#putting this together has done more to push me back towards writing than ninety percent of warm up's i've tried đđ˝
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers. Spread the self-love~ đŤśđť (...i know that's all your posted fics but shhhhhh... maybe write each a little blurb? haha)
rob hiiii~~ this is such a fun ask!! i do have only five fics on ao3 so i thought i might sneak some in from tumblr hehe
if today we hold each other - vegaspete - 8k - ao3
featuring feral vegas committing acts of service like a crime and other exciting finale-divergent offerings such as:
communicating without understanding each other!
dead abusive dads (crowd cheering)!
main family in love with pete phongsakornÂ
ok fine yes the last one isnât canon-divergent this was easily the most fluid, fun writing i did on this list and i actually go back to re-read it sometimes! you can find it here.
2. patpran social media au - tumblr
pran wakes up hoping for a quiet weekend in with his boyfriend; as it happens, pat is on a cross-country trip with a stranger he befriended online :)
iâm actually mostly happy with this (even though it was short and STILL took me two years to finish it hmph). slow going but i giggled nonstop writing the chaotic texts and tweets between patpran and friends + gram and the garage gang from not me! you can check it out here <3
3. gramblack - meet-cute (ish) - tumblr
a micro-fic speculating about gramblackâs first meeting ft. injured black, romantic break-inâs & the G&B figurines that we got fucking baited with (pânuchie i forget but never forgive) Â
[i would have more gramblack to put on this list except itâs all in my drafts and i dread revealing the insane grip they had on me back in the day <3] anyway read it here!Â
4. toddblack - enemies to đ? - tumblr
my beloved assassin black fic! 3 times heâs sent after charmingly insufferable politician todd + 1 time it makes him consider a career change.
this was two and a half years ago but i remember being so excited abt the idea and then struggling Massively to write it 𤥠sometimes i toy with the idea of fleshing it out into a proper fic but iâm realistic abt my dreams now. you can check it out here!
5. moontide (tender gravity) - phayurain - 7.5k - ao3
rainâs father bans him from meeting phayu during exam season. rain decides to make this everybodyâs problem. <3
this was the sweetest to write of the lot and came out very organically for a fic exchange i randomly signed up for so i was really pleased with it overall. you can read it here :)
tysm again rob for the ask!! đ iâm excited to pass it on to other fic writing friends! đĽłđĽłđĽł
âđť
#rob đą#ask game#putting this together has done more to push me back towards writing than ninety percent of warm up's i've tried đđ˝#sick with longing for my fic writing hyperfixation phase actually LMFAO#esp vegaspete and patpran#my wips used to be OVERFLOWING#sigh
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
the love project | jjk
summary: from running to mcdonaldâs at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, youâre used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.
{college!au, friends to lovers!au}
pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!
These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.Â
At least, thatâs how it feels when youâre in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly youâre one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if youâre still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now youâre trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.
Okay, youâll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. Thatâs what you get for putting it off until junior year, when youâre supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you donât have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors donât do math. They just donât. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.Â
Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.Â
Your best friend would have to disagree.
âItâs not even calculus!â Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. âItâs just algebra! All youâre doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!â
âEasy for you to say,â you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, thatâs right. You did. âYou took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. Itâs not even required for your major. Youâre just a masochist.â
âSays the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, âall seemed so interestingâ and you âdidnât want to miss out.ââ Jungkook rebukes pointedly. âBecause your life would be so terrible if you didnât take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.â
Heâs got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkookâs favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isnât going to single-handedly kill him.
Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he canât take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table youâre sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.Â
Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when youâre sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasnât devoted his entire being to, even if itâs something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they wonât even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.Â
But you are not âsome of his other friends.â You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.
âHey, donât mess up my workââ You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. âWait, how did you do that?â
Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.Â
He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like itâs nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.Â
âDoes that help?â He asks when heâs finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.Â
âIt actually does,â you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. âI didnât know it was that easy.â
âAnything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,â Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. âExcept coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.â
âAw, you can do it,â you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. âItâs also too late to change your major now, so youâre stuck.â
âWow, thanks for the encouragement,â Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. âYou should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.â
âI would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,â you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesnât get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. âBut thanks. Iâll definitely take you up on that.â
âOf course,â Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semesterâs worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because itâs you.Â
âMy very own personal genius,â you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. Itâs something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each otherâs bodies like itâs second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. âIâm never letting you go.â
Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. âLike Iâd ever let you,â he says.
There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. Itâs something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that heâs a bad essay writer, even though heâs not), but at this point itâs cemented in stoneâheâs a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that heâs built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.Â
The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldnât help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.Â
So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that Iâm in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.Â
âAre you alright?â You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like theyâre Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. Thereâs a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.Â
Itâs not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.Â
âMy Photography class is gonna be the death of me,â Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.Â
âI thought you liked it,â you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. Heâs going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.
âI do,â Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. âBut this project is ridiculous. I donât even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.â
âWhat do you have to do?â
Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. âI mean, itâs only really a week long. So I guess itâs not too bad. But weâre supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.â
You scrunch your nose up in confusion. âI might be wrong, but isnât that what photography⌠is?â You ask cluelessly.Â
âYes,â Jungkook argues, âbut also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. Thatâs it.â
âOh,â You say dumbly.Â
âAnd our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,â Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasnât made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. âBut I donât even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! Iâd basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!â
âIâll do it,â you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. Thereâs no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.Â
Jungkookâs eyes pop out of his head. âWhat?â
âIâm serious,â you insist. âThink about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?â
âWell..â Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. âWould you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, Iâm literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.â
âLike we donât already do that on our phones,â you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.Â
âA camera is different from a phone,â Jungkook protests weakly.Â
âYeah, yeah, I know. But Iâm just saying. It wonât bother me,â you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so⌠weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he wonât have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But heâs being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. âBut you donât have to,â you backtrack. âIt was just a suggestion.â
He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.Â
Quite frankly, you donât know what all the holdup is about.Â
âYouâre⌠sure about this?â He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if thatâs even an issue. âYouâre cool with being photographed and everything?â
âOnly because itâs you,â you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you canât see. âYeah,â you say loudly, trying to bring him back. âIâm fine with it.â
He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. âOkay then. I guess itâs settled. Youâll be my subject,â he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. Itâs probably nothing, so you donât think too hard about it.
âCan you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?â You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. âItâs the first time weâve ever gotten to be part of a project together!â
âYay,â Jungkook says, lifeless.Â
âHow about a photo to commemorate it?â You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. âThis can be the start of your portfolio.â
âFine,â he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. Heâs a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.
You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. âHow do I look?â You ask, scrunching your eyes together.Â
Jungkookâs finger hovers over the silver button. âPerfect,â he tells you, voice soft and honest.Â
Click.
âSo, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?â You ask as you flop around on Jungkookâs bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesnât exist. You donât even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?
From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkookâs fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. âI donât know,â he says. âHe said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.â
âThat doesnât sound too bad,â you say. When youâre around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they arenât exactly award-worthy photographs, but itâs not a physically demanding task.Â
âYeah,â Jungkook says. âHypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.â
âWell, how many do you have now?â
Itâs been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already youâve lost track of how many photos heâs taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didnât realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, heâs practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lightingâs bad, even if you havenât had your morning coffee yet, even if itâs midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.
You wonder what the hell he sees in you.Â
��A lot,â Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.Â
âHave you counted?â You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.Â
Jungkook doesnât seem to realize what youâre doing until youâre standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos heâs taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.Â
Itâs from the library yesterday. You didnât even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didnât even hear it click.Â
He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.Â
âWhat, Iâm not allowed to see?â You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?
âNo,â Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. âI mean, itâs a surprise. You get to see when itâs finished. I still have to⌠uh, edit. And stuff.â
âEdit? You think Iâm that ugly?â You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.
Jungkookâs eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. âWhat, no! I donâtâI donât think youâre ugly.â
You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.Â
âIâm kidding, Iâm kidding,â you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. âYou donât have to show me. Iâm just excited. No oneâs ever taken photos of me like this before.â
âI would,â Jungkook speaks up softly. âIf you asked. I would.â
âI know,â You say. Youâre not sure if thereâs a thing in this world Jungkook wouldnât do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. âI know.â
 âWhat are you doing?â Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.Â
âJust another reading, like always,â you dismiss, because youâre positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You donât even want to hear about it. âBut I could use some help on Astronomy.â
Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.Â
The truth is, you didnât really need help with this unit. Astronomyâs gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when heâs sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when heâs right beside you, in a place where you know you wonât lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that heâll always be there for you.Â
When heâs finished, Jungkook doesnât get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that thereâs something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesnât really matter, so long as youâre with him.
âI didnât know you took so many photos,â you say.
âI never want to miss anything.â
âYou should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.â
âNo, you donât. Donât say stuff like that.â
âYou donât think Iâm ugly?â You ask him, for real this time. Itâs not that you think heâs going to say that he does, itâs that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and heâs right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. Heâs right there, how could you miss him?
âNo,â Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. âWhy would I ever think that?â
At the end of the day, you canât really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkookâs trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. Heâs seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. Heâs seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. Heâs seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.Â
You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you arenât getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, youâve been pretty successful, which either means youâve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkookâs gotten better at hiding it.Â
Either way, heâs got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so youâre not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.Â
Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkookâs little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.Â
This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.Â
Itâs more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkookâs relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.Â
âSo, howâs you and Jungkookâs little photography fling going?â Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way sheâs wiggling her eyebrows.Â
âItâs not a fling, and itâs fine,â you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. âStop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.â
âGood, because theyâve all probably noticed the way Jungkookâs been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,â Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no oneâs listening in.Â
You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. âItâs not like that and you know it.â
âDonât you think itâs even a little strange that youâve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like youâre a model and heâs some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?â You can practically see Maisieâs face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.
âNo, itâs what we agreed on,â you remind her for the umpteenth time. Thereâs nothing weird about this. Youâre helping him with a project, what more could it be? âJungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.â
âHmm⌠wonder whyâŚâ Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.Â
âYouâve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,â you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. âYou know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.â
âFriends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,â Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word âprojectâ right in front of you.
âFriends that help each other out because thatâs what friends do,â you correct. âYouâre just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money youâve bet on us getting together.â
Maisie gasps. âI have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!â
âDonât think I donât see you and Jiminâs damn Venmo history.â You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. Itâs the first edition, and itâs battered beyond belief, but itâs better than paying for it. âJust this, thanks.â
âThe only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,â Maisie comments snidely. âI donât think Iâve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time youâve known each other. Isnât that proof enough?â
âYou want me to go on a date with someone?â You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.Â
You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. Itâs not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?Â
The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.
âFine, Iâll go on a date with someone. If itâll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,â you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.Â
âYou guys would have really cute babies, Iâm just saying,â Maisie points out like itâs nothing.Â
You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. âSee you, Maise.â
Youâre barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.Â
âY/N!â
You turn your head just in time to see Jungkookâs devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you donât even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.Â
Another voice breaks you from your trance.Â
âAnd here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,â Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.Â
The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.Â
âIâm kidding,â Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. âTheyâre just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But donât they look so cute together?â
âAre you guys dating?â One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.Â
Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, âNo, weâre just friends.â Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose heâs gotten just as sick of explaining as you.Â
âBummer, right?â Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. âBut Iâm working on that, so donât worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dormsâŚâ
The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadnât even realized you had been holding in. âWeird, right? Even high-schoolers think weâre together.â
Jungkook doesnât meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is heâs thinking about, what it is youâre not seeing. Lately, itâs felt like thereâs something on Jungkookâs mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.Â
âHey, you alright?â You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. âDid I say something wrong?â
âNo,â Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesnât make you feel any better. âNo, itâs fine. Donât worry about it. Donât you have class soon?â
âOh, shit, youâre right, fuck,â you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess youâll be using one of your allotted absences today. âThanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?â
âIâll text you,â Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like youâre missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?Â
What do you not know?
By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.
This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?
Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.
Youâre no expert in app design, but its simplified âyes or noâ mechanic has you swiping through people like itâs an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesnât make you laugh within the first sentence.Â
Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?Â
Even if Tinder wasnât your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someoneâs designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if theyâre worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. Thatâs the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.
Besides, itâs not like you had very many options at your disposal. You donât trust Maisie to set you up with someone because sheâll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesnât sit right with you.
So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isnât dead. Itâs just archaic.
An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, youâve got plans with a nice senior boy whom youâve never met.Â
And for the first time in a very long time, thereâs something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.
The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. Itâs been so long since youâve gone out with someone that youâve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?
You donât want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if heâs wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like youâre about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.
You donât want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks itâs inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.
âHey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? Iâve had a day,â he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.
You donât want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater youâve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. Itâs impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he canât even believe what heâs seeing. Itâs impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.
The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.Â
âWhoa.â
âDo you think itâs too much?â You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? Itâs just Jungkook.Â
âToo much for what?â Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if heâs determined to make sure his eyes arenât deceiving him. âWhere are you going?â
âI think weâll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,â you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. âIâm⌠going out. With someone.â
âLike,â Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. âOn a date?â
âYeah.â
Itâs a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkookâs already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that youâre going out on a date.Â
âOh.â Jungkookâs voice is lifeless. âDo I know them?â
âNo, uh, itâs just some guy I met on Tinder. I donât know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I havenât really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so weâre probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if weâre still in the mood, andââ You cut yourself off, so nervous that youâve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. âWhy? Do you think itâs too much?â
âYou use Tinder?â Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like heâs shocked to hear this.Â
âYeahâŚâ you trail off. âWhy?â
Jungkook freezes at the question, but itâs not because it seems like he doesnât have an answer. Itâs because it seems like he does. Only itâs an answer he doesnât want to share.Â
âNothing, itâs nothing,â he eventually settles on, shaking his head. âYou, uh, you look good.â
âYou think? I feel like itâs a lot. I donât know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,â you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. âShould I change into pants, or anything?â
âNo, no, I think thatâs fine,â Jungkook says with an honest smile. âYou look nice like this.â
âItâs probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,â you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. âI miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doingâ?â
You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.Â
âI, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,â Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. âSince youâre all dressed up.â
âSeriously?â You ask in disbelief.Â
Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. âJust one.â
He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks heâll miss it.Â
Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.Â
And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesnât feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.Â
Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.Â
You wonder what he sees.Â
(You wonder if itâs as beautiful as what you see.)
âHave fun tonight, okay?â Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before heâs supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.
You nod. âI will. And if I donât, then Iâll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.â
âYou donât have to do that,â Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.Â
âBut I want to. So I will. Okay? Iâll text you,â you promise. âDonât think Iâll forget about you.â
Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.Â
âWait, Y/N,â Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. âI hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.â
There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.
âEven if itâs not,â you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, youâre still here. âI know youâll always be there to take care of me afterwards.â
Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.Â
For some reason, thereâs a part of you that wishes you never even left.Â
The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.Â
You look down at your phone. It isnât even nine oâclock yet.Â
[November 7th, 8:48PM]
You: you still game for that movie?
[November 7th, 8:50PM]
Jungkook: you finished your date already?
You: is that a yes or a no
Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that
You: youâre gonna get robbed one day and itâs gonna be by me You: iâm coming over
The walk from your apartment to Jungkookâs is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.
Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels youâre wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, youâd probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.Â
But you arenât defeated. You didnât have the worldâs most spectacular date, but the night isnât over just yet.Â
Jungkookâs waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.Â
âEight minutes, huh? Youâre getting old,â he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.Â
âYour counting is just off,â you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.Â
âHowâd it go?â Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.Â
You shrug. âEh. It was okay.â
âJust okay?â Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didnât have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didnât turn out to be everything you wanted.Â
âI donât know,â you admit, looking over at him, dejected. âIt justâI just had this feeling that it wasnât going to work out.â
Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like heâs trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, youâre not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you werenât going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.Â
Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.Â
âOh,â Jungkook says lamely. âWell, Iâm sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.â
âItâs alright,â you assure him. âCan we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?â
To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As heâs queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesnât even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that heâs worn so much it still smells like him even after itâs come right out of the wash.Â
He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.Â
âReady?â You ask, breaking him from his resolve.
Jungkook blinks wildly from where heâs seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. âWhat? Oh, yeah, Iâve been waiting for you.â
âThen hurry it up, Mister,â you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. Itâs instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. âAll good?â You ask, looking up at him.Â
Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, youâve never seen him more at home. âAlways, when Iâm with you.â
The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face youâre almost certain all heâll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and thereâs no more room left on his card.Â
âGuess Iâll have to charge this thing, then,â Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.Â
âYou arenât going to include any of those, are you?â You ask, an eyebrow raised.Â
Jungkook shrugs. âWhy wouldnât I?â
âDonât you have enough?â You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you donât know about. Thereâs certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. Thatâs for sure.Â
âNever,â Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you donât have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.Â
The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. Thereâs no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when youâre strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.Â
âItâs due on Monday, right?â You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.Â
âYeah. Iâm almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.â
âI want to see it.â
âWhat? My project?â
âWhat else?â
âItâs just a project, itâs not that exciting.â
You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. âWhat do you mean âitâs not that excitingâ? Itâs your photography project. Youâve spent a whole week working on it.â
âYeah, but itâs just you, you know?â Jungkook objects. âLike, you know what you look like. Itâs just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said itâd be.â
âThatâs exactly why I want to see it,â you say like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âYou took pictures of me for a whole week. Donât you want to share them with me?â
âIf you really want some of the photos, Iâll send you some, but you donât need to see the whole portfolio, you know? Itâs just for my professor,â Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. Whatâs the big deal? Itâs not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didnât know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Whereâs the harm in that?
âWhy are you getting so hung up on this? Itâs just photos,â you say with a frown.Â
âWhy are you getting so hung up on this?â Jungkook challenges back.Â
You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.Â
âDo you promise to show me eventually?â You ask, hopeful.
Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work heâs being. âOne day,â he declares. âOne day, I will.â
And thatâs good enough for you.Â
You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. Thereâs just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.
Youâre on the verge of slumber when Jungkookâs voice breaks through.
âWhy didnât you think your date would work out?â
âI donât know,â you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. âIt just felt wrong.â
âHow do you know what feels right?â
Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, youâd answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkookâs hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that canât be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.Â
The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when youâre in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.Â
So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?
Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkookâs apartment.Â
The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And itâs been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they donât all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.Â
Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that itâs the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth itâs over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isnât even there.Â
Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, youâre just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.Â
Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook wonât just show you himself. Why heâs being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly whatâs in it. For Godâs sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. Itâs like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?
Whatever. You arenât going to force it if he doesnât want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, heâll finally decide that the time is right.Â
âIâm so fucking tired,â Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where heâs sitting on your bed, dead inside. âI need a break.â
âAre you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?â You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.Â
Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.Â
You and Jungkookâs best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each otherâs cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. Itâs worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.Â
Unfortunately, itâs hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when itâs been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.Â
As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.Â
The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkookâs laptop screen.Â
Thereâs just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you canât help yourself, you peer over to see what heâs written.Â
What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think youâve changed?
Hard to say that I have. I donât think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I donât think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.Â
What?
Do you think youâll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?
Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my lifeâa single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it wonât hurt as much as it does now.Â
This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But thereâs just one more question left on the pageâŚÂ
This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?
Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.Â
âY/N?â
You hadnât even heard the kettle whistling.Â
âJungkook,â you say, breathless, caught red-handed.Â
âWhat are you doing?â He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.Â
âUhââ
âWere you reading my computer screen?â
Itâs not like you could say you were doing anything else.Â
âI couldnât help myself, I came over here to check my phone since itâs been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I justâŚâ you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.Â
(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it wonât hurt as much as it does now.Â
If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.Â
I guess you could say I learned that I donât think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)
âWhat do you mean, how you feel about me?â You ask, because you canât help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because youâre staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.Â
âY/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?â He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.Â
âBecause I just had to know, okay?â You shout back. âI had to know what you were hiding from me.â
âSo you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?â He demands, storming over to you.Â
âSo you are hiding something?â
âThatâs not the point, the point is thatââ
âWhat are you not telling me, Jungkook?â You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. âWhy wonât you show me your goddamn portfolio? If thereâs really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? Iâm your best friend, Iâm the fucking subject of your project? Donât I deserve to see it? Why wonât you show me?â
âBecause then youâd know!â Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.Â
He looks so strained. So tired. Like heâs been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. Youâve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.Â
âJungkookâ?â
âYouâd know, goddamnit,â Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. âAnd I wasnât sure if I was ready for that.â
âKnow what? What would I know?âÂ
Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. âThat Iâm in love with you.â
The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.Â
âYouâre in love with me?â You ask him.Â
âI didnât want you to find out this way,â Jungkook admits. âOr at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âI was afraid that Iâd lose you.â
You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. âYou must have known Iâd never let that happen, hmm?â
Jungkook smiles softly. âI was scared. Can you blame me? Youâre my best friend.â
âAnd you are mine,â you remind him.Â
âItâs justââ Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. âWeâd known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didnât want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didnât want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and thatâs you, thatâs always been you, so Iââ
âJungkook,â you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. âJust, shut up, okay?â
And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.Â
You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkookâs eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.Â
But barely a second more passes before heâs scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like itâs the last thing heâll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he canât get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.Â
He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.Â
He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.Â
By the time you part once more, you donât think youâve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.Â
âSee?â You point out softly. âNothing to be afraid of.â
Jungkook looks positively dazed. âI think I need to lie down.â
âOoh, was I that good?â You tease.
âIâm dreaming.â He shakes his head. âIâm definitely fucking dreaming.â
Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.Â
You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.Â
âIs this real?â He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. âAre you real?â
âJust like you,â you promise him. âI didnât know this is what we had been missing, all this time.â
âIt wasnât missing,â Jungkook assures you. âIt was just hidden.â
âI love you,â you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. âI think I always have. You just needed to say it first.â
âOblivious as always.â Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. âBut Iâm glad. If this is what it would take, then Iâm glad.â
âYou wouldnât change anything?â You ask him, eyes wide and curious.Â
Itâs hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that heâs loved you, how long itâs been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. Itâs hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.Â
âNo,â Jungkook says like itâs the easiest answer in the world. âI have you now. Why would I?â
What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think youâve changed?
Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadnât learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.
Do you think youâll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?
Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I donât think Iâve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.Â
This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?
Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, âRemember that?â
âł links are broken, but donât forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!
#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenario#jungkook scenario#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#bts au#jungkook au#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#w: the love project#yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
avoid the unhappy ending (ch6)
ships/characters: Goldie, Huey, Louie, Beakley, Scrooge/Goldie words (ch6): ~2200Â summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943/
[1 & 2] [3] [4]Â [5]
Chapter 6 below the cut:
Goldie, finally alone, took the opportunity to climb down the stairs. Duckworth had said Scrooge was down there at some point. Of course, Scrooge was all around the manor at some point. Not the most helpful clue. But still, there she went.
