends,” he sneers.

“Friends shouldn’t be plural,” you mumble. “I’m only one friend.”

Fast. He moves too fast. You barely lurch out of the way of his leap in time.

Toomes flies out of reach. Mark cries out, snapping out a string of webbing to bring him back to earth.

Mistake. Toomes lets the momentum bring him down.

And starts punching Mark in the face.

A guttural scream rips from your throat – literally rips, it feels like your throat has been torn apart and remade with blood and smoke and ash – and you launch into the air with some fucking hidden reservoir of strength fueled by pure rage to knock the metal-winged man over. Mark groans, rolling out of the way, only for the wings to pick him up again and take him to the sky.

And then he drops.

“MARK!”

You scramble under your best friend’s path, hands up as though you’re saying a prayer. Mark lands on you hard and maybe something snaps, but you don’t care because he’s breathing, his eyes are open, and he’s not dead.

But vulture man decides to play with you next. Before you can even blink, you’re being tossed up, landing hard between the sharp metal wings. He plucks you out of the air as you begin to fall and slams you back onto the earth.

Sharp pain claws through your chest and you just want to give up and lie down forever. But Mark is rolling away, somehow keeping out of reach of the winged man, and you pick yourself up so he doesn’t have to do it alone.

Two claw-like contraptions jet out from the engine on Toomes’s back, snagging both of you by your hoods. The neck of your hoodie digs into your throat.

Is this it?

Is he just gonna fuckin – you wheeze – fuckin watch us choke to death on fumes?

Apparently, he isn’t. He lets you go. You and Mark drop like stones.

“Pathetic.” Toomes stands over your bodies. You can’t see his face between his helmet and your blurred vision, but you know it must be twisted in that terrifying smirk. He takes off the helmet, laughs, and takes off, snatching up one of the less-battered boxes from the plane along the way.

That’s it.

You’ve failed.

You were too late.

You open your mouth to scream some fucking obscenities, but your voice dies when you hear the crackling. It’s not a good sort of crackling, like popcorn.

Electricity.

Mark raises his head and points. “He…” He coughs. “Going to explode.”

Blue sparks rise from the engine pack and shower off the metal wings, like a bizarre show of fireworks. And Mark, lovely selfless wonderful Mark, drags himself up and starts screaming.

“Wings!” he yells. “Your wing suit! Wing suit’s gonna explode!”

A jet of web fluid streaks from his shooter, pulling Toomes down. As Mark starts stumbling, Toomes pulling him along, you send out your own line of webbing. The two of you stand your ground with the last remnants of your strength.

“Time to go home, Marcus!” Toomes laughs wildly.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING SAVE YOU!” Mark screams. Tears streak down his face.

A sharp wingtip slices through your strings of webbing. You fall to the ground. From the sand, you can’t do anything but watch the disaster about to unfold.

It’s bizarrely beautiful. Purple-blue sparks rain down onto the beach, illuminating the sand and bits of the still ocean. Lightning arcs along the wings like a miniature, destructive storm.

Next to you, Mark tries to throw out more webbing. You can’t even find the energy to lift your arms. But his webbing misfires, lands on something else, flails in the air. It can’t reach Toomes, who’s now cackling wildly.

There’s an explosion. You’re thrown back further into the sand.

And then the vulture falls.

. . . . .

Mark knows how badly Toomes has hurt him. He knows how badly Toomes has hurt you. Cuts line his arms and face, there are bruises all over his body, and his head aches like it’s been smashed against a solid surface, which it has. You’re in at least the same condition, if not worse.

But he can’t just let the man die. He can stand trial, get life behind bars, but he can’t just die.

So from somewhere, he drags out a final burst of strength, and starts running through the fires to where the vulture fell. His feet fall unsteadily on the sand, but he keeps forcing them on.

Coughing sounds nearby. Mark looks over to see you following, head twisted to the side as you hack out cough after cough. He wants to tell you to go back and rest, but he knows you won’t.

Instead, he slows down for a second and takes your hand before forging on.

The wings have encased Toomes in a sort of shell. With your help, Mark shoves them off to get at the battered man lying beneath them. He grabs his chest. You grab his legs. Together, you carry him off to another part of the beach.

The three of you collapse, groaning and coughing and wheezing on the sand. Mark stares at the black night, stars invisible from light pollution.

Nothing feels real. The sand under his hands glitters ominously in the firelight. The ocean shimmers like a threat. Toomes hacks and coughs, each sound scarier than the last.

And then something warm, something dirty and rough and soft, lands on his hand. Your fingers curl around his palm and squeeze lightly.

Oh.

That feels real.

Your touch grounds him, keeps his thoughts from floating away and disappearing into the void of the sky. He wants more of it. He wants to pull you close, feel your body against his, real, solid, whole, keeping him planted on the earth. But he doesn’t have the strength to, so he just takes what he can from your warm touch.

Mark doesn’t know how long the three of you just lie on the sand. He does know that at some point, you and him gain enough strength to sit up and then stand. You look at Toomes, who stares back, unseeing.

“It’s over,” you mumble, almost staggering into Mark’s side. “We’re done.”

He nods. “Just one more thing.”

. . . . .

Pictures in newspaper articles show up the next day of Toomes, webbed up and immobilized against a still-standing box from the wreckage of Tony Stark’s plane. In most, the photographer has taken great care to keep the ragged note, stuck on Toomes’s forehead, clear in the frame.

The note is messy, written in trembling handwriting on the back of what looks like an inventory sheet. Black soot stains the page, but the writing is still visible.

FOUND: flying vulture dude trying to steal alien weapons and stuff

- Spiderman and Silk (sorry about the plane)

You don’t care much for it. The day after homecoming is Saturday, which you spend curled up in your bed. At some point, after you’ve finally gained the strength to shower off all the grime and blood and sweat, Johnny makes a joke about how hard you must’ve gone that night. Thankfully, you don’t have many cuts on your face. They’re all hidden under layers of clothing. His eyes don’t linger too long on anything, so you feel a bit safer.

But, Jesus Christ, if only he knew.

By Monday, you feel refreshed enough to head back to school. Johnny doesn’t have an abnormally late shift that day, so you give him a hug before you leave. If it’s a little tighter than normal, he doesn’t say anything, just kisses your head and hugs you back.

You spot Lia in the hallway, pulling stuff out of her locker. Her eyes are puffy and red. Guilt rises in your stomach and threatens to swallow you whole.

Even though Toomes tried to kill you, he was still her father. And now that she knows what he’s done…

That can’t be easy.

“Lia,” you call, walking over cautiously. She turns her head and gives you a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“I…” You shuffle your feet. “I heard what happened. I’m really so sorry. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

You are sorry. But Lia won’t take it in the way you mean. After all, she doesn’t know that you’re one of the two vigilantes who took her father down.

Lia’s smile turns bitter. “Yeah. Well, we’re moving to Oregon. Mom says it’s nice.” She rolls her eyes. “I think –” she chokes – “I think Dad doesn’t want us here during the trial.”

More guilt washes over your entire body. You can’t think of what to say.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other very well.” You swallow. “But if there’s ever anything I can do to help, please just know that you can reach out.”

Lia looks at you. Scrutinizes you through puffy, narrowed eyes. “You know, I really did think that the night of homecoming, you and Mark snuck off together.”

What?

“Oh my god, no.” You shake your head wildly. “No, no, no. That didn’t happen, I swear –”

Well, it kind of did. Just not in the way she thinks.

“Yeah, I know.” Lia smiles half-heartedly. “Mark already told me. He called, after. His aunt had an emergency, you were the only one he could reach out to in the moment…” She trails off.

It’s a lie. Obviously. You just nod, heart sinking.

“But yeah.” Lia looks at you steadily. “He’s a good guy.”

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah.”

“I thought he might’ve actually liked me, but…” She wipes her eyes. “It’s pretty clear who he really does.”

At that, your eyebrows furrow. “Lia, I promise you that he really did like you.”

“Maybe. Just not as much as he or I thought.” She gives you one last smile. “Take care of him.”

You really don’t have the mental energy to process everything behind that statement, so you just smile slightly. “I will.”

Lia reaches out for a hug. You accept. It isn’t super awkward, like you would’ve thought. She trembles slightly in your hold and you pat her back.

“Good luck,” you whisper.

She pulls away. “Thanks.”

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Auror 99 - Chapter 5

In case you missed any of the previous chapters, you can find the whole story (thus far) here

Thanks for reading!

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

The Duel

Several days had passed with no new leads. Amy and Hermione continued poring over the case files with Jake and Ron, while Boyle and Harry staked out the banks. No luck was had all around. They’d all take turns switching with Rosa, who was still mainly manning surveillance. Whoever Gerteso was, he was a master of disguise.

They were on a late shift about a week into the case, when Rosa caught something on the monitor. “Jake! Come see this,” Rosa said. Jake walked over with Ron not far behind him. “There’s some strange activity going on outside of this oddity shop - McLeod’s. The guy who just walked in seems to match the description of Gerteso. It’s in Manhattan, but might be worth checking out?”

“If we leave now, we can make it over there in 20 minutes. C’mon Nolan, let’s go!” Jake said as they ran out.

Hermione looked at Amy. “What are the chances he’ll stay in the store that long?”

Amy shook her head. “Slim to none.”

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione said. She had an idea, but it required magic, so she had to move alone. Harry gave her a look. “Just need to make a phone call,” she reassured him.

Hermione made her way to the bathroom and pulled out her cell phone she’d purchased a few days ago. The one muggle item the Ministry failed to provide. She pulled up the address to McLeod’s on her phone, and just before she was about to apparate, the door opened. Harry walked in.

“Here, take this,” he handed her the invisibility cloak. “If my suspicions about what you’re doing are correct, you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Harry. Hopefully I won’t be long.” She pulled the cloak over herself and apparated to the nearest alleyway. She moved quickly around to find a back entrance to the store. Luckily there was one, and the door was propped open. She slipped inside and made her way to the front of the store, careful to remain silent the entire time.

