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simsadventures · 4 years ago

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Gilded: Chapter 2: Our House (The Mess We’ve Made)

Mobster! Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve doesn’t like to be questioned, and you learn that the hard way. When he wants something, he gets it, and now he wants to have everything over with as quickly as possible. But there are a few bumps on the road.

Warnings: mafia au, swearing, violence, blood, threats, violence on women, slight mention of a rape, fluff, I mean, Steve is very demanding here, but it’s a theme so…

Word Count: 6087

A/N: I’m beyond excited that you guys liked the first chapter so much and are giddy for the next one. So, here we have it. More of our arranged couple and more mafia stuff. Let me know what you thought, and again, thank you for reading! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

“You did what? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Y/N, I love you, but you must have hit your head real hard because this is not like you, at all,” Caroline reasoned, but you could see she was close to losing it completely.

They were both waiting for you to come home that night, and you first had to make sure neither of them would talk about anything you were about to reveal. You trusted both of them with your life, that wasn’t the issue, but you were afraid that if they talked outside of your apartment, Steve might know and the things he could do to them would be the core of your future nightmares, you were sure of it. When they finally agreed, you got to explaining. But you didn’t even get a full sentence out before they started jumping in it, asking questions and wildly swatting their hands, trying to make you see just how stupid of an idea it actually was.

“Do you think I don’t know it sounds insane? I do, but also like, it’s gonna take care of so many issues, and, I mean, all he needs from me, as far as I understood it, is to go to a few events with him, go to some vacations with him and that would be all. I mean, I can still have the job I actually enjoy and don’t have to slave in that fucking pub with all those weirdos, and I won’t have to worry about money,” you tried to sound reasonable and sensible, but from the looks on your best friends’ faces, you weren’t doing too good of a job.

“Right, right, cool. So, you wanna tell me that the most notorious fucking mobster in America will let you live here, with us, while he parades you around the city at night? Or that he doesn’t have enemies you should worry about? Or what about the fucking police, Y/N, huh? Have you thought of that? You will be affiliated with a known criminal, and they will start to notice you and your life won’t be as easy as you picture it,” Aidan sighed and massaged his temples, the stress of it all getting the best of him.

You sat down next to them and smiled at them fondly. It was sweet that they worried so much about you, and just the mere thought that there were people on this planet who gave a shit about you, even to the point of yelling at you at 11 PM on Wednesday night was heartwarming. You understood their reservations, you really did, but you also knew this all before you said yes to Steve. You knew it wouldn’t be as easy, and while you weren’t sure whether you would have to live with Steve in Manhattan or somewhere else, or if he let you just be on your own, you knew you could take it. The police didn’t scare you, you’ve had enough training in diverting the police from yourself, so the police was the last thing on your mind. Besides, you were signing petitions left and right to defund them, so… You were pretty sure they already knew your name from the demonstrations in front of their precincts.

Enemies were a bit more challenging to handle, but you were sure Steve wouldn’t want his new wife to die on his watch. How would that look for him? So really, all that was at stake was your sanity and your integrity, and thinking about it, Steve didn’t ask you to do something illegal. The only thing he wanted from you was to be a good girl, marry him and be by his side. And you could do that. And you were only human, Steve was a sight to behold, so you didn’t mind being connected to him, even though he specifically told you he wasn’t attracted to you.

That one still stung, but maybe it was for the better. You wouldn’t have to worry about doing something stupid when the other party was completely uninterested, and knowing it, you could just never let your body have even a minor crush on him, so the situation really resolved itself even before anything could have happened.

“I really think I can gain more than I can lose, you guys. I didn’t imagine my life being like this, far from it, and maybe Steve and his money can help me get where I want. And I won’t even have to sleep with him or anybody else. He even talked about putting a no-sex clause in our contract so that I would be safe even on paper. You always tell me that I’m not taking enough risks and that I stay rooted in my comfort zone. Well, this is quite the improvement, isn’t it?” You laughed, and they both just shook their heads but chuckled nevertheless.

“You are a psychopath, babe,” Aidan muttered but gave you a side hug, and Caroline soon joined.

“We love you and worry about you, that’s all. But if you feel good about this, then so do we. I just hope he’s ready for our wrath if anything even remotely bad happens to you,” Caroline said, and the three of you started to laugh. You would bet somebody like Steve would be scared shitless from two 20-something-year-olds who, one who was scared of wasps so much she almost fainted every time she saw one, and the other having a hard time peeling a grapefruit. Yup, they were the combat duo you would bet your money on in a fight, for sure.

Waking up, you had a good feeling about the decision, even more so than the night before. You had mulled it over and over in your head, seeing that this was the way out of everything and also your way to a lot of those things you wanted to have by now. You even thought of the saying, sometimes, the only way out is through, and this was your through. There was no foreseeable way of getting out of debt, of getting out of the depression caused by your hectic and unsatisfying life. Your way through it was accepting Steve’s money and his help for a year, freeing you from the shackles of your current life, in a sense.

That it would come with a different kind of shackled you were sure of, but everything was better than your life now because you really couldn’t even call it a life. You wanted so many things, see so many places, but the world wasn’t made for the people playing by the rules, slaving in their ordinary jobs. No, this capitalist world was made for sharks, and you had been disguised as a sheep for too long.

When you got to the gallery, you were welcomed by a sight that surprised you, and not in a good way. Where you were used to sitting every day for the past two years was another girl. She was pretty, and you bet she was wonderful, but at that very moment, all you saw was that somebody replaced you.

You swiftly unlocked the door and walked in, the girl standing up immediately to greet you with a shy smile and a wave. You couldn’t be a complete bitch to her, after all, this was way above her pay grade. So, you just nodded and strode towards the offices where the director sat.

“Good morning, Ms Y/L/N. I see you have met Laura, our new receptionist. And before you say anything, I just wanted to tell you that we appreciate everything you had done for this gallery for so long and that we thought it was time for you to learn some other skills, as you are more than capable of that,” he smiled warmly, and you weren’t sure if it was a nice way of saying you were let go of, or if you were promoted.

“What does that mean, Mr Jones?” You asked incredulously, not really in the mood to search in between the lines.

“You have become my personal secretary, Ms Y/L/N. Congratulations! I know you have the aspiration of becoming a curator, so, this way, you could get a little closer to art even though there is still some way to go, naturally,” he winked and chuckled, and you let yourself relax with the news.

Wow! Your life was already taking a turn for the better, and all you had to was to go with your gut and risk a little. You wanted to laugh out loud at the universe and its mysterious ways of working. But, thinking of mysterious, your mind suddenly pictured Steve and his devilish smirk, and your smile faltered.

“And may I ask, why now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the chance, and I will do my best to succeed in expectations. I just wonder what happened that the chance has come now?”

Mr Jones scratched the back of his neck, and you gritted your teeth. You already knew that it wasn’t the universe praising you for your bravery. No, this had nothing to do with the universe.

“More things have come together, to be quite honest, Ms Y/L/N. First, my long-time secretary left for her maternity leave a few weeks ago, as you might remember, and I have been looking for her replacement ever since. And I forgot what an amazing student we had here, who is already established with the clients and with our partners, and that this will be a win-win situation for everybody. And your fiancée was quite adamant that your resumé is remarkable and that I should give you a chance,” he smiled and piled gathered in your throat.

How Steve managed to persuade Jones to do this was beyond you when you left him only a few hours ago, most of which were during the night, so there wasn’t much room for negotiation between the parties. You just hoped people wouldn’t start treating you differently when they realised your affiliation. That was the only thing you obviously didn’t think through: the opinion of the society. And since the New York society had been one of the most judging and selective ones even back in the 19th and 20th century, you knew not that much has changed since. People were afraid of Steve, with a good reason too, and now they might become frightened of you too. Fucking awesome.

“I want to assure you that my fiancée won’t be present in my work life, however notorious he is,” you tried to sound as confident in what you were saying as you could, but you weren’t sure if you were doing a good job. But Mr Jones just smiled and sat down, signalling for you to sit down opposite of him, and he started talking about business and about what the job actually was. And while you tried to give him your full attention, there was this angry voice in your head, ready to bite Rogers’ head off. He would meet your famous wrath sooner than you thought, but it was all his fault anyway.

The job was, actually, quite impressive. As your boss told you, you got to meet several artists already, you could sit in the meeting where they decided what kind of art the gallery was interested in, and you soaked all that in like a sponge. You were radiating by the end of the day, and the wrath subsided a little, but only till the moment, you saw a black SUV parked in front of the gallery and one of the turtlenecks standing beside it.

You decided that if Steve could do what he wanted, so could you and so you walked in the opposite direction than was the car, leaving the turtleneck yelling your name and running after you. But you ignored him completely, even when he reached you and patted your shoulder, slightly bewildered that you recognised him and still decided not to do as he said. Oh, these obnoxious mobsters needed to learn that they couldn’t get everything they wanted.

“Miss Y/L/N, please, you need to come with me. Mr Rogers is waiting for you in the car,” he said, and you finally stopped and looked him deep in the eyes while you folded your arms across your chest. You hoped you looked intimidating, but since the guy was wearing a pair of sunglasses you couldn’t be entirely sure whether it worked. But you didn’t relent and just stared him down, and when he shifted uncomfortably, you knew you were winning this contest.

“Would you please come with me? Mr Rogers hates to wait,” he mumbled the last thing, and you would have snickered if you weren’t so determined to be the tough guy there. It was only when you heard other footsteps somewhere behind you, and the guy in front of you actually flinched that you realised the big boss himself was there to get you.

“No, Mr Rogers really doesn’t like to wait, Y/N. Is this the way to treat your fiancée?” Steve asked when he reached you, and you shuddered from the poisonous undertone in his voice. Safe to say, it might not have been the best strategy to try and walk away from him, but you had decided for it once, and now you were gonna stand by your decision.

“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” you hissed but continued before he could comment on your behaviour, “is intimidating my boss to give me a promotion a way to treat me? You really think you have control over everything and everyone, Steve, but let me tell you something. This is my fucking life, and you have no fucking right to march in and do as you please!”

He just raised a brow, and his nostrils flared before you felt his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it so tightly you were sure your arm wasn’t getting any blood. But you didn’t want him to win, which would definitely happen if you pleaded with him, so you just gritted your teeth and stared him down. Steve nodded at the guys around him to leave you two, and they took a few steps back, sure enough to protect their boss but to give him at least some privacy with you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me in that tone, huh? I think you’ll understand soon enough that disobedience is punished greatly here, honey! So, stop acting like a brat who gets off from causing scenes in public and come with me. And, for your information, this is a fucking order, and I dare you to move from me again,” Steve spat in your ear, and you trained your eyes on the ground.

Well, not your best idea, you had to admit that, and you valued your own head enough to just shut up and follow him. And by following him, you meant walking beside him because Steve obviously didn’t trust you enough to let go of your arm, even if his grip loosened slightly.

He thrust you in the car with a force that could scare many, but it only just slightly surprised you. When he finally sat down next to you, he bid the driver to just go and stared out of the window, not addressing you in any shape or form, and you huffed in annoyance.

“Look, Steve, you brought me here for a reason, so what do you want? I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow and not today, in broad daylight in front of my job.”

“Show some respect!” He roared, and you saw the eyes of the bodyguards, or whatever they were, flick towards you in fear. It was funny how such huge men were clearly so afraid of one of them. You remained calm, however, and just remained looking at him. Then you realised something. He didn’t mind your mouth the night before that much when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t stand it when people were around. He needed to be the man, his people needed to know that nobody treated him differently and that not even his future wife could disobey him, let alone publicly. You swallowed your pride and shifted your gaze elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve had a long day, and I’m taking it on you now. I just wished you spoke to me before you called my boss, but still, thank you for the opportunity,” you muttered meekly, and the triumphant look on Steve’s face spoke volumes. He just hummed and patted your shoulder, his own shoulders slacking and relaxing. These people were so easy to read, you were actually quite astounded that they weren’t played like violins by some secret agents or something like that. Well, you thought, at least you could play them, and it would make your life a little easier if you did it well enough.

“I came because we needed to discuss more things, honey. I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday so I couldn’t stay longer, but I have the whole afternoon reserved just for you today, so we can go over all the parts of our agreement in great detail and that we can start planning our wedding,” he flashed you a smile, and it was your time to tense up because if you were to have a wedding soon, which was clearly something Steve wanted, you needed to get a move on and that stressed you out. The arrangement might have been just for a year, but you knew that Steve’s wedding was supposed to be magnificent, showing all that he obtained and all that the mere mortals couldn’t have. You included.

But then you realised something.

“Sure, but I need to take care of something first if you don’t mind,” you added quickly seeing the mobster next to you tensing up again. “As I no longer work at Joey’s pub, I need to get my things from there. My boss called me this morning telling me that I still had my work shoes and other stuff there and that I should pick it up or they’ll throw it away.”

“Just give the address to the driver, we’ll get it, and then we’ll go to my place- oh, excuse me- our place and discuss what we need,” he said simply, and you followed his orders.

The rest of the drive was silent, and you could unwind a little, reminisce about the 24 hours you have had. From taking the subway anywhere you needed to, to driving in an armoured SUV with the most prolific mafia boss of the USA, your life took quite the turn. You needed to set some boundaries with Steve, but you needed to do it tactfully and, most importantly, alone. You hadn’t known him at all, but you knew the type. There would be reasoning with him as long as he thought he had a free choice and knew that his position wasn’t neither threatened nor questioned.

This was a part of your agreement that you actually didn’t mind. Joey’s pub was not the fanciest of places in New York and while some of the customers were lovely and tipped well, the weekend sort was made of sleazy assholes who would touch you without your permission and not having to be around them would definitely be something you could get used to.

The boss who’s name wasn’t Joey, surprise, surprise, but Thomas, nodded your way when you came in. The pub was only half full, but the odour of mixed sweat, beer and vomit was ever the same. Gosh, how you couldn’t wait to be out of there.

Taking the places of the little box by the box with beer cans, you scanned the supply closet one last time and nodded as a goodbye. However, when you turned around, you bumped into somebody, and it sent you flying back a bit as you didn’t expect anybody to be there with you. You looked up to see Thomas standing there, looking pissed.

“Funny! I never knew you were on the market, pussycat. And now I find out you are newly engaged and to Mr Rogers no less? I thought you said you didn’t want a relationship,” he sneered as he neared you and you instinctively took a step back. That he had a crush on you, you knew, and you told him multiple times that you weren’t interested, that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend and that you just wanted to be left alone. You scoffed at his immature behaviour now and tried to push around him without saying a word because you knew there was no talking to people like him. But he wouldn’t let you go, of course.

“Maybe if I fucked you, you would see that I deserve you just as much, huh?” He hissed and took your already sore arm, yanking you towards him till you were pressed tight against his chance. You still remained calm, knowing that trashing and screaming would get you nowhere.

“Let me go, Thomas. Steve is outside, and he is waiting for me, so I suggest you take your disgusting hands off of me and just let me go,” you tried to reason, but, again, there was no such thing with dumbasses like him. What was more, he probably didn’t like your remark about his disgusting hands, and so, without warning, he slapped you right across your left cheek.

That made you gasp for the first time because till then, you really thought he was just playing and that he would let you go, but now seeing the bewildered look on his face, you suddenly realised that maybe you didn’t have the upper hand in the argument.

“Like fuck he is, what would Rogers do in these parts, huh? I bet it wasn’t even him who called me last night and that you were just trying to get the upper hand. But guess what, you fucking whore, you are not getting out of here until I fuck you unconscious,” he roared and you gulped, trying to think of possible escape routes. But you were in a fucking supply closet, so there was literally just the one door, and Thomas was occupying the whole space in front of it. So, you’d just have to fight your way through. You were a little rusty, but this big-bellied idiot would stand no chance.

But before you had the opportunity to execute your plan, the door behind him flew open and revealed one fo the turtlenecks (you made a mental note to actually learn their names because this was just awkward) and a very angry-looking Steve.

Thomas faltered in his movement towards you and checked who had the audacity to interrupt him. The shock and fear on his face were priceless.

Steve didn’t waste any more time as he lunged himself at the man and punched him straight in the nose, and the sickening crack you heard must have meant Steve broke it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to pity Thomas. You warned him, even though you didn’t expect Steve actually coming to your rescue. There were some advantages to being tied to him, it seemed.

The turtleneck then took Steve’s place by Thomas, probably so that he wouldn’t escape and Steve marched towards you, still looking too pissed for you to stand calmly under his searching gaze.

“Did he hurt you?” He sneered but didn’t wait for your reply as he checked your face, seeing your puffed left cheek which told him all he needed to know. The bruise already forming on your arm was both from him and from Thomas, so he didn’t comment on that, but Steve wiped the trickle of blood in the corner of your mouth before he turned around and now calmly walked towards Thomas.

“Next time that degenerated brain of yours even thinks of her, I will come and slice your throat. Am I clear?” Steve spat into Thomas’s face who just nodded, probably glad that he got out of it so easily. What he didn’t see coming (and to be honest, neither did you) was the turtleneck suddenly pulled out a big-ass knife out of somewhere and the air filled with the bone-chilling cries as he cut Thomas’ finger off as if it was the most normal thing to do before he wiped the knife on Thomas’s shirt and tucked it back in his pocket. The blood flowing from the wound was thick and almost purple, and you had to shut your eyes at the scene. But the image was already seared into your brain forever.

“Fucking rapist,” Steve said and kicked the already laying man, motioning to the turtleneck and you that you were to follow him. But your legs weren’t listening to your brain, as you were just watching Thomas writhing in pain, wailing and sobbing, and all that because he dared to touch you. An involuntary shudder shook your body, and it as only when you felt an arm around your torso, pulling you to the person’s side that you woke up. Steve didn’t say anything as he came back and wrapped his arm around you, walking you out of there, probably used to that people were dazed when they saw that much blood. And that was just a cut-off finger, how would it look if a person actually bled out there?

“Here, have a piece of chocolate, it should help you,” Steve whispered into your ear as he handed you a little piece when you finally made it to his car, and you took it without question, savouring the sweet taste on your tongue as it streamed into your system like the most delicious medicine. You took a deep breath, your brain recognising that it was a different environment and that the stench of the pub was long gone as was the blood.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you heard yourself saying meekly, but there was no reprimanding him, there was no anger in your voice and Steve heard that. He knew it was the shock of the scene talking because you weren’t one of them. You didn’t see blood on an almost daily basis as he did and you had the right to be surprised.

“I actually had to, Y/N. He touched you, he hurt you and nobody hurts what’s mine. And you are mine now or will be very soon, and I can’t have dickheads like him running around the city thinking they are invincible. You are under my protection, and the whole world has to realise that,” he tried to make you see his point, and when you nodded solemnly, he saw you understood it. You might not have been ok with it, but that was another thing, and that would take time. Steve hoped people wouldn’t be so dumb and try anything on you, but, the truth be told, inwardly he knew he would have to protect you more often than not because some people had a death wish.

“Are you up to discussing our marriage, or do you want me to drive you home?” He asked, and you looked at him for the first time since the pub scene. You shook your head and chuckled a little, not understanding where was this coming from. It was apparent that there were many layers to Steve Rogers, but his mood swings were giving you a headache already. One second he was the infamous mobster and the other he impersonated a caring boyfriend?

“I’m fine, Steve, thank you. I was just taken by surprise because I thought I would have to take him down myself, and I probably wouldn’t cut off his finger in the process, but we all do our things. I’m good for a discussion, if you are,” you gave him your best encouraging smile and Steve stared at you in disbelief for a moment before he averted his eyes towards the driver and gave him a signal that he was to take you two to Steve’s mansion.

Three hours later, you regretted your decision greatly. Steve and you had been talking the whole time, trying to reach a compromise that would be suitable for both of you considering your marriage and your wedding. You were quite surprised when Steve came up with things that were up for discussion because you really thought he would just come with a set of rules for you to follow, and that would be it. Well, the set of rules was there, but so were other things, like where you’d like to live (it was either the New York mansion which he called the apartment or some villa he had in Hamptons, apparently), what were the countries he could take you (which was actually a nice touch) and others. You didn’t give a damn about a lot of the stuff, but the countries were something that caught your attention.

“I would love to visit different places, that’s beyond doubt, but I do not wish to be taken to California, ever,” you insisted, and while Steve tried to inquire why it was that California was on your hard-no list, you wouldn’t budge. You just told him that you weren’t a fan of the hot weather and the swarm of people you heard was in LA and that it was the only place where you wouldn’t go with him, under no circumstances. After a while, he gave up and just jotted it down with a nod.

“Now, to the sex thing, do you want it on paper that I don’t want you in this way or are you good with my word?”

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you tossed your pride away again. This was a business meeting, and Steve was actually extremely honest with you, so the best you could do was to be frank with him as well.

“I’m good with your word, thank you for asking. What I’d like on paper is that you won’t trade me with information. I don’t wanna wake up one morning to be chained by some of your pistol-buddies who wanted to fuck Steve’s wife,” you raised a brow, and Steve chuckled and licked his lips, which was something that got your attention. You snapped at your brain to stop the thought flooding your brain, and a part of you considered putting licking his own lips around you on the hard-no’s list for a second.

“Alright, I will never do that, and I will put that in our contract. Now, have you decided where you want to live? And no, your own apartment isn’t an answer. I’m willing to pay the expenses so that your friends can stay there, but you are coming to live with me, either here or in Hamptons. So, which one is it?”

“Here,” you answered after a while, “I have my job here so I can’t be going back forth to Hamptons every day. Speaking of my job, will you require my presence at every meeting? I’m just asking if I even have a chance attaining my job as is, or if I should quit now because you will never let me go there again.”

“I would have let them fire you if I thought about not letting you work there anymore, now, wouldn’t I? Most of the meetings that I will need you are at night, so your work is fine. I hope your boss will give you enough vacation days because we will need those, but other than that, I think you will be fine at the gallery. Besides, I’ve assigned a personal bodyguard for you who will go everywhere with you, so you won’t have to worry about anybody attacking you,” he concluded, looking proud of himself. You, on the other hand, were bewildered.

“A personal what now? Steve, I can’t just show up at work with some huge guy in all black following me everywhere I move. I saw the looks from some of my coworkers, and they would never accept me if I had a bodyguard, c’mon,” you were desperate now because just the thought made you shudder.

“This is not negotiable, so just learn to live with it. Alright, I think that’s all from that, and we will both sign it before the wedding. Now, the wedding will be next week. I already hired planners, so that the only thing you need to care about is the wedding dress. It’s just for a show, and if it were up to me, we would just go to the city hall, but the world needs to see this wedding, so we’re doing it in the Weylin. Write down your favourite colours and flowers, the cake will be red velvet, and that’s not negotiable, but everything else you want, you write down, and the planners will do it. Also, write down all the guests you’d like to invite, family and all that, so we know how many guests we’re having,” Steve rambled on, but your mind wandered towards your family.

None of them would be attending the wedding, and your heart gave a painful tug at the thought. You had always wanted your dad to walk you down the aisle, and he was so excited to do so, but now that wasn’t possible. And your beautiful mother… The memories made your eyes water, but you blinked the tears away quickly enough so that Steve wouldn’t see them. But he was used to reading people, so he saw your reaction to him mentioning a family very clearly, he just decided against commenting on it. Yet.

“Alright, I’ll send you all the lists by Saturday, if that’s good enough, and I’m actually good with red velvet. It would be a problem if you said some cakes with loads of nuts because I’m extremely allergic to a majority of those, you should know about that, but red velvet is fine enough,” you nodded, and Steve did as well, glad he didn’t have to fight you on that one. Not that it would be a fruitful fight since the red velvet was his favourite type of cake on Earth.

“I want you to move in before the wedding, I’ll have a room set up for you tomorrow, and you can bring whatever you want from your home. You will have access to my credit card, but I’m warning you, excessive spending will not be tolerated, alright?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but bowed your head in mocked understanding. Steve had obviously spent his life with women only caring about the sum on his credit card, while you couldn’t care less. The card would be good for the wedding dress, but that was about it. You realised a long time ago that the fashion industry was one of the most dangerous ones for the environment, and while you still shopped from time to time, you tried to reduce it to a minimum. And if you did shop, you loved local stores and fair-trade manufacturers, who vowed to keep the well-being of the planet their number one priority.

“I’ll take it that you understood it. Fine, so, you’ll move in tomorrow, I think my people can manage it till that. So, they’ll pick you up, let’s say, around 8 PM? That enough time?”

You blinked and took the information in. He wanted you to move in tomorrow. Not in a week so you’d have time to actually pack and say goodbye to your friends, even if you still planned on meeting them every other day or so. You wanted a goodbye sleepover where you’d just laugh and drink and hope that the year would be a good one. Or, at least, not a disastrous one.

“That’s definitely not enough time, Steve. Can’t it wait till next week? I need to say goodbye to my friends, and it’s already late, so we can’t do it tonight and just… Give me at least till Saturday evening, Steve, please,” you tried to bargain, and while you saw he wasn’t the greatest of fans, he agreed eventually. That ended your discussion, and you were soon driven away from the house you would soon call yours.

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smcc212 · 4 years ago

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Pairings- Arthur Shelby x male reader(platonic), Polly Grey x male reader(platonic), a little bit of Isiah Jesus x male reader

Word count- 1,969

Warnings- Period-typical homophobia, internalised homophobia, underage drinking(is that a warning??), swearing. I think that’s it, let me know if I’m wrong.

A/N- Soooo Instead of writing things people have requested I’ve written this, I might write a part two(if people want one). Anyway! Enjoy some accepting Arthur Shelby, lads!!

I started working for the peaky blinders a few months ago, they never made me do anything dangerous, they always said I was too young. I went to them after getting kicked out by my parents. My father had caught you kissing another boy, dragged me home and told my mother. They disowned me immediately. With tears streaming down my face, I went to the peaky blinders in hopes of finding a job. Taking pity on me, they let me work in the betting shop. I’d be forever grateful.

I never told them that I was homeless. They didn’t need to worry about me, they’d helped me enough, in my books. They knew my parents disowned me, but that was all they knew. They thought I was staying with an uncle. Until...

After a long day of work, the Shelby’s invited me to the Garrison with them. They allowed me to have a few glasses of whiskey. However, while no one was looking I stole a bottle of whiskey, placing it in a hiding spot. After I’d finished the whiskey they said I was allowed, i was stuck drinking water, but I really didn’t mind.

I left about fifteen minutes before shutting time. I went into the alleyway next to the Garrison and started to drink the stolen whiskey. At some point tears started cascading down my cheeks. I couldn’t help the thoughts that plagued my mind. How much easier life would be if I liked women. How I wished my family never found out that I don’t. Thoughts of ending it all, however, were the loudest.

I was so caught up in my head and thoughts that I never noticed Arthur Shelby sitting next to me. I was close with Arthur. He’d taught me how to fight, he’d talk and joke around with me, and he was always there if I needed to talk to him. I knew that I couldn’t go to him with the thoughts I were having though, or...at least sober me did.

“Why’re you crying, lad?” He asked, voice surprising soft. He was also surprisingly sober. “Eh? Come on, you talk to me.”

“I’m not normal, Art,” I mumbled, loud sobs escaping me, shaking my body. Arthur rubbed my back soothingly.

“Whatcha mean by ‘at, eh?”

“I don’t like women,” I cried, too drunk, too overwhelmed to remember to lie. “I like men.”