Quietly creeping down the staircase to ensure the housekeeper wouldnât notice her, she poked her head around the side and glanced every which way. There was definitely someone in the kitchen and she had no doubts who that was. It was not a confrontation she was interested in having. Sure - Goldie could take out Twenty-Two with minimal effort. But did she want to? Not particularly.
She tip-toed her way towards the dining room, hoping to see Scrooge eating some of his disgusting family recipes or reading the paper. And as she opened the door, she saw someone sitting at the end of the table right underneath the large portrait of Scroogeâs parents.
Even with the giant newspaper covering his face, she recognized the signature top hat.
âFinally.â Goldie stepped forward and leaned on the table flirtatiously. âScroogey, where have you-â
The newspaper was pulled down to reveal the red triplet, who just happened to be wearing Scroogeâs hat.
Goldie and Huey stared at each other for a full second before they both yiped.
Huey grabbed the top hat and threw it across the room. âI-I wasnât pretending to be Uncle Scrooge!â
Goldie watched the hatâs descent. âUmâŚâ
âWait, what? Miss Goldie?â He blinked several times and then shook his head, focusing on neatly folding up the newspaper. âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm - â
âStealing something? Visiting Scrooge? Come to talk to Louie?â
â...itâs -â
âAre you going to tie up Mrs. Beakley again? She probably wonât appreciate that.â
â...â
âWell?â
Goldie crossed her arms over her chest. âI was waiting for you to stop talking.â
Huey stood up straight and popped his normal hat back on his head. âIâm done.â
âIâm looking for your uncle. Contrary to apparently popular belief, I donât need to steal something every time Iâm here.â She glanced around the room and a few items of significant monetary value stood out to her. â...of course, that doesnât mean I wonât.â
He followed her eyeline and frowned. âWhy are you looking for Uncle Scrooge?â
Goldie picked herself up and sat on the edge of the table, one leg crossed over the other. âI donât see how thatâs any of your business.â
âYou being in my home makes it my business,â Huey said matter-of-factly. âI donât think Iâm wrong to assume that you broke in here, which means the manor isnât as secure as it should be considering the types of people who try to just come in whenever they want to.â
Impressed, she smiled down at the kid. âSo serious. You know, I spoke with your brother earlier and heâs busy putting on a show, while youâre down here pretending to be an ancient businessman with a back problem.â
He stiffened. âWhatâs your point?â
âMy pointâŚâ Goldie leaned over and flicked the brim of Hueyâs hat, knocking it off his head. It was easy to change the subject with kids. â...is that you donât seem to know how to have fun.â
Huey reached over and grabbed his hat to put it back on. âI make my own fun! The girls have their sleepovers and Dewey is...Dewey. And Louie doesnât do anything! Scrooge is alone all the time so I thought imitating him might give me some ideas!â
She frowned at that. âWhat do you mean, alone all the time? He has a million people living in this house with him.â
âWell, yeah, sure. But he still has his alone routine he fell into before we moved in.â Huey scratched his arm. âHe takes long baths, usually eats meals by himself, drinks a lot of tea alone on the couch, spends hours writing stuff at the desk in his roomâŚâ
Goldieâs frown deepened. Was this kid trying to pull one over on her? Those specifically sounded like activities she could be joining in on if she were a more regular resident of the manor. âIâm sure he prefers it that way,â she said with a shrug.
Huey gave her a suspicious look, almost like her reaction was not what he thought sheâd say. He clearly gave his response some consideration before saying, âYes, well...thatâs the life of a bachelor, I guess!â
She laughed. âWhat would you know about a bachelorâs life? Youâre, what, 10?â
âIâm 11, thank you very much.â Huey clasped his fingers on the table in front of him. âAnd I may not know a lot about bachelors, but I know Uncle Scrooge! Plus I know youâve,â He pointed at her dramatically, âbeen running around all afternoon trying to find him and you wonât tell anyone why. So I think you miss him, and heâs lonely. And Duckworth thinks itâs some anniversary for you guys. So you can keep pretending that youâre just here to get on Uncle Scroogeâs nerves, but I think itâs pretty obvious that you just want to spend some time with him and itâs kind of ridiculous that even at your age, you two canât seem to just sit down and have a normal conversation about it. Considering what Webby told us about your little adventure down in Florida, I wouldâve thought you two would be better at communicating by now. I guess one good trip canât undo over a hundred years of messiness.â
Goldie stared at him, quite taken aback. She wasnât used to anyone speaking to her like that.
âIâd say I know quite a bit, Aunt Goldie.â Huey stood up and grabbed the paper in front of him, stuffing it under his arm. He shuffled towards the exit. âTell Uncle Scrooge I said hi when you finally find him.â
She was still staring at the empty chair when Huey left the room. This was really turning out to be some kind of day, wasnât it? Scolded by children. Lectured by children. Pitied by children. Interviewed by children. There were too many kids in this house, she didnât need to tell Scrooge that. Communication wasnât the problem - he knew exactly how she felt.
Goldie hopped off the table. She brushed some dust off her shorts and considered the possibility that maybe Scrooge didnât one hundred percent know how she felt.
...no, no. He knew.
She looked at the doors around the room. That was the one she entered from, that one went to the kitchen, and...she didnât remember where that door led. SoâŚ
The door creaked quite a bit as she pushed it open, revealing the living room. Oh, yeah. Now she remembered. And there was someone sitting on the couch, sipping a drink and watching television.
Goldie smiled and walked over, plopping down on the armrest and leaning against the back of the couch.
âHey, can you get me another Pep? Iâm almost out.â
Her smile turned into a smirk as she realized Louie wasnât paying enough attention to figure out who was with him. She snatched the soda out of his hand and chugged the rest of it.
Louie stared at his now-empty hand. âHey! What do you think youâreâŚâ He turned his head to confront the soda stealing culprit and then froze. â...wait, what?â
âHey there, Sharpie.â
âWhat are you doing here?!â Louie jumped over to the far side of the couch and checked his pockets to see if anything was missing.
âJust hanging out. Talking to your entire family, for whatever reason.â She shrugged. âAnd what are you up to? Judging from the number of empty cans here, I take it thereâs no scheme in the works.â
âIâm not constantly scheming,â Louie said with a frown. âUnlike you, I have a life outside of that. Yâknow, family and friends.â
Goldie didnât let his comment annoy her. (Almost.) âMore proof that family just bogs you down. Let me guess; they ruined your last scheme?â
Louie shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. âNope.â
âOh?â
âThey actually saved my last scheme. I guess having a family isnât as bad as you seem to think it is.â He smirked at her, feeling like he was on top again.
Goldie scowled and turned her body to face him, letting one leg droop onto the couch while the other hung over the edge of the armrest. âWhat is with everyone today?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âIâve spoken to ninety percent of the people who live here, including several random children that Iâve never seen before, and everyone is just constantly talking about how great and important family is.â She shook her hands for emphasis. âAre you people always like this or is it just a special topic for me?â
Louie let out a short, rude laugh. âEver think you might be a little paranoid? If everyoneâs talking to you about family, thatâs probably your own fault.â
She scoffed. âParanoia is good for a person like me. Itâs the only reason Iâm still alive.â
âOh, really?â He sat back down, leaning against the other armrest to look at her smugly. âItâs not because of magic? Or fountains of youth? Maybe some dimension hopping?â
âThat all came later. Before I found my first fountain, I was just a normal duck who had to be better than every other duck or dog or pig that came to town. No family or friends to support me or fall back on.â
Louie snapped a finger and then pointed a finger gun at Goldie. âYou just brought up family again with no prompting.â
âWhat?â Goldie frowned and thought about what sheâd said. âNo - you know what? Thatâs because Iâm surrounded by you people!â
âSo you admit that itâs your own fault.â He smiled and adjusted his position so he was facing the TV again. âDoes denial come naturally when you get old or is it just you and Uncle Scrooge?â
She glared down at Louie for a moment before picking herself up and plopping down on the couch next to him. âSo what are we watching?â
Louie glanced up at her, surprised that she hadnât left. âOttoman Empire. Itâs my favorite show.â
âWhatâs it about?â
âI donât even know, itâs so stupid.â
A minute passed with them silently watching the show together. Louie was clearly very comfortable, and Goldie had to admit that just sitting and watching some nonsense with her favorite of Scroogeâs kids was...nice.
As annoying as the day had been, there were a few moments she enjoyed. This was definitely in the top three, as embarrassing as that fact was. There was something about Sharpie that made her feel lighter. Sure, sheâd betrayed him, but he didnât seem to hold a grudge like his uncle tended to. He didnât seem to care at all. He even told one of the other ducklings that she was soft.
âWhyâd you tell Lil Vanderquack that Iâm, quote, a softie?â she asked suddenly, cutting through the boredom of a commercial break.
Louie didnât even look at her, taking a sip from an old can of Pep that still had some liquid at the bottom. âCause you are.â
Goldie hummed in response. What would be the point in disagreeing with him? Clearly heâd made up his mind. And here she was, snuggling with him on a comfy sofa, watching bad reality TV while not twenty feet away was a woman who wanted to rip her head off and not five feet away were treasures worth more than her home. Maybe he had a point.
âDo you always think youâre right?â she asked.
âDo you?â
Goldie frowned deeper and put a hand on top of Louieâs head, brushing her fingers through some of his little feathers. âOf course.â
He didnât stop her from playing with his hair, enjoying it more than heâd admit. âThen thereâs your answer.â
She was tempted to get into a whole pointless argument of âwell we canât both be right,â but it would get old fast. âSo Iâm looking for your uncle.â
âNo kidding.â
â...he wasnât in his bedroom -â
âEw.â
Goldie rolled her eyes. âHave you seen him?â She removed her hand from his head and started to stand up.
âEhhâŚâ Louie sat up straight for a minute and combed through his hair to set it back to normal. âIâm not sure. I thought I saw him looking at some old treasures earlier. Near the garage.â
âAlright.â Goldie looked at the TV again for a moment, genuinely interested in where the episode was going.
But the sound of footsteps walking towards them from the kitchen took her out of that stupor. She leaned down and left an unprompted smooch on Louieâs head. âSeeya round, Sharpie.â
âWha-?! Gross!â Louie angrily rubbed a hand over the spot sheâd kissed and when he looked back up, Goldie was gone.
âWhatâs gross?â Beakley asked as she stepped into the room with a fresh can of Pep.
Louie smiled and grabbed it. âOh, nothing. Goldieâs here, by the way.â
âThat is quite gross.â
27 notes
¡
View notes
Photo
High School AUs
College/University AUs
â A+ fics (imho) | All of the recs
High School AUs
High Scores by popfly â
Kaner is a DDR master, Jonny is ultra-competitive. Bollig just wants to make out with Shawzy.
Dynamical Systems by jezziejay â - math geek patrick! jock jonny!
Jonnyâs plenty smart, but thereâs hockey practice just before a double math period every Tuesday and Wednesday morning. He gets to class on time. Physically, heâs there. But his mind is still on the ice. Throw in a kidney infection that keeps him home for two weeks, and Jonnyâs struggling. Not failing, but that C is dragging his GPA down, and his mom is making clucking noises. The same noises that mean hockey time is coming up for review.
Thereâs a note on the student boards advertising tutoring.
promise i'm worthy (to hold in your arms) [One and Only series] - teenage angst and american douchebags ft. ryan kesler
"So come on and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile."
love is a contact sport by hazel, mermaid â - high school soulmates!
"And the tragic reality of Patrick's life is that even though they broke up over a year ago, he and Johnny still play beautiful hockey together."
A high school AU, featuring dream-fish, bad movie dates, and a little bit of magic.
Movie Nights or Five Times Jonny Wanted Popcorn (and One Time He Didnât) by CoffeeKristin
Patrick had only been working at the movie theater a few weeks when a noisy bunch of boys from his high school burst through the doors just before the last showing of Captain America: Civil War and come tumbling into the lobby, whooping it up. He sighed and put down the containers of popcorn he was counting, mentally preparing himself for the asshattery he was likely to endure.
âWhat can I get you?â he asked the crowd, and true to form, no one was listening so he waited another moment. Finally one of the boys got pushed to the front, stumbling into the counter. âFuck, Duncs, not so hard,â he said, and oh. That was Jonathan Toews: Captain of the high school soccer team, president of the student council, son of the mayor. Basically, everything Patrick wasnât.
do it how you want it done â
(very vaguely) grease-inspired high school au.
yeah, i went there.
kissing your honeyed eyes by forochel
The one that's the British boarding school AU.
This Is What A Love Song Sounds Like by fourfreedoms â - reunion fic but god the flashbacks! the angst!
When he came out after his freshman year of college his mother said sheâd always known, and heâd had to fight down the bizarre wave of paranoia that maybe everybody knew, maybe theyâd all just been letting him sweat all those years. It was crazy of course, there was only one person whoâd known, who had any idea.Patrick Kane.
Ten years after they fucked around in high school, Patrick and Jonny meet back up at their high school reunion.
roll with it by hazel â
The one where a bunch of Blackhawks inexplicably go to boarding school, Tazer is the world's meanest DM, and Pat doesn't know why anyone would think cutting the head off a hydra was good idea.
Light Me Up by sahiya - where they both went to Shattuck!
Being serious about hockey always meant Patrick would have to leave home. For a long time he thought it would be for juniors and a billet family. But things don't go as planned, and he finds himself at Shattuck-St. Mary's.
His roommate's name is Jonathan Toews. He can't keep his water bottles on his side of the room, and he's unfortunately, stupidly hot. Because Patrick's life sucks.
boot theory by mentalistecbm - teen angst, break up
Everyone knows that they're broken up.
glory days by liketheroad â - soulmate, teen angst
He never expected his destiny to involve anything but hockey, never thought it would show up in flip flops, but when Patrick smiles at him across the locker room, quick and surprised, Johnny lets his priorities shift and change without a hint of reluctance or regret.
There's Only Blood Running In My Veins by mikarala - pwp
Patrick and Jonny are making out in Patrickâs bedroom when Jonny says it. âI--I,â he stutters out, in between a moan, âI want you to fuck me.â
Gold Seeking Ends by liveinfury - Flipped AU
âWanna go on the tire swing with me after?â Jonny asks.
âNo,â Patrick answers.
âOh,â Jonny says, looking deflated. âWhat about the jungle gym?â
âNope."
âUm, okay,â Jonny says, shrugging before walking away.Sam giggles some more. âI canât believe Jonny, the dirt eater, likes you.âPatrick smirks at him. âEveryone likes me.â
(or Patrick and Jonny meet in the second grade. Jonny's instantly smitten, Patrick is...not. Ten years later, things start flipping.)
Keep Calm and Don't Think of Star Wars podfic by exmanhater â - A Clueless AU
After I once again assure Abby that Johnny and I are not, NOT related (by googling the difference between half-brother and stepbrother because jesus fucking christ am I am the only knowledgeable one around here?), she agrees to help.
but i can write a songÂ
âWeâre not going to be called Jonny and the Patricks,â Jonny says, sounding entirely too put upon  about a name thatâs clearly awesome.
[or; the high school band au you probably didn't ask for]
lost in brightness - pat, jon and a crowded train
âYouâre gonna get caught one day,â Jonny sighs, herding Pat in front of him as they squeeze onto  the train, the crowd thicker than usual. Itâs been raining on and off, fall well and truly taking the city in  its grasp. Jonnyâs already looking forward to meeting Pat by his house every morning, red-cheeked  and rugged up, his face barely visible between his toque and scarf.
you're mending what's broken - a stats nerd Patrick story
The guy who sits behind Jonny in AP Stats wants to know how  many shots on goal he had last Tuesday. Or at least, that's how it starts.
A high school AU featuring stats nerd Kaner and his Tragic Hockey  Backstory (TM), without much time or inclination toward actual tragedy. Instead there is  discussion of Corsi. And kissing.
Examine Other Beauties by kiwoa - theater kids!
"I," Jonny says, and he slips his headset up from around his neck to nestle over his ears, "am not an actor."
"Good thing I don't need you to act."
"No."
"Jonny."
"Patrick."
"Please?" Kaner cants forward and tilts his face up to blink at Jonny. In the fluttering light that filters in from the stage, his eyes look unnaturally pale. "Just read the lines, okay? I want to see how well I've memorized them."
Jonny scrubs a hand over his face. The motion knocks his mike askew. "One scene."
A/S/LÂ â - 90s teenaged kids meeting on webcam omg
The internet is a dangerous place, or:
Patrick and Jonny meet, lie through their teeth, and fall in love. Mostly that last part.
Actual Prom King Brandon Saad by popfly â
Patrick might be a little jealous of the new kid.
Sure Brandon is basically the prom king from every feel-good teenage movie Patrickâs sisters have made him watch, but that doesnât mean Jonny wants that.
Sign it with your heart by tictactoews + podfic by exmanhater â
Patrick loses a bet and is dared to plant an anonymous love letter into a random locker. It just so happens that the locker belongs to one Jonathan Toews, captain of the school hockey team.Meanwhile, Jonny finds himself in need of a math tutor, and following the advice of his teacher, he asks the new kid, Patrick Kane, for help.
a complicated kindness by liketheroad - young and figuring out d/s â
Patrick still remembers how scared Sharpy looked, just for a second there. He remembers not understanding why anyone would back away from Johnny when he was like that, why they wouldnât want to strain closer, pushing to see how much further heâd go.
What Comes Easy by impertinence - summer camp of angst
Kaner's determined to never grow up; Tazer's determined to grow up as quickly as possible. Over eleven years of summer camp, they learn to meet in the middle. Set in stlkrchk's Camp Quaquanantuck universe.
mathletes are totally athletes by ukiyo91, yukonecho
Mathlete Patrick Kane never thought that when he was assigned to tutor hockey jock Jonathan Toews that he would be swept up into a new sport...or into Captain Serious.
Toews was like the guild leader Patrick had always aspired to be in WoW, but more of an asshole.
i'll be the embrace that keeps you warm by longtime_lurker - huddling for warmth
It is like death, but it is not death; lovelier. / Cold, inconvenienced, late, what will you do now / with the gift of your left life?
Clumsy by CoffeeKristin - a short first kiss fic uwu
âKnock it off,â she hissed at him. âHeâs looking at you!â
âWho?â Patrick said, his head swiveling around, resulting in Erica smacking him again. âHey! Quit hitting me!â
âThen quit being an idiot,â she huffed. âJonny Toews, you dunce. Heâs looking over here, and youâre biting on the string of your hoodie like a moron.â
look around once in a while by achilleees
One manâs struggle to take it easy.
Based off of âFerris Buellerâs Day Off,â but instead of girlfriends and daddy issues, thereâs hockey and pining. And daddy issues.
Summer Lovin' by CoffeeKristin - est. relationship insecurities
Patrick's home from summer camp, and Jonny's first on his list of to-do's. Somehow a little actual angst/plot worked it's way in. But mostly it's just porn.
Ninety-Nine Point Three Percent by jimtiberiuskirk - best friends mutually pining
The problem is, is that Patrick is 99.3% sure that Jonny knows all about his giant, embarrassing man-crush on him.
bring it if you really want it by staraflur - harry potter AU
It starts like this:
Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so:
America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesnât have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. Thereâs no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800âs, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably canât control your powers, sport.
(if you're feeling down) i can feel you up by hawkeytime
"Hey," Patrick said appreciatively from behind where Jonny stood, stoic as always, by the side of the pool. "Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you have a sweet ass.âOr: How Patrick Kane spent his summer hitting on the hot lifeguard with the help of some inspired (read: awful) pickup lines.
kiss and tell by hawkeytimeÂ
âTrust me,â Sharpy says, âthis will be good for you.âAnd then, he shoves Jonny into what appears to be a mostly empty coat closet and slams the door shut behind him.
âWhat the fuck, Sharp!â Jonny calls, pounding at the door which is, of course, locked.
âEnjoy your seven minutes in heaven, Tazer,â Sharpy singsongs.Then, the bare bulb mounted on the ceiling flares to life, illuminating one Patrick Kane.
Fuck.
i know you are (but what am i) by booktubelover7 - always a girl!pat
Pat throws up her arms in celebration after Toews makes a beautiful goal off of Patâs assist. She crows in celebration as Toews slams into her, shouting in her ear.
Patâs playing, sheâs playing, sheâs playing. Not just that, but sheâs winning too.When her line gets back to the bench, Pat leans over to speak into Toewsâ ear. âThank you,â she says. Her teammate just turns his head to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.
Love or Torture - a/b/o
Patrick Kane is too short, too Omega, and his heat too delayed for him to play hockey. Jonathan Toews has a plan to bring glory to both of them.
keep buying the stars by medusacascade22- teacher!JonnyÂ
âFuck,â Jonny groans. He props his elbows up on his desk and lets his head fall into his hands. Itâs going to be a long fucking year.
(or, in which Jonathan Toews is Patrick Kane's teacher, and shit gets real.)
College/Uni AUs
cello suite no. 1 - THIS IS ONE IS A CLASSIC đ
The first time Jonathan meets Patrick Kane is because he hits him with a lacrosse ball.
In Jonathan's defense, he threw a perfect pass to Seabs, who failed to just reach the one or two feet above his head to catch it.
"Oh shit," Jonathan says when he watched the ball arc across the lawn and whack a blond kid squarely between his shoulder blades.
"Heads up!" he calls belatedly.
this is how we do it series by staraflur â - frat bros AU!!!
He doesnât think Zeus is supposed to have a sword, but their Zeus does. So now Jonny does, because of course heâs in charge. He looks, Patrick is drunk enough to acknowledge, far better than anyone has a right to in a grody old Halloween costume thatâs probably soaked up the butt sweat of dozens, if not hundreds, of Theta-presidents past. Jonny wears it, Patrick gets the sword. Win-win.
AKA that time there was a frat AU (of course).
This Heart Is Not For Wasting by fourfreedoms - oblivious best friends
Patrick puts his head in his hands. âHow could this get any worse?â
âWait, itâs not like, a big deal is it?â Duncs asks, looking at him and Jonny in turn. âThe way you and Jonny are weird about each other? Sheâs gotta have made her peace with it ages ago.â
A college AU.
love song for love songs by boodreaus â - angst, internalized homophobia
âRight,â Jonny says. âCool.â He seems to hesitate, pausing when Patrick goes for the door handle, and then, right as Patrickâs bracing himself to run for the house, Jonny says, âYou should come.â
Patrick turns back at him and is handed a piece of paper. âTo our next show, I mean,â Jonny is saying as Patrick examines what turns out to be a flyer, thick black lettering taking up every square inch of space on the brilliant sunshine-colored surface. âItâs tomorrow night, at the showcase. Feel free to say yes or no or whatever. If you donât know, itâs cool.â
âIâll,â Patrick starts, and then stops, blinking up at him. Jonnyâs just watching him, kind of, elbow resting on the steering wheel. âMaybe,â he finally says, and Jonny smiles.
yet we will make him run - some more angst, except more erudite
Kaner the English Lit major AU.