“...I know he comes here and you do business with him. Now, I suggest you tell me the next time he’s going to show up.” Yes, that was definitely Gerteso, his wand pointed at the shopkeeper.

“T-tonight. H-he always comes Fridays. At night after the shop’s closed. He meets me in the alleyway next door.”

“That’s what I thought. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’ll contact him, or whatever you do before your meetups, tell him tonight is on, but you’re not going to show up. If you even so much as hint that I’m the one meeting him, you’ll be dead faster than you can blink. Understood?” The shopkeeper nodded in a terrified manner. “Tell him 9:00. And he better be punctual. If it’s earlier or later than your normal meetup, tell him you’ve got something planned and he needs to make it work.”

Hermione watched Gerteso look around the store and then walk out. She turned around swiftly and snuck out the back. After apparating back into the bathroom of the precinct, she pulled out her phone again, and quickly sent Ron a text giving him the heads up that he’d be back at 9, so they should prepare for a stakeout until then. Looking around, Hermione made sure she was alone before pulling off the cloak.

When she walked out and back into the hall her phone rang. “Hey.”

“Hey, how’d you know?”

“That’s not important. Just trust me, okay? I’m going to tell everyone here that you guys are gonna hang out there for a while on the off chance he comes back, which he will. There’s no suspicion?”

“I don’t think so. I’m glad we finally have a lead. I’ll figure something out. I’ll probably just meet you back at the flat, depending on how late we are.”

“Sounds good,” Hermione said. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” she heard Ron say before she clicked off the phone. That was their way of saying ‘I love you’ right now. Hermione took a deep breath before heading back to the rest of the group.

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

Ron and Jake were in the same undercover squad car, parked on a side street, just outside of McLeod’s Bargain Store and Curiosity Shop. Ron had told Jake that when Rosa doubled back on the security footage, she noticed that the security cameras had caught Gerteso lurking around this time every night, so they’d decided to wait and see who or what he was waiting for. They still had a while before he’d make his nightly appearance.

Jake was looking at the picture they’d brought of him again. “He’s a weird looking dude, isn’t he?”

Ron looked at the paper. To be honest, he hadn’t thought much of it. In the magical world, they came across all different sorts of creatures and beings so it hadn’t phased him before. But now, looking closely at the picture, Jake was right. His facial features were strong and jagged, accentuated by a thick beard that was trimmed neatly, and a long mane of dark, dark brown hair. His eyes were a golden brown, which added to his mysterious demeanor. His face was rather pale, which didn’t exactly fit the rest of his features.

Gerteso oddly reminded Ron of Rufus Scrimgeour, a name he hadn’t thought about since the war ended. He made a mental note to ask Harry and Hermione if Gerteso could possibly be a vampire. The chances were slim since Voldemort had exterminated the lot of them in the war, but they had so few details on the case, and they were already a week in, that Ron figured any little suspicion could help.

“Yeah, he is,” Ron finally answered Jake.

“What’s going on with you? You’re quieter than normal tonight,” Jake commented.

“Just thinking, that’s all,” Ron said quickly. He wished he could talk about the details with Jake, he really did. The whole statute of secrecy thing was really starting to piss him off. They had four strong detectives, two aurors, and Hermione’s brilliance on the case, but because they couldn’t disclose who they truly were, movement was slow going.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Jake asked.

“Who?”

“Hadley? Your wife?” Jake clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I do. The whole no-contact thing is really the hardest,” Ron lied. He and Jake had talked a bit about his personal life before, and Ron had made up a different name for Hermione because it was so unique that he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Not that they were even known about in the muggle world. But better to be safe than sorry.

“I guess that’s the one good thing about single life. No one would miss me if something happened. Y’know? I don’t have to worry about my reckless lifestyle affecting anyone else but me. I’m the lone ranger in this sad, crazy world!” Jake tried to play it off as cool, but Ron thought there was something more to it than that. Before he could ask, he noticed someone appear across the street.

“Jake, look!” Ron said, pointing to the figure.

“Do you think that’s him?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, I reckon so. He’s headed for that alley. We should follow so we don’t lose sight of him.” Ron said. They opened their doors and shut them quietly.

Jake and Ron quickly crossed the street and stopped just before the alleyway. Jake looked around the corner and noticed that Gerteso was there with another figure.

“There’s a dumpster further down that we can hide behind. He’s down there with another person, Jake whispered. They moved down the alley and stopped for cover behind the dumpster.

They watched as something was exchanged between them and Ron was studying the other person. He stealthily grabbed his wand and cast a silent identity charm so he could take back the visual of the person to see if they could figure out who he was.

Suddenly the other person vanished and Jake grabbed Ron’s arm. “What the hell was that?! Where’d he go!?” They saw Gerteso turn and begin walking back towards them, and before Ron could stop Jake from engaging him, Jake jumped out from behind the dumpster with his gun held out. “NYPD! Freeze!”

“Fuck,” Ron said under his breath as he saw Gerteso raise his wand. He held his own at the ready as he joined Jake quickly in the alleyway. “Protego!” he shouted as he saw Gerteso wave his wand. Luckily he’d cast it in time to deflect a curse from hitting Jake.

“Uh, Nolan? What the fuck is happening right now? Is that a wand? What’s going on? I’m not freaking out. I’m not!” Jake was normally fine under pressure, but this, this was unreal. He had to be dreaming.

“Impedimenta!” Ron shouted. It just missed him as another spell was shot his way. Ron blocked that one again as he yelled “stupefy!” Whoever Gerteso was, he seemed to be moving really quickly, able to dodge everything Ron was throwing at him. He wasn’t using any defensive charms and kept sending jinx after jinx their way.

“Jake, get back behind the dumpster!” Ron said to him as he continued fighting Gerteso. As he shot an incarcerous at him, Ron saw a flash of light shoot out from Gerteso’s wand, but it wasn’t aimed at Ron. Before Ron had time to react, it hit Jake in the leg.

Jake yelled out in pain as Ron turned to see his leg on fire. “Aguamenti!” Ron said, quickly extinguishing the flame. “Shit, Jake!” Ron’s distraction was all Gerteso needed as Ron heard a faint pop and he was gone.

“W-where’d he go? He was just right there. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, let me see your leg.” Ron examined it and realized Gerteso had shot out some sort of cursed fire. He’d never seen it before but it looked like it was a lower level of fiendfyre that was obviously much more controlled. Ron placed a freezing and numbing charm on Jake’s leg. “We’ve got to get you back to our flat,” Ron said. “Charlotte will know what to do.”

“What about a hospital?” Jake asked.

“We can’t take you to a hospital for this. It should be treatable at home. Don’t worry, I’ve already stopped the pain for now. Look, Jake I really can’t explain what this was about, and I’m really sorry that I have to do this…” Ron held up his wand and cast ‘obliviate.’ He watched Jake’s eyes go fuzzy and then refocus again.

“What happened? Did he get away? He was just right there!”

“Yeah, mate, he struck a match and caught your leg on fire, and took off. I was able to put it out, but we’ve gotta get you back to heal it. Do you think you can drive? You don’t want me driving, that’s for sure. Opposite side of the road and all...”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“Er, I had some of this special numbing cream to put on it. British specialty.” Ron really hated lying to Jake. “It should hold until we get back to my place. Hold on while I call Amy and Charlotte.” Ron was thinking quickly. There were totally gaps in his story, but he had to roll with it. And Jake was still sort of loopy enough from the obliviation that he was buying it.

Ron dialed Amy since it was the first contact in his phone. He still wasn’t sure how to work the damn thing properly.

“Hey Nolan, what’s up?” he heard Amy answer.

“Uh, Amy, we had an incident. Can you meet us at our flat?”

“Is everything okay? Nolan, what happened?” Amy said worriedly.

“I can’t tell you right now. Just meet us back at the flat.” Ron hung up the phone. He helped Jake get up and got him back to the car. Thankfully it was his left leg that was injured, so he was still able to drive.

“What did Amy say?” Jake tried to ask casually.

“She asked what happened. Sounded pretty worried,” Ron responded. “They’re going to meet us at the flat.”

“Oh, good. Yeah, that’s cool,” Jake played it off.

“You like her, don’t you?” Ron smirked at him.

“What? No, of course not! We’re work partners,” Jake defended.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t fancy her,” Ron said. “I’m gonna give you some advice. Just go for it, mate. I waited seven years, and somehow I was lucky enough to still get her. A girl like Amy reminds me of my own. They’re too good to wait around, so don’t wait forever.”

Jake looked at him. “You waited seven years to make a move?”

“Yeah, but thankfully she’d always felt the same way. The way you and Amy banter back and forth, reminds me of me and her way back.”

Jake spluttered a bit and made some noncommittal sounds. It seemed like it took ages to get back to their flat, but when they arrived, they saw Amy, Boyle, Harry and Hermione waiting for them. Charles and Harry helped Ron get Jake out of the car and up to their apartment. They laid Jake down on the couch and Hermione gave Ron a serious look.

“Jake. Jake! It’s gonna be okay, buddy. You’re gonna live. You have to live! The world’s not ready for you to leave it,” Boyle was lamenting overdramatically.

“What happened?” Amy asked, cutting him off. “Did you catch Gerteso?”

“Well, Gerteso met up with someone else,” Ron said, “They finished whatever exchange was made and he went to leave, but we tried to stop him. He put up a fight, and ended up striking a match and tossing it at Jake, hence the burn. He took off when I went to help Jake.”

“Nolan, why does the burn look so odd,” Amy said. “And how is it not hurting him?”

“I put numbing cream on it. I’ve got another British burn salve that should help. I just need to go grab it. Charlotte, could you check your bag for it? I can’t remember which bag it was in. Jason, could you search your stuff, too? We left so quickly last week I don’t remember who packed what.” Ron nodded towards Hermione who followed them into the room.

Hermione shut the door. “What happened?” she hissed.

“Yeah, mate,” Harry said. “He doesn’t look good.”