“And? I asked how you’re not normal.” I looked up at Arthur, shocked by the fact he didn’t start beating me.

“That’s what wrong...” I trailed off, staring at him in disbelief.

“Why’s that’s wrong? You like a bit of cock? So what? Doesn’t matter to me, does it?” I couldn’t respond, too taken aback by his words. A couple minutes passed before Arthur realised I wasn’t going to say anything. “Where’d you stay? I’ll walk you home.”

“No, it’s fine,” I quickly said.

“You’re far too drunk to walk home, let me help you, kid.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Where’d you stay?”

“Leave it.”

“No. Where?”

“Wherever I fall asleep,” I murmured sadly.

“What does that mean?” Arthur’s voice was thick with concern.

“I don’t have a home...” My tears, that had started to slow down, sped up again.

“Right then.” Arthur stood up, dragging me up with him.

“What’re you doing, Art?”

“If you don’t have a home, then you’ll stay with me until you do,” He said like it wasn’t it a big deal. How could he not see how big this was?!

“Th-thank you, Arthur.”

“It’s fine.”

The next day, I woke up to the smell of coffee.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine,” Arthur said from his seat at the table. I smiled at him before I remembered what I’d told him last night. I jolted up, staring at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Arthur, please, please don’t tell Tommy,” I begged. “I need that job! Shit, please don’t go to police! Please-“

“(Y/N), calm down, lad. ‘m not gonna tell anyone, alright?” He cut me off, speaking slowly to make sure I understood.

“Thank you, Arthur, thank you. I-I’ll get out of your hair, thank you, Arthur.” I stood up and started to make my towards the door, but Arthur’s hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me. I froze. This was it, he was gonna beat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” He said. I froze, tears burning my eyes as I tried to accept my fate. “For fuck sake, (Y/N), I’m not gonna hurt you. I don’t care if you like men, doesn’t effect me, does it? But for the love god, you’re not leaving, you don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered, turning around to face him. “You’re not... disgusted?”

“Disgusted?” Arthur let out a chuckle. “No, I’m not disgusted that you like something I don’t.”

“O-okay.”

“You’re gonna stay with me, yeah? Just until your old enough to get your own place, okay?”

“Okay,” I breathed out, still not fully believing that he was so excepting.

“Great! Now drink your coffee, have a shower and then we’ll go to the shop.” I nodded. “I’ll get you some new clothes today while you’re working,” He said as I sat down.

“It’s fine, Arthur, you’re already doing so much for me. Thank you.”

“First of all, stop thanking me. And secondly, you need some new clothes, kid. Don’t fight me on this,” He concluded, voice firm.

“Okay, Arthur. Tha-“ I cut myself off.

“Good.”

Work was the same as it always was, except, after Arthur talked to Polly, she was looking over at me the full day. Something in eyes...pity? Either that or something akin to it.

“Tommy! I’m gonna take my break!” I shouted.

“Aright, lad!” He shouted back, I stood up, put my cap on and started to head for the door. I was gonna go to the boxing and see Isiah. I fancied the Jesus boy too much, even though I knew he liked women. He was just amazing. Polly however had other plans and she stopped me, asking if we could talk.

“(Y/N), Arthur told me,” She said once we were alone. My eyes widened, I subconsciously took a step back. “Calm down. He told because he knows I don’t care, everything to do with my family’s illegal.” She laughed at the end of her sentence. I smiled softly at her.

“Okay, why are you talking to me then?” I asked, confused by the turn of events.

“I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m here. Also, if anyone says or does anything to you because of it, tell me, or Arthur, and we’ll sort it out, okay?”

“Okay, thank you, Polly.” I smiled widely at her.

“You’re welcome. Now fuck off,” She joked.

“Yes, mam.” I jokingly saluted before heading off, her laugh following me down the hall.

I stood ring-side watching Isiah box Finn, well... really I was looking at Isiah’s body, his arms-

“(Y/N), you alright there, mate?” Isiah laughed. I’d been so caught up in my own head I hadn’t realised the ‘fight’ had ended.

“Y-yeah, sorry, bit out of it today,” I laughed, hoping he hadn’t realised I was staring at him.

“It’s fine, mate, come on. I need to get changed.” I followed behind him. Once Isiah was dressed, we left, and once we were alone he turned to me. “Like what you see?” His voice sounded smug.

“Wh-what?”

“I saw you staring at me, when I was in the ring, did you like what you saw?” He chuckled, cockiness oozing off him.

“I-I-I.” I didn’t know what to do or say. The honest was yes, obviously I did, he’s gorgeous. The safe answer, however, was no. Fuck, what do I say?! Fuck, I need to say something! Anything!

“I’ve seen you fighting before,” Isiah began, moving ever so slightly closer to me. “I liked what I saw.” My thoughts were racing. Did he actually like what he saw, or was he trying to figure out if I liked men? Did he like men? Did he like me? Or was he going to beat me for liking men? Fuck! Why can’t I just like women! “So, did you like what you saw?” Fuck it, you only live once, right?

“Yes,” I breathed out. He smirked at me, moving closer, backing me up against the wall of the empty alleyway. Fuck! Why did I say yes?! This is it. This is how I die. I closed my eyes, trying to be ready for his first punch... but it never came.

“Good.” I felt his breath against my face. “One day, I’ll let you see all of me. Unfortunately, we can’t do that in an alleyway, love,” He sighed. I slowly opened my eyes, his staring into mine. He placed his hand on my cheek, brushing his thumb across it. “One day, I promise you, pretty boy.” He looked around, making sure no one saw before placing his lips on mine. “See you later, pretty boy.”

“Bye,” I murmured quietly as he walked away. I smiled to myself as I walked back to work.

The rest of the day went by pretty easily after that. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Isiah said. He liked me, right? Or did he only like my body? Who cares?! Isiah Jesus, the preachers son, wanted to, at least, fuck me.

“(Y/N)!” I heard Arthur’s booming voice, tearing me from my thoughts. “Come on, we’re going home!” I nodded, grabbed my cap and followed him to his home.

Once we got in, Arthur made me a coffee and poured himself some whiskey.

“So... What did you get up to today?” Arthur asked, smilingly knowingly.

“Nothing much. Same as usual, why?” I stared intensely at the coffee in my hands. It’s one thing to say that you’re okay with a man liking other men, it’s another to actually be okay with it.

“It’s just... You went to the boxing, yeah?” I nodded. “And Isiah was there?” I nodded again, slower this time. “Right. Then the two of you came back to the office with this...this glow about you.”

“Glow?” At this point I was starting to question Arthur’s sanity.

“Yeah. Not literally glowing, obvious, both of you just seemed the have something on your mind.” That smile. That smile on his face, it was genuine. Almost like he was truly happy for me.

“Well, it was a good day,” Was all I said back, because, well what else could I say?

“I’m sure,” He chuckled. “Anyway, while you were off having your ‘good day’, I sorted out your bedroom.”

“My bedroom?” My eyes widened as I realised he was serious about me living here.

“Yeah, s’only small, but it should do for now. Tommy’s coming into some money so we’ll probably be moving,” He shrugged. A smile spread over my face.

“I know you said to stop, but thank you, Arthur!” I beamed, and, without thinking, leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Arthur. He seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he hugged me back.

“You’re welcome, (Y/N). You’re clothes are in your wardrobe. I’ll be honest, I got Ada to help me with the sizes. I’ll get some dinner on while you wash up, yeah?” He said, pulling back.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you!” I shouted back as I ran upstairs.

After showering and changing into some clean clothes- not a full suit, just an undershirt and some trousers- I went downstairs to eat dinner with Arthur. It may not have been the best food in the world, but I loved it. It was a full meal and I hadn’t had that in a while. Then both Arthur and I went to bed. Tomorrow was the start of the rest of my life, a good life; a normal life.

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@the-makingsofgreatness

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liahswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Lovesick Six and a Murderous Robot Boyfriend

Relationship(s): Revenant/original female character, Wraith/original female character, Mirage/original female character, Bloodhound/original female character, Octane/original female character, Crypto/original female character, Loba/original female character

Words: 8,411

Warnings: None

Summary: The new girl is very pretty and she's got most of the men (and some of the women) pining for her. Problem is, she's got her eyes set on a certain simulacrum.

Pretty girls can fight. Pretty girls can be tough. Pretty girls can be scary and threatening. Just because Gia was pretty didn't mean she didn't belong in the Games. I mean, Loba was almost perfect in every physical way and yet she knew her way around a pistol. Che had a cute face and yet her teams almost always were Champion. And of course Elliott was downright the most handsome man in the Games and yet he could wipe a team if need be. Being attractive didn't mean you were weak. In fact, Gia being attractive gave her an advantage to the game. After all, how could a pretty girl like her be any trouble? You think you're safe because look how cute she is, what is she gonna do to you? And then all of a sudden you're eating dirt because she shoved a wingman up your ass and annihilated you.

Gia's origins are unknown to the rest of the Legends. She showed up one day unexpectedly and won Champion that same afternoon. Her kit and abilities brought a whole new playstyle to the Games: a playstyle that both terrified and intrigued the others. Her enhanced vision gave her every input she needed to weaken your team's defenses. She knew exactly whose health was hanging on by a thread, giving her the ultimate advantage to breaking your team apart and dwindling your numbers until you were way beyond outmatched. The Legends assumed she had some sort of black market enhancement done to her eyes given the fact that they were far from being normal. How she managed to slip through the Apex recruitment with her fiercely white irises was beyond everyone. I mean, come on! The girl's eyes were as white as snow all around! The only color to them was a very faint, needle-thin black line separating her sclera from her iris. Everything else was pure white. Even her pupil. Crypto was already walking on thin ice with his illegal body enhancements. The only reason no one actually paid much attention to it was simply because his modifications didn't directly impact his abilities in the arena. But Gia was a whole other story.

Typically, the Legends expect Silva to dive head first into a fire fight with his stim. Or perhaps they'll see Crypto's drone following them around. And on occasion a team will back out of a fight to heal up and end up running into another team holding a choke point with Wattson's electric fences. All of this was expected. And then Gia came along and now every Legend that wasn't on her team was afraid of her tactical EMP that disabled all enemy primary weapons. You could pin her team down and you think you're gonna win, and then all of a sudden your Devotion stops all functionality and now you have to rely on your Alternator with 20 shots left in the chamber.

As if that wasn't enough of a fright, instead of Makoa's air strike landing on your head or Bloodhound storming up behind you faster than humanly possible, Gia's big trick messed with your mind and your vision. In the blink of an eye, you are no longer able to discern who is teammate and who is enemy. And it's not as simple to just say "Wraith is not on my team. I need to shoot her" because the enemy Wraith you're staring down through a 4x-8x will suddenly appear as your friendly Pathfinder and your friendly Pathfinder will suddenly appear as the enemy Wraith. It was more likely to die via friendly fire than enemy fire when Gia's ultimate activated.

The only reprieve the other Legends got was finding out that she was insanely friendly. Thank god too because no one needed another Dr. Nox or another Revenant on their team. Gia was friendly with everyone she interacted with. Despite her scary demeanor, she got along rather excellently with the other Legends. And that's when most of the trouble started.

It all started off as friendly taunts. Elliott took the first step and made a move on her immediately. After all, she's beautiful, he's beautiful, it only made sense for the two of them to date. They could be the ultimate power couple. Their two beautiful faces displayed up high on the Champion banners. It was a dream. But she politely shut him down. Still, he tried again. And she laughed and played along. "My my, Mr. Witt. Aren't you the massive charmer!" This caught the attention of the daredevil himself and he attempted to get under Elliott's skin by literally sliding by them in the arena and dropping the biggest pickup line she's ever heard. "Aye, amiga. Thanks for brightening up the place with your beautiful face." and then he put a couple bullets in Witt's stomach. Silva's team went down immediately for that stunt and Elliott was able to be picked back up, but his idea worked. Elliott was obviously mad at the green-haired adrenaline junkie after the game for trying to steal "his girl" but it was all in good fun when she turned him down too. Bloodhound soon was seen at her side more often than not. He found her skills fascinating and her air of mystery perfectly matched his own. They had sort of an unspoken bond between them, connected solely on the fact that both of their lives were an enigma. Everyone asked her about herself but she never opened up. When it was just her and Bloodhound, neither one even dared to ask the other about their past. It was comforting being able to sit with someone and not have to worry about prying curiosities. Bloodhound attempted to flirt; there was lots of hand touches and close sitting. Yet she turned him down too.

After that it became an unofficial competition between the three of them to see who could win her over, which lead to a lot of showing off and friendly banter. Elliott would throw pickup line after pickup line at her. Silva did crazy stunts to impress her. Bloodhound brought her tea every morning. And yet nothing ever came of it. Gia would play along every now and again but at the end of the day she made it clear she was just playing. Still didn't stop the men from trying.

And then Loba joined the crowd. And boy oh boy was that a surprise. The chick was into chicks! "Did you clowns ever stop and think that maybe you don't have the right parts she's looking for?" Loba taunted them. But she was right, of course. None of the men asked Gia if she was even straight. But it was still all laughs and good times regardless if she ever found an interest in them. Loba had other ideas in mind. She was thoroughly convinced that Gia was full on gay, looking to get it on with another girl. And Loba believed she was just the girl to get her rocks off. Loba was much more blunt than the men ever were in their affection. That night while all the Legends were winding down with some drinks and enjoying the royalties they made from the recent Game, Loba approached Gia and asked her if she would like to join the seductive thief in a private area away from the loud crowd. When she agreed, the three men that had been pining for her started to believe Loba was right all along. Loba and Gia were gonna do it! Loba was gonna fuck the new girl before they were! As much as Elliott enjoyed the thoughts that put into his mind (and trust me, he enjoyed them a lot), he was upset that all of his attempts had been for naught.

Loba and Gia had disappeared for hours and the three men all huddle together in somber at their ultimate defeat. Elliott poured several rounds of drinks for them in solidarity and they cheered a farewell to their playful challenge. It was Gia 's friendly "What's wrong, boys?" that gathered their attention mid-mope. Silva was just about to tell her of their shallow depression when he spotted Loba stiffly walking up to the bar for another drink with a pout on her face. The thief looked just as pristine as when she and Gia disappeared. Not a single wrinkle in her clothes nor a thread of hair out of place in its braids. So she was wrong!

"Nada, bonita. We're all good here!" he happily told her and shot back what was left of his current drink. "Right, guys?" he nudged them with a big 'ole grin on his face. Neither of them picked up on his hints but they agreed with him anyway. She didn't buy it for one second and got another round for them to put a smile on their faces. A single, friendly peck to each of their cheeks is what really solidified their grins and she walked off, happy to have made them smile. When Loba approached them after Gia walked away, Silva was quick to ask the slumping woman what went on behind closed doors.

"I was wrong." she admitted pitifully. "She turned me down too."

"So the competition is back on?" Elliott questioned and all four of them agreed. And thus their antics continued: Elliott flirted, Silva showed off, Bloodhound gifted things, and Loba seduced. None of it worked in the slightest. But Gia would laugh it off and let her touches linger just that fraction of a second longer that made them all question their sanity. If they were teamed up with her, they'd give her the items she requested. If she was hungry, they got her food. If she was feeling unwell, they took care of her until she was better.

"Like lost puppies." Anita commented to the four of them as she watched them all practically drool at the sight of Gia on the complete opposite end of the room. She seemed unaware of their presence but they knew she knew they were there. She sat with Makoa and Pathfinder, all three of them happily chatting with each other without a care in the world. Makoa's big belly laughs rang in everyone's ears.

"She's totally into me, I can tell." Elliott stated matter-of-factly.

"As if." Loba retorted.

"Did'cha ever think that maybe she got someone already?" Che asked with a smirk. "Some of us got loved ones back home."

"I doubt it, amiga. She would've told us if she did." said Silva.

"Maybe she didn't want to tell you. Seems like she doesn't tell anyone anything about herself. For all you know, she could have a husband, or wife, and several kids back on her home planet." Anita commented. The latter part of her sentence fell on deaf ears as the four love-sick Legends stared in Gia's direction when she laughed at something either Pathfinder or Makoa said. Her laugh was like music to their ears. Anita rolled her eyes towards Che and the other simply shook her head.

"Look at her! She's absolutely gor-gor-gorg... pretty! We're totally comp-compat... made for each other!"

"If we're going off looks alone, surely there are better suitors than you." Loba told Elliott with a smirk.

"Hey now, that's quite rude!"

"Gia is a strong fighter. Our skills are equally matched. Perhaps she's not looking for a superficial partner at all."

"All of you are a hack." Crypto's voice surprised everyone. He stood just off to the side, watching them with a bored expression on his face. Hands in his pockets, as is his usual stance, he eyed all four of them down.

"Come on! Don't try and tell us you don't think she's muy caliente."

"She is very beautiful," Crypto agreed. "and you are very desperate."

"So you are not in any way attracted to her." Loba stated rather than asked. She leaned forward, chin on her knuckles, and pressed him.

"I never said that."

"So you think about her."

"I never said that either."

"Say what you want, but until she tells me to back off I'm not going anywhere."

"And neither am I!" Elliott responded rather quickly -and defensively.

"That makes three of us." said Silva.

"Four."

"Fine. Make it five."

"I can't believe this." Che grumbled.

Gia found Crypto unexpectedly by her side more and more. He was rather reserved and his attempts at flirting were down right embarrassing. She tried not to show pity for him. The poor guy probably hadn't ever touched a boob before. She assumed him like Elliot, Silva, Bloodhound, and Loba and went along with whatever he said. She never asked much from Crypto and he was thankful for that. He had no idea how to woo her. He knew absolutely nothing about her, but who was he to ask her about her past if he wasn't willing to exchange an equal value? She was pretty and she was talented, so he tried to play to those strengths. He complimented her when she dolled up and he praised her when her team won Champion. Very rarely was he ever paired up with her so he often admired her through his scopes. He assumed to himself that he could impress her if he won Champion, so he tried his best to wipe the floor with any enemy teams he came across. More often than not, her team would demolish his so he would side step her if he spotted her. However, whenever Caustic or Revenant were on his team, there was no room for niceties and they went in with guns blazing whether he liked it or not. Caustic would throw his gas traps at them, or Revenant would silence them, and then suddenly both teams were at war with each other.

Just last week, Revenant went charging in at Gia, Bloodhound, and Wattson. He silenced their abilities, giving Revenant an easy target on the blonde girl before she could even defend their position with her electric fences. Wattson went down like a sack of bricks. And then Wraith went charging in on Bloodhound. She managed to break the hunter's shields before Gia came to her teammate's rescue and knocked the voidwalker to the ground with a few well-placed 301 shots. Crypto attempted to help his team by going in with his drone and EMP-ing the two enemies still standing. With their abilities still silenced, Gia was unable to fight back at the same caliber and Revenant took his EVA and pulled the trigger three times in Gia's chest. She collapsed to the ground with her knockdown shield aimed directly at the robot.

"Nothing personal, girlie." he chuckled as he tried to show off and finish her. He got interrupted when Bloodhound came around the corner and shot his hopped-up Wingman into the simulacrum's skull. Revenant went down as well. That left Crypto versus Bloodhound. Crypto was still fully shielded as opposed to Bloodhound. However, Crypto was armed with a 45 while his opponent had a Wingman with a skull-piercer on it. Even if Crypto landed all of his shots, it would only take three from the hunter to fully knock him. And he did indeed get knocked. His gold knockdown shield was the only thing that kept his team from being spawned out of the arena and back onto the dropship. Bloodhound knows Crypto's entire team was down so he was not at all worried about being shot in the back as he picked up both Gia and Wattson. Gia didn't waste any time healing and instead finished off Revenant with a big fucking smile on her beautiful lips.

"It's not personal, Rev." she echoed back at him and followed it up with a knee thrusted into the simulacrum's throat and then a low roundhouse kick to the side of his skull. Revenant disappeared, his banner taking his place. Meanwhile, Bloodhound turned to Crypto and attempted to finish him off as well. The last thing Crypto saw was the hunter's battle axe being thrown at his head. And then he and Wraith were standing next to Revenant on the dropship while the on-ship medics came to tend to their wounds. Crypto ignored them, instead turning all of his focus towards the displays following the remaining teams in the arena. One monitor focused on the general rotation of the arena. Another showcased the team that killed his. Crypto's eyes followed Gia's face on the display. She was quick to heal up and then lead her team towards the ring.

The rest of the game was long-lived. Many teams put up a good fight with each other. Ultimately, the best team had to win and that team was of Lifeline, Octane, and Gibralter. Gia's team came second. As skilled as she was, going against Lifeline was a difficult feat. Especially when Gibralter's shield dome gave the team ample cover for a quick pick-up. Not to mention the fact that Silva was nearly resistant to pain and was able to recover without the use of meds once he was picked up. A good heal will almost always out fight heavy damage. Once all the teams made it back onto the ship, Crypto approached Gia. "Good fight." he simply said. She smiled at him and returned the sentiment with a peck to his cheek. Crypto felt his face grow hot and he heard a snicker beside him. He found Loba, Bloodhound, Silva, and Elliott watching him with dopey smiles. Loba crossed her arms and eyed him in a way that meant she told him so. He ignored them in favor of getting patched up the rest of the way by the ship medics.

"You may have won this time, little girl, but I'd watch my back if I were you." Revenant threatened Gia at the other end of the ship. He bent down to her level and stared right into her eyes. But she didn't shy away from the simulacrum's threatening advances.

"The only thing I'll be watching is a replay of me finishing you." she shot at him. He simply returned her remark with a deep, throaty sound and then he stalked off.

That night, Elliott threw a small after-party at his place. There were drinks aplenty, more food to go around than anyone could think of, and of course the Champion squad. All complete with Silva begging to do some party tricks and doing them anyway regardless of how Elliott responded. Not as if Elliott would say no to his friend anyway. Everyone came out to the party. Even Dr. Nox and Revenant who hardly ever show their faces when not in the arena. Still, they kept to themselves and only participated when coaxed. Well, at least Dr. Nox did. Revenant just stalked everyone as per usual.

Gia tried to make rounds with everyone but it was becoming difficult with five of the Legends begging for her attention. Silva wanted her to watch him light himself on fire. Which he did and she watched on like she promised. "One of these days you're gonna get yourself killed, love." she said to him as she patted down the last of the flames burning away at his shorts.

"As if Death could catch me, chica bonita."

"Promise me you'll live to see tomorrow so we can get lunch."

"Absolutamente!" he grinned from ear to ear and then she walked off to sit and talk with Anita and Che. "She wants me." he said to Elliot. The latter simply rolled his eyes.

"She only said that because she doesn't want to watch you kill yourself tonight."

"She so wants me."

Gia chatted with the two women. Gia congratulated Che on her win today and the medic praised her back with a statement of her skill. "A couple close calls." the woman had said and Gia nodded in agreement.

"A toast to our Champion!" Anita held her glass in the air and the other two women clinked theirs together and took a large gulp of their drinks.

"Let's hang out this week. Go do something fun. My treat, of course as a present for our lovely Champion here." Gia offered the two women.

"I'm in the mood for a nice massage!" chirped said Champion. "It hurts having to carry 'round these children all the time." This made the other two laugh heartedly.

"I swear, some of these kids want to get hurt." commented Anita.

"Sounds an awful lot like those five over there." Gia pointed to the group huddled together and watching her.

"They just tryna impress ya. Problem is they don't know when to quit it."

"I think it's cute."

"Do ya like any of them?" Che asked and Gia sat back and thought about it for a second.

"They're certainly cute. And it's funny watching them flirt. But it's all just fun and games."

"You seeing anybody? They won't stop unless you tell them you're taken." said Anita matter-of-factly. She took another gulp of her drink.

"They don't need to stop. It's nothing serious. No one's getting hurt and I've already told them no so it's not like I'm leading them on. Let them dream a little."

"As long as ya okay with it."

"I am." she responded. "I'm also hungry. Be right back." she told the women and got up to grab some food that was piled up on a table. There was so much food here but she wouldn't be surprised if it all got eaten anyway. There were some hungry Legends here and -she's not going to name names- some of them can absolutely pack it away. Silva didn't count, however, because his metabolism was way faster than normal so it's never a surprise to see the green-haired junkie go up for fourths or even fifths. Gia grabbed a plate and filled it with foods that appealed to her. Nothing fancy but just interesting enough to get doubles of. As she was making her way back to Che and Anita, she spotted Wraith sitting alone and moping. Gia detoured over there and took a seat opposite of the woman.

"You doing okay?" she asked, making Wraith look up at her and force a smile.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure? I didn't hit you too hard out there today, did I?" Gia attempted to lighten to mood. It worked to a degree; Wraith cracked a more genuine smile and gave a short chuckle.

"You got some good shots on me but that was pure luck." she said. "Good game today, by the way."

"You too. Do you wanna talk about what's bothering you? I'm all ears."

"Thanks but I'll be fine. It's nothing serious."

"Come find me if you ever need a shoulder." Gia offered the woman and was gifted a nod with a bigger smile in response. Gia placed a gentle hand against Wraith's cheek. "Smile for me some more. You've got a beautiful smile." she said and then got up and walked away.

"You don't think Wraith's into Gia too, do you?" Elliott asked the group as they all watched the exchange happen between said women. His eyes followed Gia for a moment as she walked away and then focused on the other. Even though Wraith looked away from the room, he could see her blushing furiously. And she tentatively placed a hand against the same cheek Gia did. Oh, she definitely had it bad for her.

"I wouldn't be surprised. I've caught her staring at my ass on more than one occasion." Loba snorted.

"Gia and Wraith aren't seeing each other already, are they?" Crypto asked everyone as if they had any more answers on her love life than he did. As predicted, everyone else shrugged or didn't answer at all. Elliott went back to watching Wraith's behavior. Everything that just happened in the last 10 seconds told him that Wraith hadn't expected Gia to show her that type of affection. If she's blushing that bad from a single touch, then that means Wraith is crushing real hard. She didn't act like that was a normal occurrence between the two of them. As if she could read Elliot's mind, Wraith turned her attention to the group of five that had been watching her. Elliott waved his hand over to her, silently telling her to join them. Wraith did a double take, making sure he was in fact motioning to her and when she realized he was, she made her way over to them.

"Aye, you into Gia?" Silva got right to the point and put Wraith on the spot. She sputtered.

"What? No. What makes you think that?"

"You do not have to lie." Bloodhound calmed her. "She is the reason we're all here." he motioned to the group.

"She's just a friend!" Wraith was quick to defend. "I mean she's pretty and all but nothing would ever be between us."

"So you admit you're into her." Loba accused and Wraith went silent. She blushed again.

"I mean, she's nice. And pretty. And she smells good. But so what."

"Listen, no one's poking fun at you. We all like her." Elliott came to her rescue.

"Yeah and we've got a competition going to see who she likes more!" said Silva.

"Why?"

"Because it's fun! And because we can hit on her without pressuring her to return the favor."

"So she knows you've all placed bets on her?" Wraith assumed questionably making the others stiffen and look to each other.

"Well." Crypto started. "She doesn't know about the competition but she knows we all are attracted to her."

"Isn't that kind of, I don't know, scummy?"

"We're not placing actual bets on her." Loba defended.

"Yeah it's just all bragging rights at the end of the day if one of us wins her over." said Elliott casually.

"Aye, you can get in on this if you want, chica, but we're all just having fun."