Sigma Chi series by hatrickane - frat bros hook up and then angst about it
Jonny and Patrick run into each other at a frat party. Patrick proposes a way to pass the time.
Can't Wait by LouLa - first time pwp
Pat's on a hair trigger.
when you flex like that - hookup in a frat party
Johnny isnât drunk, but he does let Sharpy and a couple of frat-looking guys he doesnât even know talk him into a contest of shots. Itâs Sharpyâs fault â he appeals to the competitive side he knows Johnny canât let go of at the best of times, and one of the guys, blonde curls, a lazy smirk of a grin, picks up on it pretty fast too.
Hope you don't mind by haroldslouis
âOh, sorry, man,â the guy says, giving him a quick grin. âThought you were someone else.â He taps the visor of Patrickâs snapback and just like that, he turns around and disappears into the crowd.Patrick doesnât know how long he stands there, just looking at the general direction he disappeared in.
or, 5 times Jonny mistook Patrick for someone else + 1 time he definitely didn't
Room 4 Rent
Patrick stares at the ad for a while, clicking back and forth between the Craigslist page and his  fantasy hockey league, chewing on his bottom lip.
3 bedroom apartment near Loyola. One room available, others occupied by two male students. Â Shared living room and kitchen. Two bathrooms. Rent split three ways. Email [email protected] Â or call 773-639-7812 for more info. No texts please.
are you buying what i'm selling? - frat party buddies
The Sigma Chi Halloween Bash is in a week, Jonnyâs holding two tickets, and he has nobody to go with.
He had a somebody to go with, until that somebody decided Jonnyâs student athlete life wasnât worth  hanging around for. Their relationship was already tanking anyway; Jonnyâs more upset about  potentially wasting a $40 ticket than that shit ending. Whatever.
Just A Spark by heartstrings  â - magical realism!
In a desperate attempt to hide his feelings from the object of his affections, Patrick accidentally drinks a love potion that causes the people around him to fall for him. Too bad it seems to work on everyone but Jonny.
do you know who you are? by liveinfury - frat bros
âSure, Cap. Iâll try to keep it quiet.â Patrick winks at Jonny. âBut be honest, you like the noises I make, huh?â
âWhat? Of course not!" Jonny sputters. "Iâm not gay!â
(or where Jonny can't figure out why he feels so uneasy when Patrick brings guys home to their frat house).
The Great Desk Assembly Project - they were roommates
âIâm going to nail some shit,â he says. âJonny, come watch me nail some shit.â
âWe share a room, I donât need to watch you nail anything else.â
âThatâs not what you were saying last night,â Pat says with a laugh in his voice. He reaches back  behind him and punches Jonny in the shoulder for good measure.
No, It's Not A Secret by SimoneClouseau â - always a girl JonnyÂ
Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your boyfriend. No way, no way. I think you need a new one.
Jehanne Toews is dating a loser. Sometimes it takes a ridiculous awesome young star on the Blackhawks to see the light.
good form - always a girl Pat! âÂ
âBest head of your life?â
âYes, he was better than you, you competitive motherfucker.â Hayds says it like itâs a joke, like itâs funny, like itâs not the single most devastating thing a girl could say to Pat.
âA hockey bro gave you the best head of your goddamn life? Am I in the fucking Upside Down?â
âBelieve it, baby. Jonathan Toews: hockey bro and magical pussy-eating wizard.â
forever i'll try for you and i by staraflur - always girls Jon and Pat!
Itâs extra greatâwhenever Joâs losing, she always makes like their running point tally competition isnât real. Tonightâs true to form: when Trish holds up three fingers and points at herself, then two before pointing at Jo, Jo actually scoffs as she pokes at a couple chicken breasts with the tongs, trying to find the best one.
remedial at love - jonny âi'm great at math but the math tutor's really hot so i'm gonna pretend i'm not' toews
There have been a lot of things Kanerâs done that could be considered suspect. He chose the  Backstreet Boys over Nsync for the Kane Dance-Off Championship when he was 15. He opted to go  to Disneyland instead of Disney World for his high school graduation present. He frosted his tips after  coming out in 12th grade because he thought that was like, the obvious thing to do until he realized  this was not, in actuality, the 90s.
But this one. Calling up âJtoewsâ and requesting tutelage in math when he was a fucking wiz at math  was -- the most highly suspect of all.
Drink yourself under, fuck yourself over by Mythisea
Jonathan Toews is the sophomore captain of the college hockey team. Patrick Kane recently quit hockey before coming to college.
Jonny thinks Patrick would be perfect on his wing. Patrick would rather be drinking. Jonny does not approve.
Make The Moves Up As I Go by agirlnamedfia - tutor!Jonny with a dash of angst and pining
Patrick has his first Econ 202 class on the second day of the spring semester. It doesnât exactly go well.
how to make boys-next-door out of assholes series by bessyboo, thisissirius - textfic
Yo man, Sharpy's having a party tonight. You up for it or you gonna be a boring shit and study???
it's only you and me by crystaljules - graduation blues
"We're so fucking stupid."
Overdosed on Confidence by runphoebe â - fwb, internalized homophobia
âSomeone could -,â Jonny starts, breaking off when Patrick ducks down to draw Jonnyâs lips against his, kissing him fever-hot and wet and desperate. Jonnyâd be embarrassed by how hungrily he responds, but he knows Patâs into it, moaning unashamedly into Jonnyâs mouth when he tightens a hand around Patâs neck. âSomeone could see,â he finally gets out, voice rough, when Patrick pulls back, as if Patrickâs supposed to believe that thatâs any sort of protest.
Patrick licks his lips, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of them in that familiar way like when Patrick's got a particularly bad idea on his mind. âGuess you better be quick then, huh?â he says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows at Jonny. Jonnyâs a second away from rolling his eyes and asking what he means when Patrick slithers off Jonnyâs lap and onto his knees on the floor beneath Jonnyâs table and - oh. Oh.
Silence Gives You Space by liveinfury - pining, misunderstandings
âHave you been avoiding me?â
ââCourse not,â Patrick says. âIâm just letting you do your own thing.â
âMy own thing?â
âYeah, didnât want to crowd your space,â Patrick blurts out. Fuck, he didnât mean to actually say that.âYouâre notâŚâ
âCool.â
tuck you in - getting together
âYou sexiled again?" He smirks and stuffs down the fondness that rolls  through him at theway Jonnyâs hair is rumpled and a little bit wavy.
Jonny sits up slowly, groaning. âYeah. Fuck, this is the third time in a week  and a half.â
obvious from the start - radio DJs Pat and Jon!
Itâs not like Patrick even likes radio, because he hasnât really listened to  anything thatâs not on his iPod or his Pandora stations in years, but when he notices the red and  white flyer advertising the student radio station on the ground, he picks it up with the  excuse that heâs trying to be environmentally friendly.When he played hockey they told Patrick that he was too small, too short to  be a hockeyplayer; that heâd never make it because of his size. Hockey is, was, his heart  and soul, and heâd put years and years of his life into the one thing he knew he was good  at; threw his very being into the best he could be to prove that he can do it, be the best,  even if he was small.
Patrick supposes maybe he'll find something else that heâs just as good at.
stupid college boys series by 19trash88 - Jonny is the cute guy from Econ class
Patrickâs not one to wax poetic about a penis, but if ever there was a reason to, Jonathan Toewsâ cock would be at the top of the list.
Green Light by heartstrings - friends to lovers
Patrick knows two things: he likes sex and he likes Jonny. If Jonny's newly single there's no reason not to combine the two. Right?
Everybody Wants to Touch Some(body Paragraphs) by Kerfluffle â
Wherein Jonny writes the worst essay ever, and weirdness abounds.
Motivation by somethingnerdythiswaycomes â - pwp
Only Jonny could keep working on his LIT-110 paper while Patrick was getting himself off next to him. Fuck, but Patrick loved him so much.
Muse series by by somethingnerdythiswaycomes
So Jonny had applied for every damn job he was qualified for, even the "life model" one TJ goaded him into.So Jonny had received an email the next day asking for his availability to come in for a session.So, as it turned out, it wasnât some random chick that was going to draw him. It was some random dude.
So "life model" apparently meant "nude model."
You Love Me, I Love You Harder So by leyley09 - overly competitive boys on the hockey team
Patrick circles around him at center ice. âJonathan, my team is going to kick your teamâs ass so hard your parents will be embarrassed without even knowing why.ââIâm gonna give you a lesson in goal scoring youâll never forget.ââToews, you couldnât give me a lesson in long distance spitting. Anything you can do, I can do better.ââOh yeah?ââI can do anything better than you.â
Jonathan Toews is used to be being the best. He has zero clue what to do with competition.
Especially when the competition is cute.
middle ground by boodreaus - college road trip, friends to lovers
Jonny, Patrick, and an excellent adventure.
Who Knew by themistrollsin
Jonathan and Patrick meet after they're forced to go to a party by their best friends (Adam and Brent respectively).
Night Moves by heartstrings - meetcute
After a series of unfortunate drunk events that lead him from falling into a snowbank to being laughed at by the police, Jonny meets Patrick in an elevator.
Ignite My Fire, Object Of My Desire by ThalassicThedes â- theater boys!!!
A good ol' fashioned College Au in which the college itself is hardly even mentioned. Just... make of this what you will.
absolute beginners by heartstrings, thundersquall
That time Jonny walked into a diner and accidentally got himself a temporary fake boyfriend.
Like A Classic - royalty!Jonny
So: due to a series of complicated and improbable events involving some sort of life debt and signed promise from two generations ago, it was decreed that Patrick had to marry the Crown Prince of Canada.
Captain Oblivious by wantstothrill - royalty!Pat
Why would Jonny care about the American royal family visiting his university? He's Canadian. He hasn't paid any attention to Prince Patrick since he was a teenager. He's more concerned with the very hot guy he's just run into, who's name also happens to be Patrick. What a coincidence.
+
check out the high school AUs tag aaand the college AUs tag @ 1988rebloggedfic!
#patrick kane#jonathan toews#hockey rpf#blackhawks#chicago blackhawks#1988#1988 fic rec#for any corrections and suggestions DM ME!!!#i think the best part of making these reclists for me is thinking up cheesy names for a theme and creating the banner lol
76 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 8
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Dean x Reader  Warnings: Insulting a bald man. Word count: 4,137.  Chapter Summary: Youâre only allowed to do this one thing and then youâre out of the game. Somehow the case isnât your top priority though. A/N: This chapter has been the bane of my existence but I HAVE to write it to get to the last two, so, yeah. Enjoy.Â
Ao3 if you prefer
The knock at your door interrupts your hand as you apply a muted lipstick. In the office, youâre a lip balm kind of woman but going to the bank today is an outing you put in a little more effort for. Your skirt and blouse are your normal work attire but thereâs extra makeup, hair falling over your shoulders instead of wrapped up on your head, and your heels are half an inch higher. This is not new behavior. Going anywhere on company business always gets this kind of effort, in the same way that youâd dress up if you were going out for the evening. The result gets you a little more kindness in the world outside of your office walls.
The effort has absolutely nothing to do with the man on the other side of your front door.
âY/N? You in there?â The knock comes again while youâre dabbing at the smudge from his first interruption.
âYes! One second.â
Dean had insisted on coming with you, the trip is completely routine youâre glad to have him. Youâre not paranoid, itâs not like the shifter has magic powers to know what youâre going to do, it canât pop out of the woodwork at the bank to get you. Youâre ninety-nine percent sure anyway. It will still be nice to have backup as if youâre doing something important. Even if youâre not, even if youâre doing your job and nothing more.
Dean has returned to his car when you step outside, heâs propped against it and from where he is he looks you up and down while you lock up.
âWell, donât you look nice for a visit to the bank?â He asks once youâre approaching him.
Itâs pointless to try and hide the blush but you look down at the ground anyway, in an attempt to. "I'm going on behalf of work, so, you know?"
He pushes himself up from the Impala and winks, âyou sure you havenât got a will they wonât they thing with some nerdy teller?â
âWhy does he have to be nerdy?â you play mock offended.
âBecause I bet all the nerds like you.â
You purse your lips. âWhatever, nerd.â
Y/N had worried about many things since opening her eyes that morning. Where was her lost shoe? Why didn't she have milk in the fridge? How long would it take to find the shifter? All of these paled in comparison to the concern she had over how easy things had become with Dean. This manâimpossible as he and his brother wereâwas supposed to be, well, an inconvenience. Or she was supposed to be his inconvenience. Her blood  should boil when she spoke to him and at best they were supposed to work together begrudgingly. Perhaps with Sam wedged between them to referee.
That's how it had started and that's how she had expected their relationship to stay. In that reluctant space between enemies and acquaintances. Yet she slipped into the front seat of his car, a figurative piece of him, and sunk into the soft leather. It wasnât her first time inside his Baby and that was only further proof that things had become too good. Much better than they should have been. She was comfortable.
Comfortable was not a safe place to be with Dean Winchester. Comfortable led to preposterous behavior like flirting, and flirting begets terrible decisions. For Y/N those end results were, admittedly, looking better and better with each passing minute.
You hate her sometimes. Maybe all the time. Sheâs trying to kill you after all.
If you werenât so afraid of 'it' then your biggest worry wouldnât be flirting with Dean. It would be the death hanging over your head. Unfortunately, itâs all too easy to put that in the back of your mind. Most people donât think about death on a daily basis, thatâs kind of the human condition. Knowing that itâs coming but ignoring it till the bitter end. So, Dean, the shifter, what shade of lipstick youâre going to wearâyou make them all so much more urgent than they are.
The writer helps with finding distractions in things. Youâre still allowed to hate her. You can hate that she knows you so well and that you donât know if itâs because she created you, or youâre just unlucky. You can hate that she still hasnât told you how youâre going to die.
Youâre also pretty sure that you hate her for the slow descent into liking Dean. Itâs bad enough in your head. In the story online, itâs an actual love affair. And you still donât know if itâs you or her that made the choice about him. Does she write it because you feel it, or do you feel it because you hear her? Or both?
âYou're quiet over there.â
Youâre looking out of the window, seeing the world through Winchester eyes. âSorry," you grin to yourself, "didnât realize you were a chatty Kathy while you're on a case.â
He chuckles, âdidnât realize you werenât.â
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. Dean glancing in her direction. Glance might be too much of a word for the half a second he takes his eyes off of the road. It would hardly warrant a thought were it not for his shoulders tensing when heâd faced forward again. Quiet anxiety settled over him, which doesn't suit him.
Y/N ignored it, wrapped up in her own murky thoughts. She lightly tapped her foot but the sound sinks into the floor mat of the Impala. She couldnât show Dean that the closer they get to their destination the less at ease she felt. Nerves she hadnât thought she had. It had been her idea, her assurances to Dean that all she would do was go to the bank and leave. Nothing else to do with the case. Still, she was a civilian and even this much involvement was causing her fingers to tremble against her leg. Out of sight, of course, she wouldnât want him to know. Dean would pull the rug out from under her if he suspected she might not be able to handle it.
You could handle it fine. You were the queen of handling it. You squeeze your hand into a fist anyway to stop your nervous habit in its tracks.
With the bank finally in sight she resolved herself to take control of the situation. Dean was her backup, not the other way around. This was another Thursday morning visit to an establishment she had been time and again. She would walk into the white stone building and do the same thing she has a hundred times before. And then Deanâplus Sam who is at the motel in case something comes upâwould stay. Y/N had already wrestled with the idea that her actions might also cause the shifter to stay, but that felt like a necessary evil. If they killed the shifter now then she was saving a life down the road. Which in her more selfless moments was the motivation that she clung to desperately. In her own infinitesimal way, she was helping to save someone. The path that had brought her here, to this new version of herself, was one that ultimately made her braver. If only at the very last minute.
Itâs rare that the voice says exactly what you need to hear. Although in the grand scheme of things the voice has only been around for a few weeks. It just feels longer because youâre not supposed to hear a voice in your head at all. On this occasion though sheâs helpful. You step out of the car with a renewed sense of purpose. Once you start going through the motions, that begin with walking the steps up to the entrance, you really did calm down. This is the same old song and dance. And even if it wasnât, you're brave now, because she'd said so.
The bank is familiar territory. Youâve come here before to stop payments for legitimate reasons, youâve been here to authorize money orders and verify paperwork. Sometimes youâre here for your personal banking too. Itâs like Cheers if the show was about a financial institution; everyone knows your name.
Dean stays hot on your heels but doesnât say anything at first. Heâs silent as he holds the door open for you. Then as youâre walking towards the first teller he bumps your shoulder and nods at the man standing a few desks over, finally breaking the silence, âthat your boyfriend?â
You stop dead and turn to him. Shocked by his audacity. Not only because he made a joke while your back is tense and your jaw firm, but for making you smile despite your resistance. Oh and thereâs the fact that the teller heâs motioning at is a fifty-nine-year-old man with the largest bald spot youâve ever seen, short of being actually bald.
âYouâd make a cute couple.â He adds with a shrug, somehow resisting grinning, which might add insult to injury.
You feel your shoulders sink, the tension rolling away, and you try to bite back your laughter, and fail. âIâm not his type, but hey, you might be. Go and introduce yourself.â
âI would but Iâve got to stay here and keep an eye on you.â
She doesnât miss the emphasis, exactly as she hadnât missed the way heâd complimented her when he picked her up. Or the way heâs looking at her now. As if theyâre not in the middle of a bank, in the middle of the day, but in a bar somewhere about to make some bad decisions. She found it easy to push away her own feelings and refocus when thereâs work to be done. However it was becoming more difficult to ignore Deanâs potential feelings. Not only did she not know if she was misreading the situation, but even if she wasnât; what could she possibly do about it now?
âNext.â The sandy-haired woman you havenât seen before calls, making it easy to ignore him, and the voice.
âHi. Iâve got an appointment with Mr. Jones to submit some financial reports on behalf of First National.â
She nods, âhis receptionist is out sick today. Give me a second and Iâll go check if heâs ready to see you yet.â
She wanders off and you turn to Dean and the curiosity he's wearing on his face. He leans in closer than he needs to and whispers to you, âwe have an appointment?â
âYeah, in real life you usually need an appointment for these kinds of things. Plus I told my boss I was coming so he asked me to bring in last month's report backups to save someone else a trip.â
He ignores your reference to real-life versus his life as if he's not standing there; existing. âYou told your boss?â
They get away with so much in the books that clearly they have no idea how things work for normal people. âI told you this needed approval, I made up some anomaly and he signed it off.â
Dean looks at you like heâs thinking the exact same thing you were. That life is much simpler when you lie through your teeth.
The teller that you donât know returns and he steps back freeing up your personal space. Truthfully you hadn't realized he was still that close. She leads you to a small office with âMr. Jonesâ painted on the door before knocking and leaving.
âY/N, always a pleasure to see you. Sorry about the wait.â Ben beams as he opens the office door, hiding his surprise to see Dean trailing behind you. âYou havenât been by in a while?â
You shake the hand heâs offering you with a smile, âthey've been keeping me busy. Luckily I had something I needed to  be rushed through so I jumped on the opportunity to come by.â
Dean closes the office door behind him and clears his throat.
âOh, sorry. Ben, this is my colleague Dean.â You only comprehend that youâre supposed to use an alias for him after his name slips out. Itâs only a first name though, that doesnât count, hopefully. You tuck your hair behind your ear in an attempt to throw him a quick, apologetic look. âHeâs new. Iâm showing him the ropes.â
Ben shakes Dean's hand and does an excellent job hiding how tight Deanâs grip is. Something you see evidence in when his knuckles pop white.
You all take a seat and then everything becomes simple, routine. You hand over the financial reports and Ben takes a cursory look at them. He promises to dedicate proper time to them later.  Thereâs small talk over mutual acquaintances from your office and some disputes from the month before last. This is something many of your colleagues have done before you. Someone always has business here and paper backups need to  be brought in. So, over the years, it became a standing catch-all appointment. Reports and insurance and some chit chat. Nothing out of the ordinary.
âThere is one more thing.â You begin in a charming tone.
Ben lets out a small business like chuckle from behind his desk, âof course there is. Otherwise, I wouldnât be talking to you.â
You pull out a few sheets of stapled forms that Mark signed off yesterday afternoon. âItâs nothing really. We submitted this claim for payment but have since found some irregularities. I was hoping you could stop the transfer until we straighten everything out.â
âYou wouldnât ask unless we still had time, so I donât see why not.â He takes the papers and checks if everything is in order before he starts typing on the screen in front of him.
For the first time since you walked into the office, your attention isnât required on the banker in front of you, so you check in on Dean. Heâs staring intently at Ben, hard eyes that are trying to bore a hole in the manâs skull. It's a good thing Ben has been focused on you and not noticed.
âAll done. Donât tell me thatâs all you came in for?â Ben calls your attention back.
You shrug, âyou know me. I like to do these things myself.â
He nods, understanding, and stands up at the same time you do. Â He holds out his hand again, bending towards you a little as he takes yours, âthatâs because youâre nothing if not thorough.â
Thereâs a scoff from behind you that you ignore because you are indeed  thorough, and whatever Dean wants to say can wait until youâre outside.
âI could say the same for you. Thanks for your help, Ben.â
You make a hasty exit and get halfway across the tiled floors outside of Ben's office before Dean speaks again. âThatâs the guy then, huh? Think you'd do better with Danny DeVito over there.â
Thereâs none of his playfulness this time. Nothing inappropriate or light about his mood. Even with his callback to something that had been a joke earlier, his words are as steely and hard as heâd been staring at Ben.
Something familiar brews in your gut. Itâs stormy and turbulent. Itâs the hint of an argument on the tip of your tongue. Dean has turned serious for some reason and he's sending you hurtling towards angry.
âNot that itâs any of your business,â youâre grinding the words out through your teeth at a volume only he will hear, âbut no. Ben is married. Besides youâre the one who started this joke, I never said anything about having a boyfriend.â Youâre storming towards the doors because youâre not prone to making a scene and you don't intend to start now.
Infuriatingly he says nothing. No smart-mouthed comeback that forces her to be equal parts furious and infatuated, which means that each step until she hits the fresh air outside is like another twist on a wind-up toy. Eventually, sheâs going to snap.
Y/N hadnât felt like this since theyâd broken into her office. Sheâd found herself falling in other ways since then, but the anger had dissipated since that night until it faded away altogether. In an instant, his irrational reaction has sparked the flame again. She had done exactly what she was supposed to have done, and she had done it well. No suspicion or fumbling over her words. Before heâd opened his mouth she might have even been proud of herself.