Ron was searching for the dittany. That should do enough to heal it without Jake needing additional medical assistance. Ron pulled out his wand and cast muffliato on the door. “Jake jumped out at him when the other guy disapparated. I had to step in and duel him. Hermione, he moves really fast. He wasn’t even using defensive spells. And I think he used some form of adapted fiendfyre that was much more controlled than what we’ve encountered. It’s definitely cursed fire that Jake got hit with. It’s going to heal, but the scar is going to be awful. The dittany will help.”

“Ron! You could have-”

“I’m fine, Hermione. This is what I do. I’m an Auror. Jake’s already been obliviated, too. Now, here, take this, and figure out who it is,” Ron used his wand to draw up the charm he’d cast earlier of the other suspect. “If we can figure out who this is, maybe we can figure out what Gerteso’s after. Boyle and Harry can stop stalking the bank and tail him when we figure it out.”

Hermione sighed, “Alright, but you know I can’t take care of it until they leave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron said. “Let’s get back out there, the sooner we get this dittany on him, the better. Can you distract them while I apply it? Then we’ll see if Charles or Amy can stay with him tonight.”

They went back out and Ron was able to place the dittany on Jake’s leg, thanks to Harry and Hermione pulling Amy and Charles aside. “You should be good, aside from a nasty scar, but at least we don’t need to go to the hospital. Charles, Amy, can one of you stay with him tonight?” Ron asked.

“Of course! Anything for Jake,” Charles said quickly. Ron noticed the slight disappointment look on Amy’s face when Charles beat her to it.

“Uh, Charles,” Hermione cut in, “maybe you could take this back to the precinct to get an ID on the second person? I’m sure Amy can take Jake home and stay with him. You could relieve her later?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Charles said, taking the paper that Hermione had no doubt materialized for him. “As long as Amy’s okay with that?”

“What? Oh, y-yeah, I guess I can for a few hours tonight. But I’ll need your help getting him there if he can’t walk.” Amy looked gratefully at Hermione, although a little surprised at her suggestion. “We’ll see you all at the precinct tomorrow? We should probably at least debrief for a couple hours. I’m sure Holt will be fine with the overtime.”

Harry nodded. “That should work. Let’s get some rest for now, though. We’ve all put in more than enough hours today.”

Everyone nodded in agreement as they helped Jake up and saw them out. They had so much to discuss, but they had to wait until they were sure the detectives were gone. This case just kept getting weirder and weirder.

#hp/b99 crossover #hp fanfic #hp trio #b99

13 notes · View notes

keichan · 4 years ago

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Paint Me This

Request: DUDE I LOVE YOUR BLOG SM CAN I REQUEST KAGEYAMA X READER?? Liek the reader loves to paint and becomes manager because she knows Yachi and they fall in love and kags tries to confess and fails like the bab he is 🥺🥺? Fluff please!

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SM! This is my first request ever! I don’t think that this is as fluffy as I wanted it to come out but I still enjoyed writing it 🥺I hope you like it

Genre: fluffffff, pinch of angst

WC: 2262

★Kageyama x Reader ★

”Y/N! I’m so glad you were able to come!” Yachi grinned, beckoning you to meet the team. It was you and Yachi’s second year at Karasuno and you have yet to meet her volleyball team she manages, though now was a better time than ever. Your club that you have attended for the last year had unfortunately shut down due to lack of members, but luckily your best friend was able to save your ass, per usual. Not only is it your first time meeting these guys, but your first managing gig as well

“Yachi-san, who’s this?” A small, orange haired boy peeked between two of the taller members of the team, his mouth agape. A taller boy with bluish-black hair nudged him to silence.

“This is my friend, Y/N! Since our goal is nationals again, she’s here to help us out this seaon! So be prepared to see her more!.”

“A new manager?” Two boys practically yelled in harmony with each other.

Yachi giggled before nodding in agreement. She quickly turned it over to you for your self introduction.

“My name is L/N F/N. I’m a second year. I’m in class 2-3. Uhhh- I really enjoy painting in the courtyard during lunch so you can always find me there.” You laugh nervously at all the sets of eyes staring at you.

“Nice to meet you!” You said abruptly before dipping your body into a bow. As you drew your head your line of vision met with the tall bluish, black-haired boy from earlier. That’s when it clicked in your mind.

“Kanayama! We’re in the same class aren’t we?”

He automatically stiffened before nodding his head jerkily. A pink hue barely painted his features.

A tall blonde behind him snorted.

“Are you even going to say anything?”

“It’s Kageyama!” He stuttered.

“I’m so sorry!” You laughed rubbing the back of your head. You gave him a warm smile before breaking off to individually meet everyone else. Not before long, practice began.

Kageyama and Hinata silently peered over your shoulder in the courtyard to see what you were painting today. With your headphones in, you quietly hummed to the rhythm and your brush strokes followed.

He usually passed you everyday to see what you were painting, but today was the day that Kageyama accidentally lost his footing leaning forward and toppled onto your picnic table, rather hard. You jumped in your seat as the tall setter awkwardly regained his posture. He sent a glare to Hinata who instantly scurried away.

Kageyama cleared his throat and brushed off his pants.

“Sorry, I- uh was tryna see what you were painting there and I uh”

You quickly set down your brush to wave your hands.

“Don’t worry about it Kageyama-kun! You can help me judge this peace if you wanna! Go ahead and take a seat.” You absentmindedly patted the bench beside you.

He stepped his long legs over the bench before firmly sitting next to you. You presented a small canvas in front of his face and his mouth morphed into a small ‘o’. It was the scenery of the mountains behind Karasuno high. He saw it everyday on his way home. It was a beyond perfect painting.

“Beautiful.” Was all he could manage.

“Me or the painting?”

He froze in place before you nudged his shoulder playfully. Your eyes traveled from the painting to his with a smile so wide, your eyes squinted shut. “I’m just kidding, Kageyama-kun! Thank you!”

A small shadow appeared on the boy's lips.

“Of course.”

Now that he thought about it, he meant you.

A month later, it has now been integrated into your schedule that Kageyama sits next to you at lunch time bearing a carton of milk for himself and a canned coffee for you. Some days he chose to paint with you, though his paintings never came out as well as yours, you definitely acted like they did. He was definitely becoming a prodigy in your world as you were learning his. Anything that you mentioned you like, he’d attempt to paint. Meanwhile, he was more than happy to explain volleyball to you. Sometimes you’d pretend to not understand, only to see how happy he becomes when he gets to talk about what he is passionate about. You adored the setter with all of your heart.

Today the two of you sat against the wall of the school, with a sketchbook in your hand you were jotting down new ideas for personal projects when you felt a weight gently press onto your shoulder followed by a faint snore. Kageyama had passed out, though it made sense with the boys overexerting themselves for the upcoming game. With a faint smile on your face, you slid your phone out of your pocket to take a quick picture of him. He was precious, though it was definitely a potential blackmail photo. You closed your sketchbook and rested your head atop of his until the bell rang.

Months later and the boys volleyball team had become your family to the extent that it felt like you’ve known each member for years. You knew their quirks, their antics, what made them tick. Especially Kageyama. If anything you’ve been spending more time with him than Yachi. You always put in extra hours to help him practice and study. One could not be seen without the other.

Though for the last two weeks you haven’t been at your usual place on the courtyard. When Kageyama asked, you told him that you had supplementary lessons, though it didn’t make sense to him due to the fact that you have never struggled academically as far as he knew. In fact, if he ever needed a tutor, you were always there to help him.

Now he handed you your daily canned coffee in silence at the start of each after school practice. Anytime he’d attempt to talk to you, you’d shy away and stutter nervously. If you wanted to blatantly avoid Kageyama after all this time, he was just hoping that you’d be a little more direct. After a while , he finally gave up on showing up to the courtyard for lunchtime

The evening breeze was chilling to the bone as the cold front rolled in. It was now late December and Kageyama was zipping up his jacket to begin his walk home. At the edge of campus he heard his name being called.

“Kageyama-kun!”

He turned on his heel to the sound of your voice with his heart beating rapidly.

He stood in place until you ran up to catch him.

“Kageyama-kun!” You panted. “I have something that I need to give to you

The setter dug his hands in his pocket with a blank stare on his face. He tilted his head. “Y/N-san, we’re about to go into winter break, I’m sure this can wait until we get back.”

However he felt the opposite.

You were already digging through your bag before the words finished pouring from his mouth. With both hands on a canvas you presented it to him with your head dipped.

“Happy early birthday, Kageyama-kun!”

He carefully took the canvas from you and gazed at it with awe. It was a painting of him setting the ball. You perfectly captured his features. The face he always makes concentrating. The details on his fingers, his hair, his nose. Everything. It looked lifelike.

He studied it for minutes in pure amazement. It was one of the kindest things anyone had done for him. The joy in his heart was overwhelming.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve been distant from you lately, Kageyama-kun. I wanted to do something really special for you, though, I’m not good with painting people so I’ve been going to the art teacher’s classroom for lunch. I’m awful with secrets and surprises, so I apologize for acting the way I have I-”

You were pulled into a hug. Long arms wrapped around your body as Kageyama’s head buried into your neck. His warm breath tickling your skin against the cold.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. “I love it. You're the best.”

The compliments sounded odd rolling off of his tongue, but you couldn’t help but smile.

“So I’m forgiven?” You pulled away from his embrace, a sly smile resting on your lips, your faces inches apart.

“Of course, Y/N-san.”

Luckily for Kageyama, mother nature was on his side or else his face would be beet red.

He walked you to your home with many questions in his mind. The main one being how can he make you his?

You were startled to see Kageyama waiting at the gates, you figured that he’d be at the gym in the early morning with the spring interhigh right around the corner.

“Good morning!” He said with a smile painted on his lips. Slightly unusual, but you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

“What’s got you in a good mood?”

He glanced over to you with the corners of his lips upturned. “So there’s this girl that I really like-” Your heart automatically sank to the ground, but you kept an eager expression on your face.