Wraith hesitated for a moment to think it over. This was scummy, right? Holding Gia as a prize? Surely she wouldn't appreciate it. But then Wraith looked over to Gia sitting with Che and Anita and noticed how beautiful she looked when she had her hair down. Wraith quickly touched her cheek again.

"What are the rules to this... competition?"

"None really. Try to woo her and, if you do, congrats. You won." said Elliot.

"So, are you in or are you out?" Crypto questioned.

"I'm in."

To say Gia was leading the pack was a bit of an understatement. Everywhere she went, her little lovesick posse was not too far behind. And it seemed to be growing by the day. Given that there were now six of them, it was more likely she was paired up with at least one of them during the Games. And when they were paired up together, it was very obvious they were trying to impress her. If she was ever downed, Wraith would stop whatever she's doing to portal her to safety even if she herself wasn't in a safe position. If she was out of ammo, Elliott dropped several stacks of whatever she needed even if he needed it himself. If she gave an order, Silva would absolutely follow it even if he had already jump padded a mile away. If she wanted the Peacekeeper, Loba would steal it for her. If Crypto found a high-level shield, he'd let her have it. If the team got split, Bloodhound would always follow her in case she ran into another team. And if their third got pinned, well Bloodhound wasn't leaving Gia's side.

Everyone else was starting to notice it more and more and they'd approach her about it. "It doesn't bother me." she'd say. And maybe it truly doesn't. Maybe she likes the constant attention she gets from the lovesick six. It certainly didn't hinder her performance in the arena. However it was becoming a bit annoying not being able to spend much time with anyone else without the group being a hare's breath away. But still she played along, laughed at their jokes, swooned over their flirtatious remarks, cheered them on as they showed off.

The Games continued nonetheless and even more Legends showed up; first there was weapons-expert Ramya Parekh, and then there was scientist Mary Somers, and with Dr. Somers came a new arena. Both of whom were very quick to pick up on the weird dynamic between Gia and six of the other Legends. "They're quite infatuated with you, darling." Dr. Somers had commented on day one of her being there. "Eh, they're all a bit weird." Ramya said nonchalantly.

Also Revenant and Elliott got to take over the games for awhile -again. Everyone hated when Revenant got control of the Games and this time around he's decided to switch it up a little bit. Elliott, on the other hand, took the opportunity to impress Gia. "Look at me! I'm so good they wanted to bring me back! The fans love me!" he said. His pride was short lived because the Apex hosts gave the fans quite the show when new events dropped and Elliott, Silva, Wraith, Bloodhound, and Loba all got makeovers -among other Legends, Gia included. All of them took their new looks on stage in an attempt to make Gia swoon. And as good as they all looked, Gia barely had the time of day to compliment them because Apex was whisking her away left and right to show off her new look. The fans loved her and demanded her attention. There was even a huge party for all of the Legends and multiple press corporations to advertise the new events. It was all just so overwhelming. Gia hated being center stage and the constant swarms of people drained her energy rather quickly. Her only reprieve was when one of her six admirers took all of the attention away from her as they did some sort of stunt to make her smile. It was mostly Silva donning his Octane ego that got the press's attention because who doesn't love to watch a daredevil jump out of the window? Nevertheless, she appreciated the breath of fresh air when the cameras weren't on her. She took the opportunity to hide away near the buffet table.

"Ya doing alright?" Che had asked from beside her, grabbing food for herself.

"I'm fine. Just need a break from all of this."

"Still not used to being a fan favorite, are ya?"

"I'm surprised I'm a favorite at all, to be honest. I know a lot of people like to go for the shiny, new toy but I'm no longer shiny or new. Ramya and Dr. Somers should be getting all of the attention."

"Are ya kidding me? Ya one of the best there is! Ya win more games than ya lose. Of course ya a favorite!" Che attempted to cheer her up.

"You win a lot of games too, but it seems like everyone wants to surround me."

"Well, I have been here longer than ya have. Give it time and they'll move on. They like ya because ya don't tell them anything. It keeps them interested."

"I'm sure you're right. But for now I just need a breather. I'll catch you later, Che." Gia bid farewell and walked off into the shadows, away from prying eyes and camera flashes. The combat medic made her way back to the center of the press where Elliott and Silva were waiting to talk to her with concerned looks in their eyes.

"Is Gia alright?" Elliott questioned her, making a move to go follow the object of his desires. Che put a hand against his chest to stop him.

"She don't wanna be bothered right now. She wants to be alone. So leave her alone."

"Is she hurt or something?" Silva asked worriedly.

"Nah, she just needs some fresh air. But she made it very clear she didn't want anyone to accompany her. So make sure ya tell the others to leave her be tonight."

"Can you at least tell us where's she's going in case she need someone."

"If she wants ya, she'll let ya know." was Che's response and then she walked away, hoping those idiots wouldn't bother Gia. She had to give the dopey idiots some credit though because all six of them never left the party. Despite their infatuation with the white-eyed Legend, they respected her privacy and gave her space when she asked for it. The press took notice of Gia's absence and tried to dig into everyone else for her whereabouts but no one relented and the press was forced to focus on the remaining Legends at the party.

Once the whole shebang was over and the press had made their leave, the six were becoming slightly worried at Gia's continued AWOL. She hadn't talked to anyone since she told Che she was leaving. No messages or calls. Nothing. Surely she was fine, though. Gia could absolutely hold her own if god forbid something were to happen, so the Legends weren't worried about finding her all beaten up on the Docks. But they were worried that something was still wrong and didn't feel comfortable letting her be alone for this long. It's been hours since anyone has seen her.

"I'm gonna go look for her." Elliott finally said. He was obviously agitated in his boots. The others weren't looking so hot either and they all agreed to split up and look for her. Problem was, there were far too many places she could possibly be and she hadn't answered anyone's messages so there wasn't even a general location they could pinpoint her at. They all checked her place in the compound housing the Legends, they checked all over Olympus, they checked Malta. They checked everywhere they could think of, but there was no sign of her and now they were well into the wee hours of the morning. Everyone was seriously starting to worry.

There was one final place Elliott could think of where she might possibly be, so he ran there as fast as he could to check. If she wasn't there, then he was starting to think he'd need to put a missing person's report on her. Surely Apex would find her quickly; they can't let one of their best fighters disappear. Especially not after a night of reporters fawning over her. Elliott charged towards the dropship housed at the very edge of Olympus. Getting through the security was rather easy, simply because the security had been disabled which was a relatively good sign in Elliott's eyes. She had to be here. None of the Apex crew were working at this time, as far as he was concerned. He let himself aboard the aircraft and he nearly collapsed onto the floor when he did.

Holy fucking shit, Gia was here. And she was with Revenant. And she was very clearly naked! Both of them were asleep -or, well, she was asleep and he was shut down, Elliott guessed. Did the robot sleep at all? They were laying all cuddled up to each other on one of the many plush seating areas with a blanket wrapped loosely around them. Gia's entire upper half was exposed to the warm air of the ship, but her dignity was covered just enough by the fact that she had her chest pressed up against Revenant's. The simulacrum kept a metal arm laying over her as they both slept, almost as if he was protecting her. She stirred lightly in her sleep and he responded by pulling her closer. Yet neither one of them woke up.

Elliott wasn't sure if he could scream, cry, runaway, or do all three. He wasn't gonna lie, his heart broke knowing that she would choose a robot over him. Even if his flirts were nothing more than a game, the fact that he was beat by a fucking robot of all things stung. Why didn't she say anything? Probably because no one would have believed her. I mean, Revenant of all people? That thing hated everyone and everything. And he's been known to threaten her on occasion. Was it all part of a rouse to keep people from guessing? Did the simulacrum have some sort of reputation to uphold? Or was this some sort of spontaneous thing? Either way, Elliott had a hard time picking his jaw up off the floor.

He managed to sneak out of the ship without waking either one of them and he exited the hangar. What was he supposed to tell the others? He didn't even know how to comprehend it himself! But he had to say something. Everyone else was still out looking for her. He managed to message everyone else but his words were short. "I found her. She's alright. Everyone stop worrying." he told them. Any responses he got back from them were ignored as he tried to calm his racing mind while he made his way back to his place.

This has been one hell of a night.

Elliott called an emergency meeting with the others the next afternoon once everyone was able to catch some well-needed sleep. Both Gia and Revenant had reappeared some time in the early morning, though no one was able to catch them together. Her usual chipper mood didn't do anything to quell Elliot's confused thoughts and he had half a mind to just probe her for answers to the questions he wasn't sure he wanted to even ask. What was he supposed to ask her? "How long have you been fucking Revenant? Were you ever gonna tell us or were you trying to toy with us? Does he even have a dick?" He wasn't hurt by the fact that she was seeing someone. Elliott knew she wasn't interested in any of the six of them. She made it very clear her no actually meant no. But Revenant?!

"What's so important you needed to gather all of us?" Crypto had asked. Elliott was tongue-tied. He just had to rip it off like a band-aid, right? That's what they all say, right?

"We need to call the competition off. Leave Gia alone." he managed to say.

"What? Why?" Wraith questioned with genuine confusion.

"She's seeing someone."

"How do you know?" Silva asked.

"I found them together last night."

"Are you sure?" Bloodhound asked and Elliott nodded.

"Very sure."

"Who is it? Another Legend?" Loba wondered. All eyes were on Elliott, waiting for him to spill the beans. Who could've possibly stolen Gia's heart? No one ever saw anyone else fawning over her and no one ever saw her eyes lingering for too long on a certain someone. She treated everyone the same. Perhaps it wasn't another Legend. Did she have a lover that came to surprise her at the party? Did a husband or wife come to cheer her on in the new events?

"It's... It's Revenant, okay!" he spat out and quite literally everyone else had gasped in surprise.

"Are you trying to make some sort of sick joke? Because if you are, I will throttle you!" Loba threatened.

"I'm serious! I found them together last night and she was very clearly naked in his arms."

"I don't believe it!" cried Wraith. There is no way someone as sweet as Gia would ever find companionship in someone like Revenant. It just couldn't be possible.

"Believe what you want but I'm backing out of this dumb competition! I don't want Revenant to snap my neck!" shouted Elliott and he threw his hands up in defeat. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his head to the table in a loud thump. A look of understanding passed from Legend to Legend. Everyone knew Revenant's behavior. He was cold and he was unforgiving. If what Elliott claimed was true, then there's no telling what the simulacrum would do to them if he found out they were all trying to get into her pants.

"What do we say to Gia? She'll know something's up." Silva asked aloud to the group.

"You don't have to say anything." that god damn voice said, making everyone jump in their seat and whip their heads around to peer at Gia timidly idling in the doorway. Her white eyes were glossed over in pity, and that hurt all the more.

"Were you standing there the whole time?" Elliott asked her.

"I heard shouting. I came at the part where you said you found us together last night."

"Oh." was all he said back.

"Listen, guys," she started, moving into the room and closer to them. "I know how much fun you guys were having with this competition thing going on between all of you. And I'm sorry this was how you found out about me and Revenant."

"Have you been seeing him this whole time?" Loba almost seethed.

"Yes." she flat out said. No beating around the bush. "I promise I'm not dating him to spite you, Loba. I started dating him long before I even knew of your history with him. I didn't do this to hurt you. And I'm sorry if it does hurt you." she apologized.

"No one's hurt that you're seeing him." claimed Silva.

"Speak for yourself!" Loba interrupted.

"We're just confused is all, chica."

"Loba, truly I'm very sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry to all of you. I'm sorry if I ever lead any of you on, but I honestly thought I had made it very clear that this was just a game."

"You did. We heard you loud and clear, hermosa. We were just trying to have a little fun with you."

"I know. And I'm sorry if this put a stop to your competition. Believe me when I say I enjoyed the attention. I truly did not intend for any of you to get hurt or upset. If it's Revenant you're hesitant of, I can give you my absolute word he will not harm any of you."

"I guess I just want to know how it happened." said Wraith. Gia attempted a jovial smile in her direction.

"There's so much to me you guys don't even know. So much that even Revenant doesn't know. I know it may seem strange but I promise you that he and I are not very different."

"Does he even.... um.. have a... you know?" Elliott then hesitantly questioned much to everyone else's embarrassment. They all shouted at him in distaste. "Oh come on! I know I'm not the only one who's curious!" he defended himself. Gia took in a deep, shuttering breath.

"Well... um... yes, he does."

"That's just weird. That is so weird." shuttered Silva. "Dios mío, eso es asqueroso. Can we please talk about something else?" he mumbled into his palms.

"Look, to make a long story short, all I can say is I'm sorry. From the absolute bottom of my heart, I am sorry. Regardless of where we all go from here, I just want you to know that you've all made me feel pretty, you've made me feel important, and you've made me feel loved. And I can't ever thank you enough for that. I just hope you all understand that I truly do love you too. Even if it's not the same way that you love me. I truly do love you."

"As long as you're happy." Crypto replied to her. As sad as he was to say it, he meant it for her.

"I am. I really am."

"I guess that's the end of that. It's been a good game, guys." Elliott directed towards the other five. "We're just not what you're looking for, I guess."

"But you're what someone is looking for." she consoled. "Elliot, you are the most handsome man I have ever met in my entire life." Gia confessed to him. To solidify her statement, she pressed a warm kiss to his cheek. Then she turned to the green-haired man beside him. "Silva, my life would be so incredibly boring without you in it." and she pressed a kiss to his cheek as well. "Loba, next time you see me in the arena, I want you to just step on me with those boots." she giggled and kissed her cheek as well. Despite Loba's best efforts, she cracked a real smile. "Bloodhound, you're an incredibly skilled hunter and I wish I could match up to you." Gia tentatively lifted her hands towards his face, waiting to see if he'd stop her from removing his face mask. He didn't. So she lifted the material from his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek as well before putting it back in place. "Crypto, don't ever let anyone underestimate you." a kiss to his cheek. "And of course, Wraith. I meant what I said before; you have a beautiful smile. Show it off some more." a kiss to her cheek. "I love you guys. And I hope you don't think any less of me."

"Of course not." said Bloodhound which made Gia's heart flutter with glee. She bid a final farewell to all of them before making her departure, still unsure if they have forgiven her for her secrets. The room fell quiet for several moments as they all processed what just happened. In the blink of an eye, everything just crumbled. No one was angry. They all still loved Gia. But now things were a little different. The competition was officially off the table now and the six Legends were unsure of where to go from here.

"She totally loves me more." Silva cracked the silence.

"Are you kidding? She kissed me first!"

"She kissed me longer." claimed Bloodhound. And then a full blown argument started between all of them over who Gia had more affection for.

Everything sort of calmed down after Gia had finally come clean. The six Legends that had been following her for months had backed off and everyone took notice of it. Che asked Gia what had happened between all of them and Gia had confessed that she had been seeing someone behind everyone's back. Though she didn't name names. Che wanted details of course but didn't press when Gia refused to give them. Even Pathfinder could sense that there was some tension in the room but, bless his heart, he had no idea how to make everyone feel better. He tried though. "Everything will be okay, friend." he told her and then gave her one of his famous high fives.

It's not like Gia didn't try to mend things with them. She still tried to talk to them but conversations became awkward because no one knew what to say anymore. All the flirting stopped and everyone was too scared to sit too close to her in fear of Revenant's wrath. But she did try. It's just that her efforts went nowhere.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Gia and Revenant were seen together out in public for the very first time. They officially outed themselves as a couple. Everyone was just minding their own business when Gia had appeared, dragging Revenant behind her with her hand interlaced in his. She pulled him into everyone's view and everyone turned to stare at them with wide eyes. She paid them no mind, but Revenant glared at anyone he connected eyes with. She pulled him down to sit with her and he did without complaint. She cuddled into his side and he tossed an arm across her shoulders, allowing her to get as close as possible. Everyone was watching, but it was Elliott, Silva, Loba, Crypto, Bloodhound, and Wraith that seemed to be the most in shock. What had finally changed her mind about keeping their relationship quiet, they didn't know. Everyone was just as confused as they were and those who were aware of the six's admiration for Gia all turned towards them in either pity or curiosity. Yet no one said a word. It felt like all eyes were burning into them. But thank god they all turned away at some point.

Gia proceeded to show Revenant something on her device and they both watched intently. He even scooted her into his lap so he could place his chin on her shoulder and watch. His arms wrapped around her midsection protectively and she cracked a smile. She looked so tiny in his lap.

"I can't watch this." Loba said and stormed off. She still hadn't come to terms with the fact that the woman she desired was in love with the demon she wanted to murder.

"Does anyone else feel nauseous or is it just me?" Wraith asked, turning away from the loving couple.

"No, I feel it too." Elliott confessed.

"Aye."

"It may hurt now, but she is a grown woman who has made her decision and we must respect that. We'll get over it eventually." Bloodhound told the group.

"Just because we respect it doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt, compadre." retorted Silva.

"You think they'll stay together?" Crypto then asked and everyone looked back to Gia still cuddled in Revenant's metallic lap. Elliott watched carefully as every twitch of Revenant's fingers only seemed to hold her closer to his chest. His touched appeared to be gentle and Gia had made herself comfortable in his embrace. She smiled at her device and carefully ran her fingertips along the build of his arms. He must've made some sort of noise because she nudged her cheek against his metal face plating. When he turned to look at her, she looked back and pressed her forehead to his. They both closed their eyes and Elliott assumed that was their version of a kiss considering he didn't have any lips -or even a moveable jaw for that matter. And Elliott could tell that she was genuinely happy.

"Yeah. I think so."

#apex legends #revenant #mirage #elliot witt #octane #octavio silva #bloodhound #loba andrade #crypto #tae joon park #wraith #renee blasey #original female character #fanfiction #imagine

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arcticdementor · 3 years ago

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I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

#thomas kendall #sarah a hoyt

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aliciameade · 5 years ago

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High-Speed Connection

Title: High-Speed Connection Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Every Lady Gets an Orgasm Pairing: Beca/Chloe...oops and Aubrey Summary: AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED. And Beca’s an exhibitionist. While Chloe’s Skyping Aubrey. Oops. (It was a prompt that I ran with.)

Also on AO3

��Beca is now obsessed with collegiate cheerleading.”

“She is not!”

At the sound of her name, Beca stops in the hall outside their office and then wanders in to find Chloe sitting at their desk using Beca’s massive iMac. “What about me?”

“She said you’re obsessed with collegiate cheerleading. But there’s no way!”

Beca smiles at the sound of Aubrey’s voice and crosses the room to put herself in-frame of the video chat a couple of feet behind Chloe. “It’s true, I am,” Beca says with a shrug. “It’s not my fault that Jerry deserves to be on mat.”

“He really does, though!” Aubrey says, eyes big and sad as she clutches at her heart. “I love him so much.”

“Obviously we’ve been binging Cheer,” Chloe says after agreeing with the sentiments. “What are you doing to pass the time?”

“BRB,” Beca says and then wrinkles her nose at actually saying ‘b-r-b’ as she leaves the video chat for a few seconds to grab another chair and swing it around to sit next to Chloe.

She listens to the two best friends talk and though they’re actively trying to not talk about the health crisis affecting the world, the conversation keeps drifting back to it and how Los Angeles is handling it compared to Mykonos. Beca lets her hand rest at the back of Chloe’s neck, a small bit of comfort in what are proving to be increasingly unpredictable times.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing?” Beca asks, hoping to find a topic that won’t be tainted by a stupid virus.

Admittedly, she isn’t super interested in Aubrey’s romantic life but it’s something to talk about and they have nothing better to do do with their time anyway.

She does kind of tune out, though. She’s been a little distracted all day. Her day had begun by waking up to Chloe’s fingers between her legs and despite the swift orgasm she’d been gifted, her body has been humming all day. Maybe it’s because Chloe had declined her offer to return the favor, citing that it was ‘just for [Beca]’ but she’s never quite satisfied if Chloe isn’t satisfied.

Maybe it’s because their sex life, which Beca would have already described as “more than sufficient” has gone off the charts in the last week. She never would have guessed that being forced to stay home with her girlfriend for days at a time would turn them into sex fiends, but in hindsight, she doesn’t know why she was so unassuming.

There’s something freeing about having no responsibilities but each other. Chloe isn’t exhausted from a long day at the clinic. Beca isn’t tired from flying back from New York or Paris or London. They aren’t stressed out about tomorrow’s schedule or bickering because they both want to spend more time with each other but their individual lives are making it difficult.

The most important task on their daily to-do list now is each other.

And man...they have really been completing those tasks.

Chloe shivering beneath her fingers gets her attention, pulling her out of her daydream of the way a strap-wearing Chloe had bent her over the dining table last night before dinner. She hadn’t realized her fingers had started wandering with her thoughts and her fingernails are drawing goosebumps to the surface of Chloe’s skin where she’s absently stroking her neck and shoulder.

Chloe glances over and kind of smiles but falls right into the conversation.

It’s the trip down memory lane that spurs it. She’s always been easily convinced to try risque scenarios when she’s turned on, and she’s maybe not proud of how willing she is to get caught by a stranger when Chloe has her within an inch of her sanity, but she’s accepted it’s just who she is.

She scoots her chair closer to Chloe’s under the guise of wanting to simply be close and lets her fingers travel up into her hair to scratch at her scalp, something she knows Chloe loves. She watches her eyelashes flutter and feels her lean back into it. Beca doesn’t know what the conversation is about anymore; she’s not listening. Her focus is on Chloe but she’s still acutely aware that they are on camera and their very good friend Aubrey is on the other end of the line.

Maybe that’s why she’s already so turned on. They have an audience. A known audience. Aubrey is no stranger. They’ve all seen each other naked, more than once. Hell, she even made out with Aubrey once at a college party on a dare. She also knows Chloe hooked up with her a few times in college, too. Nothing more than drunken fun, but enough fun that it happened more than once.

It’s a distracting thought and Beca lets her hand backtrack until she’s rubbing the back of Chloe’s neck in a gentle massage.

Aubrey’s words finally register in her brain. “You guys are so gross and adorable.”

“What can I say?” Beca says with a shrug and a smile at the camera. “I’m whipped.”

It makes everyone laugh and she uses the break in conversation to guide Chloe’s face to hers with a touch to her chin for a kiss that is better meant for the bedroom and not in the middle of a video chat.

“Get a room, you two,” breaks through after a few seconds of Beca trying her best to steal Chloe’s breath.

It works because Chloe’s breathing quickly when she pulls back, eyes wide in surprise at the unexpected enthusiasm.

“Sorry, Aubs,” Beca says with another smile at Chloe before turning to offer the same smile to Aubrey. “What were you just saying?”

It’s a legitimate question; Aubrey had been talking when she interrupted herself to comment on Beca’s physical affection and she has no idea what the conversation was about.

She doesn’t care, though. She just wants them talking again so Chloe remains distracted, but she can tell Chloe is already distracted, but not by Aubrey. It’s clear Chloe’s on edge with the way her jaw is firmly set, the muscle in it twitching now and then as Beca excuses her hand from where it’s been caressing Chloe’s neck and shoulders to move it decidedly lower.

She does check the screen to see how she and Chloe are framed first. The camera angle them cuts off around their chests which works for her intentions.

Her relocation is quick and masked by a routine shifting of the way she’s sitting. If Aubrey’s aware that her hand just moved between Chloe’s legs, she’s doing a good job of pretending she’s not.

There’s a quick, sharp inhale from Chloe followed by a cough, another action meant to conceal something. Which tells Beca that Chloe is okay with this.

If the cough didn’t, the way her knees tip further apart would have.

Chloe’s wearing thin cotton shorts and at the first touch of her fingers, Beca knows there’s nothing under them.

She can feel Chloe’s body through them distinctly, though she keeps her touch light. Nothing more than a slow graze up and down, not enough motion to be noticeable. It’s just her middle finger stroking back and forth and she smiles when Chloe’s hand moves to her knee. They always have a need to be touching, mutually. It’s not enough for Beca to touch Chloe; Chloe needs to be touching Beca, too.

Beca’s heart is racing and she hopes she’s not flushed. A glance at their small inset video preview tells her she’s not, but Chloe does look a bit feverish.

It only emboldens Beca to stop being so gentle and press two fingers against her firmly. She just holds them there for a few seconds because Chloe’s entire body twitched with it. Plus, she’s savoring the way she can feel wetness slowly soaking through the material.

Chloe’s blunt fingernails dig into Beca’s thigh, but Beca really doesn’t care. She’s too busy beginning to massage her fingertips into Chloe’s clit through her now-soaked shorts and watching her attempt to keep up a conversation.

It’s not as though they’ve never done something like this before, but it’s never been like this. They’ve definitely touched each other below tablecloths at restaurants with others present at the table. In movie theaters with people sitting in the same row. And the number of orgasms Beca has had on commercial airliners is quite literally illegal.

This feels much more intimate. There’s not the hustle and bustle of waiters and other patrons around them. There’s not a loud action movie muffling the sound of a chair squeaking as Beca’s hips push themselves up into Chloe’s fingers again and again or a dark plane, a blanket, and the drone of jet engines.

It’s startlingly quiet save for the conversation that, she can tell, is becoming more and more difficult for Chloe to maintain without stuttering or losing her train of thought.

“Chloe? Are you okay?”

Beca bites her lip to not laugh because Chloe’s flat-out failed to speak. She waits for her to notice and slows her fingers to give her a chance to catch up.

“I’m fine!” Chloe says with too much enthusiasm than is necessary.

“It’s not like you space out in the middle of a conversation,” Beca says brightly, fingers moving in slow, slow circles. She can feel Chloe trying to move against them. “I’ll go grab you something to drink. It’s important to stay hydrated,” she adds, directed at Aubrey.

She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

But it’s some evil sex monster, apparently.

She stands up and starts to walk away, earning a not-subtle whimper from Chloe at the loss of her touch.

But instead of leaving, as Chloe clearly thinks she is, Beca turns around and puts a finger to her lips to shush her. It happens to be one of the fingers she was just stroking Chloe with so she slips it into her mouth while she has Chloe’s attention, her taste faint but evident.

She kneels as she does it and Chloe has to fight to rip her eyes away from Beca who is definitely no longer in the room and return to her conversation while Beca crawls back over, out of frame, until Chloe’s lifting her left leg a bit so Beca can crawl under it and tuck herself into the space beneath the desk.

She gets herself comfortable, regretting a lack of kneepads on this hardwood floor (which they do own for possible needs like this) and smirks up at Chloe who keeps glancing down at her with nervous excitement.

Beca waits, though. She needs to know Chloe is okay with this, and if she’s not, she’ll sneak out and return with a glass of water as promised and wait patiently until the call is over for Chloe to give her what she’s asking for.

A minute or two passes and then with a particularly boisterous laugh, Chloe’s lifting her ass off her chair just enough for her to slip her own shorts off.

The way she spreads her legs and looks down at Beca is obscene in its own right.

Beca puts her hands around Chloe’s knees and pushes her open wider, more for the show of it than out of necessity. She wants to see Chloe up-close, see how aroused she’s become thanks to Beca’s little game. Wetness is already streaked high along her inner thighs and her clit is swollen and peeking out, but Beca already knew that. She could feel it. But it’s something else entirely to see it.

She’s not sure how much time they have, really. Aubrey might have something better to do and hang up, which in all honesty would be totally fine. Beca will see this through regardless. But the fun, the game, the challenge, the kink is to do this while Chloe is on a live video call.