You had indeed been proud of yourself. Ben had no clue and heâdstopped the payment like needed him to do. You pace on the sidewalk. A few steps on the spot wondering what in the hell is going on. He is supposed to be giving you a ride home so you can work. Both the Winchesters insisted that the office might not be safe until the shifter was dead. Since all roads lead back to you and all google searches lead back to your office building.
That all would be well and good if you weren't so livid you canât even see straight. Worse than that, you have no idea why you're quite as angry as you are.
She'd left him standing inside, feet planted in the same spot he'd been in when she told him off. She'd gone without him or his permission to leave, and she hoped her act of defiance annoyed him half as much as she was. Y/N considered walking away, there was a bus stop around the corner and she could get most of the way home. Public transport would give her a chance to rest outside of his car that smells of worn leather mingled with his scent. She inhales until fresh air fills her stomach, then her chest and then she holds it. A borrowed breathing technique from the week of yoga she took years ago. Her lips shake with her exhale and it helps. Not to explain anything, not his reaction nor hers, but her heart rate steadies. She'd be mad about calming herself down so immediately if she hadn't just calmed herself down.
You don't turn around when you hear his footsteps catching up behind you  however you do stop pacing. You're a fair woman and you'll give him the chance to apologize.
"Get in, I'll take you home."
His hand is on the Impala when you spin to face him, he's about to get in and expects you to follow him. He tosses his head in the direction of the car telling you as much.
"No."
"Y/N, get in." One foot moves in your direction and before he can take a full step you tell him again.
"Didn't you hear the first time? No."
In that crystalizing moment, Y/N decided that she did, in fact...
"Oh, you can shut up too!" Â You spit out, eyes flicking to the sky because, where else do you look when you're shouting at a writer's voice in your head?
You're not concerned about your outburst towards the voice in front of Dean. Instead of worrying you turn before he can stop you, and you know immediately that you are making the right decision. How? Because the voice does shut up, which meant whatever she wanted involved you staying there and talking to Dean, not striding away to the bus stop.
You can see the bus shelter in a few minutes. There's a woman there, along with her son, waiting not so  patiently. It's surprising to see anybody there in the middle of the day. The bus stop hadn't been far from the bank but you suppose it took him a moment to get in his car and debate leaving you, so that's why you make it this far before you hear him pull up.
He slows to a crawl in the road beside you, engine low but still rumbling away and burning fuel. "Would you stop being so stubborn and let me take you home?"
That doesn't sound like much of an apology. Or any apology at all.
"Come on sweetheart, please? I need to get you safe."
If he wasn't Dean Winchester then that line would sound like macho bullshit. Except, he is Dean Winchester. It had only been an hour ago you were scared to even go to the bank. And he might not have said sorry but he did, at long last, say please.
You're not giving up, you're heels are a little higher than normal is all and a ride home would save your feet.
You don't say anything as you step to the passenger side door, he doesn't say anything as he stops the car completely. You're both good at that. Silence.
The seat is as soft as it had been at the start of her day. The music is at the same volume he'd set it at when he realized she wasn't looking for a conversation. The difference was, she wasn't tapping her foot to fight the nerves now. Y/N was too busy cycling through the last hour of her life like each minute was an index card in a library catalog. Or, say, a folder in an insurance filing cabinet. She was, mostly, confused. Everything had been smooth sailing, in a way her life hadn't been since she found out that monsters existed. And then things changed. Flip flopped. Again. Until she's back in his car, unable to escape him. Realizing that she never had a chance to.
You sigh. It was your own fault for thinking you could step off of this insane rollercoaster that was your life. The voice was never going to leave, Dean would, and in a year's time you'd be rocking yourself to sleep inside the asylum you'll be living in by then. Assuming you weren't dead.
When he pulls up outside your house you're up and out before Baby has stopped, "bye Dean."
You don't dream that he's going to follow you.
You don't imagine he's going to walk you to your door and stop the key in the lock with his hand on his shoulder.
You don't ever expect him to kiss you.
Dean has a hundred rules, though he only ever cites one or two at a time. One he's quoted time and again to Sam, "you don't kiss the girl till the fat lady sings." Or till the monster is dead, as the case may be. He has broken this rule a hundred times before, since a rolling Dean gathers no moss.
Y/N doesn't know that, even if she did, she wouldn't care. She has her hand wrapped around his tie, using it to pull him closer, tasting him and moaning into his mouth. Grateful for the extra height of her heels today. Thankful for a chance to feel his full lips against her own. She kisses him back until she's lightheaded and a little longer still. Â Y/N had found the new life that was worth dying for and it resided in the space between their mouths, it was wrapped up in kissing him.
You laugh breathlessly as he pulls back, "so, I did a good job today?"
Dean hooks a finger under your chin and presses another chaste, brief kiss to your bruised lips. "Such a good job, sweetheart."
And then he says his goodbyes because he has a job to do and itâs still the middle of the day. He leaves you after making you promise to stay at home and safe. He tells you he's going to call when everything has 'blown over'.
You're still giddy when you get inside and lock the door. Smiling as you start up your work laptop and turn on your tea kettle. Cheeks flushed pink when you hear the ping of new emails on your computer.
Hi Y/N, Â Â Â
I'd say sorry that this took so long except you said it yourself, you didn't have a lot to go on. Guess you're lucky that I'm the best. The names Emma Eiffel. Couldn't get you a phone number but I did manage to get you an address out in Des Moines. Details below. Â Â Â
Normal fees are fine. Â Â Â
Stan   Â
Continue to Chapter 9.
5eva tags: @divadinagââ @darthdeziewokââ @fluentinfictionâ @witch-of-lettersâ @supernatural-teamfreewill-blogâ @magnitude101999â @alexwinchester23â @jesseswartzwelderââ Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278â @bloodydaydreamerâ StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson @starsandmidnightblueââ @ceisbillââ
#dean x reader#supernatural fanfiction#spn x reader#dean winchester x reader#spn fanfiction#supernatural#spn#spn fanfic#supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean dean the soft lil bean
26 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Routine Dinner Turned First Date
photo isn't mine
Pairing: Dacre Montgomery x Reader (College AU)
Words: 1500+
Author's Note: I saw this picture and immediately wanted to write something on it and my lovely friend, @bumblebet-20, gave me this fluffy idea. Enjoy xox
"Hey, cutie. You wanna meet up at that cute Italian restaurant that's just down the road from your apartment after you get done class? x"
You smiled at your text from Dacre who you've been friends with since elementary school. You make a quick glance towards the front of the classroom, double-checking to see if the professor was distracted before texting him back.
Dacre sat on his couch, rubbing his sweaty hands against his jeans as he read your text. A smile comes to his lips before running a quick hand through his hair.
"Hey, handsome. I would absolutely love too. Classes have been rough this week and the idea sounds wonderful. I get let out in ten minutes then I'm going to go home and drop shit off. I'll meet you there?"
You pressed send, biting your lip as it said he read it and the three bubbles at the bottom notified you he was typing.
The sandy-brunette types his message before quickly deleting it, dipping his head down at he gathers the courage to just ask if it could be a date. He's had a crush on you for ages and for a while he didn't think you felt the same way until the past year.
"Just do it, Dacre," he talks himself up while closing his eyes. "You're ninety percent sure she feels the same as you, so you shouldn't be nervous." He looks back down at his phone, typing the message for the last time and presses send before he has time to pussy out again.
"Would it be possible for it to be our first date?"
You let out the tiniest gasp, covering your mouth quickly and looks up towards your teacher to try and make it seem your paying attention. The professor's eyes glance towards you for a few seconds before looking away.
"Okay, class, that's all the time we have for today. Enjoy the weekend and please don't forget your paper on Wrongful Convictions is due Tuesday!"
You pack up your things and rush out of the classroom. As you're walking towards your apartment you realize you haven't texted Dacre back. "Shit," you mumbled to yourself and grabs your phone from your jacket pocket.
"I'd love that, Dacre. x"
You bring your bottom lip into his mouth, not being able to contain your smile and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Is this actually happening?
Dacre hears his phone vibrate against the coffee table as he slips his shoes on, getting ready to head towards the restaurant to get a table by the window. Something you've always loved sitting near when going to restaurants if it was possible.
He picks it up and read it almost five times, not actually believing his eyes. "She said yes. Holy shit, she said yes."
The phone buzzes in your hand, signaling that he'd replied back and you look down at the device.
"Really? Oh, wow, I was a bit worried you'd say no by how long you took."
You frowned a bit, kicking yourself slightly as you quickly responded to him.
"I'm sorry. I sort of made a noise and didn't want to get caught by the professor. Then the class was over and I got a quarter way to my house when I realized I didn't text back. I'm sorry! But, I'm at my place. I'm going to dress up a bit and I'll be there in 15!"
You set your phone down on your vanity, taking a deep breath before heading towards my closet to find a cute outfit. You pulled out your denim skirt along with a red off-the-shoulder top. You quickly put your put it on, adjusting the skirt a bit before applying a minimal amount of makeup. You slip on your black Toms and grab your purse on your way out the door.
It takes you almost ten minutes to walk to the restaurant, getting a bit nervous knowing it's gonna be an official date. You rub your clammy hands together as you stepped up to the door of the Italian place and opened it, heading inside.
Dacre sat at the table for almost fifteen minutes, looking out the window as he tried not to get too nervous. His blue eyes glance down at his phone, seeing a text from one of his friends. He grabs his phone and texts him back as you stepped up to the table, a huge smile on your lips.
"Hey," your voice snapped him out of his concentration and picked his head up.
His lips parted slightly, taking note at how beautiful you look. "H-Hey, you look⌠you look gorgeous," he mutters and stands up from his seat.
You giggle and feel your cheeks heat up a bit. Dacre wraps his arms around your shoulders in a quick hug before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You went to take a seat when he quickly pulled your chair out for you. "Thank you. You look mighty fine yourself," you tell him with a shy smile.
-
You giggled at the story he was telling you as you twirled the pasta around your fork. The date's been going on for almost an hour and it has been amazing. It's not much different from the other dinners you've been on with him which is great.
"So, he literally throws a balled-up piece of paper at the teacher but misses and hits the girl he's been into for a year and a half," Dacre chuckles and you let out a laugh after chewing your food, covering your mouth with your hand.
"Oh, no! What happened? Did he lose his chance with her?" You asked as you set your fork onto your empty plate, leaning back in the chair you're in.
"That's the thing! He's literally charming as fuck that he managed to get her to agree to a date with him," he shook his head and lets out a scoff. "If I were to do that to you, I doubt you'd go out with me afterward."
You shrug your shoulders, a playful smile on your lips. "I don't know, I might've. If we didn't know each other, I probably wouldn't consider it as much but I probably would've. You're cute," you confess to him and Dacre grins.
"Really? You think I'm cute?" He asked and you bite your lip softly, nodding your head.
"Of course I do. Have you seen yourself? You're like, a total babe," you mentioned and he reaches his hand out, gently grasping yours.
Dacre's eyes are set on your guys' hands and you look down as he slowly intertwined them together. "Well, you're also a total babe and what's special about you is your personality. You have such an amazing personality. It's the main reason why I fell so hard for you," he confessed to you and your heart pounds against your chest.
"Dacre⌠you're so adorable," you giggled and shook your head. "Your personality and sense of humor is the main reason I fell for you, too."
He grinned and looks like a kid on Christmas before the waiter brought over the bill. The sandy-brunette pulls out his wallet, handing the guy his card before the waiter walked away to process it.
"Do you wanna stay the night tonight?" You asked him and his blue eyes darts to you. "We could watch a movie? Play some games? Cuddle?"
Dacre holds up a finger as the waiter came back, giving him his card and receipt. He signs the piece of paper with his name before giving it back. The waiter bid you two a good night before walking away.
You and Dacre grab your things and head outside, not walking more than ten feet before he stops you. "I'd love to stay over tonight. It is a tradition, isn't it?" He grinned and you nodded your head. He strokes your cheek with his index finger, pushing some hair out of your face. "Can I kiss you?"
Your breath hitches in your throat as you look up at him through your lashes. Your heart's beating a million miles a minute as your hands found his waist, gripping his shirt a bit. "Y-Yeah, yeah you can," you whispered and he nodded slightly before dipping his head down.
His lips brushed against yours, your grip on his shirt tightening as he pressed his lips firmly against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, his hand moving to the back of your neck as his other moves to your hips.
A sigh leaves your nose, kissing him back as you tilted your head the other way while wrapping both your arms around his neck. The two of you get a little carried away and you realize you're in public still. You pull away from him, grinning like a fool and looked up at him.
"C'mon, Mr. Romantic, let's head back to my place."
"Alright, alright," Dacre grins down at you as you grab his hand and laces your fingers together as you begin to lead him back, both of your hearts fluttering wildly. You two look at each other as you walk side-by-side, his hand squeezing yours lightly and you smile widely while pressing your head against his arm.
-
Dacre Taglist: @daisyxbuckley @bumblebet-20 @thebookamongmen @lovefilledtragedy @sammi-rent @okaybutsteveharrington @makeupbychio @hlnicoleee @calculatingtax @hanoi15 @lightsonaaron @mcuvlxgs @harringtonsbaseballbat @tellmehows @fenderkeery @the-almond-dinger @l0ve-0f-my-life @serpentwithatardis @arewegonnagetsuedforthis @devilslittlebabygirl @omgdani17 @rozi3cheeks @galaxy-mindsxx @queenmissfit
#dacre montgomery x you#dacre momtgomery#dacre montgomery x reader#dacre montgomery imagine#dacre montgomery imagines#dacre montgomery fanfic#dacre montgomery fanfiction#dacre montgomery fic#dacre montgomery fluff#dacre momtgomery angst#dacre montgomery smut#fluff#angst#smut
396 notes
¡
View notes
Text
hand to heart
(where tony gets his reactor removed a bit later, and bucky is there for the result.Â
tony/bucky, established relationship. angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, tw: hospital scenes and mentions of buckyâs trauma
read it here on AO3, or after the read more, beware, mobile!)
bucky is there when the reactor is taken out of tonyâs chest.
it happens in stages â the initial appointment with the doctor whoâs going to do the procedure, the follow-up meetings where the doc gives the details of how exactly itâs going to go down, the twenty-four hour period where tony isnât allowed to eat or drink a damn thing and starts to spiral, the fourteen-hour procedure â and bucky is there for all of it. holds tonyâs hand when the surgeon starts mentioning the scary stuff, like how delicate the operation is even with something as useful as the reactor holding all the shrapnel in the same spot. itâs weeks and months of preparation, even more time just trying to come to the damn decision, and bucky is there, like a shadow, making sure tonyâs supported every step of the way.
of course, tony needs the support. he needs to have someone there for him, and sure steve and potts and rhodey all want to be there, and are there sometimes, but bucky is there. and he sits through the meetings. pulls himself together. pushes away the panic that comes from bright and white and medical.
the day of, tonyâs hands are wringing, his stomach growling and his eyes half closing after not having a single drop of caffeine for a world-record day and a half. heâs snappy, nervous, the smile he shows the nurses one that the outside world usually gets. but when the gown goes on, and he gets the first needle prick of an i.v., bucky presses a kiss to his fingers and lays them against tonyâs forehead.
âi wonât let anything happen in there. anything that shouldnât happen, at least,â he teases, and tony takes it with a better smile, one thatâs small but real.
with a shrug, the restless patient glances toward the door, as if expecting the doctor to burst in and do the procedure then and there. âi mean, the longer iâm in there, the more you get peace and quiet,â he jokes back.
âhey.â bucky stops him, lifting his metal hand to keep the words at bay. itâs weak. they both know he lives off tonyâs energy, the way he laughs, the way he talks, the way he lights up the damn room. steve calls it love or something. buckyâs prone to call it that, too. âyouâre out any longer than a day, and iâm suing the whole damn place. you got the lawyers, iâll make it happen.â
that gets a laugh, and together they wait, hands clasped together until tony falls asleep and heâs wheeled out, followed close behind by the sound of buckyâs boots as he goes to wait in the theater.
one moment, itâs there, shining and bright and blue. the next, itâs gone.
not gone gone, itâs still there, still bright, but the shine comes from the metal of its encasing and not the soft glow of life.
the docs, all of them crowded around tonyâs body like heâs just another experiment weapon patient, pull back the curtain to showcase the new scar where a hole used to be. a reconstructed sternum, rearrangement of the superior portion of the ribcage, and the removal of twenty-five pieces of shrapnel later itâs done, the souvenirs all in a convenient to-go cup. some of them are so small that bucky canât even see them with the best sniper eyes in the business.
bucky goes and throws up a couple of times, wipes his mouth with a determined set of his jaw, and starts waiting all over again.
during the procedure, heâs all nerves and anxiety and dread, sam and steve bringing some food, natasha clothes for them both. after, the waiting is expectant. for tony to wake up. to see the thing there, on the bedside table, apart from him. a whole different kind of awful, but a little easier because the docs say heâs fine, that heâs gonna be okay and awake any minute.
and bucky should be happy, because tonyâs free. the arc reactor did its job, kept tony alive, and now itâs gone and tony doesnât have to cling to it. doesnât have a crutch. no more fear.
so why isnât he?
thereâs no way to pinpoint it, but buckyâs sure itâs because tonyâs not awake yet. because he still doesnât look like he should, out cold with tubes coming in and out of him in a way that gives buck the shivers. like heâs dead. or close to gone. the sight of him without blue coming from his chest makes it worse, more vivid, and he has to close his eyes tight to get that thought out and away from him
a few more hours pass. bucky writes a bit in the journal doctor hall gave him, a way to get out thoughts before they fester, and puts it away so he can stare at tony some more. worries. writes some more. rests a bit, eyes closed but not really sleeping before he hears the telltale hitch of breath.
âbuck?â
with a soft whimper tony winces, the stuff thatâs supposed to keep away pain starting to fade because he was out for a bit longer than expected.
âhey, doll.â he reaches for tonyâs hand again, squeezes it. âgood job out there.â
âshouldnâ⌠you be thankinâ the guy who done it?â heâs slurring like he did at Christmas, the spiked nog having been a bit too much. he looks like heâs gonna pass out again, too, his eyes are already closing. but bucky keeps talking.
ânah, you were the star. the picture-perfect patient.â
âmmhmm?â
âyeah, baby, you did swell. you look great, too. they did a good⌠good job.â
why does the word hitch? struggle to get out? itâs not a lie, itâs not. but tony doesnât even notice the internal conflict because heâs got medication in every part of him, and buckyâs left alone in that hospital room once again, wondering why thereâs a rush of bile every time he sees the reactor on the table.
âtony, for the last time, you canât do something like that for at least another three weeks. operating heavy machinery, remember? big no.â
itâs the result of a rough few weeks. tonyâs more restless than buckyâs ever seen him, basically bouncing off the walls after bedrest in a hospital room, then bedrest at home, then limited activity, then⌠slightly less limited activity. especially considering that itâs an operation thatâs never been attempted, one that will probably never be replicated. thereâs no precedent, so everything goes slow. they have the timeline posted on their bedroom wall, ticking off the days until heâs full health, back to himself.
limited activity. limited food. limited sex. everything has a limit, for the man without any. he complains about it all, and bucky lets him. it sucks, thatâs for fucking sure.
âhow am i supposed to get out there as iron man when right now the suits i have all run on arc reactor power? no arc reactor, remember?â tonyâs voice is accusing, as if bucky could somehow forget.
âi know, i was there,â he sighs out, before pulling the genius toward him with the grip of a firm hand, lets his arms wrap around him so he can start pushing kisses against dark curly hair, gets a whiff of shampoo that cost more than him and steveâs rent at one point. âwhy donât we go and watch a movie or something, huh?â
âweâve been watching movies for a month,â tony mutters, but the fact that itâs not at the top of his lungs is a good sign. another one is the way he melts at the contact, sinks into buckyâs arms like theyâre good pillows. âmovies, tv, reruns, new shit. only so much you can do when youâre not allowed to go forth into the outside world.â
right.
suddenly, something swims to the surface of buckyâs mind, something on their timeline that they had been counting down to.
the arms around tony loosen a bit, but before the genius can protest buckyâs hand start to slide down his sides, run over his hips, under the waistband of sweatpants that heâs about ninety percent sure arenât tonyâs at all.
âwhat are you doing? remember? no sex until iâm up and at it,â tony hisses out, but the sound bucky lets out is low, a little laugh. tony starts to pull away a little, spins to face the soldier with a look that asks why he would do a thing like that when they both know itâs not an option.
âa month.â
âwhat?â
âa month, tones. today.â
understanding dawns over tonyâs face, slow and steady. suddenly, thereâs a burst of color to his cheeks, a small noise leaving him, and a fierce nod, a âgod, yesâ before theyâre against each other, buckyâs hands gentle but his lips fierce, needy, so goddamn ready.
tony has no such restraint, until something he does, probably the way his shoulders move, pulls a noise from him thatâs definitely not of pleasure. bucky freezes and his eyes are wide and fearful, but tony just lets out a sigh of frustration.
âi still canât do much,â he explains, reaching up a hand to press over the tank top that has no cutout in the front.
but bucky just hums, leans forward and takes tony in his arms once more. his lips are gentle against a sharp jaw, breath ghosting over a perfect neck.