“I really want to ask her to get dinner with me at this place in town this weekend before we all leave for Tokyo. I think she’s super pretty, she helps me out in a lot of ways…” She must be so lucky to catch his eye. After all, a lot of girls at the school fawned over Kageyama Tobio. The two of you halted at your classroom door before he turned to you.

“Y/N, I really like-”

The morning bell rang.

You rest your hands over his and give him a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

You quickly walk into the classroom, leaving the setter with his chest aching.

“So, how’d it go?” Yachi popped in front of you as you silently flipped through the pages of your manager notebook, practice for the evening was finally drawing to a close.

“What?”

“Didn’t Kageyama-kun ask you out? He texted me that he was going to do it after break?”

“WHAT?” You shouted making the entire gym come to a screeching halt. Balls quickly thudded to the floor. You quickly used your notebook to shield your face from everyone else.

“Are you saying he didn’t?” She whispered as if the whole gym’s eyes weren’t on the two of you.

“C’mon guys! Keep it moving!” Enoshita called. You lowered the notebook slightly only for his eyes to meet with yours briefly. With a nervous look on his face he quickly hustled back to his position on the court.

“He was talking about some girl he liked today!” You yelled in a hush whisper.

Yachi gasped. “That’s you! He really did try! Well it was the best he knew how to. And I’d like to say it’s obvious that you two like each other. I’m pretty sure the whole school knows”

Heat rushed to your face and you did your best to hide how flustered you were. Your eyes followed Kageyama as he played with the team.

“I thought I did my best to hide it.”

“I think your three-week long painting project of him kind of gave it away.”

“Shut up.”

After cleaning up, you waited at the stairs of the clubroom for Kageyama. At the top of the stairwell he paused before walking down and carefully tapped your shoulder.

“Y/N, I-”

“Kageyama-kun!” You turned to smile at him, nerves eating you alive.

“I-I just wanted to apologize for earlier. That was out of character for me-” he looked off into the distance with his hand messily running through his hair. “Just don’t worry about what I said I-”

You swiftly walk towards him taking the collar of his team jacket nervously in your hands. You catch his gaze and his speech slowly comes to a halt. You gently pull him down to your face to place your lips softly on his. Kageyama’s lips move slowly against yours as his hands travel quickly along your sides to cup your face delicately. He pulled away with his lips lingering on top of yours, his eyes searching your features for an answer to his silent question.

“I like you, Kageyama-kun. I really really like you. Sorry I misread your confession earlier, I… I uh kinda thought it was for someone else...”

A sheepish smile appeared on his lips as he leaned in to capture your lips once more. Your arms traveled around his neck to gently move into his hair while his hands moved down to hold your hips.

“Well I’m glad that’s cleared up now. Also, just call me Tobio.”

Your eyes twinkled as you studied his face.

“Give me another kiss, Tobio-chan!”

“Get a room you two!” Tsukishima’s voice cut the atmosphere like a knife. Yamaguchi snickered behind him.

“Shut the hell-”

You grabbed his sleeve and gave it a slight tug. He smiled down at you before giving Tsukishima a scowl. Interlacing your hands together he began to walk you home. You waved goodbye to the boys before using your free hand to wrap around his arm.

You swung your intertwined hands marvelling at Tobio under the streetlights. The walk so far has been quiet, but calming. Suddenly Kageyama came to a halt, pulling you by his side.

“Y/N… Would you uh. Um… Be my- err- be my- uh-”

“Yes, Tobio.”

You quickly gave him a peck on the cheek before walking ahead of him.

He grinned from ear to ear.

“Wait up!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama x yn #kb takes on requests!

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dresupi · 4 years ago

Text

Troublemaker - Clint/Darcy

for @backwardsandinhighheels Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis Troublemaker - Olly Murs 1,035 words Rated T

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

Barney hadn’t given him much notice.

A phone call as he was getting home from work.

“Hey there, Hawkeye.”

He should have known from the greeting that Barney wanted something. He never called him that unless he was trying to butter him up. But as always, his hindsight was better than whatever the opposite was. Foresight? Whatever. He didn’t see it coming until it was already there.

“Barney. What’s up?”

“So Laura called me back…”

Clint sighed. Laura could do better. But Barney had some kind of pull on her. She always came back. And he supposed his brother loved her. He must. If he didn’t, Clint didn’t know what to call whatever it was. “Cool, man. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Barney replied, sounding genuine for once. “There’s this one little hiccup though.”

“What hiccup?” Clint asked, wishing he hadn’t even answered the fucking phone.

“I sort of made this date.”

“So cancel.”

“Ehhh, I mean… I could, but I thought maybe you might want it.”

“Dude…” Clint groaned. “It’s a date, not a beer you only took one sip out of and then screwed the cap back on to give to your guest.”

“What?” Barney asked.

“No, I didn’t,” Clint replied quickly.

His brother was silent for a long moment before muttering “I fucking knew it,” under his breath. “Still,” he continued. “You wanna take her out? She’s really cute. Totally your type.”

“You don’t know my type,” Clint replied.

“She’s cute. She’s smart. She’s funny. She has dark hair and loves dogs.”

He pressed his lips together, wanting like hell to open his mouth and tell his brother to fight his own battles for once.

“I mean, only if you want. I ain’t gonna twist your arm or nothing,” Barney continued. “I can just call and cancel. Like you said.”

Except he wouldn’t. He’d just flake and stand her up.

Shit, she was probably nice too.

“Fine,” Clint said, clearly exasperated.

“Awesome, I’m meeting her at the bar on the corner of…”

As Barney rattled off the details of the date, Clint wondered if he had a clean shirt or if he needed to do laundry. His date shirt hadn’t been used in a while so maybe he’d be okay. He didn’t want to go down to the laundry room. Just a huge reminder that there was more work he needed to do around here.

“... and I just want to thank you so much, man,” his brother finished.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… tell Laura I said hi,” Clint grumbled.

“Make sure and tell me how it went, okay? And maybe don’t mention to Laura that’s how you met if it works out and is a love connection.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, dude.”

“Have a good one, little brother.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He hung up and slouched off to the kitchen to scrounge up something for Lucky to eat. He tugged out his phone to set a reminder to pick up some of Lucky’s brand of dog food from the store on his way home.

Shooting his TV and couch one last longing look, he mentally said goodbye to his evening of rewatching Dog Cops on Netflix and went to go take a shower.

---

Darcy was waiting at the bar when the text came in. She was half expecting Barney to cancel last minute, so she wasn’t all that surprised to find out that’s exactly what he was doing.

B - Hey, so something came up and I can’t make it. My brother, Clint, is coming up there though.

D- Your brother?

B - Yeah, he’s nice.

D- Dude, I dunno about that…

B- Hey, if he’s not the perfect gentleman, I’ll kick his ass, okay?

Darcy rolled her eyes. Oh well. At least this was a public place and she had no reason to think Barney had given out anything more than her name and general description.

She had to assume, given the nature of his text and that she was now going on this date with Barney’s brother, that whatever had come up was something of the permanent kind. Like he probably was on the rebound and got back together with his ex. Fucking figures. He was cute too. In that older dude trying to be young kind of way.

Whatever. Maybe his brother would be hot too.

“Hey, uh… are you Darcy?”

His voice was close to Barney’s. But lighter somehow. Probably because he was clearly Barney’s younger brother, and now that she was looking at him, she could see that this was definitely a trade up in the looks department.

“Yeah, that’s me. I take it you’re Clint? Barney’s brother?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. that’s me.” His hand shot out and she shook it, unable to stop smiling at the way his mouth seemed to stay in a perpetual smirk, and how he had shaving cream foam on his ear. “Sorry, you have to settle.”

Smiling brightly, she shook her head. “Nah, don’t think I’ll have to settle at all.”

He laughed and his face pinked up in a truly adorable way. “Oh no, you’re pretty and a sweet-talker. I’m done for.”

“I’m not that sweet,” she countered, blushing a little herself. “Might even say I’m a little bit of a troublemaker.”

“You? Nah, babe. Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, I bet.”

Okay, she was blushing for sure now. “You want a drink?”

“I would love a drink. And for you to tell me about how much you love dogs. Because my idiot of a brother mentioned that you did.”

“Oh my god, so much. I have three.”

“Three? Gah, you’re blessed,” he exclaimed. “Tell me their names, bonus points if you have pictures.”

“You’re in luck, dude. They’re pretty much all I photograph.” She pulled out her purse and took out her phone.

“Speaking of luck, that’s my dog,” he’d already whipped out his phone, sliding over to the pictures of his dog. A golden retriever. “Lucky.”

“Oh my god!” she peered down at the picture. “He’s handsome.”

She really liked the way he smiled when she said that. “Yeah, he’s a looker. Sorry, lemme see yours?”

Okay so maybe she was the one in trouble here.

Want one of your own?

#Taserhawk #Clint x Darcy #Darcy x Clint #Darcy Lewis #Clint Barton #Clint/Darcy #Darcy/Clint #song prompts 2020 #ficletoftheday #orange #backwardsandinhighheels #my writing

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human-trash-fire · 5 years ago

Text

Shot Through The Heart: CH4

I couldn’t wait to share the next chapter, so you beautiful humans are getting it early! As always mad shout-outs to everyone who is following along/ RB/ liking this fic <3 I can’t tell you all how fucking grateful I am for all of you.

special thanks to @highqueenofelfhame for previewing the fic and making me feel like it’s worth it to write!

As always the fic is available in its entirety on ao3 glam_reaper2

** IMPORTANT NOTE: The header image is 100% what Rowan imagines when she takes a shot even though it definitely didn’t go down that way.**

******************************************************************************** Aelin:

Two weeks had come and gone since she had hauled the giant box full of goodies to the post office. Fenrys told her that mail was always delayed but that he was both excited and grateful they had sent them something. She made him promise two things: one, he wouldn’t tell the rest of the cadre that a package was coming. Aelin knew that they mentioned sending the boys something, but she didn’t want them to know when. And two, they had to open their care packages ‘Yulemas style’ all sitting around, on Skype, so Lys, Elide and her could watch their faces/ get a chance to finally talk to them face to face.