She doesn’t wait or go through her usual teasing build-up of working her way closer and closer until Chloe’s begging.

She leans close and runs her tongue through Chloe, entrance to clit, and hears Chloe stop talking mid-word for a solid two seconds before she can continue.

Beca has to struggle not to moan herself. She’s outrageously turned on and tries to channel it into her attention to Chloe.

And she lavishes that attention.

Making love to Chloe is always an experience, but some are more heightened than others. Beca has no shame in the knowledge that she would happily sit and lick Chloe for hours and then ask for permission to do it for several more. She loves it. She loves it more than she loves most things in life. If she had to rank the things she loved, Chloe would be first and eating Chloe’s pussy would be second.

Everything else is after that.

It’s almost startling how wet Chloe’s getting. Beca feels it on her chin and cheeks and laps at Chloe like she can’t get enough (she can’t). Her tongue slips higher to stop avoiding the type of focused attention she knows Chloe needs and flicks it against her clit, now fully swollen and on display for Beca to worship. Which she does. Chloe keeps inching away from her as she struggles to stay still but Beca just follows, not letting her mouth leave Chloe for even a second.

Her tongue flicks and swirls and when she knows Chloe’s not expecting it, she lifts her hand and sinks two fingers into her to give her something to squeeze.

A moan gets her attention and she glances up to see Chloe’s head thrown back just as fingers slide into Beca’s hair to start guiding her.

The sight makes Beca moan, too, and whatever semblance of discretion they’d been exercising gets thrown out the window. She didn’t remember Chloe telling Aubrey goodbye or hearing the sound of the call disconnecting, but it’s hard to hear with Chloe’s thighs pressing against her ears every few seconds as she writhes in her seat.

She’s just starting to set a pace with her fingers when she hears another moan. Except, it’s definitely not her own, and it’s definitely not Chloe’s.

Her whole body freezes on reflex and Chloe’s head snaps up.

“Baby, don’t stop.”

“Yeah, keep going.”

Beca’s head whips around, hair pulling uncomfortably where it’s still tangled in Chloe’s fingers, to look up at the computer screen.

She was so focused she had no idea they’d migrated so far away from the desk or that what they were doing was in full-frame, right down to where it cut off just below Beca’s ass.

If that wasn’t enough of a surprise, the fact that Aubrey’s chair has rolled back enough for it to be obvious that she’s touching herself, hand down the front of her leggings, was definitely a shock.

But the screaming arousal shoves away the shock and the sight makes Beca groan. She hadn’t expected this; she’d expected to get Chloe off quickly while their friend was none the wiser. That was the game.

This was...a threesome?

“Holy fuck,” Beca says, watching Aubrey (who didn’t stop touching herself with Beca’s discovery) for a few seconds before turning back to Chloe following a sharp tug on her hair. “Holy fuck,” she says again before leaning back in to take Chloe’s clit between her lips and start sucking as her fingers start thrusting.

Her mind is reeling. Every time she glances up, Chloe’s eyes are either locked on her, locked on the screen, or her head is thrown back. She rearranges a little, no longer having to be discreet, and uses her free hand to lift Chloe’s leg over her shoulder. The other stays planted on the floor for leverage, Beca realizes, so Chloe can rock her hips up into Beca’s face.

She’s never heard Aubrey like this before. Her moans are loud and breathy and Beca can tell by the way they’re stilted that she’s touching herself hard and fast.

She does the same for Chloe, fingers starting to pound into her in fast, short strokes as she sucks harder and harder on her clit.

Chloe’s moan of, “Shit, I’m so close,” sends Beca’s hand down the front of her own shorts to thrust three fingers into herself and start riding her own hand.

It’s a move she didn’t think would have any effect on but herself but she hears Aubrey react, a moan of Beca’s name that almost sends Beca flying over the edge.

“I wanna watch you come together.” Aubrey’s breathing hard. “Make her come, Beca.”

“Oh, my God,” she groans into Chloe before she pulls hard on her clit with her lips and curls her fingers to grind into the spot inside Chloe that will make her see stars. Her own hips and other hand move fast; she’s so desperately horny that she doesn’t actually want to come. She just wants to maintain this level of arousal forever.

But Chloe’s moaning her name and swearing and she feels her cunt tightening around her fingers so she fucks herself— and Chloe— harder and harder until Chloe’s moans are so loud they’re creating feedback on the call.

She feels Chloe explode from within and lets go, too, both of them moaning and bucking, wetness dripping down both of Beca’s hands.

And then she hears it.

She hears Aubrey coming and she takes her mouth away from Chloe, still fucking with her fingers, so they can watch it happen together.

It’s really a sight to behold to see Aubrey in a state of pure ecstasy. No hang-ups or stress or worries, just pure and utter release.

“Shit,” Chloe whispers but it’s more than loud enough to reach Beca’s ears.

She doesn’t look away from the screen but she does slip her fingers out to move them to her clit to start rubbing because she knows Chloe always comes twice in a row. And she kind of really wants to watch Aubrey, still breathing hard and still clearly touching herself, watch her make Chloe come since she missed it last time.

It doesn’t take long.

And she gets way more bang for her buck than she expected; apparently Aubrey’s into being watched, too, and as soon as she notices Beca watching her and touching Chloe she’d fallen right back into the same rhythm she’s kept on herself, one that’s hard and fast and tells Beca that Aubrey’s as impossibly turned on as she knows Chloe is.

She doesn’t have to turn around to see that, though. She has ears and as much as she’s watching Aubrey, she’s watching herself and Chloe in the picture-in-picture display.

It doesn’t take long—it never does—for Chloe to be on the edge again. She falls quickly, no prolonged plateau with how overstimulated she is, and Beca watches Aubrey watch Chloe fall apart on screen until Aubrey’s falling apart again, too.

Beca turns back to Chloe once Aubrey’s moans have subsided to bury her face between her thighs. Not to make her come again, though she knows she could. Instead, she licks at her slowly, trying to clean her up (a futile effort) and prolong their intimacy.

Eventually, the bubble of sexual tension surrounding them pops and she feels Chloe stroking her hair and saying her name.

It pulls her out of her reverie and she hears Aubrey’s voice say something, but she doesn’t catch what it was. The reality of what just happened slams down on her and she leaps backward, slamming the back of her head on the desk before groaning it and ducking beneath it to hide.

“Oh, my God, baby, are you okay?” Chloe says, rolling herself forward to check on her.

Beca feels like she’s on fire, and not in a good way. Everything had been so hot in the moment but now she’s mortified. That was Aubrey. Aubrey whom they’ve known for so many years. Who they’ve lived with and cried with and would probably be Chloe’s doula whenever they finally got around to the whole having kids thing.

“What happened? Was that your head? Beca, are you okay?!”

Beca just groans again and lets her face fall into Chloe’s naked lap, though there’s no licking this time. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

She hears Chloe laugh and feels hands on her head feeling the throbbing spot on the back of it. “It’s not a big deal,” Chloe says soothingly.

“We literally just fucked in front of Aubrey.” Her voice is muffled and it must be amusing for Chloe because she giggles again.

“I don’t think she minded, babe.”

“I really didn’t. Will you come out from under there so I can see you?”

Beca sighs and lifts her head so Chloe, still nude from the waist down, can roll backward to let her out. She ends up sitting in Chloe’s lap even though her own empty chair is right there, but she has a desperate need to feel protected right now.

She glances at the screen and tries to ignore how flushed Aubrey’s face still is. How flushed all three of them are if she’s honest. “What?” she says flatly.

“Look, Beca. I can pretend this never happened if you need me to. Chalk it up to cabin fever.”

“I’m okay with everything that happened,” Chloe says with a squeeze of her arms around Beca’s waist.

“Of course, you are,” Beca sighs. “Well, I really only have myself to blame here, right?”

Chloe and Aubrey both make sounds of agreement.

“But just so you know,” she continues to Aubrey, “I really didn’t intend for things to...for things to go that far. You weren’t supposed to know.”

“It was pretty obvious the second you ‘left’”—she uses air quotes—“to get Chloe something to drink and she could barely string a sentence together ten seconds later. I’m not an idiot.”

“Well, it’s not my fault this one can’t keep her shit together for five minutes,” she jokes with a playful pinch to Chloe’s cheek that earns her a slap on her hip that would have been on her ass if the angle was different. “What?! It’s true!”

“Yeah, well,” is all Chloe argues, “what are ya gonna do?”

“Well, I’m going to say good night. This has been sufficiently...sufficient,” Aubrey says with a bit of a laugh.

“Sleep well, Bree,” Chloe says with a wave before the call ends and Aubrey disappears.

“Oh, my God!” Beca crows, covering her face while Chloe bursts into hysterics. “How long did you know she was watching?!”

“Oh, a long time,” Chloe says through her laugh. “Wait, are you mad?” she asks, suddenly sobering.

“No, I’m not mad,” Beca sighs. “I just cannot believe we fucked in front of Aubrey. On camera!”

“Would you have preferred it to not be on camera?”

The suggestion makes Beca’s brain short-circuit and her hesitation must be obvious because Chloe gasps and bounces her in her lap like she’s a damn child.

“Oh, my God, Beca do you want to have a threeway with Bree?”

“Stop it,” Beca says, shoving her finger in Chloe’s face only for it to be captured in a fist and pushed away.

“You do!”

“I—no! Look—this was—” she struggles for words. “This was an accident! It was just hot and everyone was turned on and it was...it was an accident,” she finishes weakly.

“Which is why you watched her get off the second time instead of me?”

“I was watching both of you!” she yells in defense and then immediately regrets it. Instead of claiming her easy victory, Chloe just grins at Beca until she crumbles with a groan. “Shut up.”

“It’s okay, baby; it’s hot,” Chloe says and Beca has no choice but to give in when Chloe guides her down and into a kiss that reminds Beca’s body she didn’t get to come a second time like Aubrey and Chloe did.

She whines into it, feeling every bit the pathetic person she is when she’s in this state and feels Chloe smile against her lips.

“Okay, okay, let’s relocate and I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Beca says before stealing another kiss and climbing off Chloe’s lap. “And we tell no one of this.”

“Scout’s honor,” Chloe says as she holds up three fingers that Beca knows are going to be buried in her in the next few minutes.

“But maybe we find out if Aubrey has plans tomorrow night,” she says. “Probably not, right? Who has plans anymore?” “We do,” Chloe says as she snags Beca around the waist to lead them to their bedroom.

The End

#triple treble #bechloe #beca mitchell #bechloe fic rec #aubrey posten #SIN #THIS IS SIN #and it was a prompt #fanfiction #pitch perfect

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anarchy-in-the-pre-k · 3 years ago

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the general public, obviously, has no regard for the feelings and general wellbeing of the janitor, i get that and i’ve known it since i was a kid. the weird thing is though, how often people will physically intrude on me or my work, try to fight me and shit, argue with me when I tell them that they temporarily can’t use the bathroom because I have to clean it. almost always women too, I have only a faint idea of why that might’ve been, I guess it can be weird psychologically when a hairy guy walks up to the door of you bathroom every once in a while, and says, while you’re on line, that you can’t use it for a few minutes because he has to clean it. The park I worked at used to have one female janitor who the tourists would respond better to, then she quit. she was one of the only two people genuinely too good for that place. I can’t legally be in the women’s bathroom as I clean it, so I always have to force a line to be held up or barricade the door or something to make sure that i can actually make sure the place was healthy and sanitary and, yknow, not lose my job. the thing is that people didn’t seem to understand that in order for the bathrooms to be clean, i had to be in there sometimes, and in order for me to be in there, i had to not let people in sometimes. not only that, but the even harsher truth that i eventually had to close the bathroom because i don’t live at the goddamn park and i had to go home eventually. i cannot remember a single instance of any woman just calmly accepting this and walking away.

one time a mother told me that she and her daughter had to go and that it was important because they were about to be on a long road trip, where they wouldn’t have the opportunity for a bathroom. i told them i was sorry and that they would have to use the portable bathrooms while i cleaned and closed up the real one. i had already let three other people with “emergencies” go by, and i was already there 20 minutes off the clock, no longer getting paid, cleaning up human shit off the floor pro bono as it were. i was not telling her “too bad, no options”, i was not telling her that pooping was illegal, i was just saying that she couldn’t use this particular bathroom and that she would have to walk ten feet over to the other one.

she screamed and screamed and screamed her head off for the next fifteen minutes while i disinfected everything. she said that it was because she was jewish (something i did not even realize when telling her) and that i would burn in hell for what i’ve done. i cannot stress enough the dystopic image of me scrubbing human fecal matter off of a dirty tile, not getting paid, and having to listen to some lunatic describe in detail how i would be tortured and eviscerated because that’s what god wanted.

a woman cop asked me over and over while i was finishing up cleaning the bathroom, again about to go home, if she could use it before i left. i said no, over and over and over, and just as i picked up my mop and cleaning tools, ready to leave the place for good- she barges in and pushes me aside to use the bathroom anyway. this one, in some strange way, sticks with me more than the old jewish woman who described demons cutting my balls off and feeding them to me, because the cop kept insisting on her sanity while shitting and cursing me out. she said, and i will never forget, “i asked nicely, asshole. and i’m using this bathroom no matter what.” the memory is too hazy for me to remember if i actually said “if you can’t take no for an answer then you’re not actually asking nicely”, but it’s what i would have liked to have said. i had to stay another ten minutes on top of the other twenty minutes I was already staying because of other women who refused to exit the bathroom. I hate all cops on principle, but her determination to make me work more, without pay, on a mere whim of hers haunts me. The park is large and employs several police officers to do nothing other than sit in air conditioned patrol cars and do nothing while i pick up litter, scrub shit, and get yelled at by strangers under a hot sun. I am disturbed by how entitled everyone is to my time, thinking I wont mind, what’s another ten minutes of handling human waste, surely the janitor has nothing better to do with his life. I don’t know why the cop bothers me more than the screaming woman, I think maybe because the screaming woman was obviously crazy and couldnt be helped whereas the cop was doing something horrible but thought nothing of it, didn’t get worked up about it or make too big of a scene, she just wanted something she was told she couldnt have and decided to take it no matter the cost or inconvenience or work it would mean to somebody she would never even think of ever again.

capitalism really is dehumanizing, but it’s not all our bosses’ faults. it’ll be hard for any low level/minimum wage workers to make any progress so long as it’s constantly socially reinforced that you are less than human, that it’s okay for strangers to berate you for just following the health guidelines or the safety guidelines or just doing what you need to do to keep your job (without hurting anybody, obviously). I don’t know what it is that makes people scream at janitors about the ways they imagine they’ll be tortured in the afterlife, or as an obstacle to be overcome, not reasoned with or listened to, in the ultimate end goal of pooping at one particular toilet instead of a portapotty which is just ten feet away. i don’t know about anything. i just want to live in the woods and never talk to anybody who purchases goods or services ever again. if you buy something, fuck you. but seriously, i have no idea how this problem can be fixed.

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writtenbyjenn · 5 years ago

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Homework

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader Warnings: None Squicks: None Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2280

If there are any spelling or pronoun errors, please tell me! All of my fics are gender neutral. _________________

Draco slammed his forehead on his book. His homework was just not turning out right, no matter how many times he wrote, rewrote, or reread his textbook. He crumpled the parchment that sat in front of him and tore it into shreds. When he threw it back onto the table, it knocked over his bottle of ink, spilling it all over. Draco groaned. With a wave of his wand, the ink and the paper were cleared.

He picked up his books and started heading away from the common room, intending to go to the library. Maybe a change of scenery would help loosen his mind and allow him to finally understand the assignment. He was not looking forward to it, having an intense fear that someone would realize just how stupid he felt.

Draco walked alone through the corridors- he sent Crabbe and Goyle away long ago, not wanting his underlings to see him in such a sorry state. Eventually, he came upon the library. Opening the doors, he saw small groups of students dotted among the tables, each either completely absorbed in their homework or not all, gazing off into space and desperately willing their homework to complete itself. He saw the one person he was most excited to see- a lone Ravenclaw he was sure he could convince to help him. Draco walked over to them.

“You’re a Ravenclaw.” The student in question flicked their obviously blue scarf over their neck without looking up, their eyes still glued to the paper their quill was dancing across.

“Yeah,” they said, still scribbling furiously. Their writing was intense- whatever homework they had (if it even was homework, Draco had never seen that textbook before) they were determined to get it done. Their writing was so small he couldn’t make it out from across the table, and the parchment looked almost totally black with the amount of ink covering it.

“So, you’re smart,” Draco said simply. The Ravenclaw let out a dry chuckle.

“You would be surprised,” the student motioned to another group of Ravenclaws in the corner of the library who were currently trying very hard to blow a portion of their homework up without alerting Pince, the caretaker of the library.

There was a slight pause as Draco stood there before the Ravenclaw continued.

“…. Yes, I’m smart. At least compared to most.”

Draco sighed and smiled, “Just what I needed!”

The Ravenclaw looked up confused as their quill stopped. They saw Draco Malfoy, holding his textbooks and parchment in front of him excitedly. Their face steeled as they looked back down, quill resuming its frantic scribbling.

“No matter how much you threaten me, I’m not doing your homework for you.” Draco’s face fell.

“Nonono, that’s not what I meant!” His face turned pink. Did he really have that much of a reputation of threatening people? He knew was a bit wand happy with hexes and jinxes in the halls….

“I just wanted help with my homework,” he said shyly, a pale hand moving up to ruffle his hair and hide his embarrassment.

For the first time, the Ravenclaw in front of him looked up and met his eyes, trying to see if he was being honest. Draco gulped. He knew the student well from the hallways and a few double classes they shared- they were Y/N, not the absolute smartest student at Hogwarts (that went to Hermoine), but one of the best Ravenclaws there were. Draco knew that they would be able to help him without letting the whole world know he needed the help- they seemed like a drama repellant. Pansy and Parvati tried teasing them many times, but no matter the insults they hurled or rumors they spread, Y/N just shrugged and walked away unaffected. It drove the girls insane. They eventually stopped, more so for their own sanity rather than getting bored.

Y/N looked up at Draco. For a long moment they held eye contact. Draco gulped again. His throat felt dry. Why was he so nervous? His thoughts were interrupted by the movement in front of him. Y/N had looked back down at their paper, but their other hand was motioning to the seat beside them. Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and sat down next to them, spreading his books out and readying his quill and parchment. Y/N looked over at his excited expression and their lips curved into a small smile. Draco’s heart flipped. He had never been so excited to do homework before.

Soon enough, the pair settled into a rhythm. Draco would write, Y/N would correct or make comments.

“Your handwriting is so messy. Also, that is wrong,” Y/N said, pointing to a specific line that Draco hastily scribbled out. There was a slight moment of silence- no words were exchanged, and Draco’s quill stopped for a brief second. He looked over at his tutor. Y/N was leaning on the table, their head resting on one hand. They had a gentle smile on their face.

“…What is it?” Draco broke the silence.

“Nothing,” they said, looking back at the parchment in front of them. A moment passed where Draco looked at them before they continued.

“Most people get angry when I correct them, because I don’t bother sugar coating things,” Y/N looked a little embarrassed as they scratched the back of their neck.

Draco didn’t respond, as he knew he was the same way. He simply smiled, and Y/N understood. He had quite the reputation, after all, for speaking his mind without thinking (or waving his wand as soon as the urge struck, without regard as to who or why). The two continued in amicable silence, only stopped by the occasional blunt correction by Y/N.

Soon enough, his homework sat in front of him, finished. Draco let a content sigh slip from his lips as he leaned back.

“All done, then?” Y/N said.

“Yes, and I’m quite glad. I couldn’t have done it on my own. I appreciate the help,” Draco said, putting his things away. He looked over to his companion, who was grabbing their own work once again, eyes trained back on the parchment they were scribbling on before Draco came over.

“You’re welcome, Draco,” Y/N said simply. Draco frowned. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to pull them out of their shell. He wanted to see their eyes again, not trained on their paper like it was the only thing that mattered. He wanted their sparkling, mischievous eyes trained on him and him alone. He wanted to see their face again, their expressive face, reacting to the stupid things he said and the stories he told when he didn’t feel like answering the questions he was assigned. A plan sparked in his mind.

The week passed quickly, and it was time to put his plan into action, if Y/N would be willing to endure his presence again. He hoped so, Draco thought as he pushed open the door to the library once more. As he suspected, Y/N was sitting at the same table as before, scribbling in the very same frantic manner. He walked up to them again.

Y/N looked up, saw him, and gave a slight smile. Draco’s heart leaped. As Draco approached, Y/N pushed their books and papers to the side.

“Need help again?” Y/N said, a smile on their face and hands folded in front of them.

“Yes, please,” Draco said, a lopsided smile on his face.

Their routine became clear quickly. Every few days, Draco would come to the library to spend time with Y/N get help with his homework from Y/N. Y/N would push aside their work every time and help him with his homework, often interrupted with anecdotes or jokes from both students. A few weeks passed in this manner.

“Draco,” Y/N asked, looking towards him with an unreadable expression on their face. “Why are you here? I know you don’t need help with this. It’s your best subject. You do just fine in class.”

Draco paled. He scratched his neck absent mindedly, eyes trained on a peculiar stain on the floor.

“I, ah, I know,” He paused for a second. He could feel Y/N’s eyes trained on his face, which was rapidly heating up, “I just like spending time with you,” he said, eyes not rising from the floor. He was so embarrassed. He couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. Why did he say that? He wanted to hide under his scarf or apparate away.

Y/N sighed before speaking. “… I like spending time with you too,” Y/N said. Draco looked up hopefully. Y/N was in the same position as him, face flushed and looking away. Draco grinned from ear to ear.

“Well, then we should spend some more time together,” he said, growing more confident with each word and the blush on Y/N’s face, “How about we go to Hogsmeade together next weekend?”

“… As a date?” Y/N said.

Draco paled once more, but pushed forwards, with a resolved “Yes.”

“Okay,” Y/N’s hand lifted to brush a stray hair behind their ear, smile on their blushing face.

Draco couldn’t wait for the next Hogsmeade trip, but until that time came, he still went to the library to spend time with Y/N. He invited them to many things, most of which Y/N politely declined when they saw the group of Slytherins behind him, most of which held a disapproving glare. Y/N always made sure to come to his quidditch matches though, and Draco could never resist showing off.

Draco entered the library, and for the first time, Y/N wasn’t there. On their table (which many students now avoided sitting at, for fear of Draco’s wrath) was a note. He recognized the scratched, near-illegible writing instantly. He picked up the note.

Draco,

Don’t you think the grounds are very nice this time of year? I’m underneath the tree by the lake.

See you soon,

Y/N

He left the library and headed outside. The sun was shining, and he had to admit, it was very nice out. It did not take him long to find Y/N, situated under a shaded tree. They had their eyes closed, drifting off while the shadows from the leaves danced over them. Draco was entranced. Books and parchment were spread on the ground all around them, it was clear they had been there most of the day. He stepped towards them, and they stirred, wiping their eyes with the back of their hand.

“Don’t let me interrupt your nap,” Draco said quietly. Y/N hummed in response.

“Why don’t you join me?” They said sleepily. Draco’s face turned pink and his eyes opened wide, but he didn’t decline. He moved closer and sat next to them, back leaning against the rough bark of the tree. Y/N scooted closer and laid their head on his shoulder. Draco tentatively wrapped his arm around their shoulder.

“…Is this okay?” Draco asked. Y/N just let out a soft mhm before closing their eyes again. In a near instant, they were asleep. Draco felt their weight slump against him. He didn’t know what to do, where to put his hands. After a panicked moment of looking down at their peaceful face, he relaxed. Draco laid his head down on top of theirs and let out a soft sigh. In a few moments, he too was drifting off to sleep.

He awoke some time later. He didn’t know how long it had been, only that the noonday sun was now creeping near the horizon. Y/N was still stationed next to him, but they were no longer asleep. Their head still rested on his shoulder and his head atop theirs, but their eyes were trained on the book in their hand. He watched as they ever so carefully flipped the page with a smooth movement and not a lick of sound.

Draco’s heart leapt when he realized they were so gentle and quiet because they didn’t want to wake him.

He didn’t hesitate to move, wrapping his arms completely around their waist and pulling them lower onto the soft grass. Y/N dropped their book and cursed but let out a soft giggle when Draco nuzzled into their neck.

“Feeling bold, aren’t you?” Y/N mumbled, hand brushing through his blonde hair.

“Yes,” Draco replied simply. He pulled back, letting his arms pin Y/N to the grass.

“I must still be sleepy,” he continued, looking down at them. The evening light danced between the leaves and cast jumping shadows across their adoring face.

“Or maybe you just do that to me,” Y/N was looking up at him and their eyes locked. He could see their chest moving with each breath, the leaves and grass bits in their hair, feel their warmth, see those adoring eyes, and he leaned forward with no hesitation.

The kiss was soft and sweet and seemed to last a lifetime. He never wanted this moment to end, but he had to come up for air. He opened his eyes, and Y/N lay beneath him, a perfect gentle smile upon their lips. He leaned down once more. ________________________

Draco walked to the library, like he did every day. He glared at first years that passed him by and sneered at the Gryffindors that passed, but as soon as the library doors closed behind him, he relaxed. He let out a sigh and a soft smile appeared.

Draco held his books in front of him, lopsided smile on his face as he walked up to the familiar table they used every day, and asked the same question that brought them together,

“Help me with my homework?”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #hp x reader #Harry Potter x reader #hp #x reader

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wincestisasincest · 6 years ago

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Murder in the Blue Morgue -- Part 5

Trigger Warning: Death

With a warning like that, how can you not click on this?

Last part I’m posting for tonight, and be on lookout for a masterlist.

First chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181730682110/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-1

Second chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181756574650/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-2

Third chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181756696770/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-3

Fourth chapter: https://twincestforthewincest.tumblr.com/post/181756885220/murder-in-the-blue-morgue-part-4

“Alright, kid, where are we off to?” Russel had been quick to rush them out of the house and onto the streets, leaving 2D and Kathleen to discuss whatever matters befell them. He knew that it might end up with some physical violence, but he just wanted to get Jo out of the house, because it would’ve been more violent with someone who more easily provoked her. “Um, I mean, you were thinkin’ a diner, right?” She was still a little awkward around the band, as, though she would never admit to feeling a little overwhelmed that they all showed up, it still was a change of pace. “Preferably one with a hot waitress.” Murdoc stumbled behind them. It takes more than one beer to get Murdoc drunk, of course, but that was assuming that it was his first beer of the day. “I can get you one with an easy waitress,” She started to walk on the right side of the street, with the band, minus 2D, trailing behind her through the unfamiliar streets, “So, you just casually flew all the way out here, huh?”