âlet me handle this, sweetheart,â he whispers, and the feeling of tonyâs body shivering against his is like the best drug. âyou donât have to move an inch.â
it doesnât take long to sate them. a month away from any kind (or most kinds) of sexual contact does that, and bucky takes pride in squeezing out two orgasms from tony, pulling him apart bit by bit with his mouth, his fingers. seeing tony fall apart does it for him, and so heâs taken care of a couple times, too, and puts the sight into the back of his mind for later when heâs feeling reminiscent. bucky canât give tony what he really wants, what he was begging for, not for another two weeks, but this is enough, is so much more than they had, and by the end of it tonyâs out like a light, breaths long and deep.
itâs good, but⌠something keeps buckyâs eyes open. keeps him tossing, turning, unable to sit still. tonyâs dead to the world, but bucky⌠bucky stays awake for a while. stares up at the ceiling, listens to tony breathe, his metal hand tucked behind his neck, his other hand resting on his stomach.
the room is dark, pitch black now. no stars or moon outside really to push shine through their window, and the curtains are drawn tight to prevent any unwanted eyes, so. no light, no shine, no⌠no blue.
suddenly the bile claws its way up his throat again, and he has to force it back down, close his eyes. the cold metal of his hand sends a shiver down his spine, and he opens them again to get rid of visions of medical facilities and masked agents forcing shit into his body.
tonyâs free now. free of his vice. it sits on one of his stands in his shop, not a place of honor, but not discarded either. itâs just there and when bucky goes down there to get another tablet or something tony can tinker with, it mocks him. the steel winks at him and his arm answers back.
itâs so dark in the fucking room.
with a soft huff, he pushes himself out of their bed for the third time that week, lets tony sleep, watches him to make sure his breaths are still steady before pushing out the door and closing it without a sound. the hall lights rise to half power, and bucky winces before pushing forward to the front room. the walls are lined with windows and he can stare at lights all around the city with a view like this.
the same thoughts had been riding him for a month now, ever since tony came back from the procedure with the circular scar that he now carried with him. itâs a reminder, more than anything, and once the pain faded it would be the only thing left. sure, thereâd be reactor power everywhere, in the tower, the compound, the city⌠but it wouldnât be in tony anymore.
his vision blurs a bit.
and thatâs what the genius wanted. wanted to be free of it, right? and bucky had supported him, because he loved the asshole and wanted what was best for him and this was what was best. he was proud and he still loved tony, that would never change, right?
so why canât i sleep next to him anymore?
gripping his head, bucky falls backwards into the couch. the light of outside cuts across him, and he realizes heâs still naked. flesh and bone, exceptâŚ
his hands clench into fists as he pulls them in front of his face, lets his eyes scan over them.
and then it clicks, clicks with the soft sound of whirring that makes buckyâs jaw tight, as his metal fist compacts itself into a weapon of mass destruction posing as a hand.
tonyâs metal parts were bright. soft. lit up the room. bucky remembers hours spent just staring at it, when the genius was asleep after laughing and talking for hours before those moments to himself. they were good. they kept tony alive.
buckyâs metal parts made him walk off balance. made him wince when he stretched wrong, ached as the metal inside him rubbed against nerves and muscles in his shoulder. invaded every part of him. they had killed and murdered and had ruined lives.
tony used his reactor for so much⌠so much good it hurt. had changed the world with it, created sustainable energy that would last lifetimes, had saved himself with it.
when bucky closed his eyes, he still saw the damn red star on the shoulder. a regime that wiped away the weak and strong alike. took apart power and built it up again in the image of themselves.
he blinks. feels something fall down his cheeks. when he wipes it away, itâs with the hand that heâs cursed with, and he feels a tug as the interlocking parts tug at his skin.
when he stands again, heâs shaky, and he makes sure thereâs no crying when he goes back to tony. canât show whatâs filling his head, and heâs not sure heâs able to hold a pen long enough to get them onto paper. when he slides in next to tony again, his metal arm is buried in the sheets. his normal, good, better fingers reach for tonyâs hand before he stops, feels a strangled noise leave him, and curls up on his own side of the bed.
he doesnât sleep. canât. gets up early, dresses, makes sure the coffee maker is going and thereâs breakfast waiting for him. heâs sure tony will wake soon, needing pain medication, some comfort, so he grabs the pills out of the cupboard, too. but looking at them makes his stomach roll. makes his head hurt, his heart pound. but before he can put two out, with a glass of water to be safe, the bottle is crushed in his hand. the little white pieces of comfort scatter, and bucky watches in horror. unfurls the metal fist to see white powder, crushed orange plastic, tonyâs name on the paper.
his breathing speeds up, the nightâs thoughts rushing back, and before he has time to think, grab a pen, try for sanity, heâs out the door. because he knows now.
tony had gotten rid of his metal parts. tony was whole again.
bucky never would be.
once heâs out in the open air, though, he freezes. he doesnât want to disappear. doesnât want to vanish without a trace, though he knows he can. but something tells him going and grabbing his go bag would worry people, and he doesnât deserve worry. so he starts walking, then running, one foot in front of the other.
his phone starts to buzz. first texts, then calls. tony, steve, even sam all try to reach him. for a moment he wonders if he should turn around, if he should go back, apologize, say heâs fine. but doctor hall keeps telling him lying when heâs not okay doesnât do any good, and to face them all would be a lie itself.
that he was good. fine. good enough, especially for tony.
as it gets later the calls come less and less. one or two after six, and then his phone is silent. heâs grateful for it. theyâve surely realized by now, what heâs doing, what he needs to do. get away. his feet hurt, heâs hungry, tired after no sleep the night before, but he keeps pushing, sprinting, going forward. heâs walked so far the buildings have start to spread out, get low, become sprawling suburbs. he pushes on.
the sun sets. it gets cold, and he pauses his sprint to zip up the jacket. walks some more. doesnât even realize heâs stopped until he processes that heâs staring at a sign, the glow of neon almost hurting his eyes after heâs stared at his boots all day. doesnât realize what about it keeps him from just pushing forward until the blue catches his eye.
arc reactor blue.
everything hits him at once. the pain, his hunger, his exhaustion, his hurt, and he collapses into the wall of the diner the sign belongs to. heâs sliding, now, onto the ground, and everything is blurry. when he lands, his metal arm scrapes against concrete.
doesnât hear tonyâs voice until itâs right next to his ear, canât get up until steve lifts him and helps him to the backseat.
âwhat the hell was that?â
âtonesâŚâ
âno, steve, shut up,â tony snaps, and his voice is full of righteous anger, frustration, fear. bucky doesnât process all of it exactly but knows that the force of it is directed at him. his chin tucks a little close to his chest. âi think i deserve an explanation as to why my boyfriend vanished without a trace this morning. what some coffee and a plate of buttered toast and all would be fine?â
âtony,â steve tries again, but his voice is immediately drowned out by since tonyâs volume only goes up from there.
âwe text, we call. no answer. we try all damn day, we tried to contact you all day, bucky, and what do you do? you ignore us! hell, give us something, why donât you, so we donât think someoneâs kidnapped you, or hurt you, or fucking killed you! and where do we find you? fucking miles away, at a rundown diner, looking like youâve been ââ
âtony!â
itâs the captain america voice, the one that booms without needing to overpower everyone else in the room. itâs enough to get tonyâs attention at least, since he stops talking. buckyâs hands clench into fists, goes so still that he feels like heâs not even breathing.
âsteve,â tony whispers after a few moments, the silence thick. âcan you give us a minute?â
bucky can see steveâs own boots disappearing, hears them until theyâre out of range, and then, and only then, is when he manages to look up enough to meet tonyâs eyes.
âyou shouldnât have been driving,â he gets out, voice rough.
he feels like heâs back at the beginning, when steve found him. hair dirty, body grimy, voice unused, bones stiff. a mess. broken. beaten.
but tony seems to just get out a snort, even through his anger. he knows now. how lost bucky is. now itâs just waiting for the inevitable.
âreally? you go missing and come back looking like you went to hell and back and iâm what youâre worried about?â
bucky can only shrug, both shoulders lifting, and when they lower tonyâs shaking his head at him, in disbelief. itâs enough for bucky to push his chin back down. he was trying to protect tony, didnât he understand?
he doesnât look up again until he feels a hand on his wrist, his metal one. it shocks him, that he would even dare after everything.
âbuck? you wanna sit down?â
thereâs a fierce shake of buckyâs head. no. he doesnât need to sit to know whatâs coming. what needs to happen.
tonyâs voice doesnât sound angry anymore, though. it sounds soft, low, soothing, and still so worried. his voice when dum-e got a virus. his voice when natasha came back with a broken leg. his voice when bucky had a nightmare in the same bed for the first time.
âokay,â he tries again, and bucky braces himself, tenses, can basically hear the words before they leave tonyâs mouth. âdo you mind⌠do you mind telling me whatâs going on? and⌠what i can do to help you out?â
wait.
âwha-?â the word is barely formed, almost a half of what it should be, but tony seems to read the surprise to know what was trying to be communicated. his eyes scan tonyâs, trying to find something forced in them, but thereâs nothing.
âi want to help, buck,â tony whispers to him, and his other hand lifts so that he can have both hands outstretched, one on his metal hand, the other on his shoulder, rubbing the spot there. âi, i donât know whatâs going on, but something is. somethingâs⌠hurting you, and i want to know what. i want to help.â he smiles. gentle. âis that so hard to believe?â
âyes.â itâs immediate, and tony winces. bucky feels the color, whateverâs left, drain from his face. that hurts. that look tonyâs giving him, like heâs been stabbed.
âit is?â
âno.â immediate backtracking, immediate regret. ânot⌠like that.â
âlike what, then? buck, please, did i do something to make you think that?â
each word hurts bucky more and more because it hurts tony. he can hear it, see it play across his face, each line. this was why he had to walk away, because tony was whole and bucky just pulled him apart. âno, itâs not you. itâs never you.â
âthen⌠then, what?â
thereâs a beat, two, bunch of moments where bucky tries to put together what he can. he needs to explain this perfectly, so tony can get it. so he can understand why he doesnât work. why heâs so broken.
âyou got your arc reactor out,â bucky whispers, and tony seems confused. raises a brow. but bucky forces himself to keep talking, even when he wants nothing more than to run off again.
âyou â you got it out, and i missed it. couldnât really sleep without it, i just⌠missed⌠missed the way i could look at it. look at the metal, and the blue, and.. listen to you explain how it worked all over again.â the words begin to trickle out of him, gentle, and he lets the momentum carry him, even as tonyâs eyes stare at him, even though he canât meet those beautiful brown eyes.
âi missed seeing it when i woke up some, when the nights got bad. it was a good blue, yâknow, and helped me remember you were there, and i missed touching the cold metal on the outside, but. it was gone. and you⌠you deserve that, you deserve it not there, anymore.â itâs a stream now, a stream of consciousness that tangles and jumbles but still gets pulled out. he pushes through it, keeps it going. âbut⌠most of all i missed how it made us the same. not â not exactly the same, because youâre â youâre so fucking good, tones, but how we both had something. something.â
âsomething,â tony repeats, and bucky nods, doesnât like how it sounds in tonyâs mouth because it sounds dumb. stupid. dumb because it is. tony wasnât like bucky. never was.
âsomething.â he forces himself to keep the stream going, even though now he feels the threat of tears in his eyes once again. third time, two days, but he had to keep going. âit was something.â
âbut your something was good. good and pure. it kept you alive, lit things up, it fucking powers the whole place, donât it? and mine⌠my something just hurts. hurts me, hurts you. hurts everything it touches. and now youâre somethingâs gone, and youâre just⌠youâre free.â
itâs rapid now, everything coming out of him, and the dam breaks before he can stop it, his eyes squeeze close, but the tears keep coming.
âyou deserve someone whoâs got a good something, or nothing thatâs holding them back. you deserve someone whoâs as whole as you are now, someone who can keep up, who doesnât have a stupid fucking hydra arm stuck to his side. you deserve someone who can hold you with two fucking human hands instead of a metal one, deserve good. iâm not good, iâm not whole, and.. and i â i never will be.â
and after all that, heâs met with silence. a beat. two.
when he opens his eyes, tony is staring. mouth agape, just a little. his eyes are wide, beautiful brown eyes, and bucky realizes that theyâre shiny, his cheeks are wet. tony was⌠was crying.
âiâm sorry ââ he whispers, but before he can continue thereâs a couple of fingers over his lips.
âyouâre⌠youâre the best man i know, buck.â tonyâs voice is shaky, is breaking, and bucky watches. watches as his fingers pull away, as his lips replace them.
when they break, neither of them are breathing well. buckyâs is coming in shaky inhales, tonyâs too hard, too rough, but theyâre clinging to each other. buckyâs got his fingers wrapped up in tonyâs shirt, and tonyâs nails are digging into buckyâs hips.
âwhen i see you, i see something,â tony whispers, when he can. their foreheads are touching now, and at one point theyâve hit the ground. âi see something beautiful. a man who came back from the depths of hell alive, and clinging to life, and fighting, i see something good, a man who made me coffee and toast with jelly on it this morning, whoâs done that every day for the past year because he knows i donât really eat on my own. bucky, i just see you.â
âtones, i donât ââ
tony kisses him, surely to shut him up again, and bucky canât argue, kisses him right back, lets his fingerprints skirt along the otherâs ribs. when tonyâs voice is heard again it feels like it echoes, travels warm through buckyâs veins, down his spine. .
âi might seem whole, bucky barnes, but thatâs only because iâve got you. you make me whole. not the reactor, not the surgery, nothing but you. you show me how i can get up each morning. and when i woke up, and you were gone ââ
âiâm so sorry, tony, god, iâm so fucking sorry,â bucky gets out, before he can stop himself, and tonyâs eyes go wide. âi know i shouldnât have, but you just⌠it got too much, the thoughts in my head ââ
âno, no, buck, no. youâve got nothing to apologize for, i promise. youâve⌠youâve been feeling this way, and thatâs nothing to be sorry for.â that shuts bucky up as good as a kiss, and tonyâs looks at him head on, takes buckyâs demons by the horns and toss them aside. fucking obliterates them, for the moment. âjust. next time. please donât run. come to me, talk to me, and we can⌠we can talk about this, because⌠i need you, buck. fuck, i love you.â
âyeah?â
âyeah.â
âtones,â bucky gets out in a breath, and he pushes forward again. âi love you, too. i love you so much.â
and for the moment, for once, bucky feels a little less broken.
buckyâs home. heâs at his home.
heâs leaving the bathroom, his hair still damp from his shower, and as heâs toweling it off he realizes thereâs a gentle blue glow in the dark room. itâs centered above the bed, where they sleep, and when bucky tilts his head up thereâs a rush of⌠something.
âtones?â he asks, and the man peeks up over the covers, grinning at him. bucky can see it, because of the light. itâs soft enough that itâs not blinding, but bright enough that it feels like⌠likeâŚ
âi had jarv help me set this up,â tony tells him, looking proud of himself, sitting up against the headboard. âyou like it?â
âwhat⌠what is it?â
âitâs kind of a mock⌠well. mock arc reactor. the blue shines while iâm in the room, especially at night, and â well, just watch.â tony lifts himself out of the bed, starts walking towards bucky, and the light follows. tracks over the ceiling, follows tony until it settles above where he is now, which is now directly in front of bucky, staring up at him, giddy.
âyou made this for me,â bucky breathes, and in a rush, heâs lifting tony by his waist because itâs not a question. the otherâs legs wrap around his hips, and he holds the other there, pulls him down for a kiss.
âfor me, too,â tony retorts, but his smile is so big itâs hard to argue. âi mean, i had the thing for years, hard for that kind of thing to just be gone. but. yeah. for you. mainly. also me.â
âtony?â
âyeah?â
âi love you.â
the words are soft, so soft tony almost doesnât hear them. but he knows them. loves those words. loves him.
âi love you, too, buck.â
136 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 8
read on ao3
Humble Pride: The Duality of Alec Lightwood Out Magazine Feature, June 2018 Article by Andrew Bronheimer Photos by Connor Murphy
Alec Lightwood. Heartthrob to millions, artist extraordinaire, last yearâs Paris Fashion Week surprise when he walked down the Armani runway in a truly delectable teal suit with suitably dramatic eye makeup. Lightwoodâs been the talk of the town for over a decade now. He released his very first song a week before he turned sixteen and the rest, as they say, is history.
Lightwoodâs illustrious career has spanned controversy and continents and just recently has earned him the title Entertainer of the Year just a few months ago-- for the third time. For those that donât know, Alec writes all of his songs and can play a variety of instruments including the guitar, piano, drums, and the clarinet.
Alec has just wrapped up his latest world tour. 128 tour dates, over a million tickets sold, and an estimated 700 million dollars in revenue resulted in a sold-out tour for a triple platinum album that puts this superstar at the top of his game.
We donât see him falling anytime soon.
Because Iâm obsessive about making a good impression to my guests, I showed up to the little cafe we had agreed to meet up at half an hour early. It gives me time to review my notes and take a breath, opening my mind for first impressions-- both good and bad.
The cafe in question is cute. Itâs full of bright colors-- splashes of crimson mixed with ribbons of turquoise gives the place a kitschy, bohemian air. The pastry display at the front of the shop is beautiful with fluffy scones and gigantic cupcakes covered with a mountain of frosting.
Itâs turning towards evening and the golden light adds to the summer ambiance. I was just debating between a piece of raspberry swirl pound cake or triple chocolate muffin when the little bell above the door chimed and in walked the man of the hour.
Alec Lightwood is even more stunning in person, dear readers. Heâs sporting a five oâclock shadow that makes his face a little more rugged and his patrician features look carved from marble. Heâs wearing slim fit pants in an alluring olive green with the bottoms rolled up to show surprisingly delicate ankles for such a tall man.
His navy sweater is just right, offering a lovely contrast from the pants and working well with his coloring.
Lightwood slips his sunglasses off and tucks then into the neck of his sweater. His eyes sweep across the surprisingly empty eatery before landing on me. Immediately, Iâm a little intimidated. Razor sharp hazel eyes that show a surprising intelligence and his giraffe-like height are a little overwhelming when youâre a foot shorter and not expecting such attention.
In the next moment, Alec smiles and itâs a warm, engaging thing that instantly makes everything more comfortable.
We chat for a few minutes before deciding to order. Alec orders a coffee drink that is at least ninety-five percent sugar-- a concoction with caramel, mocha and whipped cream. We both choose a few pastries-- Alec goes for the dark chocolate scone-- and we settle in to our little table. Heâs patient as I set my recorder up and seems content to happily munch on his baked good, giving the impression that heâs not bothered that Iâm a little scattered today, of all days.
Then we begin.
Out: So, Alec, welcome back home. How does it feel?
Alec: (Laughs). Thanks, man. It feels great. Iâm a New Yorker born and bred and while I love traveling nothing quite beats being home and taking that first subway ride after a while abroad.
O: You just wrapped up your latest sold-out tour. How did it compare to previous tours?
A: This tour was definitely the biggest on any scale, whether it was tickets sold, venue capacities, or effort. The crew was amazing every night, putting together sets and making sure that everything went off without a hitch. And the fans, well, they just continue to blow me away. Their enthusiasm is unmatched. While grueling-- itâs the longest tour Iâve ever done and covered the most distance-- it was indescribably brilliant. I had the time of my life and I hope everyone else feels the same.
O: World tour, check. Whatâs next for you, Lightwood?
A: Thatâs the million dollar question. I have a few months before I start recording my next album. I plan to take this summer and write most of the material for that record. Plus, I want to enjoy some time off. Itâs been a year since I was last in New York and I want to get reacquainted with the city and with my family.
O: So, both work and play?
A: Yeah, I guess so. Thereâs always that push to think ahead in terms of my career-- whatâs the next step, where can I go from here. Iâll definitely be working this summer. I have a few writing sessions lined up with artists I really admire and Iâm excited to see what emerges from them. An Arrow in the Dark was a huge phase of that career, though, and coming off that album cycle kind of just leaves me with a desire to sleep for a century (laughs). Iâm using this time to recharge and make my seventh album the best I can, the best Iâve ever done.
O: Can you tease anything from the next album?
A: I think this album might surprise the fans a little. Iâve been at this for over a decade. I want to stretch my legs and experiment a little. I donât know what will make it on the record, but I need to change things up or Iâll get stale and thatâs the worst thing for an artist to become.
O: So, youâre doing something different? We should prepare ourselves for something a little out of the box when we think of Alec Lightwood?
A: I guess thatâs a takeaway. I just want the fans to go into things with an open mind. Iâve lived a lot in the past two years and those experiences will probably show up in my next album. Iâm looking for new shit, man. I donât want to put any parameters on my art-- who knows whatâs going to come out.
O: Speaking of living a lot, youâve been linked to several men, including Emmy-winning Actor Jason Desker. Can I ask if anything is going on there?
A: Sure, you can ask. Doesnât mean Iâll answer. But, truthfully, thereâs not much to say. Jason and I met up at an after-party and the next day rumors were swirling around about the two of us. I can tell you, 100 percent truth, that I am single and unattached. Iâm not in a relationship and I havenât been in one for years.
O: But what about all of the rumors?
A: Theyâre just that. Rumors. False gossip and idle speculation.
O: No oneâs caught your eye, then?
A: No.
O: Okay, then. Thereâs the truth straight from your lips. Now, Alec, youâve been out since almost the beginning of your career, which began when you were a junior in high school. What can you share about your own experiences coming out during such a turbulent time?
A: Iâve known I was gay since I was a little kid. Absolutely no doubt about it. It took me years to learn the name for what I felt and even longer to reconcile that part of me with everyone elseâs expectations. When my family asked if there was anyone special I had me eye on, Iâd shrug and deny anything, offering that school and sports were taking all of my focus. My siblings knew everything wasnât what it seemed, but they let me have that shield to hide behind until I was ready to admit to the world that I wasnât straight.
At the very start of my career, there was a lot of contention between a lot of parties on what my image should be. I kept quiet for months and was well into my senior year of high school when I decided to make my public move. I was the captain of the soccer team and had been going out with one of my teammates for a few months.
I was just fed up with it all. I had a hit song on the radio and the whole damn school knew about the two of us-- it was almost an open secret. The guy at the time was in the closet but ready to come out and I was standing in his way. So, the day we won the state tournament, I kissed him in front of a few thousand people out on the field. IT was an incredible high and I don't think either of us could believe what I'd just done.
Shit was a little crazy after that. The media took to the story like a house on fire and things at school and home were a little hectic for awhile. But I felt a lot of relief and everything was worth it in the end.
O: Thatâs quite a story.
A: (Laughs). Yeah. It was dramatic as hell and I caught a lot of heat for it, but I was just tired, you know? I was a month from graduation and planning to go on tour right after that and it was almost like, it was now or never. So, I chose now. The moment I did it was a cathartic release. All that weight just dropped from my shoulders. That isnât to say that things were smooth sailing, because like I said there were a lot of parties that were unhappy with me and my irrevocable decision. My coming out wasn't just for my own mental health or peace of mind-- it was a deliberate business decision that I knew would impact my career from the second I went through with it, but I havenât regretted anything. If sharing the absolute terror and relief I felt helps anyone, then I have no problem talking about my story.
O: You have a lot of fans and are a role model to many of them, especially those in our community. Do you have any advice for them?
A: Iâd say, just share your truth. That sounds like such after school special bullshit but itâs true. Even if you are straight or cis, you can still be going through things that are difficult to handle or acknowledge. Once you start living your best life, is when you start really living. There will be hate and ignorance and all that bad stuff but being free and unapologetic about it is a powerful balm to any insults or accusations that might get hurled your way. Remember, thereâs nothing wrong with what you feel. Youâre valid and itâs going to be okay.
O: Wise words, Alec. Now that youâve been out for almost a decade, can you share your ideal man? Give some of us some hope (laughs).
A: I donât really have a type, man. I like intelligence and wit and kindness. Iâm pretty basic that way. I canât explain what catches my eye because it seems to change every time. Iâve been with guys who were vastly different, from a broker in the London Stock Exchange to a drummer in a Brazilian metal band. I donât limit myself.