During those two weeks they continued their flirty conversation when he wasn’t on mission and away from his phone. She woke up nearly every morning to a text, and fell asleep texting him each night. After the first few days they had moved their conversation off twitter, they iMessaged back and forth and had exchanged Snapchat information so they could send each-other little videos and such. Talking to Fenrys was comfortable. He found a way to brighten almost any situation, and she found that anytime she was irritated recently he could always cheer her up. She kept most of her past private, and though he volunteered more intimate details of his life he never pushed her to share hers. It was nice, if she was being honest, even if this went absolutely no where she was so glad to have met him.

Fenrys told her stories about his friends too, Aelin got the impression that he was kind of like their glue. He was the youngest at 27 (apparently Connall was born 3 minutes earlier and had lorded that fact over him for as long as he could remember). Vaughn and Gavriel were both 28, Rowan was 29, and Lorcan (Elide’s new project) was 30. He and Connall had enlisted when they were 18, they attended training in Perranth and ended up qualifying for special forces at an unheard of 19. That’s when they met the others, the Cadre. Aelin laughed so hard when she found out that’s what they’re known as in the military world, she had thought she was just being cheeky when she’d called them so in their video. That’s also how Connall had met Vaughn. Apparently, he spent 4 years pining after him.

>> So how did they end up together?

<< It was so obvious they were into each other but too ‘bro’ to say anything. Worried about “team dynamic” or whatever, because Gods know we didn’t give a shit if they’re together. Then one day we’re taking shots at a bar, Con is talking to some dude, I think he was honestly trying to get over his feelings. Vaughn sees this and gets mad jealous, slams a double shot of Johnny Walker, mutters ‘fuck it’ and storms right up to them. He grabs other dude by the shoulder, shoved him out of the way, and right as Con was about to say something he kissed him. We cheered, we all got entirely too drunk, and now here we are! It’s been 4 years and I’m so happy for them.

>> That’s fucking amazing, and honestly romantic! <3

The Cadre as it stood now had been the most elite team for 8 years, running blackops around the world. And tonight was the night she and the girls would get to talk to them for the first time. Aelin was so excited she could barely contain it, there was nothing more fulfilling than giving someone a gift in her opinion.

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

Rowan:

They finally had some down time. Command had promised them 2 days, which was more time than Rowan had expected. They’d been running themselves ragged ever since they discovered Maeve was in country. There was talk about an intel operative gathering more information on her plan, but so far they hadn’t gotten the call Rowan had waited 5 years for. He wanted a green light. He wanted her dead. He was stuck waiting on orders, and had spent 2 weeks seething while they ran, in his opinion, bullshit missions up and down the sector.

It had also been two weeks since Rowan had woken up to two instagram notifications. He had, in all honesty, forgotten he had the app. Work was his life, and he was never big on social media, but there they were. It was 0330 and he reached over, seeing the notifications he clicked and his jaw hit the floor. Aelin Galathynius had not only followed him but liked one of his pictures… The oldest picture there. What the fuck? He thought as he stared at her name right below the picture. This has to be an accident, but why would she be looking this far back? He didn’t really know how to feel about it. She was stunning, she was famous, and she was Fen’s date. She shouldn’t be liking his shit on instagram. She should even know who he was.

He clicked her name.

There were hundreds of pictures, her with her friend’s, her with her dog, her with nearly every famous young person in Orynth. There were red carpet photos and vacation photos, little videos from different movie sets and links to fundraisers for various social causes. He didn’t realize he’d been scrolling through them for so long until Fenrys yelled at him for sleeping in. He quickly shut down the app and hurried off.

For the next two weeks he found himself going back to her instagram more that any healthy person should. There was something about her eyes, there had always been something about her eyes, since the first time he saw her on screen. They swallowed him whole, it was like drowning in an ocean of fire and- what the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together Whitethorn. He chided himself. His mind was all over the damn place. Fenrys, as expected, hadn’t kept to his “no talking about her ever again” end of the bargain. Being his spotter he was with him nearly 18 hours a day, the boy never shut up. Apparently they hadn’t stopped talking, and Rowan caught him sending stupid snapchats or typing furiously with a shit-eating grin on his face nearly ever moment they were back with their phones. Everytime his face lit up, or he said something like “Aelin was saying…” he found himself clenching his jaw. He had no idea why, he was happy for Fen, this was his dream come true.

Rowans jaw hurt.

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

“Wash up boys, and try to look presentable, meet me in the office at 1700. Don’t fucking be late,” Fenrys said to them after training. It may be down time, but they all still met at the base gym for a few hours of PT in the afternoon.

“What the hell for?” Lorcan grumbled. Fenrys just winked and sauntered towards the showers.

1655 on the dot Rowan walked into the office, followed by Connall and Vaughn. The others were already there, Lorcan and Gavriel looking just as confused as he felt, and Fenrys with that insufferable grin plastered on his face. He had showered, brushed his hair, and put on possibly the tightest shirt he owned with a pair of black joggers. Rowan caught his eye and lifted a brow.

“Alright you grumpy bastards, grab a chair and come here,” Fenrys instructed while pointing towards the projector they used for movie nights. It had a camera attached to the top for more official calls with command, and they often used it to Skype their families back home. Skype was pulled up now, and they all found their seats in front of the screen. Rowan sitting towards the center chair that was left open for Fen. Vaughn and Connall had taken the two to his right while Lorcan and Gavriel brought up the other end.

Fen was dragging a giant box out from beneath his desk when the familiar ringing began to echo through the room. He immediately dropped it in front of his chair and scrambled to answer the call. “Hello gorgeous,” he purred as the image on the screen in front of them came into focus. Once again, the cadre was floored.

“Hello handsome,” Aelin winked. “Gentleman” she nodded to them all and stepped back. Alongside her sat Elide and Lysandra, smiling and waving at the screen. The men sat up a little straighter, and awkwardly waved back.

“Is it ready?” Aelin practically squealed.

“Yeah! Should I open it?” Fenrys asked, and Rowans attention shot back to the moving box in front of their chairs. No way, he thought. They had mentioned the possibility of sending them something but he didn’t honestly believe it would happen. Agreeing to come to the ball was already unbelievable, but a care package? The box was so big it easily could have fit a body.

“One second. Okay so Hi, I’m Aelin, obviously, and these are my girls.” She gestured beside her. “It’s so nice to officially get to talk to you all! We’ve heard so much about you from Fen.”

Fen, she says. Like they’re close. Rowan’s jaw clenched again. He shook his head and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them because he realized he probably looked rude. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and was so busy trying to look nonchalant he was startled when he heard his name.

“Whitethorn!” Fen yelled, it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d called for him. “Say hello to the women and try and remember your manners.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Hey... I’m Rowan.”

“We know,” Aelin smiled, and Rowan was momentarily stupid.

“Okay, as much fun as official introductions are, Fen can you open the box? Inside it are smaller boxes with each of your names. Enjoy!” Aelin chimed. As Fenrys ripped open the box Elide and Lysandra started asking each of them questions. At the same time Aelin reached past the camera to grab 3 shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker. Jealous Rowan thought. That was his favorite drink. Of course she would drink it, she looks like that, and shoots whiskey. Gods have mercy...

Fenrys passed him a large box, and when they each held their own he spoke again. “This is like Yulemas Ace, thank you! Can we just tear them open or do we go one at a time?” Ace? How adorable. Rowan’s eyes found Aelin’s again, and it felt like she was looking at him, but it was a giant screen and that was nonsense.

“Oh, tear in! Fen told us a little about each of you so we tried to go with things you might like. I hope we guessed right!” Aelin’s smile was like the sun, as he looked down to begin opening the package on his lap Rowan felt a rare smile grace his own lips in response. With a loud cracking noise 6 boxes popped open, and the room was filled with “NO WAY”s and “ THANK YOU”s as the cadre tore through their gifts.

On the top of each box was an Orynth Bane Jersey, they were all Ashryver jerseys (obviously) and stitched in the pro style. As he unfurled his he realised that the entire team had signed the jerseys for each of the men. He began shaking his head, this was already more than they could have ever asked for.

“The boys wanted to say thank you as well! Aideon and Ren got you all, and us, some front row, 50 yard line-” At that Elide made an unladylike snort, Aelin choked, and Lysandra glared. The Cadre was clearly missing something. Aelin cleared her throat in an attempt to recover, “50 yardline tickets. Whole VIP experience for the Adarlan game in November!” She finished, and that statement was met with cheers from all of them. The Bane was their favorite team, and while they had seen a couple games they never could have dreamt of what she was talking. Granted her cousin was the starting QB and “Ren” was his best running-back. This is insane he thought.

With the jersey, and tickets out of the way Rowan looked back into the box. Sitting right there was a bottle of Johnny Walker black label, 3 expensive cigars, a cutter, a lighter, and a shot glass that read “SSG Whitethorn reporting for Booty.” He didn’t know when he had started giggling like a school boy, but he was entirely sure he looked like an idiot.

He looked up with his shot glass in hand, and stared at the screen. The others still had their heads in their boxes, but he was looking at her. “Classic,” he wiggled the shot glass “Thank you so much Aelin.” She smiled a soft smile, and nodded.

He glanced around and saw his friends had all received a bottle of their favorite liquor as well, Connall and Vaughn were already lighting a cigar each while digging through the rest of their boxes. The smoke was sweet, and the room smelled of vanilla and burnt sugar. The girls were currently taking shots on skype and clapping when something new was unveiled or explaining why they included certain random things.

“Salvaterre!” Elide shouted. The tiny woman’s cheeks had begun to flush, she was clearly feeling the shots she had taken so far. Lorcan’s head shot up and she giggled, he sat up a little straighter, and she leaned into the camera. “There’s something a little special in there for you, you’ll know it when you see it. That’s from me. You’re welcome.” She winked and Rowan swore his friend blushed. The rest of the men had seen it too because everyone began laughing, and he made a note to try and figure out what exactly she’d sent that made him act that way.