“Needed a break, y’know? And, we never really visit other places unless we’re on tour. Just wanted to see casual New Jersey,” Noodle was looking to make conversation again, “Besides, I don’t know if ‘D would’ve been able to face that woman without our encouragement.” “He won’t, y’know. We should’ve stayed.” “Nah, he’s actually pretty capable, we just needed to push him to actually see her in the first place.” Noodle made sure to leave out the part where they purposely taken the painkillers out of his suitcase so he could stay focused.” “Also, you need to get outta that house. That woman is a massive bitch. Dunno how she ever got any, even Dents has standards.” Murdoc, though not considerate, wasn’t stupid. And he made sure everyone knew that. “Yeah, sorry about that. Trust me, we saved the bad stuff for when people aren’t in the house. But normally I don’t stick around for that long anyway.” “Yeah, my parents were shitty too. More advice? Your birth doesn’t determine your family, and for your sanity you need to move out as soon as possible.” Murdoc once again threw in his 2 cents, spewing things that, while unsolicited, were at least relevant. And, for once, he was happy to share his life experiences. “Again, I already got that. But, thanks. Oh, look, we’re here.” She turned into the glass doors of a sparsely populated diner. The bell rang above them that alerted the attention of a waitress with dark, black hair and a large smile. “Hey! Joey! How’ve you been?” She approached the group with a couple menus in her hand. “Y’know, the usual. Break’s over. School’s shit.” Jo shrugged and looked at the floor. “Ever the optimist. And you brought new folks!” “Yeah, luv, we’re scouting out the best girls of Jersey.” Murdoc shoved his way to the front, sensing someone just as eager as he was. “Well, you came to the right spot! But I’m not off work for a few hours, so we’ll see what I can do for you now, and you can come find me after hours.” She gestured for them to follow her to the corner table, with Murdoc’s eyes trained on her ass the whole time. “Y’know, Jo, I can’t remember the last time anyone but you and your buds sat here.” She and Jo shared a laugh. “Well, you’ve worked here for two months. Just wait for spring, that’s when all the crackheads start to show up.” The group took seats around the table as Jo continued her conversation, with the girl passing out the menus. “Dear, it is Jersey.” “Hey, going to college doesn’t count as living here. Only I get to insult Jersey. Not that it needs help.” “Alright, you folks take a look at those menus and I’ll be back in a minute.” The waitress sashayed off into the kitchen, leaving the group in a decided silence and Murdoc slightly stunned as his eyes followed her. “What’s her name?” “Gina.” “Damn.”

//The meal passes, because transitions amirite folks//

“And they invited you the next year?” “Everyone knows you can’t have a party without Murdoc Niccals.” Murdoc leaned forward, a french fry in one of his hands, or ‘chip’ as he called it, obviously way too invested in the telling of his many holiday stories. “Even though he was in prison next year.” Noodle hadn’t spared any expense in going outside of her comfort zone with this meal. In all her time living in England and Japan, she couldn’t deny that she had gotten both her best and worst food experiences in America. However, the greasy, juicy burger that had sat in front of her an hour ago was definitely one of the better ones. “Wouldn’t be the last time either.” Russel had to admit that he’d been missing classic American food, even if it wasn’t like what he’d had in Brooklyn. Of course, New Jersey pizza, especially with the yelling in Italian that he’d heard from the kitchen, was nothing to sneeze at. “Damn.” Jo leaned backward in her seat, feeling her pancakes already beginning to digest in her stomach. Diner food was always fantastic, and it practically ran through her blood at this point, but it never ceased to make her incredibly tired. “Hey, now, I was only guilty once, and I was just caught because that goddamn brothel wanted me back.” Surprisingly, even though he, at one point, had been one of the most immoral people that England had ever known, most of the reasons he had gone to prison were fairly tame. False checks, contact breaches, etc. The boring crimes were the only ones where he cared to get sloppy. “Well, no, gettin’ in trouble with the cops is nothin’, you’re only really in trouble if you get caught.” Jo munched on one of Noodle’s fries, similar to Murdoc, wholly invested in the conversation. “Little young to be robbing stores, are we?” Russel could remember back to his own childhood, even in private school. One of the best parts of being a kid, of course was doing illegal things and knowing how illegal they were while you were doing them. “Nah, robbing stores is trashy. Just trespassing. But again, you’re only really in trouble if you get caught, so I’m clean.” “Alright folks!” Gina returned to the table, slamming the receipt in the middle of the group, “It’s been a pleasure having you all here tonight, and I do hope to see you again. Especially you,” She blew a kiss to Murdoc, “Jus’ give a yell when you’re ready, the place is practically empty.” She was right. The diner was completely vacant, and most of the lights were off as the staff had begun to clean up. The group had spent more time at the diner than they’d originally intended, getting caught up in conversation while slowly gnawing away at the food, which was admittedly delicious. Even Noodle, who would normally ask for dessert at this point, was completely stuffed. “Alright, so mine was 7 bucks, and-“ Jo had pulled some of her babysitting money out of her back pocket, and begun flipping through the cash.” “Wait, mine was only 6 dollars?” Noodle had pulled out a 20-dollar bill, ready to cover the expenses. “Well, yeah. We don’t just like diners because they have good food, they’re also cheap.” Jo had forgotten that not everyone was familiar with having delicious food this readily accessible. “Uh, Noodle, I only brought pounds, can you cover me for, uh, 15 dollars?” Murdoc had insisted that he had brought dollar bills when the rest of the band was going to the exchange counter, and that his time would be better spent ‘discussing’ music with one of the cashiers at the gift shop. “Damn, Murdoc, what did you buy?” Russel, too, was thumbing through his wallet. “Only, like 2 beers.” “No problem, Mudz.” Noodle sighed. The group had left their cash on the table, including a rather generous tip considering the racket that they’d made, and cleared out into the empty, dark streets. The buzz of cars was in the distance, but any populated roads were at least three blocks up. All of the streets with the most popular food or shops were almost entirely ones where people would walk. “So, um, are do you guys wanna go back to the apartment, or…? Because, like, if you’re curious about the nightlife I can give you directions or somethin’.” Jo was never good at ending meetings, especially when they resulted in her having to return home, but she couldn’t keep them here all day. “Actually, yeah, are there any bars around-“ “We’ll head back with you and see if 2D is still busy.” Russel interrupted Murdoc, yet again, legitimately curious if 2D had turned out alright. “Where would ‘D have gone if he was done? Back to the hotel, right?” Noodle was just beginning to realize how chilly the night could be, even in the city, slowly rubbing her arms. “I hope so.” Russel lead the way this time, vaguely remembering the way that the group had taken on their way there. He and Noodle continued up front, with Noodle gawking at some of the lights while chatting with Russel about some of his memories from living in the area. “Psst.” Jo whispered into Murdoc’s ear while they continued down the street. “Yeah?” Murdoc copied her whisper instinctively, his attention grabbed. “2 blocks up from the apartment, on 419 Edgebrook Street, it’s free drinks with karaoke that night. And there’s a strip club just down the street. Just tell ‘em you know Marty and they’ll let you in.” “Who the bloody hell is Marty?” “I know the son of the guy who runs it. Marty is his dad.” “Hm. Thanks, kid.” “No problem.” Sirens blared down the street, closing up just behind the group, and slowing down as they passed the group, making them halt in their tracks. The cop driving the car pointed his flashlight out at the group, finally landing it on Jo. “Josephine Powell?” “That’s me.” “You’re gonna have to come down to the station with us.” The group began looking at each other, slightly panicking. “I didn’t do it.” Jo didn’t know that trespassing could land someone a police chase. “What? No, you’re not being arrested, it’s your mother?” “What happened?” “She’s been murdered.”

DUN DUN DUN!!!

Thanks to all of y’all who got this far.

Be on the lookout for more chapters!

#gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #2d gorillaz #2d #murdoc gorillaz #murdoc #noodle gorillaz #noodle #russel gorillaz #russel hobbs #russel x reader #gorillaz imagines #2d dadfic #2d x reader #murdoc x reader #noodle x reader #dadfic #children

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twdmusicboxmystery · 7 years ago

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8x05: Plot Analysis

Okay, so what did everyone thing of last night's episode? I actually really liked it. Lots of interesting tidbits. Like 8x04, there weren't tons of TD symbols, but what's happening in the narrative is super-important and I really like where this seems to be headed.

So let's talk most important first and then we'll move out from there.

*Major spoilers for episode 8x05: The Big Scary U. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!*

Rick and Daryl's fight:

In my FB group, a lot of us are kind of pro-spoiler, so we've been discussing this up and coming fight most of the week. Why is it important? Because a break between Rick and Daryl is super important for Daryl's development. It's what will make him "go rogue" as Norman keeps putting it. It shows more of his brutality. Not only is he working against Rick, which is odd for him (in the past, even if he didn't totally agree with Rick, he still mostly backed him) but he's advocating actions that might get innocent people killed, which we've really never seen from him before.

It also shows where his head is at. I thought it was interesting that when arguing with Rick after the dynamite blew up, he said, "we have to win." Rick agreed, but they have different ideas of what winning entails. And this line goes back to what Maggie said to him in the cellar last season. She said she wanted to string the Saviors up too, but "we have to win. Help me win." So as Norman said when he was on TTD a few weeks ago, Daryl's just determined to win and will just bull through anything in his way. You can see how that could be a very destructive mindset.

I'm honestly starting to wonder if Daryl will mirror Sasha, in that he'll go on a one-man mission to kill Negan, fulling expecting to die doing it. Not only is he willing to sacrifice himself for his family, but he's not really interested in living anymore. He's ready because he doesn't have much to live for at this point. But just before that happens, Beth will appear. That would make total sense.

Other things we've discussed where this fight is concerned:

1. Again, we're in a 180-degree opposite place from S4. Especially 4x16. Think of it this way. In 4x16, Rick and Daryl became "brothers." Since then, this is the first real rift we've seen between them. Yeah, Daryl was kinda snarky to Rick back in 5b. He was obviously pissed at him for some reason that was never actually explained in the show (*coughs Beth*). But he still had Rick's back. He still sacked Nicholas when he and Glenn fought. He certainly wasn't punching Rick in the face over it. Annnd remember that 4x16 is when the sheriff's hat was put on Beth. Just saying.

2. How alone Daryl is. This is something that definitely reaches back to Beth and S4. In Still, Beth called out Daryl for his greatest fear: being alone. She accused him of not letting anyone get too close because he's too afraid of the pain of losing them. He pretty much confirmed what she said on the porch later. She said he'd be the last man standing and that obviously disturbed and upset him. ("You ain't a happy drunk at all.") Since then, losing people he’s become close to is pretty much what Daryl's entire arc has been: loss. It started with Beth, of course, and her monumental loss, and how it affected him. But each time he started to move forward at all, such as befriending Denise, or trying to bring others into the community (Dwight), life just stomped all over him again and again.

We've even discussed how his wardrobe change is symbolic of his character development. Since S2, his vest has been associated with him. Same with the sleeveless shirts he always wears (wore). Now his wardrobe has completely changed. Not only does he not have his vest, but he's wearing a very out-of-character shirt. Sleeves and all! We think that's to show that this isn't the Daryl we know and love. He isn't himself right now. He's undergone a 180 degree change from who he was in S4. Everything has been systematically stripped away from him, from friends and family to his bike and vest. There's almost no vestige of who he was. Him putting away Beth's knife shows that he's lost all the hope and positivity she instilled in him. And as she said, "If you don't have hope, what's the point of living?" So you can see how this is going to end up being a very destructive path for him.

Then, last season, when he hugged Carol, he was essentially saying goodbye to her. Given what we're seeing from Daryl this season, that was obviously very purposeful. His last true, close loyalties are to Carol and Rick. Though they're both still in his life, in terms of emotional solidarity, he's broken with both of them.

He's truly alone now. Which means the title of 4x13 was actually very symbolic and foreshadowed stuff that would happen seasons in the future. The two groups highlighted in the episode, Alone, were Bethyl and Maggie/Sasha/Bob. Sasha and Bob are gone now, but Maggie actually really thrives when she's on her own. She had to learn to lean on friends and family, rather than trying to do everything herself, but in a lot of ways, she's hopeful enough to thrive more on her own than when she had Glenn to lean on. So that episode was a foreshadow of her being without Glenn in the future. Then there's Daryl. He loses Beth in that episode, and he's so afraid of being alone that he falls in with a group he knows is toxic, because It's better than being alone. That episode was extremely symbolic of things we didn't actually see until S7 and S8.

So all of this is just to say that we're seeing symbolism being fulfilled here, much of which stemmed from S4 and Beth. So we ARE moving toward seeing her in the narrative. Just slowly.

3. Daryl's leadership role. We're really seeing him make his own decision here rather than falling into line with Rick. Don't get me wrong. We love when he and Rick are simpatico and do a symbolic fist-bump, but we've also thought for a long time that Daryl would eventually lead, independent of Rick, and we may be seeing the first steps of that here.

Not to mention, remember my sheriff meta about how 4a was one great big foreshadow? (HERE) Remember that when Rick stopped leading at the prison, Daryl stepped up into a leadership role. So again, we may be seeing a fulfillment of that here. Or at the least the beginnings of it. Again, this is the first time since 4x16 that Rick and Daryl have NOT been in sync, and that's a very important development in their relationship.

The Helicopter:

THAT was interesting, and something spoilers didn't mention. There was some talk on TTD of whether or not Rick hallucinated the helicopter.

I think it was real. Nothing has happened in the story that would make Rick lose it. He lost it after Lori died, and other things might make him lose it later in the season, per the flash forward from 8x01, but we have no reason to not trust his sanity at this point in the story. I don't think Daryl hit him THAT hard. ;D

But then who does the chopper belong to? It's a mystery, because we haven't seen helicopters associated with any of these communities. Could be that one of them (like the scavengers for example) has one and we just haven't seen it before. But it's an interesting element to introduce at this juncture. I know TDers will want to hope Beth is on the helicopter. I actually don't feel like that's super-likely. Of course it depends on how the helicopter fits into everything else.

But it's the symbolism of it that I'm really side-eyeing. Let's refresh, shall we?

We saw a helicopter is S1 right after Rick left the hospital, so we've always seen it as a big part of the Beth/Rick getting shot/sheriff parallels.

We also saw a helicopter in S3, right before the Governor/Woodbury was introduced. And we could read a lot into that. In 3x01, the helicopter crashed, and then Merle (again, who disappeared for several seasons and was presumed dead) appeared. We could also connect it to Michonne, who traveled on the road alone for a long time before stumbling upon TF, and to Andrea, whose scars Beth has, as they were both focal points of that episode as well. But the resurrection of Merle is the big cheese there.

We also saw a helicopter crash on the roof of The Big Spot in 4x01, just as Beth's arc kicked off. All important details. So for them to randomly show us a helicopter now, when it feels like Beth is so close and Daryl is headed for a seriously bleak precipice? Yeah, that helicopter is definitely making me happy.

There were actually two major callbacks to Merle in this episode.

The first was the helicopter. The second, of course, was when Rick and Daryl fought and Daryl put Rick in a choke hold. That was callback to S1, when Shane put Daryl in one. Rick even took Daryl's line: "Chokehold's illegal, asshole." But that fight was about Merle and the fact that they left him behind in Atlanta, so to replay it now is really interesting.

Also interesting to note that Daryl took Shane's roll in this sequence. More evidence of how destructive he's become. He totally went "full-Shane" on Rick.

I definitely do feel like this is a fulfillment of the weirdness we saw in 6x03.

I know I've harped on this a million times over the past year, but Daryl's behavior in 6x03 was just so weird and unexplained. He heard gunshots through his walkie and left Sasha and Abe to help Rick. Sasha was kinda pissed at him for that. Then we see him searching for Rick and being very worried because Rick isn't answering and he doesn't know where Rick is. Then he takes off, and it seems like he's still searching for Rick...except that instead he just goes back to Sasha and Abe. No explanation of his thought process or why he suddenly changed his mind. And going with Sasha and Abe, despite the fact that Rick needed him, led directly to him meeting Dwight.

Now in this season, despite Rick needing his help with the plan to overthrow the Saviors, Daryl takes off by himself on his bike, on a very visually-similar road to what we saw in S6. And we know from spoilers (sorry, very minor spoilers follow) that he and Dwight will spend some time together later in the season. So symbolically S6 is being rehashed. And remember that it was only after Daryl came off his bike in 6x06 and met Dwight, that Glenn was revealed to be alive. So we may be looking at not seeing Beth until AFTER the Dwight/Daryl stuff.

Okay, I think I’m gonna stop there for today. This was the TD-heavy stuff that I saw. The Negan/Father Gabriel stuff was super-interesting, and gave us a lot of insight into Negan's psychology and background, but I'm not sure it had much to do with Beth.

So tomorrow I'll do a Details post which will include TTD (not much from TTD this week, but one thing in particular that stood out). Then for the rest of the week, I wrote up a bunch of theoriess over the weekend I'm excited to post. They aren't episode specific but are more about how much of the narrative is really coming together for us now, including Morgan/Beth entanglement, Terminus, and more on the Heron painting we saw in both Still and Mercy. Stay tuned!

How did everyone else like 8x05?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #beth is almost here #team delusional #team defiance

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whichie · 7 years ago

Text

Sleep Deprivation

summary:

In all of class 1-A’s time together, they have never once heard Midoriya cuss. Not even when he’s at his most distressed had they heard a single utterance of anything close to profanity, so imagine their shock when they found out that all it took was an angry Bakugou and some sleep deprivation.

a/n: wow im tired please take this thank you.

read it on ao3

Midoriya was running on nothing but coffee and two hours of sleep. UA’s final exams will do that to you, and he finds that the rest of his classmates are not in quite the same boat as he is. For the past two weeks he’s been studying for any possible question his teachers can throw at him, and more often than not he’s woken up to his notes sticking to his face and an awful crick in his neck.

Trudging along to his homeroom class, a can of red bull in his hand, Midoriya sees Bakugou in a similar state as he is. Which is not at all surprising when you take into account the fact that they’re both one of the top students in their class, next to Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and Iida. Seeing Bakugou in a foul mood is common and not that hard to endure, but a Bakugou tired and in a foul mood is harder to ignore. Currently, Midoriya is giving him a wide berth, just in case Bakugou tries to take out his grumpiness on him.

It seemed like no amount of maneuvering was going to get him away from Bakugou’s ire, if the barely audible, “Hey, Deku, you fucking loser, get over here!” is anything to go by. Midoriya really was in no mood to deal with him right now, so for the sake of his sanity, he continued walking down the halls, pretending not to hear Bakugou’s growling remarks.

Walking into homeroom was probably the worst mistake Midoriya could have made, if only because the rest of the class wasn't nearly as much of a wreck as he was. Sure, they looked a little worse for wear, but they did seem to be sleeping more than he has. That is, except for Iida. The boy seemed to have permanent bags under his eyes these days.

“Whoah, Midoriya, you’re not looking too good,” Kirishima says, and Midoriya only grunts in acknowledgement.

Shuffling to his seat and sitting down in what could only be described as an undignified slump, he sees Todoroki frowning in concern. “Are you okay?”

Midoriya’s reply was cut short by Bakugou slamming open the door to the class and storming in. He stomped to his seat, and Midoriya could overhear Kaminari say, “Man, Bakugou looks like shit, too.”

“Well, they are some of the top students in the class. You're obviously not studying enough if you can still smile.” Jirou said back, and this started an argument over who was studying more (neither of them), which got quickly drowned out in favor of Midoriya laying his head down and trying to fall asleep.

“Deku, I was fucking talking to you.”

Midoriya was, impossibly, reaching the end of his rope. He’s really not trying to make Bakugou feel any worse than he already is, but it was so hard when he’s so tired and Bakugou is so annoying.

“Don't ignore me, fuckmunch.”

Midoriya regretfully lifted his head to look at Bakugou, who was standing right in front of his desk and glaring daggers at him. “Listen, Kaachan, I'm too tired to deal with your shit right now, so I'd appreciate it if you would go away.”

All heads turned to them, and utter silence reigned over the room.

“Did he just—”

“Oh my god!”

“Did someone record that?!”

“Who are you and what have you done to Midoriya?”

“Please, someone tell me they recorded that!”

Midoriya only groaned and laid his head back down, hoping the gods will be kind to him and kill him right then and there so that maybe he could get some sleep.

(In the corner, no one noticed Todoroki’s red face and his internal screaming, because he really shouldn't have found that so hot, but really, can anyone blame him?)

The ever looming exams getting nearer and nearer brought out a side of Midoriya no one thought they’d ever see. The first time they wrote off as a fluke, a one time thing that came and went and was never to be see again. The second time, however, was the start of a trend.

“Hey, Midoriya, do you know where I put my jacket? The blue one.” Sero walked into the common room to find a zombie like Midoriya sitting on the floor surrounded by piles of paper.

“Fuck no, sorry,” he said, and went back to turning his notes into paper airplanes and shooting them into Kirishima’s snoring face, because he lost the ability to read them hours ago.

“Oh-oh, okay, sorry to disturb you, I guess.” And he backed out of the room slowly, only to bolt upstairs moments later yelling, “You guys will not believe what I just heard!”

And he was right, they didn't believe him.

Midoriya knew he must be losing his mind. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him, and he’s hallucinating, because that was the only reason why his heart was beating so fast when he looked at Todoroki laughing.

Well, cackling was more the right word. Todoroki Shouto was cackling. It was something to do with what Midoriya said, but he couldn't really remember what it was. It doesn't matter, because the rising sun was streaming in through the windows behind Todoroki and casting a warm glow around his hair, making his left side even more red and the right side a soft pink.

Midoriya knows Todoroki said something, but for the life of him he couldn't concentrate on what. “ —oriya, hey Midoriya.” Todoroki was waving his hand in front of his face, and Midoriya snapped out of his thoughts. “What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing!” Lies. “I was just wondering what Aizawa was going to make us do for the practical exam.” Lies. He hoped Todoroki doesn't see his reddening face.

Todoroki gave him a Look that Midoriya doesn't know how to interpret. “Are you getting enough sleep? Because if you’re not, maybe you should take this time to catch up.”

Oh, man. Midoriya was in some deep shit. Todoroki was too sweet, really, it should be illegal. “A-Alright, yeah, I’ll do that.” he watched as Todoroki smiled and turned around again.

He really is fucked. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

Over the course of the next week, there was five other occasions where Midoriya cussed, and each time was followed either by another sip of his caffeinated drink, or the indecipherable mutterings about his notes that probably wouldn't make sense even if they could be heard.

Most of these occurrences have been harmless, just some ruder replies than what a normal, well-rested-and-not-stressed Midoriya would have said. The only person who took the words personally was Bakugou, who seemed to think that annoying him even more was the answer, and so Midoriya took to hiding out in Todoroki’s room in order to get away from him.

Currently, Todoroki was sitting on his bed reading a book, while Midoriya was pacing about quizzing himself on the different ways a hero could get their license revoked. Todoroki would be lying if he said he wasn't worried.

“Why don't you take a break for a while,” he said. That at least got Midoriya to stop talking to himself, but in his distracted state, he wasn't looking where he was going, and ran into the bed frame.

“God dammit!” he said, and started to hop on one foot while clutching his shin in the other.

If Midoriya was paying any attention, he would have heard the choked off sound coming from Todoroki, and would have seen his slight blush when he got off the bed and came over. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Midoriya stopped bouncing around, but he was limping slightly. “Yeah, it just hurt. Don't worry, it wasn’t your fault.”

Todoroki led Midoriya to his bed and forced him to lay down, saying, “You really should rest, Midoriya, this isn't healthy.”

He tried to struggle, but it was Todoroki who won in the end, wrestling a blanket over him and silencing any arguments. “But i need to—”

“No.”

“But my notes—”

“No.”

In five minutes, Midoriya fell asleep, and Todoroki continued to read in the comforting sound of his soft snores.

When final exams ended, the students of UA didn't know what to do with themselves. Some took to celebrating in the common room with food and drinks. While others, like Todoroki, preferred to relax in their room.

Well, that was what he planned to do, anyway, until he saw Midoriya shuffling along the path back to the dorms, and thought of a better idea. “How’d you do?” he asked.

“Better than I think, probably, but I don't actually remember any of the material.”

Midoriya was a complete mess. With tired eyes, wrinkly clothes, and messier hair than normal, it was a wonder the boy was even still standing. “Why don't you watch a movie with me when we get back, to celebrate doing better than you think,” he offered with a small smile.

Midoriya seemed to perk up at that. “Alright.”

They walked together in companionable silence, and when they reached the dorms, they said goodbye to their classmates and headed up the stairs. Todoroki headed over to his small movie selection and said, “So what are you in the mood to watch? I'm sorry I don't have such a wide range to choose from.” When he noticed that he got no answer, he looked back to see Midoriya passed out on his bed, face adorably squashed down into the pillows.

He smiled and turned out the lights. Crawling onto the other side of the bed, he pulled the covers over both of them and tucked it under Midoriya’s chin. Todoroki stayed like that, just looking at Midoriya sleep peacefully for the first time in what was probably weeks, until he too fell asleep.

(and no one but Midoriya saw his red face when he woke up tangled around Todoroki, resting his head on the other’s chest. He debated moving, if only to make the position less awkward, but Todoroki was far too comfortable and the blankets were far too warm, so he decided against it.)

#tododeku #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kaminari denki #jirou kyouka #*sleep deprivation*

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placingglaciers · 8 years ago

Text

Lester87

Title: Lester87

Genre: AU, Fluff, Getting Together

Word Count: 9, 958

Warnings: None!

Description: In which Dan works as a part-time online fashion stylist to pay for university and he’s determined to get to the bottom as to why his favorite client continually needs first-date outfits.

Author’s Note: 76! (Please remember that this is fiction.)

The outdated couch pattern began to blur and swirl around, refocusing repeatedly. The zigzags, circles, triangles, lines, and colors are so downright unappealing that it would make sense as to why they are on a second floor couch in the nearly empty university library. The bright, continuous fluorescent ceiling lighting is all just causing Daniel’s headache to become worse as he lays his heavy head down on his incomplete world culture assignment. He’s sat on the gray carpet at the corner of a cream-colored, cube-shaped coffee table, with each leg on either side of the corner. He reached his end point moments ago when all the words in the textbook began to run into each other and he had to reread a simple paragraph three times. Now he is just giving up.

The major reason to all of this is the fact that his heart has been pulling in three different directions since the semester began roughly two months ago back in August. The first direction is towards his exciting part-time job as an online fashion stylist. He’s had the job since the summer and determines to keep it, despite the fact that he is pushing a sixteen credit hour semester. It pays him good money and he’s been doing fine at clocking in fifteen hours a week no matter how he manages it. He figures it would be a good way to pay off his education while earning some essential skills in his preferred work field. And it isn’t that he finds it boring—he adores all his clients—it’s simply that he’s been more stressed than usual. Time is what he lacks most of all, and therefore that is why he is constantly seeking for more of it.

That brings this to his other major problem—university. It hasn’t been the fact that he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life (for once), only now it’s how long he feels it’s going to take to get there. Taking core university classes has never been his favorite—especially now—and he’s getting quite used to the feeling of what hanging on a thread to his own sanity is like. However, he decides to keep quiet because he doesn’t want to turn into some ungrateful university kid who’s complaining all the time. But that’s just what he can’t help but do. How is any of this going to help him and his endeavors to create the next big successful fashion empire (a bit of an exaggeration, but still)? Surely he will never remember any of this. Give him something meaningful. Perhaps it has always been his fault. The desire to always impress others, prove his parents wrong, do better than all his past classmates before university. No matter what, Daniel is determined to be the best in his classes. Of course, if you mentioned this to him three years ago, he would’ve never believed any of this. But there’s nothing like a hard slap in the face of all your previous failures to keep you going.