O: So no teasers on who we might next see you with?
A: Not really. All I can offer right now is that Iâm looking for someone who sees beyond Alec Lightwood in all capital letters. Iâm just a guy and when I do fall for someone itâs going to be real. Who knows when that will happen but Iâm in no rush. I have a lot on my plate and things will happen when theyâre meant to.
O: With that last statement, letâs end things with a fun tidbit. Whatâs the most embarrassing thing thatâs ever happened on tour?
A: Embarrassing, huh? Thatâs certainly a different direction. There was that time in Dublin that I ripped my pants and my cartoon underwear showed for almost the entire concert and I didnât know. But, I think Iâd have to say that the most embarrassing thing that ever happened on stage was when I fell. It was an open arena and it was raining. Not too hard, but enough to make things slippery. I was in the middle of the dramatic chorus when I slipped like a cartoon on a banana peel. Everything was silent for a moment before I got my breath and stood up. By ass hurt like hell but I was only halfway through the set. I could feel my blush for the rest of the concert. It was awful.
O: And on that note, thank you Alec for agreeing to talk with Out Magazine.
We talked for a few more minutes, informally, before I had to leave for my next appointment. Alec was ushered by a photographer right after I left for the spread you can see in the following pages.
Lightwood is a powerhouse. He has the voice of a generation and a kind heart. Heâs self deprecating and one doesnât get the impression that heâs just another stuck-up celebrity out of touch with the average person. By all accounts, his fans are rabid over him and itâs not hard to see why. Heâs a professional at all costs and is always engaging with fans on social media. With over eighty million followers on Twitter and Instagram, itâs undeniable that Alec has built an admirable foundation of support.
Watching behind the scenes videos and fan blogs, itâs obvious that thereâs a rapport between Alec and his fans that not every artist is fortunate enough to have-- or cares enough to curate. Thereâs respect and love from both sides.
Alec Lightwood isnât just a pretty face. He works as hard as his discography and grueling schedule indicates. The day we had the interview, Alec had a meeting with his record company board and met with the people at ABC for his Good Morning America appearance. His day didnât end until almost dawn, as the photoshoot took hours after our sparse dinner. But Lightwood didnât complain. A trooper, he seemed genuinely interested in our conversation and from what the photographer and wardrobe team told me, he took direction well and had fun with the shoot-- even though he had been up for almost twenty four hours at that point.
Alec Lightwood is an enigmatic man. He guards his life zealously. Everyone sees him stumbling out of clubs with a different guy on his arm every week. Everyone has seen his interviews and fans catch glimpses of the man behind the scenes, but thatâs all they are. Brief looks into the private life of Americaâs favorite celebrity.
It makes one wonder about what lies beneath the surface. From our conversation, Alec had a wit and bluntness thatâs admirable in the upper echelons of Americaâs darlings. He has a brother that owns an award-winning gym in Brooklyn with a mile-long waiting list and a sister thatâs featured on countless magazine covers herself-- Isabelle Lightwood is set to appear in the Victoriaâs Secret show in the fall and has racked up quite a following of her own.
This family is determined and, above all, generous. Itâs been a pleasure watching Lightwood grow from the somewhat awkward teen to the self-assured man he is now, comfortable with his fame and the scrutiny of millions. This is the second time Lightwood has graced our Magazineâs cover and itâs always a delight. I, and the team at Out Magazine, wish Alec Lightwood all the luck on his next album. We canât wait to hear it!
An Arrow in the dark, Lightwoodâs sixth studio album and latest release, is out now and can be found online and in-store at a variety of merchants. See below for more details.
At the time of press, Chocolate Raspberry, his latest single, had sold over five million copies and was topping the charts at No. 1.
Word on the street has it that fans can expect another single to drop soon-- the acoustic and dark-toned Empty Hearts.
#httbt#my writing#this very much sets up the beginning of the next chapter#and was just fun to write in general!!#malec#malec fic#malec fic rec#singer!alec#celebrity!alec#famous!alec
21 notes
¡
View notes
Text
 The Billionaire Boss Next Door, an all-new hilarious romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is available now!
 My new boss has it all. In spades.
 Gorgeous green eyes? Check.
Hard-and-sexy body? Check.
Intelligence? Check.
Success? A big fat billionaire⌠Check.
 Too bad I havenât started out on the best foot.
 My big mouth has already turned him against me, and tempting good looks and success aside, Trent Turner is no peach either. Heâs stubborn and thick-headed, and son of a fruitcake, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about the hotel business.
 With him running the development of the new Vanderturn New Orleans Hotel and me doing the design, our work relationship is far too intimate for two people who absolutely despise one another.
 But thatâs not all.
 See, he isnât just my billionaire boss from hell. Heâs my new neighbor, too.
 Same city.
Same building.
Same floor.
 Trent Turner is my billionaire boss next door.
 Holy moly, letâs hope my careerâand hormonesâcan survive.
 Disclaimer: If you generally love to suffer, hate fun of any kind, and are allergic to laughter, this book is not for you.
 Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2Vy4KOk
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TBBND
 Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2uEva5S
It only takes five minutes inside the hotel gym to realize why my original plan was to eat a hamburger in bed.
I do not got this.
Iâm not good at working out, Iâve never been good at working out, and Iâll never be good at working out.
I donât know what to do with the equipment, and it doesnât know what to do with me.
Clearly, itâs been designed for people with half a foot more height and fifty percent more muscle, and even on the lowest of settings, I fumble my way through biceps curls like an uncoordinated inchworm.
I can barely reach the handles, so I have to kind of stoop to get in position, but the newly formed curve of my spine makes me have to arch and wiggle to complete the curl. If it werenât for my kick-ass Metallica T-shirt, I might start to worry that I look foolish.
The ten-pound weight clanks as I drop it the inch and a half I managed to lift it in the first place, and I stand up to find a different machine. Surely thereâs something in here I can operate without having a special license.
I find some kind of seated thing with weights on one end and a padded face rest on the other. I sit, lay my face down, and attempt to slide my legs underneath the weighted bar. But, itâs completely awkward and uncomfortable, and I start questioning what in the fuck this thing is even supposed to do.
Just before I give up completely, a throat clears deeply beside me, and I look up to see a far too muscular man staring down at me in confusion. âUhâŚwowâŚI didnât realize you could use it that wayâŚâ
Huh?
I nearly ask him what heâs talking about, but his actions answer any and all questions I might have.
He sits down on the machine beside mineâan identical machine to mineâand itâs then I realize the face rest is not a face rest.
Itâs a seat. For asses.
A seat for sweaty, workout asses.
Jesus Christ. I shudder and disentangle myself from the machine.
âYou okay?â Arnold Schwarzeneggerâs long-lost brother asks, but I just nod off his question and put some much-needed distance between us.
Also, I scrub my face with the hand towel I brought down from my room like itâs a fucking Brillo pad capable of removing the ball sweat thatâs probably found itself a home in my pores.
Note to self: take one thousand scalding-hot showers tonight.
With a deep inhale, I try to regain some of the pride I lost back there by Mr. Muscles and peruse the room until I find a machine thatâs labeled with instructional pictures to boot.
Hip. Abduction.
Do I need aliens to use this thing?
Against my better judgment, I study the pictures and peptalk myself into sitting down on the seat and swing my legs over to the inside of the knee pads.
No face-to-butt-sweat mistakes happening here, folks!
The weight is set on one hundred and fifty pounds from the person before me, and it makes me wonder if Thor is staying at this hideous hotel too.
I pull out the pin and put it on forty instead.
After a quick test push with my legs, the setting seems doable, so I take out my phone and start scrolling through it to set up some music to accompany me.
Yes. Yes. Thatâs exactly what I need. Some workout jams.
Of course, once Iâm on it, I get distracted by Instagram, and five minutes go by before I realize Iâm sitting on a machine, not a couch, and the purpose here is to do something other than lounge.
I glance up from my phone and scan the room, wondering slightly if anyone knows how long Iâve been sitting here. Mr. Muscles has moved on to a new machine, but a different guy across the room makes eye contact and smirks.
Busted.
Normal human decency dictates he should let me off the hook and go about his day, but this fit, Adonis-looking, sweat-covered, brown-haired, green-eyedâgood God, heâs attractiveâman apparently has no manners.
Shit.
His sleeveless white T-shirt clings to his tanned body as he strides my way, and his athletic shorts conform to a muscular set of thighs and ass.
I look everywhere but at him, fiddling with the machine as though Iâm doing something productive, but he still doesnât get the hint.
Raspy and firm, the clearing of his throat sounds right next to me.
I look up as innocently as I can manage and pull out my earbuds as though I had music playing.
âUm, hi,â I say with a cute little manufactured laugh. âIâll be done in just a second.â
He laughs too, but his seems genuine and undeniably directed at me. âIf you keep up your current pace, I think itâs going to be a little longer.â
âExcuse me?â
âCome on,â he says good-naturedlyâthe prick. âYouâre just pretending to work out.â
Oh no, he did not just say thatâŚ.
âIâm not pretending to work out,â I deny. âIâm just getting warmed up.â
He nods knowingly.
âAnd setting up my music,â I continue.
He hums.
âIâm just about to catch my stride.â
âSure you are.â He calls bullshit with his smug, green as fuck eyes, and for the briefest of moments, they glance down at my chest and my legs before meeting my gaze again. âBut there are people who would like to really use it, so if youâre doneâŚâ
What. The. Fuck.
Who does this guy think he is?
âAre you always this rude?â I question, and his green eyes lighten a bit.
âAll right, youâre right. Iâm really not trying to be a dick,â he says and runs a hand through his hair.
Should it really take that much effort not to be a dick?
âLetâs start overâŚâ He pauses and pushes a small smile to his full, kissable lips. âHow are you enjoying the hotel?â
Start over? How about letâs never have started at all?
Still annoyed, I donât censor my answer. âItâsâŚswell.â
He laughs at first, but when I raise an eyebrow in contention, he frowns. âYou donât like it?â
âMaybe ugly dĂŠcor and a whole buttload of pretention are good for some people, but not for me.â
âUgly dĂŠcor? Really?â
How can he be shocked by this? Anyone with eyes could see the design flaws here.
âAre you kidding? I feel like Iâm in my ninety-year-old grandmotherâs living room, except itâs a waking nightmare and Iâm about to be eaten alive by the curtains.â
âI donât think itâs that bad. Itâs timeless.â
Normally, Iâm not such a snob about design, nor do I make a point to make other people feel bad for their likes and dislikes, but for some reason, this handsome prick and his dickish attitude just bring it out in me.
Before I know it, Iâm channeling Regina George.
âWellâŚâ I pause and scrunch up my nose dramatically. âIâm sorry to break the news to you, but the design of this place looks like it was done by a blind rat. Gilded sailboat pictures and tapestries with oxen on them arenât timeless. Theyâre old.â
His eyebrows pinch together, highlighting the otherwise perfect features of his face. Goddamn this ugly hotel for housing such perfect-looking humans.
âWhat did you say your name was again?â
Shit. Emory will absolutely murder me if she finds out I got into some kind of confrontational tĂŞte-Ă -tĂŞte with a random Romeo in the hotel gym.
Letâs also not forget this hotel gym is located inside a hotel that is owned by the company youâre about to interview withâŚ
Shit. Yeah. Iâd better cut and run while I can.
âI didnât.â I jump up from the machine with the exact agility Iâve lacked during the rest of my workout and offer a saccharine smile. âBut, hey, good news. Machineâs all yours.â
âArenât you going to wipe it down?â he asks as I walk toward the door, and I canât help but turn around for my parting shot.
âWhy?â I smirk at the pouty-lipped asshole. âAfter all, I was just pretending to work out.â
Because you know what dicks can do?
They can go fuck themselves and wipe down their own workout equipment, tight asses and chiseled jaws be damned.
Suck on that, workout Romeo.
  About Max Monroe:
A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
 Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like theyâve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far. â
 Connect with Max Monroe: Â
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/max-monroe
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormaxmonroe/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authormaxmonroe/
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/newsletter
 Excerpt â The Billionaire Boss Next Door The Billionaire Boss Next Door, an all-new hilarious romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is available now!
0 notes
Text
so if youâre lonely (whyâd you say youâre not lonely)
summary: Despite all the rumblings in the office, Nathaniel is not going soft. Heâs not. Nathaniel and Rebecca go on a trip for work. Word Count: 3,200 Authorâs Note: Thank you so much to @bethanyactually, who beta'd this while she was feeling less-than-great. I am very very excited to have TWO shows you can beta my fic for. I'm kinda consumed by this pairing right now (if you are too come talk to me!!) and couldn't ignore the urge to write fic about them. But this is my first attempt at CEG fic so let me know how I did? this one-shot was inspired by my own damn emotional tumblr post.
(ao3)
~~~
âAre you sure youâre ready for this, Son?â Nathaniel can picture his fatherâs stern and skeptical face even though heâs only on speakerphone.
âOf course,â he says, and then cringes inwardly at the high pitch of his voice. Clearing his throat, he tries again. âIâve given presentations to the partners before. Everything will go as planned.â
âYes, but this is not some fruity lecture on why we should run a greener firm. This is about our work, and if youâre not completely prepared, we may have to deem this West Covina experiment a failure.â
âThat will not happen, Sir.â
âIt had better not. See you on Tuesday.â
When the line goes dead, he takes a deep, steadying breath before climbing onto his treadmill desk. He gives the presentation in his head between sprints.
Despite all the rumblings in the office, Nathaniel is not going soft. Heâs not.
Last week when he sent Karen home early to attend to her sick snake? That had nothing to do with compassion. He was just tired of hearing her creepy whining.
And all the extended lunches he lets Darryl and his boyfriend take? Itâs not like he thinks theyâre a cute couple or anything. Itâs simply easier to get work done when Darryl isnât hovering over his shoulder like a puppy begging for scraps.
And he definitely hasnât been going easy on Rebecca, letting her constant tardiness and lack of productivity slide. But if he were, could anyone really blame him? Sheâs been through a lot, and heâs not heartless after all.
But heâs not soft, either. No siree.
Rebecca knocks on the door to his office, jarring him out of his thoughts, and he waves her in.
âYou wanted to see me?â she asks, flopping down on his couch and examining her nail polish.
âI did,â Nathaniel says, turning the speed on the desk down to a casual stroll. âI know that during previous discussions on the matter, youâve expressed your preference to stay behind while I present our progress to the senior partners back in New York.â
She seems to know whatâs coming because suddenly all her focus is on him and sheâs widening her eyes and pouting out her lower lip, which trembles just the right amount.
Itâs not getting to him, though. Not even a little.
âBut it turns out the big wigs are interested in meeting you,â he says, swallowing hard and tilting up his chin. âSo I guess youâll have to suck it up and wear a decent outfit for the first time in a month. We leave Monday morning.â
âWhat?â Rebecca jumps to her feet. âYou canât just spring this on me. Like, I mean, what if I had a pet? This would not be enough time to find someone to watch it. Do you know how many friends I have? Not many, and you canât just leave anyone to look after a pet. Itâs gotta be someone you trust andââ
âGood thing you donât have a pet,â he says, cutting her off.
Her mouth tightens and she eyes him suspiciously.
He sighs, already exasperated with himself for asking, âWhat?â
âThis isnât a get into my pants thing, is it? Cause Iâve been watching a lot of the classic rom-coms in an attempt to torture myself, and, in addition to really igniting my fury over casual misogyny and Western beauty standards and the existence of men in general, itâs made me wary of heterosexual male and female best friends, paying some guy to be your date to any kind of formal event, time hops, time loops, and work trips. Theyâre all dangerous. All of âem.â
âGreat, Iâll be sure to make note of that.â
âWell? You didnât answer my question.â
Nathaniel turns off the treadmill and leans over the desk, clasping his hands together and leveling her with a serious look. âHereâs the deal, Pudgy the Librarianââ
âDonât make me lecture you about the Western beauty standards because Iâve got enough material to last me hours.â
ââdo I still want to have sex with you? Strangely, yes, that hasnât gone away. And has it escaped my notice that youâre no longer in a monogamous relationship? Of course not, who could forget the disaster that was your breakup. But my main focus is going to be on wowing the senior partners, as should yours. Anything that happens between us at the hotel will be some long-overdue icing on a successful business tripâŚcake.â
Rebecca raises her eyebrows. âSometimes I wonder if even Freud himself could chip through the overwhelmingly large iceberg of pathologies inside that brain of yours.â
âFunny, I could say the same to you.â
She flips him off on her way out the door.
âMonday morning,â he shouts after her. âIâll see you at LAX at six-thirty sharp!â
~~~
Rebecca is just barely on time.
âSince it looks like you actually washed your hair, Iâll give you a pass,â he says in greeting when she shuffles up to the table heâs been waiting at in the airport cafĂŠ.
âCan you please not be mean to me until Iâve had some coffee? I didnât have time this morning because my flaky boss only told me Iâd be needed for a cross-country trip three days ago.â
Nathaniel shakes his head, unimpressed, and slides a coffee over to her. âIt doesnât take weeks of foresight to set your alarm ten minutes earlier so you can stop somewhere on your way to the airport.â
She ignores him and takes a sip of the drink he ordered for her. âMmm, hazelnut. My favorite.â
He allows himself a tiny grin. âI know.â
Before he can read too much into the pleased look sheâs giving him, he slings his carryon over his shoulder and stands. âCome on, Pudgy, time to go check our bags.â
âOkay, seriously dude, stop projecting your body image issues onto me,â she says as she follows behind him. âIâve already confronted and dealt with my internalized fatphobia.â
âOh, really? I suppose your license has an accurate weight on it, then?â
âWhat? No. No one lists their actual weight on their license. Not even you, Mr. My Weight Is Ninety-Eight Percent Muscle Mass.â
He stops in his tracks, smirking, and she nearly runs into him.
âOh my god, please stop doing that,â Rebecca says, taking a step backward. âYou look like a serial killer who just got away with their fiftieth murder or something.â
âI knew it,â Nathaniel says, letting that dig slide. âYou definitely still want to have sex with me.â
She makes an exaggerated gagging noise, but a blush creeps into her cheeks. âWhatever. Like, please get a handle on your extreme narcissism, dude. Nothingâs going to happen between us.â
âMaybe. Maybe not. The important thing is that you still want it to.â
He raises his eyebrows at her, and she bites her lip, holding eye contact for a second longer than necessary before pushing ahead of him and stomping her way through the terminal.
~~~
âDid you get the final copy of the PowerPoint I emailed to you Saturday morning?â he asks, not looking up from his notes.
âHas anyone ever told you that youâre super anal?â He glares at her until she adds, âGod, yes. Iâm totally prepared for this, alright?â
âYou can never be totally prepared.â
Rebecca gives him a funny look. âYou suddenly donât trust me to do my job, or what?â
âYou have been distracted lately.â
âHey! Thereâs a totally understandable reason for that.â
âYouâve been processing your brutal breakup,â Nathaniel says, nodding.
At the same time, Rebecca says, âTrying to make Joshâs life implode is basically a full-time job.â
âWait,â he says, setting his tablet screen-side down in his lap. âYouâve been doing what now?â
She twists in her seat, her face contorting with way too many emotions to identify. All he knows is that sheâs feeling all of them intenselyâso intensely that itâs hard to look at her straight-on. âJosh Chan needs to pay for what he did.â
Nathaniel gulps and tries for some levity. âYouâre pretty much stuck at the anger stage of grief, huh?â
âI have a lot to be angry about,â she says, her voice unnervingly even.
âSure.â
His noncommittal answer seems to piss her off more. With a scoff, she turns her back toward him and buries her face in a book, putting a definitive end to any and all conversation.
~~~
After a tense and silent ride to the hotel theyâre staying at, Nathaniel and Rebecca barricade themselves in their respective rooms.
He orders room service for lunch and sends a quick text to his father to let him know they landed safely.
Around seven that evening, though, he starts to feel a bit like a caged animal. He orders something else from room service and then freshens up while he waits.
When it comes, he grabs his room key, tucks a just-in-case condom in his pocket, and walks down the hall.
He pauses outside Rebeccaâs room and unbuttons one of the buttons on his shirt before knocking.
âI come with a peace offering,â he says when she answers, holding out the bottle of wine he ordered for them. She squints at him, expression unreadable, and then walks back into the room, leaving the door ajar. âOkayâŚâ
Itâs not exactly a rejection, so he inches inside.
âWhat was that?â He hears Paulaâs voice and follows it toward the bed.
Rebeccaâs leaning against the headboard, laptop balanced on her thighs. There are files and loose papers covering every inch of the comforter and an uncapped red marker rolling around among them.
Nathaniel sets the bottle down on the desk before leaning against the wall and watching her with curiosity.
âOh, it was nothingâPlimpton with a bottle of wine.â
Paula makes a knowing sound in the back of her throat and says, âSuch a classic booty-call move.â
âI know. Heâs being totally obvious, isnât he?â Rebecca shoots him a pointed look.
He shrugs in response. âThereâs no shame in being straightforward. Subtlety is for losers who donât know what they want.â
In a stunning display of maturity, she sticks her tongue out at him.
âWhy am I attracted to you again?â he asks himself.
Sheâs already gone back to ignoring him.
âIt might be good for you, you know?â Paula says. âHave some hot, no-strings sex. Might ease some of that tension youâve been feeling.â
âI donât know,â Rebecca says, frowning thoughtfully. âI donât want anything to distract me from whatâs really important right now. Also, he was a dick on the plane, so.â
âHey!â
âPlus,â Paula says, âhe is your boss. That could make things very uncomfortable around the office. Heâs a fine piece of man meat, though. Itâs a shame all thatâs going to waste.â
âHello, Iâm standing right here,â Nathaniel protests, stepping up to the edge of the bed so he can lean into the cameraâs frame and wave.