The next thing he unpacked was a pair of super lush running shoes, Fenrys clearly had given all their shoe sizes to the women because he was holding a $200 pair of black sneakers. It was beyond too much but Aelin looked so excited when they all started trying them on, the desert ruined your shoes. The last items in the box were something else entirely. A small stuffed hawk sat in one corner, it wore a nametag: Buzzard. He raised it and an eyebrow to the screen and Aelin started laughing. “Buzzard?” he asked.

“Indeed sir. Can’t tell you why though, it’s a secret.” She slammed a shot back “You each got a little stuffed animal to keep you company on the long nights. Since you can’t have puppies in the desert apparently.” He shook his head laughing, this girl was too much. Next to where the Hawk had been laying was a wrapped package. He lifted it up and was about to tear it open when she half screamed, “WAIT! Okay so, wait. This is my favorite gift.” She had everyone’s attention now turned to him. Fenrys was laughing, apparently he knew what came next.

“Oooookayyyyyy.. I’m a little nervous,” Rowan admitted. He didn’t like the spotlight on him like this.

“Well here’s the thing, as you can see everyone got their favorite sweets,” she made a sweeping motion at the camera. “Candy is an important food group, but Fen said you don’t like sugar or something. Which by the way is blasphemous. Anyways, I asked what your favorite food was and he said-”

“MEAT ON A STICK!” The entire cadre chorused, along with all three women on screen. They were all laughing like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

“But I couldn’t send you a kabob, so I figured this would be the next best thing!!”

He tore open the package in his hands. Sitting there were 8 bags of beef jerky and a packet of skewers. He started laughing so hard, tears were streaming down his face, “Thank you!” he croaked between fits of laughter.

After the gifts were all opened, cigars were lit and shots were poured. The group drank and laughed for hours. At one point the girls started playing music on their end, and the Rowan found himself singing along with everyone to Bohemian Rhapsody and watching Aelin dance on her kitchen table. It was the lightest he’d felt in years. Lorcan and Elide had exchanged numbers and he could see the girl texting him from the screen. Connall and Vaughn were in the corner in matching jerseys kissing and dancing to the music on the speakers.

They eventually said their goodnight’s, and another round of heartfelt thank you’s. As Rowan half stumbled into his bed he found himself still smiling and holding the small stuffed Hawk that smelled of lavender and embers.

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

TAG LIST <3

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#stth au #tog fic #ao3fic #rowaelin fic

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mikkock · 4 years ago

Note

Hey hi your murder mystery art is super totally cool and amazing and I'd like to Extra! Extra! hear all about it *rattles bells*

haha wow i cant believe ud ask me THIS! unbelievable! now im gonna have to make a long post!

all info under the cut cause im kind like that ♥

For reasons I felt like making a Fancy Ass murder mystery story, with you know, hella complex secret storylines and everyone having drama and shit, and one person died but the more the story goes the less people care about who did the murder and the more they want tHE JUICY DETAILs. X and Y had an afFAIR you say!!! well that’s thousands time more interesting than that murder that happened, who cares about the culprit its not like any of us are going anywhere anyway! tell me more about the marital issues!

The ultimate Vibes are Clue (the game, ya kno, it had a movie too, and that movie was shot with three different endings -fun fact- so that movie theatres could play one alternatively that way people wouldnt get spoiled or even if they did they would not get the ending they were spoiled or even if all three were spoiled you couldnt know which ending you were getting anyway, big dick move, cause its an old movie and film is expensive, also that movie stupid and campy, ALSO I ONLY LEARNED MAKING THIS AU THAT IN ENGLISH THE GAME’S CALLED “CLUE” wE CALL IT CLUEDO therefore my wip playlist is called cluedo. because. fuck it.)(i just have an emotional attachment to that game i even had a cd rom video game version and it was the spookiest shit for a 6 years old, trust me, i played it so much tho i didnt even understand the rULES i was just making scenarios like gathering the characters in rooms n making conversations outloud cause honestly the banter is the best part of a murder mystery) ANYWAY that sure is a whole paragraph of tangent.

BUT YE the inspo from the Clue game. you can tell it from the Colours obviously, everyone’s colour codded.(even everyone’s name is colours as well you’ll see it’s real dang fancy! im just remaking that game but with 2932020 characters and more behind the scenes drama and also for gay people.)

So BASIC PLOT!

Sir Belyy, the dude in white, is The Rich Powerful Respected Fancy Boss, and he throws a Fancy Reception Party with his closest friends and associates to celebrate the opening of a new branch of his business. All the lads gather in his wonderful little very isolated mansion in the middle of nowhere, like ok he got a death wish or something or he’s very trusting of his business partners, but not a good move, cause in the middle of the reception, as A Phat Storm Starts (for plot convenience, we going with a campy vibe if you couldnt tell), his body is found, it’s awful, there’s a killer on the loose! All the guests gather, and attempt to maybe contact the authorities, to not avail, since The Storm ya know, phone lines are Broken my dude. Its clear that the culprit is among them, since no one could have entered the house, or left it (cuz once again, ThE sTORm). And then it’s all about interrogating each other, distrust, alliances and betrayal, revealing one’s deepest secrets when they form an alibi and revealing someone else’s deepest secret for they could be a motive! Meanwhile there’s a dead body in the mansion just chillin there.

So as I mentioned, I changed everyone’s name to be colour related (or ya know, food or flowers of that colour cause sometimes a colour in a language would not work as a name given the way names work in that culture all that jazz) which is the trippiest thing cause tHATS NOT YALLS USUAL NAMES but its fun (also changed so many ages hgfhs it was a trip)(still no one’s really old i guess i got boomerphobia). The “Cast” is clearly the most important part, and if ur a True “My OCs” Connaisseur (hdfghd the most useful skill to have, knowing *MY* Charactersdshgd) you may have recognised some faces and can already read some vibes and predict who will be progressing the plot and who will be yelling at people throwing accusations ghdfgd.

(god i wish i hadnt slacked off making the portraits of everyone in that AU i only have 3 tho that’s so sad so ill just make little sketches just cause <3 only text??? i got too many hoes with no attention span for that)

Sir BELYY (the one who dIEs lmao)

(bust shot missing the fact that this man is the tallest beefiest lad around)

Intimidating, powerful, composed, wealthy, carries the name of a family who has generations of control to it’s reputation, he’s The Man that hoes who believe in the economy wishes they were. As in, the “self made” man who only just happened to benefit from having a wealthy background to uplift his plans. In his youth, he wanted to prove his worth, seperated himself from his father, started a business, that business became big, then got attached to the family’s business, bam back to square one but with Reputation now. There seemed to be VERY big tension between him and The Father, some speculate it had to do with his unknown mother, and some family drama there, and it never got resolved as old man Belyy died quite young (the jUICY speculations are that current sir Belyy mURDEREd old man sir Belyy, fucked up if true!). People love him though in general, as he has that reputation of “Cold Lad With a Gold Heart” aka he takes people under his wings, donates, doesnt treat his employees like the absolute worst garbage etc... you know, he’s rich and a half decent person, so obviously he’s an angel on earth. But does it matter though, he’s dead! that’s the concept of the story!

Mr.GRAY (the grey guest)(who could have guessed from the name)

He’s one of Sir Belyy’s oldest employees, and benefits from a high rank in the company. But, sadly for him, he’s been stagnating lately, as newer, youngest employees seem to have Belyy’s favours, and are his prefered associates for important tasks and positions. Therefore he has Some Bitterness, Some Salt, Some Distaste, some unbriddled but professionally muted hatred for Specific people in the company. He can be an antagonistic figure, but the amount of time he spent in Belyy’s circle grants him an immense quantity of information about the man, but mostly, about his business. Anything about the company’s history, dealings, operations, he’s aware of, either having been told of them, or having snooped around to obtain, immune to being questioned due to his legitimacy in the company.

Mr.LIM (the green guest)

Remember when it was said that Gray had beef with some employees cause they were younger and rose to high ranks faster than him and became Belyy’s favourite over him? Yeah well here comes the one he hates the most for that (ofc he’s belyys fave cuz he’s Mine <3) Our lad caught Belyy’s attention for his Exploits in like, em fancy high school tournaments of smart people, it’s a thing its ridiculous, making kids compete on Smart stuff for the pride of their schools n shit, well homie Lim got clout when doing that, and Belyy was extremely interested cause that kid’s main thing was how “this young lad got mad strategic skills tf are u a war general or smth how fancy”, and that’s a coveted skill for ruthless business. So as soon as the kid is an adult, bam, join the company my dude. And because he’s just that Cool n Sexy ofc he met the expectations Belyy had, and old man Belyy got attached cuz it do be such a young lad, a kid, mentally i am adopting. That’s how you get a youngas employee becoming the right hand man of one the phatest CEO in a few years, and even make your way into being a Good Lad on top of a business partner. And that’s how you get Gray to hate your ass too. Now though, fine lad with mad strategic skills, rising to power that fast, and even infiltrating Belyy’s private life? If I were Gray I’d call suspicion there’s surely some shady stuff going no way we’re just dealing with a nice fella who just happens to work good and be friendly to the boss right?

Herra MUSTA (the black “guest”)

Belyy’s newest butler, assistant, house keeper, he multitasks. His family has been tied to Belyy’s for generations, fullfilling roles of help, but also of confidents. He’s been the head butler since only a short time, after his mother passed, and as such is still “in training” you could say, despite having served the family his whole life. There are rumours going around that the contract tying his family to the Belyys may end on his generation and need to be resigned. He known the manor by heart, and carries all keys to any locked room (and mostly, The Master Key, cause in an old house, some doors may be locked beyond all still existing keys). He also knows secrets of the family that no one else knows, but good luck getting em out of him, he’s under contract not to divulge em bro.