To be truthful, his relentless strive for perfection isn’t even his main problem at university. It hasn’t even been the fact that he hasn’t made one friend since he arrived here two years ago or that he quickly determined he doesn’t fit in anywhere. It’s the terrible dorm life he’s forced to comply with. If it wasn’t for the fact that his family lives well over one hundred miles away from here, he would’ve gladly chosen to commute. However, as that is clearly not the case, he is cramped with his roommate in a 10’ x 14’ beige cinder-blocked box. Now, of course, that would be fine if the two of them knew how to communicate well with each other and understood boundaries. But with Daniel’s luck, he was assigned to an extra. And that indicated that anyone who was incompatible with anyone else in the dormitory had to be paired up with each other randomly and hope for a “smooth sailing” year. Daniel was optimistic about it for the first month and a half, but once it came around October, he was not having it. It is rude to bring in uninvited guests, touch personal belongings, use the other person’s bed whenever they desired, and throw the other person under the bus when illegal items get discovered from the residence life staff. In the meantime, Daniel has thankfully finally found a quiet spot in the dorm where he could be alone and perhaps sleep if that was even possible.

If that is all that Daniel was forced to deal with, then maybe perhaps he wouldn’t exactly be in this situation of self-conflict. However, his heart is also being tugged in the most unnecessary direction of all. Last year his best friend created an online dating profile for him without his permission—with already a first date arranged. They’re not friends anymore, obviously, but the profile still managed to stick around to Daniel’s surprise. At the time, he was simply amazed that people expressed mere interest in him. That never really happened to him before. He wasn’t the type of person that people would even take a second glance at. But here he is, somehow. At first, he did go on dates nearly every week as it was exhilarating to him and he craved the feeling of being wanted. As time progressed, however, he became more bored (and broke) and almost managed complete profile deactivation. But every once and a while…you know…something happens and he feels validated and wanted again. You can’t blame the boy for searching for his own happiness.

As a library custodian passes by to collect the trash from a nearby trashcan, Daniel snaps out of his downward spiral and finally realizes what he has been doing. He unsticks his cheek from the smooth textbook page and yawns widely. He checks his phone for the time (and to see if he’s been fortunate enough to receive any notifications) and he is rather disappointed. Only ten minutes has passed, but only ten minutes more and he could leave the library. The only notification he had on his phone was an email he received earlier about a new styling appointment, but he decides to do it tomorrow. He smiles at the custodian as he quickly packs up his backpack and hoists the heavy load onto his tired shoulders, almost being pulled back by the overwhelming weight on his back. He manages to shuffle down the carpeted stairs, say goodbye to the white-haired librarian, and step out into the crisp evening autumn air. He can only imagine what he would be coming home to.

***

“So as we know, some of these hormones create changes in the body, in particular the bones.” Daniel’s human biology professor drags on at half past eight in the morning. “I’m sure all of you know what the growth hormone does, if not, your textbook would help. But I want to briefly mention calcitonin. Calcitonin has an effect on the development for the maintenance of bone by activating osteoblasts. And, of course, osteoblasts are cells that form bone. However—and here’s the catch—calcitonin is only activated when calcium levels rise!”

Daniel rolls his eyes at his professor’s pathetic attempt to make the effects of hormones sound the least bit interesting on an early Thursday morning. It takes every fiber in Daniel’s body to keep awake during this class. With all respect to his professor and the very magnificent study of biology, it is nearly impossible to not fall asleep and remain focused during lectures like these. Thus in the meantime, Daniel’s black pen becomes familiar with his notebook paper’s margins as he easily fills them with nonsense doodles. Every once and a while he’ll take a cold drink of water from his blue university water bottle and sneak a tired, but sympathetic, glance at his neighbor to also stay awake for what always felt more than an hour and fifteen minutes.

With the increased realization of hormones raging all over his body, Daniel quickly makes his way out of the dim-lit classroom (which only made lectures worse) and across the hall to the small fashion department. It is here that he feels more at home than in his own dorm room, or even in his own bedroom at home. Perhaps it is because here you are surrounded by people who get it and get you. More than that, it is where miracles and mistakes happen with a little gossip thrown in for good measure. Everyone helps each other and suggests solutions to end-of-the-world problems. It is where Daniel feels belonging; his “safe space,” so to speak.

He sets down his heavy bag at his spot at the end of the long, brown work table where most of his classmates are already working on their garments. To truly finish anything on time, as Daniel has discovered, you have to come early and stay late as frequently as possible. He only wishes people understood the time and dedication it takes into making these garments instead of making jokes and claiming how easy it is. He takes his yellow floral sewing box out from his backpack and opens the lid. As by routine, he places out his pins, pink seam ripper, and left handed scissors on the table. Following that, he walks over to the wooden cabinet in the corner of the room and takes out his bin while listening to everyone’s conversations as they pin their garments together.

“Man, I’m hungry.” A girl complains as she rips out a seam she made a mistake on (truth be told, this is her third time doing it). “What are they serving today?”

“Stir fry.” Another girl across the room replies as she quite complicatedly, but meticulously, trues the side seams of her red cotton A-line dress. “It’s Thursday.”

“Ooh, I heard they had some nice pizza there today.” A third girl chimes in, struggling to find her pins (of which she constantly misplaces). “’Cause you know, sometimes it isn’t always the greatest. I’ve had some where the entire bottom was burnt…”

Daniel decides to listen in on another conversation as the blueberry pancakes from this morning wasn’t holding him over very well. He takes out a barely half-finished black polyester blazer from his bin and sets it on the table, not ready for all the work he still has remaining to do. He curses at himself for always having to make things that are so complicated.

“And you know what she gave me?” One of his classmates complains to her friend. “Four hours. For the entire week! I can’t live like this anymore!”

“My cousin worked there last year and he had the same problem.” Her friend shares as she painstakingly hand-stitches her polka-dot patterned skirt hem. “No one there does their job right. But you can’t really expect them to with the pay they’re getting.”

“I’m gonna have to get a new job.” She sighs as she runs her fingers through her long, wavy, amber colored hair. “I need to call my boyfriend to see if he can pay for my car insurance…”

As she leaves, another student walks in who is always late as he always stops at Starbucks to pick up an iced coffee. Daniel would complain, but if he worked at Starbucks and received a discount, he would be going there just as often, too. Nevertheless, he feels bad for him as they are the only two guys in the program and he feels like he always has to talk to him.

“Hey.” The guy says breathlessly as he takes the spot next to Daniel at the work table.

All Daniel does is glance at the iced coffee in his hands and raise his eyebrows.

“Hey, you know the rules, no food or drinks in here.” The professor finally walks in, the air catching her long black knit cardigan behind her.

“I know, I know, I just got here.” He dumps his stuff down on the floor loudly and sets his coffee outside in the hallway and returns.

“Today is just going to be a lab day.” The professor announces as everyone is finally here. “I’d like to have this first round of garments done by the end of the month so we can start figuring out what to do for the second round of garments.” She uncaps a dry erase marker and writes reminders on the whiteboard for everyone to remember. “If you have any questions, just ask me, I’ll be walking around seeing how everyone is.” Following that, she walks up to a student who has been struggling with inserting an invisible zipper.

Daniel twists his mouth at that as he knows it’s going to take much longer to finish such an elaborate garment. He sighs and figures his second garment could be something simpler like a shift dress or a box-pleated skirt. However, he also knows that would be the easy way out and finding a model to wear them for the fashion show would be challenging itself. So, he simply figures that is going to be a problem for the future.

“Oh, I’m never going to finish this on time.” The guy beside him sighs tiredly as his hands become lost in a sea of dark blue denim. “Dan, you should’ve told me it was a bad idea to make an exceptionally tailored pair of designer jeans.”

Daniel only giggles to himself and playfully rolls his eyes as he notices the pathetic tubes of denim that are supposed to represent the pant legs.

“Sure hope I have a long enough inseam for this.” He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows at him.

Daniel rolls his eyes again, only in a more annoyed manner. “If that is your attempt to flirt with me, I am not interested.”

“Hey, I’m just warning you for when you help me with my fitting.” He explains as he attempts to find all his fabric pieces from all the denim remnants. “What’s your problem anyway?”

“I had a rough night.” Daniel sighs tiredly, trying to pin a sleeve in the arm scythe.

“Oh really?”

Daniel shoves him lightly. “Not like that. It’s my roommate again. He was Skyping his friends all night long. I couldn’t sleep for anything.” He accidentally stabs his thumb with a pin, but as he is accustomed to this type of pain (as any sewer really is), he simply shakes his hand and resumes to pinning. “Just my luck for having biology at eight fifteen in the morning.”

“You can always crash at my place.”

Daniel certainly hopes he isn’t this obvious while trying to flirt with someone online. “Um, sure I’ll…keep that in mind.”

He smiles and sits on his stool as he begins to pin. “Why, why, why…”

Daniel finally manages to successfully fit the sleeve in the arm scythe and begins to make his way to his sewing machine in the other room. “Jeans are nothing but topstitching, stop making it seem like the end of the world.”

***

It is rather difficult to enjoy university when your loathed neighbor’s face is printed on hundreds of promotional postcards all over a desk, or, at least, that’s what Daniel thinks. Today’s job as the admissions office’s student assistant is to put mailing labels on all three hundred and fifty postcards to potential future students. Daniel doesn’t mind doing it as for the past three days he put together just as many folders for a “special event” coming up for the same purpose. To be quite honest, you don’t necessarily have to be overly skilled at a job like this, so that’s why he chose it over working in the library. The coveted fashion assistant job has been taken for three years now by the same girl, so that was obviously not going to happen. However, it would help if he was the slightest bit excited about going to university, but he can’t help but feel bad every time he puts a mailing label on a postcard. Want to pay thousands of dollars to an institution who will not spend it wisely? Want to be in even more debt? Want to suffer months with sleep deprivation? Want to be stressed and anxious all the time? Want to gain weight and not have clear skin? Then sure, you might be the perfect candidate. Daniel sighs as he picks up another postcard and sticks a mailing label on it. At least he is getting paid more here than in the art department.

After a couple hours and the image of his neighbor’s face being forever imprinted in his mind, Daniel leaves and heads over to the dining hall across campus, as usual. He likes to strictly manage his time as he realized quite a while ago that was the only way he could ever really get anything accomplished. So, his fashion class ends at two, his work study job ends at four, and he works on his online styling directly after in the dining hall. And as it is rather convenient, he eats dinner while working and is back in the library by seven, catching up on assignments. He knows that if he keeps that schedule, he could easily work fifteen hours in a work week. However, that is typically not the case as sometimes the cafeteria line is too long or someone actually wants to talk with him. But it’s usually the former that happens.

He selects a gray cushioned lounging chair by the large windows in the spacious and quiet dining hall and takes out his laptop from his backpack. Dinner doesn’t begin for another hour, so the hall is barely full. Only a few students are around studying and a group of friends are over at a table laughing together. Right away, Daniel turns on his playlist of his favorite film scores so he can concentrate and logs into the styling website. He notices that he has four clients to style for and decides to work from easiest to hardest. His easiest client is coincidentally his favorite client as they always request him and frequently needs styled. The client’s screenname is Lester87, although Daniel wishes he knew him better than a bunch of meaningless letters and numbers smashed together. Truth be told, this Lester87 guy needs help just about every week and Daniel is beginning to become suspicious. The bad thing is that he can’t do much investigation as client profiles only reveal so much, especially considering there isn’t even an option to have a profile picture. All Daniel knows about this guy is that he is twenty-four, living in the same city he is living in, and has some office job with a flexible budget. He also has a trapezoid body shape, which is one of the reasons why Daniel enjoys styling him so much. And from previous experiences, this man will wear practically anything you give him. Due to the nature of the styling website and privacy concerns, communication between stylists and clients are incredibly limited. Therefore, Daniel never knows what Lester87 thinks of his choices or how he is as a person. All he knows is that he goes to a lot of office parties and first dates.

Unsurprisingly, Lester87 has another first date coming up and it is up to Daniel to make him look as handsome as possible. The location is a seaside restaurant and given that Daniel has no idea how close the sea even is, it is possible that this guy is going great lengths for this to work out well. From the online inventory, Daniel quickly adds a navy blue floral button down shirt with crimson roses, black jeans, and a slim fitted jacket to finish. He isn’t exactly certain if Lester87 is the sunglasses type, so he only throws in a complimentary pocket square. He is certain, however, that this man has enough shoes to last him the entire year, so they are not needed. And within half an hour, the order is shipped and Daniel is working on his second client.

***

Half an hour past midnight, Daniel finds himself finally climbing into his bed for the night. It is a rare occurrence that his roommate already is passed out, snoring loudly in his own bed across the room, so Daniel wants to take advantage of this moment. After a full day of classes, work, and homework, he believes he certainly deserves a night’s rest. Tomorrow he has no classes and he is planning on catching up on a few hours of styling and assignments, which he admittedly is aware how exciting that is on a Friday.

As he finds some pleasant music to sleep to on his phone, he peculiarly receives a notification from his embarrassing dating profile. His stomach tenses up and he reluctantly checks to see what all the fuss is about. Once he reads the name and the message, he becomes excited and worried at the same time. It is from the girl who he’s been talking to for a few months now. He never considered it as anything serious, though he knows how ridiculous that sounds being that he is on an online dating website. One good conversation you have, and you might be stuck with that person for a while. Daniel simply wanted someone to talk to at the time they “met.” Yes, she is good looking and provides substantial conversation, but dating has never been mentioned until now. And that’s exactly what Daniel is worried about. She wants to meet him tomorrow for the first time. Not only is she not giving him enough time to think about it, but she’s assuming there’s something obvious between them. Daniel has been staring at the simple question for the past ten minutes, lost in his spiraling thoughts. He runs his fingers through his hair as he thinks of a response. Well, first of all, tomorrow wasn’t going to be all that busy or exciting anyway. Plus, he wouldn’t mind going off campus for a while. And besides, he could finally meet her in person. Perhaps he could finally make up his mind if he likes her or not. Though it is risky and a terrible idea, he understands he has to live a little and see what all that’s out there.

It isn’t until an hour later that Daniel finally gets some sleep as he has been up talking with her. And he isn’t the least bit mad. He is quite actually happy. Someone is giving him attention and that is enough for now.

***

There she is across from him, underneath the low, warm lighting of the sit down restaurant, making Daniel feel worse by the minute. She is wearing a lavender lace cocktail dress with beige wedges and a statement necklace, despite the fact that is rather cold outside. Daniel doesn’t even care if wedges aren’t even trendy anymore; there is no denying that she is perhaps the most gorgeous person in the room. And that’s exactly why he feels bad. She must have easily spent hours getting ready. Daniel was ten minutes late because he nearly entirely forgot he actually had a date. He took merely twenty minutes throwing on a gray knit autumn sweater and some trousers (never mind about the ridiculous hair). He doesn’t feel right sitting across from her, but he has a feeling that it has a lot more to do with something else than the way they are dressed.

“Ooh, how’s the sirloin steak here?” She asks him inquisitively while glancing over the menu.

Daniel’s leg bounces up and down and his back is perspiring, the way it usually is when he’s nervous and uncomfortable. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never been here before and I don’t eat red meat.”

She looks up at him. “Really? You never told me that before. How come?”

“Cancer.” He answers all too casually.

Her expression becomes more serious and concerning. “You have cancer?”

“No, no, I read somewhere online that red meat gives you cancer.” He is having a difficult time looking at her, so he decides to read the menu as well.

“Well, don’t always believe everything they say online.”

He glances up at her and gives a weak smile. “Yeah.”

She ends up ordering the steak anyway and Daniel gets spaghetti that is too soft for his taste. As he swirls around the pasta on his fork, she continues sharing how her week has been at work in the customer service department of a major clothing company. Although her stories are typically entertaining for Daniel, he isn’t exactly in the mood for them tonight as his mind is peculiarly somewhere else. He never thought that their five year age difference would be a major concern to him, but sometimes he feels like he can’t relate or understand what she is going through; therefore sympathizing with her is difficult for him to do. That might be another reason why he never considered themselves as a couple. Sure, Daniel thinks of himself as mature, but how can they possibly get along while she is worried about figuring out how to remodel her kitchen while he is worried about writing a twelve page world culture paper with no guidelines? Daniel doesn’t know the first thing when it comes to dishwashing machines, let alone how to install one.

“You know? How can I possibly sit around waiting for you to redo my floors when I have a job to go to?” She vents on to him. “Without that job, no one would be paying you!”

Daniel takes a drink of his water as he quickly glances at her glass of wine. He sets down his glass and sits back in his booth, feeling childish. “When did you first consider yourself as an adult?”

She pauses and becomes silent, being caught off guard from such an unusual question. “When did I first consider myself as an adult?” She repeats and sighs, blowing a few strands of dark hair in the air. “Well, maybe when I was sixteen when I got my license.” She laughs to herself. “I thought I owned the world back then. Of course, it’s the opposite now that I’ve grown older.” She smooths out her napkin and hesitates. “Also maybe when I lost my virginity. I felt like I finally understood my parents. I felt so much older than seventeen.”

“You lost your virginity at seventeen?” Daniel asks for clarification, moderately surprised.

“Yeah. How old were you?”

Daniel doesn’t answer and answers his own question instead. “I think I felt like an adult on my first day at university. I was on my own for the first time. No one around to tell me what to do. Then I got my first job and then another job, trying to help my parents out with all these unnecessary fees.” He rolls his eyes. “But I still feel like a kid, though.” He watches her face change. “But not all the time.” He makes certain to add.

She folds her arms and thinks a little. “I don’t know. Nobody asked that question to me before. I mean, of course there’s the time when you buy your own car and then your own apartment and stuff. But maybe it’s more mental than physical. Like when you fall in love for the first time or when you heart gets devastatingly broken or when you decide to finally move on.”

Daniel sits and thinks about that. “Or maybe when you realize that someday you may actually lose your parents and see them die.”

She bites her lip, feeling uncomfortable the more the conversation continues. “Our first date was supposed to be fun, Daniel.”

He takes another drink of his water. “It’s fun for me, I’m not paying.”

Her mouth opens wide. “You never told me that!”

Daniel sits motionless in his seat. “Well isn’t it proper that the person who asks the other one out that they pay?”

She avoids eye contact and tucks some hair behind her ear as she searches in her white satin clutch for some money. “Well, yes, but I thought you was going to be a gentleman about it.”

Daniel finishes the remainder of his water and feels awkward and uncomfortable. “How about I walk you home then? Will that be good enough?”

She blushes. “I’m wearing heels, Dan. Don’t you think that’s a little impractical?”

He shrugs and looks down at the wedges. “No.”

She bites her lip and sets her money out. “Fine.”

Daniel doesn’t understand what the big deal was about him walking her home; she lives only two streets away from the restaurant. Nevertheless, the walk there was silent and unpleasant. To him, it felt like there was an understanding between them that didn’t have to be said in words. He was losing her and he felt bad that it didn’t bother him.

“So, uh, where are we going to next time?” She asks him on the front steps of her apartment building, despite the fact that she already knows his answer. She is holding back tears while she picks off some lint from his sweater.

Daniel shakes his head. “I’m—I’m sorry…”

Her face scrunches up and turns red as she begins to cry. Daniel attempts to hold her hand, but she shoves it away. “What happened?”

“I think we’re just too different people, that’s all.” He answers in a soft voice.

“Yeah, well no duh.” She retorts sharply and sniffles. “What is it that you don’t like about me?”

Daniel avoids eye contact and focuses on the dark purple nail polish of her toenails. “Don’t measure your self-worth based on what some guy thinks of you.” He waits a few moments before adding, “We’re at two different stages in our lives at the moment and they don’t seem to be mixing well. Can’t you understand that?”

“You were so nice to talk to.”

“Hey, you are too. And we can still talk. But I never considered you as my…” He shrugs. “Girlfriend.”

Her eyebrows furrow and she shakes her head, tears long gone. “You scammed me.”

“What?” Now he is massively confused by the way this conversation has took an odd turn.

“You scammed me! Why create an online dating profile, talk to me for months, and agree to go out with me if you never thought of me as your girlfriend? I’ve spent several nights staying up all night messaging you. And this is what you tell me?” She shakes her head. “What is it that you want from me? Money? Sex? An ego boost?”

“No. I don’t want anything.” He replies sincerely. “I just wanted to see if I…really liked you or not.”

She stands there, letting the evening traffic fill in the silence. When she gathers up enough courage, she asks, “Can I at least kiss you goodbye?”

“Sure, I guess.”

She looks him in the eyes as she places her hand on the back of his head. With ease, she gently pulls his head downward gradually and their lips finally meet in slow, intimate kiss. Given that Daniel has never kissed a girl since he was a sixteen year old boy in an ex-best friend’s basement making one mistake after another, the kiss feels pleasant and right to him. Thoughts of taking back everything he said previously cloud his mind, but he quickly ignores them as he rather not make his life any worse.

Once their lips part, she asks him, “Do you want to come inside?”

“No.” He whispers.

“You sure?”

He nods his head. “Have a goodnight. Talk to you later?”

She turns to the stairs, walks up, opens the front door to the apartment building, and passes through without looking back.

***

Daniel only wishes that it was raining on his walk home because that would easily explain why his face is so damp and why he looks like a mess. He broke a girl’s heart tonight and he’s beginning to feel bad about it. But more than that, he screwed up big time. It was finally his opportunity to fall in love with someone. His parents have been nagging him to meet someone while he is in university, and here he is letting them down, too. How did he let this happen? Why can’t he just ignore his feelings? So what if the two of them were barely compatible and make terrible life partners? At least he would be on the right path to the game of life he keeps losing at.

Before he enters his dormitory, he sniffles one last time and dries his face with his sweater sleeve. He gradually makes his way up three flights of stairs and to his room, surprisingly without running into anyone. Before he unlocks his door, he hears outrageous moaning and cursing coming from the inside and immediately his stomach tenses. His roommate is at it again. Daniel tiredly runs his fingers through his hair, unlocks the door, and prepares for what is about to happen next. He’s far too used to this by now. He flips the light switch on and notices that his roommate’s boyfriend is staying over for the third weekend in a row. One is on top of the other, and as you can imagine, Daniel is in quite an uncomfortable spot.

“Daniel?” His roommate asks from underneath his boyfriend, his voice slightly hoarse.

“I-I’m leaving.” Daniel responds, trying not to look at them. He quickly takes his comforter from his bed and his laptop from his desk.

“Oh, well, have fun.”

“You too.” Daniel closes the door and squeezes his eyes shut, understanding that image would be forever in his mind also.

Down the hall is a small lounge that nobody uses (at least, not at this time) that has become Daniel’s second room over the semester. The leather couch is surprisingly much more comfortable than his mattress and he has full access to a television. However, as he is too tired to do much of anything, he is merely going to try to get some sleep before getting one important piece of business done.

As he fluffs up an unfluffable couch pillow, he spreads out his comforter on the couch and makes himself comfortable. He turns out the lights in the lounge and gets out his laptop. He logs on to his dating profile and immediately notices that the girl unfollowed him and cut him off completely. Daniel bites his bottom lip and impulsively goes to his account settings. This happens nearly every time someone wants to go out with him and he’s getting tired of it. His mouse hovers over the option to delete his account, but he hesitates. He sets his laptop on the wooden coffee table in front of him and sits back on the couch and stares at the screen. He rubs his watery eyes and sighs to himself, feeling low and absolutely pathetic. He can’t do it. He can’t. And he hates himself for not being able to. He moves onto his side and lays his head on the firm pillow and continues to stare at the screen until that’s all he remembers doing before drifting off to sleep.

***

It is the way it usually is. Daniel can expect a few weeks of utter hell followed by at least one pleasant weekend. And that’s all he guesses he needs; a rough time to remind him what’s good. His roommate is thankfully away for the entire weekend, so he doesn’t have to deal with his boyfriend and their shenanigans or either of them in general. He feels at peace finally. He recently finished cleaning his side of the room (which didn’t take too long given that he has merely five feet of space to himself) to clear his mind a little. All his homework is miraculously completed for the weekend. Granted, he still has a huge research paper to write, but given what he’s been through, he decides to push it off for another weekend. However, he still has a few hours to catch up on at work, so he plans on doing that a little later. In the meantime, he lies on his bed and he thinks and appreciates the golden silence in his room, between the walls, and throughout the halls.

Mostly he thinks about this new person he recently met online. It is important to inform that he did not in fact delete his dating profile, and after meeting this guy, he is glad he didn’t. He doesn’t want to say they’re serious or anything, but he does admit they have something more special between them than with the girl. His name is Philip (out of all the names out there) and Daniel likes that because it sounds sophisticated and mature and a bit stylish than any other name he may come across. And, well, anyways, besides that, he likes to talk to him and they have a considerable amount of things in common. Most of all, of course, he makes him happy and keeps his mind busy on other more important things. However, the last time someone did that, it didn’t exactly end well, so Daniel is trying to be careful. But they are only at the beginning stage of the relationship where they tell each other anything and everything and it’s exciting because of that. Daniel doesn’t need to know that Philip enjoys this particular brand of candles, but for some reason, he’s really glad he does.

Before Daniel admits that his heart is aching to meet this boy, he turns on his laptop and decides to distract himself for a while. He only has a couple clients to attend to, one being Lester87, of course. By now it’s getting pathetic. How does this man repeatedly ruin all his first dates? Before Daniel tries to answer that, he takes into account that he recently ruined his first date, too. It’s a lot harder than what it seems, apparently. But come on, Lester87 can’t possibly be that bad. Daniel supposes he’s a nice-looking man. Perhaps he has nice brown hair like Daniel does; only that he combs it more frequently and it doesn’t get as frizzy in the summertime. And maybe green eyes that disappear once he laughs at one of Daniel’s jokes. He is blessed with a trapezoid body shape that Daniel doesn’t mind dressing (or undressing) repeatedly. What about his voice? Does he have a nice smile? And what are his hands like? Maybe they’re softer than Daniel’s because certainly if someone is interested in someone like him, they’re bound to be better in any shape or form than him. Daniel can’t help but imagine what they would feel like against his own skin. It would be comforting to be touched by someone after such a long time of being alone. Daniel quickly disregards that thought before he becomes too bothered about it and thinks about something else. So, Lester87’s tall, Daniel knows that, and that is very admirable, isn’t it? Daniel realized he doesn’t like dating people that are shorter than him. However, finding someone taller than him might just be impossible. How tall is Philip anyway?

But since when did Daniel get into the equation between Lester87?

Daniel takes a few moments to breathe and clear his mind while he tries to find a nice suit for him, hoping it’s appropriate enough for a first date out to some major play that he couldn’t care less about.

***

“How tall are you?” Daniel asks Philip over the phone. He is sitting in the empty small lounge again as his roommate isn’t exactly in the best of moods. He’s writing some biology notes from a PowerPoint that his professor oh so graciously uploaded online at the last minute. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s paying attention (he couldn’t care less about intercostal muscles and pleural cavities), of course. Ever since last week, Philip has been calling him frequently—just to talk. And even though their conversations heavily interfere with Daniel’s strict schedule, he doesn’t mind. In fact, it would feel odd not to talk to him. They’ve been getting along well so far, but Daniel is still cautious to consider themselves more than friends.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Philip replies on the other line. “Maybe six foot one or two.” He laughs to himself, “Better make it six foot one and a half.”

Daniel smiles as he twirls his pen in his hand. “You’re taller then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m only six foot. But I’m still holding out for one last growth spurt.”

He sighs. “Oh to be twenty again.”