âSo?â Paula asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
âSo maybe you should show me a modicum of respect. I could write you up for talking about me like that.â
âOh please,â Paula scoffs. âYouâre the one trying to sleep with one of your employees.â
Nathaniel feels his entire body flush. âThat isâŚa fair point.â
Rebecca shoves him out of her personal space and gives Paula an approving nod. âLaw schoolâs been good for you.â
âWell, I was a highly argumentative person before. Itâs helped me hone my skills, is all.â
âDefinitely. Very effectively shut down.â
âThanks, Cookie. Oh, Iâll call you later! The car alarm is going off and I can only assume Brendan is trying to steal it again. Weâre at a bit of a dead end, anyway.â
Rebecca sighs. âAlright. Good luck with the kid. Iâll text you if inspiration hits.â
âSo itâs probably too optimistic to assume that all this,â Nathaniel gestures to the mass of paperwork, âis work related.â She tilts her head at him. âYeah, thatâs what I thought.â
âSo, are you here to judge me some more?â
âNo,â he says, nodding over to the bottle of wine. âIâm here to unwind a little before a stressful day of work tomorrow.â
She regards him with caution. âIf I drink that with you, that doesnât automatically mean weâre gonna do it.â
âYeah, I know how consent works.â
She sets her laptop on her nightstand and starts clearing off the bed. âThere you go again, talking dirty.â
Nathaniel triesâand failsânot to smile. âYou have a strange idea of what counts as seduction.â
~~~
âI swear itâs been so hard to dig up dirt on Josh Chan,â Rebecca says, tipping into Nathaniel as she tries to tuck one leg under the other. She takes an impressive swig from the bottle of wineâtheir second of the eveningâand then passes it to him. âBarring the super obvious exception, that man is likeâŚsunshine. Like dopey magical fairy dust incapable of misdeeds.â
Though his inhibitions are already lowered, Nathaniel takes a long pull from the bottle. His nose burns and his eyes water, but heâs going to need to be pass-out drunk if she keeps insisting upon the topic of Josh.
âAnd heâs like impervious to sabotage or something, which is surprising because heâs so easily distracted. I figured we could ruin the whole âbecome a priestâ thing by sending a pretty and willing lady his way, but he never took the bait. But he canât actually be serious about it, right? I mean, he was supposed to commit to me, not God.â She grabs onto his shirt collar and tugs so hard their foreheads knock together as he turns. It doesnât even give her pause, though. âWhat does God have that I donât, huh?â
Stability is the answer that immediately pops into his head, but then his gaze drifts down to her angrily scrunched lips, and the response is gone quicker than it came.
âUh.â He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, drawing back a couple inches. âHave you ever realized you talk about Josh like heâs a character in a story youâre writingâmore of an archetype, less of an actual human being?â
âWhat? No I donât.â
âYou kinda do.â
Rebecca scoots away from him on the bed, looking scandalized. âI most certainly do not do that.â
âCome on,â Nathaniel says, resisting the urge to grab her and pull her close again. âThe first couple weeks I knew you, you referred to him almost exclusively as âthe man of your dreamsâ. Now heâs âhuman sunshineâ? Real people arenât paragons, Pudgy.â
She grabs the pillow out from under her and swings it hard at his face, but thankfully sheâs too drunk to have very good aim and heâs able to catch it and tug it out of her hands. Before she can pout too much, he passes the wine back to her.
She begrudgingly takes a sip.
âAll Iâm saying is, this weird hero-worship thing you have going on is staunching your ability to process what happened to you.â
Rebecca hugs the bottle close to her chest. âWho are you, Dr. Akopian?â
Nathaniel raises his eyebrows. âWho?â
âNothing. Nobody.â
He watches her closely for a second before snagging the wine back and then continuing. âAnyway, this whole revenge scenario of yours isnât a way to get back at the flip-flop. Itâs a transparent attempt to keep your entire life revolving around this unworthy dipshit.â
âOh really?â
âYes. Itâs okay to admit it.â
âAnd this convoluted pep talk of yours has nooooothing to do with trying to get me to say that Iâm completely free of emotional attachments so we can have sex, Iâm sure.â
âYouâre the one who keeps bringing up sex, not me,â Nathaniel says, pursing his lips to keep himself from smiling.
Her mouth pops open and she gapes for a moment before sitting up straight and jabbing her finger at him. âNope, nuh-uh, youâre not getting off the hook that easily. You just want an âI told you soâ moment, and I see right through you.â
âWhat would I have to say I told you so about?â
Rebecca pitches her voice low and says, âCommitment is stupid. Itâs better to chase people around. Weâre all sexual predators,â in a mocking voice.
He blinks.
âWhatever, Iâm paraphrasing,â she says, grabbing the wine back.
âOkay. Let me make sure I have this right. Because I donât believe marriage is worth it, youâre not going to admit you were hurt and move onâŚto maintain some falsely perceived moral high ground?â
She sneers at him before taking a drink. âThe situationâs a lot more nuanced than that.â
âOh yeah?â he asks. âThen spell it out for me. What are the finer points of this situation?â
Rebecca takes a moment to size him up. âYou really wanna know?â
âYou seem to really enjoy talking about it, so why not?â
âFine. Yeah. Iâve known Josh Chan most of my life, and fate kept throwing us together, you know? Thatâs why Iâve always known our love was the real dealâbecause nothing could stop it. Not years of separation. Not his girlfriend. Not my sleeping with his best friend. No, our connection was stronger than all those things.â
âWait, slow down,â he says, rubbing at his forehead. âThat is a lot of new information to process.â
But sheâs a runaway freight train and thereâs no stopping her now. âAnd when it seemed like things really werenât going to work out between us, I was going to accept it, okay? I really was. I was content to work on myself, but then fate intervened again and Josh and I were finally together for real. And I shared things with himâŚso much of myself. He knew how important our love was to me. He knew what it was gonna mean; what our marriage would be for me. But I guess the idea of sharing a lifetime with me is so repulsive that he had to turn to celibacy on our would-be wedding day!â
Her breathing is haggard by the time she finishes and sheâs gripping the neck of the wine bottle so tightly that her knuckles are white and, damn, heâs not sure which of his impulses is strongerâto run from the room in terror or to give the human mess in front of him the comforting she so desperately needs.
He goes for the latter, easing the wine out of her hands and murmuring, âNo. Thatâs notâŚthat wasnât what happened.â
She nods, shaking a single tear loose.
He gulps and brushes his knuckles across the overheated skin of her cheek, catching the tear with the pad of his thumb.
âRebecca, no.â
The tears start gushing then, hot and unrestrained. She falls into him, burrowing her face into his chest. At first, he feels his lip curl in distaste, but then she makes a noise like a dying cat. With a resigned sigh, he gently guides her into his lap and wraps an arm around her waist, using his other hand to comb the curls back off her wet face.
âWhy didnât he l-l-love me?â She shudders with the force of her crying.
Nathaniel frowns, resting his forehead against the top of her head and taking a deep breath.
âI honestly have no idea,â he says, but heâs pretty sure he speaks too quietly for her to hear over the sound of her sobs.
He hugs her closer and thinks maybeâjust maybeâheâs going a little bit soft.
21 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Worldâs Smallest Hotel Room
Summary: To admit your feelings, you will need: two giants, one broken car, and one tiny room.
Warning: Smut, Top!Dan, Dom!Dan, Language
Word Count: 3,711
Ao3
Fanfic Masterlist
The car rumbles quietly down the motorway, trudging on towards its destination. Dan glances in the review mirror and can see the last bit of the sunset slipping beneath the horizon. A few other cars are traveling along the road as well, but none of them are close.
A few more hours and they will, thankfully, finally be home. They had been traveling while filming something for the BBC and decided to drive back so that they could take a mini vacations before they return to the hectic paces of their lives. All and all, things have gone really well, but they were ready to get home.
Dan glances to his left and looks at Phil. Philâs curled up in his seat with his head leaning against the window. His eyes are shut and a soft snore escapes from his parted lips as he lightly dozes. Dan smiles softly to himself as warmth spreads through his chest. Philâs sleeping form is one of the most beautiful thing in the world, in Danâs humble opinion.
He has his right hand on the wheel and his left one resting on his thigh. His fingers twitch against his jeans. The impulse to reach out and brush Philâs fallen fringe out of his face is extremely prominent. Dan grips his thigh tightly as he mentally reminds himself why he canât. Beyond the fact that it would clearly be an invasion of Philâs space without his consent, heâs unsure that he could control himself. The urge to press Phil up against the wall and kiss him breathless grows stronger with each passing day.
Dan shakes his head and focuses back on the road. Music drifts softly out the speakers  and he hums along.
âDan.â Phil mumbles. Dan glances at Phil with his mouth open to respond, but finds him to still be asleep. He shakes his head and figures he must have misheard him.
Phil shifts in his seat and turns his body towards Dan. The sigh he releases as he settles is music to his ears and he finds himself smiling again.
âDan. Come here.â Phil says quietly. Dan frowns and looks to confirm that Phil is still asleep. He shrugs it off and reminds himself that it doesnât mean anything. They spend ninety percent of their time together, of course theyâre going to show up in each otherâs dreams.
Suddenly, the car starts to shudder. Dan watches in bewilderment as the car begins to slow down. He pulls off to the side of the road and puts the car in park before turning it off. Grey clouds of steam billow from under the hood.
âPhil? Phil, wake up.â Dan says as he blindly pushes his hand in Philâs direction as he stares intently at the dashboard. His hand smacks Phil in the face and he wakes with a start.
âHuh? What? Why are you hitting me in the face?â Phil asks. His voice is low and groggy in a way that Dan would find sexy if he wasnât so freaked out about whatâs happening with the car.
âSorry, I didnât mean to. Somethingâs wrong with the car.â Dan explains. Phil gropes for his glasses in the middle console and his fingertips brush against Danâs thigh. Dan mentally shivers as tingles travel up his leg.
âWhat do you think is wrong?â Phil asks as he blinks away sleep.
âI have no clue. Itâs steaming or something.â Dan tries to turn over the car, but it doesnât start.
âHow far are we from home?â Phil asks. Dan quickly thinks through the route in his head.
âUm..about two and a half hours I think. Maybe three, but Iâm not sure. Iâm not sure where we even are right now.â Dan explains. Phil pulls up his phone and checks their location.
âAccording to this, weâre about three and half hours from home. The closet town is about twenty minutes away.â Dan pulls out his phone and searches for a tow truck; hoping against hope that he can get someone to come get them as itâs starting to get late. They had left hours later than they originally planned on because they wanted to suck every last moment out of their mini vacation. They had only been on the road for about two hours before they broke down.
Phil sits silently as he watches Dan call for a tow truck. He doesnât have to wait long before Dan is ending the call and dropping the phone in his lap.
âWhat did they say?â Phil asks.
âItâs going to be about forty minutes before they can get here. They will take us to the next town as thereâs a mechanical shop. Weâre probably not going anywhere until late tomorrow or early the next day depending on what is wrong with the car.â Dan figures as he tries to remember what little he knows about cars. Phil nods his head and flicks through his phone.
âWe might as well get comfy as it seems like weâll be here a while.â Phil reasons as he opens a gaming app.
Two hours later, theyâre standing at a check in desk at the only hotel in the tiny town. Itâs near the highway and about a ten minute walk from the mechanics office. They dropped the keys along with Danâs information in the overnight box before heading towards the hotel. They canât leave the car and itâs too late to call anyone to come get them, so theyâre stuck for the night.
âHello. Welcome to High Ridge Lodge. Just the two of you?â the receptionist asks. She looks to be slightly older than them and wearing a pound of makeup on her face. Her brown hair is speckled with grey and pulled loosely towards the back of her head. Dan nods.
âHow many nights?â she asks while looking at the computer screen. Her nails click against the keyboard as she moves through the menus.
âOne night I believe. Our car broke down and we have to wait until at least tomorrow to get it fixed.â Phil explains. Danâs thankful for him taking over. The whole ordeal has become very draining on him and heâs not the best at talking to people.
âAlrighty. Well we only have one room available with one double bed. Will that be alright?â the woman asks. They look at each other and a private conversation passes between them.
âYes. Thatâs fine.â Phil says as he pulls out his wallet. Neither of them are happy about having to share a bed, but can deal with it for one night. Theyâve shared bed before, but since Danâs filled out, itâs become harder for them to comfortably do that anymore. Them sharing a bed as been reserved for extremely late night movie marathons or sleeping off a drunken night.
Dan can feel himself starting to freak out internally. Since he became aware of his feelings for Phil, he makes a point to never get close to him for prolonged periods of times. The thought of spending the night in the same bed, and both of them completely sober, terrifies him. He was about to tell Phil to call the whole thing off when he notices him returning his wallet to his pocket and accepting door cards from the receptionist. Dan bites his tongue and slowly follows Phil to the room.
âWhat the fuck?â tumbles out of Danâs mouth before he could stop it. Heâs standing in the open doorframe and with wide eyes, stares at the room before him.
Itâs a simple, rather plain, small room. A bathroom vanity sits to the left, just inside of the door, with a small wardrobe that could only hold about two shirts or one jacket. Across from it is a small bathroom. A tiny shower stall and a toilet reside inside the room thatâs no bigger than a broom closet. A double bed dominates the rest of the main living space. Twin side tables sit on either side with one pressed up against the wall. A small dresser with a tv sits not even two feet from the end of the bed.
âIt will be fine.â Phil says as he attempts to figure out where to place his bags. Dan shuffles awkwardly forward so heâs able to shut the door. Heâs stuck between the vanity and the bathroom door until Phil climbs onto the bed.
âNo it wonât. This place wasnât built for giants. Weâre giants!â Dan exclaims. Phil huffs and flops onto the bed. Heâs shoved his bags as far into the corner as possible, but figures it probably wonât be enough room for Danâs bags as well.
Dan shuffles through the door and drops his bags next to Philâs. They stick out into the doorway enough to cause a nuisance, but there was nothing that he could do. Philâs bags are stacked in the corner and there is no other room in the space. Dan moves carefully around the bed and sits on the other side of the bed. There isnât a whole lot of room between the two of them.
One pizza order and a few hours of crappy television, itâs finally time for bed. People would have probably paid good money to watch two giants try to get ready in whatâs essentially a clown car. At least, thatâs how Dan feels about the situation. The amount of times theyâve brushed, bumped, and jostled into each other became ridiculous. Dan can feel his face flush every time he came in contact with Phil.
They end up having to change in front of the door as they were both too gangly to change in the bathroom. They decide to sit on the bed with their back turned while the other changes. Dan plasters his hands to his face while he waits in an attempt to hide the blush he can feel on his face and the smile that threatens to break out at the thought of Philâs near naked body right behind him.
Phil sat like a statue as Dan changes his clothes. He thinks that he may have seen him peek over his shoulder at one point, but he write it off as seeing if heâs done yet.
âIâm finished.â Dan announces before dumping his clothes into his bag. Phil turns around with a slight pout on his face. âWhatâs wrong?â he asks once he sees his friendâs face.
âI didnât get to see the show.â Phil replies with a wide, cheeky smile. Dan rolls his eyes and ducks his face as a blush tints his cheeks. âKidding!â he declares after seeing Danâs embarrassed face and before scrambling underneath the covers. Dan can swear that Philâs blushing, but it might be just a trick of the light.
Dan turns off the light, bangs his shin on the side of the bed, and joins Phil underneath the covers. Thereâs no space between them as they lay on their backs, side-by-side. The television plays quietly in the background as they wait for sleep to overtake them. When Dan shuts off the telly about an hour later, Phil is curled up facing him and snoring quietly.
After barely anytime asleep, Dan is awaken. At first, heâs confused as to why heâs awake, but the reason becomes clear very quickly. Phil is fidgeting around on his side. Dan figures heâs trying to get comfortable, but freezes as Phil speaks. Â
âDan.â Phil says. Danâs ears perk up at the sound of his name.
âPlease Dan.â Phil continues. Dan furrows his brow. Heâs trying to figure out what kind of dream Philâs having, but before he can, he speaks again.
âYou Dan. Only you Dan.â Phil says and Dan smiles. He settles down against his pillows in an attempt to sleep. He only has just closed his eyes when Phil speaks again.
âI like you Dan. A lot.â Phil whispers, but he might as well have been shouting due to how clear it came across. Dan sits up straight in bed and turns to face Phil. Before he can say anything, Phil begins to fidget. Dan guesses the direction things are heading and makes the decision to wake him up rather than get stuck with him having had a wet dream.
âPhil? Phil? Wake up.â Dan says quietly. He shakes Philâs shoulder and watches him stir reluctantly from sleep. Phil sits up groggy and rubs his eyes. He strains to see in the nearly dark room where the only light is filtering through the curtains.
âHuh? What? Dan?â Phil questions. His head lolls to the side as he struggles to stay awake. Dan bumps his shoulder again and Phil growls at him. âWhy did you wake me?â he asks while looking in the vague direction of Dan.
âI-Uh-Um-You-.â Dan trips over his words as his brain struggles to quantify the situation. Phil slowly becomes more aware of himself and his surroundings. Dan watches as Phil fidget around on the bed before turning on the side lamp next to him and grabs his glasses.
âWhy did you wake me again?â Phil squeaks out. Dan looks over him and notices his poor attempt to hide his erection. He can feel his eyes widen and he quickly turns his head towards the wall.
âI-Um-.â Phil doesnât finish his thought before he clammers out of bed and starts towards the bathroom.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â Dan asks, his voice deep and demanding. It comes out as a slight surprise to himself, but his sleep deprived brain has convinced him he needs to be the one to get him off after all this time of pinning for him. Phil freezes and he swears he can hear the blood rushing past his ears.
âTurn around.â Dan orders in the same tone as before. Phil slowly turns around. His hands are balled tightly at his sides and he makes no attempt to cover his erection. Danâs eyes sweep over him and he canât stop himself from smirking at the sizable tent in Philâs pants. Â
âI asked you a question Phil. Where are you going?â Dan asks again. Phil swallows hard.
âTo the bathroom.â he squeaks out. Dan shakes his head and moves across the bed until theyâre less than a foot apart.
âCome here.â Dan says as he beckons Phil closer with his finger. Phil shuffles across the floor until his knees hit the edge of the bed and they can feel each othersâ breaths on their faces. Neither speak as their eyes roam each others faces.
They notice the swirl of colors in each othersâ eyes and the pink glow that have spread across each othersâ cheeks. Dan bites his lower lip as his confidence wavers. A nervous giggle passes through Philâs lips as his eyes dart around the room and back to Danâs face.
âI heard what you said.â Dan whispers in a husky tone. Phil furrows his brow.
âJust now or-.â Philâs words die as Dan shakes his head.
âBefore. While you sleeping. You were dreaming. You said you like me.â Dan says. Realization spreads throughout Philâs face and his features grow wide.
âI-Itâs not-I.â Phil blabbers. Danâs face falls slightly and he turns away when he starts to second guess himself. Phil shakes his head and grabs onto Danâs shoulder, turning him back to face him.
âWait. Just wait.â Phil pleads. Dan watches him as he searches his face. Phil takes a deep breath.
âDo you like me Dan?â Phil asks. Dan nods. Phil smiles as relief washes over him. âThank god. Iâm going to kiss you now.â Dan nods again. Phil cups his face and crashes their lips together. Itâs messy and Dan easily takes over dominance of it. Phil gladly melts into him and they tumble onto the bed.
âOof.â Dan huffs out as his back lands on the bed. Phil giggles and situates himself on top of Danâs lap. Dan brushes his hands up and down Philâs naked sides. Theyâre both naked, save for their underwear and pajama pants.
âYouâre so hot.â Phil says before diving in for another messy kiss. His mouth moves sloppily and wet across Danâs cheek before moving down his neck. Dan lets out a low growl and flips them. Phil lets out a yelp as his back hits the mattress.
âIâm all for slow, sensual sex, but now right now. Right now, I want to release all our pent up emotions and fuck you into the mattress.â Dan whispers into Philâs ear. Phil shivers and nods his head eagerly. Dan kisses Phil until both their lips are swollen and theyâre out of breath.
âAre you sure you want this?â Dan asks during a breath break in kissing.
âYes.â Phil answers all out of breath. Dan straddles his lap and rubs their cocks together. Moans tumble out of both of their mouths. He grabs Philâs wrists and pins them above his head.
âEven I do this?â Dan teases with a raised eyebrow. Phil bucks his hips.
âGod yes Dan. Please.â Phil pleads, grinding their crotches together more franticly. Dan chuckles and slides his hands down Philâs arm.
âYou going to keep them there like a good boy?â Dan questions in a stern tone. Phil nods his head.
âYes Sir. Please touch me Sir.â Phil begs and Dan chuckles. Phil whimpers under the light brushes of Danâs fingertips as Dan slides down his body. Dan moans as his erection brushes against the sheets.
An throbbing ache resinates from Danâs cock. He would love to drag this out until eternity, but there will be time for that later. Right now, he wants to drive Phil and himself to pleasure. He quickly strips them out of their clothes. His eyes narrow in on Philâs length and he wraps his fingers around it.
Philâs hips careen in time with Danâs strokes. Heâs so desperate, so close, and yet so far away.
âDan! I need-!â Phil cries out. Desperation is beginning to overwhelm him.
âIâve got you.â Dan reassures him in a soothing tone. Phil nods. Dan climbs off the bed and rummages through his beg. He pulls out a condom and lube. Philâs eyes go wide.
âWhat? Why?â he questions. Dan chuckles and settles himself between Philâs spread legs.
âI always like to be prepared,â he holds up the condom, âand just in case I need to have a wank.â Dan says as he lifts the bottle of lube into view. Phil rolls his eyes and chuckles at him.
Dan coats his fingers in love before sliding one inside of Phil. Heâs so warm and tight that Danâs aching to feel him around his cock.
âIâm ready. Iâm ready.â Phil declares a few minutes later. Dan had barely gotten his third finger inside before Philâs declaring himself ready. Dan slaps his thigh lightly enough it wonât leave a mark, but hard enough that Phil will feel it.
âI give the orders, not you.â Dan reminds him sternly as he continue to pump his fingers inside of him. Phil nods his head and drops his gaze at the same time Dan removes his fingers.
âYes Sir. Sorry Sir.â Phil apologizes while Dan readies his cock.
He positions himself at Philâs entrance with his legs around his waist. Once his head has breached the tight ring of muscles, Dan looks up into Philâs eyes and they maintain eye contact until Dan has bottomed out. After a few moments, he moves back and forth a little.
âCan I move?â Dan asks in a whisper. Phil nods his head, Dan grabs his hips, and he starts moving.
Phil can feel every inch of his length as it drags slowly against his walls. Dan pulls out until only his tip is left inside and then slowly pushes forward. He repeats this action several times and each time relishes in how tightly Phil is clinging around him.
âYou feel so good baby.â Dan whispers in Philâs ear before kissing down his neck and biting at his collar bone. Phil is letting out moans right in Danâs ear. Danâs grip tighten as his thrusts become more forceful.
âAh!â Phil cries as Dan hits his prostate. Dan groans at how tightly heâs clenching and doubles his efforts. He sits up straighter and brings Philâs ass off the bed. With this position, he can easily move onto the next part of his plan.
Dan wraps his hand around Philâs cock and begins to stroke it. His hand isnât moving as fast as his hips, but itâs driving Phil closer and closer to the edge.
âI need to cum Sir. Please let me cum!â Phil begs in a high toned voice.
âCum.â Dan commands with a tight squeeze of his hand. Phil thrusts his hips up one last time before spilling all over Danâs fingers and his own chest.