Mr. HASSEL (the brown guest)

Belyy’s childhood friend. They grew up together, pictured their dreams together, sworn to flourish together, worked together when starting the company, and then Hassel felt he should create his own thing instead of depending on his friend’s existing wealth, and while Belyy’s business went wild, his never took off. They still stayed very close, despite the massive difference in wealth. Belyy considers him his closest friend, the one person he can trust (fucked if hassel did the murder lemme tell u). So of course, he’s still always invited to the Prestigious meet ups where’s he’s free to feel uncomfortably out of place amongst all the rich and powerful people that he could have been a part of had he had a tiny bit of luck and a small loan from a wealthy relative...People LOVE saying he’s still hanging out with Belyy so much to leech off his wealth, cause of course they do! His bestie status means he has a whole different brand of information of Belyy than his butler does, the Most Intimate Stuff, the Childhood Stuff. The Juicy stuff ya kno...But Bro Code, its all secrets...

Sir RUZH (the red “guest”)

Deep dive into Belyy’s personnal history, the man has many employees working at his house keeping it working, clean, ya know the vibe. They live on the premice, one has a kid who’s just a Joy to be around, all the employees just vibe with that lad, he’s just a born socialite you know? Belyy gets to meet the kid, and also hella vibes with him. And because human are influenced by their feelings, he gives the kid’s mum a bit of a preferencial treatment, in the tasks she fullfils and all, til he gives her an important-as mission, and then there’s an accident n mama dies, and now Belyy got guilt and there’s this kid who just Vibes. So naturally the move is to take the kid in, and play on how his vibes are just so clean, and raise him to be the Perfect Entertainer for guests, bam, its soft power propaganda, if everyone loves your now son’s vibes, they associate them with you too. And also that’s kind of a clean rep, the selfless man who adopted his employee’s son to not have him fall to the streets, how heartwarming. Not at all traumatising for the kid too I bet! But anyway now the lad is just the most charming young adult, mission accomplished. He’s always present at any reception, ready to work his people-pleasing magic, and then going back to a gigantic empty manor to wait for the next and curate the perfect vibes to meet the expectations of dad. On the plus side, he knows everyone, and those who don’t know him cannot wAIT to, he’s just got that aura ya know. People skills for miles, and the insider knowledge that comes with being the son of the CEO, all this hidden behind the personna of the fresh innocent bashful party lad.

Dr.FEN (the pink guest)

Do not get mistaken by the title, he’s no doc, he will not diagnose you with anything, he just studied long enough to get the sexy title. Study in what? Haha. Nothing shady. Just toxicology. He’s a world reknown poison expert basically, that’s his main thing. Oh but don’t worry, of course studying substances that may kill people is only for finding out how to cure them from it of course. What brings him in this circle? Simple, Belyy may or may not have started to suffer some weird illness that no doctor has been able to find the source, let alone cure, of. Him and Dr.Fen had met previously on some event, cause some rich man also love flexing how smart they are and attending sciencey shit, and he was contacted as sort of a shot in the dark. The lad does know how to treat some things, maybe he can treat The Mysterious Unwellness, since no traditional doctor was able to. He knows science, he’s trustworthy, bam, you’re hired to work on My Case Exclusively. Thanks to this, Dr.Fen has access to the whole health history of Belyy and his family, to many mANY dangerous substances, and also has The Respect of the hoes at the party. He HAS a doctorate after all. Epitome of knowledge. And he’s a kind to people and he wears pink like dang how can you nOT pour your wHOLE trust in him.

Sir MOREVITCH (the blue guest)

Youngest son of an affluent family, who used to be close the the Belyys. The two families fell slightly appart after the death of the previous head of the family on the Belyy side, as they do nOT vibe with the current one (well current, til the first night of the story ig). But, unbeknownst to all, one strong link had been kept, between the youngest of the Morevitch, who dislikes his family and wishes to emancipate himself from them while also assuring his depart will not throw him basically in the streets, and our beloved Sir Belyy, who also dislikes the Morevitches but loves to see the rebellious energy of the young one (and ya know, my enemy’s enemy’s my friend or however you say that). So Belyy’s basically offering tips and helping Morevitch plant himself safely out of his family’s grasp, but it’s all taking quite some time isn’t it, slow and steady is fine until your parents try to arrange a wedding to secure more political power, and suddenly it is all quite urgent that you escape that situation because No Thank You Parents I Do Not Want A Wife I’m Too Young And Also Huh <3 Stuff You Won’t Like Hearing For Sure <3. The people who know they’re working together also know that it’s a big point of argument between them, the difference in vision between “you have to go slow and steady to be safe” and “I have very limited time to get to that safety anyway so I gotta risk it” “hell no you cant i can’t follow through if we’re going that quick that’ll put me at risk and you’re family’s gonna send gunmen to take me down”. A mess, it’d be much quicker to just obtain a few million bucks out of nowhere and bolt for sure...

Mr.GANG (the orange guest)

Morevitch’s trusted assistant. He hears the concerns, he helps the secret businesses, he lies to the parents about the whereabouts, and mostly, he’s basically a budget spy. The lad got that talent where people just don’t notice him popping behind them and catching all their dirty laundry as they confess it to someone they trust, and he always manages to break into places, get the intel he was looking for, and escape, putting everything back into place as if no one was ever there (wonder where he got all those skills from damn!). But what he’s even better at is being sneaky not only to benefit his boss, but himself as well <3. If he can catch all the info in the world, go any places, nothing’s stopping him from playing double agent and also going behind Morevitch’s back. After all the assistant life isn’t the most glamourous and rewarding, who can blame him from going and using his talents to build his own little exit route, right? Everybody sort of knows he cannot be trusted, but also no one managed to really incriminate or stop him, and as much as he has tea on many people, no has it on him, but bet once found that would be heeeella juicy.

M.MOUTARDE (the yellow guest)(this one is straight up the name of the yellow player in the french edition of clue too when i say its my main vibe)

Moutarde was an influential celebrity. He had a big break acting in a movie that the whole country stanned so hard they basically turned the script into their national anthem (they would have if it was a true democracy where the people really decide), he was so handsome and elegant, everyone’s dream husband. And then the fame fiddled out because it’s how fame is, one moment you’re the sexiest dish on the table and the next someone brings in dessert and baam, its all about that fresh cake, and no one pays any mind to your delightful aroma anymore, you’ve gone cold, they had a bite, their interest is somewhere else. Belyy really admires his work though, and mostly finds his image fits with the brand of his company, therefore the two are working on a collaboration to make Moutarde a representative. This WOULD boost Moutarde’s reputation, for his ads would be displayed on every imaginable surface of the country, and it would also benefit the company cause being represented by thAT sexy motherfucker? clearly that’s a deal. The freshness of the partnership means Moutarde is a newcomer in the guests, a fresh face, with no reputation, no relationships, no unfair biases against him. He’s just the new handsome charismatic lad with a squeaky clean image. Emphasis on “image”. After all, no one really knows anything of his background, right?

Kun.LAWENDER (the purple guest)