Daniel becomes silent once he again realizes their obvious four year age difference. He doesn’t necessarily like it and therefore struggles to ignore it. Why does he somehow always end up with people like this?

“Why do you want to know?” Philip asks curiously.

Daniel shrugs and moves on to another PowerPoint slide. “It’s just useful information, that’s all.”

“What are you up to? It’s like, ten thirty.”

“I know its ten thirty, but university kids never take a break, you know that.” Daniel takes a drink of his coffee that he quickly made from his roommate’s Keurig without asking. “I’m trying to study for my biology test next Thursday.”

“Hmmm, interesting. Hope you do well.” Philip’s line stays silent for a few minutes. “How’s that fashion thing going?”

He laughs. “‘Fashion thing’?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Well, Phil, I’m in the beginning stages of making a tracksuit. My class is making a tracksuit collection for the fashion show in April and our professor is challenging us to make them out of different fabrics. And by the luck of the draw I have to make it out of leather. Imagine that!”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He widens his eyes. “‘Is that a bad thing?’” He mocks. “Yes, it is a bad thing! First of all, you know how expensive leather is? And second of all, once you sew it, there’s no going back. Zero mistakes can be made.” He sighs and sits back on the leather couch, of which he now hates. “I’d much rather have to make it in lace, even though that’ll all be hand sewing.”

“Are tracksuits even a thing anymore?”

“They’re slowly coming back. Who knows? By April they might be a hit. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”

“I’ll make sure to see it.”

“See what?” He asks as he returns to his messy notes.

“The fashion show. In April, right?”

Daniel pauses and sets down his pen, trying to understand what Philip just said. “Um, yeah, it is.”

“Great! Just let me know when the date is.”

“Phil, its November.” His mind becomes clouded with confusion. “I don’t think…why would you…”

Philip nervously laughs. “Am I not invited?”

“No! No, I just never thought…Please, yes, please be there. That’d be…that’d be really great.” He smiles to himself, almost in disbelief.

“Okay, then why are you acting weird about it? Its months away from now.”

“Exactly. Its months away, which is why I’m wondering why you would plan to go if…you know…this doesn’t work out.” His stomach tenses up.

“Doesn’t what work out?”

He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “You know, this. Whatever this is between us.”

“You think I won’t be talking to you in five months?” Philip asks slightly defensively.

He bites his lip. “It’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s that I’m scared that, you know, something will happen and you won’t be talking to me. By that point. In time.” Daniel lets out some hot air from his lungs that has been there for too long. He’s treading dangerous waters now and understands he made a terrible mistake somewhere, as usual; might as well prepare for drowning.

“Why are you worried over something so silly like that?” Philip finally responds, relieving Daniel with his simple words. “I like planning my future with you.”

Daniel attempts to cover his blushing by wrapping his arm around his face. “Stop.”

Philip laughs lightly. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I should go back to school and maybe get my masters or something. Seeing you around campus would be cool.”

He smiles. “Oh yeah? What do you plan on studying?”

“You.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and throws his head back in complete embarrassment. “Will you shut up?”

“No, seriously, maybe historic preservation or something. It’d be cool working in a museum.”

He bites his lip and smiles to himself. “I like museums.”

Philip becomes quiet again, though it was normal for him to do so. “Hey, Dan?”

Daniel reads over a slide about bronchitis before answering, “Yeah?”

“Do you think maybe you’re free sometime next week?”

He stops writing and hesitates, understanding where this is going. “Um, perhaps, depending on what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so I can plan on going to your fashion show or whatever in April, but you can’t plan on going on a date with me next week?”

Blood rushes to Daniel’s ears once he said that, but he tries to remain casual and rolls his eyes. “It was a joke, get over it.”

“Well, do you want to spend time with me next week or not?”

His lips gradually stretch into a smile and he replies, “Yes.”

“Okay, good, I’ll let you know where.”

“You haven’t decided yet?”

“I…I didn’t plan that far. I didn’t think…”

“Oh, I see. I understand, alright.” Daniel rubs his arm and glances at his notes. “I think it’s what we need. You know, to see…”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

Their conversation drifts off into several various tangents before Daniel eventually has to say goodbye and get some homework done. The only bad thing about ending a phone call with Philip is that Daniel feels so peculiarly empty afterwards, like something is missing and he isn’t quite certain what it is. Philip’s voice and stories distracts him while going through whatever mess his life always ends up getting in the middle of. It is often difficult for him to return to regular everyday life after their conversations. So in attempt to make himself feel better, he tries to finish up his notetaking. However, while learning about the effects of asthma, he receives a notification from Lester87. Unsurprisingly, he’s going out on another first date. At this point, Daniel knows it isn’t the clothes that are the problem. However, he thinks it is endearing how his note said the date had an undisclosed location. Daniel always likes a challenge.

***

A navy blue wool coat, black plaid button down, and some trousers are the best Daniel can do. It is a bit ironic considering he is a fashion student working part-time as an online stylist that he can’t seem to figure out what to wear during occasions such as these. Perhaps it is his student budget or the fact that his dorm closet can only fit so many clothes. Nevertheless, Daniel walks out of his local Starbucks with a hot chocolate in hand (made especially by his only other male friend in the fashion department), struggling to appear more confident than what he actually feels. He is to meet Philip at the park’s main fountain area. Daniel is a bit nervous considering that if anyone wants to meet you in a park for the first time it is an automatic red flag. But besides that, his nervousness is mostly due to the fact that he’ll be seeing Philip in the flesh for the first time. The past week has been nothing but nerve-wracking for him. To be honest, Daniel sort of simply wants this date to be over with so he could stop being so nervous about it. He’s not certain how this first date would be any better than the last one, so he figures that Philip should do all the talking. At least then it wouldn’t be his fault for ruining it.

Daniel finds an empty metal bench around the fountain and sits down on the cold surface. The fountain is turned off for the season, but that’s fine as Daniel doesn’t have any spare coins left for desperate wishes. It is only now that he wanted Philip to pick a slightly warmer spot. He bounces his leg up and down to create more body heat and sips from his Starbucks cup. He looks around anxiously and checks the time, understanding he doesn’t have the patience to sit here all day. Ten more minutes and he can forget about it.

At first, Daniel isn’t sure what to feel when he sees him. Confusion? Relief? Nervous? Dread? Happy? Paranoid? Awkward? Most of all, however, he felt like he oddly seen him before. It isn’t difficult to overlook him considering he is wearing a mustard yellow wool coat. Daniel never saw someone pull off such a color so well before. Underneath the coat he is wearing a burgundy cashmere sweater and slim fitting dark gray trousers. Lastly, he wears polished brown leather boots. In his hands is a Starbucks cup as well. But there is something more to him. The coat, the sweater, the trousers, the boots…oh my God.

Daniel stands up to greet him, but before he can say anything, Philip says, “You should’ve told me you were going to Starbucks. We could’ve gone together.”

Daniel swallows anxiously, but keeps his head up high. “The barista is a classmate of mine and I usually get a discount, depending on how much he likes me on that day.”

Philip smiles at him and his left hand fidgets in his coat pocket. “So, Dan…”

Daniel still manages to keep a straight face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He breaks into a nervous smile and runs his fingers through his hair. “Oh my God. I was so stupid.” He crushes some brown dry leaves on the pavement with his shoe. “I should’ve known!”

Philip watches him without any indication of what is going on. “What’s the matter?”

Daniel keeps his eyes on the crushed leaves. “You with your hundred dollar coat and your Italian made cashmere sweater and your designer trousers!” He stomps on the ground again, the sound of the crunching leaves providing impact to his statement. His eyes finally meet with Philip’s, full of intensity. “I know who you are.”

Philip picks at his sweater and looks at him again cautiously, almost scared of where this is going. “Yeah, I’m Phil. The guy you—”

“Lester87!” Daniel excitedly shouts out.

Blood rushes to Philip’s cheeks and he is not amused. “Dan, just tell me what is going on.”

“I’m the reason why you are wearing what you are wearing today. I picked those clothes. You are Lester87.” Daniel smiles and shakes his head. “I can’t believe it.” His expression becomes softer and more sympathetic. “What’s the matter, Phil? You keep on going on all these dates. I’ve been worried about you.”

Philip takes a seat at Daniel’s bench and drinks from his warm coffee before he speaks. “You’re my stylist, huh?” He bites his lip and finally looks at Daniel. “The world is so small.”

Daniel remains quiet and sits down beside him. He’s not exactly sure if he ruined this or not yet, but he knows he did something wrong at some point, as usual. Whatever happened to his plan of staying quiet?

“I, uh, appreciate all your hard work.” Philip breaks the eye contact again and focuses on the autumn leaves blowing by in the afternoon breeze. “I guess I’m not who you think I am. I’m not some…amazing guy that’s romantic or anything. I don’t know the first thing that comes to relationships. Hell, I don’t even know what I am doing here. Trying not to feel so empty all the time?” He shrugs pitifully. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m too picky. Searching for something I’m never going to find and losing my mind because of it.”

Daniel feels uncomfortable because this conversation abruptly took a deep turn. He slowly finishes his hot chocolate and glances at Philip, struggling to find the words to say to make him feel better. “I never judged you, in case you were wondering that. I just felt bad for you. I mean, what’s wrong with all the people out there that can’t see what a great person you are?”

“It’s not the people that are the problem, Dan, it’s me. I’m the one that pushes them away. I mean, what’s the point of working hard at something if all I’m going to do is ruin it?”

Daniel rolls his eyes at that, incredibly annoyed by his detrimental, hopeless thinking. “I see. You’re the kind of person that’s scared of love, but still searches for it anyway, warning everyone that you might ‘ruin’ them or ‘break their heart’ and all that crap.” Daniel sighs and gets up to throw his cup away at a nearby park trashcan. When he comes back, he stands in front of Philip, hands in his coat pockets. “Doesn’t that get tiring? Because for me it’s quite frankly highly irritating and immature.”

Philip looks up at him, helpless and offended. “That hurt.”

Daniel widens his eyes in disbelief. “Oh relax, I went easy on you.”

Philip shrugs. “Alright, so, tell me what to do now. You seem to be the one with all the answers today.”

Daniel smiles at him and takes both of Philip’s hands and pulls him up on his feet. “We are going to go on a walk, clear our minds, and enjoy ourselves. I did not come here to waste my Saturday when I could be much better off writing a paper. Now, let’s go.”

The walk is slow and silent now that Daniel finally put Philip in his place. He didn’t intend to hurt him; he simply wanted to make him shut up about all his self-inflicted problems. Can that really be a bad thing? He just didn’t want to hear it anymore. Far too many people have given him the similar speech in the past, only that this time he really wanted to do something about it. He wants to stay with Philip and see where all this ends up. Beyond his cliché’s, there is something to like about Philip. Perhaps it is his honesty and his admirable characteristics or style (Daniel has to laugh at that one), that draws Daniel to him. Either way, he can’t say too much about Philip as they’ve only been talking for a couple months. Nevertheless, Daniel believes it hasn’t been a wasted two months.

“This time capsule only has twelve more years to go.” Philip comments casually as they stop by the park’s time capsule that has been there since 1923.

Daniel looks up at the tall pale marble obelisk statue and reads over the inscribed words. “What do you think that’s in it?”

He shrugs. “It was the 1920’s. My best guess is alcohol.”

Daniel glares at him. “I sure hope our ancestors were more responsible than that.”

“Well? What do you suppose that’s in that thing?”

Daniel walks around it, taking in its beauty and history. “Maybe some pictures, city records, newspapers, you know, typical stuff…”

“I sure hope our ancestors were more interesting than that. Don’t you want them to find an unreleased film or something? A rare book? Government secrets?”

Daniel smiles and they continue walking. “What would you put in a time capsule?”

“Money.” He answers without hesitating. “I’m sure I’ll be broke in the future.”

Daniel glances at him admirably. “You seem to be pretty well off already.”

Philip narrows his eyes at him. “Oh please, you think anybody whose twenty dollars richer than you are living the life. All I have is a good job and an influential family.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “I think I’d write myself a letter and throw in pictures of myself and everyone who’s important to me. I’d put some money in there too, if I were honest. Then maybe a current newspaper, a mix CD of all my favorite songs, and an outfit. I’d open it, say, fifty years later and see if the clothes are still in style.” He laughs to himself. “Or if I gained any weight.”

Philip laughs. “That’s a good idea.”

Daniel observes as a squirrel runs across the pathway and smiles at a father who is jogging and pushing a stroller at the same time. He looks up at the sky and the sun peeking through the leafless trees and thinks for a minute. “Have you ever realized that the history we know now is never the true history?”

Philip nods his head in understanding. “There’s so much missing. It bothers me a lot. Only the winners ever get to write history. We never really know the whole story of it.”

“We’re just living in a…in an altered reality. Living life based off of incomplete…information.” Daniel’s mind continues to wonder about time, space, and everything that has ever happened in between. Quite truthfully, he’s never given much thought to it before.

“To start over would be great. To write the true story of what happened.” Philip shakes his head and watches as a few people successfully play tennis in the tennis courts. “I read online somewhere that they found a planet twice as big as Earth and is most likely inhabitable. Like, am I the only one that thinks that’s a bad idea?”

“Well, no, you have a valid point. We have to figure out how long it’ll take to get there and what protocols and requirements there are to get people on that planet. But before that happens, we need to make sure we have the right kind of spaceship to get us there. And what happens after we get there? We’ll start building houses or something?” Daniel shakes his head. “I don’t see that happening in this age of instant gratification.”

“That’s my point. Whatever we have on Earth, we’ll take with us. Sure that’ll be technology and knowledge and whatnot, but there’ll still be hate, violence, prejudice, abuse, debt, persecution, unfair government…” Philip looks seriously at Daniel. “I mean, do we even deserve a second planet?”

He shrugs, uncertain of the correct answer to a question he’s never been asked before. “I’d like to say we do. It’d give us hope.”

“We can’t take care of the planet we have now, Dan. That’s like rewarding a toddler with another cookie after she took a bite of the first one and threw it on the ground. We’ll just ruin the second planet and every other planet after that one.”

He bites his lip. “Hard to imagine that the universe will go on as normal without us if the Earth just…dies.” He looks up at the sky again. “We are so small.”

“Will our dates always be like this?” Philip inquisitively asks after a few moments of profound contemplation. “Talking about life in the cosmic level?”

Heat rushes to Daniel’s cheeks when Philip said that and he becomes speechless. “Um, w-well, it’s either that or school. I…I much rather talk about the former, though.”

“Good.” Philip says in a warm smile. “We have a lot to talk about then. It’s nice, you know, to talk about stuff like this with someone who doesn’t think you’re crazy. Don’t you think?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I guess I haven’t been—”

“Yes.” Daniel interrupts him suddenly.

Philip’s eyebrows furrow. “Yes to what?”

“I think it’s nice.” His hand reaches out to hold his. “Very nice.”

#phan #phanfiction #phan fluff #phan au #getting together #one shot

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overweirdos · 8 years ago

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Soulmate!AU: Jack Morrison x Reader - Ineffable (Part 3/3)

Ineffable - (adj) too great to be expressed in words

Summary: Six years have passed since the fall of Overwatch. Now everyone has returned to a boring, uneventful life, witnessing the second Omnic crisis arise with their hands tied. All you can do is watch until a certain scientist decides that he’s had enough. Pairing: Jack Morrison/Soldier: 76 x Reader Warning: No pitiful flirting this time (though Admin Macaree keeps trying to convince me it was far from pitiful. It would have worked on her, after all). Genji doesn’t need healing either. We’re all safe. Some swearing at the end. Use of alcohol, well, more like a mention of alcohol. A passage towards the end could be considered a mention of rape. (We just want to list everything that might be problematic in advance, trying to save us some trouble. Some people might interpret it as alcohol abuse or something like that, so we like to be safe.) word count: 6,874 Author’s note: Yes, we know it has taken us months to publish this third chapter and we deeply apologize! We hope you still enjoy this part as we’ve put a lot of work and dedication into it!

It was dark. You could barely make out any contours outside of the window; the moon had decided to hide away behind the clouds tonight and left you all alone with your thoughts. Well, not exactly alone of course. Winston was busy downstairs, working on his shield generator that kept refusing to produce a long-lasting barrier, making him more and more agitated. You could faintly hear him argue with Athena in the distance, apparently, she had decided to remind him of his lack of cardio training, something he absolutely hated. At least their discussions kept your stay here entertaining.

Around a week ago, you had decided to pay a visit to Watchpoint: Gibraltar. This smaller base of Overwatch was left abandoned after the Petras Act was signed. All activities of the organization were instantly deemed illegal – just as you had predicted – forcing the members to leave everything and everyone behind. It’s almost been six years now. Have you ever heard of your old friends again? Have you ever made an effort to contact them? Not really. Why not? Would it have made it a difference? Every single one of them went their own way, followed their own special dream; they were now scattered all over the planet. Every single one of them was busy enough trying to forget the painful disbandment and finding a new path. There was no use in opening up old wounds.

Therefore, finding Watchpoint: Gibraltar locked up, run-down and eerily quiet came to no surprise to you. CLOSED BY EXECUTIVE MANDATE KEEP OUT PETRAS ACT These signs were everywhere. You barely recognized the place; it used to be so full of life, laughter, and excitement. Now it was only an empty shell of what Overwatch used to be.

You did come across a surprise, however. When you entered the compound and the main building you found it to actually be far from empty. No spider webs, no thick layer of dust, no graffiti on the walls. Reuniting with Winston was just crazy. You almost mistook him for an enemy when you entered an old laboratory and found him working while humming an unknown song to himself. Thankfully, you managed to recognize who has made these empty halls their new home before engaging in a fight. You two spent hours talking about what’s been going on and you had to admit that you must have missed the scientist more than you originally thought. He informed you about his want to initiate the recall of Overwatch, considering how the second Omnic crisis kept on claiming more and more of lives of innocent people and that the UN didn’t seem to be handling the situation well enough. They needed the heroes, you definitely agreed with Winston on that point. But you also had to keep reminding yourself that bringing Overwatch back to life held a great risk. It would probably make the situation worse for all of you, in case the United Nations discovered the reunion, possibly resulting in arrests. Or worse.

Though you were unbelievably glad to see your old friend again, it wasn’t as tear-jerking as you had expected it to be, it mostly consisted of laughs about a few old stories that you shared. You felt content, comfortable, at home. You even decided to ask about how the others were doing, if Winston knew anything about them. Mercy was still working as a medic for the military, though Winston wasn’t sure where exactly she was now. Tracer had moved in with her long-term girlfriend Emily and was now living peacefully near King’s Row. Maybe too peacefully, you assumed. The Brit wouldn’t last long without some kind of adventure. Reinhardt and Torbjörn had moved back to their home countries in order to be closer to their families again. Apparently, Genji was spending time in Nepal, finding his true self, frequently writing letters to his soulmate. The others weren’t heard of. You prayed they were doing fine. They had to be, they were heroes after all.

And you, you were still sitting in an upstairs room in Watchpoint: Gibraltar, silently staring outside with a blank mind. You had decided to stay with Winston a little longer since you had recently taken a short vacation from your new job in a small hospital. There was plenty of time to catch up.

Speaking of catching up, you decided to head downstairs; there was a question you really wanted to ask Winston. After all, you never inquired about his opinion about you still seeing colors. You tried telling your other comrades multiple times before Overwatch completely broke down but the responses usually just left you disappointed. “You must be going crazy! The commander’s death must have taken quite a toll on you, hm?” “It might take some time to set in. There’s no way he would have survived this, you should try and let him go.” “You can still see colors? Maybe he wasn’t your soulmate after all.” The last one usually hurt the most. No, he definitely was your soulmate. There was no other way to explain the unfaltering love between the two of you. And he still had to be alive. What puzzled you, however, was that he hadn’t bothered showing up yet. It’s been six years; he was obviously still alive somewhere but hasn’t even tried contacting you. Wouldn’t that have been the first thing for him to do? To make sure his soulmate was healthy, both physically and mentally? But no, there were absolutely no signs. You weren’t sure what to believe anymore. Maybe you were actually going crazy. You hoped that Winston would be able to help and not ridicule you because of it. He might be looking at the situation from a different point of view as a scientist, so you prayed he would come up with a solution.

You found Winston sitting in front of his computer, munching on a banana and watching the news with a concerned expression.

“The Second Omnic crisis continues to devastate Russia. The conflict between omnics and humans has now claimed over 15,000 lives. So far the international community has been reluctant to intervene…”

He gulped, his concern fading and being replaced by a look of anger as he quickly typed on his keyboard. INITIATE OVERWATCH RECALL? Y/N

“Winston, we’ve talked about this”, you interrupted the scientist and he jumped in surprise, looking like a child that had just been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “I know how much you want this and I do too, honestly. But whatever we decide to do after the Recall would be illegal. We can’t allow ourselves to cause even more trouble.” “You’re right. That’s just how the world is, huh?” You watched him turn away from the monitor with a saddened expression, turning to gaze at the group photo you took back when Winston and Tracer became a part of Overwatch. The good, old times. Opening up these old wounds was never part of the plan, yet it all came crashing back down as you stared at these pictures. These were merely memories now, slowly but steadily fading away. If someone asked you today to describe your former friends and teammates, could you still do that? Sure, there were photos and videos left but those would never do justice to the real heroes you’ve met. You longed to see them in person again, just once. You would give everything to undo what happened back then if you could only be with them again. Buy yes, like Winston said, that’s how the world was now. There was no way to go back in time.

A weird noise from outside made you and Winston snap out of your thoughts. A bang? Here, at this time of the day, or rather night? You took a look out of the window and you could swear you saw something move down there. “I’ll take a look at what’s going on outside”, you muttered towards Winston, swiftly grabbing your gun off the table, just in case. He gave a quick nod in return and warned you to take care.

When you got outside everything seemed normal, nothing was out of place. There wasn’t a single trace of any animals or even intruders so you scratched your head in confusion as you questioned your own sanity. Were you starting to hallucinate?

INTRUDER ALERT

Athena’s voice boomed from inside. Well, it seemed like you weren’t wrong after all, someone must have gotten inside unnoticed after all. You made a move towards the door; you had to get back and help Winston! He may be big and strong and terrifying if angry but depending on the number of enemies even he could be in serious trouble. But apparently whoever just intruded Watchpoint: Gibraltar didn’t want you to join the party. The door wouldn’t budge, not at all. You could faintly hear the commotion going on inside, including Winston’s enraged roars. Frantically searching for another entrance that wasn’t locked, you remembered the vents at the side of the building. If you managed to get up there you could easily get back inside without getting noticed by the enemies.

If only the act of actually getting to the vents had been as easy as you thought. It took you a good five minutes to get up thanks to your height and lack in jumping power. But hey, at least you made it. Slowly crawling through the narrow shaft you tried your best to scream at the spiders that kept trying to invade your personal space. God, they were everywhere! You picked up the speed in order to reach an exit as soon as possible and to escape this dusty hell. Ah, there it was! You gave the bars leading to freedom a strong push and jumped out, gracefully landing in one of the empty halls. The ruckus inside had stopped. Did Winston manage to scare them away? Or had he possibly lost? Only one way to find out.

You darted off towards the direction you assumed the meeting hall to be in – you barely remembered any locations inside this huge building – and kept running at full speed until you rounded a corner and crashed into someone. Or rather, something? You fell on your back, dropping the gun in the process but immediately stood back up to face whatever just intervened with your plan to return to Winston.

You came face to face with black smoke that slowly took on the silhouette of a human. You couldn’t help but watch in amazement as the smoke swirled into its form and revealed a person with a mask and a black coat. And two shotguns aimed right at your face. Perfect.

There was no way out of this. Your gun was laying a few feet away from you, by the time you would have gone to grab it, you’d be shot in the head. At least thrice. Fighting back without a weapon was not an option either; this figure clearly had way more muscles than you could ever develop.

“What are you waiting for? Just shoot me already!” you growled, accepting your death and hoping that this person would at least get it over with quickly. Only a miracle could save you now, like Winston getting his ass up and actually finding you here. But that seemed quite unlikely. The figure snorted aggressively while looking down at you in an intimidating way. “Didn’t know Overwatch was having a reunion. Why isn’t the handsome strike commander tagging along?” the voice snarled with a derogatory tone. His question made you huff in annoyance. “He’s dead. In case you haven’t noticed.” “Oh, really? I believe you have a different opinion on that matter.” Your eyes widened slightly. Did he know more about Jack?

“Even if he was alive, how the hell would I know where he is? He hasn’t bothered showing up for the past six years, why would he now?” “So that damn scout by hasn’t returned to you?” His masked face inched closer and closer to yours. But wait! What did that weirdo just say? Scout boy? As you slowly began realizing what that person had just revealed about himself the figure noticed his mistake. The black smoke started forming again and began making its way towards the vents you had just used to enter the building. Before it could make an escape you managed to grab a hand as it was about to dematerialize. “You’re not leaving me like that, Gabriel.” A growl escaped his lips as he turned around and lunged at you. His strong hands pinned yours above your head against the nearest wall. “Don’t you dare say that name again! These people have destroyed me, turned me into a monster! You will all pay for what you’ve done to me.” His voice became quieter the closer he leaned into your ear. “But not today.” he let go of you, making you fall to your knees. “Morrison’s alive. You’ll have to be the one to find him. Look for some old, grumpy vigilante.”

Those were his last words before he disappeared. You kept sitting on the ground, looking at the spot Gabriel had still stood in a few seconds ago. He was alive. But he was telling the truth; he was not Gabriel Reyes anymore. You didn’t know exactly what he meant. What have they done to him that made him hate Overwatch this much? What truly happened that fateful day? And if he truly wasn’t your best friend Gabriel anymore, then why hadn’t he just killed you on the spot? What reason would he have for telling you about Jack if he wanted to see all of you dead? Speaking of Jack, the figure’s words would barely be able to help you. An old, grumpy vigilante? Good enough but he could be anywhere in the world, there were hundreds of people like that. How were you supposed to find him considering that your former Overwatch teammates would still not believe his survival? No, you’d have to keep it to yourself for now.

Recalling the old Overwatch agents didn’t take as long as you expected. Only two days after the incident at Watchpoint: Gibraltar and Winston’s decision to initiate the Recall after all, Tracer had arrived. Mercy, Reinhardt, and Torbjörn followed shortly after. Genji also sent a letter stating that he would be joining the group in about a week, McCree agreed as well, announcing his arrival to be in a month. The reunion consisted of dozens of hugs, pats on the back, and shared stories of both the past and present. The atmosphere was playful and relaxed until Winston reminded everyone of why exactly they were called in. The Second Omnic crisis seemed to be at its peak, claiming more and more lives while the UN watched helplessly. Overwatch was needed, there was no way to deny that.

“We all know the dangers. Even us meeting here like that is most likely highly illegal. There is no way the United Nations are going to allow this” Angela reasoned, apparently still struggling to make a decision for herself. Was this right? “Of course it’s illegal. But we can’t allow this war to continue, we need to intervene! As long as we do that in the most secretive way possible, they can’t bust us!” Lena was determined to help all these innocent people who kept becoming victims for no reason. “I’m pretty sure they would find out at some point, our faces are still very well-known after all…” The Medic had trouble accepting all the risks that came with the recall. You didn’t. “Then we need to show them our good intent. We have to prove that we are capable of stopping this war. They won’t be able to ignore our attempts at rescuing this planet. They have no other option but to put their trust in us.” Angela went quiet. She was lost in her thoughts for a few seconds before nodding with a faint smile. Everyone agreed. The least you could do was try it.