Watching Phil orgasm and seeing him come undone under his touch proves to Danâs undoing. He shuts his eyes tight, thrusts deep inside Phil, and empties himself into the condom. A vision of a flush faced, fucked out Phil plays out behind his eyelids and thatâs what he pictures while riding out his high. Â
He collapses onto Philâs chest and wraps his arms tightly around him. Phil brings his arms down and cards his fingers through Danâs hair before settling them onto his back.
âI didnât say you could move.â Dan jokes. Philâs laugh vibrates through him and they both end up in a fit of giggles.
Clean up and reclothing happen in quick secession. They tangle themselves in one another under the blankets as they settle back down to sleep. Soft kisses are exchanged, but words are not needed as their feelings for each other envelope them.
Theyâre only asleep a few hours before theyâre called about the car. A hose ruptured causing the car to overheat. Itâs a quick and easy fix that has them back on the road by the early afternoon.
Dan finds himself once again in the driverâs seat. Music softly plays out of the speakers which provides the perfect amount of background noise. He has his right hand on the wheel and his other is holding Philâs. They smile at each other whenever they can as they head towards home; their home.
#phan#phan fanfic#dan and phil#dan and phil fanfic#smutty friday#dan#dan fanfic#phil#phil fanfic#dan howell#dan howell fanfic#phil lester#phil lester fanfic
40 notes
¡
View notes
Photo
MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 20
We donât own the bikes, brothers, or any ârelatedâ Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldnât have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please donât sue. Itâd be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we donât share. :Whispers in creepy voice: âMy precious.â The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. Itâs our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where weâll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com Weâll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, weâve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/
                              A/N: Sorry this is coming in late tonight. Mr. Teller didnât want to stop talking. Chibs has so much to say too so ⌠weâre breaking our every other week rule for the next chapter, so expect an early Valentineâs day present. ;)
                       Mo Astor Chapter 20
Jax
âYou got plans tonight, baby?â Mom asks as I wipe my hands off with a rag done with the final oil change of a day. Perk of the job here, I donât do weekends. Â
âNo. You need me to do something?â
She sighs. âListen. Lee ainât Wendy or any of those other waste off skins youâve had for girlfriends. You need to put some effort in to keep her. Itâs Friday night. A nice dinner and a movie or something goes a long way. You guys are more than just friends now. You canât keep treating her the same way you used to.â
âDo I do that?â
âTake it from the lady who works in the office with her and the garage with you. Yes, you do.â
âTrying not to make the same mistakes Ma. I know how Lee is. You hold on too tight, and she gets antsy.â
âAinât nothing confining about a little romance. Trust me. Your Father was good at that.â She shakes her head and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. âThat man had a way of making me feel like I was the only woman in the world he saw. Even with all the things he had on his plate. He made time for me. Itâs why I was willing to walk to that man. Loyalty and love are everything. You do whatever you have to do to keep that once you have it.â
The sincerity in her voice opened my ears wider than they usually were when she spoke. Even after all this time, I could tell she missed my dad. What they had was special, and I respected her advice when it came to that. Iâd seen this life chew up and spit out so many couples. Â Hell Bobby was on wife number four, and still dreaming of forever after, because the big softy was romantic to the core. Maybe that was a requirement for all Elvis Impersonators.
âWhat would you suggest? And donât play dumb, cause if you brought this up, you already have a plan.
She smirks and blows out smoke. âCanât fool you, can I baby? Get her out of Charming. Go up the road to that nice new Italian restaurant they opened. Thereâs a movie theater near there or a place to go dancing. I know she and your sister always liked to go do that. Those two damn near gave us gray hair being out all night, after losing the prospects we assigned to trail them.â She shakes her head, and I laugh.
âAnd then you put me to the task.â
âHah. Yeah, I did, and I think it made it worse instead of better.â
âWhat? They were safe, werenât they?â I say with a sly grin.
âYeah, and your rap sheet got longer.â
âAnd people got the picture and started staying away, didnât they?â I took the job of guarding my girls very seriously. There was a time when Sugar got locked up, and Baby J had come to live with us for a spell. Given Menaceâs position, and the fact that Sugarâs parentâs hated the club, there was no way Sugar could leave her or send her off with family. It had cemented our sibling-like bond.
âThat they did, baby. You did a good job with those two. My little Samcro princess and my bonus baby.â
I shake my head at the satisfied smirk that lines her lips. Sheâd gotten exactly what she always wanted, Lee and I together and Baby J with a Son. One she respected and liked. I donât know what woman wronged my Mom in her life, but she couldnât stand ninety percent of females. Hell, I only think Aunt Luanne and her work so well, because Luanne is a follower who knows her place. My Maâs shrewd like that. Canât bitch too much when sheâs taught me everything I know about ensuring my place and never letting anyone else get the upper hand.
I keep my mouth shut until Iâm ready to make my move. It allows people to underestimate me. I like that. It gives me a chance to come up with a plan and execute it flawlessly. You make mistakes in this world, and you end up in a pine box.
âSo dinner and a movie or dinner and dancing? I think I can manage that.â
âGood. And this timeâŚkeep your hands to yourself unless someone tries to touch her. Nothing ruins a night out worse than arrest.â
I snicker. âI Hear you.â
âGood. â She tosses her butt to the ground and stubbs it out with the toe of her black high heel. âYou might want to make reservations. Be a shame to make the drive and not get a table.â
âWhy donât you do it Ma. Since you did everything else.â
âItâll be my pleasure.â She winks and walks off as I laugh.
Her words had me thinking about our interactions in the garage. We werenât stiff, but I kept my hands to myself. Lee had always been the type to keep business and pleasure separate. She had to, in many ways, to keep her legitimate standing with the upper crust of Charming. Her beauty, schooling, and good reputation allowed them to overlook her Samcro ties. She was a much-needed bridge. One they should know had been claimed.. Thereâd been a number of square ass dudes whoâd tried to tie her down. They didnât see at heart; she was always made to be a bikerâs woman.
Sheâd never be happy with some laid back, casual dude who wanted 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, and nothing to do with her family. Hell Tig, the most fucked up of us all, was her father figure. Someone outside the life would never be able to handle or understand that. Civilians were too damned judgmental for their own good.
I move to an area where I can see her without her seeing me. Dressed in a well-worn pair of faded jeans with ripped knees and a Samcro t-shirt sheâs knotted at the waist to show a sliver off tan toned flesh, sheâs the prettiest thing Iâve ever set eyes on.
I donât want her doubting her importance or her place in my life for a second. Iâve always been good at pushing her boundaries without toppling her. I have no problem doing that now to let everyone know weâre very taken. Itâs healthier than killing people who cross a line with her.
She turns her head towards my mother, and genuine adoration colors her brilliant blue eyes. Seeing the affection between two off the woman I love most makes me smile. Yeah, she deserves more, and I can step it up and give it to her.
I finish cleaning in the sink, scrubbing my hands with the orange scented Pumice soap, careful to get under my nails and around my cuticles. I had plans for these tonight, and they needed to be spotless to be worthy of entrance into hot, wet places.
Satisfied with my hands, I splash water on my face and pat it dry with paper towels and pitch them in the bin. Itâs Friday, and Iâm calling it a day. We donât have any pressing repairs that canât wait or be finished by a prospect.
I make my way to the office and lean into the door.
âYou about done in here, Lee?â
âI donât know?â She turns to face my Ma. âAm I?â
âYeah, you two get out of here. Iâll close down tonight. Unlike you two, my only plans are a party at the clubhouse.â
Lee looks at me confused, and I smirk.
âWhatâs she talking about?â
âMr. wonderful here got you a table at that new Italian place at seven tonight. If you hurry, youâll have enough time to get all dolled up before you leave.â
âDid someone mention dolls?â Tig asks shuddering as he comes into view, silent like always.
âYeah, Tiggy. The kids are going out for a nice date.â
âWhere you taking her?â he asks, eyeballing me.
I stand my ground forcing myself not to respond to his lasers as they bore a hole through me. I ainât going anywhere, so he needs to get used to it.
âThe cute little restaurant up the road,â Mom says.
âApparently thatâs where weâre going,â Lee says with an almost shy smile I know I want to see more often.
âHuh,â Tig grunts. âTake care of my girl.â
âAlways do,â I say refusing to back down under his crazed glare. Tig could back up his bark, but I had no plan to give him a reason to do that.
He nods and walks over to kiss her on the forehead. âHave fun tonight.â
âI will, Tiggy,â she says kissing his cheek. He softens, and I turn away feeling like Iâm intruding on a private moment.
âWell get out of here before I change my mind,â Ma says waving her hand. Â I wrap my arm around Leeâs waist, lift her off her feet, and carry her off.
âWhat are you doing?â
âEscaping while we can. It takes two seconds for shit to go to hell around here,â I say.
She giggles and relaxes against me. âWell, Iâm going to need my purse.â
I return to the office and Ma hands her purse. âAh, to be young and in love again,â She says.
Lee tenses and I squeeze her and jet out before my mother can freak her out more. Itâs funnyâŚIâm usually the gung-ho one who jumps into everything, but I canât with her. At least not on the surface. Sheâs had too many men who counted disappoint her.
I ignore the whistles and hoots sent our way as we exit the garage into the sunshine.
âHow long you need to get ready?â
âHow pretty you want me?â
âYouâre already drop dead gorgeous, Lee. The clothing doesnât change that.â She gasps. âOh, I forgot how much of a charmer you could be.â
âJust stating a fact, darling,â I say as I brush her lips with mine and set her down by her car.
âIâll meet you at your house in say ⌠one hour? Itâll give us both enough time to clean up and then hit the road?â
âSounds good, to me Teller.â She pauses and studies me.
âWhat?â I ask.
She shakes her head and smiles as she unlocks her car and slips into the driverâs seat. Iâm getting under her skin. Darling, you ainât seen nothing yet.
I hurry back inside to my dorm and open my closet. Tucked in the back are a nicer pair of jeans and a button up. A knock sounds on my door.
âYeah.â
I pull out the black button down and glance over my shoulder at Candy. The slender bleach blonde is poured into a pair of low-slung jeans and a crop top that barely covers her implants. Turgid nipples push out the thin white material.
âMa need something?â
âNo. I just thought I could help you get cleaned up.â She enters the room swaying her nonexistent hips.
âIâm taken.â
âNever stopped you before,â She purrs.
The words make me wince. She ainât wrong.
âThis timeâs different.â
She pouts. âYou sure about that? We always had a good time Jax.â
âOut.â I snap my fingers and point, and she huffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stalks out.
I walk over, lock the door behind her and place my head against the door.
Sending away free pussy isnât easy for any man. Especially when itâs a habit, but Iâd cut my own arm off before I hurt Lee. Sheâd been betrayed enough to last a lifetime. Pushing away I head for the shower, wishing I could wash away my shady past as easily as I do the sweat and grime of the day. I let one heartbreak color my entire view on women, and now I had to pay for it, in the form of convincing my woman I could stay true to her.
***
âThis is really nice,â Lee whispers as we walk up to Host/Hostess podium.
âYeah, it is. Iâm starting to think we might be missing out not getting out of Charming more often.â âHah. Donât let Gem here you say that.â
I smirk. âYou know Iâm smarter than that.â
The clientele makes me glad I left my colors at home and stepped up my attire. Blending in is an important skill to have, and while dressing up isnât my thing I can do it when necessary. Leeâs little black dress and sky-high heels are worthy of a suit. The strapless number shows off her delectable collar bone and strong arms. I want to cover her in hickeys so any man would know in a glance sheâs taken and well pleased. I find myself staring down anyone who looks for too long. I covet the shit that matters to me.
âCan I help you, sir?â The man in the black slacks, white button up, and black tie asks.
âYeah, I have a reservation for Teller at seven.â
He opens his book and searches. âI see you here sir. Just one moment and Iâll show you back to your seat.â
I nod my head, wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to my side.
âI canât believe you went through all this trouble for me.â The awe in her voice makes me feel like Iâm on top of a mountain.
âAnything to see you smile, darling.â
She peers down, and a pink tinge appears on her cheeks. Sheâs got her walls down. Itâs a beautiful sight because I know it doesnât happen often.
âI want to believe that.â I tuck my finger under her chin tilting her face to look up at me.
âYou should because Iâm going to be spending my time proving it. You know Iâve never been an all talk kind of man.â
âI do know,â she whispers and I canât help but peck her delicious looking lips.
Weâre shown to our table, and I know mom mustâve pulled some strings because itâs a damn Chefâs table, set apart from the main room.
âOh my God,â Lee whispers looking over the table.
âI know,â I say equally impressed.
The candle light flickering at the table paints her face in shadows. Iâm lost in her eyes and in the moment. Iâve never done anything like this with a woman. Itâs intimate and grown up as hell. What weâre doing isnât playing at a relationship, itâs building a strong one.
We make small talk as we drink wine and eat food I can barely pronounce. I never imagined Iâd be here doing this, but she looks right at home. It drives home just how unique my woman is; like a diamond made under pressure in the earth.
I reach across the table and take her hand, willing her to understand how much she means to me, even if sheâs not ready for the words circling around in my brain.
Iâve been hit by lighting.
My eyes are opened, and my hurt is about to explode, yet I canât say a word. Itâs like having a secret too big to keep under wraps. My thoughts flash to Baby J. Sheâs a safe place. Once she comes back from her honeymoon, weâll talk. I need help figuring out how to handle this. The last woman I gave myself completely panicked and bailed. That left a mark, and I refuse to watch Lee do the same. Sheâs a runner. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. I canât find myself on the wrong side of her walls. It would break me to lose all those years weâve spent being each otherâs best friends.
âWhat are you thinking about?â She asks as she scoops up a bite of Death by Chocolate.
âHow lucky I am to be here with you like this right now.â I bring her hand toward my mouth, brushing her knuckles lightly with my lips.
She smiles and tilts her head. âLaying it on thick.â
âBeing one-hundred percent real. The way we always are with each other.â
âIâm not used to this side of you.â
âWhat side?â
âThis grown up serious side. Itâs dangerous.â
âWhy?â I ask.
âBecause it makes me want things that scare me.â
âYouâre not alone in that, babe. But we both know Iâm good at getting what I want, and the way I see it, as long as weâre on the same page, thatâs not a bad thing.â I shake my head and smile at her.
Her brow furrows. âAnd you think itâll be that easy.â
âNot easy, but when you really want something, it doesnât matter how far you have to go. Itâs never too much.â
Her eyes widen, and I clear my throat. Time to shift topics. âSo, what do you want to do next?â
âThereâs more?â
âIf youâre up for it. I know accountants keep early hours.â
She kicks my shin under the table, and I jerk laughing.
âOh screw you, Jackson. I see I need to remind you where I come from.â
The fire in her eyes makes me grin.
âThe letâs pay the bill and see what you got.â
âWhat are my options?â She asks, sounding more like a general preparing for war than a girlfriend on a date.
âMovies or dancing?â
âOh, Teller. Iâm going to mop the floor with you. Youâll be begging me to leave before the night is through.â
I toss a couple hundred on the table and stand ready for a night of grinding and debauchery with my woman.
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
On Meds Now!!! Letter to my mom
Zack and I went into work this morning about five thirty and finished up around eleven or so. I had a very, very productive day removing old worn parts in our hog, which is like a chipper, and installed all new parts. It was ninety four degrees out at ten o'clock and I was drenched by six thirty in the morning and stayed that way until I left and got into the comforts of my air conditioned Mazda. So let me tell you just a little bit about my visit with the shrink. Him explaining medication to me....."OK. I am putting you on a medication called Adderall. It is a stimulant. It pharmaceutical name is dextroamphetamine. It is an amphetamine. Is it methamphetamine? No. Can you become addicted to Adderall? Not at medicinal doses. Does it have side effects? Yes. Are all of them bad? No, not unless weight loss is bad to you. Is it a miracle drug? Yes. What will you do? Focus! You will be able to do your tasks and remember the smallest details. You will be much less forgetful. You will remember your conversations. Side effects are increased heart rate, but I am starting you at a low dosage so as to limit those types of side effects. We will monitor you and talk about differences you have noticed. The dosage will probably increase a little bit later on." So this morning I get up early and get to work early. This particular job/task that was priority on my agenda can be a bit challenging at times, just getting everything apart. Typically going back together is relatively smooth, but it is a tedious process where measurements are crucial and difficult to get precise. In the past, last year, I would show up, dreading the drive in, dreading getting the tools out, dreading the work, dreading absolutely everything and just wishing for the time to pass to be done to leave. Today you may be wondering? Today my first day on Adderall you may be anxiously awaiting to hear how it went????? OMG! Mom, hold on to your seat and let me explain. So I took the medicine, a small round blue pill with a line running through the middle if you need to half the dosage, at 4:40. I believe it took about twenty minutes to get into my system because I remember feeling just a slight tingle in my left cheek, something I've not experienced before. So I assume it took twenty minutes. I had yet another thirty minutes or there about to conclude my commute and turn into the parking lot at the mill. When I arrived at the mill I asked myself internally if I felt any different physically, walking around, moving, breathing air. Nothing. No difference whatsoever. I never felt negative about being at work, or the job which lay ahead. Zack followed me over the the hog and I looked at the surrounding area which was supposed to have been completely cleaned out, um especially the immediate area where I would be lying on my back for the next four hours, but it was not cleaned. OBSERVATION NUMERO UNO!! I was completely unphased. My mood was solid like granite. Unmoved like a mountain. Unwavering as a sheet of ice on a pond. What did I do you may ask? I got on my hands and knees and got after the cleaning at hand. In thirty minutes the area was cleaned and I was able to begin gathering the necessary tools the task would require. "Danny? I'm going to start the air compressor up. Go to the tool room. We will need to get".....and I rambled off everything I thought he could carry in one trip. "Ok Danny, good. Now lets get".....and again I rambled off everything else I knew we would need. "Paul, go over and clean that pathway up so nobody trips and gets hurt today." Zack, son? You are doing a good job their. Here, let me help you a minute and lets get this stuff pushed over there out the way. I began, with Danny's help to disassemble the hog. It was already nearly 90 degrees at seven a.m. I had already been drenched in sweat from the clean up and on top of that I am laying on swept but very dirty concrete. But I did not in the slightest bit have any issue with it. My mind was FOCUSED as it has not been in years, and I truly and honestly mean years when I say it. I felt complete, not lacking. And whats more is I had no physical effect that was noticeable. Was my heart rate elevated? Absolutely. I don't dilly dally, I work. That clean up was arduous and very physical, steady work. Was I out of breath or at any point did I have difficulty breathing or carrying on a conversation? Not in the least bit. I had the benefit of being able to focus, my mood and attitude were refreshingly positive and up and yet there was no physical high! I worked for five and one half hours, never letting up, going from one stage of the process to the next, not wandering off in my head, wondering where I put a tool or if I had forgotten to tighten this or that, as has been the NORM for years. No second guessing. When the job was nearing completion, the machine was shut and bolt locked, we gathered all the tools and checked the equipment to see if there were any stray tools laying around, none. I took the lock off the electrical disconnect and with much confidence walked to the starter and pushed the green button and hit the stop button after ten seconds. I then walked back out the the hog, leaned my ear in closely to hear if any noises were coming from within. The clearances between the parts had kept. I promptly turned, walked back to the starter pressing the green start button and this time I allowed the 250 horsepower motor to bring it to full speed, 1425 rpms. Once the starter was locked in we turned on the vibrating conveyor and watched ever so closely the beginning of a slab to get closer to the new cutting teeth and anvils where it would in glorious fashion meet its demise had I don't everything correctly. The wood met the teeth and the hog ate it with such ferocity that you could watch the wood blow apart. Mission accomplished. We loaded all the tools into the tool room after pressing the stop button on the hog, locked up, turned out the lights and went home. Now at that point I had noticed the previous hour kind of feeling what has been my normal self in that my mind felt tired, not as alert. So my assumption is that the four hours the pill was supposed to work for had passed. But now here is the kicker. Even though it was no longer effective on my mind the way it had been prior/earlier, my mood was still very good. This is day one!! I came home, took the second dose of my medication as the bottle directs, showered, went to HyVee and picked up my eye drip script, came home and talked with the kids and then wrote a very lengthy email to Roxanne about a number of things I had not been wanting to talk about, but said,"You know Will? This is four months now you've been avoiding this, now is the moment to end that. And I proceeded to write an email to her for an hour addressing the kids summer and the touchy subject of child support and considering an adjustment to the agreements. I wasn't very nervous nor am I now. I am at peace and I have been thinking a bit about music and playing music again. To wrap up that aspect of this communique let me just say that I am relieved to know and personally experience what my "shrink", Jeff, referred to as "A Miracle Drug". Because mom I will be very straightforward and honest here, I thought there was no way in God's green earth that taking a pill, that is non addictive, has few side effects and was affordable was going to adjust my mind and mood in such a way as to have restored me, Will Henley, to....well, to some aspect of normalcy. I truly thought I was going to continue to lose my temper, my memory and just become more and more an ass and with equal measure distance myself from people and social situations that have caused me so much stress and ill will towards my fellow man. Wow! I have my brain back mom. I can do things again without hesitation. I can do a five hour job and at the end not question if it was done correctly. Let me tell you about my conversations with people the last five years. Yes, I said five years. Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been every conversation, but I would say better than fifty percent. I would be face to face, direct my ears toward their mouth so as to hear clearly. And they were talking in an audible tone and level, yet the information my brain was exhaustively and incorrectly processing made it sound like mumble. I just could not focus on key words that made understanding possible. My comprehension was nearly non existent at times to the point of just nodding and shaking my head, turning and walking away as though I had understood everything said and questioning myself,"What the hell did they just say? What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have early onset dementia or something? Seriously, it has been such a very long and difficult road I've traveled for so many years, and it took its toll on marriages, jobs and my sanity. And for the very, very first time I have real hope I can cling to. There is no light at the end of the tunnel for I have emerged from the long hibernation into the sunniest of days to see with mine own eyes the beauty of being 100 percent aware of my surroundings and myself. I am in shock and awe and today, as with every day I've lived on this terrestrial ball GOD IS GOOD! I just can't begin to say enough about this. Oh, so after I wrote and sent the email, I sat down with the kids for a few, then called Jenn to come back to the room and I spoke with her about everything I just mentioned and explained to you, then we took Nicole's car to get the tires properly aired up, went to the grocery store, came home and I made homemade spaghetti with squash, onions, mushrooms, bell pepper, zucchini, vegan meatballs, garlic, basil and oregano with some very good quality balsamic vinegar along with a couple loaves of garlic bread. Normally when I get home I am inside, I do not ever go back out and do anything else. I have my life back and feel like a productive human being. Well I am going to sign off now. I'm not sure how much I've written but feel I have caused you to spend an eternity reading. Much love to you and Ben and we will talk soon. Love,Will
0 notes