Private investigator, very useful to be around at a party it’s almost like it was expected there’d be a body to investigate, he’s a very close associate of Belyy, as there’s nothing more important to business than investigating the rivals and finding dirt on them to make them fall through infamy. He’s not exactly the PI who goes look for justice to be served, he’s just here for cash bro. He’s got intel on everyone, and will only let it out if offered the right thing in return (money, or sometimes other pieces of very secret intel, trade is good). Wouldn’t advise letting him and Gang team up tbh but they probably wouldnt, as Lawender is really more of a lone wolf player, going on his own for himself. The one thing that negates his usefulness as a PI on an accidental crime of scene is that even if he knew the whole truth of the event he would not spit it out unless he benefitted from saying it. He sure is a polarising lad, but at the same time, an untouchable one, he’s too knowledgeable to be taken down. Rather than sneaky, he’s extremely observant, noticing the tiniest details and engraving them in his memory, ready to be linked up to other details to deduct the big picture. He’s the upfront tea gathered basically (as opposed to Gang’s shadow tea gathering if you will, they are similar forces but using opposite methods)(also one of em got a licence n the other does not hAH).

~~~~

Now the secrets, all of em have them. One of em at least got the secret of having KILLED Belyy that’s that. But that’s to be kept for later (for if i ever use this story for more than daydream material gfhjgh) bet you can imagine what some of em may be just out of Knowing what i do, from having seen the characters in other contexts, or just because you’re a genius and reading the character profiles immediatly lit up the bulbs in your head forming the perfect theory, props to you, mad genius.

Honestly my thoughts are just how lit of a game that would be, you get to pick one hoe (maybe sum are locked til u find their secrets for juicy purposes) and you do your invetigation using your character’s perks and disadvantages, and maybe there could even be Multiple scenarios and outcomes, to spice it up, give replay value, i just think it’d be a game id spend hours on. tryin to get the spicy details of everyone’s life. walking around n digging through a rich man’s stuff, witnessing the drAMA of people fighting cause they’re locked in with a murderer and that’s stressful ngl. That or a long ass show @ netflix wanna give me a show maybe? give me hella budget we’re making it animated cause im too cultured for live action.

whatever i make of it though, i hope i can make this story Flourish, just so that i can lay down all those secret backstories i’ve written. i want the satisfaction of throwing out the craziest secret drama between character n seeing peeps loose their minds, it just is a tasty experience.

also i gotta say, i plug the hell out of Clue for an inspo but when i was building the basics of the story my mind immediatly went “oH MY GOD THE VIBES,, THE BACKSTABBING AND tEAMING UP and all,,, its The Genius, that one tv show where peeps have to do the wildest games that require strategy n they’re in that fancy set that looks like a rich ppl mansion oh god the vibes” so yeah, i rewatched the whole first two seasons cause they’re my faves and that had an impact if only minimal in the aesthetic.

Anyway hope that quick presentation gave you a lil taste of the story, and maybe,,,, got you curious,,, craving to learn more like you never did before (im exaggerating the only real question we all got is just “so who’s fuckin with whom then how many of yall secretly dating” this the real deal)

#doodlin every lad's face at one rly be like 'welcome to the cheekbone festival'#they got antti AND said at once like the cheekbonage is out of this world!#that's musta n gang btw #also every single time i draw cream (blue lad) im like 'i havent drawn u in ages' n it isnt #that i dont draw him much anymore #but that ive drawn only this bitch for months back in the days #him bein in this without his lover....criminal #cuz his boo wouldnt fit a murder mystery au like #hoes would find the corpse he'd just be like 'welp on that imma go to bed aight bye'#anyway u can tell which of my ocs i simp for v easely #like fr #they the ones i spend the longest drawfigfdj cuz i draw em n then go 'not hot enough do it again'#a struggle!#anyway the secret is that i prepares a motive AND an alibi for all of em #so that i can pick who murdered belyy at the last moment <3 #its all abt the contextual clues on the scene of crime <3 #none of the drama tells u anything its all for the treat of gossip <3 #sad part of this project is how much ive planned n written yet i can barely tell anythin if i want to make it #n ive drawn nothingbhd #i hav a dari n a weiwei in their coloured clothes lookin handsome cuz ofc i do #im predictable i have faves #ask if they're in love in this one too take a fuckin guess #u rly think hoe going to his boss's house so much to see the ceo ???? HAH #the real question isnt if theyre smooshin we all kno that answer the question is if dad white suit knows thATs whats important #are yall secret lovers or is green boy climbing the ladder of the company cuz he's smashing the boss's son #who knows #i do i aint telling pay me

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allforhader · 4 years ago

Text

Grief Group

Richie Tozier x (M) Reader

Warnings: Langauge

Part 1 | Part 2

“Eddie!—“

“WE CAN STILL SAVE HIM”

“Eddie! Eddie—!”

——-

A year later...

“You should go to this support group. I’ve been a couple times but it’d be a big help Richie”

“Don’t lecture me Bill”

“I wasn’t even lecturing! I’m just telling you. There’s a great support group that I used to attend and I think it would do you some good”

“Okay. Whatever. Send me the details and I’ll go the next one”

“Perfect!” Bill smiles picking up his phone from the table and immediately sent Richie the details as he continued to brood over his food. “Hell you can even meet someone-“

“Okay—In what regard?”

“A friend?” Bill scoffs to Richie’s defensive attitude. “Come on. You’re not replacing him. It’d...just be nice. To relate with someone that isn’t another loser or Patty”

“I guess”

When the time came to go to the grief group, Richie sat in his car for an hour beforehand. He didn’t really want to go. But if he’s being honest, therapy doesn’t help when it’s one on one.

“I hate you Bill” Richie states before finally getting out of his car heading into the building.

The grief group is well, a group grieving over someone they lost, and they sit in a circle like you used to do in kindergarten. Except show n tell is more with real life traumas instead of a stuffed animal from grandma. But everybody engages in conversation before coming together for group.

“New here?” A lovely woman approaches Richie who found himself hugging the wall.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Well, you don’t have to speak for your first time if you’re not comfortable. Just know it’s a safe place to do so” She smiles resting a reassuring hand on Richie’s shoulder before going to take her seat. “Alright let’s group up!” she says with a smile. Misleading smile.

Richie walks over taking his coat off and resting it on his chair before taking his seat. A few people are around his age, very few elderly, and it’s said seeing a handful of 20 somethings. Could be their parents or a lover. God...a lover. His attention instantly drew toward a man sitting beside him. Petite. Built. Good genetics by still having a full head of hair. He knows Bill can rock a silver touch, but this guy can as well. What the hell is Richie thinking.

“Well shall we get started?” The lady states once everybody was settled. “It’s nice to see new faces, just a reminder we are here to listen and support one another during a difficult time in our lives. My name is Linda and I lost my husband three years ago in a car accident”

“Tsk...three years” The man beside Richie states as everyone looks at him.

“It’s always nice to see you here Y/N”

“Pfft. Likewise” Y/N laughs sitting up in his seat taking his tie off while doing so.

“Would you like to share? How was the funeral?”

“Okay well first off. For the new faces. Hi my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and I lost my fiancé in a hit n run about four months ago”

Four months...shit. Richie can remember vividly how much it hurt when Eddie died and how fresh the wound was around the first few months. He can only imagine what Y/N must be feeling.

“The funeral was fine. Lovely. For a funeral. His parents and mine wanted me to talk. But I didn’t want to”

“Why?” Richie suddenly asks when he meant to just think it. “Oh sorry I-“

“Nah it’s fine. It’s a valid question. Why wouldn’t I want to talk at my own fiancé’s funeral? Probably because my last words to him were fuck you” Y/N’s honest during these meetings. Like Linda said.

It’s a safe place.

“Well Y/N there are things we regret for saying to our deceased loved ones as our final words to them. But we also regret what we should’ve said instead of what we did” Linda states as a few members of the group agree with her but Y/N wasn’t up for it.

“You said it was a hit and run?” The youngest out of the group that Richie spotted spoke up. “You can get justice for his death Y’know Y/N”

“His parents are doing that shit. I don’t want to be involved.”

“I would” Richie looks at Y/N catching more stern look. “Wouldn’t you want to feel relieved that...you got justice”

“Did you? Mr. Comedian?”

So someone does know who he is. And it’s the one that’s quite the ball buster with an attitude.

“Did you get justice for the lost of your loved one?”

“Sir you don’t have to share if-“

“No no. I’m good” Richie straightens up giving Y/N a look before looking to everyone else. “I’m Richie Tozier, and I lost the love of my life a year ago. He was murdered.”

The gasps coming from a few had a lot of mixed feelings. It’s the famous comedian Richie Tozier. He’s gay? His love was murdered?

Y/N retracts in his seat but relaxes kind of feeling awful for trying to push a button he’d know for a fact, wouldn’t want to be pushed on himself.

“So...justice?” Y/N frowns looking at Richie sharing an exchange.

“Yeah. I got justice. But not how you’re going to get it”

“Let me guess. The asshole died? Before you could lay a hand on him?”

“Something like that” Richie reassures with a half smile before looking down in his lap.

And that was the last of both of them talking. The rest of the group continued with sharing and keeping IN MIND OF OTHER’S FEELINGS. Excuse me.

When the group dispersed, Richie headed out of the building finding Y/N hitting a smoke outside. He walks over beside him giving him a blank stare.

“Want one?”

“If you’re offering”

“Well, you were staring. Assumed more than offer on my own terms” Y/N states reaching for the pack and lighter in his back pocket handing it to Richie. “So, Richie Tozier at a grief group. That’s a sight for the papers”

“How much you want to be there’s going to be a picture of me in that group somewhere around social media?”

“A round of drinks” Y/N laughs taking his phone out as Richie lit his cigarette.

After typing in the comedian’s name in the twitter search bar, and there were a few tweets about it. But no picture. So fans are calling it fake news. Y/N shows Richie while taking back his pack after putting out his cigarette.

“So, who’s paying?”

“I will. I was a dick in group” Y/N smiles putting his phone away.

After a long walk to the nearest bar and stealing the last booth. Y/N set down a scotch for the comedian and a bottle of vodka with two shot classes.

“You drink a whole bottle?”

“I pay for a whole bottle. But for the most part. I can’t handle past three shots” Y/N states popping open the bottle. “You want one?”

“Pour it” Richie states as he takes a sip of his scotch. “So...who forced you to go to grief group?”

“Well, I sat in the waiting room as my fiancé died in an OR. So a nurse did when I got a bag of his belongings”

“Shit I’m sorry”

“Nah. You asked. I’m only going to be honest with you and answer it” Y/N smiles before handing him his shot as he took down his just to pour another one. “Can’t believe people can’t handle vodka.”

Richie coughed after downing his which caught a laugh from Y/N.

“See. Can’t handle”

“I’d like to see you handle tequila”

“Gross. Yeah no. Vodka is my death wish. Ain’t adding tequila to the party” Y/N says as he takes his phone out after getting a number of texts from his parents. “Idiots”

“Who?”

“My parents. They’re worried but yknow. My death wish” Y/N raises his second shot before taking it down.

“At least it’s just two people bugging you. I have four”

“I wouldn’t see it as bugging. It’s annoying but Y’know” Y/N shrugs watching Richie take his bottle to pour him another shot for the both of them.

“They only mean well” Richie states clinging shots with Y/N before regretting it. “Mm—shit dude. I don’t see how you can handle this crap.”

“Mm. Death wish” Y/N shrugs.

“Man. I remember the first few months...my friends wanted to put me in AA because I’d drink until I blacked out. But come on. Not to be rude to my friends who I consider my family, but their lives got better after everything.”

“Leaving you behind to grieve.” Y/N states taking his scotch to get a different taste in his mouth. “Yeah. I’m sorry you went through that. And well still? Or you wouldn’t be in grief group”

“My best friend out of them all suggested it. So I listened. Didn’t want to. Sat in the parking lot for an hour”

“Yeah. Honestly I know I’m not the best influence. But if you need someone who’s willing to relate without the rest of the world moving on?” Y/N held his hand out for Richie’s phone and was handed it to him with no hesitation. “You can text, call, whatever. Just not during the stereotypical work hours during the week”

“What do you do?”

“As much as I wish I had as much free time as you did. I’m a journalist.” Y/N says calmly saving his number in his phone handing it back. “And no. I won’t put this in an article. Even if it would give me brownie points”

“Man. Journalists have a harder time than I do. For the most part and from my knowledge” Richie laughs a bit as Y/N rolls his eyes smiling. “Y’know what. Fuck it. My manager will probably drop me but it won’t be hard to get a new one. You can put out an article that I’m back. I’ll send you stuff to support it cuz fuck it right? You only live once”

“You only live once” Y/N smiles laughing a bit to that. “But as much as it would be fun. To write about a well known comedian? We live in LA and...it’s going to be a bitch finding another to support you.” He got up from the booth grabbing his bottle resting his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “You need someone to care about you other than yourself and well the ones closest to you. I’ve got your back Rich” he says making his leave.

He’s got my back.

#I will obviously probably have a part two #bill hader #bill hader gifs #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #it chapter 2 #bill hader x reader

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