Now that you had decided on rebuilding Overwatch, another problem surfaced. “We need a leader.” A breath hitched in your throat at Reinhardt’s words. He was right; the organization wouldn’t be able to work without anyone to guide them.

You remembered how Overwatch almost completely broke down when Jack got sick for a few days. He managed to catch a cold, which wasn’t too much of a problem but of course, he refused to stop working. At least until he passed out one evening and you didn’t allow him to even look at any paperwork for a while. Ana and you took shifts watching Jack and taking care of his work. It gave you an interesting insight on all the trouble your soulmate had to deal with. You couldn’t remember another time where you had slept as little as back then. You were amazed at how he had managed not to go insane yet. Obviously, Ana and you weren’t able to handle this job as well as Jack would have. Ana had some experience but it wasn’t enough for an important and busy position like this. While Jack was resting, you and Ana accidentally assigned three healers and two defense heroes to an attack mission. It went well in the end but a mistake like this should have never happened in the first place. Ana also messed up while responding to some e-mails, resulting in multiple newspapers reporting about a secret fight club for children within Overwatch. Oh, there was also that one time where you ordered way too many new weapons. The faces of your teammates were priceless when they suddenly received a hundred shotguns instead of the ten actually needed. Both the new recruits and veterans were extremely stressed out because nothing would go according to plan. Luckily, Jack recovered quickly and somehow even cleaned up the giant mess you’ve made.

“Any recommendations?” Torbjörn asked. “Winston!” was your quick reply. He was the one who initiated the recall; he was the mastermind behind all the future plans and technology. He was young but definitely the most fitting person for this role. “I feel honored but I’d rather recommend you” Winston objected. You looked at him with a confused expression. Was he serious? Had he forgotten about the last time you were in charge? The others seemed just as puzzled as you were. “I`m not kidding. I believe you would be the best choice for now. Your soulmate led Overwatch for years, you know how his mind worked, what he would have done. And even thought your first attempt at leading Overwatch back then didn’t go too well…you know what’s best for us.” You didn’t want to admit it but Winston was right on a few points. You had spent so many nights talking with Jack about his newest plans and ideas, how he wanted to further improve even the smallest things. You might have been able to do it, however, you didn’t want to. Jack was still out there somewhere. If you ever found him, he could return to his former position, he’d be the better choice. It just felt so wrong to take his position so you shook your head. “I don’t think anyone could replace Jack. I appreciate it, Winston, but maybe we should just wait a little while. We’ll see how far we can get with rebuilding Overwatch and everyone can prove their abilities. We may decide on a leader later, how does that sound?” The others nodded in unison. Thank god you got out of that.

The group made the decision not to move back into Watchpoint: Gibraltar yet. It would only raise suspicion. You would all be returning to your homes and wait to receive missions from Winston. He’d be staying back and scout the news for any opportunities to help and then inform the agents who would fit best.

Things had gone back to normal after that, sadly. You returned to your job at the hospital, always ready to leave on a mission. But for some reason, those never came. Winston barely managed to find any missions that wouldn’t raise too much attention. You became restless. You finally wanted to help but the few opportunities that the scientist found were given to the other agents. You didn’t seem to fit the requirements of the missions so far.

So you started engaging in your boring, repetitive daily routines again. You hadn’t heard from Winston in two weeks when your phone suddenly rang just as you were finishing up your shift. With a sigh you reached into your pocket, expecting it to be a colleague calling in sick and asking you to take over their shift as well. When you saw the scientist`s name show up on the display, you furrowed your brows. Was he calling to tell you that there wouldn’t be any missions again? Or had he finally found something suitable for you?

“Hey there, Winston.” “Ahh, it’s great that you’re still up! I need you at Watchpoint: Gibraltar as soon as possible!” You shot a glance towards the clock in the dressing room. Right, you had completely forgotten it was already midnight. “I should be able to catch a flight in the morning, will that be fast enough?” “It’ll have to do, I suppose. Anyways, I’ve got a mission for you; we need every available member for this one. It shouldn’t take too long to complete so don’t pack too much.” “Got it!”

At least you’d finally get some kind of excitement.

The mission would lead you to Dorado. Right after the fall of Overwatch, a gang named Los Muertos decided to raid the ruins of the headquarters, taking important blueprints that survived the explosion. These documents were extremely valuable, Winston would be able to improve the weapon systems and armor with these plans. Luckily, Los Muertos didn’t seem to have the capabilities to actually realize those blueprints, contrary to the new reformed Overwatch and their genius scientist.

Winston had everything planned out perfectly. You would leave for Dorado soon and stay in a hotel there for a few nights. Staying in a large aircraft for days would just cause trouble. The next thing to do was finding a proper way into Los Muertos’ hideout. If possible, you would infiltrate their base and take the blueprints back without getting noticed.

You were assigned to this mission along with McCree, Tracer, and Reinhardt. The latter would wait outside and only join the three of you in case you ran into enemies and needed help. Everything seemed quite simple, nothing you hadn’t done before.

The mission went smoothly. Making out the location of their hideout and finding a proper way into it only took around two days, these guys didn’t exactly know how to be subtle and quiet. Another day later, you had worked out a plan on how to take back the blueprints they stole all those years ago and leave without any disturbances.

Right now you found yourself situated on the roof of an old warehouse with McCree. Tracer had already gone inside to scout the area and notify you of the amount of Los Muertos members present. Reinhardt was waiting at the back entrance, ready to charge in at any moment.

“So, how’s your soulmate doing?” If you had to wait for Tracer’s report, you might as well have a little small talk. You could see a soft smile make its way to the cowboy’s lips, his cheeks taking on a slight red tint. “Perfectly fine. Recently got a new job. Must have gotten tired of all these cowboy hats. Kinda miss her, though.” “Then we should get this over with as quickly as possible. I really don’t need you dying of homesickness I the middle of a mission. As long as we don’t cause too much trouble, you’ll be home in no time.” He nodded with determination and right in that moment, Tracer responded back to you. “There are around seven of them in the whole building, mostly asleep though. We should have absolutely no problems.” “Got it. We’re going in now.” You quietly opened a hatch on the flat roof, tying a rope to a nearby antenna, hoping that it would support yours and McCree’s weight.

As you reached the bottom you quickly noticed how quiet it was. Dangerously quiet. These were their headquarters, surely there must have been someone patrolling the building. Would Los Muertos really let their guard down like that? You knew something had to be wrong. There’s couldn’t just be seven members of this huge gang present, peacefully sleeping, there had to be more somewhere. Did they know about your arrival? Was this all just a trap? Or maybe these weren’t their headquarters, after all, just a small base. You noticed McCree stiffen next to you. His confused expression spoke volumes, he must have noticed as well. “What are we gonna do now?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Search the building, I suppose. We don’t know what’s going on yet, we can just hope that they are on some sort of vacation and that’s the reason why no one’s here.” So that’s what you did for the next hour. However, the only thing you found was the group of sleeping gang members, cuddled together like a bunch of kittens. You would have found it cute if these men weren’t brutal murderers. At least they were completely lost in whatever dreams they were having so they didn’t even notice you pass by.

You explored the entire building but your efforts were fruitless. There was absolutely nothing. No secret doors, no important Los Muertos documents, and definitely no blueprints. You, Tracer, and McCree had decided to split up a while ago so Tracer’s voice kind of surprised you until you realized it came out of your earpiece. “I’ve found nothing…maybe we should just call it a day and continue searching for the real headquarters tomorrow.” “Haven’t found anything worth mentionin’ either. Love that plan, Tracer. I could really use some sleep now.” You had to agree with them. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Let’s meet outside the back entrance, where Reinhardt’s been waiting’. Poor guy must be bored outta his mind.” You couldn’t wait to get out of there; however, you remembered that Winston gave you a special task to take care of. “Hey, listen. Why don’t you guys go ahead and return to the hotel? I promised Winston to take some photos of whatever hideout we find, write down its layout in case we return here in the future. It might take a while and I don’t want to keep you guys from getting your well-deserved sleep.” “Are ya sure? What if these guys wake up?” “I’m sure they won’t as long as I keep quiet. Also, I do know how to handle myself, in case you forgot, McCree.” “I guess. Just know we’ll start searching for ya if ya don’t return to the hotel within an hour as well.” “Understood.”

You were glad that you could work on your task in peace. Not that you minded company, no, you just weren’t sure if the results would be the same if you couldn’t work in complete silence and concentrate properly. You couldn’t disappoint Winston on your first mission. Scribbling down the layout of the hideout didn’t take too long; it was structured in quite a simple way, only consisted of a few large rooms. As you finished taking notes in one of the rooms in the basement, something caught your attention. Behind a bookshelf, on the wall…was that a safe? You took a step closer. Only a small part was peeking out from behind the bookshelf but you were sure this had to be a tiny safe. With a swift motion, you managed to push the piece of furniture away from the wall and took a closer look. The safe was rust and old, the door seemed like it would fall apart at any second now. Well, it just screamed Open me!

You should have known better. After all the stories you’ve heard of Los Muertos, with all your experience from training and working with Overwatch, you should have expected this. As you started working on opening the door a quiet beeping noise made you halt your actions. You thanked God for giving you these quick reflexes as you barely managed to jump behind a desk before the safe exploded. The blast wasn’t too big but still managed to do a lot of damage. Especially to your earpiece. You could feel it crumble and took it out of your ear. It was completely broken. Then the realization hit you. You were completely alone in a hideout of Los Muertos. You could not reach your comrades in any way right now. The gang members sleeping upstairs must have surely been woken up by the noise. You were in a basement, without any windows enabling you to escape. You had to get upstairs somehow.

Without really thinking about it, you started to sprint, making your way to the staircase leading to the main floor. Not bothering to look back, you passed the room the gang members had been sleeping in. You could faintly hear them talk behind the door, they seemed too confused and sleepy to realize what had happened. This was your chance. maybe there was still a way for you to make it out of there. Alive, preferably. You managed to reach the back entrance without any problems, slamming the door open and breathing in the cold air of the night. You made sure to run a few streets away from the building before collapsing against a wall. This was definitely enough excitement for today. All you needed now was a hot shower and your warm, comfortable hotel bed. And maybe a glass of whiskey.

“So, I guess you’re the little shit that just blew up our precious basement?” Five members of Los Muertos had suddenly appeared in front of you out of thin air. How did you not even notice them following you? Obviously outnumbered you slowly raised your hands, signaling defeat. You swallowed hard. There was no way you would win this fight but you still had to try. You couldn’t just go down without fighting back. “Oh, you’re giving up already? Well, if you’re being this submissive, we might not kill you. Why not have some fun? You’d be a nice asset to our gang, the way you look, sweetie.” Okay, you’re planning on playing and then killing them from behind but this was going too far. Before the man in front of you could react, you had grabbed the knife out of his hands and hit him in the temple with its handle, knocking him out cold. Of course, the other members were quick to grab and pin you against the wall, growling at you in anger. “No fun then, I suppose. Just a brutal, painful and slow death for you!” Great, just great. No shower, no whiskey, no warm bed. But instead, death. Just fantastic.

You saw one of the men’s fist fly towards your face and closed your eyes. Bracing yourself for the pain, you were surprised when it didn’t hit you. Instead, you heard someone cry out. Shouldn’t you be the one screaming in agony? Daring to open your eyes again, you saw the Los Muertos guys suddenly backing up in fear, staring at another man in front of you and their friend lying on the ground, obviously dead. “Not you again! Fuck off, old man; we’ve dealt with you too many times! Leave us alone!” You let yourself slide down the wall in exhausting as you stared up at the stranger before you. He had his back turned towards you, His hair was gray and short, he wore a dark uniform with the number 76 printed on the back of his jacket, a pulse rifle in his right hand. His form was intimidating. You tried getting away from him for a second before realizing that you had nowhere to go. The wall was behind your back, the stranger in front of you, Los Muertos on your sides. Well, the latter wouldn’t be much of a problem for long, you soon found out. They tried attacking the man all at once, hesitantly and with scared looks on their faces, but he was able to predict their movements and take them down one by one. There had to be a reason why even Los Muertos feared this man. You wanted to run, get away from this potential danger until you noticed something familiar.

You brushed the dirt from your uniform and stood up to face the stranger who had just saved your life. The two of you simply stared at each other for a few seconds, his red visor lighting up the alleyway until he abruptly turned around to leave. Oh no, he wasn’t just going to disappear like that. “Wait, don’t just leave! Tell me…what’s your name?” you inquired as you quickly grabbed his wrist. The mysterious man glared daggers at you over his shoulder; at least that’s what you assumed he was doing since you could only see the movement of his eyebrows. “My name is not important.” His voice was low and gruff, not showing any emotion except for a small hint of annoyance. “Well, will you at least let me reward you somehow? You did save my life just now; I would have surely died if you hadn’t intervened!” You desperately tried to stop him from leaving but he didn’t care at all. He was trying hard to escape from you for some reason. “I don’t want a reward. I don’t deserve one either.” “Let me just give you something…ahh, I know!” Before he could stop you, you had placed a small kiss on his cheek, or rather, his visor. But hey, it did the job and his reaction was exactly what you had expected. The man turned away from you and his ears took on a rosy color. A chuckled escaped your lips.

“Did you really believe you could fool me out of all people, Jack?” You’ve known it from the second you first laid your eyes on him. His posture, his fighting style, the way he perfectly analyzed the situation and predicted the movement of his enemies. Even if he hid his face, his hair had already gotten a little gray and his voice sounded quite different from what you were used to, you recognized him immediately. His body visibly stiffened. He didn’t react for a while, trying to look for the right words. “That’s not my name anymore.” He tried to leave again, an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. “Stop right there, mister! You think you can fake your death, disappear for six goddamn years, and then just leave me, your soulmate, in the dark? Hell no!, You’re coming with me now!” He had absolutely no time to react to your lecture before you grabbed his hand and pulled him through a few dark alleyways of Dorado towards the hotel you were residing in.

As you were about to head towards your room, you noticed McCree sitting at the hotel bar and staring at you in confusion before wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. You rolled your eyes before quickly giving your soulmate the keycard to your room and signaling him to go ahead. After making sure he wouldn’t try to run away again, you strolled over towards your teammate. “I thought you wanted to go to bed, why are you down here?” “Didn’t know ya were into one night stands, sugar:” He completely ignored your question. “I’m not, McCree. This is far more difficult, I might explain tomorrow, okay?” “Ya don’t need to explain to me that yer sexual needs gotta be taken care of, I get it.” “It’s…really not what it looks like, got it? Anyways, don’t you have a soulmate to call? I’m sure she’s worried out of her mind.” His eyes widened as he remembered, he must have totally forgotten about her. McCree frantically searched for his phone. You were glad that the attention wasn’t on you anymore, now you’d get to take care of the really important things. As you headed towards the elevator, you could hear bits of McCree’s conversation, making you smile in amusement. “No, I haven’t slept yet, honey. Yes, everything went well. No, I’m not injured, really. No, not even a bruise. What? Why would I be sleepin’ with someone else? Where are ya getting’ that from all of a sudden? Yes, I’ll take a shower before we head back. No. Yes. Yes. What? Oh, of course. Yes, I love ya too. Take care. Bye.”

As you finally entered your hotel room a few minutes later, you were glad to find your soulmate actually there. His back was turned towards you again, he looked out of the window, lost in his thoughts.

“Take it off. That visor. I’m not gonna have this discussion with you when I can’t even properly look you in the eye.” He didn’t move. He didn’t take it off, just kept staring out of the window. “You won’t like what you’ll see.” “For god’s sake, Jack! I said take it off!” “I’m not the same man anymore.” “Take it off.” “I’ve become old.” “Take it off.” “You don’t want me to-“ This wasn’t going anywhere so you decided to take matters into your own hand. You reached up to cup his cheeks, quickly finding the buttons you were looking for. A hissing sound filled the room as steam was released from the mask. You threw it on the bed.

He averted his gaze to the floor. You took in his features, his familiar face that was now marked by two large scars, his slight beard stubble, and his crystal blue eyes. You could understand why he was worried, he had changed a lot but not in a bad way. Jack appeared a lot wiser ad manlier than ever before. Those events had marked him but he was still the beautiful man you had helplessly fallen in love with.

“You had absolutely no reason to hide from me, poster boy.” “I’m not that golden poster boy anymore. Just look at me.” “To me, you still are, Jack. And you will always be. You should have known.” He still wasn’t looking at you so you turned his head. “Why? Why didn’t you reach out to me? Just…one single message. One message that you’re alive and well but can’t meet me yet. Anything but this.” You felt the tears streaming down your face. This situation was too overwhelming. As soon as you looked him in the eyes again, the colors returned to shine as brightly as before. The dull world was forgotten, everything was back to how it was supposed to be. These eyes with the color of the sky staring into yours again. This was everything you’ve ever wanted for the past six years, to be back to normal. But would everything be able to turn back to normal again? You had only just met for the first time in ages, would things get back to how they were?

“I’m sorry, I really am. I know there is no excuse for what I’ve done. It’s just…I was too afraid to face you. After all these scandals about Overwatch coming to light…after what has happened to me, I was scared you would reject me.”

“Jack, did you completely forget about the concept of soulmates? I could never hate you. Well, I am currently hating you a little bit for leaving me in the dark all those years but what matters to me right now, is that I’ve found you. Just do me a favor and don’t ever disappear again. I couldn’t stand to lose you one more time.”

You instantly wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face against his chest and inhaling the scent you’ve missed so much. He slowly returned the embrace, though still hesitant. “I won’t leave you again, I promise.” “You know you’re terrible at keeping promises, right?” He looked down at you in confusion. “You didn’t take me out to my favorite restaurant that night.” A deep, bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “Well, something kind of got in the way. I’m sure we can make up for it some time.” “Good. Because you still owe me something.” You pulled out a necklace from under your shirt and slowly fidgeted with the engagement ring attached to it. Jack’s eyes went wide in surprise. “You kept it?” “Obviously. I knew you weren’t dead so why would I give up on this?” You could see his lips form into a soft smile. It was the first time you had seen him smile ever since he had left you behind in his bed that morning.

“Will you please just kiss me now? I need to make sure you know what you’ve been missing out on.” Jack had never been happier to oblige to one of your requests.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

#jack morrison #overwatch #overwatch imagine #fic #soldier: 76 #soldier 76 #soldier 76 imagine #soldier 76 x reader #jack morrison x reader #we finally did it!

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jiminwreckedme · 8 years ago

Text

7 Letters...

PROLOGUE

| 1 | 2 |

Member - Taehyung x reader , Jungkook x reader

Genre - Angst, Fluff, (future) smut

Warnings - none for this chapter

Word count - 1,936

Summary - A mysterious person who writes on your skin, an interesting co-worker who is making his way into your heart. A man whose past you need to know and a man who needs to understand your present. In a journey that takes you beyond the boundaries of time, sanity and love, you are left torn between choices to make and decisions to take.

And no. Not everything was about love. It was also about destiny.

[A/N] - This is my original work and has in no way has been plagerised. If you see a story similar to this that was posted by @bts-things-we-all-imagine please know that I am the owner of that blog and that I have abandoned it because of certain issues. I’m reposting my work on this, my new url and have edited it heavily (cause why not :), but it is all my words and my work only.

A black lane.....a small bridge......two swords......a ring spinning on the floor.......the painting of an unknown someone....the sound of a flute...a strange constriction cutting your breath....

and you begin to scream.

You feel your body arch against your bed and crash into in, forcing your eyes to fly open at the suddenness. Air. You need air. It’s as though someone wrapped a bag over your head, forced water to flood your lungs and placed a ten pound weight on your chest and all your intercoastal muscles can do nothing but strain against it. Every muscle in you has given up the fight to devour oxygen, letting the darkness which robs away the daylight, steal you sanity.

Kicking the sheets off your body you sit up scrambling frantically, bringing your knees to your chest and burying your face in them, your hands habitually covering your ears, desperate to run away from nothing and everything. The noises. They always take a while to calm down, slowly ebbing away, bringing back your breath and your ability to think again. Dragging your hands behind your head, smoothing your messed up bed hair, you feel the beads of sweat trailing down you neck as you gently massage it. Air is beginning to tickle in your lungs once more and you lift your head letting your vision adjust to the shadows.

It’s okay I’m home. I’m home. Everything is fine. You tell yourself. But you know it is a lie. Nothing about you is fine.

Flipping the switches of your bedside lamp to drive away the darkness, you swing your legs off the bed onto the cold tiled floor, not flinching even a bit at the sudden lack of warmth. When every inch of your body was shivering already, a minor change in temperature was hardly going to affect you. Pulling your slightly damp hair into a bun, you walk across your bedroom space into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. The dishes you avoided doing last night are still in your sink staring at you disapprovingly making your insides curl in shame. You quickly gulp the liquid, letting it flow down your sandpaper throat, to avoid looking at it.

The soft beep of your alarm clock rings loudly in the silence of the night. You know by experience that it is 2. 2 in the morning and as usual you are devoid of sleep. It would be a while before it comes back to you. Even though it was the same dream running over and over again in your head, it still managed to leave you breathless and panting and sweating and knee deep in fear. It would take a while for your body to come back to normal.

Striding towards the bookshelf in the corner of your room you pull out a small notebook and a pen and sink into the couch next to it, skimming through the thin papers, eyes falling on your years of notes - small scribbles of blue and black here and there, huge paragraphs formed by illegible handwriting, rough sketches of places, people and things.

It’s your collection. A collection of all the things that haunt you every night. Things that you know are more than just random flashes of images in your mind. Things that mean something, something you have been trying to figure out for ages now, but in vain. You quickly scribble down tonight’s details before the faint memories of your dream fade away.

Biting you lip you read through your words again, cutting some of them and then writing again, making the scratch of the pen against the paper the only sound other than the train that passes by, causing your whole house to shake. You read through it again, once, twice, three times until you finally slam it shut annoyed, letting your eyes fall on the place you were really concentrating on. Your hands.

Why wasn’t he saying something tonight? You want to talk to him, tell him that you saw something new today - a ring. A golden engraved metal studded with a single red stone, spinning on the floor as though someone dropped it. You had never seen that before. Never once in the last 16 years did you remember seeing that. Yes your dreams did change everyday, but it was cyclic. The same images would flash again after a few days but never a new one. And you want to know what he thought about it. Now that you could see new things, what did it mean? But he wasn’t saying a word.

You get up sighing irritably and stuff the book back in its place, clutching the pen harder than you should in your disappointment. What was wrong with him today? Every night the moment you see a dream he writes to you to calm you down, then why not today? Why did he not-

And the familiar tingle runs across your hand, black curves, lines and crescents forming letters with seraphic expertise and confidence. Though they send a funny feeling under your skin, yet their presence calms you.

Did you not get dreams tonight?

You frown at that confused at the complete contrary response. You were expecting him to talk to you about that ring you saw but he was asking if.......

The words sink in your skin, new ones replacing them.

You aren’t asleep are you? You can’t be, I know you read what I said. But if you read it then….

You straighten, all your senses working far too sharply for someone in the dead of the night. Then what?

Then why can’t I read your thoughts?

You panic, feeling the breathlessness come to you again. The silence is suddenly deafening and everything around you is starting to spin and phosphenes are dancing before you even with your eyes wide open and nothing is making sense.

You are unable to fathom what he is saying. What did he mean he cannot read you?

I can’t feel what you are thinking, everything is so empty, it feels like you are not there. But I know you are and I know you are reading this then why can’t I feel you?

And all of last New years fireworks set off in your body. Every nerve of your being is screaming in fear. Fear that one feels when losing someone who is a constant support in your life. Someone who is an anchor in this mirage of a world. Someone who is anonymous yet familiar. A stranger yet more of a family than anyone.

Tears begin to prick your eyes, and your body is uncontrollably shaking and you want to say so many things yet nothing is able to leave your body but short, rapid breaths of air. Your mind is thinking. Thinking fast about what had changed and what went wrong and why the universe was against you tonight. You look around tensed, gulping the cold air as though the silence around you holds answers. But-

Stop.

And that one word is like a defibrillator for your racing heart. Stop what?

Are you holding a pen?

You look at your hand only just feeling the cool touch of the metal. You didn’t even realize you are holding on to the pen all this while even though you had gripped it tight enough to leave marks of blue ink on your palm.

Write something on your hand.

You stare at the message, rolling the device in your hand nervously, as you remember the last time you tried that. It was about 6-7 years ago maybe, when he first spoke to you.

It had been so many years since then and you still didn’t understand how he knew exactly what to say all the time, how he knew details of your dreams even you could hardly remember, how he understood every emotion of yours so clearly. And over time you learnt one thing - he couldn’t read your mind that was for sure because he was aware of a lot of things about you but not everything.

He never seemed to have knowledge of the things that you knew but didn’t pertain to you. Like your friends’ secrets or the gossip you shared with your colleagues or the useless stuff you read on the internet. He only seemed to know matters that were personal to you, closest to your heart.

So he never knew how curious you were about him. He never knew that you wanted to know why you shared such a connection with him and why it had to be you of all people and why he never talked about himself. But most importantly you wanted to know who. Who he was.

And obviously a very simple logic had struck in your teenage head. He speaks to you through words on your skin, so technically you should do be able to do the same. The day is still fresh in your mind when you were pacing around your classroom, thinking hard about how to phrase your words and how you finally sat down in a corner trying to mimic his beautiful handwriting on your hand. But nothing happened. The ink just stayed till it was washed away, never reaching him, never letting you to say the things you wanted him to hear or ask the questions you needed him to answer. And soon you grew to accept that it is a one way thing. Only he is allowed to speak to you.

But now he is asking you to try and you don’t hesitate to hold the pen and let it hover over your skin. You know there was no point, that it will fail. But right now you are desperate. Desperate to keep this unknown man from leaving your side. Desperation can make one do so many things. At thi moment you are ready to let vultures gnaw out your intestines if it means reestablishing your connection with him again, repeating a failed act is no big deal. There is no harm in trying again right?

And you bring the pen down to the back of your right hand and write what is bothering you the most.

So is this the end?

And you stare at your hand for too long that night, watching the words linger there like they always do. But then the universe really is playing with you and your breathing hitches again, eyes widening and a small gasp leaves your tired body. They sink.

The blue words sink right through your skin, every last trace of them disappearing like they were never there in the first place. Your hand is trembling, fingers shaking in a crazy motion and if it is the cold or excitement or fear, you cannot tell. You don’t even have the time to think about it and decide because within seconds the emptiness is replaced with his blank letters.

No. I think it is a new beginning and I think I know why.

A pause. He gives a maddening, long sick pause of a few seconds before -

Happy 24th birthday beautiful.

The words jolt you to reality as you rush across your living room towards your bedside, knocking a few things on the way, your hair leaving its knot and falling around your shoulders, your toe aching from banging against the edge of the dining table. Still out of breath you notice the time on your clock just crossed two and the date today was a familiar one and stare at it only just realizing what the universe you hate so much has been conspiring.

#bangtanwriters-net #taehyung angst #jungkook angst #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #taehyung fluff #jungkook fluff #taehyung #jungkook #v #kookie #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts series #7 letters #bangtan boys

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